Archive of Our Own

Harry James Potter was cursing inwardly for being a light sleeper; ever since they started their Hocrux hunting when he turned seventeen, all those days and nights of making sure not to get killed in your sleep was a lot of practice that his body never forgot. It never forgot that even after a few months he is still making sure he knows where Ron and Hermione are before he went to sleep.

This old habit makes things harder because Ron was not his roommate anymore.

Headmistress McGonagall don’t want to see any more of the separation of the Hogwarts Houses and proclaimed that the eighth and seventh years will be separated from their lower years and will be having their dorms on different parts of the castle. She also made sure that there are no more than two people from the same House in the same dorm room. Thus, Harry not having Ron as his roommate. Not a friend, if he’s honest.

And therefore, Harry’s problem.

It started during their first night back. He was roommates with all houses: Michael Corner of Ravenclaw, Goyle from Slytherin House—to Harry’s dismay—Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff—another to Harry’s dismay—and Draco Malfoy from Slytherin—also to Harry’s dismay. He felt deserted to his friends even more when he realized that there are two Slytherins as his roommate.

He was waiting for a fight to break out between him and Malfoy or Goyle, but it never came. They were, instead, making sure that they don’t look at anyone in the eye or stand too long on the passageways, especially the lanky, blond Slytherin who never stays in a room when there is another living, breathing person there.

It was fine, better even, for them not to cross paths. Their past years at Hogwarts were never friendly in any way, and staying in the same room for too long might cause an old rivalry to open once again. However, during the night, when Harry was too tired to stir and trash around his bed that he’d finally sleep, he’d hear Malfoy’s quiet whimpers despite the closed curtains that they both have. It seemed to Harry that it was only him that wakes to these sounds because no one had ever checked if the boy was okay.

It would never have crossed his mind to check if Harry was okay should their situation was reversed, Harry thought. Though it wasn’t like anyone would hear him, he always put up Silencing charms around his bed before turning about the bed.

He only started to feel sad for the blond on their third week back.

It was cold for September; the wind was blowing like a storm was forming in a distance and Harry used Warming charms while walking through the hallways despite the early season of autumn.

Malfoy went up to their room past midnight, walking quietly though he still managed to wake Harry up, changing to his pajamas and went to bed as fast as he could. Harry only managed to sleep again when his whimpering started. At first, he was only thrashing, obviously having a nightmare, but when he’d usually wake up panting with an apology on his lips, he continued, now moaning ‘Mother’ every other ‘I’m sorry’.

Harry opened his curtains slowly, scared that his roommates would wake with the sound of flapping cloth though they did not on the cries of the other boy, and peeked on the bed on his right. The curtains are closed but he can hear Malfoy still calling to his Mother.

He suddenly felt a pang of sadness. Malfoy, crying out to his mother, apologizing for who knows what, made Harry think of his own mother. Lily Evans Potter died for him, yet he never dreamt of her like Malfoy to his mother, he never cried her name apologizing for her death or her sacrifice.

Yet here was this boy, the boy Harry thought was heartless and cruel; he’s apologizing to his mother about something that Harry suspect wasn’t even his own doing or fault.

Grudgingly, Harry rolled off from his bed and stepped on the cool floor, making as little noise as he could. He crouched by the other boy’s bed and pulled the curtains to look at him. He didn’t even put up charms to protect himself, Harry thought to himself, he could never sleep without protective charms nowadays.

As he examined the boy, he realized that Malfoy was pale and sweating on the forehead. His head was trashing, still moaning ‘Mother’.

Harry acted instinctively and impulsively and put a palm on Malfoy’s sweating forehead, patting it. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.” He whispered, half afraid that the blond would wake and punch him. “It’s okay,”

He kept repeating the words until Malfoy stopped squirming. Harry Potter went back to his bed promising that he wouldn’t do that again.

He did it again the next night. And the next. And the next. And the next. Until it turned into weeks.

Harry wasn’t sure why, but after his acts on comforting Malfoy, his sleep seemed easier than when the war ended and he was adjusting to sleeping alone again. It was like he made a difference for someone for the better that his soul was calm again, like when he knows that Hermione and Ron are safe in their beds, or that his charms are up.

He couldn’t stop anymore.

And now, Draco Malfoy’s grey eyes opened and Harry was pretty sure he saw him before he dashed for his life to his own bed. He quickly put back his charms and covered himself with his blanket, hoping beyond hope that the boy on the other side of the curtains didn’t see him clearly.

The next morning, though it was a Saturday, Harry woke—and by woke, he actually just got off his bed—early, dressed as fast as he could and then took his schoolbag up to the library, where he was pretty sure Hermione would turn up soon.

She did, eventually. And Harry told her everything, at least, not the part where he felt sad about himself, he doesn’t want to see pity in Hermione’s eyes this early.

“Oh, Harry,” she cooed. “That’s so sweet!” She added loud enough before he could stop her, making others look at their direction.

Harry gave her an incredulous look. “Sweet? You heard who we’re talking about, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Hermione gave him a small smile. “But even though you don’t see it, Harry, you’ve always been looking out for him.”

Harry’s brows connected, thinking of what the hell Hermione was talking about. He never told anyone about what he’s done but her and he only told her today.

Apparently, his ignorance was evident so she said, “At first, you were avoiding him like a virus; making sure you don’t stay too long to your room when he’s alone there with Greg, you were always making an excuse. I thought you were just tired of fighting that you’d rather avoid each other. Then I realized you were uneasy whenever he won’t touch his food or he’s not at the Great Hall during meal times—”

“How did you see that if you weren’t looking at him?” He asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from his stalking to Malfoy.

“Because, Harry, your constant muttering and craning neck is too obvious for even Ron to notice.” She sighed slightly, “Did you really thought I’m as unobservant as the two of you?” Hermione spat, but the heat was extinguished by her small smile.

“I still think he saw me, though.” Harry buried his face to his Potions book and grunted quietly. “What am I supposed to do? To say?! Oh god. This is horrible.”

“I don’t really know Harry,” she whispered, Harry could hear the smile on her lips. “Maybe you should ask him.”

“Wha--? Are you crazy?” He sat up, looking at her grinning face.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could hear me, and realize that what happened was actually real.”

“Well,” she shrugged. “That’s better than you moping here.” She winked to the air behind Harry and Harry’s first thought was: great, Ron and Hermione are here to gang up on me.

She stood as Harry turned his head to look.

And boy, was he wrong?

The pale face of Draco Malfoy was looking down at him, not the sneering he used to do but like he was asking for permission to stay and telling them to say no because he don’t really want to be there.

Harry stood as well, not knowing why. They both stood there between the aisles of books, looking anywhere but each other, waiting for the other to speak.

Malfoy broke the silence with clearing his throat and said, “May I talk to you?”

Harry frowned by nodded, pointing to the door. “If you’re going to shout at me, I’d rather not have Madam Pince do the same after.”

Malfoy frowned too, but didn’t say anything as Harry put his things back to his bag. Malfoy followed him quietly as Harry went outside by the lake, hoping for a favorable weather; he’d like a quiet stroll after their argument. Preferably into the Forbidden Forest.

Harry sat down under the large beech tree, Malfoy hesitated before sitting down beside him with at least an arm length of distance between them.

“Thank you,” Malfoy said so quietly that Harry might think he’s hallucinating if he wasn’t waiting for a ‘Fuck you!’ and a Stinging jinx.

“Er,” Harry reached to scratch his ear. “You’re welcome?” He said, frowning at the boy beside him.

The Slytherin seems to have an internal argument with himself before taking a deep breath and whispering, “I’ve been sleeping better for the first time in months, and I just thought it was my imagination.” He frowned and looked at Harry through his pale lashes. “I can hear you whispering in my dreams.” He explained then looked towards the lake where the tentacles of the giant squid were being pat with by Luna Lovegood who was smiling so brightly, like what she was doing was normal in every aspect. “I just thought that, since everyone thinks of you as the Saviour anyway, you wouldn’t mind another one, even though I’m an enemy. So…” Malfoy pulled his knees to his chest and settled his face between it.

The act was so vulnerable that Harry almost forgot who he was talking to.

Harry, who was expecting a heated argument, asked “What?”

Malfoy lifted his head and looked at Harry with irritation in his eyes, though it was gone so fast that to someone else, it would be an illusion. But Harry knew who he was talking to.

“No, seriously.” Harry shook his head slightly. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“No I’m not.” Malfoy put his head back between his knees. “Everyone thinks you are the answer to all the question in life, if you’re not the answer, at least, you’d know the answer to some question.”

Harry thought about it before shaking his head. “No, not really.” He waited for Malfoy to look at him and gave him a serious look. “If I do, I would be done with my Potions essay.”

Malfoy frowned at him, “Are you joking?” He raised an eyebrow. “Like, you’re joking with me?”

Harry smiled at him, not knowing how to react properly when talking to the boy who wanted him dead a few years ago.

Malfoy frowned at him, “You were actually joking, wow.” He scoffed. “I should owl Father and tell him that the Saviour of Wizarding World’s jokes was as pathetic as his son.” He said bitterly, though upon realizing what he said, curled once again into a ball, putting his cheek to his knee.

Harry gave him a playful kick. “Not all my jokes are pathetic, you know.” He said. “Luna there laughs at some of my jokes, though Ron reckons it’s because she was so used of people not being nice to her that a comment on someone else’s expense was hilarious to her.” He said, suddenly serious.

Luna seemed to feel that they were talking about her—or that they were both staring at her—waved to them.

Harry raised him arm to wave back while Malfoy only raised his palm. Harry was glad he did, though he didn’t know why.

“Who are they?” Malfoy asked.

“Excuse me?”

“The ones who are not being nice to her?”

“Some of her classmates, I guess. Though a lot of people are laughing at her most of the time, too, no matter their year.” Harry explained that there were times, when he would spot Luna alone in the hallways, when some people would trip her and laugh; Harry didn’t mention about threatening them to oblivion though.

“She shouldn’t be treated like that, like she’s the enemy, like—” He stopped abruptly, flush coloring his cheeks, though try as he might to hide it. He ducked so low, Harry was only able to see his blush creeping up his neck.

“Like you?” He suggested. “Like your friends?”

Malfoy froze.

“You’re not,” Harry whispered. “You know that, right?”

The Slytherin didn’t reply but he raised his head to look at Luna again, who went back to patting a large tentacle.

“I don’t think you ever were.” He said when it’s apparent that Malfoy won’t say anything. Harry looked at Luna too, through the distance, he saw Ginny walking to where Luna’s things were. Well, it’s too late for breakfast now. “I guess you were just this kid who was so obsessed with me all my high school life.” He said lightly, trying to lighten up the mood, considering it’s apparent that Malfoy won’t hit him with curse or punch him in the gut.

“Right,” he said, blushing again. Harry’s now worried about that, if Malfoy keeps on blushing, he probably has a problem with heat or something with the wind or whatever. “I’m sorry about that?”

Harry mocked a gasp, “Draco Malfoy, apologized? Did someone hear that or was I hallucinating?” Harry moved closer to Malfoy and looked at him closely. He remembered the last time he saw Malfoy up close, his skin was more grey than pale and he looked like he’s not eating. Now, the blush that seemed to be permanently stuck on his cheeks was giving his face a different glow and he looked well fed and seems, like he said, to be getting enough sleep for the first time in months. Harry laughed a little. “I think you were so shocked you didn’t even ask about ‘high school’.”

Malfoy gave him a quick sideways glance. “I didn’t know how to ask without sounding stupid,”

“Every Pureblood asking questions about Muggle things sound stupid,” Harry quipped.

Malfoy glared at him.

Harry grinned. “High school is a muggle school, just like Hogwarts but without magic.”

“That’s it?” The boy sniffed.

Harry, now he was close and alert again, only just realized that Malfoy was shivering. Sure, the weather was getting colder as winter arrives and the mist was forming whenever someone exhales, but only barely. Malfoy, however, seems to feel cold like he was wearing too little even though he was already wrapped in robe and scarf. “Yeah, that’s it.” Harry murmured a warming charm in Malfoy’s direction. “We ought to go upstairs, it’s warmer there.”

Malfoy shivered a little. “I can do my own warming charms, Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “Why didn’t you, then?” He asked, standing up. He pulled his own robes closer, shielding himself from the cold.

“I keep forgetting,” he whispered.

Harry stood and offered Malfoy a hand; he was expecting to get rejected and be told off, but the boy took it with his cold hand. Too cold, Harry noted.

They walked upstairs to their dormitory, side by side. If you told Harry Potter that he’s be walking with and talking to Draco Malfoy last year, he would have laughed so hysterically, his glasses would break out of sheer uncontrollable magic.

“You know,” Harry started when he started to see the Eighth Year common room door. “Hermione told me something, just when the Eighth year started.” Harry gave the password and let Malfoy go in first. His face was so pale from the cold, Harry regret taking him outside to talk.

Malfoy didn’t say anything.

Harry made a beeline towards the fireplace where few people are sitting around, including Ron who was playing wizards chess against himself, and Hermione reading a book on the sofa Ron was leaning onto. “Mind if we join you?”

“Always, mate.” Ron nodded, looking up at his friend. “Who’s we?”

Harry looked around and found that Malfoy didn’t followed him. He gestured for the boy to follow him

The blond shook his head slightly.

“Fire,” Harry mouthed. “Warmth.”

Malfoy made a face and shook his head again.

“I’m going there and pull you here.” He mouthed again.

Ron, curiously, didn’t say anything.

Harry went to the door, where Malfoy was still standing. “I was saying something, it’s really important.”

“More important than not getting hexed by a couple of Gryffindors?” He asked.

“They’re not going to hex you, promise.” Harry whispered to him. He took Malfoy’s elbow and lead him to the fireplace. “Anyway, as I was saying. Hermione said that the Cruciatus Curse weakens people—not that I’m saying you’re weak, but the magic is. Sorry for joking about the warming charm, that was insensitive of me.”

They arrived just after Harry finished his little monologue and Malfoy was looking at him curiously. “What?” he said, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

He shrugged. “Also, the cold? Yeah, you should stay by the fireplace. It’s usually the three of us that hang out here; playing, doing our homework, talking.” Harry offered, hoping the blond would accept. “Your friends can join too, of course—” Ron choked on air “—if they promise not to hex us as well.”

“I didn’t promise anything.”

Harry just shrugged and gestured Malfoy to the other couch adjacent to Hermione’s, while Harry sat on the floor and played with Ron.

Harry was losing—as usual—but he didn’t mind; his friends didn’t say anything to the new addition.

Ron was about to move his castle when Malfoy gave out a pained sound. Harry immediately went to him despite the distance being only two feet away.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Malfoy’s eyes were wide from Harry’s immediate response that his head was thrown back into a quiet laughter; that moment, everything went silent in Harry’s head. There were colors on his cheeks again, he noticed.

“What?” Harry asked, wounded.

“Nothing,” Malfoy shook his head, smile still evident on his lips. “Just the move Weasley was going to make,” he said pointing to the board game. “His king will be left unguarded with the queen on the other side of the board. He’ll need at least two moves, and it will be over before his second.”

“Oh no,” Ron gasped. Harry looked at him, he was staring at the chess board.

“Wow, I almost won? For the first time?” He said to no one in particular.

“I wasn’t paying too much attention because I could always handle you, and you always suck at this.” Ron said, flabbergasted.

“Thanks a lot,” Harry told his friend, deadpanned.

“Really?” Malfoy said with an incredulous tone. “I thought you both suck at this. I couldn’t watch for more than a few seconds without having a piece of my soul dying a little.”

Ron eyed him. “I beat McGonagall on first year.”

“Beginners’ luck.”

Ron gasped dramatically, “Take that back! Hermione, make him take it back.”

Hermione pat his boyfriend on the shoulder. “Just challenge him to a game, Ronald.”

They played until dinner.

__

“Potter,” Malfoy whispered from his bed.

Harry pulled the curtain a little and found the blond boy sitting on his own bed. “Hey, what is it?”

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Harry smiled at him. “You're welcome, Malfoy” He said quiet enough to not wake their roommates. “And its Harry,”

Something flashed in Malfoy’s face that Harry don’t recognize. He nodded to himself, “Harry,” he whispered—like it was a secret.

Harry, on the other bed, shivered a little. It was weird hearing his name from this boy. Nice weird.

“Well, I’m Draco.” He said.

Harry nodded, as if in understanding. He smiled to himself. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Sweet dreams,”

Draco gave him a small smile before closing his own curtains.

Harry murmured a couple of Warming charms to Draco’s bed and promised himself to make sure that Draco smiles more.