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Draco was sitting at the desk when he got back. Seamus, Ginny, Hermione and Luna were crowding around the cramped common room, Dean poised over the window chassis. The others were due over the next few days. School was on the precipice. Camaraderie was in the air.
Harry was about to call to Draco when he realized that the others hadn’t the opportunity to move past their judgment of him yet. They still thought of him as Malfoy. And they had no idea how close he and Harry had gotten over the course of the summer break, when it was just three.
“Draco!” Harry called. Several heads looked up. Dean and Ginny looked at him in surprise and Hermione turned her head from Harry to peruse Draco. “When are you going to be done with that magazine?” Harry grinned. Draco simply shrugged, and Harry stalked over and ruffled his hair. Draco rolled his eyes, letting him, and continued to read, even as they absorbed comfort from each other. Harry could feel the faint twinge of relief from Draco, and he knew whether he would behave the same way in front of his friends had been a niggling doubt for Draco. Harry collapsed on the back of the sofa with a sigh, and then met the stares of all of his friends with a bemused eyebrow. Hermione was the first to tentatively smile in acceptance and appreciation and look back at her work, and then Seamus. They all came around, returning to their conversations, absorbing the intimacy between Harry and Draco without obvious remark.
Draco was one of them now. Harry was letting them know.
Harry knew some of them didn’t understand. Hell, no one did. But Draco was a comfort to Harry. His very presence made him comfortable in that room. He felt safe and warm as he watched Draco now lounging on the sofa, a leg thrown up over the arm, back straight, blonde hair messy as he looked down at Seamus, caught in an amusing discussion. Ron was on the floor talking about chess, hesitantly glancing at Draco here and there, while Hermione and Luna were engaged in a scintillating conversation about the theory of existentialism. Learning each other. They didn’t get it yet, but they were willing to.
Harry understood their mild surprise. He used to look at Draco that way too. Then, Draco had been a stranger. Now Harry had learned Draco. It was still different, though. There had always been something about Draco… but that was nothing compared to now. Harry looked affectionately at Draco. His aura radiated warmth throughout the room, Harry could feel it on his face even from here. Draco cocked an eyebrow and bit down a witty reply to Seamus and ended it with his arms crossed, gracefully leaning back against the sofa with a smirk playing his lips. Seamus’ wild gestures halted. From the window seat where he was watching them, Dean bent over cracking up. Even Hermione huffed a laugh in their direction before continuing her conversation with Luna.
Draco looked so comfortable sitting on the sofa, surrounded by friends, his books left open on his favorite study desk, an easy smile on his face. Joking around, displaying not only his wittiness, his intellect, and his humor, but also his grace and compassion. He sat there humbly, the relaxed slump of his shoulders belying just some of the way the world had beaten down on him and broken each and every one of them, with all the pressures of the world cracking into them and the way the world and family had abandoned them. Yet his gestures still spoke of that aristocratic childhood he'd experienced long ago, as his every movement dropped gracefulness. There was something of both in him. Just a freedom of self and life, coupled with the privileged situation he'd been thrown into and then left crumbling behind him as he'd stumbled from war. He was just so, entirely Draco. Independent and full of the little quirks that would come with him wherever he went, all his idiosyncrasies. Harry had come to know Draco very well over the summer. That sweetness Harry was now privy to. The way Draco found humor in the most intricate of ways. How every part of life was comfortable to Draco, despite being taught to stay away all his youth. He was so beautiful. Simply being himself.
Harry would never give up knowing Draco for the world. There was no one like him.
The next night, after the first day of school had finished, all the incoming students finally ushered in and wound down, class schedules stretching out for the interminable future, the school halls a bustling, noisy, distracting hub again, Harry lifted his head up from the cushions in the common room where he’d collapsed, tired, and searched through the room for Draco amidst the din of conversation. His eyes ached, the sky outside was dark, and he just wanted to sleep. He and Draco always ended up spending the nights together over the summer, sometimes in conversation or mischievous projects, other times just falling asleep wherever they’d been sprawled. Harry was used to his presence at night, even though he knew it was a habit they couldn’t keep now that the regular school year was starting. Especially not with everyone back. But he still wanted to know where Draco was. He remembered something about Draco going off to study during the midday break. Was he done yet?
Fighting another yawn, Harry hauled off to search for Draco. He found him in Draco’s quarters, what a shocker, packing up his belongings for the night. Harry stood nervously in the middle of Draco’s room, as Draco glanced at him with tired eyes and continued packing. Was he still allowed to visit whenever he wanted, when everyone else was back? Were things allowed to stay the same? He knew they couldn’t completely be free anymore. The school months were a whole legion different from the summer months, but even so. He hadn’t expected to want so bad, but now he did. He missed Draco already.
“Did Percy get his nightlight back?” Harry asked. Over the summer, Draco’s roommate Percy had been rather a baby about the dark. He and Draco had had to deal with quite a lot of complaints from that boy. “No,” Draco hollowly replied, sounding exhausted. He looked at Harry and said “You should be getting ready to sleep.”
“Yeah,” Harry said and trailed off. He kind of wanted to sleep next to Draco tonight too. He gave an empty wave to which Draco lifted a corner of his mouth, eyes warm, and left the warmth of Draco’s presence. Night seeped back in.
In bed, Harry tossed and turned. Why couldn’t it be like the summer, when he didn’t have to worry about having a problem with sleeping? In the summer, he’d know Draco was there, and somehow he’d be able to fall asleep faster, easier, and wake up peaceful and rested. It was.. Harry bit his lip to keep the longing in his chest from opening up a deep hollow in him. Why was it so hard just to feel safe? Why couldn’t he ever keep the only comfort he got?
Gazing hard into the curtains by the gloomy moonlit window, Harry tried to keep himself from thinking about the black in his chest. He couldn't think about it or he'd break. He was used to the black void, he'd had it all his life and it had been okay. It would continue to be okay as long as he didn't think about it. The thing was that with Draco he had felt, for the first time, like he didn't have to live with it. He thought maybe he could be free of that place. This ultimate, utter loneliness. Forever. When Draco was with him, the black hollow in his chest wasn't there. It didn't belong there, when Draco was around.
Draco's presence changed everything. When Draco was around, Harry felt full, safe, at home. It was one of the many things he refused to think about. Some things weren't meant to be questioned.
With a sigh, Harry gave up and rose from the bed, blankets crinkling to the floor. He blindly fumbled for his glasses, and slipping them on, returned towards Draco’s room. Inside, he found Draco curled up in his sheets, sleeping peacefully. He looked so content and vulnerable. Soft. He had no worries on his face, like he had no idea there was someone there, looking at him. But then. He also didn’t look like he didn’t know Harry was there. That was how it was with them. They were so used to each other by now, wherever they were. Harry sighed.
Harry wished for his presence again, despite being there with him. Thinking of the times they slept next to each other without giving it a single thought, Harry hoped Draco would accept sleeping together again tonight. He needed his comfort. Harry kneeled onto the bed and slipped under the covers, drawing himself to Draco. His whole body was like fire, and Harry melded into it easily. Draco stirred and pressed into Harry through his sleep. He recognized Harry's presence. Cuddling into Draco was easy, they had done it so many times before, but never intentionally. Harry was still restless, but he could feel his muscles relaxing as he felt himself cuddled by Draco. Relief and gratefulness stole into him, and he felt like he was on the precipice of choking and breathing from the feeling that he was glimpsing within himself. Why was it so hard to want a human being by your side?
Snuggling into Draco’s hair, Harry breathed, his eyes closed. Every single moment of this type of communion was precious, yet he could never possess it for himself. His arm under Draco’s head, the other over him, Harry felt the need to be closer, and closer. Someone he was going to lose pretty soon. All he wanted was the warmth of his skin, the solidness of Draco’s presence. Peace. As he gazed at the delicate porcelain of Draco’s skin, his eyelashes resting lightly on his cheekbones, his soft inhales and exhales as he slept, Harry felt akin to crying. This was a being, a feeling he could never replace. He lifted his head and pressed a kiss into Draco’s cheek. It wasn’t out of the ordinary. But what was questionable, even to Harry, was when, after lifting back up and glancing down, Harry descended back down and pressed more kisses into Draco’s skin. It didn’t really mean anything. Except that he loved Draco.
So overwhelmed with emotion were Harry’s kisses, laid intensely over and over again upon Draco’s cheek, that even after remaining asleep when cuddled by Harry, Draco finally stirred awake. He blearily opened his eyes and spotted Harry, moving his head away from Harry’s attentive lips with a groan. “Harry,” he pulled back with a suspicious stare, his cornflower hair falling into his eyes. Harry’s heart thudded with dread. Looking from Harry to the bed with narrow eyes, Draco chose to ignore how he woke up, letting his exhaustion rule over, and proceeded to flop back onto the pillow.
“Harry,” Draco muttered, eyes still closed as he tried to wake. He blinked them back open. “You know they’re gonna say things if we sleep next to each other during the school year.” He sighed and turned back around, curling his hands back under his head to go to sleep. Harry felt the sad lurch of disappointment in his stomach. If Draco asked, then Harry had to leave. He was right, but… screw what everyone else thought. A day ago, Harry was fine with distance. He didn’t think it mattered, and he had agreed himself. He hadn’t cared. But he didn’t know it would feel like this. Like he was losing a best friend, his only comfort. Like he was losing family. He needed Draco.
But Draco had asked. With a sigh, rubbing his eyes, Harry got up from the creaking bed, and stumbled back out the door to his room, for another restless night after three months of cease.