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Harry came home at 2am on day three of the binge. Draco was in nothing but his pants, a fluffy blanket around his shoulders and a joint in hand.
Harry glanced at the telly. 'Still Discovery then?'
'A snail can sleep for three years,' Draco said in response.
Harry groaned at the thought of that bliss as he got a beer and slumped down beside Draco on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, feet on the coffee table. For once Draco didn't whinge at him to move them. They watched penguins together in silence, broken only by Draco's random facts. Harry had counted fifteen.
'Did you know a shrimp's heart is in its head?' Draco said, not looking at him.
Harry stared, nonplussed. Sixteen.
'I wonder if shrimps are Slytherins,' Draco mused, taking another pull from the joint and blowing smoke into the air. 'Sometimes I feel like my heart and my head are in one place.'
'Do you?' Harry asked, amused. He was rarely home for this fuzzy, soft version of Draco.
Draco scowled across at him. 'Be serious, Potter.'
Harry held up his hands, trying unsuccessfully to keep the smile off his face.
Draco huffed and pulled the blanket up around his neck, turning his eyes to the newest penguin exploits.
'Albatrosses mate for life,' he said, after a long pause.
Harry turned, slowly, to look at Draco again. His cheeks were pink and he was staring determinedly at the screen.
'Do they?' Harry said, softly. The thoughts he'd wanted to say for months gathered in his throat.
'I wonder if Albatrosses are Gryffindors, then?'
Draco turned to him. He rolled his eyes, but there was something soft about his face. Fond.
'Yes,' he said into the dimness. 'I rather think they are.'