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Harry was fairly confident, although not entirely, that the floor of the Leaky Cauldron hadn’t always been slanted at quite such a steep angle. In fact, he had a fuzzy-edged memory of walking into the pub earlier that evening without any trouble at all, yet now the floor had become treacherous to navigate, tipping over randomly and making his steps clumsy. As he staggered over to give a similarly-listing Ron a slap on the back, and to kiss a sober, pregnant, upright Hermione on the cheek in farewell, he considered the possibility that perhaps the drinking game he and Ron had lost at may have had something to do with the change in the stability of the floor. Whatever it was, he was sure it would be fine in the morning. He watched Ron and Hermione manage the floo just fine, so even if there was a problem with the Leaky, he should still be able to get home safely.
Blaise managed to go through fine as well, and Harry tossed a wave over his shoulder to Pansy and Draco as he grabbed up his own handful of floo powder and stepped into the flames, leaning back into the fire and shouting, “Grimmauld Place-OW!”
His head connected with the brick of the chimney, and the flames died out around him. Over the ringing in his ears, he could just make out the sound of Draco’s laughter. Emerging from the fireplace, rubbing what was sure to be an impressive lump on his head, he could see both Draco and Pansy taking delight in his suffering.
“Did you lock yourself out, Potter?” Pansy called, looking absolutely gleeful at the prospect.
“I apparated here,” Harry mumbled. “Wasn’t planning on getting pissed. Locked the floo before I left.”
Draco laughed even harder, and Harry did his level best to glower in his general direction. Pansy also seemed to be pleased with this outcome, if her slightly menacing smile was any indication, although Harry couldn’t figure out why. He’d sort it out in the morning, once everything had stopped spinning.
“How terrible for you! Locked out and no way to get home. Well, I’m sure Draco will be able to help you out. Ta, love!” And with that, she blew a smirking kiss to Draco, stepped into the fire, and whirled away before anyone could say anything else.
He turned to Draco, feeling a little lost for what to do and hoping that Draco, as the winner of the drinking game, and therefore the least-tipsy member of their party, would have some idea of where he should go. “’m a little too drunk to apparate,” he said, looking up hopefully for a plan. Draco, however, had gone very still, and all the laughter had vanished from his face, leaving only two small slashes of pink across his cheeks in its wake.
When Draco didn’t immediately respond, Harry tried again.
“Draco? I can’t get home, do you think I could come through with you?”
Draco said nothing for another moment, then, turning even pinker, said in a scathing tone, “I don’t care if she’s my best friend, I’m going to murder her,” before stomping towards the fire and grabbing his own fistful of floo powder. When Harry didn’t immediately follow, he turned around, irritation etched into every line of his body. “Well? Are you coming?”
Harry was a little wary to go anywhere with a Draco who looked that tightly wound, but since his only other option was to wander the streets of Diagon in search of an empty room (some blasted concert the next day was taking up all the available rooms, some part of Harry’s brain remembered), he followed Draco into the fire and tumbled out a second later onto the floor of Draco’s posh new flat.
Harry had only been to Draco’s new flat once, a few weeks ago when all their friends helped him move in. It had been empty and shiny then, lots of open spaces and a long wall of gleaming windows looking out onto the city. It still seemed like an open and airy space, although a lot duller than Harry remembered. There were cloths over all the furniture and the random chrome pieces of art that Draco had insisted on installing, despite the fact that no one could figure out what they were meant to depict.
“Ugh,” Draco said, stepping out gracefully beside Harry. “I had forgotten about the painters, but I’m so glad that Pansy remembered, the cow.” He spit her name like it was poison.
“Right, Potter, are you going to be sick?”
Harry took stock of himself. While the room was still spinning a bit, he didn’t think it had turned his stomach; if anything, the shock of floo travel seemed to have cleared his head a bit. He shook his head no.
“Good. Then here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to sleep off your inebriation in my bed, while I attempt to sleep comfortably on the floor of my room, because I am such a gracious host. You will not disturb anything in any of the other rooms, as there is wet paint everywhere and I do not want to prolong my time spent among dropcloths because you can’t keep your handprints off of the walls. Do you understand that?”
A strand of Draco’s hair had fallen out his ponytail and was curling around the side of his face, which Harry found a bit distracting, but he promptly nodded and let Draco lead the way to the bedroom. The rest of Draco’s hair moved slightly from side to side as he walked, and Harry found himself swaying along with it, until Draco turned around and thrust a bundle of clothes at him.
“You can change in the en suite, I’m going to attempt to transfigure something into a cot.”
Very slowly, Harry felt the gears of thought turning in his mind.
“Wait, Draco… why don’t you take the bed?”
Draco turned around from where he had been surveying a pillow with a speculative look.
“Because you’re a guest and my mother would disinherit me if she were to learn that I made a guest sleep on the floor.”
“Oh.” Harry stood there for a few more seconds, slowly trying to finish the next thought in his brain. “Draco? Why don’t we just share the bed? ‘t’s big enough.”
Draco’s mouth dropped open slightly, and the pink color was back on his cheeks. After a few silent seconds, Harry nodded decisively.
“We’ll share the bed.”
And he headed into the bathroom to change.
While completing his ablutions, Harry poked around Draco’s shiny new bathroom. He found a new toothbrush in a drawer, and proceeded to commandeer it for his own use while investigating what amenities the other cabinets might hold. The airing cupboard had neatly folded linens, along with a small bottle of peppermint oil. There were a few cleaners under the sink, and loo roll in the bottom-most drawer. As he opened his mouth wider to brush his molars, Harry pulled at the vanity mirror until it popped open to reveal a medicine cabinet, stocked with extra toothpaste, a few potions, and – most delightful of all – reading glasses. He’d had no idea that Draco wore glasses, but the prospect of teasing him about them delighted him, and Harry pointedly ignored the little curl of heat in his stomach when he imagined Draco wearing them.
Once he had finished brushing his teeth, Harry grabbed one of the vials of Sobriety Solution on impulse, reasoning that it would be better to avoid a hangover in the first place than to deal with asking for a hangover potion in the morning. He downed it in one gulp, then wandered out to the bedroom and curled up on one side of the bed, bemused at the way Draco was pointedly ignoring him as he swept into the en suite and spelled the door shut.
Harry was almost fully asleep by the time he felt the mattress dip and the covers rustle, lulled into tranquility by a comforting, citrusy scent that he had only recently realized he associated with Draco. He thought that he’d be able to fall asleep in another minute or two, even with the disruption of Draco in the bed beside him, but it was clear that Draco did not feel quite as relaxed. Harry could practically feel the waves of discomfort radiating off of him, and the third time Draco inhaled as if to speak before cutting himself off, Harry finally spoke up, his words muffled into the pillow.
“Draco. What’s wrong? I’m not going to steal the covers or kick, just go to sleep.”
There was a beat of silence, and Harry thought that maybe that was enough, but no, Draco always had to have the last word.
“I’m sure you’ll snore loud enough to make up for your other courtesies.”
If Harry was inclined to be the bigger person, he would have let Malfoy’s comment go, rolling his eyes and ignoring it in favour of going to sleep. But, it was Malfoy, and he was Harry, and he still hadn't worked out how not to let him under his skin, even if they were friends now, so he shot back, "I don't snore, Malfoy."
"Oh right, and how would you know?"
"I shared a dorm with four other boys for the entirety of my Hogwarts career, same as you. One of them would have told me if I snored." More like teased him endlessly for it, as they had for Ron, but the point was the same either way.
"As if anyone would be able to hear you over Weasley. From what I understand, it's a miracle we couldn't hear him down in the dungeons."
First of all, Harry thought, that was entirely fair. Ron was his best friend, and that would never change, but he became even more likable once they'd all learned how to cast silencing charms in the direction of his snores. Harry could even do the spell wandless at this point. But, and this seemed even more important, Draco had always been a tetchy git, and he was in a strange mood tonight, and Harry wanted to poke at him until he was as agitated as Harry felt around him half the time.
"Oh, piss off. Why'd you even invite me back here if you're so put out by it?"
"Because Pansy is a horrible human being," Draco responded, far more darkly than he usually sounded when defaming his dearest friend.
"And since when have you ever done something you didn't want to, just because Pansy suggested it?" Harry shot back.
"I…" Draco’s mouth opened and shut for a moment, and Harry could just make out a pink tinge to his cheeks from the streetlamp filtering through the curtains. "I… I don't know." His voice was a lot less proud than Harry was used to, and after another moment he rolled over on his side, blocking Harry out entirely.
Despite the sniping, Harry had actually been enjoying the comfortable routine of sparring with Draco, especially while wrapped up in soft, familiar-smelling blankets, warmed from shared body heat. It had been so nice, even while combative, that the sudden change in Draco’s attitude left Harry feeling cold, the soothing scent of citrus suddenly burning his nose.
"Do you… do you want me to leave?"
Harry made to throw back the sheets and get up, but Draco sat up so quickly that Harry startled back into the pillows.
"You'll splinch yourself, don't be an imbecile."
And, well, this was awkward, even more so than he initially realized, but Draco was upset, so…
"Erm, I won't, actually. I shouldn't, at least. I took one of your Sobriety Solutions," Harry admitted, adding quickly, "But I'll replace it once the shops open tomorrow, I promise."
Draco’s eyes were wide, his face a strange cross between scandalized and terrified, and it was a good thing, or else Harry probably would have laughed at the way his hair was sticking up all staticky around his head, making him look like a dandelion puff in the moonlight.
"You're sober?"
Harry nodded.
"Then why on earth did you get into the bed?"
Harry had to admit that was a fair question. Unfortunately, he didn't have a good answer. It seemed like the right thing to do or You said I could or I wanted to didn't seem like things he could just say. But then, as the silence dragged on a moment too long, he realized something. And then he realized something else.
"Probably for the same reason you didn't offer me the Sobriety Solution in the first place. And the same reason why you didn't offer to side-along me home from the Leaky. And, I would bet, the same reason that Pansy was so keen to leave me to you when I needed a place to go."
Draco had begun shaking his head part way through Harry’s revelation, and by the end he was doing a decent impression of indignation, but Harry hadn't spent nearly half of his life watching Draco Malfoy just to be fooled by his best attempt at hiding his true feelings when it mattered most.
"I got in this bed because I wanted to be here, same as you, no matter how prickly and slanderous you are." Draco's face had gone from red to pale, and Harry knew that he was only a moment away from being thrown out, from their friendship being ruined forever, and so it was now or never for his Gryffindor bravery and recklessness. "I'm here because I like you, and because you like me, and because we've been right gits about the whole thing for months now."
If given time to consider, Harry probably would have worded it slightly differently, but it seemed to do the trick.
"Pansy really is the worst friend," Draco said through a shaky exhale, after another moment had passed. Then he looked up at Harry, and Harry could feel the wave of released tension leaving both of them. "She's been trying to set us up for months, and she's been so embarrassingly obvious about it, I was worried I would end up having to obliviate you just to preserve my dignity. But I had no idea that you… well, that you…" He looked up at Harry again, and Harry was overwhelmed by the look of shy entreaty, so foreign on Draco’s face, and all the more endearing in that moment because of it.
"I like you," Harry said, unable to leave Draco in anxious doubt for a moment.
"Good." Draco gave a tight little nod, a small smile on his face. "Me too," he offered, and Harry almost laughed with relief, and with the absurdity of the whole situation.
"Good," Harry echoed, and then, suddenly unable to wait a moment more, "Can I kiss you now?"
Draco didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. His cheeks were a little pink, and his mouth was turned up at the corners, and his eyes were issuing an invitation. Harry kissed him.
The next morning, after waking to another round of kissing, Harry was thrilled to learn that teasing Draco about his glasses was just as delightful as he had hoped it would be. Of course, when Draco eventually put the glasses on, Harry realized he had been wrong - seeing Draco actually wearing the glasses was a million times better than he could have imagined. They were still snogging when Pansy let herself in, calling, "You're welcome, by the way!"