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They are fighting again. It’s so frequent that she can feel the echoes of their shouts, their insults, and crude remarks still vibrating within her foundation.
She knows why they were fighting. Two opposing forces falling back on old habits in order to feel normal again. It’s understandable.
However, enough is enough. It’s time for them to stop reducing themselves to their childish behaviours and to grow up. Time for their denials to be thrown to the bottom of the lake and to never be surfaced again.
The castle’s sure every other student, portrait, and teacher will appreciate it.
~
“Listen here, Malfoy, if you stop trying to ruin my potions, I’ll stop trying to ruin yours.”
Malfoy grabs his ingredient off the shelf, the insect legs bouncing within the jar as he gesticulates to Harry. “And for the last time, Potter,” he hisses, “I haven’t been ruining your potions!”
Harry rolls his eyes, and he turns back to the shelf, he needs more Fluxweed as he had incorrectly cut the previous lot. As of today, he has successfully avoided two spells aimed towards his potion, and Hermione’s now guarding his cauldron with a wary eye as he collects his ingredient.
“I’m really having a hard time believing you, ‘cause I caught you last week red handed!” he says as he turns to face Malfoy again, who now has a blush travelling up his neck. Ha, see, Harry is right, Malfoy had tried to interfere with his potion.
“I wasn’t…” Malfoy begins to say, but then he shuts his mouth, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine, believe whatever you want.”
He turns and starts to leave, but the door is shut, which is unusual–Harry hadn’t heard it shut. Malfoy pulls down on the handle and pushes again, but it doesn’t budge.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” Malfoy mutters, and he pulls on the handle harder, pressing his shoulder against the wood to try and force the door open. Harry knows the castle is old, and occasionally some of the hinges do get stuck, but he’s never seen a door so jammed. He approaches the door and shoves Malfoy aside with his shoulder.
“Alohomora,” he casts, pointing his wand at the silver handle. However, there’s no telltale click of a lock coming undone, and when he tries to turn the handle down and pushes, the door doesn’t budge.
“Wow, it’s really stuck,” he says.
“No shit,” Malfoy replies sarcastically, and he turns his head towards Harry, his mouth opening to no doubt say something Nobel prize worthy when he’s interrupted by the shelving beginning to rattle.
“What…” Harry’s eyes widen, the rattling increasing in severity. Surely they haven't just been locked in a cupboard full of volatile ingredients… during an earthquake… surely not?!
The glass vials on the upper shelves begin to fall first, which means the most volatile ingredients begin to rain down upon Harry and Malfoy. Malfoy manages to freeze some of the glass vials before they hit the ground, and Harry uses Wingardium Leviosa, but the shaking intensifies and Harry has no choice but to pull Malfoy close. He grabs his elbow and pulls Malfoy flush against his side before he casts Protego, stretching the magical shield all the way to the ground and encasing them both. Malfoy looks at his Protego with wide eyes, and when Harry looks back at him, he’s surprised to find admiration sparkling within the grey depths of his irises.
The rattling continues, potion ingredients falling around them, but with the shield charm protecting them, anything falling from above bounces off harmlessly. Harry concentrates on keeping his magic a steady flow of outward energy, and the shield holds strong.
“Thanks,” Malfoy says, Harry just catching his words over the shattering of glass. “Potter, I really mean it when I say I haven’t been interfering with your potions.”
Harry looks at Malfoy for a long moment, then he nods. “Alright, I’m sorry for accusing you. But then, what were you doing pointing your wand at my potion last week?”
The blush returns, this time brighter and seriously… Fuck, Harry finds it sorta cute.
“You had… you had missed a clockwise turn, I was just…” Malfoy puts a hand over his eyes. Oh Merlin, yes that is a hundred percent adorable. “I was just helping.”
“Oh…” Harry doesn’t know what to say. “Thank you, shit now I feel like a complete arse.”
This earns him a smirk from Malfoy, but not one of his usual haughty smirks that raises his temper to extreme measures, instead it’s an amused smirk. “I think I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time how much of an arse you are.”
Harry smiles. “How about we both stop jumping to conclusions straight off the bat?”
Malfoy’s smirk turns into a soft smile. “Alright, I think that’s amendable.”
With that, the shelves cease their trembling and the door in which they were leaning on suddenly swings open, sending the both of them tumbling back onto the floor.
Harry lands on his back with an oof, shoulder to shoulder with Malfoy. The contact isn’t as uncomfortable as he thought it might be, and as Slughorn’s unimpressed expression greets him, he can’t help but laugh, and surprisingly, Malfoy does too.
~
Their next argument begins during Transfiguration. Malfoy, who is seated next to him as per the seating plan McGonagall had introduced, bumps his elbow and causes his charm to go awry, instead nearly hitting Ernie in the back of the head.
Harry’s temper has been on edge all day. He had the worst sleep, the thunderstorm that raged through the night causing Harry to toss and turn all night, and now he is ready to snap at anything and everyone. Malfoy seems to also be on edge, and he jumps straight into the argument head first. Ultimately this culminates in a stern talking from McGonagall after class, and a warning.
After taking a walk to the lake to clear his head, Harry makes his way back to the dorms, ready for a hot shower then dinner. Yet, when he walks into his room he instantly finds that all of his belongings are gone. His clothing, his trunk, even the book he kept under his pillow had disappeared. When he storms out of the room, he runs into Dean.
“Dean, have you seen my stuff, it’s all gone?” he says, slightly demanding (okay, very demanding).
Dean shrugs. “Sorry, I’ve been studying in the common room. We can go ask if anyone else has anything missing?”
Harry nods, and he follows Dean back down the stairs to the common room, where Hermione is sitting with Susan Bones, hunched over their Arithmetic homework.
“Hey,” says Dean. “Harry’s stuff is all missing.”
Hermione instantly looks up and gives Harry a worried expression. “All of it?”
Harry nods again, and tries to stop himself from talking too sharply when he says, “I came back from my walk and my side of the room is stripped bare.”
Hermione’s eyebrows crease together with confusion. “Let’s go take a look, or maybe you can go down to the kitchens and ask an elf if they’ve moved your things?”
It’s a sound plan, so Harry leads Hermione up to his bedroom, Susan and Dean in tow. They examine his empty side of the room, Neville’s side the same as always. It had been decided whilst the castle was being repaired and renovated, that the returning older students who’d like to take their NEWT’s would receive their own wing. Now the rooms are much smaller than the original dorms. which meant they only occupied only two students each, and the bathrooms for all of the boys and the girls were shared respectively instead of bathrooms connected to each room like how it had been in Gryffindor tower.
When nothing can be found within the room itself as to why Harry’s stuff has been taken, they begin to head back downstairs. Harry nearly runs into Malfoy, who seems to be returning to the dorms.
Malfoy glares at Harry as he walks up the stairs, nudging himself against the wall to make room for them to pass. Harry almost, almost apologises, but he’s too pissed off about his missing belongings to muster up the energy to do so.
Just as they are about to leave the dorms, Malfoy appears downstairs and says, “Why is someone's stuff in my room?”
Malfoy doesn’t have a roommate, not with him being the only Slytherin of his year to have returned.
“That would be my stuff,” Harry says with a scowl, and he marches past Malfoy, barging his way into his room without even asking, because why should he? His belongings have been taken and he wants to know why.
“Why do you have my stuff?” Harry demands the moment Malfoy enters his room. The Slytherin only gives him a confused expression.
“If you think I did this then you’re wrong. You just saw me come back!”
Harry takes a deep breath, right, hadn’t they agreed they wouldn’t jump to conclusions? He’s been an arse to Malfoy all day just because he’s in a shitty mood. Which isn’t fair on him.
“Okay…” Harry takes another deep breath. “Sorry, Malfoy, I’m just not in the best mood today.”
Malfoy crosses his arms and scoffs. “Obviously, as you bit my head off in Transfiguration.”
“I nearly turned Ernie into a teapot!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, your casting wasn’t even good enough to turn the rat into a teapot! Macmillan would have been fine.”
“Look, let’s not fight again. I’m just going to take my stuff back and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Malfoy nods, and he slings his shoulder bag off his shoulder and heads back downstairs–looks like he isn’t going to get any help with moving his shit back.
~
It appears putting them in the same room would work, if only they would take their own noses out of their arses and actually talk to each other for once. At least she has learned through her experiment with the supply closet that these two could get along, if they both put their egos down for two seconds and actually listen to one another.
The castle knows this will work. It’ll take a touch of persistence, that’s all.
~
When Harry returns from dinner and to his room, he finds his stuff has been moved once again. Malfoy–who had left the Great Hall at the same time as him–enters his room down the hall and gives a great sigh. Well, looks like Harry already knows where his stuff had gone.
Malfoy approaches him. “Either this is some sort of sick prank or the castle’s suddenly sentient and has decided we need to be roommates.”
Harry huffs. He turns around and enlists Dean and Neville to help take his belongings back. However, by the time he has returned from the bathroom after his shower, everything has disappeared once again.
“Right, this is actually ridiculous now!” he exclaims.
Neville, who is sitting on his bed, gives Harry a sympathetic expression. “Surely spending one night with Malfoy won’t be that bad?”
Harry grumbles something not very kind under his breath, but he says his goodnights to Neville and knocks on Malfoy’s door. The door opens moments later, and Harry finds Malfoy sitting on his bed crossed legged, a book in his lap.
“So, I guess you’re in here tonight?” he says.
“Just until I talk to McGonagall tomorrow and see what’s going on.”
Malfoy shrugs. “Fine with me. Oh, you don’t snore do you?”
Harry flips him the rude finger and settles himself on his bed. Everything is in exactly the same spot as it would be in his own room, even his book is under his pillow. Taking off his glasses and settling against the pillows, Harry takes his book out and begins to read by the light of his lamp. No-one speaks, and Harry only looks up from the book when Malfoy begins to settle into his bed, his lamp turning off with a tap of his wand.
“Night,” Malfoy mumbles and he draws the curtains close.
Harry isn’t sure why Malfoy saying good night caused something to tighten in his chest, but he found himself returning the word quietly, and he too began to settle in for the night, drawing the curtains around him with a flick of his hand.
The next morning, Harry awakens actually well-rested. He had no nightmares and there was no tossing and turning in his sleep. He slept through the entire night without waking up once and he can’t believe it.
Getting up with a yawn, Harry pushes away the curtain with his hand and lifts himself to the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with his hands before getting up. The dorm room is so quiet, that he doesn’t notice Malfoy’s presence until he actually turns towards the centre of the room.
Malfoy’s packing his satchel, putting his textbooks in along with his stationary. Harry can’t help but watch the simplicity of it. He notices the pale scars that are scattered across the plane of Malfoy’s hands and, for the first time, he notices how he seems to be favouring his left leg.
Perhaps he had sustained an injury over the summer? He can’t recall Malfoy being all that unwell when he saw him at the trials; then again, he’d barely looked at him when he had spoken for him and his mother before the council. He’d barely been functioning himself.
“Malfoy,” Harry says, unsure how to ask or even if he should ask.
Malfoy turns, he doesn’t seem to be surprised by Harry addressing him, and he calmly says, “Yes?”
“Were you… were you injured during the summer?”
Malfoy’s eyebrows crease together with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You…” Merlin, Harry suddenly hates himself for asking. This is embarrassing. He really doesn’t want to start a fight. “You’re not really putting any weight on your right leg. I was just wondering why? I suppose,” he finishes with a shrug.
Malfoy looks down at his leg and he suddenly corrects his posture. He clears his throat and turns back to his bag, shoving the rest of his supplies in. “It was just an accident. I fell off my broom, that’s all.”
Now why does Harry not believe a single word? However, he isn’t going to push, he knows better than most that if he doesn’t want to talk about something, then he isn’t going to talk.
“Alright, sorry for asking, I was…” Not thinking, he thinks to himself. As per usual , Hermione would say.
Malfoy nods and he swings his bag over his shoulder. “See you, then,” he says, and he’s out the door.
Harry sighs. Fuck, why does he always have to stick his nose in places where it doesn’t belong? He doesn’t need a repeat of sixth year. After getting himself ready for the day, he bounds downstairs and says his hello’s. Waking up early means he has the time to sit around in front of the fire, warm his bones whilst he waits for Hermione, who hasn’t come downstairs yet.
He doesn’t have to wait very long until Hermione’s bustling downstairs, a stack of textbooks precariously balanced in her arms. He jumps up to help her.
“Hermione, what do you have all those textbooks for?” he asks her, although he expects he already knows the answer.
“To study of course! Our practice exams are coming up. I spent last night writing up study plans for the both of us.”
“Right,” Harry replies. There’s no use in trying to understand Hermione’s ways, especially when it comes to school.
At lunch, Harry piled his plate with potato salad, and ham and cheese sandwiches, yet he can’t help his eyes from wandering to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy sits alone, eating with a book open before him. His chest clenches, and he realises with a start when Hermione nudges him, that he was getting up, readying himself to approach Malfoy.
“Are you okay?” she asks him. Her eyebrows furrow with concern. Harry shakes his head and bites into his sandwich.
“Fine,” he mumbles, and he ignores her look of concern continuing to eat–ensuring that his eyes never stray back towards a certain blond.
When Harry returns to his dorms after the final classes of the day, he goes to his room as per usual, but finds that his belongings still hadn’t returned. He sighed in annoyance. It’s about time he spoke to someone about this.
Heading back down the stairs, he nods his head at Malfoy as he passes him. Malfoy doesn’t utter a word to him in greeting. Instead, their eyes meet for one fleeting moment that has that clenching feeling return to Harry’s chest.
Out in the hall, Harry takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and marches himself towards McGonagall’s office.
~
The castle watches the man charge towards the headmistress's office with amusement. Does the man really think that the headmaster has any control over her? No, no one controls her. There is much more the residents have to prove before she relinquishes.
Much more.
~
“That is most unusual indeed,” says McGonagall, sipping her tea as Harry explains everything that had occurred over the two days. “Is residing with Mr Malfoy really such an inconvenience?” she asks, a twinkle so reminiscent of her predecessor in her eye.
“Well,” Harry says, unsure how to answer, “Not particularly.”
“That’s your answer then. I’m sure all will be well once you make friends with your new roommate.”
“But I like my current roommate!” Harry exclaims. He isn’t lying, Neville’s a pretty good roommate, all he has to do is cast a silencing charm around his bed to smother his snores and everything’s dandy.
“Right,” McGonagall says, and Harry withholds his groan. He knows that look, and that look meant the headmistress had made up her mind and there was no convincing her otherwise.
Sighing, Harry gets up from the chair. “Thanks, Headmistress.”
“You might find that a new perspective on this situation will help your outlook.”
Harry holds back the snort that instinctively rises up his throat and he nods his head instead. “Well, thanks for the advice I guess.”
“You’re most welcome.”
When Harry arrives back at the dorms with a defeated expression. Hermione is the first to approach him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “So, what did she say?”
“She said that I should try a new perspective on my situation.”
Hermione’s eyebrows knit together. “That’s not very helpful. Is that all she said?”
“Well, I don’t know. You know how she is like, every word she says has a double or triple meaning to it.”
Hermione smiles. “Yeah, she does. Well, I’ll head to the library first thing tomorrow and see if there’s any accounts of this happening before. Maybe that can help?”
“Thanks, ‘Mione. That would be great.”
“It’s what I do best.”
After that, Harry says good nights and heads up the stairs to his dorm. He opens up the door slowly, and instantly spots Malfoy sitting on his bed, resting against the headboard with his knees bent, and a book resting against his knees. Malfoy looks up at Harry and a smirk lifts up the corner of his lips. “How’d it go?”
“Not good,” Harry grumbles and he marches straight for his bed, letting himself fall down on it face first.
“Look, I know I was an insufferable git for the majority of our schooling years. But am I truly all that bad now?” Malfoy says, and there’s a hopeful tone to his voice that gets Harry turning his head towards Malfoy.
“I mean, I haven’t sent one hex your way all year,” he finishes.
“I suppose you haven’t been so bad,” admits Harry.
“Thank you,” Malfoy says with a small smirk. “Nice to hear you admit your wrong doings for once.”
“Hey, now!” Harry says, but with no bite. “I admit to my mistakes all the time!”
“Right, well I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Harry can’t help the uplift of his lips. He likes this new-style of bickering with Malfoy, it’s a refreshing turn from the volatile bickering of their past.
Suddenly, his body moves before he can chicken out. He stands and approaches Malfoy and extends his hand towards him. “My name is Harry Potter, it’s nice to meet you.”
Malfoy looks at his hand with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Then when his eyes find the determined expression on Harry’s face, something vulnerable softens his expression.
“And I’m Draco Malfoy,” he says quietly, taking Harry’s hand in a firm grip. Harry gives his hand a shake twice before pulling his hand away, his skin much hotter than what it had been before. He fights back the urge to clench his hand into a fist.
“Now that we’re introduced, you can call me Harry.”
“Well, then, you can call me Draco.”
Harry smiles and he takes a step back. “Guess we’re roommates for the rest of the year. I have to warn you though. I snore.”
Draco snorts and he rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m aware. I had to put a silencing charm around you last night.”
Harry gasps dramatically. “You did not!”
~
It’s the beginning of a newfound truce that Harry hadn’t thought they would be able to hold. Eventually, he guesses that the novelty of their friendship would begin to fade and they would just become regular old classmates like how Harry is with Dean or Seamus.
Harry’s usually wrong about stuff, that’s why he has Hermione or even Ron to guide him through the muddled thoughts in his head. He was wrong about Snape, he was wrong about Dumbledore. So, it’s expected that he’s also completely wrong about who he thought Draco Malfoy is. Or at least, who is now. It doesn’t take long for the both of them to open up about their pasts. About the war. For Draco to tell Harry of his injury, and how occasionally he will have flares up.
It doesn’t take long for them to choose to sit next to each other in class, or to discreetly pass notes amongst one another. Draco always sends his as a paper crane, using magic to make it fly to him. He even taught Harry the incantation and Harry began doing the same. He liked to send his paper as a wolf, running across the floor and up Draco’s leg until he received the letter when the professors weren’t looking.
At first it starts off with snarky notes like: your hair looks like an abomination this morning, Harry . Or, I can smell your breath from here .
Little harmless jokes that have Harry smirking into the palm of his hand as he carefully folds the note and slips it into his pocket.
Then the notes began to evolve, compliments disguised beneath the banter. I’m trying to figure out a spell to keep that hair in check . Or, such as today, Merlin, Harry. Please stop laughing like that, you’re distracting me.
“What are you blushing about?” Hermione asks, nudging him in the ribs.
“Huh?” Harry says, quickly hiding the note beneath his hand. “Oh. Uh nothing.”
“Is that another note from Malfoy?”
“And what if it is?”
“You two… really are friends now, huh?”
“He’s matured a lot, Hermione. We all have.”
Hermione gives him a warm smile. “I know. I’m not saying anything against it.” She seems to hesitate for a moment and then she quietly says, “Are you sure that’s all you want to be though?”
Harry gives her confused expression. “What do you mean by that?”
Hermione sighs, and she waves her hand with exasperation. “Oh never mind, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
That night, Harry sits on the other end of Draco’s bed, Draco opposite him, both reading their respective books. They spend many of their free evenings like this, just enjoying the quiet company of each other. It’s an interesting dynamic that Harry isn’t completely familiar with. Ron was never the one to sit still for too long or to want to enjoy an evening reading. The only time you could get him to sit still and be quiet was when he was playing chess.
“Draco,” Harry says, breaking the silence. He’s not sure what he wants to say, but what Hermione had said during Transfiguration keeps on playing through his mind. He’s barely read a word on his page.
“Yes?” Draco says without looking up from his book. Turning a page with a pale slim finger. Harry tracks the movement far more intently than he should have, and something twists in his lower abdomen.
“Have you dated anyone before?”
Draco looks up now, a slightly perplexed expression on his face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly that. Have you dated someone before?”
“Why are you asking?” Draco asks suspiciously.
Harry shrugs, trying to project a show of innocence. “Just curious. We haven’t really spoken about it before. I feel like I’ve told you all my deepest darkest secrets, yet we’ve never spoken about dating.”
A slight blush colours Draco’s cheeks and Harry has the sudden urge to… okay he can’t finish that line of thought or he may do something he’ll regret.
“Nothing interesting here I’m afraid. I haven’t dated anyone before,” Draco replies, his voice carefully uninterested, but Harry knows Draco enough by now to identify it’s just a show.
“Really? No one at all?”
Draco takes a deep breath and he seems to give in. “Well… We didn’t date, but if you must know, Blaise and I… we took comfort in each other during sixth year.”
“Oh,” comes Harry’s instant response.
Harry doesn’t know why a sudden flare of possessiveness shoots through his gut and cuts straight up to his chest. He wants to Apparate to where Blaise is and make sure he never puts a hand on Draco again.
“If that’s something—” Draco begins to say nervously, clearly he’s anxious about his sudden confession.
“Don’t be daft,” Harry says, cutting him off. "I like men too, so there’s no judgement here.”
“Oh,” Draco says with surprise, his eyes widening slightly. “I didn’t know… you’ve only dated girls from what I know.”
“Well, yeah. I’ve never dated a guy, but that doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to them.”
A familiar smirk lights up Draco’s face. “It was Diggory wasn’t it? Your first boy crush.”
Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Actually, no. It was Oliver, the captain of the Quidditch team.”
“No way!” Draco exclaims, and he laughs. “Actually no, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“It didn’t last wrong, don’t worry. Not after I realised just how obsessed with Quidditch he is. I still find him fit, don't get me wrong. But he just never shuts up about it.”
Draco smiles, and there’s something timid about it. “What about now?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like anyone now?”
Harry scratches the back of his neck, he wants to say no but for some reason that feels like lying. Which… he isn’t sure why it feels like lying because he really doesn’t like anyone. Does he?
“Harry?” says Draco. Draco says his name, so softly and hesitantly, and it feels like a bolt of lightning going straight through his cranium and out his chest.
And that lightning bolt makes him realise that yes, he does like someone, and oh Merlin. He’s been such an idiot. When did he start liking Draco? Was it all so buried beneath the loathing and annoyance? Or was it simply disguised as such?
“Okay, you’re starting to scare me, what’s wrong?”
Harry shakes his head and tries for a soothing smile, but knows that it comes off awkward and stiff.
“Sorry, I was just… you made me realise something.”
“Which was?”
“That I do like someone.”
Draco’s eyes widen. “Oh, you do?”
“I do,” Harry says confidently.
“And who is it?”
Harry smirks. “Nope, you’re not getting it out of me, at least not right now.”
Draco huffs and rolls his eyes. “Of course you’d be like that, put me on edge just to keep me there.”
If Harry blushes, then it’s no one else’s business but his own.
Clearing his throat, Harry gets up from the bed and stretches. “About time we start getting to bed, don’t you think?”
Draco watches him intently as Harry gets up and heads towards his bed, pulling out his pyjamas. He tries not to cave underneath his gaze, knowing that Draco is trying to puzzle him together. Well, it won’t work. Harry won’t tell Draco anything until he’s sure that there’s even a slight chance his feelings could be reciprocated.
Harry attempts to go to sleep, but he’s unable to stop thinking about Draco now that he’s realised his true feelings. In the end he gives up, and lets himself sit with his thoughts. Somewhere in the small hours of the morning, he realises he’s frightened. Frightened because this is more than just a crush that he feels for Draco, it’s something more powerful. All encompassing and overwhelming.
More than what he felt for Oliver, more than Cho, and even more than Ginny. What he feels is close to love, and he knows that the longer he interacts with Draco, it’s not going to take long for it to become so.
Harry eventually rises with the sun and pops a rejuvenation potion that he has stashed in his bedside drawer in an attempt to give himself some energy.
When he’s done in the shower, he makes his way back to the dorm with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, deciding that he can risk walking down the hall half-naked as barely anyone should be awake yet. When he does get back to his dorm, however, it turns out someone is awake.
Draco looks up from where he’d been undressing, his shirt off, but thankfully his pants still on.
Harry swallows.
“Sorry, I uh,” Harry begins to say.
“No, I’m sorry. I thought I would change quickly whilst you were out.”
Harry nods and he quickly makes his way to bed, deciding that the best course of action would be to dress on the bed with the curtains drawn. He knows he shouldn’t be so self-aware, and Merlin knows any self-consciousness of his was taken away after his first year living in a room full of boys. But with Draco it feels different. It is different.
When he’s all dressed and presentable, Draco’s packing his bag. There’s nothing different about the way he’s packing, the same casual but timely pace as usual, but there’s something stiff about his movements. Not to mention, the crease between his eyebrows.
“You alright?” Harry asks.
Draco looks up at him with a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, I should be asking if you’re alright. You woke up pretty early.”
Harry shrugs and leans down to grab his satchel bag. “I’m fine. Just didn’t get the best of sleep.”
“Why?”
“Never mind.” Harry decides to change the subject instead. “Can I get help on this stupid potions essay? I have no idea what I’m supposed to be writing about.”
Draco crosses his arms, and he looks as if he won’t let the change of subject slide, but instead he sighs. “We can go to the library during lunch and I’ll fix whatever you’ve gone and fucked up.”
Harry chuckles. “Much appreciated.”
They head down to the common room together, where Hermione meets them with Ginny. They all say their morning greetings, and begin heading towards the exit.
“Hey,” Ginny says with a kind smile. “You look exhausted, did you not sleep well?”
“Not really,” says Harry, and before Ginny can push the subject he placates her, “I’m fine, I just couldn’t get to sleep. That’s all.”
Ginny doesn’t look convinced, but she knows that when Harry doesn’t want to talk about something she won’t push him on it, so she drops the subject and instead hooks her arm through his. “Come on, I’m starving, let’s go get breakfast.”
It’s only when they sit down that Ginny releases his arm, and for some reason, Draco had looked intently at them the whole journey to the great hall. But Harry never manages to ask him what’s wrong because he breaks off towards the Slytherin table before he can.
Draco seems to ignore him for the rest of the day. Well he doesn’t really ignore him. But there’s something in the way where he doesn’t quite meet his eye when Harry tries to get him to laugh with a joke or where he doesn’t engage in Harry’s banter as he usually would that causes Harry to worry.
He finally breaks when they're getting ready for bed and Draco seems intent on going to bed early.
“Alright, what’s wrong?” Harry demands, and he sits down on Draco’s bed without invitation.
“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just tired,” says Draco as he puts his book on his nightstand.
“Yeah, that’s bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me all day, so what’s up?”
Draco glares and he finally looks at Harry properly for the first time since this morning. “Nothing is wrong, now let me sleep, Potter.”
Draco still calls him Potter all the time, but this particular time takes him back to when they were eleven, and he’s witnessing Draco make fun of Ron and his clothes.
“You’re upset.”
Draco huffs and he looks away from Harry, his eyes focusing on something on the other side of the room. “I’m not upset, I’m just not in the mood today.”
“You were perfectly fine this morning,” Harry begins to say, then the pieces start clicking into place. “Until Ginny.”
Her name causes Draco to stiffen, but he’s still not looking at him, and Harry has to hold back the sudden instinct to grab his chin and force those piercing eyes to cut straight through him. “You were fine until Ginny took me away from you.”
“Now that’s a bit dramatic,” Draco says, too quickly, his cheeks reddening.
“Fuck, you’re… you were jealous?”
Draco’s eyes finally snap to him. “I was not!”
“You were!” Harry exclaims, and he smiles with amusement. “And you gave me the cold shoulder because of that.”
“You’re sounding real sure of yourself for someone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about,” hisses Draco, but the flush on his face is only deepening, and Harry has never found someone so hot and adorable all at once.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Draco grunts in reply.
“When you told me about Blaise, all I wanted to do at that moment was to find him… well let's say, make sure he would never get his hands on you again.”
Some of the stiffness leaves Draco’s muscles, and his eyebrows curl together with confusion. “What do you mean? You were…” Draco trails off, as if unable to finish his sentence.
So, Harry does it for him. “I was jealous. Extremely jealous.”
“This isn’t some sick joke is it?” Draco says quietly.
Harry instantly cups Draco’s cheek and rubs his thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s not. I think… I think I’ve been feeling like this for a long time about you. But it was so… buried underneath everything else that I couldn’t identify what it was. Then, when the castle or whatever entity forced us to cohabitate , to be in each other’s company, to actually communicate. Well, all those feelings decided they didn’t want to be buried anymore.”
“I won then, because I’ve known since the war. When I refused to identify you.”
Harry’s heart bashes against his rib-cage then makes a run for it, straight into Draco’s arms. “Oh, oh Draco,” Harry whispers, and he leans forward, unable to hold back any longer.
Their lips come together gently at first, tentative and soft. Draco is the first to move when he tilts his head, pressing in, his tongue brushing against Harry’s bottom lip. Harry instantly opens up for him, and deepens the kiss, the hand on Draco’s cheek moving up to curl into Draco’s hair, giving a light tug to angle his head slightly to the side.
They pull apart when they’re both desperate to breathe. Draco’s breath brushes against his wet lips, and all Harry can think is more, more, more.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that,” Draco says breathlessly.
“Why did you wait so long? I could have been snogging you for at least a year by now.”
Draco smiles and he presses close, his lips pressing to his softly before he pulls away. “Because I thought you were insufferably straight. Maybe if you’d dated a guy I might have chalked up the courage to crowd you into some corner.”
“You thought about doing that?” Harry asks, a mischievous smile curling up his lips.
Draco’s eyes darken, and he reflects his smile. “Oh, I most certainly have. More than once. Actually, probably at least once a week this year.”
“Wow, I’m honoured.”
And, because he’s allowed to now, Harry presses his lips back to Draco’s and they kiss for another long while, breaking apart only for necessities sake. “I want you to know that this is more than just… this .” Harry gesticulates with his hands, he’s always been horrible with words. “I like you, Draco. A whole bloody lot. I don’t want to just be in dark corners with you, hidden away and secret. I want to actually scream from the rooftops about you…” he sheepishly smiles. “If that’s alright with you?”
Draco grins widely, and he cradles Harry’s face in his hands. “That’s perfectly alright, Harry. Because I want to do exactly the same, even if it terrifies me.”
“I’m glad we’re both on the same page then,” Harry says, turning his head to place a kiss on the inside of Draco’s hand.
They spend the rest of the night making out and holding each other. Eventually they both drift off to sleep tangled in each other's arms and when Harry awakens in the morning, the soft morning light filtering in through the window and illuminating around Draco like a glow.
He knows he’s exactly where he wants to be. It’s terrifying just how strong he feels for Draco. How already what he thought was something akin to love is now irrevocably love. Yes, it’s scary. Because he’s already lost so many of those that are dear to him, and he never wants Draco to join that list. Rather, he doesn’t think he would be able to survive such a thing occurring.
However, he can’t allow himself to hold back simply because of that fear. He wants this. Needs this. And if that means being terrified each day that it might all just get taken away from him all over again.
Then he will happily take that fear along with love.
He pulls Draco closer and presses his nose into his hair, breathing in the vanilla and jasmine scent of his shampoo. He feels content and, for the first time in what feels like years, Harry is actually excited to see what the future will bring.
~
To say she feels smug about her accomplishments would be an understatement. The castle is practically floating with the feeling. Finally, her halls are absent from the shouting and the bickering. Finally, her halls are instead graced with quiet murmuring and whispered promises. She watches like a proud mother, for she is such; housing and nurturing countless decades of students allows her that honour.
But these two she has been especially fond of, and she rejoices as she observes them walk hand in hand down the halls, nothing but love and adoration in their gazes for another.
No longer would they deny what they truly want.