Chapter Text
Harry’s eyes blinked open, the warm light of the desk lamp filling his vision quickly. He raised his head groggily and looked down at the now dried drool on his notepad. He yawned briefly before wiping some of the drool from his sweater onto his pants and collecting his items. He rolled up his sleeves to check his Muggle watch. 9:55 pm, just 5 ‘til 10. With a huff he stood up, being sure to push in his chair quietly. Harry filled his bag with his books and whatnot and began to make his way out of the library.
On his way out, he noticed a speck of white in the corner of this vision. Such a pristine white is unusual for such an old library, no? Harry paused his pace and turned to see a full head of soft, slightly unkempt white-blond hair.
Malfoy.
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he looked back at his watch. 9:57. He thought it curious that the Draco Malfoy had also fallen asleep while studying just a few aisles away from himself. His feet seemed to carry him towards Malfoy without a second thought, wondering what Malfoy was even studying in the first place. Not that it’d be necessary for him to study anyway, since he was already “terribly brilliant” according to Professor Snape.
His eyes scanned the almost still figure beneath him, the scent of his expensive cologne instantly filling Harry’s lungs. He had to hold back a cough. He glanced at the book beneath Malfoy. The page had been flipped open to the recipe for Amortentia, including a spare sheet of parchment filled with scratched out words and lists, a piece ripped off the corner, and a recipe for Treacle Tart.
I didn’t know Malfoy baked, was the first thought that popped into Harry’s naive mind. Wait. Amortentia? As in the love potion? Why would Malfoy need a spell for Amortentia? Isn’t his ego big enough? Harry paid no attention to the other factors in play: The ripped parchment, the scratched out lists, with words that might relate to him in one way or another… Nevertheless, Harry figured it was time to leave. He checked his watch.
10:01 pm.
Shit.
A faint meow came from down the hall outside the library. Filch. He’d need to move quickly. Harry set his bag onto the desk beside Malfoy’s head with a soft thump, which surprisingly was enough to wake up the sleepy blond. Malfoy’s head shot up and his grey eyes locked with Harry’s bright green eyes.
“What in Merlin’s name– Potter?!” Malfoy began, his voice coming out scratchy and exhausted. Harry, and another distant meow from Filch’s cat, was quick to shush him.
“Shut it Malfoy! Do you even know the time?” Harry hissed, ironically.
Malfoy’s face scrunched up in a way that Harry would’ve considered to be annoying if it weren’t for the soft cast of the lantern on Malfoy’s desk.
Harry rummaged through his bag quickly as he could, whipping out his Cloak of Invisibility without a second thought. He blew out the lantern with a short puff. Malfoy picked up on Harry’s swiftness and began packing up his own things. The embarrassed pink on his cheeks was now thankfully invisible due to the lack of light.
As the footsteps of Filch’s cat grew closer, Malfoy and Harry were just about cleaned up. They ran behind a bookshelf and huddled together, carefully looking out for any sign of Filch– which came in a hoarse and ugly clearing of the throat.
Harry shuffled the Cloak around himself. Malfoy nearly scoffed; remembering they needed to be silent, he pointed to himself with an astonished look on his pale face. Harry rolled his eyes and wrapped the Cloak around Malfoy as well. The two were now squeezed side by side underneath the warm Cloak. Harry flipped the fabric over their faces and watched as Filch entered the library.
Filch scanned around and, seeing the smoke still leaving the blown out lantern, began investigating. His cat followed him in, walking around to the seat Malfoy had been sitting at.
“Just my luck. Being stuck under a filthy old blanket with a halfblood.” Malfoy scoffed under his breath.
“Shut it, Malfoy. If you hadn’t been sleeping I wouldn’t have had to waste my time and wake you.”
“Oh, yeah, because you just had to wake me, didn’t you, Saint Potter?”
“Don’t call me that, Ferret.” Harry grit his teeth at Malfoy who returned the sentiment with a snarl.
Hearing this bickering, Filch’s cat had wandered up to the invisible pair.
Harry’s eyes widened and he began whispering for the cat to shoo.
“That’s not going to work, Scarhead,” Malfoy whispered.
Suddenly, the cat pounced on Malfoy with an irritating yowl. Malfoy screeched and let go of his books and papers, which hit the ground with a thud. This, of course, caused Filch to come running. Harry’s eyebrows shot up so far they could’ve touched his scar. He let out a muffled laugh, dropped the Cloak and used a charm to put Malfoy’s belongings into his own bag. Malfoy successfully got the damn cat off himself. He patted and brushed his clothes, which was then rendered useless because Harry grabbed Malfoy by his robes and dragged him out of the library. They ran down the hall side by side with Filch and his cat chasing after them.
Harry looked over at Malfoy. His white-blond hair was all over the place, yet still looked soft and shiny as ever. Malfoy’s robes were nearly falling off of his person too. Harry burst out laughing. Malfoy growled, but struggled to hold back a smirk as he saw what the blanket had done to Harry’s hair, now standing straight up, making him look as mad as Ollivander. Malfoy glared at Harry as they ran.
Finally they had arrived at the grand staircase. They sat on the steps, out of breath. Harry looked over at Malfoy and pointed to his hair. Malfoy growled and slapped Harry’s hand away, desperately trying to fix his usually perfect blond hair. Harry turned his head away to smile, glad they escaped Filch, and possibly detention.