Chapter 3
Chapter 3
The rooms in the new suites were nice. They were spacious, thank Merlin. There were two beds, chests of drawers, and plenty of dwelling around room. Near his bed was the entrance to the bathroom they’d share with Hermione and Ron. Harry was immediately calculating how much space could be between him and Malfoy at any given moment. Draco on the other hand was flitting about the room organizing his things, his movements brash and quick. He made up his bed, hung his clothes, and put a few keepsakes on his desk. Harry was sprawled on his bed pretending to read his quidditch book. Exhaustion was making his eyes heavy. He had helped Hermione and Ron fix their room up and placed his things in the joint bathroom, and saved a little energy to rummage in his own trunk a bit before giving up. As he lie there, he comforted himself by thinking this arrangement wasn’t so bad – he’d expected it to be much worse thus far. Having Ron and Hermione so close relieved him a bit, but even without them, Draco was pretty quiet and out of the way. He’d only insulted Harry’s things a few times which seemed like a win.
Draco was trying to ignore Harry Potter as best he could. He was trying to keep busy, neurotically tinkering with every detail of the room. His mother had told him to send an owl once he was settled, and he was thinking of what that letter would look like.
Dear Mum,
I’m settled in Hogwarts. Harry bloody Potter is my roommate. Dorms are nice. I’m a villain. I don’t want to be here. Hope Paris is fine.
Your son,
Draco
He laughed with mirth out loud just thinking about the letter. He felt Harry’s green eyes bore into him. It was true though, while Draco was here enduring his last year at Hogwarts, his mum was having holiday in Paris. She said she needed time away – that began in June, meaning Draco had spent all summer alone.
“I’m going to go see Ron and Hermione,” Potter said suddenly rising from his bed. Draco didn’t look up. He clenched his jaw in irritation. As much as Draco was taught to hate Harry Potter, having another person in his presence was comforting, even if it was his “sworn enemy.” Especially after what happened a few months ago…
Harry slowly got up. Every nerve was on edge. He felt like anything he did was going to agitate Draco and start a fight. A year ago, he wouldn’t have cared about pissing off Malfoy, but now he’d be the one to have to deal with the aftermath. Regardless, he refused to let Draco influence what he wanted to do. He got up from the plush bed and went next door.
Ron and Hermione were cozy in bed, Ron’s head in her lap. They looked up and smiled as Harry walked in, and Ron sat up. Harry felt a little embarrassed, like he was intruding, but the way the tension instantly melted away being out of his room was too good to take away.
“How’s it going?” Hermione asked with genuine concern. Harry just sighed in reply.
“I think it’ll get better,” he said, hoping that saying it out loud would help it come true.
“At least with Malfoy right under your nose he can’t be too dreadful,” Ron added cheerily. He gave Harry a dopy smile. Harry was happy to see Ron so relaxed. Once he’d said ‘I love you to Hermione’, he had become a much more relaxed bloke.
“True,” Harry smiled. “Unless his aim is to kill me in my sleep.” He was only half joking.
“Have you two talked at all?” Ron asked. Harry nodded his head no.
“Don’t really plan on it. What have we got to say to each other? ‘Sorry I tried to kill you?’ ‘S’all good, sorry your dad is in Azkaban?’” Hermione nor Ron had anything to say.
The trio spent the next couple hours together joking and talking about their classes. It felt like Hogwarts again. Harry was with his mates, and for the very first time, Voldemort wasn’t at his throat and interfering with his education. It was late when Harry decided to retreat back to his room. Draco was already lying in bed, clad in emerald silky pajamas. Harry tried to be very quiet as he undressed, not feeling up to the argument that would surely follow if he interrupted Draco’s precious beauty sleep. It was only a few moments after he put his glasses on the side table that he drifted off.
Draco woke up in the dead of the night to Harry’s voice. As soon as he was conscious his heart rate escalated. The room was chaotic – panic was seeping into Harry’s voice and he was thrashing. Draco reached for his wand under his pillow and looked around the room for the enemy, only to find it empty. He calmed slightly when he realized that Potter was having a nightmare. Draco felt his numbness start in his fingertips. He felt frozen. What was he supposed to do? Ignore it? Get Weasley and Granger? As Harry’s breathing became more ragged and his voice more strained Draco settled on waking him up. He felt genuinely sad for Harry. He crept quietly over to the boy and gave him a firm nudge. Upon further inspection he saw sweat beads on Harry’s forehead and the collar of his pajamas wet.
“Potter,” Draco whispered, reaching out to shake Harry’s arm again. The brunette boy stirred but his eyes didn’t open. His chest was heaving up and down and his bushy eyebrows were furrowed. “Harry!” Draco said louder, and with a firmer shake.
Green eyes shot open and Harry gasped as if air had just returned to his lungs. He sat up so quickly that Draco stumbled backward, throwing his arms in the air. Draco’s eyes were wide as he was taking in the scene.
“Oh, Merlin,” Harry said hanging his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and Draco realized he was crying. He stood as still as a statue, wishing he might disappear. Harry looked up after a moment, eyes red and puffy. “Sorry,” he mumbled, half embarrassed and half exhausted.
“No, I…” Draco stammered. He wasn’t judging Harry in that moment. Did Potter really think he hated him enough to have absolutely no sympathy, when pain was staring him right in the face? “Don’t be.” The blonde boy continued. “I didn’t know if you’d want to be woken up. It seemed… intense.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. His bottom lip quivered as he folded in on himself. “They always are.”
Draco never thought he’d see Harry Potter absolutely helpless. There may have been a time where the sight delighted him, but in this context – in the gentle light from the moon outside their window – it was devastating. Draco didn’t have much practice with friends over the years but he gave it a try. “Did you want to talk about it?” Draco said after a very long, awkward moment. He could tell Potter needed to, but wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to talk to Draco in such a candid way.
“It’s all death. Always death,” Harry started. His voice seemed hollow. Haunted. He looked at Draco to see if he was scared. The last thing Harry wanted was Draco to think he was nuts on top of a prat. But nothing in Draco’s face changed, even after the morbid admission. “I dream about Fred dying. Lupin. Sirius…” Harry quickly wiped away the tears that escaped. “All of the people I loved. Dumbledore and Snape, too. They all died for me. Tonks, Moody, Hedwig. It was supposed to be me.” Harry couldn’t contain himself anymore. He was fully sobbing. He hadn’t said these things out loud in quite some time. He tried not to think about the deceased. It was too painful.
The stabilization changed on his bed and he felt a warm pressure on his shoulder. Draco Malfoy was sitting on Harry Potter’s bed with a hand on his shoulder. Harry was too distressed to pay attention, and to be honest, the affection felt nice. His whole life Harry had been touch starved. Something shifted in Harry. The foundation of his relationship with Draco was changing so strongly, it was like he could feel it physically shifting his organs around. The war changed them. They were both grappling with loss and devastation. They were part of the same war, they just had different perspectives. And in the end, Harry remembered, Draco wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t kill Harry, and he had the chance. He didn’t kill Dumbledore, either. Draco was scared. War changes people Harry thought. He could only imagine Draco was thinking the same thing.
The next morning, Harry woke up to a mild summer sky. Autumn was approaching quickly, and it made for beautiful Hogwarts scenery. For a moment he thought that maybe his eyes were burning from allergies and the changing season, but once he leapt out of bed and shuffled to the mirror, his puffy-eyed reflection reminded him of the tumultuous night. Thinking back on it, how did the night end? Had he cried himself to sleep with Draco as a witness? Was this even real? Mortification set in.
Draco’s bed was tightly made. Harry was gazing at it, looking for any evidence that the moment they shared wasn’t an illusion.
“What are you staring at, Potter?” the voice, cold as ever, rang through the room as Draco stepped out of the bathroom. His hands were buttoning his shirt from the bottom up. Silvery scars were visible on his chest. Harry had never noticed them before, and quietly wondered where he’d gotten them.
“Nothing,” Harry said, turning back to the mirror to smooth his unkempt hair. Draco cocked an eyebrow up at him, but said nothing. Harry could feel Malfoy’s eye roll from across the school, let alone across the room.
“Looking for hair gel?” he teased, obviously alluding to the drastic differences in the boys’ hairstyles.
“No,” Harry said flatly. “I was just thinking about yesterday.” He felt the mood change instantly. “About last night, specifically.” He paused, challenging Draco to fill the silence.
“What about it?” Draco asked. He wasn’t giving in. Harry turned around and looked him in the eyes as Draco was fastening his last button, again covering the slash of scar. “What,” Draco said, tauntingly, “do we need to have a heart to heart? Cry about it, shall we?” Anger flared in Harry’s chest.
“Shove off, Malfoy” he spat. His anger was met with that infamous smirk.
“I’m leaving now, Potter, don’t cry about it. Oh, and you can buy your own hair gel instead of nabbing mine.” He sauntered off. Harry balled his hands into fists again and again. The tension was broken when Ron erupted into the room.
“Morning!” he said as he made himself comfortable on Harry’s bed. “Weird not waking up with you in my room, but I think I've upgraded.” He cracked a smile at Harry, who whacked his arm with laughter. “Oy, did Malfoy sleep somewhere else last night? He couldn’t stand you that badly?” Ron asked. Harry looked at him blankly.
“What do you mean?”
Ron’s cheeks pinked. “Well, we sort of heard you having a nightmare last night. We heard Malfoy’s bed creaking like he got up but never heard him get back in. Sorry mate, we were about to check on you but it seemed to pass.”
“Uhh, I wouldn’t know,” Harry spat out quickly, feeling embarrassed. “Kinda weird that you’re listening to my room while you’re up snogging your girlfriend, Ron.” Harry attempted a bit of levity.
“
Woke up to her crawling in my bed. Said she was anxious for classes so we were talking then one thing led to another. Besides, Malfoy’s bed squeaks so loud, it’s hard to miss. I can’t hear anything else. Anyway, Harry, we’re heading down to breakfast. Save you a seat.”
After Ron left, Harry took a moment to collect himself. Draco was back to being mean, and he wasn’t sure how the night ended. Did Draco stay on the edge of Harry’s bed? Did he leave the room? Did Ron just fall asleep before hearing Draco return to his own bed? These were all things he wanted to know, but Draco had made it clear that the conversation was over.
Classes went on as usual. In fact, the Golden Trio were delighted at how normal the day progressed. Their new classes were a breeze, and they had hardly any comments about You Know Who or the War. The professors seemed normal enough. Harry and Ron particularly enjoyed Professor Hart’s class. She had them on their feet and training like never before.
Harry was sat on the lawn with Ginny, spending his half hour break before Aquatic Herbology with her. He was stroking her hair with his fingers and she was occupied by a textbook.
“How’s living with Malfoy?” Ginny asked, eyes still captivated by the pages. Harry couldn’t think of what to tell her.
“Nothing like I’d expect,” he settled on. This remark made her close the book and look at him.
“Really? You mean it’s not constant humiliation tactics? No curses or jinxes?”
“Not so far,” Harry said. “But it really hasn’t been that long.” Ginny nodded and settled back into her book, picking up that Harry wasn’t ready to divulge much else about the experience. She assumed it was because it was so new and stressful to him, but in reality, Harry didn’t have his own feelings sorted out. Something about Draco was intriguing. The new possibilities kept the Slytherin on Harry’s mind. It was a glimpse of the past mixed in with the promise of the future. It was a regular Hogwarts mystery, but this time with no death.
For the time being, Harry would keep the matters with Draco close to his chest. He wasn’t ready to trust Draco, but he might be willing to let go of the villainy.