*Good Title*

The verdict was innocent. And Harry was stunned. Relieved, but stunned nonetheless. 

He stayed and waited at the door into the courtroom for Malfoy to walk out. When asked about release, he said to burn whatever personal belongings the prison had, and the court agreed to release him then and there, several of the officials full of remorse.

He walked out of the double doors still wearing the bright orange, and Harry was tired enough to admit to anyone that he looked good. 

Malfoy glanced at him and looked around the room without moving. 

“Got somewhere to stay?” Harry asked. 

Malfoy took in a heavy breath and shook his head.

“I’ve got 12 Grimmauld Place if you’re up for it.” 

He looked to be at a loss, “I just want to crash.” Malfoy said. 

Harry nodded and offered his arm, “Okay to aparate?” 

“It’s been a while,” Malfoy took it, “Might puke on your rug,” 

Harry smiled weakly, “Been meaning to get rid of it anyway.” 

Malfoy took another breath, nodding once before Harry aparated them both home. “Home” was a loose term, the house didn’t exactly like him. 

He did puke on the rug, apologized immediately too, just another thing to throw Harry off. But then he looked at the rug itself, scrunched his nose and eyebrows together in all too familiar distaste, and said “Yeah, you should get rid of it anyway.” 

Harry snorted and used his wand to vanish it, keeping his arm up until Malfoy pulled his hand back. He didn’t feel as exhausted anymore. And he didn’t feel nervous or uncomfortable with Malfoy in his house. The atmosphere seemed to agree that it was right he was there. “You can raid my dresser for something more comfortable if you’d like, but I can’t promise quality.”

Malfoy nodded, swaying slightly with his grip on Harry’s arm tightening. 

Harry remembered he didn’t have to present neutrality anymore, so he tried to relax his muscles and face. “Is there anything else you need?” 

Malfoy considered the question, “Breakfast?” 

“Now, or sleep first?” Malfoy made eye contact for the first time since the courtroom, and Harry could see how much he had relaxed too. “Okay, sleep first.” He said, gently urging Malfoy towards and up the stairs. 

They stopped at Harry’s bedroom for a change of clothes and a functioning bathroom before continuing to the next bedroom. Malfoy had grabbed a solid color T-shirt and a pair of underwear from an unopened pack in Harry’s drawer. His judgemental look was met with an equally half-hearted shrug. He changed in the bathroom while Harry opted for a fresh pair of sweatpants himself. 

Harry also pulled Malfoy’s wand from a hidden drawer on the back of the dresser, carefully handing it back to him with an open palm, “They would’ve broken it,” He said, “You didn’t deserve that.” Malfoy took it quietly, and Harry led him to the next open bedroom. 

Harry was not at all surprised to fall asleep as easily as he did, practically passing out from exhaustion before he even touched the sheets. What he was also not surprised to find, was waking up falling in the middle of the night. A few glasses crashed to the ground and shattered around him as his back hit the ground, a throw blanket still tangled in his legs. His glasses would be broken on the floor somewhere too, but at least all the dresser drawers had stayed closed this time. The bed and all of the other furniture that had been in the room were now nestled innocently on the ceiling in a reflection of the room minutes before. 

Harry reached a hand up to check the back of his head for bleeding as he heard someone walk around the stairs and the door creak open, “...what in the fuck?” 

“Watch the glass.” Harry said. 

“...yeah, I see that.” The snark in Malfoy’s voice was comforting. 

Harry started to sit up, expecting the house to be done tormenting him, when his wand landed with a thunk on his forehead. 

Malfoy snorted, and Harry could hear some of the glass sliding back together. 

He left his wand and glasses wherever they were and brought both hands up to rub across his face, “The house still hates me.” 

“Why?” Malfoy asked, a few steps closer than he had been before. 

“Probably because I’m not Sirius.” Harry said, feeling around the floor for his wand with his right hand. 

“How long will it be like this?” Malfoy was right next to him now, and Harry jumped a little, having not heard him move. 

“Could be for a week,” He felt his wand press into his hand and took it, “Thanks,” 

“A week? What do you do when that happens?” Malfoy asked. 

Harry shrugged, “Depends. The couch sucks. Sometimes I’ll stay with Ron. If I go to a different bedroom it usually does the same thing. Stairs won’t even let me past this floor half the time.” He found his glasses next, all kinds of bent and shattered. 

“Let me,” Malfoy took them, using a few charms to straighten them and fix the glass before handing them back, “When you don’t stay with Ron?” 

“Then I usually don’t sleep.” Harry untangled his legs from the blanket and stood, straightening his glasses. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than waking up after a night on the floor.” 

Harry’s eyes found Malfoy’s face through the dark, nodding slowly, closer than an arm’s length away. Then the comforter fell off the bed. It landed over their heads, and Harry could feel both of them react before they realized what it was. Then Malfoy laughed. It was light at first, genuinely amused, then it tapered off and got a bit manic, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh with him. 

They found their way out from underneath the blanket with smiles on their faces, and Harry straightened his glasses again as Malfoy asked, “Does it do that when there’s someone in the bed with you?” 

Harry looked up quickly to make eye contact before responding slowly, “I don’t know,” He said, “Can’t say I’ve ever tried it.” 

“Well I can’t imagine you’re going to Ron’s now.” Malfoy said, turning slightly towards the door and leaning his head towards it as if in invitation. Harry blinked. “I’m used to a twin and a roommate Potter, I can share a queen sized bed if you can.” 

He nodded dumbly and followed Malfoy around the stairwell, I’m still used to a cupboard, climbing carefully into the right side of the bed once Malfoy had taken the left. It took longer to fall asleep this time, but only just. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d do if it happened again. 

It did. It definitely did. Had to have. Because there was no other logical explanation for Harry to wake up with the warm weight of another person on his chest. And then slowly, he realized, that the faintly chilling paint he was staring up at, was not a mattress or bed spread, and was, in fact, the ceiling of the room he’d fallen asleep in. Which meant… 

He slowly turned his head to look down at the platinum blonde hair brushing his jaw, wholly at ease, and arguably enjoying being a pillow, for the first time in his life. 

Malfoy was still asleep,the bridge of his nose pressing ever so slightly against Harry’s collarbone, every breath tickling his skin in a somewhat relieving way.

Harry didn’t want to move, he was sure Malfoy needed the sleep, but he wasn’t sure how he’d react waking up like this. Harry didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

So he didn’t move at all, taking in every detail he could. Malfoy’s hair was a little greasy, like he’d been in prison or something, and Harry made a mental note that he’d probably want a shower as soon as they’d eaten something. With conditioner. Harry had just started using a separate conditioner, giving in to Hermione’s badgering when Ron had broken and started to agree with her. 

Then he thought about breakfast. Harry wasn’t sure there were any eggs in the house, and he knew there definitely wasn’t anything else breakfast-worthy unless cold pizza really did count. Again he considered moving to get up, to go check and maybe buy fresh eggs anyway, but Malfoy’s legs were tangled with his own, and there wasn’t an easy way to get out of it without waking him up. And Harry wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to get up enough to think more on trying. 

Malfoy wasn’t laying on his side curled into Harry, he was completely on top of him, and it was a little bit crushing, in the best way possible. They’d ended up in a similar position a few times before, inches away from aggressively biting one another, and Harry could feel the difference. Malfoy was heavier now, gentler too, but it was the former that brought Harry the most comfort. 

Harry was absolutely not complaining about the position they were in, especially when Draco woke up and leaned up enough to see Harry’s face, putting his stunning white-silver eyes perfectly in view, but he couldn’t help but wonder how they got there. 

Draco’s left hand was pressed flat against the center of Harry’s chest, holding him up, and Harry could feel his heart beat in his throat.

“Sorry,” Malfoy started, apologizing quiet enough to be a whisper as he started to get up. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Harry replied just as gently, a small apology of his own. 

Malfoy untangled their legs and sat on the empty side of the bed, where he had started, and Harry carefully sat up where he was. They shared intense eye contact for another moment before simultaneously breaking away, searching the room for anything else to look at. 

Harry settled on the comforter, then the wooden design on the headboard, then found his eyes slowly creeping back towards Malfoy. 

Harry took in his hands, where one of them was pressed into the sheets as he leaned on one arm, and the deep blue of his veins just under the skin, skin that was somehow paler than it had been in school, rougher too, with cracks and callouses on his knuckles practically begging to be kissed. 

A metaphor came to mind as Harry thought of how willing he’d be to memorize each crease, like finally taking an interest in the roadmaps he’d never bothered to learn before.

Harry was a bit desperate. He and Ginny had broken up the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, both finally agreeing that it wasn’t what either of them really wanted, and Harry had spent the time since then thinking about what he did want. It wasn’t a long list, but it was a particular one. 

He wanted someone who he could talk to, who would listen and hear him, but wouldn’t judge. He wanted someone who could help him when he needed it, and who would back off when he asked. He wanted someone he could love with everything he had, who wouldn’t be overwhelmed or scared off. He didn’t care to be specific about gender or hobbies or who someone was related to. He wanted someone who understood. And he was starting to feel a little afraid that that person didn’t exist. 

“Do you ever feel like no matter what you say, or who you say it to, no one’s ever really listening?” Draco’s voice was confident, but sounded strained nonetheless. 

“Yes.” Harry answered before he really processed the question, completely understanding before the rest of his brain caught up. He looked back up to find Draco studying his face. 

Draco hummed softly, eyes flicking back down to the comforter scrunched around his waist. “I was hoping it was just because it was me.” 

“Sorry to disappoint.” Harry scoffed lightly, “All anyone wants to hear is that they’re right.” 

“I hope I’m not.” Draco said. 

“Hm?” Harry wasn’t sure what he was talking about. 

Malfoy shook his head in dismissal, “What’s available for food? At this point I’d take anything that's not boiled.” 

Harry inhaled and reached for his glasses, “I have no idea. But there is leftover pizza if all else fails.” 

Malfoy snorted and climbed out of the other side of the bed, “Ginerva’s certainly making sure you’re taking care of yourself.” There was no malice in his tone, Harry checked. 

Harry hesitated, “We broke up months ago. The day after the all fighting, actually.” 

“Oh.” Malfoy said, following Harry out of the room. He stopped at the doorway to Harry’s bedroom, “Can I borrow some pants as well?” 

“Anything you can find,” Harry said, pausing on the second step down and leaning on the railing to wait. 

He heard a few muttered charms and Malfoy walked back out to him a few minutes, later having found a pair of black sweatpants. 

Harry stared, unmoving, until Malfoy started on the top step, “What?” 

Harry almost answered, letting his mouth hang open, then thought better of it and quickly turned to continue down the stairs. “Nothing. I take it the furniture’s still on the ceiling?” 

“Unfortunately,” Malfoy walked into the kitchen behind Harry, hesitating at the table and standing with a hand on the back of one of the chairs, unsure whether he should be going to help or staying back. 

Harry didn’t notice at first, walking straight to the fridge to check for eggs, and giving up without much surprise. He opted for the pizza without much more thought and brought the two tinfoil-wrapped slices over to the table. 

Malfoy sat when Harry started to walk back over, tense, but grateful that the situation hadn’t ended more awkward than it had to be. 

“What’s unfortunate is there’s nothing else in my fridge that’s safe to eat,” Malfoy snorted, “We’ll have to go get something for lunch. Dinner, too.” 

“I’ll have to buy clothes too. Any chance you’re willing to be an escort to Gringotts? Can’t imagine I’d have much luck on my own.” 

Harry felt like he could hear the tension in Malfoy’s voice, and he wanted to physically cringe. Instead he nodded, “I haven’t really been doing anything. I helped with reconstruction for a little while, but then McGonagall banned me after I slipped and fell three stories through the east wing.” 

“…you what?” Malfoy raised one eyebrow incredulously. 

“I was fine!” Harry insisted, “Point is, I’d be happy to go with you wherever you have to go, even if it was just for something to do. Ron won’t let me join the aurors, and trying to befriend this house is a losing game. Believe it or not, I might officially go insane if I don’t help you.” He knew he was rambling a bit, picking at the pepperoni as he talked, but Malfoy didn’t seem to mind. 

If anything, he looked amused. “Alright then. I’ll believe that when I see it.” 

Harry looked up slightly confused, and slightly too tired to worry about embarrassing himself, “What? The house or the insanity? Because they do go hand in hand.” 

Malfoy was smiling, “The insanity, I guess. You may still go insane just tagging along with me.” 

“Tagging along?” Harry could feel himself start to smile, “I was under the impression it was more of a hired-muscle kind of gig.” 

“I suppose so, but I think you’ll find that I am still very capable on my own.” 

“I’m sure you are.” The sincerity in Harry’s tone betrayed the smirk on his face.