At the Institute for Magical Academia, Growth, and Excellence, or I-MAGE, young adults from across magical Europe came together to study areas of magic that couldn't be covered at normal wizarding schools. The International Confederation of Wizards funded and ran the I-MAGE, providing a step into the future for all magical beings.
The I-MAGE consisted of six fields of study, including Light Arts, Elemental Magic, Advanced Runework, Dark Arts, Spell crafting, and Enchantment. Those were further broken up into various classes, along with a set of "core" lessons, such as History of Magic, Muggle Studies, Herbology, and Wandlore, which could be taken by students of any field.
Harry James Potter was a half-blood graduate of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and had enrolled in the I-MAGE to start that fall. He, along with his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, had been in Gryffindor back in Hogwarts, just like Harry's parents had been.
When Harry was a toddler, they were attacked by a mad Dark Lord, but the combined force of his father, mother, and four godfathers (who were at his home to celebrate Harry's second Samhain) had managed to defeat him. The papers lauded their family as heroes, and even now Harry was sometimes recognized and thanked for what had happened, even though it wasn't his doing.
Going to the I-MAGE, Harry hoped that the international aspect of the institute would make it harder for people to recognize him, but he would always be grateful for Ron and Hermione, who had never seemed to care about his mediocre fame. As the trio waited in line to be tested for aptitude, Harry turned to Hermione with a grin.
"Five galleons we all end up in the same field?" He asked.
"Suckers bet," Hermione scoffed, "You wouldn't last a week on your own anyway."
Taken aback, Harry frowned at her. "What do you mean by that? It's not like I'm helpless, 'Mione."
Rushing to placate him, she smiled charmingly. "Of course, Harry, but you know you're not the best with studying, or time management... Or planning. We're just here to help!"
Not entirely comforted, Harry nodded anyway, but didn't manage to respond before Ron was butting in.
"Besides, there's no way we don't all end up in the Light Arts field, we're Gryffindors. It's obviously the only choice for good people like us."
"My godfather was a Slytherin, Ron. And my dogfather is a Black, and my godfather-in-law is a dark creature. The Light Arts are cool and all, but I can't guarantee that's the field I'll have an aptitude for."
"Don't be silly, Harry. We're sure you'll join us in the Light Arts field." Hermione waved her hand in casual dismissal of his worries. "You can't be part of any of the others, they're Dark."
Harry had, in fact, been guided into the Dark Arts field, as that was where the tests showed his magical core was most proficient. His "friends" had seen that as a sign of evil, or rebellion, maybe? And they had refused to talk to him again until he changed his field of choice to one that they approved of. Honestly, finally not having to tone down his wealth and intelligence to keep the peace was one of the best parts of the I-MAGE, closely followed by the existence of his roommate.
In Hogwarts, Harry hadn't had much time to network or meet people outside his house, between his extracurriculars and side projects (books taken from his dogfather's library). So when he entered his dorm for the first time and walked in on a tall, blond man stripping off his shirt, Harry didn't recognize him at first.
Not until he turned around.
"Potter?"
"Er, hi, Malfoy. We're going to be roommates now, I suppose. That, uh, that cool with you?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes and gave Harry a small smirk. "Not much I could do if it wasn't, hmm? But no, I'm sure it'll be fine, as long as you keep your things on your side of the room."
"Sounds like a plan. Which bed did you claim?" Harry asked, moving to put his things away and starting a casual conversation with his new roommate.
As the semester passed, Malfoy became Draco, and he found himself getting closer to the other man. He was attracted to him, for sure, but something seemed to be holding Draco back from reciprocating.
Finally, as the spring semester drew to a close, Harry worried up the courage to ask.
"Hey, Draco?"
Draco hummed in answer, flipping slowly through a book on necromancy that Harry had lent him from his classes.
"Are you... Gah, there's no way to ask this without being weird about it, but um. Are you straight? Or ace? Or like, just not interested in me?"
Draco scoffed, but his face paled. "Always the Gryffindor, huh? That was definitely a very...Blunt way to ask if I was attracted to you."
"Ah, well. I had a plan for how to do this, but got a bit tongue tied and- anyway, are you- are you comfortable answering?"
"Potter," Draco sighed, and Harry felt his heart sink, "Of course I'm attracted to you, idiot. We've been sharing a bed for two months."
"You said you slept better like that?"
"I do. You make me feel safe."
"See it's not that weird-"
"My mother sent you a Yule gift. So did my father. And my aunt."
"My godfathers got my friends something though?"
"All of them?"
"Well, no. Uncle Severus-"
"I literally gave you a hickey on Wednesday."
"We were playing truth or dare!"
"I picked the dare!"
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"Oops"