Change My Mind

“You’re reading?” Harry groaned, rolling over to retrieve his glasses from his night stand. “How long have you been awake?”

“I woke up an hour ago,” Draco said shortly, his nose deep into some Stephen King novel. It was massive. “Glad you decided to wake up yourself.”

“You do realize that you’re going to have three books you need to finish, right?” Harry grumbled, shaking his head.

Draco smiled, “Two actually, I finished Little Women almost a month ago. I’m shocked you didn’t notice,” Draco said in a dramatic way.

Harry sighed, slumping out of bed and examining his hair in the mirror. It was a wreck as usual.

“There’s a quidditch game on Friday,” Draco began, trying to choose his words carefully. “Granger and Ron invited me to join them, they were hoping you’d go to.”

“You know I don’t go to the games, Draco.”

“But your friends invited me! What am I supposed to do, hang around them like we’re buddies,” He groaned, discarding his book and flipping down on his bed. He was acting like a teenager. “They’re not my friends, it would be awkward.”

“They are too your friends,” Harry rebottled, “I’ve seen you play multiple games of Wizards Chess with Ron, and you’ve helped Hermione with potions more than I can count. I mean, you helped Hermione for Merlin’s Sake.”

Draco laughed, "Granger is very skilled in about every subject here,” He paused, “Except potions, it’s her weakest link. Everyone has at least one.”

“So what’s yours?”

“Magical Creatures.”

Harry burst out laughing. He had remembered Draco being attacked by Buckbeack as clear as day.

When the moment had settled, Draco tried once more. “It would be fun to go to the game, don’t you think?”

“Draco I’m not going.”

“You’d have fun.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

“Please.”

Harry sighed. He simply couldn’t go. He shook his head.

“Why?”

“Because I-“ Harry had to stop himself from shouting. His mind drew back to Hermione telling him to take deep breathes before he exploded. He tried. “Because.. I don’t fly anymore. Watching it just brings back bad memories.”

“You can’t even watch others fly?” Draco asked. Malfoy wasn’t one to push others into spilling their guts, so the fact he wasn’t letting up was really starting to anger Harry.

“I’m scared, okay?! I’m scared to fly and I don’t want to go to the game! Just fuck off about it.”

It was becoming difficult to calm down. Harry felt his heart racing, the look on Draco’s face punched him in the gut. He seemed rather defeated, as if he had been excited to spend time with Harry at the Quidditch game.

That wasn’t him being asked out on a date, right?

No, of course not.

He swallowed, leaning against his bedpost. Guilt had already built into his stomach, and the odd feeling of tears bubbled.

Draco noticed the soft tremble he had, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Is there something I should know about?”

Harry wanted to tell him everything. He was depressed. The war had ruined him. It ruined his way of life, his ability to talk to his friends, his relationship with food. He was a ruined man, who had no clue what he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to tell Draco how conflicting it was to question having feelings for your roommate. He wanted to tell him how much he regretted dismissing his offered hand in first year. But then again, it wouldn’t have been the Draco standing in front of him now. He wanted to cry. Harry wanted nothing more than to cry till he couldn’t cry anymore. But he’d already done that yesterday. How many times can he sob till there’s nothing left.

“I’m just tired.”

Draco took the hint. He knew Harry was lying. And Harry knew that he knew. But Draco needed to stop pushing. This was just something they’d need to walk around. To avoid.

“Remind me not to wake you up early then,” Draco chuckled awkwardly. Harry knew that he believed differently. He could see right through his bullshit, couldn’t he?

They got dressed in silence. Harry took over the bathroom quick, knowing Draco loved to take forever styling his hair.

But when Draco had come in to brush his teeth alongside Harry, he was surprised to see the blonde run a quick hand through his locks before stepping out to grab his things.

Even now, it was still hard to believe this was the Draco he was living with. He was quieter in class, and only ever really participated in potions. He didn’t care too much of his appearance anymore, of course he kept himself well groomed and nicely dressed, but when it came to styling his hair he couldn’t care less. But it was obvious that the boy felt lighter. Harry watched Draco stroll, and sometimes, rarely, skip through the halls. He would hum to himself when working, and would constantly be doodling in class. Overall he seemed so much happier.

He reminded Harry of Luna. It made sense that they were cousins, and it made even more sense now by the way Draco had been acting.

It was a relief.

Draco never looked that cute with gelled back hair anyway.

I mean, he was a little cute.

Especially in second year.

God Harry, get a hold of yourself.

He stepped out of the bathroom, collecting his books and slinging his satchel over his shoulder.

Draco waited patiently at the door for him. Harry couldn’t bare to look at him. He felt guilty.

When he was brave enough to meet Draco’s blue eyes, his heart caught in his throat. Sure he liked Draco, and he could almost fully admit that to himself now, but it felt so wrong. Having a crush on your roommate has the word “wrong” written all over it. It wasn’t as if Harry were thinking nasty things about him without him knowing, God no, but he just felt an ick for liking someone who quite literally lives with him.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a laugh from Draco. “Are you alright, or do you need to lie back down?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the last two minutes,” Draco giggled, giving Harry a light shove. That couldn’t be more embarrassing.

Harry shook his head, “Sorry, I guess I’m still pretty tired.” Draco’s laugh was just something he couldn’t forget. It never failed to send a chill down his spine.

Following Draco to the Great Hall made Harry feel like he was a puppy on a leash. He awkwardly ushered behind the carefree Slytherin, who was talking to him nonstop about the new book he had started.

“And it’s just called “It?’” Harry asked, “That’s the whole title?”

Draco nodded, tugging the Gryffindor along, “It’s not the greatest, there are definitely some parts I wish I never read. But the characters are amazing, I think you should read it,” He smiled, handing Harry the copy he owned.

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, “and how many pages is it?”

“Somewhere around three thousand,” Draco admitted sheepishly.

Harry snorted, “No way in hell am I reading that!” Draco gave him another shove, before chasing after him into the Great Hall.

It had become a habit for Draco to join the Golden trio at the Gryffindor table for meals, along with all the other Gryffindors. It was certainly a joy for Draco, who would never fail to end dinner yelling at Seamus over the best Quidditch players. It was true that the Slytherin enjoyed a heated debate.

He often chatted with Hermione about their weekly assignments, and she occasionally brought up Draco’s potential involvement with SPEW.

She eventually got him to give in.

Harry could never get more than a morsel of food down in the morning. He did better with eating in the evening, but progression from breakfast was never much of an improvement.

All he could do was watch Draco. Maybe this developing crush was developing far too quickly, but what did it matter. It wasn’t harming anyone, right?

“Harry, are you going to the Quidditch game with us this weekend?” Ron asked, once again ripping Harry from his day dreams.

His stomach keened. He would’ve hurled if he’d actually eaten more than one bite of his breakfast. “No, I’m not.”

“Why not?” Dean chimed in, leaning over Ron’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to.”

“Please, you never spend time with us anymore, Hermione asked quietly, she clearly didn’t want to be involved with all their begging but still wanted to try on her own.

“We’ll go to Hogsmeade this weekend then, I just don’t want to go watch the game,” Harry said in the kindest tone he could muster. He was ready to snap if this kept up.

“Cmon, Harry, don’t be a stick in the mud,” Seamus tapped him on the back.

Harry could’ve sworn. He could’ve hexed if he really wanted to. But it wasn’t worth it. He grabbed his things and stormed off without another word.

He heard calls of his name behind him but he kept walking. The bug in his brain told him Draco would no doubt be right behind him, and they’d have time alone to read together. Or kiss, who the hell knows.

But Draco hadn’t followed. And Harry was sort of relieved. He needed to be alone now anyway.

He was quick to find Luna and get some weed off of her, of course he gave up majority of what he had earned from cleaning Mcgonagall’s classroom over the last month. It didn’t matter.

He trapped himself in an empty closest, away from all the body classrooms, and leaned against the wall. He hadn’t done any sort of drugs in almost two years. The first time he’d ever gotten experienced was fifth year, when Fred and George convinced him it would help him relax. And it did. Weed was always brought out at house parties, sometimes Harry would choose to participate, sometimes not. It was never the greatest taste in the world.

His hands shook as whispered a flame spell, a light shining on the tip of his wand. He just needed to calm down.

He would just stay in there and smoke till classes were over, that seemed like a good idea. Or it would’ve been, if Harry had enough to get him through the day. Which he didn’t. So after about an hour, he snuck out of the closet. He tried to think of somewhere, anywhere he could avoid seeing his friends.

With just his lucky, he face planted into Draco as he turned a corner. His perfect face displayed a deep scowl.

“Where the hell were you?”

“Went to use the bathroom, that’s all.”

“Using the bathroom for two hours? Don’t lie. Where were you, really?”

“Does it matter?” Harry groaned, turning in the other direction. Draco was quick to follow, almost flat tiring his shoe.

“Yes it matters, your friends were worried about you,” Draco stammered. “Do I smell weed?”

“No.”

“Harry Potter!”

“What, it’s no big deal,” Harry shrugged. Draco was now shoulder to shoulder with him, his arms crossed in a pissy manner. He looked like an angry stuffed animal, not as intimating as he used to be.

“It certain is, and if you’re going to smoke weed, at least invite me next time.”

Harry slowed his pace, a little intrigued by his words. Draco grabbed his sleeve, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He pulled his arm away, continuing down the hall.

“Just because this morning, I know you were upset about the game and you just ran off,” His tone had a twinge of guilt behind it. Harry had wished Draco had come found him. Maybe Draco wished the same thing.

But it wasn’t Draco’s job to find him.

“You really don’t want to go with us this weekend?” The Slytherin tried for the final time.

Harry shook his head, “Draco, I can’t.”

He didn’t look disappointed, at least not entirely, but Harry could tell Draco wanted him to be there.

“Tell you what,” The blonde started, “I’ll spend Friday night with you then, we’ll find a new book to read together.”

Harry’s heart caught in his throat. “Don’t give up on going to the game just to keep me company.” He couldn’t help but feel overjoyed Draco would do that for him, but he felt guilty for cutting his wings off.

“I would rather spend my time with you, it would be awkward without you, I don’t know your friends like you do,” Draco rubbed the back of his neck. Harry believed Draco really did know his friends well, because they had become his friends now too. It would be a lie to say that the Gryffindors didn’t enjoy having him around.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, wondering if he’d change his answer.

“Absolutely.”