Chapter 1
“Potter, you do realize this isn’t a house party?” Draco asks a very obviously, very drunk Harry Potter.
“Fuck, Malfoy, I’ve already finished my lesson plans,” He swayed slightly on his feet, “And I know for a fact you had finished them weeks before me,”
Potter hands Draco a drink. Draco sighs before tossing it back, Harry’s right, and it’s not like Harry the only one who had chosen to completely lose his inhibitions. Neville seemed to have drunkenly entered an impressions contest with Flitwick but at least he seemed to be winning. Madam Hooch was looking quite red and was arguing with Trelawney.
The only remaining sober professor appeared to be Mcgonagal, but he really couldn’t fathom how as she had drunk more than Hooch.
***
After a few more drinks, Harry decides to take a step outside. Malfoy’s already out there. In the time that Harry had left him alone he had caught up, a light flush now graced his cheeks, and it was clear he was relying on the railing to keep himself steady.
He jumps when Harry walks up next to him.
They sit in silence for several moments before Harry finally breaks it, “We should be friends.”
Malfoy stares at him for several moments.
“Sure,” His posh lilt was almost gone, replaced with a casual drawl.
He spins on his heel, wobbling unsteadily before offering a hand for Harry to shake. Harry takes it and gives it one firm shake. They don’t move for a moment, at least until the absurdity of the conversation hits him and he bursts out laughing. It doesn’t take long for Malfoy to join him.
“Well that’s a bit ironic isn’t it,” Harry asks jabbing him in the side.
“Shut your trap, Potter.” Malfoy squirms away from him.
Harry stares off thoughtfully for a moment, “Maybe we should ditch the last names?”
Malfo- Draco- nods, “Alright, Harry.” It sounded thick coming out of his mouth. Not really wrong though or unnatural, more uncertain.
“Draco.” The syllables rolled off of Harry's tongue.
***
The next morning Draco knocked uncertainly, on Harry's door with a vile of hangover potion. The Hogwarts students would be arriving later that afternoon Draco knew he wouldn’t be feeling his best.
A tousled-looking Harry with a mug saying, ‘Coffee > Crushes on Harry Potter (Sorry, Harry!)’ in bold lettering. His hair was somehow more messy than usual and he was wrapped in a red robe, that really didn’t do as much as he thought it did to hide the fact he was only wearing his boxers under it. His broad build obviously hadn’t diminished after he had quit the Aurors as he almost completely blocked the door.
“Erm,” Draco hesitated, “I brought a hangover cure.”
Harry apparently incapable of making words at the moment waved Draco inside and grunted. Draco handed him the potion which he downed in a single gulp before finishing off his coffee.
He sighed as the potion made its way through his system.
“Coffee?”
Draco nodded silently. The mug he hands him doesn’t have a handle, instead wrapped in a koozie that appears to be hand-knit leaving a gap for the graphics to be visual through. It didn’t take long for a palpable tension to form as both the men sipped quietly on their coffees.
“Did you prepare your welcome to Gryffindor speech?”
“Mostly you?”
“Yeah.” the tense silence returns, “Nice mug.”
“Ron got it for me and then immediately dropped it because he was laughing so hard,” He turns the cup around to showcase the large crack in the mug that appeared to be holding the coffee in with spellotape alone.
“Why not just repair it?”
“Apparently the witch that had sold it to him made it impervious to mending charms.”
Draco looked down at his own mug which read ‘Slytherin over to the coffee pot’
“Do you only own novelty mugs?” Harry laughed sheepishly, “Why do you even have this one,”
“I think Blaise threw it at my head when he was trying to get my advice on wooing Neville,” Harry slips the koozie down and gestures to the sharp pieces that are left where the handle used to be, “The handle shattered against the wall.”
“Oh, so only damaged novelty mugs,” Harry shrugs waving a hand non-verbally and wandlessly, revealing a vast amount of damaged mugs with a variety of tacky phrases.
There’s a single undamaged red mug amongst the rest that looked out of place and had a fine layer of dust on top, “What about that one?”
“It’s not as innocent as it looks trust me,” He summons it and fills it with a brief Auguamenti, “Smell it.”
Draco takes the mug cautiously and smells it, it smells like water, he raises an eyebrow unimpressed. Harry holds up a finger and casts ‘inebrius revelio’, the cup glows blindingly indicating that the liquid inside is incredibly alcoholic.
“Sent me to St. Mungos when I first got it,” He eyes the mug warily, “It tastes like water too.”
“How did you get your hands on this.”
“The attic of Grimauld, has all sorts of nasty cursed magical objects.”
“Hm…”
At that moment Neville came bursting in.
“Harry, you’re supposed to be in the Great Hall.” Casting his eyes about the room he adds, “So are you, Draco, just because we’ve graduated doesn’t mean we don’t have to go to breakfast.”