Un-Mate

The first thing that Draco noticed that morning was that he was surprisingly clean for what he could remember of the previous night; the second thing being that Harry Potter was staring at him in such way that made him feel as though he was 11 again, and Draco hated it.

Draco slowly pushed himself up, the room tilting slightly as he did so, “It’s a little early for you to have a problem with me Potter,” said Draco, attempting to infuse his voice with some level of snark and instead just coming off sounding as 11 as he felt.

“How did you sleep Draco?” asked Harry, his eyes never faltering from their stare.

“I slept. I wasn’t aware there was a great many options of how.” Slowly Draco threw his legs over the side of the bed, a jolt of twisting causing nausea to rise up his throat as he did. His eyes didn’t seem to want to focus and his hands clutched angrily into the sheets. He took as deep a breath as he could whilst under the ridiculous scrutiny and pushed himself up onto his feet.

Draco heard the impact of his knees before he felt it, a sickening crack echoing as if it was his skull that had hit the ground, and then, lightning in his thighs.

“Fuck,” cursed Draco, grabbing onto the empty bed beside him and hauling himself up, his body seeming to respond to the request this time.

Draco shook his head slightly, attempting to shift the strands out of his line of sight as he glared back at Harry who had yet to even move, let alone acknowledge how disgusting of a failure Draco knew he had become.

“And here I thought you were all chivalrous and gallant Potter, not going to come to my aid?” said Draco, pushing the words through his teeth as he gave each leg a small shake, not sure why but musing it might help with any further movement.

“You don’t want help,” replied Harry simply.

“That’s never stopped you before.”

Draco felt the sharpness of the words the moment they crossed his tongue. Sour and stingy they left a bitter taste in his mouth. Harry’s eyes widened a little, as if something made sense, and then returned to their previous intensity.

“We’re late for class. Hermione has already let McGonagall know.”

Draco watched as Harry got up from the bed and left the room without a single backwards glance.

*****

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but then again, he never really had been. Winging it with his life had been one thing but winging it with Draco felt like juggling snakes, or it had, now perhaps though the snakes had grown ill, and kept biting themselves in spite.

Misbegotten Alpha pride. That’s what Ron had called it when he’d returned after calming both Terry and Ernie down the night before. It’s not your job to protect him you know. He knew, he did, he really did, but his stomach had knotted into something unfamiliar the night before; knotted and twisted until he’d exploded into something he never though he could become.

The aftermath of the Draco altercation had been immediate. Whilst no one was condoning the low blow that had been made of his designation, most of the year wholeheartedly agreed with the originally sentiment – Draco did not belong back at Hogwarts.

Harry had blessed the stars when he found that not only Hermione and Ron, but Neville along with Parvati and Susan Bones agreeing with him instead. Hogwarts is a place for everyone, that’s what he believed, and he’d said as much.

Hermione had had to spend a good hour talking him down again after the issue was re-iterated, and a silent chasm had been built with his undignified rage at the situation. All the boys had given him a wide berth going to bed that night, and again this morning as he’d sat back to the wall staring at the sleeping Draco.

Harry had noted that neither Blaise nor Pansy had returned to their Common Room either, and he had yet to catch them anywhere with their fellow eighth years at all. Both families had kept a relatively low profile and it made sense that they would do the same, but it almost felt to him that they were as much avoiding the rest of them, as they were Draco himself.

“Wait up Potter, geez, not all of us spent Summer strutting about for the press,” came the puffed jib as Draco hurriedly caught up to Harry, pulling his cloak on awkwardly as his hair remained wet and slightly tangled.

Harry felt that pang again in his stomach as he stopped suddenly. Grabbing Draco’s arm to pull the shorter man to a stop as well Harry turned directly to him.

“I thought s’mores were a muggle thing. How do you know about s’mores?”

Draco stared blankly at Harry for a moment. Harry shuffled in agitation.

The loud snort startled him back half a step, his hand having to latch onto a railing to not go plummeting into the below floors as Draco keened over in laughter.

“Ser- ser- seriously Potter?” Draco worked to right his breathing around the laughs that were still sputtering through him, “S’mores is what you care about?” Draco’s eyes were shining bright with wetness. “The way you’d stopped me I thought you were about to scold him or something.”

“I- “ started Harry as Draco doubled over again with laughter at his expression.

Harry had never heard Draco laugh. He’d heard him jeer, mock, snarl and all manner of degrading noise he could fathom, but laugh… No, Harry had never heard him laugh.

“I think you’re having a mental breakdown,” said Harry seriously as Draco gave up on standing and instead had taking to almost lying on the platform, any words lost to his laughter.

“I- Draco hiccupped, “I think-“  tears ran down his cheeks and caught in sides of his mouth, “I think you’re probably,” He clutched at his side, “Most likely,” He stared up at Harry and for a split second fear shone in his eyes, “Right.”

Harry leant down to drag the man up by his arms, and Draco allowed it as the laughing fit slowly subsided. He took the moment to take a subtle sniff of Draco’s skin, even an emotion that fleeting left a linger of scent behind, but all Harry was struck with was the familiar scent of Draco, the one he already knew inside and out.

“Do you want to go to class?” asked Harry seriously, giving Draco a small shake when he let his head loll backwards a little.

“We’re at school, we’re supposed to go to class,” replied Draco lackadaisically.

“That isn’t what I said,” replied Harry.

“No Potter, I don’t want to go to class. I don’t want to be here. I want to go far, far away, but failing that, I want to go and lie on the edge of the lake and see how pink I can get from the sun,” said Draco, rolling his head back and forth a little.

“Then let’s go to the lake.”

Draco snorted again, this time sounding more like Harry’s memories.

“Come on Potter, class it is!”

As if heralded by his proclamation one of the many shifting staircases came to settle in front of them and going in completely the wrong direction Harry watched Draco march up the stairs. He didn’t bother to say anything though, instead he watched the fading black at the back of Malfoy’s head as he tried to untangle the knot in his stomach.