trouble

It was dark outside, but Harry was wide awake. He wasn't thinking about Sirius, or Remus, or Dumbledore, or Snape, or Fred. Unsurprisingly, he was thinking about Malfoy. He found the boy to be a very entertaining instrument to avoid thinking about all of the previous topics. Plus he was no stranger to long nights of meticulously trying to enter this foreign and hated psyche. Of course, recent events had made him keener to mercy in his opinions and judgments than he used to be. 

Tonight's headline was that simple : what to do with Draco Malfoy's sudden regrets and good sentiments ? They didn't change anything that happened, or magically made him a good person, and Harry had been on the frontline of some pretty heavy arguments on the premise that Draco Malfoy wasn't a good person. But they were better than nothing, he guessed. And they might be pathways to areas of his personality that he hadn't witnessed yet. Anyways, he was too tired to weigh ethical prowesses - or lack of. That was a wormhole he left the energy to fall into to his before the war self. What was the point of reminiscing about any of this. He felt that if he let himself feel any of the anger, the hurt, the resentment, the fear, then he wouldn't be able to feel anything else, ever. So he prefered to close that door shut.

To be absolutely candid, Harry didn't think about Draco Malfoy only because it was a good way to avoid thinking about his own losses and regrets, or because he was elaborating some kind of clever philosophical trial. To be even more honest, he hadn't even been up all night. He had slept, and had abruptly awakened, then stayed in bed, left to think about Malfoy by some vivid though astonishingly simple dream. All those talks, he thought, must have ruffled his subconscious. 

In his dream, he was eating breakfast with said Draco Malfoy, Kreacher, and some huge turtle who revealed itself to be an Elton John impersonator high on jelly beans. There wasn't much to say, or think, about it really. But it was notable in the sense that it was the first normal dream he'd had in weeks. He wondered what kind of dream Malfoy was having in the other room. The snake again ? Maybe it was some casual nonsense dream. He could picture him though, like the other night. Eyebrows frowned, glowing with sweat in the moonlight, his hair all messed up on the pillow. His hands warm.

Well he wasn't sleeping again tonight, it seemed. As he checked his alarm clock and officially gave up, he proceeded to get dressed to go get some tea in the kitchen. He walked on the tip of his toes not to wake the portraits. One of them ended up giving him the finger anyway, and some ugly duchess started spitting insults in his face. 

"Shut up you dusty old croak or I'm ripping you off that wall."

"How dare you ? Do you wish to find out how the wrath of the Black family answers the insults of those of your kind !"

"Sure I do."

"Potter ?"

Malfoy's long and clear body was standing in the arch of the door. 

"The fuck's goin' on ?"

"Lady Bird's Nest over there's just being a cranky bitch as usual."

"Oh I see, we've got her twin portrait back at home. She doesn't behave much better over there."

"What has happened to this family ?" The portrait exclaimed. "Doesn't anybody hold any respect for their blood anymore ?"

"Anyway" he dismissed her, leading Harry into the dining room "I made tea if you want some." 

"That's what I came downstairs to do." 

While he poured himself a cup, Malfoy went back to sitting in his chair on the other side of the room. In front of him sat a book still open, pretty old looking, and sandwiches. 

"I see you're putting your extensive cooking knowledge of yours to use."

"I see that portrait lady was right about you."

That made him laugh. 

"What' you reading ?"

"Something I found upstairs. It's worthless."

"I wonder what kind of books you'll find in the Black library. Probably blatantly racist and blood supremacist ones. I bet they yell slurs at you when you open them."

"Mostly yeah. And some of them might. Wouldn't risk it. But this one's from Regulus's room." 

"How do you know it's Regulus's ?"

"I know my genealogy. I understand he's some kind of hero now, but honestly his reading taste was shit." 

"You could try Sirius's room but I bet you'll probably just find porn."

Malfoy chuckled. 

"So what you doing up this time of night ?"

"Could ask you the same question."

"Told you" he didn't look up from his book. "I'm making some tea."

Harry sighed. 

"You couldn't sleep either ?" 

"There you go, smart pants."

Harry sat on the other end of the table. 

"You're such a delightful person when you don't get your eight hours Malfoy." 

"I happen to think I thrive on sleep deprivation."

***

There it was. He probably should have expected it. A stack of all purple letters, neatly signed and sealed, straight from the Ministry. To be fair, people had warned him. 

"Be careful" they'd said to him "your role is not over just yet." 

Foolish ? He was. To think now that Voldemort was gone, he'd be left alone. 

"Whatever happens now, people are gonna want to know where you stand." 

No. Hun hun. No way. No. He dropped the letters on the hallway floor and stumbled backwards all the way into the furniture. Some painting grumbled. The air suddenly became suffocating. It wouldn't get in, or out. All thoughts in his head just stopped. He couldn't articulate a single one. He let himself fall on the ground, his head between his hands, trying so, so hard to breath. 

Then, some noise coming from the stairs. 

"Will you keep it down ?" 

Draco met his gaze and his eyes immediately widened. He ran down the staircase and crouched next to Harry, unsure what to do. 

"Come on man, breathe out." 

I'm trying, dumbass, Harry would have liked to tell him. But he couldn't. One of the perks of hyperventilation. Plus, his head was menacing to implode so it wasn't his priority. 

"Breathe out." 

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. He couldn't go back, he couldn't stand the idea of being asked one more question, one more request, one more service, one more apparition, or interview, or even conversation.

"I can't do it." He managed to mumble in between spasms. 

"Okay, well… I don't know what you're talking about but I'm sure that's okay. You'll figure this out". 

Harry couldn't say how long he stayed on the floor of that corridor. He just knew that at some point Malfoy brought him a glass of water and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He eventually calmed down, got up with his help, and fell dead asleep on the couch, exhausted. His many, many sleepless nights obviously not helping. 

*** 

'I thought it'd be over."

When he'd gotten up from his recovery coma, Draco'd had the good instinct (or recklessness) to take matters in hands. Harry's head had still been boiling on their way to the nearest pub. Seems it took a lot of energy to entertain denial, and the machinery was burning hot. They sat'd down and ordered. Draco, he could tell, was very conflicted about the taste of beer. 

"I really thought. I mean, I actually never really thought about it. Okay to be completely fair, I never imagine life beyond the very obvious threat of imminent death. But I guess I always expected it to end with him. I knew I'd always be the Boy Who Lived and I'd always get weird looks and shit headlines, but I thought they'd stop asking me for stuff. I thought I would have done enough by now. What else could I possibly do ?'

"People will always find stuff. That's their thing."

"I just can't." he sighed "I should have died there, for all I know I would have done myself a favor." 

"Don't be caustic. A lot of people actually didn't make it. You're lucky you're alive". 

"I'm not alive ! What am i ? I'm a fucking mascot. I'm fucking joke ! I don't get to grieve, I don't get to rest, I don't get to deal with any of this shit, I don't get to have feelings, what for ? They don't care about my feelings, they just care about some made up savior they can put on posters to get their fucking asses at the right fucking spot at the right fucking time. I'm not a savior ! Seriously how fucked up is this, am I ever gonna be left the fuck alone ? For fuck's sake. That's all I want ! That's the only thing I ask…"

He repressed the sobs threatening to siege his throat. 

"How am I alive ? Almost everyone I love is dead. I am alone, and these sharks won't even give me a second to myself."

Draco didn't answer. A few moments passed in silence. Once the anger settled, Harry grew more and more uncomfortable. 

"Well, for someone who usually has so much to say about this subject, you're awfully quiet." 

"Don't you think you're being just a bit dramatic ?" 

Harry was struck. 

"Excuse me ?" 

"Come on. I'm sorry but I'm having trouble sympathizing. You won the fucking war. The worst part of your life is behind you. You're a hero. Again. But even more this time. You got your friends, your house, all of your toes. Hell you even got a house elf. You don't have to worry about anything. So what, they want to take some pictures of you and put them on their front page. They're gonna do that anyway ! At least if you wanted to, you could actually make a change. We all lost friends. We all lost family. But some of us have a much, much darker future ahead of us than fucking golden savior boy." 

Harry didn't know what to say. He couldn't believe the words coming out of Malfoy's mouth. 

"You've always wanted this, didn't you."

Muscles contracting, eyebrows furrowing, he tried to spit it in his face the way he had wanted to for years. Years of enduring his petty jealousy, of being his stupid scapegoat. It wasn't his problem anymore. 

"What are you talking about." 

"This. People knowing who I am, people liking me without knowing me. So called fame, so called chosen one destiny. You always wanted it, and you still do. You can go on pretending you hate me, and I'm sure you actually do, but everyone knows you really hate yourself." 

Surprisingly, Malfoy didn't seem insulted. He maintained this stubborn, resigned, extinguished, resolved new look of his. 

"I guess you would think that. I might have believed it as well like… years ago. In the beginning. But that's not it." 

"So what is it." 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, eyeing his butterbeer glass. 

"What do you mean ?" 

"You know what I mean. Why are you such an arse ? If you weren't jealous, why'd you hate me that much ?"

"Hate you ?"

He took a sip. 

"Did I hate you ?"

"Don't you still ?" 

"Oh, no, I don't. And I didn't. I do find you impossibly annoying, and reckless, but I don't hate you. I just… I guess kinda I was. Jealous. In a way. That's true. You don't have to do anything, even just being alive, and somehow you're a national pride. And you're somehow better than me. So much better than me. I have envied that. You know, my dad… I guess I really wanted to be someone to be proud of and I didn't know how. And that's not really on you. But come on I was just a kid."

"I was a kid too."

"That's true."

Harry was disoriented. He knew he was angry, and ready for a fight, he was right to be, and yet it kind of fadded away as he was so intensely attentive to Draco's quiet tone of surrender. He felt tingles in the back of his neck as he listened to him.

"So if that's not on me, why make me pay for it." 

"Listen I was dumb and I couldn't really differentiate hate and envy with other feelings."

Malfoy kept looking at his glass, undisturbed, while Harry was taken aback. 

"What other feelings did you have?" 

"Come on, Potter. We both know I'm gay. It's not exactly a secret. Or at least, not a very well kept one. We both know my dad would kill me if he knew. We both know that only makes it worse when it comes to him ever being proud of me, and me envying you for being so easy to be proud of." 

Harry thought about his words carefully. 

"Sounds to me like you were making me pay for things that didn't concern me." 

Draco paused. Then took a sip. A big one. Harry watched it run down his white, thin throat.

"Sure. Sounds like it, I guess. I told you I was pretty dumb. I still am." 

He let out an awkward, strangled laugh. His fingers were tapping along the empty glass while his eyes got back up to meet Harry's, who, uncomfortable, blurted : 

"For what it's worth, I am too. I mean, I guess I'm bi. You can be a national treasure and still like dick." 

Malfoy laughed out loud. Harry smiled, proud of his joke. 

"Wonder what the Daily Prophet would make of that." 

"It is of national importance." 

They both laughed quietly, sitting next to each other. After a blatantly hesitant pause, Malfoy said :

"I never thought you were. I always saw you as this… typical… quidditch stud. With your fancy fan club always laying at your feet wherever you went. Like you'd only have to pick out what you wanted and some girl would come running up giving it to you." 

"So you see me as a stud ?"

"Undeservedly so."

"I think your jealousy is speaking up again."

Malfoy laughed, softly, while getting up to go to the bathroom. Just before walking away, he drunkenly grabbed Harry's shoulder for support and said, quietly : 

"And for what all that jealousy and stud hating tradition is worth, if you'd picked me out of the lot, I think I'd have come running up to you too." 

And he left. Harry couldn't breathe. Did he actually hear Malfoy say that ? His heart was racing. He felt adrenaline kick in. But why ? He pondered. He speedrain again through his past obsessions for the boy. The many evenings spent following him around, waiting for him to get out of the Room of Requirement, talking shit on him for the tired ears of Ron and Hermione, watching his footstep on the map. He thought about their altercation in the bathrooms, of Malfoy's bloodied body laying on the flooded ground. His bloodied shirt and hair. He thought about the last minutes of the war. And the first minutes after the war. Malfoy's skin in the moonlight. 

Next thing he knew it, his glass was empty too and he was standing in the bathroom. Malfoy was back to him, meeting his eyes through the mirror on the wall, surprised, busy washing his hands. 

"What are you doing Potter ?"

He walked up to this beautiful, sad, beautiful boy. Malfoy didn't dare move, he kept watching Harry's reflection. He only shivered when this image in the mirror ran its hand along his back. The time of that shiver suspended time. And as soon as it was over, it all came crashing down on them. Lips on lips, body against body. Harry precipitated his hand in those soft, long, long hated so blond hair of his, only realizing for how long he'd wanted to mess them up. He felt Malfoy's breath on his face, his arms around his back, his hands pressing his waist. He tasted like beer, but he smelled like mint. He had no idea how that was but it was. And while he aggressively explored every inch of the other boy's face and jaw and shoulders, he completely let go of all the tension he'd brought with in him into the room. 

"Fuck." 

He opened his eyes to meet a panting, bewildered Draco Malfoy, hair untamed, shirt crumpled, who looked at him much less with surprise than the look of those you get what they've waited a long time for. 

"What" Harry answered, panting. 

"You're such a fag" he laughed before kissing him again, and again, and again.