Chapter 12
Draco was singing again.
It had kind of become routine by now for Harry. Whenever his roommate would take a shower, Harry would almost always hear a soft voice escaping through the crack in the door. It was David Bowie today, apparently Malfoy only knew popular muggle 80's music. Not that Harry minded, he'd started to enjoy it.
When Draco emerged Harry couldn't help himself.
"You know, you actually have a good voice Malfoy."
It must have taken him by surprise, because he lost his footing on the wet tile and slipped right onto his bottom.
"You what Potter? Wait...what do you mean 'actually'. Don't be so rude, I used to go to choir you know?"
Harry had to suppress a giggle at the thought of Malfoy singing a hymn.
"Don't laugh! I rather enjoyed it!"
That was it, Harry broke into a loud laugh. To demonstrate his offence Draco picked up the shower wash that had fallen on the floor and threw it at him, half heartedly.
"How come I never saw you then? In choir? You never performed at the Christmas concerts!"
"Of course not that would just be embarrassing!" Draco scoffed.
It was dark outside now.
That's another thing Harry had noticed about his ex enemy. He always showered in the evening, in contrast to Harry who mostly showered in the morning. That worked out well for them both, and they'd never argued over bathroom rights. They'd even began sharing the same cleaning products.
So what that made them now Harry had no idea. They barely spoke outside their room, but they weren't at each others throats either. They shared jokes and friendly banter, but they'd hadn't spoken about the war since that potions lesson. Harry had to admit, it niggled him a little. He wanted to know for sure where they stood.
"Look Malfoy, what are we? I'd like to think we're friends, but we don't actually talk much outside of our bedroom, and I know we don't actually hate each other anymore."
Malfoy looked a bit bewildered. His normally sharp grey eyes were slightly confused and didn't quite know where to look. Sitting on the bathroom floor in his tailored plaid pyjamas looking dazed with his hair wild made him look so much younger, and innocent. But again not missing a beat, he composed himself.
"Speak for yourself Potter! Just this morning I could have cursed you for leaving your broom right by my bed where I tripped over it!"
But Harry was serious, he didn't want to joke about brooms and trivial things tings like that now. His question needed answering. Malfoy, taking hint of this, stood and began pacing the length of their room, thinking.
Finally he spoke.
"Well I suppose it's easier if we just become friends and be done with it. If you want. Don't worry I would understand if you couldn't be friends with...well...someone like me."
He was wrong. Harry would like nothing more than to be friends with Draco Malfoy. In this moment he regretted declining his handshake back in their first year. But back then they were both very different, and desperately needed to grow and change. Which they had.
"Malfo-Draco, I would very much like to be a friend to you."
He stopped pacing.
"Really?"
"Yes!" Harry laughed.
"And if we're going to be friends I reckon we should bite the bullet and start calling each other by our first names?"
Draco's eyes softened and Harry liked that look on him. He looked less like his father and more like his mother.
"Well I suppose that wouldn't be too extreme, it would be a bit silly to keep calling each other Malfoy and Potter...Harry."
Harry beamed. He was so happy, finally something was going right in the world. Part of him wanted to start asking Draco questions and start to get to know him properly, but he was tired now and his eyes were beginning to droop. He supposed they had a long time to get to know one another.