Harry's eyes snapped open, but he was greeted with only darkness. For a minute or two he was completely disoriented. Then the entire day came rushing up to meet him, not a bad dream after all. He realized, not without some accompanying humiliation, that he- he, Harry, who usually had to take bitter, complex potions to coax his thrumming mind into unconsciousness at night- had conked out right in front of Draco Malfoy. While he was talking to him. On the makeshift bed Harry had constructed for him not an hour before. To be honest, Harry was surprised the blonde hadn't jolted him awake immediately. And now where was he?
After his eyes had adjusted to the darkness- which was incomplete, as a small light in the kitchen was still on- Harry cast his eyes around. His gaze was immediately caught by brilliant platinum hair sprayed across a pillow that rested against Harry's leg. With a shock, he realized Malfoy hadn't taken his own bedroom, or even the armchair, but had curled up with a blanket and pillow in the small space on the couch that Harry had not taken up. Gazing on the pale, unconscious face, he felt a wave of overwhelming guilt, and cringed. Some host he was.
In peaceful rest Malfoy's face was minus his typical scowl and was astonishingly handsome, Harry couldn't help but notice. His eyes lingered on the high, elegant cheekbones, the straight nose, the curved pink lips. His smooth, pale skin seemed to glow in the half light, his white blond hair even more so. Everything about him gave off an air of aristocratic at its finest and most unattainable, whispered that only generations of the highest breeding could have crafted the perfection of these features.
Harry's eyes followed the curve of Malfoy's neck down to his narrow shoulders, his catlike frame curled into a question mark. It was strange to see him in anything as casual as a T-shirt.
Harry abruptly shook his head, tearing his eyes away. No, what was strange was to have Draco Malfoy asleep with his head practically in Harry's lap. His guilt hitting him full blast, Harry began to pull himself up, as slowly as possible. He would get out of here, give Malfoy a little more room, and go to his bed, and try to sleep there. Hopefully he wouldn't be teased too horribly the next morning.
Harry eased one leg off the couch. The real trouble would be the other one, which Malfoy rested his pillow on. More than anything, Harry didn't want to wake the blonde up, not when he looked so damn peaceful and nice for once. Gritting his teeth, he began to slide his leg out, inch by inch.
Unexpectedly Malfoy moved in his sleep, shifting on the bed. His pink lips parted, but nothing but a small sigh escaped them. Harry froze. As a result of his movement, Malfoy was now even more firmly on top of his leg. He cursed.
Again, he began to retrieve his limb from under the blonde. This time he got further, taking long moments to pause every so often, but suddenly Malfoy moved again and actually gave a small whimper of protest, though his eyes remained closed. Harry stopped moving in confusion, terrified he had woken him up. He felt the blonde settle back into his original position on his leg.
Over and over, Harry tried his best to subtly move out from under Malfoy, only to be stopped by the other boy moving or moaning, his originally smooth brow creasing, and nothing would stop it except for Harry halting his escape. He was utterly perplexed.
Finally figuring that enough was enough, better to rip off the bandage than peel slowly, Harry resolved to just pull away and ignore Malfoy's sleepy protests, as he seemed to quickly fall back asleep immediately after anyways.
He yanked his leg away, wincing as the pillow that supported Malfoy's head fell a few inches, and, ignoring the quiet whimper, stood up by the side of the couch, staring down at the boy. However, far from returning to sleep, as Harry had expected, he seemed even more agitated. Blindly, he had stretched out a hand to chase Harry's retreat, and now these fingers were flexing uselessly. Soon, his entire body was convulsing, at first very slowly, but becoming more and more frantic. Harry was frozen in place. Then Malfoy's eyelids started to flutter, and instead of a moan, he rasped out a very soft "Potter," and in complete alarm Harry, who didn't know what else to do, resumed his seat and placed a hesitant hand on the blonde's shoulder.
The boy seemed to calm at this touch, and, looking at him carefully, Harry was sure he was still asleep and that all his motion had just been instinctive rather than conscious. Either way Harry was flummoxed. He was torn, between indulging in his natural aversion for Malfoy- which admittedly, with the man looking so soft and calm as he did now, was at a rather low ebb- and leaving, him waking up be damned, or staying in this incredibly awkward position because it seemed that was what it would take to not wake Malfoy up. He still felt like he owed the blonde for having fallen asleep there in the first place, Harry ruminated grimly; this entire thing was really his own fault. After all the hell Malfoy had been through he deserved the rest.
Realizing he had already made the decision to stay Harry settled back with a sigh, propping his head up on the arm rest, and trying to wiggle over so Malfoy would have as much room as possible. However, as soon as he put an inch of space between them the wizard would roll over until it was closed again. It was strange to say the least, but after a while of stillness it began to bother Harry less and less, and he merely lay there comfortably, watching with sleepy eyes the quiet rise and fall of Malfoy's chest.
He had thought that, given the circumstances, he actually had a legitimate excuse to not be able to fall asleep this time, and it had made him slightly mournful as it had been positively delicious to fall asleep so easily before. Like drinking water after a drought. But surely he would feel too awkward to sleep now, he must, with Malfoy's head practically in his lap.
Yet it turned out to be comforting to have someone there with him rather than the other way around, and before he knew it, Harry's eyes were fluttering shut. The last image he had was of the top of Malfoy's silky, glowing hair.
When Harry awoke again, light was streaming in through the windows and playing across his face, but what had really broken his rest was the loud, steady banging on his door. Muttering a few choices curses Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses- which he had slept in, he realized ruefully, that meant there would be embarrassing red marks on his face, how perfect- and tried to jump up to go open the door. The weight of Malfoy on his lower body stopped his ascent, and Harry ended up falling back down, jostling the blonde horribly in the process. The banging continued.
"Coming!" Harry roared, as loud as he could, then instantly slapped a hand to his face as the saw the blonde scrunch up his nose, which was suddenly no longer peaceful, and moan, pulling a pillow over his head. Damn. He had to get used to this whole roommate situation, it appeared. He was still looking guiltily at the blonde when Malfoy's eyes blinked open, peering out from beneath the pillow and meeting Harry's gaze.
Harry froze. Shit. What was Malfoy going to say about last night, about Harry taking his bed and not even having the decency to leave it? But the blonde seemed strangely subdued, as though embarrassed himself, and just as quickly as he had met Harry's eyes he looked away again.
Harry took the hint and stood up, this time successfully, and stumbled hurriedly over to the door. The banging had slowed now, with one lusty knock at a time, over and over again. Shaking his head, Harry grabbed his wand and slid the door open a few inches to see who it was.
It turned out to be two pink cheeked security wizards, younger than Harry even, looking completely unapologetic for having woken him. Harry had been expecting them, actually, per an agreement arrived at yesterday; the wizards would come as soon as possible to place the highest possible wards on Harry's apartment for the safety of Malfoy, so he would be secure in the flat even if Harry left. He was promised that they wouldn't arrive until at least midday, however, and had been instructed to take the day off to wait for them and make sure everything ran smoothly. Yet here they were, before Harry would have even gotten to the office. Rubbing his bleary eyes, Harry gave short, curt answers to their questions and moved aside to let them in.
They worked quickly and thoroughly, and seemed annoyed whenever Harry tried to ask a question or make a suggestion, so after a few minutes he just shrugged and went into the bathroom to take a shower, after checking on Malfoy again. The blonde was lying motionlessly on the couch, apparently asleep, but Harry doubted anyone could sleep through the loud bangs of the security wizards setting up the wards. He suspected Malfoy's apparent unconsciousness was directly related to the hungry, curious looks both the wizards kept shooting his way.
By the time Harry was dressed again they had finished up, but were hanging around the living room, trying to appear casual. Their outright staring at Malfoy ruined the effect. Walking back into the room, Harry noticed that Malfoy had given up even trying to feign being asleep and was staring straight back at them, his eyes boiling. This caused them to alternatively look away and back again, blushing each time. Harry interrupted this by clearing his throat, and moving to herd the pair towards the door. "Thank you, thank you, thanks for your time," he mumbled, "I'm sure you must be going." The door shut behind them with a loud click, and Harry leaned against it for a moment with a sigh.
The day suddenly stretched ahead of him, and the task that he had expected to take up the most of it was already done. Now it was just him and Malfoy again. Surely now the blonde would start to lay into him about last night. Gritting his teeth, Harry turned back to the couch. To his surprise, it was empty. Looking around, he saw a flash of platinum hair ducking into his bedroom. What the…? Harry trotted towards it.
"Malfoy, can I ask what you're doing in my bedroom?" Harry asked as soon as he entered. Rather lamely, as the blonde was blatantly digging through his drawers at this point, so it was quite obvious what he was doing. Still, though. It was an invasion of privacy!
"I thought I might find myself something to wear for shopping," Malfoy said in an utterly bored tone. Even though he was turned away, Harry could practically hear the usual sneer on his face.
"You could just ask me!"
"Well, after last night, I haven't really had you pegged as the courtesy type," the blonde huffed, and Harry winced again. Here it comes, he thought bitterly. He prepared himself for a thousand innuendos and insults, but surprisingly, that was as far as Malfoy went.
Now the blonde was taking what looked like every single item out of Harry's wardrobe, holding it up critically, and tossing it aside.
"Hang on," said Harry after a moment. "What do you mean shopping? Who said anything about shopping?"
"I did," the blonde said. He looked at the tag on one of Harry's shirts, and laughed aloud, then flung it into the small pile. "You can't possibly expect me to continue to wear your wretched clothes. Besides, I thought our day had just opened up?"
Harry was too bothered by Malfoy's familiar use of "our" to answer him immediately. He just fumed in the doorway, deciding he would try to ignore the blonde's sharp tongue as best he could. It was the only hope of getting through the day. He nearly groaned aloud. An entire day with Malfoy, shopping. It was like Harry's two worst nightmares had merged into some freakish hell. And Harry was still feeling all of the awkward tension from their waking up together... He did groan this time.
After going through literally all of Harry's clothes, Malfoy finally put on a pair of dark jeans and a gray sweater with an audible sniff. He didn't bother to pick up the rest of the clothes. Again, Harry was faced with the strange sight of Malfoy in ordinary clothing. A little off balance, he wordlessly followed the blonde out of the room when he was finished.
"You know, we'll have to go to muggle shops," Harry blurted out when they had stood in the living room in silence for several minutes, Malfoy just staring at him. "You'll have to wear muggle clothes for now." Harry didn't have much else, aside from his work robes. He had grown up in them and even when he did wear robes his muggle clothing was underneath. It was just what he was comfortable with, and with so many wizards living in partially muggle communities, it wasn't out of the norm. Harry had no idea how Malfoy would react to this. So far, he hadn't really said anything about Harry's clothes except for insulting their low quality, but Harry had this wild image fixed in his head of Malfoy throwing a huge fit over not wearing the finest Veela-spun robes.
"And what's wrong with wizard shops, Potter?"
"Just that, between the two of us, we're bound to get recognized. I don't want to deal with that if we can avoid it, and I'm sure you don't either," Harry said. To his surprise, the man just nodded at this. Had they actually agreed on something? He shifted from foot to foot. After last night, he felt incredibly uncomfortable around Malfoy.
"Fine, Potter. I suppose I could live with muggle clothes. Temporarily. I won't let you try to choose my clothes for me, though," he added, flaring up a bit.
"Oh, I wouldn't dare," Harry said under his breath, rolling his eyes. Internally, however, he was glad. Malfoy was being surprisingly reasonable. "Let's get going then." He wasn't going to let this agreeing mood of Malfoy's go to waste.
They would go outside the wards and disapparate to one of the muggle locations Harry knew well, he decided. It was a shopping center, and hopefully posh enough even for Malfoy.
Ducking into the hallway, Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist, and told him to prepare to disapparate. After the blonde's cool nod, Harry closed his eyes and felt the familiar sucking sensation jerk them both upwards, and away.