@secretlycrazyhummingbird so sorry it took me so long to type this out. I hope you enjoy! My eternal gratitude to @stainednotebook for going through this mess and making it presentable and for also simply existing ❤👄
21.“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”
Harry kept dancing as the song changed. He wasn’t tired yet and he was waiting for somebody anyway. Just a few moments later he felt strong, sure arms around his chest and he smiled.
“Miss me?” Draco said over the noise of the club as he caught Harry’s rhythm and moved with him. Harry smirked and turned around.
“You wish”, Harry said as he pulled Draco closer.
Through the throbbing, pulsing music, Harry heard Draco’s groan as their erections pressed together and in that moment Harry had had enough for the night. He grabbed Draco’s arm and nodded toward the exit.
Draco’s smile was almost predatory - he knew what his boyfriend wanted. As one, they started moving towards the door. There were just too many people in the club that night but after what felt like hours they finally managed to reach the exit.
They stepped out and started walking towards the Apparition point (Harry was eager to Apparate from where they were, but the risk of being caught by Muggles stopped him.)
So they walked. Although nothing would have prepared Harry for the sudden downpour they were caught in, so he ran towards a sheltered alley where a few other people leaving the club had gathered.
He turned around around to look for Draco, to find him right where he was before. He had his eyes closed and hands held out next to him; like he was catching the rain in his palms.
Harry exasperatedly ran towards him and grabbed his hand. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” Harry asked over a roll of thunder
Draco just smiled and pulled Harry closer. “Always wanted to kiss you in the rain” he whispered. Harry laughed before leaning in to meet Draco's lips .
When they broke apart, Draco leaned his forehead on Harry's. He noticed that Draco’s waterproof eyeliner had started to come off a little, smiling, he looked up at Draco and said, “You’re a complete sap, you know that?”
Draco rolled his eyes and said, “Shut up and kiss me, Potter”
Harry Potter can’t sleep (and neither can Draco Malfoy)
prompt: pillow covers (thanks @miniemcgee)
<5k
Fuck this, Harry thinks, listening to the rustle of Malfoy’s sheets as the insufferable git rolls over for what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes. And fuck McGonagall for assigning Draco Malfoy, of all people, to be his roommate. No wait, Harry immediately takes this back. Even in his internal monologue he isn’t comfortable disrespecting McGonagall.
Still Malfoy is a nightmare to dorm with. Merlin, Harry would much rather be having a nightmare – at least then he’d actually be sleeping! Malfoy tosses and turns all night. He gets up and visits the bathroom two-three times every night. What, does he have a bladder the size of a peanut? It’s ridiculous.
All Harry wants is to sleep. All Malfoy seems to do every night is make as much noise as possible. Harry mentions it to Ron once at breakfast. Even though all the eight years have been given new shared “houseless” dorms, thankfully they’re still allowed to sit at their house tables. Harry is incredibly grateful for this. It’s bad enough staying awake all night listening to Malfoy, he’d hate to have to put up with him in the daylight as well.
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Ron asks.
“He makes noises, Ron, in his bed. All night!” Harry explains, desperate for someone to understand his frustration. It’s constant, night after night. Rustle rustle rustle.
Ron looks at Harry like he’s lost his mind, a faint blush on his cheeks. Harry doesn’t bring it up again.
Draco is tired. So very tired. He can’t remember ever not feeling tired. It’s been so long since he’s been able to really sleep. At least two years, maybe more. Probably more. He thought things would change after the Battle of Hogwarts. That Voldemort’s death would give him peace. But it hasn’t. Nothing seems to. He doubts anything ever will.
Every night it’s the same. He lies in bed desperately willing himself to sleep, for his body to give in and relax. But the relaxation never comes. Sure he gets bits of rest here and there but it’s always fleeting, never enough. The morning takes a lifetime to arrive and yet, somehow, it’s always too soon.
Tonight he studies late in the library. He pushes himself to remain for as long as possible. What’s the point in going to bed anyway? Finally the exhaustion becomes too much for him and he heads back to the dorm, all the while knowing the exhaustion isn’t enough to grant him sleep. It never is.
His dorm is dark. Potter must already be in bed. He is surprised by how early all the eighth years go to bed. In Slytherin lights out was always well after midnight. Unfortunately, not many others from Slytherin have returned to Hogwarts to back him up on this. So everyone seems to retire by 10pm every night.
He stumbles around the dark room, trying to be quiet, his arm reaching out in front of him searching for his bed pole to grasp, while his eyes adjust. There. Using the bed post as a guide, he lets himself fall into bed.
Ah. His body crumples inwards, pleased. It takes all Draco’s determination to keep his body upright throughout the day when all he wants to do is collapse. His body craves for sleep all day and then when he finally gets to bed, nothing. Yet another restless night.
Except today something feels different. His pillow is softer somehow, his blanket warmer. There’s something else too. A strong, commanding scent he’s never noticed before. He breathes in deeply and lets it wash over him. Grapefruit. Honey. Ginger. It’s comforting. And familiar. He takes another breath. And another. His eyes close.
Harry’s eyes open. He’s not in his bed. He jolts up and looks around wildly, taking in his surroundings. He relaxes. He’s on a couch in the eighth year common room. He must’ve accidentally fallen asleep here. No surprise since Malfoy has completely destroyed his sleeping patterns.
He casts a quick tempus charm. 4am. Still time to head up to bed and get a couple of hours of real sleep before class at least. If Malfoy doesn’t keep him up, that is. He readjusts his skewed glasses and takes the stairs up to his dormitory. He pauses at the doorway to give his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. While he waits, he listens. It’s quiet. Eerily so. Immediately Harry is on edge. Where is the rustle of Malfoy’s sheets? The padding of his feet across the room? The running water from the bathroom? The drawn out sighs?
Harry steps into the room gently, trying to make as little noise as possible. He, unlike, Malfoy, is careful not to wake others from their peaceful sleep. As he approaches his bed, his eyes dart over to Malfoy’s curious to see what he is doing if not making a ruckus. Malfoy’s bed is empty. Harry’s first thought is one of concern: Where is Malfoy? Is he okay? His second thought, which he is ashamed to say causes him to completely forget his first, is Finally. A quiet night!
Harry excitedly changes into his pajamas, eager to slide into bed and drift off immediately for once. He’s just about to jump into bed when he notices it. A body. On his bed. What the fuck? He blinks and takes a closer look. Merlin’s beard. It’s Malfoy. Malfoy is in his bed. And what’s more, he’s sleeping. Malfoy is sleeping. Not tossing and turning, not sighing, not playing the bongos, he’s actually sleeping!
Both shocked and tired, for a moment Harry isn’t able to think what to do. He just stands there staring down at his Malfoy covered bed. Why is Malfoy in his bed? Did he miss something? Is it a prank? He looks around, waiting for someone to jump out, but no one does. The room is still. Malfoy has once again ruined Harry’s night, this time by doing the exact opposite of his usual routine: sleeping.
Well, Harry’s not just going to stand here all night. He wants to sleep. And quite frankly, Malfoy can fuck right off.
“Malfoy.”
“Malfoy.”
“Malfoy.”
Draco is unwillingly pulled into consciousness by an insistent prodding in his left arm. He lifts his eyelids lazily, letting the world slowly come into focus. It’s dark. Very dark. Why is he waking?
“Ouch.” Oh yeah, that’s why. “What are you doing?” Draco mumbles as another jab is directed at his arm.
“Fuck off, Malfoy.”
“What?” Draco blinks rapidly, his eyes still unfocused. He recognises the voice though. “Potter?” Why is Potter waking him?
“Get up.” Orders Potter’s cruel voice.
Draco rolls over, burying his head in the pillow. “Don’t want to.”
“Fucking hell, Malfoy.”
The covers are ripped from Draco’s body exposing him to the chilly air. He whips his head back to face Potter, unfortunately now instantly awake. “What do you think you are doing?” He demands.
“Get out of my bed.”
“Your bed?” Draco looks at Potter. Then looks around. He looks at the four poster bed in the corner of the room by the window. His bed. Ah. He looks back to Potter. Shit. Draco’s up in a flash, scrambling over to his corner and hiding himself under the covers, hoping this is all a bad dream. How mortifying to be caught sleeping in Harry Potter’s bed! He’ll never been able to show his face again. He’ll have to – wait. He was caught sleeping in Harry Potter’s bed. Sleeping.
And that’s when Draco realises it. He’s just had the deepest sleep he’s had in a long time, and he’s had it in Harry Potter’s bed. Harry Potter’s soft, warm, wonderful smelling bed. Fuck. Fuck.
Rustle. Rustle. Sigh. Rustle. Harry’s dreams of a Malfoy-less sleep have been spat on, wadded up and thrown into the trash. Now, not only is Malfoy making unnecessary noise in his own bed, but he’s also left traces of himself in Harry’s bed. Spearmint. Ink. Soap. It’s not half bad of course. It might even be pleasant if Harry didn’t know it was Malfoy’s scent. All over his pillow. How is Harry supposed to sleep now?
Better question: why was Malfoy sleeping in Harry’s bed in the first place? From Malfoy’s reaction to Harry awaking him, he had clearly found himself in Harry’s bed accidentally. No mystery there. But why, no how, was Malfoy sleeping? He had been so still, so peaceful, so deeply asleep. For Malfoy, it was unheard of. Why couldn’t he sleep like that in his own bed? It would make Harry’s nights so much easier.
Harry rolls over into his pillow, which has the unfortunate consequence of heightening Malfoy’s scent. Harry resigns himself to the fact that he can’t escape it. Spearmint. Ink. Soap. He’s actually starting to like it. Merlin, he could fall asleep to this. Rustle. Or not.
Draco is out of his bed at sunrise. He hasn’t slept a wink since returning to his own bed, but he still feels more rested than he can ever remember. It’s terrifying. Potter’s bed did that. Draco walks the quiet castle corridors, pacing. How could sleep allude him for so long and then present itself in the most unlikeliest of places? The bed of his arch…no, of his ex-arch-enemy. Because they’re not enemies anymore. How can they be? Potter saved Draco’s life. The war’s over and they’re finally both on the same side. Now, they’re simply nothing to each other.
And to be caught by Potter? It’s absolutely humiliating. He’ll never be able to face him again. He certainly won’t be going near Potter’s bed again. And yet, if Potter’s bed is the key to sleep…no. Draco can’t think like that. It has got to be a coincidence. There’s nothing special about Potter’s bed, and certainly nothing special about Potter. Draco’s just getting better, that’s all. His insomnia is finally weaning, and Draco can start to reclaim his life.
Another restless night in his own bed says otherwise. He’s going to have to take matters into his own hands.
Malfoy has been avoiding Harry since the incident two nights ago, which suits Harry quite nicely actually. He may be enjoying the scent Malfoy left behind, which still lingers faintly, but it doesn’t mean he has lost any of his animosity to the dickhead. He only wishes that Malfoy could find somewhere to go to avoid him at night as well, because Harry is about to lose it.
Last night, Malfoy was in and out of bed six times, six! Harry knows because he was awoken every single time by the creak of Malfoy’s bed, by the unmuffled footsteps, by the light peeking under the bathroom door. He put up with it like every night before it, holding his jaw tight and his knuckles clenched, but there’s only so much he can take. Only so many disruptive nights before he snaps.
Tonight, he enters the dormitory early, hoping to get some sleep before Malfoy turns in. Malfoy’s always late to get in bed. It’s Harry’s only opportunity. Except, that would be too good to be true, because Malfoy’s already at his own bed, fiddling with his pillow. He looks up sharply as Harry enters, his face reddening, his expression startled. Harry stares at him a moment longer, trying to ascertain the reason for Malfoy’s odd behaviour. When nothing obvious is forthcoming, Harry drops eye contact and sighs. So much for getting in some sleep.
Harry heads to his bed anyway. He’s tired. Perhaps by some miracle Malfoy will go away and leave him alone. He sinks into his bed and lets the softness embrace him. He breathes in without thinking, eagerly anticipating the scent he’s gotten accustomed to over the last two nights. Spearmint. It’s strong tonight. Ink. Much stronger. Soap. It’s all encompassing. Before Harry can question it, he’s fast asleep.
Grapefruit. Draco sleeps the whole night through. Honey. He doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t toss. He doesn’t sigh. Ginger. He simply sleeps. It’s wonderful.
Harry awakes, instantly suspicious. At first he’s not sure why, only that there is something very wrong. He looks around warily and reaches his conclusion. Malfoy is sleeping soundly in his own bed. Soundly. And Harry can’t recall being awoken from Malfoy’s usual late night habits. Has Malfoy finally learned how to sleep? It’s a miracle. And Harry feels amazing. He has had his first uninterrupted sleep this year. He could certainly get used to this.
He does. A week of amazing nights of sleep pass and Harry feels great. Malfoy’s scent remains, as strong as ever, as if clinging onto his pillow, and Harry doesn’t particularly mind, not that he’d ever admit it.
He hasn’t bothered to work out what is going on with Malfoy. If the git is getting more sleep, then it must be a good thing. There’s no point dwelling on it. Harry had spent his whole sixth year fixated on the guy, he has no interest in doing so again.
But it turns out he has no choice in the matter. Because tonight he walks into the eighth year dormitory to find Malfoy, back to the door, hovering over his bed, Harry’s bed.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Malfoy pivots around to face him and that’s when Harry notices his pillow being held in Malfoy’s hands. Malfoy follows Harry’s eyes and then quickly throws the pillow back on Harry’s bed as if stung. “N-n-nothing.”
“What are you doing with my pillow?”
Malfoy looks around wildly, as if searching for an answer, and Harry can tell he’s not going to get the truth that easily. What is Malfoy up to?
“Don’t lie to me,” Harry says before Malfoy has a chance to make up something ridiculous and entirely untrue.
Suddenly Harry realises it probably doesn’t make sense that his bed still smells like Malfoy after more than a week has passed since he slept in it. Has Malfoy been hexing Harry’s pillow to smell like himself? No, that doesn’t make sense. Maybe that’s just a side effect of a more malicious hex being cast. Yes, that sounds more like Malfoy.
Harry pulls out his wand and approaches Malfoy slowly. “Have you been hexing my pillow?”
“What?” Malfoy replies immediately, his shock clear on his face. Okay, maybe Harry had been a bit off base then. “Of course not, Potter. I’m not a child.” He adds snottily, seeming to regain some of the Malfoy attitude, Harry has come to expect this…well in previous years. He can’t actually recall talking to Malfoy at all this year if he’s honest.
“Then what were you doing with my pillow?” Harry asks, his wand still raised, albeit his grip a bit lighter.
Malfoy shuffles backwards slightly. His eyes dart to Harry’s bed and then to his own before meeting Harry’s gaze again. His posture straightens and his lips curl into a smirk. “I was only checking to see if the pillows on your bed were softer than mine, is all. You may have noticed the blatant favouritism towards Gryffindor students at Hogwarts. I’m merely ensuring everyone is treated equally.”
“And are they?” Harry asks to Malfoy’s already retreating back.
“Are they what?” says Malfoy as he slides into his own bed.
“Softer.”
“Oh.” Harry watches Malfoy’s profile carefully as the latter digests this. Harry already knows he’s lying before the answer comes: “Yes.”
Harry isn’t certain he’s going to get any more out of Malfoy so he drops it. He inspects his pillow thoroughly, not finding anything untoward, before settling into his own bed. As soon as he rests his head, he knows that something is not quite right. He rolls over into the pillow. Grapefruit. Ink. Ginger. Malfoy’s scent has faded. He shouldn’t be disappointed but he is.
It’s not long before he hears the first rustle.
Spearmint. Honey. Soap. It’s there but it’s not enough. If only Potter had entered a minute later. Draco would have been able to swap Potter’s pillow cover for his, like he’s been doing every night before bed this week. He knows it’s strange, oh he knows. But he’s been rewarded with real sleep every night, just from the comfort Potter’s scent provides. He’s not going to complain about that, however strange. He’s just going to accept it and use it to his advantage as much as possible. Or at least he was, until Potter walked in and ruined his plans.
Tonight looks like a revert back to the restless nights of old. It’s worse now, knowing what a good night’s sleep actually feels like. He had forgotten that feeling but now it’s fresh once more. He turns. He sighs. He turns again. He signs again. He buries his head in the pillow, inhaling deeply, searching for that scent. Grapefruit. Yes. Honey. Yes. Soap. Damn. There’s too much of his own scent muffling it. He’ll never fall asleep like this. He flops onto his back. He sighs.
“For fuck’s sake, Malfoy. Shut up.”
“I. Can’t. Sleep.” Replies Draco through gritted teeth. Does Potter thinks he wants to be laying here wide awake? It’s not as if he has a choice in the matter.
“You were fine last night. Just close your eyes and stop moving.” Returns Potter’s voice. Oh, like it’s that simple. Like Draco hasn’t already tried closing his fucking eyes. Draco sighs angrily. Potter will never understand.
“And stop sighing!” Potter adds.
That does it. Draco is out of bed and standing over Potter in seconds. “You’re a wizard. Just cast a fucking silencing charm if it bothers you so much.“
Potter has the gall to look surprised, like this has really never occurred to him. What an idiot. “I never thought of that,” he says more to himself than Draco. His hand fumbles around on his bedside table and Draco worries he’s about to be confronted with the great Harry Potter’s wand, but he’s just grabbing his glasses.
Once Potter has his glasses properly on and adjusted – Draco wants him to clearly see how Draco is looking down at him – Draco continues. “I’m sure there are several things you haven’t thought about.”
Potter rolls his eyes. Draco blanches at the nerve of it. “Like what, Malfoy.”
“Like what it must be like for me! Do you think I’m staying up all night on purpose? Do you think I’m sighing for your benefit? Do you think I like lying wide awake even when I’m so tired I can hardly stand it? If the only thing that helps me sleep is the motherfucking scent of ginger, then I think the least you can do is spare a single fucking pillow cover for the night.”
“Ginger?” Potter echoes, his face revealing his confusion, which Draco supposes is fair. He probably doesn’t know his own scent. “A pillow cover?” Ah yes, and Potter hadn’t know about that bit. Shit. “What the hell, Malfoy?” Potter lifts himself out of bed and stands to face Draco now. He looks mad. Shit shit shit. “Have you been stealing my pillow covers?” The anger in Potter’s voice is only diluted by his confusion. He really has no idea.
“I’ve been swapping them, you idiot.” Draco explains because what else can he do? He has basically outed himself as a Harry Potter pillow cover sniffer. Merlin. He’s going to need a support group for this.
Poor Potter doesn’t know what to do with this information. He blinks back at Draco. “Why?”
Draco sighs (and enjoys the way Potter grimaces at this). “That night last week when I fell asleep in your bed…it was the first time I’ve actually properly slept in years.”
“And you think it was because of my pillow cover?”
Is Potter really this dim? “It’s not the pillow cover, it’s you, you fool.”
“Me?”
Draco pauses, wondering how he should phrase this. “It smells like you.” Yeah, nice one. That sounded way less sappy in Draco’s head.
“Oh.” Draco watches as Potter digests this. He seems to understand much quicker than Draco had expected. He relaxes, which seems an odd thing to do when someone has confessed to sniffing their pillow covers, but then again Potter probably thought Draco was up to something much more sinister than just sniffing. “Why didn’t you just swap our pillows?” Potter asks.
“My pillow is a custom peacock feather.” As if he’s going to let Potter’s big head defile that.
“Of course it is.” Potter turns back to his bed, and Draco wonders if he has been rudely dismissed. But instead Potter turns around a moment later. “Here.” He says, holding out his arm.
Draco looks down to the pillow cover hanging limply from Potter’s hand. “What are you doing?”
“You know what.” Potter says, and then with a small smirk: “As you said, it’s the least I can do.”
Draco’s lips twitch. He wants to jump and shout. He’s so relieved he’s going to be able to sleep. Instead he draws himself up in a dignified fashion. “Yes, it is actually.”
He retrieves his own pillow cover and trades with Potter, the swap seeming more criminal now that Potter is participating willingly. Which doesn’t make sense in the slightest. He avoids all eye contact during the trade and scrambles into his bed as fast as he can.
Draco’s head sinks down onto his freshly covered pillow. Grapefruit. Yes. Honey. Yes! Ginger. YES! “Thank you,” Draco whispers.
Harry is obliged to help out a fellow student, even if it is Malfoy. It’s in his nature. So unfortunately, in return he’ll have to put up with Malfoy’s scent in his bed a little while longer. That’s okay. He doesn’t mind. Spearmint. Ink. Soap. He doesn’t mind at all.
Draco and Potter have an arrangement. Each night before bed, without speaking, they trade pillow covers, redress their pillows and get into their respective beds. They both sleep well for a time. Until one night, almost a month later, it’s not enough anymore.
Draco wakes up with a scream. Automatically he brings his hand to his mouth hoping to muffle the sound, but it’s too late.
“Malfoy?” Comes Potter’s voice through the darkness, groggy but alarmed.
Draco wipes his forehead. When did he get so sweaty? “It’s fine, Potter. Go back to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” Potter asks instantly. Well Draco could hardly expect him to give up so easily. Potter’s always a curious bastard.
He considers telling Potter about his dream, but then he’ll have to explain much more than he’s ready to, seeing as the scariest part of the dream is that most of it actually happened. But that was another time. Another Draco, under Voldemort’s control. So: “Nothing.”
There is no reply to this. Draco knows he hasn’t fooled Potter. Of course he hasn’t. But the silence stretches. He rolls over and tries to fall back into sleep, inhaling his pillow gently. He can already tell it’s not going to work. He rolls back the other way. He wants to sigh but he doesn’t want Potter to know he’s still awake.
Although he clearly isn’t fooling anyone because a second later Potter whispers his name. “Malfoy.”
“Potter.” Draco whispers back, his voice louder than he intends.
“You’re not sleeping.”
“Yes, I picked up on that, thank you.” Draco responds sarcastically. And immediately regrets it. He’s irritated that he’s once again unable to sleep but it’s not Potter’s fault. Saint Potter has done nothing but help him. He really should be nicer to him.
“I thought we fixed that.”
Draco sighs openly. “Me too.”
“Did you want to swap a-“
“No. It’s fine.” I can still smell you.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Potter asks. Draco isn’t surprised. Potter isn’t as stupid as he looks. And he doesn’t look very stupid, now that Draco thinks about it. Merlin, Potter looks anything but stupid.
Draco’s already resigned himself to the fact that there is no point lying to Harry Potter. He’s awfully perceptive nowadays. He makes Potter wait a pause for his answer nonetheless. Then, “Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Draco’s instincts are to scoff at the question. It makes Potter sound like a bad therapist. Then again, he appreciates the concern. It’s not like there’s anyone else at Hogwarts eager to be his friend or help him. “No.” He answers truthfully, although he suspects his answer will change in time.
There is a pause filled with the sounds of Potter shuffling in bed. Sounds like he’s really squirming in there. Draco is just about to ask if there’s something wrong when Potter speaks again. “Did you want to…” He starts, trailing off.
“Yes?”
“Sorry,” Potter says, “I was just thinking, I mean, it would make sense…” And then he trails off again. Merlin this is frustrating.
“Yes?” Draco prompts (for a second time). Spit it out is what he wants to shout.
“You could try sleeping in my bed?” Potter finally whispers.
“What?” Surely Draco is hearing this incorrectly. Potter wants to sleep with him? In the same bed? No, it can’t be.
“It’s just that it’s the place where you first slept soundly,” Potter continues, his voice wavering, “so it might be better than just a pillow cover.”
Better than a pillow cover. That’s one way to describe it. Draco considers the offer seriously. He supposes he would feel much safer with Harry Potter beside him. It’d almost be like a fuck you to the Voldemort of his dreams. “Do you think there’s enough space for both of us?”
A silence follows this. Draco can’t understand why Potter isn’t answering. It was a simple enough question so why is – oh fuck. Fuck. No. Realization dawns much too late. “You meant we swap beds, didn’t you?” Draco asks quietly.
“Yes.” Potter confirms and Draco wants to disappear. But then Potter continues and Draco finds something to cling onto: “But I guess there is plenty of space, and it might be better…as in…my…the scent that you like would be stronger.”
“Yes, it does sound…logical.” Draco is sure they both know it doesn’t. But if Potter’s happy to pretend, then so is he.
“And that way we both might get to sleep together….I mean sleep. Together. Not sleep together.”
“Yes, there’s no point in us both being awake.” Agrees Draco, knowing that in no way have they rationally concluded that sleeping in the same bed is simply a solution to the problem at hand. They’re grasping and they both know it.
“Exactly.”
“Good.”
Now that it’s decided, Draco hesitates to leave his bed. It’s one thing to talk about it, it’s another thing entirely to join Harry Potter in bed.
“Er…so are you coming?” Potter whispers across to him. The voice is as uncertain as Draco feels and it’s the exact prompt he needs to get himself moving. He pulls himself up and slowly walks over to Potter’s bed, all the while his anticipation builds.
Potter has already shifted as far to the side as humanly possible, giving Draco a wide berth in which to slide into the bed. He does so, careful to take up as little space as possible, Potter shifts at Draco’s presence and they end up both side by side on their backs, their hips pressed up against each other. Holy fuck, what are they doing?
They both lay there for a time, blinking up at the ceiling. Draco swears his heartbeat is like a bass pounding throughout the room. Although he’s certainly thrilled to be in the same bed as Harry Potter, the position isn’t exactly comfortable. Potter’s hip digging into his was exhilarating at first, but now rather awkward. And he certainly isn’t going to fall asleep like this.
Potter’s voice breaks the silence. “Is this…working for you?”
“Er…” Draco wonders how to put this. “What about if I…” He starts to roll over to face Potter at the same time Potter rolls to face him. Their foreheads almost meet in the centre of Potter’s pillow (which, although softer than Draco’s, is clearly inferior in quality).
Potter’s breath is warm on Draco’s face. He can feel it on his lips. It tingles. His eyes fall down to Potter’s lips. Harry Potter’s lips. He’s in Harry Potter’s bed. Merlin help him. He breathes in. Grapefruit. Oh. It’s intoxicating.
“Is this bett – “ Potter starts to ask before Draco cuts him off to bring their lips together. And Merlin, Harry Potter tastes exactly as he smells, or maybe better. It’s not a cure for insomnia or nightmares that’s for sure, but it’s something. Something separate. Something distinct. Something Draco suspects is going to be brilliant.
“This is much better.” He whispers as they pull apart, unable to hide a wide smile. And Potter is smiling right back at him. Harry Potter has never smiled back at him. He breathes in. Honey. Yes. This is incredible. He should’ve kissed the bastard years ago.
Draco shuffles downwards slightly and nestles his head on Potter’s chest in a way he certainly didn’t have the courage to do minutes ago. Potter’s arm comes to rest around him, holding him close. He breathes in. Ginger. Ah. Harry Potter is much better than just a pillow cover. He’ll never be able to sleep anyway else again. Harry Potter has ruined him.
Harry pulls Malfoy into him in complete disbelief. Draco Malfoy is in his arms. Annoying, insufferable, sweet smelling Malfoy is in Harry Potter’s arms, in Harry Potter’s bed. Harry knew it was odd that he was so drawn to Malfoy’s scent, but he never expected, well, that’s not to say he never considered it, but he never thought, in reality, it would end up this way. Although he can’t say he’s not pleased it has.
Resting his head on Malfoy’s, Harry breathes in the scent that has pervaded his dreams for the last month. Spearmint. Ink. Soap. He could get used to this. In fact, he already is.
Thanks again to @miniemcgee for this super cute prompt. Please follow her (and don’t forget me! - @queenofthyme) on tumblr. Read on ao3 or see here for more of my writing.
Brief update:
I know I was MIA and I will apologise to the people I owe an apology to, but I am in a very rough patch of my life.
I will explain everything later when I can deal with stuff better. Social media is not a good place for me to be right now.
I guess you can think of this as a semi-hiatus. Semi is very important because I love you guys and am very thankful of you all who stayed here at sirpotter, I will definitely come back here at tumblr.
Once again I love you and thank you for your understanding.
Love, Yindee
Ps: if you go to who I follow you’ll find amazing people who’ve helped me a lot and will entertain you for the time being. They truly are amazing people. Especially the people from the @drarrywritersnet @sappypotter is also someone who’s just so kind and very close to my heart.
I am also part of @hogwartsgirlgang so check that out ♥️
Harry couldn’t get his eyes off of Draco. He just couldn’t. Not even if his life depended on it.
Harry had returned to finish his last year at Hogwarts and during the sorting hat’s song he had decided to just fuck it and live his life the way he wanted to. So the very next day he had prepared a statement and sent it to the Daily Prophet.
“THE CHOSEN ONE CHOOSES MEN” Oh the collective gasps he heard had given him a lot of joy, especially seeing Draco almost spit his tea out. But he hadn’t been prepared for what Draco did after that.
He flirted with Harry. Found ways to tease him, complimented him, batted his eyelashes and generally made life difficult for Harry. Then one day Draco cornered him in an empty corridor on the way to charms and was just about to start teasing him when Harry, once again, thought fuck it and grabbed Draco and kissed him.
This was how they ended up together and how Malfoy was now Draco, and Ron kept telling him to stop staring at his boyfriend and get on with his breakfast. It was December as well as Hogsmeade weekend, so they were all getting ready to get out of the castle and so they were busy wolfing down their breakfast. After all they had to do their Christmas shopping today. Harry had been putting on his muffler when he looked up and saw Pansy put something on Draco face or head. As soon as she moved away, Harry could not do anything but stare. Draco was wearing earmuffs. Not just any earmuffs but CAT earmuffs. The black ears kept twitching occasionally as if they were actually trying to listen to all the conversation around them. Draco looked unbelievably cute and absolutely irresistible. The jet-black thing was a stark contrast against Draco’s platinum blonde hair. The entire look made Harry want to grab Draco and kiss him right there in the great hall! Not even Mcgonangall’s presence could have stopped him. While he was still staring at Draco, he realized that Draco was looking at him too. His expression was quickly changing from annoyed at Pansy to smug at Harry’s reaction. Which meant only one thing- that he already knew what Harry was thinking. He then started walking out of the great hall and at the last moment turned around and gave Harry a smouldering look, still with his earmuffs on. It was enough to make Harry stand up and run after Draco after making quick half convincing excuses to his friends. He followed Draco to the nearest empty corridor. As soon as Harry turned the corner he was pushed against the wall and was suddenly being kissed by one cat earmuffed Draco Malfoy. It didn’t take long for Harry to come out of his shock and take control. By the time they parted they were both breathless. “Shit Draco! How could you?” Harry panted. “What did I do?!” Draco asked, surprised. “How could you look so cute and sexy at the same time? It is not fucking legal!! You gave me a hard on right there in the great hall!” Harry nearly whined, still clearly turned on. “Oh I see. So Potter, I think you should visit the owlery later today, you know, to order in your Christmas shopping and stuff…” said Draco and smirked. Harry was confused; nobody said he was very fast when he was turned on, “Why would I do that? It’s Hogsmeade weekend and I just promised Ron and Hermione that I’ll meet them at The Three Broomsticks…” Draco gave a sigh so dramatic and long that Harry feared for his lungs. “You really think you’ll be comfortable enough to talk with your friends and do shopping while having that,” Draco said while pointing towards Harry’s erection. “Oh…” Harry said “I guess Ron, Hermione and shopping can wait for a bit.” With that Harry followed Draco towards the Room of Requirement while all the time staring at that wonder of an earmuff.
Fin.
This prompt was given to me by the great and amazing @queenofthyme . Well actually it was just earmuffs but then i couldn’t resist so: CAT EARMUFFS !!! Also pls try to forgive all the grammatical and/or spelling mistakes i havn’t reread it properly yet…
He screamed and screamed as the Cruciatus ripped through his body and set his mind on fire.
He was breathing quite loud from the pain when he woke up, gasping but within minutes he had controled his breathing effectively. He was an expert afterall.
But today’s nightmare had been different. Way different than the regular ‘Noseless Bastard and his Snake’ act that his subconscious usually pulled on him.
Today he had gone back to the time he had been eleven. The time he had told his parents that he was in love with a boy (*cough* Potter *cough*).
Mother was just calmly looking at him but Father… Father had never seemed so angry before
And that should have been a warning to him for the slap that was to come along with the long hours of lectures on how to be a “Malfoy man” that had followed.
It had been this very reason why he had tried so hard to hate Potter. It hadn’t worked but at least he’d tried.
He was really surprised by his nightmare though
It had only been a slap but his twisted subconscious had warped the scene and put in a Cruciatus instead.
He got out of bed and went into the en suite to wash his face anr clean up all the sweat and tears.
He was wiping his face when he heard the door of his hotel room open and rushed footsteps coming in.
He quickly whipped out his wand from where it was holding his hair up.
“Malfoy ?” Potter whisper shouted, “are you okay ? I heard loud breathing and gasps and all.”
He relaxed,“I’m here Potter and I’m fine. Nothing happened. Stop being so jumpy, the suspect has not even moved out of his room. You can relax, for god’s sake.” He drawled back.
“Yeah but I HEARD those noises and I… wait were you having a nightmare ??” Potter had come into the bathroom by this time and was currently looking at Draco through the mirror just like…
For the hundredth time Draco wondered why he had to be in a muggle hotel with thin walls, why was he assigned to this trifle potions smuggling case and why, in the name of Merlin’s pants, was he paired with Harry fucking Potter ???
After three years as partners you tend to notice stuff about each other. No wonder Potter could immediately guess that he was having a nightmare but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t find it annoying. “I said I’m fine, Potter,” he said firmly as he moved out of the bathroom “you can go back to sleep now.” He turned to look at Potter again and registered in the back of his mind just how awesome that arse was.
Draco had seen his share of arses (visiting gay clubs after the war had been liberating for him. No one telling him how to be a “Malfoy man”) and Potter’s was the finest he had seen
Potter hesitated, “I… uh I used to have nightmare’s too so it’s okay, you can tell me.”
Potter was only trying to be civil but Draco exahasperatedly said, “Potter, I said I am fine. Why won’t you leave me alone !?”
“Alright Malfoy, don’t get your knickers in a twist!” Potter frowned. At that moment Draco, who couldn’t quite control his tongue, murmured “As if I was wearing any”
Shit, he thought and looked up to see Potter blushing in the most adorable way. Well that was interesting, Draco thought.
Potter was blushing but not in a way that would suggest he disliked the idea of him not wearing his pants under his pajama bottoms
He had known that Potter swung both ways but he had not realized that Potter might like HIM.
Hmmm… It seemed like there was some research to be done on the ‘Potter Crush Case’
To be continued…
Last night had been SO embarassing. First Harry had entered Malfoy’s room after hearing those sounds only to find him shirtless and only with his pajama bottoms on !
Now, Harry had seen quite some shirtless guys but why did HIS have to affect him so much. The fact that he had perfectly shaped broad muscles, that trim trim waist and MERLIN, that arse, should not have affected this case that much.
Harry realized that he shouldn’t have barged into his partner’s room. Afterall he was a trained auror. Though Harry hadn’t been able to help himself, he was WORRIED…
While he had been in Malfoy’s room he had just blurted out the question about nightmares. He had had no right, really but he had to ask. After going through 7 years of devastating nightmares, he couldn’t let anyone else go through that. So if Malfoy needed his help he would be there.
And there had been the question of ‘The Twisted Knickers’, the cherry on top of the embarassing cake.
What had Malfoy been upto ? Saying things like that in the middle of the night, making Harry blush like a teen !?
Harry had left on such a rush that he was sure Malfoy had noticed something was off.
The next day he realized that Malfoy himself was off. He was FLIRTING with Harry !! Giving him those looks and almost coy smiles. And GOD the french!! Malfoy kept saying some or other things in french and it was driving Harry crazy !!
Harry couldn’t concentrate! Every time he heard some french words coming to him through the ear piece, he would freeze… just stop doing what he was doing because the combination of Malfoy’s posh voice and french was too potent a mixture for him.
And Malfoy knew it. Of course he knew it, why else would he keep saying all those sexy things (even if they weren’t)?
Harry hoped that all this would end quickly because he couldn’t always be expected to be on the run with a hard on, now could he ?
****
Harry wished that Malfoy wouldn’t decide to talk french to him any soon because they were finally at the suspected HQ of those smugglers. Harry was in a wierd room made of glass, which had two doors. He was inspecting the cauldron lying there when suddenly he heard Malfoy shout in his ears, “Regardez derrière vous !! I mean LOOK BEHIND YOU!” But Harry had been frozen and so the spell hit him before he could react to the final warning in Malfoy’s voice. He was lost to the darkness and terrors of his mind …
Huge, huge thank you to @sirpotter and @sappypotter for their help with french and all the drarry writer's net ppl for the support❤❤ Third part coming up in a week ! 😊😀
The sound was making his teeth clash against each other.
Draco turned around and waved his hand and closed the curtain blocking out the pitter patter of rain, a sound he used to love as a child.
He remembered how during monsoon, when father and mother would have gone to a ball or other, he would sneak out into the gardens and enjoy getting thoroughly wet.
He remembered jumping into puddles and make paper boats appear out of no where.
He remembered going inside and having the elves clean him up and pretend to his parents that he had just been innocently playing with his toys. The next day his fever ridden body would tell them other wise.
He had loved the sound of the rain drops hitting the widow pane but now it did nothing other than make him want to stuff his ears with something really thick because some sound still tricled through the curtains, how much ever magically enhanced they were. He didn’t cover his ears though because somewhere deep inside him he believed that he deserced this, that he had to endure this. He thought that the nervous breakdowns and insomnia were a small price to pay
*****
He laughed darkly as he pulled his hand away from the curtains of 12 Grimauld Place because he just realized that he was actually afraid to open the curtains, and to end up listening to the raindrops against the window pane.
Harry Potter- afraid of raindrops ! What would all those drooling fans say !!
It was almost one year since the war and wierd things like the weather were getting on his nerves. Brilliant ! Absolutely brilliant ! He had thought that he’d finally get SOME peace of mind after the war and Merlin knows he deserved it. This was not what he asked for. This feeling that he would jump out of his skin every time an out of turn noice was heard or just sit numbly through an opera of banshees.
But some where in his heart he felt that he deserved this. He deserved this for being the cause of death of so many people.
I think I’ll write more of this…
The inspiration for this fic came from this pic : (sorry about this but m on the app…)
