Based on a prompt from a lovely anon, ‘flatmates’. Muggle AU, jealous Harry, pining by the bucketload, 1.6k, rated M.
It’s not that he minded, because he didn’t, but still it was a tiny bit annoying how loud Malfoy was. Which, like, fine. He could be as loud as he pleased, really. The noise itself didn’t bother Harry. All the laughing Malfoy did all the time with his mates, or the squealing with glee, or the moaning. Whatever. Especially the moaning. He didn’t care. Only, did it really have to be so –
Harry groaned when he realized he was thinking about Malfoy, again, instead of finishing his work. The essay was due by midnight tonight. A quick look at the clock informed him it was – ah, great, a quarter to eleven. Well, shit.
Scribbling some words down without thought, Harry couldn’t help but hear the sounds from the other side of the wall. It sounded like fighting. But the terrible kind, the one punctuated by giggles and ‘no, give it to me!’ and ‘stop!’ and ‘oh, god…’ oh, god. When Harry agreed to take a flatmate, this was not what he had in mind.
“It’ll be good for you,” Ron insisted when he moved out. “You know, having someone who’s actually in the flat from time to time.” He was probably only trying to make Harry feel better, though, after that brutal betrayal. Yes, Harry always knew it was coming – Ron’s been eyeing Hermione ever since first year. And still. It stung.
“Oi, quit it! No, seriously, I’m very ticklish, you – “
Harry had to physically cover his ears with both hands. The paper was due in an hour. He wasn’t going to make it.
*
What was perhaps even more frustrating was how Malfoy wasn’t so loud around him. It took Harry at least a month and a half to find out he even existed; Malfoy moved around the flat so quietly, secretly almost, like an animal trying to evade detection. Harry honestly forgot he had a flatmate. Then they had that wretched conversation on the kitchen floor after a particularly vicious exam, draining through Harry’s supply of crisps until the sun came up. They talked about Malfoy’s horrible dad and his crazy expectations, about Harry’s parents being too supportive, about uni, about St. Andrews and about not being able to understand most of their professors at all. They talked for hours. And then, just when Harry thought he could finally put a finger on his mysterious flatmate, Malfoy had to do a complete one-eighty on him.
Oh, he was funny, yes. In the sharp-wit sort of way Harry found so charming on the floor. And he was very clever, like Harry learned that night. He was even friendly, once he finally let some of his guard down. But he did all those things with other people.
People from his class, for example. Or guys he picked up at the restaurant where he worked. It was Harry’s idea for him to get a job – ‘you should be, like, free, you know? If your father’s trying to control you, don’t take money from him!’ – and then Malfoy went and used it to meet men. Strange men. Other men, anyway. It was so infuriating, Harry decided he wasn’t in fact going to start calling him ‘Draco’ like he’d suggested. Nope. Eat shit, Malfoy, he thought whenever the blasted man brought another date to the flat. Eat. Fucking. Shit.
But no, Malfoy was eating pasta tonight. With Michael. Or Steven. Or Stephen, fuck him. Malfoy’s having pasta, sashaying around in his boxers and an oversized jumper and striped knee-high socks and Harry just wanted to die. Just like that. To die. It was really bloody cold outside, so he couldn’t even go for a run, and although Malfoy asked him – twice – if he’d care to join them, it was the last thing Harry wanted to do. He wouldn’t sit there and watch him bat his eyelashes at some random. His long fricking eyelashes. Screw him. Which, most likely, Stephen actually will. And Harry will have to hear the whole thing, because there’s only one wall between their rooms, and it’s thin as fucking paper.
He went to bed very early that night, but only fell asleep around four in the morning.
*
The sound that got to him the most was the laughter. The moans were – well – but the laughter drove Harry mental. He made Malfoy laugh a couple of times himself, that one mythical night they shared. A few other times too with the snarky comments he threw occasionally, or when Harry did something exceedingly stupid (which was too fucking often). When Malfoy talked it was always careful, precise, but when he laughed – he laughed like he didn’t know how to laugh, like he’s never done it before, like it was something entirely novel. He laughed real, and deep, and wild. He laughed so hard he’d cry, sometimes, wiping his fucking lashes and grinning from ear to ear. It was so easy to love him, then. Even if you didn’t know him. Even if you wanted nothing to do with him, when Malfoy laughed, everyone fell in love.
Not Harry, though. He wasn’t in love, for crying out loud. He was just a little drawn to him, because yes, Malfoy was very attractive, and yes, Harry didn’t lead the fullest social life with his tight schedule, and yes, Malfoy was attractive. Or has he listed that already? Didn’t matter. The point was, he didn’t care about Malfoy at all, except for the laughter. Which didn’t really explain why Harry bought the coffee he preferred, or used the lily-scented laundry detergent Malfoy admitted to liking. Or why he marked Malfoy’s exams on his schedule too, or always made sure there are sufficient snacks in the house whenever Malfoy had a large assignment to submit. The blasted man probably believed they had a snack-fairy or something, because he never once commented on it. They had nearly no interaction at all, the exception being Malfoy inviting him to whatever stupid activity he was doing with the stupid men he brought over, probably just to be an arse. And then Harry having to hear the other activities through the wall.
Having a flatmate shouldn’t be this painful, he often thought.
*
The semester went by far too fast, and Harry was close to admitting defeat. This year he’ll graduate. Probably move back home, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to wait here for – for – for nothing. It’s not like Malfoy was offering him something. So yeah. What was he even thinking about? He lost all thread of thought the minute the door opened and Malfoy walked in, blessedly alone.
“I brought lasagna from the restaurant,” he said, and Harry had to swallow three times before he managed a nod.
“No, er, what’s his face, Roger tonight?”
Malfoy’s pretty nose scrunched. “You mean Stuart? No, he’s a twat. No one’s coming tonight.” He leaned against the counter, effortlessly elegant, too fucking brilliant in the dim light. “Fancy having dinner, just the two of us?”
“I.” this was honestly the best he could do.
“You don’t have to,” Malfoy said, too quickly. Harry realized he had to step the fuck up, right now.
“No, no, I – I want. Food, that is. I – hungry.”
“Say no more,” Malfoy smirked, plating up the lasagna. “I thought you would be, after your run.”
“I – how did you know I went for a run?”
“Well, first of all, it’s halfway warm outside. You always go for a run when it doesn’t rain. And second, your hair’s wet. You normally shower in the morning, so if your hair’s wet in the evening…” the shrug was such a bland response to Harry’s look of total, utter shock. Malfoy noticed all these things about him? He thought he was the only one who – “Harry?”
Oh. He was blocking the microwave. Flustered, overheated, startled, Harry didn’t move. Instead he grabbed Malfoy’s wrist, not the one holding the plate, and pulled closer.
“-what –“
The plate fell, noisily, to the floor. Harry didn’t bother looking. His eyes bore down Malfoy’s, green on grey, and both of them were panting. Oh. Oh.
“All the others,” he said, grunted, voice rough. “All this time.”
“You weren’t paying attention to me.” Malfoy’s lips were so fucking close. “I needed a way to make you listen.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath,” Harry mumbled, appreciative, and confirmed it with a kiss.
He didn’t sleep that night, either. He didn’t complain, though.
*
It was the last night of April, nearly the first morning of May, and everyone was on the beach. Ron was snogging Hermione somewhere, and Stuart was sending Harry death-threats with his eyes, but he was holding Draco, so everything was all right.
“Are you going to do it?” Draco whispered into his neck, pretty half-cut. Everybody was. Not Harry, though; he didn’t remember ever feeling more present. And alive, damn it. Graduation was just around the corner, and for a change, he didn’t really care what he was going to do after.
“Why not?” he asked, smiling to the top of Draco’s head.
“Er, maybe because it’s freezing, and you people are crazy?” Draco replied, but he was smiling too.
“Come on. Let’s do it. You can’t graduate from St. Andrew’s and not go in once.”
“Oh, is this life advice from Harry Potter?” he looked up to steal a kiss. “Fine. Fine. God, I can’t believe you convinced me to – ah. I’m cold already. Hold me closer.”
Harry was only too happy to oblige.
When the sun came up, they held hands and just ran forward, straight into the freezing North sea. All around them people were shouting and laughing and cursing, but Harry only had ears for Draco. The sound he made when he was up to his chest in the icy water was something quite unique; a half-shriek, half-laughter, plus something else still. Harry decided then and there that he’d be quite happy hearing him for the rest of their lives.
Every year St Andrews Students gather by East Sands at sunrise, strip off and run into the (rather chilly) sea to cleanse our ‘academic sins’ before exams. I really hope it worked.
Welcome to the University of St Andrews, a place of a million traditions. Our biggest tradition however, comes in the middle of spring- the Gaudie and May Dip!
AUDIO TRANSCRIPT: Below the cut
Hi, I’m Ellen
This will hopefully be the first of more videos from me. I thought I’d do a little reintroduction. The last time I introduced myself I had just left school and now I’m halfway through my degree, so that was two years ago now. I thought what better way to introduce myself than to tell you a bit about my university because I’m a student, that’s my life, and today’s a very important day for my university. I go to the University of St Andrews and today is April 30th so tonight is the Gaudie and then at sunrise tomorrow morning, May Dip.
So, it’s about 6:30 just now, at about 8 I’m going to head into town to do the torchlit procession, which is called the Gaudie, and then I’m going to come back here, I’m going to have something to eat, have some drinks with friends and then we’re going to go to a house party where we’ll stay until about 3am and then we’ll go down to the beach for a bonfire and then at sunrise everyone runs into the North Sea. So, you’re atoning for academic sins like sleeping with academic family- you have family who are other students. If you sleep with an academic sibling, or parent you’ve committed ‘academic incest’ so you have to atone for your sins. There’s also paving stones in town and stuff you can't stand on. There’s all sorts of other rules but most people just do it for fun, so yeah.
So this , if I can tidy it up, is a red academic gown- we wear these at St Andrews for special occasions. Not everyone has one, you can buy one if you want to have one. You wear them for special occasions like dinners, or if you’re in a choir or some people wear them to church on sundays or just for the pier walk, OR if you’re a student ambassador, which is what I am, so that’s why I wear mine. Mine is preowned so I got it quite cheap- they’re quite expensive to buy new. You wear them differently depending what year you’re in, so I’m second year so I’m supposed to wear mine back on my shoulders like this...
... so it’s first light. We’re gonna go off and dip now. I don’t think I’m going to dip myself ,but my friends are.
