Untitled Part 1

37

Once inside, Harry made the executive decision to lead them both down to the Slytherin dormitories. Although he wished they could've stayed in the Gryffindor ones—they seemed warmer in his mind, but he'd rather not attempt to sneak the ragingly high Slytherin into the lions' dorms at twelve in the morning and risk getting them both hexed by Seamus or Ron, or both.
Better to crash in the dungeons where at least Malfoy was popular, and most people had apparently seen him in this state before, if Daphne Greengrass's description of events was anything to go by.
'He's a both physical and emotional wreck when wasted. Better watch your mouth, you never know what that ferret's capable of on drugs.'

Harry huffed mockingly at her previous words
Easy. He reckoned. The least I'll do is put a silencing charm on him. This shouldn't be hard.

Or so he thought.

"P-Potter! Look what I can do!" Shrieked the blonde lazily as he suddenly began sprinting towards the dungeons, sliding down on his injured knees like some muggle soccer player celebrating his last goal. It made a louder sound than expected.

"Malfoy, you bloody idiot." Choked Harry as he caught up with the wrecked blonde. "You're injuring your knees further more! Moron!" He leaned in and and slightly slapped a hand over Draco's mouth in order to prevent him in case he decided to yell out something else, even worse. "And besides, people seem to be fucking sleeping in here."

"So?"

"So!" Harry racked his brain for a way to explain it to the colossal idiot at his side. "So, they don't want to hear your chaotic ass spitting out random, vulgar shit at midnight."

"Whatever, Potty. Let's get in." He groaned smirkingly. "I miss my bed."

Harry rolled his eyes at the fake dramatic expression on Draco's worn out face and bent down in attempt to pull him up. The blonde gripped Potter's right arm harshly—helping himself off of the cold ground. He remained holding onto the sober boy as they both walked uncomfortably towards the dorm—they kept stumbling here and there, strolling like a walking balloon.

"Okay, we're here." Mumbled Harry as he stood before the closed opening—trying as hard as he can not to wince from Malfoy's finger nails digging through his clothing into the flesh of his arm. Although, he may admit—it did feel pleasing.

"Mhm, yes we are, Potty." Spat Draco as his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, as if he was biting his lip.

"Don't call me that."

"Potty."

"Stop."

"Why, Potty?"

"Piss off."

"Fine, Potty."

Harry visibly shook his head and placed his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose, as a frustrated sigh escaped his mouth. He then groaned once he heard the high boy chuckle hysterically like a maniac.

What have I gotten myself into?

"Wait, what was the password again?" He asked himself, trying to recall it from Blaise's words earlier. He looked at Malfoy, who had his head thrown back onto the stone wall behind him, giggling silently for no reason. Harry unwilling began staring at the wrecked boy.
The pale skin on the front of his neck easily showed his Adam's Apple that was somewhat attractively noticeable from where he was standing. He also gaped at Malfoy's incredibly sharp jawline, then his barely visible shoulders, and then his collarbone-