Consequences of Sleepwalking

Chapter 1

Draco wakes up in one of those ways for the first time in forever. It’s been at least a year since he’s slept that well. He sighs, not bothering to open his eyes, savouring the soft sleepiness of the morning. Rolling over, he stretches his arms out in front of him, freezing when his arm connects with something warm and soft that is not meant to be in his bed. He opens his eyes. Not something, someone. His body tenses at this realisation, mind running through the hundred possibilities of why someone is in his bed. His eyes flick over the body when it shifts. Their back arches, and the person rolls towards Draco, stretching their arms above their head.

“AHHHHH!!!” They yell as their arm brushes Draco’s shoulder. At the yell, Draco reacts, sitting up fast and moving back toward the wall. He pulls his knees to his chest as Harry moves, his eyes still half closed, arm sweeping under the pillow to then come up and point at Draco.

“You’re in my bed? Why’d you take my wand? Malfoy!” he demands, the words coming out loud but softened at the edges, slurred from sleep. Draco finds himself scoffing at the words.

“I think you’ll find you’re in my bed, Potter.” He replies with a snarl, the attitude returning to him instantly, a familiar routine from their previous school rivalry. His voice is gravelly, but at least he can pronounce his words. At the thought, he sticks out his chest. “Gone back to last names, have we?” Harry just blinks at the words. Having realised there was no immediate danger at Draco’s casual barbs, he slouches, reaching for the bedside table.

“and my glasses?” His voice is not as loud this time, more of a question than an accusation.

“Again, my bed. You can find your glasses on your bedside table on that side of the room.” Draco remarks pointedly. Harry looks around the room at these words, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Er-“

“I don’t know why you’re in my bed Potter, but I assume you don’t either from your reaction, so I suggest you get out of it, and we pretend this did not happen.” Draco interrupts, gesturing between them, blushing immediately as he realises how this could be interpreted. Harry looks away, the faintest pink spreading across his face.

“Er, yes. Yeah. Okay.” He mumbles, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Draco rolls his eyes at this. It’s no wonder this boy can’t keep his hair controlled, if this is what it looks like right after he wakes up. He feels his blush deepen. Thinking about Harry’s bed hair is not a good idea right now, not with said bed hair in the bed with him. Harry still hasn’t moved. Draco glances at him, looking away fast when he catches the brilliant green of Harry’s eyes, his gaze fixed on Draco. Without his glasses blocking the way, they startle Draco. He swallows, his eyes flicking around the room, never quite fixing on anything, looking at anything but Harry. He doesn’t dare say anything. This moment, with the unguarded green of Harry’s eyes, the soft light of the morning, the boy he’s liked for too long here in the same bed as him, Draco doesn’t trust his voice to come out right. Harry finally moves, stumbling over to his own bed, reaching first for his glasses. Draco turns away, letting out a quiet breath, his hands moving to smooth his own hair.