𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘

Single Chapter

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Genre(s): Drama, post-HBP/HBP, compliant, Slash
Warnings: None

My Own Worst Enemy

The alleyways of Soho were dank and dark at night. Hell, they were dark even on a clear and sunny afternoon, as if they were pockets of purgatory dotting London's streets. They barely let in any light at all no matter the hour, and a person had to want to find them before they fully came into view.

Not that Harry was looking for an alley in particular; he only wanted a place to toss his empty bottle of liquor, and the remaining sense of propriety he still had in his intoxicated mind wanted a hidden corner so that the general populace wouldn't be harmed by shards of broken glass.

There — amongst the bright storefronts promising pain and sex and everything in between — hid a side street with a dead end. Harry aimed the bottle best he could at the far brick wall and hurled the container at it with all his might. In his drunken state, it didn't go far but still made a resounding crash on the pavement.

Harry smiled to himself at the almost-victory and was headed for the street when he heard a whimper from behind him.

Harry whirled around, his mind immediately alert and his wand out. No matter that he was in a Muggle-infested area, no matter that he was pissed to Merlin's grave and beyond. He would take no chances after everything...

The whimper turned into a groan of pain. Harry slowly inched toward the noise. Maybe it was some stray — a little dog or cat or —

A man Harry thought he'd never see again.

The discovery caused Harry to sober up long enough to wrap an arm around the slight man hunched over in the alleyway and Apparate them both to his flat.

As soon as they'd popped into Harry's home, the man's groans of pain had turned into shouts of rage. Harry ignored them and walked into the small kitchen to start a pot of coffee. It wouldn't do to bring up more than a decade of hate-filled history with a mind clouded by whisky.

As Harry waited for the water to boil, he observed the other man, who'd positioned himself at the end of the living room couch. He was barely visible, almost swallowed up by the dark leather of the furniture. He shook and shivered as he huddled in the corner, wearing a tattered old cloak that barely covered his naked form. His head was mostly bald and dirty, save for some tufts of white-blond hair growing out of his scalp in uneven lengths.

Who could've guessed that, six years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry Potter would have a naked ex-Death Eater in his flat? His childhood enemy, a sneaky ferret, the first guy to appear in his wet dreams and made him realize that girls would never do it for him. Harry would have laughed, but a sudden glimpse of pale skin marred with bruises kept him silent.

He filled two mugs with coffee before returning to the couch and its occupant. He offered a mug to Malfoy and wasn't surprised to hear the former aristocrat snort in disgust.

"As if I'd ever drink anything offered by you, Potter," he croaked.

"If you say so." Harry set one mug down and drank out of his own. Although thousands of questions whizzed through his mind, Harry couldn't voice any of them – the moment was too surreal for him. He resigned himself to sipping his coffee and sneaking occasional glances at Malfoy.

The minutes went by and Harry finished his coffee. He left his empty cup next to Malfoy's full one.

"If you want to stay the night, the couch is free. I'll leave some clothes out for you."

Harry walked into his bedroom, came back with a change of clothes, and left them at Malfoy's side. "Good night," he whispered as he headed back to his room to sleep off the strangeness of his encounter.