It Does Not Do To Dwell On Dreams (Drarry)

Tell Me...

Trigger Warning* There is subtle talk of suicide in this chapter.

Harry sighed as he pushed his trunk to the bottom of his bed, he had finally finished trying to convince McGonagall she was mistaken about his room assignment when he realised she wasn't going to budge. He wasn't the chosen one anymore. Taking a seat on his case, he glimpsed around the room with a solemn expression. It really wasn't as pleasant as he had imagined it would be. All it held were two four-poster double beds and two desks. An ensuite bathroom linked on, which would be a change from communal showers. Maybe it would look better once he had unpacked some of his things, the red sheets that he owned would certainly brighten up the place. He could also purchase a couple of posters from Hogsmeade to make him feel more at home.

His eyes left his side of the room, travelling to his blonde roommate's side. Green covered his four-poster, fairy lights encircled the posts that held up the canopy. Even Harry had to admit it was beautiful against the stone walls of the room. Next to his bed, on his desk, lay a collection of books, a cauldron and a golden music box. It was starting to look like Harry had imagined the Slytherin's room to look, not that he did imagine it in anything but a passing thought.

As he continued looking around the room, his roommate came out of the bathroom, towel in hand, as he lazily dried his hair. He was dressed in simple pyjamas, a plain white top and some grey cotton trousers. Not quite the attire Harry would have expected, sure the boy would only wear the finest silk that daddy could buy. He took a seat at his desk, long slender fingers drawing circles on the wood, glancing around the room himself. He blushed as his eyes connected with Harry's.

"So," Harry murmured, hand coming to scratch the back of his neck, his mind swimming to find a way to try and crack the ice. "An unbelievable turn of events, huh?"

"Huh?"

"Us two." Harry raised an eyebrow, gesticulating between the two beds with a laugh. "I definitely wouldn't have chosen you as a roommate."

Draco rolled his eyes, turning to his desk and pulling one of the books out of his pile. He opened it up and proceeded to read. How genuine the reading was, the brunette wasn't sure. Harry sighed, letting his eyes fall closed at the way he had phrased it. Why had it sounded so, offensive?

"Malfoy..." Harry groaned. "I didn't mean it like that..."

Draco abandoned his book to the desk, turning to Harry with wildfire in his eyes. "Look, Potter. I'm not happy with having you as a roommate either, but I'm not entitled to complain as much as you did out there. I have to be appreciative that I'm back after the war. So please keep your remarks to yourself! We don't have to communicate. We don't have to socialise. Just let me live my life, and I'll let you live yours."

"Fuck you Malfoy." Harry tutted, plucking up a towel and some clothes before walking into the bathroom.

"FUCK YOU!" He screamed back

Stripping angrily, Harry turned on the water. He stood in the shower, forehead pressed against the wall as he let his irritation slip away. What was it about Malfoy that got on his nerves? Of course part of it was because they were adversaries, but part of him knew that the past didn't mean much anymore because both of them were admittedly pressured into things they didn't really want to do. As Draco had said on the train 'they were born into their ways of life.' Shaking his head, Harry peered up into the showerhead, letting the hot water spray down upon his face. The water fell from his face, and down his body, dismissing all of the tension that he had been feeling.

Once he was clean, he hopped out of the shower, dried himself off and pulled on grey sweatpants with a white T-Shirt. Towelling his hair quickly, he walked to the bathroom door and opened it nonchalantly. Not desiring to get straight into another argument with Draco.