Chapter 1

(POV: Draco Malfoy)

He was living in a dream; a dream where he was still 18 and had his whole life like a yarn of string. He grew older and that string unravelled rapidly and the only thing that was left was a mess of string and the middle of the yarn that had previously held it together. As I kneeled onto broken glass and the dust on the pavement, I realised that he had not even tried to stop his life from becoming a mess. I resisted the urge to just leave him there and walk off. Why was I supposed to help a man that had refused to help himself? I was on the verge of getting up when I saw a trickle of blood leave the wound on his forehead, where the bottle was smashed on his head. Did he even care what people would think if they heard that the 'famous' Harry Potter was kicked out of a muggle bar at 3am, after picking a fight while completely drunk? I uttered a sigh and got up to leave when his eyes cracked open and stared at me. In his eyes, there was not a trace of shock or disgust that I was there in front of him, but a cry for help. I kneeled down in the shattered debris and carried his drunk, limp body.

"Draco, what," he mumbled.

"Potter, I'm not leaving your half-dead body in a dumpster. Where do you live? I'll drop you off safely and make sure I leave before I get seen anywhere near you."

With that, he passed out in my arms, with his wounded form staining my white shirt with blood.

"Now what am I supposed to do? I don't even know where you live," I said, practically talking to myself.

He was still unconscious in my arms.

For a second there I considered bringing him back to the Manor but then I imagined Mother's face once she sees Potter in my arms. She would be less worried about my health, my mental health, in particular, if I did not come home for the night. I hailed a taxi and directed him to the nearest muggle motel.

"Two rooms, sir?" the lady at the front desk asked.

I looked at my wallet which was painfully devoid of much muggle cash.

"No, one room."

I doubt I'll ever forget the look that she gave me.

"I would suppose that you would want two separate beds?"

"Obviously," I said, my patience thin at 3.30am.

I got my room key and dumped Potter off in one bed. The wallpaper was peeling off and the 2-seater sofa that separated the beds should have been black, but now was edging onto pale grey. The beds were at different corners of the room and I looked across the room and saw Harry Potter slumped onto the bed like a dead body. I grinned as I thought of how I could exploit this situation to the press if I wanted to. I drowned myself in semi-malicious thoughts as I drowned out the voice in my head that was yelling my fiancée's name and alerting me to how worried she probably was. That voice was drowned out as I fell asleep in a room that cost me 20 dollars for one night.

(POV: Harry Potter)

The ceiling looked worn out and the cheap whitewash was peeling away. It was unfamiliar. I felt the rough sheets and the hard pillow against my pounding head. It was unfamiliar. Everything about this place was blurry and unfamiliar. To top it all off, I couldn't see without my glasses. I saw a pale figure with blonde hair running across the room carrying what looked like a black weapon. Hissing noises and the smell of egg and oil filled my nose. The pale figure grew closer to me holding out what looked like my glasses; those rectangular life savers that Ginny had forced me to buy after getting sick and tired of my too-small, broken glasses that I wore during my many years in Hogwarts.

"Potter, you're finally awake. I was expecting you to be slumped on that bed for the whole day," the pale figure said.

That crisp voice and that posh accent were all too familiar. The pale hands put my glasses on my face as I realised who it was. That pale face and blonde hair finally had a name. I saw the man who hated me the very core of his soul. Yet, here he was, making me French toast.

"Where is this place?" I asked, doubting that the Manor would be in such a shabby condition.

"It's an underpriced motel," Malfoy replied

"I'm surprised that you would stay in a place that costs less than 100 dollars per day."

"I'm surprised that you can still be so cocky after last night."

"Why...are you here?"

"Why shouldn't I be here, Potter? Should I have left you in a garbage can, surrounded by broken glass and smelling like beer?"

"I..."

"Well, breakfast seems to be ready. Bon appetit," Malfoy said as he pointed to a corner.

Malfoy had conjured up a mini kitchen, along with ingredients. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Malfoy edging away from me. I looked down and saw that my pants were wet and my leg was sticky. I also smelled like alcohol and vomit. I wondered why Malfoy put up with this.

"On the other hand, I think you really should go and shower first."

"I...yeah"

I walked into the cramped toilet and saw Draco's clothes strewn on the floor. I looked into the mirror and noticed something different. I was wearing a white shirt that I didn't remember owning. It was dotted with dark blood from what seemed like small wounds. I glanced down and saw a familiar green shirt lying alongside Draco's clothes. The toilet was very clean, like someone scrubbed it to get rid of something.

"I don't want to know how drunk I was," I mumbled to myself as I kicked the clothes to one side and opened the shower tap to take a very long, warm shower.

I had no clothes or towel to cover myself. Beads of sweat mixed with the water dripping from my face and drenched me. It dawned on me that I had nothing to change into other than my stained and soiled clothes. I heard a sharp knock on my toilet door and a smug sentence following it.

"Potter, forget something?"

I felt that I had no choice but to ask him.

"I need clothes," I said quickly

"I have spare clothes but you'll need to try harder to get it," he said, mockingly.

"Draco, come on..."

With that, the door knob turned and opened a once locked door. Malfoy stood at the door, holding spare clothes, with a devilish grin on his face.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"Try...harder, Potter or you're going to learn exactly why you're wearing my shirt right now," he said, with a smirk.

With that, all I felt was a wall and his skin.