Title: The Art of Confusion
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: T (I'm not really sure about the rating, so if I got it wrong, please tell me. According to the site fiction rated below T shouldn't contain ANY adult themes, and I would count the kissing here into that category. So, there you go.)
Genre: fluff, romance(?), oneshot
Warnings: fluff? :'''D
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: They are back at Hogwarts and Harry is confused.
A/N:So, it's hard to say anything about this. It has been a long time since I last wrote in English, so you can blame that and the lack of a beta for all the mistakes and what not. This is not the first H/D I have written but I think it's the first one I've published anywhere… Not sure, though. Anyways, I hope you read, enjoy and comment.:) Or comment if you didn't enjoy it… Or just comment. heehee
Disclaimer: Everything you can recognize as J. K. Rowling's, is hers. The rest is mine (meaning only the plot, which is oh-so-original).
**
The Art of Confusion
"You will be sharing rooms of two with whomever you choose," McGonagall announces and it seems that everybody pair up in seconds, Harry just glances at Ron and knows he's fine.
But then, "And since you are all of age, the gender of that person will not matter." Harry might be just imagining the amused and understanding smile their Headmistress flashes as the bunch of barely-adults erupts in whispers, giggles and the like.
Harry thinks, oh shit.
He doesn't even have to look at Ron's apologetic face next to Hermione's to know he's screwed, but he still does, nodding even though it won't matter either. Everybody line up one by one and he has to think dryly how none of his actual friends wants to live with him even though there are strangers crazy enough to kill for it. Slowly the room empties and Harry is almost hopeful, maybe, just maybe, he'll get his own private room… But no, faith will never be so kind.
"Seems like you're stuck with me," says Malfoy and Harry finds it weird that he isn't complaining. Malfoy – Draco? – is looking different and still sort of like the eleven-year-old boy he was when he last offered his hand to Harry. He smiles a smile Harry has seen only when he gave Draco back his wand. His mouth doesn't move much, but he gets these little crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
Harry thinks he prefers it to the smirk.
Maybe he nods, maybe he smiles, he'll never be quite sure but still, he takes the hand.
**
At first, almost everything about Draco seems to annoy Harry, for reasons unknown even to himself as the other boy has truly changed and is no longer the prick Harry used to know and hate. Still he can feel a frown on his face and his eyes narrowing to slits as he watches his roommate.
How Draco pulls on his hair when he is distracted, the way his socks are always rolled up neatly with their pairs and Harry is losing his all the time. The smell of his fancy shampoo. The silence that is always lurking in the corners of their room.
But after some time, Harry realises he no longer glares at these things, he merely looks, almost watches. But no, that is a bit too intimate to admit.
**
One day the silence becomes unbearable.
"How was your day?" Harry blurts out and it's awkward and stupid and he wants to take it back and then kind of not, when Draco smiles at him with his eyes, carefully. And again Harry is not sure if he's smiling, his mouth feels a little dry and numb and he has to swallow.
"Fine, thanks. How was yours?"
**
It's dark when Harry wakes and at first he's not sure why. After a moment of humming emptiness Harry realises it's too quiet and is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that at some point the sound of Draco breathing has become just that important to him. His own breathing is weird and panting in Harry's ears as he gets up as silently as possible, making his way to the other bed, just to make sure.
Draco is not there and suddenly Harry has something heavy and cold resting on his chest. He has not forgotten the hate mail and threats Draco still gets daily, the letters Draco thinks he doesn't know about. Harry reaches his hand out and feels the warm sheets, Draco hasn't been gone long.
Then, the bathroom door clicks and Draco is staring at him with wide eyes in the halo of dim light. Harry breathes out in relief but then feels stupid for overreacting like that, it's not like Draco wants, or needs, his concern.
Harry shuffles and blushes awkwardly while Draco walks slowly to the other side of his bed. "I was just… uh, I didn't… um," he has to cough. "I was just checking that… you know, your pillow didn't suffocate you or anything."
Draco sort of snorts quietly and Harry is quite sure that this time he is indeed smiling through his blush. He has no idea why, but Draco is blushing too and looking kind of adorable and oh no, Harry can't possibly be thinking this, no, he most definitely is not. But when Draco smiles with his eyes through the blond fringe Harry finds that he actually is.
Then Draco is getting back to bed and Harry takes a bit too long to move to his own. Not long after the exchange of muted goodnights Draco's deep breaths fill the room.
Harry lies awake for a long time, listening and pretending not to. Sort of.
**
There's warmth on Harry's lips and he's not sure what to do with his hands so he just grips Draco's hand harder. He doesn't know if he's supposed to lean in or how to kiss back or should he close his eyes and Merlin, what if Draco doesn't like it? He's panicking and then Draco laughs softly against him and he feels careful fingers on his neck, making him shiver all over. His breathing is either very fast or he's not breathing at all, he is too lightheaded to know.
Harry thinks he feels tears stinging in his eyes, which is stupid because he is just so ridiculously happy and scared at the same time that he should be soaring, laughing, sinking, spinning, running but certainly not crying.
Draco pulls away but Harry doesn't want him to so he grabs his shirt desperately with his free hand and then squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment. But Draco brushes a kiss over his cheek making his eyes pop open and smiles down at him gently, in that eye-crinkling way.
Harry feels the need to say something, ask a thousand things, but instead he kisses Draco. Who needs words, anyway?