A/N: This is a little bit of drabble, a short story but I love it. I do not own anything of the Harry Potter world.
The oddly familiar weight of a certain body on top of his own was the first thing Harry recognized when he awoke the next morning. Realizing that he didn't actually mind the weight on top of him, he took a hand that was loosely grasping his cock that he at least knew wasn't his own, lifted, and kissed it, and placed it on his own chest. He started to slowly drift back to sleep then suddenly remembered that he had to go down to Hogsmeade that morning to meet with a certain someone to discuss the happenings of the trial that was to take place at the end of the month. Opening his eyes for the second time that morning, Harry rubbed the crust from them and saw a blurry form that he assumed was his muse of the previous night. Trying to leave the bed without waking his counterpart proved difficult for him. The hand on his chest grasped harder, and found its way around his waist. Suddenly, Harry had a flashback of not too long ago to a memory of another hand, one way too similar to that one doing the same exact thing. Having the memory, Harry laid back down, feeling comfortable. A few moments later though, Harry shot up in bed, realizing that it was the same hand, and that it was impossible for that hand to be the same one. Thoughts raced through his mind, trying to come up with excuses for how he had ended up in his predicament. When he couldn't conceive any excuses, he looked back down at his dozing lover, surprised for two reasons; that he had not woken his lover up from his jumping, and because he had secretly hoped early yesterday that he would indeed end up in this exact predicament.
Looking down at the pale, lithe, naked body draped on top of his, Harry couldn't help but think of the wonderful times that he had spent with the blonde Slytherin. Draco was always so sweet to him, but only ever when they were alone. He looked like an angel at all times of the day, but especially now when he was peacefully sleeping, a slight smile on his face. But then it hit Harry like a ton of bricks all over again. Draco had betrayed him. Draco had broken the one rule that they had set down for their relationship. Harry went into a short revere and then remember that HE had been the one to end the relationship. However, both men blamed Draco for the reasons behind the break-up. No longer being gentle, Harry grabbed Draco's pale hand off of his side and flung it aside and he stumbled out of bed, still a bit dazed. Draco mumbled in his sleep, rubbed his own face, turned on his side and started to snore.
'Oh my gods he looks so adorable and yummy!' Harry thought to himself.
Harry suddenly slapped himself on the head, thinking of what an idiot he was for almost falling for that gorgeous angel he had been lusting after since he had first met him all those years ago in Madame Malkin's shop. Harry grunted to himself and told himself to stop wishing for the best and to just accept what had been thrown to him. Shrugging off his emotions, Harry grabbed the pants on the floor next to the bed to which he could only hope where his own and pulled them on. Padding over to the coffee table, Harry picked up the bottle on the table and poured himself a glass of American whiskey. He downed the drink and refilled it to the brim. Moving around the apartment, he mindlessly flicked his finger at things, putting things back in order, and swiping any memories that Draco could possibly possess of what happening between the two hormonal teenage boys the previous night. With that all being done, he plopped onto the couch and tried to will the room to become his own at Grimmauld Place. Sadly though, he could not and filled his glass to brim again. He then found his glasses under the bed, and walked out, without even worrying about a shirt. As he walked out of the front doors of Hogwarts, he saw a glimmer of the lake, and a grassy knoll that hadn't been covered with snow yet. Still padding about, he made his way to the uncovered grass and plopped his body down. Staring into the sunrise, he willed for the painful memories of his past to leave him. Yet, he knew that he couldn't, that they wouldn't leave him. After finishing his whiskey, he pushed himself up and left the glass in his wake, as he headed into town to meet the only person left that he knew he could count on - Remus Lupin.
Back in the Room of Requirements, Draco shot up in bed, feeling a bit woozy, still a bit drunk, and completely and utterly freezing. Looking down to examine his body, his hands flying all over, checking to make sure his manhood was still attached, he wondered why in all the hells he was completely and utterly stark naked in the Room of Requirements! Trying to remember the previous night, Draco could only come up with what happened the previous afternoon. But even that was just another fuzzy memory. Getting up and stretching, Draco walked over to the coffee table to get a glass of American whiskey when he realized that he was the only one in the room. Suddenly very aware of his surroundings, Draco spun around, looking for someone or something to pop out of a corner to scare the living soul out of him. Not seeing anything, he continued to pour himself a drink, and he settled onto the couch. Quickly, he sat up, suddenly having the urge to go down and sit by the lake. Placing his drink on the table momentarily, he grabbed the first pair of pants he saw and could only assume where his, by the bed, and pulled them on. Spelling open the door, he grabbed his full again drink and went outside as fast as possible. At first, he was completely oblivious to only other set of footprints in the snow, until he saw two glints to his left. Rushing over to the lake, he found a glass laying on the ground, with a few drops of whiskey still in it. Immediately he was floored with a memory that he had not thought of for many, many months.