GabbyTib's note: HELLO ALL! I know I haven't written anything in a long time, but I promise you I won't abandon this one. I have a co-author to help me this time. Well actually she writes it also obviously. Draco's replies are all hers! I'm just going to add some details and things like that, but Harry's mine! It's based off our role-play, called Falling Faster. Now this rp/story is based off a song we call Falling Faster, but its real name is A Winter's Day Monologue by Saturday Night at the Apollo. And our inspiration is from this YouTube video (Just take the spaces out!): www. youtube watch?v=x7ZuSzJnBDE, which is actually why we call it Falling Faster in the first place. I hope you enjoy the rp/story as much as we enjoyed writing it! Now this story starts out with Harry and the rest of group going back to Hogwarts. Now obviously this is not canon, and our characters are sometimes (especially later on) out of character. But I love the story, and I hope you will to!
Now, like I said, this is based, actually these are exact words, so later on it might get a little confusing. Thoughts, are usually like this without 'these' around them. Talking is like "this" and replying to a certain thing (Which will be later on) is like "This"
Rosie: I really hope that you enjoy, we've been replying a lot! Love this rp.
It had been a pretty quiet summer for Harry. He stayed at the Burrow, glad that he didn't have to see the Dursley's anymore. It was quiet all the time, most of the time he was in his and Ron's room. It was great that he won the war, but after Fred died it was quiet and silent. Not much to go downstairs for except food. Harry hadn't even asked Ginny out again, even though the war was over.
~At Hogwarts in the Great Hall~
"Attention students! After the castle has been partly destroyed after the war, we don't have enough room for everyone. Now we have made room, but you have to get a partner that has the same amount of power as you, no matter gender or house. Your prefects will give you a slip of paper who it says who you got." Professor McGongall announced. "Enjoy your time here, and you are not allowed to change who you got, no matter what."
Harry watched as the perfects passed out papers. He finally got his, and he couldn't believe his eyes.
Harry Potter... Draco Malfoy... Dorm 107. The paper said. There was no way that they had to room together! There had to be some mistake. He looked over to Malfoy to see if he saw his paper yet. There had to be typo, it just couldn't be.
The Manor had been cold and unforgiving that summer. The air was suffocating in all of its silence and it was all Draco could do from pacing up and down the empty corridors. His mother jumped at every noise and cowered at every unidentifiable shadow. She tried to conceal it, she was, after all, a Malfoy. Cowering was undignified. Hiding fear was only natural, but it didn't stop the nightmares. The Death Eaters would come eventually. Draco could only hope, with a small grimace at his own selfishness, that it was when he was once again safely tucked away at Hogwarts.
Shuffling his feet through the Great Hall, Draco sat uncomfortably at the end of the table that was set for the Slytherins. It was unbearably crowded now that the rest of the first years had been sorted and had taken their seats as well. Mercifully, another bench had been added to each of the tables, but Draco's shoulders still brushed against the students to his right and left. With eyes trained on the table, the blond pulled all of his energy into staying unnoticed. The faded Dark Mark was concealed by his uniform, even if he could practically feel it there. Draco got a few glances, a few glares, a few rude gestures. It wasn't hard to spot a Malfoy, not many wizards were that freakishly blond or pale. Not many wizards sat with such a stiff posture. Not many wizards held themselves with such pompous authority, even if he was trying to stay hidden. It was hard to undo a lifetime of habits and teachings.
Professor McGonagall droned on, but Draco wasn't really hearing anything. He was looking around the room, memorizing new faces and avoiding old ones. I was unsettling to see Goyle sitting next to Pansy, not accompanied by Crabbe. He repressed a shudder, the memory of the licking flames and Crabbe's helpless cries as he slipped. The undeniable smell of... 'No,' Draco shook his head, banishing the memory and accepting a slip of paper that was shoved into his hand by a nervous looking prefect.
Looking down, Draco felt a rush of panic rise in his chest, quickly concealed by taking a sip of the pumpkin juice that was sitting at his place. He choked.
Due to the shortage of rooms in Hogwarts cause by the war, students will be required to share a dorm with another student of equal power and knowledge. Gender and house shall not be taken into consideration. Roommates are final. No exceptions.
Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter.
Dorm 107
-Professor McGonagall
There's been a mistake. Draco crumpled the paper in his fist and resisted the urge to rearrange someone's face. Raising his eyes from the table, Draco glared over at the Gryffindor table, seeking out the biggest pain in the arse he'd ever known. How dare McGonagall place a Malfoy in a room with such a nobody!
Draco paused, 'I'm the nobody now. Harry sodding Potter. Saviour, Hero, Chosen One. The Malfoy name counts for nothing now.' He mentally gave himself a shake. The Malfoy name would mean something again if he had anything to say about it. Potter would not get in the way. He let his anger flare in his cold grey eyes and pointedly glared at Potter. Why was it that everything was always about Potter?
Harry mentally groaned when he was stuck with Draco Malfoy. How come he was the one stuck with him? Why couldn't it be someone else's problem? It was bad enough that it was a Slytherin, but it had to be the sodding Slytherin Ice Prince, the guy who's hated ever since he rejected his 'friendship'? But the note said that the room mates were final, and he was stuck with him. Worse day ever.
Harry looked up mad, looking at the Professor, then Malfoy. How dare they put him with such a git! This was the guy that tried to kill him along with his dumb friends. He won't even be in this mess if his Gryffindor and honorable senses kicked in and decided that he had to save him from the fire of death. Then they saved him again later from the death eaters. This guy was a giant git, why was he the one stuck with him?
People started to leave, going to their new rooms. Harry sighed, looking at his paper once more. He went to the dorm, and opened the door. The Slytherin git wasn't there yet, although it was clear whose stuff was whose. There were to beds in there, a white bed that had the Gryffindor badge on it, and another white bed with the Slytherin badge. He went to the Gryffindor bed, and started to unpack.
Inching through the excited crowd, Draco avoided going anywhere near Pansy or Goyle. He wasn't sure how he'd be accepted. Crabbe hadn't exactly been a Death Eater, but he'd still sided strongly with Voldemort and the dark arts. Draco couldn't say whether or not he'd be cast out as a traitor or accepted as a friend once more. And Pansy... well, Pansy was just obnoxious and the last thing he needed was more stress. He'd be rooming with Potter, which was enough.
Resting his hand on the doorknob, Draco braced himself for whatever was coming. It wouldn't be pleasant. Even if it was cold silence. There was so much of that back at the Manor he wasn't sure he'd take it here over shouts and arguments. There wasn't time to decide, he pushed open the door to Dorm 107 and sighed. Potter had already Gryffindor'ed the room. At least his side hadn't been touched. He'd need to redecorate a bit, it wasn't Slytherin enough. He'd deal with it later. Draco was simply glad the gaudy red and gold hadn't touched his peaceful green and silver. The colors clashed terribly.
"Potter." He offered a cold and feeble greeting. Draco didn't bother looking at the raven-haired man. He already knew he'd look a frightful mess.
Harry started to put his things away, making sure to put everything where it usually was. It was a pretty plain room, but his half had red and gold, and Malfoy's silver and green. He didn't know why they were put together, even the colors didn't go together. It looked like the room was really split into halves with colors. It was horrible, he hated that he had to be with him. Why did it have to be him? Anyone else would have been better but that prick.
Harry heard Draco's voice, and didn't even turn. He just continued to unpack and said. "Malfoy." He greeted him obviously still hating him, and annoyed that he was stuck with him. He threw his stuff into his drawers, barely orginizing it. Hermione had been yelling at him for years to do so, but he never did. It just made everything harder to find.
Draco reached over and heaved all of his things on his new bed. He'd grown quite attached to the Common Room under the lake and it was already odd enough that he would be sleeping in any bed other than his old bed. The Manor had ceased to be his home a few years back. Hogwarts was his home, whether he was wanted there or not, and having one's home rearranged always leaves an almost tangible oddity hanging in the air. Neatly folding his clothes and organizing his drawers, Draco took his time getting his side of the room into perfect order. It was all fine and dandy if Potter wanted to live like a Weasley, but Draco would have none of it. Dirty little git. Draco chanced a glance at the other side of the room. Just as he expected. 'Bloody hell.'
The thought of threatening Potter with a sneer and a "My father will hear about this!" was quickly snuffed out, however. Potter may have been able to convince the Ministry that Narcissa and Draco would do no more harm, but Lucius was a different matter. A pang of sadness washed over Draco, picturing his father sitting in his bleak cell in Azkaban. He'd never visited and, he was afraid to admit, his father probably didn't even expect him to. "Potter, let me make things clear." Draco slammed his last drawer shut and shoved his suitcase under the bed. "If so much as one piece of your filthy clothing finds its way to my side of the room, I will not hesitate to act against my better nature and hex you on the spot."
Harry shoved his stuff into his drawers, and trunk. He wasn't very neat, but he knew where everything was. It was just not as... Organized as it should be. Harry pushed a drawer close, still annoyed with whom he was paired with. Why him? He shouldn't have to go through this, he had been through enough his time here? But of course he had to be the one stuck with him, or this year wouldn't be normal. There had to be something unexpected, or someone trying to kill him. This year he was pretty sure it was going to be both with him. There was no way he was able to share a room with the git peacefully. It wasn't their way.
Harry rolled his eyes when he heard Draco's voice. Of course he was going to try and pick a fight. He knew the silence wasn't going to last that long, he was just hoping it would last until the next day. Of course he would be the one to comment on how he put his things way. "Better nature? I don't think you have one. And like I would let anything of mine go near you."
Draco drawled on, ignoring the fact that Potter had even opened his mouth. "I guess it's only to be expected that you'd turn into such a slob, living with a muggle-loving family like that." His voice was dripping in venom. "Oh, and Potter? Do keep your things in the bathroom in one cupboard. I fully plan on being able to use the sink without having to shove your things aside." He paused briefly before rambling on. The rules needed to be set or this would not be a suitable place to live. It already wasn't. Draco was simply attempting to make it bearable. 'Only a year,' he thought, the corners of his lips tugged down in a snarl. 'Maybe even less if somebody dies and a room is freed up. There hasn't been a year without a problem yet. And this is certainly a problem all on its own.'
Crossing the room, Draco placed his toiletries in their self-designated spots all over the cramped bathroom. His things were spread out, but still managed to look organized in the small bathing area. "Don't touch my things. I don't want your Weasley-fingers all over them."
Harry rolled his eyes, Draco was such a stupid prat. He had always been a little disorganized, it didn't have to do with the Weasleys. And they were the ones who told him to clean up some. And he wasn't even that messy, the things were in the dresser, and in his trunk, and his small suitcase was under the bed. No one could even tell he was that messy unless they opened the dresser drawers. So he was just trying to make them fight. And what did he mean to just use the cupboard? What more did he need besides shaving cream, a shaver and soap? He must need more products then him.
"I wouldn't want to touch your things with a ten foot pole." Harry said, rolling his eyes once more. And all they needed in the shower was shampoo, and maybe conditioner. Did Malfoy really need all that space? He must use a lot of products...
If Draco had to pick an adjective to describe his current feelings it would probably be "sick". He didn't know how he'd manage the year with Potter in such close proximity all the time without at least casting a few jinxes. Name calling and mindless banter was normal. Casual. Safe. They could keep it up forever if they had to. It filled the silence. Silence was something Draco had come to hate almost more than Potter. He wasn't sure why he hated anything anymore, really. Was the really a need? 'Of course. It's Potter.' He answered himself, but, in all honesty, he felt more weary than he did hatred.
Mouth set in a straight line, Draco returned to sit on the edge of his bed, nowhere near comfortable. He watched Potter finish unpacking and shoving things in drawers with disdain. It was bad enough to know that people actually lived like that, but to share a room with one of them? He couldn't see the mess anymore, it'd been stowed away, but he could feel it there. "You might as well just throw it into a pile on the floor, Potter." Snort. "That's where it belongs anyways. Where do you even buy those ratty things? I wouldn't be bothered to go near a shop that prides itself on selling such rubbish." He was proud that even though his family had been hit hard by the war, they had had enough to keep most of their expensive clothing. "It's almost as bad as the hand-me-downs your little weaselette is wearing all of the time."
Harry was already sick of the way Malfoy was treating him, he wasn't that bad. Of course Malfoy acted like it was such a big deal. He just couldn't let there be silence, now could he. But no, he had to continue to make fun of him, and the clothes he wore. He bought them were everyone else bought them, and wear he first met Malfoy, the little prick. But he acted like he bought them at a dump.
Harry had enough of the way he was talking. He wasn't even dating Ginny! Sure, they went out before the war, but so far they hadn't gotten back together. They were talking about it, but Harry kept putting it off. He wasn't really sure why, but he did. Harry turned around, and had his wand under Draco's chin before he could reach his own wand. "You listen you little prick, we are stuck sharing a room. I get it, I'm annoyed with it also. But would you just shut up for once, before I hex you?"
Draco just barely flinched. It wasn't a Death Eater's wand, but it wasn't exactly someone who wouldn't go through with his threat either. Even if Potter had noticed Draco flinch, Draco's face gave away nothing. His smirk was still firmly glued to his face, his eyebrow raised, his eyes full of sarcasm. Reaching a hand up slowly, the blond lightly gripped Potter's wand, his smirk growing more pronounced. He knew he was pushing it, but there was no way he'd back down. It wasn't Draco who was the prick. It was Potter. He was always a mess, always full of himself, always strutting around Hogwarts with his friends like he owned the place simply because he was born. All Potter had to do to be loved was be born. Potter didn't have to work to earn anyones respect. Potter just had to smile and wave and girls would fall all over him, the Daily Prophet would sing him a saint, and the professors would excuse him for being an absolute git.
"Scared, Potter?"
In truth, it frightened Draco a bit that he'd be sharing a room with someone that hated him just as much as the Death Eaters. He could be dead by morning. It was only that Potter was a Gryffindor that kept Draco from actually believe that to be true. A bleeding heart Gryffindor.
Harry saw Draco flinch, which surprised him just a little. He may be a Gryffindor, but he was super annoyed at the blonde boy. He was so full of himself, heir to the Malfoy fortune, Slytherin Prince. He didn't have to worry about a thing, because his mother and father would take care of it for him. He hated him, he was such a git. He narrowed his eyes, unsure that he would go through with his threat. He knew many because of Hermione, and even some from the twins. He even knew this interesting one that would turn his hair red, just like he always made fun of. And added with a different spell the twins made, it wouldn't change for a couple of days, depending on how many times Malfoy tried to change it back.
He could tell that Malfoy didn't think he was going to go through with it. But sadly he did have a Slytherin side, one that told him to hex him anyway, because he deserved it. He was a git, and he did deserve it. But his Gryffindor side told him to get along with Draco, and make peace. Fat chance.
Harry shot a stinging hex through his wand, making Draco's hand sting badly, along with parts of his neck that it hit. If Draco was shocked that he'd been, well, shocked, he didn't show it. His grip on Harry's wand tightened. The git was infuriating. Draco would have to speak to McGonagall about this. It wasn't going to work out. It couldn't.
'No exceptions.'
She couldn't possibly mean it. She'd overseen the distribution, hadn't she? She must be completely mad to place the two of them together. He bit his tongue, however, not wanting to spend his first horrid night in any worse a condition than it already was. He would've loved to have snapped at Potter. It was easy. Just one little snide remark would rub him the wrong way, he was asking for it. 'I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either.' Draco was sure he'd said it before, but saying it now would be far beyond pushing his luck. He'd probably close his eyes to sleep and never wake up. In fact, he wasn't sure he should sleep tonight at all.t. "Don't under estimate me, I will do it. In fact, watch your back."
Harry glared at him, not letting go of his own wand. Draco's grip was tight, but his was tighter. There was no way he was going to let this git turn it on him. He was a little surprised when Draco didn't say anything back, of course he was the one with the wand pointed at him, while Draco's was on his dresser still. He could tell that Draco was holding back, if he didn't have a wand pointed at him surely he would have retorted something back at him. There was no way that Draco was really afraid of him, he never was. Right? Besides, it was only him. He may know a lot of spells but... He even knew how to use a unforgivable. But there was no way he was going to use that on Draco. That would just be to horrible, and besides, he didn't want to get arrested.
Harry sent another hex at Draco, tightening his grip on his wand, glaring down at Draco, letting him knew he really wasn't kidding.
It wasn't as if he couldn't defend himself in the situation. Draco could put all of his effort into it and do a few things to end this. He could use their own strength to snap the wand. How would Potter like that? His wand snapped by his own hands. He could even resort to fighting like a muggle. Draco was still sitting motionless on the edge of the mattress, he had a good aim and could take Potter by surprise. Potter probably thought him above such things, but the war had taught Draco that when it came down to it, they were all just animals trying to survive. And he would survive. No matter the cost.
Sometimes, he thought with a pang of regret, it felt as if the war had never ended. It hadn't even started really. It was always going on around them. Voldemort simply made it seem that much bigger. It was suddenly much more of a threat when it had a figure-head. Potter was a figure-head. He stood for what was good in the eyes of the wizarding world. He was their saviour.
Draco reluctantly let go of Potter's wand. He'd only face an angry mob if he were to put one little scratch on the Chosen One. He didn't drop his glare from Potter's eyes, however. He wouldn't be the first to back down. Besides, the shocking was getting to be rather irksome. He wasn't afraid of Potter. He wasn't. Couldn't be. He was Draco Malfoy. Far superior. Far more capable of killing, far more dangerous.
"You'd better watch your back, Potter." He sighed angrily, he was exhausted and the look on Potter's face was ridiculous. "You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done."
Harry knew that he could easily just break his wand, and then he wouldn't have one anymore. But he at least sorta knew how to fight, unlike Draco. He doubted Draco knew how to fight like a muggle because he hated them so much. So he had the advantage here. Either of them could move and just start fighting each other. Yet neither of them really moved, and defiantly not their glances.
Harry was a little surprised when Draco let go of his wand, he wasn't expecting it. He wanted to laugh when he he told him to watch his back. It's not like he could kill him or anything. He couldn't even kill someone who was already dying. But Malfoy didn't know that he was there when he lowered his wand to Dumbledore, and Snape killed him. Draco couldn't do it.
"What your capable of? You think you're all that, but you can't kill a person. You couldn't even kill Dumbledore, who was already dying." Harry shot back.
Draco lost face. He stared, mouth open, completely baffled. "Potter...Potter do yo-" Draco spent a moment to rearrange his expression, but his eyes were still full of shock. "You don't have any clue what you're talking about, Potter." His voice was quiet, cold, deadly. The calm before the storm.
Draco could feel it in his core, the anger swelling up in his soul. Here stood Potter, the Boy Who Lived telling Draco that he wasn't good enough. Draco knew he wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough for his father, he wasn't good enough for Snape, he wasn't good enough for Dumbledore, he wasn't good enough for Voldemort, and now he wasn't good enough for Potter?
Taking a shuddering breath, Draco drop Potter's gaze, stood, spat at Potter's face, and left the room.
Harry looked at Draco, who was clearly surprised. He wasn't supposed to let Draco know that he was there, but it added a nice touch, and he couldn't help but add it. It made him know that he knew he wasn't all that. He may think it, but he was just another seventh year. He wasn't all that special, and he knew the spells that he did.
Harry gave him a gross face after he spit in his face. He wiped it off, grossed out. But he was secretly proud, and guilty at the same time. He had made Draco mad enough to leave the room. He didn't think he was able to do that, yet he did.
Harry moved from the spot, wiping his face once again.
Draco was fuming, not bothering to avoid anyone in the halls. He bumped into several people, mostly the first-years who were wandering around. Lost. They gave him a frightened look and scurried off. No one wanted to be caught alone in the hall with an ex-Death Eater. 'Shit,' Draco cursed Potter again. He'd left his wand on the bedside table in his hurry to leave before he pushed it too far and got one of them killed. It hadn't even been a day.
The blond didn't have any idea where he was going, he just kept walking. Like at the Manor. Five steps forward, turn, five steps back, turn. Keep moving and it won't matter anymore. Keeping moving and all of the fear can be held at bay. Keep moving and you won't hurt anyone. Keep moving and your mother won't get the chance to talk to you. Keep moving and the students will leave you be. Keep moving and you won't feel the need to kill yourself.
Draco stopped, halfway down to the lake. Kill himself? Since when had that been an idea? He supposed it may have been lurking in his mind since 6th year when the stress had started to get to him. Maybe it would've been best for Potter to have offed him in the bathroom that night. He'd been scared, confused. Draco hadn't ever really meant to go so far, but once you take one step, well, it all begins to crumble and there's no turning back. He should've known. He should've just told Dumbledore from the beginning. He would've done something. He would've destroyed the Vanishing Cabinet. Couldn't Potter see it? Draco may have never killed anyone with his own wand, but he was responsible for the Death Eater's entrance to Hogwarts. Maybe they could've broken through without him in time, but, in a war, time is what can save everyone. He took that time from them and now, now it was his fault. He was responsible for every death that had occurred at the battle. His wand may have vanquished the Dark Lord, but it was Potter who did it and it was Draco who buggered things up.
Draco made his way back to the dorm halls as it grew dark. There wasn't any chance he'd be sharing the night with Potter, so he asked around until he found out the room that Pansy was staying in. She'd always had a bit of a thing for him and he hoped he could give the other student the wonderful chance of sharing the night with the Boy Who Lived. Knocking at a door labeled 219 in neat curly numbers, Draco began forming his apology for leaving and not saying goodbye or for breaking up with Pansy without exactly telling her all that time ago. "Look, Pan-" He began, but cut himself off quickly. If the caramel colored eyes and hair weren't a dead give-away, then the reproving glare was. "Oh, Granger." He glanced behind her. Sure enough, the sleeping form of Parkinson occupied the second bed. A small candle flickered on Granger's bedside table and an open book lay where it had been discarded seconds before.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Granger began, but Draco was already speaking.
"Nevermind, I could never sleep in a mudblood's bed anyways," and he turned down the hall, Granger slamming the door behind him. He swore he heard the click of a deadbolt sliding into place.
He was sleeping on the stairs.