Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Challenges written at the bottom.

Pairing - DracoHarry

Word Count - 652

The Morning After

He hated the morning after.

He woke with a banging headache, nausea rolling in his stomach, and a taste in his mouth like something had crawled their and died.

"You're young," he was told. "Go out and enjoy yourself!"

Going out was all well and good, but the aftermath almost made it not worth it. Harry pushed his face into the pillow. He didn't want to open his eyes, because he knew that, as soon as he did, the sun would assault him, and it would be a race to the bathroom to vomit.

"Make the world stop spinning," a voice beside him whispered.

Harry stiffened. He… had not been expecting another voice in his bedroom. His memories of the night before were murky at best, but he thought he would have remembered bringing that particular voice home. He normally did.

But… maybe he did remember. Flashes of grinding on the dancefloor, and flirty banter whispered into his ear passed through Harry's mind and he almost groaned.

What the hell had he been thinking? He really had to stop drinking.

"You're thinking too loud, Potter. Stop it."

Harry snorted into his pillow. "You're talking to loud," he grumbled out. "Shh, lemme die in peace."

"As if you'd ever want peace from me."

The sad thing was, Malfoy was probably right. After Hogwarts, after the war, when life had settled into some semblance of normal, Harry thought he was done with Draco Malfoy. Sure, he didn't hate him anymore, but anything beyond that was ridiculous.

Right? Right.

Except… wrong.

Because this wasn't the first time Harry had woken up with Draco beside him, complaining about their shared hangover.

It didn't seem to matter how many times Harry told himself that they weren't a thing, they continued to be a thing.

A hand flapped at him, groping until Harry was being tugged on to his side. "Go back to sleep, maybe death will fuck off."

Harry wanted to complain, but there was a face being buried against his back, and an arm winding around his waist, and he couldn't bring himself to voice anything.

Instead, he followed the advice and went back to sleep.

…

"Your sheets are dull, Potter. Sage is so last year."

"You could always not be in them," Harry replied, rolling onto his back. He felt a little better, having slept some more, and now he was craving something spectacularly greasy.

"You mean you're not going to fetch me breakfast in bed? Zero stars, Potter, I'm giving you a bad review."

"I wish Blaise had never decided that you needed to learn internet things with him," Harry muttered. "Get your lazy ass up, and we'll go to the cafe down the road. I need bacon. And eggs. And probably sausage."

"You mean you didn't get enough—"

"Finish that sentence, and I will banish you into the Thames."

Draco snorted. "Spoilsport."

…

"You know… we could stop arsing about?" Draco offered, when they both had their fill of coffee and grease.

"Hmm?"

"Well. I don't know about you, Potter, but I'm pretty sure at this point, we might as well as actually be dating."

"Pretty sure people I'm dating call me Harry," Harry replied. "And don't complain about the colour of my sheets."

"If we were actually dating, I might call you Harry, and I would buy you new sheets."

"Huh."

Draco nodded, satisfied. Harry smiled and got up from the table to pay for their breakfast. He got two more coffees to go while he was there, because caffeine was nectar from the god of hangovers as far as he was concerned.

They left the cafe together, and Draco nudged him with his hip. "So?"

"So what?"

"Are you gonna make an honest man out of me, or what?"

"I guess we could date. But, you should know, I'm only doing this for the new sheets."

"Of course you are."

Written for;

Auction - DracoHarry

365 - 119. Murky

1000 - 938. Sage