AN: Hi! New account, for a new story I don't want ties with for my main accounts.
(I usually post on AO3. I just needed a bit of a break, to write something lower quality and with a concept that's definitely been done before. Although, with Harry Potter fanfiction, what's really original anymore?)
All of my love to you all, and thank you for taking the time to read this.
Lots of love, -T
Day one
04/10/1995
21:30
"Are you serious? We're sharing rooms with other houses?"
Draco Malfoy stared at his Head of House, distressed. "I don't want to share with any of the Gryffindorks."
"Calm yourself," Severus Snape said, annoyed. "If I had it my way, I wouldn't have any of you sharing either. Professor Umbridge has decided to instate this rule for house… ah, unity. Move along to the Entrance Hall, lists of names of who is staying where have been posted."
Draco Malfoy curled his lip as he walked out of the common room.
"Stupid, stupid Snape," he muttered darkly to himself, "and stupid Umbridge. I bet I'm gonna be paired with the Weasel, or some Hufflepuff. God, I'd take Potter over a Hufflepuff."
He entered the Entrance Hall, where he saw an influx of students. I hope to God I get someone nice enough to leave me the fuck alone.
He pushed his way to the front of the group, and scanned for his name. M… Malfoy.
Draco read the room he was assigned to. Room 2ab, West Tower.
He shrugged, pushing past the students once more and stalking towards the West Tower.
There has to be a rule against this. Surely Dumbledore will do something about it? I hate the guy, but damn, at least he has some respect for the Slytherin name.
Draco walked up the stairs to the second floor of the West Tower, and scanned around for his room. There. He opened the door, and saw a figure standing by the bed next to the window.
"We are roommates," Draco said, simply, "and I expect you to respect my space."
The figure paused, and straightened up. They turned, and Draco felt his stomach drop.
"Potter?"
"Malfoy? Don't tell me I have to share a room with you?"
Draco curled his lip. "I feel the same way, Potter. Stay out, go to the Weasel's room or something. I want my space."
Potter gave him his stupid smirk. "No can do, I'm afraid. Ron is currently having to share with Zabini. I'm sure they'll get along great."
"Knowing Blaise, he'll probably make him play chess or something," Draco muttered, looking at his bed. It was spotless, and had a small alcove directly next to it.
"Knowing Ron, he'd win."
Draco turned, to see Potter organising his things. He watched him put a few flowers into a glass bottle next to his bed.
"Flowers, Potter?" He sneered. "Are you a girl?"
"They're lilies," Potter said, quietly. "My mum's name. If you wouldn't mind."
Draco paused. I didn't want to insult his dead mum. No way am I apologising to this freak, though.
He lay on his bed, stretching out. "So, Potter," Draco said tauntingly, "if we're sharing a room, we'd better get to know each other better."
"No. Absolutely not." Potter didn't even look at him, and Draco watched him put up pictures in his bed's corner. "We are not friends. I am tolerating you."
"I'm not even doing that," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "You're annoying and, quite frankly, I would rather die than have to spend a single night in here with you."
"Me too. If you'll leave me alone to do my thing, the bathroom is just through there." He gestured to a door Draco hadn't noticed, and he took the opportunity to approach it.
Opening the door, he was met with a small but rather nice bathroom, reminiscent in style to that of the Prefect's bathroom.
"It's tiny," Draco complained. "How am I supposed to do my hair properly in this?"
"Figure it out yourself," came an annoyed voice from the main room.
Draco sighed, before summoning his things. His hair and skin products flew through the room, and landed cleanly in their spots. Nice bit of magic.
He walked back to his bed, ready to set his things out, when he stopped.
Potter was looking at a photo album. Sentimental arse.
"What's that, Potter?" Draco said, mildly amused. "You and your girlfriend?"
Potter mumbled something, closing the album and putting it into his drawer.
"I'm afraid I didn't hear that, Potter. You'll have to repeat yourself."
"I said it's none of your business. If you respect my space, I'll respect yours, deal?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Deal."
He pulled his four poster curtains shut, and got into his pyjamas. They were green silk, and screamed expensive. He liked it like that. He was nothing if not of good taste.
Ignoring Potter entirely, he walked into the bathroom and got himself ready for bed. He had better things to think about than him.
Approaching his bed, he realised Potter was watching him. He looked over, annoyed.
"What do you want, Potter?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about how much of a fuss I am going to make at Dumbledore tomorrow over this shit."
Draco was mildly taken aback; he didn't hear Potter swear often. "You? Making a fuss at Dumbledork? Please, don't try to make a fool out of me. It's not going to work."
"Two things," Potter said, annoyed. "One, I trashed his office last term. Two, it is called a joke, Malfoy, and unless you're that stupid - as I suspect you are - you would realise that."
Draco felt even more taken aback. "Trashing Dumbledork's office? Why?"
Potter said nothing, and turned away from him. He watched Potter choose to rearrange the lilies, and stayed quiet.
"Stop looking at me," Potter said, annoyed. He turned to give Draco a dirty look.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Unless you didn't notice, Potter, you looked at me first."
"No, you did."
"I did not!"
Potter sighed. "You looked at me first when you came in."
"Fashionably late, of course." Draco smirked at him.
Potter eyed his pyjamas. "Fashionably is an overstatement."
"What would you know about fashion, Potter?" Potter was wearing muggle clothes.
Potter turned to look at him, scathingly. "These are the latest fashion, thank you very much. My fashion isn't stuck in the eighteen-hundreds."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Potter. At least I look good."
"Piss off," Potter said, annoyed. "Honestly. You're so annoying." With that, he walked into the bathroom.
Draco stretched out onto his new bed, and found it surprisingly comfortable. Nothing like his bed at home, but it was similar to that of the beds in the old dormitories. I wonder if I'll ever sleep in peace again.
He waved his wand, drawing his curtains. They were not silk as his ones back home were, but again, they would have to do.
I wonder if Potter snores. God, that would be embarrassing… I hope he doesn't.
He heard soft footsteps leave the bathroom, and he saw the lights go out. Draco's candle was still burning, and he saw through the curtain that Potter's was, as well.
He wondered how long Potter was going to stay up. He didn't want to fall asleep first, he'd made that mistake when he first started Hogwarts, on his first night. He recalled waking up with bubblegum pink hair, and while he remembered making a fuss at Snape to change his hair back to its original platinum blonde, part of him missed the pink. It was a statement, and one he would wear with pride if given the chance.
Draco hated that word. "Pride."
It meant too much, and too little. What did he have pride in? Himself, obviously; no Malfoy would dare to not have pride in oneself. That in of itself was a crime.
He had pride in the Slytherin name. It was a badge of honour, one that his parents had worn with pride. He felt a duty to continue that legacy.
As for his father's legacy… He was a well respected Death Eater in the ranks, and Draco was set to be one of them within the upcoming years. He reckoned he'd be just as respected a Death Eater as his father by the year two-thousand. What an achievement, he thought to himself.
Just think, you're sharing with Potter. Imagine all of the information you could tell them about him!
Draco frowned. Like what? He snores?
He looked over to see Potter's candle blown out. He must have fallen asleep.
Listening, he heard soft breathing. Draco knew Potter was asleep, and finally felt safe enough to fall asleep himself.