The Gryffindor towers were much larger than Harry originally thought. This was because he had only ever been to his section with his four roommates. As far as students went, it was usually ten per year, per house. So five first year boys in Gryffindor, and five ladies. Usually.
Thinking he was back in his seventh year for a moments, he climbed the stairs for his old room. Wouldn't you know it, there were students inside.
He closed the door and descended, trying to figure out where he had seen teachers in the past. Did they have bedrooms in their offices? Where were they? Did teachers sleep? He would have to remember where McGonagall slept, because she was the old head of Gryffindor. Was it in the ladies dormitory? Did she share a bed with the rest?
Inside the common room, a few elder students were scattered around. Since he had missed his entire seventh year, they were mostly students he has not interacted with. They recognized Harry, however, and tried to avoid eye contact. No help there.
In a flit of whimsy, Harry decided to ask a few of the paintings outside the common room if they knew. Since they were so old, they'd have to know SOMETHING.
"Excuse me." He asked the portrait where the Fat Lady usually laid. "Is anyone here?"
The character in question crept across paintings with purpose. "Is that Harry Potter?"
She knew his name! "Yes, I'm Harry."
"Well, by gods. You don't need the password then."
He shook his head. "No, I'm not here about that. I was wondering... Where do the teachers sleep?"
"How should I know?" She asked, her voice suddenly huskier.
Harry ran a hand through his messy hair with frustration. "I don't know. I don't fucking know."
"Oh, don't be a little bitch."
It wasn't the fat lady. It was Malfoy, creeping up behind him like a poltergeist.
"Excuse me?"
Malfoy was in some sort of PJ thing, with striped silk pants and an extra large Bad Company tee shirt. His wand was clenched mercilessly in tired fingers, and his hair was FINALLY a mess. It served him right to look so disheveled.
"McGonagall said you were never given a room."
Of course. "Oh."
"So, I am graciously lending you my space tonight."
Harry almost dropped his wand in surprise. The Fat Lady made a horrible noise.
"You want to house me?"
Malfoy smiled, the devilish smirk made worse by candle light. "I'd rather house you and have you under my nose than out here, planning my death."
Sound logic. "Alright. Lead the way."
It struck Harry as odd that Malfoy was suddenly so damn polite. There were several factors that helped, of course. Malfoy had done some terrible things before the war, but never because he wanted to. Honestly, he had been raised to believe Voldemort a god, and muggle-borns second class citizens. It didn't excuse Malfoy's choices, but he could have been a lot of places and instead he chose teaching. That had to count for something.
"You're staring a hole into my head, Potter."
He couldn't help it. Malfoy's perfectly imperfect hair was oddly distracting. "I'm not trying to."
"So you ARE looking at me. Interesting."
"What? You're in front of me. Of course I'm looking at you."
Malfoy had five or six inches on Harry, so his spin was close to terrifying. The blond's chest almost caressed Harry's face with how quickly he turned. "Still a Seeker, huh?"
"A what?"
"Nevermind. Look, if you see the stairwell for the seventh floor, tell me. It keeps moving."
Together they searched out the seventh floor staircase. It had a history of moving around, causing problems and many late students. This time was understandable, as it had to be repaired after the battle. They finally found it around the DADA room, on the ground floor. It increased in size to take them all the way up.
"Seventh floor... Are you sleeping in the room of requirement?"
Malfoy shrugged indifferently, meaning yes. But why there?
"The staff lofts have all been taken. Student dorms are full in Slytherin. And my room is new every night. I like the spontaneity."
It was more personal information then Harry had ever been given by Malfoy ever. He liked spontaneity and sarcasm. That was all Harry knew about the bloke he considered his Arch Nemesis.
Silence issued after that. It bothered Harry, the same way unanswered questions did. In a soft voice he asked. "In the interest of aquantaince-ship, how is Alois related to you?"
"Aunt Bella's husband's sister is his mother. Lennox."
"So he's your cousin, once removed?"
"Something like that. Halfblood. My family took him in after Aunt Lennox died."
The amazing thing was that Harry didn't need any clarification on family members. Pureblood wizards all intermarried and knew each other. He had never heard of Lennox, however.
Almost reading his mind, Malfoy shook his head. "She married a muggle. Completely ostracized after that. Alois was accepted because he had no one else."
"That's horrible."
"I'm sorry to say that my father was not gracious towards him either. Treated him like a burden. A scab on the family name. As if my father wasn't already enough of a scab."
The bitterness took a hold of Harry and he finally had a moment of clarity. Malfoy didn't want to be evil. What his father did or didn't do was not his decision. He had to follow Voldemort's orders or die. How had Harry not seen it before?
"You know, Malfoy, you aren't a terrible human being."
Malfoy stopped, turned, and glared at Harry with disgust. "Don't become soft on me. You're still my enemy."
But the smile was tiny and unmistakable.
Once on top, they walked to the very end of the hallway, looking for a place to sleep. Sleep sleep sleep. I require a place to sleep, Harry thought. They paced for a few minutes before the wall cracked and shifted.
When the last brick fell into place, Harry threw the door open, exhausted. He did not expect what he found.
There was a single bed, huge and gorgeous, covered in a thick shag blanket and rose petals. Malfoy shrieked, "WHAT THE HELL, POTTER."
"DON'T LOOK AT ME, I DIDN'T ASK FOR A BROTHEL."
"SHUT IT SHUT IT OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHUT THE DOOR."
They both tore back out the door, shutting it and rethinking, "I require a place to sleep ALONE."
The door shifted some, and during its shift Malfoy fired dirty looks in Harry's direction. "I will never get that image out of my mind. It looked like Umbridge was planning on staying there."
Harry retched. "Now I can't get THAT image out of my mind."
"Oh, hush up. It's done changing."
The boys were significantly more cautious as they slid the door open. Inside looked like an extremely large dormitory. Each side got a bed and a desk, a dresser and several nick-nacks. It wasn't as lovely as his four-poster, but not as horrible as sharing a rose petal covered bed with his sworn enemy. The room itself had very little light, save a large fireplace at the very end. It roared wonderfully, toasting the weary boys.
"This isn't the worst place to be." Malfoy mumbled, claiming the left side immediately. "Being at home is worse."
"I'll say." Harry whispered, removing his shirt.
That freaked Malfoy out. "What are you doing?"
"I'm getting into my Pajamas. Why?"
"You can switch them without taking anything off, you know."
"I know that, but I'm not going to. It doesn't matter. I have nothing to hide."
Why was Malfoy so damn embarrassed? Men walked around shirtless ALL the time. Harry finished taking off the shirt, snapped his fingers for his trunk and found a wrinkled white tee. Lovely. His PJ bottoms had Yorkie puppies on them, but Harry didn't very much care. He felt safe in them, which he needed.
Once both he and Malfoy were settled into bed, the fire died down by itself to a nice, ember glow. It glinted off of the blond's hair and his pale cheek. Harry stared at him too long, trying to figure out what horrible circumstances had made it okay for him to fall asleep next to his enemy. When he couldn't decide, sleep won.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Hours passed. Harry knew hours had passed because the fire had produced its own logs. He woke up to muffled shouting and kicking, expecting to see someone standing over Malfoy's bed. Instead he saw Malfoy himself, having one of the worst nightmares Harry had ever seen. His face was covered in dry tear tracks, and the furious whimpers kept coming.
"Stop... Stop... No..."
There was such a crisis in the circumstances. If Harry woke Malfoy up to stop the nightmares, Malfoy would be angry. He would probably throw Harry to the ground and protest that he didn't need any help. If Harry didn't help, though, he would never get back to sleep.
The need for sleep won out.
He approached Malfoy's bed quietly, trying to be braver than he felt. He took Malfoy's hand in his, immediately shutting up the blonde. His hand was frozen, but not clammy. He pushed it under the covers but kept his hold. For a few minutes he stayed like that, letting the poor boy's breathing even out and return to normal. Once Malfoy was calm, Harry tried to remove his hand.
"Don't go."
It was so soft, Harry swore he could have imagined it. Then again, looking at Malfoy's tear-streaked face, he probably needed comfort. He had a decision to make: keep Malfoy calm, or sleep. What sort of shit choices were those?
"Move over." He grumbled, pushing the lightly sleeping Malfoy to the inside. He scooted, the bed extending just a little bit. Another pillow popped up. "No thank you, bed. I got this." He whispered to the sentient room and it's minions.
Instead of letting Draco Malfoy, his long-standing enemy and prick lose sleep, Harry held his hand for several hours. He dozed on and off the whole time, sometimes waking up and imagining Malfoy thanking him.
It was nice.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Harry woke up in his own bed, fingers cramped like had written a meter's worth of essays. The sun was just peaking, so it was still early. In the other bed, Malfoy laid silently. Sleep had gotten him.
Harry moved over to the tiny bathroom to relieve himself and freshen up. Most wizards hated the time bathing took and preferred freshening charms, but not Harry. Plus, it was early and breakfast wouldn't be served yet.
A large shower appeared in the corner, extending into his unused closet. Nice. The shower had a large waterfall head, and side jets. A whole ton of different shampoos and soaps materialized on the rack. Bliss was about to happen.
Harry stripped and jumped into the huge shower, trying all the different buttons. The side jets were almost painful with the scars on his back, but the waterfall head felt amazing. He sat under the water for far too long, enjoying the steam and pressure. He looked for shampoo close to his regular stuff. They had pine and forest scents, cool rivers and clear blue skies. He tried something called "midwinter storm" which turned his shower ice cold and his skin blue. Smelled amazing, however.
After showering and once again warm, Harry looked for his teaching robes to go over the sweater vest he was trying out. Malfoy woke up as he tied his tie. "Why do you look like a middle aged muggle?"
"I'm going for adult."
"Well, you're failing."
"Shut up."
Their banter wasn't angry, or angsty, or even edgy. It was just them, being them. The thought made Harry smile ever so slightly on his way down to breakfast.
Students stopped eating and reading to stare at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. They whispered to each other in loud, teenage voices, "he's too young to be a teacher."
It was true. Even in a sweater vest, Harry felt young and short and toddler-like. His lesson plan felt stupid and reminiscent of every teacher he had ever had. The day would fail epically.
Looking around for a place to sit, Harry noticed a blonde boy in the corner of the Gryffindor table, looking thoroughly distraught.
"Alois. What's wrong?"
Alois looked up at Harry with shining tears in his eyes. "Mr. Potter! I failed my mum."
Indeed, he hadn't made it to Slytherin. It was sad, but didn't explain the fact that he was all alone on the first day of school. Harry sat down, determined to make him feel better. "You got in Gryffindor, yeah?"
"Yeah." He sniffed.
"Then why are you crying? Gryffindor is an exclusive house. Only brave people can get in."
Alois's eyes widened. "You HAVE to be brave? I thought that was just the motto."
"No. The sorting hat takes bravery VERY seriously. If you're brave, you HAVE to be put in Gryffindor no matter what your family line says. Like my godfather, Sirius."
That earned Alois a sniff. "Mum liked Sirius. She said he was cocky."
"He was." Harry laughed. "Cocky and very, very brave. He was supposed to be in Slytherin, like all of your family. He was put in Gryffindor because it was a better fit for someone as strong as him."
That made Alois pause and smile. "I suppose you're right."
"I am right, of course. I'm a teacher."
The two boys laughed and joked as they ate breakfast. Their fun inspired several others to come over and talk with Harry, asking him about classes and such. Once a few students talked with him, the tension left. Now all that was left was first day impressions and his lesson.
He would just have to be brave.
