It's just the two of them again and neither has said a word for the past forty-five minutes. When Harry took his usual seat on the end of the sofa, Malfoy didn't make any remarks tonight and Harry didn't feel as though he had to be on his guard. It's only the third time they've met this way and maybe the first two times were accidents but tonight, when Harry left his dormitory, he almost expected to see the familiar cloud of smoke billowing from the armchair. He hadn't aimed to spend the evening with Malfoy, completely in silence but that was what happened and they both accepted that.
"What's it like?" Harry's words eventually cut through the silence that he'd grown far too comfortable with and Harry almost cringes at his own words because even though he's talking quietly, it feels as though he's shouting. Malfoy frowns slightly as though trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about before he remembers Harry asked that exact same question the first time he'd seen him smoking.
"It's nice." Malfoy states and Harry thinks that he might not actually want to talk tonight which he's perfectly fine with. It's not like they can ever talk without getting into some kind of argument anyway so Harry thinks it's maybe a better idea to sit silently. "Relaxing."
Harry makes a hum of acknowledgement in return, feigning tiredness because now that they've talked once it feels much more awkward than before and Harry thinks a yawn might show why he's decided to cut the conversation. He's not tired tonight, the weekend meant he could catch up on his sleep throughout the day while Ron complained about Hermione to him and tonight he thinks he'll be up all night with how alert he feels. Perhaps Malfoy sees right through him though because he's watching him carefully and Harry knows the blonde is more observant that he lets on.
"You want some?" And Harry can't hide the shock from his face as he watches Malfoy's arm reach out towards him, the joint between his fingers as he waits expectantly for Harry to take it. This is the closest to a peace offering that the two of them have ever experienced and it's not much but it's something. And Harry doesn't' think he can trust it. "Merlin Potter, it's not like I'm asking you to fucking marry me."
"I'm okay, thanks." Harry mutters, his eyes averting from Malfoy as he draws his hand back and Harry can spot the beginnings of a scowl on his face. Harry wonders if they both had the same flashback in that moment, a flashback all the way to first year when Malfoy held out his hand in an offer of friendship to Harry and Harry had thrown it back in his face. He feels like this is a similar situation; Malfoy swallowing his pride and Harry rejecting him.
"Suit yourself." And then silence falls upon them again but it's thick and full of tension and Harry knows Malfoy is angry; he's always been convinced the blonde has a temper problem but honestly, Harry is almost convinced he has one himself sometimes. And maybe he should feel guilty for shooting the other down like that but Harry has never been one to ignore his gut instincts and his gut instinct was to not take anything from Malfoy; no matter how much time they spend sat in the same room together without killing each other, Harry doesn't think he'll ever be fully prepared to trust the other.
It feels like hours before anyone speaks again, for all Harry knows it has been hours because time seems to go much faster in the dead of the night. Malfoy is standing up now, his eyes glancing at Harry briefly as though contemplating whether to say goodnight but deciding against it because they've never done that before and why should he start now?
"You know, Potter. People aren't going to be able to move on from the war if people like you still hold it against people like me." Malfoy is in the archway that leads to the dorm rooms and Harry hears the voice echo from behind him. He doesn't even bother to turn his head as he responds.
"People like you are the reason there was a war in the first place, Malfoy." There's a scoff and Harry knows that Malfoy isn't going up to bed just yet. He must have been foolish to think there wouldn't be a conversation like this tonight and Harry feels himself standing from the sofa now, spinning to face the boy behind him. "The war was more than just Voldemort-" Harry can't ignore the way Malfoy visibly flinches at the name "-trying to kill me and we both know that. Everyone knows that."
"I'm not like them." Malfoy's voice is low but calmer than Harry expected it to be and Harry feels that anger burning up inside him because he is like them, of course he is. And Harry can't comprehend how someone who is only at the school this year as part of his punishment, as a way to get out of going to Azkaban for being a Death Eater because half of his crimes were committed underage, can possibly claim he's better that the others. He's the same.
"That mark on your arm says otherwise." Malfoy tenses at his words, Harry can see from across the room but there's a hint of resignation on his face, as though this isn't worth it anymore and Harry is sure he's never seen that on him before.
"I'm not going to justify myself to you." His voice is dull and his turns his body, finally taking steps to leave the room. "I saved your life that night you got caught. Don't forget that."
And then he's gone before Harry can even tell him that he saved his in return and that makes them even. He's gone before Harry can tell him that no matter how much good he thinks he's done, he's still committed acts worse than most people would ever imagine. He's gone before Harry's hit with the realisation that maybe he wouldn't mind hearing Malfoy's justification after all because Harry knows how tired the other is, he sees it in his face and Harry wonders if maybe Malfoy can't sleep because he's haunted with the same nightmares Harry gets.
"You don't fucking belong here!" The familiar Irish accent of Seamus Finnigan can be heard by the entire common room, the room is practically empty aside from Harry and Hermione though and they both automatically stand up as they hear a smash from up above. They exchange a glance and nothing more, they don't need to as they both make their way up the staircase. Harry notices that Hermione has her wand ready by her side and Harry isn't sure that's necessary until they're outside Seamus's room.
"Fucking Death Eater scum. You deserve to be in Azkaban, you're a fucking murderer." Harry's wand is out now, he hasn't heard Seamus this angry before and he certainly hadn't heard anything from him since they came back to school. He withdrew himself from the rest of them, Harry supposed it was his way of dealing with everything that happened but now he seems to be lashing out. And they exchange one more glance before the door is pushed open and Hermione gasps at the site.
"Seamus, what the hell are you doing?" She practically screams as her eyes drag over the scene in front of them. Draco on the floor, his face covered in blood and Seamus's knuckles covered in blood as well. It's not hard to guess what had happened. Harry sees that as soon as he hears Hermione's voice, he's back to normal and there's sadness on his face that Harry has seen way too much of in the past few months. His eyes trail down to the pale blonde on the floor, his shirt unbuttoned as though he was halfway through getting dressed but now the fabric is stained red.
"I- fuck, I don't know what happened." Seamus mutters, taking a few steps backwards so he can sit on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. "I just- I get angry so easy lately. That's why I don't really leave my room. I don't know how to control it half the time and he was just there."
"You're fucking mental, that's what happened." Draco scowls as he finally stands up and wipes his bloody face with the back of his hand. It makes no difference though, the blood is flowing freely from his bust nose and Hermione visibly cringes at the sight of such a stark colour on the almost translucent pale skin. "I'm going to shower again. Unless you're planning on jumping me again when I get out, maybe a bit of pre-warning would be nice."
Harry watches as Malfoy leaves the room before following Hermione who is now moving to sit beside Seamus, a comforting arm placed around his shoulder and Harry wonders if it's acceptable to sit on Malfoy's bed opposite him. Then he hears the water turn on and decides he might as well, there's no harm.
"We get it, mate." Harry speaks and Seamus lifts his head to glance at Harry, there's hesitation and disbelief in his eyes. "You're not the only one that got fucked up in the war. I can barely sleep without seeing dead people for a start and Ron- well, Ron got angry quite a lot too. But he spoke to Professor McGonagall and she helps him deal with it, right Hermione?" Hermione nods frantically and Seamus is sitting up properly.
"But you can't just beat up your roommate whenever you fancy it, you know that. I know he's an arse so it's pretty tempting but it's not going to work." Seamus chuckles a little at Hermione's words and Harry laughs too. He refrains from saying that if he had to sleep in a room with Draco Malfoy, he'd have done way worse than just punch him in the face. He doubts Hermione would appreciate that.
"It's not going to happen again." Seamus speaks finally and his voice is rough, probably from the shouting but he's sincere and Harry knows it. "But if you could just ask Ron, maybe I can talk to him some time, yeah?"
"Yeah, mate." Harry nods as he stands, patting his shoulder before moving to leave the room. He hears Hermione speaking quietly to him before she follows him out. And Harry can't help but feel slightly guilty in the knowledge that he's not the only one still struggling after all this time but it's nice in a sick kind of way.
Hermione leaves the common room almost immediately after Harry's sat back down on the sofa, she needs books from the library and apparently it's the most urgent thing she's ever had to do given the way she was rushing. Harry's pretty certain she's sneaking off to be with Ron somewhere but he goes along with it, a sigh leaving his lips in the silence of the common room.
"Bit early for you to be brooding alone down here, isn't it Potter?"
"Could say the same for you." Harry mutters, rolling his eyes because he's spent more time with Malfoy over these past few weeks than he'd ever imagined he would and it's the last person he'd want to spend time with.
"I'm not alone though." Malfoy shrugs but he's not sitting down today, he's leaning against the fireplace in front of Harry, a smug look on his already-starting-to-bruise face. "Where'd Granger fuck off to?" Harry can't stop his eyebrows from raising questioningly at the way Malfoy manages to say 'Granger' without a hint of a sneer in his tone, not even a scowl on his face.
"Ron." Harry shrugs, looking down at the open book on the table in front of him that he'd been studying with before the interruption. "Why do you care?"
"I was going to thank her for screeching so loud that Finnigan got off me before but if she's off fucking the weasel, I'd rather just leave it." Harry starts to protest against the way Malfoy refers to Ron before deciding against it, it's completely not worth it and he doesn't think Ron would be all that bothered either anymore.
"Why'd he do it?" Harry asks, glancing up from his book and pushing his glasses quickly up his nose. "Seamus. Why'd he flip out at you like that?"
"Because he's gone mental." Malfoy states, pushing himself up from leaning against the stone mantel piece so he's standing up straight. "The people that can't handle it, the ones like him, they need to be put somewhere they can't be near people. Need to be locked up in Mungo's."
"I know Seamus; he wouldn't do something like that unprovoked." Harry knows he sounds accusing and maybe he shouldn't be blaming the person who just got beaten to shit but he doesn't care. "And I know you, you're infuriating. He's not the one who needs locking up."
There's a silence in the room, Malfoy sighs deeply and he sounds completely exhausted. "Give it a rest now Potter." The words are bored and drawling and Harry is familiar with the tone. "I'm here, I'm not in Azkaban. You need to get fucking used to it. All of you."
"You shouldn't be here. You don't deserve it."
"I know!" Malfoy's shout practically bounces off of the walls of the common room and Harry flinches at the sudden raise in volume. His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, unable to form any kind of words as he stares at the blonde who'd taken a couple of steps towards him a rage. Malfoy's eyes scan Harry's face and there's a mixture of anger and hurt in his eyes before he turns and exits the common room, haste in his step. The two words ring in Harry's head long after he's gone.
Guilt isn't something Harry's used to feeling when it comes to Draco Malfoy but that's all he's felt these past few days. Perhaps Malfoy is punished enough without Harry adding to it with constant reminders of his mistakes, perhaps the fact that he's the only one completely alone in this school, the only one everyone seems to hate is enough of a punishment. On top of the fact that both his parents are in Azkaban and he has the same threat looming over his head if he doesn't do well in this final year.
And when Harry remembers the sadness in the other's eyes as he yelled those two words at Harry, he feels that pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach which only intensifies every time he catches a glimpse of the Slytherin in the corridors or at dinner. People are either scared of him or disgusted by him. The scared ones are the younger years, the ones who stare at the sleeve of his robes as though the Dark Mark is going to break through the fabric. Harry falls into the other category, the ones who can hardly bare the sight of him because Harry can't believe he can even show his face here; not after everything that happened sixth year, in Harry's eyes, it's a disgrace.
But Harry thinks Malfoy knows that too, part of him thinks that Malfoy is completely aware he's underserving of being back here but he took the chance anyway because anything is better than Azkaban. Which is why Harry feels guilt, guilt because despite who it is, Draco Malfoy is already suffering. It might not be enough but Harry isn't comfortable with adding to that.
"I'm sorry." Harry mutters two weeks later when everyone has left the common room and it's now only the two of them left. The fire isn't on tonight and the room is colder than usual, there's not much light either aside from one dull lantern and the end of Malfoy's joint.
"For what?" No anger, no malice, not even a hint of a sneer as he blows smoke into the room, clouding the already dark room. Harry thinks it's easier to speak his mind in the darkness, when he can only just make out the outline of Malfoy's features and he thinks that Malfoy feels the same way.
"What I said the other day. About how you shouldn't be here." Harry's voice is clear and he's speaking in a tone of voice that isn't hostile. Not in the slightest. His realisation that he doesn't need to actively make the other's life harder makes it easier for him to see him as any other person, not the enemy even if it's still in the back of his mind.
"Nothing I haven't heard before, Potter." The tone is dismissive and he waves his hand as though it's water under the bridge. "Heard it several times when Finnigan was smashing my face in actually." Harry hasn't ever heard Malfoy laugh in any circumstance other than when he was taunting people so hearing the soft chuckle at the end of sentence feels foreign to Harry and he has to force a small laugh in response.
"He was way out of line." Harry speaks because he'd been thinking it since it happened, he doesn't think solving problems should involve throwing fists every chance you get but he'd never thought he'd say it to Malfoy.
"Yeah well, my nose is straight again and I look just as handsome as before so no harm done." The bitter sarcasm in his tone is strange when not directed at Harry, it's strange when it's meant in a humorous way because Harry never imagined Malfoy as ever having a sense of humour. He doesn't know whether he should laugh though, he feels to tense to do anything out of the ordinary. "You need to relax, Potter. It won't kill you to smile, y'know."
"Says you." He laughs again and Harry's head feels light because this is the strangest thing he's ever been a part of and he doesn't think he'll ever be used to it.
"Point taken. A lot easier when you're high, though." Malfoy muses and Harry's eyes are adjusted to the light now. He can see the glazed look in Malfoy's eyes but there's amusement their too, real amusement. "You sure you don't wanna try it?" There's doubt in Malfoy's tone, as though he knows the answer before it's even been asked because Harry Potter is so fucking predictable. And Harry feels this need to prove himself, something he never imagined he'd feel in front of the person sat beside him but he puts it down to their childhood rivalry.
Harry shuffles along the sofa until he's at the end closest to Malfoy and he can see his face much more clearly now. His eyebrows are raised and there's a slight smirk on his face. "Just pass it here." Harry grumbles, holding his hand out and Malfoy passes the joint to Harry who pinches it between his thumb and index finger. The smell is familiar to him, the feeling of it between his fingers is far less normal but he can feel Malfoy's eyes on him, as though he's expecting him to put it down. Harry doesn't trust Malfoy, of course he doesn't, but he's been smoking it himself all night so there can't be much danger and he has this insatiable need to prove the smug bastard wrong.
When he holds the joint to his lips and breathes, the smoke fills his mouth faster than he ever expected and he breathes deeply in shock. He can't stop the coughing as soon as the smoke hits his lungs and the burning in his throat is enough to make him question why anyone chooses to do this. But he takes another drag anyway once the coughs have died down because he's already feeling warmer which is a welcome change to the harsh cold of the common room tonight. When he passes it back to Malfoy, the other is grinning back at him before he takes a hit himself.
They carried on this way until they finished the joint and a whole other one, until Malfoy said there was none left and that Harry should 'feel lucky he shared it with him'. And Harry doesn't feel lucky but he feels happy, calmer than he has for as long as he can remember. His whole body feels light and they'd long since decided to light the fire so the room finally feels cosy. He thinks this is the most high he's ever seen the boy beside him and they've talked for longer than he thought possible but for the first time, there's no tension. There's not been a single mention of the war and Harry feels more relieved than ever.
"Okay no, shush Potter, my turn." Malfoy has also taken to sitting on the same sofa as Harry now, his legs tucked up under him as faces him. They've resorted to childhood games of question and answers because it's easy to forget about the darkness that looms over them when it feels like they're gossiping like thirteen year olds again. "Tell me… is the Weasley girl good in bed?"
Harry thinks this is the most personal questions either of them have asked yet, before it was 'who's your least favourite teacher and why?' and 'what were you guys really doing in the room of requirement fifth year?'. If he wasn't completely intoxicated right now, he'd be gaping in shock at the bluntness of the question.
"I wouldn't know." Harry mutters, his cheeks heating up the slightest in embarrassment because anyone would assume that they'd slept together at least once. They'd done things together, of course, but they never got that far before they broke up just a few months before.
"You're joking?" There's amusement and disbelief in Malfoy's voice and Harry shakes his head, "Merlin's beard, Potter. I never had you down as the romantic type." He snorts a little and Harry can't help but smile because he realises it does sound quite silly.
"Not that, just never enough time with trying to avoid getting murdered and everything." Harry shrugs nonchalantly and Malfoy nods in a mock understanding way before they both burst out laughing. Harry realises that it's very hard to not find everything funny when you're high and he thinks he quite likes it. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You and Parkinson."
"Oh, I was never dating Pansy." Malfoy informs him and Harry thinks that they certainly acted more like a couple than he ever did with Ginny. "She's a good fuck though, one of the better ones." Harry's not used to hearing such vulgar language, not even Ron speaks that way and Harry certainly is too awkward to ever speak so casually about those things. Well not when he was sober at least, right now he seems to have lost the ability to care.
"Something tells me you Slytherin lot definitely had more fun than we did." Harry muses and it's a risky sentence because last time he said that, Malfoy had flipped out but there's no sign of that now and Harry feels nothing other than relief.
"Oh yeah, definitely. Orgies every Wednesday and everything." Malfoy can barely keep his face straight however at the look of shock on Harry's face, bursting into yet another fit of laughter before speaking again. "Fucking hell, I'm joking. For being such a hero, you really are dim."
"Fuck off." Harry mumbles but the corners of his lips are upturned slightly at the corners as Malfoy still laughs quietly every now and then.
"Right, I'm off to bed." Malfoy stands up as he speaks and Harry does the same, extinguishing the fire as he does so. "And you appear to be following me."
"I need to sleep too, Malfoy, in case you're forgetting." There's a sleepy huff of what Harry takes a laughter from the blonde in front him as they reach the entrance to the dorms. "Night, Malfoy."
"Night, Potter. Tonight has been…" He hesitates as though trying to find a word that's not too kind. "Better."
And Harry thinks he's right. It has been better. Better than fighting and better than sitting in awkward silence. Better.