Why did it have to be him?
The second bed was no longer empty when Harry woke up, but the heavy trunks lined up on the mattress were not the blonde-haired git he had expected to see. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up with a creak of bedsprings. He hadn't slept well, but that was hardly anything new.
The trunks were unmistakable Malfoys with a matching set of green-stained leather and silver trim. A decorative 'M' was lavishly embossed onto the handles in case anyone forgot they were handling the property of old money. Harry sneered at them and looked away, not wanting to yield any mental energy to their owner before he was even here.
He crossed to the shared bathroom and stripped, turning the shower water higher than was comfortable and stepping in. Thankfully, the new dorms were larger than the standard and more tastefully decorated, as if the accommodations could ease the burden of being war veterans at 18. Two oak-wood beds lined opposite walls with burgundy velvet privacy curtains eerily similar to the ones they'd had in Gryffindor. A Slytherin leather couch was pushed against the far wall, and Harry could only assume the two twin desks were some remnant of Ravenclaw. He had no idea if there was something from Hufflepuff as well; he was embarrassingly ignorant of anything that had to do with the house. Maybe the light fixtures-round gold sconces lit with a bright orange flame-were from their dorm. He certainly didn't recognize them from anywhere else in Hogwarts.
He didn't mind the hodgepodge of furniture, and the little bay window in the corner of the room was large enough to sit on the lift and read. It was bright and spacious, and each dorm had its own private bathroom, so Harry could hardly complain. It was leagues above his room at the Dursleys, even with unpleasant roommates included.
He was changed into his school robes-an unsettling sight after so long without them- by the time someone knocked on his door. It was still very early in the morning, and he didn't bother to hope Ron or Hermione had come to check on him as he opened it.
McGonagall stood stiffly in the door frame, a quiet frown pursing her lips. "Good morning, Mr. Potter." She greeted, waving someone behind her to follow as she stepped inside.
"Good morning, Professor," Harry replied, hiding his flinch as his former rival stepped into his room-their room- he corrected. He didn't know why it bothered him so much to see Malfoy again, but something about the hunched shoulders and sunken eyes made his stomach twist. His school robes hung loosely off his bony shoulders, and he wouldn't look at Harry, his blonde hair long enough to fall into his face. Harry wanted to shake him.
"You'll notice the elves have confiscated several items from your trunk. Don't be alarmed; they're in my office for safekeeping should you need them." McGonagall paced the edge of the room, casting wordless spells that Harry couldn't see the effect of. "I've made a list of things for you to be aware of in the coming weeks and an outline of the duties I expect you to attend to for the-" She cast a discomforted look at Malfoy. "-foreseeable future."
"What are you doing?" Harry asked as she vanished the velvet curtains around both beds.
She sighed, continuing her route through the bathroom, casting as she went. "I'm putting in place a few extra precautions. I'm afraid comfort is not our priority today." Harry could hear the apologetic tone in her voice, and he glanced at Malfoy. He hadn't moved from his place by the door, but his head was turned sharply to the left as if words were carved into the stone wall that he couldn't quite make out.
"I'll expect a patronus immediately should you need help, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded, tearing his eyes away from the slight tremble in Malfoy's hands. "He's not to have access to a wand until further notice, so I must have you store yours in this while you sleep." She summoned a small chest, long and thin, and opened it to show him the Hawthorne wand inside. Something in Harry's chest pinched as he looked at it, the familiar grain of wood taunting him. He'd only returned it to Malfoy a few months before. It seemed wrong to take it away from him so soon.
McGonagall showed him how to wandlessly unlock it, the magic specially keyed to his signature, and cast one last look around the room as if she'd forgotten something. "Please do be careful, Potter." Her voice was soft, and possibly, for the first time, she sounded her age.
Harry nodded, "I'll keep you updated." She smiled and handed him a closed envelope.
And then they were alone in their new dorm room that they would reluctantly share for the next 10 months, awkwardly standing ten feet apart, unsure how to proceed. Malfoy had yet to even look at him.
"So," Harry eventually led with.
Malfoy's head snapped up, his grey eyes dark with what was clearly fury. "I don't want to hear a single word out of your fucking mouth, Potter."
"Likewise, Malfoy." Harry snarled, having already reached the end of his patience.
They held eye contact for an uncomfortable moment before Draco turned to his bed and ripped the first trunk off his mattress, pushing it underneath. Harry's gaze lingered wearily as he did the same for the other two.
"I don't need you to watch me," Malfoy spat, back turned to him.
Harry snorted, which was immature, even he could admit. "Clearly, if that were true, I wouldn't be here."
Malfoy made a low, guttural sound reminiscent of the feral cats Dudley used to corner in the back garden just before they lashed out. Malfoy braced a hand on the bedpost, his neatly manicured nails turning white with the effort. "This is fucking insane."
"You're telling me." Harry fell onto his mattress, watching the tense set of Malfoy's shoulders out of the corner of his eye. "What's going on with you, Malfoy?" He should probably be handling this better. Draco was unstable, and Harry's annoyed tone most likely wouldn't help. But annoyed seemed to be Harry's natural state of being when Malfoy was involved. He couldn't help it.
"Why should you care? It's hardly any skin off your back."
"Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I want you dead." Malfoy flinched at the words, and Harry rolled his eyes. Harry had dragged him out of the feindfyre and testified at his trial to keep him out of Azkaban for Merlin's sake. The audacity to insinuate Harry didn't care was insulting. "What part of everything that happened last year makes you think I'd be fine with you offing yourself?"
"Get your damn complex out of my face." Draco sat, rolling to the side to face away from him. Harry was only now realizing how tense it would be without any privacy curtains to shield themselves behind. "I didn't ask you to save me then, and I'm not asking you to save me now, so fuck off." Draco's voice was flat, his anger seeping into a blank apathy that made Harry's spine itch.
Once again, Harry ignored the urge to shake him and turned away, content to let Malfoy wallow in whatever he was determined to wallow in. He turned McGonagall's letter over in his palm, the crisp Hogwarts stamp pressing it closed at the center. She had gone over the general idea of what he would need to do the day before: escorting Malfoy around, locking him in at night, keeping a vague watch for any troubling behavior, etc. He essentially would be Malfoy's personal bodyguard, not unlike how Crab and Goyle used to act.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of replacing Malfoy's grunts, but then he remembered Crabbe was dead, and it stopped being funny.
He opened the letter and skimmed it. She included a calendar of all Malfoy's appointments, times that teachers would take over watching him, and their shared class schedule. It was a hodgepodge average of the classes both of them wanted to take. Harry had never touched Arithmancy before, but there it was (Hermione would be thrilled, he was sure), and Draco wasn't allowed in the potions classroom, so that wasn't an option for either of them. He wasn't sure how N.E.W.T.'s would work out with this sudden trajectory change, but he'd long since given up the idea of becoming an auror and didn't know what he wanted to do instead, so he might as well try Arithmancy.
He squinted at the calendar. There was a three-day block at the end of the month with no note attached except instructions to deliver him to McGonagall's office. All the other appointments were clearly labeled- Therapy, home visit, St Mungo's check-in- but this one was odd, and Harry got the sinking feeling that it wasn't an accident to leave it blank. He blinked, deciding it was none of his business and that he would not be duped into solving another mystery.
The telltale squeaks of mattress springs signaled the end of Malfoy's wallowing, and Harry sat up just in time to see him disappear into the bathroom. He sighed and cast tempus. Breakfast would be served soon. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he had been told under no uncertain terms would Malfoy be allowed to skip meals, which was probably a good call, considering how skinny he had become since the trial.
"Let's go to breakfast," Harry said, tying his shoes as Malfoy opened the bathroom door.
Harry didn't miss the shadow that passed over Draco's expression as he replied. "I'd rather not."
Harry frowned, standing up to meet his gaze. Had Draco always been taller than him? "I'm assuming you got the same rules I did," Harry said flatly. "No skipping meals and whatnot."
Draco didn't react, his face blank. "I did."
"Then stop being dense. Let's go."
Students stared as they made their way to the Great Hall, and for the first time in months, Harry couldn't quite tell if they were staring at him. Their looks were wide-eyed and slightly frightened, which wasn't unusual, but no one approached them, and the crowd gave them a wide birth, which surely wasn't for Harry. He wished people would respect his personal space this much. No hands reached out to touch him or ask him for anything, as they did in his lesser nightmares. It was nice.
Draco was evidently enjoying the strange behavior much less, his head bowed and spine so straight Harry could almost hear it crackling with tension. He positioned himself slightly in front of him and kept walking.
"Um." Harry stopped, his hand still holding the door open. Draco cocked a mocking eyebrow, but his hands were still shaking (maybe that's just something they did), so Harry didn't bother snapping at him. He was far too busy contemplating where to sit in the Great Hall, a question he had never had to answer in his entire educational career. He had to watch Malfoy eat to ensure he did, but he didn't want to sit with the Slytherins, and bringing Malfoy to the Gryffindor table seemed wrong somehow.
"Don't hurt yourself with too much thinking, Potter," Draco said, his tone casual.
"Oh, I'm not the one in danger of hurting myself." Harry snapped. He instantly regretted it, the quick flush melting Malfoy's easy expression into something cold and rigid. God, what was he doing?
"Let's just sit over here." He finally said, moving towards his own house's table. Draco followed silently.
Neville and Dean were already sitting, chatting in hushed whispers as they approached. Harry coughed, sliding into the seat next to them. "Hey, Malfoy's gonna be joining us. Is that alright?" The two boys stared, Neville's eyes darting from Malfoy to Harry and back. Harry gave him an apologetic shrug. He wasn't sure how much he was allowed to say about the situation.
"Yeah, that's fine." Dean finally answered, turning his attention back to his plate. Neville nodded, doing the same. Malfoy took the seat next to him, eyes inspecting the table.
Harry wanted to sink into the floor.
Hermione sat in front of him before he had the chance, "Is it true you're taking Arithmancy with me?" Harry nodded awkwardly and waited for the blonde beside him to register past her academic excitement. "Oh, hello, Malfoy,"
He made a strange grunting sound in response and placed a biscuit on his plate. Hermione gave Harry a bewildered stare, to which he could only shrug.
"We're roommates."
This was not enough of an explanation for Hermione, and he could tell he would be interrogated later, but Ron sat down just as she opened her mouth. "G'morning." He yawned.
"Weasley," Draco greeted, not tearing his eyes from the jam he was spreading. Ron froze. Harry wasn't sure if it was meant to come off as rude, but Malfoy's natural drawl certainly did him no favors.
Ron looked at Harry, eyes wide. What the fuck is he doing here?! He mouthed, hands gesturing wildly in what was certainly meant to be subtle by Weasley standards.
Roommates? Harry mouthed back the excuse with a wince.
Malfoy?!
Harry gave an exaggerated shrug, his palms up.
Ron gestured again, more so to express his bewildered outrage than to actually say anything. Hermione pointedly ignored both of them, as she tended to do when they decided to speak like this.
"You are aware I can see you, right?" Malfoy asked, sounding genuinely confused by the whole performance.
"Mind your business, Malfoy," Ron said, turning his head sharply in his direction. Malfoy seemed to shrink, just enough for Harry to notice and just enough for it to unsettle him. The Malfoy he knew would never have shied away from a fight with Ron.
"Like I said," Harry cut in, " roommates. Hope you guys don't mind if he joins us."
"I hope you don't mind us either." a shrill voice came from Malfoy's left, and Harry leaned back to see Pansy Parkinson inserting herself and Blaise Zabini in the empty space next to him. "Afraid we Slytherin's do come as a package deal." Pansy snaked her arm through Draco's elbow and grinned at the table of stunned Gryffindors.
"Might as well," Harry said. At this point, he just wanted to eat a blueberry muffin and didn't particularly care if Voldemort himself decided to sit with them. Besides, a bit of the tension had left Malfoy's posture, and he supposed that couldn't be such a bad thing.