Misery and Grief

A/N: In which I bastardize Ginny because I never liked her in the first place.

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The next week went by without much effort. People came and went, checking up on Harry periodically. These people rarely saw Draco, with the exception of Ron who glared in his direction and their former Professor Lupin, who only smiled warily in general. While Draco didn't seem skittish towards these men, it probably because they didn't try to approach him. There was also times where Harry saw the man who shared his house while people were visiting, but were not seen by the guests themselves. He didn't hide in his room when Hermione or Mrs. Weasley were there and seemed particularly set on being out and about when Ginny visited with the twins.

They never talked about it. Never did they talk about anything that could possibly border either their newly found comfort for one another nor what happened before he showed up that night. Incidentally, the also never spoke about the years they spent fighting with each other. However, they did talk and spent time together. They would both read in the living room or Draco would try to help him in the kitchen with simple things like peeling potatoes. They made conversation about Quidditch or other news in the magical world, and even a few time the Malfoy would ask about the muggle world.

Things were safe, silent, and perhaps they both should have relished in it. A vacation of all the drama that was their lives. Yet something itched underneath, something they couldn't scratch. Despite themselves, they fought less and less. Sometimes they would pick a fight with the other for what seemed to be for old times sakes, but they got along surprisingly well without other people to interfere. And Harry couldn't help but think about the fact that the sorting hat had wanted him in Slytherin, and even worse, that he had made his decision not to be so because of Draco and Ron's opinion of him.

And Draco's nightmares seemed to get worse, though Draco hadn't thought that possible. Harry would wake up to screams and his first reaction would always be to jump out of bed and run to his side. However, iron will of a Gryffindor kept him at bay, he'd sit in his bed, almost ready to throw the covers aside. And Draco would silence himself almost immediately. The house would go silent and Harry would decide not to go, as it would only make things strange. He didn't wish to cause a rift between them, to demolish the peace and the little happiness they had. But he wouldn't sleep again, and he found himself losing just as much sleep as his Slytherin companion.

That's exactly what happened one night, the usual scream which lead Harry to almost bolt from his bedding, but then he relaxed, laying down from his half sitting position, when the screaming stopped. It seemed like it had been an especially shrill screech and he was surprised to hear movement in the floor under him. He had considered how bad it must have been, since Draco hadn't roamed around in many days. What made him really, shocked, was when creaky stairs were pummeled under quick steps and the footsteps came to his door, hesitating for a moment before opening it more. Harry didn't even have time to pretend to be sleeping, so he stared. Draco looked positively like he was about to sneak in, but seeing the shine of eyes looking back at him, he seemed to puff up. Harry opened his mouth, quite sure that Draco would go hide off somewhere in response to being seen, but it was unnecessary. The tall boy stood straight and just walked as elantly as always, despite the fact he was in boxers and a t-shirt, to the foot of the bed.

"I'm tired, and I'm tired of being tired." That was all he said in a deadpan factual sort of way. No compliments, no admittance of why he was here. He just got to the side of the bed and crawled under the blankets. Neither made advances to touch one another and that was fine. Draco only needed the accompaniment, or he told himself, the warmth of another individual being there if they were needed. He was using Harry, he said to himself.

So they began to share a room. It was an unspoken agreement but it was sure before they had even fallen asleep that first night. They always woke up, much to their annoyance, wound up in each other. Sometimes it was a simple spooning, other times it was almost erotic just how tied up they were. They both tried to abolish anything sexual from their minds. So for almost a week it was the same type of relationship but with peaceful, albeit frustrating, sleeping situations. And while morning wood was certainly embarrassing, neither of them ever brought it up.

However, after the fifth night sleeping together, Malfoy ended up waking spooned by Potter. This was nothing new, his body held tightly and comfortingly by the man he had once called Scar Head. A faint pink touched his cheeks as he noticed where Harry's manhood was this time, right between his other cheeks, in the slight slight crevice. Okay, no big deal. He told himself to breathe, then he felt a hot breath somewhere that almost made him jerk out of reach. Light, hot wind came out of lips that lightly were pressed against his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as warm air tickled his long neck. The worse part was the sudden twitch in his already hard, from morning wood, cock. The butterflies in his stomach flew around nervously. And unlike that night, where his body had acted against his will when he inside felt nothing that it was showing, it would be a lie if he denied he himself suddenly very aroused more than physically.

It was wrong on so many levels. The last thing he wanted was sex, or was the last thing he wanted was to be attached to someone he had spent so many years trying to hate? Trying to hate? Was his feelings for Harry ever really hate, or just spite? The great Harry Potter had turned down his friendship, and now that he realized that he had been a pissant, a puppet, a parrot he didn't know what he had been happening. The more he thought about it, it just seemed like he wanted Harry to notice him, to accept him as his equal, even if it was in the opposite scale of things. Another breath made him catch his own. His fingers left the blanket in front of him and he hesitantly placed his in the lazy, sleeping hand of Harry's that had snaked under him sometime through the night.

Draco knew, was perfectly aware of what unwanted things were happening to him then. He'd never experienced anything like this before, always too standoffish even from the girls who had adored him to know someone to this level, this intimately. There it was, laid out before him, and half of him wanted to refuse it, but be damned if the other half didn't want to take it. To take Harry. They way that he had felt when Ginny had entered their house, how he had watched them interact made sense to him now. He sighed absently, about to pull his hand away, but Harry's hand twitched then, grabbing his own for only a brief second, and Malfoy could feel something swell inside of him. He tried to go back to sleep then, smiling.

The jerk of the hand had actually only indicated that Harry had woken up. He didn't even review the situation between them this time, quite used to and content with their closeness. Harry had no feelings he felt needed to be sorted out at this point, quite willing to just take them as they came. It would be a lie if he said he wasn't intrigued by Draco, wasn't perfectly happy when they were embracing each other, wasn't physically attracted to the other boy's feminine class. And some mornings, he allowed himself to not want to let go. Like this morning.

Both of them spent most of the day in bed, holding each other deep into the afternoon. They'd fall into naps but wake up and pretend to sleep and just enjoy the other while they had them. They'd move around, each slowly making things more intricate. By the time they were willing to unwind themselves, things had gotten really warm. Harry rested his head in the crook of Draco's neck, closed lips against skin and nose breathing fire onto the pale exterior of the boy. His arms were wround the boy's torso and hand up over the shoulders, holding him close. Draco, on the other hand, had his hands in Harry's hair and a leg over Harry's front quite lazily, his pelvis grinding into Harry's hip. When Draco stirred and pretended to wake up quite convincingly, and 'woke' Harry up as well, they were both happy. Not because they were aware of each other's feelings - that was impossible for the other to like them back - but because their 'morning woods' simply couldn't take the strain any longer.

The guilt was horrible as well. Both of them respectively felt bad for having used the others body in a way that wasn't entirely honest. Draco was shocked at the revelation that he actually felt bad about this, since it was in his nature to use and abuse people, and he certainly hadn't felt bad before for any of the things he had done to one Harry Potter. To say it was unnatural felt like an understatement. So it was with heavy hearts but an unfamiliar light-headedness that they separated ways that afternoon. The Gryffindor went to the kitchen to cook something up for the both of them, not bothering to even get dressed properly. The blonde, on the other hand, was not so easily broken out of his habits. Since the day after his first here, he had made an effort to always look his best as he was accustomed to for years now. Harry had even asked him once who exactly he was supposed to be impressing but the conversation had kindly ended there when Harry left the room with a smile. Draco asked himself that later and then decided he really didn't want to know the answer.

It was in the middle of their meal, now that the meals had been without notice moved to the dining room a few evenings before, that someone knocked on the door. Malfoy stayed behind, staring at his potatos and gravy and poking it with a piece of meat on his fork, listening intently as to hear who had barged in during mealtime. He tried to tell himself that he didn't really care, that it was no big deal, but couldn't help the ebb of annoyance. He leaned in to take a bite.

He bit the fork. It wasn't on purpose, but he knew the voice that he could hear mingled with Harry's. It was female, it was strong, it was young, and it was definitely a Weasley. His teeth crazed dangerously against cold metal as he stared at the hall towards where the two were. Her shrill excitement, his soft dark voice. He got up from the table and followed, listening in closer. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop, but despite his newly found guilt and feelings, he was still the epitome of a Slytherin boy.

"Come on, Harry! It will be fun, and Fred and George already bought the tickets for us."

"Why did they buy me a ticket to a game I didn't agree to go to?"

"You've been hanging out with Malfoy for too long! You're way too paranoid."

Malfoy gritted his teeth. Was she implying that Malfoy's personality was rubbing off on Harry or that Harry was constantly paranoid about him? Either way didn't sound very good.

"It's not that I'm paranoid, it's that I don't really want to go."

"Why would you turn down a Quidditch game?" Her voice was demanding and Draco kind of agreed with her.

"Because of how well the Quidditch cup turned out, maybe." Harry replied, halfheartedly. The blonde flinched, remembering the night and the Death Eaters. Which didn't scare him then but were phantoms to him now. "Besides, I can't just leave Malfoy here by himself here alone."

"You're letting someone live with you that you don't trust on his own within it for a night?" Draco glared at the other side of the hall menacingly, absolutely glowering at it. Not sure if he was angry at Ginny, himself, or Harry.

"It's not that at all. What if we take him with us?" Draco smiled absently.

"I don't want to hang out with that slime-ball!" Silence, and the blonde knew she was trying to calm down. She was fiery, he knew that. "Anyways, our seats are already arranged and tickets bought, we couldn't possibly change that now." This didn't change Draco's attitude at all. Somehow, something in him made him feel like he was winning at something. "Come on, Harry, you haven't seen us almost at all in weeks! I miss you." Draco's teeth grit together painfully, his hands balled into fists. He understood he was close to the Weasleys, surely they - as a group - would miss him. But that's not what she said. She only spoke for herself. Suddenly he walked into the room, looking calm and tranquil and royal as ever. "Malfoy." Her brown eyes bore into him.

"If it isn't the most masculine of the Weasleys." His words were like knives, his eyes gleaming evilly. "I knew I heard howling, you must be in heat." She flinched visibly and Harry simply looked as if he was in between a glare and complete shock. "Why don't you go rub yourself all over someone else?"

She seemed to heat up, growing a bit from her small stature. "Why don't you go run off and die, Malfoy? No one wants you here. Stop acting like you're so much better than everyone else while dining under Harry's roof like a sodding leech!" Her nostrils flared. Draco gave her a steady glare. "Go bugger yourself, scumbag."

It was slow, going from a menacing scowl to a mischievous smirk. "Go bugger myself?" His movements were fluid as he headed straight for Ginny, the woman looking as if she was either going to back away or pounce. Then he turned swiftly and instead stepped towards Harry, taking him by the neck. "Why would I do that when I have Potter to do it for me?" He himself tried to ignore the ridgid contact of the other boy, who he assumed would look deliciously scared out of his wits. Ginny, he could see, looked positively affronted. She pulled out her wand quickly but Harry was faster, grabbing Draco and holding him off to the side as he pulled his own wand. Silence rained down on the two of them.

Draco was more than happy to break that silence again. "It's very un-Gryffindor-like to raise your wand to an unarmed person, how very dastardly." He watched as she practically huffed steam and turned away and barged out of the door. He then waited a few moments, letting nervousness set in, before looking up to the darker boy. "Uh, excuse me." Green eyes flashed his way with a sort of shield Draco couldn't read through. "As much as I feel completely flattered, is there any particular reason your dipping me with one hand still?" With that, Harry let the boy up gently.

"Sorry..." Then he looked like he wished he hadn't apologized. "You just made things very difficult for me, you know."

"Why? Because she wants to shag you? I might be killed by a redheaded army, I suppose, but you looked both extremely uncomfortable and I didn't like the sight of her drooling all over you, was quite sickening." The metallic eyes looked towards the door she had left by. "Anyways, if you had been interested, you would have dropped me like a sack of potatos and ran after her." He smiled sidelong at the boy. "In fact, you know where she lives, it's not like it's too late - if you want to go to the game and enjoy her slobber."

Even Harry smiled at the picture that came to mind at that.