Angsty Harry

Harry climbed the steps to Ron and Hermione’s flat with a coming sense of dread. Ever since the war had ended Harry had felt like an outsider, even to the trio of outsiders Harry, Hermione, and Ron had made up throughout Hogwarts. The gap between them had been growing ever since Harry had found out about the prophecy, how he was alone in the fight against Voldemort, regardless of what the other two said. When the couple had realized their feelings for each other, that gap had only grown wider, Harry left an outsider. Regardless of Harry’s reassurance, Hermione wanted to include Harry in everything she and Ron did, insisting he come over several times a week. Every time he went, Harry watched the clock till he could leave, leave the awkward silence between the trio. Harry knew Ron would never forgive him for what had gone on since the war, how Harry couldn’t save Ron’s family from the hands of the Death Eaters. Harry realized the crumbling foundations of his friendship and wished to just end it quietly to avoid a confrontation, but Hermione had refused to let that happen. Ron still wouldn’t look Harry in the eye and besides the usual, awkward small talk they hadn’t spoken.
“Harry!” Hermione squealed, opening the door to her shared flat with Ron, “It’s so good to see you, isn’t it Ron?” Hermione asked, nudging Ron. He smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. They were down cast to the floor, still cold and unforgiving. Harry stood awkwardly as Hermione hugged him and ushered him into their flat. “You boys go sit in the front room while I bring out dinner,” Hermione said, smiling at the pair. Ron and Harry walked into the room and sat down at the table, not looking at each other.
“How have you been?” Harry asked, trying to break through the silence. Ron grunted, fiddling with his napkin. Harry sipped at a glass of water. They sat in silence again, Harry not bothering to try and break up the silence any longer, it was too deep and cold, Harry too weak. After several slow minutes, Hermione walked in carrying a large dish of stew.
“You might remember this, Harry,” she said, spooning meat and vegetables onto Harry’s plate, “Molly made this for us all on several occasions.”
“It looks delicious,” Harry said, offering a smile. They ate in silence, Harry not tasting his meal. He looked hopefully at Ron, but Ron did not look up.
“My mom made this for us that night at the Order headquarters, that one night our fifth year,” Ron said suddenly, looking up.
“Yeah, she did,” Harry said, smiling lightly, “That day her and Sirius got in that stupid little row.”
“Are you saying my mom was stupid?” Ron asked, staring at Harry. Harry blinked at him.
“…No,” Harry said lightly, furrowing his brows. Ron’s ears were turning red.
“Because it isn’t her fault she died, you know. It isn’t her fault at all. It was yours, Harry, entirely your fault. Maybe Voldemort should have killed you, Harry, because then maybe my family wouldn’t be dead,” Ron said suddenly, clutching his fork. Hermione turned pale.
“Ron! Ron, don’t say that!” Hermione said, her voice near panic.
“Why not, Hermione? I know you agree with me! I know half the blood world agrees with me! If it wasn’t for Harry, Voldemort would have never come back and murdered so many people! Harry started the stupid war that killed my family!” Ron yelled.
“Ron!” Harry sputtered, “I was the one that finally killed Voldemort! If it wasn’t for me hundreds more would have died! I know you’re bitter but please, be reasonable!”
“Why should I be? Is me having to be totally alone at the fault of you reasonable?” Ron asked, now on his feet.
“I should go,” Harry said quietly, standing and walking away from the table. Hermione shot Ron a look and ran out after Harry.
“Harry I’m sorry, Ron doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s just trying to deal with his grief in the only way he knows how, please-” she said. Harry raised a hand to silence her.
“It’s okay, Hermione. Really. I’ll see you later,” Harry said, walking back down the steps. He fumbled with the door, then stepped out of the apartment building and into the cold night air. His hands shoved in his pockets, Harry walked down the wet sidewalk, looking at the windows of the shops with mild interest. He spotted a pub and walked faster, eager to drown the evening’s events with some decent liquor. The pub was dark and smoky, smelling of stale sweat and cheap cigarettes, but that was okay with Harry. All he wanted was to drown out the echoing of Ron’s words in Harry’s mind, to escape his past.
“Fire whiskey, please,” Harry said to the shady-looking bartender.
“Four knuts,” the bartender grunted, getting out a dusty bottle and sliding it across the bar. Harry tossed the coins on the bar and took the bottle to a secluded table in the dim light. The whiskey went down Harry’s throat and heat blossomed up from his belly, warming him. Grimacing slightly, he took a large gulp and felt his head start to buzz pleasantly. With each sip of the whiskey, Harry felt everything loosening its tight grip on his mind, making him feel relaxed. He grinned dimly at the bottle.
“Well, well, well… look what we have here… the famous Harry Potter totally smashed,” Draco Malfoy said, sitting down at the table.
“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry said, his eyes rolling up to stare at Draco’s cool, gray ones.
“Whoa, no need to get hostile here. I’m offering to buy you a drink,” Draco said, his eyes dancing.
“Go on then,” Harry said, shoving the empty bottle across the table. Draco smirked at him and made his way across the bar, Harry watching the slim figure as he went.
“You know, I thought for sure you and the mudblood would hook up,” Draco said, returning with drinks, “I always figured the weasel was gay or something, the way he trailed after you.”
“He’s not,” Harry said, taking a swig of the drink Draco had brought him before choking on it and spitting some out on the floor.
“What the hell is that?” he asked hoarsely, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Something better than the filth you were drinking. A bit stronger, eh?” he asked, grinning and sipping his own drink. Harry laughed weakly.
“So you’re sure Ron isn’t gay?” Draco asked.
“What are you, looking to hook up with him? No, he’s not gay. Sitting too close to another guy bothered him beyond belief. Ron isn’t gay,” Harry explained. He took a small sip of his drink, being more careful then before.
“So are you then?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry stopped the bottle halfway to his mouth and set it back down.
“Where would you get that idea?” he asked slowly.
“The only mild interest you’ve had in girls was with Cho and even that fell apart within a week. Even with that girl Weasley throwing herself at you nothing really happened,” Draco said, his smirk getting larger by the second. Harry had a mild urge to slap it off his face.
“Do you think I really had time for girls? I sort of had the whole thing with Voldemort going on, if you can remember a bit,” Harry said.
“You have time now. Hell, you could probably get with any girl you wanted at this point.” Harry’s eyebrows rose.
“How do you figure?” Draco laughed.
“You defeated the fucking Dark Lord. Any woman in this bar, let alone country would gladly screw the socks off you, and yet you remain single. If you’re not gay you’re asexual.”
“Fuck you, Malfoy. I’m going home,” Harry said, standing up.
“Bullshit you are; you’ll splinch yourself. You’re going home with me,” Draco said.
“Since when does Draco Malfoy help other people?” Harry asked.
“Since Harry Potter got drunk off his ass,” Draco said, leading him out of the bar by the forearm. They left the smoky interior and went out into the cold night, Draco setting off at a fast pace.
“Hey, the signs are waving to me!” Harry slurred.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Draco muttered. They walked further down the street and into an apartment building Harry mildly recognized. “Can you handle stairs or shall we take the lift?”
“Are stairs the ones that move?” Harry asked, looking around. Draco rolled his eyes and pulled him into the elevator. He pushed a button and the lift jerked to life, shutting the door.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked suddenly, his eyes wide at the closing doors, “What’s happening?! Why are we in a small metal box?!” His eyes darted around the small, dim room.
“We’re in the lift, you drunken idiot. Surely you know what those are,” Draco said, exasperated. After Harry began to pry at the closed doors Draco grabbed him by the arms and held him against a wall. “Relax, you moron. The doors are going to open in a minute,” Draco said, keeping the struggling boy against a wall.
“Lemme go,” Harry said, trying to pry his arms up from the cool metal wall. He became frustrated as he struggled under Draco’s arms, not believing Draco was stronger than he was. “Aw c’mon, this isn’t fair,” Harry whined. The doors opened and Draco released him.
“See? Just walk to the end of the hall, you big baby,” Draco said, pushing him out. Harry stumbled and began to walk in a crooked line down the hall.
“The carpet is purple,” Harry said, watching the floor.
“Thanks for the update, Sherlock. Get in my flat before you wake anyone else up,” Draco said, opening the door for him. His apartment was small and dark, the walls a simple gray.
“Ohh, can I see your room?” Harry asked, wandering towards a closed door.
“You’re not sleeping in my bed. You can have the couch,” Draco called to Harry’s form disappearing through his bedroom door.
“But it’s so comfortable,” Harry slurred, falling onto Draco’s bed and snuggling up against a pillow.
“No, you are not sleeping in my bed, Potter!” Draco moaned. He put his face in his hands when Harry’s snores answered him. Although Harry had always been thin, he became dead weight and was too heavy for Draco to move when he was in a drunken sleep.
“Well I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Draco said to himself, glaring at Harry’s sleeping form. Shrugging and rolling his eyes, he took off his robe and sat down on the bed. He tried to push Harry further away from him but gave up, claiming the farthest edge of the bed for himself and lying down, his back to Harry. “If someone had told me two years ago that I’d be sharing my bed with Harry Potter I would have thought they were mad…” Draco muttered before casting one last glare towards Harry closing his eyes.

A/N: Flarg, I\'m still waiting for my other stories to come back, I miss them! Once they can I can update, but for now enjoy this puppy.