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February 15th

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Instead of a languid awakening, Draco's eyes shot open immediately. Sitting up with a gasp, breathing as heavily as if he'd run up his flight of stairs, he clutched his sheets at his waist and took stock of his room.

Replacing the drifting motes of afternoon sun through his window, the streetlamp outside glowed a sickly yellow onto his sheets, coloring everything a dingy sepia tone. The door across the hall, the one to his bathroom, was open and the soft glow of the automatic night light illuminated the contours of his shower curtain and the outline of the single bar of soap, razor and toothbrush. He blinked to adjust to the darkness of the hallway after staring at the night light too long, trying to see around the corner into his living room.

He smacked his lips a few times, shuddering at the taste of food and tea in his mouth gone sour. The incantation to cast a breath-freshening charm on himself was halfway from his lips before he remembered the burst of flames out of his stove. It would not do to lose his teeth in some freak mint-scented accident, as they took two days to grow back properly. Self-preservation won out and he stumbled out of bed towards his bathroom to brush his teeth.

Stumbled was painfully accurate, he found, as one knee hit the floor, the other leg tangled in sheets that held onto his leg as if begging him not to leave their comfort.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, plopping heavily on his arse to check if he'd ripped through his sleep pants.

"Malfoy," croaked a voice down his hallway. "Y'alright?"

Footsteps, sliding along his carpet groggily, preceded Harry before he put his head around the corner. His eyes blinked a few times, and rubbed them with his fingers to clear away the sleep. Draco's throat went dry as Harry leaned against his doorjamb.

There was no way to tell how long Harry had been in his flat, but the red Snitch boxers were replaced by dark blue sleep shorts that showed miles of deeply tanned legs, and what could have been the same black shirt.

Swallowing, pushing up from the floor, knees shaky from more than just exhaustion, Draco said, "Of course, just need to use the loo."

Satisfied with that answer, Harry turned and ambled back down the hall. Stepping slowly out of his room and pausing in the small space between the bedroom and the bathroom, he unabashedly watched Harry walk away. In complete darkness, the dark haired man found his way easily to Draco's couch, settling down carefully but laying boneless as soon as his head hit the pillow again. As he face planted, Harry arranged himself so he was facing the door, the hand hanging off the side gripping his wand, but there was nothing on the couch besides an extra pillow to make him comfortable. Trying not to stare at the man's arse like he had earlier, Draco followed Harry into the living room. He reached into the chest that doubled as a coffee table, rifling through to grab a fleece blanket.

The dark room didn't show the true color of the blanket, the street lamps outside through the curtains in this room giving the illusion of a black and white scene. Drawing out the first blanket he could find.

When the first corner of the blanket touched him, Harry turned with his wand pointed right at Draco's chest, eyes flashing green in the gloom.

Draco froze as if he'd been charmed to, the blanket fluttering out of his hands and onto Harry's hips. The Auror pushed his glasses onto his nose with the hand not holding his wand, and relaxed immediately upon seeing his apparent assailant. With a glance at the blanket and Draco's still outstretched arms above his body, Harry lowered his wand and sat up.

"What's this for?" Harry asked, his moment of wakefulness not extending, now that the threat of danger disappeared. Grabbing the fleece, he looked to it and then at Draco, who'd stood up as soon as the wand was no longer pointed at him, his arms crossed defensively.

"It's a blanket, Potter. Surely you've-"

"Thank you," Harry interrupted. A huge yawn split his face. "Didn't have to, you know. M'fine."

"Stupid Gryffindor, you'll freeze. It's mid-February for Merlin's sake."

"Worried about me?"

Draco froze again, arms still crossed, and watched as Harry arranged the blanket over himself and settled back into his couch, his feet extending to reach the end at an almost uncomfortable length. "Don't need a frozen Auror on my couch, is all." His excuse sounded lame even to him.

Harry didn't seem to notice, only the shock of curly hair and his nose appearing from the top of the blanket. "Go to bed, Malfoy. It's two in the morning and I need to sleep before work." One eye cracked open to look at him blearily. "Unless you need something?"

Shaking his head and slowly making his way back to his bathroom, Draco muttered, "Not right now, no."

He could barely hear Harry's hum in reply as he flicked the light on in the bathroom, momentarily blinded. Shutting the door with care, so the stark light wouldn't disturb the man on his couch, Draco let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, the gust shaky and rattling in his lungs before escaping. The sides of his porcelain sink protruding from the wall were smooth and cold beneath his palms as he gripped it for dear life.

His reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and ghostly. What was he doing? Nurturing an unhealthy obsession and misreading it into some sort of infatuation? Preying on a man who'd just left a committed relationship and had been obligated to share intimate details with him? If that were the case, why was Harry currently sound asleep on his couch, relaxed as though he didn't have a care in the world in a former enemy's home?

He didn't have the answers, but as guilt rocked through him, Draco promised himself, his reflection with a trembling lower lip blood red from spending the last several minutes worried between his teeth, he would stop this before it even started. The toothbrush was methodical across his teeth and gums. Too forceful, his spit was pink with his own blood, bright against the white of the sink. He avoided looking to his right when he passed from bathroom to bedroom.

Burrowing beneath his covers, Draco willed himself to fall asleep, but the breathing a room away kept him awake until the dim yellow of the lights outside were replaced with the glow of dawn.