Chapter Text
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Wincing in pain as he woke, Harry slowly reached up and pressed a hand against his temple. He shuddered, suppressing the urge to vomit as waves of nausea flooded him. He blinked a few times and then fumbled for his glasses on the end table next to his bed. It took him a few moments to register that he was not alone in his bed, and both he and his unexpected bedmate were naked.
He looked at the wavy blonde hair peeking out from beneath the covers and could feel the naked body touching him. The bed wasn’t exactly meant for two people, yet here he was pressed intimately near Malfoy of all people. Vague memories of the night before came back to him. He was already shocked to see that he was naked next to Malfoy, but now panic started to set in as he realised the implications of this.
Last night started innocently enough. Harry could remember joining the other Eighth Year students for a gathering to celebrate… well, to celebrate being alive and back at Hogwarts. It had been surprisingly fun for the most part. Not many Eighth-Year students even came back, so it was mostly people Harry was good friends with or at least got along with. Then there were the Slytherin students who went to the party, and that had been awkward at first, but in the end, it had turned out nicely as well.
The party had been an attempt to get a head start on some house unity as Headmistress McGonagall had decided to put all the Eighth Year students in the same house, and against all odds, he had been roomed with Draco Malfoy.
‘Will he remember? What exactly did we do?’ Harry fidgeted with his bed covers, feeling like he was going to start laughing hysterically or burst into tears. He wasn’t sure how Malfoy would react when he woke up and saw they were nude and in bed together.
‘I should never have drunk that firewhisky!’ Harry pressed a hand under his glasses, rubbing his eyes.
What now? He and Malfoy had only tentatively interacted ever since coming back. It was at least civil, which was something. There was a possibility they could eventually become friends, but now Harry had a feeling that would never happen. What if he were accused of taking advantage of Malfoy? Who made the first move? How far did they go?
Cheeks flushing, Harry tried his hardest to remember through the fog of his hangover. No memory came to him, but he detected pain in his ass. That confirmed his fear. They had sex, and Harry had been on the receiving end.
Malfoy’s eyes opened, and he blinked a few times before glancing over at Harry, who looked back, his eyes wide and frightened. Harry couldn’t stop the trembling that overcame his body, waiting for Malfoy’s reaction.
“Shit,” Malfoy said, closing his eyes again. “Potter? Shit.” Harry watched him lift the blanket, looking at the state of his body. “Shit.” Malfoy lost his vocabulary skills, not that Harry blamed him.
“Do you remember?” Harry finally asked, voice quiet, defeated. He didn’t exactly feel like he had been violated. A sober person having sex with a drunk would be a violation, but if they had both been drunk… Harry was confused and scared.
“No,” Malfoy whispered. “Did we? Did I…”
“Yes, I think so,” Harry answered. “I’m sorry.” A tear fell down Harry’s cheek, and he was mortified, swiping it away, but more fell before he could stop himself. He wasn’t usually the type to show his emotions around others, but the situation was giving him no other choice.
When Malfoy turned to him, he looked more distressed than Harry could ever remember seeing. He had no reason not to be upset, of course, but Harry had a feeling he was more bothered by the sight of Harry crying.
‘Does he think I think he ra…’ Harry let his thought trail off. He didn’t want to think about that. That isn’t what this was. All the same, Harry was at a loss. He didn’t know how to process this.
“I’m sorry. Don’t cry. I’ll ask McGonagall to switch rooms.” Malfoy wrung his hands together, looking like he wanted to reach out and touch Harry. However, Malfoy held back, for obvious reasons, in Harry’s opinion.
“I’m not blaming you,” Harry mumbled, wiping at his eyes again. “I’m overwhelmed, I guess.” He flushed and looked away. “You don’t have to change rooms, I mean, we both…”
“Alright,” Malfoy said. His voice was so quiet. Harry could barely hear him. “We can talk about this after we calm down…”
Harry knew some people believed drunken actions were a sober person’s desires, but he didn’t want to assume this meant Malfoy had feelings for him. They always had a mutual obsession over the years, and Harry could admit that Malfoy was attractive. He had questioned his sexuality over the years, but now it was being shoved into his face.
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“Are you doing well?” Malfoy asked as he sat down next to Harry in the library. Ever since waking up in the same bed, Malfoy’s behaviour toward Harry had started to change. He was more tender and attentive to Harry’s emotions. This was a side of Malfoy Harry never imagined he’d be able to see, let alone aimed toward him.
They were skirting around talking about sex they had had, or if having drunken sex indicated that either of them had feelings for the other. It was a touchy topic, considering their history. Harry still couldn’t remember any details of the actual sex, but he did recall a memory of them sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed and kissing. It had been nice, so he could only imagine the rest would have been good as well.
“I’m fine. A bit tired, but otherwise alright, honestly. You don’t have to worry so much,” Harry answered. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
Malfoy sighed. “I'm full of guilt. Considering neither of us can remember, I’m having so many intrusive thoughts that I…”
“You didn’t force me or hurt me,” Harry assured, other than the normal amount of pain after having sex for the first time, but Malfoy didn’t need to know those details.
“How can you be so sure?” Malfoy asked, his voice strained.
Harry leaned his head down on the table, yawning. “We did a lot of things to each other over the years, Malfoy, but even I know better than to think you’d…” His voice trailed off as he started to fall asleep.
Malfoy looked down at him and brushed some hair from Harry’s forehead. Harry barely registered the gesture, but a small smile played on his lips.
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“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry asked Malfoy. They were sitting in the Great Hall. If people were shocked that Malfoy started to sit with Harry and his friends, nobody brought it up. Over the last couple of weeks, he seemed to integrate into their group naturally. Not that there wasn’t still some old animosity that broke out now and again, but everyone was mostly tired and ready to move on.
“Like what?” Malfoy asked. He sat next to Harry and was not doing a great job of masking the look of concern on his face. Harry could clearly see it, and if he could, so could other people. They had not told anyone what happened between them, but Harry’s friends could tell something was going on.
“Uh…” Harry shrugged. Groaning, he pushed his food away from him and stood up. “Never mind. I’m going back to our room.”
“But you haven’t even touched your food,” Hermione scolded. She brushed some curls from her eyes and looked at Harry, crossing her arms.
“Mate, that’s the third time you’ve barely eaten,” Ron added.
“So?” Harry rolled his shoulders. “I don’t feel great. No big deal. Everyone gets a stomach bug now and again.”
Malfoy stood up and gently touched Harry’s arm. “I’ll take you to Madam Pomfrey.”
Harry slapped his hand away and glared at him. “I don’t need to go for a silly upset stomach,” he snapped, before turning and rushing out of the room.
“I get that he’s going through a lot,” Hermione whispered, “I mean, we all are, but lately he’s been extra off.”
“Very moody, that one,” Ron said as he shoved some food into his mouth. He chewed his food and then looked at Malfoy. Ron was startled by how hurt Malfoy looked.
Hermione noticed Ron looking and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t take it personally. He probably doesn’t even realise he hit your hand.”
“The other day, he called me a nosy busybody,” Ginny said. “Is it a crime to ask your ex if he’s seeing anyone? I was being friendly,” she huffed. “Ron’s right, he’s a bit moody.” She looked down, frowning.
Malfoy nodded and was unable to hide the anxiety in his eyes. He mumbled goodbye and then left the Great Hall.
“Something is going on between them,” Neville said.
“It’s got to be strange to share a room with someone you have so much history with,” Luna said, smiling. She looked like she knew something that nobody else did.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Ron said, “I think Malfoy cares for Harry, and maybe Harry doesn’t know how to handle knowing that.”
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Draco walked into his room to find Potter sprawled across his bed, sobbing into his arms. He was full-on hysterically crying, which was alarming to witness. So many alarm bells started to go off in Draco’s mind. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions, but Draco couldn’t stop the fear that ate at his gut, nor the worry he had for Potter. He didn’t like to see Potter so distressed and wanted nothing more than to hold him.
Ever since that drunken night, Potter was like glass to Draco. He was afraid that if he touched him, Potter would shatter.
“Potter?” Draco whispered cautiously, remembering his outburst earlier. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt more?” He slowly inched toward Potter’s bed, struggling not to reach out.
Potter turned a tear-streaked face toward Draco, his vibrant green eyes wet and full of misery. His glasses were missing. “I punched you! I’m so sorry!”
“You hardly punched me,” Draco said, not expecting Potter to overreact this much. “It was only a light tap. No harm done.” Several more alarm bells were going off, and he was mentally slapping himself over and over again. Now there was a more urgent reason to go to the hospital wing.
“Potter… Harry? Can I sit next to you?” Draco asked.
“You called me Harry,” Harry sniffed. “Sit down.” Harry scrubbed a hand across his eyes and scooted over so that Draco could join him.
“I did. Do you mind?”
“Mm, yeah, it's fine,” Harry nodded. “I don’t know why I feel like I’m so…so…” He looked down, his cheeks flushing. “...sad.”
Draco opened his arms, offering comfort if Harry would take it. He was startled when Harry not only accepted the embrace but nearly climbed into his lap, clinging to him like a baby sloth. Draco wiped a tear from the corner of Harry’s eyes.
“It’s normal to have a delayed grieving process, Harry. You went through a lot.”
Harry pressed his face harder against Draco’s chest. “No,” he said, sounding muffled. “It’s different. It isn’t that. I don’t know… of course, I’m sad about the people we lost, but this isn’t…”
Bells. So many bells. Draco took in a shuddered breath. “Please listen to me, Harry, I think we should go talk to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco said softly, absentmindedly running his fingers through Harry’s hair.
“I’m sorry for yelling before, but I meant what I said. I’d feel silly for going there over a stomachache.”
“You’ve got too many symptoms for it to be a coincidence, and frankly, I’m terrified, but we’ll work this out, so please, let’s at least check,” Draco pleaded, his eyes earnest as he looked at Harry.
Pulling back, Harry blinked at Draco. “I’m confused. Why would you be terrified? What symptoms? For the flu? Is there a serious wizard strain I don’t know about?”
“Merlin,” Draco groaned. “You have no clue.” Why did he assume Harry would know? It wasn’t like Hogwarts offered a sexual education class, which was daft, now that he thought about it. How many clueless Muggle-born wizards came to Hogwarts and never learned that wizards could carry a child? Surely, a bookworm like Granger would have learned about it and told Harry, or even one of the Weasleys, because they were pureblood.
“You’re freaking me out. What?” Harry rubbed his eyes and bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Draco leaned forward, putting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. “Males in the wizarding world can get pregnant.”
“Is that a joke to make me feel better?” Harry asked. “Don’t be so ri-”
“No, I mean it,” Draco said, pulling back. He put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “I wouldn’t make a joke like this, especially not when you’re so distressed. This is real.” He didn’t know if his hands were shaking or if it was Harry shaking.
“I-I can’t be…”
“It is possible, though,” Draco said softly. “I’m sorry. It didn’t even cross my mind that you wouldn’t know and take action after the fact. I feel so irresponsible.”
Harry put a hand on his stomach. “What will we do if I am?” he asked. He knew purebloods had strict ideals when it came to certain things and had no clue what kind of beliefs Draco still held onto after he changed sides in the war.
“I’ll take responsibility. I’ll take care of you and the baby.” Draco swallowed hard.
They weren’t even in a relationship. What did Draco even mean? “That sounds like you’ll ask me to marry you,” Harry said, smiling slightly. He was still terrified, but at least he wasn’t alone. Draco remained silent, but the flush on his cheeks spoke volumes.
“You don’t have to marry someone because you accidentally got them pregnant. You deserve to marry someone you have feelings for, regardless of whether I’m pregnant or not,” Harry said, looking down. He tried to steady his trembling hands, but it was pointless.
Putting a hand under Harry’s chin, Draco gently made him look up. “I do have feelings for you,” he admitted.
“You don’t have to pretend,” Harry whispered. That was the last thing he expected to hear from Draco.
Draco sighed softly. “I know we were drunk, so sure what we did can’t be proof, but even before that…” He trailed off, unsure how to articulate himself. He had never meant to tell Harry this.
Harry didn’t know what to think. He didn’t detect insincerity in Draco’s words, though.
“I never once believed I deserved the right to tell you or try to act on how I feel, and I wasn't going to,” Draco continued, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry.”
“That isn’t true. You have the right to your own feelings. We’ve already forgiven you for the things that need forgiving.” Harry touched his cheek. “The pratty, bullying stuff, you know? I wasn’t exactly innocent either.”
“I broke your nose.”
“I almost killed you.”
“I…” Draco opened his eyes when Harry pressed their foreheads together.
“Stop, we’re not having a competition on who did the worst thing.”
Draco nodded. “Alright. I meant what I said before. I’ll take care of you.”
Harry believed him.