Chapter Text
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Tuesday, 1st September 1998
Harry received a letter from McGonagall before returning for his eighth year at Hogwarts. He was prepared to walk into his room and find Draco as his roommate. He was ready to return the wand that he had used to help defeat Voldemort, the very wand that Draco had thrown to him, revealing his true colours to the world.
Along with his friends, Harry had done the unimaginable right after the battle, when the dust had barely settled, and many of their own were dead or injured. They had made a pact that drew them closer to their fellow students and professors, a pact that Draco knew nothing about.
“If we tell the Ministry about his role in the battle, he won’t stand a chance, even with our testimonies at his trial,” Harry had said, looking around at the grieving faces. “I know it’s a lot to ask, considering everything. We lost so much, but…”
It was George’s words that must have convinced everyone. He had lost Fred, and even knowing that Draco had been pressured to fix the cabinet and let in Death Eaters, George had said in a broken voice that Fred wouldn’t want a child locked away in Azkaban, especially not if there was a chance for redemption.
They agreed, and everyone who knew about the cabinet’s origin and that Draco had fixed it swore an unbreakable vow. They would never speak of the event again to anyone outside their group, except for with Draco, if the topic ever arose with him.
“For now, let’s keep it to ourselves. I don’t even believe that Draco’s friends know what he had to do,” Harry had said, grappling with the idea of hiding such significant truths from his friends.
Draco stood trial for his connection to Voldemort and for being a Death Eater with the Dark Mark. Still, they couldn’t pin any specific crimes on him after Harry and his friends spoke in his defence at the trial, advocating for him and his Mother. Draco hadn’t actually fought against anyone. In fact, he had tried to stop several attacks, and ultimately, he was the reason Harry triumphed over Voldemort. If Draco hadn’t thrown his wand to Harry, who knew what the outcome would have been?
So yes, Harry was ready to be Draco’s roommate and hopeful for a fresh start. He wanted to forget the past, grow up, and explore whether it was possible to become friends. That was the kind of person Harry was.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to their new bedroom for the upcoming school year. What he wasn’t prepared for was walking in on a naked Draco, confronted with the silvery scars on his chest and shoulders. Both of their eyes widened, and neither could look away.
Another thing Harry wasn’t ready for was discovering that his body reacted surprisingly well to seeing Draco in all his naked glory.
“I’m… sorry, Malfoy!” Harry blurted, quickly turning around. “I should have knocked.” Why on earth was Draco standing completely nude in their room?
“Potter, what are you doing here?” Draco asked, surprisingly unfazed by the situation.
'I guess he didn't get the letter that he'd have a roommate. Why didn't McGonagall tell him, too?'
“I live here,” Harry said. “Surprise.”
“In that case, I should probably get dressed,” Draco mumbled. “I doubted that I would have a…”
“Stay naked if that makes you comfortable,” Harry interrupted, cringing inwardly at his words. He reminded himself that he wasn’t teasing a friend. If he was honest with himself, he didn't mind seeing Draco naked. He looked good. More than good. Though the scars did trouble Harry.
“What?” Draco asked quietly, flushing when he realised that Harry’s comment was making him feel warm and aroused. This was not how he anticipated his morning would go, with Harry Potter of all people.
“What?” Harry echoed. “I didn’t say anything!” Flushing himself, Harry ran out of the bedroom, leaving a bewildered and still very naked Draco behind.
“Damn it,” Draco groaned, rushing into the toilet to take another shower.
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Harry glanced at his Muggle mechanical watch and sighed. Draco hadn’t made it to the Great Hall yet, but all the other eighth-year students were seated together at the same table. It was unusual to have a mixed table representing all four houses, but McGonagall insisted the group sit together.
The staff was vocal about the importance of unity and wanted the eighth-year students to set an example.
“Did you guys meet your roommates?” Hermione asked. “Most of us got Slytherins, didn’t we? Pansy Parkinson is mine.” She smiled as her friends nodded one by one, except for Seamus and Dean, who had somehow slipped through the cracks and weren’t paired with another house.
“Theodore Nott,” Neville said. “He seems nice.”
“Blaise Zabini,” Ron added. “He’s really into skincare. Our sink is overflowing with products. He even has tons of hair washes and stuff, and he barely has any hair.”
“You still need to wash your hair, even with a buzz cut,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. He touched his short hair, which used to be buzzed, but he was now letting his natural curls grow in. He caught Seamus glancing at him and winked, hiding a smile behind his goblet as he took a drink. Seamus blushed easily, and Dean liked seeing it.
“I know…sorry,” Ron grumbled, lowering his head. “I’m still kind of adjusting to the fact…” He trailed off and sighed, determined to follow through on what he and his friends had vowed to do. Get along with everyone, as long as the other person is open to that. He sensed that Blaise was quiet, likely reflecting the mood of the other few 8th-year Slytherins who had returned.
“And Malfoy?” Ginny whispered to Harry. “Did you run into him?” She glanced down at the end of their table where the Slytherins were sitting. Pansy, Theodore, Blaise, Millicent and the Greengrass sisters were present. Even though Astoria was a 6th-year student, along with Dennis Creevey, McGonagall had allowed them to stay with the other 8th-year students, as she did for Luna and Ginny.
Draco was missing. Another Slytherin girl, Tracey Davis was sitting a few seats down from them but didn't seem to be part of their friend group.
‘Define that…’ Harry stuffed some toast into his mouth and nodded. “I saw him briefly when I dropped off my trunk. We exchanged a few words, but I didn’t get a chance to give his wand back.” ‘For a very good reason!’
“There he is,” Neville said softly. “Don’t be too obvious,” he added when everyone turned to watch Draco walk into the Great Hall, making his way slowly to the end of their table.
Draco kept his head down. Pansy and Millicent jumped up from the table, hugging him. Pansy whispered something in his ear. Harry sipped his orange juice, trying to avoid staring as Theodore and Blaise also stood up to greet Draco. Even Daphne, who was usually quite reserved, stood up with her sister, both of them enveloping Draco in an embrace.
The Slytherins' expressions were warm and welcoming. Caring. It struck Harry how similar Draco’s friend group was to his own. There was genuine love among them.
Harry’s face flushed a deep shade of scarlet when Draco looked down the table, and their eyes met. He was relieved to see that Draco’s cheeks also turned a pretty shade of pink. It felt surreal to exchange glances without hostility, though Harry couldn’t decipher Draco’s expression, except to note that he seemed embarrassed.
‘Makes sense, too. I would be flustered if my roommate caught me naked…’ Harry looked away from Draco, biting down on his bottom lip. Ginny gave him a calculating look, raising an eyebrow when she noticed their odd exchange.
Luna giggled, and Harry was mortified, fully aware that Luna’s magical gifts allowed her to sense the magic in others exceptionally well, not to mention she could communicate with sentient buildings.
‘Oh no, she probably knows what happened earlier.’ Harry covered his face and groaned.
“Alright, mate?” Ron asked, patting Harry’s back. “You’re crushing your glasses.”
Harry dropped his hands, and his blush deepened when he realised Draco was still looking his way, their eyes locking again. He tried to pull his gaze away, but Draco held him under his spell.
“Fine,” Harry finally managed to say, ripping his head away from Draco’s direction. He didn’t know if he was happy or annoyed that Draco had neither smirked nor scowled at him.
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“We share nearly every class with the other eighth-year students,” Harry half-complained. It wasn’t that he truly minded, but it meant he had to see Draco much more than he ever had before, and Harry enjoyed looking at him. Though now, he wasn’t looking at him because he thought Draco was up to something.
The students had some free time in the middle of the day, and Harry and his friends were gathered in the library, not quite ready to find out if the Room of Requirement had been repaired along with everything else. The thought of the room sent a shiver down his spine. When he closed his eyes, he saw fire, Crabbe’s death, and the panic in Draco’s eyes. He could still hear Ron and Hermione shouting as they managed to get Goyle out with them. The whole experience hadn’t even lasted that long.
Another memory he held onto was Draco trying to tell Crabbe and Goyle not to attack him and his friends. Harry wondered if Crabbe cast that spell in a desperate attempt, thinking Harry, Ron, and Hermione wanted to hurt them. It was two groups of scared children facing off on opposite sides of a war.
Were they truly on different sides?
Draco later proved that they probably never had been.
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? Not many came back from each house for their eight year,” Ginny mused. “Six from Slytherin, a handful from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and the most from Gryffindor, but still not nearly as many…” she trailed off, sighing as she leaned her elbows on the table.
Luna cuddled against her. “You wonder what happened to the ones who didn’t come back?”
“Yes,” Ginny admitted. “I suppose most transferred, but…”
“We understand,” Ron said with a heavy groan. “We've known everyone since we were children. We grew up with them, and half of our schoolmates are no longer around.” He tried to hide the tears in his eyes. Ginny didn’t bother to hide hers and broke down in quiet sobs.
“Ma-many are truly gone,” Ginny said, choking on her tears.
Harry’s mind went to Fred, and Colin Creevey, who never should have been at the battle. None of them should have. Lavender’s almost vacant eyes haunted him, the memory of students desperately trying to save her refusing to fade.
'I didn’t see it all. I was too focused on everything going on! But by then, some older Slytherins had shown up. The neutral families, the students going against their parents.' Harry sighed. Lavender survived because of Daphne’s healing skills.
“Shh,” Luna whispered, hugging Ginny. “Our family and friends are still with us, and they always will be.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, his voice coming out too soft. Hermione eyed him, reaching out to grip his hand. He was trying to keep up a brave face, and she’d be there when he was ready to break down.
Harry stood, muttered a quick goodbye, and bolted, ignoring Madam Pince’s sharp scolding as he dashed from the library. He barely registered the voices calling his name in the corridor leading to the Eighth Year Tower. Bursting into his room, he slammed the door shut behind him, his heart pounding.
“Fuck’s sake, Potter!” Draco yelped from behind him.
Harry whirled around, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Oi, Malfoy, actually dressed this time.” He bit back the urge to mutter, “Pity.”
Draco looked down at himself, holding his robes closer around him like a shield. “Yes, erm… I apologize for that,” he said slowly, speaking in a soft tone that made Harry's toes curl.
Harry crossed to his bed and flopped down, his eyes still locked on Draco. Words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I didn’t mind… no, that’s not-” He rolled onto his side, flustered. “It’s your room too, and you said you weren’t expecting a roommate.”
“Did you tell your friends?” Draco asked. “I’m sure they’d love to know how horrible I look…”
There was a tremble in Draco's voice that Harry wouldn't have expected him to let anyone hear, let alone him.
‘He means the scars, doesn’t he? The ones I gave him, and perhaps he means the Dark Mark as well. He keeps all of that glamoured around other people,’ Harry realised. He was probably the first person to see Draco’s true self since before he got the Dark Mark and his scars.
“I-I didn’t tell anyone. Why would I? Oh, but…” Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “Luna knows. She… you might not believe me, but she knows everything. Lovegoods have gifts…” he finished, knowing how lame he sounded. He didn’t understand why he was babbling so much, but he wanted the excuse to keep talking to Draco.
“Hmm,” Draco murmured, the only indication that he’d heard Harry.
“Malfoy, may I be blunt?” Harry asked. His ears started to burn, and he knew Draco could probably see the redness.
“Nothing ever stopped you before,” Draco answered, though he did sound curious.
“My friends aren’t the type to make jabs about a person’s scars, no matter what they might look like. Plus, you are far from…”
“Far from what?” Draco asked after Harry hesitated. He shifted on his bed, nibbling on his bottom lip as he watched Harry. “Why are you blushing, Potter?”
“I’m not blushing!” Harry groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “You’re not horrible looking. Not even close.”
“Is that so?” Draco asked. He stood up and approached Harry’s bed, leaning over him. “How do I look exactly to you?”
“Not horrible. I already said that.” Harry wished the mattress would swallow him up.
“You said you wanted to be blunt, but ‘not horrible’ isn’t exactly blunt, is it?” Draco leaned in, poking at Harry’s exposed neck. “You really are flushed. It suits a Gryffindor.”
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry stammered. What on earth was Draco playing at?
“I’m waiting for that Gryffindor bluntness that you boasted about,” Draco said, having the nerve to sit on Harry’s bed. “Look at me.”
Irritated, Harry rolled over and shoved Draco off his bed. “Give it a rest, Malfoy. You don’t need me to boost your ego. You know you’re gorgeous. Now let me get back to moping.”
Draco blinked, blushing a vivid pink, giving Harry a sense of satisfaction. “You were moping…?” Draco backed away, sitting back on his bed. “What for? I mean… never mind. That was a daft question.”
Harry took pity on him, sighing. “The first day back. It’s overwhelming. I think everyone feels it.”
Nodding, Draco lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. “Yeah, it’s a lot,” he said softly.