"You have to do it."

On some level, Draco knew it was a dream because this isn't how it went.

"Kill me, Draco," Dumbledore was saying. "It's part of the plan. You must do it."

Before, Draco had said he had to because Voldemort would kill him if he didn't. And probably the rest of his family, but Draco assumed he'd be dead before he could find out.

It was supposed to be cold. Draco remembered being so cold his fingers hurt, but the dream only held the fear, paralysing and horrible. He knew what he had to do, but... he had never killed anyone, couldn't imagine killing anyone.

You had to mean it to cast an unforgivable curse. And somehow, Draco knew in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't do it, couldn't mean it enough to cast the spell. Or maybe, he could, that Draco could kill Dumbledore that- he didn't know how to see himself as that person, to live with himself as that person. It was far, far better to be the coward and never know.

"I can help you," Dumbledore said, his pale blue eyes- Draco could remember the colour, but he couldn't remember his expression. Had it been imploring or pandering, or had Dumbledore simply been buying time?

"I can protect you and your family," Dumbledore said, or was that-? It had been something like that.

Draco tried to shake his head, to leave that horrible tower but couldn't seem to move; his legs felt like they were made of lead.

"I knew. I knew about your mission since the beginning. Professor Snape told me everything," Dumbledore told him. "He was my spy. I knew about the necklace and the poisoned mead. I let you stay here to protect you."

That wasn't right. That wasn't right. Draco didn't want to be here; he didn't want to see this. He just wanted to forget. He didn't want to think about any of this.

Draco looked up, feeling a presence by his side.

Professor Snape was standing beside him. Around both of them, blurred into looming shadows, were the other deatheaters, so much bigger and stronger than Draco had ever been. And as Draco became more aware of them, he saw flashes of their expressions, how annoyed and impatient with him, and he felt smaller and smaller.

Professor Snape grabbed him by the back of the neck, his hand twisting the material of his robes tight around his throat.

Draco remembered this, but it was from when they were escaping. Professor Snape had pushed him through the fighting and out of Hogwarts by the nape of his neck like a dog.

There was no running this time.

"You have to kill him, Draco," Professor Snape said.

"It was always going to end this way," Dumbledore said. "You never had a choice."

"You don't have a choice," Professor Snape said, "You must do this."

Draco couldn't. He couldn't-

Professor Snape's grabbed Draco's wrist with his other hand, raising Draco's wand to point at Dumbledore.

Draco desperately tried to pull away even as his robes grew tighter and tighter around his throat until he couldn't breath and-

Draco woke with a violent start. He sat up, frantically throwing the blankets off himself and gasping, looking frantically around the room until his thoughts calmed enough to recognise where he was. Potter's flat.

He went from feeling suffocatingly hot to shivering as his sweat began to cool on his skin. Draco slowly peeled the softest blanket from the pile and pulled it around his shoulders. His shivering didn't stop even as he began to warm.

Draco found his wand under his pillow and looked around for his shoes. He could just go out for a moment, get a drink and come back. Potter would never know he left. The smell- he could brush his teeth, and a cleaning charm would take care of his clothes. Just enough to wash the dream out of his mind.

He stood up and tiptoed into the kitchen, wincing at every creak. The street lights from outside cast a faint light onto the table where two mugs still sat from the night before. Draco stopped, wavering on the balls of his feet.

He didn't owe Potter anything. He didn't have to... He could just leave.

Draco didn't want to remember.

He didn't....

Draco pulled the blanket tighter around himself and went to the door, twisting the knob and pushing it open.

"Potter," Draco said, stepping into Potter's bedroom.

The lump in the bed shifted.

Draco walked over to the bed, "Potter, wake up."

Potter made some sort of unintelligible noise and rolled away from Draco.

Draco walked around to the other side of the bed and crawled onto empty space, "Wake up," he said, prodding the lump.

Potter pushed the duvet down and glared at Draco, his voice rough with sleep "I have to work in the morning."

"I-" Draco stopped, unsure what to say. He couldn't tell him the truth; the truth was stupid. Here he was, crawling into Potter's bed after a nightmare like a child. He didn't even know what he wanted. He should have just left. Got wasted. Fucked someone and moved back into Elle's flat-

"What is it?" Potter asked, his brow furrowing. He... he almost sounded concerned.

Draco looked down at the duvet, the red colour muted almost to black into the room's low light.

"Malfoy?" Potter asked, that concerned tone still in his voice.

Draco blinked and then squeezed his eyes shut, wondering why the fuck he suddenly felt like crying. He bit his lip, worrying it between his lips before finally saying, "When... in sixth year, when he made me take the mark and gave me my mission, Professor Snape was there, he knew."

"Yeah?" Potter said.

"So- So then," Draco stumbled over his words, "As soon as I came to school, Dumbledore knew."

After a moment, Potter nodded slightly against his pillow, "Yeah. He would have known."

Draco sniffed hard, struggling to keep his voice steady, "Then why didn't he stop me?"

"You were safer in Hogwarts, I think," Potter said, "That's what he said on the tower."

Draco looked up, eyes wide.

"I was there, under my invisibility cloak. Dumbledore petrified me, probably so I couldn't do anything stupid," Potter said.

Draco shook his head.

"What?" Potter asked.

"I could have- I could have killed someone, and he- he just-!" The world blurred as Draco's eyes began to fill with tears, "How is that safer? For anyone?!"

"Malfoy..."

"He should have stopped me. He should have-" Draco gulped, swallowing hard, "He should have done something!"

"Would you have let him help you?" Potter asked cautiously.

"Yes."

"You sounded... proud of your mission on the train," Potter said.

"Well, I was fucking stupid!" Draco snapped, hurriedly wiping his eyes, "After a couple months, I knew that. I knew I was stupid- stupid- so fucking stu-"

"Malfoy," Potter reached out and grasped Draco's forearm.

"I should have been arrested-"

"That would have given away Snape being a spy," Potter said.

"After the first time- I nearly killed-" Draco gulped, "That would have been plenty of evidence."

"You wouldn't want to go to Azkaban," Potter said.

"It couldn't have been worse than- than everything that happened," Draco said. "I would have rather been in Azkaban than that house."

Potter squeezed his arm.

Draco let himself slump over onto the bed. He drew his knees up to his chest and pulled the blanket up to hide his face.

"I- ...okay," Potter said.

"I nearly killed your best friend," Draco said.

Potter sighed and let go of Draco's arm.

Draco shivered, but before he could miss the small warm touch, Potter had sleepily slung his arm over Draco's shoulder.

"He wasn't the best Headmaster," Potter said.

That seemed like a gross understatement to Draco.

"He was... more of a General. He cared more about helping the entire wizarding world rather than one person," Potter said.

"That's stupid," Draco muttered.

Potter yawned. "Yeah, well, it worked out in the end."

Draco frowned, "How?"

"You didn't identify me at the Manor, and then Narcissa lied to Voldemort to get to you at the castle. None of that would have happened if you were in prison the whole time," Potter said.

"It might have been better," Draco said stubbornly.

Potter huffed, "Maybe."

Draco peeked out of his blanket. Potter had his eyes closed and looked like he was halfway to falling back to sleep.

"I was thinking about what you said..." Potter said.

"About?" Draco said quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment but not wanting it to end either.

"Dumbledore not caring about Slytherin," Potter said, "...he was kind of distant with everyone, really."

"Mhm," Draco said.

Potter took a deep breath and seemed to sink further into his pillow, "Reminds me of what they say about farmers."

Draco hesitated, then asked, "Farmers?"

"Yeah..." Potter said.

Potter was quiet for so long, Draco thought he might have fallen asleep.

"that... farmers don't name their pigs. You don't want to get too attached to something that's going to slaughter," Potter murmured.

Draco shuddered. Potter didn't notice, his breathing slowing and evening out into sleep. Being able to fall asleep so easily seemed astonishing to Draco. He envied Potter, really. Not that that was terribly surprising.

Draco knew that he probably should go back to his own bed, but he didn't want to. Potter hadn't kicked him out, so he would stay.

Draco carefully rolled closer to Potter so that Potter's arm, loosely hanging over Draco's side, rested against more across his back. Draco closed his eyes, the sound of Potter's breathing and the warm touch chasing away the last vestiges of his nightmare.

Draco wasn't able to fall back asleep. He wasn't properly cold, but he had trouble sleeping if he wasn't entirely warm and cosy, or extremely drunk. But he had been able to slip into a dozy half-sleep, where his mind felt as thick as syrup, but he was just awake enough to feel the softness of the blanket around him.

A horrible blaring beep began to sound from Potter's nightstand, startling Draco back to full wakefulness. He opened his eyes, looking over Potter's shoulder. The noise was coming from a small black box that Draco guessed was an alarm clock. Potter had turned it face-down so that the time couldn't be read.

Draco sank back into the duvet, his desire not to move outweighing his annoyance at the noise.

It took forever for Potter to finally groan and roll onto his back, his hand blindly patting around the table for the alarm. He knocked several magazines onto the floor and nearly sent his glasses after them before finally finding the clock. He picked it up, squinting at the glowing red numbers like they had personally injured him, before fumblingly managing to turn it off. Potter put the clock back on the nightstand, where it slipped off and thumped onto the floor, and grabbed his glasses.

Draco quickly closed his eyes so Potter wouldn't catch him staring and did his best not to laugh when he felt Potter start in surprise.

"...fuck..." Potter hissed under his breath.

"Did you forget about me?" Draco asked. He felt Potter jump again and laughed properly this time.

"I didn't forget. I just didn't think you'd still be here," Potter said grumpily.

"You should have kicked me out then." Draco stretched as he sat up.

"I fell asleep," Potter said.

"I have to say, it was rather impressive how quickly you managed it," Draco said.

Potter shrugged, "When your asshole cousin liked to jump on your ceiling every chance he got growing up, you learn to sleep through anything."

"I was referring to the fact that you fell asleep so easily with me here," Draco said.

Potter blinked and frowned to himself, "Well..."

"I know, I know," Draco said, "I'm hardly worth worrying about."

"That's not-"

Draco yawned and absently covered his mouth with his hand, "It's so early."

"It's not that early," Potter said.

"It feels like it is," Draco said.

"I doubt you got much sleep," Potter said.

Draco nodded. Then looked over at Potter with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Potter said suspiciously.

Potter was still lying in bed with the blankets pulled up to his chest.

"You look like a Victorian maiden I've walked in on in her bedclothes," Draco said.

For a second, Potter's grip tightened on the duvet, making him look all the more like a scandalised young lady. Draco had to laugh.

Potter scowled at him and then sat up with a huff.

The duvet slid down Potter's bare chest, showing lean muscles under his tanned skin. His smattering of chest hair narrowed to a trail that led down, the cut of his hip adding another pointing arrow, all of it leading to something just barely hidden by the red fabric over his lap. The skin of Potter's back shifted as he rolled his shoulders. Draco's eyes traced down those shoulders, following the line of Potter's spine, all the way down to the mattress, his back curving into his a-

Potter pointedly cleared his throat.

Draco quickly looked away, feeling his face go unbearably hot, and only partly out of embarrassment.

"So maybe you should leave first," Potter said.

"Do I have to?" Draco said without thinking and then desperately wished he could shove those words back into his mouth and choke on them.

Draco turned around, his back to Potter, letting his legs hang over the edge of the bed. "Don't worry. I'm not the type to hit on straight blokes," he said with an awkward laugh.

Potter was quiet for so long that Draco looked back over his shoulder at him.

"Go put the kettle on," Potter said, ruffling his hand through his hair, "I'll make something for us to eat after I'm dressed."

Draco got to his feet, leaving the bedroom a bit too quickly. He went over to the sink, grabbing the kettle along the way and putting it under the spigot. Then he hung onto the edge counter for dear life as he sank down to his knees.

Harry Potter slept in the nude. Under all those baggy misshapen clothes, Harry Potter had a body reminiscent of a Greek statue. Harry Potter had left a significant pause after-

No.

Draco let his forehead thump against the cabinet. He wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't even going to consider it. He was Draco-bloody-Malfoy, death-eater and all-around failure, and that in there was Harry Potter, hero and fucking saviour of the wizarding world. The fact that Draco was staying here at all was a fluke, a mark of Potter's pity and guilt. It had nothing to do with Draco.

The kettle began to overflow. Draco dragged himself back up, turning off the faucet and dumping out some of the water before he put it on the stove to boil.

When Potter finally came out of his room, the kettle had begun to whistle. Draco grabbed two mugs and filled them as Potter opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs and some bacon.

"Start some toast, would you?" Potter said.

Draco dropped a teabag in each cup and then did as he was told, putting two slices of bread in the small blue toaster in the corner of the counter. When he turned around, Potter was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"What?" Draco said.

"You're too quiet," Potter said.

"You ought to enjoy it while it lasts," Draco said.

Potter shook his head with a frown, "How do you want your eggs?"

"I like a runny yolk," Draco said.

Draco pulled the teabags out and vanished them, making his tea how he liked it. He put a paltry one spoonful of sugar in Potter's, though he wasn't precisely sure it that was how Potter took it. Draco sat on the counter next to the toaster, cradling his mug in his hands.

Potter's frown grew.

Draco almost laughed. "Fine. Why do you live here, Potter?"

"What?" Potter looked up.

"You said I was too quiet. So, why do you live here?" Draco asked.

The bacon fat hissed and spit, and Potter turned back to the pan, "I like it."

"It's small," Draco said.

"I don't need bigger," Potter said.

"I would disagree," Draco said.

Potter laughed, "Of course, you would."

"Your bathroom is only slightly larger than a closet," Draco said.

"It's bigger than your old flat's bathroom-"

"My flat is a piece of shit, Potter," Draco said, "I specifically rented it because it was the cheapest one I could find. You ought to have something nicer."

"London is expensive," Potter said.

"We're wizards, Potter; we can literally aparate anywhere. So that is a shit excuse," Draco said.

Potter took the bacon out of the pan and divided it between two plates. "What if I wanted to live in London?"

Draco sighed, "Fine. I suppose. You could still afford something nicer."

"I like it here," Potter said.

Draco jumped slightly as the toaster popped. He grabbed a slice and smeared butter on it quickly, wincing at the heat. "You're the Golden Boy; you have no right to be living in some tiny London flat like a normal person."

"This may have escaped your notice, but I am a normal person," Potter said.

Draco pointed at Potter with the piece of toast, "That is a blatant lie." He was, after all, Harry Potter. But Draco wasn't going to say that, "You're a creepy stalker who quite clearly needs to have your head checked. The sooner you accept that, the better."

Potter laughed and grabbed the toast out of his hand, "I'm just another bloke." He held the toast in his mouth as he dished out a couple eggs on each plate and carried them over to the table.

Draco made a face.

"Come on, even you can't eat eggs while sitting on the counter," Potter said.

Draco plucked the other piece of toast from the toaster and quickly spread butter over it, "You underestimate me," he said, even as he slipped off the counter.

Draco dropped into the chair across from Potter.

The eggs on Potter's plate were both broken, one from the pan, the yolk mixed in with the whites and cooked hard, the other slowly oozing across his plate where he had broken it trying to get it out of the pan. Potter pushed a plate in front of Draco. It had five strips of bacon and two eggs, the yolks perfectly intact.

"Thank you," Draco said, mainly about the eggs but also to be polite.

Draco scooped out his egg yolks, spreading them across his toast before placing the bacon on in a neat line. He topped the whole thing off with the egg whites. Draco carefully picked the toast up with both hands and managed to take a bite without any of the components falling off.

Potter was staring at him.

Draco frowned with his eyebrows.

Potter shook his head, "I don't remember you being like this at school."

Draco glared over his eggs, "Like what?"

Potter struggled to find the right word before finally settling on, "Messy."

"I wasn't allowed," Draco said.

"At school?" Potter said.

Draco nodded, remembering all the stiff and formal meals at home and the slightly less stiff but still formal meals at school.

"No one was watching us at school," Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What? Your parents weren't there; I'm pretty sure I'd remember if they were," Potter joked.

Draco huffed a faintly laugh and paused before taking his next bite, "Our peers were."

"Were there, you mean?" Potter said, "So?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Your friends may have not cared, but my peer group was quite different."

Potter frowned.

"Don't bristle at me," Draco said, "We all had a reputation to uphold."

This did not improve Potter's expression.

Draco sighed and rephrased it, "Consider all of us from the higher social set to be like-"

Potter's frown grew.

"-slavering hyenas, just waiting for a single moment of weakness to drag someone down the hierarchy and claw their own way up over the bodies of the fallen."

Potter blinked in surprise and then confusion.

"If I acted like this during meals at school, my friends would tell their parents, who would tell their friends, who would tell their friends, and soon enough, everyone would be saying my parents raised a mannerless brat. I would look bad, and my parents would look bad for not teaching me better," Draco said and took another bite.

"Who cares what other people think of you?" Potter said.

"I did. Quite a lot," Draco said.

"Well... that's stupid," Potter said.

It was Draco's turn to frown.

"You could have just rebelled and done what you liked," Potter said.

"And what would that have got me?" Draco said.

Potter shrugged, "Freedom."

"And nothing else," Draco said flatly.

"My godfather Sirius ran away. His parents were pricks, so he left," Potter said.

He seemed proud. Draco's first inclination was not to agree, remembering the wanted posters and newspaper articles after Black had escaped Azkaban. And then, Draco recalled the Sirius Black from Potter's photos, young and handsome with his arms always wrapped around his friends and a cheeky grin on his face.

"Was he still in school?" Draco asked.

Potter nodded.

"Where did he go?" Draco asked.

"My dad's parents took him in. He said they were more like parents than his own ever were. They treated him like a second son," Potter said.

Proud. Potter seemed so proud. And it grated against Draco's nerves.

Draco stood up, going back to the toaster. "More toast?" he asked flatly.

"What?" Potter asked, confused.

"Do you want more toast?" Draco asked, sucking his fingers clean before taking a slice of bread from the sleeve.

Potter stared at him blankly.

Draco licked it off a smear of butter on the back of one finger and put another slice in anyway. He would eat it if Potter if didn't.

"Uhh..." Potter coughed.

When Draco looked over, Potter was staring down at his plate red-faced.

Draco raised an eyebrow and turned to the toaster, looking around the bread at the red-hot wires inside the little muggle machine. He hovered his hand over the top of the toaster, the rising heat warming his fingers.

"...So I've been thinking-" Potter said.

"Never a good sign," Draco muttered.

Potter narrowed his eyes and continued, "-about what you're going to do next."

"Do?" Draco said suspiciously.

Potter nodded, fiddling with a strip of bacon on his plate that was surely cold, "Like, now that you're sober, you could get a job."

Draco laughed.

Potter did not.

"You're serious," Draco said in dismay.

"You can't just do nothing," Potter said.

"Can't I?" Draco said stiffly.

"The Malfoy family had everything seized by the Ministry after the war; you can't have much left," Potter said.

Draco frowned at the reminder and said nothing.

"What do you want to do?" Potter asked.

"Have you forgotten I have no NEWT's or A levels?" Draco said.

"Nope," Potter said, finally eating the bacon he had been waving around. "But not every job needs those, you know? There are plenty of-"

"What?" Draco interrupted, "You want me to be a clerk?"

Potter rolled his eyes, "Plenty of people are, you stuck up prat. You could work in all sorts of shops. Even somewhere fancy, like some posh tea shop or a fancy bookshop."

The toaster popped, and Draco pulled out a slice. The heat burned his fingers. Draco spread so much butter across the bread it melted into puddles and ate it quickly before it cooled.

"I don't need a job," Draco said shortly, spreading butter on the other piece of toast and taking a bite.

"I thought that was for me," Potter said.

"You never answered me, so I took that as a no," Draco said. "You can make your own toast."

Potter frowned, "I made you eggs and bacon."

"I didn't ask you to," Draco said, finishing the toast.

Potter's frown grew, "What the fuck, Malfoy?"

"Just leave me alone," Draco said.

"That's not how the deal goes," Potter said.

"The deal is whatever I want," Draco snapped.

"That's what you get, yeah," Potter said, "But my half of the bargain is that I get to save you."

"You can try," Draco sneered.

Potter narrowed his eyes, "Are you breaking the bargain we made?"

"No!" Draco snapped, "My getting a job isn't- isn't going to save me. What the fuck does that even mean? You should have worded your part more carefully because 'saving me' could mean anything."

"Malfoy-" Potter got to his feet.

"The only specific part of your half of the bargain was that I stop drinking and sleeping around," Draco said.

"Your side of the bargain is just as vague," Potter said.

"It's whatever I-"

"And my saving you is what I think saving you is," Potter interrupted. "Either we both get to be vague, or neither of us do. Don't be a fucking hypocrite, Malfoy."

Draco clenched his teeth.

Potter stood there, waiting for Draco to respond.

"I-" Draco started.

A stream of silvery light snaked in through the window and took the ghostly shape of a capybara patronus in front of Draco.

Iris' voice came out from the capybara, "Hello, Draco. I know you may feel apprehensive about returning to our group counselling sessions. I have spoken with Jasmine, and I feel like the two of you may have more in common than you might think. I would like to ask you to please consider attending and if you do, come half an hour early so that we can talk things out."

The capybara serenely sat down before the magic dissipated and its form dissolved.

"It seems I have an appointment," Draco said, drawing his wand.

"Malfoy-"

"You have a job, don't you? You're going to be late at this rate," Draco said. He cast a cleaning charm over himself.

"We're wizards; we can literally apparate anywhere," Potter said sarcastically.

"I have to go," Draco said.

"You're so full of shit," Potter said.

Draco did his best to ignore him, focusing his mind on the apparition zone at St Mungos.

"Don't think you're getting out of this. We're going to talk about it later," Potter said right before Draco apparated away.

a/n: updated 1/8/2022. Thank you for reading! I hope you like it so far💜