A groan crawled up out of Draco's throat, and he gripped the sheets tightly in both hands. His stomach twisted, and he swallowed hard, clenching his jaw to keep everything down. His head was thrumming with agony. Every single movement sent warning pains through his head and stomach. Draco squeezed his eyes shut until shapes swam in his vision, took a shuddering breath and then slowly and carefully pushed himself upright. He sat very still, focusing on breathing.

Draco didn't recognise the smell of this place. The last thing he remembered was being at the bar with Laura and her friends. Despite being stripped down, he was still wearing his pants. Draco pried open his eyes just enough to see through the haze of his eyelashes. The bed was empty and neatly made up; Draco had just been placed on top of the duvet, a throw blanket tossed over him.

Before he could look around further, his stomach gave another ominous roll that propelled Draco to his feet. He pressed his hand over his mouth and hurried out into a small apartment, turning on his heel until he spotted another door and rushed inside, barely making it to the toilet before his stomach emptied.

Draco slowly pushed himself to his feet and rinsed his mouth out at the sink. There was a bottle of painkillers on a shelf by the mirror, and he popped two into his mouth. He had to lean against the sink as his stomach ached at having nothing but pills and water on it.

Grey eyes looked back at him in the mirror ringed by deep shadows and sallow looking skin. He went to swing the mirror open against the wall, but it wasn't a medicine cabinet, just a mirror attached to the wall. Draco pressed his hand over his reflection as he pushed himself up and shuffled to the shower, stripping off his pants along the way.

The bathroom was small but well cared for. The white tiles were starting yellow with age; the porcelain and exposed pipes spoke of the style after the war, perhaps a building built in the aftermath of the second world war and the bombing of London.

Draco turned the water on and was hit with shudderingly cold water that gradually turned warm but never got properly hot. There were three bottles, one of shampoo and conditioner and a bottle meant to be shampoo, condition, and body wash all-in-one. Draco would roll his eyes, but he'd seen the same thing in many, many bloke's showers.

He used the separate shampoo and conditioner that had a vaguely jasminey-flowery smell. Draco turned the water off and had to grab the only towel hanging beside the shower to dry himself off. He had left the bedroom before finding his wand, but he could dry the towel along with everything else before he left. It was odd that there was only one towel, as he remembered Laura saying she had a roommate.

Draco frowned to himself as he scrubbed the towel over his head. He studied the bathroom more closely with growing unease, there was no makeup on any of the shelves, but the girls might keep it in their rooms if they wore any. He thought Laura had been wearing makeup.

Draco retrieved his pants off the floor and put them back on before easing the bathroom door open and peeking outside. The apartment seemed to be empty, and smaller than Draco would have expected. He stepped out and looked around.

The main room was half living room, half kitchen, with a small table and four chairs on the kitchen side and a large plush couch on the living room side with a narrow space to walk between the two. The only other rooms were the bathroom he had just been in and the bedroom.

Draco's breathing stuttered, and he hurried back onto the bedroom. He quickly scanned the floor, but it was clean; his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

Draco ran to the dresser and pulled open the drawers until he found a pair of grey joggers. Tying them up to keep them on his thin hips. He pulled a t-shirt on next, so loose it seemed to be made from someone three times his size.

Draco just needed to find his wand.

A movement in the corner of his eye made Draco jump, jerking his head up to see the wall behind the dresser was covered in photographs, moving photographs. His eyes widened as he looked from photo to photo. Many of them were older pictures of people he didn't know but recognised. There was a younger Professor Lupin, actually looking happy, a young and handsome Sirius Black before Azkaban had aged him, a young man that looked uncannily like Potter, except for the eyes and a pretty young woman with striking green eyes. Among the new photos were pictures of Potter and his friends, all from their time at school, looking young and hopeful.

Draco turned around and looked at the room, properly this time, without panic or sickness clouding his vision. The duvet was red, the rug in the centre of the room the same red colour emblazoned with a lion in gold. He was in Potter's apartment.

If he was drunk enough to black out-

If he...it was possible that...

But even that drunk Draco would have thought he would know better than to go anywhere with Harry bloody Potter.

Draco hands began to shake, and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

He needed to find his wand.

Draco forced himself to take deep breaths and count to ten before he started to search the room. He looked under the bed, nightstand, dresser, pulled out all the drawers to the dresser and pulled the clothes out. He stripped down the bed, shaking out every blanket and checked under the rug. Nothing.

He went out into the main room, checking under everything before he started pulling it apart. He pulled up the couch cushions and the two matching armchairs on either side of the couch. He looked around the rather large tv, and a mess of old vhs tapes and newer dvds piled next to it. The cabinet under the tv was stuffed to bursting with board games and cards, both muggle and wizarding. There was a small bookshelf, but aside from a stack of quidditch magazines, the contents were dusty and untouched.

Draco turned to the kitchen, it was unlikely, but it was his last chance. The fridge was mostly filled with leftovers from take-away and wrapped up plates of what looked like homemade food. Draco took a ham roll from one of the plates and chewed on it without really tasting it, his body shaky for food. All Potter had to drink was a bottle of milk and pumpkin juice, both from wizarding markets. He had to wonder how Potter could stand pumpkin juice; Draco had lost his taste for it by third year and switched to tea or coffee depending on how exhausted he was.

Draco started going through the cupboards, leaving the doors open in his wake so he'd know where he'd looked already. On the top shelf of the last cabinet, he found a half-empty bottle of fire whiskey. He hated fire whiskey; it was just a gimmick drink for young idiots. And there wasn't even anything to mix it with. Draco despised straight alcohol.

He unscrewed the top and took a sip, letting a wisp of smoke slip out his lips as he looked over the kitchen and living room, the bathroom and then bedroom, one more time, looking for anything he might have missed.

There was a small closet in the corner of the bedroom, and Draco rushed over to it, flinging open the door. Inside were a few dress robes, winter sweaters, and several auror uniforms.

"fuck," Draco hissed under his breath, his eyes stinging.

He tried to remind himself he hadn't done anything. No matter what Potter thought, he hadn't done anything

Draco shook his head so hard he felt bile rise up his throat. He forced it down with a swig of fire whiskey, biting down the flames down into smoke. He left the bedroom and started pacing around the living room, searching everywhere all over again, just desperately trying to find his wand.

Draco spun around on his heel when he heard the door open, the world continuing to circle even after he had stopped moving.

"Malfoy?" It was Potter's voice

Draco managed to catch himself on the back of the couch, sagging against the red fabric.

"What the fuck?" Potter said, "How are you even awake? You drank- I thought for sure-"

"My wand. Where is it?" Draco enunciated through clenched teeth.

"Was that my bottle of fire whiskey?-"

"My wand." Draco said again, managing to glare up at Potter, "My wallet. My things. Give them. Back."

Potter patted his pockets and drew out two wands, his own and Draco's, "You mean this?"

"Give-"

"Everything else has been entered into evidence," Potter said.

"What?"

"Under suspicion of being evidence of a crime," Potter said.

Draco let himself sink down onto his knees, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I knew you were doing something to those muggles," Potter said with a triumphant smile, "A different one every night, always leaving before they got up-"

"How long have you been watching me?" Draco said weakly.

"Of all the things, Malfoy, I never would have imagined you'd stoop to being a thief," Potter said, shaking his head. "Imperius, oblivate, love potions- not murder, you've never had the spine for it, but something cleverer than just stealing."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and snorted out a laugh. He felt high, and like he might have to throw up again. "Bullshite."

"What-"

"You heard me. Bull. Shite," Draco said. He let his eyes fall open.

"I've been investigating you for-"

"Then why am I here? Potter?" Draco said, gesturing loosely with the mostly empty bottle, "If you were going to arrest me. I would be in a cell. Not here. Not-" he snorted, "kidnapped in your bedroom."

Potter blinked rapidly, his brow furrowing up, "I didn't kidnap you."

"There is no fucking way I would have been-gone- come with you," Draco said, "Last I remember. I was going to go home with Laura. To be thoroughly fucked." he swallowed hard, "with a dubiously borrowed strap-on."

Potter was looking flustered and furious. He still held two wands in his hand as he pointed them at Draco, "There were almost a thousand pounds in your wallet! Where did you get it? Who did you steal it from?! I know you-!"

"Gringott's," Draco said.

Potter stopped.

"I got it. From Grin-gott's," Draco said, letting the syllables roll off his tongue, "From my vault. Paid the fees and everything."

Potter slowly started to shake his head, lifting the slack wands to point directly at Draco, "No way. I don't believe you. No one keeps that much cash on them. Do you really think I'm going to believe that for even a second?"

"Oh, fuck..." Draco said, remembering the money, "the money..."

Potter's smile came back, cold and triumphant, and Draco wanted to wring his fucking neck.

"That was for my rent. You fucking cunt," Draco dropped the bottle and covered his face with both hands and rubbed them hard over his eyes, "I'm fucked. I'm fucked fucked fucked. Oh my god..."

He needed that money yesterday; there was no way Tom would give him more time.

"Can you get it back?" Draco asked through rising panic, "Can you get my wallet back?"

"What?" Potter said.

Draco grabbed the back of the couch and pulled himself up, "My wallet, my money, for my rent? Can you get it back?"

Potter blinked, "It's... in evidence processing. Even if they can't find anything, they might pursue a case of misuse of muggle artefacts."

It's a wallet," Draco said.

"A muggle wallet, that you applied magic modifications to," Potter said.

Draco's eyes burned, and he squeezed them shut, "It had my vault key in it. Can I just get that?"

"No, not while-"

"Fine," Draco shook his head, "fine. fine." He breathed out, "No money. No flat. And you want to throw me into Azkaban. I think I'd rather die in a ditch."

Potter just stared at him.

"May I have my wand back?" Draco asked, trying his best to sound polite though he felt anything but. "You took it to check the spells I last used, right? Then you know I haven't used it for anything illegal, and I would like to have it back."

"What are you going to do with it?" Potter asked warily.

Draco let out a laugh, "Go back to my flat, get kicked out, hope I have enough alcohol left to poison myself."

Potter's brow furrowed, "...I'm coming with you."

Draco thought about arguing, but he didn't have the will for it.

"I want to verify your story," Potter said.

"Fine. I don't care," Draco said flatly.

Potter hesitantly offered out Draco's wand, "Can I trust you to side-along me?

"Why are you asking me that? You think I'm a thief and a liar, Potter. That's the stupidest thing you could have possibly asked me," Draco said.

Potter's mouth thinned, "Fine. Just apparate us. And don't try anything."

Draco waited for a second more, making sure Potter wasn't fucking with him before slowly taking his wand.

Potter held his wand at the ready as he turned Draco around, holding on tightly to his shoulder from behind, "Do it."

Draco sighed and apparated them.

They landed back by the bins behind the apartment block. Draco grimaced as his feet hit the rough asphalt.

"Where are we?" Potter asked, looking around at the sour-smelling back alley.

"I need to duplicate your shoes," Draco said.

"What?"

"I need to make a copy of your shoes," Draco said.

"Didn't have time to steal a pair?" Potter said.

"You took my clothes, Potter. Was I supposed to stand around in my pants until you returned?" Draco said.

"They weren't real clothes," Potter said.

"They covered my dick well enough," Draco said.

Potter blinked.

"Fine," Draco said flatly, carefully walking around the bins and heading to the pavements.

"Wait, Malfoy- Just copy them," Potter said, hurrying after him.

"No. Fuck you," Draco said stubbornly.

The concrete pavement was easier to walk on. Draco kept his eyes on his feet to avoid cracks and broken glass.

"Malfoy-" Potter called.

Tom sat outside his apartment door on a cheap plastic chair and put on a nasty smile when he spotted Draco. "Where's my rent, Malfoy?"

"I don't have it," Draco said, shooting a vicious glare over his shoulder at Potter, "It was stolen."

Tom snorted, "Sure it was. Doesn't matter, even if you did. I already rented the place out."

Draco's shoulders slumped even though he knew it was going to happen.

"They're movin' in tomorrow, so get your shite out, or it'll go in the bins," Tom said.

Draco wanted to tell Tom exactly where he could shove it and then transfigure him into a slug, but he bit down on his tongue.

"Err... it's my fault he doesn't have rent," Potter said.

"So?" Tom snorted again. He told Draco, "Maybe your new sugar-daddy can find you somewhere else to live."

"I'm not his sugar-daddy," Potter said quickly. "We're not- we're not, uh, dating." He looked flustered.

"I don't fuckin' care," Tom said.

"Are there any other flats I could rent?" Draco asked.

"No," Tom said.

Draco took a deep breath, "...Are there any flats opening up?"

"Only if Mary kicks the bucket," Tom said.

"Don't say that," Draco snapped.

Tom laughed, and Draco had to leave before he punched the prick, going through the empty courtyard and practically running up the stairs.

"Draco! Hey, man! You alright?!" Samuel called.

He was standing next to Elle, sitting in her armchair. They were sharing a spliff back and forth, out of eyesight of Tom down below.

Draco paused and decided his flat could wait, walking over to them, "Did you hear what Tom said?"

Samuel nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Elle said.

Samuel passed him the blunt, and Draco took it gratefully, breathing in deep until he felt dizzy.

"Who's this?" Elle asked.

Draco handed the blunt back to Samuel as he turned, frowning at Potter walking up behind him.

Draco breathed out into his face, "Potter."

"Harry," Potter said, waving the smoke away with a cough, "uh, Harry Potter."

Samuel narrowed his eyes, "And you're the reason Draco doesn't have rent?"

"Err..." Potter rubbed the back of his neck, having the fucking audacity to look embarrassed.

"You warned me, Samuel, all it takes is one bad guy," Draco said, throwing up his hands, "Although you were probably thinking in terms of a serial killer, not a fucking wizard cop with a chip on his shoulder who stole my wallet in an effort arrest me for doing nothing-!"

"Malfoy, don't tell them-"

"He stole your wallet?" Elle said.

"Is he a real cop, Draco?" Samuel asked suspiciously. "Or a part of your wizard cult thing?"

"He's a real cop to wizards, but he can't touch you," Draco said.

Potter was glaring at him.

Draco ignored him.

"I have a very limited jurisdiction," Potter said carefully.

Samuel and Elle exchanged a look.

"Are you okay?" Elle asked, "I've never seen you this worked up before."

"That's his fault," Draco shooting a glare back at Potter, "He brings out the worst in me."

"Just give him his wallet back, man," Samuel told Potter.

Elle nodded.

"I'll get it back to him as soon as he's been cleared of all charges," Potter said.

"None of which I've committed," Draco said.

Samuel shook his head, muttering under his breath, "fuckin' cops."

Potter's chin jerked up slightly, but he didn't say anything.

"Did I ever tell you, Draco, I got picked up by a cop when I was twelve?" Samuel said to Draco, very deliberately ignoring Potter, "He said I matched the description of some suspect and threw me in this holding cell with a bunch of other guys. There were so many of us we could barely move around. And some of the guys in there were proper rough."

"That's horrid," Elle said.

"It messed me up good," Samuel said.

Elle took the joint and drag from it.

"Elle, he's a cop," Samuel said.

"And I'm a white lady," Elle said, shrugging one shoulder. "It's got to be good for something. It's sure as fuck useless for getting any sort of medical diagnosis. Other than crazy and too fat."

"You got somewhere to stay, Draco?" Samuel asked.

"I'll find something," Draco said.

"Don't be stupid," Elle said, "I can make room in my place."

"Elle-"

"We can fit your bed in next to mine. Sam will help, won't you?" Elle said.

Samuel nodded.

"I don't want to get in your way," Draco said.

Elle raised an eyebrow, "You remember when I lost my benefits, and you found that food bank and brought me food every week, so I didn't starve while I was getting them back? It's only fair I get to help you out now."

Draco shook his head, "Tom might kick you out if he finds out you're letting me live in your flat."

"You'll be my guest. It will be fine," Elle said.

"If he starts being shitty about it, we can just move your mattress to mine," Samuel said.

"And I'm sure Mary would let you use her couch," Elle said.

Samuel chuckled, "She'd be thrilled."

"Can you die from eating too many biscuits?" Draco asked with faux concern.

Elle laughed and stood up slowly. "Samuel, will you help me move some things out of the way?"

Samuel nodded. He glanced at Harry suspiciously before taking the blunt back from Elle and taking a hit.

"You get your things," Elle told Draco.

"Very well," Draco said, "...Thank you."

"You'd do the same for us," Elle said.

Draco nodded.

Samuel gave Draco the cigarette before following Elle into her apartment.

Draco put the blunt to his lips and took the stairs up one more floor to his room, trying to ignore Potter's plodding footsteps behind him. He pushed the door open to his room.

"You don't lock your door?" Potter asked.

Draco turned around and held out the spliff.

"What?" Potter said.

"It might help you calm the fuck down," Draco said.

Potter shook his head, "No, I can't-"

Draco put the spliff to his lips and blew a stream of smoke into Potter's face.

"Hey!" Potter coughed.

Draco ignored him and went inside.

How it looked never mattered to Draco, it was just a place to sleep and drink. But seeing it now, as Potter must be seeing it, made Draco feel embarrassed, and irritated that he even cared what Potter thought.

At least it wasn't dirty; Draco always vanished the empty bottles and used plenty of cleaning charms. But there wasn't much else to the room. A narrow bed and cheap plywood dresser set next to it was the only furniture, picked up from the curb near some university dorms.

Draco sighed and just tried to ignore Potter.

"You live here?" Potter asked in dismay.

Draco took the last drag from the fag end of the cigarette and dropped it in the sink as he passed. He went over to the dresser and pulled out a drawer containing a single folded up winter robe. He couldn't remember the last time he wore it. He jerked the drawer out and carried it over to the kitchen, pushing the robe into a corner and pulling open the fridge.

"You know it's against the Statute of Secrecy to tell muggles we're wizards," Potter said.

Draco rolled his eyes as he moved bottles of juice and soda into his makeshift box, "They don't believe me."

"Then why tell them? You could be arrested," Potter said.

"Shockingly enough, Potter," Draco said sarcastically, "I never expected to encounter another wizard here."

"But... I don't understand why," Potter said.

Draco closed the fridge door hard and stared at the yellow-white surface of the refrigerator.

"Why risk it?" Potter asked.

Draco turned around and held out his arms, "Look at me."

Potter looked at him, but was mostly just confused.

"Imagine some scrawny blond twat with a posh accent, and a pretty face moves into the shittiest flat for miles, but somehow, he has absolutely nothing to his name and no idea how anything muggle works to the point of utter absurdity. People are rather suspicious of that sort of thing." Draco said.

He pulled open the freezer and grabbed the half-empty bottle of vodka. "So, rather than having people assume I'm a murderer or like to diddle children, I tell them I'm a wizard raised in a cult." He slammed the freezer shut, "Then they just think I'm fucking crazy."

"Uhm..." Potter eased the bathroom door open to look inside, "...It's hard to imagine you, living here. I figured you'd be in one of those big empty flats full of expensive white furniture."

Draco opened the cupboard next to the fridge and grabbed the nearly full bottle of whiskey and an almost empty bottle of rum. The bottles clinked as he sat them on top of one another.

"Why here? Why not somewhere nicer?" Potter asked.

Draco sighed and turned to look at him, "Because I couldn't, Potter. The muggle equivalency papers I got from the Ministry amounted to a birth certificate and a paper saying I passed my GCSE exams, which I suppose are the equivalent to the OWL's."

He ticked off on his fingers, "I have no work history, no history of living anywhere, no evidence of income or savings, and no higher education certifications. I barely exist. Barely. Tom only rented to me because I paid cash. I think it was all under the table, but I never got up the nerve to ask. There. Are you satisfied now?"

"Oh," Potter said astutely.

'Oh,' Draco mouthed mockingly.

Potter frowned but there was a knock on the door before he could say anything.

Draco stepped around Potter and pulled it open.

"Ready to go?" Samuel asked.

"I'll help you carry the mattress," Draco said, swinging the door open and going to the bed, pinning the pillow under his arm and picking up one end.

Samuel nodded and picked up the other end, walking it out of the door.

"Go away, Potter," Draco said as they went past him, "Just leave me alone."

Potter said nothing, turning to watch him go.

Samuel had pushed Elle's bed up against the wall to make space for Draco beside the dresser and clothes hamper.

When Draco went back to get the drawer filled with his meagre belongings, Potter was gone. Left in the middle of the floor, where Potter had been standing, was a pair of worn sneakers. Draco considered vanishing them but eventually decided to slip them on his bare feet. They would have to do for now.