Chapter Text
Harry bounced lightly on his toes as he waited in the line marked new student check-in. He hadn’t felt this excited about anything in years. He could almost taste the possibility floating in the air, along with the scents of a dozen mingled body sprays and nervous sweat. The Student Union was bright and cheery; the white and green walls looked freshly painted, and sunlight streamed in through the large windows overlooking the lawn. It was all so fresh and new and exciting!
The line moved forward, and Harry felt his nervous excitement tick up a notch. There was only one student in front of him now, a bored-looking girl with bright blue hair and a slew of silver piercings. Soon she’d wandered off toward the vending machines, welcome packet dangling from her fingers, and Harry stepped nervously up to the desk.
“Um,” he said, smiling at the cheerful blonde girl looking up at him. “Hi. I was told this is where I find out about my roommate and… stuff?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as her blue eyes crinkled up into a smile.
“Don’t worry,” she said, laughing. “I don’t bite. You’re in the right place. Name?”
“Harry Potter.”
She nodded and rifled through her drawer, and Harry had to stifle a nervous giggle. He still got the oddest sensation when people didn’t recognize him: a sort of swooping-soaring-sinking feeling in his stomach. He hoped he’d get used to it soon, or else he’d never be able to eat anything.
“Ah, here we go” she said, dragging his thoughts away from how horrid it had been, after the end of the war, when everyone recognized him and no one would give him a moment’s peace. It was over now. Hermione had gotten him what he’d always wanted — a fresh start where no one knew his name.
He blinked as he realized the girl was saying his name. “Ah, sorry. It all feels so unreal, still.”
She nodded sympathetically. “Don’t worry. That feeling will fade soon enough. Now here’s your class schedule, and here’s the important dates to remember - those circled in blue are the last days to change things. Some information on our food plans, oh, here’s how to get a library card…” She kept talking, piling papers and folders into his hands, and he felt his eyes glazing over. “And here’s your dorm room and keycard. It looks like your roommate is already here. His name is on your change request form there, though it’s best to avoid requesting a new roommate until you’ve worked through the conflict resolution strategies — those are in that brochure there — and…”
“Thank you,” Harry said, smiling and pretending he wasn’t completely overwhelmed. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” He shoved the papers in with the others, not bothering to look at the name. He wouldn’t recognize it, so it didn’t seem like there was much point. “Which way is my room? I’m awfully tired — the trip here was longer than I expected.”
She nodded understandingly (even though she had no idea he’d meant the hassles of international Portkey travel) and pointed. “You’ll be in that dorm there. Just head outside and turn left. It’s the second building. It looks like you’re on the third floor, in the east wing” she said, checking another folder. “Do you think you can find it or should I find a runner to take you there?” She looked around, frowning, and Harry guessed that the runners were probably all busy.
“No, it’s fine, I’m sure I can find it. Thanks!” He smiled at her again, automatically using his “publicity smile,” as Hermione called it. She smiled back at him, wrinkling her freckled nose attractively, and he awkwardly tried to wave before remembering that his hands were full of papers. He fumbled them for a moment, face heating, and then quickly walked away, ducking his head in embarrassment. Undone by a pretty girl — and he didn’t even like girls. Well, not much, anyway. He mentally shied away from Hermione’s latest lecture: Bisexuality is a thing, Harry, and glanced down at his keycard. Room 317, Cedar Hall. Right. He could do this.
He found the room easily enough, and the keycard worked on the first try, thank Merlin, and he walked in to see his roommate rummaging about in a pile of boxes. His lanky form and platinum-blonde hair were instantly familiar and he flinched, feeling it like a punch straight to his gut. It couldn’t be. Could it?
It could.
Don’t turn around, Harry thought frantically, even though logically he knew they couldn’t go an entire semester without looking at one another. I’ll just go and ask for a roommate change. Or—
“Why, hello, roomie,” Malfoy drawled, as he began to turn around. “You’re a bit late, aren’t you. Are you —no.” The book he’d been rummaging for slipped from his fingers as he stared, openmouthed, shocked speechless for the first time in all the years Harry had known him. “Fuck no,” he managed after a moment, still staring blankly. His eyes were shadowed, and the cheerful smile he’d worn when Harry had first arrived was now replaced with one that looked strained, and a bit hunted.
Harry hated that smile. It didn’t look right on Malfoy’s aristocratic features. “Thanks a lot, Malfoy,” he said, forcing his voice to sound light. “Good to see you, too.”
“I was trying to get away from all that!” Malfoy exclaimed, face flushing. “From you,” he added, so quietly Harry had to strain to hear.
“From me?” he asked, somehow needing to hear him say it. “Why? Did you think I’d mock you Malfoy? Call in that life-debt? What?” His voice came out sounding hurt, and he realized that he meant it. He really was hurt that Malfoy would think that of him.
“No.” Malfoy grit out.
“Then why?”
Malfoy let the silence drag on until Harry didn’t think he could bear it any longer, and then he exploded. “I owe you for every scrap of dignity I managed to retain, Potter. I didn’t want to live beholden to you. With the constant reminders of how you are good and wonderful and everything I am not. Could never be. Of how much I owe you that I can never hope to repay!” He stopped, panting, staring defiantly at Harry for a moment and then looking away.
Harry felt off-balance, like he was just too slow to understand what was going on. “Yeah, well,” he said quietly, slumping back against the door. “I ran away from me, too, then.”
“I hated it,” he went on, when Malfoy didn’t say anything. “The fame, the arse-kissing. They wanted to make me Head Auror, did you know? Hell, some of them wanted to make me Minister of Magic. Me, Malfoy. I had to get out of there." He stared down at the floor, letting the words fall from his lips like stones into a pool, wondering what would happen when the ripples reached Malfoy, poised for flight on the other side of the small room. “I needed a chance to leave all that ‘chosen one’ crap behind and just be Harry. Just Harry.”
He looked at Malfoy, then, in time to see his mouth twitch up into a tiny smirk. “Well, Just Harry,” he said after a moment, “Welcome to our humble dorm.” He spread his arms wide. “Within these walls you will find no arse-kissing, I can promise you that, if nothing else.”
Harry grinned. “Excellent.” He extended his hand. “Friends? I’ve been told it’s important to choose the right ones from the start.”
Malfoy stared for a moment, shocked, and then smirked and shook his hand firmly. “Very well, Just Harry. My name is Draco. Now what say we go mingle?”
Harry shuddered. “Must we?”
Malfoy — Draco — rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter. Mingling is vital in any new situation. Especially this one.”
Harry grimaced. “I hate mingling,” he groused.
“Well, then,” Malfoy said, with a smug grin, “no one has taught you to mingle properly.”
“Whatever you say, Malfoy,” Harry sighed, having a sneaking suspicion of how most of their arguments were going to go. He let Malfoy lead him from the room, pausing only to toss his papers on the empty desk. Maybe he wouldn’t need that change request form after all.
A/N: I have no idea if I should continue this? Maybe?