Drarry- Chocolate and Chamomile

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AN:/ I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling. The story is finished already, I'm just ✨taking my time✨ so yeah. Hope you enjoy! English is not my first language btw so excuse any mistakes!

Harry shot up in surprise, jerking awake. Still dizzy from sleep and the lack thereof, he rubbed his bleary eyes and contemplated going back to sleep or to the kitchen where the plangent sound that interrupted his sleep had come from. Since he'd moved in with Asteria and Francis, he was not only able to get out of the slump he'd found himself in since the war, he'd also had found a myriad of reasons why he didn't want to go to sleep just yet. Harry was fascinated by Asteria and Francis' nightly talks that included just about everything, comforted by the faint smell of chamomile coming from their ridiculously large tea cups and the ample incense sticks Asteria found herself igniting as one hour melted into the next. It was a distraction - Harry refused to admit to himself that he was still petrified of going to sleep, fearing another nightmare would accompany him through the night.

But this night had been slightly different. Francis reminded Asteria and Harry that he, in fact, had a life aside from their flat-share-friendship. He was studying Law in his third semester, occasionally even attending a lecture instead of lighting a joint at a time most people would not consider appropriate. Francis had recently joined a study group - but rather because he was extremely infatuated with one of his fellow students who, incidentally was part of the group as well, than intending to suddenly gather his mind around studying ("Harry, I can recite all of what my professor's said for the past three months, I don't need to study") and therefore, had been out for tonight. Judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, he had returned and brought company to their 4-room flatshare in the heart of London. A lucky find, as Hermione kept on reminding Harry.

His other flatmate, Asteria, was currently back at her parents', introducing them to her new partner. The preceding weeks she had turned into a bouncing ball of emotions, not sure how to explain to her parents that her new partner was gender-nonconforming, seeing that her parents were as conservative as they come.

Harry had been all alone that evening. He'd bought take-away at his favorite Indian place downtown and had listened to some of the Muggle bands Francis had on vinyl, still in awe of their unique sound, glad to have something other than the musicians the Dursley's had listened to all these years ago. He was glad he'd finally managed to find solace in spending time alone, not minding his own company as much as he used to. Surprisingly, he had gone to bed at around eleven and even managed to fall asleep. Well, until someone (Francis) had burst into the kitchen.

Now there was music playing in the kitchen, joined by sporadic laughter that was only muffled when it reached Harry's ears. Deciding that he wanted to see whether he was missing out on something happening in the kitchen, he pulled the next best hoodie he found in a pile of clothes over his head and almost kicked one of his houseplants that was adjacent to the mattress he was calling his bed. Ron and Hermione had come up with the idea to get Harry a few plants to look after, obviously either guilty about moving in together or under the influence of one of Neville's inebriated, infamous plant talks.

Harry opened the door and ruffled through his hair, suppressing a yawn on his way to the kitchen that was, frankly, only three and a half steps away- this was a student accommodation after all- when he saw him.

Ensconced in one of the chairs of their incongruous set of chairs, holding a glass of white wine in his still so awfully veiny and pale hand and looking as smug as ever was Draco Malfoy. Judging by his hysterical coughing induced by either Harry or white wine down the wrong tube (or both), Malfoy was as shocked to see Harry as he felt seeing the blonde all relaxed and unperturbed in his kitchen. Malfoy had never been relaxed. In their time spent at Hogwarts, Malfoy had always looked fucking frantic, at least in their last three years.

Francis was visibly confused by watching the two of them, underlining it by asking "You guys totally hooked up once, right? Is that why you're so... stunned? Harry?". Hooked up? Hooked up? What in the world made Francis think they had hooked up?
"Potter was much too uptight to ever hook up with me", Malfoy said humorously, devouring every single word. Fucking fantastic, Harry thought. "That's the first thing that comes to mind when you're suddenly in my kitchen? Really, Malfoy?"Harry retorted, feeling simultaneously disconcerted at Malfoy's statement but chose not to pay it any mind (right now at least) and relieved due to the fact that he had managed to form a proper sentence. "You know each other?", Francis enquired, appearing amused and interested all at once. "You can definitely say that."

"Join us, Potter. I think Francis here has a proposal to make"
, Malfoy stated, looking far too amused for Harry's good. Harry eyed his flatmate expectantly, who cleared his throat and declared,"Since Theresa's moved out, her room's been empty and we desperately need the cash, you know that, Harry. So... when I went to the bar tonight after our study session, I overheard Draco talking to the barkeeper about his need for a stay". His voice had become progressively intimidated, so much that the last few words had sounded like a question. Francis was evidently unsure how to interpret the tension between Harry and Draco, since his roommate was one of the kindest people he'd ever met. Of course, sometimes he seemed to be miles away and Asteria and he had quickly understood that something traumatizing must have happened to Harry at some point in his life, yet he always treated everyone in such a respectful manner that this display of staring and quirking-of-eyebrows between the two young men was indeed quite bewildering.

"I got kicked out of my old apartment and really need a place to live, Potter. If that's not okay with you...I would understand, given our history.. I would even encourage you to kick me out, if I'm being honest." Harry was taken aback by this sudden sincerity and show of vulnerability from Malfoy, slowly understanding that he must be really desperate if he could deign to accept an apartment with two muggles and his ex-nemesis. Although, Harry had to concede, nemesis really was a little of an overstatement. "You are aware of the fact that I live here, too, right?", Harry asked sarcastically. "Of course", Malfoy answered, sounding all solemn. That's it, Harry thought, If he's okay with it, I can be too.

Harry had not realised that his obsession of trying to beat Malfoy at everything they did was still very much present when he declared: "Well, then I am, too." Francis, though still very much at a loss, gave them an approving smile and offered to help Malfoy get his stuff the next day but the blonde politely declined.
"You can stay on the sofa for tonight, mate", Francis offered. Him calling Draco his "mate" made Harry's head hurt even more. He'd developed a head-ache in the last five minutes. Understandably, he told himself. "Alright, I'm going back to sleep", Harry announced, half to himself, half to Francis who was carrying a duvet and a light blue pillow towards Malfoy who was busy throwing magazines and vinyls off the sofa, looking composed but Harry spotted a hint of sheer panic in the blonde's eyes. Harry had always guessed that Malfoy was a tidy person, but having it proven was oddly satisfying to him.

Back in his room, Harry opened the door to his balcony that had been ajar for a few hours now, letting in the sounds of cars, motorcycles and drunk people laughing and talking loudly outside. The sounds of civilization were soothing to Harry, letting him know that he was not isolated. He decided to step out on the balcony like he did most of the nights where he just couldn't sleep, no matter how often he counted to 100 or tried to concentrate on every limb of his body pressed to the mattress. Over the course of the three months he had lived with Francis and Asteria, the balcony had become his safe space, his spot, his anchor during long nights. The air was crisp, almost fresh but Harry didn't mind when goosebumps began to form on his bare arms. He watched a happy couple on the street, arms flung around each other and was able to relax a little when it hit him: The room adjacent to his was empty, meaning that no-one would disturb his peace on his balcony. Well, at least until someone would move into the room. There was a french door to this very balcony, too. And unfortunately, Harry now knew very well who this someone would be.