Drarry AI Oneshots

A Technological Mishap

It was an odd year at Hogwarts. After the war, the eighth years had returned to finish their education, and in a surprising twist, Muggle technology had begun to creep into their everyday lives. Hermione, always ahead of the curve, had somehow managed to make cell phones work within the castle, and soon enough, everyone was using them-except, of course, Draco Malfoy.

Draco hadn't grown up with Muggle technology. He had only recently started trying to learn how to text after Pansy had practically forced him into getting a phone. It was embarrassing how clueless he felt compared to everyone else, but he figured he could manage the basics. How hard could texting be?

The problem was, Draco wasn't exactly focused on mastering the ins and outs of his phone. His mind had been completely preoccupied for months by something else. Or rather, someone else.

Harry Potter.

Being roommates with Harry had been challenging for reasons Draco hadn't anticipated. He had thought it would be tense, awkward-what with their history and everything. But instead, it was something far more torturous. Harry had grown up, somehow becoming even more attractive since their days of bickering and dueling. And now, Draco was stuck in a small dormitory with him every day, trying to keep his feelings in check.

It wasn't working.

The worst part, though, was Harry's apparent disregard for Draco's sanity. He was constantly walking around the dorm in various states of undress, completely oblivious to the effect it had on Draco. Whether it was changing his shirt or walking around in just his pajama bottoms, Harry seemed to have no idea that Draco was slowly losing his mind.

And today had been the final straw.

Draco was sitting on his bed, pretending to read a book, when Harry came out of the shower-dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. His hair was damp, messy as always, and water droplets slid down his chest, catching the light in a way that made Draco want to scream.

Harry, as usual, seemed completely unbothered. He gave Draco a casual smile as he walked past, rummaging through his wardrobe for clothes. "Shower's free," he said, as though he wasn't the embodiment of every problem Draco had been trying to avoid.

Draco clenched his jaw, trying to focus on his book, but the words blurred as his mind spiraled. Why does he have to walk around like that? Why does he have to look so-

His phone buzzed on the bed beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He snatched it up, desperate for a distraction, and opened his messages. Without thinking, he began typing furiously, venting to Pansy, who had been listening to him complain about Harry for weeks now.

Draco: I can't take it anymore. He just walked out of the shower in nothing but a towel, and it's driving me mad. How am I supposed to live like this??

Draco hit send, feeling a little better after letting it out. Pansy would probably laugh at him, but at least she understood his suffering.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed again, and Draco glanced down to see the new message.

But it wasn't from Pansy.

It was from Harry.

Draco's heart stopped.

He stared at the screen in horror, his stomach dropping as the realization hit him. Instead of texting Pansy, he had messaged Harry.

His fingers fumbled with the phone as he quickly opened the message thread with Harry, praying that somehow, by some miracle, he hadn't actually sent what he thought he had.