Sketches From A Stranger {Drarry}

> Buttercups

art credit (zejeni on deviantart)
{buttercups for humility}

Harry couldn't sleep all night. He sat up in bed and tossed and turned and pointedly did not text Draco Sodding Malfoy.

It was the blonde's fault anyway. He knew that Harry was his soul mate, but he was still toying around with him and-and flirting! Harry didn't know how to flirt. He wasn't supposed to have to know. Did Draco think this was some sort of game?

Maybe, thought Harry in his last fit of madness, He isn't really my mate. Maybe someone else was in the store and they just happened to leave before I got in- "Who am I kidding," he whined aloud.

He picked up his phone and opened a new message. He was going to text Draco, he really was, but at the last minute he failed and called Hermione instead. At least she was less likely to kill him while he slept.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Er- I can't volunteer this week. I'm sick."

"You don't volunteer until Thursday," she said through a yawn.

"Well not officially, but I feel fairly sick and I can tell it's bad. I'm probably going to be sick all week. I'm going to call in to work on Monday as well. Tuesday is my first day in, but they should know that I try to think ahead..."

"Sure, Harry. Can we talk about this later? It's 3am." she yawned again and hung up before he could respond. He hung up his own phone and nodded.

"That went better than I expected."

He took a deep breath and decided he could at least try to go to sleep now, when there was an obnoxious number of knocks on his door. Not too little for him to have imagined it, but not enough for it to have been very purposeful. He stood from the bed in his flannel patterned bottoms and stretched. He couldn't find his shirt, but he was able to slip his glasses onto his face, stuff his feet into his slippers and ruffle his hair a bit as he made his way towards the door.

He looked through the peephole and gasped before opening the door and getting an eyeful of red-faced, shivering, barely dressed-

"Draco?"

"Can I please stay here the night?" asked the blonde in words broken apart by both anger and his constant shivering.

"Y-yeah, sure. Of course. Duh. I don't see why not. I mean-"

"Potter."

"Oh right, sorry! Come in," he said while wrapping an arm around the pale man and ushering him in before closing the door behind him.

"Before you ask, no, I am not drunk. I try to not lose myself on pub night. I had an Uncle Tom once who drunk himself into madness. Thought everyone was out to get him."

"Well what happened to him?"

Draco started into Harry's eyes.

"He brought about his own demise."

"Hmmm," said Harry lowly. "And what about you? What happened to you? What have you done."