Intimately Close

Christmas Eve

Harry and Draco were jolted awake when the train arrived at Platform 9 3/4.

They were still lying together; legs tangled, Draco's arm around Harry's waist, Harry's head tucked under his chin.

They didn't move for a moment, just breathing in the situation. All Draco could smell was the apple shampoo Harry used, while Harry buried his nose into Draco's shirt to inhale his cologne.

"If Ron walked in right now-" Draco started as the door crashed open, the named redhead in the doorway.

"Come on, Mum'll be waiting." He didn't seem at all startled to see the two of them wrapped up in each other - a slight improvement to previous situations.

"Give us a minute," Harry called, voice muffled by Draco's chest.

They pulled themselves up - well, Draco got up and threatened to leave Harry behind - grabbed their trunks and followed Ron, Hermione and Ginny off the train.

Harry was more than a little awkward around Ginny - they'd barely spoken since he declared he didn't feel the way he should for her, and that she deserved someone who loved her with all their heart.

And there was a little twist in his chest then - the thought of love - when he sees Draco smiling gently as he talks to Hermione, gesturing wildly at something in his mind. But when he turned to look over his shoulder at Harry, smile widening, that twist came back.

"Seriously, you guys need to sort yourselves out." Harry turned to the redhead, unsure what she was talking about.

"Gin, I don't know what you mean."

"You and Malfoy. It's obvious, always was. I never saw it until the trial, though." He was looking at her, and she was doing that thing of looking dead ahead to stop herself from crying. "I wanted you to like me, but I can't deny the fact you look at him like he's your entire world. Did you ever wonder why you were always staring? Only it wasn't out of hatred. Not from where I was sitting."

Dammit, Ginny.

Because wasn't this Ginny's fault? This ugly feeling in his heart that made him want... just want. God, staying in a room with this man for the next few weeks was going to be torture.

***

Harry was more than right about the rooming crisis. Because they got back to Bill and Fleur at the kitchen table, gushing about how they couldn't miss Christmas, and they'd cancelled the holiday because they'd seen their dream home, so they were staying at the Burrow.

Which wouldn't have been an issue, except now Harry and Draco aren't staying in the twins' old room. They're being thrown up in the attic, where the ghoul's left a surprisingly small space.

There was barely enough room for the two beds to be side by side - they were against the walls, but there was almost no space between them. There was enough room for their trunks, with hooks and shelves on the walls. Draco immediately claimed all of those - he had more potions and balms for his skin than Harry had ever seen. And he'd hung up all his shirts and trousers - honestly, Potter, do you expect me to have them creased in the bottom of my trunk? - with his trunk now empty if not for his school books.

"Dinner's gonna be in an hour," Ron said from the doorway. He'd led the two of them upstairs, already apologising when he'd opened the door.

"Cool. We'll be down in a bit. Gonna get sorted first." Harry had replied, digging through his trunk for his bathroom kit.

***

"Potter, what the hell are you doing?" Draco had gotten used to Harry's most annoying habits quickly. So maybe his hair was a mess, and he barely slept. He'd eat on his bed, he'd spill at least one cup of tea on his bed a day, and he'd do this horrible thing with his tongue and his quill when he was reading something he didn't understand.