The Scent Of Malice | drarry

thirty six | two good days

The next morning, a clear Sunday in March, marked two weeks since Draco had last been high and he woke up with a feeling of confusion and fatigue, but also a little bit of pride.

He hadn't shared with Harry how gruelling it would be to fulfil his request and stay away from drugs when his body craved the high so badly, but he was doing his best. And two weeks was a little milestone for sure.

Draco sat up, ran his hands over his legs in Potter's red sheets, and yawned. It hadn't even been a question the night before as to whether they were sleeping together, it just seemed the most natural thing to do.

Though Draco realised, thinking back, that it might have been the first time they'd gone to bed together when they'd both been sober, and not purely aiming to have sex. He'd slept well at least, so that was one good thing. He wondered if Potter had plans for the day - the boy could be surprisingly good company even when Draco was sober. Not that he'd admit that.

Harry appeared to notice for himself that something was on Malfoy's mind as soon as he woke up and saw him there.

"Withdrawal." Malfoy answered his question before it was even asked. "Detoxing is really hard."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "Want a distraction?" he offered.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Well, if you're offering..."

"Not like that, you sex pest! I meant breakfast! God, when are you ever not horny?"

"It's rare," Malfoy conceded.

He swung his legs out of bed and dressed quickly alongside Harry, ignoring the stares from the other Gryffindor boys, and then headed down to breakfast.

On the way, however, they were cornered by Blaise, who grabbed Harry with surprising urgency and pulled him aside.

"You go ahead, Draco," he said in a casual tone. "It's Potter I need to talk to..."

***

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, dazed and slightly shaken by Blaise's warning. He saw Malfoy stiffen over at the Slytherin table with the realisation that Harry wasn't joining him - was he hurt? Or just irritated?

One glance at Blaise's firmly set lips made it clear he wasn't going to tell Malfoy what they'd just discussed, though, and Harry felt relieved. That was the last thing the other boy needed to hear, when it seemed he was doing so well.

He helped himself to hot food and juice from the centre of the table, batted away his friends' irritable questions about where he'd been the day before, and chewed thoughtfully.

"A good day," Malfoy had said to him yesterday by the lake. "I didn't think I had those any more."

The rawness and vulnerability of that confession made Harry feel like crying, and the sudden memory was enough for him to make up his mind and stride over the prettiest blonde at the Slytherin table.

"How about two good days, Malfoy?" he asked, his voice low but confident.

Malfoy turned to look up at him, something hopeful flickering in his grey eyes, a look that Harry hadn't seen there before. The Slytherins were staring too; it seemed the fascination with the pair of them hadn't faded much over time.