𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

The Move

His entire apartment had taken on dramatic changes, from dishes to decoration, and Harry had to wonder just how far these differences would reach. Everything in Harry’s living space had reflected Harry himself: practical, maybe a little tattered around the edges, but made special due to care rather than price. Would Malfoy be turning to him next, wanting him to transform into a clean and costly version of himself?

The thought irked him, and he found himself growing irritable, even in spite of the twinge of excitement he got in his stomach every time he envisioned endless mornings waking up to the merciless tirade of Draco’s voice and the endless nights he imagined falling asleep sweaty and satisfied, having relearned Malfoy’s skin and taste and breaths over and over.

Harry ambled into the kitchen, where he found Draco eyeing the wallpaper with sinister determination.

“This is atrocious.” Draco said decisively, “And I insist it be removed. I think the current theme of your apartment is ‘Has Potential but Needs Excessive Pruning and Perhaps a Small Miracle to Make Livable’, lucky for you I came along, otherwise I’m sure you would waste away in this home that attractive forgot.”

“The wallpaper was here when I moved in, I didn’t choose it.” Harry said, feeling a bit defensive.

“And you just thought you would have to live with it forever and ever, then? Did it ever occur to you that you can change the inanimate objects that surround you? I promise it won’t try to save itself.” Draco smirked at him, but seemed preoccupied with marking the wallpaper for death and planning its impending doom.

“Well, I know that.” Harry said, and could detect the prickly aggressiveness in his own tone, but wondered if Draco would even notice amidst all the interior design that had stolen his attention so thoroughly.

“Now, Potter, don’t get upset. It isn’t your fault; you were raised by Muggles, it would be expecting an extraordinary feat to hope that while you didn’t manage to obtain any knowledge about hair care you did walk away with a keen sense of feng shui.”

“I don’t…I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” And that was true. Draco was clearly in his element, whereas Harry felt completely out of his.

“Never fear, darling,” Draco said in his most condescending manner, “I will save you from the abhorrent eyesore.”

“Do you mean the wallpaper, or me?” Harry said heatedly, and went to make up the stairs. He was distantly aware that he had just behaved like a gigantic girl and would certainly be chided for it later, if not ridiculed into scorn by Malfoy and possibly every other male on the planet.

But he couldn’t help it. Malfoy had successfully made him feel uncomfortable in his own home, and that hadn’t been….he had wanted to add Draco to his home life, but he hadn’t considered that maybe Draco would subtract his definition of home in the process.

Thoughts full of Malfoy and math, which he had never been very good at, Harry flopped down on his bed, thankful that it was devoid of all Draco’s clothes, which had somehow squeezed into Harry’s closet, defying both science and common concepts of geometry. He was irritated to find that the down comforter was exactly as luxurious as Draco had promised when he had done away with Harry’s old quilt. He scowled into a pillow that wasn’t his, and wondered how much damage Draco would do downstairs now that he was unsupervised.

He was busy contemplating how many keepsakes he had left in Draco’s plain view, and how likely it was that he would return downstairs to find them in a fiery heap of singed memorabilia, when he felt hands running up the backs of his thighs. He jumped slightly, twisting his neck around to see Draco looking inquisitively up at him, grey eyes unblinking and his blond hair falling in a fringe over his eyebrows. Malfoy was beautiful, so were all of his things, and Harry was just like all of his unkempt kitsch, things of sentiment and ugly that needed to be smoothed or destroyed. He felt wretched.