Samsara's Curse (Drarry Slowburn)

BITE BACK

When Kreacher returned from the shops, he brought with him the most hideous clothes Harry had ever seen: a bright red pajama set, an offensively long yellow silk robe, two pairs of muggle jeans, and two button down shirts with loud patterns.

"We're trying to dress him, not humiliate him!" Harry scolded the House Elf.

Kreacher pretended that he didn't do such a thing on purpose, but Harry saw right through him. He hated Draco purely on Harry's behalf, and his actions spoke much louder than words.

"Just stick to black clothing when you drop by the shops tomorrow. And return these!" He shoved the heinous daywear over to Kreacher, knowing Draco would rather die than be seen in public wearing it.

The House Elf Disapparated with a light pop, taking his worst fashion crimes with him as he vanished.

Draco reappeared in the doorway shortly after, blunt and direct with his words, "I heard Kreacher's voice. Where are my clothes?"

Harry paled, eyes trailing over to the yellow robe and red pajama set lying on his bed.

Draco hummed contemptuously, raising his wand, "Umbra Coloris." In an instant, both garments darkened considerably to a rich shade of black.

"Well, that works," Harry sighed, relieved. There certainly was no saving the Muggle jeans, though.

Draco grabbed the silk robe, unphased, "I'm not done yet." He cast Diffindo and sliced off a couple inches from the hem, seeming satisfied with the results. "What about the daywear?"

Harry winced, trying and failing to picture Draco in light blue jeans, "I told Kreacher to return it tomorrow and find something better."

"I suppose you don't expect me to leave the house any time soon, then?" Draco sniped, "How much is my ransom?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said dismissively. "You can leave whenever you want–"

"And never come back?" Draco asked with hope in his heart.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "We had a deal, Malfoy."

Draco took the now black pajama set and folded the garments delicately over the robe. "I'm only joking," Draco drawled facetiously, turning down the hall and towards the master bedroom as he continued sniggering. 

"Are you?" Harry shouted to him.

Draco shrugged, "Maybe only half," before slipping through the door frame.

There was a faint sound of shuffling and Harry felt obligated to look away, despite the fact that Draco's door was closed. When he came back out, he was wearing the silk robe. It fell just above his ankles. 

"I only ever slept during the day," Draco admitted. He wasn't tired in the least. "I assume this place has a study?" He looked expectantly at Harry, who tried not to stare too intensely.

"Yes, um, it's downstairs. Across from the kitchen," he replied nervously.

As Draco descended the stairs, Harry turned into his room, hands covering his face. What is wrong with me? 

He looked at the red blossoming on his cheeks in the mirror. He was probably going insane from the stress of everything going on with work. A good night's rest would do him good, surely. He pulled off his shirt and changed into a pair of joggers, crashing into bed and praying he wouldn't have strange dreams.

-x-

He had strange dreams—the kind to make his heart race and flutter against his will. Harry woke up violently from his phone alarm, a pain thrumming through his neck. He looked down at his tenting joggers. "Really?"