Once again looking very out of place, Draco stared judgmentally at a sad looking pot plant as Harry leant against a high counter while talking to a younger staff member.
"So, how many nights was it?" she asked.
Draco wrinkled up his nose at her American drawl. His father always ranted about how Americans can't even spell things correctly, it's as if they've forgotten where they came from. "Just one night, thanks," Harry said, tapping a finger on the counter.
The lady very quickly glanced up, not moving her head, her eyes flitting from Harry to Draco before back down to her screen. "Okay." She tapped a few keys. "We have two rooms left, would you like the queen-sized bed or the single?"
Blinking, Harry opened his mouth but closed it again. "Uh, look, um..." he squinted for a name badge.
"Abbie," she supplied.
"Right. Thanks. Abbie, do you mind if I convene with my..." Harry blanked. What were they? They definitely weren't friends. Harry would rather sleep another year under the stairs than call a Malfoy his friend. "...Er, colleague. Well, my ex-colleague, really." After the woman's politely-weirded-out smile, Harry grimaced and thanked her before quickly turning away and jogging over to Draco.
"Did you hear that?" he asked under his breath, hoping he wouldn't have to explain.
"Your awkwardness when talking to strangers is more overpowering than the smell of wet dog." Draco criticised, examining his nails. "I tuned out about five minutes ago. What did you do this time?"
"What did I-" glancing again back to the receptionist, Harry quickly lowered his tone. "There are two rooms left over."
"Is your brain too small to be able to choose, little Potty boy?" Draco feigned sympathy, tilting his head. "I'll give you a helping hand. Which room has an ensuite I can use? Also preferably a thick wall in between our two beds so that I don't have to look at your face first thing in the morning."
Harry cleared his throat, feeling the receptionist awkwardly waiting. "Uh, that's, um, not the problem. First room has one single, and the second room has one queen."
The confounded look Draco gave Harry made him think back over what he had said in case he had seriously messed up and said something a lot worse than he intended. "By single, do you mean a single ensuite with two beds on opposite sides of the room?"
Pursing his lips and putting his hands in his pockets, Harry looked down and shook his head.
"And by queen..."
"One queen bed, mate."
For some reason unbeknownst to Harry, Draco's face turned a furious shade of red.
Harry glanced back at the receptionist briefly. "So, uh, which do you wanna-"
Cutting him off, Draco held up a stiff hand and rapidly approached the desk. "We will purchase the single bed because there is no way I am sharing with him. Am I heard?"
The receptionist blinked a few times before looking down at her computer. "Uh, yes, sir. Except that means one of you won't have a bed. If you book the queen, however, you could-"
"No. Never." Draco interrupted, the tips of his ears still burning. "One single. Now how do I pay for this godforsaken thing?"
Standing slightly behind him, Harry realised he'd be forced to sleep on the ground. "Hey, Malfoy, wait." he hissed.
Clacking a few keys, Abbie reached behind her for a set of keys. "We make our customers pay after their stay has ended so that if any damages are sustained we can include that in the bill."
"I so hate being the one to tell you that your company is going to go broke," Draco said apathetically, grabbing the keys from her grasp before spinning on his heel and marching down the hallway, not bothering to wait for Harry.
Staring helplessly after him with open palms, Harry turned back to the receptionist and squeezed out a hurried smile. "Sorry. Um, thank you, Aubrey." Then he hastily walked after Draco, hissing curses at him.
The receptionist slowly turned back to her computer. "It's Abbie," she muttered, knowing he couldn't hear.
---
"What the fuck was that, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, storming into the room to find Draco sitting uncomfortably on top of the thinnest, most sorrowful looking bed he had ever seen. "I didn't agree to book a motel to sleep on the floor! And that poor girl April must feel so stupid now that you openly criticised her workplace!"
"Her name is Abbie, you fool." Draco rolled his eyes, crossing one leg over the other. "How are you so horrible with names?"
"I thought you said you weren't-" Deciding that that was an argument for another day, Harry slid his hands under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Why do you have to always be such an arrogant arse? This was the worst room you could have chosen!"
"What, you want to share a queen sized bed with me?" Draco said, his glare fierce.
This caught Harry off guard. "I- what? I mean, no, that's- you're missing the point! I don't want to sleep on the ground, Malfoy!"
"Cry me a river, Potter," Draco shook his head, untying his shoelaces. "But can you cry over in your floor space?"
"You're so-" Harry's forehead throbbed. "I can't believe you! Surely it's tiring to have your head up your arse every second of your life!"
"It's a talent one acquires to stop themselves having to listen to idiots like you," Draco hurled back with surprising speed.
Stopping his pacing around the room, Harry faced him. "YOU'RE the idiot! But I'm not surprised you can't see that, given your head is too far up your-"
Draco tutted. "Already used that one, I'm afraid, Potter."
"JUST SHUT UP!" Harry roared, chest heaving.
His eyes wide in alarm, Draco stared at Harry, a hand over his mouth.
"What?" Harry asked harshly, feeling a headache coming on.
"What the fuck do you mean, what?" Draco said, his voice absurdly high. "Potter your- can you not feel it?"
"Feel what?" Harry demanded, vaguely annoyed. He could really do with a glass of water right now.
Clambering to his feet, Draco had a hand lightly against his mouth. "Potter your fucking forehead is dripping blood everywhere. Like, blood from under your skin!"
"Oh." Feeling something warm trickle against his head, Harry pressed the tips of his fingers against it (received by a horrified squeak from Draco). They came away stained red. "Yeah, that happens sometimes."
"What?" Draco demanded, looking appalled.
Shrugging, Harry looked around for a tissue box. "My scar is right above a vein, Malfoy, so it'll burst a lot. Why do you think it hasn't faded? It's been here since I was born, it would have turned white by now if it didn't break all the time. Where are the damn tissues?"
Draco sat quietly, watching as Harry wandered around the tiny room before finding the bathroom door and found some toilet paper to use.
Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, Harry tried to dab the toilet paper onto his forehead only to find that his glasses were in the way. Sighing, he slid them off, squinting at his now blurry reflection, hoping he was at least touching the blood.
A rough hand took the toilet paper from him. "Wh- hey!"
"Sit on your bed, Potter. You look downright poignant." Draco refused to meet his eyes.
Sniffing pettily, Harry groped around for something to hold onto as he walked. "Are you sure you want me to get on the bed? I wouldn't want to intrude upon your space."
"Door."
"Wh-" before he could ask Draco what he meant, Harry thwacked his head against the side of the doorframe, reeling backwards. "Bloody- fuck! You could've stopped me!"
"That would've been beyond my paygrade." Draco walked past Harry, holding the bloody piece of toilet paper between two fingers.
Somehow Harry managed to get seated on the tiny bed. Though he could hardly see, he knew that Draco was in front of him, extending the toilet paper.
"Stop moving." He commanded abrasively. "I can't apply enough pressure to get it off."
"Well sorry," Harry said. "Maybe if someone didn't make me yell in the first... place..." he trailed off as Draco's hand slid across the back of Harry's head, stabilising it.
"I'm just keeping it still because apparently, your neck is too weak to hold up your big head," Draco muttered after a few seconds of silence, only for silence to follow in the comment's wake.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the toilet paper scraped around his eye. He wanted to make a comment about how he always usually always went through this process on his own, and having someone else to help... didn't feel unpleasant.
Chewing his lip as he scoured Harry's face, Draco tried not to stare. But with Harry's eyes closed and their faces in such close proximity, Draco felt the tension in his eyebrows release just the slightest bit. Harry's hair was oily, but the frizziness of the curls tickled Draco's palm and made him want to run his hands through it.
Harry felt Draco's hand leave the back of his head. "What's wrong? He asked, hesitantly opening his eyes, only to find that Draco's blurred figure of black clothing and white hair wasn't in front of him. "Draco?"
From the bathroom, Draco turned off the tap, his heart hammering. What did Harry just call him? "I'm just getting a damp cloth to wipe off the stained and hardened blood."
"Oh. Good point." Harry readjusted his position. "Can you grab my-"
Something light and metallic landed in Harry's lap.
"-glasses... Thank you."
"Don't. Now hold still." Again, Draco held the back of Harry's head as the cold water made contact with his skin.
"What did you dampen?" Harry asked, confused. "This doesn't feel like toilet paper."
"Because it's not, you idiot." Draco's eyebrows drew together, crumpling in the middle as he glared at a thin line of faded red. "Don't tell me you don't carry a hanky around everywhere."
Harry blinked a few times, fiddling with his glasses. "I-I don't know if you want me to answer that or not.
Standing up abruptly, Draco made his way back to the bathroom to deposit his hanky. "Done. Now, go to bed."
Sliding his glasses back on, Harry blinked a few times to readjust before beginning to take off his shoes. Just before he lay back down on the bed, Harry grabbed the pillow and gently chucked it over to the corner of the room. "There's probably some spare blankets in the bathroom."
"Found them." Draco came walking back into the room, a soft-looking quilt in his hand. When he noticed the pillow, he added quietly, "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." Harry responded, falling back onto the bed, the mattress surprisingly comfortable. The lights turned off.
In the darkness, over in his corner, Draco spread out the quilt and put his arms underneath his head, his joints jabbing into the hard floor. He closed his eyes lightly. "Goodnight." He could hear his heart beating out of his chest and wondered if Harry could hear it, too.
"Goodnight," Harry's soft voice responded from within the darkness.
A touch of a smile hinted at Draco's lips as he drifted off to sleep.