Once inside, Harry made the executive decision to lead them both down to the Slytherin dormitories. Although he wished they could've stayed in the Gryffindor ones—they seemed warmer in his mind, but he'd rather not attempt to sneak the ragingly high Slytherin into the lions' dorms at twelve in the morning and risk getting them both hexed by Seamus or Ron, or both.
Better to crash in the dungeons where at least Malfoy was popular, and most people had apparently seen him in this state before, if Daphne Greengrass's description of events was anything to go by.
'He's a both physical and emotional wreck when wasted. Better watch your mouth, you never know what that ferret's capable of on drugs.'
Harry huffed mockingly at her previous words
Easy. He reckoned. The least I'll do is put a silencing charm on him. This shouldn't be hard.
Or so he thought.
"P-Potter! Look what I can do!" Shrieked the blonde lazily as he suddenly began sprinting towards the dungeons, sliding down on his injured knees like some muggle soccer player celebrating his last goal. It made a louder sound than expected.
"Malfoy, you bloody idiot." Choked Harry as he caught up with the wrecked blonde. "You're injuring your knees further more! Moron!" He leaned in and and slightly slapped a hand over Draco's mouth in order to prevent him in case he decided to yell out something else, even worse. "And besides, people seem to be fucking sleeping in here."
"So?"
"So!" Harry racked his brain for a way to explain it to the colossal idiot at his side. "So, they don't want to hear your chaotic ass spitting out random, vulgar shit at midnight."
"Whatever, Potty. Let's get in." He groaned smirkingly. "I miss my bed."
Harry rolled his eyes at the fake dramatic expression on Draco's worn out face and bent down in attempt to pull him up. The blonde gripped Potter's right arm harshly—helping himself off of the cold ground. He remained holding onto the sober boy as they both walked uncomfortably towards the dorm—they kept stumbling here and there, strolling like a walking balloon.
"Okay, we're here." Mumbled Harry as he stood before the closed opening—trying as hard as he can not to wince from Malfoy's finger nails digging through his clothing into the flesh of his arm. Although, he may admit—it did feel pleasing.
"Mhm, yes we are, Potty." Spat Draco as his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, as if he was biting his lip.
"Don't call me that."
"Potty."
"Stop."
"Why, Potty?"
"Piss off."
"Fine, Potty."
Harry visibly shook his head and placed his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose, as a frustrated sigh escaped his mouth. He then groaned once he heard the high boy chuckle hysterically like a maniac.
What have I gotten myself into?
"Wait, what was the password again?" He asked himself, trying to recall it from Blaise's words earlier. He looked at Malfoy, who had his head thrown back onto the stone wall behind him, giggling silently for no reason. Harry unwilling began staring at the wrecked boy.
The pale skin on the front of his neck easily showed his Adam's Apple that was somewhat attractively noticeable from where he was standing. He also gaped at Malfoy's incredibly sharp jawline, then his barely visible shoulders, and then his collarbone-
Harry mentally shook his head and internally slapped it.
Draco was no help.
"Oh right. Pure-Blood." He muttered under his breath and watched as the portrait to the dungeons slowly open.
"Come here and stop acting like a drunk bus driver."
Malfoy jumped off of the wall and walked past Harry, brushing their shoulders together.
Harry felt a shiver run down his spine as he stepped foot in. It was uncomfortably freezing and quite—absolutely nothing similar to the warm, cozy common room of the Gryffindors.
"What? That little brave Gryffindor heart of yours can't handle such evil atmosphere?" Mocked Draco as he led the way into his dorm. Harry just ignored him and followed.
As soon as they went in, Malfoy jumped onto the bed, spreading both his arms above his head and he groaned.
"Okay okay, now get up. I should take a look on those knees."
"Mmph. Fine." He whined like a kid and sat up tidily.
Harry crouched before him, ignoring the whispered comments about what Draco might like to happen next from this position. He rolled up the boy's sodden trouser legs, cast a quite Lumos, and surveyed the damage.
The cuts didn't appear to be too deep, more like grazed that had been irritated and re-opened over the course of the evening.
I wonder how that happened.
Harry rolled his eyes, picturing Malfoy's antics skidding around on the ice.
There was a fair amount of blood though, and Harry was sure it would smart in the morning.
"Take your trousers off." Harry demanded softly. "Or do you need me to do it for you? The cuts aren't bad but they still need cleaning up or they'll get infected."
"You do it." Came Malfoy's reply, and Harry could feel the smirk without lifting up his wand to see it.
"You're more than capable." Harry rolled his eyes fondly, but his hands went diligently to the buckle of Draco's belt, undoing it with as much ignorance as he could, keeping the operation clean and clinical and distinctly un-sexual.
Belt undone, he moved onto the zip, which took a couple of tugs but soon it was done and Malfoy lifted his body obediently to allow Harry to slide the material down from his hips.
"Can you grab me the other molly bag from the drawer by the bed?" He asked thoughtfully, and Harry shot him a warning glare in the dark, punctuated by a hard pinch on the thigh. All fondness dissipated instantly.
"I can't believe you just fucking said that! Do I need to cast a silencing charm?" He hissed. No reply. "Good."
With Malfoy dutifully silenced and intent on his lollipop once more, Harry focused his mind on cleaning the light wounds on the boy's knees and shins, using what little healer magic he knew.
It was rather satisfying to watch the blood cleanse away in great swathes and little lacerations in the skin close up over themselves. It wasn't perfect—still patchy in some places and there'd definitely be bruising, but it was a start, and he was proud of his handiwork.
When he was finished, Harry slid beside Malfoy, and breathed a tired sigh of relief. The quietness didn't last long however, because the blonde rolled over almost immediately to drape a leg over Potter's hips, pressing his mouth up to his ear to whisper all the things he'd like to do to him.
His lips crept down to suck and bite and the sensitive skin of Harry's throat in between sentences.
"Please d-don't." Whispered Harry breathlessly, conjuring a light wall between them which Malfoy broke down with his own hand.
"Why not?" He whispered back, his hand roaming dangerously over the other boy's jaw, causing at least one or two twitches. "Don't you want me?"
Potter sighed. There was no point in denying it, he knew Draco's hand could feel exactly the effect he was having on him. "You know I do."
He decided to clarify further more. "It just feels weird y'know. It's our first day back and we haven't even talked about anything. Plus, you're high and I'm not, it's like I'm taking advantage of you. I'm not sure if you can consent."
"Get high then." Suggested Malfoy.
Harry couldn't think of anything more stupid. "You're going to be so foul in a couple of hours when this wears off, aren't you?"
The blonde sighed blissfully. "Not if I take more."
"Don't you dare. Or I'll hex you into oblivion." Snapped Potter under his breath, his tone suddenly harsh. "I didn't ask to be bothered and distracted from my first day and to come and get you like this, alright? I didn't want to do it. I'd rather be in my own bed right now fast asleep, but I'm here, looking after you, because you're a moron. So don't take the piss. Just go to sleep, okay?"
"Ecstasy is a stimulant, Potter, I can't just sleep." Came Malfoy's scratching reply. "I'm overstimulated."
"Try." Harry insisted in a whisper. "For me?"
The request seemed to actually work, as the only sound for a couple of minutes was the sound of their breathing before Harry broke the silence himself.
"Why'd you call for me?" He asked, surprising himself with the boldness of his question. The words hung in the air, and he felt Draco prop himself up on the elbow to regard him with those beautiful dilated eyes in the dark.
"Why the fuck do you think?"