Summary: Hermione and Ron want a house too themselves. Unfortunately this means that Draco Malfoy has too live somewhere new and Harry Potter needs a new room mate to help him make the rent. Hermione and Ron get their devious on and all of a sudden the two schoolyard rivals are living under the same roof. Slashy Slash slash. Eventually very dirty. Hopefully three or so chapters.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, slash, bitching and boxer wars.

AN: I'm sorry. I really am. But this beast of a story would not go away. I will be updating wanker soon if you're interested. Hope you like it. Review if you're so inclined, I will not hold it against you XD

The days after did not consist of a lot of being brave, to be honest, as Harry's training stepped up a notch in lieu of the traditional Australia v. England grudge match. One grocery night he'd come home with a bag full of vegetables instead of junk food and a new set of home training instructions that Draco delighted in reinforcing with a snide few comments here and there. After that Harry started spending more time at training too return home more and more exhausted and falling asleep easier and easier. Worryingly, the young black haired slut was also becoming more and more inclined to have conversations. Draco was worried that maybe he'd have to actually act on his promise to himself of being brave and Gryffindor-like, but so far he'd successfully been able to put off talking until Harry eventually fell asleep.

There had only been one close call.

"Hey Draco, can we..." he trailed off looking at his feet.

"Can we what?"

"Can- Can we talk?"

"What is this sudden fascination with talking Potter?"

"You know what Draco? Fuck you!"

And then he rolled over and went to sleep.

Harry still hadn't tried to talk to him again and Draco could see him becoming moodier and more withdrawn. He was beginning to look like the exhausted emotionally empty man that Hermione had described before he moved in; it was a man he'd never seen before. Sure, he seen lazy and bored and sluttish – words Hermione used to describe his actions – but never had he seen the emptiness that Hermione maintained was the emotional core of the man.

He almost hadn't believed her before now.

It had been weeks before they talked again, and Draco was – besides feeling a bit of deja vu – starting to worry.

This new Harry scared him and he didn't know why he cared about Harry's well being but he did and he was worried about what Harry could do to himself, because really, right now, Harry could do anything and it wasn't like there was anyone at all who was strong enough too stop him.

He didn't really understand it but he didn't want Harry to go anywhere, in fact, more then anything he wanted Harry to go back to being the lazily offensive man he was when Draco moved in.

And if Draco didn't keep his promise that would never happen.

It wouldn't be anything that he was used too and he would have to be strong in ways he hadn't ever been but it was time.

The next morning – a Sunday and Harry's only day off in these recent weeks – Draco got up early and wondered into the exhausted seeker's bedroom to find him tying the laces on his sneakers and dressed in his training clothes.

"Harry, can we-" Harry cut off his words by standing up and pushing Draco against a wall. Apparently it was something Harry liked to do these days.

"Can we what, Draco? Can we talk? Do you want to talk now? Or did you just want to ignore everything that happened? I don't know about you Draco, but that didn't feel like something we can just ignore too me! I actually- I think I- You know what Draco? Fuck you."

Draco was frightened. This wasn't like before when Harry might have punched him or might have broken his wrist in his powerful hand. If Draco said anything now Harry would hurt him; would make him feel whatever Harry was feeling in physical scarring, but Draco couldn't bring himself to think what Harry might do to himself if he didn't. From what Draco had peiced together from his talks with Hermione before he moved in and the way things had happened then this was the point that had Hermione worried and he – little ex war criminal Draco – had brought him too something a little bit more bearable. He had been working and then there was then and Harry...

Harry had looked like his old self again, his old self at his happiest most shiny moments even.

For him to go back to this in no time had to hurt him more then the gradual fall from reality he had felt before Draco had happened to him, and maybe he was flattering himself thinking all this but Draco had to believe it. He had to believe he didn't make Harry so cold, so empty, after he had been simply a bit bored; he had to believe he had at least saved him a little first.

"H-Harry. I don't know if-" Draco paused looking at the anger in Harry's eyes, "Well, I know you'll hurt me, but I just decided I don't fucking care. Please. I want to talk. Please."

Draco was right, Harry was gripping Draco's side in one hand and was squeezing tighter and tighter as Draco talked and it was becoming hard to breath and his heart was beating so hard he could feel his pulse in his forehead and his ribs hurt but he couldn't stop, he would be hurt even if he did and he had to try; he had to at least attempt to make Harry feel better again.

"Harry. Look," he gasped breathlessly, "Harry look at me. I- I wah-hant too talk!"

Harry winced and Draco could feel his ribs like they had pokers crushing them instead of hands, "Te-hell me what you want m-he to say. Please Harry!"
Harry growled low in his chest, "How about the truth Draco," he said with a vicious tightening of his hand that broke two of Draco straining ribs, "How about you tell me what little that fuck meant to you so you can laugh at Harry Potter the big stupid slut some more, huh?"

Draco tried to smother the scream that wanted to rush past his lips at the pain but it escaped in three high pitched broken notes and a guttural roar. The tears he held back though, he just broke two of his ribs for a fucking cause for god's sake; he might as well be a stupid Gryffindor properly.

He took a few remedying breaths and tried steadfastly to ignore the hand still on his broken side. It was harder then he thought to be a Gryffindor and words were hard to think, let alone speak.

A growl and slight shake from Harry, another jolt of pain up Draco's side.

"I cared," gasped Draco as loudly as he could, "I cared a lot Harry. I want it! I want you, but it's terrifying. You're terrifying. Oh God Harry. I'm not brave like you. I couldn't- I wish that I- Oh, Ha-arry please understand."

Even in his pain filled fog Draco could note surprise at the babbling stream of words coming from his mouth when his chest was aching like there was a hole in him, but he couldn't stop, Harry had to understand; had to know he wanted this.

"Please, I want you to know thah-hat I care so so-ho-ho-" Draco ran out of breath bewildered as too why his words wouldn't keep coming and instead of drawing breath, he used the last of his energy to push forward and he placed a gentle kiss on Harry's lip and quite promptly fainted.

When he came too he was laying in Harry's bed with Harry laying on top of the covers in his running gear, sneaker's still half tied.

"What did you do?" Draco laughed, or at least tried too, "Lay straight down and forget the world existed?"

Harry was startled out of the half slumber he was in, "What? No. I- I made you lunch and- and- oh and the kettle! I made tea for you as well! Draco, did you mean it?" he said, grasping at Draco's shoulders and leaning over him.

Draco tried not too wince, but Harry noticed, "Did- Did I hurt you? Oh God, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry. So sorry," and he kept mumbling as he ran wandless non-verbal diagnostic spells over where he had gripped Draco's side, "Oh God, your ribs Draco, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise. Let me just-"

"No!" interrupted Draco, "Leave them. It's a tradition. They're my fault and I know it seems stupid but I want to a reminder, not to be such a prick and-"

"You're right Draco, that actually sounds very brave of you," and Draco smiled.

"But," Harry continued, "if you think I'm going to let you be hurt when it's in my power to stop it then you have another thing coming Draco Malfoy. I am not going to let you stay in pain when a. it's my fault, and b. you hardly understand the stupid pureblood bullshit you're trying to quote yourself. I'll be damned if I am going to let some archaic rule stop me from taking care of you now I have you. You're mine and I'm not letting go."

It was odd for Draco to have such quick affection and investment in him but he guessed it was Harry's worry for his safety that had exacerbated the declarations and partly his stupid sentiment. But he'd never been cared for so much before, so instead of telling Harry exactly what the tradition meant he lay back and let the man heal his ribs.

"How do you even know how to do that?"

"Coach Annabel made us take first aid training. Hey Draco."

"Yes?"

"Why did you keep going even when you knew I would hurt you? Are you sure you're not a Gryffindor? Cause you're definitely showing signs of being a 'stupid blundering idiot who values ideals more then sense'. You could do it professionally, you're so good at it."

"You do do it professionally Potter."

"So why Draco?"

Draco scowled at Harry, he was supposed to ignore the question and Harry was supposed to be too busy being annoyed too notice that he'd not answered.

"I promised I'd be more like a Gryffindor and be brave like you and-"

"And Draco?"

"And I was worried about you. I missed you, even the bits where you were a prat and you were going to do something stupid and I was so scared and I didn't know what else to do and I just wanted my Harry back and-"

Harry stopped Draco short by enveloping the man into a warm sweet hug, "Oh, my little pretend Gryffindor. I never knew you were so sweet," he chuckled and felt Draco yawn against his chest, "maybe you should get some sleep huh? It'll all be better in the morning."

Draco drifted off too the feeling of Harry's hand carding through his hair and the occasional soft kiss on his forehead.

The next day he woke up to Harry rushing around looking for his quidditch robes and Draco sent a mild tripping hex at him and Harry growled and called him a prat as he kissed him goodbye. Draco sighed to himself; it really was better in the morning.