"The fuck are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy's voice is laced with annoyance and Harry contemplates just leaving the room before deciding against it; at least having these conversations creates some kind of normality in this place that feels so foreign now. Hogwarts hasn't been the same since they came back to sit their NEWTs after the war and sometimes Harry can't tell if it's because of the way the school has been rebuilt and it's unusual or because he's changed.

"Minding my own business, Malfoy, maybe you should try it sometime." His eyes scanning over the empty common room as he speaks; he doesn't think he'll ever get used to sharing a common room with people from other houses but there wasn't enough room for the people returning to stay in their old ones. They built a whole separate group of rooms for the eleven eighth years.

"It looks like you're hovering." Malfoy speaks, his drawl implies a sense of boredom at the conversation that Harry is completely used to but he has to bite back a retort anyway. "Tell me, do you try to make your presence so damn irritating or does it just come naturally to you?"

"Must come naturally." Harry shrugs, feeling the slightest bit put out that the common room isn't deserted because he quite liked the idea of sitting in front of the fire for a little while. He supposes it doesn't matter much whether someone is here or not though, even if that someone is Draco Malfoy. And as Harry sits on the sofa, he can see Malfoy's face properly now, the pale skin flickering in the warm orange glow of the flames.

"Oh yes, please do have a seat." Sarcasm leaks off of Malfoy's tongue which Harry ignores, shuffling to the end of the sofa furthest from the armchair the Slytherin is sitting in because it's one thing to be sat in a room with him but another thing to be sat in a room close to him.

Harry can't help but watch him out of the corner of his eye though and Harry pins it down to suspicion because the last time Harry had been alone, completely alone, with Malfoy had resulted in the blonde in the hospital wing. So much had happened since then, so much to make Harry even more wary of the man sat near him.

And so when Malfoy reaches into the pocket of his trousers, Harry instinctively curls his hand around his wand by his side as though he doesn't trust the other to not fire a curse in his direction. But Harry sees when Malfoy pulls something small out of his pocket, a small white stick and then he uses the end of his wand to light it, a trail of smoke rolls into the air.

"I didn't know you smoke?" Harry's words leave his mouth without him even intending them to and the way he phrases them as almost a question makes him seem way more interested in Malfoy's preferences than he ever could imagine to be.

"I don't." When Harry turns his head to look at Malfoy questioningly, there's a smirk on his face as though Harry's confusion is the most amusing thing in the world. "When people say that they smoke, it means they do it all the time. I do not do it all the time, far from it. Developing an addiction is extremely unappealing. And besides, this isn't a cigarette." Malfoy waves his hand holding the 'not-a-cigarette' at Harry as a gesture before taking another drag.

"Whatever it is, I don't think this is the best place to do it." Harry thinks this room is too cramped to be smoking and he can already taste it in the air. The scent is something he's sure he's smelt hundreds of times when walking through the streets of London.

"Oh give it a rest, Potter. Since when have you ever given a shit about what you should and shouldn't do?" Harry wonders whether Malfoy is waiting for an argument, if this is his way of winding Harry up but his voice lacks that familiar hint of malice and Harry is too tired to come up with a spiteful answer.

"What is it then?"

"Weed." Harry snorts back a laugh at the word that leaves Malfoy's lips and he notices the way the blonde glares at him, something which appears more sinister in the dimly lit room. "What's so funny, Potter?"

"Nothing. It's just… that's very, uh, muggle." The glare intensifies and Harry doesn't know if he's gone too far given Malfoy's well-known prejudices but all the other does is take yet another drag, tilting his head back as he blows the smoke into the air.

"I stole it." That makes more sense, Harry thinks. The mental image of Draco Malfoy approaching a muggle for drugs was too good to be true. "I have the misfortune of sharing a room with Finnegan, he told me to try it once to 'break the ice'. I said it'd make no fucking difference and it didn't between the two of us but it was the first time I'd slept all night since we came back to this place."

Harry nods, he doesn't exactly know what to say in response because he thinks this the longest conversation he's had with Malfoy where they haven't wanted to slit each other's throats and Harry supposes that's because Malfoy has been mellowed out by what he's smoking or the war; most likely a mixture of the two. "What's it like?"

"You're telling me you've never tried it?" The tone of disbelief present in Malfoy's voice is strange to Harry, he doesn't think he's ever heard anything come from his mouth other than that drawl which consisted of either boredom or disgust. For a second, Harry was too taken aback to respond.

"Don't sound too shocked, you obviously hadn't until this year." Harry thinks maybe he sounds a little too defensive and Malfoy snickers slightly at his remark.

"I've never shared a room with someone who has that stuff before and I've never lived in a muggle town." Malfoy shrugs and Harry gets his point. Harry had never really done anything that normal teenagers had done, he'd always had too much going on what with his life constantly being in danger and such. "Though Pansy did manage to sneak in some Euphoria Elixir in fifth year, that was one of the better parties." There's a ghost of smile of Malfoy's face as he remembers and Harry briefly wonders if it hurts him to remember the people he lost in the war as much as Harry's heart aches each time her remembers Sirius and Lupin and Fred and everyone else.

"Sounds like you lot had a much better time than us Gryffindors." His slight attempt at a small chuckle is cut off by Malfoy's scowl.

"Yeah well it doesn't fucking matter now, does it?" Harry notices that Malfoy isn't looking at him now, he's staring at the fire and his whole body is much tenser than it was just minutes before. "We've all ended up in the same shitty place and nothing that happened before makes the slightest bit of difference 'cause most people have lost too much for any of those memories to cause anything other than pain."

"I think maybe we just have to be grateful that we're still alive." Harry mutters, part of him thinking it's time for him to get up and leave now because the peace between the two of them was bound to end sooner or later and Harry really is too tired for this.

"Easy for you to say." Malfoy's words are quiet but he sounds just as irritated and Harry clenches his jaw because he doesn't understand why the other always has to appear worse off than everyone else. Malfoy was the one who chose the other side, he made those decisions himself and Harry still can't bring himself to overlook that.

"The war was hard for us all, not just you. You have no right to sit here feeling sorry for yourself." There's a fire in Malfoy's eyes and it's not a reflection of the flames in front of him; it's a look of pure anger at Harry's words.

"I'm sure it was so fucking difficult for you, wasn't it? Being the hero must have been so hard, having everyone worship you must be utterly terrible." There's a dark tone of sarcasm in his voice but his face remains steady, his eyes now fixed on Harry's face and he can practically feel his gaze burning into him.

"Watching people die was hard; watching them die and knowing that I could stop it if I'd just get to him faster. There's guilt that doesn't go away knowing all those people died and I didn't help them."

"Oh Merlin, let's all pity Potter and his precious hero complex." Malfoy rolls his eyes, taking another puff of the joint in his hand and despite his poisonous tone, Harry notices that Malfoy's posture is much more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him before. "You don't know shit about guilt, Potter."

"And you don't know shit about doing things to save anything other than your own arse." Harry speaks firmly. "You deserve to feel that guilt." Harry awaits the growl of anger that would usually come from a comment such as that but all his ears are met with is a slight sigh; Harry thinks briefly that maybe Malfoy is a little too high to be properly angry right now. He doesn't mind in the slightest because nowadays, in the aftermath of the war, Draco Malfoy is not worth the anger and frustration he causes.

It's been three days since Harry's conversation with Malfoy and it's been three nights since Harry has dared to come into the common room late at night. He'd been too cautious of the fact that the blonde may be there again and Harry really doesn't think it a good idea to be in such close proximity with him again for a while. Even in the hallways, Malfoy has displayed a much stronger sense of hostility towards Harry than he has before since they first arrived and Harry doesn't feel like descending into childish habits of arguing in the corridors.

Though tonight, Harry couldn't care less. His sleep had gotten better since he came back to Hogwarts but that doesn't mean it's perfect. He gets nightmares most nights and while they're not as terrible as the ones inflicted on him by Voldemort, they're enough to wake him in a cold sweat and a heart thudding so hard he wonders if Ron can hear it. The dormitory is stuffy, even with only two people in the room and Harry knows he's not getting any more sleep tonight even if he tries which is why he decides to chance the common room. Besides, surely no one else will be awake at – he checks his watch – 2:45am.

A breath of relief leaves him when he reaches the bottom of the stairs to see that the room is deserted; deserted and cold which makes Harry mourn briefly for the comfort of his old Gryffindor common room – it seemed to always feel cosy no matter the time of day. And when Harry mutters 'incendio' to light the fireplace, the sounds of the flames in the dead of the night cause his mind to cast back on the nights he'd spend talking to Sirius; everyone tells him that losing someone gets easier with time but it's been 4 years and Harry wonders when it won't hurt so much.

"Did I interrupt your little pity party?" Harry's blood runs cold at the sneer from behind him, his body immediately tensing as he sits up straight with a quick sniff. He hadn't been crying but he was close and Harry is certain Malfoy knows that; he's not going to rise to it though, not tonight.

"What are you doing?" Harry's voice is tired and he thinks if he sounds this tired, he can't imagine how much of a wreck he must look. But he can't find it in himself to care, he quite liked the idea of curling up on the sofa and sleeping until morning but that wouldn't be possible now with Malfoy here. Malfoy who has taken it upon himself to sit in that same armchair he was in the other night.

"Minding my own business." He shrugs and there's a hint of a smirk on his face because he's repeating Harry's words from the other night and now Harry's on the receiving end, he knows how obnoxious it sounds.

"I meant, what are you doing awake? At 3am?"

"What are you doing awake at 3am?" Malfoy challenges and Harry feels his cheeks burn red because he's not the greatest at thinking in the middle of the night and he realises how ridiculous his question is.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me too." Malfoy shrugs and Harry wants to relax into the sofa but his body is automatically tense around the Slytherin beside him; it's impossible to relax. He's not used to being alone with him, he doesn't particularly want to be alone with him because he doesn't trust him but if he leaves now, he'll either look suspicious or pathetic. Harry doesn't like either of those.

"Do you come here every night?" Harry questions, watching as Malfoy pulls a joint out of his pocket and lights it. Harry wonders whether Seamus has any idea that his things are being stolen by his roommate but Harry also knows Seamus and these days, Seamus wouldn't be quick to pick a fight with anyone even if he had reason to.

Malfoy looks like he's thinking over a reply as he takes a drag and blows the smoke towards the fire; Harry watches as it floats up into the air before disappearing. "Most nights." He decided against whatever sarcastic answer he was planning on giving and Harry is relieved; calm Malfoy is someone he's definitely not used to but he's much more manageable.

The silence is welcome to Harry; there's nothing but the sound of the fire and the occasional deep intakes of breath as Malfoy smokes. It's comfortable and Harry, while not completely relaxed, finds he doesn't have to constantly be watching the blonde from the corner of his eye. He thinks maybe Malfoy is just as reluctant to get into a fight than Harry is himself. Until he speaks.

"I'm not selfish." The voice breaks the silence and while there's not that usual snarl in his tone, Harry knows better than to dismiss Malfoy when he's caught up on something.

"What?"

"What you said the other night. That I don't do anything for the sake of other people or whatever. You're wrong." Harry rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers as the words resonate through his head; what the hell does he want? Harry can't imagine a single reason why Malfoy would want to prove Harry wrong on this; why should he even care what Harry thinks?

"Just forget it; I was just angry, that's all." Harry's tone is defeated and while he doesn't necessarily mean what he's saying, he's trying his absolute best to not say the wrong thing.

"No, shut up." Malfoy's voice is sharp and insistent and Harry looks at him slightly wide-eyed as he stares back. "I need you to understand. You think you know everything because you're Harry Potter and how could you possibly be wrong about something? You are wrong."

"Look, Malfoy, I don't care. I don't know why you care so much. But just drop it." I need you to understand. Why the fuck does he need understanding? Harry doesn't think he'll ever be able to understand why Malfoy did the things he did. Harry doesn't think he ever wants to.

"I don't care, Potter." He does care. Harry gotten to know him well enough over the years to know that scowl and slight flare of his nostrils means he definitely cares. "I'd just like you to know that I tried to help the people I cared about and I lost people too; a lot of people died that shouldn't have. Just because we were on different sides doesn't make you better."

And Harry thinks briefly that maybe he'd be right. Maybe if the 'different sides' didn't mean Malfoy had joined Voldemort, Harry could consider the fact that they aren't so dissimilar. But they aren't. He sighs deeply before speaking again. "You brought it on yourself, if you hadn't joined Voldem-"

"Fuck you."

"-what?" Harry cuts of his own sentence as he hears Malfoy's voice in the background and he thinks he heard him right but he's not entirely sure.

"I said fuck you." But the voice isn't angry and Harry notices the way his eyes are glazed over though he's entirely sure that it's because of the drugs and nothing else. "You have no fucking right to judge whose deaths are worth mourning or not. So fuck you."

"So all those Death Eaters that killed innocent kids, the ones who tortured people for the fun of it didn't deserve to die? You think they deserve a funeral with people crying and a nice little flower arrangement on their tomb?" Now it's Harry turn to be angry and he feels rage burning inside him because of course he has the right. His friends died, people lost their families, he lost his godfather because of this fucking war and the people who caused it deserved everything that came to them.

"Some people deserve death, of course they do and they deserve to rot. We're talking about innocents, the ones caught in the crossfire." Lavender. Colin. Names rush through Harry's head so fast he has to close his eyes for a second. "Because there were people on both sides that didn't want to fight and they died anyway and you have such a one-track mind that you can't see things in anything other than black and white. There's more to life than good and evil, Potter. Don't be so fucking dense."

Harry wonders if Malfoy considers himself one of the people who deserve death; he did choose to become a Death Eater, he acted as a catalyst for this war by helping the enemy into Hogwarts. "Good and evil is the only way you can look at things when you're in the middle of a war. There's no grey area when someone could kill you just like that."

"The war's over, Potter." Malfoy sounds thoroughly fed up by this point and honestly, Harry is getting there too. He thinks that they're both too stubborn to ever let themselves understand the other's view. Or at least Harry is. "Everything is a grey area now."