#loser behaviour

.

“You acted almighty but you called for my name in your sleep.” Potter sat up, blinked sleepily, legs folded on the bed. Not for the first time since they were assigned roommates, Draco desired to hex his smug face.

“It's a nightmare, idiot.”

Potter casually stretched, shirt pulled up, showing a little more skin under the low light. His teeth glinted as he grinned. “Still, you think of—”

“You dreamt about Voldemort.” Potter's face dropped like rain. Draco's blood rushed in triumph. He won. “Exactly.”

“Prickly.” Potter shrugged. He fumbled through his drawer in darkness. Draco wondered if he should cast Lumos. Before he moved, Potter offered a vial. “Drink.”

Draco hated how small this place was. How there was barely a space between their beds. How achingly reachable Potter's sleepy face was. “Just fucking take it. I know it's subpar, but beggars can't be choosers. Unless you fancy weeping in my funeral in your sleep.”

“If it's your funeral, I'd celebrate.”

“Draco.” Potter's tone was too gentle to Draco's liking. He uncorked the vial, took Draco's hand, and wrapped Draco's finger around it. “Drink.”

Draco wasn't immune to the saviour's ability to command the universe to his liking, no matter how hard he tried. Potter was smug once again as Draco laid back down, mouth bitter from both the potion and Potter's audacity. “Now sleep. Try not to profess your undying love when unconscious."

“I did nothing of such.”