Hey Guys!

Ok, I think I may finally have gotten the hang of this whole FanFic thing...Yays!

So, just some notes: 1) This story takes place post-HBP 2) This is my first FanFic... 3) At the moment, I am Beta-less. This is due to unfortunate circumstances, i.e. me moving/summer/vacations/general chaos...so, I won't have my Beta until about a week from now. So, excuse the errors, until i can blame them on my lovely Beta, Emi.

Oh, just disregard any bad humor/seemingly pointless jokes/horrid puns...it's lifestyle...

I'm not going to demand reviews etc. While constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, my main aim is for you to enjoy the story.

So, go to it!

SF,

K10


Chapter 1: Hiding's Not Just For Ex- Death-Eaters Anymore…

The clock on the bedside table said it was 4:02 a.m., June 6th. The weather, as well as the unusual stuffiness of the hotel room, said that it was the middle of an un-naturally humid June night. The glowing green face of a digital clock by the bedside reflected off of the sweat sheen on the forehead of a restless boy sleeping in the bed. Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, was lying face down in a twist of blankets, snoring softly, his deep breaths causing the corner of a pillow case that was hanging in front of his open mouth to sway slightly with every breath. His stringy hair was plastered to his pillow, as well as to the back of his neck in the heat. Every so often he would twitch spastically, entangling himself further into the mess of blankets.

Across the room, a pair of calculating silver eyes watched the sweating boy struggle unconsciously under the mound of twisted covers. Their owner made a sudden sound of amusement when Harry's flailing hand connected with the clock, causing it to skid across the table and collide with a vase of irises, producing a sudden "crack".

The boy who had been sleeping woke with a start, sitting up in bed and drawing his wand from the pocket of his pajama bottoms.

"Whosere?" He muttered, rubbing his green eyes sleepily.

"Settle down, Potter. I won't let the nasty Death Eaters get you. Even if you are the one who is supposed to be protecting me from them…" The other boy smirked, his silver eyes lighting with amusement.

Harry ran a hand sleepily through his messy black hair, unsticking it from his forehead, and gave the blonde a scowl before collapsing back onto the pillows.

Malfoy smirked, levitated a table from across the room, put his feet up, and continued to watch the Gryffindor sleep restlessly.

An hour later, Draco Malfoy had become very acquainted with what Muggles know as "Cabin Fever". He had been sitting in the hotel room, almost motionless, for a little over four hours. He was, up to this point, quite proud of his self-control in waiting for his "protector" to wake up before he went roaming around the odd Muggle building in which he had spent the night. Now, however, the sun was just breaking through the curtain slats in the window, and the hot, muggy weather outside had begun to look quite cheerful compared to sitting in the blasted room for another minute, listening to "The-Boy-Who-Slept-Too-Much" snore.

As if sensing the hostile glances being thrown at him from across the room, Harry moaned suddenly, did a half twist to the right, and promptly rolled out of the bed, dragging pillows, blankets, and the alarm clock with him. This helped to lighten Draco's mood considerably, and by the time Harry had emerged from the pile a few moments later, he had almost recomposed his face into its normally stoic mask.

Harry stood up, rubbed his bum, and stalked into the hotel bathroom, shooting the blonde boy a horrible look as he stormed past and slammed the door. Draco snorted, and stood to refold the blankets that the careless Gryffindor had left on the floor, wondering vaguely if Harry knew that he had an iris stuck in his hair.

A few moments later, Harry emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist and toothbrush in his mouth, and almost fainted in shock.

"Um..Malfoy?" Harry said tentatively.

"Potter. I see you're awake, finally." Draco scowled, while folding the corners of the duvet back under the mattress edges of Harry's bed.

"Yeah, but…you do know that that's pointless. A maid comes in later to clean the rooms…"

"What, like a house elf?" Draco straightened, pillow in hand, looking curious.

"Well…No. Like a muggle. That's their job. They clean up after the guests…Like, they get paid to…" Harry trailed off, realizing how hypocritical he sounded. Malfoy smirked.

"So…Muggles have Muggle house-elves?" The blonde smirked, fluffing the pillow.

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed that Malfoy's eyes seemed to be daring him to make a case for the just treatment of "Muggle house-elves".

"No, like Muggle workers whos job is to do that!" Harry growled.

Surprisingly, Malfoy did not retort to Harry's snarky comment; after the row they had had last night about who was here protecting who, he wisely figured that silence was best at this early hour.

Surprised, and slightly put-off at Malfoy's silence, Harry slammed back into the bathroom to dress.

"I can't do it, Potter." Malfoy whined, leaning back in his plastic-covered chair.

Harry rolled his eyes and glanced around the near-empty hotel lobby. Very few people were up at this un-Godly hour on a Saturday, especially in rural Alabama.

"Malfoy, please. It's just toast. Would it really taste that differently if we flooed back to your manor and had it made by house-elves?" Harry spat, exasperated with Draco's superiority act at this early hour.

Malfoy sniffed. "Yes. This jam is all wrong."

Harry sighed and fell back into his chair. "That's because it's jelly. And you're right Malfoy. It would taste differently. Do you know why? Because you would be dead!" His voice rose, and the few patrons of the hotel's breakfast nook had begun to take notice. "However, if you would like to go back to the Manor for breakfast, perhaps you still have enough credibility with the Death-Eaters to persuade them to allow you to finish the bloody toast before they kill you. Would you like that? Because it can be arranged!" Harry snarled.

Malfoy appraised him coolly, as if he was actually considering Harry's offer. Then he sighed, grabbed the toast, studied it, lobbed it at Harry's head, and vanished with a "pop". Harry jumped, startled, and quickly glanced around the room. A Muggle couple was staring at the spot where Draco had been sitting, their mouths open. A bit of egg had fallen out of one of their mouths. A third man was staring, while allowing his cup to overflow onto the juice bar. Sighing, Harry quickly modified their memories and raced to the elevator, praying that his charge would be in the room.

When Harry arrived at the room, he found that the hotel door would not open. After swiping his key-card desperately and getting the green light (but not an open door) several times, Harry sighed and tapped lightly on the door.

"Yes?" Draco called, his voice airy and confident.

"Malfoy…" Harry growled, struggling to keep his voice from cracking with anger. "You're being a prat. I know you don't want to be here, I don't either. But we have to be…You know what Dumbledore said. I'm not saying I like protecting you, and I sure as hell wouldn't say that you even need it…But here we are, we might as well make the best of it. Right?" Harry exhaled against the door, jiggling the handle.

Malfoy said nothing.

"Malfoy…" Harry began, as the door suddenly slammed open, banging sharply into Harry's toe. Stifling a cry and grabbing his foot, Harry leaned against the doorframe and blinked in pain at Malfoy's sneering face. Biting his lip, Harry pushed past Malfoy roughly and flopped onto his bed.

Smirking, Malfoy retreated to the bathroom and, moments later, Harry heard the shower running. Sighing and running his hand back through his hair, Harry fixed his gaze on the ceiling and considered the situation. He was more than aware that Malfoy, while acknowledging his need for protection by the Order, was not in the least happy about the situation that they had arranged. In all honesty, Harry could not fathom for the life of him why Dumbledore had stuck him as Malfoy's sole protector; it was probably the worst possible way to arrange things, considering their history. It did have to be acknowledged, however, that given said history between the rivals, as well as their location and current proximity to the wizarding world, it would be quite a feat for any Death Eaters to come even to suspect, much less locate the pair.

Harry grudgingly admitted to himself that Dumbledore was usually right, and they were here strictly on orders made before he was killed. Rolling over Violently to face the wall, Harry scowled and decided that Dumbledore's wishes should be honored and trusted, by him, at least.

I just wish I wasn't stuck in a sodding room with Malfoy…At very least we could have different rooms…

The same could be said for the fair-haired Slytherin who had just stepped gracefully from the shower; he was not at all pleased to be here in this grimy Muggle -hot-el, he thought it was called- with Gryffindor's own Golden Boy. Draco scowled and toweled his hair roughly, immediately making a small "eep"-ing noise as he dove to the mirror to inspect for split-ends.

This bloody Muggle-life is going to kill me...If being in such close proximity to Potter doesn't first…Or the damn rough towels.

Upon emerging from the bathroom wrapped in his towel, Malfoy immediately spotted Harry, sleeping lightly on the edge of his bed.

That prat…he'll get his germs all over my linens! Draco snarled to himself.

So, in effort to appease his growing frustration and anxiety at not being allowed to act at all like his usual self, Malfoy whipped the towel from around his waist, twisted it into a braid, and unceremoniously popped Potter on the back of the head. Harry awoke with a start, emerald eyes widening and drinking in the sight set before him. Malfoy was standing between the two beds, towel in hand, whipping it around to slap him again. Naked.

Harry reacted immediately, making use of his Quidditch-bred reflexes, and somersaulted over the end of the bed. He hit the floor, rolled away from the towel that had come soaring toward his head, and ducked into the washroom. Quickly procuring a soaking towel of his own, he leaned innocently against the door frame, hiding the towel from view. Draco was standing by the telly, naked and smirking at the Gryffindor, winding his towel up for another shot at the dark-haired boy.

Harry raised his eyebrows. Malfoy snapped the towel suddenly, barely missing Harry's shoulder. Immediately, Harry reacted, lunging over Draco's bed and flipping gallantly onto his own. Malfoy's eyes widened as Harry stood, wobbling, on the fluffy bed, his green eyes daring Malfoy to continue. Malfoy began to wind the towel around his hands, and Harry lunged. His silver eyes widened, and he leapt to the side, attempting to hide between his bed and the wall. The Slytherin's seeker reflexes were for naught, though, as Harry had expected this, and adjusted accordingly. He landed directly on top of the surprised Slytherin, and quickly yanked his towel away, using it to tie the gaping blonde's hands behind his back.

Harry stood and smirked down at Malfoy. "And that, my pretty Slytherin, is why I am the Boy-Who-Lived."

Malfoy glared, but, being naked and without the use of his hands, could think of no appropriate response.

"Just…just untie me, okay Potter?" The blonde spluttered.

"Let's hear you say that I win…" Harry goaded.

"No! It was completely unfair, I was at a total disadvantage!" Draco wailed, thrashing in a half-hearted attempt to free himself.

"Hmm…" The black-haired boy mused. "I think…not."

Draco growled at him, even going so far as to snap his straight, white teeth in Harry's direction. Then, with one languid movement involving some very interesting hip twisting (not that Harry was watching), Draco was on his feet standing in front of Harry, sneering just inches from his nose. Somehow, in his graceful move to stand, Malfoy had managed to slip backwards through the towel that bound him, so that his hands were now in front of him. Harry gaped at the blonde's obvious agility. When, in between his pampered home-life and his service to Voldemort, had he learned to move like that? In fact, Harry thought, it had been rather like watching a very graceful dancer perform…

Harry was jerked out of his musings when Malfoy threw the knotted towel into his face. Then, turning quickly on his heels, the silver-eyed boy made his was to his suitcase and grabbed his clothing, which he began to don with the same grace as he had just shown in escaping Harry's bonds.