'I do love gardening, it's so ... spiritual,' said Draco as he surveyed their newly planted garden.

Harry snorted; Draco's idea of gardening was to walk around like the Lord of the manor (which he undoubtedly was) whilst imperiously pointing out what needed to be done. As far as Harry was concerned gardening involved suppressing the urge to kill Draco and backbreaking hard work (not all plants reacted well to magic). But it was worth it in the end to have a private space in which to relax with Draco.

Draco's eyes came to rest on one of the boarders, 'Oh, that's no good. It'll have to be moved.'

He followed Draco's gaze and frowned in puzzlement. 'What will?' asked Harry.

'That … weed.' Draco pointed one slender, well manicured finger disdainfully at large shrub.

'That's not a weed, you nit, it's a rose bush.'

'A weed, Harry,' Draco explained haughtily, 'is merely a plant that's in the wrong place.'

'But you went on and on about how lovely it was last year, and how that that,' said Harry, pointing his work roughened finger at the bush, 'would be the perfect spot for it!'

'That was before we redesigned the garden; now it's out of place and I won't be able to relax until you've moved it for me.'

'Me move it!' Harry said incredulously, thinking of all the hard digging and soil preparation he done before they, he, could plant it there in the first place.

Draco looked at Harry as though he'd asked a very stupid question indeed.

'Oh no. You want it moved, you move it.'

'Me!'

'Yes, you.'

'But,' Draco searched for some good reason why he couldn't possibly, 'I might get dirt under my nails!'

'I'll just go break out a new scrubbing brush then,' said Harry. Defiant as he turned to walk back towards the house.

Draco harrumphed. He knew he'd never be able to persuade Harry to change his mind, he could be so pertinacious at times, but he also knew he'd never be able so sleep knowing that the garden was less than perfect. So, he rolled up his sleeves.

---

Several hours later, exhausted, sore, and without a single intact fingernail, Draco went back indoors for a well earned bath.

'Manage all right?' Harry asked from behind The Daily Prophet.

'No thanks to you! I hope you're happy ... making me move that stupid rose bush for you ... what a bloody awful sight I must look,' scowled Draco.

Looking up from behind his paper, Harry's mouth twisted into a grotesque rictus as he fought to keep his features neutral. With his normally perfect hair all matted, his clothes all ragged and a smudge of soil on the end of his nose, Draco did indeed make an awful sight, an awful funny sight.

'Oh, that's right, you can laugh ... you're not the one with humus in his pants!'

That did it, Harry collapsed with laughter.

Draco glared daggers.

'Oh I'm sorry,' said Harry wiping tears from his eyes and gasping as he tried to regain his breath, 'but you know what they say ... "Serious gardeners need a keen sense of humus."'

Harry collapsed once again and Draco turned indignantly on his heel and marched off towards the bathroom. The next thing Draco planned to plant, was Harry.

NOTES: Written for a LiveJournal ficlet challenge community in 2003.

CHAL: Either Draco and Harry or Hermione and Ginny plant a garden. Use the words rictus and pertinacious.