Pillowtalk
Harry Potter has a bed.
It is a large one, king-size one might call it, and at the moment it is made up with white and pale gray sheets. It is the nicest bed he has ever had; it has just the right softness and just the right springiness. At night when he goes to sleep the bed has the perfect slightly cool temperature, yet he never wakes up cold.
When Harry first got it he used to relish in the size of it, spreading out as much as he could and sleeping in whichever direction he chose. With the somewhat reluctant help of Hermione he had installed a muggle television on the wall opposite the bed so that he could lie in, watching cowboy movies in the Saturday mornings. He loved that stupid bed.
He had a new favorite thing to do in it though, well come to think of it, more than one but this particular thing was hard to beat. Watching Draco Malfoy fall asleep. With his soft blonde hair slightly ruffled against a gray pillow, his arm tucked underneath, and a slight expression of disapproval, Draco looks more deliciously comfy than Harry can remember. Draco always starts to drift off at night when they are having lazy whispered conversations in the darkness. Harry might've gotten annoyed if it wasn't for the entertainment factor that came with it.
"What were you saying?" Harry said, looking over at the blond. "Draco?"
A low undecipherable mumble escaped Draco's lips as he burrowed his face deeper into the pillow.
"You were saying something about the Daily Prophet," Harry insisted.
"You dance like a…giraffe Mr. President," Draco grumbled but soon seemed to come to a bit "Merlin… Harry shut up and let me sleep."
Harry grinned in the darkness, trying to resist the giggle that was trying desperately to escape his throat.
"Giraffe, Draco? What would your mother say if she knew what you were dreaming about?"
No answer was offered, so Harry did shut up for a few minutes, until Draco's breathing was getting slow and heavy again.
"Draco?"
Nothing at all happened.
"Earth to Draco Malfoy."
"Potter I will murder you and sleep on your cold dead body," Draco grumbled, but didn't open his eyes.
"You'd better not, your immune system is too sensitive."
"Malfoys do not have sensitive immune systems," Draco said, wrinkling his nose as if the mere thought of it was offensive.
"Alright then...," Harry mumbled, starting to feel the tug of sleep himself.
Silence fell, and Harry watched the slightly blurry figure next to him relax into his pillow once more before his own eyes started closing.
Just as he was starting to drift there was a soft sound next to him.
"Harry...ffyu"
Harry peered over at the sleeping Draco Malfoy. Was he talking in his sleep?
"What?"
"Harry…love you…shhh…," Draco mumbled softly "Hand me… the radish…"
Harry smiled sleepily and managed a quiet "Love you too," before succumbing to a deep, long sleep.
End.