It was another blissfully bright Sunday morning in the middle of June and I found myself once again apparating to Ron and Harry's flat to wake them both up so that they would not be late for Mum's Sunday brunch. The only occupant of the living room was Harry's Westhighland, Tinturn, who was lying on the couch with his head in his paws, looking up at me as though I'd just woken him from a very good nap. The bloody dog was as grumpy in the morning as his owner. I rolled my eyes and walked over to scratch him behind the ears before heading down the hall to Ron's room, knowing full well that despite their claims to the contrary, Harry would be sleeping right next to him.

Not wanting to wake either of them up with the noise (oh no, they would be getting a much louder wake-up call than the bloody door creeking), I pushed the door open as slowly as I could. My first view was of Ron's desk, littered with papers from his work at Gringotts and the chair covered in discarded clothing. Next came the open armoire, shirts hanging half-hazardly off hangers, looking every moment as though they would fall to the armoire's floor, which was already covered with thrown shoes and previously fallen clothing. A little further and the bed came into sight, most of the covers thrown off in the sexual scuffle that undoubtedly is their drunken Saturday nights. Their feet stuck out from under the one sheet that (thankfully) covered them, all tangled together and so confused that it looked as if there were an extra pair thrown in.

Hang on. I paused to count, only to discover to my utter confusion that my eyes did not deceive me. There were three pairs of feet sticking out of that sheet. My eyes automatically shot up to the head of the bed to see who this third person could possibly be. What met my eyes made me so light-headed I nearly passed out. As it was, I had to grab onto the table next to the door just to stay upright. Harry lay on his back, sprawled out as usual, with one arm lying across his belly, fingers entwined with another hand not his, and his nose buried in Ron's hair. Ron was curled into his side, his head on his chest and his arm draped over Harry's torso, but his hand was not the one entangled with Harry's. No, that hand was nothing like my brother's. It was pale and small and delicate-looking, as though it had never seen a day of physical labor. Its owner was curled up against my brother's back, his lips pressed against the nape of Ron's neck, and Harry's other hand, that was somehow snaked under both their necks, entangled in his white-blonde hair.

As I tried to regain my composure, I straightened and pushed some hair to the side of my face. My tiny shove from the table to stand up straight caused it to wobble slightly, the objects on top of it clinking together in a soft chiming noise. Someone stirred on the bed and I was suddenly in a locked stare with the gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. His body was still curled about my brother's and the only movement he'd made was to lift his head, causing neither of the other men to stir. We starred at each other for a long moment, the air pregnant with my confused tension. Draco spoke first.

"Ginerva." He inclined his head to me, "May I ask what you are doing in your brother's bedroom at…" His eyes darted to the clock quickly before returning to mine, "9:30 in the morning on a Sunday?"

"I came to wake Ron and Harry up so they aren't late for brunch. I don't think I want to know what you're doing here, but I would like to know how you got here."

"I don't see how it is any of your business. However, I assume that your temper is as passionate as your brother's, so I will tell you that we happened to meet at a pup last night and discovered that we no longer hate each quite as much as we thought."

"No talk, sleep now," Ron muttered, tugging at Draco's arm as he nuzzled further into Harry. Harry grunted and re-adjusted his position, but otherwise made no indication that he had awoken. I watched Draco smile slightly and nuzzle his nose into Ron's neck before whispering something in his ear that got Ron bolt upright in bed. "Ginny! It's Sunday! We have brunch! Shit!

Harry, wake up! Brunch!" He turned to shake Harry, who'd only groaned and rolled to his side, pulling Ron to him by his waist, and buried his face into his side. I heard him mumble something, but couldn't distinguish what was said. Draco seemed to be amused by the situation, sitting up against the pillows and watching Ron frantically try to wake up Harry.

"Sod brunch. Stop buggering me unless you're really going to bugger me," Harry growled, swatting at Ron's hands. Ron just continued to shake him.

"Harry, you have to wake up. Mum'll kill us if we're late for brunch. Come on, love. Wake up." Harry grunted something, but sighed and opened his eyes, sitting up a little. He was only up a second before groaning again and burying his face in a pillow. I heard something that distinctly sounded like 'kill me'. Hang-over. "Get up, we have to shower and get dressed before we're late and Mum starts in on another lecture like last Sunday."

He jumped over Harry and out of bed, completely ignoring the fact that he was completely naked and right in front of his sister, and hurried into the bathroom. The shower turned on, which made Harry groan even louder and slide over to bury his head in Draco's side without even opening his eyes. Draco, still smiling bemusedly, began to run his fingers through Harry's hair. There was a loud clang in the bathroom and Ron popped his head back out, soapy hair and a look of horror. "Draco! I completely forgot!" He turned to me and the look of horror deepened. "Ginny, this isn't what it…"

"Shut it, Ron. I don't want to know. I'll see you and Harry at home, and I'm assuming Malfoy, too. Don't be late, you'll already have one thing to be yelled at about, I can only imagine how Mum'll react to having to hold up brunch on top of this." I headed for the door, not looking at the bed or Ron's reaction, but I heard Harry's frantic voice just as I was grabbing the floo, causing Tinturn to yip loudly and jump off the couch, running off to see what was going on. Sighing, I called for the Burrow and prayed that my mother didn't die of a heart attack when I told her why Draco Malfoy might be coming to brunch with Ron and Harry. This was going to be a long day.