"Don't know what McGonagall is thinking, rooming us with a bunch of Slytherins. I've only just survived a bloody war, I don't want to die being smothered in my own bed." Ron complained, while clicking His deluminator habitually. The candle on Harry's bedside kept lighting and going out, and it was starting to give him a headache the more Ron fiddled with it. Hermione was sitting cross legged on his mattress, chewing her lip thoughtfully and watching the light move back and forth slowly.
"It might not be so bad; she wouldn't let them stay with us if she thought they were any real threat." She finally muttered, although she didn't sound convinced, and Harry noticed her rubbing her forearm as if as an afterthought. If he looked closely, he could see the bottom of her scar peeking out from under the sleeve of her jumper, and it made his stomach coil in apprehension for the second time within a matter of minutes.
"I hope you know this is your fault." Ron said, and sent a glare at Harry from across the room, finally stowing the deluminator in his pocket, the candle flickering at ease once more on the nightstand. He shrugged and added, "If you hadn't forced us to go back for the git in the room of requirement we wouldn't have this problem."
"Ron, that's a terrible thing to say!" Hermione scolded, although she didn't put her whole heart into it, and seemed to freeze up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She untucked her legs from under her and stood quickly, her fingers just brushing her wand before Neville appeared in the doorway, a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a potted plant in his hand that resembled a pink cactus.
"Hermione." He nodded politely, and gave a sheepish grin to Harry and Ron, asking, "I'm guessing you thought I was Malfoy and Zabini, or you're just really unhappy to see me? Slytherins are on their way. Saw them in the halls, levitating their trunks in this direction. Parkinson's whining about the lack of house elves this year; heard her from a floor away."
He settled his plant on the windowsill, and seemed to grow uncomfortable with the silence that met his announcement, shoving his hands into his pockets and muttering, "Sun's shining. It's good quidditch weather. Think they'll let us play this year?"
"Oh, they'd better." Ron snorted, "I'd love to spend my last year wiping the floor with Malfoys pointy face."
"Now, now, I thought we were on the same side now, Weasel." Came a drawling voice from the doorway, and the four looked up in alarm to see Malfoy leaning against the doorway, his trunk levitating at his shoulder. Zabini was tilted to his side to look around it and into the room, turning his nose up once he spotted Ron.
"Doesn't mean we like you." Harry hissed, and immediately felt his nerves flare up in indignation at their snotty attitudes. "And you could be a little more grateful, seeing as it's our room you're sharing, and my endorsement that kept you out of Azkaban."
"Details, Potter." Malfoy said, stepping into the room and waving a hand dismissively in Harry's direction. Now that they could see him properly, Harry noticed he looked different than he had several months ago. He still seemed pale and thin, but he wasn't so sickly, and he had cut his hair, which had been shaggy and dirty the last time he's seen it. He had a short white scar at the corner of his upper lip, and his left eyebrow had a nick in it that matched. Zabini looked relatively the same, with his sloped nose and high cheekbones, and Harry couldn't recall if he had been there for the final battle or not.
"Merlin," He announced, walking passed Malfoy and dropping his trunk with a quiet and unsettling crash at the bed farthest from the door, just across from Nevilles, "Parkinson was right; this room is cramped. Color scheme is terrible too; nothing like ours."
Malfoy smirked, and made for the bed beside Nevilles, but Ron whipped his wand out and spat venomously, "No. This side is ours; that side of the room is yours."
Malfoy seemed ready to challenge this, but Hermione had pulled out her wand as well, and said softly, her voice eerily calm, "You heard him; that side is your side."
Malfoy raised his hands in mock surrender, and sent his trunk to rest beside Zabinis, his eyes hardening when he said coolly, "Alright, Granger, whatever you say."
Hermione nodded stiffly, her eyes never leaving his, and swallowed with difficulty. "I'm going up to the girls dorm; make sure Parkinson hasn't touched anything that isn't hers."
"What would she want with a mudbloods things?" Zabini snorted, and instantly found four wands being pointed in his and Malfoys direction. He looked startled, but his face quickly relaxed into a smirk as he said, "So sorry...it slipped."
Hermione grit her teeth, and Ron opened his mouth to protest, the red riding in his face and clashing horribly with his hair, but Hermione cut him off with a ground out, "I forgive you, then."
"Well, at least one of you is civil." Zabini scoffed, and sat on his bed with a deliberate slowness, as if trying to make it all the more obvious that it was now his territory. Hermione ducked out of the room quickly, and green eyes alighted on Harry as he asked loudly, "What's the matter Potter, cat got your tongue?"
"We don't use that word here." Neville spoke up suddenly, stepping forward in front of Harry's bed, his fist tightening around his wand. "We didn't fight a war just for you to go back to your old prejudices. If you're going to say you're on our side during the battle, you have to mean it afterwards."
"And you have to apologize to 'mione." Harry added quickly, to which Ron vigorously nodded.
"Sounds fair. But what about our rules?" Malfoy asked coolly, and rested his elbow against his footboard.
Rons face went practically purple and he half-shouted, "You don't get any-"
"It's our room too, Weasel." Zabini sneered.
"We'll compromise. You won't talk about blood purity or blood traitors, or use the M-word, and I guess we won't talk about how you're both cowards and only changed sides to save your own skin." Harry snapped venomously, and took pleasure at the way both Slytherins faces darkened.
"You little-"
"What? I said I wouldn't mention it." Harry smirked innocently, and Zabini growled dangerously.
"How about these for the rules: Slytherins have that side, and we have this one. The little space between the beds to the door is neutral. We won't talk about anything before the war."
"That will be hard for Potter." Malfoy said, and flopped onto his bed to lie on his stomach, his chin resting him his palms, "He loves to bring up the sob story that is his life."
"Stuff it, ferret." Harry sneered in return.
"Right, then." Neville said patiently, and Harry was silently impressed by the spine he seemed to have suddenly grown. He didn't take him as somebody who would naturally take charge. Ron was giving him an equally appraising look, and it seemed that Malfoy and Zabini noticed the change from the boy they knew as well. He seemed to know he had their attention, and stood a little straighter, clearing his throat to continue, "Okay, so, uh, we'll follow those rules, and we won't insult each others families, and we should be able to get through the year without killing eachother. We can add rules as we go, I suppose, if we all agree on them. Harry, Ron, anything to add?"
"Yeah; they don't come over to our side under any circumstances, or they'll get it."
"It's not a bloody war zone, Weasley, don't be so dramatic." Malfoy snorted, and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, Zabini was sniggering into his hand.
"Noted, Ron." Neville said, then turned to the Slytherins, asking with a controlled voice, meant to sound neutral but struggling to come across that way, "Anything you two want to add?"
"We can decorate our side however we like. Red and Gold are terrible together."
"No insulting each others houses." Neville added at that, but then nodded slowly, saying, "I suppose that's fair, though. And no hexes. If we ignore each other, we should be able to get through the year."
Harry and Ron exchanged a doubtful look. It was clear that nobody quite believed it.