"Come on Parkinson! I'm horny as hell," panted Harry.
"Alright, fine. I know where we can go, grab hold," Pansy motioned to her left arm as she apparated into a silver and green decorated room with a large King size bed.
Half an hour later they both emerged from underneath the cover, breathless and sweaty.
"So, where are we anyway?" Harry asked, curious by the colour choice.
"Draco's room."
"WHAT? I'm in Malfoy's room? I DID IT IN MALFOY'S BED?" Harry jumped out of the bed suddenly.
"No need to shout, Potter, but yes, we did do it in Draco's bed," Pansy answered, like it wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
"Oh Merlin, Parkinson. You've really done it this time. Don't you think he's going to be a little annoyed that 'The Boy Who Lived' had sex, with his best friend, in his bed?"
"No."
"No? What do you mean 'no'?"
"Calm down, Potter. Alright, look. A few years back, Draco and I had a pact that if we were ever stuck with nowhere to have fun, as we put it, then we could use eachothers rooms to avoid our parents. Okay?"
"No! Not okay! Malfoy has slept here, he's done things I don't even want to think about right here!"
"Man, you're gonna die of an early heart attack if you don't calm down Potter," smirked Pansy.
"I hate you, Parkinson."
"I hate you too, Potter."
