A/N: So sorry for the delay, my friends! I don't think it counts as an excuse but my girlfriend decided that she just 'isn't gay after all'. Ohh, those crazy straight girls.
So awesome. Enjoy the chapter! I PROMISE sexy times is soon.
PROMISE. I've written the chapter and everyting : D
Cool bye xxxx

Draco looked up through thick eyelashes and a haze of smoke at Mrs Weasley and Harry. They were standing next to the garden chair where Draco had practically taken up residence ever since Mrs Weasley had decided that he should be allowed into the garden unaccompanied.

"Share... With Potter?" Draco's voice curled deliberately around Harry's name, and smirking grey eyes met resolute green ones. Draco dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out under the toe of his boot. He then cocked his head and pouted his lip out in a caricature of contemplation, letting his gaze run up and down Harry's slight form in a way that made Mrs Weasley purse her lips.

Finally he smiled.

"Yeah, alright. I've been pretty bored recently; I could do with some entertainment."

The way he said 'entertainment' made Harry flush. He couldn't help it - even if it was just to get a rise out of Mrs Weasley.

"Wonderful." Mrs Weasley said, economically. "We'll get onto moving you all around tomorrow I think - best to get it done before Bill and Fleur get here." She sighed to herself, "I am sorry about this, boys. Still - can't be helped! Come and give me a hand with the dishes, would you?"

Harry - who had maintained steady eye contact with Draco for the duration of Mrs Weasley's speech - turned quickly and followed her inside, refusing to allow himself to turn back and glance at Draco, who was rising slowly from his chair.

Share with Potter.

Draco watched the brunette trailing Mrs Weasley into the Burrow's kitchen, pulling out and lighting another cigarette - well, Mrs Weasley hadn't asked him to help right now - as he did so.

Draco wasn't modest. He hadn't missed the looks that Potter had been shooting him these past few days. He hadn't missed the increase in eye contact or the reluctant flushes that crept up Potter's neck whenever they had any kind of physical contact - however brief or inadvertent it may be.

And Draco wasn't oblivious either. He hadn't missed the seemingly worsening sexual situation between Potter and the Weaslette. And... He knew that Potter was attractive. Merlin; he was all over the witching magazines half of the time and all over the 'wizards-who-like-wizards' columns the other half. It had to be said; if Charlie Weasley was giving off 'ambiguous', Harry Potter was giving off 'I am definitely at least bisexual'.

Again, Draco had to ponder the intellect of Potter's long-suffering girlfriend.

And thinking about it... Draco found himself stifling a moan at the thought of anyone - let alone the admittedly sexy Harry Potter - doing anything to his neglected knob.

A burning in his index and middle fingers alerted him to the fact that he'd let his cigarette burn down; a long cylinder of ash hanging precariously off the filter.

"Fuck!" Draco dropped the cigarette quickly, glancing at his fingers to assess the damage. He then glanced back at the house where one of the Identicals was mooning at him from a second floor landing. Draco gave a cough of surprised laughter, watching as the bare arse disappeared and was replaced with two grinning faces. Draco laughed and stuck two fingers up at them, strolling to the back door.

After another excellent dinner of sausage and mash, Draco was sitting in his room, enjoying his last moments of true solitude for the foreseeable future and contemplating the previous owner of the room. Draco felt close to Bill in a way that he couldn't explain; having used his love letters as wanking material and mentally abused his bed in ways that should probably never be vocalised. Despite his obvious interest in getting into Potter's room, Draco did value his privacy very highly and, he realised with an unwelcome thud, he was going to miss this room.

Merlin's bollocks, he was going soft.

Draco shook his head, before his thoughts were interrupted by a short, polite knock at his door. He sighed.

"Come in!"

Charlie appeared in the doorway, grinning broadly. "Mind if interrupt your wallowing?"

Draco rolled his eyes and spread his hands, indicating that he didn't mind at all.

Charlie strode in and sat down on Draco's bed comfortably, leaning his weight on his hands stretched out behind him. Draco raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Comfortable?"

Charlie chuckled, and Draco had to bite back a laugh as he always did when Charlie chuckled. It was just so bloody infectious.

"Yeah I am, cheers. Came to see how you were doing. I heard about the, er, arrangement that mum's come to."

Draco briefly considered the insanity of a Weasley coming to check how a Malfoy 'was doing' for no reason other than that he genuinely wanted to know, before replying with what he was sure was a slightly lascivious grin on his face.

"Ahh yes; our new living arrangements. Can't say I'm overly disappointed."

Charlie cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, I've been noting your interaction with the wee Potter lad for some time now, Mr Malfoy." For some reason Charlie had adopted a Scottish brogue not dissimilar to that of Professor McGonagall. Draco fought to keep his laughter under control.

"And what have you observed, Scottish Charlie?"

"I have observed," Charlie nodded his head at Draco in approval of his acknowledgement, "That the Potter lad has become increasingly queer of late." Charlie held up a very McGonagall-like finger at Draco's protests, "No offence meant, laddie. I'm simply informing you of my superior observations."

Draco shrugged and leant back in his chair; pulling out a cigarette and suddenly appearing disinterested. Charlie raised one eyebrow and leant forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees. Retaining his comic accent but adopting a more serious tone, he continued.

"Look, OK; I understand that these things happen. And if something was to happen between you and wee Potter I wouldn't really be surprised or mind. But - and this is possibly unfortunate for everyone involved - Harry is going out with my little sister, who is in love with him. So regardless of what I might think of the relationship, either you both get this thing out of your systems quickly, or you decide soon that you're in it for the long haul, and you tell her. 'Cause I am not having the wee Potter lad fucking my little sister around while he literally fucks you around. Is that nice and clear, pal?"

Draco, who had gone quite still, nodded and quickly exhaled a plume of smoke. "Crystal."

Charlie relaxed again, which in turn meant Draco could un-tense his right hand from where he'd had it clenched around his wand inside his pocket. Charlie ran a hand through his hair briskly and smiled apologetically. "Sorry mate. But family first..." he stopped, looking guilty. Draco sighed.

"Yeah. It's alright, I get it; sane family first."

Charlie looked as though he wanted to give Draco a hug, but wasn't entirely sure of how to initiate it. In the end he got to his feet and crossed the room to stand in front of Draco, who was sitting in the desk chair.

"I may have said this before, but this entire situation is fucked. I really don't want to be a dick to you; you don't deserve it."

Draco widened his eyes. "I know! But no one believes me when I tell them!"

Charlie chuckled, and Draco allowed himself to snigger along. Before he really knew what had happened, Charlie had pulled him upright and into a full-on hug, which Draco returned hesitantly.

"I'm trying my best to be a good mate to you. Just don't fuck with my little sister."

Draco grinned. "That will most definitely not be a problem."

Charlie grunted, and suddenly the hug turned into a restraining device from which Charlie was attempting to knee Draco in the balls.

It was this slightly compromising situation that Harry burst in upon, carrying a large pile of Draco's washing and looking disgruntled for a split second before he blushed bright red.

"Oh, er... I've got your washing... Was gonna take it up with me now 'cos... I'll just, actually, I'll just go-"

Charlie released Draco from the near-headlock that had resulted from their tussle and burst out laughing. "Don't worry, I was just trying to punch him in the bollocks," he paused contemplatively, "but he's too quick for me." Charlie turned and winked briefly at Draco. "I'll just be off then. Let you roomies sort out logistics."

Charlie strode out of the room without another word, leaving Harry and Draco alone, together, in a room, with a bed in it.

Almost simultaneously Harry and Draco realised that this awkwardness was what they'd just voluntarily agreed to live with for the next few weeks... at least.

Harry, still holding Draco's washing, realised he was doing so and looked around for a place to put it. The only options were the bed and the desk; both of which involved walking further into the room and one of which involved being in close proximity to Draco. Harry chose the bed. He dropped the clothes unceremoniously and turned to leave, almost making it to the door before he found himself turning around, his mouth starting to say things that hadn't necessarily been OK'd by his brain yet.

"Hey, Malfoy... Just... I don't want you staring at my arse, yeah?" Harry's eyes widened. Why had he said that?

Draco looked Harry up and down, raising an eyebrow. "I won't stare at your arse if you don't stare at mine, alright soldier?"

Harry couldn't help it, he blushed... and almost stammered over his response. "I am not going to be checking you out Malfoy." he managed to scoff.

Draco grinned even wider. "Then you haven't got anything to worry about. Now, go away, I'm off for a shower. Unless you want me to walk in front of you? Wouldn't do to have me ogling your arse, would it?"

Harry concentrated all of his will on forcing the blush in his cheeks to recede back down his neck and simply rolled his eyes, internally smacking his head against the doorframe for bringing up the topic of arses and ogling. Mainly because Harry knew he had no ground; he eye-raped Malfoy as much, if not more, than Malfoy eye-raped him. But also because he didn't really want to explore the rather disturbing possibility that he'd only said anything because he hadn't wanted to leave Draco's room so soon.

He was in for a long few weeks.

"Alright then, Draco. Is that everything?"

Draco shrugged the affirmative, giving the lone box of belongings at his feet a cursory glance. He hadn't been surprised, exactly, at his lack of belongings; it was more that now, having all his worldly possessions in front of him inside one small box, he felt suddenly forlorn. His life thus far had impressed the importance of physical wealth, the power of an accumulation of expensive stuff, upon him very vigorously. Now that his physical wealth stood at about 5 galleons (his inheritance and access to the Malfoy vault presumably impenetrably sealed), and his accumulation of expensive stuff came down to his wand, his Italian leather shoes and his cape, Draco was feeling just that; forlorn. Forlorn, and rather at a loss as to what he was supposed to be showing the world (what he was allowed to see of it). If it wasn't his stupendous wealth and the causal arrogance of said wealth, what impact was he making in the world?

It came down to this rather pitiable box.

Draco levitated said box a few feet off the ground, and guided it up the stairs in front of him, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the stairs, and not the door at the top of them behind which he knew Potter was waiting. Mrs Weasley was bustling along behind him.

"Goodness Draco, I hadn't realised you had so little. I'll have to dig out some more old robes for you. I hope you don't mind having to wear our hand-me-downs but you understand that it's rather difficult for any of us to get to Diagon Alley these days." she sighed as they reached the top of the house, and squeezed past him to open the door. Potter and his sidekick were sitting on their respective beds - well, Weasley was sprawled across his - wearing similarly disgruntled expressions. Weasley's was directed at Draco, but Potter's was, interestingly, directed at Weasley.

Before Draco had time to examine the situation fully, the Sidekick rolled onto his feet, and directed his words at his mother.

"Oh, so is this where I get kicked out of my own room?"

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips, "Ronald, you are not being thrown out of your room. You'd be welcome to stay in your own room if you'd agree to share with Draco."

The Sidekick became enraged. "Not a bloody chance! I should at least be entitled to chose who gets to stay in my room, and I don't want that slimy git anywhere near it!"

"Ronald!" Mrs Weasley said, quietly and furiously. Potter and Weasley shrank back, and Draco stepped back slightly. "That is no way to talk about our guest." She was gathering volume and speed quickly, "Need I remind you that we are facing war? Stop being so childish, honestly, Ginny's being more accommodating and she's younger than you!"

"Only by a year!" Ron interrupted, looking utterly outraged at the injustice of it all.

Mrs Weasley glared at him. "And you'd think she was older! If you can't act your age I'll have to reconsider allowing you to drop out of school this year! Get yourself down to Percy's room immediately."

Weasley paled, and backed away a couple of steps. "You wouldn't. You couldn't. I can't go back, I'm a blood traitor! They'll rip me apart! I'm a bloody adult, mother! I can make my own choices!"

Mrs Weasley's eyes narrowed to slits, "If you wanted to be treated as an adult, I suggest you start behaving like one." Ron looked as though he might protest, but Mrs Weasley simply pointed to the stairs. Weasley grabbed a couple of boxes by the door as he backed out slowly. He was halfway down the stairs when he came barreling back up them, pointing an accusing finger at Draco,

"Do not even think about sleeping in my bed, Ferret."

Draco smirked. "Not for all the gold in Gringotts, Weasley."

Unsure of whether he was happy with this answer or not, Weasley shot a forlorn look at Potter and slammed the door behind him.

After a brief pause, Draco said conversationally; "So... where am I sleeping?"

Potter looked directly into Draco's eyes with more force and confidence than Draco had expected, and the blond was temporarily floored. Oblivious to the awkward moment, Mrs Weasley turned to face Harry.

"Harry dear-? It's up to you, I expect Ron will come round." she got a hard look in her eye that hinted that Ron would 'come round', whether he wanted to or not.

Potter seemed to shake himself before answering. "Oh... No, it's ok, I s'pose."

Mrs Weasley beamed at Potter, and Draco found himself astounded at the speed at which she could change emotions.

"Oh thank you, dear, that's very kind. I'll just go and fetch some clean sheets from the laundry. I'll leave you to get settled in." She smiled at both boys again, before turning around and shutting the door softly behind her.

Draco stiffened slightly at the sound, realising that, once again, he and Potter were alone together, in a room, with a bed in it.

Two beds, in fact, one of which Draco now approached, unable to stop himself from giving Potter a wide berth as he did so. He sat down on the pale blue bed sheets and bounced slightly. He turned to face Potter.

"Nice spring action." he attempted to school his features into an appropriately lascivious expression but they just wouldn't go, settling instead into 'nervous teasing'. Potter seemed to be having an easier time of it, and smirked.

"Yeah, I've noticed."

Draco almost felt himself blushing with the implications and at the sudden-role reversal. He suddenly realised that Potter was comfortable here in his room, on his home turf. Draco was at a disadvantage, and he was not enjoying it.

Harry walked around to Weasley's bed, walking stiflingly close to Draco even in the small room, his trouser leg inadvertently brushing against Draco's knee as he passed. Draco bit the inside of his cheek imperceptibly, brain scrambling unpleasantly for a witty retort...

Any retort...

A comment on the weather?

Anything?

Harry sat down on Ron's bed, raising his eyebrows at Draco's lack of reply, and bounced experimentally. He sighed theatrically.

"Can't say the same here." he looked at his own bed. "I might have to break the rules; I'm going to miss my bed."

That did it. Draco blushed a delicate pink, and angrily tried to fight it down. It wasn't his fault; Harry had said "Break the rules" in such an innocently naughty way. It just wasn't right.

Harry looked delighted and surprised at the effect of his words, and started to stand. "Malfoy, are you-?"

"Here we go!" Mrs Weasley's bright voice broke the tension as she bustled in, carrying a pile of sheets. She handed a set each to Harry and Draco, and smiled warmly at both of them. "Thanks so much for this again, boys, really."

Draco was internally pummelling his head into the floor as he smiled vaguely back at Mrs Weasley. Harry grinned at his surrogate mother;

"No worries, Molly."

Mrs Weasley gave them an indulgent look. "Honestly; if only my boys were so mature." she went to the doorway and turned back once more; "Dinner's at six. We're eating outside; there just won't be enough room for everyone in the kitchen once Bill and Fleur are here." she sighed and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Harry glanced at Draco, who studiously avoided his gaze; instead raising his wand and wordlessly charming his sheets to arrange themselves on his bed. Draco caught Harry's surprised look and shrugged, not offering any more explanation before he bolted from the room, stopping only to check his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter.

Harry sat on his unmade bed and sighed. Perhaps one day Draco would teach him that spell.

He couldn't explain why, but the fact that Draco knew a spell to make his own bed affected Harry in a way that even the Slytherin's defection had not. Draco would have had to go out of his way to learn that spell; it wasn't taught at school to Harry's knowledge. He had obviously thought it might come in useful one day... when there was no house elf to make his bed for him.

Harry lay back on his bed, and, for the first time in his life, wished he smoked.

Perhaps Draco could teach him how to do that, as well.