Dislcaimer: I simply can not afford to buy the rights to Harry Potter.

The room wasn't anything fancy. It had a small writing desk, a chair, a bar fridge, basic tea and coffee making facilities, a tiny television, a poky little bathroom and, of course, only one bed. The boys put their backpacks down before glancing around the room and then looking at each other uncomfortably.

"This might not be so bad, you know?" Harry began.

Draco scowled. "Are you serious? It really couldn't get any worse!"

Harry shrugged. "I've shared a bed with Ron a few times before."

Draco made a face and pretended to cover his ears. "I do not want to know what you and the Weasel got up to last year when you were on your little camping trip! What did your pet Mudblood have to say about it? Doesn't she have a thing for the Weasel?"

"It wasn't like that!" Harry protested. "And their names are Ron and Hermione. And she isn't my pet!"

"Whatever. Are the Weasleys so poor that they can't afford a bed for each person?"

"Oh my god, you are an insufferable git!" Harry sat himself on the bed and grabbed the room service menu. "I'm bloody starving. Let's order something to eat."

They ordered dinner and ate it in silence before Harry got up and took a pair of pyjamas and his toiletries out of his backpack and headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

Draco sat on the corner of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. How the hell had he gotten himself in to this mess? This morning he was supposed to be boarding the train to Hogwarts and somehow he'd finished the day in Paris sharing a bed with Harry freaking Potter, The Boy He'd Tried So Damn Hard To Hate. How was he going to get through the night? What if he woke up the next morning to find he'd been spooning Harry in their sleep? What if he had an embarrassing 'problem' in the downstairs department in the morning, how would he deal with that? Draco wiped his sweaty hands on his new trousers and blushed to himself remembering the time in fourth year when Blaise had heard him moaning in his sleep during one of numerous wet dreams he'd had about Harry over the years. Thankfully Blaise had agreed to keep quiet about it once he'd threatened to let Grabbe and Goyle loose on him. What Zabini didn't realise is that, while Crabbe and Goyle looked menacing, the two of them were as harmless as teddy bears. Draco laughed to himself before realising it was the first time he'd thought about Crabbe without feeling sad.

Harry emerged from the bathroom and Draco jumped, startled out of his thoughts and turned to face Harry. Good Merlin, how could that boy even make a pair of daggy flannelette pyjamas look cute? Though that hair was as wild as ever.

"Do you even own a hairbrush?" Draco snarled.

"Of course I do!" Harry protested, patting down his hair with his free hand. He put his toiletries back in to his backpack and hopped in to bed, facing away from Draco and snuggling himself in under the covers.

"These pjs feel weird," he said. "They feel all stiff and cardboard-y. I probably should have washed them to soften them up before I wore them."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You defeated a Dark Lord and you're complaining about the texture of your pyjamas?"

Harry sighed, ignoring Draco. He really shouldn't complain. At least he had new clothes now instead of Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs. "Aren't you going to get ready for bed?"

"I am not going to sleep with you, Potter!" Draco snapped.

"Oh for goodness sake, Draco, would you grow up?" Harry smacked his pillow, trying to make it comfortable to sleep on.

Draco lay down facing away from Harry and punched his own pillow in to submission.

"I'll sleep on top of the covers, thank you very much."

"Do what you like, Malfoy, I really couldn't give a crap."

"Fine!"

"Aren't you at least going to take your shoes off?"

"I think I'd prefer to leave them on; in case I need to make a quick get away from you."

Harry groaned, then sighed, then closed his eyes and quickly drifted in to dream mode.

Draco lay there awake, contemplating the ridiculous situation he was in before eventually losing his own battle with the sand man.

Sometime during the night Harry woke up to use the bathroom and returned to see Draco curled up in a ball looking very cold. He considered letting the git freeze but his Gryffindor tendencies got the better of him and he pulled the quilt around Draco and tucked him in. Draco mumbled something in his sleep before pulling the quilt up closer to his chin. Harry grinned and hopped back in to bed.

Draco woke up early the next morning surprised at how warm he was before realising that he had the quilt on him. He didn't remember pulling the quilt on during the night. He figured it must have been Harry who'd put it on him. He smiled at the thought and realised how bloody uncomfortable it was sleeping in his clothes before closing his eyes and trying to get a bit more sleep before starting the day.

A week later they were standing in line at the Eiffel Tower. They'd seen most of the sights of Paris including the Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris Disneyland (even though Draco didn't know anything about the Muggle film company, he'd still enjoyed the rides), the Champs Elysees and Arc de Triomphe to name just a few. They'd also spent a lot of time just wandering around the place and stuffing themselves with the fantastic French cuisine like croissants and crepes and baguettes with a lot of 'have another chocolate eclair, Draco' on Harry's part. By some miracle Harry had managed to remember the necessary charms to transfigure a card to link to Draco's Gringott's vault. Draco had been amazed that you could put that card in to a slot in the wall and money had magically come out of it. He wondered why wizards didn't have something similar. It would save a lot of hassle of dealing with those goblins. Maybe these Muggles weren't so silly after all. Draco had taken to paying for absolutely everything in order to pay Harry back for the clothes and train tickets and accommodation though maybe the restaurants he'd taken Harry too were a little on the expensive side and perhaps he'd gone a little over board with the 'do you like that, Harry? Here let me pay for it. No, I insist!' To both the boys' relief they'd managed to move in to a twin room after the awkward night they'd spent in the double room. They'd both avoided mentioning Harry's sweet gesture with the quilt.

"No, I don't want to buy a key ring, thank you very much," Draco snarled at the fourth gypsy who'd approached them selling trinkets to tourists in the line.

The line was moving surprisingly fast for this time of year which everybody was grateful for. When they finally reached the top the boys were surprised at how windy it was up there. They had to hold on to the railings to steady themselves. They looked out over Paris and pointed out the places they'd visited.

"Man, that Louvre place is huge!" Draco held his hand out in the direction of the palace turned art museum.

"You know, Muggles always say that the Eiffel Tower is supposed to be romantic," Harry mused.

"I don't do romance, Potter," Draco spat.

Harry frowned at him and cocked his head in the direction of a Muggle couple who were trapped in an intense snog.

Draco cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably and mumbled "oh, yeah, right" before moving on around the top of the Tower.

Harry shook his head, bemused. What the hell did Draco think he was suggesting?

When they'd done a full circle around the top of the tower and returned to where they'd started the Muggle man was on his knees brandishing a small jewellery box and the Muggle woman was jumping up and down, screaming and crying.

Harry and Draco looked at each other and they both made a disgusted face. Proposing in public, how very uncouth, Draco thought. They both laughed before making their way back to the lift to make their descent back to solid ground.

That night they went to the Moulin Rouge which had been an eye-opening experience with all the colours and feathers and breasts and flesh and champagne. The Muggles they shared a cramped table with whined and complained about the rudeness of the waiters, who were run off their feet, and had brought them the wrong food. Harry couldn't really follow the storyline because it was all in French but he still managed to enjoy himself immensely and they'd laughed hysterically at the intermission acts. They returned to their room and washed up and packed their bags before retiring for the night. The next day they boarded the bus for their next destination.