Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I can honestly say I have never gotten that many reviews for the first chapter of a story. Right then, got to clear up some things. Firstly – their illness. It only strikes at bad times – sort of to ruin good occasions. Rotten thing. Secondly – I might have to say that the characters are rather OOC – I know this, that was sort of the plan. Makes them a little easier to work with. Ok, that's about it, let's get on with it. Oh, by the way, this chapter contains coarse language. Just thought I'd warn you.

Breathe

Chapter 2

Italics indicate Harry's thoughts.

Malfoy woke, not opening his eyes, a warm presence making him very comfortable. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, and gave a yell as he found out whose warm body had been snuggling against his.

"Potter!" he shouted, startling the other boy, who jerked awake. "Wha..?" he asked, his eyes bleary from sleep. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Malfoy blazed, searching the room for his discarded clothes. Harry made a face. "Well, I was sleeping, until you interrupted me."

Having found his boxers, draped over a lamp, Malfoy jerked them on. "Listen to me. What ever…what ever happened last night – don't think it'll change anything!"

Harry frowned, pulling on his own boxers. "I wouldn't expect it to. How could a slimy git like you ever change?" Malfoy glared at him. "Eat dung, Potter."

"Why don't you play hide – and – go – fuck – yourself, Malfoy," Harry spat, mentally thanking Cloud for her vast repertoire of unfamiliar insults. Lost for a comeback, Malfoy simply glared daggers, and stomped off to the lavatory. He returned shortly, dressed in a snug black turtleneck and black jeans. Harry noticed something he hadn't all year – his hair. He had scrapped the slicked – back grease pot look – he still used the same amount of gel, but he used it to style his now shorter hair into wicked looking spikes, the tips coloured red. Harry grudgingly admitted that it did look good on him.

"It's all yours," he snapped, sauntering over to the desk where their homework sat. "Thanks," Harry retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He hurried to the fully equipped washroom, dressed in a red shirt and black jeans. He pondered over his robes, but decided against them. Out of habit, he flattened his hair, which sprang back up again, brushed his teeth, and put in his contacts. He had gotten them last summer, finally exasperated with his constantly – breaking glasses. They emphasized his emerald green eyes, which in turn complimented his jet-black hair.

I don't look half bad, he thought looking in the mirror. Not as hot as Malfoy – argh! He mentally smacked himself. I do not think Malfoy is hot. He repeated this a few times as he returned to the main room to start his homework.

"Fuck," Malfoy swore, staring down at the papers strewn over his desk. Harry looked up. "What?" he asked. Malfoy's lip curled. "None of your business, Potter, but if you must know, I can't get this stupid Transfiguration junk."

Harry got up and crossed the room, leaning over his rival's shoulder. "Oh, this is easy," he commented, skimming the papers quickly. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Thanks, that really made me feel better," he remarked.

Harry, who had much improved in Transfiguration, arched an eyebrow at the other's offhand comment. "I'll make you a deal. I'll help you with your Conjuring spells if you help me figure out this stupid Hair Growth Potion. Why the hell do we have to know that anyways? Fat load of good it'll do us. Oh no, I'm face to face with Voldemort, what do I do? Oh, I know, I'll throw this Hair Growth Potion on him. Maybe he'll trip over his new extra long moustache."

Malfoy laughed in surprise. Harry grinned back at him. "So, you in or what?" Reverting back to his old, smarmy self, Malfoy smirked. "Are you mad? Me, take lessons from you? I'd curse myself into a million pieces with the spells you'd teach me."

Harry's eyes hardened and he stormed away, muttering something about, "I'll curse him into a million pieces if he doesn't shut his fat mouth."

An hour later, Harry sat, smug look on his face, as he watched his enemy struggle with the Conjuring spell. Having sorted out the Potions assignment himself, he had finished his work, and was now gleefully observing the other boy's failed attempts to Conjure a teacup.

"God damnit!" he shouted as his teacup's handle, the only thing he had managed to Conjure, disappeared with a puff of purple smoke. Unable to control himself, Harry snorted with laughter. Malfoy whirled on him, his sliver eyes glinting dangerously. "Right then, you do it, if you're so clever," he challenged. Harry grinned evilly, taking out his wand. "Conjurus Teacup," he announced, in clear tones. A chagrinned Malfoy watched as the swirling periwinkle smoke that poured from Harry's wandtip formed and solidified into a perfect china teacup. 

"Fine," Malfoy snapped. "I give up. Teach me how to do it."

Harry smirked. "OK. First of all, you're not doing the movement right. That's your biggest problem." He moved behind the taller boy, reaching around to wrap his hand around Malfoy's, clutching the wand. He moved his hand, performing the proper movements. "Now you try." Shooting steely knives in his direction, Malfoy mimicked Harry's waves. "Better. Now, try it again. The smoke should be blue, like mine was."

"Conjurus Teacup," Malfoy said, without much conviction. Blue smoke poured from his wand, forming a wobbly, but still respectable looking, teacup. His face brightened considerably as he floated the cup down to the table. "I did it!" he exclaimed, favouring his tutor with a rare smile. Harry smiled back. "You're welcome," he said pointedly. Malfoy flushed a pale pink. "Oh, right, uh, thanks."

As Harry returned to his seat, watching as Malfoy disintegrated the cup and reformed it, he suddenly grinned. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

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