A/N: Again, I want to remind you people –this story is written purely for fun, and I don't take it too seriously. Hope that you don't, either! *cheesy grin*

A/N II: No beta used. I don't bother with this. Sorry for mistakes.

6. Coins

The Room of Requirement provided Harry and Draco with a soft, thick wall-to-wall carpet, dozens of soft cushions on which to sit, and a low, Japanese-style table made of ebony. On top of the table, there were two cups of green tea, and a bowl of fortune cookies. Next to the window there was a chest of drawers, engraved with dragons, and two shining sabres in red, silk-covered scabbards were hanging on the wall right above it.

"Hmm, quite nice," Draco muttered, and dropped on one of the huge, green pillows on the floor. He crossed his legs Indian-style and grabbed a fortune cookie from the bowl. "So, Potter… As lovely as this chat unmistakably shall be, I suggest we get over and done with it."

"Okay," Harry shrugged, seating himself down, too, face to face with Draco, the low table separating them. "The first question is how long you have been taking the medicines."

"About three years now," Draco replied, snapping the cookie in two and ripping a piece of parchment from the insides of it.

"And why did you start taking them, in the first place?"

Draco read the little note through, and frowned. "What rubbish! This bloody fortune cookie forecasts that I will get pregnant in the course of three months. I just say!"

"Malfoy, stick to the topic, will you," Harry sighed, looking drained. "I really need to know the situation properly."

"Hmph," Draco grunted, and threw the offending prediction over his shoulder as a crumpled ball. "I was fourteen when my Veela genes activated. I decided to medicate myself with this silvery grind of Antipodean Opaleye Dragon eggshell, so that I could concentrate on the school."

Harry looked confused.

"You know, the upcoming N.E.W.T.'s and stuff," Draco said, mockingly, grabbing another cookie.

Harry glared. "No need to be sarcastic here, you prat. I was just thinking… Hermione has been doing some research and she thinks that it is a good thing that you don't medicate yourself anymore. You know, you must bond someday before you turn twenty-five, and what's a better place to find a mate than Hogwarts School, full of bright young witches."

"Or wizards," Draco smirked.

Harry flushed, "Um, yeah. Er… Anyway, I've been thinking… Maybe we could find you the right mate, so that your Veela charms would go down. You would be happy, and I would be happy."

Draco had the grace to snort. "Believe me that neither of us would be happy…"

"Honestly, Malfoy, what's the reason for your reluctance? I think you're being childish about this." Harry spread his arms in frustration.

"Your motive here is purely selfish, my dear Harriet. You just want to get rid of your duty towards me," Draco's eyes had an evil glint. "And that's not going to happen. Oh, no! Especially when this other fortune cookie says that I get to see my worst enemy's evil plots fail against me. That means all your scheming will backfire, and I will be there to see it! Muwahahaha!"

"Malfoy! Would you put those fucking cookies away already?" Harry cried. "This situation is very uncomfortable, and I really want out of it!"

"Likewise!"

"So stop being such an arrogant fuckwit, for once in your life! We need to cooperate!"

"Cooperation is exactly what I try to avoid," Draco muttered.

"What was that?" Harry crossed his arms, scowling.

"Huh? Oh… Nothing…" Draco leaned backwards and supported himself on his elbows. Then he flashed a wicked grin at Harry. "Let's make a deal. I will be a good boy and behave nicely, if you promise me that you won't try to find me a mate."

Harry looked dissatisfied. "I won't promise anything of the sort!"

"You will, or I'll make your life a living hell!"

"You already have made my life a living hell!"

"Believe me, it'll be a frozen hell if you don't…"

"And I don't give a hell if you threaten me; remember it's you who needs protection…"

"Oh, are you threatening to jump me now, you disgusting scar-head? Because if you are…"

"I wouldn't fucking jump you, not even if you paid me, you arrogant sot…"

"We'll see about that, you insolent brat! I bet you're trying to woo me before the day is out!"

"And I promise you that I will get Dumbledore to woo you before this day is out!"

"Eurgh! You perverted, crack-minded…"

"Look in the mirror before continuing that sentence, Malfoy!"

"Aaargh! I hate you, Potter, I hate you!" Draco bolted up, grinding his teeth.

"Well, I don't exactly fancy you either, you idiot!" Harry got up to his feet, too.

"Fuck you! I'm out of here!" Draco bellowed, and dashed towards the door.

"Fine! Don't fucking complain to me if somebody rapes you, then!"

"I won't!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Draco slammed the door shut. Harry fell back on the soft pillows, burying his face in his palms. He felt heated and exhausted, and he cursed all Malfoys that ever walked upon the earth into the deepest hellhole that ever was found.

However, two minutes and twenty-two seconds later Draco Malfoy stormed back into the Room of Requirement, panting heavily, cheeks covered with pink lipstick. He sought shelter from behind Harry, and grabbed the Gryffindor from the shoulder.

"Truce, Potter."

"Ha!" Harry snorted. "You wish."

"Pleeeeease!" Draco crawled in front of Harry and made a puppy face, which Harry found highly non-Malfoyish but very amusing. "I admit it! I can't survive this vile, abominable world without you, Harry my looove!"

"Eurgh, enough, Malfoy!" Harry made a face, but the corner of his mouth still turned slightly upwards. "So who was it, this time? Not Seamus again, I presume?"

"No, they were Lavender Brown and Mandy Brocklehurst!" Draco looked revolted.

Harry started laughing, "Now I've seen it all, the great Ice Prince Draco Malfoy, afraid of two silly little girls…"

"Hey!" Draco moped, but began laughing, too.

After their laughter subdued, an awkward silence followed. Harry fidgeted with his collar, and Draco took some distance between him and Harry, crawling at the low tea table. Neither of them really knew how to handle situations when they were having fun together –it was something too weird. Draco bit his lip, and for the sake of not looking so stupid, he grabbed a third fortune cookie.

"If you dare read that out loud, I'll strangle you myself," Harry warned.

Draco smirked, and snapped the cookie open. Harry followed annoyed as the Slytherin rolled the parchment open.

"So?" Harry asked.

"What?" Draco raised his brows, reading the text.

"What's it say?"

"I thought you didn't wanna hear."

"Well, if it promises something like you being pregnant, again, I might as well amuse myself by hearing it."

Draco gave him a sharp look. "Well, to your disappointment, this says that I will die old, happy, devastatingly beautiful and filthy rich."

Harry sulked. "I knew that already."

"What, you really think that I am, how was it again, 'devastatingly beautiful'?" Draco sniggered.

"Shut up, Malfoy, I've got an idea," Harry said, his cheeks a little flushed, and stood up.

"Now there's a shocker."

Draco watched as Harry walked at the desk that stood next to the window. The Gryffindor dug out a couple of shining coins from one of its drawers. Then he threw another one at Draco.

"What are these?" Draco asked, catching the coin from the air with his brilliant seeker reflexes. He eyed suspiciously the gold galleon in his hand. "You're not trying to bribe me to being nice, or anything?"

"No, you silly twat, that's not real money. Look," Harry said, and touched Draco's fake galleon. It became warm. "These were originally meant for other purposes, but I guess these might work with us, as well. I mean, whenever you need my help and I'm not present, just change that serial number to show me where you are, and look –my coin becomes warm, too, and shows me the same details."

"Hmm, impressive," Draco raised his brows.

"Thank Hermione for this," Harry chuckled.

Draco looked disgusted.

"Can I ask you something, by the way?" Harry glanced sideways at the Slytherin.

"Shoot," Draco shrugged, putting the coin in his pocket.

"Why didn't you hurt Seamus? Or Lavender and Mandy? You could've used your Veela stuff against them, you know, like those whirlwinds and sharp teeth."

"Dumbledore's orders. I'm not allowed to physically hurt anybody," Draco pouted. "Not even you, I might add."

Harry grinned cheekily. "Great!"

"That is, unless I get really angry and cannot control myself, anymore," Draco added wickedly.

Harry and Draco exited the Room of Requirement, Draco having requirements elsewhere, like in the dungeon toilets. Harry trotted after the Slytherin downstairs, glaring threateningly at everyone who even thought of grabbing Draco's arm and molesting him.

"Why do you have to take a piss in the dungeons, I just ask you," Harry muttered.

"I am not using public toilets, they're disgusting," Draco answered, stopping in front of a weird portrait that presented a greasy-haired wizard.

"What's in there?" Harry asked, eyeing the painting. "And that picture looks distantly like Snape, even though it's definitely uglier."

"I am Severus Snape!" the portrait said, dismayed. "My artist just wasn't the best of them all."

Draco snorted insolently and tugged the belt buckle of the black-clad painting man. "Come on, Potter, he's even crankier than the real one. Don't bother arguing with him."

Harry gave the malformed Severus-picture a funny glance, and followed Draco into the Slytherin toilets.

"What an honour for Snape, having his picture hanging as an entrance to a lavatory," Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't know," Draco smirked. "Nobody knows about these toilets, except me and a couple of other distinguished Slytherins. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Draco made his way to one of the cubicles to ease his state. Harry raised his exploring eyes at the high ceiling and the eight walls that were all covered with black marble. A large, continuous mirror was covering three walls of the hexagon, and it was framed with emerald-eyed, silvery serpents.

"How original," Harry muttered, sarcastically.

"Hey Potter," Draco asked, his voice echoing from the cubicle.

"Yeah?" Harry said, turning to examine his reflection from the black, shining wall, instead of the grand looking glass.

"How come my Veela charms won't affect you? I mean, seriously."

"How the hell would I know," Harry shrugged. "I'm just glad that they don't."

"You're the only one, you know," Draco continued. There was a roar of water flushed down the toilet. "Maybe there's something wrong with you."

"Haven't you been saying that all these six years already?" Harry simpered, trying to settle his hair flat, however unsuccessfully. The black marble showed him the same wild coiffure than before.

Draco emerged, and went to wash his hands. He glanced at Harry, looking contemplating.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Oh… Nothing," Draco said, silently.

Harry gave Draco a pointed look. "Malfoy, just say it, will you."

"You should try my hair wax," Draco looked at Harry via the serpent mirror. "It's supremely good, and could do miracles to your messy tresses."

"Are you offering me your hair wax, Malfoy?" Harry was amused. "This world is getting weirder and weirder…"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Potter."

The Slytherin common room was full of people when Draco arrived there with Harry. Draco frowned at the adoring stares, trying his best to ignore the drooling teenager girls. Robes swirling, he stalked straight to his dormitory room, wanting to finish his homework. Harry followed.

Crabbe and Goyle were sitting on their beds, trying to understand something about Herbology, when Draco slammed the door forcefully open and entered. Immediately, the two sidekicks forgot about their essays, and started to stare at Draco.

"I've never really been here before," Harry mused, half out loud, sitting on Draco's bed. He remembered the one time with Polyjuice potion, but that didn't really count, since he hadn't ventured much further than the common room sofa.

"It's not like I've been in the Gryffindor tower, either," Draco said distractedly, and opened his schoolbag, sitting at the desk that stood next to the damp dungeon wall, under a flickering torch. "Vincent, don't even think about it."

The colossal boy dropped back on his bed, sulking. Harry snorted. Draco must've had a sixth sense, knowing that Crabbe was about to come and touch him, even though the blonde was not facing him.

"Can I help you guys?" Harry asked Gregory. "I haven't got my own books with me; I might as well do my homework with you."

Gregory Goyle looked utterly surprised, as did Vincent Crabbe. They both glanced at Draco, who merely looked amused.

"Potter's not the smartest one here, but he's smarter than either of you, so I suggest you accept," he said, smirking.

Harry fumed, grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked Draco on the head with it. "I am very smart, you asshole!"

Draco spilled the ink over his essay parchment and growled. "Potter! You'll pay for that!"

Soon, a wild pillow war was raging on Draco's bed. Vincent and Gregory had lent their own pillows in the game, and were watching the fight in wonder. Draco was currently straddling Harry, ripping the Gryffindor's shirt collar open, in order to stuff a pillow inside, and Harry was trying to suffocate Draco with a very large fluff pad, which was Draco's own.

"You annoying filthy Gryffindor brat!" Draco yelled, his voice muffled by the cushion. "You just can't help yourself, can you? Always getting me into trouble, always annoying me, always there to spoil my day…"

"Others call it saving the day, you arrogant sod!" Harry growled, and hauled Malfoy around, so that the Slytherin was lying under him. "Your family just couldn't help tampering with Veela people, now could they? Such perverted sick…"

"Who are you calling perverted, Potter? Get the fuck off me!" Draco retorted with flushed cheeks, nudging his hips upwards.

"Oh, are you getting off of me?" Harry leered, and tried to suffocate Draco anew with the pillow. Draco, however, had other plans and he grabbed the pillow rather harshly, smashing it on Harry's face. Unfortunately, the fluffy pad burst in two.

Harry and Draco both looked bewildered as the feathers spread in the air around them. They danced silently downwards, like enormous snow flakes, landing on Draco's face and chest, and Harry's ebony curls.

"Now you did it, you vile, ugly beast!" Draco winced, and a second later, he sneezed. And he sneezed again.

"Draco's allergic," explained Vincent, and Gregory began to laugh goofily.

Harry looked down at the blonde Slytherin, who was sneezing the third time, and burst out laughing, too.

"If I ever have seen anything as cute before…" he trailed off, holding his stomach.

"I'm not cute!" Draco snarled, and sneezed right at Harry's face.

"Eurgh, Malfoy!" Harry cried in dismay, and wiped his eyes. "Disgusting!"

"Hatchoo!"

"Malfoy! You're revolting!" Harry shrieked, when another wet blow slapped his features.

"Others call me resistless," Draco grinned up at the Gryffindor. "They'd do anything to get me even sneeze on them."

"Well, then the others are a bunch of dunderheads," Harry snorted, and moved away from Draco's lap. "You just need to bat your oh-so-pretty-and-thick Veela lashes at them, and they'd do anything for you. I say it's sickening."

"Who's sickening?" Draco sneezed, and wiped his eyes. Then he raised his hand, and performed a beautiful, little cyclone, which danced upon his belly, carrying all the feathers upwards, away from him.

Harry watched this in awe, just like Vincent and Gregory. Draco rolled his eyes, and guided the whirlwind in the trash basket.

"Now… Shall we continue with Herbology?" he asked casually, tensing his stomach muscles to sit up on the bed. He deliberately ignored the three jaws that hung close to the floor.

Three hours later, Draco had finished his last essay, which was for Sexual Behaviour of Magical Creatures, concerning Medusa women. He put his quill away, sighing with content, and turned around to face the others.

Vincent and Gregory were both sprawled on the floor, playing their own, eased version of the Wizard Chess. Harry had helped them with their homework, and for the first time in many weeks they were ready before Draco.

And speaking of the devil, Harry was now lying on Draco's bed, much to the Veela's dismay and distraction, sound asleep.

"Great…" Draco muttered, stood up and stretched out. His bum felt numb, and his muscles tense –and he really wanted to get some rest.

"Wake up, Potter," he said, walking at the bed and poked Harry's ribs.

He tried not to think about how beautiful Harry seemed to him, with his glasses askew and his shirt up enough to reveal the firm abs and slim hips.

"Potter?" Draco said again, when Harry didn't react.

"What?" the Gryffindor snapped, clearly too drowsy to understand the situation, and turned on his side, back against Draco.

Draco looked pleadingly at the ceiling, muttered something along the lines of 'I can't believe this', and knelt on the mattress. He grabbed Harry's shoulder and began to shake it, rather violently. "Potter, you're wrong if you think that I'm letting you sleep in my bed!"

"What? Huh?" Harry startled awake. "Malfoy?"

Vincent and Gregory started to guffaw on the floor, following the situation with fascination.

"Yes, it's me," Draco drawled, looking bored. "Now would you get your arse moving? We're not going to sleep together, you know, no matter how much I know you adore me."

This seemed to wake Harry up completely, and he jumped out of the bed. "What? Ew! As if I'd ever look at you in that way!"

Draco felt the Veela instincts bang his chest from the inside rather painfully, but he hid it well. He was angry at the fact that Harry's words could hurt him so much.

"I know," he muttered under his breath. Then he faced Harry with new courage. "I was just trying to say that it's time for me to take a bath and go to sleep."

"Oh, right," Harry pushed his glasses better on his nose. "Er… I don't have to come and take a bath with you, do I?"

"As if I'd even let you!" Draco looked disgusted. He always bathed alone.

"Well, I trust you have good locking charms on the door, then," Harry said. "Or do you need me to sit behind it, telling people to bugger off? Because if you do, you can be sure that I won't do it."

"We can do it," Vincent and Gregory offered, looking hopeful.

Draco looked miserable and pissed. "No, thanks, Vin and Greg."

"I suggest you skip the bath and take it in the morning," Harry yawned. "I can come and watch your door then."

"Hmh, alright," Draco looked thoughtful.

"Now, you just get in bed. I'll place the charms around you so that no-one will jump you in your sleep," Harry yawned again. "I'm so tired that I can hardly make it in the Tower, anymore, so hurry up."

Draco shrugged, and trotted at his wardrobe. He was rather tired himself, having had such a stressing day. But he'd lived through it, and that was the main point. He gracefully slipped out of his shirt and trousers, and turned around, wearing nothing but his black boxer-briefs. Harry was watching him with a very strange expression.

"What?" he asked irritated.

"Er… Nothing," Harry swallowed.

Vincent and Gregory were silently creeping towards him, the chess game completely forgotten.

"Agh!" Draco's pupils went wide, as they touched his shins. "Stop it, right now!"

But the two fat goons did not do anything of the sort. Draco was immovable with horror.

"Er, maybe you should put some more clothes on," Harry suggested, blushing.

"B-b-but I always sleep like this," Draco whinged, and edged towards the corner of the room, away from Crabbe and Goyle's reach.

"Well, maybe you should make an exception," Harry sighed, and walked past the two crawling boys at Draco's wardrobe. He grabbed a random pair of soft trousers and threw them at Draco. "Put them on. I can't be here watching every single moment of your night."

"But you s-said you'd cast some spells?" Draco looked panicked, but obeyed nevertheless, putting the trousers on. "I mean, look at those two! Have you ever seen anything as nauseating?"

Harry looked at the lust-twisted faces of the Slytherins. "No, actually I haven't," he confessed. "I almost feel sorry for you."

"Gee, thanks," Draco said, sarcastically.

"Now, come on, let's tug you in," Harry said, went to Draco and pulled him towards the bed. Quickly, Draco crawled under the quilt, and sighed in relief.

However, his expression turned displeased in mere seconds.

"Now what?" Harry sighed, rolling his eyes.

"My pillow," Draco wailed. "You broke it, and now I don't have any good one!"

"Oh, shut up," Harry was tired and tetchy, and drew the hangings closed. "You were allergic to it, anyway!"

He cast several protective spells on the bed, and glared threateningly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he smirked, and went to get something from the pocket of the trousers Draco had been wearing that day. "The coin. Have it with you, Malfoy."

"Hmh, fine," Draco murmured. "Although I doubt it works."

"Night then, you maddening git," Harry harrumphed and left for the door.

"Bad dreams, wanker," Draco mumbled after him.

Harry woke up when something began to burn in the pocket of his pajama bottoms.

"Agh, leave it out…" he moaned, very much annoyed, and wiped the sleep dust out of his eyes. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost three a.m. Then he drowsily dug out the gold galleon, which was shimmering in the moonlight. It was scorching.

Then the situation truly cleared out to him.

"Oh, shit!"

Harry jumped in his slippers faster than a panther, grabbed his cloak that lay on top of his trunk and dashed out of the dormitory. He ran like hell out of the common room portrait and down the stairs towards the Slytherin dungeons.

"For the name of Morgan le Fay, why on earth did Salazar want to locate the Slytherin common room so fucking far away? Under the lake, for fuck's sake…" Harry panted as he ran. "As if it couldn't have been near where Snape's vast chambers are… That selfish, crook-nosed, greasy-haired bastard… Endangering his precious students to respiratory infections…"

Harry realised then that his mind was reeling, and his train of thought was as crazy as Draco Malfoy wearing Gryffindor colours on his underpants.

"I must be really tired… Well, I just woke up, so…" Harry muttered, and massaged his temples. He was glad to find himself finally passing the Ugly Snape -portrait, and even gladder he was of the fact that there were no night crawlers to hear his unreasonable babbling.

"Hope I'm not too late… Shit, what if Crabbe or Goyle has raped him? Or the both of them? Eww…"

Harry shuddered at the thought, not really knowing why he suddenly cared. When he reached the entrance of the Slytherin common room, he jumped against it and began to bang his fists against the wooden surface like a madman.

"Let me in, let me in, I'm in a hurry," he snarled.

"Harry!" a yell came from the other side. "The password's Hot Demon!"

"Hot Demon!" Harry spat, and the door opened. He stepped into the common room, only to meet a really, really disgusting sight.

Draco Malfoy was lying immovable on the floor, his pajama trousers ripped open. It seemed that the blonde was hexed to stay still, by none other than Millicent Bulstrode, who was hovering above the helpless boy with her enormous lards. She was wearing nothing but pink, little strings and lilac push-up bras.

Harry gagged and Millicent turned her angrily gleaming eyes at him. The girl was wearing coral-coloured lipstick that stuck to her teeth, and her green eye-shadow was just plain sluttish.

"Eurgh, god damn Bulstrode, what the hell are you doing?" Harry choked, and moved rapidly next to Draco, who seemed to have tears in his silvery eyes. "Well?" he demanded, kneeling down.

"I was giving him a strip-tease show, if you like to know," Millicent sizzled, crossing her chubby arms.

Harry laid a protective arm over Draco, and glared at Millicent. "Oh, really?"

"And I was just about to give him head, until you interrupted us," she pouted, looking murderous.

"I'm sure Malfoy wasn't as enthused about the idea as you were," Harry revealed his teeth at Millicent, eyes narrowing. "Seeing as he hasn't even got a hard on," he gestured towards Draco's pants.

Millicent huffed and looked proudly elsewhere. "I was going to work on that, you know."

"Finite incantatum," Harry sighed, and released Draco from the jinx. "Just be glad that I won't hex you to the next century, Bulstrode. Now get lost."

Millicent seemed reluctant, but when Harry raised his wand at her, she seemed to think the matter over.

"I just killed Voldemort a couple of months ago. Surely you don't wish to challenge me?"

Millicent took a last, lustful look at Draco who was now curled on the floor behind Harry's back, hugging his knees. Then she sailed away.

Harry helped Draco back to bed, supporting him from the elbow. The blonde was shuddering still, a terrified expression plastered over his delicate features, and Harry couldn't help feeling a bit worried.

"What happened, Malfoy?" he asked softly, not wanting to add more pressure on the Veela by arguing. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't leave your bed until I came to collect you in the morning?"

Draco scowled, and then crawled under his thick, black eiderdown. He turned his back at Harry. "I had to visit the Ugly Snape, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," Harry bit his lip. He obviously hadn't taken all needs in consideration.

"I had to brush my teeth," Draco cleared out. "I forgot."

Despite himself, Harry started laughing.

"What?" Draco glared at him over his shoulder.

Harry continued to chuckle. "You're just so bloody vainglorious, Malfoy! Couldn't sleep one night without brushing your teeth, could you? Even though you knew there would be students to bounce you in the shadows of every corner?"

Draco tugged his lower lip out and crossed his arms. "Don't know about you, scar-head, but I happen to like fresh breath."

"Spoiled brat and a dandy."

"Am not!"

"Are too! Now get some sleep. I'll cast the protective charms around your bed afresh. And don't fucking leave this time."

"Sucker."

Harry grinned at Draco's sulky mien, spread the warm glow of the Imperturbable Charm on Draco's bed-hangings, and closed them.

"Good night, pretty angel," Harry smirked.

"Aagh, I hate you, Potter!" a yell came from behind the canvas.

Harry left the dormitory, giggling at the seething Slytherin.

…TBC…