Music: 'The Empire Strikes First': Bad Religion (spec: Atheist Peace)

-

Part I:

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that filled the room after Ron's statement. The only sound was the deafened roar of the crowd, and Harry's harsh breathing.

Hermione blinked, she looked at the anger in Ron's eyes, and then she looked at Harry. Rather, she looked at the crumpled form of her beloved friend, and managed to find his desperate eyes underneath the mangle of black hair.

"Draco Malfoy?" She breathed, unsure of what to say. Ron nodded vehemently, looking (finally) beyond words. "Uh…" Hermione was, of course, angry. She felt terribly betrayed by Harry. How could she not? Draco had always done his best to make Hermione feel less than human- like rubbish.

But then, Harry's quietly pleading, begging eyes asked her to feel otherwise. "I… Ron, it's- it's okay." She looked pleadingly into Ron's eyes, asking him to overcome his shock, and his rage. On the floor, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, the smallest smile appearing on his face. "Ron, please?"

"Please what, Hermione?" Hermione cocked her head, feeling tears spring to her eyes, she had never heard that tone in Ron's voice, at least not when he was talking to her…

"Ron?"

"I knew you'd take his side."

"His side? I- Ron, what side? I don't know what you're saying."

"Don't play dumb, Hermione. You know what I mean." Hermione shook her head, Ron practically growled. "Aren't you angry, Hermione! He betrayed us! All the shit Malfoy's done to us, and he goes and starts buggering around with 'em! That's not bloody right, and you know it!"

"Ron, Harry didn't mean it as an attack against us! Sometimes things just happen!" Hermione's voice was desperate, and she was trying to hold back tears, but her heart was breaking.

"How could that "just happen", Hermione?" Ron glared down at Harry, who had returned to staring fixedly at his folded hands. "Tell us, Harry, did it "Just happen"?"

Harry looked up at him, frowning, "Yes, actually, Ron, it did."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, I don't give a fuck if you believe me or not, it's the bloody truth. If you don't believe me, then that's your problem." Harry's eyes flashed.

Silence fell again, distantly they could hear Dennis Creevy announce Hufflepuff's win. Harry and Ron were staring coldly at each other with a fury that had previously been reserved for Malfoy. Hermione looked from one to the other, torn, and struggling to hold back tears that kept trying to break through.

Then, suddenly Ron relaxed, "Okay."

Harry started, "What?"

"Fine. You want to bat for the opposition, fine." Harry and Hermione both stared at Ron like he had gone mad. "This is our last year here, I don't wanna' waste it by fighting with my two best mates. But-" he said, shaking a finger at Harry, "This doesn't mean I don't hate Malfoy, or that I'm not still bloody angry at you, you bastard." Ron smiled at Harry to take the edge off of his words.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione said, charging at him, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him happily.

"Blech." Said Harry from his position on the floor, but he was grinning.

"Get up, Harry." Ron said, and offered his hand, Harry took it, and Ron hauled him up off the floor. "I'm still bloody mad at you, though." Smiling, though his voice was serious.

"Right, I know."

Part II:

"Oy, Malfoy!" Harry yelled, running to catch him.

"What is it, Potter?" Draco said coldly, turning to face him with a look of utter disdain on his face.

"I need to have a word with you." Harry said, coldly, but not matching Malfoy's tone.

"About what exactly."

"Potions, actually. Professor Snape sent me to get you." Harry said, lying through his teeth, but knowing that Crabbe and Goyle would be too stupid to notice.

Draco sighed dramatically, "Alright." He turned to Crabbe and Goyle, "See you back in the common room." The two looked about to protest, but Draco turned away from them, and they shuffled off.

"Alright, Potter, found a new abandoned room, then, have you?" He said as he turned back to Harry, grinning lecherously.

"Actually, no. I wanted to talk to you. Just. Talk. Can you comprehend that?"

Draco frowned, "I dunno', maybe I can, and maybe I can't. It all depends on what you want to talk about… and, of course, if the weasel is around."

"Don't call him that." Harry said coarsely.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings, Potty?"

"I wouldn't worry about me if I were you, Malfoy." Harry said, glaring at Draco, and twirling his wand.

"Oh no! A threat!" Draco put his hand over his mouth in mock horror, and then laughed. "C'mon, Potter, stop fucking around. Let's just go, okay?" Draco grabbed Harry's collar, and started trying to pull him down the corridor, but Harry stayed planted where he was.

"I'm not joking around, Malfoy. I mean it. Leave Ron and Hermione alone."

Draco turned and looked at Harry curiously, noting the dangerous glint in his eyes, and decided that considering this boy had taken down You-Know-Who… repeatedly, Draco should just back down. Besides it wouldn't be too hard to ignore the mudblood and the weasel. Still, Draco had to keep up appearances, so he stepped back and crossed his arms, pretending to be thinking it over- ignoring Harry's impatient sigh. "… Okay, Potter. If you'll stop being such an arse, then I'll stop taking the mickey out of… Weasley and Granger."

Harry's eyes were still narrowed, but he nodded reluctantly. "Okay." Draco smiled, and again grabbed Harry, and proceeded to attempt to drag him down the hall. "I'm not done, Malfoy." Harry said, removing Draco's hand from his wrist.

"Argh!" Draco said, turning away in frustration, and banging his head on the wall in frustration. "What now!"

"I just wanted to thank you for sticking around Saturday night. It was a big help."

Draco turned and looked at Harry as though he had lost his mind. "What the fuck are you on about, Potter!"

Just then, an authoritative voice yelled at them from down the hallway. "Potter, Malfoy what are you two up to?" Professor McGonagall swooped down on them, ready to stop the fight that was obviously about to break out.

"Nothing, Professor." Harry said innocently.

McGonagall raised her eyes, and turned to look at Draco. "He's telling the truth, Professor. We're only talking." Draco said ironically, glancing briefly at Harry.

"Hmm. Alright, but see that it stays that way, or I'll be seeing both of you in detention." With that McGonagall walked away, and around the corner.

Harry and Draco both ran after her, and looked around the corner to see that she was actually gone. She was.

"You know what I'm talking about, Malfoy. You ran out of there so fast I'm surprised you didn't cause a tornado."

"You didn't expect me to stick around, did you!"

"Well, help would've been nice."

"Look, Potter, I'm not here to be nice." Draco was surprised at the pain that flickered across Harry's face as he said this. He felt an unfamiliar pang of regret, and endeavored to fix his blunder. "Besides, it only would've made Weasley madder." Harry's frown lessened, but he still looked unsure. "Would you have stayed if you were me?"

Harry shook his head, smiling slightly. "No, I guess I wouldn't have."

"Done now?"

"Yes." Harry said, smiling.

"Can we go now?"

"Why not?" Harry said resignedly, and followed Draco up a flight of stairs, left down a familiar corridor, and into a large, mostly empty closet.

As soon as the door was closed and locked, Draco pounced on Harry. Who at first reacted enthusiastically, then half-heartedly, and then not really at all.

"Fuckin' help me get this off!" Draco yelled in frustration, attempting to yank Harry's shirt off, completely unsuccessfully.

"Nope, not in the mood." Harry said casually, sitting down, and leaning against the door.

Draco gaped at him. "Not in… the mood? Bloody hell." Draco buried his head in his hands, muttering incomprehensibly. Harry ignored him, examining his fingernails… even though there was hardly any light in the room. "Potter, what the hell kinda' spell do you have on you!"

"No spell. I just don't feel like having your tongue down my throat right now."

"Well, then how about-"

"Oh, sod off."

"Well, Nancy, if you're not in "the mood" then I'll just be going back to my dorm to wank off, thank you very much." Draco said, moving towards the door and finding it blocked by Harry. "Move, Potter."

"Nope."

"What the hell do you want with me!"

"I dunno'. Sit."

"No, I don't bloody want to sit. Now, move your fat arse, Potter!" Draco said, trying to push Harry out of the way. Harry didn't move an inch.

"I think I'll stay right here, actually."

Draco glared daggers at Harry, hoping his patented stare would be enough to budge our hero… it wasn't. Harry just laughed at him, which infuriated Draco more. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"I don't know, yet. But if you shut-up then maybe I can figure it out."

Draco looked at Harry as though he'd like nothing better than to kill him, but he only made indignant noises, then a gave frustrated sigh, and flopped down on the floor next to Harry. "Now what?"

"Uh… what's your favourite colour?"

"My favourite color? What're you getting at, Potter?"

"I dunno'. I guess it would be cool if we got to know each other." Harry said, shrugging, and not meeting Draco's eye.

Draco blinked, and stared blankly at Harry. If he was honest with himself, though, Draco knew that he was as curious about Harry as Harry was about himself. "Okay, Potter. But if you start crying, or turning into a simpering pansy then I'll hex you, got it?"

Harry laughed, "got it. Now, what's your favourite colour?"

"I dunno'."

"That's not an answer, Malfoy."

"Uh… well, then green."

"That was predictable."

"Well I'm sorry if my choice of colour doesn't please you, Potter."

"Has anyone ever told you that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?"

Draco raised his eyebrows, "actually no, Antisthenes."

"Intestines?"

"No, dipshit, Antisthenes. The founder of the school of cynicism."

"Riiiight…"

"Lowest form of wit, Potter." Draco said in a sing-song voice.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco, "what's your favourite colour, Malfoy?"

"Are you deaf, Potter?" Draco said, grabbing his ear, and pulling on it. "GreeeeeN" He said directly into Harry's ear.

"No it isn't. You're lying."

"Why the hell would I lie about my favorite sodding colour!"

"Because it's part of your image. Your Draco Bloody Malfoy image. Your favorite colour isn't green. Just like you don't actually hate half-bloods… or me, for that matter."

Draco stared at him like he had just grown antennae, and huge multi-faceted eyes. They sat and stared at each for a minute or so before Draco finally said. "For your information, oh presumptuous one, I happen to have a strong dislike for half-breeds of any kind, and I happen to think of you with utter and complete loathing. Loa-thing. Do you know what that word means, Potter? I mean, it is a whole two syllables."

"Of course, loathing. Utter dislike. Hatred. Right. Got it. So, what's your favorite colour?"

"I've told you twice already, what the bloody hell is wrong with you? And why is it so important to know what my bloody favorite colour is!"

"Because lying about your favorite colour is the root of all your problems."

"The root of all my… Jesus H. Christ." Draco pulled his fingers through his hair. "If I tell you what my…. Real favorite colour is will you shut the fuck up? Maybe even let me out of this room?"

"I don't know about letting you out of the room, but maybe I'll shut-up."

Draco considered this for a moment, "fine." Draco squared his shoulders, and arranged his features as though he were preparing for battle. "If you laugh, Potter, I'll kill you, okay? I'll kill you."

Harry would've made a comment about how if the second most powerful wizard in the world couldn't kill him, he doubted that a 17-year-old kid could…. But he was too intrigued to piss off Draco more. "Got it. I won't laugh."

"Okay." Draco took a deep breath, "alright. My favourite colour is… magenta." Harry snorted, and then attempted to turn his stifled laughter into a coughing fit. "Ha.Ha.Ha. Bugger off, Potter."

Snort, "what?" snort, giggle, cough, "I'm not-" giggle, snort, "saying" snort "anything!" Draco sighed melodramatically. "I'm sorry," giggle "but, pink! I didn't" giggle cough "expect it to be pink!"

"Not pink. Magenta. There's a difference."

"What's that?"

"It's subtle, I wouldn't expect someone of your low mental capacity to comprehend it."

"You're such a queer, Malfoy."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not!"

"Not!"

"Too! Oh, dammit." Draco growled, and threw himself back against the wall, "ow. Oh, bugger." Harry had his fist in his mouth to try and prevent himself from laughing. "Alright, Potter, you've had your fun. Now can I get out?"

"Nope, sorry. I'm not done with you yet." Draco looked murderous, so Harry gave him the sweetest, most innocent smile he could.

"Alright, but if I'm stuck in here, then I get to interrogate you, too."

"Fair enough."

"Okay, well then, er…" Draco realized he had nothing to ask. "What's your… favourite colour?"

"Green."

"Excuse me?"

"My favourite colour is green."

"Now you're just fucking around." Draco said with a wry smile.

"No, honestly, green is my favourite colour."

"Prove it."

"How do you expect me to do that?"

"Why do you like green so much?"

"I dunno', I guess because my mum's eyes were green."

"Oh." Draco apparently had nothing to say to that because he didn't say anything more, and Harry certainly didn't feel like saying anymore.

"Do you wish your parents were still alive?"

Harry blinked, "That's a very stupid question, Malfoy."

"I mean, because if You-Know-Who hadn't attacked you and your parents he would never have been defeated… and, uh, well, obviously you don't want him around."

"I never thought of it that way. But… I still think, no, never mind."

"I won't think anything bad about you thinking selfishly, Potter. I mean, I'm out to get all I can for myself, and if anyone has a problem with that then they can bugger off for all I care."

"That, Draco, is an interesting philosophy."

Draco blinked, "What did you just call me?"

"What? What d'ya mean?"

"Did you just call me 'Draco'?"

"Uh… I dunno', did I?"

"Yes, you did." Draco said, with an air of triumph in his voice.

"What does it matter if called you 'Draco', it is your name."

"Whatever you say, Potter."

"Are you insinuating something, Malfoy?"

"No, nothing at all. I just find it funny that you used my first name, but you remain 'Potter' to me."

"Oh, yea?" Harry said, getting defensive, he knew what Draco was getting at, and dreaded it. Because, after all, he didn't care at all about Draco Malfoy. He could drop dead for all Harry cared… yea, that's right! He could die, and Harry wouldn't shed a tear, not one single bloody tear.

"Yea, Potter."

"It doesn't mean anything, Malfoy, so let it go."

"What if I don't want to."

"Then I'll have to-" Harry struggled to find an appropriate punishment for his nemesis. "-to-"

"What, Potter?" Draco asked, leaning close.

"Uh," Harry said, drawing back slightly.

"What's wrong, Potter, cat got your tongue?"

"No, actually, I just-" Harry was cut off because Draco had decided that he was done waiting, and had caught Harry's lips in an impatient kiss. Harry responded automatically, letting Draco's tongue slip into his mouth, completely forgetting that he was trying to think of an appropriate jinx for the boy.

He did, however, regain his mind before things progressed too far. "Hey!" Harry said, grabbing Draco's shoulders, and holding him at arm's length. "I had a point!"

"And now it's gone." Draco said, wriggling out of Harry's hold. "Time to move on."

Harry covered his mouth with the back of his hand, and then pushed Draco away, "no it isn't!"

"Yes, it bloody well is! If you refuse to satisfy my needs, then you better let me out of this closet!" Draco pushed at Harry, attempting to move him away from the door. "Move it, Pothead."

"Nope." Harry said, contentedly, pushing against Draco so he wouldn't be moved.

"Fine." Draco said and stopped pushing, Harry fell to the side, at the same moment that Draco performed a spell to move him, it went right over Harry and hit the door.

Although his spell had failed, Harry was now out of his way. Draco leaped over Harry, grabbed the doorknob, twisted, pushed and- and… "oh bugger." Draco said, hitting his head against the door with a dull 'thud'.

"You broke the door." Harry stated flatly.

"Yes." Draco said with a very heavy sigh.

"Now we're stuck here until someone wants something from in here."

"And that something would be…?" Draco glanced skeptically around the room.

"Uh…" Harry searched for something that would be of use, "chairs?"

"Broken chairs?"

"We're fucked."

"Indeed."

"I suppose we'd better make the best of our situation."

"I knew you'd come around." …

Part II:

In the hall outside the closet a certain Ronald Weasley was walking merrily along. He was in a very good mood, despite still being angry that his best friend had stabbed him in the back. But, he wasn't thinking about that now, no, our dear red-head was thinking of the most beautiful, wonderful girl in all the world: Hermione Granger. The subject of Hermione Granger tended to make Ron feel all warm and fuzzy, similar to the feeling he got after a very good meal- only, he didn't have to stuff his face to achieve it.

All in all, Ron was in a very fine mood, if he had been a 12-year-old girl he would've been walking down the halls skipping and singing to himself. But, since he was actually a 17-year-old boy, he was only whistling erratically.

Anyway, Ron was walking down the hall when he heard a strange sound coming from behind one of the doors. It sounded like someone had knocked on the door… from the inside. Thinking that some poor first year had somehow gotten themselves locked in, and being in a good, helping mood, he decided he'd open the door for the poor midget. Oh, Ron, you foolish boy.

When Ron opened the door it was not a small 10-year-old that rolled out… oh no. It was none other than a shirtless Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy left with only boxers on. Of course, their combined weight was enough to knock Ron over, and the three boys ended up in a strange tangle of limbs, the only distinguishable features the mops of red, black, and blonde hair.

They sat there for a moment, all stunned into silence, until Ron broke the silence with a bizarre and impossible sound combination of a scream and a whimper.

"Thanks for getting us out of there, Weasley. Don't know what we would have done without you."

Silence.

And then poor Ron, broke down, and screamed bloody murder.

-

Hopefully no one is within hearing distance, eh?

It'll be pretty long breaks between updates because I am swamped, I am the definition of busy.

How is it that I have no life, and yet also have no free-time. You'd think my life would be exciting! but no…. oh, no.

Oh, and to clarify something I'm not sure I did coherently, that probably will be discussed later, but I'd like to clear it up now, as it was of some worry to my dear friend FireLass. Ron is not homophobic, he just hates Draco Malfoy. If Harry were shagging Seamus Finnigan, Ron would be worried about having shared a room with the two of them for years, but really be perfectly comfortable with it.

Also, Hermione isn't entirely supportive of Harry's, uh, thing with Draco, she just didn't want Harry to go shoot himself because he felt like no one loved him. Ron's isn't as far-sighted as that.

A HUGE thanks to FireLass for being my editing goddess, and a fiery-haired personification of beauty that always brightens my day, even if she is a member of the mafia -

She isn't, really. She's just Italian. And semi-Chicagoan, her family is anyway. Speaking of which, my mom's old high school in Chicago is now run by the Mafia. HAHAHAHAHAHA! I almost peed my pants laughing when she told me that.

Thank you sooo much to all my reviewers, it means so much to me that you take time out of your days not only to read, but to review, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Also any criticism is not only accepted, but encouraged. Thank you, please come again.