"Truth."

"Truth? Well, do I have one for you, Potter," Draco grinned maliciously. "If you could shag any one of our teachers, who would it be?"

"You are twisted!" Harry grimaced. "There is no way in hell I'd answer that question. Mainly because there is no answer to that question."

"You're no fun!" Draco frowned. "Boring and dreary, that's what you are."

"And you're warped and perverted," Harry retorted. "It's your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth. Considering there's no use doing a dare with just two people."

Harry crossed his arms and said, "If you could shag anyone in the whole school, who would it be?"

"You're being too easy on me," Draco grinned. "And I'll be blunt. It would be you, Potter."

Harry's mouth fell open. He felt all the blood drain from his face as he gawked at Draco's indifferent expression. How could his answer be so direct like that? At least he should've said it in a more dignified fashion—

Draco began to laugh, "Your expressions are priceless! I was just kidding, you silly twit!" he continued to chuckle as he shook his head. "You are quite fun, Potter."

"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry glared. "You'd pretty much freak out if I told you the same thing."

"Right, but I'm smart so I'd know that you weren't serious about it," Draco sighed mock-dramatically. "Which is rather unfortunate."

"Quit that, it's nasty," Harry muttered. "I don't know why you're being like this right now. I guess the solitude is getting to you."

"Maybe so."

"You know, I can't wait till we get out of this room. You can get back to normal… you can go back to hating me."

Draco quickly shifted his eyes downwards as the corners of his mouth twitched a bit. He let out a small forced cough and began to scratch nervously behind his ear.

Harry peered at him closely, "Now what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Draco answered a little too quickly. He suddenly became very interested in a snag in the carpet and picked at it for a while in silence.

Harry sighed and looked up, "Malfoy—"

"I don't hate you."

"…What?"

"Are you deaf, Potter? I really hate repeating myself so stop being so dense—"

"Well, you have a great way of showing it, don't you?"

Draco's expression softened, "Sorry. I'm just so used to talking down to you—"

"Ha, ha," Harry forced a sarcastic laugh. "What a wonderful joke, Malfoy. I seriously almost believe you right now. You should be an actor, you know that? You're absolutely genius at it—"

"Oh, shut up!" Draco put an emphasis on the words. "For once when I'm actually being nice, you have to blow up in my face!"

"Who can blame me? You're joking around with me mercilessly. And plus, you've never been nice to me. Ever."

"Like I can prance around freely and hold hands with you. Honestly, Potter! Don't be a brainless git. If my father even catches wind of me being friendly with you, then I'll be in for it," then Draco added in a low voice. "You know my father is working for You-Know-Who. And you… well, let's just say that you're pretty much hated in my father's close circle of friends. So if I'm caught frolicking about with you, then it would seem slightly suspicious."

"You really don't want to be like him, do you?" Harry asked tentatively. "Be a Death Eater, I mean."

"The thought of it makes my blood turn cold," Draco said softly.

They sat in silence for a while, picking at the carpet uneasily. They would throw awkward glances at each other ever so often and chuckle to ease things up. Then it would return back to the uncomfortable silence.

"So you don't hate me?" Harry spoke up.

Draco shifted his eyes upwards, "Do I hate you? Jealous of you; yes. Annoyed by you; all the time. But hate you? Never."

Harry drew his eyebrows together and looked at him, "So does this mean that once we get out of here, you'll start acting decent?"

Draco picked up a pillow and hurled it towards Harry's face, "Don't count on it, Pothead."

And with that, another pillow fight commenced.


Short chapter, huh? Don't worry. I'll TRY to make up for it in the next chapter.