Cliches, cliches! don't they ever go away? no, they don't. and since i was incredibly blocked in the creativity department, i had to make this one slightly badly cliched at the end, using the usual cliffhanger to keep you guys hooked. I'm prepared to be murderd via flamers.

but, to get you guys a wee bit excited: Draco and Harry: sharing a bed!

as usual, not nearly as exciting as it sounds...

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"I still don't understand how there can be only one inn in this godforsaken place," Draco growled.

"You think I'm enjoying this? Let's just try to get through the night, and hopefully we can forget this whole scenario by morning."

"Oh please, Potter. Like anyone could forget anything as disgusting as this."

"You were the one who didn't want to sleep outside!"

"That didn't mean I wanted to share a twin bed with you in a musty old inn that only charges $25 a night!"

Inside, Harry agreed with him, the argument was mostly for his sanity's sake. What other choice did he have? There was only one inn in this "god forsaken" place, and as it just might happen, that there was some sort of wedding, which had taken up all the rooms but one single.

The droopy bed smelled of feet and some of the springs were broken, which dug into his back rather viciously. It didn't help matters that Draco was lying in the middle of the bed and Harry was on the verge of falling off completely.

"I can't believe I have to TOUCH you," Draco continued on whining like this for the rest of the night, and Harry fell asleep while Draco was listing off terrible scenarios, in which this one topped the list. Harry fell asleep to "Giving a blow job to a rhino..." That sentence alone gave him rather unpleasant dreams.

Harry awoke the next morning lying flat on the floor, a puddle of his drool on the ugly orange rag carpet. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. There was Draco, laying spread eagle across the bed, his mouth wide open and snoring obnoxiously.

Harry stood up completely, and was blown away by a head rush and aching muscles. He stumbled into the dirty bathroom and before stepping into the shower, he looked at himself in the cracked mirror. The side of his face that had been resting on the floor was wrinkled from the rug, and there was a crusty trail of spit on his cheek. He was a terrible sight.

When the warm water touched his skin, all he could think was that the inn had one thing good about it.

He was done early, but in revenge to Draco's rule over the bed, he stayed in and used all the hot water.

When he got out, Draco was awake and frowning at him, "YOU took all the blankets, you twit." Harry looked at where he had slept. He had only taken the sheets, while Draco had the comforter.

"Whatever. Get dressed. I'm hungry" Harry yawned and fell into the bed as Draco left it.

Minutes later he heard a high shriek "POTTER!"

Harry buried his face into the pillows to keep from laughing. He then buried his face deeper in to the pillow, breathing in the enticing sent emitting from it. Seconds later he drew away in horror, realizing he had been inhaling the scent of DRACO.

Something hit him smack in the back of the head, and he whirled around angrily, seeing Draco, in naught but a towel, yelling "You used up all the hot water you filthy piece of scum!" The article he had chosen to throw was a bar of soap.

Harry leaned back on the bed smiling, "You COULD just use magic."

He was thinking Draco would grudgingly turn around and take his advice. Instead, Draco just stood there, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Harry sat up, "What?"

"No, I can't just use magic," Draco said, "The mark sends a message to Voldemort every time I use magic. If I use magic, then," Harry now saw the ugly tattoo on Draco's arm.

"He'll find you," Suddenly Harry felt guilty. How could he be so inconsiderate? He hadn't even needed all the hot water. "I'll do it then...sorry, I didn't-"

Draco waved him off, "Doesn't matter," Harry had a feeling that it did matter, but Draco apparently didn't want to talk about it, so Harry wouldn't pressure him. Harry stepped into the bathroom and pointed his wand at the shower head, "fervens fons"

Suddenly hot, steamy water shot out, heating the small room. Draco turned around, eyes lowered, "Thank you, Harry,"

Harry just stood there, staring at Draco, who looked suddenly vulnerable. Harry remembered last year when Moaning Myrtle had said Draco had cried openly in front of her. Maybe he's really not all that headstrong as he comes off as, Harry mused.

"Harry?"

Harry , who still deep in thought, said, "Hm?"

"Er, do you mind?"

Harry awoke from his deep musings and realized he was still in the bathroom with Draco, and that Draco was obviously waiting for him to leave so he could have some privacy, "OH! Sorry! I'll just be...out...bathroom...going...right. Bye. For now, I mean, not for..." Harry just stopped talking and exited the bathroom, feeling like the silly idiot that he obviously was.

He tried to watch the telly, but all he got was static, then he read the towns newspaper, but it was only one sheet about a farmer who had lost his 12 chickens the previous night, and his neighbor who had lost his 12 goats the night before that.

"Who gives a damn about chickens and goats?" Harry thought out loud.

"For as well as you did in potions last year, Harry, I would assume that you would know that both are very important for potions ingredients," Draco had swept out of the bathroom, a trail of steam swirling about him. He stepped over to Harry and read over his shoulder, "As 12 is a magical number," He whispered. "Something must be going on...something..."

They were both dead silent, reading the same 3 paragraph article about three times.

"There's a potion," Draco began, "That's for eternal life, Horcruxes or no, That uses blood from 12 different chickens, and 12 bezoars from 12 different goats, and..." Draco gasped and looked at Harry, realization dawning on his face.

"And WHAT, Draco?"

Draco shook his head and looked away, "And the death of your greatest enemy,"

--

well crap.

repeating what i said earlier: I've used one of those totally clichéd chapters. darn. Well. I can say, it sounds a hell of a lot more exciting that it is. But that might ruin it for you. So if you prefer to just be excited, then ignore what I just said. No more clichéd chapters from me. Hopefully…sometimes a lack of inspiration hits and it's all I can think of…