The kits climbed over his bare back, tugged at his hair, and sniffed and honked in his ears. Draco lay on the bed, knees bent, feet kicking back and forth slowly in the air. The nicked copy of Quidditch Through the Ages leaned propped against the footboard.

"'The first Bludgers (or "Blooders") were, as we have seen, flying rocks'," Draco read aloud, catching Arrakis before she tumbled off his shoulder, "'and in Mumps's time they had merely progressed to rocks carved into the shape of balls'."

From the corner of his eye, he saw someone pause in the hallway outside his cracked-open bedroom door. A glance at the clock showed that Potter was right on schedule.

"'These had one important disadvantage, however'," Draco continued, turning the page. He winced as his underarm hair was yanked. He shifted his weight, lifted his arm, and looked at Eltanin and Altais, who stopped wrestling to stare back at him. "Are you sillies even listening? This is important stuff. You'll never grow up to be successful Quidditch players if don't pay attention."

He heard a laugh from beyond the door, which was smothered quickly, and suppressed a grin. Potter finds me amusing, rather than disgusting. Check another objective from his plan.

"'The rocks could be cracked by the magically reinforced Beaters' bats of the fifteenth century, in which case all players would be pursued by flying gravel for the remainder of the game'."

Draco strode into the library, carrying Alsafi. Potter, Granger, and Weasley sat around the triangular table, scrolls and maps spread before them.

"What are you doing in here?" Weasley snarled.

Draco ignored him and held Alsafi up to Potter's face. "Alsafi wants her father."

On cue, Alsafi licked Potter's nose enthusiastically.

Potter blinked owlishly behind his glasses and took her slowly. Draco gave him a small smile and left.

"Potter," Draco said, holding a small, striped handtowel in front of his bits, as he met Potter outside the toilet. Water droplets clung to his skin and his hair hung damply against the nape of his neck. "We're out of bath towels."

"O-Okay," Potter said, his cheeks ruddy.

Draco nodded and continued down the hall to his bedroom. He felt Potter's eyes on his naked bum the entire way.

"Do you want a sandwich?" Draco asked, cutting two slices of bread from the loaf.

Potter stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Are you offering to make me one?"

"It's just as easy to prepare two."

"Um… all right."

Draco cut another two slices of bread.

"Potter!" Draco gave him a fake-terrified look. "I can't find Arrakis!"

Potter leapt immediately to the rescue.

Draco pushed Arrakis's head back down into his pocket and rushed to follow.

Draco kicked lightly at the bedroom door, carrying his kits, Quidditch Through the Ages tucked under his arm. Potter opened the door, wearing only green pyjama bottoms and glasses. "Malfoy?"

"My babies can't sleep," Draco whispered. "I'd read to them, but I seem to have lost my voice. Will you?"

Potter stared at Draco in disbelief, but eventually stepped back from the door. "All right."

Draco gave him a grateful look, swept into the room, and climbed onto Potter's bed. He arranged the kits in a pile on his lap and then looked up.

Potter's dumbfounded expression nearly made Draco giggle. His lips tugged up on one side. "We're ready," he whispered.

Potter started as if surprised, rubbed the back of his neck, and closed the bedroom door. He hesitated at the side of the bed. Draco held out the Quidditch book to him.

Potter took it carefully, slid onto the end of the bed, opened the book and cleared his throat. "'Usually the lightest and fastest fliers, Seekers need both a sharp eye and the ability to fly one- or no-handed…'."

"Malfoy, you all right in there?"

Draco banged against the cabinet beneath the sink, mussed his hair artfully in the mirror, and then sat on the ground. He quickly fluffed his package.

"Malfoy?" Potter called worriedly, the door handle turning.

Draco dropped back and moaned as the door swung open. Potter made a choked noise at his first sight of Draco in tight y-fronts, sprawled on the floor. Draco buried his laugh in another moan.

"Mal-foy," Potter's voice cracked, "did you slip?"

"Brilliant deduction, Potter," Draco said, extending his arm. Potter grasped it automatically, his expression dazed, and began pulling him up. "Last time I'll wank in front of the mirror."

Draco's arm was nearly wrenched from its socket.

Draco opened the cage and his five kits leapt to the bed. Their fur had more brown and white in it, and they'd gotten so big since they'd been weaned. "Hello, my precious babies."

"Uh, Malfoy?" Potter nudged open the bedroom door, holding a plate of biscuits in his hands. He looked uncomfortable. "Do, um, do you want some biscuits?"

Draco felt his heart flip. He hadn't planned this one. "We'd love some."

"Dook?"

"What?" Draco's head swiveled and he stared at Thuban. "What did you just say?"

Thuban rose on his haunches and pawed the air. "Dook-dook."

Draco's throat seized.

Potter wandered into the kitchen, and Thuban began jumping in circles, dooking in excitement. "Dook-dook-dook-dook-dook-dook-dook!"

"Hey, sounds like someone's no longer a baby." Potter looked at Draco and frowned. "You look like you're about to cry."

Draco waved him off and turned to face the sink. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Malfoy?" He felt a tentative touch on his shoulder.

Draco spun around and buried his face against Potter's neck. His hands clutched the front of Potter's robes. "My baby isn't a baby anymore," he said thickly, eyes stinging.

Potter's arms raised tentatively and he patted Draco gently on the back, just like Draco had planned. Really.

Sniff.

Draco carried his yawning kits down the hall, towards Potter's bedroom. The portraits snored as he passed. He pushed open Potter's door, heeled it closed behind him, and nearly tripped over a pile of clothes in the dark.

Potter's wandtip lit with an unspoken lumos spell. He squinted in the light, glasses removed. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"Nightmare," Draco said, climbing in bed beside Potter. "It was terrible. We don't want to be alone."

Potter stared at him as if he'd lost his nut. "You must be joking."

Draco piled the kits between them and slid under the covers. "Douse the light. We'd like to sleep sometime this wretched evening."

"Malfoy, I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you."

Draco rested his head on the pillow, looking plaintively at Potter, and used the secret weapon he'd been saving for this moment. "Harry, please."

Potter's mouth opened and closed like a fish. He scowled suddenly. "Fine. But just for tonight." The room went dark. "And stay on your own side, or else."

Draco smothered his glee with the pillow. It wouldn't be much longer, now, until Potter gave in and snogged the stuffing out of Draco.

He couldn't wait.

tbc...