Draco saw them in his mind's eye, tossed carelessly over the back of a plush red sofa. It wasn't a question of how he would get into the Gryffindor common room, but a question of how he could get out, while simultaneously smuggling a pair of Harry's trousers.

As a matter of fact, getting into the common room had been deceptively simple. He'd always said that their trusting nature would be their downfall. He'd been let in by a supicious fourth year who was clearly suffering a cross between awe and disgust. He'd said he had Prefect business with that mudblood Granger, whom he well knew was in the library with Potty and the Weasel. When the girl dissapeared up a spiraling stair he rushed up the opposite, assuming this was where the boys slept. A stupid "Potter for President" banner on the wall opposite the third door led him to sneak in that room first. Sure enough, he saw a battered old trunk at the end of the first bed with a brass nameplate proclaiming it as Harry Potter's. Draco threw it open and quickly stole a pair of charcoal grey trousers. He sprinted down the stairs, and landed at the bottom utterly out of breath. He stowed the trousers down the front of his robes, smoothing out the wrinkles just as the girl clammored back down the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but Hermione's in the library."

"No matter," Draco answered, flashing his charming smirk, "I think I've got what I came for anyway." With a flourish, he left the room.