Disclaimer: Anything that has to do with the subject, Harry Potter, belongs solely to J.K. Rowling.

Resurfaced

He was floating. That was all he could think about. He was floating on a cloud of painless oblivion. No words could describe the peacefulness that he was feel-

"Hey, Malfoy, you dead?"

Abruptly, it ended. Instead of feeling peaceful, he was feeling-

"I don't know about you guys, but do you think he is just playing us. What do you think, Harry?"

-Nirvana. Harry? Oh, this had to be a dream come true.

"Wait a minute, is that a… Malfoy!" Harry demanded. "Get up! You're smirking, dammit! Off my bed!"

"So," Draco said, opening his eyes, smirking at Harry, "this is your bed?"

Harry scowled. "Yes."

Smug now, Draco sat up slowly. "Isn't it just funny," he said to Harry, "how I got you to land in my bed and now you get me to land in your bed? Nice bed, by the way."

Harry's lips twitched as he fought to not laugh.

"Hey, I thought you were dead?" Ginny piped up.

Now it was time for Draco to scowl. "Why the hell would you think that?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "There hasn't been much talk you in the papers."

"I haven't been involved much with the Wizarding World's activities."

"So, where have you been?" Hermione asked, knowing that Harry was thinking it, but wouldn't ask it.

"Well," Draco said, leaning back on his elbows. "After much thought and events, I've decided that I'm pretty much done with the Wizarding World. Not much to do since the War ended. Thanks to you." A nod in Harry's direction. "So, I have expanded my expertise to the Muggle World. A very rewarding experience it has been, too."

"I thought you didn't like muggles and wanted absolutely nothing to do with them." Harry lowered himself to sit on the edge at the foot of the bed.

"And I thought you always told me to... What was it?" Thoughtfully, Draco tilted his head to the side, pondering. "Ah, yes. You were always telling me that I should 'extract that stick from my ass' and to get to know them before I judged them."

Harry blushed. Not to be deterred he simply asked, "And is that stick still there?"

Draco grinned. "Why don't you come on over here and see," he invited.

"Funny," Ginny said evilly. "I always thought that between you two it was Harry had it up his ass."

Draco laughed as Harry choked, a shade of red blush appearing high up on his cheeks. "True," Draco said. "Ow!" Frowning he rubbed his nipple, where Harry had reached over and pinched. "That hurt, you know." Draco smirked. "You were never this kinky in bed."

"Shut up," Harry muttered darkly.

"As much as this is all amusing," Hermione said and they all turned to look at her as she stood in the open doorway. "I, for one, know enough about Harry and Draco's sex life to last me a lifetime. So, if you all don't mind, could we please move to the kitchen for some dinner?"

"What time is it?" Draco asked.

"It is nearly eight at night," she answered over her shoulder as she turned to go back through the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Nearly eight? When did I… Wait a minute, what am I doing in your bed?" Draco asked Harry.

"Well, you see that is the question. You landed on my bed."

Draco looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Landed?" he echoed.

"Yeah, landed. Apparently you must have fallen from one of the other floors. Good thing you're a wizard. I don't think that my bed would've really saved you if you hadn't been one."

"Do I sense a trace of concern in your tone, Harry?" Draco smiled at him.

Harry smirked. "No, just a sense of curiosity. How clumsy are you that you fell off a balcony?"

Resisting the childish urge to throw one of the silk green pillows at him, Draco simply sneered.

"Hermione, I didn't know you could cook."

"Be quiet, Draco."

"What?" He tried to look innocent, but failed by the trace of a smirk on his face. "I'm simply expressing my curiosity at the fact that you learned how to cook. You had me quite worried before, when you did the turkey for that muggle holiday… What was it?"

"Thanksgiving."

"Ah, yes, Thanksgiving. Well, when you did the cooking I thought you knew how to cook. But the bird didn't come out quite the way it was supposed to…"

"All right!" Hermione said loudly. "It came out completely black. Are you quite finished?" She looked at him menacingly.

"Yes, don't get into a snit about it."

Silence. Then…

"So, when did you learn how to cook?"

Hermione frowned. "I'm not cooking," she said as she cut up vegetable into thin slices. "Harry's cooking."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Harry? When did he learn how to cook?"

"Ever since he dated that French culinary cook."

"Dated?" Scowling, Draco ignored the jealous streak that went through him. "I thought he was done dating."

Hermione resisted rolling her eyes. Honestly, when it came to each other, both Harry and Draco were dense. Total lack of understanding. "He only said that to placate you."

"Placate me? What the hell am I? A damn child?" Draco demanded.

Now Hermione did roll her eyes. "No, but would you have let him go to France? Would you have let him go, knowing that he might have a little romance on the side?"

"No, still he didn't have to lie to me."

"Serves the both of you right, when neither of you made an effort to stay together."

"We didn't have to make an effort. We made the decision to separate for a while."

"I've always wondered if that was the case," Hermione said. "So, why did you?"

"That," Draco said with a smirk as he snagged one of the sliced cucumbers, "is none of your business."

"What is none of her business?" Harry asked as he entered the kitchen. "Scoot," he said to Hermione, pushing her aside. He picked up the knife she had been using and been cutting. All you could was the fast and constant movement of as it quickly went through the vegetables.

"Aren't we the professional?" Draco said mockingly.

"It helps having friends who are professionals," Harry said mildly.

"Yes," Draco purred, leaning in to Harry. "Who were these friends of yours?"

Harry looked at Hermione, eyes narrowed.

"Don't give me that look. All I told him was that you dated that French chef!"

"What more is there to tell?" Draco asked, cutting off what ever Harry had been about to say to her.

"Nothing," Harry instantly said, before Hermione could say anything more. "Where's Ginny?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Probably in the room," Hermione said. "I told her not to leave the floor and if she did I would dye her hair blond. She's trying to set me up on a blind date," she said, seeing Draco raise a brow.

"What's wrong with blond?" he asked.

"It's not my color," Ginny said as she entered the kitchen. She smiled sweetly at the warning look that Hermione was giving her. "What have you guys been talking about?"

"Apparently Harry had a bit of a fling in France," Draco said. "Lying to me in the process, about how he had given up on dating."

"Oh, he only said that to placate you," Ginny said. She didn't see the evil looks that Harry was shooting at her. "Besides he wasn't French. He cooked French food, but he was actually Italian and mmmm…. That boy was good enough to eat."

Though the island in the middle of the kitchen was big, Harry still pondered the idea of reaching across and strangling the red head. Deciding that he could try killing her later, he continued to cook. He reached behind him, where the stove was, and turned the stove on. He reached for the lower cabinet to the left of the stove and brought out a large wok pan.

"I thought you learned how to cook French food," Draco said.

"I bet the Italian French cooking chef was very wide ranged in his talents," Ginny said slyly.

Harry scowled at her, while Draco's eyes narrowed to slits.

Hermione sighed aloud, while inside she smirked.

There was a reason why Ginny and she were friends.