"Mate, wake up!"

Harry grumbled incoherently in his sleep, his face buried in his pillow. A hand touched his arm, shaking him.

"Go'way!" Harry slurred, pushing the hand away from him.

He heard a sigh and then silence. Thinking the coast was now clear, he went back to sleep, hogging the blanket to his body and pulling it over his head.

Heavy footsteps sounded throughout the room, Harry having to not hear owing to his unconscious state for what's to come for him — came it smacking him at the fucking face when his friend, Ronald Weasley shouted, "I said... WAKE THE BLOODY HELL UP!"

Cold water fell upon Harry's innocent sleeping form, forcing him out of his slumber and into the real world with wide pinprick eyes like saucers.

"AHHH!" Harry's shrill shriek woke up the whole Forbidden Forest.

Bolting upright, Harry threw away the drenched blanket from his lap, revealing his soaked pyjama pants clinging onto his legs uncomfortably.

"Knew that'll work."

Harry's eyes shot up to the culprit. Glowering at the proudly smiling Weasley that was his best friend, a red bucket tucked under his arm with a few droplets falling onto the wooden floor.

"Morning, Ronald."

Ron grinned, returning his greeting oh-so beatifically. "Hullo, mate," he said, trying to hide a wince at the use of his first name.

Harry groaned, two fingers at his temple, his head slightly hurting from the shock of the sudden change of temperature. His face turned into a frown as he looked back at the ginger-haired wizard.

"Why the hell did you have to do that? Godric's beard, Ron, I'd be awake without any water involved!"

"Like hell, you will," Ron muttered under his breath before returning into the bathroom to put back the bucket.

Harry sighed, his back aching to fall back onto his bed again if it weren't so wet. Huffing and puffing, the black-haired boy took his glasses and crouched to open his trunk.

With a pile of clothing that was his oversized uniform in hand, Harry walked into the bathroom to take a shower, preferably a nice hot one before the lesson he dreaded started. It was Thursday, they had Potions with the Slytherins as the first in the morning, bloody exciting.

Now presentable enough to step out of the dorm, Harry, along with Ron and Hermione walked down the stairs, headed towards the Great Hall where breakfast was taking place.

Opening the large doors to said Great Hall, some of the chatters paused at the announcement of the trio's presence. Almost immediately Harry caught eyes with a pair of grey ones from across the hall. His eyes narrowed instantly, his sneer returned by the other.

Before their staring match could evolve, a hand dragged Harry by the arm to the Gryffindor's table.

"Morning, Harry, Ron, Hermione," Neville regarded, flashing a smile far too bright from Harry's mood.

"Morning, Nev," Harry replied, the lack of enthusiasm in his voice was most notable.

The sandy-haired boy beamed when Harry sat down beside him and launched to ramble about his new Herbology experiment to the black-haired boy, who was barely alive the whole breakfast.

"So, yeah. The Bubotuber's roots could be strengthened by a drop of Aconite Fluid! How fascinating..." Neville trailed off, his voice was nearly as dreamy as a girl's when they apologised after 'accidentally' bumping into Harry.

"Yeah..." Harry replied half-awake.

Harry proceeded with his sandwich — his favourite with the ham and cheese. He took a sip of pumpkin juice from the golden goblet and was about to continue eating before he felt eyes boring into him. He felt the necessity to look up, knowing it wasn't from his fangirls.

And true to that, it was Malfoy. Why did he even bother to look? Harry scowled indignantly and suspiciously alike when a smug smirk made its way onto Malfoy's face. It didn't seem like the usual one Harry would see on his face, however, it was as if he's really...up to something.

Drowsiness won over suspicion, however. Harry let out a yawn and wondered what it was he was thinking about again and shrugged it off. He then quickly finished his breakfast and waited for his friends.

Soon after, the three were found going down to the dungeons. Harry walking with his head hung down was startled awake went a body crashed onto him, almost knocking him off his footing.

"Aw, why so slow, Potty? Your muscles finally having to catch up with your slow wits?" Malfoy looked down at him, his annoying signature smirk in place, Harry would've punched it off of his face had he wasn't so worn out. Snickers erupted in the hallway at Malfoy's taunt.

Harry settled with a glare, not finding the energy in him to deal with the Slytherin. Though the Slytherin's smirk seemed to broaden with satisfaction at the look on his face, unmistakably taking great pleasure in deriding him.

"Go fuck yourself, Malfoy," Ron spat, taking Harry and Hermione away with him before his already short fuse could run out and escalate it into a brawl. Not without sending the git the middle finger from behind his best friends' back, of course.

Harry let out a sigh, thankful that the war at least had a positive effect on his best friend. He really wasn't in the mood to fight Malfoy or to restrain Ron that was fighting Malfoy. He just wanted to sleep.

The door slammed open, revealing the most dramatic professor Hogwarts has ever employed. Harry rolled his eyes mentally.

Snape made his way to the teacher's desk, his cloak billowed behind him in a fashion that reminded Harry of Cinderella's dress when she ran down the stairs. Harry snorted at the picture his mind conjure, that of Snape in a ball gown doing the exact same thing, but instead of leaving a glass slipper, he fell down the stairs instead. Oh, how he would pay any amount to see that happening.

"Mister Potter!" Snape's monotonous yet loud voice rang across the classroom, snapping Harry out of his daze.

Harry groaned on the inside, bracing himself for scolding.

"Yes?"

"It's sir for you, Potter."

"Yes...sir," Harry managed, with an accidental yawn in between, causing Snape's furrowed eyebrows to knit further into a bridge. From beside him, Ron gave him a thumbs up. Whether it's for his audacity or to wish him luck, Harry couldn't tell.

"Tsk," Snape tutted. "As arrogant and mannerless as ever. It is true, the apple didn't fall far from its tree.

"More like, from Isaac Newton," Seamus whispered to Dean who chortled. The two froze when the professor's glare shifted directed at them. If looks could kill, Harry, Dean and Seamus wouldn't even be here today.

Black eyes darting from the pair and Harry, a sneer formed on Snape's face, his hooked nose scrunched up in disgust. "20 points from the three of you. Each." The bat-like professor then took a piece of chalk and write instructions on the blackboard.

Harry sighed again. This was why Thursday was the day he least anticipated. His soul hadn't even gathered yet to face the banes of his existence. Those being Malfoy, Snape and Potions. Harry let his head fall onto the table, albeit gently.

Moments passed in a deafening silence in the cold dungeon. By this time Harry has been awakened at least three times by Neville who was currently his desk mate. Although Harry was thankful his friend had woke him, he couldn't help but question why Malfoy hadn't grass on him.

It was a perfect chance. So why didn't he?

Subconsciously, Harry's eyes wandered to where Malfoy and his gang were seated. His dark eyebrows raised in question when he saw Malfoy looking back at him. As if challenging him, Malfoy raised his eyebrows at him, that sly smirk still playing on his lips.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to look at the board Snape was scraping his chalks on. A euphoria potion? Harry read, slightly interested.

You should've used that since long ago, then, Harry said inside of his head, his lips tugged into a smile.

"Students," Snape's low soporific voice spoke, visibly worsening the tense atmosphere around the room. "Today we are making a euphoria potion. Living up to its name, it has an effect to inflict happiness upon the drinker for about three hours," he said boringly and as brief as possible as if having to have explained it a hundred times already.

"What are you waiting for? Start now, you have an hour!" Snape sneered, going to sit behind his desk.

Harry turned to Neville and saw that the boy was already starting the fire. "I'll go fetch the ingredients." At the nod Neville gave him, Harry turned on his heel and went to the pantry.

His eyes roamed up and down, left to right upon the wooden shelves and bent down when he saw Castor Oil at the bottom of a shelf. He then picked up the rest of the ingredients, all settled carefully in his arms, cradled against his chest to prevent from falling as he slowly made his way back to his table.

"Okay, so the first step..." Harry trailed off, talking more to himself than Neville, his eyes looking up at the board to read the instructions.

"Chop the leeches in one centimetre," Neville supplied helpfully.

"All right then," Harry breathed out, taking a knife in his right hand, his other keeping a leech in place on the cutting board.

Beside him, Neville was set to separate Knotgrass leaves from the stems — clumsily cutting himself a few times here and there.

For the next step, Harry tossed the now neatly-cut leeches into the cauldron and went back to slice a couple of Belladonna leaves in halves and ground the doxy eggs into powder.

After he was done, he turned to Neville, who was currently tending their unfinished potion. A frown took over Harry's face as he commented, "Neville, you're supposed to stir it counter-clockwise!"

The other boy's hand stilled and looked over to read the instructions again before proceeding to stir the other way with a guilty look on his face. "Sorry, Harry..."

Harry waved his hand dismissively, his face not giving any concern as he shrugged his shoulders to underline his statement, "Doesn't matter, Snape's going to fail us anyway whether we got it right or not."

Neville laughed, "At least we tried."

"At least we tried," Harry echoed, nodding his head in agreement.

After a short moment, Neville glanced over at his partner, his eyes finally leaving the cauldron. "Harry, the bat wings."

Nodding, Harry grabbed two handfuls of bat wings and put them into the cauldron. "And two drops of Comfrey Extract," Neville spoke, this time reading off the board more carefully as not to mess up the second time.

Harry nodded, tilting the dropper directly into the cauldron, pulling away after two drops of the extract fell into the steamy cauldron and watched in awe when the silvery potion swirled and turned into a bright clue colour once it came to contact with the extract, layers after layers of mist emanating, washing Harry over with a slightly fusty smell.

Two fingers pinching the passage of his nose shut, Harry grimaced and shot a look at his partner. "This smells horrid."

Neville mimicked his actions, gagging as he caught a whiff of the foul smell as well. "Agreed."

"Okay, now's the time to...put in the spleenwart," Harry heard Neville mumble to himself, scooting over when he reached for the ingredient.

Calmly crushing mandrake seeds under his knife, Harry jolted in surprise when he heard a yelp from his side.

"Watch it, Longbottom, you're in the way," Malfoy sneered even though there was plenty of room between the tables for him to walk, and then eyed Neville and Harry disdainfully as if they were the foulest beings on the planet he's ever laid eyes on before swaggering with his nose in the air back to his shared table with Zabini.

Neville tutted, silently glaring at the blond git before going back to his work. "What the fuck was his problem?" Harry hissed scornfully, mentally plotting to get back at the stuck up Slytherin.

"Something crawled up his arse and died, just like every day. Not very surprising," whispered Neville back to Harry who snorted, rubbing his arm absently.

"Probably."

The clock ticked, its number now indicating the end of the time limit.

"All right you imbeciles, now do as you always — pour the potion into a small-sized vial for testing and label it," Snape ordered sternly, his eyes roaming around to both intimidate and monitor his students.

"Neville, you hold it," Harry offered the blond boy a glass vial. The latter nodded, agreeing in the unspoken exchange of not trusting himself to be the one to hold the ladle without his hand shaking and spilling the content everywhere but in the vial.

The two switched places. Harry stood before the cauldron, his right hand picking up the ladle to scoop up the, quite contrarily with its name, dark blue glittery liquid.

"Hold it steady..." Harry mused, his brows slightly near each other in focus.

"Ugh, Harry?"

"..yeah?" the black-haired boy answered, waiting until the first scoop managed to get into the vial safely.

"Don't you think it's a little too...thick?" Harry pursed his lips, then slightly wiggled the ladle he was holding, raising an eyebrow when its content didn't dribble out of it. Its consistency was like that of a pudding, sort of, which wasn't meant to happen.

"...looks like we didn't get any better, Neville," Harry offered a thin smile when Neville's shoulder sagged defeatedly.

"Not that is expected," Neville said sullenly, gaining a small snort from Harry, who on the other hand couldn't care less about Potions.

Harry rather awkwardly patted his back as a comforting gesture, not knowing exactly what to say to cheer his friend up.

Silence dawned the room, sending everyone on edge as Snape rose from his seat and ambled his way around the class with a sneer on his face as he peered into each of their cauldrons — possibly with the intent to spread more tension into his poor students. And it worked.

"Finnigan, you test it." The Irish wizard nearly squeaked at the sudden sharp voice behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Dean handed him the vial, his face expressing his sorry. "Here goes nothin'," the Irish boy muttered to himself before downing the potion in one go. His throat bobbed and his face twisted in a grimace at the nasty tang of the potion.

Moments passed in complete silence, with Dean's face dreading with worry when his partner didn't beam like a bloody bulb and gave Snape a big hug for being a good professor like he expected. Nothing happened.

"Violet is blue, and the ocean is too, why isn't anything happening, what was it that you do?" Seamus eyed Dean sceptically before his eyes gawked comically and laughed. The class joined him with small snickers, still painfully aware of their testy professor.

Harry laughed, muffling it with his hand.

"Roses are red, lilies are white, 20 points from Gryffindor because Mr Finnigan and Mr Thomas were too inept to get anything they lay hands on right," sneered Snape, looking down his hooked nose at the two students, gaining a series of snickers from the Slytherins.

"I should ask them the recipe, the twins would love it," Harry joked, speaking in a hushed voice to Neville who chuckled.

"Maybe they'll even share you half the profit—"

"Potter," Snape called out, suddenly two feet away striding to their table with his dark silhouette looming so menacingly over the two Gryffindors that were glued on their spot, one gulping with trepidation and the other silently cussed with the words, We're fucked, repeating like a broken cassette in his mind.

"Perhaps you would have the pleasure of testing your and Longbottom's immaculate," Snape stressed the word, putting on a bright face — as much as a bitter old bat could anyway, which was just a slight tug of the lips — though failing to hide a grimace when the remaining potions in the cauldron suddenly bubbled and a smell similar to that of a hippogriff's dung emerged.

"—potion?" Snape finished in a croaked voice, which Harry knew was exaggerated when another wave of the nauseating smell flooded the classroom.

Harry's eyes glanced over his friends with anxiety stirring in his chest to see the encouraging yet pessimistic looks on his friends' faces, not helping at all when he caught sight of Ron giving him thumbs up but with a rather disheartening expression crossing his visage.

Harry sighed, disappointed yet not surprised at all that he was the one chosen for the testing, being the favourite student and all.

Opening the cork with little struggle, Harry stared pleading at the vial in hand to not fuck it up for him and downed it in a gulp, wincing at the freezing temperature and horrid taste sliding down his throat.

He just wanted this to get over with as soon as possible.

A sudden pop! cracked through the hard ice that was silence enveloping the dungeons. Harry almost staggered at the sound, he then furrowed his eyebrows when he felt no difference in his mood — still pretty much bored and impatient to get out of the class, and yet, no urge to hug Snape and thanked him for his assistance over the years — and roamed his eyes through his own body expecting some outer change, if not inside.

Harry frowned when he realise nothing had changed, whether or not he should be relieved about his, he didn't know. But what he failed to notice was the sharp intakes of breath around the classroom and the little snickers from Malfoy's table.

"Harry!" Neville half-whispered, half-yelled. The dark-haired wizard turned with a pointed look at his friend, raising a confused eyebrow in a perfect arch at the tremble of Neville's index finger that was pointing at him, or the top of his head, to be more precise.

"What?" Harry asked, befuddled.

Just then, Harry heard the greasy-haired professor grumble beside him, a hand over his eyes rubbing his forehead in a manner that spoke very clearly that Harry, indeed, was a hopeless case and couldn't brew a decent potion to save his life.

He turned facing Neville again and felt a weight on his head, a burden that seemed out of place, one that hadn't been there before.

What?

Harry nodded his head experimentally, it was there again — the foreign weight perched on top of his head.

Had he grown a ponytail? Was that it?

Stomach churning with dread, Harry raised a hand slowly to the top of his head, his suspicions getting confirmed when Neville's face twisted more and more nervous as his hand neared it.

"Harry...you have..."

Harry's frown deepened. Fur, his mind registered— fluffy. It wasn't what he had expected to feel. It didn't feel anything like hair — no — there were two of them! On top of his bloody head were two fucking—

"...bunny ears..." Neville finally got it out after a decade of staring.

"AHHHHH! WHAT. THE. FU-"

"No swearing in my classroom, Potter," Snape quickly cut in mid his outrage.

"Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck," spilt out of him like water as Harry pulled one of his new set of ears down for inspection. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when finding a fluffy pink rabbit ear in his hand.

Snape tutted in annoyance at the teen's ignorance of his warning. He sent a condemning glare his way with an automatic, "30 points from Gryffindor," for unnecessary use of profanity and failure.

"Incompetent as always..." Snape sneered and turned on his heel proceeding his daunting to his next pair of victims — that he'd now decided was going to be Lavender and Parvati, who just happened to sit close by.

Harry was at the edge of hyperventilation, his irises still pinprick in disbelief of having another set of ears too many, a rabbit's at that!

Neville laid hand on his shoulder, another on his back going in a circle in an ignored attempt to calm him down. Just then, a thought struck him like lightning and an enraged fire ignited within his eyes.

Harry whipped his head, almost snapping his neck and losing his life in the process, and unleased a very passionate, accusing scream,

"MALFOY!"

The boy in question didn't even bother to hide his amusement and the triumph in the laughter he shared with his friend.

Just as Harry was about to bark at the slyly smirking Slytherin, Snape had to cut him to it with a deadpan, "No shouting in my classroom as well, Potter. 10 points from Gryffindor," before he went back to tend his students.

Harry stood agape in disbelief until when the words went back to him, he said, "Professor, it was Malfoy! The bloody git dropped something into our potion, I saw it!"

Snape merely huffed and turned agonizingly slow to face him, giving away his nonexistence enthusiast to deal with him.

"15 points from Gryffindor for falsely accusing other people over their lack of potions ability."

And that was about it.

Snape shot him a last sneer and turned back to Lavender and Parvati once again, leaving Harry completely stumped.

Harry almost snapped his neck once more, to underline more intensity to his hateful glare at Malfoy who was now holding two peace signs over his head to mock him.

"Damn you, Malfoy!" he hissed, full of scorn, making sure Snape wasn't hearing this time.

Damn him, indeed.

"Aw, don't be so sad, Harry. It's not that bad, here's a carrot."

Harry frowned, annoyed, and pushed away Ginny's proffered hand. The latter giggled, a little apologetic but mostly in amusement. Harry huffed tiredly, arms crossed on his chest, not finding the appetite to eat the mouth-watering waffles in front of him.

"Oh, perhaps you like it chopped first?" Ginny teased, poking his cheek with the cursed orange vegetable.

He'd never be able to look at carrots anymore after this. Not after all the humiliation he received once word spread like wildfire.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, even though it's his favourite, had been discomfiting. Sirius, who has taken the position of the DADA professor, wouldn't cease with his god-awful puns and jokes, making the time for Harry drag painfully slow.

Harry let out a groan, his face falling into his hand and looked over the High Table, where the staff were seated and smiled weakly when his godfather waved cheerfully at him.

"Oh yeah, I was thinking," Ginny mused.

"How's it for a first time?"

"Shut the fuck up, Harry — I'm curious whether or not your tail would go—" the witch made squeaky noises similar to that of a rubber duck when its stepped on, "—if I squeezed it. ...mind if I...?"

Harry stared at the waggish look on the ginger's face, if the suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows was anything to go by. He then turned away with a sigh that spoke clear of, "I'm done with your bullshit," and gulped down the last of his pumpkin juice, the goblet re-filling itself in an instant.

"Is that a yes?"

"Oh, bloody hell, Gin, just leave the poor bloke alone," came Ron to his rescue, talking through his mouthful of food, splattering bits here and there, earning a look of pure disgust from Hermione.

Ginny laughed an awkward chuckle" Sorry, sorry, I was just joking with you...and uh, do be patient, okay Haz? It's just for three days. Besides, you look cuter like this."

Harry mock laughed, "Just three days, she said — haha yeah," then glared at the ginger-haired girl beside him, the tough image ruined when blush spread across his cheeks at the compliment and, of course, by the fluffy pink rabbit ears.

Harry grunted. "Could Snape just speed it up?" he groaned into the hard wood as he let his head fall on the table, startling Hermione that was reading her book on Transfiguration peacefully as she fed herself a chicken sandwich.

Ron laughed before stopping for a swig of water, probably almost choking on his lamb chop. "You know he won't do it if it hadn't been his job, mate. It is what it is," he said as a matter of factly.

"Don't worry, though, me and Seamus were just planning about the revenge on the poncy git."

Harry murmured with his lips pressed on the table, muffled. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than this anyway..." he sulked.

He sat up, finally taking a pudding to eat and a spoon. His green eyes inadvertently zoomed over the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was seated across him, perfectly in his seat on the other side of the room.

The blond git was chatting with his friends about whatever it was, Harry was sure it's nothing good.

Harry tightened his grip on the spoon when Malfoy caught his eyes and his lips stretched into a smug, arrogant smirk. Which Harry gave the finger to.

Damn him.

"Hey, Potter!"

Harry didn't stop in his track, urging his legs to carry him faster to the Gryffindor Tower for a very needed rest after many invasions of privacy throughout this tiring day — which consisted of a lot of touching and carrots — he just wanted nothing but to flop down on his bed and read books...perhaps going out only for dinner or he could just have a house-elf serve him that.

"Potter!"

Harry pursed his lips tighter, walking faster almost missing a flight of stairs by the last second.

Harry let out a breath, having to finally get Malfoy out of his...tail.

Heavy pants attacked his sense of hearing from the side as Harry stiffened. He snapped his head around only to groan and slammed a fist on the railing.

"Potter...what's...the..." the person in question panted, doubled over with a hand gripping the railing, pausing to breathe. "Urgency?" he finished, still slightly out of breath from the chase.

Malfoy stared at him with an eyebrow cheekily raised.

Harry glared only to receive a smug look from the other at seeing the new anatomical parts he'd given were complementing Harry rather well.

"None of your business," Harry spat, turning away to look somewhere else and it was just in time for him to step off into another platform.

"Oh, I'm making it my business, though, Potter." Malfoy literally glided beside him, tipping his head forward to watch Harry's face as he annoyed him.

"Well, you shouldn't," Harry said, tone flatter than the stone floor.

"That's up for me to decide. After all, things are always interesting with the Boy Who Lived," Malfoy replied, grey eyes leering at him suggestively.

Harry rolled his eyes with extra measure, making sure Malfoy saw it. "Well, I'm not jumping off the tower, if that's what you desire to witness. So kindly shove off, Malfoy, there's nothing for you to see."

Malfoy hummed boringly to his words, obviously not taking them seriously. "What about these, though?" he then said.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"About wha— ahh! Stop! What are you doing!?" Harry squeaked in surprise, an octave higher in pitch.

Malfoy yanked him up by the ears — the other ones, the fluffy non-human ones — and closer to him, making Harry stand on his tippy toes and gritted his teeth in pain.

"Fucking stop, you git! Have nothing else better to do than this? Patheti—"

"Yes, I don't have anything better to do. What else could be better than this anyway," Malfoy cut him off, not bothering the slightest to object. An annoying smirk playing on his lips, Harry was more than tempted to slap or punch it off his face, so he set to do just that...if a voice hadn't stopped him.

"Mr Malfoy, stop what you are doing this instant!" Harry's hand stopped mid-air. Malfoy was saved by, out of all people, McGonagall who quickly stepped in upon seeing two students — one that was her favourite — bickering — potentially developing into a fight — in the middle of a hallway.

Harry stared at the Slytherin with a pointed, winning look, expecting the other to scuttle away before he could get his points extracted or berated by the old witch. But what Harry hadn't expected was that Malfoy did just that...just with him.

Malfoy had broken into a sprint. With a startled yelp, Harry was yanked to the side rather forcefully and it was then when he noticed the pale hand curling around his own, and before he'd known it, the both of them were running away from McGonagall.

Godammit, my plans! — which consisted of sitting in bed, doing particularly nothing — Harry whined as they get further away from the tower like the moody teenager he was.

"Mr Malfoy! Stop it this instant and don't drag Potter into this!" McGonagall's voice rang across the hallway, chasing after the two before she eventually gave up and proceeded her way to her quarters.

"Come on, hurry your slow arse, Potter, bet you can do better than that," Malfoy said, sounding rather short of breath, the grip he had on the dark-haired boy tightened.

Harry opened his mouth to protest only for a squeal to escape when Malfoy suddenly hit a corner and he almost lost his footing in the process had it not for Malfoy's hand steadying him. Or that he did until Malfoy realised what he was doing and let Harry fall instead.

A snicker tore out of Malfoy at the fall he took so gracefully. Harry glowered at him from the ground, a hand rubbing his sore arse.

"Malfoy, what the bloody hell!" Harry got up and yelled at the grinning blond in front of him as the latter very relaxingly and uncaringly leaned himself on the wall.

That seemed to cut the trance Malfoy had upon inspecting his flawlessly manicured nails — there was no way they're not manicured, Harry concluded years ago.

"Oh, I forgot you're here," Malfoy said dismissively and smirked when it worked to irate Harry further.

Harry's face twisted in what could be distinguished as incredulity at Malfoy's words. "Why the hell did you have to drag me in this? My god, Malfoy, get a life!"

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort before he stood silent, his face showing almost as if he'd just caught himself from telling the password to his family vault in Gringotts.

"I just..." Harry looked at him sceptically. "I just wanted to say..."

The green-eyed wizard narrowed his eyes, his interest piqued at the reluctant tone he'd never heard Malfoy use.

Something flickered across the pale Slytherin's face before it vanished just as quickly it appeared. Malfoy's blank face was then fixed into its usual arrogance and smug again, no trace of hesitance indicating in his features.

And so he spoke again, repeating himself more confidently and in the voice Harry's had always heard and despised.

"I just wanted to say, given that she didn't spare me the chance..." Malfoy trailed off, eyes raking over Harry, "...that you are looking quite exquisite with those ears, Potter. Why, that colour contrasted well with the sable blackness of your hair," he drawled, voice turning sultry, as did Harry's throat going bone dry.

"See you around, Potter." And then with one last glance, he left the hallway, leaving Harry once again stumped.

Well, that went far different than one would expect.

"What just happened?"

The travel back to the Gryffindor tower had been confusing, questions running through his mind like a bloody marathon.

And now he's here in the common room with girls squealing and giggling and gossiping whatever on his sides — occasionally touching and pulling at his ears.

"Malfoy must've either gone bonkers or fallen in love with you, shite," Dean commented, a loud laughter ensuing.

Lavender responded sharply to that, "It must be the second one!" to which the girls sighed dreamily, causing the boys to scrunch up their noses and make gagging noises.

Meanwhile with Harry... He didn't know how to respond but to stare lifelessly at a mug of hot chocolate in his hands.

Seamus had decided, rather abruptly, that it was 'bonding time' tonight — making all of them skip dinner and hold a feast of their own in the tower — after surviving the horrors of war and all, it's best as a reminder that either of them couldn't have make it and wouldn't be here with each other again. Thus, the Irish Boy deemed it worthy of celebration and a weekly party.

"Girls," Seamus whispered to Dean who snickered and nodded in agreement, then threw his head back as he took a shot of Firewhiskey that he and Seamus had smuggled.

"If so, then, I might as well participate in Hermione's little book club," Ron muttered and groaned when Lavender and Parvati turned on him.

"Oh shut it, Ron, what do you know about love!" said Parvati fervently.

Ron looked at her in disbelief and scoffed, "I'm dating Hermione—!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Parvati turned to check her red-painted nails, cutting off whatever it was Ron has had to say, "But I know it when I see a man in love," she strongly stated in her defence that was quite weak in Harry's ears that he snorted into his mug at the prospect of Malfoy taking a fancy on him.

"...you didn't even see him—" Ron was again cut off his words, by Lavender this time, however.

"We are simply making an accurate assumption based on the information in hand."

Ron snorted. "Accurate, she said — huh!" Patches of red appearing on his pasty white face, it's quite hard to tell whether it was from the alcohol or heated argument.

"Oh yeah, of course, how couldn't I have seen how whipped Malfoy was over dear Harry!" he started, flailing his hands and one slapping his forehead exaggeratedly, ignoring a flat "Exactly," from Parvati. "All those name-calling, trains of insults and belittling him for not having parents, too! How could I have not!"

Ron then leaned forward and folded his hands, with a mocking sorry expression on his face, "I am utterly sorry for my nescience."

"Blimey, I didn't know that's even a word, where did he—"

"Shut up, Seamus."

"I'm quite impressed too, Ronald, perhaps you really should join my literature club," Hermione's voice stepped into the conversation, quieting every occupant of the room to the point of almost nonexistence as they eyed the redhead with condolence.

"Oh, it's over," Seamus whispered to himself, silently taking a bite from his sandwich.

Ron's jaw dropped to the carpeted floor, agape with a look of terror dawning his eyes. The ginger-haired boy turned to Harry, pleading for help but the latter looked away from his call for help with his lips pursed, holding in his laughter.

Harry couldn't help the snort that came out and then intervened before they could continue the nugatory gossip about Malfoy.

"So Seamus, what's the game you were talking about again?"

The tension enveloping the common room melted, Ron, having to be the one to stay through it at best experience, sighed and thanked his mate wordlessly. Soon the attention was shifted to the Irish boy who was munching on his peanut butter sandwich.

A grin so devilish — it could land him in Slytherin if the Sorting Hat saw it — slowly lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Truth or Dare."