A/N: I've completed up to Chapter 6, so expect the next instalment soon! Again, I have a few people that I would like to thank for their support in Chapter 2 – please see my note at the end of the chapter :-D

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When Harry awoke the next day, the dormitory that usually held four other very noisy Gryffindor boys was silent. Harry glanced at his watched.

The red digital numerals 9:50 glared back at him.

Oh shit! Only ten minutes until the Transfiguration exam!

Harry started frantically pulling on yesterday's still-sweaty socks (even Harry, who was no stickler for personal hygiene, suppressed a slight shudder) while wondering furiously why Ron (or Seamus, or Dean, or Neville) hadn't woken him up.

Oh, wait… He could vaguely recall someone calling his name, and Harry answering that he'd be up in just a minute. They must have just left it at that, and then gone down to breakfast, thought Harry. And then they probably would have been too wrapped up in worrying about the Transfiguration exam themselves to notice my absence…

Damn it! The energy drink had only worn off at four a.m. in the morning, and only then had he managed to get to sleep. Harry silently vowed never to mess with magical energy supplements again.

Harry burst into the Transfiguration classroom just as McGonagall was reading out the examination instructions.

He stood panting at the front of the classroom for a few moments, trying desperately to ease the killer stitch in his side that he'd acquired while sprinting half-way across the castle from the top of Gryffindor Tower.

"Mr Potter, how good of you to join us," said Professor McGonagall dryly as Harry gulped down lungfuls of air. "Please take your seat over there next to Mr Malfoy, so that we can get the written component of the test started."

Harry nodded mutely (too out of breath to reply) and moved to take his seat. His sense of embarrassment at having burst into the exam late was immediately compounded when he noticed Malfoy watching him. Damn Malfoy, thought Harry, sitting there all cool and calm and perfectly groomed. Harry hadn't had time for a shower, and although he'd applied copious amounts of deodorant, he hadn't had time to do anything with his hair and so it stuck up in bizarre places and generally caused him to look like he'd been on the losing end of an altercation with a power point. (Ha! thought Harry smugly, Malfoy probably doesn't even know what a power point is!)

His clothes were the ones he'd had on yesterday when he fell asleep, and so were horribly creased and had a stain from last night's spaghetti bolognaise. And then he was also severely sweaty from the high-speed dash from Gryffindor Tower (the odour hopefully masked by the deodorant…but nothing to be done about the sweat itself.)

Whereas Malfoy was perfectly ironed with not a hair out of place. Although it's not as if I care what Malfoy thinks of me…and it's not as if I care what he looks like either! A nasty little voice in Harry's head suggested otherwise. Harry told it to shut up.

Harry slowly approached the double desk where Malfoy sat. Malfoy was still staring at him, although when Harry returned his gaze Malfoy dropped his eyes quickly without saying anything.

What? No snide comment this morning, either? Perhaps Malfoy was ill? It was true that his usually pale face was flushed quite pink.

But then, as Harry sat down, Draco looked up again, and for just a moment Harry found himself staring at those swirling silver eyes again. Harry's face inexplicably started to get warm. As did other things . . . Harry nonchalantly crossed his legs.

He remembered that he was supposed to be getting ready to sit an exam. He looked away from Malfoy and started rummaging around in his bag for the eagle-owl quill that Hermione had given him once (it had become his lucky quill…he hoped, irrationally, that perhaps some of Hermione's brains had been transferred into the quill and that it might rub off on Harry…).

Harry couldn't explain Malfoy's strange behaviour (nor his own reactions – Harry crossed his legs a little more tightly) but whatever was causing it would have to wait until later – after the exam.

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Harry and Draco were currently sharing a desk for the second time in as many days, and Draco was feeling very uncomfortable indeed.

Just a minute ago, Harry had come bursting into the classroom, looking like he'd just run a marathon, and had half-staggered to take his seat next to Draco.

I can feel his body heat, thought Draco indistinctly. Perhaps someone had put a shrinking charm on the desk? It was suddenly feeling a lot more constricting than it had before Harry sat down…

Harry turned around and started searching his bag. Draco tried to ignore the fact that Harry's shirt had come riding up to expose his abs. Just cool it, Draco, you've seen worse in Quidditch changing rooms.

Harry finished rummaging around in his bag, and straightened up, with a desperate look on his face. Harry caught Seamus' eye (Seamus was just one row across) and made scribbling motions with his hand, but Seamus just shook his head, sympathetically.

No quill? thought Draco.

"Hey Potter," Draco whispered.

Potter spun around quickly, and looked at Draco with a somewhat defensive expression on his face. Draco silently handed him the spare brown-feathered quill he kept with him.

Harry stared openly at Draco for five full seconds, before he took the proffered quill.

"Um…thanks."

Draco gave him a small smile, and turned back to his test paper. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry subjecting the quill to his intense scrutiny – probably checking if it's jinxed or not, thought Draco – and, after a few moments turned to his exam paper and began to write.

With a start, Draco realised that he should probably be doing the same.

Question One: What are three difficulties faced in transfiguring an inanimate object into an animate one? Give examples for each.

Draco smiled. Easy…

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Harry groaned, and pressed his hands over his eyes. McGonagall had just ordered them to put their pens down, and was now using a summoning charm to collect the papers. Harry hadn't even started on the final page of questions, while beside him, Malfoy had been idly drawing on the back of the exam paper for the past ten minutes – the prat must have finished early, thought Harry jealously.

McGonagall dismissed them, and Harry was about to leave when he realised he still had Draco's quill.

"Hey – Draco…here's your quill back."

Draco looked a little startled, and then said, "Oh… no, it's okay, er… you keep it for a while. I mean, you'll need something to write with during your next lesson, and I doubt Weasley will have any spares to lend you."

Harry was torn between indignation at the insult to Ron, and surprise at Draco's thoughtfulness. "Gee…thanks," Harry said.

"Ha, you can owe me, Potter," said Malfoy.

So much for Draco's thoughtfulness. "Yeah, right, Malfoy. In that case, you can keep the quill, I think," said Harry, and held it out for Malfoy to take.

Draco's hand brushed against Harry's as he reached for the quill. Draco's face was, Harry noticed, very pink again, and his hand seemed to shake a little. Does he have a fever, perhaps? wondered Harry. Well, whatever it is, I hope it's not communicable.

With that, Harry picked up his bag, and walked out of the classroom. Draco watched him go before he too packed up his belongings and followed.

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A/N: Thanks again to Konflickted! Draco and Harry's feelings for each other took a bit of a hormonal turn this chapter, but look out for Harry in Chapter 4 as he gets a bit of advice from a friend about his new feelings…

Thanks very much to kawanale for the lovely review that made me smile! I actually started writing this fic months ago, for myself, just to clear my head, but now I'm really glad I posted it here. I'm glad that the fic made you laugh :-D

And thank you to my readers – Rujutoshi, sHiNiGaMi-ArAsHi1412, Knyghtshade, tashpilch, MadHatter9892, and again to Paramour Conspiracy – and to all the other lovely people who have taken the time to read Silver Eyes.

And thanks, of course, to my lovely Sparrowhawk.