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Alas for Harry and Malfoy—there seems to be trouble in paradise. When I was writing this, the chapters seemed so much longer. Hope you enjoy, young grasshoppers…

Chapter Fifteen: Hyper-Sensitive Twit

Harry stormed into the dormitory, tugging a resisting Malfoy behind him. "Out," he snapped to the inhabitants, who didn't need to be told twice to scurry away. He shoved Malfoy onto a random bed and started: "Now, what is so bloody wrong with you that you're picking fights with random passerby?"

Malfoy scowled and twisted a sheet around in his hands. Finally, he said coolly, "Weasels aren't random. They're vermin. So there."

Harry looked at him in disbelief. "You're the strangest git…"

"Calling me strange? I'm not the one who's been grubbing around with a little Mudblood—"

"Oh, come off it! What, do you think that just because I've met her once or twice she's suddenly my new best mate or something?" Harry cried in exasperation. Malfoy said nothing and continued tormenting the sheet in his hand. Harry sighed and, after waiting several drawn-out moments, turned away and stared at the wall. He traced the cold stones with his fingertips, feeling the silence between them becoming a greater distance than oceans and mountains. This was Malfoy, he reasoned. Malfoy being my best friend, being a hyper-sensitive twit.

He turned around, tired of the silence, and Malfoy stood abruptly and faced him. "There's something you're not telling me, and you've been telling her," he accused.

Harry had had enough and rolled his eyes. "You're barking mad." He turned to leave, but Malfoy gripped his shoulder and whirled him about.

"You're going to tell me what you've been up to behind my back, Potter, and you're going to tell me now," he hissed.

Harry tried to pry his hand off. "I haven't been up to anything, you twit! Now stop being paranoid and let me go." He overpowered him and pushed him back down. "What've you got such a problem with? She's just helping me with something—"

"Something?" Malfoy's tone was cynical.

"Something—for school," Harry faltered. "Brainy…er…Ravenclaw-ish somethings, that's all."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Malfoy's voice had calmed and stilled, the way a raging sea can suddenly tranquilize itself.

Harry sighed. "I didn't exactly want my best friend to know I need tutoring on my Herbology work, y'know." No response—back to the sheet-twisting. Harry leaned against a bedpost and watched his friend carefully.

"Herbology's rubbish," Malfoy said after a while, but his voice sounded pleased from the mention of best friends. Harry silently congratulated himself on such notable acting.

"C'mon, we may as well finish the Potions homework," Harry said, relieved. As he went over to get parchment out of his trunk, he missed the shrewd and almost angry gaze that was Malfoy watching his back.

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