Disclaimer: JKR owns all HP characters and settings etc. They are not my dollies, I simply stole them and played with them for a short while. Only the plot belongs to me.
Rated: M for language and some sexual situations.
Warnings: There will be slash/ malexmale/ yaoi/ whatever you want to call it. Basically, if you are a homophobe, I don't advise reading this story. Also, for some, there may be unbearable amounts of fluffy relationship stuff that may induce vomiting and/or blindness. Have a nice day.

Post-DH but NOT epilogue compliant. There may be some spoilers.

Harry woke unnaturally early the next morning, fumbling around in the darkness for his glasses as he tried to read his watch. He shoved them on to his nose and the hands came into focus. 6:45. He groaned and flopped back on to his pillows tiredly, willing sleep to overtake him once more. A frown appeared on his face when he heard a sigh coming from somewhere to his left; a sigh that didn't sound like it came from one of the other Gryffindor boys. Cautiously, Harry pulled back the hangings from his bed, remembering that he no longer slept in Gryffindor Tower as the room around him came into view.

There was a gap in Malfoy's hangings, and through it, Harry could see the blond head lying against the fluffy pillows, his grey eyes wide open as he stared up at the canopy of his bed. Harry blinked the sleep out of his eyes, wondering why Malfoy was awake so early.

"Couldn't sleep." The blond must have felt Harry's eyes on him, or heard the soft scraping sound as the scarlet drapes were pushed back, because he turned his head to look at Harry. "That's what you were wondering, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded dumbly, unsure how, or if he was supposed to continue this conversation. "Oh…" He said stupidly.

Malfoy smirked. "I didn't know it was possible to be any less eloquent than you are normally, but you just proved me wrong Potter."

Harry scowled. "Shut up, Malfoy."

Malfoy returned his gaze to the canopy of his bed, shaking his head softly, a grin still in place on his features.

"What?" Harry asked, tired, and suffering from early morning irritation.

"I knew it wasn't possible."

"Knew what wasn't possible?" Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the sleep that still clouded them, and his brain.

"Having a civil conversation with you." Malfoy stated plainly, his eyes still fixed on the green canopy above him, which had suddenly become very interesting with his last sentence now said.

Harry blinked sleepily. "It could be…" He stated lamely.

Malfoy snorted with derision. "How, exactly? We've been rivals since we were eleven, in case you had forgotten, Potter."

"I guess… But it doesn't have to be that way in the future, just because that's how it's always been. Does it?" Harry stifled a yawn with his head, looking blearily over at Malfoy.

Malfoy shrugged carelessly. "I don't know, do I Potter?"

"Well, it's not like you've got many friends now, is it Malfoy?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying; all your old cronies are either dead or in Azkaban. Would it have killed you to make friends with nicer people?" Harry asked bluntly.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and a range of emotions Harry failed to identify swirled in the grey pools. After a few moments, the blond wrenched back the blankets and with a mumbled "Whatever Potter." He stalked off to shower and change into his robes for the day.

An hour or so later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the Great Hall lazily eating breakfast as they waited for their timetables to be handed out. Harry had easily evaded the topic of sharing a room with Malfoy with non-committal grunts and the occasional shrug, which his friends took to mean he didn't want to talk about it. They knew him well enough by now to know that he would tell them in his own time; and personally, if it were them, they wouldn't want to prolong thinking about sharing sleeping quarters with their closest rival any longer than they had to either. It would push someone over the edge.

Just as Harry leaned over to grab his third piece of toast that morning; he noticed a nervous looking fifth-year prefect place their timetables quickly on the table and scurry away; a little in awe of the older students and war heroes who graced the Hall.

Hermione let out a small exclamation of what Harry presumed was delight, as she picked up her timetable, analysing it carefully as she committed the week's plan of lessons to memory. Ron rolled his eyes playfully at her as he started comparing their schedules; the two engrossed in which classes they shared, and not just so Ron would know which subjects he could easily get help with his homework in.

For the second time in two days, Harry felt his attention wandering and settling on Malfoy as Ron and Hermione reverted back into 'couple-mode'. He noticed that the sulky blond was sitting alone and moodily stabbing at his eggs with his fork; the runny yolk splattered over his plate as he scowled down at them as though trying to place the blame on them for whatever problem he was having. It didn't seem right to Harry that Malfoy was alone. He was usually surrounded by a crowd of admirers or associates; always the centre of attention, unless he was up to something. Harry felt a sense of unease fall over him at this thought. Was Malfoy up to something? If so, what? Was a good thing? Or something bad? He made a mental note to tail Malfoy whenever he could; and was reminded of his sixth year at Hogwarts when he had done the very same thing. A hand waved in front of his face. "Harry? Harry?" He blinked and looked over at the owner, his eyes focusing on Ron with Hermione by his side as he turned his head. "Sorry, what?"

"Blimey Harry. What happened between you and Malfoy? Did he hex you? Because you certainly seem to be keeping a close eye on him…"

Harry shook his head. "No… I just think he's up to something…"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Not again. Harry, this isn't going to be a repeat of sixth year, is it? You're not going to become obsessed with Malfoy only a day into the term are you?"

Harry looked defensive. "I was not and am not obsessing over him."

The two exchanged sceptical glances. "I'm not!" Harry sighed, crossing his arms. "Fine, whatever. But I was right last time, wasn't I? He was up to something."

"Yes, but Harry… What could Malfoy possibly do? Voldemort's dead and the Malfoy family don't have a great deal of political power to their name anymore. Even if he was planning something, what on earth could it be and how in the world could he manage it?" Hermione tried to reason with him, but Harry had made up his mind.

"That's what I'm going to find out."

The bell rang, effectively cutting off their discussion as the Hall emptied of groaning students carrying heavy book bags; heading off to the first of many classes of the term.