Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, guys. They are very helpful!

Chapter 5

Draco almost cheered aloud. Yes! Take that, Potter! Getting placed in Slytherin felt like the only triumph Draco could have ever received in this class. And even if he did have to spend a whole month in the company of his arch nemesis, at least he'd be in familiar territory. That was something, wasn't it? Draco could probably make do with that. At least now he wouldn't have to threaten to sue.

"Fuck," Potter muttered beside him. He was rubbing his forehead and cursing under his breath, with an expression as if hell had just frozen over ten times. Oh, poor, sad Potter.

Draco smirked. "Lighten up, Potter," he teased. "Just think, you'll never be bored with us around. And don't be surprised tomorrow morning if you find yourself submerged underwater."

Potter looked up and glared at Draco. Draco fought the urge to laugh in his face. Potter didn't say anything further, choosing to turn and give the Weasel a desperate, pleading look. Gods, this was fabulous—Draco could already picture all of the pranks he could play on the gullible prat while in Slytherin... Oh, the possibilities! This might even be a little bit entertaining.

Potter spent the rest of class awkwardly angled away from Draco, and when the bell rang, had practically dashed from the bench to whisper furiously with Granger and the Weasel. Draco watched them. The redhead had one hand on Potter's shoulder and the other waving around in the air for emphasis, while Granger's arm was laced through Potter's other side. Potter himself looked as if he was going to be sick. Draco wrinkled his nose. It really wasn't that big of a deal; they were obviously being overdramatic about it... Although, Draco supposed he'd be reacting the same way if he were placed in Gryffindor. Maybe even a tad more dramatic. But then again, he was a Slytherin and Slytherins were known for their drama. Gryffindor drama was different.

Draco was staring at the Gryffindor trio so intently, he had hardly noticed that Pansy and Blaise caught up with him and were now speaking. He blinked and turned towards them.

"It's not even fair," Pansy pouted. "I have to live with the Gryffindorks while you guys stay in Slytherin. It's absolutely inhumane! I want to speak with whomever made these decisions."

Blaise snorted. "You're overreacting."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Am I?" she asked. "Would you like to stay with Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindor drones instead? I could take your place with Granger."

Blaise grimaced. "Good point."

Draco sighed. However unfair it was that Pansy had to stay in Gryffindor, he wasn't too worried for her. She could hold her own, especially against Weasley, and who knows? She might even be able to corrupt him a bit; Weasley was certainly capable. Draco almost smiled at the thought. Potter's gang would go mental over that. And Draco loved when they went mental.

"Weasley is such an oaf," Pansy complained now.

Blaise shrugged. "Of course he is. But think of all the horrible pranks you could pull on him because of it. Do you still have that book I gave you last Christmas? How would Weasley feel about flobberworms in his bed the first night? And you can't forget about page 53. Page 53 is my favourite."

"You're positively horrible, Blaise," Pansy remarked, her pout now turning into a grin. "I love it."

Draco was hardly listening to their banter after that, finding it far more interesting to watch the Golden Trio whisper to each other again. The Weasel's grip was still on Potter's shoulder and Potter was holding Granger's hand now. They were all still whispering as if it were the End of the World. Draco narrowed his eyes at this. Crybabies. It's not like they were being sent off to their deaths—Draco snorted inwardly, thinking of Pansy's little grin and Blaise's book. Actually, he supposed they might as well be a little scared... Especially Weasley.

~x~

After classes had ended, all of the Eighth years took the time to move belongings to their new assignments—there was a flurry of activity everywhere that Draco turned. He sat on his bed and watched as boys went in and out of the room. Of course, Draco had had a fleeting thought to go assist Potter with his stuff, but he had ultimately decided against it... Just because they weren't fighting anymore didn't mean Draco had to be all nice. Besides, Potter was a big boy, he didn't need any help. Nevertheless, Draco watched Potter huff and puff as he carried his rather large trunk into the room and almost collapsed on the floor next to Draco's bed. Draco raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin, Potter was out of shape... Except he wasn't, because he still played Quidditch.

"You could help out a little, Malfoy," Potter remarked, looking up at him and sucking in his pink cheeks to take a large breath. Draco just stared at him. "Er, Malfoy?" Potter looked irritated now. "Fine. I'll do it myself. Thanks so much, mate." He dragged the trunk to the bed next to Draco's and kicked it for good measure.

Draco snapped out of it. "Honestly, Potter. I'm not a very helpful person. Get used to it." He grinned now. "That had been Goyle's bed, by the way."

Goyle had been assigned to live in Hufflepuff, of all places, with his partner that Draco did not care about enough to recall. It wasn't any of Draco's business. Besides, Crabbe and Goyle had not been quite so close to him this year. It was a little odd, but Draco hadn't minded; he didn't need bodyguards. He could take care of himself. They weren't much company anyhow.

Potter looked put off for a moment and glanced around to look for another bed, but of course, they were all taken. He sighed and sat on the bed begrudgingly. "Well, who else lives in here now?" he asked.

Draco glanced around. "Blaise. Theo. Me. You. I think that's it."

"But there are five beds."

"Yeah, what of it?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "We'll use that bed for extracurricular activities."

Potter gave him a slightly incredulous look.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust and glared at the other boy. "Gods, not you and I, Potter," he drawled. "Honestly. What I meant was... sometimes us blokes get urges. And when we get urges, we need to fulfill them. It's only natural."

Potter was still looking at him with those wide green eyes.

Draco sighed. "Merlin, you're impossible," he remarked. "I guess it's just a Slytherin thing. Of course you Gryffindors won't have sex anywhere near your dorm mates. Although, I have to wonder where you do..." He grinned lecherously, making Potter's eyes get even bigger. Draco wanted to burst out laughing. This was just too easy.

Potter was still sitting there with a shocked expression when Blaise walked into the room. At the sight, Blaise smirked too. "Draco, what did you say to the poor boy hero?" he asked. "Did you tell him about the soap in the washroom?"

Potter's eyes flicked over to Blaise now, looking worried. "What's wrong with the soap?"

Draco snorted. "Let him figure that out for himself," he quipped. "Actually, I just told him about The Extra Bed. Apparently Potter is too good for sex in such lowly form."

Potter glared at him. "I am not!"

"I know, you think that I'm beneath you," Draco teased. "Not literally, of course. Obviously, I'd be on top."

Potter was blushing now. Draco was used to the look, but it had never appeared so bright in front of him. Wow. Potter was so vibrant. It was almost strangely compelling, like Draco needed to reach out and touch. He swallowed hard. Uh... Never mind. Potter was glowering at him simultaneously.

"I'm no bottom, Malfoy," he growled.

"Well, neither am I," Draco insisted quickly, and his gaze met Potter's in an unspoken challenge. It was hard to fathom anything else at such a time—Draco was most surprised by the colour of Potter's eyes. Had they always been so green? Potter's glasses were usually in the way, but now, the lenses only seemed to amplify the colour. Draco looked away first, slightly dazzled and thoroughly annoyed. Damn Potter for always winning. One day Draco would get him for that.

"Well," said Blaise, looking from Potter to Draco with an amused expression. "Welcome to Slytherin, Potter."

Draco just stared at his lap.

~x~

It was after dinner when Potter and Granger reluctantly parted ways with the Weasel and came to the Slytherin common room—upon arrival, the two stuck together and sat on one of the loveseat couches, each looking nervous to various degrees by the surroundings. Honestly, Gryffindors. It wasn't as if all of the Slytherins were going to kill them right then and there... At least, not today, and not under Draco's orders. Draco just raised his eyebrows and sat in his favourite armchair across from the fireplace. It was rather strange being in Slytherin with all of these non-Slytherins surrounding him, and he didn't particularly enjoy it, but he supposed that he'd have to get used to the feeling. For now. Honestly, Draco couldn't wait until the month was up and Potter and the rest of the intruders would go back to their own Houses as they rightfully should.

It was almost half an hour later when everybody had seemed to have made their ways back to the common room, and Draco had already made himself quite comfortable, lounging around chatting with Blaise about this and that. It wasn't... too bad. At this point, Draco snuck another glance over at Potter and Granger again; they both seemed to have loosened up a bit. Potter's arm was slung across the back of the seat, barely touching Granger's hair, and he was whispering in her ear as she nodded and smiled every once in awhile at whatever rubbish he was saying. For some reason, Draco frowned. Why did Granger have to be placed in Slytherin too? Potter spent too much time with her as it was. And even if Draco didn't like the stupid git at all, he was still Draco's partner, and not Granger's, and Potter shouldn't be allowed to cohort with her whenever he pleased. It didn't matter that they were friends—and anyway, Potter shouldn't have gotten a friend in Slytherin at all. It wasn't fair.

Draco felt a pang of unwanted jealousy in his chest. He hated the feeling; it was constantly there around Potter. Well... It wasn't for nothing. Granger clearly made Potter happy. And Draco didn't fancy Potter's happiness. Yes. None for Potter. Ha ha.

"Draco? Draco?" Blaise asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hey, arsehole. I'm talking to you." He was looking at Draco with a funny expression.

Draco realised that he'd been staring at the two Gryffindors for quite a while. He looked at Blaise and frowned. "Sorry?"

The other boy looked suspicious. "What's with the sour expression?" he asked, before following the direction of Draco's sight and raising his brows. "Oh, I see." He smirked. Draco noticed a hint of understanding in Blaise's voice and scowled.

"You see what?" Draco grumbled irritably, glancing over at the giggling pair one more time. Hideous bint, he thought, grinding his teeth as Granger leaned her head against Potter's shoulder.

"Nothing, nothing." Blaise just grinned knowingly at him.

Draco scowled again. He would ignore Potter from now on.

But that night as Draco was getting ready to sleep, he couldn't help but notice Potter already sitting on his bed wearing some tattered oversized bottoms and a flimsy white t-shirt—because well, honestly, it was just too revolting to miss. Draco wrinkled his nose. Of course, even Potter's nightwear would be unfashionable... Draco made a mental note to lend Potter something decent. Clearly, it wouldn't be helping Potter as much as it would be helping himself from looking at those stupid clothes any longer. Draco wandered over to the washroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair, idly noticing that his hair was getting long and decided he would have to cut it. He trimmed it neatly with a quick spell so that it just barely hung over his eyes. There.

When Draco walked back into the room Potter was standing over near Nott's bed, talking to the other boy about something. Blaise, on the other hand, was sitting on his own bed—he was obviously watching the pair as well. Draco frowned and tried to catch the darker boy's eye, but Blaise only smirked, as if he knew Draco was looking at him, and called out across the room.

"Oi, Potter!" he said. "Come here, will you?"

Potter looked suspicious for a moment, but he shrugged and went to sit on Blaise's bed with him. "Do you need something, Zabini?" he asked.

Blaise gave him a winning smile. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm willing to be completely civil with you," he said. "We're all going to have to live together for a month and I'd prefer it if our petty House rivalry stays to a minimum. I'd say that you would too, seeing as you are obviously outnumbered here." Blaise gestured around the room. "And we're willing to give it shot, right, lads?"

Nott was nodding, so Draco did too. Though he didn't know why on earth he was doing that. He wanted to fight with Potter, didn't he?

Potter was quiet for a while, almost expressionless. But after a moment, he beamed. "Yeah, I agree," he said. "Thanks, Zabini. That's real nice of you." Potter directed his smile tentatively at the other dark-haired boy, and Blaise grinned back. Draco could tell that it was genuine.

"Brilliant! Night, Potter. Draco, Nott," Blaise chirped, before throwing his covers over himself and scooting Potter away. Potter chuckled and got up.

Draco mumbled something back, still processing that conversation. No pranks? At all? Well, this was extremely disappointing—what was he going to do with his spare time? Now Potter jumped into bed too, pulling off his ratty t-shirt to reveal surprisingly tanned, toned skin, and Draco forgot his disappointment. Holy hell. Holy mother of Merlin! When the fuck did that happen? Draco's mouth fell open as he stared. Well, now he wouldn't have to lend Potter bedclothes... because apparently, Potter didn't wear any. Draco couldn't keep his own face still. Was his eye twitching? Fuck it, he didn't care. For Merlin's sake, Potter—who knew that the whingy Gryffindor had an actual body under all of those shapeless clothes?

"Night, Zabini, Nott... Malfoy." The sound of Potter's voice snapped him out of his shock, and Draco just nodded again, blushing slightly. Whoa.

~x~

As soon as Marriage Sex and Family had started the next day, Snape had made everybody line up with their partners in front of a gaudy arch—complete with cheap white flowers and a picket fence poking out of the frame for their marriage ceremonies. Draco frowned in distaste. Fake marriage or not, he was rather annoyed with the tackiness of it all; certainly they could've spent more time and effort on it. When he was getting married for real, Draco wouldn't stand for anything less than perfectly romantic... Not that he wanted this to be romantic, of course. Getting married to Potter was something that he hoped he would never have to do again, let alone involve any romance. Still, the arch was a bit undignified, even for a classroom.

Snape seemed more hostile than usual today—obviously due to the fact that he had to marry off countless pairs of unwanted students of an unwanted class that he unwillingly had to teach. Of course, when it was put that way, Draco feel a little sorry for the man; not sorry enough to excuse him for the terrible decorations, but still. It was rather sad. Snape's mouth twisted as he spoke. "All right, let's get this over with, children," he drawled. "First up…"

Draco stopped listening then; carefully appearing cool and aloof with this ritual as if he got fake-married all the time. Of course, it was only customary of him to act a certain way, mainly to keep the peace in the presence of his Housemates, but also for his own bloody reputation. To be completely honest, however, Draco was a bit unnerved by the whole thing. There was something so real and concrete about the aspect of marriage and the bond that it was supposed to create between two people. Wasn't that why it was regarded as such a sacred ceremony? Draco knew that it was all pretend, but he couldn't help feeling that the relationship between himself and Potter would never be the same again, no matter how horrible they were to one another. And that was just... well, it was just frightening.

"Potter, Malfoy."

The sound of their names being called snapped Draco back to reality, and he suddenly found himself following Potter up to the arch. Once at the platform, Draco stepped up and faced Potter—Oh gods! Draco flinched a bit. The Gryffindor was standing much too close for Draco's liking, and it posed the problem of the much-too-green eyes thing; Draco tried to look anywhere but Potter's face, but it was virtually impossible. He stood there, uncomfortable. This was probably the worst form of humiliation there was, having to marry his archenemy in front his entire Year on this tiny little platform. Could it get any worse? Suddenly, Draco felt his clothing shift and he looked down to see that he was wearing formal robes. Formal robes! Of course though, it really could get worse. He chanced a peek at Potter and saw that he was wearing the same ensemble, cheeks flushed as if he were uncomfortable with it as well. At least Draco knew that he wasn't alone.

"Join hands," muttered Snape stiffly.

Before Draco could grumble or protest, Potter had reached out and gently taken Draco's hands in his. Potter's hands were really warm; not unpleasantly so, but enough to make Draco realise how ice cold his own were. They were also shaking... or perhaps that was Potter's? Draco looked up now, bravely meeting the other boy's eyes for a brief moment. Merlin, they really were green. The sort of green that was just so pure and honest. How did that even exist?

"Harry James Potter," Snape bellowed. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

The words were practically venom. Draco would've laughed if it hadn't been him Snape had been referring Potter to.

"I do," Potter said quietly. His gaze had not left Draco's face.

Snape pursed his lips before speaking. "And do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Draco continued to stare straight into Potter's eyes, which held some kind of unreadable expression now. This was it. The fine line between being enemies and… whatever it was they were now was being crossed. Did he want to? Draco took a deep breath. Well, no matter what, he really didn't have a choice.

"I... do."

There was a heavy silence.

Snape sighed, seemingly already done with the prospect. "I now pronounce you husband and husband," he sneered. "You may kiss the groom."

Author's Note: DUN

DUN

DUUUUUUN!