Again, I'm so sorry about my incompetence. I've had a lot of GCSEs and I'm just getting back of track. Hang in there!
"You're taking the floor, Potter. I refuse to lie in anything that isn't silk," Malfoy entered the suite first, having barged past Harry in an effort to be superior by leading them to the room. Looking around, Harry saw all the walls were painted a light cream with, if he stared hard enough, a light pink tinge and faint red hearts that swam through the paintwork. There was only one bed with white sheets and a dark mahogany frame for the four posters placed against the wall furthest away. It looked a little like the 8th year dorm rooms back at Hogwarts, except, more romantic.
"I don't think that's fair, Malfoy. Why do I have to go on the floor?" Harry protested, following Malfoy through the doorway until he was standing next to the wardrobe that hung on the wall beside what Harry could only assume was the door to the bathroom. Both boys placed their bags on the ground at their feet and walked simultaneously to the window, admiring the beautiful view of a moonlit beach.
"Look, Malfoy, we're not friends, not by a long shot-" Draco snorted, "but I think, for the sake of sharing this suite, we should try not to argue? Deal?" Harry held out a hand for Malfoy to shake.
Draco stared at the hand in shock, it was the gesture that, many years ago, had been reversed and rejected. Inside his head, Draco was battling himself: accept Harry's offer and have a pleasant holiday, or reject it to cause Potter some of the humiliation that he had felt for eight years. Honestly though, he would have preferred somewhere more populated to cause humiliation, so it wouldn't be as satisfying.
The two boys stood, shoulder to shoulder, Harry's arm extended across both their bodies and Draco settled for the best of both worlds. Instead of accepting the hand, the platinum haired boy moved from the window, leaving Harry's arm hanging loosely with no purpose.
"Fine, I'll agree to be civil with you, Potter. However, that does not mean that you get the bed." Malfoy sniffed, tossing his bag onto the bed, then jumping after it so that he was sprawled over the covers.
"We'll take it in turns," Harry said decisively, "I'm going to go to reception to get some more bed linen, we ought to start getting ready to sleep, McGonagall will go nuts if we're falling asleep tomorrow during the educational trips,"
Kicking his bag so that it came to rest at the foot of the bed, Harry walked toward the door and left. Draco sat up and sighed, how was them being nice to each other supposed to work? They were enemy's, simple as. Well, in Potter's eyes they were enemies, Draco had always known that there was something else in his own feelings for The Boy Who Lived, but he could never place it. Pansy's teasing and the kiss on the plane had confirmed things for him, however, he was now fairly certain that he liked Potter more than he could ever tell the scarhead.
While Harry was out of the room, Draco took the opportunity to change. He gripped the bottom of his shirt and tried to pull it over his head. It wouldn't come. It was as if the bottom of the shirt was tied to 3 tonne weights, it just refused to lift up.
Oh... Draco though. The receptionist had mentioned perks. Joy. Did this mean that he couldn't get changed unless... Unless what? Unless Harry undressed him? He shivered at the thought. Or did Harry simply have to be inside the suite?
Harry walked along the stone pathways, trying to remember his way to the reception desk. There just seemed to be so many bushes that looked exactly the same and so many similar spiral staircases!
Mosquitos flew wildly around Harry's head, zooming past his ear in an excited frenzy, spinning closer every second. It was a humid night, and Harry was eager to get back to the room, if for nothing but the air conditioning that blasted thickly in tsunami waves.
It took Harry a while, but he came upon the reception desk at last.
"What can I do for you, Mr...?" A friendly looking Thai girl in a purple shirt smiled up at Harry from her seat behind the desk.
"Potter," Harry offered, to finish her sentence, "I was wondering if I could have any more sheets for the room that I'm staying in, Please." The woman looked slightly crestfallen.
"Was their not enough? Was the room not satisfactory? We're the beds made when you got there?" The reception girl was clearly panicking that someone wasn't doing their job correctly, and Harry hurried to clarify the situation.
"No, no. It's nothing like that. I am on the trip from Hogwarts, in the UK. There was a mix up with the bookings and I have ended up in the honeymoon suite with another student. Extra sheets are just so that we can take it in turns to sleep on the floor," some colour returned to the lady's cheeks - other than her already heavily tanned face - and she smiled.
"Sorry, I haven't been working here long, I get a little bit worried that if people do not do their job properly, then I will get the blame. I apologise. If you'll follow me,"
Harry followed her. She came out from behind the desk and moved down the corridor to the left, it was labelled 'staff' but the woman gestured for him to keep going anyway. All labels in the hotel were spelled to be seen in the native tongue of the onlooker, so that no translation issues were caused.
The corridor was thin with a few doors leading off of it every few paces. There was a massage table in one of the rooms, which Harry had to assume was the supply cupboard for the spa treatments; in another, there was kitchen ware, a stove and a fridge with a small dining area. At the end, the receptionist turned left and came into a small, bare wooden cupboard filled with towels and linen that lined the walls on metal shelving racks. The dark haired woman pulled a few sheets and pillows from the top of the rack and passed them blindly to Harry who had to grab them quickly to stop her from dropping anything onto the dusty floor.
"Right, do you think that'll cover you?" The lady spoke in her rich Thai accent turning out the light in the room and ushering Harry back up the corridor. Harry stumbled along, the view of the ground cut off by his bundle wrapped around his arms.
"Yes, thank you!" The raven haired boy began to walk all the way back to his and Draco's suite.
Upon reaching the door, Harry had to knock, because the key card in his pocket was currently unattainable what with the huge pile of material in his arms. It took Draco an age to open the door, and when he did, it was with sass and sarcasm that just made Harry grumpy.
He took a step through the doorframe, and groaned in frustration. The sheets in Harry's arms had vanished, just disappeared into thin air, leaving Harry looking like he was just pretending to carry things. Malfoy blinked at him, his face distorted in confusion.
"Bloody kinks!" He shouted, remembering what had happened whilst Harry had been away.
"Well I'm not sleeping on the floor with no sheets. I'm sleeping in the bed, we can top and tail?" Harry said begrudgingly. Malfoy grunted in reply, trepidation etched into his features.
After a moment, Harry felt the aching of a full bladder and walked to test out the bathroom. It was tiled in aquamarine, with a marble sink and metal tap. What made Harry laugh, was the fact that the toilet roll had been folded into a small triangle at the end.
Whilst Harry was in the bathroom, Draco tried his clothes again, thinking that now Harry was in the suite, he would be able to change. No such luck. The shirt still stuck like it was glued, and Draco sighed in frustration. Harry came out of the bathroom and went immediately to his trunk, pulling out pyjamas. He made a move to go back into the bathroom to change, but Draco growled quietly, causing Harry to stop and look up in question.
"It won't work, I've already tried." Harry looked confused, so Draco explained, " I think it's another one of the kinks. We have to be in the same room to change," Harry sighed and turned to face the door.
"Fine," he pulled his shirt over his head, and for Harry, it worked.
Draco tried his own shirt and found that it now slipped over his head with ease, he followed suit with Harry and turned to that he was facing the window, his back to Harry.
Both of them finished getting changed, but Draco didn't have a pyjama shirt, because he always slept without one, so his pale chest was bare. Harry turned around once he was finished with his clothes and began to put them back into his case; it was better that he left everything in his trunk than putting it into a wardrobe. That way, he was less likely to lose things with it all in his trunk.
Looking up, Harry noticed Draco's bare skin on show and stared, it was like an instinct, something that he couldn't control. He watched as Malfoy did the same as he, placing everything back into his own case before closing it tightly. He noticed Harry watching him, and shot him a death glare, turning to face him fully.
"What?"
Harry gasped. Across Draco's chest were six jagged scars, all of them paler than the skin they were set on. The sectumsempra scars. Harry's curse had done that. One stupid move in the heat of the moment. And now, Draco was permanently marked with those beautiful scars.
Wait.. Beautiful? No, that was not the word that Harry had thought, surely? How could scars be beautiful? But examining them further, Harry decided that yes, it was the right word to use. They were scars given in hatred, by a caster that never meant to injure as badly as he did, or to kill. But actions had consequences.
Harry moved forward, getting up from his crouched position and walking so that he was facing Malfoy. With one hand, he reached out to run a finger along the largest scar, across where Draco's heart should be.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.
Draco jumped away from Harry's hands as if burned, but answered his apology.
"I deserved it, I was going to Crucio you. It's better that you got their first."
After that, both of the boys avoided each others gazes and decided, without speaking, who was sleeping on which part of the bed. Harry would sleep on the right, facing the wrong way from the head of the bed. Draco would sleep the correct way up, except on the left half of the bed.
They both climbed into their separate sides, avoiding talking or touching as much as they could. It had been weirdly intimate, what they had just shared and both boys were freaked out enough to cut off all communication.
Realising that no one had turned off the light, Harry got out of bed and flicked the switch because he was closest.
Instead of going pitch black, the room was suddenly illuminated by the flickering light of at least a dozen candles that had appeared from thin air.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Draco hissed.