I know, I know, it's been two years and all you get is one 500-word chapter, but people are still following and viewing this story so I owe it to them to continue (and I've finally finished school YAY!) – in future I think this is how it'll be, 500 words every week or two. Hopefully you can see how my writing has improved in the intervening years.
"BASTARD!" says Malfoy, pacing the room in a green silk dressing gown. I'm still in bed, watching the parade with a bemused expression. After being woken up he'd practically rolled out of bed before preserving his modesty with said dressing gown. "The absolute fucking bastard! This goes against every school rule! This is dark! This is horrible! This is… it's grooming, that's what it is!"
"Malfoy, calm down-" I start, but he's having none of it.
"Calm down! Calm down? I just woke up on top of a very naked and very uncomfortable Harry Potter! I'm being forced to share a bed with Harry bloody Potter!"
"I'm still here, you know." I deadpan. He gives me one glare before storming off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. "And why," he starts, voice muffled by the door, "is there no shower? A bath is completely impractical!" the indignation in his voice starts me laughing, as if the greatest injustice of the last 24 hours is his lack of shower. "It'll be fine." I say. "You use the bath first and I'll have your bathwater after you." This is apparently not the right thing to say. "What are you, some kind of animal?" he asks from behind the door. "You want to bathe in my dirty bathwater?"
"Oh, sorry, I thought Malfoys didn't get dirty," I shoot back. "I'd assumed you were above that kind of thing." I grin as I hear a snorting sound from the bathroom, and realise that this situation seems more like banter than any real kind of argument. In fact, it's the nicest we've been to each other since the first time we met. I get out of bed and put a pair of boxers on, then pull on my school robes over the top. I'm thankful that I did as there's a polite knock on the door. I unlatch and open it to find Professors McGonagall and Snape side by side, expressions akin to those of executioners. "I assume by now that yourself and Mr Malfoy have worked out some kind of timetable?" Snape asks, before continuing: "I'm sure Malfoy is sensible enough to have gone over it already with you?"
"Professor Dumbledore didn't mention any kind of timetable, Sir." I reply, trying to keep my tone respectful.
"You didn't know that you'd also be sharing classes?" asks Professor McGonagall, seeming incredulous. "In any case, we've devised a suitable timetable for you both to follow and which we feel offers enough compromise - in other words, you'll both be giving up certain subjects and taking on others. You'll have a lot of learning to do." And with that, McGonagall and Snape turn as one and sweep from the doorway in a flurry of tartan and grease. I pick up the two identical timetables which have appeared on a side-table to find that not only am I giving up Charms in order to study Advanced Alchemy with Malfoy, but he's being forced to forgo Arithmancy in order to study Herbology with me. Underlined in pink on each of our schedules is a brand new addition to the timetable – Muggle Studies – Charity Burbage.
Malfoy opens the bathroom door a crack. "Was anyone just in here?" he asks. "I thought I heard voices, but didn't particularly fancy Grainger and Weasley seeing me in my bathrobe."
"It wasn't Hermione or Ron," I start, "but you're going to want to see this."