The Phoenix and The Dragon

Harry and Draco stood at the end of Harry’s bed. Draco had his hands on his hips and a perplexed look on his face whereas Harry looked completely enraged, his eyebrows knitted and a scowl on his lips

“I never-”

“You said the left!”

“I said ‘shut it’!”

“Fine, so you want the right?” Draco gestured to the bed with a flippant swing of his arm. “That’s fine by me.”

“No, I don’t want either!”

“You don’t want to sleep in your own bed?”

“Malfoy, that is not what I meant and you know it!”

“No, no I don’t think I do. Enlighten me Potter.”

“I- I meant I want both sides, as in the whole bed to myself, as in without you in it.” Harry jabbed his finger into Malfoy’s chest, slightly surprised at how thin the fabric was but ignored it in favor of arguing.

“Well do you have a spare room?”

“This IS the spare room.”

“Then where am I supposed to sleep, Golden Boy?”

“ANYWHERE THAT ISN’T MY BED!!!” Malfoy didn’t even flinch at Harry’s outburst, he didn’t bat an eyelash. He simply raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow, a remnant of his slightly more pampered previous lifestyle, and smirked.

“You know Potter, if I slept in this bed right here, with you, well that would make it OUR bed, wouldn’t it? Technically speaking of course.”

“UGH!” Harry threw his hands up in utter defeat. “Why do you have to be so difficult?!? You know we’ve only been alone for five minutes and you already have me screaming at you? This is not good, it won’t work…this is not good at all.”

“You know what they say Potter, be good and you will be lonesome.”

“What? Who says that?”

“Mark Twain.”

“Mark Twain?” Harry cocked his head and his hair fell over his eyes which were squinted in consideration. Draco sighed dramatically. Then again Draco did EVERYTHING dramatically from what Harry could tell.

“A Muggle author.”

“Muggle author?”

“Muggle studies class.”

“Muggle st-”

“Are you copying me Potter?”

“Wha-I- no. It’s just, you took muggle studies?”

“Know thy enemy.”

“Figures.” Harry wondered why Malfoy couldn’t ever just say something simple like, ‘I’m well read’ and leave it at that.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Sleeping arrangements?”

“You know what, fine. Whatever.” Harry dropped his arms to his sides and moaned irritably. It was no use arguing with the blond it was pointless. They’d go round and round in circles until they both passed out from exhaustion or hexed each other into little bits.

“So…I get the right?”

“I said ‘fine’ didn’t I?”

“Just clarifying.”

“Clarify again and your ass on the floor will be crystal clear.” Malfoy scoffed.

“No need to get your knickers in a twist Potter.”

“My knickers are none of your concern Malfoy!”

“Touché. Speaking of knickers, do you actually sleep in those dreadful things?”

Harry looked down at his clothes. He was shirtless, simply for comfort because his cousins t-shirts were so big they were closer to nightgowns, and he wore a pair of extremely loose and threadbare drawstring pants that were cinched as tight as he could manage low on his hips. He then, without the ability to stop himself, blushed. How dare Malfoy come into his home and make him feel bad about his own damn pajamas.

“They may not be silk but they get the job done. Would you like something to sleep in?”

“I most certainly do not!” Malfoy looked affronted and Harry shamelessly blushed again. “My you do flush prettily Potter but when you’ve got a moment I would like a shower and something to eat so can we move this along?”

This time Harry paled. Not that Harry wasn’t used to Malfoy calling him out but he wasn’t exactly sure when Malfoy had gained the upper hand in their conversation. He straightened himself up and did his best impression of the ‘Malfoy Sneer’ that he could muster.

“Yes well everything must be perfect for my guest. But what were you planning to wear Malfoy? Not those dirty rags, not in my bed.”

“I thought we agreed it was our bed and to answer your question, nothing of course.”

“It’s my bed Mal- what?”

“What?”

“You wear nothing?”

“Well obviously, I need to let myself…breathe.”

“Breathe? What are you on about now Malfoy! I’m not letting you sleep in my bed, with me, naked. Absolutely not, no, no, no, no, NO!”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend perfect-prudish-potty-wee-Potter!” Malfoy’s laugh was full and it resonated around the otherwise quiet house as he bent over to hold his sides. “Potter, we’re both men, I’m no different from you, ‘cept I’ve got a prick!” He continued to laugh as Harry felt his face redden.

“You know what Malfoy, you ARE a prick!” Vaguely Harry wondered why Petunia and Vernon, not to mention Dudley, weren’t barging into his room with baseball bats and crowbars to silence him and his new roomie.

“Beg your pardon my lady.”

“Ugh, shut up Malfoy.” The blond was now laughing so hard he had tears rolling down his face.

“Harry,” he said when he finally looked up and caught his breathe, “I’m sorry, I haven’t had a good laugh in a long time. Not much to laugh about. But you,” He sighed, “do you know why I always taunted you?” Harry crossed his arms and turned away.

“Because you’re a right jealous and slimy git?”

“No,” he walked over to peek around Harry’s shoulder, “because you’re easy. For some reason I have the uncanny ability to piss you off and I enjoy every second of it.” Harry turned back around to face his harasser.

“Why would you tell me that? Now I know and it’ll be easier to ignore you.” Draco smiled slyly.

“You couldn’t ignore me Potter, it is mathematically impossible. I get under your skin 10 out of 10 times whether you like it or not, sometimes without even trying. If it’s any consolation, you’re pretty irritating too.” Harry sighed; really Malfoy was a prat, right, but still a prat.

“Whatever, you’re not sleeping in my bed nude. I don’t care how much you whine about it.”

“Now I understand how intimidating my prick can be after only seeing the pathetic and tiny digits of your housemates but you’ll simply have to get over it Potter. I hate sleeping clothes.” Harry wanted to laugh because Malfoy was actually being relatively funny even though he was outrageously insulting. Instead he tried to change the subject.

“You know you’re unusually crass this evening young master Malfoy.” Harry did his best Dumbledore impression. Draco actually giggled a little. Before sniffing snidely and glowering.

“And you’re always crass Mr. Potter.” Harry was shocked at how well Draco could imitate Snape. Then his face lightened and he smiled. “Not to mention that ginger haired wolf pack you’re always running about with.”

“Hey, leave the Weasley’s out of this.”

“You said it not me.”

“Said what?”

“The Weasley’s. If my description had been that far off you would not have known who I was talking about.” Harry shook his head.

“Tell me, can you think of any other group of people who could be considered a pack or ginger-haired that I am always around other then the Weasley’s?”

“None come to mind, no.”

“And they are not crass.”

“Are you trying to keep a straight face and tell me the twins are not crass?” Harry had to admit he had a point.

“Well no I jus-”

“And the weasel himself? Who spends his days insulting pure bloods and belching slugs?”

“Hey that was your fault!”

“Uh-uh, weasel can be responsible for his own actions.”

“You called Hermione a mudblood!”

“As was customary. It was just to piss you off Potter. I never said ‘Hey weasel, come try to hex me!’”

“Alright but-”

“And what about the Weaselette?”

“Stop interrupting me Malfoy.”

“Sorry…Well?”

“Well what?”

“Weaselette, the bat bogey hex extraordinaire?”

“She's just…willful. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“She wouldn’t know a good head if it bit her in the arse Potter! She’s a horrifyingly competent female replica of Fred and George!” Harry opened his mouth to retort but realized that that was a pretty good description of his ex.

“Fine, but they’re my friends so could you leave it alone for now?” Malfoy bit his lip and rolled his eyes.

“Yes I can. Look Potter, I’m sorry. Kind of, I just don’t get along with the Weasley’s and they don’t get along with me. I understand that I’m a guest and you’re saving my arse, I didn’t mean to…upset you.” He crinkled his nose and pursed his lips. “That was horrid. I hate apologizing it feels so, plebian!” Harry smirked.

“Get used to it. So how come you don’t get along with the Weasley’s? A money thing? A power thing? A pure-blood thing?”

“Those are the reasons the Weasley’s and my father don’t get along. I don’t get along with the Weasleys because of a Potter thing, if you want the honest truth. Not that you deserve it.” Harry narrowed his eyes at the snooty blond who in turn lowered his head slightly. “Maybe you do.”

“Why is it always a Potter thing? What Potter thing?”

“I really wanted to be your friend first year, remember? You can’t blame it on wanting to kill you either because the Dark Lord was still missing. I had met you at Madame Malkin’s and I instantly wanted to know you. Don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you could be a friend that wasn’t paid for. Well when I heard on the train that you were THE Harry Potter I really wanted to be your friend then. My parents had always complained about you but I had read the stories when I got older and I admired you.” Harry gasped. “I know, bizarre, I was a peculiar child. Anyway you turned me down for that ginger-haired git Weasley. I was devastated. I had seen nothing wrong in my behavior that would make you choose him over me. That and I was not used to being denied anything.” He took a deep breathe and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s it, I vowed to hate you and I was good at it.” This time he smiled. Harry smiled back.

“And here we are.”

“Here we are indeed. That was remarkably therapeutic. I feel light as a feather.”

“Really?”

“No. I feel filthy and tired and a little exposed.”

“Oh.”

“Relax. I’m going to take a shower. Then I’m going to come back here, disrobe, and crawl into that comfy bed of yours and sleep, entirely nude, until this evening. You, I don’t care what you do as long as you do it quietly.” Harry couldn’t argue with that.

“Try to be quiet too, if the Dursley’s wake up we’re both as good as dead.”

“Potter, not to be rude or anything but don’t you think that if they were going to wake up that they would have done it during our intermittent arguing and yelling? Don’t you think it’s a little…odd, that they haven’t made a peep?” Then Draco smirked mischievously and Harry was reminded of the first time Draco had hexed him in the corridor on their way to potions.

“What have you done?!?”

“Me? Why does it have to be me? Couldn’t it have been Severus who sent them a batch of dreamless sleep potion filled cupcakes?”

“You did what!”

“I told you already it wasn’t me! It wasn’t even my idea but he knew we couldn’t do this quietly so we sent them a large batch of spiked cupcakes. We even used the muggle post!”

“Oh Merlin!” Harry couldn’t believe they drugged the Dursley’s. Now that he thought about it he saw the genius in the plan, and the humor. He could even picture Snape and Malfoy wandering around the Post Office looking totally out of place.

“By the look of it your aunt should be up around noon. Your uncle and that fat lump of a cousin though, they’ll be out well into the evening!” Draco snickered and pushed some his greasy hair from his face. When he touched his bangs he scowled at the ground. “I HAVE to bathe Potter. My pores or filled with dirt and my hair is greasy. GREASY Potter! MY HAIR! I'm covered in mud and blood and all other manner of outdoor filth.”

“Calm down Malfoy, you get dirty during quidditch all year." When Draco opened his mouth to respond Harry quickly continued. "Go on and take a shower, there are clean towels in the linen closet and I’ll get the sheets changed and then make you some breakfast, the suns coming up anyway,” he gestured towards the window at the pink and yellow horizon, “and then you can rest…er, bare.” Draco nodded and headed for the door, before he left he turned around and smirked.

“You really are a prude Potter, calling it bare. Next time just try ‘naked’. It’ll make you sound less like my mother.” Then he was out the door and across the hall.