Misery and Grief

Ron had finally left, after much complaining and reassuring that he thought that Draco should get his stuff and leave, to which both Draco and Harry asked themselves what stuff he was talking about. After the redhead left, it was such a lift off of both their shoulders that they both felt oddly comfortable in each others presence. Then came the part where it felt like someone should speak. Draco, instead, twirled around and went back up the stairs. "If I'm going to clean, I'm going to start with my room."

Harry, for some reason, had not expected the Slytherin to take initiative. It might be because Draco didn't seem to ever do anything himself over the years he had known him. The brunette shrugged and sat down, taking up a book. Meanwhile, the boy upstairs looked at the room he was supposed to be cleaning.

Saying it was one thing, doing it was another. He hadn't done one scrap of housework his entire life. It was always left up to Dobby or other servants, or at the very least done by magic. First he scavenged the room, looking at what needed to be done. He folded up the blanket, quite haphazardly, that had been on him when he had woken up. Once he set it down, however, he realized how badly folded it was, so he did the process again. It took him four times to get it decent, and only after very delicately matching the corners together. Whether he liked it or not, he was a perfectionist. This was going to be very difficult.

Then he realized, as he looked around the dust and grime, that he didn't know how to do any of these things to tidy up and clean. Surely he knew he was out of practice, having never done it, but he didn't know where to start, not even aware of what he needed to get the job done - much less where those supplies would be. So he dragged his feet as he went down the stairs, the slow movements reminding him of the ache in his body and the pain at his hip. Stepping in front of his once rival, he waited for the ebony haired man to look at him.

"I quit."

Green eyes stared up at him. "Amazing."

A scowl. "Stop that, Potter. I told you you weren't worth scrubbing floors before!" Icy grey eyes gleamed dangerously, however emerald eyes only shimmered back at him, angering him. "Is something funny?"

"You're only a foot away from me." Harry pointed out. "If I came within five feet of you before, you bounced away." Draco looked down with an incredulous expression. "And before today, the only times we were ever this close were in competitions or fights." And Draco knew it was true. Quidditch, bumping into halls. He growled at himself and backed away and was about to storm off angrily when Harry stood, placing down his book. "So I take it you have no idea what to do?"

Spot on but Draco wouldn't admit it, "No, you just don't deserve my time and effort."

"I didn't know you were doing this for me. Should I be flattered?" Draco glared at him, reminding himself that this was supposed to be for a wand. "Never mind the fact that I took you in with the kindness of my heart."

"My ass, you just have some sort of fetish for saving people." The blonde barked. Harry laughed then, and Draco's eyes went wide. The blonde quite simply had no clue as to how to react. It was almost a chuckle, deep and friendly, and it was something he supposed he had heard before now but never had been directed at him, even when opportunity came to laugh at Draco. The bouncing ferret incident came to mind but he couldn't remember Harry laughing at him. A smile, perhaps, but now that he thought about it, nothing Harry Potter ever did - even though they did not get along - was full of malice. Draco couldn't help but hate him more for it.

"Isn't it a bit concietedl, even for you, to think I'm saving you to fulfilling some sort of fetish by having you here?" He laughed again, Draco scowling but at the same time only more mesmerized by the man before him who, after a moment, began to move. The blonde jumped away as Harry passed him, twitching his head a bit as to tell Draco to come with him. The taller boy hesitated a moment before breathing in, as if to make himself larger, and trailed behind the black haired boy, slightly suspicious. It wasn't normal to laugh insults off, was it?

Harry flicked his wand, lighting up each room they came across, until they ended up at a closet. Opening the door with a loud creak, he started to pull out a large manner of cleaning supplies. Without a word, he stuffed a few rags, a broom, and a feather duster into Draco's arms before taking the mop, a bucket, and some more rags into his own and silently leaving the room, leaving the house guest the only option but to follow him. "Excuse me, what do you think you're doing. Why am I carrying these?"

The dark haired one didn't answer as he turned on the tap in the sink and filled the bucket, reaching over and pouring liquid soap into the warm water. "Since I'm such a nice guy, I'll help you clean the first time so you know what to do." The emerald eyes didn't have to move from the running water to know that steel eyes were stabbing him like daggers.

"I told you I didn't want to do it."

"Don't really care, Malfoy." Draco looked absolutely appalled. "If you want a wand, you're going to have to work for it. Of course, you have the option of not having a wand, I suppose, but then all your wizard supremacism would fly right out the window." A smirk touched Harry's lips. It was rare, and the boy it was aimed at couldn't help but feel as if their roles had reversed. Anger built up inside of him.

"What if I just steal yours, huh? Then where would you be?"

"At Ollivander's, buying a new one within minutes. I have that option, you know." A stab at Malfoy's heart as he remembered why he didn't have a wand, it's because he didn't have money. Because he couldn't go back to his parents. "Anyways, the only way you'll be able to snatch my wand off me is if you somehow convince me to get naked."

It was said in a backhand manner, Harry wasn't looking at him. No intensity whatsoever, but Malfoy's face went slightly pink. Maybe it was that he wasn't ready for anything sexual even jokingly, but the fact that his father was no longer in the forefront of his thoughts made him wonder if that was really the case. "D-don't dream too hard, Potter, you might hurt yourself. I'm not into guys that have a have as bad of luck as you do."

"You're right. How silly of me." Harry replied with a smile and a curious look in response to Draco's slight stutter. Picking the bucket out of the basin, he headed through the door the had just come through. "Of course you wouldn't be into guys like ME." Draco didn't see where this was going, Harry sounded a bit childish in the way he said it. "So, tell me Draco." The man stopped and turned to face the blonde, smiling joyously. "What kind of men ARE you into?"

With a temporary lack in elegance, Draco's squeaked. His ears went slightly red. But then it was gone. Like chalk erased off a chalkboard. A blank, cold stare. Then a smirk as Malfoy held tight to the things in his arms and walked past Harry. "Potter, it's quite unbecoming to assume others are like yourself." It was a deadpan tone, it meant that Draco wasn't playing anymore. Which left Harry quite unnerved, as he was only picking on Draco. He hadn't meant a word of it, and for the blonde to get so serious all of a sudden was strange.

Harry reached a decent answer for himself soon, that it must have been a twinge of what had happened to him, that the fact that men had penetrated him made him edgy about something like homosexual relations. And, if you were to take a look into the young Malfoy's mind, this was partially true. He wasn't gay, surely. However, his body had reacted against his will that night. Draco almost teared up but instead focused on each step of the stairs.

He truly did hate Harry Potter.