31

"Cheers," Harry said drowsily, clinking his shot glass against the dragon's. Or I suppose we should call her Harriet, not 'the dragon', as Harriet was her preferred name. Harry's first guess as to what the Hungarian Horntail's name was had been 'Horny', but he couldn't be right all the time, he supposed.

"So anyway," Harriet said in her accented Parseltongue, "As I was saying. What brings a girl like you to a place like this?" She gestured to their surroundings and Harry tried to take a look around to see what she meant but found that he was too tired to turn his head. Giving up, he grinned slyly at his companion, making sure to look her straight in the eyes.

"And who, precisely, said I wasn't exactly the kind of girl for a place like this?" he asked huskily (or at least, as huskily as one can be when one is hissing), downing his shot in one without breaking eye contact. Harriet looked shocked for a second before throwing her shot over her shoulder and leaning forward, her teeth gleaming as she opened her mouth to-

"No, Harriet, don't eat me! I forgot I'm not a girl!"

Hermione and Neville exchanged bemused glances before resuming their poking of his cheeks. Slowly, Harry awoke and swatted their fingers off of his face.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, smothering a giggle, "You have to wake up now. The task's over, everyone's leaving."

"Shit," Harry mumbled, opening bleary eyes to peer up at his two friends, "How long was I asleep for? And where's Ron?" For he had glanced around to find his third best friend and hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of the red-head anywhere.

"You were asleep for almost an hour," Hermione tutted, but he could see from the spark in her eyes that she was amused really. She had appearances to uphold though, and couldn't be seen encouraging this kind of irresponsibility.

"And Ron took that dog and went to get supplies," Neville added, holding his hand out to help Harry to his feet.

"Supplies?" Harry asked, perplexed, "Supplies for what?"

"The 'Our Champion Lost' party is what I think Fred and George said. They've gone to the common room already to start setting up." Harry grinned at Neville's words; of course he had assumed that he would lose (how could he not?), but he had not thought that his house would be willing to throw a party anyway. In fact, he had been half-afraid that they would be pissed at him for not showing the kind of bravery and courage that Gryffindor's were supposed to have. Of course, they may have taken falling asleep in a dragon enclosure as a very brave thing to do, in which case the party made perfect sense. Either way, Harry wasn't going to complain.

"Cool," he said as they started to walk back up to the castle with the rest of the stragglers. A sudden thought popped into his head and he smirked happily, "Hey, do you reckon it'd be alright if I invited some people?"

Draco Malfoy was not a happy bunny. Of course, his life being how it was, Draco Malfoy was almost never a happy bunny, but right now he was even less of a happy bunny than usual. There were many factors contributing towards his bad mood, and, he thought resentfully, they could all be traced back to Harry Bleeding Potter.

For a start, that stupid mutt of a godfather of his had slobbered all over his hair, and it had looked perfect that morning, damnit. It had taken half an hour to tease his hair out of the crispy clumps the dog slobber had dried it in, but not before everyone in the school (and several who weren't) had seen him looking ridiculous.

For a second thing, the way Potter had avoided having to do the task properly whilst still fulfilling the terms of the Goblet was, while Gryffindor at first glance, actually almost Slytherin in its cunning. And Potter just wasn't allowed to be Slytherin in any way, shape or form. Admitting that Potter had some Slytherin qualities would be admitting that he was someway respectable, which would be admitting him as a possible object of his affections (if one overstepped the fact he was a he of course- Draco was sure father would not approve of that). And admitting that would provide far too much of a temptation.

Not that Draco would ever go through with it, of course, he had none of that Gryffindor bravery after all. But the fact that it was possible would nag at him, night and day, and he was sure he would be sent crazy by it all.

It also didn't help towards Draco's mood that Pansy and Blaise had been invited to a party in the Gryffindor common room by Potter himself.

It doubly didn't help that they had gone.

Scowling, his grip on the quill in his hand tightened until it snapped, shards digging deep into his hand. He yelped, shocked out of his brooding thoughts and watched in dismay as blood dripped onto his half-finished letter to his father.

"Fuck," he muttered. He'd have to start again now- his father wouldn't accept anything less than perfect, even with something as simple as a letter home. Pushing the parchment aside, Draco reluctantly left his room and headed towards the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from her cup of tea and frowned. If she wasn't mistaken, she could hear a chicken squawking out in the hallway. And (here she really hoped that she was mistaken) it was getting closer. Sighing, she put her cup down and stood, ready to face the oncoming problem.

Sure enough, moments later, a laughing pair of Weasley twins dragged through the doors what looked like... a boy with the head of a canary? Oh dear Merlin...

"Madam Pomfrey!" Weasley twin one exclaimed.

"Just the-"

"Wonderful-"

"Amazing-"

"Beautiful woman we wanted to see!" This last was said together, before they dissolved once more into giggles.

"What on earth have you done now?" the matron asked, tutting and pulling the canary-headed boy away from the twins and towards a bed.

"Well-"

"You see-"

"He wanted to try it-"

"Even though we said it wasn't-"

"Finished yet-"

"So really it's-"

"All Harry's fault!" There was a slight pause as Madam Pomfrey looked from the twins to the canary boy and back again.

"So we'll just be off then!" The twins announced in unison, turning and running from the hospital wing before the matron could call them back and demand an explanation. Sighing again, she thought longingly of the cup of tea and new issue of Witch Weekly that was waiting for her before turning her attention back to the newly canary-ed Boy Who Lived.

"Squawk," Harry said pitifully, staring at her with black, beady eyes so different to his normal dazzling green.

"Honestly," Madam Pomfrey fretted, "What have you gotten yourself in for this time?" Harry was about to open his mouth and squawk in protest, but the doors to the hospital wing opened for a second time and in walked Draco Malfoy. Harry made a croaking sound in the back of his throat that Madam Pomfrey quite rightly assumed could be translated as something akin to 'oh, fuck'.

Draco had to stifle a laugh when he walked into the hospital wing and saw a bird-headed boy sat on the edge of a bed. Moments later, however, his eyes near on bugged out of his head as he heard Madam Pomfrey's words.

"Stay here, Mr Potter." Potter. What the bloody hell was he doing here? Draco conveniently forgot that it was entirely obvious why Harry was there and concentrated on the fact that Harry would have to be the only person in the entire world who could still have any semblance of hotness whilst having a canary head. Granted, the Gryffindor's attractiveness had been greatly downsized (yellow really wasn't his colour), but still.

"What seems to be the problem, Mr Malfoy?" The impatient words of Madam Pomfrey made Draco jump and he snapped his gaze guiltily onto her, all too aware that he had been staring at Harry.

"I broke my quill," he said coldly, gathering himself together quickly and holding out his hand. If he continued this ridiculous behaviour around Potter then people would begin to notice- his father would begin to notice. So he put his best 'Malfoy' face on and tried not to look at Harry. Considering the fact that the boy in question had an enormous, yellow, feathery head did not help his resolve much.

Madam Pomfrey muttered a few spells and the shards of quill extracted themselves from his palm, the wounds healing up seconds later. His hand was good as new.

"Now, sit on that bed there," Madam Pomfrey said, "And I'll check on you in a while."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, raising one perfect blonde eyebrow. "I am perfectly fine now, and will be returning to my dormitory. I'm afraid I don't care much for the company in here." With that he sent a glare in Harry's direction, who squawked quietly in annoyance, before he turned to leave.

"If you do not get in that bed right now, Mr Malfoy, you can go and see the headmaster instead and there'll be points taken and detentions given. Now, get. In. The. Bed. Now." Draco scowled but followed orders, trying to ignore the strange squawking noises he took to be laughter coming from Harry's direction.

"Draaaaaaco?" Harry whispered across the dark of the hospital wing. It had been almost an hour since Madam Pomfrey had fixed his head and confined them both to bed rest, and almost three quarters of an hour since Harry had begun to try and get Draco's attention. So far, no luck.

Pouting silently to himself, Harry finally threw caution to the winds and tiptoed out of his bed, quickly crossing the room to Draco's.

"Oi," he whispered, "I know you're awake." Draco lifted one hand and stuck up his middle finger. Harry grinned- at least the Slytherin had admitted that he wasn't asleep. That was progress at least.

"Good," he said, "So if you'd just like to tell me why you've been bloody avoiding me since the owlery, then I'll go back to bed and leave you to sleep." A frown appeared on the blonde's face, and he opened his eyes, staring at Harry with annoyance and something else less discernible. Disgust, perhaps?

"Perhaps, Potter," Draco whispered savagely, "It was because I couldn't stand a reminder of such a repulsive incident. I don't exactly revel in the fact that I touched a half blood like you." He ended his insult with his best Malfoy sneer, happy when he saw a flash of anger in the Gryffindor's eyes. Serves him right, he thought, as if a living reminder of what happened wasn't enough, Potter just had to bring it up in the middle of the night, didn't he?

"What?" Draco asked, after watching Harry glare at him for a few seconds, "Not going to hit me? I thought that was what you did these days. Not so much the noble hero any more, are you? More like a fuck up who's going nowhere with your life. If it weren't for your parents dying then you'd be nothing, Potter." It was just like old times, Draco thought, insulting each other without a care for the other's feelings. Harry, on the other hand was having no such happy thoughts. He had thought they were past this, had thought Malfoy had stopped insulting Harry's family every other sentence. He had even, crazily, thought they could move past it all. With effort, he schooled his features into a calm, ruthless expression. It felt alien on his face, his face which was meant for smiles and laughter, not hatred.

"When you least expect it, Draco," he whispered, stroking one finger across the other boy's cheek, "When you least expect it," he repeated before turning and storming out of the Hospital Wing.