1  Morning

Morning in the Slytherin dungeons was exactly like morning everywhere else, except it was a little colder and a little darker. Draco Malfoy woke shivering into the pale green light of the round lamps. He had been dreaming about thousands of house elves that swarmed all over his bed, fanning him because they thought he was hot. And now he was freezing. Throwing open his curtains, the blond scuttled over to the central heater and stood as close to it as he dared. Having been burned by one when he was a child taught him to beware of such things.

Blaise Zabini looked up at him from across the heater. "You cold, too?" His reddish brown hair was ruffled from just awakening and his brown eyes still held a bit of the sleepy redness that they often did in the morning.

"Yes." Draco shivered and rubbed at his elbows. "Have I mentioned that I hate winter?" he groused.

"You hate summer, too." The brunette handed his friend a grey blanket. "You're just picky, Draco."

"Oh shut up." As he wrapped the blanket around himself, Draco gave Blaise a small smile. They had been friends for at least seven years now, Blaise having lived only a few miles away from the Malfoys. He was a normal looking boy who had wandered onto the Malfoy property one day to run into Draco. The two of them had fought a bit as boys tend to, then Draco had invited the other child to join him for dinner. Ever since then, they had been fast friends.

Blaise yawned. "Tomorrow starts the Christmas holidays," he commented idly. "Are you still planning on staying at Hogwarts?" A brown eyebrow was raised. He turned up the collar of his cherry red pajamas.

Draco nodded the affirmative, his eyes glinting sullenly in the faint light of the hanging globes. "Mother and Father are on vacation in France. They went Sloording in the Alps and didn't take me with them!" He glared into the heater. "I still can't believe it. I'm their precious Draco. And they couldn't even take me on a stupid vacation!."

The brown haired boy rolled his eyes. "You really are a brat. Maybe I should go join the Hufflepuffs so I won't hear you whining."

"Say that again and I'll curse your nose off your face."

"Might not want to do that. We have our Potions midterm today and I could get back at you." Blaise grinned widely. "Throw a little unicorn hair into your cauldron… maybe tattoo 'Draco is God' on the Weasel's back… something like that."

Draco made a grumpy sound and threw the blanket over his head. "Sod off."

"Glad to. I have to take a shower anyway." Blaise reached over and yanked the blanket back, snuggling into it himself. "You might want to wake those two lugs of yours up before they sleep the day away."

"They can wake themselves up. I want breakfast."

But it was a while before the pale haired Slytherin got to his breakfast. He had just gotten dressed when Crabbe rolled off his bed and hit his head on the floor. It effectively knocked him out and scared the magic out of Draco, who went running to find Snape. By the time the large boy had been patched up, half an hour had passed and Draco was near mad with hunger. Not bothering to wait for his 'friends,' he took off down the passageway towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

Pansy was already there with her books spread out across the end of the table, so Draco took a seat farther towards the center than he usually did. He felt light and cold, like a bird being buffeted about in a gale. And he was a hungry bird. Grabbing a muffin, he started in on it, meanwhile reaching for a glass of milk. He did not drink pumpkin juice any more, having last drunk it during a bout of stomach flu at age six. He didn't like how it reminded him of becoming sick on the wood floor of the dining room.

Pansy tapped the table and peered over her reading glasses. "Draco, pass me the butter, will you?"

He lifted his wand and carefully guided the butter between her books until the dish clinked gently against her plate. At her quick smile, he turned away, muttering to himself, "Why the hell does she need to study so bloody much?" Unfortunately, in turning away Draco found himself gazing across the room straight at a certain dark haired nemesis of his. As the Great Hall was rather empty (it being too early for most students to be awake) he had a very clear view of Harry Potter and his two best friends.

Something was wrong. But what it was, he couldn't quite tell. The three goody two shoe Gryffindors were acting as normal- the red head bragging loudly about Quidditch, the frazzled girl demanding a cram session before Potions, and Potter laughing like an idiot. And yet there it was- that magical itch in the back of his mind like a premonition. A Premonition? That was silly. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin extraordinaire, did not believe in Premonitions. So instead of paying attention to it, he went back to his muffins and milk.

But there was something strange about his muffins as well. Draco stabbed one curiously with his knife, half expecting them to bleed. The muffin, however, just sat there and took the abuse quite complacently as all good muffins should. The blond shook his head as if trying to clear it. It was probably just his anxiety over the coming Potions midterm. Either that or one of the Ravenclaw seventh years had let loose a bit of an experimental spell.

By the time he had finished breakfast, Draco had forgotten about the strange sensations he was feeling. Instead, his mind was racing over the possibilities of experimental spells and he was longing to be a seventh year. As he trotted down to the dungeons, he was nearly skipping with glee at the thought of being famous for creating some fantastic new spell. That way he'd win the world's attention and his father's approval, not to mention Potter's jealousy.

Severus Snape looked up from his desk with surprise at the blond Slytherin as Draco entered the room. "You're early, Mr. Malfoy. Do you think it would kill you to wait outside until class starts?" He moved his arm a little, hiding something from view under the sleeve of his robe. His dark eyes seemed even darker than usual, while his hair was unsurprisingly dirtier. Neither did a bit, in Draco's opinion, to add to his charm.

Draco, in a bit of a huff, turned on his heel and marched out into the hall, where he leaned up against the wall, sulking. Usually Snape had no problem with him coming in the classroom early to get set up early or sit there reading a new book or something. But today he could sense there was something secretive about the older man. And he didn't like it one bit. But being obedient, he remained in the hall and sulked there for a good twenty minutes until the other students began to arrive.

Of course that bushy haired Mudblood was first to arrive, closely followed by Pansy. Both of them had their noses in books and were muttering to themselves. They ignored Draco and continued in to the Potions room. Granger was kicked out first, and then Pansy was carefully ushered out as well, and Snape closed the door. Next to arrive were Crabbe and Goyle who looked a little lost without Draco, and then Thomas and Finnegan with their heads together talking about something. After two more minutes, Millie, Blaise, and that shy little mouse of a Slytherin came up, each pretending they weren't with the others. They were soon followed by that Indian Gryffindor girl and the blonde who were discussing something called nail polish. Last of all came Potter, Longbottom, and Weasley- the latter looking rather ill.

Finally, Snape opened the door and let all of them inside. Draco, of course, made sure he was first to his seat, first seated, first with his quill and parchment out. This usually earned him an admiring glance from Snape, but today the dark haired teacher skimmed over his favorite student with the same look he gave everyone else. Draco, for once, shivered.

From across the room came the sound of a small explosion. Everyone sat up straighter, straining to see where the sneeze had come from. Suddenly, Pansy shrieked, "Professor Snape! Your HAIR!"

All heads snapped around.

Snape's hair was now at least ten feet long. It dragged out behind him on the floor and curled around bags, shoes, and table legs. It was still the same midnight black that it had always been, but the strange thing was that it was extremely clean- even going so far as to say that it smelled like lavender.

Some of the students (mostly Gryffindors) began to laugh out loud. Others (mostly Slytherins) looked angrily around for the perpetrator. Only one- a certain red faced, red haired boy- looked totally floored and completely unhappy.

"Mr. Weasley?" Snape and his newly grown hair stopped in front of the Weasel's desk. "Do you have something you would like to explain to the class?"

"I have a cold…" the boy said miserably.

"I can see." The dark haired Potions teacher glared at him angrily. "Take your test and then immediately go to bed. Do NOT wander anywhere around Hogwarts. I will attend you." And, in quite a bit of a huff, he returned to his desk. Then, turning his glare out to the class, he magically passed out the papers and sat down to write something.

Draco was surprised. Usually, the professor would hand out the papers with his own fingers, as he was not fond of charm work. And he was never this caring with ill students. Even if the idiot Gryffindor had a Wizards' cold, it didn't mean he had to have a teacher baby-sit him. The blond shook his head and turned to his test.

During the length of the exam, there were several more explosive sneezes from the Weasel's direction, but no one looked up- fearing the Wrath of Snape. However, the last sneeze really caught everyone's attention. This was because, directly after the sneeze, each student found that they had been glued to their seat. It took some muc- hated charms from the professor to get everything back to normal. After that, he grabbed Weasley's arm and dragged him out of the room.

Draco looked up, a bit interested to see what Potter would do, and was again struck with the same feeling he had had during breakfast. Potter, however, was doing nothing out of the ordinary. He had finished the test and was now sitting quietly with his hands folded in his lap. Draco frowned.

When Snape came back, the class was over, and the students handed their tests in, expecting to be let out of the room immediately. But he disappointed them by calling them to a halt. "I will have none of you going near the Gryffindor sixth year boys' dormitories." This earned him despairing looks from all the Gryffindor sixth year boys. "If you need your things, please talk to Professor McGonagall. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy- you need to report to Professor Dumbledore at once. I will come with you to get you inside the office." He smiled thinly. "And, everyone, don't forget to study over the break. You all have a quiz upon returning."

Across the sea of disgruntled faces, Draco caught Potter's eye.

2 The Situation

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy… Mr. Potter." Professor Dumbledore beamed at the two boys over his spectacles, his fingers lacing themselves together. "I'm glad you both are still fully formed." His smile was rather overly bright in a way that reminded Harry frighteningly of the Weasley twins.

Harry blinked. "Fully formed?" he asked, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. "I'm sorry, sir… I don't think I understand." He cast a glance towards Malfoy who sat rigidly in the seat next to his own. The other boy had not said a word on their whole trip to the Headmaster's office, and now he felt quite nervous. A bitching, snarling Malfoy he could handle. But a silent, mysterious one? Now that was scary.

"Fully formed, Mr. Potter. I'm glad that neither of you is missing a limb or has been transfigured into something particularly ugly."

Malfoy shot Harry a nasty glance. "That's all good and well Headmaster, but why exactly are we here?"

"It has to do with Mr. Weasley's Wizard cold," Dumbledore explained, picking up a small purple flag and transforming it into a clay ball that he began to work with his fingers. "I am sure you know what a Wizard cold is, Mr. Malfoy." At the blond's nod, he turned to Harry. "However you, Mr. Potter- I don't think you are familiar with this particular… er… phenomenon."

Harry nodded.

"A Wizard cold is very similar to a Muggle cold. The only difference is that a Wizard cold is had by a wizard, and therefore interferes with his or her magic. For example, say I had a Wizard cold. I would sneeze, and something might explode or turn yellow." Dumbledore ignored Malfoy's muffled snort and continued. "The thing about Wizard colds is that when you are around another witch or wizard, the magic gets more destructive."

"Why?" Harry asked without actually thinking it through.

"Because there is more magic to mess with, Potter," spat Malfoy, glaring at his nemesis. "More wizards equals more magic equals more destruction. Think for once."

Harry glared at Malfoy for a moment before turning back to Dumbledore. "So it was Ron who made Professor Snape's hair grow longer and glued us to our seats?"

"Yes, and from what I heard from that esteemed professor, he also turned frogs' eyes into actual frogs, made the ceiling grow another six inches, turned his exam pink, and lit his own shoes on fire. But fortunately for all of you, Professor Snape was there to take care of it." The elderly wizard smiled genially. "Which brings us to why I asked you both here." He raised his eyebrows a little. "You are both staying over the winter holidays, am I correct?"

"Yes," Harry replied, while Malfoy just nodded.

"Very good. Well, this brings me to two little reasons that I will tell you before I inform you of my decision." There was a decidedly mischievous glint in his eyes.

Harry felt ill.

"First of all- I cannot have you, Mr. Potter, returning to the Gryffindor boys' dorm room. It is extremely dangerous for you to be around Mr. Weasley right now, so you will have other sleeping quarters. The other boys of the dorm, I have heard, are going home this vacation so they will not need to be relocated as well. Your things will be moved from that room by Mr. Filch, as he will not interfere with the Wizards cold."

"Meaning he's a Squib," muttered Malfoy, his expression turning more and more sour by the minute.

Dumbledore pretended to ignore the blond. "Second of all, I believe that in these trying times it is best for all of us to work together. Therefore, I am a huge supporter of inter-house relationships. I love to see Gryffindors getting along with Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Ravenclaws working together… that makes me happy. Right now the most animosity is between the Gryffindor and Slytherin houses. So that is why, Mr. Malfoy-" he turned his blue eyes to the Slytherin "you will be sharing your room with Mr. Potter for the duration of the winter holidays."

Harry felt his mouth drop open in surprise. Turning towards Malfoy, he saw that the other boy had gone white as a sheet. "Y…you… you have to be kidding," the blond stuttered, his eyes wide.

"No, Mr. Malfoy, I am not." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye was dancing merrily. "I know you two don't always get along, but I would really like you to try making an effort. Just for this winter. Besides, if you two can do it, so can the rest of your houses." He gave them both a brilliant smile. "I will have Professor McGonagall bring your things to the Slytherin dorms for you, Mr. Potter. And Mr. Malfoy, I would appreciate it if you would show Mr. Potter to the dungeons."

Harry was in shock. He nodded dumbly and turned towards his new roommate. Malfoy was still quite pale, but there was a hint of anger that traveled over his face. Inwardly, the Gryffindor sighed. This was going to be the longest winter holiday he had ever experienced. At least there didn't seem to be any other Slytherin sixth years hanging around the place. That would have been utter hell. Malfoy was bad enough. But with Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle… it would have been nigh unbearable.

Malfoy stood, his robes dropping heavily around his ankles. Glaring at Harry, he turned and strode towards the door. Over his shoulder he called, "Move it, Potter" before stomping out.

Harry gave Dumbledore a despairing glance and then followed his companion for the next two and a half weeks. It was not hard for Harry to keep up with the other Seeker despite Malfoy's long strides, as he had grown a bit- the two of them now being of equal height. They walked in silence until they reached the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. Then, Malfoy, in an almost bored voice said, "Listen up, Potter. I am not going to tell you the password a second time." He shot a glare in Harry's direction.

"Fine," the dark haired Gryffindor replied, a little sulkily.

"Veritas," murmured the Slytherin, almost so low that his companion couldn't hear.

Harry inwardly growled. Malfoy was obviously trying his best to annoy the other boy. And he knew it wasn't going to stop here. Some of the things he was already expecting included short-sheeted beds (though it was debatable whether Malfoy would take the time for that), missing articles of clothing, skin dying soap in the shower, and toilet paper that melted when you touched it. After staying with the Weasley twins (not to mention Sirius and Remus) he had gotten used to these sorts of things. Though coming from Malfoy they would probably be worse.

Quickly, Harry scanned his own mind for ideas to annoy the blond back. None of the pranks he had thought of earlier would be good enough (except perhaps for the skin dying soap). He had to do something really nasty to the little self-satisfied git. Something that would really make him mad. Something…

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall appeared in the hallway behind the two boys. "Mr. Potter! Here are your things. Perform an engorgement charm on them as soon as you get them where you would like." She held out a handful of what appeared to be Harry's very tiny belongings. "And you, Mr. Malfoy," she turned her piercing glare on him "behave decently to Mr. Potter or I'll take so many points off that your House will kick you out." And without waiting for a reply, she strode off down the hall.

"Bloody do-good Gryffindors," muttered Malfoy under his breath.

And it was then that Harry realized what the best revenge would be.

He would be the friendliest, perkiest, and ultimately most annoying new 'friend' that Malfoy would ever have. He would do nice things for Malfoy and never complain- even if the soap turned his skin green. He would open doors, smile all the time, and be the first to wake up in the morning. It was the perfect plan. So long as Harry could hold on to his sanity while doing these things, nothing could go wrong. He laughed softly to himself.

"What are you laughing about, Potter?" snapped Malfoy, who had already begun ascending the short set of stairs that led, presumably, to the bedchambers. "You think designer décor is funny?"

"No, sorry, Draco."

Malfoy stopped cold. Harry could only see his back, but wished to heaven that he could see what the other boy's face looked like. When the blond spoke, his voice was terse. "What did you just say?"

"I said I'm sorry." Harry nearly burst out laughing.

"No, I mean what did you call me?"

"Draco. That is your name, isn't it?"

"Stick to Malfoy, Potter," snarled the Slytherin, turning on him. "Unless you want to find yourself waking up to a bed full of snakes."

Harry laughed out loud and pointed to himself, uttering one word. "Parsletongue."

Throwing his hands in the air in disgust, Malfoy turned back around. "What did I ever do to deserve him?!" he asked no one angrily.

Harry laughed again, more quietly this time and closed his hand more tightly around his belongings. Fortunately, the other boy had not seen fit to slap the tiny trunk and robes out of his fist. That could have been disastrous, particularly considering that he wasn't sure if he had sealed all the Potions vials hidden away among his clothing.

Malfoy flung open the door to the bed chamber and stomped inside. But he stopped short, nearly causing Harry to run into him. The dark haired boy peered over his new roommate's shoulder and nearly gasped himself.

The room had been completely altered from the simple but elegant dim state that it had been graced with before. Now it was rather garish in a festive Christmas sort of way. Green holly and evergreens had been coupled with red ribbons and holly and were strung about the room. Off in a corner, a fair sized fir tree decked in multicolored lights, glass balls and fake snow made itself comfortable. There were two beds in the room, both double the size of the regulation Hogwarts bed. One had green covers with silver trim and the other was red with gold trim. Instead of the usual heating globe at the center of the room there was now a false fire that gave off real heat but did not burn. And, to Malfoy's apparent shock, there was also a thick beige carpet underfoot.

Both boys looked at each other in dismay.

3 The Spirit of Things

Draco sat on the edge of his bed, watching Potter unpack. It wasn't the first on his list of fun things to do, but it was certainly more interesting than studying for Potions. He kicked his left foot a little, brushing it against the carpet (which he felt was an improvement even if the rest of the room's décor was a great loss). Draco didn't like Christmas that much- it seemed to him to be a gaudy, useless time of the year which was only good for its plethora of gifts. And even that didn't cheer him up this year.

This had to be what hell was like. Perky Peppy Potter and his own parents gone Sloording. It was so totally unfair. Draco fingered his wand. So unfair that perhaps he would try to alleviate the torture with a new hex he learned. Even though he was bound to get in trouble for it, he couldn't help but snigger to himself about how much fun it would be.

"Malfoy?" Potter looked up from where he was bending over putting his things in order in the trunk.

"What?" snapped Draco, ignoring the deliciously full curve of his enemy's rear.

"Did you just say something?" Potter stood up, putting one hand to the small of his back and rubbing a little. He blinked a couple times owlishly.

"No."

"I thought I heard something…"

Draco was amazed at how utterly inane his companion was. "Well, maybe it was me thinking how terrible it is to be stuck here with you for the holidays while my parents are Sloording in the Alps." His fingers slid up his wand, running over its tip almost obscenely. He sneered. "Sloording. And I'm here with you bloody stupid Gryffindork. You're smelling up my dorm."

"What's Sloording?" Potter asked, completely ignoring the insults. He leaned against the post of his bed, round glasses glinting in the firelight. His face was open and frank- a fact which was a bit disconcerting to our favorite Slytherin.

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" Draco snarled a little and then laughed in what he hoped was a sneering, nasty way. "Sloording is a wizard's pastime, similar to the Muggle" he made a face "sport of skiing. Only it's done on clouds with broomsticks." Potter looked idiotically confused, so Draco elaborated. "Instead of strapping boards to your feet and racing down the mountain, you have specially designed high-altitude broomsticks that you race down clouds with. They're a bit more sluggish than normal brooms, and rely on the condensed water in the cloud to skim on. Also, they have a bit higher seat and a different guidance system. That explain it enough for you?"

"Oh," Potter said simply, and nodded.

"Good, because I won't tell you again," Draco said unnecessarily.

Potter bent back over and continued to sort out the things in his trunk. He really did have a good looking rump if one thought about it for long enough. But then again, that probably came from playing Quidditch. And, as Draco had played Quidditch long before Potter mounted a broom, he had a nicer looking one. Or so he told himself, continuing to caress his wand.

The hex he was planning was a funny one. And, fortunately, it was just so tweaked that the hexer had to be the one to administer the counterspell to the hexee. He narrowed his eyes, and, as soon as Potter's back was turned towards him, he whispered a few words, pointing his wand at the other boy's ass. It only took an instant for it to happen.

Suddenly, like the lighting of a match, a tail sprung from Potter's very nice hindquarters. It was the same midnight black as his hair and was rather bushy. On a cat, it might have been considered cute. But on Potter? It was downright hilarious. Draco had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Potter turned around again, blinking. "Did you say something?" He looked a little disconcerted and swayed a bit.

"No," Draco was smirking uncontrollably.

"Is there something…" Potter turned around in a circle, looking behind himself, but not managing to see the tail. "Is there something on my butt?" he asked, craning his neck futilely.

Draco sniffed imperiously, putting on his offended rich boy attitude. "I wouldn't know. I don't look in places like that." He made a face. "Especially on you."

The dark haired Gryffindor wobbled again and his tail waved. "It feels like there's something…" He frowned in concentration. "It feels like there's something down there." He turned in a circle again and it was all Draco could do to keep from laughing. "Like there's a tail or something…"

"Now why would there be a tail there?" Draco couldn't help grinning.

Potter stopped turning and stared at his companion. "You didn't."

"Didn't what?" was the innocent reply.

Potter ran his Seeker hands down the back of his pants and suddenly found the protrusion. Carefully, he lifted it with his fingers, his face registering utter shock. "A tail," he said softly, his green eyes wide. Draco fleetingly thought that the color was startlingly bright before bursting into loud, mocking laughter.

"What do you think of your new appendage, Potter?" he teased. "It matches your moppish hair."

Potter seemed to be thinking, and then suddenly his face brightened. "It does indeed! That's so neat, Draco! I always wanted a tail. Maybe now I can do gymnastics. Or maybe it can function as an extra hand!" He went pouncing across the room in a rather feline way that disturbed the magic out of Draco. "Thank you! Thank you!" he warbled and then darted out of the room.

Draco stared after him for a minute before shouting, "Don't call me Draco!" angrily after the other boy.

He had not intended this to happen. In fact, what he had hoped was that Potter would curse violently, hop around like a mad fish, and then demand to be returned to his normal state. And now with an obnoxiously cheerful Gryffindor attitude, he had actually run off with the tail, quite pleased with it.

And he had called him Draco.

The blond Slytherin was angry. He didn't like people he hated calling him by his first name. It was too invasive for his tastes. The only people he found he could tolerate using his first name were all in his year in Slytherin. Or his parents. Or his near relatives. Or Snape. Or- well, he didn't want Potter calling him Draco and that was for sure. Malfoy was good enough for the likes of him. Stupid tail loving Gryffindork freak.

In retaliation to having his plan foiled, Draco moved over to the other boy's bed and began to short-sheet it. He had learned how from a rather insane uncle on his mother's side, and found it came in quite handy when carrying a grudge against one of his roommates.

He was going to make Potter's winter holidays the worst he had ever had.

4 Ravenclaw

Harry swished his tail happily as he pranced down the hall. His plan seemed to be working quite well. Though he had to put up with a tail for the rest of- well, whenever- it was totally worth it to piss off his winter companion. And besides, if it got too annoying, he could always have Madam Pomphrey or even Hermione remove it for him. "Ha ha ha ha…" he laughed to himself. "I'll have Malfoy screaming like a cranky baby when I'm finished with him."

"Have you ever heard a cranky baby? I doubt Malfoy would sound like one. Their screams are too shrill, while his lungs have expanded and his voice deepened due to age." Hermione Granger poked her head out from around a corner. "Hi, Harry. Nice tail." She ducked back around and then reappeared holding a thick, rather dusty looking book. "What was this about Malfoy screaming?"

"I have to room with him for the rest of the winter holidays," Harry said, making a face and then laughing. "And I've decided to annoy him as much as possible."

"That sounds like fun. Pranking?" Hermione flipped a few pages of her book.

"Not really. I'm just going to be really extra nice and perky." He shrugged. "We'll see how it goes."

"Yes," the girl said absently. "Say, Harry- when have you last seen Professor Snape?"

"Um… in class?" Harry raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Same as you. Why?"

"Oh, I needed to see him about something…" She looked up and snapped the book shut. "Sorry. Anyway, you're rooming with Malfoy? I'm sorry. I have to stay in Ravenclaw with Parvati and Padma, but they aren't so bad- not after living with Parvati and Lavender for the past six years. And certainly not as bad as Malfoy. Padma's really quite bright. We're setting up to play Parcheesi right now- want to join us?"

"I guess." Harry shrugged. "I have nothing better to do." He grinned.

"Don't make me twist your arm," growled Hermione, running her fingers through her hair. "I just don't want to be alone with the twins. You know how twins get. Whispering secrets and looking at each other significantly and all that."

Harry nodded and grimaced. "I spent a few days at the Weasleys with only Ginny and the twins once. It was pretty bad. Ginny was flirting every time I saw her, and the twins were poncing around putting silly spells on things and talking mostly to each other. I don't think they actually realized that they were doing it."

"Where was Ron?"

"Don't remember. I think he was visiting Hogwarts for some extra credit… or something."

"That's strange." Hermione frowned. "Ron doesn't usually do extra credit."

"Maybe it was something else. I don't know." Harry shrugged. "Anyway, he was gone and I had to stick around the twins- not that I don't like Ginny," he hurriedly added at the look on Hermione's face. "I just don't know her that well."

"You could always get to know her," his friend said curtly.

"I'm having enough trouble keeping cheerful around Malfoy right now."

Hermione swung off to the left, gesturing for Harry to join her. "Come on. We'll cheer you up. If you can endure that insufferable tittering of Parvati's." She laughed shortly. "Ah well. Without Lavender here, she's a bit more tolerable. Padma keeps her feet on the ground."

"Padma's feet?"

"Both of their feet."

"They only have two between them?" teased Harry.

"Oh dear, that would be disturbing," Hermione mused and then laughed and yanked at Harry's tail. He yowled and she actually jumped, her face taking on a very contrite expression. "Oh Harry I'm sorry! I thought you were joking! I thought-"

"It was fake?" Harry grimaced. "Unfortunately not. But don't tell Malfoy that. He thinks that I love it."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "And now I have to be doubly careful about sitting down and shutting doors behind me." He ran his hand down the silky black fur. "And I have to avoid people who would be tempted to pull it." Laughing at Hermione's guilty expression, he added, "But I know that now you'll be gentle." He leaned over and patted her shoulder. "And you're not Malfoy, so I'm happy."

"You're silly," Hermione said, but blushed in appreciation. "Hey, would you take a look at something for me?" Her face was turning even redder as she held out the book. "Don't… don't tell anyone about this. I just… well, I had to share it with someone and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Ron. Or the girls. You're… well… just read it," she finished lamely, looking away from Harry.

Harry blinked a few times and then turned his attention to the book as he continued to follow his friend.

I think I fall

For the monsters

Fire on down…

I think I dream

Of the monsters

Fire around me…

I think I sing

With the monsters

Fire in the sky…

Fire, fire…

And the monsters

Live inside me.

Harry coughed. "Did you write this?"

A nod. "Yeah, I did."

"Well, I'm not one for poetry… but I'd say this was kind of deep. What does it mean?" Harry wasn't sure what to say. He actually didn't like the poem much at all, but he didn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings. It wasn't that he thought it was poorly written, he just didn't understand it. However, one line had caught his eyes. Fire in the sky… He liked that one. And so he said it out loud. "I like the fourth last line. Fire in the sky. That's really neat." He smiled so that he gave Hermione a good impression.

"It doesn't mean anything," she said, her voice a little deeper than usual. "It's just a poem."

"Hermione?"

"Here we are!" she announced cheerfully. "Ravenclaw dorms."

And indeed, in front of them, a pair of suits of armor stood, both with axes raised in a rather threatening motion. As Harry and Hermione approached them, the left suit of armor squeaked a bit. "Miss Granger!" it called in a shrill, rusty voice. "Password, dearie?"

"Blodment." Hermione said ruefully. "What a horrid password…"

The suits of armor moved and opened a heavy looking door in the stone. "Good to see you, Miss!" shrilled the one on the right, bowing awkwardly. "And nice to finally meet you, too, Mr. Potter."

"Um…" Harry blinked a couple times. "Thank you."

"Harry!" Parvati squealed as soon as the door opened. "Oh, Hermione! You brought him! I heard you were staying in Slytherin." She practically slid across the floor, natural grace settling on her supple hips. Her hair hung heavily down her back in a braid and her usual robes were replaced with a festive red sweater and a short kilt.

"Hey!" Hermione objected. "You didn't tell me that!"

Padma appeared at her sister's side. She was wearing a rather tired look as well as a pair of pajamas scattered with bunnies. "Oh. Harry. Hello," she said quietly, leaning her chin on Parvati's shoulder. "Parcheesi?"

"Oh do join us!" gushed Parvati, grabbing Harry's arm (much to Hermione's apparent discomfort). "That way we'll have a full board. And it's so much more fun when you play with wizards."

"Why? Do the pieces move by themselves?" Harry asked, confused. "Do they stomp on each other like in Wizards' chess?"

"Oh of course not, silly!" giggled the dark haired Gryffindor, dragging her new companion across the room. "It's just more fun with wizards!"

(Author's Note: okay, I never interject like this, but I was just listening to this song, and it sounded like the girl was saying, "send me a ninja" and that just cracked me up! Muwa ha ha!)

Over the course of the evening, Harry found out exactly why it was that Hermione thought Parvati and Padma were not the best of companions. When Parvati wasn't being overly bubbly and bouncy, she was sharing secrets with Padma, and the two would laugh softly. Padma was fairly normal, but she was so tired that she didn't say very much and was a very boring person. Hermione whispered to Harry that it was because she studied almost all week without sleep before the finals.

By the time Harry was ushered out of the dorms so that the girls could sleep, he was almost glad to be going back to Malfoy. Though he felt really sorry for Hermione, he did not want to remain around another minute.

5 Snapeolishious

Draco sat on his bed, moodily staring at Potter's. He had just gotten back from Snape's where dinner had been served for the two of them- roast chicken, dumplings, and a side of broccoli which Draco refused to eat. There had also been wine, but Snape had utterly refused to let his student partake, despite the blond's protests that he had it at home. And so, our dear Mr. Malfoy was now perched on the edge of his bed like some dissatisfied ba-bird, his night wrap spread back along the covers like wings. This was shaping up to be a rather depressing vacation.

Just then, the door opened and Potter stuck his head in. "Hey there, Malfoy," he chirruped, though obviously faking his enthusiasm. "Had a nice evening?" He hopped inside, his tail dragging behind him in a blatant display of fatigue.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered to himself, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he said out loud, "I've had as nice an evening as I could with your dear presence gone." A sneer crossed his face. "Actually it was horrible, Potter. I was pining away without you." The sarcasm in his tone was nearly tangible.

"Well, it's good that I came back, eh?" The annoyingly cute Gryffindor grinned.

"Oh fecking go to bed," snarled Draco, dropping the sarcasm and biting into the meat of the idea.

Potter was obviously too tired to catch the bad word, and just grinned idiotically. "But I want to stay up and talk to you, dearest Draco."

The blond felt his shoulders tense up. Draco. He hated that name coming from Potter's mouth. It sounded… well… just wrong. Too intimate, perhaps, too vulnerable. Draco's face twisted into a mask of hard anger. "I told you to stick to Malfoy, didn't I?" he growled.

"Oh, sorry," Potter said lightly. The dark haired boy had already begun to change into his pajamas. Draco, having nothing better to do, watched. Skin, plaid, skin, plaid… black… skin… skin… oooohhh….Now that was nice. Potter had wriggled out of his underwear and was currently displaying a shining white ass towards his school rival. Draco smirked. He had been right. It was a cute ass. Fun to look at, and probably lots of fun to play with. Draco's smirk grew as he wondered whether or not that lovely little cleft was virgin. Well, the only way to know was to ask.

"So, Potter, you won't get any from Weasley for a while, will you?"

"What?" The Gryffindor pulled up a fresh pair of boxers, hiding the delectable skin from his new companion's view.

"I mean, that IS what you get up to in those eagles' nests of yours, isn't it?"

"Eagles' nests?" Round, green eyes blinked in the firelight. "I'm afraid I am not sure what you mean, Malfoy."

"Your dorms, idiot. That's what you get up to in your dorms, right?" Draco was put out for having to explain his insult. Potter was supposed to understand him. It wasn't as if he spoke Sphinxic.

"Get up to what?" Potter sat down on his bed, the tail twitching up so that he was comfortably settled. "What do you mean?"

"Sex, you moron!" Draco spat, throwing his hands in the air. "How ever am I going to spend the next two weeks with a blithering idiot like you?! Sex! Sex!" he shouted, waving his blue silk pajama clad arms around. "Sex!"

"With Ron?!" Those lovely green eyes bugged out. "That's just…that's sick, Malfoy!"

"Well, at least you agree with me there," Draco said, lowering his arms, his temperature and heartbeat going back to normal. "I thought you were the whore of Gryffindor, pretty boy."

"You're one to talk, Slytherin slut!" Potter retorted, his cheery demeanor of before vanishing quickly. "How many Slytherins have you nailed this week? Six? One for each day of the week excepting Sunday?"

"I don't take Sunday off," Draco sniffed. "And for your information, it's only been one." Though what he didn't mention was that it was one person he had EVER slept with- and it certainly hadn't been this week. It hadn't even been an enjoyable experience, which he had assumed sex was supposed to be. "I guess you're just a wrinkly prude, Potter," he sighed dramatically.

"Well excuse me for saving my ass for someone who actually cares," Potter spat, and then suddenly turned red. His hands flew to his mouth and he glanced uneasily at the blond.

"What?" Draco asked, irritated, after a few moments.

"Don't you ever repeat that to anyone!" Potter hissed, his eyes narrowing.

"That you're a virgin?" drawled the Boy Who Hated the Boy who Lived.

"No, that I'm…. I'm…" the Gryffindor glanced towards the door "that I'm gay," he whispered guiltily.

"So what?" Draco raised a single perfectly shaped eyebrow. "So is about half the wizarding population. No one cares."

Potter blinked. "R-really?"

"Or at least bisexual." The blond waved his hand. "It's only idiot Muggles who have prejudices like that." He gave Harry a queer look. "Don't tell me you've not seen it going on- Gryffindor is ripe with homos." But the way he said it was more off hand than cruel. "Finnegan, for one. Creevy, if you haven't noticed. Those Weasley twins." He laughed. "Even old Professor Loopy was a gay Gryffindor."

"What?!" squeaked Potter. "Lupin?"

"Of course! Don't tell me you didn't know. That werewolf was mated with Sirius Black long before they graduated from Hogwarts." Draco watched Harry's expression change from shock to Utter Shock. The only difference between the two, you see, was that in Utter Shock, the victim does not move at all, and can barely speak. "Bogey got your tongue?" Draco drawled.

"I….." the dark haired boy squeaked again. "I think I'm going to bed now." And, so saying, he flipped his legs up onto his bed and closed the curtains sharply. A moment later, a loud ripping sound was heard, followed by a thump.

Draco sniggered and closed his curtains with a locking charm. Sounded like the short-sheeting worked.

6  Quidditch

Harry woke up painfully early the next morning. Though the night before, he had been upset about the short sheeting, he had managed to talk a house elf into fixing the situation for him. That had been a pain in the ass not to hit Malfoy over the head for. But, regrets aside, it was now morning and the start of a whole new day. Harry stretched.

Across the room, soft rustling was heard and then a soft thump followed by a mewl of pain.

"Malfoy? You okay?"

"Fuck you," came the rather sleepy and extremely annoyed response.

Harry rolled his eyes and stretched again. Really, there wasn't much to do today. He hoped to avoid Hermione for at least a while- she would most certainly put him to work on his vacation homework. Maybe he would take out his Firebolt and fly a bit around the Quidditch pitch. But that's not so much fun by yourself. Usually, he had Ron and Seamus as well as some of the younger kids who would go out and play a friendly game of Quidditch with him if he asked. But now- there was just the twins and Hermione and they weren't too hot at flying. Oh, and Malfoy. At that thought, Harry brightened.

"Hey, Malfoy," he called softly.

"What?"

"Want to play Quidditch with me?"

There was silence for a minute and then a groan. "What, just you and me, Scarhead?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Because it takes at least three people on each team, moron."

Harry sighed softly. If there was anything positive to say about Malfoy, it would certainly be that he never seemed to run out of insults. Even in tight situations, the blond had been able to pull new nouns with which to label the Gryffindor. "What about we just chase the snitch around for a bit?" Harry asked.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Harry was silent. No, he was not out of his mind, but he didn't want to risk an argument that might upset his plan. Besides, he really did want to play Quidditch with Malfoy- even if it was just chasing after one snitch.

There was a loud, condescending sigh from across the room. "Fine, Potter. I'll play with you. But only because I know I can beat you in about two minutes." There was a muttered charm and then Malfoy's rumpled blond head stuck out from between the curtains. His grey eyes traveled up and down Harry's frame. "And get dressed. I don't want to play against you in your ugly pajamas."

"I don't have ugly pajamas!" Harry protested, but Malfoy's head had disappeared.

Smirking to himself. Harry began to get dressed, only to discover that his tail was still attached to the base of his spine. "Oh, hello, tail," he said softly to it and stroked the black fur. It was somewhat calming, even though he knew he would have to wear the same pants as the day before unless he wanted to cut a hole in yet another pair. It didn't bother him much, though- he was used to wearing the same clothes several times in a row.

Malfoy flung the curtains open just as Harry was slipping into his favorite red sweater. "I want to eat first, Potter."

"Fine," Harry replied, his voice muffled by the sweater. Then his head popped out, hair fuzzy from the static. "Mind if I eat with you?"

"Do what you want."

When they had finished their breakfast, Malfoy stood, brushing himself off and casting a glance towards his companion. Without saying anything, he strode off across the Great Hall, Harry following like some sort of reluctant puppy. The two of them made their way silently across the snow-covered lawn towards the broom shed where Harry's Firebolt and Malfoy's Nimbus were housed. Reaching into a box on one of the benches, Malfoy drew out a practice snitch that most of the house teams used when not in a game.

"Ready for me to kick your ass, Potter?"

Harry straddled his broom, swiftly finding the cushioning charm and settling against it. "I'm ready to play against you, Malfoy," he replied noncommittally.

Both boys took off, streaking low over the snow- Malfoy clutching at the practice snitch and Harry glancing uneasily at the dark clouds above. Sure he wanted to play Quidditch, but he didn't particularly want to play through heavy snow. That would be cold, wet, and Not Fun.

Once they reached the pitch, Malfoy opened his fist to release the snitch. The little ball's wings hissed, faltered, and then it took off. Malfoy snorted. "Getting pretty ratty, isn't it?" He said, gesturing to the ball with his thumb.

"Maybe it needs new wings."

"New spells, too."

Malfoy smirked. "Hey, Potter, we actually agreed on something." He gave Harry's shoulder a fierce, hearty smack that caused the other boy to wince and then took off, zooming around the upper levels of the pitch.

Harry chose to remain towards the ground, his feet nearly skimming over the surface of the snow while he looked up, searching quickly for the elusive golden snitch. Occasionally, Malfoy would block his vision, but it wasn't often enough to cause him suspicion that the other boy was purposefully blinding him.

"Oi, Potter, freezing yet?" called down the blond.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, puzzled. Usually, the Slytherin wasn't one to make small talk.

"Strange, I thought you would be with that fraying sweater of yours."

Oh. Harry's eyes narrowed and rolled for a moment, then snapped back open when he saw Malfoy streaking sideways in front of him with his silvery blond hair falling free in the wind he was creating. Without a second thought, Harry took off after his companion, eyes chasing across the pitch feverishly. Then, he saw it.

Not two feet in front of Malfoy's broom handle, the practice snitch was racing along playfully evading capture by dodging from side to side.

Malfoy stretched out on his broom, urging it to higher speeds while Harry chased along after them. It was a race like the two of them had never had before. Of course winning the Quidditch Cup meant a lot for their houses, but this… this was personal now. Harry was vividly aware of the gloating humiliation that would be dumped on his head by the other boy if he managed to lose. And besides, it was a matter of pride. Losing to Malfoy in a normal game could be the result of other teammates or outside factors. But losing to him one on one was… well, it would prove that the Slytherin was indeed a better seeker than he was.

Harry mirrored the other boy by flattening himself out along the broom handle and stretching out his right arm to catch the speeding snitch. Soon, he and Malfoy were on level with each other, both with eyes narrowed against the wind and both with arms outstretched to grab the elusive prey.

Suddenly, with a burst of reckless speed, Malfoy shot ahead and grabbed the little ball. But with that speed, he found himself hurtling directly into one of the stands. Harry's breath caught in his throat as the blond boy sped headlong into the wall, bounced off, and landed face up in the snow.

Harry leapt off his broom (which instantly dropped to the ground) and ran through the ankle-deep fluff until he reached his rival. "Malfoy! You okay?"

A groan answered him.

"Can you move? Do you want me to get Madam Pomphrey?" Harry bent over at the waist, examining the fallen figure. Malfoy's body seemed to be in one piece and not twisted at odd angles. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was open, panting heavily. Still, in his fist, there snuggled the captured snitch.

"I'm fine. Just…" Malfoy took a deep breath and opened his grey eyes, meeting the gaze of his companion. "I'm just a bit winded."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and straightened. "Good game," he said a bit shakily. For a moment there, he had been worried that the other boy had suffered a concussion or would be unable to walk. His tail flicked slightly. If that had been the case, Harry would have felt responsible, and would have had to help the other boy back to the infirmary. The thought of carrying the blond did not appeal to him at all. Especially when it would have meant leaving their brooms in the snow.

Malfoy sat up slowly and then rose to his feet, rubbing his head with his free hand. Then, he grinned broadly. Not smirked, but grinned a real, boyish grin. "I won."

Harry's expression of relief faltered into one of reluctant acceptance. "I know."

7 The Power of the Written Word

Draco had wanted to yell at Potter until he was hoarse from screaming that morning. But since he had won the Quidditch game, he felt that it was his duty to remain around the little bastard and rub it in his face for the rest of the day. So he marched off to lunch with Potter, making smarmy comments along the way. Then, suddenly, he laughed outright. "Potter, do you still have that silly tail on?"

"Yeah," the Gryffindor said dully.

"Want me to take it off?" Draco leered.

"I don't care."

That seriously (Siriusly… hahahah!) stumped the Slytherin. If Harry had said not to take it away, of course that's what he would have done. And if he had said… wait a minute. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, letting the Gryffindor trudge on ahead. His pale, cold hands flew to his cheeks. He couldn't believe what he had just thought! He had actually- in his mind- referred to Potter as… oh horror… HARRY.

That was creepy.

Shaking off the disgusting feeling of familiarity, Draco sprinted through the snow up towards the castle. Soon, he overtook the other boy, and was the first one to reach the Great Hall for lunch. Most of the tables had been removed, save for the Hufflepuff table, which was now the eating place for all winter guests. Draco flounced to a seat in the middle of the table and plopped himself down, starting in on the broccoli casserole before anyone else entered the room (aside from Dumblehead who seemed to live permanently in the dining hall).

"Mr. Malfoy," the older man called jovially down the table "your father sent me a letter that he said I should hand deliver to you." A sickeningly friendly smile played over the wizard's lips. "Shall I give it to you, or do you want to come up here and get it from me?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Give it to me," he said bluntly.

Dumblehead bounced out of his seat and wibbled down the table. That is the only way to describe the movement he made- or at least, so Draco thought. It was sort of a wobbling trot… He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead and then, there was the letter.

"Enjoy!" chirruped the senile old man before wibbling back to his seat.

Draco rolled his eyes again and slit the letter open with his knife.

Dear Son, (Lucius always headed his letters this way)

I have come to the conclusion that it is high time for you to join our association. You have a good head on your shoulders and I would like you to be by my side as my heir in everything. Your mother is pleased with your progress in school, and I am delighted to hear of your recent victory over Ravenclaw. Keep up the good work and don't forget your family.

Slytherin Pride,

Your Father

Draco's breath stopped in his throat. Usually, he would be amused by his father's unending "Slytherin Pride," but this letter was far more serious than it would seem. The association his father referred to was, of course, the one run by our dear friend Lord Voldemort. Honestly, Draco couldn't care less which side he was on, but he desperately didn't want to get caught in the middle. And he really didn't want to get that ugly snake and skull tattoo.

It would hurt his father if he didn't join the Death Eaters, but it would hurt his own pride to bow down and kiss the feet of that snakey human thing (meaning Voldie). So it was a matter of family or personal pride. Draco wasn't sure he was ready to choose.

He felt sick.

Standing, the blond exited the hall, ignoring stares from those entering and those who had already sat down. He brushed past Potter and ran blindly down the hall and out the front doors. For a while, he continued to run rather aimlessly through the cold air. He wanted to run as far away from his father as he could, but the letter was still clutched in his hand. That was the story of his life. He wanted to keep the Malfoy pride, but he never wanted to be forced into a mold.

"I hate you!" Draco screamed suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks. "I HATE YOU!!!" He stomped his foot childishly. "I hate you," he added, growling, just for extra emphasis. Whether he was referring to his father, fate, or Voldemort, he wasn't quite sure.

Suddenly, he realized he wanted to be nowhere near Hogwarts, either. Perky Potter would probably bug him until he talked. Potter and that stupid stupid tail. Sighing, Draco made his way towards the broom shed which he knew would be temperature regulated and dry. It was not good for the brooms to be kept in anywhere that got damp or to extreme temperatures. In the winter, it was even nicer than the Slytherin common room.

When he reached the broom closet, the first thing he did was snatch up his own broom blanket and wrap it around his shoulders. Then he plunked down in a set of fall-mats that were used for extra-unlucky first years. All he wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep. So that's what he did.

Just before Draco drifted off, his mind wandered to the Quidditch game and how totally adorable Potter had looked when they dismounted….

Draco's Dream:

There were seven people standing around a fire, each with a different color robe on representing the various colors of the rainbow. For a while, they ignored Draco as the blond prowled around their circle. Then, suddenly, the person in the red robe turned and grabbed the Slytherin, shoving him between the circle and the fire.

Draco was really too close to the fire, but he didn't feel any heat. Instead, he felt it scratching against him like old fashioned wool robes. He laughed at the rainbow people and stepped directly into the fire. To his surprise, however, they laughed, too, as if they were his friends.

Something brushed against his ankle, and he looked down, startled to see a fox kit that was tugging on his right pant leg. Its beautiful dark eyes looked up at him innocently, and its stubby, fluffy little tail began to wag happily. He blinked and reached down to pick it up. The little ball of fur jumped into his arms and snuggled into his chest, squirming until it got comfortable.

Just then, a hand descended on Draco's shoulder. He turned and there was his father with a basket full of muffins.

"Want one, Draco? They're blueberry."

"Dad, you know I hate blueberry muffins." The blond made a face.

Lucius shook his head. "They're good for you, Draco. They give you strong bones and great pride in your family." He reached into the basket and held one out. "Take one."

"Dad, I hate blueberry muffins," Draco repeated, stepping back as the pup squirmed in his arms again.

"Draco, eat the damn muffin!"

"No! I hate them!" shouted the Slytherin, and then he began to run as hard as he could off to his right. But, unfortunately, he was unable to move very fast at all. So he pulled up his legs and set them down as though they were covered in molasses. He could hear Lucius getting closer behind him.

"Draco, just one muffin!"

"Noooo!"

To his surprise, the kit suddenly began to cry. Draco looked down, and it was no longer a kit- but a human child with fox ears and a fox tail. "Daddy! Daddy, don' yeww a' me!" it wailed, clinging with pinching little fingers to the boy's shirt.

Draco (though he had no idea who the child's mother was) held it close and comforted it. "It's okay, little one It's okay. Shhh… I won't let them hurt you." Who "they" were was a complete mystery to Draco, but in the dream it seemed like the thing to say.

The child hiccupped and then smiled shakily. His large green eyes shone up his father. "I wuv you, Daddy."

"I wuv you, too."

Suddenly, Draco sat up, panting. He groped around him for a moment in confusion. Where was the… oh… it was a dream. Oh! He slumped back onto the mats, breathing heavily in relief. Wow. That had been… interesting. Flipping over onto his stomach, he curled up and began to doze again.

To be Continued… (and no, I have no idea how long Harry is going to keep the tail)

8 Hide and Seek

Harry had gone to sleep the previous night on Professor Dumbledore's calm promise that Malfoy was not in mortal danger. His dreams were filled with half human dogs and when he woke, he had a strong urge to write to Sirius. However, the sight of Malfoy's unused bed cut off these thoughts. Obviously the blond had not been down to sleep in his Christmas-y little den since the night before. The blankets were smooth and (Harry discovered) cold to the touch. Plus he had left a sappy little "I'm Glad We Are Roommates" card on the covers and it had not even been opened.

The dark haired boy nibbled on his thumbnail before deciding to ask Professor Snape where the Slytherin had gotten to. Perhaps he was overreacting. The other night Malfoy had eaten with the Potions master, so perhaps he had slept in his quarters tonight. It was quite a simple answer. But Harry would not besatisfied until he pinpointed his rival's exact location. Unfortunately for him, he no longer had possession of the Marauders' Map. So he was on his own.

As he dressed, he kept his eyes on Malfoy's silent bed. Without Malfoy, he would have to resort to Hermione and the Terrible Twins for relief from boredom. And at this moment, pestering the blond was much more appealing than evading Parvati's hands, Hermione's books, and Padma's eyes.

Yanking a sweatshirt over his head, Harry hurried from the room. Behind him the house elves started rustling about his bed and the fireplace.

In the hall outside, someone was singing a Christmas carol in French. Probably one of the teachers, as it was a deep voice (though it was in the dungeons, Harry highly doubted it was Snape). He made his way down the corridor, haunted by the song and invisible singer. Perhaps one of the ghosts had gotten into the Christmas spirit- though that was unlikely. They tended to sulk at any holiday except Halloween.

"It's just not a ghostly enough holiday," Sir Nicholas had complained to Harry once. "Christmas is for you living people." And with a distressed sigh, he had floated away through the roof.

Harry had to agree. Christmas always made him feel more alive. There was that rush of warmth when opening the door to his dorm, and the smell of cinnamon and pine decorations. The house elves took twice as much care preparing the food so it looked festive. Most of the students were in high spirits as a result of either anticipation or too many cookies. And occasionally Dumbledore would dress up like Saint Nicholas and walk down the hall handing out random candies and gifts. Yes, it was definitely a holiday for the living.

The singing died away, and Harry found himself face to face with the imposing door to Snape's private quarters. Usually, students weren't allowed in there, but as he was currently under Slytherin house's protection, he figured it would be all right. Raising his right hand, he rapped smartly on the door.

"Who is it?" came the snarl from within.

"Professor, it's me, Harry."

The door was flung open and a very rumpled looking Snape stood in the doorway. His hair was surprisingly clean looking and he was wearing a dark green robe which was the first spark of color Harry had ever seen on him. In fact, it brought out the lovely dark brown color of his eyes. Harry was not sure it WAS Snape- as this being actually had some semblance of human beauty about it. That was, until Snape opened his mouth. "What do you want, Potter?" he spat, his usual sneer settling into place.

"I was... looking for Malfoy."

"And what exactly would Mr. Malfoy be doing in my room?"

"Well, he wasn't in my room when I woke up... and I thought I'd ask you." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "As... as you would probably know where he was."

"Look, Potter, if you have a problem, go talk to your precious Headmaster. I'm busy."

"But... you don't know where Malfoy is?"

"No! Now go away!" And the heavy door was slammed in Harry's face.

Heaving a sigh, Harry made his way up towards the main level of Hogwarts. If he was going to look for Malfoy, he might as well do it on a full stomach. He had smelled the cinnamon buns all the way from bed and now was exactly when he wanted to eat them. Cinnamon buns were Harry's absolute favorite breakfast. And finding Malfoy could wait until he had at least three large buns inside himself.

He was joined at breakfast by a very tired Hermione and an overly cheerful Headmaster. Hermione had bags under her eyes, and was staring at her bun as though contemplating transfiguring it into a pillow. Dumbledore was humming to himself and spreading thick white icing over his own cinnamon bun. He winked at Harry. "Any problems with the roommate?"

"Not really. But... I'm a little worried. He didn't show up at all last night," Harry said around a mouthful of bun. He swallowed. "I asked Professor Snape where he was, but he didn't know."

"Why don't you just relax and practice some Quidditch?" Dumbledore replied, neatly slicing his breakfast into strips. "I'm sure Mr. Malfoy would be eager for a rematch after his successful game against you yesterday."

"But that's just the problem," Harry said, fingering his glass of milk. "I can't find Malfoy."

"I'm sure he'll show up if you get out your broom." The older man's eyes twinkled. Then he turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, it's really not necessary for you to be at breakfast. I could have the house elves bring you up something later on in the day."

Hermione replied something that sounded a lot like "Finny McGrew."

"Aaahh! I know what a challenge it can be rooming with twin girls." Dumbledore sat back and folded his arms, a smile spreading across his face. "I had twin sisters who were quite the little hellions..."

At this, Harry sat up straighter. "You had twin sisters?"

"Ellie and Dina." Dumbledore was silent for a moment. But just as Harry was about to ask another question, he prompted, "Go on, Harry. Go play some Quidditch." And he shooed the boy out of the room.

Harry trudged down to the broom shed, his eyes scanning the snow before him. That certainly was strange… Dumbledore seemed to know everything about everyone, but Harry had never even thought of him having a family. Twin sisters? He knew nothing about Dumbledore's family, or even his past-save for that one glimpse of a younger Professor he had seen in Tom Riddle's diary.

The broom shed door was unlocked- Harry's first key to something unusual. He opened it slowly, not sure what to expect. But when he saw a dozing Malfoy curled up on some practice mats, he nearly laughed out loud. Nearly. There was something in the way that the light fell onto the blond hair that made him stop. It was a very child-like Malfoy that lay snuggled under his broom blanket. Child-like… and actually quite beautiful. Harry shifted, not knowing exactly what to feel.

Perhaps woken by the slight noise or by some other instinct, Malfoy shifted and then suddenly sat up, a bewildered look on his face. "Wh-" he stopped on seeing the dark haired Gryffindor. "Potter…?"

"Malfoy, what are you doing out here?" Harry asked, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "You've been missing since yesterday's lunch and we were worried about you." As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he realized that he had unintentionally lied. There was no "we" who had been worried. Neither Snape nor Dumbledore seemed particularly concerned. Hermione couldn't have cared even if she wanted to. Harry had been the only one worried about Malfoy's disappearing act.

Malfoy snorted and stood up, attempting to smooth his rumpled robes and hair. "If I were you, I'd be more worried whether this magnificent young Malfoy is going to hex you into tomorrow."

Harry blinked. "I find you and the thanks I get is you wanting to hex me?"

"I never asked to be found! I was doing just fine until you came stomping in here!"

"Well excuuuuse me for caring whether you are swallowed by a manticore!"

"You and your bloody Gryffindor sense of valor! I don't need to be saved by anyone! I wanted some peace and quiet, dammit!" Draco stomped his foot and drew out his wand. "Now go away before I hex you!"

Harry suddenly became aware that his tail was standing straight up under his robes (which was uncomfortable) and was puffed out angrily (also uncomfortable). "Hex away, Slytherin slime!" he hissed, pushing his glasses up with the middle finger of his right hand. Now that his temper was lost, there was no trying to pretend that he actually liked the other boy. "I can take anything you throw at me."

"Oh yeah? Well, I can take more than you!" Draco yelled some sort of spell and suddenly, Harry found his fingernails growing at an alarming rate. He reached into his pocket before the nails grew too awfully long and grabbed his wand. He yelled another curse back which shortened Draco's pants painfully.

"Ow!" howled the blond before hexing Harry's nose into twice its size.

Harry sneezed violently and then turned Malfoy's ears into fox ears, adding on a tail for extra effect. Strangely enough, they were a silvery color that matched his hair.

Malfoy's tail twitched and he threw a spell at his rival which caused large purple dots to swell up all over his arms.

Harry resisted the urge to scratch the dots and made Malfoy's feet grow so fast that his shoes nearly exploded.

Then, suddenly, a voice boomed out, "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"

9 The Amazing Thing

"It's amazing how much trouble you get me in, Potter. If it wasn't for you, I would be peacefully sleeping out there. This is your fault."

Silence.

"Did you hear me?!" Draco stomped his foot. "I said this is YOUR FAULT!" His fluffy tail twitched irritatedly and his ears snapped up like a hound on the scent of a rabbit. The spell Potter had cast was supposedly going to remain on him for at least the next three days. He nudged the dark haired boy in front of him with his toe. "I hate you."

Potter half turned and smiled horribly. "I love cleaning the floor of the Potions room. Do you mean to say that you don't?"

Draco howled wolvishly.

"Hey… Malfoy…. Look at this."

"NO."

"Come on-it's one of those experimental spells. Some Ravenclaw must have dropped it when they were here." Potter shifted until he was sitting on the stone floor and leaned up against the cupboards. After musing on the poor handwriting for a few minutes, he spoke up again. "It's for switching bodies."

Despite his irritation, Draco lifted a brow. To switch bodies with Potter… it would be disturbing, but quite possibly good material for blackmail. He thought for a moment and then said, "Switching bodies for how long?"

"Well, however long you like, I guess." Harry wrinkled his brow.

Gah! There it is again! I thought of him as Harry... Draco sobbed inwardly, but outwardly exuded his usual level of snobbish serenity. "I don't want to be you for more than five minutes, got that?"

Potter looked up, surprised. "I… wasn't planning on switching bodies with you," he said cautiously, his eyes unreadable behind round glasses. "In fact, I wasn't even thinking of trying it at all. It's pretty risky. After all, this was trash."

Draco was stuck. "Aa…ah… Ahem. I knew that. You're not exactly the epitome of Gryffindor are you, Potter? No bravery… Besides, who else would you trade bodies with if you did get up the courage to try it?" He stood back, not exactly satisfied with his disjointed speech, but assured that the other boy got his meaning.

"You need to learn to speak English, Malfoy," the other boy said, and then quickly stood up. "But I'll do it. Only for a few minutes, though." Potter pushed his hair back out of his eyes and his tail twitched. "We need our wands for this."

Both of the boys pulled out their wands. For a moment, Draco thought about his own wand. It had been made just days after his fourteenth birthday from the heartstrings of a young dragon and yew. So far, he felt that this was the wand that worked best for him. He had already had six others, and yet this was the one that seemed to resonate with his magic.

"Now I have to read this first…" Potter mused, looking at the page in his hand. "Then, you say that… and then we both touch the tips of our wands and shout that last word… resario." He glanced at Draco. "You ready, Malfoy?"

The blond smirked. "Any time you are."

The first words of the spell sounded wrong. Draco should have said something, but instead he held his tongue, figuring that experimental spells probably did sound different than established ones. Potter didn't seem to notice, and kept reading for the next few seconds. Then, silently, he passed the paper to Draco. The blond took it and began to read the words. Again, he had a pervading feeling of wrong.

When he had finished, he saw that Potter already had his wand raised and that a faint blue glow surrounded the tip. Draco raised his in response, and was not surprised to see a white glow around his own wand. The two of them didn't step closer, but felt their wands being drawn closer as if they each contained a magnet. Draco felt his ears begin to ring. By the way Potter was shaking his head, it looked like he was experiencing the same thing. The ringing grew louder as their wands drew together.

The tips of the wands touched, and then the shrieking began. At first, the two boys couldn't hear it due to the ringing in their ears. As it grew louder, however, Draco began to panic. It felt as though the shriek was drawing his very essence from his body. As any being struggling to survive, he tried to stop himself, but it didn't work. Instead, he was swallowed by an intense blaze of light and then things went grey.

Shit, what are you…OW! Get out! Stop that!

What is going on?

Hell if I know.

Where am I?

Technically, it's not… you.

Who… oh… Harry.

"Aren't you going to punish them, sir?" That was Madam Pomphrey. "After all, that wasn't the safest thing to do, and they both know it."

A chuckle. That was Dumbledore. The cracked old man. "No, I think they are being punished enough. Oh dear, this is turning out much better than I thought." Great. Not only was he cracked, he was a cracked sadist. "This will be good for both of them. It will be difficult, but for the time being, there's little I can do for them except create a mental room. But before I do that, one or more of them has to be awake."

Something must have gone wrong. Draco tried to open his eyes, but when he did, he found that everything around him was blurred.

"Ah, I see you are awake, Mr. Potter." A blurry grey thing obstructed Draco's vision.

"I'm not…"

"Please excuse me. I meant Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's brow wrinkled and he blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. He hoped that nothing had gone wrong during the spell to affect his eyes. Wearing glasses for the rest of his life would really downplay his wonderful appearance. "What do you mean?" he asked rudely, raising a hand and rubbing his eyes. Then, suddenly, he stopped. The hand was not his own.

Of course! He had successfully completed the body switch! He felt a smirk twist itself over his face. Ah… now if only he could find out the size of Harry's-

"Is only one of you awake?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco was starting to get irritated. Not being able to see added to the irritation. Where were Potter's glasses? "Where are Potter's glasses?"

"Mr. Malfoy, there has been a complication in the spell that the two of you attempted to perform." Dumbledore pressed something cold and oval into his hands and, upon drawing it close to his eyes, Draco found that it was a glasses case. He opened the case and drew out the glasses, putting them on at once.

"What happened? What has Potter done with my body?" Draco had a sudden horrible vision of his gorgeous self being covered in griffin shit, or worse- being turned into griffin shit!

"It's not what Mr. Potter has done to your body. It is far more serious than that." Dumbledore was sitting on a stool beside the bed. "The spell that you performed was not only unfinished and therefore very dangerous, but you didn't even complete the spell."

For a moment, Draco was confused, but then he realized with a sudden shock that neither of them had said resario when their wands touched. He frowned again. "If it didn't work, what am I doing in Potter's body?"

Dumbledore's mouth was serious, but a light played across his eyes. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, it appears that both you and Mr. Potter are stuck in the same body."

For a long time, Draco couldn't speak. In fact, he could barely think. After a while, he asked softly, "Then where is he? I can't… where is he?"

"He's probably still sleeping inside your body." Dumbledore gave him a slip of a smile. "I do have a solution for this. However, it will take a minimum of three days for Professor McGonagall and I to complete the preparations for separating you two."

"Where is my body?" Draco asked sharply. "Where is it?"

"Right over there." The Headmaster gestured to a curtained off area. "It is just as you left it. Complete with the tail and dog ears."

Draco rolled his eyes. His eyes- they weren't his, really.

"Before the three days are up, I assume the both of you will experience considerable difficulties in trying to control the same body. So I have devised a little plan. I could have easily merged your consciences into one, but since you two are not as compatible as, say, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, I am going to try something different. What I am going to do is create a boundary between your consciences so that you will be able to talk to him inside your head and he will be able to do the same. The only real problem I expect you to have is directly when Mr. Potter wakes up."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, things might be a little difficult to explain to him, and to convince him to share his body." Dumbledore sat forward on the stool. "I am going to perform the spell now, while you are awake, and then you will have a chance to explore what it will be like before Mr. Potter wakes up."

All Draco could do was blink. This was all coming too fast for him. Of course his sharp mind had caught the gist of things, but he had no idea what this was going to be like. Sharing a body with Harry Potter? Sharing a mind with him? "Will I be able to read his thoughts?" Will he be able to read mine?

"You will be able to sense his feelings, yes, but you could not directly read what he was thinking unless he directed it towards you."

Draco was silent. And then he nodded. It wasn't the best solution, but it was the only one at the moment. Of course, he could have owled his parents in distress and seen if there was any black magic to take care of their current predicament, but he was still angry at them for leaving him at Hogwarts while they went Sloording.

"I'm glad you agree with me." Dumbledore's face spread into a full-fledged smile. "Right then." He drew out his wand. With a swish and a quick, three word spell, it was done. Draco could feel himself being separated from what he assumed was Potter's consciousness. It was a strange hollow feeling that he didn't enjoy. Grumpily, he thought //Wake up, already, Potter!//

//Hm..? What… hey, what's going on?//