Draco wasn’t surprised when Harry didn’t follow him into their rooms. Oh Merlin, their rooms. Since when had it be “their” rooms instead of “his” rooms? Draco sighed, running his fingers through still damp hair. “Probably on the same day I fell on top of him,” he muttered into the still room and then paused. “Salazar, that sounded so wrong.”

Draco forced himself to go through the routine of getting ready for sleep, a process that took hours since he was so particular (the real reason why he made sure to get all the homework he would do for a day done before supper), before realizing that Medusa would have closed the portrait by now, which meant Harry still couldn’t get in. And there would be no way he could get in until Draco told Medusa to open it.

“Oh well. His fault.” Draco shrugged nomittally even as he contradicted himself by getting out of bed and sitting down on the couch with theforter, which he had unceremoniously pulled off of his bed, to wait for Harry to bang on the portrait again. Within ten minutes however, he was sound asleep.

Harry brooded, sitting up on the end of Ron’s bed, as his was currently a few floors down in the dungeons.

“Harry, I’ve got to say that brooding about it won’t make the situation go away, mate,” Ron finally said with the air of one resigned for a long argument.

Harry looked pointedly at him. “Ron, if Draco Malfoy had just found out that you liked him, what would you do?”

“I would keel over laughing because I’m not gay,” was the stoic reply.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I should hurt you for that sentence.”

“But then people would wonder why there were strange soundsing from the dormitory and they would have an excuse to break the locking charm you put on the door. Which, by the way, I think you should remove so the other boys can get some sleep even if you are determined to brood away the night hours.”

“I’m not brooding.”

And here they might as well havee full circle.

“Look, it’s not that bad, Harry,” Ron finally said in the silence.

“Explain what’s so ‘not that bad’ about it, then.”

Ron raised his eyes skyward with a thought akin to: What is this worlding too? I’m about to help my friend who is emotionally involved with a Malfoy…

“Well, Malfoy’s a Veriae. It’s not like he can really up and leave whenever he wants…”

“So I’m stuck with him acting smugly superior and/or disliking me for the rest of my life. Okay.”

Ron groaned. “Look, I can’t believe that I’m going to say this but I’m just going to say what I saw. And I don’t care if it was the only kiss you two will ever share for the rest of your lives, you were both participating. Equally, I might add. No matter who says what, that is a fact.”

“That was one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That was your second kiss though, wasn’t it?” Harry winced internally but he didn’t bother telling Ron it was actually their third. Ron suddenly looked very serious. “If one kiss was enough to start this whole Veriae-bond-thing, then I think that it’s a small thing for a second kiss to show that both parties are attracted to each other.”

Harry thought for a moment. “When did you get so smart?”

“I can’t believe I just said that,” Ron muttered and began moving to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to wash my mouth out with soap for saying such nice things about Malfoy; it’s got to be against some rule somewhere.”

Harry laughed lightly before getting up, bidding Ron good-night, and allowing several annoyed Gryffindor boys back into their dormitory. Oh well, it was a long walk down to the dungeons, plenty of time to get enough courage to face Draco again, right? Then again, maybe Draco would be asleep by now…then again…Harry remembered that he still didn’t know the password. Oh…damn it all.

Harry watched Medusa watch him disapprovingly. After a few minutes of this staring contest, he spoke:

“So are you going to let me in?”

“Why should I?” Medusa spat. “You don’t know the password.”

“Because by now you should know that I live here,” Harry pointed out patiently. “We have this conversation even when I do know the password so I don’t understand why you can’t just open up and let me in.”

“No password, no admittance.”

“Stupid bitch.” Harry snarled, unaware that it came out in Parseltongue.

“I know what you’re saying,” Medusamented in a bored tone as the snakes hissed back their own chorus of obscenities at Harry. “And it just goes to show that you don’t belong here. Only one of insignificant breeding would use such fowl language.”

Harry groaned. “So you’re going to make Draco annoyed at both me and you when I bang on your frame loud enough to wake him in the bedroom?” He grasped at the last idea that he had when dealing with this obnoxious portrait.

“You won’t have to bang loudly. He’s asleep on the couch waiting for you to do so.”

Harry could, and would later, swear up and down that Medusa’s voice took on apletely different tone when talking about Draco.

“So why don’t you just let me in so that I won’t have to wake him?” Harry asked.

The portrait considered this for a moment or two before nodding her assent. “But you’d better watch out when Draco goes home for Christmas and it’s just you here. You’ll never get in for the entire two weeks!” She spat at him.

Harry brushed by her and into the room to find that the portrait had not lied about its sleeping inhabitant. The fire had burned itself to low embers, casting almost a shadowy glow on the room and upon the figure sleeping on the couch. Draco was wrapped up in theforter that he obviously had taken from his bed, its black coloring blending with the black silk of Draco’s normal sleepwear.

Draco’s eyes were closed, of course, as he was sleeping, but his face seemed to retain that same air of Malfoyishness that it always held, as if he were some untouchable deity or lord whose level of perfection mere mortals could never hope to ascend to. The glow from the fire seemed to sink into his hair and bring out an ethereal glow from the platinum strands. Harry stood there just watching Draco sleep, but the serenity of the scene was broken when Draco’s eyes fluttered open as Medusa closed her portrait rather loudly.

“She let you in. Surprising.”

“I’d be careful if I were you, I think Medusa likes you too much.” Harry tried to act normal as he crossed the room to the doorway to the bedroom.

“I’m not too worried.” Draco padded into the room after him and gracefully flopped on his bed (much to Harry’s amazement, though he hid it, that it was actually possible to flop gracefully). Draco waited for a few minutes until he was certain that Harry was assuming that he wouldn’t say anything about the conversation he’d overheard earlier. Silly Gryffindor, Draco was a Malfoy; of course he would say something. “I actually think it’s ironic.”

“What, that a snake-haired girl likes a Slytherin?”

“No, I wasn’t thinking of Medusa, although she was ever so pleased to help make you so embarrassed earlier.”

Draco felt Harry stiffen.

“Then what’s ironic?” Harry’s voice was almost guarded.

In the darkened room Draco smirked, “I find it ironic that you’re so worried about me rejecting you, when it was you who rejected me first…twice.”

Nothing more was said that night. After all, what could one say to that?

As Draco well expected, by saying that particularment the night before, Harry made sure to be out of their rooms by the time Draco woke up the next day and avoided him as much as was possible, seeing as there were some classes that Gryffindor and Slytherin had together and he couldn’t well skip those. Draco was somewhat amused by this behaviour actually, as he was waiting for the revelation that woulde at sometime when Harry realized how he had worded that sentence.

He was not prepared for Harry to realize a very different thing, which he brought up during Draco’s Transfiguration essay that afternoon. Harry walked into the rooms after a few minutes of bickering with Medusa (Merlin, how fond Draco was getting of the portrait, maybe Dumbledore would let him buy it for his study door back home…).

“What are we going to do about holiday break?” Harry said suddenly, surprising Draco slightly. Where had hee up with that topic?

“I don’t see how this holiday break is going to be any different from any other,” Draco responded, returning to his Transfiguration essay. His father and he would spend Christmas Eve doing whatever they felt like doing, then they would open presents together Christmas Day and his godfather would likely join them for dinner on Christmas Day as well-

“No, I meant about the sleeping thing.”

“What are you rambling about?”

“Unless you don’t plan to sleep at all over holiday break, Draco, we’re going to have to figure something out.”

Realizing that he would have to take Harry home for Christmas, Draco almost missed the fact that Harry had called him by his first name to his face. Draco had heard Harry refer to him by his first name before, but never had Harry actually addressed him by “Draco” instead of “Malfoy”.

“Well then, Harry, you will just have to apany me, won’t you?” The tone left no room for argument but Harry argued anyway, blushing slightly when he realized that Draco had picked up on his slip of the tongue.

“Aren’t you even going to ask me politely, or are you just going to be a bastard about it? No, wait, why am I even asking?”

“I don’t know. Why are you?”

“Because I don’t have to go to your home over holiday break, I could very easily stay right here in Hogwarts the way I have for the past five years. And even if you did go home, you’d end up back in Hogwarts by morning, and you know it.”

Draco stopped even trying to work on his essay. Harry did have a point, a very good one actually.

“Very well, then.” Draco looked up at Harry for the first time since the boy hade in the room. “Harry, will youe home with me for holiday break?”

Harry blinked…three times. He hadn’t actually expected Draco to ask him at all.

Draco meanwhile found the astoun

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