Harry settled into a sulk. 'That's probably just residual chafing from the leather trousers.'
'Those fucking trousers,' said Draco irritably. 'I have a feeling that nobody is ever going to let me forget them, even though I only wore them once, even though it was against my will — '
Harry snorted. 'Now I'm imagining Charlie holding you down and forcing the leather trousers onto you.'
'Hey, that's your pervy little fantasy, Potter, not mine.'
Harry glared at him. 'Are you going to tell me your bloody plan, or not?'
'Fine,' Draco said. 'My plan was this. We wait here for Slytherin to come and kill us, and when he does, we die horrible, screaming deaths. I was also planning to gout blood and perhaps dribble a bit while I expire. What do you think?'
Harry was furious. 'That's your idea of a winning plan?'
'I thought it was the most likely option.'
'I can't believe you're just giving up.'
'I'm not giving up; I'm being realistic.'
'You're giving up.'
'I am not.'
'Yes, you are.'
'This is a pointless discussion.'
'But it does pass the time.'
'I can think of better ways to pass the time.'
'I didn't know your bread was buttered that way, Malfoy.'
'What? Oh. Ugh, that is not what I meant. Even if my bread was buttered that way, you'd be last on my list, you're far too short and weedy.'
'I'm the same height as you. I don't know…someone who dresses the way you do…all that attention you pay to your hair…'
'Paying attention to my hair does not make me gay. Paying attention to your hair, that would make me gay.'
'I bet you do too pay attention to my hair,' Harry said serenely.
'I do not. I couldn't even tell you what color it is.'
Harry put down the remainder of the chocolate bar he had been gnawing on, and placed his hands over Draco's eyes. Draco jumped, and Harry felt the other boy's eyelashes brush against his palms.
'What are you doing, Potter?'
'Tell me what color my hair is,' Harry said.
'I've no idea,' said Draco, blinking furiously.
'Tell me and I'll give you the rest of my chocolate bar half. You're hungry, I know you are.'
'Potter!' said Draco. 'You're a sadist.'
'Mmm,' said Harry. 'Chocolate. Come on, Malfoy. Think of it as an experiment in perception and recall.'
'Oh, fine,' said Draco irritably. 'Your hair's black, and it wants cutting.'
'Does it?' asked Harry curiously.
'Of course it does!' Draco's voice was animated. 'I don't even know how you can stand going around with your hair looking like you got dragged nine ways through a Tangling Thornbush. And your hair isn't even actually straight, you know, or it wouldn't be if you cut it, it's just too long, and all that weight drags it down. If you cut it, it'd be quite nice and probably curl a bit and you know, I can feel you staring at me, Potter. Stop it.'
'I'm not staring. I'm just thinking that perhaps my hair isn't the only thing around here that isn't actually straight.'
'Bah!' Draco batted Harry's hand away with an annoyed grunt. 'You are a Philistine. You know nothing.'
'At least I'm not in denial,' said Harry, and handed Draco the last piece of chocolate.
Draco accepted it with a disdainful look. 'Me, gay? Draco Malfoy?
Madly loved by all women over the age of twelve? Six times already on The Teenage Witches' 'Most Eligible' list? Author of the best-selling autobiography 'Why I Like to Do It With Girls?' I think not.'
'Stop. You're making me laugh. And that makes my stomach hurt.
My whole body hurts.'
'It should,' said Draco, finishing the chocolate with a regretful air.
'Slytherin threw you into a wall. And you've got a black eye going there. Very sporty.'
'Well, you look pretty unscathed,' said Harry resentfully.
In answer, Draco held out his right arm, and pulled up his sleeve.
His right wrist was swollen and turning black and blue. 'Sprained,' he said flatly.
Harry whistled. 'That looks like it hurts.'
'No, it feels great.'
