Draco shook his head. 'Dinner.' He grinned down at what had turned out to be a very ordinary-looking platter on which rested some sandwiches and a flask of water. 'Cheese sandwiches, to be precise.'
Harry looked mistrustfully at the food. 'Malfoy, I don't think you should-'
'Oh, shut up. If he wanted us dead, he could have killed us while we were unconscious. You have thirty seconds, then I'm going to eat your half of the sandwiches.'
Grumbling, Harry plonked himself down on the floor next to Draco.
For the next few minutes, they ate in semi-companionable silence. A small squabble broke out over who got to eat the last sandwich, eventually resolved by a furious and silent tug-of-war which resulted in both parties getting far more cheese on their robes than they got in their mouths. Draco was busy trying to make his last sandwich half last when Harry suddenly looked at him with round eyes. 'Malfoy, I've just had an idea.'
'Did it hurt?' asked Draco good-naturedly.
Harry scrambled up onto his knees, brushing bits of cheese sandwich off his shirt. 'Get me angry,' he said.
Draco choked on his sandwich. 'Pardon?'
'You heard me. Like last time, with the case in Lupin's office. Get me angry, maybe we can break down the walls. I bet you've got something up your sleeve that would really annoy me; you always do.'
Draco shook his head. 'It wouldn't work. You're wise to it now. If I told you something, you'd just figure I was lying.'
Not if you told me like this. You can't lie telepathically. Harry was grinning now, his hair sticking up wildly. He reminded Draco of a cheerful bunny rabbit or some other fluffy little animal that didn't quite know how vulnerable it was. Come on, it's a brilliant idea.
'No,' Draco heard himself say.
Don't be a prat, Malfoy.
Draco shook his head. 'I won't do it.'
'Come on,' insisted Harry, catching at Draco's sleeve. 'I bet it'll even be fun for you. You love winding me up.'
'Potter, these walls could be ten feet thick for all we know. Do you know how hacked off you'd have to get?'
'Well, no one annoys me as much as you do,' pointed out Harry, only half-joking.
Draco yanked his arm out of Harry's grasp and whirled to glare at him furiously, his voice coming out on a hiss. 'You don't know what you're asking.'
The ferocity in Draco's tone made Harry jump back. A look of hurt flitted across his face before he set his chin stubbornly. 'Fine. Look, I was just joking. Don't get all wound up.'
Harry sat back against the wall next to Draco, who was now staring furiously down at the half-sandwich that lay in his lap. After a moment of silence, he picked it up and, in a burst of childish irritation, threw it at Harry.
Harry looked down in surprise as the sandwich bounced off his arm.
'That was mature, Malfoy.'
'So what?' Draco had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring at the far wall. He knew he was being childish, but didn't feel able to do anything about it.
'I've had another idea.'
'So have I, and it's that you should go away.'
Harry ignored this. 'Don't you want to hear my idea?'
'Is this another world-beater like your last one?'
'I want you to teach me how to use that sword.'
Now Draco turned and looked at him. 'What?'
Harry gestured towards Godric's sword, which was propped against a low rosewood table. 'We've got two swords, and nothing else to do.
I might as well learn.'
Draco bit his lip. 'The swords aren't bated…'
'Bated?'
'They should have beads on the tips…to keep them from being sharp. If you're going to learn on them.'
'Did you learn on bated swords?'
'No,' Draco admitted.
'Well, then.' Harry walked over, picked up Godric's sword, and turned to face Draco. He presented an odd picture in his jeans, bloodstained shirt, and worn sneakers, the glittering, jewel-encrusted sword held tight in his right hand.
Draco sighed. 'Fine, but we'll take it slowly. Hermione will not thank me if I ruin your looks by slicing off your nose.'
'Hermione would love me even if I had no nose,' said Harry, with enviable conviction.
'And how much fun it will be,' said Draco, getting to his feet and reaching for his own sword, 'finding out if that's true or not. Shall we?'
