Dear Mr. Potter

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Harry saw Draco down the hall as the blonde was walking with his usual Slytherin cronies. He trailed behind for a bit, lost in the crowd, deciding to not advertise what he was looking for. Otherwise he may as well wear a huge red S after the Slytherins got done dragging his name through the mud calling him the Slytherin prince's slut. Finally he watched as Draco broke apart from the group and headed for his room as the rest of them went down the stairs to their dorm.

As Draco opened the door, Harry slid up and ran the back of his hand against Draco's arm as a bid for attention. The blonde turned and gave a silky smile.

"Yes?" he asked smoothly.

"Are you going to meet your friends right now?" Harry asked as he followed Draco into the room. He shut the door and watched as Draco put his bag down by the desk and started unbuttoning his robe.

"Why?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought maybe that we could um, you know..." Harry made a slight gesture at the bed. Draco smirked and sauntered towards the Gryffindor. He pressed his face into the Gryffindor's neck and licked just under the ear.

"No," he said as he pulled back with a look of displeasure on his face. "We are showering. You still smell of him. It's disgusting." Draco turned and walked towards the armoire and began undressing completely.

Harry also began undressing and throwing his clothes on the floor. Draco looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"No wonder you look like a peasant if that is the way you treat your clothes." He reached into the armoire and pulled an object out. "This is a hanger, Potter. You have heard of these things, haven't you?"

"Of course, Draco. I'll get it later," Harry said and waved dismissively at the clothes slowly piling on the floor.

"Yes, but later you will be clean and then you will have to handle the dirty clothes as much as the clean. If you hang up your robe, my robe, put away your shoes and then dump the rest in the laundry bin now, than you won't have to worry about it later. Merlin, I begin to see why you have such atrocious grades. Is this the way you handle everything?"

Harry smiled. "Draco, has anyone told you that you kind of sound like a nagging mother?" He deliberately dropped one sock on the armchair near the door and the other on the floor. Draco pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow.

"And has anyone told you, Harry, that you have a nasty tendency to hex yourself in the foot? Just because I am organized and able to dress well, finish my assignments and make it to class on time, does not mean that I am a nag." Draco's voice was tight but Harry heard no anger or malice. Harry shucked his pants and threw them towards the bed. They landed about half a meter too short. Draco, standing in just his underpants, black silk underpants, crossed his arms.

"Alright, now you're just being childish. No wonder you can only think of a mother as a term to call me." Harry just smiled and bent over as he pulled his own shabby underpants off. "Potter, you wreak havoc wherever you go. Why do you think Snape-," Draco's voice choked off and his face took on an icy exterior. "You're going to pick those up, Potter," he said coldly.

"I said I would," Harry said quietly. In that brief moment before the ice came down, Harry had seen a flicker of pain in those silver eyes. And Harry doubted it had anything to do with having been thrown across a room. If Draco felt even a small amount of the grief Harry felt after losing his own godfather, he decided he could afford a bit of compassion for the blonde. True, Snape was still with the living, but how awful it must be to know that he chucked you out of his life on purpose. To see him everyday and know that you were less than nothing in his eyes. It must be a terrible blow to the proud young man.