An Accidental Alliance

chapter 4

The thing was, Harry realized, he hadn't been to the Slytherin dorms since second year, and he didn't exactly remember where they were. He had checked the Marauder's Map before leaving, but the little lines were a lot clearer than the actual corridors. He ended up wandering the dungeons for upwards of fifteen minutes before finally running into Goyle, lurking around suspiciously. This was going to be awkward, but he could do it.

"Hey, Goyle," Harry said. The other boy looked at him as if a chair suddenly started speaking. That wasn't really surprising. "Er, Greg, I suppose. Where's the Slytherin common room again?"

Goyle continued to stare at him, and Harry was reminded how very, very dull the boy was. "What's it to you?"

"I need to pick up something from Malfoy," Harry replied. "He told me to meet him down here, but I don't remember where."

Goyle blinked at him. "Got any tricks up your sleeve, Potty?"

Harry suppressed any number of insults. "Nope. Just need to talk to Malfoy."

Goyle eyed him, as if he was capable of higher thought. "Right, sure you do. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to escort you there myself, make sure there's no funny business."

"Thanks," Harry said, following the Slytherin through the maze of corridors that was the dungeons. They stopped in front of an unmarked bit of stone wall, and no wonder Harry hadn't remembered, there was nothing to remember.

"Anguis," Goyle said, and the wall slid away revealing a passage. Harry was pushed forward, Goyle following behind. He hadn't been here in ages, but the green light in the common room was just as unsettling as he remembered. Who would want to live beneath the Black Lake, really? Harry got a lot of incredulous stares, but that was hardly surprising.

"Ah, there you are," Malfoy said, rising from one of the tables. There was indeed a poster-sized piece of paper covering most of the table, filled with numbers and archaic symbols. "I was beginning to think you'd never show up."

"So he wasn't lying?" Goyle asked. "You did tell him to come here?"

"Of course," Malfoy said silkily. "Come on, Potter, it's in my room."

"Er, okay," Harry said, following Malfoy up a tightly curled stone staircase he really wished had a handrail and better lighting. Malfoy opened the door with a silver eight emblazed into the dark wood and disappeared inside without waiting to see if Harry was coming.

He did, feeling very uncomfortable about the whole thing. This was where Malfoy slept. He couldn't get past that. It was such a human need, to sleep, and Harry didn't generally think of him as human. Malfoy was on his knees, reaching beneath one of the beds, the one that must have been his, and that was really odd, because that was exactly where he slept. He pulled out a metal contraption with a thick roll of parchment around it, sort of like a toilet paper holder. Malfoy pressed a small button and it sprung up to shoulder height.

"How much do you need?" Malfoy asked.

"Poster sized, I guess?" Harry replied. This fascination with Malfoy's bed was ridiculous, and it would be fantastic if he could focus on the conversation rather than if it was as comfortable as the Gryffindor beds. "I don't know dimensions of standard posters."

Malfoy considered. "Hmm, neither do I." He glanced around the room. "I'll just measure Blaise's, that should give us an idea." He walked over to a picture of a very scantily clad witch lying on a beach, winking suggestively at them and tossing her hair. "Oh, shove off," Malfoy snapped at her. "I'm measuring, not ogling." The girl crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. Harry snorted in amusement. Malfoy conjured a measuring tape. "Sixty by ninety centimeters," he said, turning away from the lewd poster. "My parchment is sixty across, so that's perfect." He pointed his wand at the paper. "Ninety centimeters, please." The parchment unrolled, cut itself at the proper length and fluttered to the floor.