An Accidental Alliance

chapter 7

Harry woke up the minute before his alarm went off, as he usually did. He turned it off, rubbed his eyes and dragged himself over to his dresser. He threw off his clothes, which were a crumpled, smelly mess from being slept in twice, and pulled on jeans, an old Chudley Cannons shirt that had gotten mixed up in his laundry ages ago and never made it back to Ron, and a Weasley jumper. How very Weasley-ish. Malfoy would have a field day.

He looked around his room, wondering if there was anything he should bring with him. He grabbed Don't Dabble With Dragons!, some spare parchment for practicing, and the Fwooper quill he'd used the other day when he'd had such success with dragons. Maybe it was lucky, and he'd be able to draw better with it. Stupid logic, but oddly persuasive.

Also, he put his slippers in his bag. The Slytherin dorms were cold, and Harry wasn't in the mood for real shoes. After ten he felt he no longer had to conform to societal regulations regarding clothing. Hell, he would have gone in his pajamas if Malfoy wouldn't have laughed him out of the room.

Oh, and his Invisibility Cloak. He threw it over himself before he left. Curfew had ended an hour ago, a fact Malfoy would have known, and was no doubt testing him. Why or what he didn't know, but he was clearly supposed to be breaking the rules. He also took the Marauder's Map so he could find the dungeons again.

He slipped through the Gryffindor common room, out the portrait with practiced stealth, and down to the dungeons. Once he was there he took out the map and found his way to where he thought the door was. He whispered "Anguis" and, yes, the stones slid away. Another whisper, "Mischief Managed", and he padded quietly down the corridor. He didn't see Malfoy in the common room, so went straight up to the dorm and opened the door. It was a little dangerous, in case one of the other boys was inside, but that hadn't occurred to him until he was halfway through. The entire room was empty. Malfoy wasn't here, either. Harry muttered a curse. Was this all a joke? Was he being played?

"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."

Malfoy's voice floated out from his bed. He must have had the Taffy charm up again. It was weird, being invisible and talking to someone invisible. It lent a strange sense of unreality to the situation.

Feeling very vulnerable, Harry took off his cloak and shoved it into his bag. "Can I assume you're behind that bloody spell again?"

"I am," Malfoy replied. "Just a moment." He muttered something under his breath and popped into existence. No shimmering, no fading. One minute he wasn't there and the next he was. He eyed Harry. "You've dressed well."

"Oh, you haven't even seen the best part yet," Harry said. He pulled out his slippers and slid them on.

Malfoy stared at him. "Bunny slippers? Really, Potter?"

"Fred and George gave them to me," Harry said. "They eat carrots, too."

Malfoy shook his head. "You're impossible. Now get over here, I don't like being unprotected. Harry shuffled over to the poster, which still lay on the floor. Malfoy re-charmed his space, and joined Harry. "Lettering tonight, don't you think?"

Harry's stomach churned uneasily. "Hermione made me give her Hogwarts, A History back, and someone checked out the school's copy."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That'd be me, you dolt. You think I'd rely on Granger to finish this?"

"Don't be mean," Harry said. "Do the lettering. I need to work on my girl. I haven't quite got her expression down yet."