Draco's POV
I woke up in red covers. With a start I realized they were Harry's red covers. For a second I thought something had gone horribly wrong last night (or horribly right in my opinion,) but then I remembered having a pillow fight (like ten year olds) and flopping down on different beds. We must have slept in the wrong beds. I've never liked the color much. I check the clock in between our beds.
5:03
I was always was an early bird. I look over at Harry. His glasses had fallen to the floor, and his arm was hanging over the edge. His messy ebony hair was scrunched up against his pillow, and his mouth was open and drooling. I smile. He's really cute when he's sleeping, and not blabbing his mouth or almost getting killed.
I stand up groggily, stretching my arms above my head and yawning. I pick up Harry's glasses and place them on the bedside table, so he can find them and doesn't step on them. I walk over to the bathroom to start my morning routine.
-Use the bathroom if needed.
-Take a shower.
-Get dressed.
-Brush hair.
-Apply face cream.
-Apply pimple cream. (just in case)
-Lotion my arms and legs.
-Brush my hair.
-Slick hair back.
This schedule has worked perfectly for years, and leaves just enough time for breakfast, which is at 7:00 am. Right now it's only 6:30, so I have time to sit around before breakfast. I sit on the red bed and pick up the book I've been reading.
After what feels like only five minutes of reading, I check the clock. It's already 6:54. Fuck. Pansy and Blaise are going to be pissed. I scramble to get up. I'm about to head out the door when I remember Harry. I should probably wake him up.
I run over to him and lean over. Right in his ear, I say, "WAKE UP YOU FUCKING IDIOT IT'S BREAKFAST TIME." Maybe I went overboard, but eh.
Harry's eyes pop open. And he sits up quickly, almost bashing me in the face. I sprint out the door, leaving Harry to wake up on his own.
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Harry's POV
What a lovely way to wake up. A crazy man yelling in your face that you're an idiot and that it's breakfast time. Granted, it was helpful. But he could've been less, ah, dramatic. It's just breakfast. I pulled on my robes and look in the mirror to try and flatten my hair. It didn't work.
Walking through the boys hallway to the main common room, I see some weird sights. In Neville and Blaise's room, I see a flustered Neville standing in the middle of the room, looking confused. I poke my head in. "Alright, Neville?"
"Yeah... Yeah I'm fine," He says, sounding dazed. "Hey Harry, did I get more attractive since the war?" He asks.
"Err, well, yeah, I guess. But you're not really my type." I wonder why Neville was wondering about that. "Anyway, bye Neville," I say starting to walk away.
"Bye Harry," He responds, still looking confused.
I walk down the hallway and into the common room. There are almost no people there, only a few littered on the dark furniture. I push open the portrait hole, and walk to the great hall.
My first instinct was to walk to the Griffindor table, but of course I didn't. I searched the eighth year table for Ron and Hermione. I sit down next to them. "Hey guys," I say, buttering some toast and putting it on my plate.
