One Hell of a Pain in the Neck of the Boy Who Lived to Suffer

Chapter Two: Cheek to Cheek

it isn't your sweet conversation
that brings this sensation
oh no, it’s just the nearness of you

“Potter, wake up!”

Immediately Harry’s eyes flew open and he recognized Professor McGonagall leaning over him. It was just a dream! With great relief, Harry attempted to sit up... and failed. He blinked and tried again. No movement whatsoever. He couldn’t even open his mouth to speak! McGonagall heaved a sigh of disappointment and glanced over at Snape, who was seated in a fold-out chair next to her with a most dour look on his face. Harry’s eyes flicked between them. Oh no, he thought. No, no, no, no, no.

McGonagall straightened. “Don’t be alarmed. We’ve put you in a full body bind.”

Harry was now struggling to breathe. If only he could turn his head to see if Draco was still there!

“Dumbledore should be returning shortly,” said Snape. “He’s discussing matters with Mr. Buttercup.” He leaned forward. “Apparently six years of my threats have done nothing to curb your miscreant ways, and now Mr. Malfoy must-”

“Severus,” interrupted McGonagall, sternly, “we’ve already discussed this. The fault lies with both of them.”

Oh God, lamented Harry inwardly. So it wasn’t a dream!

The door to the infirmary opened and the two heads of houses turned. Dumbledore entered, looking rather cheery considering the day’s strange circumstances. “Ah, I see Harry has awakened!”

McGonagall nodded. “I put them in a body bind so they wouldn’t struggle when they awoke. Madame Pomfrey has already seen to Malfoy’s nose.” She stepped back from the bed to make room for Dumbledore.

“Ah…” Dumbledore leaned forward, his beard tickling Harry’s bare chest, and smiled. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite a muddle this time. However, I expect you both shall benefit in the end.” Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry’s lips and turned his head to meet McGonagall’s gaze. “May I?” She nodded.

Harry let loose a vicious string of curses as soon as he found himself able to talk. Draco had evidently woken as well, for he too was mouthing off every profanity he’d learned in his sixteen years of life. McGonagall looked shocked, Snape snorted, and Dumbledore merely chortled as he waited for the boys to finish. Harry wheezed a lengthy “Shiiiiiit” before their heads relaxed against the bed as they heaved in exhaustion.

“Now that you’ve finished,” stated Dumbledore, “perhaps you can listen to what I have to say about all this?”

“Sorry,” managed Harry. Draco was coughing next to him.

“You may have noticed you’re having trouble breathing. This is because Draco is using your left lung. Your body has changed in more ways than one, Harry. Mr. Buttercup informed me it might be easier for you to breathe if you learn to synchronize with your new partner.” Draco groaned at the word ‘partner’ but was unable to complain. “Accommodations will have to be made, of course, but in the meantime I think it’s best if you both sleep in Harry’s dorm room.”

“What!” yipped Draco. He was beginning to look fairly green at the face.

“I’m afraid that’s my doing,” said Snape, not meeting his pupil’s betrayed eyes. “You know yourself your housemates would, to put it lightly, give you hell if you walked in on Harry’s body.”

Draco snarled, “And the Gryffindors wouldn’t?”

“My House is more likely to avoid you two than cause any harmful problems,” said McGonagall.

Harry, still recovering from the shock of reality, was about to ask if they could avoid embarrassing confrontations with students altogether when Draco came to a sudden realization and quickly asked, “Where’s my body?”

Dumbledore sighed. “It’s on the bed beside yours.”

“What do you mean?” Draco cried. “Am I dead?”

“No. Fortunately, this is a problem that can eventually be corrected. But you’re headless.”

“That deuced brute! That fucking Buttercup!” screeched Draco.

Dumbledore gave him a severe look over his glasses. “That is precisely the attitude that got you into this situation, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco promptly sobered. “May I see my body?” he asked.

“May I release them from the full body bind, Minerva?” asked Dumbledore. McGonagall nodded and Harry was soon sitting up and rolling his shoulders. Draco’s head was turned toward the bed next to him where his headless body lay prone and bound.

“Why am I shackled?”

“You have no control over your body now,” said McGonagall. “It’s destructive.”

Harry was trying to keep his head as far away from Draco’s as possible. “When will this end?” he whined.

“That’s really up to you,” said Dumbledore.

“What? What do you mean?”

Dumbledore only smiled.

Draco gazed longingly at his body. “May I… touch it?”

Harry was still simpering over his condition. McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder. “Potter.”

“Eh?” Harry shook his head and looked at her.

“It’s up to you whether Malfoy touches his body or not.”

Harry grunted and stumbled out of the bed, unused to his changed body. He stepped forward and was now standing over the bed containing Draco’s shirtless form. It lay there twitching. It looked almost normal, besides it being headless and shackled. There was no blood or guts or anything Harry associated with a beheading, just smooth skinned shoulders and no neck or head. Not even a knick marred the surface where the neck would have been. Harry waited expectantly for Draco to get his touching over with, but no movement was made.

He frowned. “Well? Get it over with. I’m not going to stand here all day.”

“You idiot, I can’t. As much as it pains me to say it, you have to touch me.”

Harry turned his head toward Draco’s and blinked quizzically. “You expect me to touch you?”

Draco resisted the urge to bite Harry’s nose off. “I have no control over your body. I can’t touch myself!”

“Just do it, Potter,” snarled Snape, behind them.

“Uh… o-okay!” Harry touched Draco’s chest briefly and pulled back his hand as if he’d been stung.

“Damn it, Potter, touch me.” Draco shook his head in frustration and blonde strands tickled Harry’s cheek.

“B-but… I mean, it’s you and you’re D-Draco,” stammered Harry, taking a slight step back. “And y-y-your head is on my body!”

Suddenly, Harry found his right arm grabbed by Snape and his palm forced down upon Draco’s stomach. “This is absolutely unbearable,” said Snape. He let go of Harry’s arm when he saw the boy wasn’t going to be moving for a while. Harry seemed to be in a state of shock. “How are they going to go through classes like this?”

“They should adjust to their new body before returning to class,” mused Dumbledore. “They’ll manage. Given a few days, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“I highly doubt it,” muttered Snape, crossings his arms and glaring at the strange scene unfolding before them. Draco’s head was still, and his lips parted as he concentrated on his skin under Harry’s palm. Harry remained inert, staring straight forward with glazed eyes.

A few moments passed before Draco cleared his throat. Harry didn’t flinch. Draco sniveled and waited another moment before gently knocking his head against Harry’s and moaning, “Toouuch me.”

Harry immediately became alert, though his hand stayed on the stomach. “I am touching you! What else do you want me to do?”

“Feeeel me,” Draco groused. Harry took one peek at Draco’s face and hoped to any gods that were listening that he’d never have to see a Malfoy give puppy eyes again. Harry grimaced as he slowly slid his palm up Draco’s pale stomach. Draco sighed with content and murmured, “Keep going…”

Their teachers shifted uncomfortably behind them.

Harry’s hand kept its steady path and swept over Draco’s ribcage and chest and his middle finger brushed against a nipple. The headless body jerked. Draco’s face convulsed, and Harry returned to momentary shock.

“Alright, that’s enough touching for today,” bellowed a cadaverous Snape, a mirror image of Harry’s unsettled self. He grabbed Harry’s fondling arm and yanked him back from the bed.

Dumbledore regained his own composure and started hobbling to the door. “I suggest we leave them alone now to discuss their situation.” He looked back at Harry and Draco. “And after that, you two should get some sleep.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at them one last time before whirling around and following McGonagall and Dumbledore out the door.

Harry collapsed backwards on his own bed and sighed miserably. “I cannot believe this is happening.” Draco merely grumbled. “I mean… Gad, now I’m… I’m an ultimate freak!”

“You always were an ‘ultimate freak,’ twat. What about me?”

“Always thinking about yourself, aren’t you,” said Harry, scooting around so their heads hit the pillow.

“At least you have your own body and your own head.”

“Though it’s not really my body now, is it?”

They stared at the ceiling together in vexation. Draco sighed. “Can you tilt to the right a little bit? My head feels cramped.”

“Shut up.”

“Damn you, Potter. Want me to bonk you?”

“Don’t you dare!” Draco smashed his head against Harry’s. “You fucking git!” raged Harry. “I could easily smother your ugly mug right now.” He winced as he rubbed the side of his head. Draco smashed Harry’s hand between their heads. Harry slapped Draco’s cheek. “That’s it! I’m going to sleep. Maybe when I wake up you’ll be gone, or better yet, dead.”

“You wish,” said Draco. “I’ll be here to torment you when you wake up.”

“And I’ll torment you more.”

“Go to sleep, Potter. I‘m sick of hearing your grating voice.”

“I’m afraid you better get used to it.”

“Silence!” Draco hissed. Harry smirked, closed his eyes, and turned his head to the right. Draco turned to the left, pouting.

“Sweet dreams,” muttered Harry.

******

“I hate your head,” stated Harry loudly, an hour later.

“You’re not asleep yet?”

“Get off my body.”

“Fuck you.”

Silence.

******

Harry was glumly spooning porridge into his mouth, leaning back against pillows, when Hermione burst into the room. She took one look at them and started crying.

“Hermione,” mumbled Harry.

“Oh!” she cried, rushing to his side, grabbing the bowl of porridge and the spoon and placing them on the side-table before kneeling and taking his hands. “This is awful. I’m so sorry this happened!”

Harry shrugged and licked a bit of porridge from the side of his mouth. Draco hadn’t spoken since they’d waken up, and he hung his head and stared at Harry’s lap with glazed eyes. In answer to Hermione’s questioning look, Harry said, “Not speaking.”

“To Malfoy, of all people,” she sighed. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah.” He was quiet for a moment. “Where’s Ron?”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “He was so afraid you’d be angry at him, you know, for forcing you to go to the-the carnival. He thinks it’s all his fault.”

“Can I have my porridge back?” he said, without meeting her eyes.

“Er, yes, of course!” She let go of his hands and handed him the spoon and bowl. “You don’t want to talk?” Harry shook his head. Hermione frowned, disappointed. “Oh, okay… I’ll… I’ll come back later. And I’ll try to bring Ron.”

Hermione stood and waited by his bedside, but Harry didn’t acknowledge her again. He waited until she left before returning to his meal.

“Nice going, Potter,” said the familiar, ever-so-irritating voice beside him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You have friends that actually visit and you dismiss them. I doubt a Slytherin will ever be able to speak to me again.”

“That’s what you get for being one of them,” jeered Harry. He spooned a large glob of porridge into his mouth and mewed a sound of approval.

“Give me that,” grunted Draco.

“Give you what?” Harry innocently slurped another mouthful.

“Your gruel. I’m hungry.”

“You can’t do it yourself?”

Draco seethed. “No.”

“Pity,” chirped Harry, stirring the remaining contents of the bowl.

“Damn it, Potter!”

“Wizards use the magic word.”

“Do I look like a bloody infant?” roared Draco. Harry’s left hand suddenly yanked the bed sheets, and it was clear from his face that it wasn’t his movement.

“Did you just do that?” he asked.

Draco turned his head toward Harry’s and glared menacingly. “Maybe.”

“Fine, fine,” muttered Harry, shoveling up another gob of porridge. Draco eagerly opened his mouth and Harry begrudgingly fed him the first spoonful. Harry gave him another, and then dropped the spoon onto the sheets. “Oh God, did I just feed you?”

“Yes. Now feed me more.” Draco opened his mouth again.

“I’m going to be sick,” whimpered Harry. He fumbled as he put the bowl back on the side-table, his eyes darting around trying to remember where the bathroom was.

“Over there,” said Draco, jerking his head to the left. Harry rolled off the bed onto his feet and stumbled toward the bathroom. “Which reminds me, when was the last time you went to the bathroom?”

Harry started running. He flung the bathroom door open and flew toward a urinal, hurriedly pulling his drawstring pajama pants off. Draco howled and threw his head back, staring fixedly at the ceiling. “Have a bit of modesty!”

“Merlin!” yelped Harry, his face immediately burning up. He bent forward to lift his pants and Draco’s forehead slammed into the edge of the urinal with a resounding clang.

“Oh Jesus, fuck!” screamed Draco, screwing his face up.

Harry straightened, his pants back on, and mumbled, “Sorry…”

Draco groaned loudly and shook his head, trying to ease the pain. Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly, his face turned away. “The urinal, too…Well, take your damn piss! That fuckin’ hurt,” snapped Draco with a grimace.

“I… I can’t”

“What do you mean you can’t? You haven’t pissed in twelve hours, and you can’t?”

“You know how it is.” Harry continued to shuffle. “I… I’m embarrassed. It won’t come.”

“This is ludicrous. Maybe if you hold it?”

“I’m not holding my… my… in front of you!”

“Better get used to it.”

Harry’s face lit up. “Wait, it’s coming! Look away.” Draco scowled, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back and away as Harry pulled his pants off again. The sound of their relief echoed around the high-ceilinged bathroom for quite some time.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” asked Draco, mid-urination. “Mine never echoes like that.”

“Shut up and don’t listen!” Harry wondered why he never had such problems with Ron.

“You’re so weird.”

Harry grumbled a few curses as he finished, then lifted his pants back up - careful to avoid the merciless urinal edge - before furiously slamming the flush handle down. He stomped out of the bathroom only to be greeted by the infirmary in a state of chaos. Beds were toppled over, curtains torn, everything was tampered with. And Draco’s headless body stood heaving in the middle of the floor. Madame Pomfrey burst into the room clutching her wand.

“What on earth happened? Draco!” She pointed her wand at the body. “Petrificus Totalus!” It dropped rigid to the ground. She bustled over to the fallen body and lifted up its shoulders. “May I have some assistance?”

Harry rushed over and lifted the feet and together they placed him on a bed that had not been toppled.

“Why did I do that?” asked Draco.

Madame Pomfrey looked up and peered at Draco’s forehead where a large bump had formed. “What happened to your head?”

“Urinal accident,” muttered Harry, turning red again. Draco glowered.

“Boys,” she tutted. “Sit down and I’ll be back in a moment with some cream to put on that.”

When she returned, the boys were quietly sitting next to the bound body. She rubbed the cream over the bump on Draco’s forehead whilst speaking. “This must have set him off. Be careful what you do, Harry. You’re responsible for Draco now as well as yourself.”

Harry snickered at the pale green smudge now covering Draco’s forehead.

“I’m serious, Mr. Potter,” said the nurse, sternly. “I don’t want to see Draco’s body acting out without restraint again.” House elves began swarming out from under beds and tables to clean the infirmary. “Now back to bed, you two.” She led Harry to his bed which had been righted. “Why don’t you boys get to know each other better and talk about Quidditch?” She left the room.

“Quidditch. What are we going to do for Quidditch?” moaned Draco.

Harry grunted and flopped backwards into the pillows. “I didn’t think about that. Maybe we’ll be back to normal by November.”

“I hope so. I might just die if I’m stuck with you for that long.”

“And leave me with a rotting head on my body?” Harry turned onto his right side and Draco’s head smacked into his own. “Oh wait, I can’t turn away from you can I?”

Draco sniffed. “No.”

“I loathe your head.”

******

“I’m bored,” huffed Draco, tired of gazing around the dark room. “Can’t we talk about something?”

“You actually want to talk to me?”

“No, but maybe I can just insult you instead.”

“Bite me.” Harry felt a sharp bite on the lobe of his ear. “What the hell!”

“Amuuuse me.”

“Leave me alone.” Harry turned his head away.

Draco could hear his own body shifting in its bed next to him. It made him feel uneasy. “Potter?”

Silence.

******

On Monday, various teachers dropped in to pay a visit and Hermione brought Harry’s homework, apologizing for Ron’s absence, but she didn’t linger long. No one from Slytherin came to visit Draco, not even Professor Snape.

After dinner, which consisted of roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and mashed potatoes and a large serving of apple pie (Harry refused to feed Draco again, so Madame Pomfrey was forced to do it), Harry was working on a short Transfigurations paper when Dumbledore entered the room. He was holding a familiar silvery cloth in his hands which Harry recognized as his Invisibility Cloak.

“Good evening!” he said, setting the cloak down on their bed.

Harry looked up at his headmaster with wide eyes. “Are we… are we going back to the dorm now?”

“I’m afraid so. Best not put it off any longer.”

“And you’re sure it has to be Gryffindor Tower?” asked Draco distastefully.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “Your accommodations won’t be ready for a few days, unfortunately. We have a guest currently occupying the suite you will be using.”

Harry sighed. “How shall we go about this?”

“Hermione will be making sure no one enters the dorm room, and Ron will be waiting for you.” Harry blanched at the sound of his friend’s name. Dumbledore noticed and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I spoke to him.”

“I doubt he listened,” grumbled Draco. Harry knocked his head slightly.

Dumbledore straightened. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Harry clambered out of bed and gathered his books and cloak. He could hear Draco breathing quickly through his nose.

Dumbledore smiled down at them. “I do believe some good may come of this.” They stared at him dumbly. “Well!” He began ushering Harry and Draco to the door. “I’ll walk you to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower and Hermione will take over from there.” Dumbledore took the Invisibility Cloak from Harry’s arms and neatly draped it over the two boys. They followed him out of the infirmary.

******

Hermione paced in front of the Fat Lady, and when Dumbledore came into view, she rushed forward, wringing her hands, “Oh! Are they here? Do hurry. Everyone found out you were coming. You know how word gets around.”

“I’m so pleased my arrival has caused such a stir,” said Draco, muffled under the cloak.

Hermione sternly glared at the seemingly empty spot the voice came from. “Shush. We’re going to walk in there and you two will be absolutely quiet until we get to the dorm, understand?”

Her answer was a brief shuffle.

Dumbledore smiled fondly at Hermione, then looked down at the invisible boys. “Tomorrow morning, expect a visit from Professor McGonagall about classes. Good night!”

Hermione watched him depart, then put a finger to her lips and turned toward the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Hello, dear! Password?”

“Lizard Toes.”

The portrait swung forward revealing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione stepped inside, quickly followed by the two boys, and was greeted by silence and Gryffindors who turned mid-conversation to look. A chocolate frog leaped across the floor at her feet. She chuckled and moved forward into the room. “They’re not here yet.” The entire room let out a breath and the students continued what they were doing before she entered.

Hermione carefully made her way across the room to the dormitory stairs, making sure not to give anyone cause to think she was being followed by two boys hidden under an Invisibility Cloak. But then she stumbled and tripped onto the first stair, and Harry fell forward on top of her. The cloak slipped a bit and revealed his legs.

Someone in the room cried out. “Harry!” It was Colin Creevey, who leaped off an armchair with camera at the ready. The other students quickly turned.

“Run!” shrieked Hermione. She got to her feet and bounded up the stairs by twos, with Harry, half-covered, close at her heals. They burst into the boys’ dormitory and Hermione slammed the door and bolted it shut. The sound of excited voices was soon heard from the stairwell.

Ron nervously stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, hands tucked in armpits, and he stared in horror at Harry’s uncovered legs.

Harry threw the cloak off and he and Draco panted wildly. Ron turned away with a whimper.

“This is your dorm?” rasped Draco.

Harry hobbled toward his bed and toppled down face-first into the mattress. Draco huffed in outrage and turned his face to the side to get air. Hermione sat down next to Harry.

Draco noticed Ron hovering near his own bed, covering his face with his palms. “You better get used to this, Weasley. We’ll be here for at least a few days.”

Ron gargled with anguish.

“Honestly, Ron,” said Hermione. “Harry doesn’t blame you.”

“It’s… it’s not that!” Ron whispered fiercely, still refusing to look. “They’re… he’s just… such a sight!”

“Oh, thanks,” muttered Harry into his comforter.

“Really, though. It’s Malfoy! And…” Ron removed his hands and looked. He howled.

The voices that could be heard outside went silent.

“Ron!” gasped Hermione, mortified. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Poor Harry… he’s suffered so, and he’s your friend! Just because Malfoy’s stuck to him doesn’t mean you should treat him any different.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Ron breathed deeply, keeping his eyes on Harry’s feet rather than his heads.

“Sorry to interrupt… actually, scratch the sorry, but what will your other dorm-mates think?”

“They have no idea what they’re in for. They haven’t seen… Oh, God.”

“Please, spare me your horrified comments, Ron,” said Harry, rolling onto his back. “It’s much worse for me than it is for you.”

Someone rapped on the door. “Can we please enter our room?” called Seamus.

Hermione stood and looked over at Harry. He nodded. She went to the door, unbolted it, and slowly opened it. Seamus poked his head in and immediately broke out into laughter. Dean and Neville peeked as well - Dean with a smile, but Neville looked vaguely sick.

Seamus stepped in and approached Harry’s bed with an outstretched hand. Harry took it warily. “Pleased to meet ye, Six Eyes.”

Draco growled in outrage.

“This is no laughing matter!” cried Ron, though he smirked slightly upon seeing Draco.

“H-hey, Harry. Malfoy.” Neville half hid behind his own bed’s curtains, his shaking hands clutching Trevor.

Dean hung back in the doorframe in front of a group of other Gryffindors chattering and pointing. Colin’s camera flashed and Harry had the sudden realization that he was different. Really different. And not just Boy Who Lived different. He was now the “Boy Who Lived with Two Heads” different, and his fellow Gryffindors and the rest of the school would never see him as just Harry again.

Harry‘s left arm twitched. “What the fuck am I? A sideshow?” roared Draco.

Hermione shook her head from a brief stupor, and roughly closed the bed curtains on Harry’s bed. She whirled on Seamus. “Please, if you really are Harry’s friend, get everyone out of here and back to the common room.”

Seamus nodded, still laughing, and bustled Neville and Dean out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Well, that went well,” said Harry from behind the canopy curtains.

******

“Scratch my head for me,” demanded Draco.

“Gross! No.”

“Is he always like this?” asked Ron, looking up from his Transfigurations paper.

“Since it happened, yes.”

“It itches,” D

“Tough.”

“Pomfrey said you were responsible for me, so be responsible.”

“I’m only responsible for your health, not your bloody comfort.”

“I can make life very difficult for you, you know.”

“Hah! More than it is already?”

“Shut up!” Ron furiously threw his quill across the room. Draco snickered. “Hermione,” pleaded Ron. “Do something.”

Hermione wearily handed Ron another quill, the fifth one in the last half hour, and rolled her head toward Harry and Draco. “Boys.”

Harry winced. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You smell,” grumbled Draco to Harry.

“We smell,” corrected Hermione. “That’s it! You two haven’t had a bath in what… four days? Disgusting. Give Ron a break and go take a bath.”

“Smartest thing I’ve heard this evening,” said Draco. “And I bet that will solve my itch problem.”

Harry sniffed under his arm. “I suppose.” He stood up, then promptly sat back down. “Wait.”

Ron’s fingers tightened around his latest quill.

“What.” Hermione crossed her arms.

“A bath! You know…”

“Ohh,” mouthed Hermione, noticing the flush rise on his face.

“Am I missing something?” asked Draco.

“My unclothed nude body.” Harry stared forward, eyes unfocused, recalling the toilet episode.

“Definitely want to miss that.”

Hermione suddenly became quite excited. “I have an idea!” she announced, running to the door. “Be back in a second.”

******

Ten minutes later, Harry stood within the boy’s bathroom, clutching a towel, and staring at his reflection. “Can you see anything?”

“No,” hissed Draco. Hermione had fashioned a large white tube to place around his neck and clasp in the back, much like dog funnel.

“If this weren’t such a serious situation, I would be laughing.”

“How will we wash my hair with this blasted contraption over my head?”

“We’ll manage.” Harry unbuttoned his special wide-necked shirt Dumbledore had provided for him and dropped it on the floor.

“So disorienting.”

“Better than the alternative.” Harry now had his pants and boxers off and he was moving toward a shower stall. “Sure you can’t see anything?”

“Yes!”

Harry entered the stall after hanging his towel up on a hook, closed the curtain, and turned the water on hot, groaning as it hit his back.

“Please don’t get sexual on me, Potter.”

Harry sputtered. “I had no intention!”

“Hmm, well, that water does feel pretty good.” Then Draco groaned.

“How ‘bout we make this a silent shower.” Harry grabbed a loofah, magically soaped, and began scrubbing at his arms.

Draco giggled. “I forgot how ticklish that used to be. My mother used to… never mind.”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued scrubbing. “Didn’t we agree this was going to be silent?”

“I never agreed. Scrub my back.”

“My back!”

“Our back.”

“Merlin, I can’t live like this,” griped Harry between his teeth. He now scrubbed rather viciously at his legs, trying to ignore Draco’s intentionally pleasured-sounding moans.

“You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.”

“Shut. Up.” Harry angled his body so that Draco’s head was directly under the head, and turned the water up to its second-to-last hottest setting for a brief moment. He ignored the pain in his shoulder and arm, knowing Draco got the worst of it.

“You bitch!” yowled Draco.

“Now be quiet.” Harry returned to his legs. After a minute he heard a gurgling to his left. “Didn’t I tell you-”

“Potter, the water.”

“The hell?” The funneled head began jerking as Draco sputtered and coughed wetly as the water level began to rise inside the funnel.

“I can’t breathe!”

Harry grinned and washed his back with a back scrubber, ignoring his own shortness of breath. In his amusement, he was unaware of the twitching in his left arm, and it suddenly sprang to life of its own accord and ripped off the funnel around Draco’s head.

Draco hacked wildly. “Responsibility!” he shrilled. He looked down and stopped breathing altogether.

“No!” squawked Harry, turning red.

“Jesus H. Taliesin on a Stick. We’ve got a fucking bush down there.” And then Draco’s eyes flicked to the razor innocently lying on the ledge.

Harry screamed.

“Harry!” cried Ron, flying into the bathroom, wand at the ready. He noticed the ripped funnel lying on the tiled floor. “Foul play!”

Harry tumbled from his stall, battling his own left hand which was fighting to hold on to the razor. “How dare you!” he screeched. He fell forward, smacking into the ground, knocking Draco unconscious. “…Madame Pomfrey is not going to be pleased.”

Ron tentatively stepped toward the heaving two-headed body of his friend and pointed his wand at the razor that had fallen from Harry’s hand. “H-Harry, what happened? Your hand!”

Harry wailed. “His hand!”