Sleepovers, Slytherins, and Seafood

"This is a dormitory?" Draco asked, his lip curling with distaste.

Harry looked around at the room, trying to discover what the Slytherin disliked about it. To him, it looked comfortable and nice, even if it was a bit cluttered with the addition of the five four poster beds for the Slytherins. Of course, it might have been a bit too unadorned for the spoiled Slytherin's taste, which was obviously quite excessive if judged by his bed, which was a splendid creation, complete with dark, draping velvet curtains to protect his privacy and dark green silk sheets. Harry shook his head wonderingly at the senseless extravagance and glanced over at his own plain bed with its unpresumptuous linen.

"Yes," he finally answered.

"You're joking," Draco stated flatly.

"Uh, no."

Draco's eyes had widened in horror, and he glanced wildly around the room. His mouth opened, but for several seconds, nothing came out except a few shocked gasps and squeaks.

"But, where...what?" he stammered.
"Huh?" Harry said blankly.

"Listen, you got a problem?!" Ron snarled, his temper already flaring up.

"Well, yeah. This just won't work. I mean seriously, the very idea of it is appalling! It's tawdry, bland, and was obviously decorated by someone with no fashion sense! Did you even consider using a color scheme? " Draco ranted angrily.

"Listen, Malfoy, why don't you just shut up about our home? We like it like this, and it isn't going to change!" Harry asserted.

"We'll see about that," Draco muttered mutinously.

Blaise glanced around, taking in all the assorted decorations covering the wall. His brow was furrowed slightly in thought as he turned in a slow circle. A mischievous smile graced his face for a few moments as he turned back to the small group.

"You know, Draco, we could always redecorate," he suggested.

"Hmm. You may have an idea there. With the right fabrics, lace or velvet for the curtains, silk for the beds, a decent paint job...It'll be difficult job, but this place may be salvageable," Draco said thoughtfully as he inspected the room.

He ran his hand across the mantle, grimacing at the thin layer of dust it disturbed.

"Definitely, get the house elves working. This place is filthy," he said scathingly.

"But redecorating's definitely the first step," Blaise added, as he walked around the room, pulling open the dresser drawers carelessly. He wrinkled his nose as he came across a particularly odorous bunch of smelly socks.

"You are not redecorating our dormitory!" Harry cried and slammed the drawer shut.

"Yeah, we're not letting you put up all your dark arts crap and rotting skeletons!" Ron added, his face becoming as red as his hair.

"Rotting skeletons?" Blaise laughed.

"The boy's got an imagination on him. Rotting skeletons would never go with this color scheme," Draco said.

"Huh?" Ron gasped, appalled.

"I mean, all this gold and maroon drivel? Really, skeletons only work with more muted colors," Draco continued, unmindful of Ron's stare.

"What?" Ron exclaimed.

"Can you say anything with more than one syllable?" Blaise asked curiously.

"Hey!" the angry Gryffindor yelled.

"Obviously not."

The two Slytherin boys continued their survey of the room as they walked around it. Occasionally, one would stop to get a closer look at something. Once they had toured the whole room, they paused in its center to discuss the matter.

"So, what should we start out with?" Blaise asked.

"Getting rid of these horrible Quidditch posters, of course."

"Don't even think about touching them!" Ron whispered furiously.

"I'm thinking. Try and stop me!" Draco taunted, walking over to one and beginning to untack it from the wall.

"Those are ours!" Harry protested.

"Which is why I'm tearing them down!"

The four boys glared at each other furiously, none willing to back down. After a few minutes of prolonged eye contact, Draco and Blaise went back to critiquing the room. Ron stood before the Quidditch posters protectively with his arms folded across his chest, while Harry followed their unwelcome roommates. The two stopped in front of Dean's poster of the West Ham soccer team.

"Sweaty men hugging each other? And people question Draco's orientation," Blaise said in disgust.

"They just won a game!" Dean defended angrily.

"Hmm. Not gay at all," Blaise remarked dryly.

"Maybe we can leave that one up," Draco said, eyeing the picture speculatively.

"Draco!" Blaise scolded.

"Ah, shut up."

Blaise stared at the picture for a second and shook his head.

"I'm surprised. No naked chicks on the walls?" Blaise asked.

"No!" Harry screamed, horrified.

"Of course not. They're Gryffindors. A dirty thought has never sullied their pure minds," Draco remarked dryly.

"No one wants to be reminded of what they aren't getting," Blaise said nastily.

"You guys have naked chicks on your dormitory walls?" Ron questioned, his mind still occupied by that simple concept.

Blaise merely smiled. Neville covered his face with his hands and dropped onto the bed.

"Someone please make them go away," he begged.

Draco grinned maliciously as he walked over to the bed.

"No, sorry, Longbottom. We're here to stay."

"Why does the world hate me?" Neville mused morosely.

"Oh, that's easy. You're ugly," Draco answered quickly.

Neville moved his hands from his face and glared up at Draco, who was trying his best to look innocent and truthful.

"What! I am not...am I?" he exclaimed, his uncertainty gaining a quick hold of him.

"Oh, yes, fearsomely unattractive. You'd frighten small children," Draco said, nodding brightly.

"What's so bad about me? I mean, can I do anything about it?"

Draco tapped his chin thoughtfully as he considered. He looked Neville up and down, and shook his head sadly.

"Oh, not much. Maybe crawl off to some secluded place and die," he offered helpfully.

"That's terrible!" Ron exclaimed, angry at the way his friend was being treated.

"Yeah, why don't you just sod off, Malfoy?!" Harry yelled.

"Just trying to make the world a happier place," Draco said with a smile.

"You, trying to do good? Yeah, right," Ron scoffed.

"Well, it'd make me happier."

"Your happiness doesn't really reflect on the whole world's."

"You've obviously never lived with him," Blaise said with a tired sigh.

* * *

Hermione led the Slytherin girls up the stairs to the dormitory. Her face was drawn with worry as she realized how bad this situation was going to be. Beside her, Lavender and Parvati were whispering together nervously, every once in a while glancing back at the grim-faced Slytherins behind them. Hermione swallowed nervously as they stopped at the sixth year's door. She opened it slowly and allowed the other girls to go through before she entered.

Pansy glanced around the room, noticing their beds, which had been placed in the dormitory just a few hours ago. The Slytherins' beds, like the Gryffindors, were covered in a soft lacy material of different colors, ranging from Pansy's green to Lavender's purple. There were several stacks of books on one dresser, and a few posters hung on the walls. A stuffed unicorn sat on Lavender's bed, which made Millicent wince.

"So, this is the girls' dormitory," Hermione said unnecessarily.

"No kidding?" Pansy remarked.

"Kind of cutesy, isn't it?" Millicent added.

"Well, sorry. We can't all live in the dungeons," Lavender said bitingly.

"Yeah, sucks to be a Gryffindor," Pansy muttered sarcastically.

Lavender glared at her furiously, clenching her fists tightly.

"Listen, we're going to have to live together. Can't we at least try to get along?" Hermione asked desperately.

Pansy and Millicent looked at each other and shrugged.

"Have you ever had sex with the Weasel?" Millicent asked curiously.

Pansy rolled her eyes at the slower girl's bluntness, wishing Millicent had used a bit more tact or finesse. There were just some things that shouldn't be spoken of, and anything that included the Weasel was immediately placed in that category.

"What?! No!" Hermione cried, shocked at the blunt words.

"Ever?" Millicent prodded.

"No!"

"Do you want to?"

"Uh...that's none of your business!" Hermione hedged angrily, a rosy blush staining her cheeks.

"Touchy, isn't she?" Millicent asked blithely.

* * *

Harry watched curiously as the five Slytherin boys unpacked. He kept waiting to see some obvious sign of their evilness, but so far, all he had seen was a lot of bottles and jars coming out of Malfoy's bags.

"What is all this stuff?" he asked.

Draco didn't bother to look up as he carefully set the delicate bottles down on the dresser. He took special care with a tall, green one made of finely wrought glass, making sure it was placed well away from the edge of the dresser. He pulled a few small, fat ones out of the bag and put them beside the bigger bottle.

"Hair care, Potter. Something you obviously don't know anything about," he said dryly.

Harry self-consciously put a hand to his hair and tried to pat it into a more presentable shape.

"No one needs this much crap," he muttered.

"I do. Now, either shut up or bugger off," Draco snarled nastily.

"Why do you have to be such a pain in the arse, Malfoy?"

"I signed a contract. Stunning good looks, in exchange for my soul," Draco said casually.

Harry glared at the other boy, upset by his flippant attitude on such a serious subject.

"That's not funny."

"And who says you're good looking?" Ron added.

"Or have a soul for that matter?" Neville whispered in a low undertone, which provoked a harshly muffled laugh from Harry.

Draco finally looked up, shaking his head at Ron's words.

"Hmm. Let me think. Everyone! The angels themselves sing whenever I enter a room!"

"You have a pretty high opinion of yourself," Seamus muttered.

"Can you blame me?" Draco said with a charming smile.

The room became very quiet as Draco rummaged through his bag. Eventually, he pulled out a large spray can, which he sat beside him. Ron picked it up and inspected it curiously. He sat down on the bed, making sure he was out of Draco's arm length.

"What's this? Pepper spray?"

Draco snatched the container away and put it on the dresser out of Ron's reach.

"Keep your paws off me, Weasel, or I'll use it on you," he threatened.

"Like I'd want to be anywhere near you," Ron snorted derisively.

"Well, I don't know, you're sitting pretty close," Draco pointed out.

Ron immediately leapt away and ran to the other side of the room. Draco smiled, pleased, and went back to work.

"Much better," he said happily.

* * *

"What the hell is this?" Pansy asked, staring at the notebook, which she had found lying on the dresser beside Hermione's bed. It was black and decorated with small stars and constellations.

Hermione reached out for it, but the Slytherin girl pulled it out of her reach.

"It's my diary. Please put it down," Hermione pleaded.

"A diary? How...cute," Pansy muttered, staring at it with a look of revulsion. She wasn't sure she wanted to think of what it might hold or what horrible Weasel-filled fantasies might lurk within its pages.

"What, don't you keep one?" Lavender asked curiously.

Pansy stared at her while shaking her head slowly.

"I'm a Slytherin," she stated bluntly.

"So?"

She rolled her eyes expressively, displeased at their ignorance.

"We know better than to leave such incriminating evidence where anyone could find it."

"What? Evidence!?" Lavender and Parvati cried..

"Yeah, these things can do a lot of harm in a murder case," Pansy explained seriously.

"Murder case?" they chorused, their eyes wide open.

"What are you guys, parrots? Yes, a murder case," Pansy snapped.

"Umm...Do you have any reason to be suspected for murder?" Hermione asked nervously as she moved farther away from the other girl

"Not yet."

"Oh..good...I think," Hermione said uncertainly.

"So, what all do you have in here? Fantasies about the Weasel?" Pansy asked, trying to pick the lock with a hair pin, since it was protected against spells.

"No! And stop calling him that!" Hermione exclaimed and snatched the diary from the girl's hands.

"Whatever," Pansy grumbled as she rubbed her hands tenderly.

* * *

Draco was looking through the photo album on Potter's dresser, his attention fixed on the moving figures. He quickly flipped past the ones that focused on Harry's immediate family, moving to people who were of more interest to him.

"Hey, leave that alone!" Harry ordered when he saw the Slytherin looking through the treasured album.

"This your family, Potter?" Draco inquired.

"Yeah, so, get your nasty hands off it!" the other boy shouted.

"No need to be rude," Draco said in an injured tone.

"There is plenty of need. You're-"

"Did you hear that, Blaise? Potter needs me," Draco interrupted with a smirk.

"That wasn't what I meant!" Harry protested, while Blaise smothered a laugh.

"Still trying to deny your attraction to me?" Draco purred.

"What?! You're sick!" Harry exclaimed and stalked over to where Dean and Seamus were sitting.

Blaise nodded in agreement, and walked over to Draco, who was still perusing the old photos. The blonde boy stopped on one page, glancing curiously at a group photo of some of the Potters' friends. They were all waving and laughing, but at first, Blaise couldn't discover what Draco was so enthralled by.

"He's hot," Draco stated.

Ron walked over and stared at the picture, immediately catching sight of a younger Sirius Black. Blaise just shook his head and walked away.

"He's a guy!" Ron protested.

"Yes, I'd rather noticed."

"But, you said he's hot," Ron vocalized in an urgent tone.

"And, he is," Draco said soothingly.

"But...guy!?" Ron squeaked.

"Who is hot," Draco supplied.

"Male guy!?"

"Yes, male as in not female, a guy, I get it," Draco snarled impatiently.

"Then why'd you say he's hot?" Ron asked desperately.

"He is!" Draco yelled, his patience running thin.

"But!" Ron persisted.

"I give up," Draco announced as he dropped the album and walked across the room to join Blaise, who had retreated to sit on another bed. The other boy looked up as he approached, and shook his head reprovingly.

"Draco, you're scaring the Gryffindors," he admonished.

"Really? And I wasn't even trying," Draco said, preening slightly.

"Well, it worked," Blaise muttered with a glance at the five Gryffindor boys.

Neville was crouched behind Dean and Seamus, trying to hide from Draco's discerning eyes. Ron was talking with Harry in nearly hysterical tones, and glancing at Draco frequently. Draco smiled unpleasantly, which startled Neville into flight. The overwhelmed boy ran down the stairs to the common room faster than Draco had thought possible. The other boys retreated farther into the corner, suspicion and distrust bright in their eyes.

"Ah, look! They're cowering in fear. Why don't you ever cower in fear?" Draco asked Blaise.

"I don't know."

"You should cower in fear. Cower in fear, weak one!" Draco ordered imperiously.

Blaise sighed in annoyance, but shrugged. He had long since realized the futility of fighting with the spoiled boy.

"All right, all right. I'll cower."

Draco watched him closely as he sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving.

"Are you cowering?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, Draco, I'm cowering."

"Are you sure? You don't look like you're cowering," Draco pointed out petulantly.

"I'm cowering, damn it! Leave me alone," Blaise growled in frustration.

"If you were cowering, you wouldn't curse at me," Draco protested.

"I'm sorry. What should I do?" Blaise said in carefully controlled tones.

"Begging for mercy would be nice."

"I'm not begging. Go bother the Gryffindors and leave me alone," Blaise objected.

"Not until you beg."

"You are such a brat," Blaise muttered crossly.

"And?" Draco prodded with a pleased smirk.

"Please, please, please leave me alone. Happy?"

"We really need to work on your begging, but I guess, it'll do for now."

"Forgive me, O Magnificent One."

"Getting better."

* * *

The four remaining Gryffindor boys sat together moodily, their eyes unerringly fixed on the Slytherins, who were working on setting up Draco's vanity dresser. It was a monstrous affair, complete with a huge mirror and plenty of shelves for his accessories. Of course, Crabbe and Goyle were doing most of the work, while Draco reclined on the bed and ordered them about.

"What are we going to do, Harry? They're insane!" Ron yelped.

"Insane may not be a strong enough word for them," Dean muttered.

"Well, mad, insane, psychotic, whatever, we can't live with them!" Ron replied wildly, his face still flushed with anger.

"I know, but what are we going to do?" Harry asked.

"Hermione would know," Ron said.

"Well, we can't go get her. We'll just have to wait until she's finished showing the girls around," Harry reminded him.

They sat gloomily for several minutes as they considered Hermione's situation.

"Do you think they're as bad as the boys?" Ron asked.

Harry took his glasses off and cleaned them as he answered.

"Hmm. Pansy vs. Draco. Close match."

"Poor Hermione."

"We're not so fortunate, either. I mean, look at them!" Seamus said, pointing at the Slytherins with one hand. As they watched, Draco and Blaise proceeded to throw all sorts of bottles at Crabbe and Goyle at rates that were nearly impossible to catch. The two hulking boys did their best, and calmly picked up the bottles which had hit the floor.

"Why would Dumbledore do this to us?" Ron gulped.

"I don't know. Maybe, he really does think we can learn to get along," Harry answered dubiously.

"Fat chance, that!" scoffed Seamus.

"Yeah, it does seem pretty unlikely," Dean agreed.

"He could have let the Hufflepuffs or the Ravenclaws come here. Why did it have to be the Slytherins?"

"Well, our Houses are the ones with the most conflicts. It'd make sense to put us together," Harry reasoned.

"Doesn't mean we have to like it," Ron said.

"And, I'm pretty sure we won't," Harry said as he watched their new roommates.

* * *

The respective heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor were sitting together in an unoccupied classroom, discussing the current situation. McGonagall looked more stressed and tired, and the gray in her hair seemed more noticeable. She rubbed at her temples, trying to ease the aching pain in her head. Snape impatiently sat before her, his sallow skin looking even paler than usual. The moving hadn't been easy on him, either.

"Are the students settling in okay?" he finally asked as the silence dragged on.

"Well, that's an interesting question," McGonagall stalled.

"Which you're planning on answering immediately," Snape insisted.

"All right, all right."

After she spoke, she went quiet again, thinking over the day's events. Snape impatiently tapped his fingers against the table as he waited.

"And?" he asked.

"I'm getting to it!" she protested.

"Faster, please," he cajoled angrily.

"Okay, no one's dead-" she began.

"How surprising," he interrupted dryly.

"Do you want to hear this?" she snapped.

"Fine, do continue."

"There has been no physical fighting, though there were a few verbal disputes. Neville Longbottom has retreated to the common room and refuses to be in the same dormitory as the Slytherins. Mr. Malfoy seems to have scared him."

"Ah, that's won...I mean, terrible," he amended.

McGonagall looked at him closely and shook her head reproachfully at his obvious insincerity.

"I think I'll be able to convince him to return, as long as the Slytherins behave," she added.

"My students always behave."

McGonagall stared at him with disbelief, almost laughing.

"Severus, even you aren't that biased!" she exclaimed.

"So what if they're a bit over enthusiastic?" he said defensively.

"What a clever way of putting it," she conceded sarcastically.

Snape smirked and nodded graciously, even as she rolled her eyes.

"I thought so."

For a few more moments, they sat in silence. The emptiness of the room seemed to stretch before them, and idly, McGonagall wondered if it had ever been used. In her years at Hogwarts, it had always remained empty, home to only dust and spider webs.

"I guess we can tell Dumbledore to start moving the fourth years," she said after a while.

"Indeed," he answered simply.

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of enthusiasm, which he refused to acknowledge.

"You don't look too excited," she observed.

"Ravenclaws are unbearable know-it-all's. Why should I be excited?" he said with a distasteful grimace.

She sighed softly as she looked around the room, seeing the tattered old House banners decorating the walls, hanging together, not apart. It sent a shiver down her spine, as she wondered if the students could ever be so united.

"You ever think that we're behind some of our Houses' fighting?" she asked thoughtfully.

Snape followed her gaze to the banners and stared at them for a long time. When he spoke, his voice had lost its usual nasty tone, and was soft, almost gentle.

"Of course we are, just like their parents. They've learned to hate from us," he mused.

She rested her head on her hands, her eyes weary and disheartened.

"I wish...I wish that we could have taught them something better."

"There may still be time. This foolish scheme might even work," he answered dubiously.

"I hope so," whispered she.