Bedside Revelations

Harry Potter groaned as he opened his eyes and the hazy world around him exploded in a dazzling display of shooting stars. Complete with shooting noises and shooting pain that reverberated in his skull.

"Well, now, that's what you get for trying to hex each other into oblivion, isn't it?" came a tut-tutting voice that would have been familiar had Harry not just realized that he had donkey ears sprouting from the side of his head.

Frantically, he felt around his face and body, trying to ignore the panic that surged through him when he felt the little tentacles on his chin and the elephant trunk in place of his belly button.

Panic finally won.

"AAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

* * * * *

"AAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Or something to that effect.

At least, that was the sound that first registered in Draco Malfoy's ears, causing him to bolt upright in what he thought was his unusually lumpy bed.

After the first sound came the first sight.

And boy, was it NOT pretty.

It was a little hard to believe that the pig-snouted, camel-humped, feather-layered, rash-covered reflection in the mirror was his.

And after the first sight came the first waves of nausea. Gut-wrenching, stomach-heaving, slug-spewing nausea.

That wasn't pretty either.

But at least it got Potter to shut up.

* * * * *

"How are you two feeling, then?" came the brisk voice of Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts' matron in the Hospital Wing. "Learnt your lesson, have you?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," chorused Harry and Draco in monotones, like bored kindergarteners, all the while shooting glares at each other while the matron's back was turned. Their wands had been stashed away in her office, so glares were all that they could shoot at each other.

"When ever will you learn that you simply cannot let inter-house rivalries go so far!" she continued to admonish.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

"And honestly, two Sixth-years! One does expect a bit more maturity from you! You must set an example to the younger ones!"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

"And just look at the damage you've done to each other! I'm afraid the two of you will have to stay together in the Hospital Wing for the next few days."

"Ye--NO, Madam Pomfrey!"

"It's only till the effect of the curses and jinxes wears off...and besides," was that a glint in her eyes? "Headmaster's orders. This is your detention for using magic in corridors."

"But...Madam Pomfrey!"

"It's either this or suspension, boys."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

* * * * *

Harry sighed. Not even witnessing the damage he'd done to Malfoy's pretty-boy looks was enough to cheer him up. He was stuck in the hospital wing when he could be out playing Quidditch. Or going to Hogsmeade.

Or tutoring Ginny in Herbology.

"Oh, please, Potter, spare me the incessant sniveling about your pathetic love life," Draco snapped.

Harry turned crimson to the tips of his donkey ears, unaware that he had been speaking aloud. "Sod off, Malfoy. Just stick to your side of the cubicle and I can guarantee I'll let you live till it's time for us to get out of here."

Madam Pomfrey had drawn the curtains of their joint cubicle around them to prevent any more first-years from fainting in terror when they peeked into the Hospital Wing to catch a glimpse of their hero and his equally enthralling nemesis. Poor little Sadie Law...still, Madam Pomfrey said she'd stop wetting her bed any day now...

Draco rolled his eyes. "Obviously the potion old Pomfrey gave you doesn't do away with your delusional tendencies," he drawled.

"Just like it doesn't give you anything resembling a personality," Harry retorted.

"Too bad we'll have to wait till we're out of here to see if it gave you any Quidditch skills," Draco continued as though he hadn't even heard Harry.

"Thankfully I'll never have to find out whether or not it finally gave you a penis," Harry snapped.

"Ask Granger," Draco supplied helpfully.

"Oh, yes, just heap one injury on another, why don't you?" Harry told him. "I have better chances of defeating Voldemort by tickling him than I do of asking Mione that and escaping alive."

"I'd have to agree with you there," Draco mused. Then he shook his head so hard that several of the feathers coating it flew off. "You have no idea how absurd it felt to say that."

"Try hearing it," Harry said.

There was a moment's pause.

"Are we actually having a conversation where there's no insulting each other, our houses, our families or our loyalty to Dark Lords?" Harry asked tentatively.

"For the last time, Potter, I'm not bloody about to kiss the feet of some half-cocked madman with talons for toe-nails!" Draco replied. "And in answer to your question, it would appear that, yes, we are."

"Hm," Harry said. "That potion sure has nasty side effects."

* * * * *

Evening had come and gone, bringing chocolates from Ron, Crabbe and Goyle and admonitions from Hermione and Pansy Parkinson. A mellow winter twilight had given way to a dark winter night with snow-laden clouds begging for release.

The Hospital Wing was quiet at midnight when Harry's soft voice said, "Malfoy?"

"Potter, if you're calling out to me because you think I'm more approachable in the dead of night, think again. I'd say no to you if I were drunk, or if I were sober; whether I'm sane or insane; whether I'm gay or straight..."

"Malfoy, shut up," Harry interrupted. "I was going to ask if you could pass me the jug of water."

"Oh." Draco's usual drawl contained the slightest trace of embarrassment. "Not a declaration of undying love, then."

"I'm afraid not," Harry told him. "Could I have the water, then?"

"I don't know..."Draco mused. "I think I might be emotionally scarred because of you denying your love for me."

"I'd rather physically scar you, Malfoy," Harry snorted.

"Oooh...kinky!" Draco proclaimed.

"Sod off, you daft git!" Harry exclaimed. "I'll just get the water myself!"

"That was the idea behind this whole melodrama," Draco informed him in a wry voice.

Harry muttered some words under his breath that would surely have made even Professor Snape on a bad day blush.

"Good Lord, Potter, and Weasley Junior allows you to kiss her with that mouth?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"She doesn't, actually," Harry told him caustically.

"Ah, so that explains it," Draco mused.

"What explains what?" Harry asked.

" Why you're always picking on me...it's all misplaced aggression," Draco jeered. "Potter's not getting any!"

"God give me strength..." Harry looked heavenward. "Malfoy, I always pick on you because you're an easy target...it's easy to spot a six-foot tall albino rat in a crowd."

"What is with everyone having this rodent fetish?" Draco asked no one in particular.

"First impressions, and all that," Harry said breezily.

"Well, I'm sure you and Weaselette have fun deciding who's going to play the bitch in the relationship," Draco commented.

"Malfoy, we aren't in a bloody relationship, alright, so let it go!" Harry almost growled.

"Really?" he sounded genuinely surprised. "That's not what it looks like."

Out of utter curiosity, Harry asked, "What does it look like, then?"

Draco snorted. "Please. The way you two look at each other all moony-eyed, anyone would think you had shagged each other senseless."

"Hm," Was Harry's response. "There's just a bit of a problem with that picture."

"And that is...?"

"I haven't exactly told her what I feel for her," Harry mumbled.

"Oh. That." Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Sentimental declarations of love are highly overrated. I should know."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, treading cautiously. Had that been a note of sadness in the other boy's voice?

"No, Potter, Minerva McGonagall!" Draco said.

"Ugh. Mental pictures there...not pretty..." Harry squeezed his eyes shut, then immediately opened them again. "So what happened then?"

"Thank you."

"What?"

"That's what your darling best friend said, Potter. 'Thank you.'"

"No!" Absolute and utter shock.

"Oh, yes." Hm. That was definitely a trace of bitterness there.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "I never thought Hermione would be that daft!"

"Believe it. Bloody hell, she might as well have taken a sword, stuck it through me and carved my intestines into a bouquet of roses." Draco ran his hands through his fine platinum hair. "It might have hurt less."

"'Mione's no idiot, though," Harry told him. "I bet she realized immediately and apologized till she was blue in the face."

"That she did," Draco confirmed. "But too little too late, you know?"

"Well, she did tell you how she felt, right?" Harry asked.

"What? That I'm a walk on the wild side; her way of being rebellious; her dark side; blah bloody blah?" Draco answered.

"No, you dolt, that she loves you and all that!" Harry informed him.

"No, she neglected that tiny detail...perhaps because she doesn't feel it." Was that uncertainty in Malfoy's voice?

"Bullshit, Malfoy," Harry spat out. "That's bullshit, and you know it."

"How do I know it?" Draco countered. "What I said was thrown back in my face with thanks...and trust me, no confessions of deep-rooted love followed."

Harry snorted. "Probably because you stormed off in high dudgeon before she could get the words out."

" 'In high dudgeon?'" Draco mimicked. "Who says that anymore?"

"Ha. I knew it. You did storm off!" Harry proclaimed triumphantly.

"Yes. Well. So what?" Draco mumbled mutinously.

"You pompous, poncy git!" Harry said. "You just don't see! Hermione does love you! Do you think Ron and I would be so pissed about it if it didn't matter."

"Yes."

"Well...alright, we would," Harry conceded. "But honestly, she does. I've known her for the past six years, and trust me on this if nothing else."

"Potter," Draco sighed, "All common sense is screaming at me to tell you where to put your broomstick and shove off, but there's this tiny part of me that wants to believe you."

"Your heart?"

"I have one?"

"Well," Harry told him, "Something must have connected with Hermione."

"Ah, yes...but not quite the correct part of my..."

"Malfoy, stop!" Harry held his hands up to his ears. "I do not need to hear about your sexual exploits with my best friend!"

"Then would you prefer hearing about my sexual exploits with other women?" Draco asked cockily.

Harry grinned evilly. "No, but I'm sure Hermione would just love to." Draco visibly paled under the purple rash.

"Yes, well, I'm sure Ginny dearest would love to know what you did to Blaise Zabini in the showers after the last Quidditch match!" he shot back.

"For the last time, it's not my fault he didn't latch the door properly!" Harry bellowed. "I didn't intentionally walk in on him!"

"So you say," Draco declared loftily. "You're just in denial about your homosexuality."

"Christ, Malfoy, if you're going to make cracks about being gay, you're going to have to start with your pretty face!" Harry told him.

"Devilishly handsome," Draco corrected him.

"Only in your dreams," Harry returned.

"And in my mirror," Draco said cheerfully.

Harry snorted. "The point that we had deviated from, Malfoy, is that Hermione, for God-knows-what reason, is very much in love with you. Talk to her, huh?"

"Potter," Draco gave a long-suffering sigh. "Malfoy's don't talk. Malfoy' don't listen. Malfoy's don't hand out sentimental declarations of love."

"Malfoy's don't fall for Mudbloods," Harry pointed out.

Draco winced. "I can't believe I ever called her that."

Harry studied him as closely as he could in the pale moonlight. "My God, you really do love her. Actually."

"Yes, Potter, actually. I thought we'd already established that."

"Oh, no, we had," Harry said, "But Ron needed convincing. I think this will do."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, because I really care what Weasel No. 6 thinks of me?"

"Yes, you do," Harry said cheerfully. "Because Mione cares what Weasel...er...Ron thinks of you."

"Damn it, Potter, stop hitting my soft spot!" Draco growled.

"Ah, but that's the only way of getting my point across," Harry pointed out in a maddeningly chipper tone. "And honestly, Malfoy, if I was in the condition to, I'd be hitting your other soft spot."

"If that's not proof of your homosexuality, I don't know what is!" Draco huffed. "You're after my body, Potter. Admit it."

"Malfoy, I thought we had established that I'm in love with Ginny. Granted, you're prettier than she is..." Harry trailed off.

Draco, sensibly, chose to ignore him. "Yes, the female wease..." Upon sensing Harry's glare, he amended, "Oh, alright. Ginny. Just bloody tell her. And make sure you don't get your heart stomped on in the process by those pointy-heeled things women wear. I don't know how they walk straight in those damn shoes."

Harry smirked very Malfoyly. "Why, I didn't know you cared."

Draco smirked back. "Chalk it up to a wizarding debt...you helped me with my love life, I helped you with yours." Harry nodded.

An awkwardly comfortable silence fell over the two. Then Harry spoke up.

"Malfoy...this conversation..."

"...Never happened," Draco finished.

"And if anyone should find out..."

Draco picked up where he left off. "...Side effects of Pomfrey's potion."

"Right." Harry said.

"Right." Draco said.

Harry hesitated. "And...er...shall I ignore the fact that we now complete each other's sentences?"

"Completely," said Draco amicably. "And good luck with her, Potter."

"You too, Malfoy. You too."

"Right. Now we officially hate each other again."

"Oh, good. That was getting creepy."