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“POTTER!”
The boy calmly reached for the towel by the sink.
“POTTER, GET OUT HERE!”
He then, very calmly, dabbed the soap and water from his face; another shriek from the room and he finally put the towel down and exited the bathroom.
“Did you need something, Draco?”
In the middle of Harry’s unkempt bed sat the blond Slytherin; unfortunately, Snape and McGonagall had appointed Harry as the spell-gone-wrong boy. The investigations into who had turned Draco into a bunny were going nowhere; no one was owning up to the action and looking into the spells that had been cast by those in Defense Against the Dark Arts at the time of incident was pointless—everyone had been casting the changeling spell, so it could have been anyone!
Harry chalked this predicament up to a stray spell and nothing else…
“Yes,” the hiss of annoyance made Harry focus on his charge. “I called you, Potter. Three times! Is your hearing as bad as your eyesight?”
He wouldn’t sigh; he’d been doing that a lot lately. “No, I heard you.” He realized his mistake the minute Draco’s bunny nose started twitching erratically.
“Then why did you not come? I called you three times, three times!! And you heard but did not react! Your weasel could have been trying to smother me with a pillow and you would have been calmly washing your face in the next room!!”
“Calm down, Draco, you’re turning red…”
Draco crossed his arms; his left ear twitched and he swatted at it. “Hmph. I need you to iron my jacket.”
Harry stared at the tiny article of clothing; he had shrunk the clothes for Draco since Pomfrey couldn’t seem to reverse the spell and it was unknown how long he would be this size. “I can’t iron such a tiny thing.”
“Iron it, Potter.”
“I won’t; it’s too small.”
Draco grit his teeth. “Try.”
But Harry turned around. “No. Wear something else; I’m just going in my jumper, anyway.”
“Potter! Potter, come back here! Potter, I need to look presentable! Potter!”
Down in the common room, Hermione was thoughtfully regarding the darkened stairway leading to the boy’s dormitory. The screeching of an unhappy Malfoy could be very clearly heard. She slowly turned to Ron.
“They haven’t stopped arguing.”
“They were arguing before the spell problem.”
“Yeah,” Hermione frowned. “Something about where to spend New Year’s…”
Ron nodded; he turned away from the fire he had been staring into. “Malfoy wants to spend it at his family’s summer home, just the two of them, but Harry wants to spend it at the burrow with my family.”
“And then that spell happened…”
Ron nodded again. “Yeah. Now, without time apart from each other, they’re at each other’s throats!”
Hermione tutted. “We need to do something; they can’t argue all the time.”
Neville laughed by the portrait doorway. “Are you sure about that, Hermione? It is—whoa!” The ladder he was precariously standing upon shook when he shifted and he went tumbling to the ground. “Ohhh…”
“Oh, are you alright, Neville?”
“Yes,” he bemoaned. “I’ll be alright…”
Ron squinted at the ceiling. “Are you hanging plants?”
Hermione looked up. “Ohh, mistletoe! It’s tradition to kiss beneath—”
“YOU BURNED MY JACKET, YOU LETHARGIC TROLL!”
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose; they needed to get on good terms immediately.
Harry ended up appeasing Draco with a nice jumper that he could wear to the ball and it seemed to have worked well at first; but after having to be carried into the Great Hall like a child and not being able to dance or socialize or even fetch his own snacks and beverages, Malfoy was once more in a foul mood.
“I am humiliated.”
Harry really wanted to sigh, but he held it in fairly well. “So you have said; every five minutes; for the past three days, Draco.”
His companion harrumphed and turned away, effectively slapping himself in the face when his ears went flying with the movement. “Oomph!”
“Pfft…” Harry clapped a hand to his mouth to keep the noise in but it came bursting forth anyway and he was soon doubled over with laughter.
Draco was not amused and he crossed his tiny arms over his tiny chest and glared; he was able to keep his blush down fairly easily, but Harry could still tell he was flustered. Draco had been much easier to read as little bunny than he had been when he was a normal teenage boy. Harry was grateful because sometimes Draco’s sly ways were incredibly annoying and frustrating.
“You prat! Stop laughing!”
Harry sobered for Draco’s sake; and they were drawing attention. It was the Yule Ball and the rest of the students were milling about, dancing or snacking or socializing, while Harry was confined to a table in the corner because tiny bunny Draco Malfoy refused to socialize.
“I want some punch.”
Harry turned from watching the dancers to regard his companion. “Hm?”
Draco stood up; it was clumsily done. He still wasn’t used to his new ears or the tiny puff-ball tail at the small of his back. “I want some punch.”
“Okay.” Harry regarded the dance floor again; he could feel Draco’s glare.
“Go get me some, Potter.”
He thought for a moment, eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Hmm… No thanks. I’m good here.”
Across the room, Hermione and Ron were whispering with each other and casting the strange pair quick glances. Harry wished he was with them; then he could be enjoying the ball instead of sitting in the corner with a sour Malfoy. He sighed, but it was cut short when a small set of fingers pinched his cheek.
He yelped, cupped his cheek, and jumped to his feet.
Malfoy stood before him and glaring with his head tipped back—back, way back, in order to actually be able to see his companion. “I want punch.”
“You…You pinched me!”
Malfoy’s glare hardened. “Punch, Potter.”
“I am not your maid!”
Laughter erupted from the room around them; something had happened, but Potter was locked in a staring contest with Draco. There was no way Harry was going to lose to his royal prattness.
“McGonagall put you in charge of me, Potter. Wouldn’t want to disappoint your professor, would you?” Draco sneered. “So go get me—”
“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!!”
Harry whirled around to find the whole room staring at them, chanting, and Ron pointing his wand somewhere above Harry and Draco’s table. Harry felt like slapping himself in the face; Draco had taken one look up, dropped to his knees, and hid behind his ears. Of course Ronald Weasley would decide to hover a nice bunch of mistletoe above the bickering couple. Harry would get him back somehow…
But one look at Draco’s blush and Harry couldn’t help but get into the spirit of the holidays. He lent his elbows against the table and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to Draco’s head.
“Merry Christma—DRACO!”
In a puff of smoke, the tiny bunny Malfoy poofed into a large sized human; no more bunny ears or tail or nose or whiskers. And no more clothes either; they had broken when he grew.
Kneeling on the table was a nude Draco Malfoy.
Halfway across the Great Hall, Pansy Parkinson nearly fell out of her chair laughing and Harry clapped a hand to his mouth once more. Malfoy had a gleam of murder in his eyes directed towards his housemate across the hall, but he carefully stepped off the table.
“Well…Now that that I have been returned to normal, I shall go get my clothes.”
He calmly walked through the throng of blushing, silently cackling onlookers to the exit; once past, one could hear the fast patter of bare feet running away as fast as possible. Harry would have to remember to thank Pansy for her ‘stray’ spell.
And maybe he should go, ahem, help Draco find his clothes…