The New Trio and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter 3: The Burrow

Harry knew Draco was secretly dreading their destination this morning, and by extention, that whole week was blacklisted. The trio had agreed to stay at The Burrow, and go with them on their Diagon Alley trip, and Draco had seemed fine with the idea when it was a whole month away. Now, however, Draco was panicking. He'd been working with Remus to overcome some of the ingrained behaviour he'd had to learn as Lucius Malfoy's son, but he still had a thing about cleanliness. He showered twice a day, wouldn't sit down on a chair if he could see dust or dirt on it, and crinkled up his nose in distaste whenever he saw the state of Neville's clothing after a long day in his greenhouse.

The only 'mess' he seemed not to mind was the inevitable one whenever Harry went into one of his artistic moods. Sure, he'd still carefully step over any discarded pencils or sketchbooks which normally littered the floor of Harry's room, but that was... different. Harry, who loved studying people, sometimes noticed an expression of exasperated fondness cross the blond's face.

Draco was concerned (actually, he was bloody terrified) that when he arrived at The Burrow, he would offend the Weasleys in some way while he attempted to push down his first instincts as a proper little pureblood heir. Harry had tried to tell him multiple times that they all understood, that they wouldn't mind, and that by the end of the week, the place would have grown on him. Every time he tried to convince Draco of this fact, he'd raise one perfect eyebrow and look at Harry until he gave up.

Therefore, as Draco was panicking for the fifth time that morning on whether he brought enough clothes, Harry had enough. He strode over to Draco's suitcase (because of course he'd have one just for clothes), closed it, and quickly sat on it. Draco's tantrum was cut short. "Erm... Harry? Wh-why are you on my suitcase?"

"You've got enough clothes for a small village, Dray. You're fine. You've got a whole outfit for each and every bad-weather scenario I could possibly think of, and still managed to fit your broom in there," Harry stated, arms crossed.

Draco scoffed. "There are plenty more clothes I could need! What if there's a mudslide? Or a hurricane?"

"There aren't any clay-based mountains in the area, so the mudslide's out," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "As for the hurricane, we're not in the tropics, and nowhere near the ocean, so no tsunamis either. You're going to be fine! Nev and I'll be with you the entire time, so we can always nudge you if you're about to do something you shouldn't; and Mrs Weasley would let you sleep in Charlie's old room if you asked, so you don't have to room with Ron the slob, Neville the mud enthusiast, or Harry the art freak."

Draco's eyes snapped to Harry's at the last bit, and his face became pink in anger. "Don't call yourself that! Or the other two! I don't think of either of you in such vulgar terms, and I never will. Just because I have a thing about being clean, doesn't mean I wouldn't gladly room with you guys. Sure, I may find it uncomfortable at first, but I'll get over it. I'll probably be tossing garden gnomes by the end of the week."

Harry grinned triumphantly. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past month! I only said those things because I realised you needed a kick in the arse towards the right direction. That little speech you just did... very Hufflepuff."

Having calmed down somewhat, Draco gasped in mock indignation. "How dare you! I, a Hufflepuff? Of all the inconceivable notions running through that plebeian head of yours!" He went out the doors, muttering under his breath, still playing up the well-bred heir. "A Hufflepuff... honestly."

*Draco's POV*

Okay, so The Burrow was... quaint. It looked like several hovels had been levitated on top of one another, and kept that way with any number of enchantments. Come to think of it, that was actually rather impressive, and the house was certainly a conversation piece.