Protection (Drarry)

Chapter Two

Malfoy threw his bag down in the hallway of number twelve and a half Grimmauld place and looked around with distaste.

"When you offered to have me stay, I was expecting a home, Potter. Not a hovel."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped, already beginning to regret his decision. "If you hate it that much, you've got your own bloody ancestors to thank."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. Behind the arrogant gesture was curiosity, which Harry had to admit he never would have noticed if he wasn't making a particular effort to be nice to Malfoy. He gave a mental sigh and fought down the urge to say something spiteful.

"This house belonged to the Black family," he explained, leading Malfoy up the stairs to the bedrooms. He noticed Malfoy picked up his bag and followed. "Your mother's cousin, Sirius Black, grew up here." Although several years had passed since Sirius' death and it was no longer raw, it still hurt to speak of him.

There was silence behind him. Clearly, Malfoy was unimpressed with the history. He turned around and saw Malfoy looking at him expectantly.

"And you have it because...?" Malfoy said finally.

Harry blinked. He was so used to people tiptoeing around the topic of Sirius with him that he forgot Malfoy probably didn't even know.

"Sirius was my godfather," he said shortly, turning back around and continuing his climb. "He left me the house when he died."

Silence. He didn't bother turning around. When they reached the landing he waved absently down the hall. "Take any room you like," he said. "Except this one. That's mine."

Malfoy still hadn't said anything. Harry looked up at him in exasperation. Malfoy was watching him curiously.

"Didn't know you had any family," he said finally. "Guess you don't, now." He smirked and walked off down the hall, choosing the bedroom furthest from Harry's.

Harry watched him, stunned that someone could be that much of an arse, before kicking open his bedroom door and storming inside, away from Malfoy.

He shut the door behind him and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his robes over his head and threw them on the floor. He had needed to dress properly for the Ministry, but now that he was home he preferred to be able to wear Muggle clothes. He decided that the jeans he had been wearing beneath his robes were clean enough, but the shirt was probably a bit old. Rummaging through his drawers he found a clean t-shirt and headed back into the corridor toward the bathroom and found Malfoy, obviously with the same idea.

He grunted, while Malfoy just grinned.

"Guests first, Potter," he said with a laugh, and walked quickly into the bathroom.

Harry turned around in disgust, regretting for the second time in ten minutes his decision to open his home to Malfoy, and headed downstairs to see if Kreacher was cooking. The kitchen was empty, so he assumed Kreacher must be cleaning elsewhere in the house, and set to making a cup of tea.

He was only halfway through his drink when he heard Malfoy yell down the stairs.

"Potter!"

Harry gritted his teeth and yelled back. "What?"

"Your linen cupboard makes no sense!"

"What the hell are you talking about? There's no linen cupboard in the bathroom!"

"Exactly. How am I meant to get a towel?"

Harry took a slow, deep breath. "No one's up there. Just walk out into the hall. The linen cupboard is opposite the bathroom," he called back.