We Open at the Close (Drarry)

Trouble with Towels

 Harry was underwater, swimming through the dark, murky waters of the Black Lake. It was the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, and he was searching for something. Then he heard it, that beautiful, ethereal sound of the merpeople singing. They sounded like they were far away, but Harry wanted to get closer - he wanted to be able to hear the hypnotising voices more clearly. As Harry swam closer their voices swelled and Harry sighed, letting the music caress his skin. He felt like he was floating up and far away.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he instinctively reached for his wand under his pillow, then relaxed, realising he was only in his bed. He sat up suddenly because he could still hear the singing— was he still dreaming? He looked around and saw that he was alone in bed. Maybe last night had been a dream, too. The sound was drifting into the bedroom and Harry smiled. Draco was still here. Harry rolled over and felt the space next to him, still warm from where Draco had lain. Harry didn't want to leave his bed for fear of losing the memories of what had happened the night before. He was half-afraid he was still asleep but he climbed out of bed, padded out of the bedroom and peeked into the bathroom. Now he was sure he was in a waking dream. There was Draco in the shower, singing heartily along with the wireless radio, swaying his lithe hips and rubbing suds all over his body. A warm, pleasant feeling settled in the pit of Harry's stomach at the sight. He watched a few more moments before heading down to the kitchen to make breakfast.

The fireplace erupted in green flames and Hermione stepped into the living room of Grimmauld Place, nearly tripping over an empty bottle of beer as she entered.

"Bugger," she hissed.

She scanned the living room with growing bemusement at the state of disarray it had been left in. Beer bottles and leftover Chinese food littered the floor and coffee table, a pile of records lay discarded on the couch, and a dangerously large pile of dirty washing lay abandoned on one of the armchairs. Hermione stepped past the mess and headed for the kitchen and saw Harry stooped over the stove, humming happily as he cooked breakfast.

"Morning," she said brightly.

Harry spun around, looking shocked. "Hermione! What are you doing here?"

"I need to have a little chat with you about something. I was hoping to do it last night, but I didn't want to interrupt your little soirée with Malfoy. By the state the living room's in it looks like you had a good night. Ron's heading over, too, but you know what it's like trying to drag him out of bed in the morning." She spotted two steaming cups of tea on the kitchen counter and grabbed them. "Come on, we'll go chat in the living room while we wait for Ron."

"Hermione, could we do this later?" asked Harry hurriedly. "This isn't a good time."

Hermione frowned at him. "Harry, is everything alright? You look pale."

"I—" Harry began, then was cut off by Draco shouting.

"For Christ's sake, Harry, don't you have a house elf to do your washing? There's not a single clean towels in this house!"

Draco strode into the kitchen, naked and ringing wet. His eyes widened with horror when he spotted Hermione. Hermione reacted to Draco's sudden appearance by screaming and throwing the cups of tea in his direction. Draco yelped and doubled over in pain, scalding tea all down his front. He staggered backwards but his wet feet slipped on the stone floor and he fell hard onto his side.

"Draco! Are you alright?" Harry rushed to his side to help him up.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Draco shouted at Hermione.

"What are you doing here?" squealed Hermione shielding her eyes. "And why are you naked?"

"Generally people don't shower with their clothes on! Jesus, why did you throw tea at me?" he groaned. "Oh god, it hurts!"