"Did you see their wrists? They have matching tattoos! They're totally in love!" Madeline Morgan exclaimed from her seat alongside Terry and Issac during Transfiguration one morning.

"What's a tattoo?" Terry asked, and Isaac looked to the girl in query as well. She sighed, forgetting the both of them had come from Pureblood families.

"Really? There's no tattoos in the Wizarding World?" She asked, eyes wide. The boys shook their heads, and she sighed. "They're permanent markings you put into your skin with a needle and ink. They're quite popular, so I'm surprised you've never seen one."

"Who would inject ink into their skin? Why would Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy do that? It's gotta be painful!" Terry exclaimed, wincing and rubbing his wrists as an imaginary pain lingered there.

"I heard Professor Potter grew up with Muggles. He is a Half-blood after all, so perhaps he made Professor Malfoy get one. Do you think they've got piercings?" Maddy asked, eyes wide.

"If they had piercings, we would've seen them Mads." Isaac stated, and she shrugged in agreement.

"Regardless, we have to figure out if they're together. For real, or not. Did you notice they sat together at breakfast this morning, and for the past week?"

"No offense, but unlike you, we don't focus on our professors twenty-four seven. We focus on the mountains of homework they provide us with." Isaac claimed, gesturing to the textbook lied out before him.

"I haven't even started my essay for Herbology yet." Terry admitted, ignoring the incredulous look from Isaac. "I'll get it done for tomorrow!"

Professor McGonagall walked towards the trio's table, and gave them a stern look. They silenced themselves immediately, and got to work on trying to transform their rodents into drinking goblets. Once she turned away, Maddy glanced back at the boys with a smirk. Even if they wouldn't help her, she would get to the bottom of this.

~△⃒⃘~

"Could you please pass me the potatoes?" Harry asked Malfoy at supper that evening, and the blond stared at him in bewilderment. They hadn't spoken in almost a week, spite living in the same quarters, and Draco would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly disappointed that their first words revolved around food.

Regardless, he picked up the bowl and passed it to Harry, who scooped a helping onto his plate, before offering it to Hagrid. The burly man took it, and Harry loaded a couple chicken drumsticks on his plate, as well as some vegetables. As he took a bite, he felt eyes on him, and turned to see the blond watching him. He wiped the grease that dripped down his chin, and rose an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He asked, and the blond's cheeks tinted a light pink.

"You're talking to me." The Slytherin eventually muttered, and Harry frowned in uncertainty.

"Uh, yeah?"

"We haven't spoken in days. But um, who's keeping track?" Draco claimed, laughing nervously and scooping a bit of vegetables onto his plate. He took a sip of water and wished the tension would leave his body.

Obviously you, Harry wanted to say, but instead took a long sip of his drink. He spooned a bit of food into his mouth, chewed, and gazed around the Great Hall, meeting the eyes of the new Gryffindor trio staring at the two professors. He sent them a stern look, and then turned to face the blond.

"Haven't had anything to say. Unlike you, I've actually been planning the start of the Dueling Club again." He stated, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Draco watched his actions, biting his lip and then turned to face straight ahead. The Slytherins were staring at him, waiting to see what his next move would be, and he sighed, placing his head in his hands. The Slytherin House had begun to question the professor, and he knew that his reputation was quickly crumbling.

"I would help, but I can clearly remember you telling me to bugger off when I asked where the location should be for the club."

Harry turned to him, a frown etched onto his tan face.

"That's because your question was idiotic! It'll be in the Great Hall, just like before. Just like every major event is." He explained, pulling a scroll from his robes and began to write furiously with a quill he'd summoned.

"Well, sorry not everyone can be as perfect as you." The blond snapped, crossing his arms indignantly.

"Malfoy, we can't start this up again. It's- it could get us fired."

"Yeah, like McGonagall would ever fire you. You're her prized pupil. She loves you." The sarcasm that dripped from Draco's tongue met dangerous levels, and Harry found himself stretching out his legs and breathing heavily from his nose in an attempt to not spit at the blond.

"She could love you too, if you just gave her a chance. If you gave anyone a chance for that matter." The messy-haired wizard claimed, and as the words sunk in, students began leaving the Great Hall towards their dormitories, and the famous wizard fled into their mix. Draco waited for a few moments, waiting for everyone to evacuate, and found that only he and the Headmistress herself remained.

"Something troubling you, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked, eyebrow quirked, and the blond frowned, brushing past her childishly.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Headmistress." His robes flew behind him dramatically, as he'd mastered the same technique from his godfather when it came to dramatic exits. He seemed to float down the hallway, and came to a stop at the faux wall that hid his and Potter's living quarters. He muttered the password, and stepped inside as the stone shifted.

Harry sat in front of the fireplace, a quill between his teeth as he hunched over a pile of scrolls. He drummed his fingers against his knee as he graded the yellowish parchment, and Draco couldn't help but notice the way his robes had been discarded so casually, leaving him in a pair of dark trousers, and a grayish vest over a white dress shirt. His tie was Gryffindor colors, and Draco rolled his eyes and walked past him, making his way to the sleeping quarters.

~△⃒⃘~

Once Draco had finished up in the shower later that night, he walked back through the sitting area and found that his temporary roommate had fallen asleep,  hunched over various scrolls, looking very uncomfortable. He frowned, not wanting to leave him like that, but didn't have a clue as to how light a sleeper the Gryffindor alumni was. He'd never had reason to mess with the sleeping figure like this until now.

So, he carefully knelt in front of him and picked up each piece of parchment individually, quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Once he'd cleared the space, he gently applied pressure to the messy-haired wizard's shoulder blades, pushing him onto his back. He placed the muscular legs of the man onto the couch, and then huffed a breath once he'd succeeded in not waking him up. To finish off, he draped his discarded cloak over his body, as to be sure he didn't get cold, and enchanted the fire to flicker lowly.

Then, he made his way towards the sleeping quarters and crawled into his bed, facing away from the doors, and fell into an easy slumber. Tonight, Harry Potter would not be filling the room with his insufferable snores.