Harry pushed it open, and stepped into a room that held little more than elaborate twin beds on opposite walls, an antique mahogany wardrobe, and two student trunks. Through an open door he could make out the fuzzy shape of a small but functional bathroom.
"Pitiful, I know," Draco lamented. "Honestly, I've seen cupboards larger than this."
Harry gave him a sharp look, wondering if that was some sort of dig, but Draco appeared to be oblivious, rattling on, "And now I have to share it, too."
Harry thought the room would be splendid if not for that aspect. "Which bed is yours?"
Draco sighed and murmured, "Oh, I could hardly care. Take your pick, Potter."
"I'll pick the one that you haven't been sleeping in, thank you. And so?"
"I transfigured my nice comfortable double bed into separate ones this morning, when Severus said he'd be bringing you down," Draco airily announced.
"You transfigured--" Harry cut himself off. So Malfoy was good at Transfiguration, at all his subjects, actually. Well, he wasn't as good as Hermione. That was worth something.
"Yes. Do you like the colors?" Draco put in. To Harry's ears he sounded snide, as well he might. The bedcovers were, predictably, silver and green. So were the oval rugs lying parallel to each bed, and the curtains half pulled back around each bed.
Really, Harry thought it would be immature to demand his side be made over into Gryffindor colors. He wasn't even sure what Draco was trying to prove. "They're lovely," he said, picking the nearest bed and dropping down onto it. The room sort of spun a bit as he relaxed, and only then did Harry realize how tired he was getting. "You should look into a career in interior design."
"Auror," Draco corrected.
"Oh sure, Draco Malfoy as an Auror," Harry sneered. "Like they'd ever trust you."
"Potter," Draco said, his voice suddenly serious, "Someday, even you will trust me."
"I trust you right now!" Harry shouted. "I trust you to run home the moment you learn anything your father's lord and master might find useful!"
"Are you stupid?" Draco scathed. "I can't go home!"
"Yeah, well I can't go home either, can I?" Harry retorted. "Your father ordered my house crushed to smithereens!"
"Oh, don't be a git, Potter," Draco retorted right back. "Hogwarts is your home. You were treated worse than shite in that house. Word gets around."
"Gets around Death Eaters, you mean!"
"Yeah, well I'd have figured out something was up anyway, wouldn't I, from that bizarre letter? You can't possibly give a flip about your cousin, writing him crap like Every time you smell a steak, for the rest of your life, you'll think of your father... what were you trying to do, make him burst out crying? You may be the hero of the age and all that, but you're pretty twisted, if you ask me!"
Harry swallowed, and gestured rather incoherently, and something about all that must have given the game away, for Draco suddenly executed a sweeping bow, and drawled, "Oh, why thank you. I should have realized at the time that you had no intention whatsoever of owling that letter. I'm honored that you went to such great effort to insult me."
When Draco stepped forward, Harry darkly wondered what Snape would have to say if his wild magic came lashing forth and did some real damage to his private quarters.
Draco stopped moving, maybe at the look in his eyes; Harry wasn't sure. "Well, you look done in," he said, his voice all at once perfectly polite and composed. "I have some studying to do, so I'll leave you be. Severus will be gone soon, he's got a class about to start, I think, but if you need anything, you can just let me know."
Yeah, right.
Harry was tired enough that he didn't say it, though. Shrugging off his cloak, he let it fall to the floor as he lay down on his side and pulled the pillow firmly beneath his cheek. He watched listlessly as Draco shook his head and levitated the cloak so that it would hang on a bedpost. Then the Slytherin boy left, closing the door behind him, but not all the way. Harry was beyond caring. He shut his eyes and went to sleep.
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The sound of a heavy door thudding closed woke him from his nap. Harry stretched a bit, opening his eyes to see if Draco had come back in, but the whole world had gone not-quite-black, a circumstance that was depressingly familiar.
A moment later, he realized that the loud noise must have been Snape returning; both his voice and Draco's emanated from outside his room. Relieved to know Draco wasn't in there watching him while he couldn't see, Harry sat up on his bed and smoothed his hair down.
"How is Harry?" He heard Snape's deep voice question.
"Sleeping," Draco said.
"Ah," Snape replied.
Harry heard the scraping noise of a chair being pulled out, and realized that the two of them must be back in the dining alcove. It was a bit odd, how acute his hearing had gotten. Harry wondered if it would return to normal when his sight came completely back.
For a few minutes he only heard occasional noises like the clink of a teacup on a saucer. Then Draco was commenting, "Potter seemed surprised to hear I'd sent Pansy to St. Mungo's." When Snape didn't reply, the boy pressed, "Why didn't you tell him?"
"I hardly think it benefits his current state of mind to know in detail just how hazardous your company can be."
"Well she did try to kill me, Severus. And right under your nose, too. You'd think allowances could be made. I'm not the one who should have been punished."
Something slammed closed. Book, maybe. "We have only your vague hunch that she was to blame for the snake."
"Oh, she's to blame," Draco tightly insisted, sounding like he was talking through his teeth. "Pansy knows I hate snakes."
A Slytherin who hated snakes? Harry was irrationally tempted to laugh, but didn't want to admit he was awake. A little niggling conscience told him that eavesdropping was really wrong, on a level with something Malfoy might do, but the practical part of his mind won out. How was he going to figure out Draco's schemes if he didn't take any advantage he could get?
"Why did you throw a snake at Potter in that duel, if you hate them so much?" Snape asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"Well, if I hated them, I thought a Gryffindor would have to detest them ten times as much. But no," Draco sneered. "He has to go and be a Parselmouth and get on just fine with snakes!"
"That did rather eclipse your marvelous Serpensortia," Snape murmured, which apparently made Draco see red.
"It was marvelous!" he declared. "I'd like to know what other second-year, or even fourth-year for that matter, could cast that spell. But nobody even noticed that, oh no, not after Potter there decided he'd just chit-chat with the snake and become the talk of Hogwarts for months on end!"
"Hmm," Severus merely returned.
"At any rate, it was Pansy," Draco went back to insisting. "I know you don't know that just on my say-so, but all you have to do is drop a bit of Veritaserum on her tongue and that will be that!"
"Veritaserum is illegal."
"Didn't stop you from using it on me," Draco sneered.
"Your story was more improbable than hers," Snape firmly answered. "That's enough about Miss Parkinson."
Apparently, it wasn't enough for Draco. "Pansy should not be back here, flouncing around to classes again! It's going to make it more difficult for me to influence Slytherin."