Harry arched his brow curiously at Draco as the lamb started to eat the truncate of grass from the basket. "Oh, really?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And how exactly did you come to this decision?"

Draco smiled. "Well, whether or not you want competition, Harry," he said huskily. "We have found something it's useful for."

"Useful?" Harry snorted. "It's useful, you can shear it to make yarn for clothes from its wool. Molly could make you a sweater," he said in a singsong voice, and cackled when Draco shuddered.

"No, Harry," Draco said. "A chicken is useful. It lays eggs, and I could have eggs for breakfast. That is useful."

Harry sighed. "Oh, come on, Dragon," he said, his voice dripping with feinted aggravation. "Molly could make you a sweater with a dragon on it. I have loads."

"Yeah, I noticed," said Draco, and rolled his eyes.

"So," Harry said, sitting up. "What are you going to name her?"

"Her?" Draco asked, arching his brow in surprise.

"Of course," Harry said, grinning. "I don't like competition."

Draco laughed. "Well," he said softly. "How about Baby?"

"Sounds good," Harry said. "Maybe next year, I'll get you that chicken."