A/N: sorry it took soo long, my laptop broke and had to get sent in.

Disclaimer: I dont own any of this... JK Rowling does

Chapter Three of The Joining of Souls:

The silence in a flat was deafening. Malfoy refused to talk to Harry, and Harry didn't want to even look at the blonde prat. Malfoy was sitting in an oversized armchair in front of the fireplace, glaring into the flames as if they had been the ones to give him the broken nose and blackened eyes. Bloody boy-who-lived Malfoy thought to himself thinks he can punch a Malfoy. Who does he think he is? He's nothing but a no good mud blood lover.

Harry had gone to explore their new living arrangements. It was a quaint single floor flat with two bathrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen/dining area and a living room. It was actually pretty nice. If only that wanker weren't here. I could get used to this. Harry thought to himself as he went into what seemed to be the master bedroom. Claiming this room as his own he laid down on the bed not bothering to shut the door. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he realized how tired he was. His muscles ached and his eyelids were heavy. He promptly fell asleep.

Draco Malfoy was furious. First he punch's me and then he thinks that he deserves the master bedroom? What the fuck? Malfoy thought to himself when he finally decided to turn in and found Harry fast asleep in the bedroom. A Malfoy deserves nothing but the best, and that includes having the best bedroom. He was too tired to deal with Harry about the sleeping arrangements, so he went to the bedroom right across the hallway, and went to bed himself, but not for long. A few hours after Malfoy went to sleep, soft whimpers of pain awoke him. He shot out of bed, thinking that they had been attacked but found that the sounds were coming from a sleeping Harry. Malfoy padded over to Harry's room.

"Oi, Potter, will you shut up?", Draco said trying to rouse the boy out of his apparent nightmare. It had no effect what's-so-ever. Soon Harry's whimpers turned in to words.

"No. Uncle Stop. Don't. NO!'' The last word was shouted with so mush sorrow and pain that Malfoy ran to Harry's bedside and started to vicously shake Harry's shoulder.

"Potter! Get up! POTTER!''

Finally, Harry slowly opened his vilent green eyes.

"Malfoy? What are you doing in my room?" Harry asked, confused.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me? What was your Uncle doing to you in that dream? I'm surprised half of London didn't show up."

Harry immediately froze up. Does Malfoy suspect anything? Was I talking in my sleep? Harry thought to himself frantically.

"I have know idea what you are talking about. You must be off your bloody rocker." Harry said with as much cofidence as he could muster, trying to hide the anxiety that was slowly building inside of him.

"Does this ring any bells? Stop Uncle….Stop?" Draco asked, his well known sneer making an appearance.

"Shut up. Even if I did say that, why would you care? And besides, I don't need to tell you anything."

"I don't care, I would just like to know why the hell I got woken up in the middle of the night!"

"Well I don't plan on telling you anything, so would you kindly leave the master bedroom and go back to your small common bedroom?" Harry told Malfoy, smiling sweetly.

Malfoy stormed out of the room. Harry sat in his bed a moment laughing to himself, he knew that the sleeping arrangements had bothered his rival. His laughter didn't last long though as the memories of his dream came flooding back to him. He would never get back to sleep that night. But when do I ever get a whole nights sleep? Harry though to himself as he went into the living room and gazed at the burning embers in the fireplace. When do I ever?