Warnings: male / male, slight OOCness, stupidity, serious! Draco, innocent! Harry, uncensored words

Disclaimer: Pfft, I can only wish.

Author's Notes: Ah, there was an error within the AVPM quotes last time, as MeIzzyBambi27 pointed out. Thanks for doing so! Annnd a big thanks to those who continued to stick with me and reviewed. 11 reviews from chapter 2- you guys really made me happy! Now, hopefully I can make you happy / a bit more happier with this chapter ~

The moment Harry strolled into the prefects' bathroom after muttering creme filler to the door, he was greeted with the smell of vanilla and an irritated Malfoy. "You're late." Although Malfoy was probably annoyed, his expression read emotionless.

Harry stepped away from the door with a sigh. "I had to get away from Ron." He watched as the white-blond's face twisted into an expression of dislike, but made no comment on it. "So, what are we doing today? I have Quidditch practice soon, and I want to get this over with."

Malfoy, who was seated on the edge of the bathtub, stood up and removed his Slytherin robes from his body. After discarding it, he gazed at Harry, who was still trying to function what he just saw. "Lesson B: Bathing, Bickering, and Bed," he answered, giving Harry a faint nod. "Strip."

Harry blinked and stared. He could've sworn that Malfoy just told him to strip. Maybe he heard wrong. But Malfoy was staring right back at him, as if expecting him to strip.

"I don't have all day, Potter."


"Strip. It's a simple command."

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot. "What? No!"

Malfoy quirked a brow ever so slightly. "So, you're willing to take a bath in your clothes? You can leave your . . . boxers, or whatever you're wearing underneath that, on if you want. Besides, there's probably nothing to see," Malfoy tsked.

At this point, Harry really did flush a few shades of red from embarrassment. When he didn't answer, Malfoy spoke up again. "If it makes you more comfortable, I can take off my-"

"No!" Harry cut in quickly, then lowered the volume of his voice, "I mean. You don't need to. Keep your clothes on." He could have sworn he saw a flash of amusement flicker across the blond's gray eyes after those words.

Nonetheless, Harry took off his robe and peeled his trousers and shirt off before quickly stepping into the bubble bath. Immediately after that, his eyes resumed sight at Malfoy. To his surprise, Malfoy wasn't snickering or laughing. Rather, he faced the wall as he undid his tie and unbuttoned his white long-sleeved shirt. And Harry couldn't help but stare. After all, it wasn't something he saw everyday.

When the white button up slid off of Malfoy's back, Harry couldn't help but admire how smooth and pale Malfoy's back was. He knew it was awkward to be looking at Malfoy in such admiration, but the skin was just so smooth. It was like a girl's skin.

A few moments after watching Malfoy fold his clothes and put them aside from water's harm, Harry turned back and looked at the mermaid portrait. The mermaid batted her eyelids at him before smoothing down her hair. Though, her attention soon drew away from him. Likewise, Harry's attention was no longer focused on the mermaid either. Malfoy had came up and stood behind him. Harry knew this because the moment he felt that someone was standing near, his body tensed on instinct.

"The temperature of the water should fall between 36.5 to 38 degrees*," Malfoy began in a calm tone. As he said this, he dipped his hand into the bubble bath.

Harry found himself holding his breath as Malfoy's hand stayed under the water for a bit before he drew it out.

"After your body adapts to the temperature, you need to get your hair wet and washed." Without warning, Harry's head was forced underwater. Because it came without a warning, he started to panic. He flailed out his arms and grabbed hold of the hand that pushed his head down. Luckily, the hand that held his head down pulled him back up for oxygen.

Harry took big amounts of breath before wiping the water from his eyes. "You're bloody mad!" he hissed. "At least give me a fair warning before you dunk me, Malfoy."

There was an enchanted sound of a chuckle behind him. "I gave you a warning."

"You did not!" Harry argued back, brushing the wet locks out of his eyes.

"Bickering is the second part of this lesson. Now, for washing your hair, you want to start with the shampoo."

A medium sized, cream-colored shampoo was put in front of his face. Harry made a grab at the bottle. "You don't want to put too much, just enough to put bubbles in your hair," Malfoy continued. Harry opened the bottle and sniffed it. Vanilla. It smelled like Malfoy. Shrugging it off, Harry squeezed out the shampoo before putting it in his hair and rubbing it around. This apparently did not satisfy Malfoy.

"You're doing it wrong."

"Well, then, what am I supposed to do?" Harry asked irritably.

There was a sigh before he felt his hands being knocked off his head. A pair of new hands now danced in his hair. To much of Harry's dislike of the person, he actually enjoyed Malfoy's fingers scraping his scalp lightly. It was like a massage to the head, which relaxed his tensed body. So when Malfoy retracted his fingers, Harry pouted slightly.

"Hold your breath."

Harry was about to ask why, but quickly picked up the reason the second he felt a hand on the back of his head. Moments after his head was submerged in the water and the hands of the Slytherin Prince tangled among his locks to wash the soap out, Harry was pulled out smelling of vanilla.

"Next. You apply the condition to make your hair soft and shiny." This time, Malfoy didn't give him the bottle. Rather, he just put the faintly scented conditioner throughout his hair. "You leave it on for a minute or two," he murmured at one point. Once Malfoy's fingers drew away, Harry looked up at the other.

Malfoy's lips were pressed into a thin line as he searched for what appeared like body soap. Once located, he returned Harry's gaze. For that second, neither of them looked away or move. Their eyes simply locked. Harry was sure he saw an unknown emotion flicker across Malfoy's eyes, but had glanced away before he could assure himself of what it was.

"With washing your body, you want to rub this soap in a circular motion." As these words were said, Harry felt Malfoy rub the front side of his shoulder with the bar of soap. Many times, he would feel the occasional brush of Malfoy's finger against his skin. And every passing time that he did feel that, Harry began to feel awkward.

Not the good type of awkward either. The conversation yesterday had returned to the Golden Boy's thoughts. Malfoy liked blokes. And he was a bloke. What if? Of course, Harry didn't think that the Ice Prince would have a fancy in him ( they were enemies, after all ), but it still made the situation weird.

Luckily, Malfoy gave him the bar of soap a few seconds later. Harry washed himself in silence and continued to keep his mouth shut when Malfoy instructed him to rinse the conditioner from his hair.

When it was time to get out of the bath ( thank Merlin ), Malfoy had walked over to the sink and washed his hands to allow Harry privacy, but not before leaving a spoken note to dab his skin dry and then applying lotion. Harry was ushering to get into his clothes, so he dabbed and wiped his body dry. And then he realized that his boxers were wet. But thankfully, he was a wizard.

After fitting himself back into the clothes, Harry looked around for Malfoy. Malfoy was finished dressing and was now looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Harry cleared his throat. The blond-haired male snapped away from his thoughts and looked back at Harry. "Follow me," he instructed before whisking out of the Prefects' bath.

On the way to the seventh floor, Harry considered just turning around and making a run for it, but the lesson wasn't over yet. If he had done what he wanted, he was sure that Dumbledore would frown down on his decision. So he kept his place.

In the Room of Requirements, Harry found himself in the same sort of room like yesterday. When Malfoy sunk himself into the armchair and waited for Harry to sit, the brunette hesitated, but sat down nonetheless.

"Bickering, Potter," the Slytherin prefect began, "is arguing." A faint smirk tinted the corner of Malfoy's mouth. "Your taste in friends is horrible."

Harry's brow furrowed. "My friends help me. Your friends are only friends with you because you're rich."

"Right," Malfoy snorted. "And your friends aren't friends with you because you're the Chosen One?"

"Hermione and Ron are not like that! They don't care who I am."

"Careful, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Don't show your anger through emotions. Put it through words." The blond leaned back in his armchair. "I'm sure they wouldn't befriend you if you were in Slytherin."

"Why would I be in Slytherin?" Harry scowled.

"I was saying if. Not that you should be in Slytherin, considering that you are this of an annoyance to me already."

"Likewise, Malfoy."

Malfoy leaned forward, a frown expressed on his lips. "I would never be in Gryffindor. It's a pathetic house with stubborn members."

"Slytherins are equally stubborn. And at least we have courage. Your lot just fret and flee."

This seemed to amuse Malfoy. He chuckled lightly before leaning back into his chair. "But we are cunning."

"That, I agree with." Harry paused briefly to come up with another response. "But you're not cunning."

"And you would know?"

"Actually, yes, you are cunning. You use your father's rank to gain your friends."

The amusement was cleared off of Malfoy's face the moment he had mentioned his father. Harry, noticing the change of expression, wanted to take it back, but the deal was already sealed.

"At least I have a father that cares."

"I'm sure your father would give you away to Volde-"

Malfoy stood up abruptly, making Harry's words die in his mouth, and stepped over to where Harry sat. His eyes flashed of anger as he drew out his wand and threatened the Golden Boy with it. Harry stared up at his enemy. "You're not going to curse me," he said carefully.

"I can," the white-blond male responded in a whisper. "Apologize."

Harry flinched when he felt the tip of Malfoy's wand touch his throat. "Okay, alright. Malfoy, I'm sorry. You just said not to express your anger through emotions."

Malfoy, realizing his mistake, jerked his wand back and tucked it away. The anger slowly slid away from his eyes as he gazed down at the sitting brunette. "I apologize," he sneered faintly through his teeth. Before Harry could respond to the apology, Malfoy continued. "Moving onto bedding."

Harry watched as the Slytherin Prince waved for the room to dissolve into a bedroom. After taking his place next to the bed, Malfoy gazed in his direction and gestured him over with a quirk of the brow. Once Harry warily took the space next to the taller male, he was told to get into the bed. Of course, Harry eyed the Slytherin suspiciously, but ended up following the simple instructions.

"Always sleep in the centre with the blanket drawn up to your shoulders. Whatever you do, Potter, do not curl up into a ball. Your back will hurt in the morning."

Harry blinked up at Malfoy, who looked completely serious as he explained this. It was near impossible that Malfoy was even agreeing to teach Harry of his lifestyle because of Dumbledore's simple request. Nevertheless, Malfoy also didn't hex him when he mentioned his father. This thought made Harry cringe at past memories. He was glad that he didn't get hexed, but like the feeling before, it was awkward. It wasn't like Malfoy. Especially when Malfoy apologized- it was as if Malfoy was doing this willingly and with maturity. Harry knew he would never admit it out loud, but somewhere within him, he feared Malfoy's mature and less angered side. It felt as if Malfoy overpowered him. The corner of Harry's mouth curved into a frown as he zoomed back into what the Slytherin was now saying.

"Always sleep with the curtains closed. And wake up before eight each morning. Understand?"

Harry nodded faintly and glanced away from the other.

"Any questions?"

Harry shook his head.

"Are you mute, Potter? Talk to me."

The brunette's sights snapped back to the Slytherin prefect. "No questions," he answered stiffly. Malfoy stared at him for longer than the needed time, then gave a simple nod. "Alright. Tomorrow, when everyone is out for breakfast, lock the doors." Harry opened his mouth to ask why, but once again, Malfoy cut him off. "Don't ask questions. Just do it." Harry closed his mouth. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow, Potter." Without further words, Malfoy turned and was off.

Harry heaved a sigh as he threw the covers off the bed and got out.

Malfoy was acting weird. He needed to approach Hermione about this. Maybe she had some sort of logic for his behavior. Surely, it couldn't be because he grew mature over the summer. Then again, it was their sixth year. By now, the constant bicker between them had ceased to once every other day rather than every day.

Shaking his head from thinking too much, Harry exited the Room of Requirements.

* about 98 to 100.4 degrees fahrenheit.

AN: Whoa. This chapter turned out longer than I expected, but I guess that's a good thing for you guys. Reviews are loved! (: