Word Count: 674
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's notes: (1) Beta-ed by dysonrules *adores*
(2) X-posted to harrydraco, hp_creatures and hp_animagus
(3) Updates will be suspended until my return from NYC on Monday, May 12
Summary: Harry has agreed to help Draco again but at what cost?
Start at the beginning - Meow
Sequel to Renegotiating
Harry kicked up clods of dirt as he raced full tilt down the hill. He'd been running non-stop for almost an hour now and his breath created steam in the midmorning air as he panted heavily from exertion. When he got to the bottom of the hill, he searched frantically through the weeds. Finally, he found what he was looking for and turned around to tear back up the grassy slope.
The green armchair looked more than a little out of place in the middle of the large field but Harry didn't mind. He dropped his prize at the feet of the chair's occupant and waited expectantly.
Malfoy peered around his book, looked at Harry, looked at the ground, and looked back at Harry again. With a sigh he leaned down and retrieved the stick. "The Boy Who Lived To Play Fetch, Merlin this is ridiculous."
Harry barked in a 'shut up and throw it already' kind of way that Malfoy apparently interpreted correctly because, without further complaint, he cocked his arm back and flung the stick in a high, wide arc. Harry, currently in his Animagus form of a large black dog, took off like a shot across the expansive meadow the Room of Requirement had provided for his playtime.
As he ran, paws pounding the ground, ears flapping in the wind, Harry considered his current situation. He knew that when Malfoy had asked him to continue helping with his Animagus training Harry could have made the Slytherin do pretty much anything he wanted as payment. A number of options crossed Harry's mind, everything from a general request like 'leave me and my friends alone for the rest of school', to something humiliating 'you have to wear a Gryffindor girl's uniform to meals for a week', to the impossible 'I'll only help you if you swear to never join Voldemort'.
In the end, Harry went for mundane. Yes, it was silly to ask Draco to play fetch with him but no one else would (Hermione always told him he should be studying and Ron lost interest quickly) and the exchange seemed fair. Harry got to practice using his Animagus form and Malfoy got to do the same.
A chuckle escaped his lips, sounding raspy and strange coming through a dog's vocal cords, as he remembered the first time the Slytherin saw Harry's Animagus form. Malfoy had been late to their meeting so, out of boredom, Harry had transformed and was lounging by a convenient fireplace when the door to the Room of Requirement opened. The blond took two steps into the room, spotted Harry, jumped up in a chair and hissed loudly. He hadn't even been in his cat form at the time. So much for not acting like the animal he becomes, Harry thought with a doggy grin.
Finally tiring of his game, he loped over to where Malfoy sat and barked once to get his attention. The other boy glanced around for the stick before looking at Harry. "Finally done?"
Harry barked again.
"Good. Now turn back so you can shower and we can work on my Animagus practice."
Harry was about to comply when a wicked thought entered his head. With a yip and a pounce he flung both of his muddy front paws into Malfoy's lap.
The Slytherin shouted and tried to throw him off. "Argh! POTTER! What have I told you about jumping on me? Bad dog!" He bopped Harry on the snout with his book.
The Gryffindor immediately transformed back into himself. "Ow! Malfoy! What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his injured nose.
"It was for putting your dirty paws on my clean robes, you slathering beast. Now get off of me!" Malfoy huffed in annoyance.
Harry, realizing that his hands were still on the blond's legs, scrambled up quickly. "I'll, um... I'll just get my shower then." The Room morphed into a casual sitting room with an attached bath.
"You do that," the other boy snarled, casting several hasty cleaning charms on his soiled garments.
Next: That Thing You Do