"Wait!" Harry yelled.

Ron paused, mouth open, wand in the air pointed at Harry.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Harry's voice was a few tones higher with suppressed fear.

"Harry, we've gone through this," Hermione said, trying to soothe him. "I've done this spell on you twice now, and it's fine. Ron needs some practice, too."

"But… why do I always have to be the guinea pig?" Harry said, knowing the words sounded pathetic before they'd gotten all the way out of his mouth.

"You're fine," Hermione said, while Ron grumbled under his breath. "Turn back around and let's try it."

Harry swallowed, slowly turning so his back faced his two friends. He was standing on the opposite end of an abandoned classroom, shirtless. The three were practicing a spell Harry had found in the Half Blood Prince's margin scrawls. When performed correctly, the spell sprouted wings on the back of whomever it was cast on. However, it was a difficult spell to master; even Hermione had struggled with it. He stood with his hands clenched into fists, waiting for Ron's magic to find him.

"Perspicuus pennae!" Ron shouted, and Harry felt a familiar tingling along his shoulder blades. This sensation continued for a few moments, followed by Hermione's murmured, "Oh no." Harry spun towards them, just as Ron gave a great snort of laughter.

"What?" he asked, alarmed. "What happened?"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, still laughing at his best friend. Hermione was biting her lip; she charmed one of the picture frames on the wall into a mirror, and Harry stepped in front of it. He twisted around, neck craned to be able to see his back. He grimaced at the mess: two formless lumps had attached themselves to his shoulder blades, black feathers sticking out in all directions.

"Those aren't wings," he said, almost to himself.

"It is a good look for you, though," Ron said, chuckling. Harry almost clocked him.

Hermione was flipping through the worn potions book. "There's nothing here about the spell done wrong. Oh, I don't know what to do. We shouldn't try the counter-spell when the original hasn't gone according to plan."

Harry screwed up his face in disgust, looking at his mutilated back. He grabbed his shirt off one of the desks, pulling it over his head. It did nothing to hide the lumps.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, looking up from the book.

"Hospital Wing," Harry said, on his way out the door.

"Are you sure? And you can just stop laughing. If you were able to do a simple spell this wouldn't have happened."

"Me? Don't even…"

Harry walked out of earshot, blessing the miraculously empty hallways on his way up three floors to the hospital wing. Hermione had grafted onto this spell beacuse she thought the ability to fly would be immensely valuable for Dumbledore's Army. The three of them decided to try and master the spell before teaching it to any of the others, a task which proved to be more difficult than originally imagined. The disjointed feathers itched fiercely against Harry's skin.

"Mr. Potter. What brings you in today?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

As way of answer, Harry pulled his shirt over his head.

"Oh my," Poppy breathed, examining him. "What happened here?"

"Transfiguration homework gone bad," he answered, sticking to the story he'd developed in the few minutes he'd had on his way up the stairs. She looked at him sharply for a moment, and then requested he lay down on his stomach on one of the beds. Harry complied, while Poppy wove a few test spells above his back.

The door to the Hospital Wing opened. Harry couldn't see who it was from his position on the bed, only heard Poppy say, "Have a seat."

Draco Malfoy came into view. He sat on the bed next to Harry's, fingertips pressed against his temples, back slumped, hair disheveled.

"Another headache?" Madame Pomfrey asked. Draco hummed in consent through clenched teeth. Harry watched as Poppy tipped the blonde's chin up with her fingers, looking into his face. "Have you been sleeping?"

Draco licked his lips, eyes darting to Harry for a split second, saying nothing.

Madame Pomfrey took on a matronly tone. "How much sleep did you get last night, Draco?" He muttered something noncommittal and Poppy crossed her arms.

"Lie down," she demanded. He looked up at her with big eyes, before complying. As she paced away, Draco heaved a sigh, messaging one side of his head with thin fingers.

"What the hell did you do to yourself, Potter?" Draco asked, voice missing most of its usual sneer.

"Just a bit of fun," Harry said, shifting on the bed a little. His eyes were stayed on Draco's face, which was pinched with pain. "Are you ok?" Harry asked, instead of a quippy comeback.

Draco locked glances with him; his eyes were like two grey pieces of ice, hard, unwavering.

Madame Pomfrey came back between their two beds, holding out a goblet to Draco. "Take a nap," she said, while he propped himself up on one elbow.

"I was hoping for something for the pain," he said, sniffing at the liquid.

"I know what you were hoping. Two hours; if you're headache isn't gone when you wake up, then I'll give you something for it." Draco sighed, and gulped down the potion. Wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, he lay back down, blowing his breath out in a sigh. A few moments later, his eyelids fell closed, his breathing deepened, the muscles in his face relaxed. Harry watched him quietly for some minutes, before Poppy came back to his bedside and cast a spell over his back. His shoulder blades warmed for a moment; Harry craned his neck back to see that the malformed growths had disappeared, however feathers were still sticking out every which way.

Madame Pomfrey stood staring down at him, puzzled. She snapped her fingers, and walked away, talking to herself. "There's a potion for feather removal. I'll just have to brew it."

Harry settled back down on his pillow, eyes returning to his sleeping enemy. Draco's body was so thin. Harry slipped off his own bed, spanning the few meters between their beds, and pulled a blanket up over Draco. He sat back on his mattress, crossing his legs.

A stabbing pain shot through his back, and he screamed out an "Ouch!" He turned around to see Madame Pomfrey standing, somewhat sheepishly, holding one long black feather in her hands.

"So, that's not a viable option for getting rid of them?" she asked, shrugging.

"I'd say not," Harry returned, eyes streaming.

"It will take me a little while to brew a potion that will set you back to normal, so sit tight."

"Thanks," Harry said, wiping at his eyes. He turned back, glad his yell had not disturbed the snoozing Slytherin. Glad? Harry shook his head, and lay down. He matched his breathing with the deep breaths of Draco and felt his eyelids growing heavy.

He woke at a touch on his shoulder. "Here we are, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, handing him a goblet a steaming potion. "This should help you molt."

Harry sat up, raising one eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me," he said to himself, taking the potion and downing it in one gulp. It was surprisingly sweet. His back was suddenly a mass of prickling as feathers pushed themselves out of his skin. It felt disgusting and surprisingly satisfactory.

Draco was stirring in the bed beside him. He rubbed at his eyes.

"How's your head, Mr. Malfoy?" Madame Pomfrey asked, still supervising Harry's molting.

"Fine," Draco answered in a small voice. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head, revealing a pale strip of skin above his waistline, before using his hands to smooth back his hair. Harry swallowed. The prickling abated.

"Both of you are free to go," Poppy said, dismissing them. Harry pulled his shirt on, mussing his hair. "You," she said, pointing on finger at Harry, "no more 'transfiguration homework' mistakes." She curled her fingers into quotation marks as she said this. "And you," she turned her finger on Draco, "come see me this evening and I'll give you something to help you sleep." Draco nodded, murmuring a word of thanks, and both sixth years rose to leave.

"There's ten minutes left of Potions," Harry said, checking his watch. "We should probably go down and tell Snape why we missed class."

Draco nodded, and they turned together down the stairs toward the dungeons. Harry was surprised at his silence, but decided not to break it.

They reached the classroom, just as the double period was dismissed. They were buffeted by a wave of Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as he passed.

"Are you ok?" she asked, wide eyed. "I wasn't sure if Ron and I should come with you to the Hospital Wing, and then it was time for class. I took notes for you. Is everything alright? Why were you just walking with Malfoy?"

"I'm good," Harry said, detaching her hand, and following Draco into the now empty classroom. Draco was already at the front of the room with Professor Snape.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, how kind of you to grace us with your presence. I've already taken thirty points from Gryffindor because of your absence."

"Malfoy was gone, too!" Harry spouted before he could contain himself.

"And another ten for your cheek."

Harry fumed, but kept any further comments contained.

"I'm ready for whatever clever excuse you have to give for your absence in my class. Perhaps the humble art of potion brewing is too modest for the Chosen One. Were you, possibly, off fighting dark powers, once again saving the wizarding world single handedly?"

Harry opened his mouth, but Draco spoke first in a soft voice: "We were in the Hospital Wing."

Snape's glance shifted from Harry to his godson, a flash of concern entering his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Draco nodded. "I apologize for our absence. May we make up the lesson?"

Snape looked at Harry before turning back to Draco and saying, "I suppose that will be fine. Sunday night, eight o'clock." Turning to Harry, he added with a sneer, "Do not be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Harry said, curving his lips into a small smile. The boys left the room together. They paused awkwardly outside of the door before parting ways.

"See you tomorrow for Quidditch," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"See you," Draco replied, not making eye contact, before turning down the hall towards the Slytherin common room.

"That was weird," Harry said to no one in particular before taking to the stairs.

A/N: This is not a sequel to In the Bleak Midwinter. I just like this pairing and this year. And wanted something a little bit more light hearted. Thanks for reading!

PS: I know that Snape didn't teach Potions in Harry's sixth year. Humor me, and just go with it.