Disclaimers: Everyone here belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Happy birthday, Rosa!

by Lesa Soja

"Can you see anything yet?" Cold is seeping from the tunnel floor into Harry's stomach. In the dim wand light, he sees Malfoy's shoulders slump.

"No, Potter. And stop asking, or I won't tell you when I do."

"I was just hoping we'd get out of here soon."

"If it wasn't for your clumsiness, we wouldn't be down here."

Harry bites his lip.

"Look -" more mildly, "let's just keep going, all right?"

"All right," Harry says. Malfoy pushes up on his elbows and inches forward again. His Quidditch breeches are streaked with mud. Harry is not looking at his arse.