Hermione broke the couch.
She hadn't meant to, of course, but it was what it was and what it was was that Hermione, 8 months pregnant, was a big unit and that couch was almost as old and she was.
It had taken two cups of herbal tea and all the flattery in the world to stem the unbelievable flow of tears that ensued but when she was finally gone, the couch was still broken.
Harry and Draco stood staring at it with a curious undertone of sadness.
"This is weird..." Harry finally murmured, "It's weird, right?"
Draco paused, "Well, we've had it since we moved in. We christened it that first night."
Harry smirked at the memory, "There was nothing holy about what we did on that couch."
Draco scoffed his agreement.
"We can just repair it." he suggested, flourishing his wand lazily.
Harry thought about it.
"I dunno. Maybe we could do with a new couch?"
Draco sighed, "Oh Merlin, this isn't going to turn into another one of your crusades for furniture that matches the apartment, is it?"
The last time Harry had been in touch with his inner interior decorator, they'd ended up in a hotel for a week while the entire apartment was remodeled.
"Plus I don't think you can sweet talk the landlord into forgiving us again," Draco added.
Harry rolled his eyes, "Firstly, you had nothing but praise for me when you saw the results and secondly... you might be right."
He surveyed the couch one more time, "Still, I'd like a new couch. Maybe one of those reclining ones."
This time, Draco huffed, "But I hate furniture shopping! We spend about three hours in every store, of which there are many, before we 'settle' on a couch that's not even that great, we're just too tired to go on looking. Then we fork out our entire salaries for the year combined for some reject couch that we'll probably end up hating. Then your fat arse friends will come over and snap it in half and we'll be right back to square one!"
Harry begrudgingly ignored the 'fat arse' comment, reasoning that now was not the time to bring up their long standing arguement on friend ettiquette (Draco called it 'Mudblood Handling') when Draco was already in a mood.
"What does money even have to do with it? We could buy all the couches in Britain and still have enough to retire comfortably."
"It's the principle!" Draco complained, "Don't you have any pride? I hate rewarding them for making such terrible furniture, it's incentive for them to do it again."
Harry spluttered awkwardly in his attempt to hold back his laughter. Draco's eyebrow shot up.
Harry coughed, "Y-yeah, fine."
Draco sighed, "Come on, let's just fix this one up and get over it. We've got a lot of memories on this couch, after all."
Draco stiffened as arms slinked around his waist, one hand creeping up his stomach and the other massaging his hip suggestively. Harry's face was level with Draco's shoulder blade so he had to stand on the tip of his toes to let out a breath against Draco's ear. Draco shuddered.
"If we get a new couch," Harry whispered, pausing to take a nip at Draco's ear, "We can make new memories."
"Let's do this."