“I hate the Dursleys,” Harry offered up, twiddling his thumbs.

Harry Potter was sitting on a chair, his feet supported by a footstool. Severus Snape was lying on the wood paneled floor, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

“I hate the color orange,” Severus admitted blandly.

Harry's eyebrows moved, but he was too distracted by his thumbs to really take in the statement. They had been stuck in the room for over two days and nights. It was some kind of touchy-feely exercise that the Headmaster had forced upon them. Seventy-two hours locked in a room together in order to make them get to know each other a little better. They had been reduced to sharing meaningless trivia about themselves with each other.

“I really can't whistle," Harry said with a heavy sigh.

Severus lifted an arm and closed one hand into a fist, moving his thumb until it obstructed the view of the ceiling over his left eye. He flicked his thumb over and smiled at the gaudy yellow ceiling paint, then moved it back. He was going to die of boredom with Harry Potter as the only witness.

“I stapled the Headmaster's beard to his desk in fifth year,” Severus grinned at the memory.

Harry chuckled. “Once in a while, I try to turn my bed into a flying carpet. Hermione knows the spell.”

Neither was really listening to the other. It was an exchange of comforting sound, that was all. They had grown used to each other's company and that was enough to keep them satisfied until they were released from the room.

“I had a pet gerbil named Hector Gullible,” Severus sighed. “I really miss him, sometimes.”

They continued on into the night. For a few hours there was no Voldemort and no war... only two people sharing their thoughts, memories, and voices.