Percy's sheets were crisp, blue, and neat as a pin.

 Or at least, they had been, when he left for work.

 "Draco!" he yelled (it wasn't yelling so much, that was unbecoming, he was merely speaking forcefully). "Why are my sheets green! And slippery!"

 "Stop yelling," Draco moaned, trudging into Percy's doorway, holding his head. He still hadn't quite managed to get dressed yet, which Percy was opening his mouth to comment helpfully on, when Draco's robe sleeve slipped a little more down his arm, revealing the still-healing tattoo. Percy swallowed the words.

 "What's this stuff on my bed where my sheets used to be?" he inquired, tartly but not as loud.

 "It's silk, you uncultured swine," he groused, massaging his temples. "And you should be glad it's the Emerald, because the other in color this season seems to be Phoenix Flame Orange, inexplicably. It's to say, you know, thanks, or whatever," Draco added grudgingly when Percy continued to stare at him.

 "Er, well..." Percy felt unbalanced, which he hated, as he glanced between the sheets and Draco, "...thank you?"

 "Let's never speak of it again," Draco grunted, and shuffled back out of the room, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes.

  Percy eyed the bed, then reached out and ran fingertips over the silk. It was smooth, and soft, and cool...Percy sat gingerly on the edge of the bed to investigate further. It was nice, Percy thought as he bunched some of the sheets up under his hands, and Percy couldn't resist giving a little bounce to test it all out...

  ...then slipped right off the slick fabric and hit the floor with a loud CRACK that had definately been his tailbone.

  "Weasley!" Draco shouted from the kitchen. "Get out here and subdue your fucking fern, it's trying to take my coffee!"