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Hogwarts Express	By : Closet Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27084 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Track Change

Track Gamma

            Harry Potter woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and clenching his fists in his blankets,
breathing heavily.

            “You okay, Harry?”

            Harry bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded quickly.

            “You sure?” the other asked, and Harry squeezed his eyes tighter closed for a moment,
before glancing up at the questioner. The boy in question was tall, much taller than Harry himself
((A fact that had been pointed out to him dozens of times before.)), gangly, and altogether
looking like he was still an awkward fourteen year old and not seventeen. He wasn’t wearing a
shirt, mainly because it was gripped in his left hand, along with his tie.

            “Yes,” Harry nodded, allowing the other boy a slight smile. “I just... I just need a
shower.”

            “All right,” the other nodded, though he still looked worried. “I have your back, Harry.”

            “I know.”

            Harry was just gathering up his things when another house mate barreled into the room,
overturning and rooting through everything in sight. “Have you seen my Charms essay?”

            “In your book bag, with the textbook,” Harry called over his shoulder, heading into his
favourite shower.

            As he relaxed under the steaming water, Harry moaned in contentment, and let his mind
wander to the dream he’d been having. It had been rather odd. Draco and him had been in
Detention together. Though why Professor Snape would ever force him to drink Veritasium and
talk to Draco was really quite beyond him. That made no sense whatsoever.

            Half an hour later, Harry was clean, dry, comfortable, dressed in his robes and uniform,
and was just slicking the last of his very uncooperative hair back. It never did want to cooperate,
no matter how many stupid holding charms he had on it. Muttering one last one, with one last
practiced jab of his wand, he finally got that stupid little spit curl to keep itself back in line with
the rest of his jet black hair. Relieved, he nodded sharply at his smartly dressed reflection, then
bent to retrieve his bag, and headed out of the Dormitory, down to the Common Room.

            Slipping in the door, he spotted his friends lounging on the couches by the fire -
guaranteed seventh year domain - and leaned over the back of the largest one, immediately beside
his best friend’s head. “Good morning.”

            “Morning, Harry,” the others answered, except for one, who instead turned his head from
where it leaned against the couch right beside Harry’s folded arms.

            His morning greeting was slightly different.

            “Hey, scarhead.”

            Harry smirked, and shot back, “Hey, ferret.”

            Laughter broke out around him, and his best friend rolled mercury eyes. “Must you
remind me?”

            “If only to know that the high and mighty Lord Draco has a flaw in his perfect record,
yes.” Harry’s smirk grew, until he patted Draco companionably on the shoulder, knowing that
there was no real malice meant in the remark. “Breakfast?”

            “You and your stomach.” Draco snorted, standing. “Are you always hungry?”

            “Not always,” Harry said academically, as though this were a serious conversation.
“Sometimes I’m tired.”

            Gibbing each other good naturedly, the group of Slytherins headed towards the Great
Hall, where the unfortunately, bumped into two of the rather infamous Gryffindors at the front
entrance. “Potter,” Ron Weasely hissed, eyes narrowed.

            Harry arched an eyebrow. “Weasel.”

            “He’s not worth it, Ron,” Hermione Granger hissed, tugging her red headed friend’s arm.
“Come on, Ron. Let’s go.”

            Ron shook her arm off. “You so smug because you won that Quidditch match last week?”

            Harry blinked quite innocently, and glanced over at Draco, who returned the innocent
look. “I suppose I am. Why?”

            Ron sneered. “It was just against Hufflepuff, you know that doesn’t mean anything.
Gryffindor’s going to cream you next match.”

            Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly, but Harry held up a hand, holding
them back.

            For now.

            Draco snorted. “Not with your sister as Seeker, Weasel. Has she even ever seen the
Snitch?”

            Ron’s face turned as red as his hair, and he took an angry step forward. “Why you
little...!”

            “Face it, Weasel. You’ve already lost.” Draco smirked, then linked his arm through
Harry’s. “You’ve been losing since the train our first year. Come on, Harry, let’s get some
breakfast, and lose the peasants. I feel contaminated already.”

            Harry smirked, his devious enough to easily rival Draco’s. “We might need another
shower before class. Thank Merlin neither of them touched us.”

            Laughing, the Slytherins trooped towards their table, leaving behind a pair of steamed
Gryffindors.

            “The looks on their faces!” Blaise chortled, passing the bread basket on to Harry. “Weasel
was just itching to say something, you know he was!”

            “I don’t know why he keeps bothering you,” Draco directed this comment at Harry,
frowning slightly. “He did lose the day you decided to be my friend instead of his. Merlin, could
you imagine what would have happened if the Sorting Hat had tried to put you in Gryffindor?!”

            Harry shuddered. “Merlin, that would be terrible. Am I glad it never suggested it. And
besides, you know Dumbledork said that my pulling Salazar’s sword from the Sorting Hat
second year means that I belong in Slytherin.”

            “Not to mention being a bloody Parselmouth and an heir of Salazar himself,” Nott shot
back, grinning. “Hey, Harry, how you feeling?”

            Harry smiled slightly, knowing that Nott was just concerned because of that scene this
morning, what with his abrupt wake up and all. The other boy was just concerned for his well
being. That was one of the greatest things about Slytherins - sure, they all knew what they
wanted, and they all wanted to get it for themselves, but they also realized that they were alone in
the school. The other three houses were liable to gang up on them, so the Slytherins were a very
tightly knit group. Thy all watched each other’s back, they held each other up, and they all knew
how to protect each other.

            Sometimes with any means necessary.

            Whether those means were legal or not.

            “I’m fine,” Harry nodded.

            “Why,” Draco asked, leaning forward to examine Harry’s face, concerned. “Are you all
right?”

            “I just had a strange dream,” Harry said lightly, waving away the concern. “I just woke up
abruptly, it’s alright.”

            “It wasn’t...?” Draco let the comment hang, waiting for an answer.

            “No.”

            Draco knew about the dreams Harry had of Voldemort. He knew that Harry had been the
one to defeat Voldemort once as a child, and he had been with Harry every time Harry had
encountered him since. He had been the one to sort out the potions after Blaise took the Knight’s
attack on that chessboard back in first year. He had been the one to reluctantly guard the idiot
Lockhart while Harry had gone to rescue Pansy. He had stood beside Harry and helped both
Harry and Sirius kill Peter Pettigrew in third year. ((Partially because he had been the Weasel’s
pet, and killing something of Weasel’s was just extremely cathartic.)) He had been the one to
wrench Harry from that Mad-Eye freak back in fourth year, clutching Harry to his chest and
refusing to let go until finally Snape realized something was wrong and followed up on the hunch
and broke into the idiot’s office to find the real Mad-Eye. In fifth year, he’d caught the prophesy
when Harry had tossed it to him, had stunned his own father - which Lucius had ordered him to
do, of course, because the senior Malfoy had been forced to at least keep up the pretense of
following Voldemort if he was to be a halfways decent spy - and he’d hugged Harry fiercely,
letting him cry all over his designer robes when Sirius was dropped through the veil. He’d been
there in sixth year when Harry had finally managed to arrange the rescue of Lucius and Narcissa,
nearly draining his own magical stores to create that shield around Harry and himself so
Voldemort couldn’t Adavra Kedavra them. He spent summers with him, split between 12
Grimmauld Place and Malfoy Manor, since after that disastrous summer before second year
when he spent considerably less than the planned two weeks with Harry at number 4 Privet
Drive, Dumbledore had finally agreed - since the two boys would just find a way to get around
him anyway - to let Harry spend his summers with the Malfoys.

            In other words, Draco was Harry’s best friend, his confidant, his brother in all but blood.
((Though the blood oath they’d sworn in second year could legally bind them, in the magical
world, as joint heirs to both families.))

            And he certainly knew about the dreams.

            Draco looked relieved, but dropped his voice so that it was low enough for only Harry to
hear. “So, Snape’s Occulemency lessons...?”

            “Are working,” Harry confirmed softly, then nearly jumped when someone suddenly
dropped their arms around his and Draco’s shoulders.

            Nearly, that is.

            “Paranoid much, Draco?” the other teased, and Harry and Draco both relaxed, Draco
releasing his hold on her wrist.

            “Morning, Pansy,” Harry smiled lightly, craning his head to look up at the black haired
girl. “What are you doing, dare I ask?”

            She pouted lightly. “Am I not allowed to visit with my best friends?”

            Harry and Draco exchanged sidelong glances, smirking. “Sure, Pans. But can you get off
me? Draco’s getting jealous, you know.”

            “Yeah right,” Pansy snorted, but pulled her arms off their shoulders, and sat down on
Harry’s right. “I don’t think Draco is capable of being jealous, when he never lets you out of
sight, even for the entire summer holidays.”

            Harry rolled his emerald eyes. “I do get bathroom breaks, Pans. Give poor Draco a
break.”

            “Yeah,” Blaise agreed sarcastically. “Because you know poor little ickle Draco-kins
doesn’t ever get any kind of a break. He has such a hard life...”

            “Shut it Zambini,” Draco said cooly, obviously deeming Blaise’s comment unworthy of
any more attention than that. “Harry, can you pass me the jam? The raspberry concoction they
have over here is atrocious.”

            Obligingly handing over the jar of strawberry, Harry turned to Pansy, asking, “Did you
manage to figure out that last point for the Charms essay?”

            Pansy let out a snort of disgust. “Yes, Potter, I did. And if you had been able to figure it
out yourself, I wouldn’t have had to finish your essay for you.” She rolled her eyes, and dug a
neat parchment scroll out of her bookbag, handing it to Harry. “I fixed your grammar up while I
was at it. I don’t know why I do this for you...”

            “Because your handwriting is so much neater than mine,” Harry said lightly, unrolling the
top enough to check it over a little. “Good, looks good. Thanks, Pans.”

            Pansy gave him an expectant look. “Well? Aren’t you forgetting something?”

            Harry let out an exasperated laugh. “How this is still your fee, I don’t know...” Then he
leaned forward, and as Pansy had demanded since first year as payment for editing and rewriting
his essays for him, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Paid in full?”

            “Paid in full,” Pansy said smugly.

            Laughing, Blaise reached over to tap Harry’s hand, then when he got the brunette’s
attention, jerked his head towards Harry’s left. “Looks like Draco’s jealous again, Harry.”

            Grinning, Harry leaned forward to watch Draco himself, and his grin grew when he
noticed that, yes indeed, Draco looked furious. He never had liked Pansy’s system of payment,
and actually seemed to resent the fact that Harry asked her for help. It’s not like Draco was the
kind of person who would have edited Harry’s essay for him anyway - it was just that, as best
friend, he normally would have been the one Harry should have asked first.

            “Don’t be mad, Draco,” Harry said innocently, then before Draco could resist, move, or
even look up at him, Harry ducked his head, reached forward, and dropped a fast kiss on his best
friend’s cheek. “Better?”

            “Potter!” Draco spluttered, wiping his cheek fiercely with the back of his hand. “That was
bloody disgusting!”

            Harry laughed, leaning on Draco’s arm. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

            “Yes, it bloody was!” Draco snapped, but with a slight smirk.

            “Go on, Draco,” Blaise snorted. “You know you liked it. Hey, Harry.... if you do want
someone who appreciates it...” He held his hands out in an open, welcoming expression,
grinning. “I’m sure I can give you a few suggestions...”

            “Don’t you dare,” Draco lost the smirk, his left hand crossing his own body to grab
Harry’s upper arm, gripping it tightly. “Harry, don’t listen to him.”

            “Ow,” Harry said, glancing over at the blond. “Got the point, stop squeezing. I wasn’t
going to anyway.”

            Pansy leaned over to rest her elbows on the table, then her chin on her hands. “Draco,
darling, your only his best friend, not his boyfriend. It’s cute that your possessive and jealous, but
sometimes you get a little paranoid with it.”

            Draco was giving Pansy a very cold silver glare, so Harry laughed, poking the other boy
good naturedly. “Relax, both of you. I am nobody’s boyfriend, and as such, I require someone
like Draco to keep me in line. Besides, he’s practically family, and brothers are supposed to be
over-protective, correct?” When neither party showed any sign of breaking the stalemate of
glares, with him caught directly in the middle, he sighed. “We are still in the Great Hall with the
rabble, if I must remind you?”

            Instantly, both parties looked away from each other, and resumed the eating of breakfast.
Harry rolled his eyes, and bit down on his toast.

            “Slytherins,” he muttered.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Hogwarts Express