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Hogwarts Express	By : Closet Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27088 -:- 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
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Shame Ness: Yep, I have finished the story. I’m just putting the chapters in a few chapters at a
time because it’s more fun that way than just dumping all the chapters at once. I personally
would be hesitant to read a story if suddenly a whole ton of chapters appeared at once! But I do
write fast when I put my mind to it.... Ever tried NaNoWriMo? Much fun. :D

Track Change

Track Gamma

            “How is this a good idea?” Harry whispered, muffling laughter with his mittens.

            “This is an amazing idea, and you know it,” Draco smirked, squeezing Harry’s shoulder
where he had his arm thrown around him. “You know, we’re really going to need a bigger
Invisibility Cloak one of these days, we barely fit under this thing anymore.”

            Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. I’ll get right on that. Oh! There they are!”

            “Shh...” Draco hissed, nearly grinning.

            Just ahead of them, tucked in behind the trees that ringed the Shrieking Shack, stood Ron
Weasely and Hermione Granger. There were, shall we say... enjoying themselves by mapping
each others tonsils?

            Draco and Harry both whipped out wands, and with a few select muttered charms, a
veritable snowbank began to lift off the ground, float, then begin to move towards the snogging
couple.

            A moment later, and there were shrieks of horror and cold as the Weasel and the
Mudblood were buried under a mountain of snow.

            Chortling like the purely evil prats they were, Harry and Draco raced from the scene of
the crime, barely managing to keep the Invisibility Cloak over themselves as they tumbled in
through the back door of the Shrieking Shack, tugging off the silvery cloak to collapse with
laughter on the dusty floor. “The look on their faces!” Harry roared, clutching at his stomach,
tears beginning to spill out of his Avada Kedavra green eyes. “Merlin.... that was priceless.”

            “I would give up Potions for the next week just to see that expression on Weasel’s face
again,” Draco laughed breathlessly. “That, Harry, was without a doubt the most juvenile prank
we have pulled in months.”

            “No kidding,” Harry almost giggled, flopping back on his back and sighing, content.
“Hello, Draconius.”

            “It never ceases to amaze me that you two always know when I’m coming,” a slightly
amazed voice said, and both boys straightened to look at the other, who was wearing his ornate
black robes again, but this time with a green and silver Slytherin scarf tossed artfully around his
neck as well.

            “You might as well know that Harry and I both cast wards on ourselves years ago,” Draco
said, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “We know whenever the other is within
twenty five feet of the other, and you set off wards keyed to me.”

            “Interesting,” Draconius looked impressed, nodding. Looking around for a moment, he
conjured a small black arm chair, and settled into it. He hadn’t used a wand, but the two of them
had gotten used to his blatant use of what appeared to be wandless magic. They had figured it
was probably along the same lines of however it was that he Apparated without actually
Apparating. “What is this place? Besides the Shrieking Shack, that is. Why are you here?”

            Harry and Draco exchanged a glance. “You don’t know?” Harry asked, frowning.

            Draconius shook his head.

            “In our third year,” Draco began, choosing his words carefully. “Harry’s godfather, Sirius
Black escaped from Azkaban.”

            “Yes, I knew that,” Draconius nodded. “What has that to do with this place?”

            “This is where Remus Lupin, one of my father’s friends, used to transform into a
werewolf once a month,” Harry explained. “Sirius was hiding out here, and took us here when he
found the Weasel’s rat, which was really Peter Pettigrew.”

            “Ah!” Draconius’ eyes lit up. “I do recall him. Did he not betray your parents?”

            “Precisely,” Draco said smoothly. “After Harry, Sirius and I killed Peter back in that year,
we’ve been using this place for ourselves. Mostly to stash our more questionable property... the
type Dumbledork undoubtedly would not want on school property. Sometimes we use it to hide
from those we pull pranks on.”

            “Ahh.... the two Gryffindors outside, mostly buried in snow?”

            Harry snickered. “That would be them.”

            “Wonderful,” Draconius smiled, seeming pleased. “I was just wondering whether you had
- Merlin!”

            The other two stared at him as he bolted to his feet, looking alarmed. Then his horror
passed, and he sank back into the chair, relaxing. “I must apologize for that - I thought something
had gone wrong.”

            “Wrong? Wrong how?” Harry asked warily.

            Draconius chuckled lightly. “To be honest, I thought you were moving in time, which is
quite impossible without a time turner, and as is obvious by seeing you here now, that couldn’t
have happened. In any case.” He nodded once, mostly to himself. He really was a little bit insane,
they had long ago decided. “I just was wondering whether you had put any consideration into my
question.”

            “Here’s the thing,” Harry said, frowning. “Draco’s my best friend. I just can’t think of
him like that.”

            “My sentiments exactly.” Draco nodded, firmly.

            “You have no suspicions whatsoever that your father isn’t being completely honest? That
there really isn’t some ulterior motive in having you over every summer and Christmas?”

            Draco scowled. “Listen. I fear my father’s intentions as much as I fear my godfathers -
which means, I don’t. At all. I trust my father, and I know he will not allow Harry to be hurt, no
matter what happens. You claim to be me - how can you doubt your own father?”

            “How indeed,” Draconius sighed. “I understand - I’m sorry I had to question you like that.
I just... I worry.”

            “We’ve noticed,” Harry smirked.

            He was referring, of course, to the time last month when Draco and he had been playing
practice Quidditch - mostly just chasing the Snitch - when a handful of Gryffindors and
Ravenclaws had come out and started trying to egg them on. Frustrated, and not really in the
mood to have to hex a few idiots, Harry and Draco had landed, and started to leave the Quidditch
field. As they did, though, one of the idiots had thrown a rock at Harry’s back - and hit him in the
head. Draco had promptly hexed the group backwards through Sunday ((That one Ravenclaw
never did get his ears transfigured back.)) and started half carrying Harry towards the school, so
they could go to Madame Pomfrey.

            On their way, however, Draconius had appeared, and horrified, had practically yanked
Harry out of Draco’s arms, sitting right down on the grass, cradling Harry in his lap as he
performed healing charm after healing charm. By the time he was done, Harry felt better than he
had in months, but the occurrence had led Draco and Harry to conclude that Draconius was
paranoid when it came to the two of them.

            Which was still a little creepy, when you thought about it. Hey, an exact copy of the
Draco Harry’s always known and adored shows up, claiming to actually be Draco, only really a
Draco from a different time and place, and he can appear instantly, performs wandless magic, has
a Dark Mark on his arm, and is obsessively over protective.

            Wonderful combination.

            As it was though...

            They might as well get used to the other’s presence. His random appearances and
frustratingly cryptic comments didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon.

            At that moment, Draconius suddenly surged to his feet. “I must go,” he said quickly... and
was gone. Again.

            A moment later, one of the shack’s creaky, half apart doors creaked open, and a figure
shrouded entirely in black entered, looking back and forth between the two Slytherin boys, who
smiled at him.

            “Hello, sir,” Harry grinned, pushing himself off the floor.

            “Mr. Potter,” Snape nodded. “Mr. Malfoy.”

            Draco gave the Potions Master an almost playful pout as he stood. “Mr. Malfoy? Sounds
so incredibly dry and formal.”

            “It’s still school at present,” Snape reminded him, crossing his arms, and shaking his
head. “What possessed you two to attack the Gryffindors with a snow bank?”

            Harry and Draco both looked immediately innocent. You’d have sworn there were
haloes over their heads. “A snow bank, sir?”

            Snape gave Harry his driest glare. “Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Potter. They went to
McGonagall, she went to the Headmaster. Dumbledore would like to see you in his office
immediately.”

            Both boys groaned, and Draco suggested, “You could vouch for us, right? Tell him that
we were with you at the time?”

            “I will do no such thing,” Snape said coldly, but there was a slight twinkle in his beetle-black eyes. “Although I have spoken to the Headmaster, and if you are prescribed detention, I
believe it should be with myself. At least I could save you the humiliation of serving detention
under McGonagall, or Filch.”

            Harry made a face. “That would be horrible. Thank you, sir.”

            Snape nodded once, then turned to leave. “And boys? I’d go now.”

            Half an hour and three avoided limbs of the Whomping Willow later, the boys were
leaning against the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office, trying to think of what the password
could possibly be.

            “Ice Mice?”

            “Blood Pops.”

            “Fizzing Wizzbees.”

            “Bernie Botts Every Flavour Beans.”

            “Sherbert lemons?”

            “Licorice Wands.”

            “Cockroach cluster.”

            “Drat, that one worked last time. Fizzing Whizzbees.”

            “You already said that one. Sugar quills?”

            “Turkish Delight.”

            “Err... Milk Duds?”

            “What?”

            “Oh, you know, the chocolate Muggle candy Pansy got for us over the summer. She got it
visiting an eccentric aunt, or something.”

            “A Muggle aunt?”

            “You know her family better than that. No, of course not. Just eccentric. Jelly Slugs.”

            “Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum?”

            “Well, wouldn’t it figure. The worst kind. Let’s go.”

            “I like Drooble’s...”

            “You would.”

            Three sharp knocks on a wooden door, and a cheerful, almost mischievous voice
answered.

            “Come in, boys.”
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Hogwarts Express