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. |
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Harry looked up in surprise. It wasn’t every day he had Draco Malfoy sit down across
from him at his table in the library.
“What are you doing, Malfoy?”
“I’m sitting,” Draco said sharply, crossing his arms. “We need to talk.”
“Okaaay...” Harry said slowly, frowning. “What about?”
Draco looked around for a moment, frowning. “Not here,” he said softly.
Oh, that was rich. Harry snorted. Right. Like he was going to follow Draco Malfoy
anywhere. Not only was the blond Slytherin the biggest prat the world had ever seen, but he had
been trying to make Harry’s life a living hell ever since he first got to Hogwarts. And for nothing
more ridiculous than the fact that his owl had managed to flee her cage and come flying to Harry
while they were waiting for McGonagall before sorting. Hedwig was a smart bird, to be able to
find Harry like that - he was fairly sure Malfoy was just jealous. But whatever the case, Harry
was not stupid, and he was not going to follow the rival seeker just because he said he had to
talk to him.
“Fat chance, Malfoy,” Harry said coldly, crossing his arms. “Either it’s here, or it’s not at
all.”
Draco glowered at him for a minute, then his eyes lit up. “Fine then. If you don’t want to
know where the disembodied laughter is coming from...”
Harry couldn’t help himself. He leapt to his feet. “You know about... crap.”
Draco smirked. “I said, not here. Come on.”
He stood, and started walking away, then paused, turning to look at Harry. “I’m not
waiting forever, Potter. You might be the Seeker, but you aren’t the Golden Boy. I won’t wait.”
Hastily, Harry gathered up his things, then nearly ran after Malfoy to catch up. Without a
word, Draco led them through several hallways, away from the heart of the school and farther
towards the Eastern edges. For reasons that no one had ever seemed to explain, this corner of the
school wasn’t used nearly as much as the rest of it. Harry was fairly sure there wasn’t even a
house dormitory this deep or East into the school. Finally Draco opened a door to an unused
classroom, and they walked in, brushed the dust off two desktops facing each other, then sat on
the edges of them.
There was awkward silence for a moment, then Harry broke the silence. “Alright, Malfoy.
You said you knew about the laughter.” Draco said nothing. “Look Malfoy, I really don’t have
time for this. There’s Quidditch practice tonight, and I still have to finish that Potions essay you
pulled me away from. So either get talking, or I seriously am leaving.” When Draco still didn’t
answer, Harry pushed himself off the edge of the desk. “Right, Malfoy. You had your chance.”
“When did you start hearing it?” Draco asked suddenly, crossing his arms.
Harry had to pause, and think about that one for a minute. At last, he settled back on the
edge of the desk, and answered, “Six weeks ago. Just near the beginning of term. It was at night,
on the third floor, in the corridor. I only hear it when I’m alone.”
Draco’s silver eyes actually flickered with surprise for a moment. “Longer than me - I just
started hearing it three weeks ago.”
There was an awkward silence for a long moment, then Harry frowned, looking up at the
blond. “Wait... why are you doing this? Why did you come to talk to me about this? I mean... it’s
not exactly the kind of thing you’d do, is it?”
The Slytherin scowled. “Potter. I have been hearing disembodied laughter at night and
now sometimes during the day, so long as I am alone, for three weeks now. I am not used to
hearing disembodied laughter, to put it mildly. It is affecting my school work. I can’t sleep
properly. I’ve been jumpy and irritable. I am irritated enough by this whole fiasco that I am
determined to stop it any way I have to, and if talking to you to find out what you know about it
is the only way to stop it, then I will talk to you if I have to.”
“So... you want us to work together, to find out what’s going on?” Harry asked in
disbelief.
A pained expression flitted across Draco’s face at that interpretation of what he had said.
“If you must put it that way.”
“Hmm.” The Gryffindor frowned at that, reaching up to scratch idly at his forearm.
“Well, has anyone else heard it?” He paused then, frowning. “For that matter... how did you
know I’d heard it?!”
Draco sighed, uncrossing his arms to lean back, eyes closing. “Believe it or not, Potter,
I’m not stupid.”
Harry rolled his emerald eyes towards the ceiling. “Could have fooled me. Seriously.
How did you know?”
Draco frowned, looking away from him.
“Go on, Malfoy, I’m not going to bite,” Harry snapped. “Just bleeding tell me already,
will you? I mean, yes, I know you’re a right bastard, and you’ve been trying to make my life
miserable for the last six years and yes, I know you’re jealous of Neville - don’t give me that
look, you prat, you wouldn’t bug him so much if it weren’t true - but I’m not going to go run and
tell the whole school you’re hearing disembodied laughter.” He scowled. “I would have to tell
them all that I’m hearing it, too, and that’s not exactly the kind of attention anyone really wants,
is it?”
The blond scowled at him for a long moment, then jerked his head away again, and
muttered something under his breath.
“What?”
“I said....” Draco paused, gritting his teeth. “I said... I’ve been having dreams. And that’s
how I knew.”
Harry’s eyes widened considerably. “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”
Quicksilver eyes darted over to glance at him. “Does it matter?”
Harry crossed his arms. “If it helps lead to answers about where that laughter is coming
from, yes.”
“It’s not important,” Draco snapped, pushing off the desk to stalk around the room,
glaring at the dusty floor, and at the dust that was filtering over his perfect black leather shoes as
he walked. “I am not doing this out of the goodness of my heart Potter, and if you can’t deal with
knowing all the details of my personal life, then I can walk out of here and find the answer some
other way.”
There was a very long, awkward silence, then Harry broke it again, softly. “Did it have
anything to do with you buggering me against a wall?”
Draco spun faster than most people believe is humanly possibly, silver eyes gaping,
mouth open in shock. “What - ?! You - ?!”
“Because if it is...” Harry’s face and ears were burning red, he was deliberately keeping
his eyes on the floor, not even daring to risk looking up at the other. For Merlin’s sake, this boy
was his enemy, he hated him, and would hardly hesitate to use information like this to mock him.
Harry was only infinitely glad that at least, if Draco did do something like that, the humiliation
would be confined to Hogwarts, and would probably die down within a couple weeks. If Neville,
the bloody Boy Who Lived were to be having this conversation with Draco Malfoy... he could
imagine the headlines on The Daily Prophet tomorrow morning. “Well.... it’s just that.... I have
kind of been having the same dream.”
Thump.
Harry looked up in alarm, to find that Draco Malfoy had settled himself with a complete
lack of grace on the wide window frame, dust still swirling about from his cumbersome drop to a
sit, his mouth agape and his eyes so wide Harry could see the white all around the silver irises.
“Are you all right?” Harry ventured, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected such a....
dramatic reaction.
“You...” Draco croaked, looking worse off than before, not better. “You’ve had the same
dream?!”
“Well... it’s not exactly like it was my idea to dream that...” Harry shot back, his ears
burning again. “Look, let’s just... not talk about it. We’re having.... the same dream, and we’re
both hearing laughter.” Taking a deep breath, Harry refused to look at the other, and tried to will
his blush to disappear. He was seventeen, for Merlin’s sake, not twelve! “Maybe it’s just me, but
does the laughter seem at all familiar to you?”
“Familiar?” Draco had managed to compose himself somewhat, and now lounged almost
casually in the window sill, one foot propped up across from him, arms crossed. He was still
covered in dust, though. “I suppose it might be familiar... I hadn’t thought to compare it to
anything. Why, you think you recognize the person who’s doing the laughing?”
“Not really,” Harry admitted, frowning. “But I swear I’ve heard that person laugh before -
and more than once, for that matter. Actually, now the laughter seems.... more pleasant that I
remember.”
“So you’re saying that whoever is laughing at us behind our backs and possibly in some
way affecting our dreams - because there’s no way I’d dream that myself, obviously - is someone
who normally mocks you and has laughed at you on a regular basis?” Draco let out a short, sharp
bark of laughter. “Sounds like half the wizarding world, Potter.”
Harry froze. “Do that again.”
Draco paused, looking confused. “Do what? Mock you? I do that anyway, Potter, it’s not
hard.”
“No,” Harry snapped, frustrated, shaking his head. “Laugh.”
“Laugh?” The blond repeated, then sneered. “Potter, you really must have been dropped
on your head as a child, because absolutely no one else would...”
“Are you ticklish?” Harry interrupted, standing abruptly, face grim and strangely serious.
“What - ? Most certainly not! No Malfoy would be something as mundane and lowbrow
as ticklish!” Draco spluttered.
“That’s what I thought,” Harry rolled his eyes, then whipped out his wand, and snapped,
“Rictusempra!”
A moment later, Draco tumbled off his perch on the window sill, falling to and rolling on
the dusty floor, clutching his stomach and laughing hysterically. Now the laughter Harry had
been hearing was more than familiar - it was right in front of him. The laughter he had been
hearing whenever he was alone for the last six weeks was no one’s but Draco Malfoy’s. “Finite
incantium,” he muttered, frowning. Just why was Malfoy coming to talk to him about fixing this,
anyway, when he was the one laughing? Was this some kind of stupid joke?!
Draco, meanwhile, had collapsed onto his back on the floor, spread-eagled, chest heaving,
but the laughter continued.
“You can stop that,” Harry muttered. “I get it. Real funny, ha ha. Bug Harry Potter, that’s
always fun. Had enough?”
“I... am... not... laughing...” Draco wheezed, struggling to push himself up to a sitting
position. “That... hurt.”
“You’re not....” Harry gaped at Draco, who really wasn’t laughing, then around at the
ceiling and walls from which the laughter seemed to be coming from. “Then what...”
After a few more tense moments in which the boys just stared at each other, the laughter
finally dwindled down, the way someone usually calms down from a usual laughing fit, then
Draco Malfoy’s distinctive drawl filled the room. “Oh, you two are priceless. You two are fun.
Not all of you are typically this co operative. I do look forward to pursuing this one further. Until
then, do behave yourselves, won’t you?”
Draco and Harry could only stare at each other. “Was that... that was my voice!” Draco
cried at last, indignant. “Someone is out there, using a spell to copy my voice!”
“But...” Harry hesitated, confused. “Why would they do that?”
Draco froze, then very slowly, admitted, “I don’t know.”
There was a moment more of silence, then Draco stood, trying in vain to brush the dust
off his clothes and hair before hurrying to the door. Just as he was about to leave, he paused,
turned, and looked back at Harry. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Wait, Malfoy...” Harry hurried forward, barely managing to grab the blond’s arm before
he left. Draco froze, staring down at where Harry held his arm like it was something particularly
nasty. “You’re just going to leave, like that? You aren’t even going to try and figure out
why someone would use your voice?”
Draco closed his eyes, not moving for a long moment, then said quietly, “Of course I am,
Potter. But I am beginning to suspect that your presence would not help me figure it out. After
all, this person is not using your voice. Now... will you let go of me?”
Harry yanked his hand back like he’d been burned, and scowled at the Slytherin. “Fine.
I’ll figure it out on my own.”
Then he brushed past the blond, and stormed down the hallway. “Stupid Slytherin,” he
muttered, and laughter followed him down the hall.
And to be honest, he wasn’t sure whose it was.
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