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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.

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Track Alpha

            “I cannot believe he’s forcing us to spend time together,” Draco huffed, arms crossed,
glaring at the opposite wall.

            Harry, quite frankly, had to agree.

            Fortunately ((Fortunately? A dubious choice of words, in Harry’s opinion.)) Snape had
come out of his office about fifteen minutes after the imposter Draco’s disappearance, and had let
them down. No one else had come along before he had, and thank Merlin, Snape wasn’t the type
to laugh at his students. After they had finally managed to get the story out, ((They had kept
insulting the other’s intelligence and memory, which delayed the tale somewhat.)) Snape had had
the audacity to give them both detention, and when they’d arrived that night for said detention, he
had written his instructions on the board, then left.

            Without a single word!

            Written on the board, in Snape’s typical brisk style were the following notes:

            You cannot explain this if you are insulting each other every other word.

            Learn to deal with each other.

            The Veritasum will wear off in three hours.

            Oh, that was right, Snape had done something else before he had left. He had handed
them each a glass, glared at them until they drank it, then marched out without a word.

            Well, Harry figured, if neither of them spoke, then there would be nothing for the
Veritasum to react to, and then they were off the hook. To be honest, he was surprised that Snape
hadn’t anticipated that loophole.

            That is, until Harry felt an odd burning sensation at the back of his throat. Frowning, he
tried coughing a few times to relieve the itch, but it only got worse. Despite the fact that he knew
the other didn’t have his wand, Harry had to glance over at Draco. Maybe he’d done something
to him. Instead, Draco looked as alarmed as him, sticking his tongue out and making little
gagging sounds. That is, until he realized that Harry was looking at him, then he sat sharply back
up, glaring. “You don’t need to stare, Potter.”

            “Yes I do,” Harry blurted out, much to his own shock, and clamped his hands over his
mouth. Spinning away from the flabbergasted blond, Harry glared at the blackboard, eyes
widening when he realized that there was something else added to the previous notes on the
board.

            The burning sensation in your throats is a component in the potion I gave you. It will
persist and increase unless you talk.

Oooh.... that Bastard!

            “Shit,” he snapped, relieved that saying it aloud did in fact help his throat. “Malfoy, read
the board.”

            Draco did, and started swearing himself, though Harry had to admit, the Malfoy’s
profanities were far more clever and creative than his had been. For that matter, they were
downright eccentric. Reminded him of someone... someone from a muggle comic book he’d read
once, one of the ones Dudley kept on the bookshelf in his second bedroom, but Harry couldn’t
place the character. Well, it didn’t matter that much.

            “Billions of bilious blue blistering barnacles!”

            There was a silence for a long moment, then Harry ventured, “Feeling better?”

            “Yes,” was the petulant response.

            “So...” Harry said slowly, after another long and rather tense moment. “I suppose we have
to talk.”

            “We do not, you git.”

            Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Malfoy, I do not want to incur Snape’s wrath
today, all right? I am sick and tired of getting picked on by him, and today is not really a day I
want to have that happen again. If talking to you is the worst I have to do to avoid that, then I
will. So insult me if you must, but say something.”

            There was silence for another moment, and just as Harry was about to try again, Draco
finally answered.

            “Fine. We’ll talk.”

            Encouraged slightly by this, Harry straightened, looking over at the blond, who was
glaring at his desk as though he could light fire to it with nothing more than his gaze. “What do
you want to talk about?”

            Draco lifted silver eyes to fix him with that same glare. “You were the genius who
thought of this - you think of something.”

            “Okay,” Harry nodded, thinking. “We’ll start this off easy. What’s your name?”

            Draco snorted, but the Veritasium pressed him to answer. “Draconius Lucian Malfoy. I
don’t need to ask yours - everyone knows yours.” He rolled his eyes, then in a mocking tone,
lilted, “‘Harry James Potter’, the Boy Who Lived.”

            “I didn’t ask for that title,” Harry grumped, crossing his own arms. “All right... er...
what’s your favourite class?”

            “Potions,” Draco shot back, without a moment’s hesitation. “Let me guess yours....
Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

            Harry bit the inside of his cheek, glowering. Okay, so he was predictable. There were
worse fates. “What’s your favourite hobby, then?”

            “Reading,” Draco shot back without a moment’s hesitation.

            Harry was honestly surprised with that one. “Not Quidditch?”

            “You have rather taken all the enjoyment out of playing that sport,” Draco shot back
dryly. “But I suppose that’s your favourite thing to do, beating me to the Snitch?”

            “No,” Harry said firmly, then a moment later: “Just flying.”

            Draco snorted. “It’s the same thing, Potter.”

            “No, it isn’t,” Harry insisted. He wasn’t sure why he felt he had to explain this to Draco
Malfoy of all people, but he felt somehow that this had to be explained. “I don’t play Quidditch
for the game, and the sport’s not really all that fun. I mean, sure... it’s great to get that rush of
adrenaline when you catch the Snitch and everything, but that’s not why I play. I play... I play
because then I just get to be on my broom. I feel right when I’m flying, does that make sense?
I’m off the ground, I’m separated from all that bullshit about saving the world from Voldemort, I
can’t even hear what people are saying properly once I get flying. It’s like my own little world in
the air, when no one can touch me, and I don’t have to answer to anybody.” Harry paused for a
moment, staring off into space, then abruptly shook his head, ears turning pink. “I must sound
like an idiot.”

            Draco rolled his eyes, and looked like he was about to agree, when instead, he blurted out,
“You don’t sound like an idiot.”

            Harry gaped at him, and Draco clamped his mouth shut again, looking furious with
himself. Of course. The Veritasium.

            And with that, Harry got a decidedly Slytherin idea. It would be right capital, to see just
what, exactly, he could get out of Malfoy. After all, he had to answer - the Veritasium made him!

            “Malfoy,” Harry said casually, almost lazily. “Do you really hate mudbloods?”

            Draco lifted his chin proudly. “Yes.”

            “Why?”

            Draco looked alarmed, but opened his mouth to answer anyway. “Because they are
unpure. They bring in Muggle ideas and values with them, changing the old wizarding ways.
They have corrupted the minds of younger generations of wizards with their stupid Muggle
beliefs, and now we have all the problems we have.”

            Harry’s brows rose. Interesting. “What kind of problems do they bring in, Malfoy?”

            Draco looked livid, but had to answer. “Even seventy years ago - just a little before our
parent’s generation - before the Muggle influence really began to explode into our world, before
the Dark Lord arrived and changed everything, things like.... like same sex couples weren’t a
problem in the Wizarding world. Still aren’t, among the Pure Blood families, but among the
mudbloods and the half bloods, they think it’s disgusting, because the Muggles think it’s
disgusting. Your father wouldn’t have minded, Potter, your precious Black wouldn’t have
minded, I doubt even the halfblood werewolf would have minded, but your mother?” Draco
snorted. “Your muggle born mother would have been disgusted with something like that, Potter,
and that is the kind of problems mud bloods bring with them.”

            Harry’s fists were clenched on his lap, barely keeping himself from jumping Draco and
pounding the living daylights out of him. “How do you know what my mother would have
thought, Malfoy?!”

            Draco looked up sharply, a strange glimmer in his mercury eyes. “How do you know,
Potter?”

            Harry almost took offence at that, then paused, relaxing in his chair slightly. Draco was
actually right. Harry didn’t know what his mother would have thought about something like that,
and it suddenly worried him. Not that he was gay and therefore had to wonder what his mother
would have thought of it - oh no - just that... well, what would she have thought about a lot of
things Harry had done? Was doing?

            Was going to do?

            Draco was the one to break the silence this time. “Look, I know about my own situation
in this whole thing, but I do have to ask, Potter. You didn’t grow up in the wizarding world. You
didn’t even know what a Malfoy was until your Weasel ‘friend’ told you. Why didn’t you accept
my hand, back in first year?”

            Harry frowned, chipping at the desktop with his thumb nail. “You were rude, and Ron
had been nice to me. And... and you’d insulted Hagrid, back in the robe shop.” He swallowed,
not wanting to say more, but the Veritasium was pushing the words out. “I refused... I refused
because I had wanted to be your friend until you insulted Ron, and then... then I just felt like I
had to protect my new friend’s honour.”

            Draco gaped at Harry, who was now quite red. “You had wanted to be my friend?!”

            “Until you were a complete prat, yeah.” Harry shrugged. “You’d seemed... cool.
Sophisticated, you know, like you knew everything about everything. I suppose I was
intimidated, until you insulted Ron, then I had to stand up to you.”

            “Huh.” Draco almost laughed. “Who would have guessed, the Boy Who Lived had
wanted to be friends with the Slytherin Prince.”

            “Yeah, well what about you?” Harry demanded, glaring at Draco from under his fringe,
keeping his head down. “Why did you offer to be my friend, back then?”

            Draco flushed, eyes on the desktop. “Who didn’t want to be friends with Harry Potter? I
just felt... I felt we’d be good friends, somehow. Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter. The two only sons
and only heirs to the two most well known names in wizarding society.” Draco laughed
humourlessly. “And then you went and got yourself sorted into Gryffindor, so it wouldn’t have
worked out even if you hadn’t snubbed me.”

            “It almost would have,” Harry said softly.

            “What?” the blond asked, frowning slightly.

            “Dumbledore’s the only other person to ever hear this,” Harry said after a moment. “So I
suppose you ought to feel honoured or something.” Harry turned his eyes ceiling-ward, worry
frown creasing his forehead. “The sorting hat didn’t want to put me in Gryffindor. I was only put
there after I convinced it to put me in any house but Slytherin.” He sighed. “It told me that I
could be great, that Slytherin would help me on my way to greatness, but I had just had that
fiasco with you... and I refused. I begged it to put me in any house but Slytherin, so it decided on
Gryffindor.”

            Draco’s jaw was hanging. “You... Dumbledore’s Golden Boy, you were almost a
Slytherin?!”

            Harry nodded, locking his jaw.

            The blond threw back his head, and burst into raucous laughter. “You begged it to put
you anywhere else, so Gryffindor was it’s second best for you! You were supposed to be a
Slytherin, you little bugger, I could have even been your friend without my stupid father getting
mad at me! You little prat! A Slytherin!”

            “Yeah...” Harry muttered, smiling a little despite himself. “Silver and green does nothing
for me, though.”

            “You horrible liar,” Draco laughed, then paused for a moment. “Wait, you can’t lie,
Veritasium. You mean you really believe that? Oh, Merlin!” Draco cracked up twice as bad as
before, and while he was having his fun at Harry’s expense like normal, this didn’t seem... as
malicious as normal. It was almost like the ribbing that went on between the guys in the
Gryffindor dormitory. “Merlin, Potter, they were right, you really do have no fashion taste!”
Struggling out of his seat, still laughing, Draco yanked his tie off, then tossed it over the desk to
Harry. “There, put it on.”

            Harry stared at him. “Are you crazy?”

            “No, put it on, I want to prove a point.”

            Shrugging, but still very dubious, Harry tugged his own tie - still knotted - over his head,
then pulled the silver and green one on, sticking his tongue out between his teeth as he
concentrated on tying the knot.

            “What are you doing?” Draco said suddenly, almost puzzled.

            Harry paused, looking up from his task. “Tying the tie?”

            “No,” Draco waved lazily at Harry’s head. “The tongue.”

            “Oh.” The spectacled boy shrugged, returning to the tie. “Nervous habit. I stick out my
tongue when I’m concentrating.”

            There was a moment’s silence, then Draco admitted, “It’s an interesting quirk. Almost...
cute?”

            It sounded like a question, but Harry hoped it had been rhetorical. He really didn’t feel
like trying to find a way to answer that one. Instead, he concentrated on the knot, until he had it
right. He never really had gotten the knack of tying them, despite the fact that he had to wear one
every day for school. Usually he’d just leave them tied from the day before, or get Hermione to
help him.

            “There.”

            Draco cocked his head to the side, frowning thoughtfully. “You should really use a full
Windsor knot with that collar, instead of a half-Windsor, but it’ll do.” He then nodded, looking
surprisingly pleased. “See, you do look good in Slytherin colours. They bring your eyes out more
than the Gryffindor ones do.”

            Harry snorted to himself. They brought out his eyes? God, Draco was beginning to sound
more and more like a pouf.

            “Yeah,” and here Harry smirked, in a disturbingly almost Malfoy like way, “But could
you imagine me in Slytherin?
- 8
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Hogwarts Express