Phantasmagoria

By: ShinigamiForever



Warnings: Slash, some strangeness, somewhat wry humor. Is it cliché? You decide. I must warn you, a lot of dialogue in this one.

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Seamus/Dean, Fred/George, Ron/Hermione… um… some others I might just throw at you later.

Summary: Wherein Fate thinks it's amusing to constantly place Harry and Draco in rather compromising situations. Wherein Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean and some others decide to play match maker for the two. Wherein the seventh year ends up to be rather catastrophic. A Harry/Draco production.

Chapter Summary: Harry and Malfoy work out their detention, and both find out that old armors are the bane of their existence. Ron and Hermione play spy and eavesdrop, only to learn that innuendoes are bad, or at least give the wrong picture. Harry begins to hate half baked rumors.

A/N: So, the last chapter got turned out, here's the second. Cross my fingers, hope someone's reading. This part is dedicated to a story I can't find right now, entitled The Knights of the Round Table, or something like that. If anyone else has read it, you will find definite influences. There are a lot of innuendoes. A LOT! You have been warned. Once again, beginning section comes into play later. Anyway, thanks for dropping by.



Chapter 2: When All Else Fails, Eavesdrop



One of the scientists, with short cropped strawberry blond hair and pink skin, set down her coffee, staring dubiously at the small figure strapped into the chair. To tell the truth, she wasn't really watching him, but more his reflection on the screen. A thin neon green line jumped up and down with his heart beat. Her left hand was still resting on the keyboard, ready to press buttons at a command.

The tension and accuracy of the team seemed palpable in the air, a thick smoky taste in her mouth. She hated stress; it wore her out and made her cranky for weeks on end, but there was no avoiding it. A job like hers had stress. Once in a while, they had breaks, but they were short-lived and no doubt much in lack.

Woe it is to be me, she thought dryly, eyes following the heart rate.

She wondered, though, what the young man- the subject, he was more often called- was like. What had possessed him to volunteer for this experiment? To undergo tedious procedures simply to test out a process that could be wrong? To surrender his mind to a group of clinically approved psycho surgeons (for lack of a better word)?

He didn't seem like a young man with ambition. He was empty when they first met him, he was still empty now. Shadowed expression, hollows under his cheekbones. A gangly feel to his entire body.

And eyes that seemed to have forgotten how to smile.

It was none of her business anyway, but sometimes, she would have liked to know his history. Just because she wanted to know what he had been like before-

Well, before whatever it was that made him this way.

The machines still beeped away quietly.

***

"I don't want to hear anything," Harry said, slipping into a seat next to Ron. Hermione gave him a glance before he sat down opposite Ron. Over her head, Harry could catch the sight of Draco making his own way back to his table. Not that he was watching, of course.

Right.

"Seriously, Harry, what happened?" Ron asked, tilting his head like a dog. Harry almost chuckled to himself.

"What's so funny?" Ron demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"It's nothing," Harry reassured him quickly. "Just, you looked like a dog and you said 'seriously.'" Ron looked at him like he was insane. The second time this day. Ron shrugged and continued on.

"There's this stupid rumor going around that-"

"Shush!" Hermione ordered, putting her finger to her lips. "Dumbledore is going to make a speech."

Harry dutifully turned his attention to the Headmaster who was currently getting up, the twinkle in his eye still visible from all the way across the hall. But it faded away quickly when Dumbledore cleared his throat and began to talk.

"Another year at Hogwarts. Like any other year, perhaps, but also not like any other year." He paused for the effect, then went on. "As many of you already know, Lord Voldemort-" and here a collective murmur rose- "has regained his power due to the help of his faithful servants." Harry winced at the harshness in the old voice, a type of sharpness that could only have come from deep hatred. "Thus, Hogwarts has now become not only a school, but a safe hold for the leaders of tomorrow, you the students."

The Hall became suddenly silent, every twinge of energy focused on the wizened man talking. Harry risked a reluctant glance over at the Slytherin table, then looked away before he could catch sight of Malfoy. "Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, "must now produce warriors instead of poets, leaders instead of politicians, reporters instead of authors, and strategists instead of teachers. We must train ourselves to face the reality of the world and to look from both the wide and the narrow prospective.

But most of all-" his voice became louder, filling the Hall in a way Harry had never known- "we must become more united than we have ever been. We must not risk leaving out anyone. You, the students of Hogwarts, must be proud of what you are as a unity and not as an individual. That means certain petty differences," and here Dumbledore cast a look at Snape, who looked away angrily, "must be cast aside for the good of the entire group. We will win against Lord Voldemort. But we will only truly win against ourselves when we become a fully united and unbiased group."

The applause was a thunderous roar of approval, the students of every house, even the Slytherins, getting up on their feet and clapping until their hands were chapped red. Dumbledore looked around amid the noise, appearing quite pleased with himself. Harry noticed that many of the students, him included, were grinning ear to ear even though the sober message had sunk into them. It was courage, he concluded, that made us smile. And he looked over again in Malfoy's direction, an unbidden action, to find that the pale blond was smiling too.

***

"So what happened?" Ron demanded through bites of beef stew and bread. Hermione suddenly looked very interested, leaning in slightly. Harry sighed, toying with the rim of his cup, making the pumpkin juice inside swirl madly.

"Well, I ran into Malfoy and told him that I needed to talk to him-"

"You WHAT?!"

"Ran into Malfoy and told-"

"I heard that!"

"Then why did you ask?"

"You know what I meant!"

Hermione cut in. "Harry, why on earth would you want to talk to Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged, feigning indifference, causing his two friends to regard him with a mix of worry and suspicion. "Mione, do you know of any curses that make people go insane?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"I don't know. He doesn't look like he's under a curse, but…"

"I think he's gone stark raving bonkers."

"Ron, that's not very nice. Even though it's almost true. Malfoy, of all people!"

"Ahem," Harry interjected, glaring while the two continued to converse in low voices. "May I remind you that I am still here?"

"You haven't answered my question yet, Harry," Hermione said, taking a measured sip of her drink. "Why did you want to talk to Malfoy?"

Harry, sighing resignedly, proceeded to tell them about Sirius' letter, careful to keep his voice low. Ron made a few growls of protest but otherwise stayed quiet, while a thoughtful air passed over Hermione.

"So anyway," Harry continued, "I ran into him and told him I needed to talk to him. I followed him into the entrance hall and we started talking-"

"You're kidding. You and Malfoy, talking?"

"Well, he refused of course, and started getting all hot and bothered. And all of a sudden the armor just fell over and crashed into both of us." Hermione began to giggle in the furious way girls are prone to do, causing both Harry and Ron to stare at her.

"I'm sorry," she choked out between fits of giggles. "It's just this image of you and Malfoy trapped under this suit of armor."

"Yes, and I'm sure a good deal of others found it humorous too," Harry answered wryly, gesturing towards a group of first years.

"There's a rumor going around that-" Ron was suddenly interrupted by Hermione's hand.

"Harry doesn't need to know," she said hastily, her voice carrying the hint of a warning.

"What?" He asked, quick to catch the tone. "What don't I need to know?"

"There's a rumor that you and Malfoy were caught snogging!" Ron blurted out, muffled by the hand over his mouth.

"Oh honestly!" Hermione said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You didn't have to tell him that!"

"He had a right to know," Ron said, abashed, poking dubiously at the food on his plate. Harry felt himself go red and coughed nervously.

"Ah-" he managed, skin tingling with the memory of warm wet robes against him. "No."

"Good. For a moment I was worried there..." Ron's voice began to fade off into the distance. Yeah, thought Harry, I was worried about it too. Except, it's not just a moment now, is it?

I am not attracted to Draco Malfoy.

Right.

9:30 tonight, Harry. A detention with Mr. I'm-too-sexy-for-my-shirt. He choked in the middle of a swig of his juice.

Where did that thought come from? He had a feeling he really didn't want to know.

***

He arrived at McGonagall's room 10 minutes early. It showed just how much he dreaded any extra time with Filch; he would even go to detention earlier just to avoid having to spend more time with the disgruntled janitor.

To his amazement, Draco was already at the door, looking slightly nervous and a bit thrown off.

"My, my, my, Malfoy. Here early?" he teased, forgetting his own discomfort at the sight of the other's.

"So are you, Potter. Quite the little brown-nose are we?" Draco countered, his anxiety passing away.

"Not as much as you are with Snape," Harry replied, knocking on the door. There was a sharp 'come in' that followed his rapping, and he held the door open with mock courtesy for Draco, who stepped in after casting a scornful look at Harry.

There was something about desks that seemed to tell about a person. Not just an empty desk means an empty mind. It's nothing like that kind of thing. For instance, Harry believed Ron's desk was the exact mirror of himself. Whenever he put his things on a desk, they were arranged in organized but messy piles, some random, some not. He always took out his wand first, placing it on his desk. Hermione's desk was neat, in logical order and usually quite bare. Her books were the first to be on her desk, followed closely by her quill.

Professor McGonagall had a neatly orderly desk, somewhat like Hermione's but in a strictly Spartan way. A small bottle of ink was placed on the center of the upper edge. There were a few piles of parchment that was most likely students' homework waiting to be graded. She was in the middle of writing when she looked up to see the two walk in.

"You're here early. Good." She gave them both a nod and pointed with the quill to a few chairs. They quietly pulled them up to her desk and sat down as she finished writing.

"Now. Filch says that he wants the armor to be repaired, but he's busy working on the normal start-of-the-year repairs. So he decided the best thing to do is to let both of you fix it. Without magic."

Mutual outbursts of protest followed. Harry blanched at the prospect of piecing together millions of little parts with screws and bolts, mouth working in mindless opposition. "I am not going to do menial housework!" Draco cut in, nails digging into his palms. Harry looked over at the Slytherin, his back rigid and his face contorted, then looked away.

"It's about time you start," McGonagall said, a hint of a smile on her face.

"I'm just worried that Malfoy will hurt himself somehow," Harry said in an uncharacteristic drawl. "Without daddy there to supervise and all," he added, smiling evilly in a way that would make Slytherins proud.

"Piss off, Potter."

"Ooh. I'm hurt."

"You want hurt?"

"I'm sorry, unlike you, I do not indulge in masochistic and or sadistic tendencies towards anybody."

"Boys," McGonagall chided, vaguely unsettled by the barb Harry had thrown at his Slytherin opposite and throwing odd glances at their direction. "We're leaving now."

They followed her through endless hallways and corners until they reached an empty classroom. Harry and Draco had been poking each other's ribs and stepping on each other's feet throughout the entire trip, and Professor McGonagall continued to watch them with a curious eye. She ushered them into the room where the parts of a very familiar rusty armor lay on the floor along with a guide.

"I hope you two will be able to last the night without killing each other," she added as she walked out. Draco threw a murderous look at Harry before smiling angelically. The two Gryffindors rolled their eyes.

***

Don't look at him. Don't touch him. Don't get close to him. Don't look at him. Focus, Harry, focus!

Oh no, don't do that. Don't start shaking. Do NOT start blushing.

Don't look at him. Focus, focus, focus!

Nut and bolt. Screwdriver. Screw. Nail. Metal. Twist, twist, shove. Nice. Now repeat.

"Potter-"

"What?" Don't look at him. Don't look at him. Don't THINK about him. No no, stay focused. Come on.

"I think you're doing that-"

"Oh, shut the hell up, Malfoy." Don't look at him. Don't look at him. Do NOT think about how he would look naked. No, Harry, down boy.

Oh god. And still 7/8 of the armor to go.

***

"Ron, do you know where you're going?"

"No."

"I was afraid of that."

Hermione sighed, then pulled at Ron's sleeve. "I think we should just turn back."

"All right," Ron said, exasperated. "But I swear that room with the decorative shields was here!"

"Well, you know how they like to change," Hermione said soothingly. Ron had told her about a room with a collection of old shields decorated with family insignias that Harry and him had found on a late night walk. Convinced he knew the way there, he had dragged along a rather interested Hermione, only to find out that they were both lost.

"Maybe next time. Hey-" Ron said, suddenly stopping in his tracks. "Do you hear something?" If it were possible, Hermione could almost swear his ears perked up.

"No. Why?"

"Shhh. Listen."

Hermione kept quite, and within a few seconds, heard vaguely the muffled voice of someone she could recognize.

"Oh, shut the hell up, Malfoy."

"I don't believe it!" Ron said, ecstatic. "We found Harry serving detention with Malfoy!"

***

"I can't get this in," Harry said, throwing his hands up in irritation and flopping on the floor. Draco turned around, inquisitive, still working on putting together the arm.

"What is it? Potty Wee Potter tired already?" Draco taunted, eyes leering.

"No," Harry replied, emphatic. "This screw is impossible."

"Here," Draco said, putting down his parts and walking over to Harry's side. "You hold, and I'll do the screwing." He reached out his hand for the screwdriver, but Harry was immobile. "You hear me, Potter?" A few seconds of silence. Then, a furious shake of the head.

"That sounded so wrong, Malfoy," Harry choked out, hastily throwing the tool in Draco's direction.

"Watch it!" The Slytherin grabbed the screwdriver with the instinct of a Seeker, then glared at Harry. "What's gotten into you?"

***

"Keep quite, Ron! I can't hear!"

Scuffle, ears pressed against the wall.

"-hold, and I'll do the screwing."

"WHAT?!"

"I have no idea!"

"I hope they did not say what I just heard."

"I have a bad feeling they did."

***

"It isn't going in."

"I told you!"

"So now what? It's stuck."

"Keep pushing."

Pant, shove. Push. Groan. Pant. Pant. Push. Shove. Frustrated sigh.

"It's stuck."

"I know that Malfoy! Stop stating the obvious!"

"Well, we can't leave it that way!"

"Keep trying."

***

"-It's stuck."

Pant. Groan. Pant. Pant. Frustrated sigh.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-"

"Shhh…"

"They are not…?"

"I don't know, Mione."

"This sounds so wrong."

"I haven't the faintest idea."

***

"I can't keep pushing!"

"I say just pull it out. And try again. Maybe use some lubricant on it?"

"All right. Let's try that."

Pull, pant, groan. Noise of disgust. Disgruntled sigh.

"Oh here Potter! Let me help. There. Now it's out."

"Try the lubricant."

"How does it work?"

"I don't know. Just slather it on, I guess."

***

"Maybe use some lubricant on it?"

"Harry did NOT just say that!"

"They can't be… can they?"

"Try the lubricant."

"How does it work?"

"I don't know. Just slather it on, I guess."

"Ron, I think we should leave. NOW."

"I think that's a good idea."

The two made their way back to the Gryffindor common room in shocked silence, twin blushes stained across their cheeks.

***

Oh my god.

Calm down, Harry, calm down.

He did not just say that. He did not just say that.

He was blushing. A lot. A red rash across his cheeks kind of blush.

Their comments were just way too double-sided. Was Malfoy purposely doing this?

"Potter."

"Yeah?" That's it, nice and calm, don't croak."

"I think we're almost done. Just this one last limb."

"Ah- okay. Uh… great!"

"Potter?"

"Yes?" Did his voice just crack?

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Fine! Fine." He was so blushing.

***

It took them a good 5 hours to finish. They were hot and sweaty and cranky by the time they got to the last screw, and Harry had just about reached his breaking point on his patience. Draco looked quite disheveled from the pushing and twisting they had had to do. The armor didn't look too bad.

"I think we're done."

"Good," Draco said, getting up and wiping his hands on his robes. "It's about time."

"You're not bad at this," Harry admitted grudgingly, giving the screw a final twist.

"Why, thank you Potter. It's such an honor for you to recognize my superior ability to surpass anything you do."

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

As if in conditioned response, "Are you offering?"

"Yes."

Draco immediately snapped his head up to stare aghast at Harry, eyebrows touching his hairline. A few agonizing minutes of silence, then, "It was a joke, Malfoy! A joke." Both faces turned a shade of scarlet red.

The rest of the time was spent in uncomfortable tension. Every time their hands accidentally touched, they would both pull away quickly and cough. No one said much, except for the occasional "Pass me the screwdriver" or "That's the wrong direction."

None of them looked at each other when they finally left at 4:53 in the morning.



A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I had a lot of fun. Hopefully, it was worth the wait.

Summary for next chapter: Draco and Harry recover from their all nighter. Harry learns the hard way that while half-baked rumors are annoying, full blown ones are even worse. Gryffindor and Slytherin go ballistic as the waves of a new rumor start to crash against their shores. Denial is hell.