This story idea kinda creeped up on me. I don't know what I was on at the time, but when you're in a summer math class and you're pretty fuckin' bored, well.. imaginations are a fickle thing. And, yes, this is a Harry/Draco pairing. ^^ It takes place in the middle of sixth year, and there will be no Voldie in this fic. This is being written purely for my amusement, and the Dark Lord does not amuse me.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Chapter One : One Can Never Have Enough Socks

It was a very rare sight indeed to see the Headmaster wandering the corridors in between classes, brandishing his wand and seeming very irate. "Where is that blasted demon?" he was muttering to himself, using the end of his wand to investigate the floor under a rug, only to scowl darkly when he had obviously not found what he was looking for. Suddenly, it seemed he was struck by a rather feasible idea. His eyes lit up and a triumphant smile graced the ancient man's features as he rummaged through the pockets of his robes, ignoring curious stares from the students, and on occasion, a sympathetic glance from a staff member. But just as quickly as the twinkle returned to Albus Dumbledore's eyes, it disappeared once more, replaced by another uncharacteristic scowl. "My bloody map!" the old man cursed, startling quite a few students. Neville Longbottom looked about ready to soil his robes as he scuttled off.

A soft titter was heard from the high ceiling. Alarmed, Dumbledore pointed his wand straight up at a dark, inky, shapeless blob. "Rifyr!" the old man bellowed in the now-empty corridor. "First my sock drawer, now my map?!"

An alarmed Professor McGonagall stuck her head out of the Transfiguration classroom, fixing a stern stare on the nutty Headmaster. "Albus, what's this about reefer? You know the children can hear you!"

Dumbledore didn't move from his position. "Not reefer, Minerva. Rifyr." All he got in return was a blank stare, at which he frowned at. "She's loose again."

"Oh, good heavens," the Transfiguration professor breathed as realization struck her quite unpleasantly. "Not again, Albus." The stern old witch glanced up at the ceiling where, rather slowly, a hooded something took shape, clinging to the ceiling with merely the fingertips of one hand and two booted feet. The figure's other hand grasped what they both recognized as Dumbledore's treasured map. The shadowed face merely leered down at them, only a small smirk visible from under the hood.

Dumbledore held up a hand to the Transfiguration professor as she stepped out of her classroom and whipped out her wand. "No, Minerva. She'll take my map with her."

"Who cares about the map?" she snapped at the old man. "If we don't do something about her--"

"She incinerated my sock drawer thirteen years ago. I won't let her get away with my map!"

Professor McGonagall stared at the Headmaster as if he'd gone completely cuckoo, which was probably quite possible. Finally, she threw her hands up in resign. "You and your socks, Albus! Fine! But I'm not helping you this time!" and with that, she stormed into her classroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Still sore about your warm, woolly socks, Bumblebee?"

"The woolliest there ever were, Rifyr." Seeming to regain his sanity, the Headmaster pocketed his wand and brushed off his robes, still staring threateningly at the demon on the ceiling.

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The whole class of Gryffindors and Slytherins started in their seats as the heavy door was slammed shut upon their professor's second entrance, muttering heatedly about socks. She seemed to ignore her expectant class as she took her place behind the teacher's desk. Finally, she fixed them all with a rather unnerving stare. She cleared her throat. "Now, today.."

"BLAST YOU, RIFYR!" came a thundering bellow from outside the classroom. It was followed by unfamiliar chuckles which seemed to come from right outside the door.

"Peeves?" Hermione questioned from beside Harry, although quite unsure. Peeves had never dared to test the Headmaster's patience before.

"No, no, not Peeves." McGonagall was glaring quite hard at the door. She had pressed her lips together so tightly, they were now nothing but a thin line below her nose (which was complete with flared nostrils). "In any case--"

"YOU OWE ME A COMPLETE SET OF SOCKS, YOU BLOODY MENACE!"

The whole class fell into silence. Every pair of eyes was on the professor (who glared at the surface of her desk). Unfortunately, no one noticed something misty and inky black seep into the classroom through the cracks in the door. Finally, Draco Malfoy's drawling voice cut the silence. "Dumbledore's finally going mad, isn't he, Professor McGonagall?"

"Shut your trap, Malfoy," Harry Potter shot back on impulse. He was already having a bad day: sleeping in late, missing breakfast, then being a whole two minutes late for Potions, having twenty points deducted from Gryffindor since it had been the second time that very week the same exact thing happened. He was thankful that the start of the weekend was only two classes away.

"Don't start your bickering, boys," the professor said before the blonde Slytherin could retort or Ron could utter a "bloody bastard" or something of the type. She was massaging her temples tiredly. "And, no, Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster is not going mad. Or at least I don't think so. Years and years ago, he came in possession of a shadow demon in an enchanted jar -- please do not ask me why -- and it seems as if she's loose. Again."

Hermione gasped, while Malfoy raised his brows. They were obviously the only two who knew exactly what a shadow demon was capable of. Well, other than Seamus, who said aloud thoughtfully, "I came across one of those once." He pulled at a lock of sandy brown hair. "It took me ages to grow my hair back out. And I had second-degree burns on my scalp." He shuddered visibly at the memory.

The rest of the class stared at him, wide-eyed, some of them sheilding their heads with their hands, as if the pesky demon was going to pop out of no where and start a campfire in their hair.

"Well, okay, but.. what's all this about socks?" Malfoy asked, quite to Harry's annoyance, although he was maybe just a tad curious. Maybe.

This earned a roll of the eyes from the older witch, as well as an explaination. "Thirteen years ago, the same thing happened with this shadow demon -- she escaped when Professor Dumbledore accidently knocked her jar over -- and apparently, she had set fire to his sock drawer to amuse herself."

"And that's why the old bloke's got his panties in a twist?" Malfoy asked disbelievingly.

Harry, however, thought back to the room that used to contain the mirror of Erised. He remembered asking the Headmaster what he saw when he looked into the enchanted mirror. And he also remembered, quite well, what Dumbledore's answer had been:

``I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.``

Harry snorted into his hand, unsucessfully masking his amusement. As he tried hard to control himself and revert his facial features to a more somber expression, he glanced at Malfoy, who was grinning at him quite weirdly. But it disappeared all too quick to be replaced by the usual sneer, making Harry think that it was just his sleep-depraved imagination.

"The old fool."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter! That's quite enough!"

"Harry Potter," came a soft whisper, its source no where to be found. Alarmed, some of the students hopped onto others, while another good number fell out of their chairs. Most of them were thinking that a whisper that came from no where could mean Voldemort. But the whisper didn't sound familiar to Harry, so he merely gazed blankly about the classroom.

"Huh?"

There came a quiet chortle. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry's eyes snapped to said person, who was paling remarkably at the mention of his name. Although, surprisingly, the Slytherin was able to keep a completely inscrutable expression.

"Rifyr! Out!" snapped the professor, pointing her wand at the numerous shadows about the room. "Out, out, out! I couldn't care less of Albus's map, and I'll cast the containing spell at every damn shadow in this classroom if you don't leave! Go and bother someone else!"

"Alright, okay. I'm leaving, you old coot. As for you two boys, watch your backsides." There was more laughter, as if what was said was supposed to be funny. "This -will- be fun."

Harry watched Malfoy for his reaction, wondering if he was as clueless as Harry felt. Apparently, the Slytherin was, because he was giving Harry the same exact look.

*TBC*

End Chapter One.

Yes, the shadow demon is kinda based off me. What can I say? What demon wouldn't have fun at Hogwarts with those two sexy boys? X3 ..So, anyway, what do you think? If people don't like this story and I get zero reviews (which is absolutely possible seeing as I suck), I'll end up deleting it and pretending I never wrote such a monstrosity. And please don't complain about how Dumbledore is OOC. ..I know he kind of is, but I've always wanted to see him get just a little angry and freak out, and I thought.. if nothing else can do it, why not make up something that can? ..I'm done rambling now.