Hiding behind words

Harry rolled over, groaning as the grandfather clock against the far wall chimed the hour, telling him that it was time to wake up. He opened his eyes, and immediately let out a shriek, startling the other members of the dorm out of their stupors.

"Harry? What is it?" Ron asked, the worry evident in his voice. The redhead had already grabbed his wand from his bedside table, and was poised ready to attack. Sheepishly, Harry shuffled away from what had startled him, and Ron lowered his wand. "That bloody cat!" he grumbled, stalking over and picking up Crookshanks from the pillow next to Harry. He then proceeded over to the door that led to the steps down to the common room, and carelessly chucked the ball of ginger fur through it.

"Sorry guys," Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes and sitting up properly, his racing heart calming down slightly after his rude awakening.

"I swear, Hermione needs to get that thing some sort of tracing collar or something…it always gets up here! She should keep it under control!" Ron groused as he padded back over to his bed, and collapsed onto it face-down. Harry ignored him – this was his friend's usual early morning routine. "I don't want to get up," the redhead groaned into his mattress. "Harry, tell McGonagall I'm sick – or that I transfigured myself into a worm or something…"

"Yes Ron," Harry snorted, swinging his legs over the side of his bed, and putting his feet down onto the worn carpet of the floor. "'Morning Neville," he nodded to the clumsy sandy-haired Gryffindor in the bed next along from his. Neville just smiled sleepily, and wrapped his blankets around himself, before embarking on the perilous journey towards the bathroom. It was even more perilous than usual, for Fred and George Weasley had not only returned to redo the year they had run away from, but they had returned with a great deal of products that needed to be 'tested'. More often that not, they were 'tested' on poor old Neville.

After being holed up in the hospital wing after a particularly nasty side-effect just after Hallowe'en, the twins had let up on poor Neville, but were still partial to playing jokes on him every so often.

With all of this in mind, the boy-who-lived forced himself to his feet, deciding it was only chivalrous to accompany his friend to the bathroom. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he is inherently adorable because of his clumsiness…nope…not at all. The black-haired teen rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, and hurriedly grabbed his clothes were he'd left them crumpled on the floor the night before. "Hey, Neville, wait up mate."

The clumsy Gryffindor obediently lingered in the doorway, yawning widely and scratching his head. "My mouth tastes like fur," he complained with a slight grin. However, it fell away as a sudden thought struck him. "You don't think they'd hex my toothbrush two days in a row, do you?" Seamus Finnigan (who up until that point had been as motionless as Dean Thomas), burst into laughter at this, rolling over to look at Neville. The sandy-haired boy just flushed, and declared stoutly, "Well, come on, they might have done!"

"In that case, I'm coming along – this I have to see. I missed it first time around, after all!" the Irish teen leapt out from beneath his covers, not bothering to grab any clothes as he made his way to the door. Harry shook his head, amused by Seamus' over-baggy pyjamas, which nearly succeeded in tripping him in his haste.

"It wasn't that funny Seamus," Neville said reproachfully, which only made the Irish boy smile even wider. "Harry, whack him or something – he's deranged!"

"We all know that – it's why we pity him, remember?" Harry said in a confiding manner, walking out of the dorm past the other two and dropping a wink. Neville smirked, and followed, carefully hoisting up the trailing ends of his blankets, to make sure that he didn't trip over them. Seamus fell in behind them, and the three of them heard a loud swear as Ron no doubt woke up Dean in a rather brutal manner with a pillow.

"Christ, he could sleep through a nuclear blast," Harry muttered drily – the other two looked at him quizzically, and he remembered (yet again), that muggle references were lost on them at times.

"Y'what?" Seamus asked.

"Urm – big muggle weapon – makes a huge explosion – very loud," he answered, deciding that full sentences would only confuse them. The other two nodded, pretending to understand, and Neville yelled, having neglected his trailing blankets, and toppled forwards up the stairs. Both Seamus and Harry hurriedly reached out to grab him, succeeding in preventing him from breaking his nose on the cold stone.

"Thanks," the clumsy teen said, righting himself and then carrying on up the stairs. Thankfully, there weren't that many steps left, and they entered the bathroom with no more mishaps. Neville lingered on the threshold, allowing the boy-who-lived and the Irish teen to enter before him.

"It's all right Neville, all-clear," Harry informed him, reaching out and yanking him into the bathroom by his blankets.

"B-but – what if the toothbrush-?"

"I'm sure they wouldn't do the same trick twice – here, I'll even check for you, all right?" the clumsy Gryffindor smiled gratefully. Bless him. Harry was a good as his word. He withdrew his wand from the waistband of his pyjama bottoms (paranoia had forced him into never letting the damn thing out of his sight or reach for so much as a second), and advanced towards the row of ceramic sinks below the mirrors on the western wall of the room. The sun's rays poured through the window high above, dazzling him slightly as it was reflected back at him by the silvered surfaces.

Neville's toothbrush lay in his wash-mug, a few drips of green slime left over from the twin's amusing trick the previous day. (They'd hexed Neville's toothbrush so that as soon as he started to brush his teeth, the toothpaste turned into green slime, which had stained his teeth for the entire day. Neville had not been amused.) Making a great show of it, Harry carefully reached out, and plucked the brush from the mug with his thumb and forefinger.

He then dropped it onto the counter-top between the sink the sixth years used, and the sink the fifth years used. Neville had moved forwards by this point, so Harry injected an (obviously) false flinch as he prodded the toothbrush with his wand. "Please tell me you're not planning on acting for a living," Neville commented dryly, and he boy-who-lived was able to see his raised eyebrow in the mirror. He just grinned at the clumsy Gryffindor, and picked up his toothbrush.

"I believe this is safe enough mate," he told him. Neville accepted the toothbrush gratefully, and stepped around past Harry in order to brush his teeth. A sudden gagging sound alerted the both of them to the fact that Seamus was still in the room. Turning around (Neville with toothbrush in mouth), the two teens spied their Irish housemate spitting green slime into the sink at the end of the row. Neville snorted, and quickly turned back to the sink in order to spit out his mouth of toothpaste.

Harry just innocently stuck his wand back into his waistband, and left to go back to the dorms. I should ask Fred and George to teach me their tricks more often! He decided, unable to stop smiling as he hurried down the stairs.

When he got back into the dorm, it was to find that Dean had Ron in a very painful looking headlock. Dean looked up as Harry walked over to his bed, and offered a cheery "'morning!" before returning to ruffling Ron's hair with a vengeance. Ron struggled slightly, but was unable to break the hold around his neck.

"Look, I said I'm sorry!" he said, voice sounding a little muffled, seeing as his head was pressed against Dean's side.

"I know. So, Harry, any master plans for offing Snape yet?" Dean carried on the conversation as if the situation was perfectly normal.

"Sadly, nope. If only we could get 'Mione to help – she's the one with the brains." Harry looked at his bed and tried to figure out what it was he had come back to the dorm for in the first place. Dean went back to admonishing Ron, and Harry was perplexed. What the hell did I come back down here fo-?

Tap, tap.

Thud.

Dean dropped the redhead and looked at the window. "Oi, Harry, I think it's for you," he nodded towards the window. The black-haired teen hurried over, butterflies in his stomach as the memory of the letter he'd sent the previous night came flooding back to him. Unlatching the window allowed in a flurry of snowflakes, along with his faithful owl, Hedwig.

She hooted gently and ruffled her feathers, hopping onto the windowsill and nuzzling his hand. Huh? The owl didn't seem to have a letter, and he wondered why she was there. The bid just hooted again, and fluttered around slightly, before settling on his pyjama-encased shoulder. Guess she just wanted some company…

A few seconds later, Seamus stumbled back into the dorm, looking pale and drawn. "I'm going to kill your brothers Ron!" The redhead just looked up dazedly from the floor and nodded his head,

"Yeah, whatever." The sudden emergence of the Irish teen reminded the boy-who-lived that what he had been looking for (being his clothes), he had left in the bathroom. Just so bloody distracted at the moment… Huffing in annoyance, he nonetheless hurried back up the stairs to the bathroom in order to get dressed, passing Neville on the way up.

The clumsy Gryffindor stopped him with a tap on the shoulder. "Was that really the twins?" he asked, obviously meaning the toothbrush. The black-haired teen just tapped his nose, making Neville smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."


Draco huffed as he attempted to slick back a particularly stubborn section of his hair. "Bloody – useless – sodding… Oh bugger it!" He dropped both hands to his sides, and watched with detached annoyance as a lock of his platinum hair slowly slid down the side of his face, ending up sticking out at an odd angle and making him look like a prat. "Why couldn't father have bought me a hat for Christmas?" he asked his reflection, scrutinising the bags under his eyes after his restless night.

Thankfully, both Crabbe and Goyle had hurried off to breakfast after waking him, leaving him in the rather luxurious position of having the dormitory all to himself. For once, the threat of being called away by the mark didn't trouble him… It will delay my inevitable embarrassment and possible murder by father if word of this ever gets out… "What the hell was I thinking?" he asked himself, turning away from the dress mirror and facing the empty room. Everything was overtly green – like his eyes – his mind supplied, rather unhelpfully.

He was beginning to regret ever laying eyes on Potter, when Pansy Parkison's braying laughter sounded in the corridor. He panicked, and did the first thing he thought of – he hid. Darting from the mirror, he made his way to his bed, and dropped down onto the floor beside it, before rolling over and underneath the bed altogether. Not a moment too soon! He thought as he heard the dormitory door open. Why the hell are the girls allowed in here, but I can't get into the girl's dorms? The Slytherin prince wondered with a small grin.

No wonder I turned out like this… the blond flinched as Pansy called, "Draco, are you in here sweetheart?" Sweetheart. Fucking hell… "Draco?" The dust underneath the bead tickled his nose, and Draco hurriedly reached up a hand to pinch his nose and stem a sneeze. "I guess he must already be at breakfast," the Slytherin girl decided, and a few moments later, the door snapped shut.

Draco exhaled slowly, and waited for about another minute before clambering out from beneath the bed. In the reflection of the dress-mirror, he could see that his previously black robes were now a fetching shade of grey. "Great." The blond grabbed his wand from the pocket of his robes, and proceeded to amend the colour of his robes. He amused himself for a short while by drawing patterns in the dust that covered him, but when he glanced at the clock on the wall, he realised he'd have to hurry if he wanted any breakfast.

And considering I didn't bother with dinner last night…I'm actually pretty hungry, he thought, as he watched the dust disappear. He turned a full circle, glaring studiously into the mirror to ensure that he hadn't missed anything, and then bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile at the reflective surface. "All right dear, you're clean! Now stop gurning and get out of here!" the doddery voice of the mirror made him jump, and he scowled. Stupid talking mirrors…almost as bad as the paintings…grr…

Annoyed by the mirror's accusing him of gurning (gurning indeed? I'd do no such thing, that's so undignified!), Draco swept out of the room, wand still firmly clutched in his hand. The few Slytherins that hadn't made their way up from the dungeons and to the Great Hall got out of his way when they saw him coming… After all, every house member knew how to tell when their prince was annoyed.

They also knew it wasn't wise to get in his way when he was angry about something. It never ended well…


The hustle and bustle of the Great hall only served to fray Draco's nerves further. He felt glad that, as it was the holidays, the school was at least not completely full. That might well end up driving me insane…or more so than I already am, he ended his thought, feeling a smile come unbidden to his face when he saw Potter come through the doors into the hall, and walk over to the Gryffindor table.

The Slytherin was sitting in his usual place, turned away from the others in his year, signifying that he didn't wish to be spoken to. Thankfully, even Pansy seemed to understand his meaning, and he was being left alone! And Harry hasn't tried to kill me yet…which is a good start… The blond despondently pushed his food around on his plate, not fancying the scrambled eggs that had looked so appetising only a few seconds before.

Potter suddenly burst into laughter at something Longbottom said to him – Draco bent his head down, and proceeded to sneak glances through his hair at the collection of his Gryffindor rivals. My God, he looks ready to fall off his chair. The blond wondered what on earth could possibly be quite so funny…then a terrible feeling hit him, as the boy-who-lived looked up and caught his eye.

The green eyes paralysed the Slytherin, and Draco gulped as the smile on the dark-haired boy's face fell away. Above, the owls were beginning to filter in through the open windows; a loud hoot made the Gryffindor break the gaze. The Slytherin prince inhaled deeply, having forgotten to breathe, and blinked when a large owl dropped onto the table in front of him.

It stuck out its leg, to show a clumsily folded piece of parchment tied to it. Draco blinked, feeing that he recognised the handwriting, but not quite able to place it. Couldn't be…could it? As nonchalantly as he could, considering his growing excitement, the blond removed the letter from the owl, and unfolded it beneath the table, to ensure that no one else would see it.

It is! His hands shook slightly as he smoothed the parchment out, to show the spidery chicken-scratch of a certain dark-haired, green-eyed Gryffindor.

Draco,

I got our letter, and I promise I won't kill you. Not yet at least. We need to talk – you can pick the place and time. I just need to know what's going on here. Reply soon.

There was no signature on the parchment, but there was also no doubt in Draco's mind whom the letter was from. Shaking slightly, he ventured another peek at the Gryffindor table.

Those green eyes were waiting to meet his. Green and grey connected, and a message of agreement communicated. Then Hermione Granger patted him on the shoulder, and he looked away. Bloody mud- No! Damnit… I suppose I'm going to have to stop calling her that if this is going to get anywhere… Draco frowned slightly, and scrunched the letter up in his hand. Then, he pushed his plate away, and got up from the table.

Without any further ado, he left the Great Hall, feeling slightly faint as butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Well, I guess it's my move.


Yes, I'm being lazy. Bah, humbug. As I already said, the plot devices, and hell, this whole story isn't meant to be serious. It's just a parody of a pairing that would never feasibly work, because my little mind is bored of college-work. Hum-de-hum.

Next chapter will arrive in the future sometime. Don't know when though.