Dragon Noir

It's the same old thing as yesterday

There's a black hat caught in a high tree top

There's a flagpole rag and the wind won't stop."

~King of Pain, The Police

Chapter One~

Luna Lovegood looked up from her magazine as somebody walked past her compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It was still quite early - her father had dropped her off and then rushed off to his business - but she just couldn't bring herself to understand why somebody else was on the train already as well.

Out on the platform, only the conductor stood.

In the corridor, there was nobody. Luna sighed.

"So much for keeping my nose out of other peoples business," she mused softly, and set down her copy of 'The Quibbler', before standing and striding down the corridor.

Near the end of the car, a compartment door stood open, she wandered towards it, her shallow heels tapping on the floor, and ducked her head in to inspect.

A single figure, one she recognize far too well, sat on the left side bench, staring out towards the platform, though his eyes looked unseeing, his gaze introverted. His hair was not slicked back, as she remembered it being from last year, but hung around his face in shoulder length waves. On his plush bottom lip were a few small scars, like he'd bitten it to the point of bleeding a few too many times.

"What do you WANT?" Draco Malfoy demanded curtly, his tone as haughty and aloof as ever. Luna snorted, and leaned against the door frame.

"Can't a girl stare?" Malfoy shifted slightly, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"That would imply you're a girl, Lovegood. Bugger off." His gaze returned to the platform, where students were just beginning to gather.

"Oh, did the little Malfoy miss a nap?" Luna bit. Malfoy twitched slightly, and turned to give her a halfhearted glare. She crossed her arms and returned it, with far more fervor then she felt; the situation was awkward, to say the least. He finally sighed and shook his head.

"Just go away, Lovegood," he muttered, his tone losing it's biting edge and demanding air. Luna blinked, and stood up straight. Malfoy sighed again, and spared her reflection a short gaze, before studying his hands intently. "Please."

Luna spared him her own short, confused glance, let her gaze fall to his hands - she couldn't place why he was so intent on them - and then she nodded, turning and returning to her compartment.

~~~

Harry didn't spare his relatives a second glance as he walked towards the barrier between this world and the wizarding one. He simply strode towards the separator between platforms nine and ten, and erupted onto the other side; platform nine-and-three-quarters.

"Harry!"

The dark haired Seeker turned at the hails, and put on a slight smile as he wheeled his trolley over towards his best friend at their family.

The Weasley's all greeted him warmly. Fred and George, both past him samples of their newest prank items from their joke shop, winking and smiling, slapping him on the back. Ginny smiled up at him, asking him how his summer had been.

Ron watched from where he stood beside his mum and dad, half talking to them. He'd grown again over the summer, topping this year at a well built six-foot-two; Harry had to crane his neck just a little, standing one five-nine. He'd let his hair grow out, much like his brother Charlie, and had it tied off at the nape of his neck.

When the tall redhead finally did detach from his parents, he strode over to Harry with a lopsided grin. Harry returned it, giving his friend a warm hug.

"You didn't write," Ron mused as he pulled back. Harry flushed in embarrassment; he hadn't done a lot of things. Ron seemed to understand and squeezed his shoulder. "Talk about it later then?"

ot;Sot;Sounds good. You seen 'mione yet?" Ron shook his head, and shrugged one shoulder gracefully, looking around.

"She might already have a seat on the train. Headgirl this year, did she tell you? Nah, that's dumb; course she did. She's Hermy." Harry had to chuckle at that, even though he hadn't known. Bidding Ron's family a farewell, he, Ginny and Ron made their way onto the train, and down the corridors towards an empty compartment.

One opened as they past, and Luna Lovegood poked her head out. She looked bemused, a little tired, and slightly worried, but offered them all a smile and waved them in.

"Where's Hermione?" she asked as they stowed their luggage.

"Prefect's cabin. She's Headgirl this year," Ginny stated, with what sounded like pride in her voice. Harry smothered a chuckle, and sat down beside the younger girl. Luna smiled as well, nodding.

"That suits her well," she mused, and looked towards the open door to their compartment. "I wish she were here. I've got to tell you all something."

"What is it, Luna?" Ron asked, suddenly worried. He sat beside Harry, next to the window. Luna sighed and rubbed her brow slowly.

"A lot of things from over the summer. And something from just a little while ago." She sighed. "I should wait until Hermione gets here; I won't really have a chance to tell her otherwise..."

"I can tell her," Ginny offered with a slow smile. Luna nibbled her bottom lip a moment, before nodding. She folded her hands in her lap carefully, almost demurely, and looked at them all. Harry wasn't at all sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

A few of the things were stuff that had been in the Daily Prophet: Voldemort's growing strength, the sudden rise in known Death Eaters, a sudden and horrendous rise in attacks against Muggle-borns and half-blood Witches and Wizards.

Some of the things were knew to all three of them, like a supposed alliance between Voldemort and the Dementors of the Wizard prison, Azkaban. People had speculated at it, but it hadn't been proven yet; Harry was frightened beyond doubt that it would, and when it did happen, there would be bigger problems on their hands.

And finally, Luna came to the thing she'd only just learned that day.

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted almost as soon as she'd started. "You were TALKING with a MALFOY?"

"Well, it wasn't so much talking as I saw him get on the train and I was confused," Luna excused. "But that's not the point. There's something wrong with him. For one thing, he was ALONE. For another, he was just... Well, he sounded sad, even when he was making fun of me. And he wasn't really. It was like he wasn't even trying."

"Are you sure it was safe to just talk to him like that?" Ginny asked softly, her brow furrowed. "Even if he is... Well, whatever he is... He's still the son of a very powerful Death Eater. He could be dangerous!"

"He's dangerous without being the son of a Death Eater," Harry mumbled offhandedly. Most of his mind was fixed on Luna's words from a moment before. He'd seemed sad; it reminded him too much of his dream.

"He had a se ose on his neck, and some scabs on his hands. They looked pretty new, and pretty bad. Like he hadn't bothered to find a Mediwitch and get them healed or something." Luna shook her head. "I don't know. It just seemed... Odd. And wrong. He's never been like this before, that I've seen. It's like the entire world -."

"Just crashed down around him," Harry finished. Ron and Ginny gave him sidelong, worried looks. Luna looked up at him and nodded slowly, then with more vigor.

"Yeah. Like someone took his one reality, and ripped it up and stomped on it and spat on it and -."

"We get the point, Luna," Ron interrupted, but his gaze was focused on Harry. "Did you have... one of your dreams this summer, Harry?"

Harry swallowed. He didn't want to remember that dream, didn't want to remember the end, or the golden line that he was following, or the look in the eyes of his friends and teachers and those people who were supposed to guard him.

He needed to be alone.

"Harry?" Ginny asked as he stood. The dark haired boy shook his head slightly.

"I... need to walk for a minute. I'm gonna go... Walk..."

The three students left in the cabin exchanged looks as Harry slipped out, and wondered off.

~~~

Draco sat blissfully alone, half asleep in his cabin, leaning against the window. His head bounced and jostled along with the movement of the train, but he didn't mind, welcoming the minute pain it was giving his temple.

He wondered, momentarily, how hard he'd have to hit his head against the window pane to give himself a concussion, or, better yet, to crack his skull completely open.

Somebody was watching him. He kept his eyes resolutely closed, though his skin crawled with the sensation of the stare. It was like an itch he couldn't reach, one that moved over his back and neck and shoulders and torso and legs...

He didn't want someone looking at his legs. He curled up a bit more, trying to will the other person away with his very mind.

The cabin door slid closed, and he heard someone sit across from him. He didn't want to open his eyes and see who it was, but knew he should. If it was a Slytherin, they'd be expecting some curt dismissal. If it wasn't...

Well, if it wasn't, then the other person was surely mad. He was Draco Malfoy, the envious beautiful of Slytherin, the powerful, vindictive blond serpent.

He almost snorted at the thought, and let his eyes whisper open slowly.

Sitting across from him, though no longer staring at him, was the last person he'd expected to see sitting there - well, maybe not the last, but it was a close tie. Messy black hair cascaded around a face tanned from days in the sun, falling haphazardly before thick glasses, before sharp emerald eyes that were now focused towards the outside world. Slowly, Draco shifted again.

"Potter? What the hell are you DOING?" he snarked angrily, though it was only half felt. Some deeper part of him wanted to throw himself at this boy, to pour out the trivialities of his tormented, and confusing life. Another part of him told him to keep his distance.

"I'm sitting here," the dark haired Seeker replied slowly, keeping his gaze outside, away from the blond. "Unless there's some rule that says I can't sit where I want now."

"It's called 'Common Curtesy', you dolt," Draco snarled darkly, narrowing his eyes to a harsh glare. Potter spared him a short glance, his eyes darting over him.

"I'll show you some," he mused shortly. "As soon as you show me and my friends a little bit as well."

"Feh," Draco snapped instantly, raising a brow. "Show a half-blood, a mudblood and a Weasel curtesy? What delusion are you living in NOW, Potter?"

Again, a short glance past over him, and Draco found himself wanting to curl into a ball once more. He looked away angrily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nice bruise."

Draco's hand went instantly to his neck, before he remembered the shallow cuts on the back of both hands. He settled for shrinking into his turtleneck as much as possible, glaring a hole into the floor, refusing to dignify Potter with any sort of reaction.

"You had one like that after winter vacation last year too," Potter mused, raising a brow. "Any reasons behind that?"

"None of your god damn business, Potter," Draco snarled. "Go back to your little friends, half-blood. Leave me in peace."

But Po did didn't stand and leave as Draco had hoped, just stayed staring out the window like he hadn't heard Draco in the first place; the blond growled, pulling out his wand, ready to curse the smarmy arse into next week.

"I'm not doing anything to disturb you, Malfoy," Potter stated slowly, barely moving his lips with the words. "Go ahead and curse me, if you want. I don't care; stopped caring if I was going to die a while ago."

The words made Draco's resolve falter slightly. He shifted in his seat, his grip tightening on his wand.

"Why'd you come in here?" Draco suddenly demanded, then mentally cursed; his voice sounded pitiful, weak and childish, as though he were asking his parents why he'd gotten in trouble.
He dHe didn't want to think about his parents. Potter turned to look at him.

"I wasn't planning on it, if that's what you mean. I didn't go out of my way to find you. I just kinda... came by." His gaze returned to the world outside his window. Draco's resolve broke further; he returned his wand to the inside of his robes and looked away from Potter resolutely.

He wondered, for more then a moment, and not for the first time, why he didn't just beat the snot out of Potter and have done with it. True, Potter was bigger than he was, but then he had the advantage of being more agile, able to move around the taller teen with more ease.

He pushed the thought away. They'd fallen into silence, and it wasn't all that uncomfortable.

"Your little friends are going to wonder where you are, Potter," he muttered offhandedly. Potter shrugged.

"If they really wanted to find me, they could."

The words made Draco look up and survey the dark haired Seeker critically. Was this really the boy who'd past on his friendship for a Weasel? The one who's looked him in the eye, and practically told him that he didn't - that he COULDN'T - like him as a friend? And here he was, brooding by a window, avoiding those same peoples' company like the plague, almost.

Almost.

Maybe there was more to Potter than met the eye. More than the dashing, expressive green eyes, the firm-looking skin, the plush lips and long neck and graceful frame -.

What was Draco thinking!? He shook his head, trying to remove the sudden imagery of Potter standing before him in nothing but a smile; he could feel his face heating.

He still hadn't 'learned his lesson'. He wondered, for longer than a moment, if this was part of that lesson, if his father - his father's Lord - had seen a thought like this flitting across his mind; he couldn't very well fall in love with another boy, now could he? Let alone a Potter -.

Fall in love? The thought frightened him. He looked over at Potter, stared for a moment, before he felt his face heat again, and focused on the ground, trying to figure out where the thought had come from.

"We're going to be there soon," he heard himself saying softly. Potter turned to look at him slowly; Draco kept his eyes carefully away from himquotquot;You should go back to those friends of yours."

"Right." Potter stood slowly, as though he didn't want to, and made his way towards the door to the cabin, where he halted, turning to face Draco. He chewed his lip a moment, before he spoke. "Will you be all right?"

"Just don't mention this, Potter," he hissed, looking at the window. He saw Potter's reflection nod, and listened to the hiss of the door opening; the dark haired Seeker disappeared into the corridor.

Draco sighed, and scrubbed his face with his hands slowly, brushing his hair back. His brain was flogged with questions and pondering.

He didn't want to think just then.

~~~

Harry collapsed onto his bed in his dorm. It had been a long night, though it had been relatively uneventful. Around him, the other sixth year boys were in various degrees of consciousness and dress. Seamus Finnigan seemed the most awake, sitting on his bed, polishing his wand; Dean Thomas cast him a glance.

"Practicing, Seamus?" he chimed, a k onk on his lips. The Irish teen, who'd filled out quite nicely over the last summer, looked up with expressive silver-green eyes and blushed a little, before covering it up with a dashing smile.

"Maybe you'd like me to practice on you instead?" Dean's flush was even brighter, making his dark skin glow. He disappeared into his bed and drew the curtains. Seamus chuckled and shook his head, muttering to himself slightly; Harry leaned up onto his elbows, and raised a brow.

"Really now," he mused cryptically. Seamus looked over at him, as though jus just noticed he was there.

"Huh?"

"That wasn't very nice," he pointed out softly. Seamus blushed a little and rubbed the back of his head as he set e hie his wand. The blush had returned to his cheeks and he coughed discretely, as though trying to alleviate some unfelt tension.

"He had it comin', sayin' stuff like that," he muttered halfheartedly. Harry sat up more fully. From across the room, Neville levered up a little, looking at them both.

"How about you both shut up and let us all sleep," he offered tiredly, struggling to keep his eyelids up. Harry rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at him as Ron walked, giving them all long, slow looks, before focusing on Dean's thrown drapes.

"Did I miss something?" He asked, sliding into his bed as the lights were doused; his appearance seemed to be the signal that it was really time to nod off for the night. Harry shrugged a little.

"I heard that, Potter," Seamus snapped from his bed. Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes again, but the smile he was wearing didn't quite reach his eyes, a fact Ron noticed after a moment.

"You good, mate?" he asked softly. Harry hesitated, then nodded.

"Tired. I'll be better after a good nights sleep in these beds."

"Than how about we SLEEP!?" Neville demanded from behind his curtains, which he too had drawn down. Harry chuckled, and settled back into his bed, and drifted into his dreams.

~~~

Draco didn't have nearly as easy a time resting. He'd had a hard time from all the sixth year boys in his dorm - even Crabbe and Goyle - with the sole exclusion laying on Blaise Zabini, who cast him a short glance, asked about the cuts on his hands, and then let it drop.

Of course, Draco was of the very solid idea that Blaise had some mental issues which involved such annoying, degrading things as blood and pain and cutting open your own hand; he'd seen the other boy do it, once or twice. It was an odd thing to watch, to see your class mate slit open his skin and let the blood run, staining.

So, after much interrogation from both the girls and the boys of his year, he'd disappeared into the dorm; they knew his father was out of prison - his and only a few others had actually managed to get out, before the Aurors had stepped in to put an end to it.

He'd sat on his bed, the thick emerald green drapes pulled closed, and contemplated what had happened on the train ride, stair up at the top of his canopy. The color scheme did not escape him, and brought him back from his musing to the more pleasant prospect that Potter had unwittingly provided.

Potter was THERE. Of course, that was a stupid, obvious observation - where else would Potter be? But the thought made Draco sit up in his bed, and contemplate that avenue thoroughly.

Unknowingly, the Boy Who Lived had offered his services as a wall, as someone to talk to, should it come to that. He knew the idea should have disconcerted him; in fact, it did for a moment, before it bolstered him.

Potter had NOT offered him friendship. Just understanding, on whatever level he could offer. It wasn't as if they shared a whole lot of familial background, but was it possible that the dark haired Seeker could understand even a facet of where Draco was coming from? Would he even realize that he'd unwittingly laid the offer before the blond?

But what did it matter?

That new thought made him pause. What did it matter indeed? Wasn't he already practically marked as a Death Eater? Voldemort knew his parents, personally, and had no doubt gone to school with even their parents. THAT was a disconcerting thought, more so than the fact that he could possibly strike up an understanding with Potter.

And if he did, somehow he felt that Voldemort would find out, and destroy either him, Potter or both of them.

That, too, was a disconcerting thought, though Draco didn't know what.

He sat awake, weighing the decision carefully, until he heard the others come to bed, and even later. He only realized how long he'd been awake when he heard the first whisperings of life beyond.

Looking down at himself, he realized he was still in his clothes from the night before. With a short grunt of annoyance, he reached through the curtains at the end of his bed, intent on finding new clothing simply on feel; he didn't want to face the others just yet.

"Malfoy."

The short, cultured tones of Blaise Zabini made him turn his head towards the sliver opened for the thin boy. He slid in, onto Draco's bed, and set down a short stack of the blond's clean clothes.

"Figured you wouldn't want to be out with THIS lot around," he whispered, staring at the clothes, before his dark eyes darted up to meet Draco's face. "You look miserable."

"I feel right awful," Draco admitted, shucking his robe from the night before, and working on his tie and shirt.

"Been up all night?" Blaise asked, looking down at the clothes again. Draco hesitated, than nodded slowly, finally removing all the clothing on his torso. He dug out the new shirt and tie and put them on slowly, aware of Blaise watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"I was... thinking," Draco admitted even slower. Blaise nodded, and finally looked up, though his gaze was carefully focused away from the blond as he removed his pants.

"So you know, Malfoy... I'm around... If you'd... Ya know, like to talk or anything. The others don't like me so much, and I'll keep a secret." Draco was silent, his eyes confused as he slid out his slacks and boxers, crouching so his shirt tails covered him carefully. This offer was much more clear than Potter's had been. And probably safer.

"I'll... think about it. Thank you, Zabini, for the clothes and the offer." Blaise nodded, realizing his dismissal, and slid off the bed slowly. He spared a short glance back at him, a twinkle of a smile in his dark eyes, and then the curtains settled as he moved away.

After he was properly dressed, he left the room, glad to see the others had gone ahead without him; it settled his stomach a little, though the feeling was dwarfed over the prospect of having to sit with them at meals. He wasn't honestly sure if they envied him or hated him, because his father was back and most of theirs weren't.

He strode confidently out of the dungeons, though his eyes darted about. There hadn't been a time in the castle when he'd strode the halls without somebody else around him, during the day. The halls seemed bigger, longer, almost ominous. The ghosts appearing from one wall to disappear through another didn't help.

His gaze was drawn away from one such instance when he heard easy, cheerful banter from the stairs. It told of several friends, and three voices he could place easily.

Granger, Weasley, and Potter. And all their friends.

If Draco could have willfully disappeared, he would have chosen then to become a chameleon, to meld into the backdrop of dark, rough stone. As it was, he hung his head, and made his way towards the Great Hall; his hair dangled in his face, and he shoved it back behind on ear as he walked, ignoring the Gryffindors studiously.

He didn't feel the need to make more of a fool out of himself than was truly necessary at this point.

~TBC~