Incubus Dreams

Draco Malfoy walked into the car as if he owned it. Harry stifled a groan. As far as he knew, Draco didn’t know about Harry’s relationship with the elder Malfoy.

“What do you want, Malfoy? Don’t you have some first year to torture?”
The blond Slytherin didn’t answer. He just walked further in and sat down, all the while staring at Harry.

“What are you looking at?” Harry was beginning to feel nervous, which in turn annoyed him. “Look, say something, do something, or get out. I don’t have the time or the energy to try and figure out what’s going on in your twisted, scheming brain.”

Malfoy still didn’t say anything, so Harry blew out a breath, rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window. Harry really didn’t mind Malfoy’s presence, so long as the Slytherin didn’t try and do anything. Regardless, Harry palmed his wand, removing it from a hidden pocket sown into his sleeve.

“I don’t understand the fascination everyone seems to have with you.”

Malfoy’s cultured tones sliced through the silence, startling Harry. He managed to hide his reaction, something for which he was very grateful.

“I beg your pardon?”

Malfoy snorted, “Beg, yeah, right.” The words were mumbled, but Harry ignored them as the blond continued. “The whole wizarding world is fascinated by you, and I don’t understand why.”

“I’m the Boy Who Lived.” It was said with such disgust that Malfoy blinked, but Harry continued in the same voice. “You know, for someone who doesn’t understand the fascination, you seem to be pretty obsessed yourself.”

Malfoy waved his hand, dismissing the importance of that revelation.

"That’s different. With me, it was more about knowing a rival. It’s on an entirely different level. I don’t put you on some pedestal--”

“No, but you keep trying to knock me down from it.”

Malfoy just sighed, but he didn’t deny the comment. “I was watching a Muggle television show—”

“Wait a minute,” Harry sat straight up and looked directly at the blond.
“You not only got a hold of a television; a Muggle device, but you used it and did so willingly? This is a red letter day.”

Malfoy primly folded his hands in his lap, lifted his chin and looked down his nose at Harry.

“I’m going through my rebellious stage. Besides—” Here he lost some of the high-class pomp and deflated back to a regular sixteen year old. “I’ve come to the realization that I’ve believed something my whole life blindly, just because my father told me so. But I know nothing about the supposedly inferior muggles. I mean, how bad can they all actually be if they’ve managed to live and survive without magic?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, completely prepared to hex the probable imposter.

“What brought about this change in logic?”

Malfoy blushed, and Harry was ready and willing to use the full body bind right then, but the Slytherin sat up and pulled on the cloak of Malfoy regality and superiority.

“That, Potter, is none of your concern. Now, to get back to the point I was trying to make by bringing up this whole topic of conversation. I was watching an American muggle show called Smallville, with Clark Kent and Lex Luther.”

“Superman? What does that have to do with anything?’

Malfoy ignored Harry and continued.

“Lex Luther has a compulsive obsession with Clark Kent.”

"You’re not actually going to compare our cantankerous and volatile relationship to that of Lex Luther and Clark Kent, are you? First off, according to the show, the two started off as friends before they became rivals, and not just rivals, but arch enemies.

“Malfoy, you and I are rivals, we were never friends, but we’re not likely to be arch-nemeses. I already have one, and he has a whole host of followers more than willing to take his place.”

“All right, but still the correlation is there. Every superhero needs a rival. Right now, you have more than your fair share, and what I’m saying is…I don’t want to be one of them anymore.”

Harry stared blankly at Malfoy. He was pretty sure that the world had frozen, and then started spinning backwards; and somewhere a tear appeared in the fabric of reality.

“Huh?”

“Clean out your ears, Scar Head. I’m saying I don’t want to fight with you. No more trying to get you in trouble, to make you lose points, to kill you during Quidditch, to call you names or anything. Now, I’m not saying we’re going to be the best of mates, trading homework notes or hanging out at Hogsmeade. But it should help make your life, and more importantly, my life, less stressful and hectic.”

Laughter sounded in the hallway, but it eluded Harry’s attention. The very foundation of his world had, once again, been rocked, shaken and quaked. Part of him was relieved at this new revelation; it was one less thing he had to worry about. But a small bit of him would regret the loss of the animosity—if indeed Malfoy’s offer of Pax was true.

The door slid open and the laughter got louder.

“Hey Harry, you won’t believe—what’s he doing here?”

Ron’s question was hissed out. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron draw his wand and get ready to aim at the blond. Using every bit of Seeker speed he possessed, Harry moved to place himself between Ron and Malfoy. He drew his own wand and pointed it at Ron. He absently noted Hermione’s gasp of shock.

“Put your wand a way, Ron. I can handle this myself.”

Ron looked quizzically at Harry; he seemed a little hurt. Tightening his grip on his wand, Ron raised it a little higher.

“But Harry, what could—”

“Ron, please, just put your wand away. I promise that before you begin to utter whatever spell you plan, I will curse you myself.”

Ron lowered his wand; shock and betrayal colored every plain of his face.

“Harry…” He ignored Hermione’s questioning tone and turned to face Malfoy.

The Slytherin was nonchalantly lounging in the seat, one eyebrow raised. For all intents and purposes, he seemed to be doing nothing but watching the scene as if it didn’t affect him. But Harry saw the slight tension around his mouth and eyes, the tightness of his shoulders and neck.

“I accept. I honestly don’t know if you really want this or if you’re playing an angle; frankly I don’t care. But I promise if this is a trick, I will come after you with all I have. Then I’ll let Ron after you, then Hermione, and anyone else who wants to take a shot. Are we clear?”

Malfoy blinked once and smirked. He stood and brushed his robe off.

“Draco Malfoy.” The blond stuck his hand out in a gesture reminiscent of so long ago.

Harry put his want back in his sleeve and reached for Malfoy’s hand.

“Harry Potter.”


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I wanted to do something different for a Draco-Harry interaction. I suppose it's good that Draco's decided to tolerate Harry, as they will be spending a lot of time together.