Hear No Evil

Harry stood staring after Malfoy as he rounded the corner and left his sight, and he continued to stare at the empty space he had left behind for what felt like a long, long time. Trying desperately to collect his own thoughts, he was once again interrupted in the process by Ron's:

Blimey, Harry looks like he's seen a chimera, again! What could be so bad about Malfoy's thoughts? The git always says dreadful things - surely there can't be anything he thinks that he wouldn't say, too.

'Oh, you have no idea,' Harry groaned inwardly. He had trouble believing that he'd really heard what he had just heard. Was Malfoy really thinking these things about him? Couldn't it just be another kind of side-effect to his flopped potion? Maybe he had begun hallucinating. Harry was ready to accept this idea if it wasn't for the fact that everything else seemed normal, aside from thoughts he heard, at least. And even those seemed rather normal; Ron's thoughts were particularly Ron-like, as were Hermione's, whose thoughts were very much the kind he would have expected her to have. Practical, intelligent, and decidedly less focused on the one thing Ron didn't seem to stop thinking about for more than two minutes at a time. But Malfoy's... Malfoy's thoughts had been nothing like he had expected. Not in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that Malfoy... fancied him?

Harry shook his head. He wanted to get out of the corridor, away from his friends and foes, to a place where he could actually hear his own thoughts without having them drowned out by those of other people.

'Harry, are you alright?' asked Hermione. He doesn't look very good. I don't like what this is doing to him. We should ask Snape to make an antidote as soon as possible.

'Yeah,' said Harry, 'I mean, no, I'm not feeling that well, but you're right, we should ask Snape for an antidote, and the sooner, the better.'

Hermione still looked slightly startled at Harry's response to words she had thought but hadn't spoken aloud. 'Right,' she said briskly, 'let's go then.'

'No,' said Harry, determinedly. 'You go. I can't bear to hear Snape's thoughts again. He was thinking about my father...'

'Oh Harry, I'm sorry,' said Hermione.

Ron nodded. 'He's a right old meany, Harry, don't let it get to you.' Harry could hear the pity in both their thoughts. Poor Harry...

'No, it's okay,' replied Harry. 'I know they hated each other, so it would have been strange if he had been thinking nice things about my dad.' In his mind, he added, 'like Draco thinking these things about me.'

'Still,' he continued, 'I just don't feel like listening to Snape's mind any more than I have to. Could you please talk to him? I think I should like to go some place a bit more quiet, and think some things over.'

Seems to me it's pretty quiet here, Ron thought, surveying the now deserted corridor. Almost everyone had gone to have lunch at the Great Hall.

Harry shot him a look. 'Quiet for you, perhaps,' he muttered.

'Oh,' said Ron, understanding. 'Of course.'

'Harry, we'll go talk to Snape now, and you should go to the common room,' said Hermione, taking charge. No, the dorm. 'Or better, your dormitory. This time of day there won't be anybody there. We'll come and let you know what Snape says, and we can bring you lunch, if you'd like.'

Harry nodded, thankfully. 'That'd be great,' he said, feeling his stomach grumble at the mentioning of food. 'Thanks.'

Could do with a bit of lunch, myself, Ron thought. Together with Herm. Or she could be my lunch and...

Harry closed his eyes and pressed both hands to his ears. 'La-la-la-la,' he said, out loud, trying to drown out Ron's thoughts. He'd been privy to too many of Ron's fantasies about their mutual friend already and he didn't care to hear more. Those things were really far, far too private for him to know, Harry thought, and he wished he'd never heard them. From now on, every time Ron would get that familiar pensive look upon his face, Harry would know he was definitely not thinking of Quidditch.

When he lowered his hands and opened his eyes his friends were looking at him worriedly. And thinking about him, worriedly, too. 'Sorry,' said Harry.

'Better hurry up with that antidote,' said Ron, throwing a quick glance at Hermione, who nodded firmly.

'Alright then, Harry,' said Hermione, before she and Ron turned to go back to the dungeons. 'We'll see you in the common room.'

Harry continued his way down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower alone, savouring the silence that had settled around him now. Unfortunately, the peace was short-lived. At the bottom of the stairs to the third floor, Harry could hear the faint humming of a mind revolving in the distance. It was approaching rapidly, as Harry darted up the stairs in an attempt to avoid running into whoever it was. When he reached the top, he realized he'd run the wrong way.

Ah. A student. The Potter boy. I can tell by the looks of him he must be up to some evil mischief. They always are, students. I hate them. Wish I could catch him red-handed and cane him for it. Oh, the old days.

'Filch,' Harry blurted out, startled. The man's thoughts were so full of venom and longing for - from the sound of it - for students' nasty past that they made Harry shudder.

'Harry Potter,' Filch leered. 'Doing something you're not supposed to?' I should put Mrs. Norris on this boy's trail. I'm sure she'd find something I can use against him. Perhaps something so vile that it would convince the headmaster to let me whip them again. Ack, no, the headmaster's a soft old sod, he doesn't know how to punish the wicked.

Harry felt anger burn inside him. How dare Filch think about Dumbledore this way? 'No,' replied Harry. 'I'm not doing anything I shouldn't be doing. You?'

It was out before he could stop himself.

Filch's eyes narrowed and his thoughts became slightly muddled, but threaded together with a strong sense of pure hate. 'If only I could do magic, I would use Imperio on him.'

There had been times when Harry, although loathing Filch, had felt somewhat sorry for the squib. It must be awful, he always thought, to have been born into the magic world but not have any wizarding powers. At least if you were a muggle born to a muggle family, ignorant of the other world that's out there, you didn't know what you were missing. At this moment, however, Harry couldn't have been more glad for the caretaker's lack of magical ability. Surely, he thought, the nasty man would have been a Death Eater had he been a wizard.

Before Filch could start a tirade, Harry brushed past him and began running up the remaining stairs to Gryffindor Tower, taking two steps at a time. He didn't stop till he had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Why, it's a student, and that during lunch hour, the portrait thought.

'Puffapod Cakes,' said Harry quickly, and the portrait swung forward. Stepping through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, Harry stood still for a moment, steadying his ragged breath. 'Alone at a last,' he thought, relieved. He slowly walked up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, stepped inside and flopped down onto the soft mattress of his four-poster. Leaning back, he rested his head against the pillow.

It felt like he had only been lying there for a few minutes before Ron burst into the room, Hermione following on his heels. 'Harry!' he called. Oh, there he is.

'Yeah?' Harry sat up again.

'We... we talked to Snape,' Hermione said, panting in between words. Ron's legs are longer than mine, how does he expect me to keep up with him? 'And he said he'll work on a counter potion, but it could take some time. A day or so, he said.' And knowing Snape he won't hurry very much either. He'd do anything to make Harry's life more complicated.

Harry's eyes darkened behind his round glasses. Hermione was right. He hated being dependent on Snape for anything, especially for something as important as getting him to stop hearing all these thoughts.

'Also,' Ron added, 'he said you should not go to any of your classes as long as you can still hear thoughts. Said he'd inform the other teachers of the reason for your absence.' I wish I didn't have to go to my classes. Tried to convince Snape that Harry needed some company during his absence from class. Too bad Snape didn't agree.

Harry laughed. 'I wish you could keep me company too, Ron. Did Snape say why I can't go to class till he's made the antidote?'

Well, that's rather obvious. Hermione, of course.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Is it?'

'Of course it is,' said Hermione, imperturbable. She seemed to be getting used to Harry hearing her thoughts and replying to them as if she had spoken them out loud. 'As long as you can hear what people think, you will hear so many thoughts from all the people in the classroom that it will be impossible for you to concentrate. Not to mention you'd know all the answers because you would be able to hear the teacher think them.' It's so unfair Snape had to say 'and one know-it-all in my class is more than enough, Miss Granger'. I just know a lot of things from reading, what's so bad about that? The other teachers like it.

'Knowing all the answers, that wouldn't be bad,' Harry grinned. 'But you're right. If I can hear what everyone near me is thinking, it'd be impossible to concentrate. It's hard enough already without hearing things. I hope Snape hurries up with this counter-potion.'

'Oh!' Ron said suddenly. 'Snape also said that if the antidote isn't ready before tomorrow's match, it will have to be postponed.'

'What?' Harry looked stricken. 'Postponed? Why?'

Obvious, again. Surely Harry can't be that thick.

'Hermione!' said Harry, indignantly.

'Sorry,' she said. 'It's just, well, it seems obvious. If you can hear what people think then you'd be able to know Slytherin's strategy, and that would make for an unfair match.'

'Oh,' said Harry, somewhat disappointed. 'I almost wish I hadn't told anyone then. We could've won so easily. But yeah, it wouldn't have been fair, and besides, we'll win anyhow.'

Ron nodded vigorously. 'Exactly. We'll beat them, Harry.' I hope I don't screw up again.

'You'll do fine,' Harry smiled at him. 'I just hope they won't have to postpone the match on my account. Angelina would be livid, after all the practise we've got the past few days.'

'I'm sure Snape will have the antidote ready by then,' said Ron, hopeful.

'I hope so.' Harry wasn't convinced.

'Well, we better go, Ron,' said Hermione. 'Lunch is almost over and we've got History of Magic next.' It should be interesting, Professor Binns will be talking about the Goblin Rebellions today.

Oh no, it will be so boring.' Ron thought. Binns is doing the Goblin Rebellions again.

Harry didn't really mind missing that lesson.

'Oh, before I forget, Harry, here's your lunch.' Hermione handed Harry a couple of luscious ham and cheese sandwiches. 'See you after class!'

With that, the pair of them left him to the sweet stillness of the dorm again. After devouring his sandwiches, Harry lay back down on the bed again. Tucking his arms behind his head, he lay staring up at the scarlet curtains that covered the four poster, his thoughts racing through his mind. Somehow he found it impossible to keep them from returning to the same topic over and over again: Malfoy.

Malfoy's spoken words were always cold and dismissive, an eternal sneer imbedded in them, but his thoughts had tasted hot, of longing, desperation and shame. 'Fuck, I wish I could stop thinking about him this way,' Malfoy had thought, and Harry couldn't get the phrase out of his mind. After about an hour and half of continuously revisiting the scene earlier in the hallway, Harry decided he couldn't go on like this. He simply had to know.

He had to talk to Malfoy, alone. But how? Crabbe and Goyle, like a pair of oversized watchdogs, followed the boy wherever he went. After thinking this over for a few minutes, Harry realized the answer was simple. If he could make it clear to Malfoy just what it was he wanted to discuss, Malfoy would likely tell his two friends to sod off. He would have to, if he didn't want them to find out. And Harry was sure he didn't.

Stepping out of the portrait hole, Harry started down the broad staircase to the third floor. The sound of his footsteps was muffled by the thick red carpet that covered the stone, and everything was quiet. After History of Magic, Gryffindor had their Charms lesson, a class they shared with Slytherin. Harry decided he would wait for Malfoy outside Flitwick's classroom in the Charms corridor, and try to talk to him then.

Because most students were having lessons at this hour, the corridors were empty. Near the Charms section however, Harry could hear the strange, soft hum of someone's thoughts again, approaching from around the corner. 'Oh please, let it not be Filch again,' Harry wished, and the next thing someone bumped into him at full speed, knocking both of them over. Now the thoughts he had heard in the distance became abundantly clear.

Fuck, which idiot... oh no! Potter! Why the bloody hell isn't he in class? I thought I could avoid him by not going to Charms.

'Malfoy!' said Harry, struggling to get up. Their limbs had somehow got intertwined and Harry wriggled to get loose from the other boy and back on his feet.

'Potter, stop squirming, you maggot--or wait, don't. Oh! That feels good.' Malfoy thought. A split second later, his eyes became those of a deer caught in headlights, again. Harry didn't think he had ever seen Malfoy look so afraid. No! That's not what I meant! I mean, Potter, I hate you and I want nothing to do with you. 'Get off me, you twit!' Malfoy scolded, pushing Harry away forcefully.

'Ouch!' Harry yelled. His elbow had hit the stone floor hard when he fell, and was now throbbing painfully. Rubbing it, he stood up again, and Malfoy followed his example, still looking utterly shaken.

'Malfoy,' said Harry, still rubbing his hurt arm. 'We need to talk.'

'We don't need anything,' Malfoy snapped, his grey eyes cold and maddened. 'Least of all talk.' Is he hurt? No, wait, I don't care. I want him to be hurt. I hate him. Oh Merlin, I can't do this... I have to get out of here. 'Get out of my way.'

Malfoy turned to go, but Harry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back roughly. 'No!' he said, anger welling up inside him. He was not going to let Malfoy ignore this. He knew what Malfoy was thinking about him, he'd heard it earlier and again now. 'We're going to talk whether you like it or not,' he said, pushing the other boy against the wall and standing in front of him to prevent him from running. 'I know what you've been thinking, I can hear it. What you've been thinking about me.'

Harry saw Malfoy's hand reach for his wand, and he was surprised Malfoy hadn't tried to smack him in the gob before. Staring straight into Malfoy's eyes, their faces merely inches away from each other, Harry tried to understand what Malfoy had been thinking before, what he was thinking now. Unable to avert his eyes, Malfoy dropped his hand and slumped slightly, a look of defeat passing over him. 'Potter, I have nothing to say to you,' he said, dejectedly. 'Just leave me alone.' Oh, how I wish you wouldn't. If only...

Harry was taken aback. He hadn't expected Malfoy's thoughts to sound so utterly forlorn. Malfoy hung his head slightly, refusing to meet Harry's eyes now that Harry's gaze had let him go. Blond strands of his steadily longer worn hair fell into his eyes while his thoughts became jumbled; a powerful mix of anger, shame, and again, an indescribable longing. For a long moment, Malfoy's thoughts rendered Harry speechless. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that Malfoy - Slytherin through and through - fancied him, let alone the idea that Malfoy's feelings might run even deeper than the purely physical.

Why doesn't he say anything? Oh, so close now. Damnation! You don't know what it's like, Potter! To be in love, not only with a bloke, but with your sworn enemy...

Harry took a sharp breath. A strange squeaky noise escaped him, and he could feel tears sting behind his eyes. After all this time, he could've never hoped for... 'Oh I know what it's like, Malfoy,' he said, voice quavering. 'I know all too well.'