Haunted
“This house doesn’t want us here,” Malfoy said, standing with one hand on his hip and the other clutching a Muggle takeaway cup. His hair lifted and fell in the cold October wind.
“Yes, well. Tough luck, it’s getting cleansed,” Harry said, already irritated by the delay.
This was the final stop before a pint at the Leaky, and Malfoy’s antics weren’t about to stop him from getting there.
“No, Potter. This one is haunted.”
Harry felt the familiar prickle of impatience rising. Malfoy pulled this sort of thing at least once a week. Once too often, if you asked Harry.
“Yes, and that’s literally our job description! Can we fucking not, please?”
Malfoy, who didn’t look even remotely inclined to move an inch, made Harry lose the last of his restraint. He strode over, ready to drag him along if necessary, only to stop short when he met Malfoy’s eyes, all wide with panic.
That was new.
“What?” Harry said, a little hesitant, his hand hovering uselessly over Draco’s arm. He looked up at the house. It looked like any other wizarding home; dark and depressive, looming over a pitiful garden. The sort of garden that had once tried, then simply given up pretending.
“What?” he tried again when Malfoy didn’t answer. His hair still moved with the wind, a pale slash against the darkening sky. Malfoy didn’t look back; his eyes instead fixed on the house. A faint tremor around his mouth set off all of Harry’s alarm bells.
That was most definitely new.
“Bloody hell, don’t tell me they’ve sent us into some sort of demon’s nest or something? This is fucking unbelievable.” Harry didn’t bother to hide his annoyance as he scanned the mission scroll and came up empty. “Malfoy, what exactly do you know?"
A noise to his left made him jump, and something brushed his foot. He leapt up with a shout and spun round, only to find Malfoy’s face inches from his own.
“Boo!” A puff of air hit his face as the word registered. It smelled of coffee and betrayal. He wanted to hex the grin right off Malfoy’s stupid, infuriating face.
“Now, come along, Potter. Whatever are you dawdling for? The ale will be warm before we ever reach the Leaky at this pace.”
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In response to this week prompt (and I drew "haunt") by @drarrymicrofic Words: 383 (still too hard to hit 50, it actually gets worse, haha).
Thanks for the speedy beta @lexi-leckstar and @upon-poppyhills ❤️🫶
