分卷阅读32（1 / 2）

Harry watched Medusa watch him disapprovingly. After a few minutes of this staring contest, he spoke:

“So are you going to let me in?”

“Why should I?” Medusa spat. “You don’t know the password.”

“Because by now you should know that I live here,” Harry pointed out patiently. “We have this conversation even when I do know the password so I don’t understand why you can’t just open up and let me in.”

“No password, no admittance.”

“Stupid bitch.” Harry snarled, unaware that it came out in Parseltongue.

“I know what you’re saying,” Medusa commented in a bored tone as the snakes hissed back their own chorus of obscenities at Harry. “And it just goes to show that you don’t belong here. Only one of insignificant breeding would use such fowl language.”

Harry groaned. “So you’re going to make Draco annoyed at both me and you when I bang on your frame loud enough to wake him in the bedroom?” He grasped at the last idea that he had when dealing with this obnoxious portrait.

“You won’t have to bang loudly. He’s asleep on the couch waiting for you to do so.”

Harry could, and would later, swear up and down that Medusa’s voice took on a completely different tone when talking about Draco.

“So why don’t you just let me in so that I won’t have to wake him?” Harry asked.

The portrait considered this for a moment or two before nodding her assent. “But you’d better watch out when Draco goes home for Christmas and it’s just you here. You’ll never get in for the entire two weeks!” She spat at him.

Harry brushed by her and into the room to find that the portrait had not lied about its sleeping inhabitant. The fire had burned itself to low embers, casting almost a shadowy glow on the room and upon the figure sleeping on the couch. Draco was wrapped up in the comforter that he obviously had taken from his bed, its black coloring blending with the black silk of Draco’s normal sleepwear.

Draco’s eyes were closed, of course, as he was sleeping, but his face seemed to retain that same air of Malfoyishness that it always held, as if he were some untouchable deity or lord whose level of perfection mere mortals could never hope to ascend to. The glow from the fire seemed to sink into his hair and bring out an ethereal glow from the platinum strands. Harry stood there just watching Draco sleep, but the serenity of the scene was broken when Draco’s eyes fluttered open as Medusa closed her portrait rather loudly.

“She let you in. Surprising.”

“I’d be careful if I were you, I think Medusa likes you too much.” Harry tried to act normal as he crossed the room to the doorway to the bedroom.

“I’m not too worried.” Draco padded into the room after him and gracefully flopped on his bed (much to Harry’s amazement, though he hid it, that it was actually possible to flop gracefully). Draco waited for a few minutes until he was certain that Harry was assuming that he wouldn’t say anything about the conversation he’d overheard earlier. Silly Gryffindor, Draco was a Malfoy; of course he would say something. “I actually think it’s ironic.”

“What, that a snake-haired girl likes a Slytherin?”

“No, I wasn’t thinking of Medusa, although she was ever so pleased to help make you so embarrassed earlier.”

Draco felt Harry stiffen.