Disclaimer: Not Mine; Never Mine…. sob
An Exchange of Services
Maybe a oneshot, maybe a chaptered ficlet.
Harry looked over at Hermione- copying notes. He looked at Ron- asleep. There was no one near him that he could talk to, and the monotonous droning of Binns was driving him insane. Completely bonkers. Twitching, he glanced around the room, looking for something, anything to distract him. He started tapping his foot, but stopped when Hermione sent him an annoyed glare. He sighed, loudly. No one looked up. He sat up straight and looked around the room. Everyone else was asleep or copying notes, and he growled in frustration.
Suddenly, his eye caught movement in the front of the room. A blonde head was being lifted from its owners arms, and Harry almost crowed with glee. Until the person sat the rest of the way up and he realized that it was Malfoy. Harry felt almost personally betrayed by the fact that the only other person in the class that wouldn't kill him for A- not taking notes or B- interrupting their nap was his arch rival. Who, by the by, would like to kill him for breathing.
He tapped out a beat with his fingers on the desk, ignoring Hermione's scandalized glare. He was playing with the idea of sending Malfoy a note, and decided, the hell with it. Grabbing a piece of parchment, his ink pot and a quill, he started scribbling.
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Draco was bored out of his mind. He'd just woken up from his twice-weekly nap half an hour before the class ended, and he had no idea why. Perhaps he shouldn't have gone to bed so early. Sitting up straight, he glanced around. From what he could see, everyone else was still asleep or copying notes. He snarled silently in aggravation, dreading the rest of the class. Suddenly, a bird made out of parchment landed on his desk. Frowning, he looked around the room, but nobody looked suspicious. He looked back at the bird, who was carefully unfolding itself and flattening out any wrinkles. He admired the spell work. When it was finished, he picked it up and started to read.
Malfoy-
So, I know this is kinda weird, but I am sooo bored I think my head is gonna explode. You're the only person who's awake and won't bite my head off for interrupting their oh-so-important note copying. SO, I was wondering if we could maybe call a truce for this class period? Cause, ya know, this is only the second week of school and its already this bad. Gah, I'm rambling.
Waddaya think?
Potter
(figured that would sit better than signing 'Harry')
Draco raised an eyebrow. Now, this is what he would call relief from an unexpected corner. But why on earth would Potter be sending him, of all people, a note? Aside from the stated reasons, of course. He twisted around in his chair until he could see the Gryffindor, and when he could, watched as the boy glanced around, then lift his hands in a pleading gesture, with the facial expressions to match. Draco righted himself, thinking furiously. If he did this, it could be rather fun, and if he didn't, he had to suffer in complete boredom. The choice was simple.
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Harry felt kinda stupid to pleaded like that, but he was desperate, dammit. He wondered what was going on in Malfoy's head, but decided against trying to puzzle him out. He was just praying for a note. He snickered as he imagined Ron's face when Harry told him that he'd been passing notes to Draco Malfoy, and that it had been fun. He wouldn't really, because, honestly, who wants their friends to go into cardiac arrest? But it was fun to think about all the same.
He jerked a little as he felt a bump on his ankle. Looking down, he saw weasel shaped parchment head-butting said bone structure. He grinned, then reached down and picked it up. He placed it on the table and glanced at the back of Malfoy's head. When he looked back, the paper was grooming itself flat. It was actually rather clever, and he grinned as it turned into a sheet folded in half. He picked it up and read-
Merlin,
You really are bored aren't you? Its bad enough that you've lost what little sanity you've ever possessed. BUT, I shall graciously agree to help out my fellow student to escape from that cage we all know and despise- the sanctity of the classroom. However, that pitiful excuse for a note did not have the proper way to start a conversation- try this:
'Why, Draco, you look simply smashing today! And may I say that you're hair is to die for?'
How hard can that be?
Regally
Draco
(Really, Harry, is it that hard to call me by my given name?)
Harry chuckled quietly, then pulled his writing equipment out. Mal-Draco was proving to be a really funny person.
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Draco was not eagerly awaiting the return note, but when he did get it, it was in the shape of a swan. He'd been looking for it, and watched as it soared over to him from the back of the room. It landed gracefully on his desk, and sorta melted into parchment. He opened it.
Why, Draco, you look simply smashing today! And may I say that you're hair is to die for! What kind of conditioner do you use- surely it would work wonders on my rather unruly mop. Tell me, is it possible to be dressed more fashionably than you are right now? I do believe that I saw some model strutting down a catwalk in that outfit last season. Do tell me were you picked it up, I am positively pining for it.
Smooches,
Harry
Draco was hunched over his desk, shaking with silent laughter. Dammed if he wasn't right about his outfit! He calmed down a little, trying to think of what to write back. Finally he settled on something and started writing.
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Harry was not so patently waiting for Draco's reply. He'd gone over the top on purpose for the comedy factor, but now he was wondering if it might have offended Draco. He needn't have worried, because he caught sight of a snake wriggling towards him. He reached down and picked it up, enjoying the way it curled around his arm before slithering onto the desk. It, too, relaxed and flowed back into its natural shape.
Oh, Bravo, Harry.
You have caught on rather quickly to the concept of articulate conversation. And you were right about my outfit, you know. I bought it in Harrods of London over Break. For a muggle store, its clothes are of the best quality.
Seriously, though, this little conversation has been fun, but I fear that since the class is about to end, that this will be the last paper of note. Pun intended.
I will, I believe, be seeing your unfortunate countenance in my next class, so I say goodbye. For now. I do suppose I can't say that for the rest of the day, but, well. There are flaws in every plan.
Tata for now,
Draco.
Even as Harry read the last sentence, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. He leaned over and shook Ron, who woke up grumpily. "What're you so happy about, Harry?" the other boy asked. Harry grinned at him, and said, "I had a good dream."
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Harry worried, over the course of the next two days, what was going to happen during their next History of Magic class. Would he send a note to Dra-Mal-Draco during the class? Was it a one time thing? Would Draco send him a note? Would, would, would, that was all he could think about. Even Ron noticed that he was preoccupied. He and Hermione tried to get Harry to spill, but he'd just clam up and ignore them until they changed the subject. Then he'd go back to worrying.
This was not a good thing to do as you were making a potion, Harry learned to his detriment the next day. He'd been wondering about Draco, yet again, when he put the wrong ingredient in the cauldron. The resounding BOOM!! was enough to shake the dust from the rafters in the ceiling. Harry looked up, resigned, as Snape stalked over to him. However, Harry didn't let him get a word in edgewise as he said, "Yeah, I know, detention" Snape glowered, but didn't refute the statement. He merely added, "Here at 8 o'clock tonight, Potter."
Harry wasn't in the best mood as he sat down at his table in History of Magic, and he watched, grimly amused as his housemates tried to stay as far away from him as possible, as if detention was contagious. He was so busy plotting their downfall that it took him a while to realize that the class had started a little while ago, and everyone had fallen quickly into their nap/note taking modes. He'd just started to fret again when he felt a tap on his foot.
Looking down, he saw another snake, and grinned as he picked it up. Unfolding it, he read the hastily scribbled words-
Quite a show in Potions today- thank you for that rather impressive display of why one adds the Dragons blood after the lacewing has a chance to nullify the beetles eyes. Really, quite helpful.
Harry grinned ruefully. He'd known that he'd done something wrong, he just hadn't know what. He pondered what to write, then grinned as it came to him. Quickly he wrote it down and transfigured the parchment into a chipmunk, and sent it scampering over to Draco. He watched as the other boy looked down and picked up the animal , before Harry ended the spell.
Draco had been startled when he'd seen an actual animal at his feet, but he'd picked it up any, and had his trust rewarded when it turned back into parchment. Unfurling it, he read the note.
Thanks for telling me what I did wrong- Snape never does and Hermione's in a snit. Uh, would you mind telling me why exactly one adds the ingredients in that order, and not in any other? I find I work better when told the why's of a something.
The blonde snorted, then bent his head and wrote his answer. Really, does that boy ever pay attention in Potions? It's like he wasn't even there half of the time.
The note flew back to Harry on the wings of a lark, and he grinned as it landed on his desk and unrolled. The note penned on the parchment was approaching the size of a novel, but he wasn't complaining- well, not as long as it helped him.
There is a reason for most things in Potions, as you would know had you paid attention in the class. When working with the potion from this morning, one must realize that the Dragon's blood and the beetles eyes are combustible when together without a neutralizer having been applied to one of them. The lacewings act as a neutralizer for the beetles eyes, but without taking away from their potency. After you render the eyes safe, you can add the dragons blood without fear of a nice explosion like this mornings.
Now, this is all well and good, but even if we were friends, I'd be expecting something for this information. Like, an exchange. Now, this one is a freebie, but for other explanations and such, I will require a fee of a similar explanation of Defense Against the Dark Arts. That is not my best class, though arguably it is yours. Have we a deal?
Harry reread the note, a smile creeping onto his face. When he'd first read it, he had been afraid of what Draco would ask for, but now… Everyone knew that Defense Against the Dark Arts was not the Ice Prince's best class- hell, it was his worst. But, with Harry getting help with Potions from Draco and Draco getting help with DADA from Harry, their grades in both those classes might go up. He smiled, and sent back-
Done. Now, what do you want to know?
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Detention that night was hell. He hadn't been made to remake the potion he'd mangled in class, as he had expected, but had been forced to make a new one. One that wasn't on the syllabus, he added to himself. The Black Leather potion did exactly what it sounded like- you make it, then after letting it cool, you add any article of clothing that you want converted to leather. Snape told Harry, after much pestering, that the potion was being made for the Dragon Keepers in Romania. Charlie Weasley had asked for it, and Snape had reluctantly agreed to make it.
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Next chapter up soon!
Hahahaha- CLIFFIE!!