"Potter," Draco sneered. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to ignore him. It was Draco's fault they were here, his fault that they were in detention when Harry should be at Quidditch practice.

"Boys," Professor Sprout greeted, her round face red and cheery. "You will be replanting mandrakes this evening – I trust you remember how to do so. Remember your earmuffs."

She hummed the Hogwarts school song as she put on her earmuffs, rendering her humming tone-deaf. The boys winced and hurriedly put on their own earmuffs as they got to work.

The screeches of their mandrakes filled the room. It was such a mundane task that Harry was free to let his mind wander.

Mudblood. Harry shivered. How dare Malfoy…

Hermione was the brightest witch of their age – at least 10 times smarter than Draco Malfoy… Mudblood.

Harry felt his own blood boiling. Malfoy is the one with dirty blood! The blood of traitors – Slytherins – Death Eaters. How dare he.

Ron and Harry had both whipped out their wands instantly – Draco had followed suit.

"Infrendeo!"

"Furnunculus!"

"Everte Statum!"

Ron, due to an unreliable wand – which he had sat on earlier that week - , was keeled over, horrified, as he spit the effects of his own curse onto Neville's hat. ("Are those your teeth, Ron?")

Harry was flat on his back, his glasses broken by his side. Hermione helped him up and handed him his glasses to the sound of laughter. The fuzzy image became clear – Draco's ever-flawless skin had erupted in hideous boils.

Harry smiled to himself.

This - being stuck in the same room with Malfoy – the screaming mandrakes – the off-key Professor Spout – missing Quidditch practice…it was worth it to see Draco's face when he realized he was ugly.