Note: second chapter! omg!

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to J.K Rowling...woot!

When Harry returned to the Gryffindor tower he noticed that almost everyone was awake and in the common room. Harry looked around the common room and caught Ron's younger sister, Ginny's, eye. She smiled shyly at him and looked away. Harry cursed at himself because all he managed to do was stare dumbly back at her.

"Lazy Saturdays are the best," Ron said as he flopped onto the chair next to Harry's. Ron let out a large yawn, his arms flying into the air as he stretched."Why were you up so early, Harry?"

Harry, finally realizing his friend's presence, answered, "Huh? Oh...I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep."

"Well, that might explain the sleep talking."

"The what?" Harry asked. He had never thought he was a sleep-talker and the thought of being one was quite embarrassing.

"You talk in your sleep, mate." Ron stated plainly. "It is a little weird, but I got used to it."

"So... what exactly do I say in my sleep?" Harry asked nonchalantly. In actuality, he was very curious. Ron, seeing right through his act laughed at him shamelessly.

"What? Have you been having naughty dreams you don't want me to know about?" Ron enquired childishly. Harry didn't find his joke amusing and as if in perfect timing, a bushy brunette took a seat beside Harry.

"What's going on guys?" She asked, looking from Ron to Harry. Ron's expression changed dramatically, from a goofy smile to one of handsome maturity, instantly. He sat up and greeted his girlfriend with enthusiasm. Sometimes, Harry got the feeling that Ron still couldn't get used to fact that he and Hermione were dating.

"It's nothing, Hermione. Ron's just acting like an arse," Harry laughed. Hermione couldn't keep from laughing herself; she played it off as a cough as if not to upset Ron. Fortunately Ron didn't notice. Instead, he was distracted with a question about Quidditch.

"We do have practice today, right Harry?" Ron asked. Harry's mood changed instantaneously, as he remembered his detention.

"Actually, I rescheduled," Harry mumbled. He busied himself by pretending to read his Potions book. He knew Ron was disappointed and because of this he couldn't possibly look him in the eye. Ron was burning holes into the side of Harry's head, as he stared incredulously.

"You're joking. We only had one practice."

"I know, but Aurora Sinistra really isn't willing to compromise," Harry complained, "I've got detention at 6 pm and don't act like I wanted this."

"Of course you wanted this. Why else would you have gotten yourself into trouble?"

"Trust me Ron; I'm really starting to regret it. Not only do I have to stay in detention, but I have to stay in Detention with Malfoy." Ron groaned at the mention of Malfoy's name. Hermione, on the other hand, remained silent on the subject of Harry's detention.

Ron asked Harry angrily, "How exactly did you get detention in the first place?"

"You don't want to know," Harry sighed, "I got into a fight with Malfoy. I guess my temper just got the best of me."

"You're kidding, right," Hermione asked, refusing to stay silent any longer.

"You'd think the whole 'saving his life thing' would knock some sense into him," Ron stated.

"Apparently not," said Harry.

"Honestly," Hermione huffed, "exercise some restraint, Harry. Just because a person provokes you doesn't mean you should automatically jinx them."

"It wasn't like that -"

"Than what was it like?"

"I-I don't know," Harry stammered. This fight was unlike any other fight he has had with Malfoy. This fight was completely different; it was as if he wasn't even fighting Malfoy, he was just frustrated and angry and he didn't know why. Every blow, every punch and every scratch was just a medium for releasing the frustration that Harry didn't even know he had. But what was he so frustrated, so angry about? Harry felt mentally exhausted just thinking about it.

"I'm going to breakfast," Ron announced, tapping his stomach. Harry didn't realize he had stopped paying attention. "You coming Hermione? Harry?" Hermione nodded and got up from the couch. Harry followed suit, and mechanically made his way down to the Grand Hall.

After the trio found their seats at the Gryffindor table, they looked up at the main table to find Hagrid. He was very easy to spot among the professors. The large bearded man beamed at the sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione, his favorite students. "That's old Hagrid for ya'." Ron began, but Harry didn't hear the rest.

Instead, his eyes were on the main table. He did not understand why, but his eyes scanned the table as if he were looking for someone. And then a pain so severe pierced through his heart, when he realized who that person was. It was already a week into the school year, and ever since school started Harry had tried not to think about Dumbledore. Whenever a thought came to mind, he stopped himself from dwelling on it. He thought he moved past the pain, but having it all come back like this…it was scary.

Hogwarts has never been the same since the war and, of course, the death of Dumbledore. Every stone in the castle was a constant reminder of the pain and despair of the battle that took place there. A somber atmosphere lingered within the castle, one that wasn't going to lift anytime soon. It was thick, almost suffocating, yet, many students continued to pull through the sorrow.

The sound of Harry's shoes echoed throughout the empty hall. Everyone in the castle seemed to be either in their common rooms or in the library. Unfortunately, Harry was on his way to the detention room. He had an innate feeling it was not going to go well. He and Draco could barely get along for five minutes; three hours would certainly feel like an eternity.

When Harry entered the dingy classroom he was greeted with what seemed like hundreds of slimy cauldrons. Professor Aurora Sinistra sat at her desk and, not even bothering to look up from her paper work, waved her hand toward the seat reserved for Harry. Draco was in the far corner of the classroom, a pained expression on his face. Harry smiled at the thought of Draco being miserable; he just didn't like the thought of him sharing that misery. He took his seat and looked straight ahead of him, towards the professor, avoiding eye contact with the blond across from him.

"Alright," said Sinistra, finally looking up from her work, "now that you're both here, I want you to scrub every single one of these cauldrons. I don't want to see a speck of slime anywhere, understand?" The boys answered her with a chorused "Yes, Professor."

The boys got up from their seats and grabbed a bucket of water and a sponge, apparently no magic was allowed. Harry scrubbed furiously at a stubborn piece of slime. This was not going to be an easy task. To Harry's irritation, Draco mumbled swears under his breath with every scrub.

"I'm going to step out for a little while, boys," Sinistra grabbed a few things off her desk. "If you try anything, I will find out and you will instantly regret it." With that said, she hastily exited the classroom closing the door behind her. The silence that followed lingered in the air. In a fit of sudden irritation, Draco groaned loudly. Harry, surprised by the outburst, whipped his head around to see the cause of the commotion. Draco had dropped his sponge and was now fishing in his robe for his wand.

"W-what are you doing?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"What does it look like, genius?" Draco replied maliciously. With that said, he pointed his wand at the cauldron held in his hand and muttered an incantation. Harry waited for something to happen, but the magic was without result.

"Maybe you're not as good with your wand as you think you are," Harry laughed. Draco was not amused, instead he shoved his cauldron into Harry's hand and said, "Why don't you try for yourself?"

Harry, responding to the challenge, took out his wand and pointed it down toward the cauldron. Harry was extremely confident; he defeated the Dark Lord, who was to say he can't do a little cleaning magic? Regardless of Harry's confidence, his efforts with magic were fruitless. Draco laughed out loud at Harry's surprised expression. "No way," was all Harry could say. When Draco's laughs subsided he managed to articulate, "I think Sinistra was smart enough to put a block against magic, 'else we would have already finished."

Harry, still cringing from embarrassment, nodded in agreement. He tucked his wand into his robe and continued to scrub silently. Draco did not grab his cleaning tools, instead he stared at Harry. He allowed his eyes to wash over Harry's hardened features. He tried to remember the cause for his anger towards him this morning, but failed. This was the boy who saved his life a year ago, he owed him some gratitude, but something was holding him back. He felt as if there was a wall that separated them…that would continue to separate them. They were just too different from each other.

Draco was born in a household where pure blood meant royalty. It meant that you were better than others who didn't share the same lineage. That's what Draco was taught, that's what he always knew. And then there was Harry. It didn't make sense. Harry Potter was loved by all, but Draco's family hated him and Draco was destined to hate him too. "Why did he save me?" Draco thought, "I didn't deserve it."

"What?" Harry's voice pierced through Draco's thoughts. Harry stared at him, his eyes on Draco's. Harry's green eyes poured into Draco's gray ones. Suddenly, a soft gasp escaped Harry's parted lips. Realizing that Malfoy noticed his reaction, he blushed furiously and looked away. Harry returned to his scrubbing.

"Is there something wrong?" Draco asked his tone drenched in annoyance.

"No." Harry answered curtly, "but, you've got to stop staring at me." Draco pulled back affronted.

"Well, we'll be staying here all night if you keep scrubbing like that." Draco retorted. Harry put on an expression of disbelief and replied, "You haven't been scrubbing for the last ten minutes!"

Draco leaned over Harry and grabbed the sponge in his hand. "Hey! Give it to me!" Harry growled.

Draco laughed childishly holding the sponge above his head.

"Let me show you how it's done," Draco replied. He then began to scrub roughly on the cauldron. Harry witnessed Malfoy's progress, he wasn't much better at it. After a few minutes of watching, Harry decided to do something bold. Harry stuck out his hand tentatively and placed it on top of Draco's. Draco looked up at Harry quickly, his mouth agape.

"What the hell?" he cried.

"Relax, I'm only trying to help," Harry replied. Harry pressed his hand harder on Draco's and began to push forward on the sponge. Draco, finally understanding the meaning of the contact, began to cooperate. Together Harry and Draco pushed and pulled the sponge in a circular motion and became more efficient because of it.

Draco was hesitant about the contact at first, but his guard slowly melted away. Harry has never touched him, unless in an attempt to hurt him of course, but today was an exception. As they continued to scrub, the pressure of Harry's hand increased, but Draco didn't pull back, instead he kept his eyes on the cauldron before him and didn't think of anything else but their scrubs. (yeah right)

In about three hours the boys finished every last cauldron. Falling back against the wall, Draco realized that Sinistra hadn't shown up in any of that time. "Harry?" His voice came out breathless and exhausted. "Harry?"

His classmate was sitting right next to him with his body slumped against the wall, but Harry didn't respond. Draco noticed how calm he looked with his eyes closed. Draco followed suit and slid down further into a more comfortable position. He didn't notice when Harry opened his eyes and shifted a little closer.

"Draco?"

Harry's voice once again pulled him out of his thoughts, but he was too tired for a violent reaction. "Yeah?" He hated how his voice sounded so weak.

"I'm sorry."

"Is that so?"

Harry tensed. Had they really not made any progress in the last few hours? Harry had thought that so much time not spent dueling with each other must have surely been a sign of improvement, but apparently not. "Yes. I'm sorry you're such an abominable twit."

Draco reached out and tried to hit Harry, but overestimated the distance and fell over with his arm reaching past Harry's chest. His face was pink again as he straightened up and hesitated before punching Harry lightly on the arm. Returning to his place with a forced dignified air, he tried not to look at Harry's face. He turned around when he heard soft chuckles next to him escalating into hysterical laughter, and couldn't help but start laughing too. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco realized that this was the first time he had laughed in months, and noted the irony in that it happened when he was with Potter. He slid all the way down to the freezing stone floor, still laughing with his not-quite-enemy slash not-quite-friend.

It was on this scene that in walked Sinistra, confused at the sudden upswing in mood of her two charges. She didn't explain her long absence, and the boys didn't bother to ask. Still pained from the laughter, the two were dismissed with a point of a finger without even the customary final lecture. Somehow, detention hadn't been so bad after all.

Chicago: I wanted name this chapter...Detention with the Amazing Bouncing Ferret...(haha...just for laughs)