Disclaimer: The whole 'gang' doesn't belong to me, only the antics they get themselves into in the following chapter...well, I don't think you'd call them 'antics' per se...

Warning: Harry/Draco slash, though it isn't really evident...yet.

Hello thar. This is the newest chapter..well DUH! Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this one, despite the bad title...DW wasn't around for me to consult for chapter titleage.

Lobe Manaka

Discussions in Detention:

Harry was already seated at a table toward the front of the Potions class when I walked into the room. I offered him a 'friendly hello' - which he ignored! - as I took a seat at the table next to his, so that we were close but still separated, and eyed his appearance. His hair was mussed far beyond what it had been earlier, with stray hairs sticking up in awkward angles. I felt an urge to kill the Irish boy when I thought about just what had been done to Harry to make his hair stand up like that. Stealing a glance at his robes, I began to mentally put together a list of ways to torture Finnigan. No, they weren't wrinkled or anything that would scream 'I just got through being thoroughly snogged', but they weren't there! Instead, Harry was wearing a pair of jeans and a tight-but-not-too-tight tee shirt - in my favorite color, too. Although the change in outfit may not scream being snogged, it did scream something along the lines of 'I couldn't find my other robes, so I had to put these on'.

I had just added number 54 - something to do with lots of restraints, a cold dungeon, a blindfold, and dripping water - to the list when Severus strode in, his robes billowing behind him.

"Draco, I regret to see that you are here," he commented as he came to stand at the front of the classroom. I looked up at him while Harry continued to gaze at his hands. "I, however, must see Professor McGonagall's point of view. That was completely immature. As a result, you will have to aid Mr. Potter here in the removal of the potion from the walls, tables, and ceiling. I don't think I have to tell you, Potter, that it must be done by hand, without magic."

"I know, sir," Harry murmured, not taking his eyes off his hands.

"I will return in two hours," Severus said, walking toward the door, turning around again when he got there. "If you are not finished in here by then, I will come back in another two hours." And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Harry and I alone, again.

There was something of an awkward silence as the two of us sat there, making no move toward the cleaning supplies that sat on Severus' desk. I glanced around the room at all the lavender goo whilst Harry found something about his hands even more interesting. With how hard he was staring at them, you'd think they held the secret to life or something equally valuable yet altogether boring. After a moment, he sighed and rose from his seat.

"Well," he said in a resigned voice. "We'd better get started on this if we have any hope of getting done by the time Snape gets back."

I watched as he walked over to the cleaning supplies to pick up a rather Muggle looking spray bottle filled with something that smelled of pine when sprayed and an old and ratty rag that looked as if it was held together with a few well-placed spells. It amused me slightly when he began misting a table with the bottle and wiping the rag over it. Apparently, he had an abundance of knowledge when it came to cleaning. A moment later, he looked up at me with an expression that said that he would greatly appreciate it if I would help. Well, it actually said, 'get up off your lazy arse and help, you git'. Leave it to Harry to know how to motivate someone.

Complying with his expressive order, I rose from my seat and stalked over to Severus' desk, grabbing the rag that was the cleanest - which wasn't very clean - and the second spray bottle. I followed his lead with the spraying then wiping, seeing as how I don't clean too often and needed some instruction. A silence fell over us as we settled into the rhythm of cleaning, keeping it up for at least an hour before I threw my rag on the table I had been working on. Harry, hearing the sound the rag had made in the silence, turned away from the wall he'd been wiping at and looked at me.

"Oh, this is boring," I whined, pulling my wand from the pocket of my robes. After reciting the cleansing spell, all the remaining signs of any explosion disappeared, whisked away to...okay, I don't know where exactly, but it's somewhere spacious. How else would it fit everything that is magicked away? "That's better," I said, grinning and turned back to Harry, who wore a shocked expression. "What?"

"Snape said no magic," he answered.

I slid my wand back into the pocket it had come from. Grabbing the cloth and spray bottle from the table, I walked them back to the large desk at the front of the classroom and set them down. "Lest my memory deceives me, which it doesn't, the professor told you not to use magic. Nowhere in his statement was it said that I couldn't use magic. And anyway, it's not like he's going to care, I'm his favorite student."

"But I know he's going to blame me for it," he pointed out, taking his own cleaning supplies back to where they had come from. That was a good point, but not one worth being bothered by.

"Oh well," I said, hopping up to sit on the first table in one of the rows. Not in it but on it. I know, I'm bad-ass. "And no, that doesn't mean I'm trying to get you in trouble. If he finds out, I'll tell him it was me and be done with it. If he protests, I'll tell him where to shove it." Well, no I wouldn't, but it was the thought behind it that mattered. Wasn't it?

"So what now?" Harry asked, acting equally bad-ass and jumping onto the table I was occupying so our knees would touch lightly if either he or I moved in the slightest.

"Well," I drawled. "I see this as the perfect opportunity for a heart-to-heart. I've been having a lot of those lately, and have decided to have one with you. You should feel special."

"Ecstatic," he replied sarcastically. "What's our little 'heart-to-heart' going to be about?"

He should know by now not to ask questions that give me free range of answer, especially when the answer would command the topic of our conversation. "Let's start with what Finnigan whispered to you during dinner, resulting in the two of you high-tailing it to the Tower, where your hair seemed to get extremely mussed and the robes you were wearing seemed unneeded."

"That's none of your business. Next topic."

"No, I rather like the one we're on."

"Too bad, Malfoy. Next. Topic."

"Fine!" Long pause as I thought about things. "You choose."

"Okay. What are you up to? Why the confession?"

Damn it. Obviously I shouldn't allow him free range of questions.

"Well, uh..."

"I'm waiting."

"Shut it, Potter. Next topic."

"But I'm enjoying this one."

I glowered inwardly at the fact that I was so easily pulled into something that I myself had used not five minutes before. "Fine, if you absolutely must know, it's part of a plan-"

"You bastard, I knew it," Harry interjected angrily. "I can't believe I let myself be tricked to think that your intentions were half-way decent."

"Oh, but you didn't let me finish," I replied. "It's not a plan to make you the laughing stock of the school or even to get you in trouble. In fact, no one knows about it except for Pansy."

Harry calmed visibly at my words.

"Well then, what's this point of the plan?"

"That, Mr. Potter, is a secret, which will be revealed in due time."

"Fine," he huffed, crossing his arms.

"I do believe you are pouting," I commented.

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Potter, you're pouting so deal with it." I nearly jumped from my seat on the table and almost - almost - gave another shriek -er...manly yell - when I heard Severus' voice behind me. "And no sitting on the tables. You might break them."

"Did you just call me fat?" I asked in mock offense as I slid off the table in question.

"No, Draco," my godfather replied. "These old things would break under the weight of a first year. And since you haven't been a first year for six years now, you have a higher chance of breaking it."

"Oh, okay," I said, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "Just as long as you know I'm not fat."

"Draco, everybody knows you're not fat," he commented. Then he glanced around the room. "The classroom seems clean enough. The two of you can go back to your dormitories now."

"Thanks, Sev," I said, making my way toward the door, Harry following at my heels. "See you later."

When we were out the door, we split to go our separate ways, me toward the Dungeons and him toward the Tower. I had an urge to call out to him, wishing him a good night. It was a harmless urge, so I saw no reason to suppress it.

"'Night, Potter," I called over my shoulder.

I didn't have to be looking at him to know the confused expression that flashed across his visage for what had to be the millionth time that day. Smiling to myself, I continued down the corridor, knowing that he must had been thinking of what I had said in the classroom about plans and due time as he made his own way toward his own dormitory. If I achieved nothing at all today, at least I made him slightly paranoid.

TBC...