A/n: Written for QLFC, Season 8, Round 5, as Beater 2 for the Chudley Cannons.
Main Prompt: Write about someone corrupt abusing their position of power.
Optional Prompts: 2. [setting] a classroom; 8. [quote] "None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are."- Lestat de Lioncourt, Interview With a Vampire; 6. [item] teacup
Pokemon Master: Charmander - (emotion) angry; 279. Pelipper: Write about someone with a big mouth (I think we can all agree that the characters in this story all have big mouths lol).
Chudley Cannons Team Challenge: Write from the pov of a character you've never written before (ironically, I've never written from Hermione's pov despite her featuring heavily in my stories).
WC: 2993
Thank you to my lovely team for beta-ing!
Harry Potter and The Game Called Detention
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asks as Ron trudges over to where she's seated.
"Where do you think?" he says morosely, slipping into the seat beside her.
Hermione gasps, fearing the worst, and Ron waves a hand. "Not with Umbridge—with a lesser evil."
Hermione pulls a face. "Let me guess—Malfoy heard about your Quidditch meeting and gave Harry detention on the premise that he's breaking the rules."
"Pretty much, yeah."
"That's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaims. "Harry's still part of the team! There's no reason he should be punished for attending team meetings."
"You don't have to yell at me. I'm on Harry's side, remember?"
"That vile, arrogant, gormless, corrupt—" Hermione breaks off, flinging her arms in the air.
"Wait until I get my hands on Crabbe and Goyle," Ron mutters, "they'll forget what the sun looks like, with the number of detentions I'll give them..."
"You will not abuse your position of power, Ron!" Hermione admonishes.
Ron scoffs. "Say that to Malfoy."
"So you're telling me you're the same as Malfoy?"
"That's not what I—"
"By abusing your power, you would be stooping down to his level," Hermione declares with finality.
Ron sulks but says no more.
"I just hope Malfoy doesn't give Harry too hard a time," Hermione says. When Ron quirks an eyebrow, she shakes her head. "Even as I said it, I realised I was hoping for the impossible."
Ron looks up at the ceiling. "Morgana be with him."
Harry sneezes, sending a handful of moths flying off from behind the dusty shelves. He wishes he could conjure a mask, but he knows Malfoy won't let him. After all, there's no pleasure in having Harry clean classroom shelves by hand if he doesn't suffer through it.
"Your job is to clean the muck, not add to it, Potter," Malfoy quips from his seat atop the podium.
Harry shoots the blond a glare. He's irritated enough that he hadn't anticipated Malfoy ambushing him after the team meeting. He's only angered further by Malfoy's regal pose as the blond sits atop a throne-like chair, sipping tea from what looks like one of Umbridge's teacups. Malfoy smirks down at him.
"You know, being a Prefect, as well as the leader of the Inquisitorial Squad," he nudges each badge, "gives me enough power to dock points just because you looked at me aggressively."
Harry turns away, focusing his attention on the jars he's cleaning and replacing on the shelves, letting the monotonous nature of the task lull his anger into a dull roar in the back of his mind.
At some point, Malfoy climbs down from his throne to assess Harry's handiwork. He can tell the blond is bored because Malfoy goes through every single jar, commenting every so often on what a sub-par or barely satisfactory job Harry's done.
"You haven't cleaned those ones," Malfoy says, pointing to a shelf high above them as he delicately places his teacup on its saucer.
"There's no way I can reach that since you won't let me use magic!" Harry snaps.
Malfoy sneers. "Always so incompetent, Potter." Harry doesn't know if the bloke is trying to mimic Snape, but the resemblance is uncanny. "Very well. I suppose I'll take pity on you this one time and offer my assistance."
The Slytherin waves his wand. The jars slide forward slowly, but just as they reach the edge, they tip over. Instead of steadying them, Malfoy allows them to fall, perhaps intending to use the Levitating Charm to keep them afloat.
Harry realises the stupidity of that decision a few seconds sooner than the blond. "Wait, Malfoy—"
The jars come hurtling down towards Malfoy, who fails to perform the charm quickly enough, and Harry reacts instinctively. He lunges forward and pushes Malfoy out of the way. Not a moment too soon, either, as the jars crash to the floor inches from them, their contents spilling out and mixing together to form a noxious concoction.
They watch as Malfoy's teacup dissolves into the greenish-purplish slime, causing it to bubble and emit a foul stench. It coagulates and rises upwards, like a giant slime creature.
"Nice job, Malfoy," Harry says, "you've just set a monster loose in the school."
The blond, still trapped beneath Harry, says weakly, "Ten points from Gryffindor for injuring a Prefect."
Harry rolls his eyes and turns to scoff down at Malfoy. "Let's see if you're still a Prefect after Umbridge hears about this."
Umbridge's screeching can be heard through the thick slabs that are Hogwarts' walls.
"Even the banshee in the Burrow's attic would be terrified," Ron whispers to Hermione as they wait for their best friend.
An inordinate amount of time later, the stone stairs slide into view, and Harry steps out, looking worse for wear. Malfoy is nowhere in sight, affirming Hermione's suspicion that Harry was the only one being chewed out, despite having saved Malfoy's life.
Ron asks Harry if he's alright, but when Harry only sighs in response, Hermione suddenly understands. She grabs Harry's hand and looks at the back of it, inhaling sharply at the crimson words etched into his skin.
I must not tell lies.
"Oh, Harry," she whispers, hugging him. She blinks away tears, rage coursing through her as she silently curses Umbridge and wishes upon the witch things she would never wish upon anyone.
Harry slumps into her, and with Ron's help, Hermione coaxes Harry back to the dorms. She insists that he rest, but he shakes his head, reaching into his bedside table's drawer to extricate a vial labelled Invigoration Draught and taking a long chug from it.
"You're going to be sick at this rate," Hermione says gently.
"Better sick than dead," Harry mutters.
"Let me bandage your hand, at least."
Harry acquiesces, and as Hermione dresses the wound, she can't help but think that it's not as bad as usual.
As though reading her mind, Harry mutters, "Got away with a few lines because Malfoy convinced Umbridge that a better punishment would be me cleaning all the classroom shelves in Hogwarts."
"You shouldn't have saved that git," Ron spits, his face flushed red.
"His punishment would've been far worse if he hadn't," Hermione says quietly as she finishes bandaging Harry's hand.
"But Malfoy got away without more than a telling off!" Ron yells. "Bloody snakes with their forked tongues. Wait 'til I get my hands on one of them, I'll just—"
Hermione shakes her head. "You are a Prefect, Ron! We can't abuse our positions of power."
Ron swears colourfully, and Hermione turns back to Harry with a small smile. "When does detention start?"
Harry checks his watch. "Ten minutes ago."
Ron explodes yet again. "That foul, loathsome—"
"Shut up, Ronald!" Hermione snaps. "Harry, you have to go. Now."
Harry sighs and rises to his feet. "Maybe it's better to be dead after all," he mumbles as he exits the room, cradling his injured hand gingerly.
Ron turns to look at Hermione, concern etched into his creased features, but Hermione is too busy watching the doorway and wondering if abusing her power for Harry's sake might be worth it after all.
Harry enters the Charms classroom for his detention with Malfoy, and the blond's face actually lights up.
"Potter! Looks like Umbridge let you off easy after all," he sneers. "I was worried you wouldn't show."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Harry replies as he comes to stand before the podium.
If there's one thing he's realised through the innumerous detentions with Malfoy, it's that the bloke likes to look down on him—both physically and metaphorically. As though to prove Harry's point, Malfoy comes to stand at the very edge of the platform but doesn't step down.
"Professor Flitwick has given his permission to let you sort through those crates of feathers and other paraphernalia."
Harry frowns. It almost sounds like Flitwick didn't think the crates needed sorting of any kind, but Malfoy had convinced him otherwise.
Malfoy waves his hands ostentatiously and picks up a teacup and saucer. "Get to work, then." As Harry moves to one of the many wooden crates lining the far wall, the blond adds, "Oh, and you'll be doing it Muggle-style again, of course!"
Harry rolls his eyes and gets to work, knowing better than to worsen his plight by making a smart retort.
As he works, Malfoy flits about, poking his head and asking questions under the guise of checking to see that Harry's doing it right, accentuating every torturous remark with a loud sip from his teacup. Finally, unable to put up with the persistent hovering, Harry slams down the lid of a crate and turns to face Malfoy.
"If you have something to say, just say it!" he snaps, crossing his arms.
"Oh, I have a lot to say—"
"I mean it, Malfoy," Harry interrupts. "You gave me detention for saving your life, and you've been hovering since the moment I walked in. So either you're just that big of a prat, or you have something you want to say to me."
Malfoy scoffs. "I could dock points for yelling at a Prefect, you know."
"Do it, then," Harry snaps. "Nothing you do can be any worse than this."
He holds up his hand bandaged hand, and Malfoy grimaces.
"I didn't ask you to save me," he mutters finally, his gaze fixed on a crate behind Harry. "It's not my problem you have a hero complex and feel the need to swoop in and save the day."
Harry's anger peaks. "Believe me, I regret it more than you think." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm finished. Can I leave, now?"
Malfoy nods mutely, still not meeting Harry's gaze, and Harry pushes past him, seething silently.
"Potter, wait!"
"What?" Harry barks, spinning on his heel.
Malfoy flinches at the force of Harry's anger. He gestures to a thick scroll on the desk. "You forgot to catalogue the items."
Harry roars, whipping his wand out before he can think better of it, and hexes Malfoy so hard, he sends the blond hurtling off his feet and crashing into the crates. He marches out of the classroom and back to Gryffindor Tower.
When he enters the Common Room and Hermione asks him if he's okay, he says, "I think I just bought myself several months' worth of detention."
Harry's words come to fruition the next morning, as McGonagall waits outside the Great Hall to inform him that he'll be spending every evening with Malfoy for the rest of term.
"Be grateful this is all the punishment you're getting, Mister Potter," she says, and Hermione is somewhat inclined to agree.
"He's going to make me clean out cauldrons tonight, just watch," Harry says later at breakfast. "I think even Filch may start feeling sorry for me, at this rate."
Hermione shushes Harry as Malfoy saunters over to them, his posse in tow.
"Hope you've eaten your fill, Potter, because you're going to be spending tonight elbow-deep in cauldron grease."
Harry shoots Hermione and Ron an I-told-you-so look as Malfoy and Co. march away.
"What if I give Crabbe and Goyle detention for breathing too loudly during lessons?" Ron pipes up.
Harry rolls his eyes, and Hermione shakes her head resignedly. At this point, she almost wants to encourage Ron, but she still has enough good sense to remain silent—although barely.
"You know what's strange?" Harry says one evening, after a particularly nasty detention session of scrubbing the boys' toilet.
"What?" Hermione asks disinterestedly, scribbling in her Prefect notebook.
Ron says, "That we've been sitting in an empty classroom for almost an hour and neither Malfoy nor Parkinson has come by despite it being their turn to make rounds?"
Hermione's head snaps up. "I knew they were cutting corners!"
"That really wasn't what I—" Harry begins to say but is cut off by Ron.
"Does this mean I finally get to dock points?" Ron asks excitedly.
"We can't dock points from Prefects, Ron," Hermione says.
The redhead throws his arms in the air. "The entire system is flawed!"
Hermione rolls her eyes. "We can still inform our Heads of Houses, though."
"Guys, seriously, you need to stop doing that," Harry interrupts.
"Doing what?" Ron and Hermione ask simultaneously.
Harry frowns and waves a hand. "That. Where you go off on your little Prefect tangents and forget that I'm still very much here, your non-Prefect best friend, who was talking before you hijacked the conversation."
The duo have the sense to look chagrined, and Hermione says, "We're sorry, Harry. We didn't mean to. You were telling us what you find strange."
Harry puffs out his chest and nods. "Right, so, the strange—or, actually the not-so-strange thing is that Malfoy gets a kick out of watching me suffer."
Hermione squints at him, as though trying to understand the deeper meaning to his words.
Ron scoffs. "It took you five years to figure that out?"
Harry rolls his eyes. "No, you tosser. I meant, since Malfoy gets so much pleasure from torturing me, the obvious solution is to enjoy myself instead."
Hermione, unsurprisingly, is the first to catch on. She laughs before saying, "Well, it's worth a shot. I mean, you're already in detention for the foreseeable future. Why not have some fun?"
Ron frowns between them.
Harry jumps off the desk and makes his way to the door with a wave. "Duty calls. See you later!"
As he exits the classroom, he hears Ron say, "Ohhh I just got it," and shakes his head. Plastering a grin on his face, Harry decides that the messer will now become the messee.
"I can't believe Snape docked points from us for 'tattling' on our fellow Prefects!" Ron exclaims as they make their rounds later that evening.
Hermione sighs. "We know Malfoy has Umbridge and Snape on his side. We only have ourselves—barely even that, now that the DA has had to lay low."
They lapse into silence, Ron muttering curses under his breath as they patrol the hallways. They round a corner and are walking down a corridor when Hermione peers into an empty classroom and spots Malfoy and Parkinson huddled together, deep in conversation. They're so engrossed in themselves that they don't notice Ron or Hermione as the duo gets close enough to hear snippets of conversation.
"He should be more grateful," Malfoy is saying. "If he knew I was doing him a favour, giving him all these detentions when Umbridge or Snape could do far worse, he would be groveling at my feet!"
Parkinson finally spots Hermione and Ron, alerting Malfoy, who swivels around so quickly, Hermione's surprised he doesn't get whiplash.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the King and his loyal concubine." Malfoy struts over. "Do come in; there's no need to stand outside like commoners—although, I suppose you wouldn't know how to be anything else."
Parkinson cackles, and Hermione has to physically restrain Ron from taking a swing at Malfoy.
"Harry shouldn't have saved you," Ron hisses. "You would've done more good as a rotting corpse."
Malfoy gets so close, he's in Ron's face. "I should dock twenty points for that."
"And we should dock fifty from you for faffing about and continuing to abuse your power," Hermione snaps.
They face each other for a long moment until Malfoy scoffs and elbows his way out the door. "You should've thought twice before provoking me," he calls over his shoulder. "Now watch me abuse my power and give Potter even worse detentions!"
As they watch the Slytherin duo traipse away, Hermione says, "I only hope Harry's plan survives Malfoy's wrath."
"And that's the last of it," Harry says with a grin, sidling out from behind a cauldron and wiping his hands dry.
Malfoy eyes him suspiciously. "Why are you so chipper after having cleaned Thestral dung all evening?"
Harry grins. His plan hadn't worked as flawlessly as he'd hoped, because it was hard keeping up morale amidst the horrendous detentions Malfoy kept coming up with, but his perseverance seemed to be paying off.
"Because," he says cheerily, "as long as I'm in detention, so are you."
He shoots Malfoy a triumphant grin, and the blond blanches. He jumps to his feet and points at Harry, empty teacup, now a staple detention addition, dangling from his fingers dangerously.
"You—you!" he splutters, and Harry laughs.
"Well, see you tomorrow, Malfoy!" Harry calls. As he makes his way to the door, he says over his shoulder, "Transfiguration classroom next, yeah?"
"Wha—stop right there, Potter!" Malfoy exclaims, following after Harry. "You can't enjoy detention! That defeats the purpose!"
Harry spins around, and the momentum brings him so close to the blond that their faces are inches apart.
"S'pose there's no point in giving me detention then, innit?"
Malfoy splutters, and Harry walks away, laughing, feeling more accomplished than when he catches the Snitch.
Harry's mood has taken a sudden turn for the better, and Hermione is glad to see his plan working, even if it means Malfoy upping the ante with every detention.
Still, Harry's spirits remain untethered. Every time he runs into Malfoy, he grins and calls, "See you in detention!"
It's reached a point where Malfoy just ignores him—something Hermione would've never thought possible—or grumbles in resignation, and that only makes Harry happier.
One fine evening, after a particularly nasty detention session de-worming the greenhouses, Harry returns smelling of all sorts of nasty things, but he looks like he's just won Gryffindor the House Cup.
"You won't believe what Malfoy made me do," he says at the same time Ron pretends to be sick.
"Oh, I do," Ron says, moving away. "Seriously, I think I liked it better when you whinged about him. This is torture for us—I can't imagine what it's like for him!"
Hermione snorts in amusement. "Makes me wonder who's the one abusing their power," she says.
Harry laughs. "Who would've thought I could make detention with Malfoy fun?"