Chapter Four

Draco leaned back in his seat during Potions class, waiting for his cauldron to start boiling before he could add the remaining ingredients. Casually he turned his head and his lucid grey eyes skimmed over the visages of his classmates. Finally he settled his gaze on the freckled Weasley and the empty chair next to him. He perked up at this, only now realizing how late into the class it was and Potter still had not shown up. Silently, he wondered if he should ask Snape for a bathroom pass and go look for the stray Gryffindor. On second consideration it occurred to him that Hogwarts was huge and that Potter could be anywhere. The amount of time it would take to find him, he'd be missed.

It had been a week since Voldemort set Draco on his task. Unable to come up with a plausible plan, Draco had decided to wait and search for some kind of opening or weakness that he could seize and twist to his own advantage.

Moments later that opportunity presented itself in the form of Harry Potter himself. He burst through the door, with cheeks flushed from running and his hair even more of a mess than usual.

Snape's sharp gaze fell on the boy and he sneered disdainfully. "You're late, Potter." The sheer coldness in his voice nearly sent a chill through even Draco's spine.

Potter looked slightly flustered. "Sorry Professor, I-"

Snape held up a hand interrupting him. "I'm not interested in your excuses, Potter. Fifty points from Gryffindor for being thirty minutes late to one of my lessons and a detention."

Potter's face fell and he looked like he was about protest, when he thought better of it. He sulkily made his way over to the seat next to Weasley, who was gazing at him in commiseration. After a moment of silence, the class went back to their work, whispering amongst themselves.

Some of the Gryffindors were leaning over their desks talking to The Boy Who Lived, undoubtedly asking where he had been.

Curious also, Draco edged his seat slightly closer, trying to listen in. Unfortunately, he couldn't make out anything coherent over the soft murmur of the classroom.

From the seat next to him, Blaise Zambini nudged his arm with his elbow and pointed at the cauldron that was starting to boil over. Quickly he stood up and tossed in the crushed blue fairy wings whose cooling capabilities immediately caused the anti-toxicant they were brewing to simmer down.

He watched the potion's swirling colors turn from a murky green to blue and heard the footsteps of his teacher moving closer. A spark flashed malevolently through Draco's eyes as a wicked idea came to him, but he only had seconds to act. Grabbing a handful of left over herbs from Blaise's side of the table, he threw them into his cauldron. Knowing that they could not be added after the potion was completed and knowing exactly what the reaction would be if it was, Draco ducked under his desk just in time to see a pair of black dragon-hide boots come into view.

And then the loudest screech Draco could ever remember, since the last time Longbottom mucked up a potion, sounded above Draco. Following soon after was the thundering roar of laughter that echoed through the dungeon walls. Tentatively Draco peered out from under the table. Standing utterly still, in the aisle next to Draco's desk, covered head to toe in blue-ish green goo, was Severus Snape. Draco could see the Professor's face seething under the film covering it. He lifted a drenched hand and wiped the potion from his eyes.

With a burning intensity that Draco had never witnessed before, Snape searched for the exploding potion's source. When he found it, his black eyes widened, obviously surprised to find his prized student at fault. But even that shock did not cool the Potions Master's temper. "Mr. Malfoy," he said with all the control he could muster. His deep voice hissed through clenched teeth as he simply said, "Detention."

When Snape turned away, Draco smiled smugly, supremely satisfied at the outcome. He turned his head towards the Gryffindor's side of the class, who were all staring at him in a mixture of shock and amusement. Draco looked for one particular Gryffindor and was pleased to see Potter wearing a similar expression. Draco grinned at him slyly, then acting as though nothing amiss had just happened, gracefully sat back down onto his seat. Next to him Blaise stammered incoherently, who, given his proximity to the cauldron, had also been soaked by the slimy concoction. Draco's cool demeanor only flickered slightly when he realized he'd sat in a puddle of the same goo.

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