Author: inkonhand
Rating: R for language and mature content
Pairings: HP/DM, RW/HG
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. It's all JK's. And Warner Bros. And their corperate friends.
Warnings: IT'S SLASH. Don't like, don't read.
A/N: Yay! My first fanfic! I love reviews and so does my kitty Luther! However, he'll scratch your eyes out for flames so don't flame. This is slash, as I said. It is 2am, and I'm tired. Oy.
-Kle
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Chapter 1: Get Over It
A quill scratching against parchment was the one of the few sounds that was heard in the library of Hogwarts. The plume wavered back and forth since the owner—and author—scribbled their essay on Veritaserum as quickly as possible without using a charm or spell. Quiet clicking noises were heard before the large feathered quill was resting on the table. The quick hands lifted the parchment from the surface as their owner's green eyes darted from line to line, checking for mistakes.
"Done." The author said firmly before rolling up the paper and shoving it in their messenger bag. They stood up, and as they pushed their chair in, the shine of blond hair caught their eye before disappearing.
Harry Potter had done it.
Not only had he successfully completed the hardest essay the N.E.W.T. level class had been assigned, but he achieved what most thought was impossible.
He got a 'T'; a 'T' for Troll.
A hand belonging to his best friend, Ron, came to his shoulder. He started to say something, but was quickly drowned out by his other best friend Hermione ranting in a hushed tone.
"I can't believe you, Harry!" she started, "If you would've told me you were doing your potions essay in the library I could've helped you! I thought Fred and George were lying about the whole Troll thing but they apparently weren't! Seriously though, Harry. Come to me for help. Ron did and he got an A—"
She was rudely cut off by three snickering Slytherins behind them. The blond one was the only one to speak on behalf of the three.
"Another 'T', Potter?" Malfoy sneered, "Too bad you didn't have your owl's brain. You might've actually done a tad bit better."
Harry whipped around in his seat; his eyes were now fixed on the now howling Draco Malfoy. The brunette's hand reached inside his pocket to tightly grasp his wand, causing his knuckles to crack inaudibly.
"Shut up, Malfoy," he growled.
"Oh no! The Golden Boy wants me silent! What ever shall I do?" Malfoy replied with a fake terror-stricken voice. The other two Slytherins, Blaise and Pansy, started laughing harder but they almost as quickly fell silent after starting. Malfoy, however, kept laughing even when Potter's wand was at the ready. Ron and Hermione both had the same reaction to this act: He's going to get himself in trouble...
"May I reiterate myself? I said shut up, Malfoy," Harry snarled, his feet now on the ground and his body now standing with an arm outstretched pointing a wand at the cackling boy. Draco and Harry soon realized why Blaise, Pansy, Ron, and Hermione were now quiet.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," a familiar voice drawled, "How nice of you to be joining me after class to discuss further dates for detention."
"But Professor, I didn't have a detention in the first place—"
"Potter, I have no tolerance for annoying rebuttals. Ten points from Gryffindor for that remark and ten from Slytherin for Draco's disturbance."
"Yes sir." Harry mumbled under his breath as he took his seat. His face took on a hard, annoyed expression for the rest of the class whereas Malfoy just slumped in his seat. He was just as pissed off as Harry about the detention.
"Now class, today we will be creating the Beautification Potion with partners," Snape began. Harry's hand went to Hermione's arm, knowing he needed her to be able to not only complete the potion, but to actually get a decent grade in that class—for once.
"Assigned partners."
A slump seemed to go through the class because most were now looking completely bored and annoyed with the teacher's sudden distaste for even his own house.
"Parkinson and Thomas."
"Weasley and Goyle." With that, Ron rolled his eyes and let his head fall to the desk. ("He's as dumb as a rock," he had muttered quietly to the tabletop.)
"Granger and Zambini." ("I swear, if he hits on me, I'll hex him into a turtle." Hermione mumbled angrily.)
"Potter and Malfoy."
Harry zoned out after he heard the last two names together. That was not something that was going to make his day better. Sure Malfoy was excellent at potions but the bastard would never help him in any way.
"Potter! Damn it, get the ingredients."
Those words paired with the ever-so-annoying voice made Harry cringe. To make it as painless as possible, he complied to the order. The boy placed the ingredients on the table, in front of Malfoy. The blond gave Harry a sideways glare, expecting him to know what he was supposed to do.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Harry scowled.
"Get started chopping, grinding, et cetera to the ingredients." Malfoy instructed with a wave of his hand.
"What—Why me?" Harry asked, befuddlement in his voice, "Aren't you going to help?"
"I'll get the damn potion together and you just do the labour."
Surprisingly enough, Harry didn't argue back. He didn't care if it was Malfoy. The only thing he wanted was a good grade. Another detention was not on his agenda. He finished cutting, chopping, grinding, and slicing in silence as Malfoy sat next to him, admiring his own nails.
"Hey Beauty Queen, here are your bloody ingredients." Harry stepped away from the ingredients and took a seat in the other stool as to not get in Malfoy's way.
He's going to need this Beautification Potion more than anyone…
Malfoy glared at him as he stood up to take control of the rest of the potion. His nimble fingers quickly started working at the ingredients like he had done the potion hundreds of times before. For all Harry knew, he might've.
Who knew 45 minutes could take so long? Harry surely didn't. Most of the other pairs were working better than he and Malfoy. Glancing around the room made him catch sight of a few other pairs. Hermione was on the opposite side of the cauldron from Blaise so that she could be out of his grasp. Ron and Goyle both had the same look of confusion as each brought a hand to their head to scratch in wonder.
Harry figured he eventually fell asleep because the next thing he knew, Malfoy was jabbing him hard in the ribs with his wand.
"Get up, Potter. We're done."
The rest of the class was gone; the only people remaining in the room were him, Malfoy, and Snape.
Great. I'm in my least favourite room with my two least favourite people ever. Oh joy.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Snape stated blandly, "Both of you shall be joining me tomorrow night at 7pm. Yes, that's Friday night, Potter. Bring your old cleaning clothes. You'll be scrubbing cauldrons and organizing supply closets. No magic, so leave your wands in your dormitories."
"Is there a time frame this is all till?" Malfoy asked boldly.
"Why, Malfoy, got a hot date with Pansy?" Harry whispered harshly.
"You will clean till everything is clean. Meaning you might be here till midnight." Snape answered.
Harry rolled his eyes and got the cold glare from Snape along with another subtraction from house points. Both boys then retreated out of the classroom in silence. Harry was luckier that Malfoy because Ron and Hermione were waiting just outside for him.
"What's the punishment?" Ron asked.
"Spending a Friday night in that classroom with Malfoy, cleaning."
"Could be worse," Ron shrugged, "You could be… never mind. There's really nothing worse than that."
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "You don't realize that Harry not only has a detention but a three foot essay for McGonagall on Animagus, a two-and-a-half foot essay on the properties of jinxes, hexes, and curses for Flitwick, and a complete star chart for Trelawney all due Monday."
"Hermione, he's going to end up copying it mostly from you anyways." Ron stated bluntly.
"And what if I don't let him?"
"You will." Ron and Harry both chimed together. She was all too predictable.
"Besides," Harry explained, "I'm not as concerned about my homework as trying to survive a possible five hours with Malfoy."
Ron almost choked on his own spit. "Fi-five hours!"
"Yeah. It bloody well screws up the Wizard's Chess Tournament with you guys."
"We can get it done at dinner. Hermione, Dean, and Ginny are horrible at it. That takes care of half the tournament." That remark earned Ron a glare from Hermione.
"There's always Saturday," Hermione added, "And Sunday."
"True." Harry shrugged. He was wholly displeased with his new Friday night activities with his fellow detainee.
Friday night came soon enough. Harry was dreading every second closer to it. He refused to look at the clock, but yet his eyes were drawn to it. And it seemed to be in every classroom he was in with the Slytherins; Malfoy was always in the direct line of eyesight from Harry to the clock. It was almost by fate.
During those classes, Harry found himself looking at Malfoy closer as if checking out the competition. The boy's hands were long and slender, perfect for adding the perfect amount of ingredients to potions. His hair was pristine, not a hair out of line but yet it was falling just right to give him appeal.
Must be the Beautification Potions he probably makes daily.
Draco's eyes were a pure shade of silver, making Harry wonder how genetics could even do that. His skin was surprisingly flawless and pale, but there was a very slight tint to his cheeks. Then his lips looked so soft it made Harry curious to how soft they actually were.
Wait. What the fuck am I thinking?
7 o'clock finally rolled around and Harry's dinner was settling horribly in his stomach. He wondered if it was what he ate, his nervousness, or the mildew down in the dungeons. Whatever it was made him uneasy as he entered the dingy classroom to find Malfoy already in there with Snape.
"And Potter finally decides to show up," Snape sneered, "Malfoy will brief you on what your task is. I will not be attending this detention because I don't feel the need to punish myself."
He exited the room to leave the two boys looking at each other in disgust.
"Alright Potter," Draco snarled, "You clean the cauldrons and I'll organize the potions cabinet."
Harry raised an eyebrow before asking arrogantly, "And what if I don't want to clean the cauldrons?"
"Then we're not leaving here until class on Monday, Scarhead." Draco snapped back.
"Fine, Ferret." Harry replied grudgingly. Malfoy did have a point; he did not want to be stuck in here longer than necessary. Harry picked up a scrub brush from Snape's desk before setting to work to the cauldrons. Malfoy had headed over to the cabinet already and was removing all the bottles from their shelves.
About forty-five minutes into their task, Harry was leaning into one of the larger cauldrons, his entire upper torso inside. He had stopped hearing the soft clinking of vials together and started to hear faint laughter. Draco's laughter. From inside the cauldron, Harry asked, "What's so funny?"
"You should've grabbed the scrubber with the handle, dimwit."
Harry felt himself grow seven shades of red. How did he miss it? Why didn't Draco tell him earlier? Why was he blushing?
"Can you get it for me?" he asked kindly.
"Nope, sorry, I'm busy." Harry started to hear the soft clinking again as Draco purposefully started back to work, forcing Harry to get his head out of the cauldron to go get it. His hair was now sporting a few patches of leftover Forgetfulness potion goop as he walked over to the desk to retrieve the brush. Draco was containing his laughter to the point he was shaking. Harry sighed and started scrubbing easier than before. He glanced up to notice Draco's slender, nimble fingers placing each individual vial carefully into its place on the shelf. He looked so much cleaner than Harry felt and—most likely—looked. A huge, bitter jealousy was festering in Harry toward Draco upon many topics.
Why is he so much cleaner than me? How come I always get stuck with the labouring job when I'm with him? This sucks. He also gets the perfect hair, the perfect hands, perfect lips, and he's going to end up a Death Eater! What a waste! I don't get this kid. I need the Potions grade more than him. An Auror needs this grade. He's going to kill people. He doesn't need this class.
"Potter?" Draco asked sourly, breaking Harry's chain of thoughts, "What the hell are you thinking about? You have the stupidest face on ever."
Harry soon realized that he wasn't lying for once. He replaced the dumb expression with one of complete boredom. "Nothing," he mumbled, hoping Malfoy would hear.
"What an idiot…" Harry heard Draco mutter and as he glanced up, he noticed Draco slipping something into his pocket. Something appearing to be a vial, or two.
"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry asked in an annoyed tone, stupidly initiating another conversation.
"What? Who, me?" Draco answered as innocently as possible.
"Stop acting like an idiot. I saw you slip the Beautification Potion and something else in your pocket."
"It's none of your business, Potter, to what I'm doing," Draco's innocent tone dropped right away and his voice was dark and cold.
"It may not be my business, but once the rumour mill is started about Draco Malfoy sneaking Beautification potion out of the potions cabinet, it'll be your business." Harry smirked.
"Not if I hex you." Draco snarled back.
"Not if we weren't to bring our wands tonight." Harry continued to smirk. He noticed Draco to mouth the words, 'Oh shit,' and have the face to go with it.
"Fine. What do you want me to do for you?" he said with a slight groan in his voice.
"Help me in potions."
"In your wildest dreams."
"'And so I heard Draco Malfoy really looks like a giant flobberworm if it weren't for the Beautification Potion,'" Harry mocked in a high pitched tone before lowering it down to his own, "Get over it. You know you want to."
"I know I don't want to. But fuck. Fine. I'll do it." Draco agreed with a sigh of defeat. His voice suddenly snapped, "But I'm only helping you in class. No out-of-class help."
"That's what Hermione's for, dumbass." Harry retorted.
But I'll make you want to help me out of class. And not just with potions, either.