"But, professor, that'll take us all da-" Harry started, but was stopped by Snape's clear, sharp drawl.
"It doesn't matter how long it takes, Mr. Potter! You'll be staying here until everyone gathers in the Great Hall for dinner if you don't be quiet and listen! Now do the work! I'll be back to check on you both in a while, and I expect that you'll be standing here doing exactly what I ordered you to."
Draco stood there quietly as Snape exited the room through one of the dreadfully old looking doors. He still felt like he had ruined his life in one small morning; his anger had completely vanished from earlier. If he hadn't hit Harry, none of this would've happened. Harry wouldn't be hating him as bad as he was now either. God, why had he gotten mad over the subject of his father anyway? Draco did agree with Harry, but he supposed he just couldn't stand hearing his father talked about like that in front of his face.
Wordlessly, Draco walked over to the table without any noise being made; his fingers slowly picked up the knife to begin cutting more ingredients. Almost hesitantly, Harry joined him, and they both stayed like that for at least ten minutes. It was tearing at him; the need to talk, and Draco didn't know if it was smart to speak up or not. He didn't know what Harry was thinking, but he could see the vacant expression in the boy's eyes. His face was pale, and his movements were appearing automatic, almost similar to that of someone being controlled by some anonymous force.
Finally, Draco decided that it was worth getting one word out rather than standing here oblivious to Harry's thoughts. "Listen, I'm sorr-"
"Save it," Harry muttered darkly.
The heart-sinking feeling returned. He fought back another lump that formed in his throat. What the hell was wrong with him? Obsessions were horrible. Now that he knew nerves and emotions were brought with them. Damn them, damn Harry!
"I was only going to apologize, Potter. No need to get pissy."
Harry paused, and Draco took notice of the boy trying his best not to blow up in another fit of anger. His teeth were gritted, and his fingers were holding onto the knife so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Was he really that bad?
"You can't apologize, Malfoy. It's against the rules." He stared hard at the table.
"What rules, may I ask?"
"The ones you made for yourself."
"Oh, those. Of course."
Harry turned his head away from the chopping to glare at Draco, his face impassive. "Why the hell did you slap me?"
"You were talking about my father," Draco responded with forced calm.
"So? It shouldn't be anything new to you."
"I don't talk about your parents anymore."
Harry became quiet again. Uneasy silence issued for another minute or so. It was true. Over the years they had talked about their parents less and less, and insulted each other's parents less and less. It was a good deal, really, because they both knew that it was a sensitive subject for them both. It was only today they that finally brought up the subject.
"I don't care. My parents were worth something. They were important in the world, unlike yours. Your parents made it worse."
"Fuck you, Potter."
"I'm only stating the truth. How can you live like that?"
Now it was Draco's turn to try and break the knife in half with his hand. "What I live like is none of your business, Potter. And my parents are worth something. Just because yours were killed doesn't mean you have to hate mine."
"Your parents helped the Dark Lord. Therefore they helped in the plan of killing my parents."
"I don't give a bloody hell about what they did or didn't do. Your parents are dead, Potter, get over it! I have absolutely nothing to do with it!"
"YOU DIDN'T STOP THEM!"
"I WAS ONLY A BABY, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!"
"Ugh. I hate you."
"I hate you too. Feel better?"
"No." Harry stabbed the knife into the table. The sharp tip was stuck in the surface of wood. Draco couldn't help himself, and he jumped. "You could've stopped them when your father decided to try and kill me in the Department of Mysteries."
"I wouldn't care if he killed you." Of course, that was the biggest lie ever created. Draco would've cursed the Dark Lord and his father to the ground in order to stop them from going, but sadly, that was impossible. It would take someone with great courage to stand up to Lucius Malfoy. Draco didn't have that courage. Besides, wanting to curse his father didn't make much sense when he was trying to defend him at this precise moment.
"I know you wouldn't care. I just meant that you could've stopped it from bloody happening! A lot of things could've been prevented, and nothing would have happened to y--"
"You're only mad that you're godfather was killed. You're blaming it on me, because there's no one else to blame! You can't admit that it was your fault! Plenty of things could've happened to me if I tried to stop it!"
"It wasn't my fault!" Green eyes blazed angrily.
"Yes it was! You think I didn't find out about what happened down in the Department of Mysteries? Before you oh-so-cheerfully locked my father in Azkaban, he told me about it. About how your godfather was killed, about how you were tricked into going there because you thought he was in danger. When in fact he was safe at his hom--"
"SHUT UP!" Harry shoved Draco hard in the side, so that he stumbled into another desk and hit it forcefully against the edge. A burning, painful sensation followed that, and Draco's eyes moved to narrow at Harry dangerously.
"I'm only stating the truth," he said, his voice low and void of emotion. Even so, his words echoed across the classroom, as if thousands of others were waiting in silence to hear them. Harry hadn't expected to have his own words thrown back at him, and he stood there, watching Draco with abhorrence.
"I hate you," Harry repeated. He turned back to the table, pulling the knife out of the wood and beginning to cut again. Draco, instead, stayed where he was leaning against the other desk, his eyes observing Harry carefully. This wasn't going at all like he would've favored. He didn't want to be arguing with Harry; he wanted to be talking nicely with him. He didn't want to be pushed around; he'd rather be pushed up against a rather nice wall. He didn't want to talk about his parents; he wanted to snog this Gryffindor senseless. That was all, and Harry was too emotional to think that any word from Draco might be a nice one.
"I didn't mean for it to go this far," Draco whispered hardly audibly, standing up to walk back over to the table Harry was working at. Each step made the pain increase in his side, and he wondered idly if Harry meant to push him that hard. The boy looked over at him, and for once Draco didn't know what that look meant.
"Whatever, I don't care about anything anymore." It seemed as though Harry had heard him, and even decided to respond. How kind.
"I'm sure you care about something still…"
"Why are you acting like this, Malfoy?"
"Because…"
"Because why? You've decided to make up for the years of your heartlessness?"
Draco seethed inside, wishing that things could be much easier than this. Perhaps if he hadn't been born into the family of Malfoys, things would roll much easier with a Potter than how it was rolling now.
"Maybe," the Slytherin countered back harshly, "If that's too much to handle, then I'll stop trying." Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously; doubtfully.
"You haven't been trying to do anything other than bitch at and insult me."
"Maybe my way of trying is to keep it hidden. Lord knows what would happen if I said something nice."
"How can you expect to get anything across if you keep it hidden?"
That was a good point. But why would he care if I wanted to be nice or not? He bloody hates me and will never think anything more of a relationship.
"Because you wouldn't care."
"You're right," Harry declared suddenly. He sounded like he was correcting himself from saying something different. It only made Draco more confused as to what was happening.
The exasperating silence passed through them again, and before they knew it, they were finished with cutting and separating the ingredients and were now heading over to the stack of dirty cauldrons. The look of them confirmed that they'd be here for a lot longer.
That's when Snape decided to walk in to check on them. Surprisingly, the normally pessimistic and discourteous professor didn't say anything. He merely observed the room, checking to see if they did the job correctly, eyed them for a bit longer, and exited the class again. The bloody git was starting to get on Draco's nerves. Maybe McGonagall would be his new favorite professor. Someday, at least.
Between him and Harry at the moment, well, he supposed they were on fairly better terms. He figured that the subject of their parents or relatives would never come up again, considering how much it riled them up. He also guessed that they wouldn't be talking to each other unless it was necessary. Frankly, this behavior was irritating Draco, and he wanted to say something to Harry that would make him feel better. Of course, that probably meant being friendly. Oh well, hell had broken loose anyway.
"So… do you scrub cauldrons often?" Draco was desperate for something, and that was the only lousy question he could think of asking.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry, unlike Draco, sounded more restless as the time passed. They both had rags and were scrubbing at the rusty cauldrons. In Harry's case, the job was going by much more smoothly.
"Nothing, I'm just curious."
"Curious my arse."
"I'm only trying to start up a conversation."
"Well stop it, why don't you?"
"Fine." Draco rolled his eyes, and didn't speak until they were nearly finished. Snape had entered the room and said they were free to go. Both the boys weren't very surprised to see that it was lunchtime already.
Sighing and brushing himself off, Draco stood up and looked down at the resting Harry. He was cross legged on the floor, his hands positioning him so he could keep himself up from behind. "Are you going to get up?"
"Sure, I will sometime." Harry wore an expression of thoughtfulness. There was no uncertainty that it was another one of the Gryffindor's stupid daydreams.
That's when Draco thought of something quite clever. He couldn't think of anything more he'd rather have happen, and what was he risking? It wasn't as if they had a friendship to lose. Smirking, he rolled his eyes again. The boy would get up in a second or two.
And that he did.
And so Draco whisked by the boy, slipping his wand out and hiding it beneath the sleeve of his robe. A small charm was muttered, and Harry tripped.
How lucky it was that he happened to stumble right onto Draco. It might've been obvious that the cunning Slytherin did this on purpose, but could you blame him when he was stuck in a room with Harry? He hadn't gotten any physical contact besides that shove.
It seemed like it happened in slow motion. Harry teetered, as if deciding if he should either hit the floor or fall onto Draco, and in the end, he chose Draco. Harry's body fell against Draco's rather roughly, his hands gripping the sides of Draco's arms as to keep himself from tipping. For some strange reason, (well, Draco did know a reason, but he wished it had been otherwise) Harry moved his head quickly enough so that it wouldn't touch any part of Draco.
Briefly, Draco caught the scent of Harry's hair, the feeling of his strong hands on him… and the wonderfully warm sensation that shot through him. Draco knew he'd only get this from Harry; his obsession. Smiling some, either out of happiness or because he was feigning a smirk, he grabbed onto Harry's arms to steady him. "I'd be careful of where I landed if I were you."
Harry jerked away, and the feeling was instantly lost. Draco fought the urge to snatch the boy back into his arms. "You did that on purpose."
"No I didn't."
"Yes, you did. I heard you say something under your breath."
"No you didn't."
"YES I DID!"
"You must be hallucinating."
"Why, you bloody ferre-"
That's when Harry caught the humorous and slightly wanting look in Draco's expression. His green eyes widened behind his glasses. He backed away then, and eventually made his way around Draco so that he was near the classroom door.
"Is there something wrong?" Draco asked innocently. Ha, if he could be considered innocent in anything he did.
"I…" Harry paused, stark out of words, "… you…"
"Yes?" Oh yes, Draco was making it extremely obvious for young Mr. Potter.
More silence as Harry stared at him. Draco couldn't tell if Harry was tilted more to the side of disgust or surprise. So, the Slytherin decided to check and see. Taking a step forward, he slowly brought up a hand that was supposed to have landed softly on Harry's shoulder. The boy instantly backed away before Draco's hand could reach him.
"Oh, you don't want me to touch you?"
"Stay away from me, Malfoy." Harry's voice was blank; maybe a bit cautious. And with that, he bolted out of the room, leaving a very confused and pleased Mr. Malfoy in his wake.