That's probably why Harry wasn't talking to him as much as before. They weren't even exchanging hateful words, and that was definitely something. Draco had been polite enough to not mention anything about the detention since it happened, but he still felt terrible that he couldn't think of anything else to bring up that wouldn't come out sounding too odd or out of character.
So, in the middle of a Potions class, when everyone was busy measuring out the delicate and several ingredients they had, Draco began to speak. He also noticed, with smug satisfaction, that the Longbottom boy truly seemed grateful for the job having been done for him. Anyway, that was besides what Draco cared about. It was all about Harry.
"How has life been?" He asked, and realized that it sounded as lousy as the last time he tried to start conversation.
Harry, in the meantime, paid no mind to him speaking. He continued measuring the ingredients, carefully avoiding eye contact, even every so often shifting away from him.
"Are you going to answer me? It isn't polite to ignore." Draco kept his eyes on the boy; hardly bothering to blink. Then Harry looked forward, and for a brief moment Draco thought he'd look over here, but instead the boy was hoping to catch his bloody best friend's eye. And that he did, and they both exchanged scowls. The nerve of them!
"Do you like doing this to me?" Draco frowned, turning back to the stupid, pointless, futile, ludicrous job in front of him. Ah, that felt better. Insult the assignment, earn a happiness point.
"Yes." Harry finally responded, and Draco's happiness point was just as quickly deleted.
"Just to let you know, it makes me feel good." Draco smirked. If he wasn't getting his way, he'd make it his way. Harry glanced sideways at the Slytherin, almost letting loose an I-can't-believe-you-just-used-that-line, sort of smile. A smile? This was a start.
"I'm sure it does." Harry said, sounding vacant again.
"No, really. Ignoring me makes it all the more exciting when you finally answer."
"'Course it does."
Draco's eyes watched Harry cautiously. The boy was quietly leveling out the crushed roots; pouring them into their cauldron when needed. He went on pretending that Draco wasn't there again, and the Slytherin began to tell that the boy looked a little sick. Harry's eyes were fogging, as if the bright emerald was vanishing and was being replaced by a pale green. Harry kept lifting a hand to rub at his eyes wearily behind his glasses. His hand then traveled up to rub the side of his head, like he was trying to calm a headache. He was also shifting (which was unnoticed by anyone else) on his feet, as if he couldn't stand to remain still.
Draco thought he might be nervous. But why nervous?
"What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing." Harry replied instantaneously. Draco arched an eyebrow.
"I highly doubt that."
"What would you know? You don't even know me!" Harry threw the next batch of ingredients in the cauldron. Draco glanced at it worriedly. His gaze lifted to the front of the class, where Snape was watching them like a bloody hawk. Couldn't that git leave them alone for once? It had only been one outburst the other day. It wasn't going to happen again. Hopefully.
"I wasn't trying to be…" Draco paused and then took a fleeting look sideways. Weasley was watching him too. What the hell was wrong with everyone today? "… to be... mean." He finished, his voice barely a whisper so that no one else could hear him. He looked back at Weasley odd with an odd expression, trying to figure out what the frustrating redhead thought was wrong now.
"You're always bloody mean!"
"I wasn't mean yesterday."
"Don't even mention yesterday."
"Listen Potter, about yesterday…"
Draco smirked. Harry shot daggers at him. That made Draco shut up. He didn't enjoy receiving those sorts of looks from someone he really, really, adored. But that wasn't going to change unless a miracle helped him in changing it.
"Why don't you want me to mention yesterday?" Draco asked curiously. Honestly, he wanted to know the reason.
"You just did it again, you stupid git."
Draco let out a frustrated sound. "Stop calling me that."
Harry seemed distracted as he spoke. "I can call you whatever I want."
"Stop it," Draco hissed through clenched teeth.
"Git."
"Idiot."
"Ferret."
"Scarhead."
"Dimwit."
"Jacka--"
Suddenly, Snape popped up behind them. It felt like the only thing Snape tried to do was apparate right when they least wanted him near. However, Draco knew he hadn't apparated. They just hadn't noticed when he started walking clear over to them in the middle of their bickering. "Would you like to finish that, Mr. Potter?" Snape drawled impatiently from behind. The professor made his way around their desk and glared at them both.
"No, professor." Harry answered dully. His mouth closed, fighting back the urge to retaliate using some rather rude words.
"Good, I would assure you not to. Though I'm afraid I told you both that you weren't going to be repeating the other day's performance." One greasy, pale hand was holding onto the edge of the desk. Snape was probably imagining how he could strangle the boy-who-lived. Draco hoped desperately that nothing humiliating was going to happen. He couldn't believe Snape had turned so against him from the first day of school. It was devastating.
"It wasn't a repeat of our performance, Professor!" Draco objected.
"Bickering is just as troublesome as violence."
"But that's not righ-" Draco kept trying. He wasn't in the mood for the professor's evil attitude on this particular day.
"Mr. Malfoy! Do not speak when I am speaking! Both of you; go up to the front of the room. Inform your classmates of the importance of good class behavior." Snape's voice was sounding very edgy now, and Harry and Draco both knew not to test him, or they'd end up getting another unjust detention.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Harry complained.
"NOW! HURRY IT UP!" Snape bellowed. Every student turned their head to look at them. A few of them looked surprised over how they could get in trouble once again with the professor. The Slytherins looked oblivious over how that could've happened to Draco. After all, he was always well behaved.
Snape led the way to the front of the class; Harry storming behind him, and Draco moving as slowly as possible. What were they supposed to do? Go over the rules? He sighed, stopping and turning around to face the questioning expressions of the audience. Harry did the same, looking deathly irritated.
"Go ahead." Snape ordered from behind his desk. He had taken a seat, his hand wrapped around a feather quill.
Draco looked over at Harry, letting him know that he wasn't going to be the one to start this stupid speech first. "The rules." Harry began through gritted teeth. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he had looked at Draco with so much detestation that it sought to make Draco sick. "Are to focus in class on only the assignment and the professor's lectures. When you start the project, that's all you are to think about. You can't talk, or say anything mean to your partner."
"You can't call them bad names, or say things that'll make them slap you." Harry finished quietly, looking horribly unhappy.
"And you, Mr. Malfoy?"
Noticing regrettably that his hands were starting to shake again, Draco stayed silent when Snape addressed him. He didn't want to listen. He didn't want Harry to be angry at him. He didn't want any of this to happen. He was tired of it. He was tired of everything and everyone.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Snape eyed him with his dark, piercing eyes, and Draco turned around, looking nothing but grave. He faced the professor and looked at him darkly before turning back around to face the class. Snape recognized that certain Slytherin look, and he stood up from his desk in order to stop it, but it was too late. Draco already gave the class a rather helpful rule.
"Never call your professor a greasy git behind their back, or else they'll end up fucking with you and everyone else who doesn't deserve it." Draco smirked as everyone stared at him.
It was silent after that.
They were probably wondering if they were dreaming or if the usually polite Draco really said that in front of Snape's face. After the shock subsided, they were trying to stifle their laughter. Harry looked at him, his eyes wide and his mouth open, and Snape's face turned a brilliant shade of purple. His eyes looked ready to bulge out of his head.
"Mr. Malfoy, you will meet me after class. No excuses." A vein pulsed in Snape's forehead. The pale Slytherin nodded casually before heading cheerfully back to the desk with Harry. Amazingly, he felt in much better sorts; now that he had let that out. People were holding their hands up to their mouths in order to choke back their laughter. Even Harry seemed to be swallowing back a laugh. What else could they all do? Draco Malfoy, Snape's star student, just insulted his favorite professor in front of the entire Potions class. It was a day to remember for the rest of their lives.
"I can't believe you did that, Malfoy." Harry whispered, sounding friendly enough so that Draco was caught by surprise. Draco grinned.
"I couldn't help myself."
"Maybe you aren't so mean."
Well, if saying terrible things about his professor made Harry think he wasn't mean, then he'd have to do it more often. It was strange how Harry worked.
"I told you I wasn't." Draco responded offhandedly.
The bell suddenly rang to signal the end of class, and they were both startled out of their small discussion. Draco knew he'd be in for hell once everyone left the room. Harry instantly started packing up his things.
"Have fun."
"With what, Malfoy?" He looked up from stuffing things in his schoolbag; dark hair falling into his eyes. God, how could the boy look so damn innocent?
"Whatever it is that you do."
"Oh, thanks. You too." Then Harry stopped to think over what he just said. "I mean… good luck I guess."
Draco rolled his eyes.
Harry smiled briefly, and then left with a small, hardly-even-worth-to-be-considered wave. He joined up with Ron and Hermione before he exited the door, and before Draco tore his gaze away to look up at the approaching Snape.
Harry had better treat him better if he was going to end up scrubbing more cauldrons.