Draco Malfoy found the rest of his day absorbed by class. In fact, he belatedly discovered that he had a good deal of homework that he'd been... postponing. So, despite the weighty and important ideas very much interested in trammeling his head, he laid them aside and got to work. To be more accurate, he stuffed them into a nice box at the bottom of his mind (tying it shut with strong metal chains), and tried to ignore the box's insistent rattling.
After all, you didn't mess around in potions class. Not if you valued your life, after all. In potions class, even pranks and underhanded accidents were done with a precision that would astound most of the Gryffindors (not Granger, of course). Draco Malfoy loved Potions Class, and not just because his godfather was teaching.
Today, the poisonous potion on topic seemed to get even Granger and Weasley paying attention, finally. No, Draco relented, they were always more attentive in potions class. Somehow, even the pain and suffering of Potter's 'death' receded in the class, and Draco didn't for one hot minute believe it was because of his godfather's teaching skills. Or lack thereof. No, it was the pure and simple fear of death that motivated - well, everyone except for Bottomlong. With him in the class, it was a miracle that they'd even survive a day, let alone seven years.
Stir, chop, swirl, dice, Draco thought, his mind focused on the mindnumbingly repetitious tasks. Draco didn't have room for anything but criss-cross, squirt, pummel and stir!
[a/n: Yes, Draco does have classes. Yes, he does do his homework. Leave a review!]