Draco Malfoy waltzed into Potions class, early as usual. Hermione Granger was on his heels, which was decidedly not where he would have put her had he a choice in the matter. Not to be crass, but looking is free, after all. Blaise came in next, sliding smoothly into the third station. Potter tumbled in, his hair astray and rumpled.
"Potter, why is it that I have to do four hours straight of potions today?" Draco drawled.
"Apparently the Potions Professor thinks my detentions are more important than our lessons." Harry Potter said, seemingly unconcerned. Draco noticed the slight twitch of his hand, though, towards his wand. Not quite as nonchalant as all that, are we?
"Absolutely revolting, the way you manage to get so many detentions. What did Princess Pot do to deserve this one?" Draco Malfoy said, giving Harry Potter a genuine, elegant bow. There was no reason to ever skimp on manners, especially when mocking The Chosen One. (Chosen for What? Draco catcalled in his head.)
"Out after curfew. You'd think he'd expect to get caught." Granger said snottily, never mind that Potter was her close friend. Blaise snickered at that, and Draco caught himself wanting to glare at his fellow - since when do we laugh at Gryffindor jokes?
"Potter never expects anything. I'm not sure he bothers to think about the next minute, let alone tommorrow." Draco Malfoy drawled, enjoying the flush spreading across Potter's face. Gryffindors were so easy to bait, it was practically criminal not to. "So let's give him the easy potion, eh?"
"You'd better. Isn't this one nearly an explosive?" Blaise drawled casually. "Wouldn't want Potter to blacken our reputation. Literally." In his mind, Draco had a brief glimpse of them all blackened by ash.
Draco Malfoy and Granger sat at the middle table, starting to confer about their four potion prescriptions. Meanwhile, Harry Potter and Blaise were busy discussing... the state of Draco's godfather's hair. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had the potions half organized (they were still fighting over who would get to make the difficult one with the lacewing beetles), when Draco Malfoy looked up and said, "It's not natural, you arse. It's to keep the fumes away. Why do you think I wear my hair slicked back, anyway?"
Harry Potter sat up straight (he had been hunched over the lab table whispering to Blaise - nevermind that Potter was the smallest kid in the grade), and said in wonder "I thought it was greasier today! Hermione, Didn't I say it was greasier - at Breakfast, even!"
Hermione Granger muffled a giggle, as she hid her mouth behind her hand, nodding slowly. "You did" she gasped out, her voice still merry with delight.
"My godfather's shampoo is to keep the fumes off. He works with so many potions a day that they're bound to react poorly with each other - and untreated hair absorbs like nobody's business." Draco gave them all a haughty glare, "You try keeping a Potions Master from making potions. It's a trial harder than standing before the Wizengamot."
Hermione, unable to keep the questions quiet, said suddenly, "Somoene's managed, though?"
"My mother." Draco responded crisply. "Three days around Christmas, she declares it a "No Brewing Holiday." " Draco paused for a moment, smiling softly, "I don't think she'd have managed it if she didn't lock the Potions Lab, though. Professor Snape sulks around the entire time reading journals and scrawling illegible notes that I don't think even he manages to read afterwards."
"I do not sulk." Professor Snape said huffily, strolling into the room. "And Potter, if you're so curious about my shampoo, I could switch yours for mine. Today even."
"N - no thank you, sir!" Harry Potter managed, at last managing a modicum of respect for his elders. Perhaps it was the sheer terror that Draco could see writ large on Potter's face. Really, what was so awful about Snape's hair? Sure, it was a bit stringy, and more than a bit greasy... Oh, I suppose Potter has a point. Draco conceded in his head what he wouldn't concede outloud.
"Get brewing, you lackadaisical slackers." Snape snapped, turning his back on them as Hermione Granger squeaked out a "Yes sir!"
Not a word more was spoken until the potions were properly stoppered and waiting for inspection.
[a/n: First, the authorial confession: I forgot which day of the week it was, and then I realized that Tuesday hadn't a potions class. So, erm, I improved the story, by weaving it in - now Snape feels free to run his "extracurricular class" whenever it pleases him.
And, most of the plot points that I had wanted to get in here didn't fit, somehow, so it'll have to wait until next week.
Leave a review, kiddos!
P.S. Has anyone deciphered the title of the story yet? Figured out where I'm going with this?]