Hello again! I suppose it's stupid to wait for reviews and just let my story get buried. So here you go, loyal reviewers—all two of you, harharhar. Chapter the second. Enjoy…
Chapter Two: Bum-Boy
Harry leaned back in his chair, watching the Potions master, Snape, drone on and on about the beauty of dumping a fat lot of lacewings in with some essence of whatsit, blah blah blah, and that sort of thing. As if they couldn't just get to the instructions and simply skip this whole ordeal.
He studied Snape, greasy hair to depressing robe choice. Malfoy seemed to like him, but then he was Lucius' lapdog. In Harry's opinion, the man was weak—old enough to be his father—and this was all he amounted to in all those years. Harry had bigger plans. Well, they weren't certain, he admitted, but he was definitely going to be something, something great, just like the Sorting Hat had promised him in first year.
And he'd be damned if he still didn't have a woman at that age.
"Keep doing that and you'll fall on your bum, Potter," a voice drawled into his ear, breaking him from his reverie.
He rolled his eyes at Malfoy. "You worry about your own bum and I'll worry about mine, how's that sound?" Malfoy smirked. "What's so funny?"
"The fact that Snape's been standing to your left for a half minute and you still haven't noticed, bum-boy," Malfoy whispered.
Harry checked to his left, and indeed, there stood the foul old bat, staring down at him. I don't know how he manages to see me at all with that beak between us, Harry mused. He grinned in defeat and wagged a finger at his friend. "Ah, ah, ah, Malfoy. Professor Snape."
"How kind, Mr. Potter. Now do"—SLAM—"stay grounded and join us for the lesson, won't you?" Snape asked silkily, leaving Harry's chair with all four legs planted on the floor and leaving Harry somewhat disgruntled.
The lecture dragged on until Snape finally allowed them to start brewing. "So, Malfoy...about this potion...what is it?"
"We just got lectured on it for fifteen minutes and you want to know what it is?"
"Well, if you'd rather me be more specific, what's it called, what's it do, and how do I make it?"
Malfoy sneered. "Why should I tell you?"
Harry grinned and threw an arm around the other boy's shoulders. "'Cause we're chums who go way back and who knows what you'd do without me?"
Malfoy laughed. "Well, Potter, when you put it that way, the potion's a Hiccupping Draught and the instructions are on the board, you ninny."
Harry grinned and winked. "Thanks, love."
"How many times have I asked you not to threaten my heterosexuality, Potter?"
As they all filed out of the class after thirty minutes and a self-test on their draughts, Snape said smoothly to the still hiccupping Harry, "You're the only Slytherin I take points off, you know, Mr. Potter. Ten for cheek this time."
"Ah, well, Professor, you know I do have a lot of cheek, but it really could be much worse. Some people have an incredible lot of nose to deal with, that can be quite--"
Malfoy yanked him out of the classroom before the apoplectic Snape could take off another ten points.
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