Warnings: swearing, sexual references, malexmale

Chapter 2 - Displeasure

Harry Potter sat, in the freezing cold, beside his two best friends. Hermione Granger had insisted they start their revision sessions early. Ronald Weasley had been complaining for the last three hours at least but seemed to be getting nowhere with his idea of dissuading Hermione against the plan.

"Ron, just be quiet and look back at your potions book."

"But, Hermione, we've got ages until the exams." He looked over at his best friend with a pleading glint in his bright eyes. Harry had resigned himself to the timetable Hermione had drawn him weeks ago. He had been fed up with her insistent nagging and knew it would do him good in the long run, even if he hated it. He sighed and looked over at the pair.

"Six months."

" When I give you a look like that, it means bloody help me, not give me a date."

"Well, I for one, am glad that Harry has finally seen sense. Neither of you are going to get any NEWTs unless you start revising now." Hermione looked over at Harry, whose nose was buried in a thick volume about aging potions. She gave an approving nod and pretended not to hear the sarcastic murmur of 'you have so much faith in us' that drifted out from behind the book.

"But Hermione, its six months away!"

"Stop whining, Ronald. I don't care what you do then, just don't come complaining to me when Harry gets more NEWTs that you." She huffed and turned back to her own book.

Ron blew heavily from his nose before heaving his potions textbook onto his lap, over exaggerating the strain, and beginning to read it.

Meanwhile, Harry stared out at the lake. Even though it was nearly Christmas and the holidays were looming, he could not bring himself to dread them like he usually would. This year he was staying at Hogwarts, as usual, but this year was different. This year he had a plan as to how he would keep himself amused. Stuff the potions essays, plural, Snape could go to hell, he was going to have fun if it killed him.

The words on the page he was meant to be revising had quickly become a blur. He may have given in to his schedule of revision but that didn't mean he was going to revise all the time. What Hermione didn't know would not hurt her, or him for that matter.

The lake was quiet in Winter, it always had been. No creatures from its depths broke the calm surface of the water. No birds settled down upon the stillness to rest, resulting in no ripples spreading through the flat plain of liquid. The pebbles, which started a little way away from where they sat, were all perfectly round, some of them frosted with a sprinkle of frozen dew.

Harry liked the peace that came with Hogwarts. He liked his life here, that is when he was not running away from murderous villains, escaping from teachers and avoiding the general bumps and bruises (and braking and regrowing bones. And being killed and brought back to life, falling off a broom from several thousand feet, almost drowning and burned with probably many more to come) that came with the job of saving the world. Now that was depressing.

Harry shook these thoughts from his head and looked back out at the lake. He could hear Ron and Hermione vaguely in the background, arguing again, but he was used to it by now. If only Ron would pluck up the courage to ask the woman out, then he would be happier.

They had not been surprised when Harry had confessed his true sexuality to them the year before. They had said they had seen it coming and wondered when he would find out. They had asked and after some persuasion he replied that he had been shocked into acceptance when, in the summer holidays, he had walked into the living room one afternoon to see the his Aunt and Uncle watching a film. He had walked in when a minor sexual scene had been playing and had realised he was gay when he found himself more turned on by the male actors chest than the females'.

"What do you say, Harry?" He was brought back to the present by the sound of his name.

"Sorry?"

"Should we go up to the common room now?" Harry nodded and began to pack his things away. His two friends had learnt to be very patient with him over the years. He would often find his mind wondering off into its own little world of memory. He thought of many things; funny times with his friends, his rescues from the Dursley's, which were a lot funnier now he was looking back on them, and even back to his childhood memories, trying to pin down any happy times. He always avoided the subject of his battles with Voldemort, even in the 'safety' of his own mind, and it was not often he thought about other people from school, his thought usually stuck with the Weasleys and Hermione, sometimes straying to his roommates.

Harry mentally slapped his forehead as he realised he was doing it again. He had not even noticed that he was walking between his friends back up towards the castle. They were still arguing, throwing growling responses at each other across his back. He felt he should stop them before it got out of hand, but did not fancy being snapped at when Ron had already decided he was apparently siding with Hermione for the day.

As the three friends entered the entrance hall, Harry looked over at the side door next to the stairs, which led to the dungeons, with dislike. He had yet another detention with Snape at three O'clock in the afternoon. Speaking of time;

"Hermione, what time is it?"

"Five past three, why?"

"Shit. I'll see you guys later, I've got a detention with Snape."

"Oh Harry, another one, what was it for this time?"

"I didn't know the answer to a question a long the lines of, 'If I mixed powdered toads eyes with an infusion of wormwood and aconite at a temperature of seventy-nine degrees, I would get an anti-wrinkle potion. If I mixed the same ingredients at eighty-one degrees, what would it be then?' Apparently, two degrees can make a huge difference."

He tried, only partially with success, to split his hearing as his friends both commented at the same time.

"You know you do a bloody good impression of Snape, Harry."

"Of course it makes a difference. At eighty one it would give you an acidic substance used to melt metal."

Both boys turned to look at her, eyes widened slightly.

"Hermione, how do you know this stuff?"

"That would be because someone pays attention in my class." All three seventh years jumped and let out an array of sounds. "You are late Mr. Potter. That will be five points from Gryffindor, I think. Now off to the dungeons with you Potter." Harry scowled, it was just like Snape to pop up out of the ground right at the wrong moment.

He whispered a quick 'I'll see you in the common room' before practically being frog marched towards the door.

"And before I forget, Potter, that will be another ten points for that awful and inaccurate impersonation, if it had have been better you might only have lost five."

Harry resisted the urge to retort back to the teacher but settled for muttering a 'yes, sir.' As it turned out, this was a good idea, the disappointed look on Snape's face was priceless.

Once in Snape's dungeon, Harry turned back to the professor expectantly.

"Those cauldrons, you will be cleaning them with Mr. Malfoy who has kindly volunteered to help me."

Harry growled low in his throat. A whole hour with Malfoy was going to be hell. Why the hell would Malfoy want to help clean out cauldrons? No doubt without magic? He looked back at Snape, the question on his lips.

"No." He had not even had time to voice the words. He sighed for the second time that day and walked to a cupboard in the corner of the room. He grabbed two brushes and a bucket. He then went back to where the mountain of cauldrons he was to clean with his rival were stacked and, after casting a clean water charm on the bucket, began to work with one of the brushes, leaving the other in the bucket for when Malfoy arrived.

Draco Malfoy sauntered into the room at half past three precisely. He prided himself on the accuracy of his timing. He was never late, unless fashionably so, and was never early. He had a talent for predicting the times he would need to leave early as irritable hold-ups would make him pause.

Severus had already told him he would be cleaning cauldrons with the detention students but he did not mind, he was not in detention, he could taunt them with his allowance of magic.

He vaguely wondered who would be in detention. He knew no other Slytherins were so this was bound to be a dreadfully boring experience. He could handle the Hufflepuffs and tolerate the Ravenclaws but he was not sure he would be able to keep calm if a saintly Gryffindor or two were to join him.

Therefore, you can imagine, when he walked through the door to the allocated dungeon he would be in, he was not best pleased to see one Harry Potter on his knees, bending over a cauldron, scrubbing away at it and occasionally dipping his brush into the water.

He stood staring at the Gryffindor who showed no signs of looking up any time soon or of noticing him. He felt a rush of air off to his right as the potions master swept past him.

"You know what to do. Please make sure they are all clean before you leave, Draco, and don't let Potter out of your sight." He nodded to his head of house and gave a curt nod as he left the room.

Draco looked back at the dark haired boy. If he had not known who the boy was, he probably would have thought the sight arousing. The boy's back was arched slightly as he curved over the brass bowl so he could see what he was doing. His hair was falling in his eyes and sweat was making his shirt stick to his back a little. Meanwhile, his robe lay on the floor next to him, in a bundle, as was his jumper. But what Draco noted above these other points was the other male's lower body.

Even though the school trousers were not appealing in any way, the way his back curved made the trousers ride up a tad, fitting to the boy's backside perfectly. On top of this, his legs were ever so slightly spread and his hips were swaying seductively from side to side, backward and forward as he scrubbed the cauldron below him.

Suddenly, Draco understood what he was thinking. He snapped his attention away and up to the ceiling.

'Fuck! I was just eyeing up Potter!'

R&R

To my reviewers:

ToImarriedmalfoy: Your wish is granted, although I don't think it's as good, but there you go. Thanks, I'm glad I was able to stir some emotion.

Toiridescentcloud: You will have to wait and see won't you. Your wish also, is granted. The next day isn't bad eh?

Tocherishmoiraparamour: Thank you for the wonderful comment. I hope to be a novelist upon reaching adulthood and it is nice to receive a confidence boosting comment.

Thank you to all the story alerts and favourites as well. Please (continue to) comment.