So… an entire year hiatus… this should not surprise you anymore… I am just that type of lazy author… :/ sorry

See? Maybe this wouldn't be so bad…

…heh. Yeah right, like life would ever be that fair.

"Professor, I need to talk to you."

Harry attempted not to jerk and throw- what was this again, rat's nails?- all over the place. Of course Malfoy would come down here, right now, to make his life even more unbearable. Harry kept his eyes locked on the paper that was precariously balanced on his knee. He didn't catch the surprised look that flitted over the blonde's face in the doorway.

"Malfoy, I am in the middle of administering a detention, I don't think it would be a good time to discuss schoolwork at this time," Snape drawled, tapping his quill against the ink holder.

"Um…" Malfoy began eloquently staring at the Gryffindor in the room. "It's very important. It's…"He trailed off into silence, as if what he wanted to talk about was self explanatory.

Harry shifted on the stool, gritting his teeth together as he screwed the top of the vial closed. Just the sound of that cool voice had him losing all the calm that he had mustered from dinner and from working on these ingredients.

"I see." Snape murmured. Snape's voice was as cold as ice, just like the bastard's heart "Potter, leave this room until I recall you for the rest of your detention."

Harry slid off of the stool, carefully placing his parchment and quill on top of it. He then turned and stalked out of the room, keeping his eyes locked on the potion's room beyond, and not allowing himself to glance at the Slytherin who watched him exit. Harry grabbed the door, yanking it closed behind him. The thudding as it shut sounded like a death toll.

Harry stared out into the room that he hated since his first year. Everything was still the same as it was last year. It probably would stay the same for the rest of his time in school.

Now that he thought about it, he always had this class with Slytherins…

He counted the seats as a small mental exercise. He then started to try to remember the seating chart of everyone in his class.

Harry realized what a horrible idea this was when he got to that one Slytherin-

He turned his eyes to the front of the room, staring at all the bottles that were precariously aligned there. He stepped closer, reading off the labels and trying to remember anything noteworthy about them.

Was he trying desperately to ignore the blond in the other room? Of course not.

He wasn't even slightly interested or curious about why Dra-Malfoy was there talking to Snape, especially if it wasn't about schoolwork. Hell, he didn't care. There was nothing about that jerk that he cared about. He was just pissed that he now had to stand in this freezing classroom instead of finishing off his detention. He could just imagine Snape forcing him to stay for longer because some… asshole decided to come in and talk to him.

Harry reached up and tapped a bottle labeled Littleling. It chinked against the bottle behind it making a weird resonance throughout the room. Harry stepped to the left staring at another potion.

The anger that spiked at the sound of Malfoy's voice rumbled again at the thought of that blond git just standing there on the other side of the door. When Malfoy had stepped in, he sounded so carefree, like he couldn't even remember that yesterday Harry had punched his lights out! What the hell was with that? Draco was supposed to wonder about it, even just a little.

'I guess it just shows that Draco doesn't care about anything but himself,' Harry concluded. An echo of himself pointed out that Draco had come to Snape with a personal matter. But the idea was so fragile that it dissipated in the on rush of anger.

The door behind him opened with a long creak before shutting once again, it's crash sounding like a thunk of a nail in a coffin. Harry could see the blonde hair of the Slytherin behind him, reflected in the bottle he was staring at. Could see the smaller form of a classmate instead of the tall body of his Professor. Harry thought about keeping his silence, but the other boy didn't make a move to leave the room.

"Are you finished?" Harry snapped, staring at the bottles in front of him with more vigor.

The following silence snapped and crackled with tension.

"Yes." The answer seemed to take up more space than such a small word warranted.

Harry huffed and grit his teeth again, unsure if he could carry on civilly with the other boy. And he really didn't want another detention.

There was a small sigh behind him, a slow and long intake of breath and then a terrible, horrible, awful, no good request. "We need to talk."

It froze Harry in its stupidity. Its utter incomprehensible inanity. He couldn't help the look of incredulity, of hurt and angered disbelief, at the thought. He turned slowly to stare at the other boy whose eyes were flittering around the room, as if looking for eavesdroppers.

'He would care if someone overheard us,' A small bitter part in Harry's mind muttered.

"I don't quite understand why you hit me." Malfoy admitted, "and it has been brought to my attention that I should understand so more problems do not arise."

It was like politician speak or something. It was so carefully worded, so put together. It drove Harry crazy. He had half the mind to just leave the Slytherin to his confusion, and misunderstanding, but the other part wanted the sick pleasure of watching his shocked expression when he found out what Harry knew. What Harry had heard. That Harry knew how Malfoy felt about him.

"Oh. You want to know why I'm angry." Harry asked, this sly innocence slipping into his tone without his say-so. "You want to know why I kicked your pathetic ass. You don't understand what you did wrong."

The wary confusion that slipped onto Malfoy's face was everything Harry thought it would be. Malfoy even leaned back away from him, like he was some crazed animal or something.

Harry couldn't help the smirk that slipped onto his face. "Don't worry Malfoy. I won't jump you. Even whore's have better manners than that."

The wariness on Malfoy's face was traded in for some disbelief, his eyes widening as the confusion that marked his brows deepened.

Harry barely contained the snicker that wanted to erupt from his throat. "I have a question for you though. Did you have to shower extra long after you kissed me, you know to get the mudblood and blood traitor smell off of your clothes? Ooh and let's not forget Weasley's, those other traitors need some pride."

It still hurt, repeating those words, but watching Malfoy's expression turn from confused to stunned and aghast was worth it. His brow line smoothed out as his mouth dropped. The click as his tongue disconnected from the roof of his mouth seemed to be the only sound in the small deserted potion's room. The pride of making Draco stare in shock, hummed into Harry's veins, mixing in with the rage and fiery cold pain.

"But really, "poor orphan boy"? I thought you could do better than that Malfoy." Ah, how Harry rejoiced in being able to use that name again. All his contempt, his distrust, his wrath could be forced into a curse word like Malfoy. "Though I did wonder what you meant by "real man". All I see is a small boy who can only call on his great father to get him out of trouble."

Harry was going to continue, find all the little splinters that he knew Drac-Malfoy flinched at and hit them over and over again until Malfoy understood how it felt to be taken apart piece by piece. But Snape has this thing about timing, and messing up Harry's day. The door behind Draco opened with a whoosh, framing the Potion's master in candlelight.

"Did I say you were to dally along, Potter?" Snape asked, keeping his voice neutral.

Harry glanced at Draco's face, seeing this odd sort of emptiness there, as the boy stared at the floor between Harry and him. Something in him resonated a short painful jab into a spot below his lungs. Harry grit his teeth again, turning to look at Professor Snape.

"No sir." Keeping it curt and to the point. Harry stalked forward again, making sure he over exaggerated not touching the Slytherin as he passed by. He stepped through the door and made his way directly to his designated stool.

He heard Snape murmur something outside, but was already focusing on the potions in front of him, so he didn't pay attention to actually discern what was said. The roaring was back in his ears anyways. It was hard to hear anything but the rushing of his blood.

The door snicked shut as Snape moved to return to his desk. Harry kept his eyes and thoughts on the vials, allowing himself to return to a blank meditative slate.

The time passed like water had replaced sand in an hourglass. The moment the bell for seven o'clock rang out, Harry was out of his seat in the corner, gathering his stuff and leaving before Snape had anytime to find some other reason to keep him behind.

"Potter."

Dammit.

Harry paused in the doorway to the office, already looking at the exit. He waited, but there was no continuation.

Harry looked cautiously over his shoulder to see Snape staring at him. The Professor's eyes were narrowed, like he was making some hard decision, which he ultimately decided was to not waste Harry's time.

"Remember to re-write your paper." Snape murmured, turning to look back at the papers in front of him. The uncertainty was still tainting the edges of his mouth.

But Harry wasn't going to worry about that. He made for the exit, not looking back.

Ugh… so much emotion… makes me feel sleepy.

Well I'm back… ish…