Draco was really not pulling his weight. They weren't allowed to leave until everything was cleaned and he had barely made a dent in his first task. He didn't fancy cleaning and he didn't see why Snape wasn't taking his side. This was a great injustice! He wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for Potter.
"You know, Potter, you've got a knack for scrubbing. Maybe you should quit here and go wash dishes for a living. A destiny more suited for the likes of you."
Heh. Good one, Malfoy. He thought to himself. Cause no one else was here to say it.
Harry was seething. Not because the joke was particularly good, it was particularly awful, really, but because it was Malfoy making it. He just hated the bloke and he felt he had every reason to. Still, he wasn't about to let him see that, so he just focused on what he was doing. "You are too weak and dainty for it, that's for sure."
Honestly, he did have experience washing dishes, of course he did. But he never appreciated a Dursley reminder, today was no exception.
"Just don't fancy doing the work of a house elf. You might not be above it but I sure am." He did idly use his sponge to rub at the sides, doing a pretty piss poor job of it all. He was hoping to distract Snape with some kind of discussion about his father or something and then getting away with it. Also Snape did love pissing Harry off as much as he did so it might still work out.
"Some of us are made to be on top, Potter. And some of us are at the bottom, cleaning and scrubbing. More where you belong, isn't it?" On purpose, he pulled his sponge back and squeezed at the same time, purposefully flicked water towards Harry.
"And some of us belong in Azkaban. How's your father?" Who had, after all, been in Azkaban until recently. And, yes, he had officially failed to take the high road, but whatever. He didn't even care right now, this day had gone piss poor and it wasn't as if it was looking up right now. Why had Malfoy even started this stupid fight?
"You watch your filthy mouth." Draco hissed angrily as he looked at Harry, pissed that he'd say such a thing to him. So bluntly as well. "My father is fine, better than you will be before too long." And then, because he was pissed and his wand as hard to get to, he straight up threw the wet sponge at Harry, aiming for his face but mostly getting his chin and tie. Close enough.
Harry caught the sponge before it could hit the ground, holding it in his hand as he stared at Draco. He wished he had his wand, but of course they had to go through detention without wands. Damn it.
Whatever. He moved over suddenly, sponge still in hand. And from one second to the other, he had his arms around Draco in an attempt to hold him down and use the sponge to scrub his face.
Draco flailed and yelled, shoving at Harry and trying to get him off, moving his head to the side to avoid getting any gross water in his mouth. Finally, he managed to slap the sponge from his hand, now damp, wet and his face a shade of grey from the dirty water. Spluttering, Draco glared up at Harry.
"I'm telling!" Who he was telling, he wasn't sure but he was definitely telling. He raised his robe sleeve to clean his face. "You're revolting!"
"What? I just shoved it at the nearest arse I could find." There, that had done wonders for his mood. Harry smiled at Draco, very entertained by his new colouration. "You look very pretty, Malfoy."
He said it sweetly and then he turned back to his own almost sparkly clean cauldron, feeling a definite sense of satisfaction. Nothing quite like knocking that arrogant git down a few pegs.
"Well. You don't." He couldn't think of another insult and his pride was wounded so he merely sat himself up and tried his best to clean off his face. "It was your fault, by the way. You keep acting like it was my fault we're here but it was your fault." Just to be clear. He didn't want to have detention, he had a lot going on and he was already stressed enough. He had death eaters everywhere, his father was in trouble and he was hardcore flunking history.
"You kicked my chair. You did it on purpose." When he entered the room, before Draco sent the stupid note, Harry kicked his chair. And it was an act of war.
"I never kicked your chair. Maybe you moved it too close to my desk." Seemed like a valid theory. "I would only kick you if it could hurt you."
There, that was some honesty. Maybe the others had a point about him spending just a little too much time with Sirius. Whatever. He was sure Sirius would laugh about him making Malfoy eat the bloody sponge. "You are just pissed Snape didn't make an exception for you this time."
"You kicked my chair." Draco insisted because yes, he was not letting it go. That act of war would not be waved off. He was violently attacked and he was justified in what he was doing. And yes, perhaps a little put out that Snape was being so harsh on him. He had been for a while now... maybe he thought like the others did at home. The death eaters didn't seem to much care for him and his family.
"I was hoping this year, you wouldn't come back." A boy could dream. "No one wants you here, Potter."
"And I was hoping you'd just stay away and join Voldemort openly, but I guess I'll have to wait a while longer." It felt strange to use that name so openly in detention of all places, but Harry would never play along with avoiding the name. In this case, if he could make Draco uncomfortable, he'd see that as a bonus.
His eyes were on Draco's sleeve. Had it not moved just a little? He imagined he could see the dark outline. Maybe it was in his head, this thought of Draco as a death eater, but maybe he was right.
Hearing the name was weirdly a bit much. He'd never minded the name before but once he'd met the man, he'd changed his mind. What was a fun game following along after his father was now kind of terrifying. Voldemort didn't like him. It was very, very obvious and it set him on edge. "Like you'd know anything."
Glaring, Draco felt an urge to put his hand over his arm because he could feel Harry staring at it. He almost felt it burn on his arm but he knew it was all in his head. "You shouldn't speculate like that. It'll get you into trouble."
"What? You think I shouldn't? Voldemort's followers have been trying to kill me since first year, I don't think this is paranoia at this point. Besides, why wouldn't you be one? You've done everything to make me think you want to since first year too." He remembered it all too well, every single instant. He had gone over it a lot recently, his entire history with Draco. Especially with Hermione and Ron accusing him of overreacting.
"I am always in trouble. And I bet I'm right about you."
"So what if you are?" Draco knew it must have been obvious, of course he was going to be a death eater. And he hadn't had much of a choice, especially not since his father had failed. He had the dark mark and tasks to do to prove himself, to redeem his father. He just had no idea how he was going to pull those off. Any of them. "We're enemies, Potter. Doesn't matter what side we're on or who's mark we bear, we'll always be enemies."
Even if he wasn't a death eater, he'd hate this bastard. "I despise everything about you. You lazy show-off with your swagger and your-- your unbrushed hair. Drives me nuts."
"I brush my hair!" This was really not what he should be focusing on, but it was just easier than speculating more on him being a Death Eater. Which he likely was. He ran a hand through his hair now, glaring at him. "At least I don't look like I've been showered with goo. Do you even know what your hair looks like without that stuff in?"
Maybe he should start wearing that gel helmet Draco used to have, perhaps that would tame his hair.
"You sound jealous. Wish you had hair like mine? Here's a tip for you - wash it and brush it. You look like a ruffian." Mostly, he just looked a mess. He always looked a mess. It was kind of the Potter style, he supposed. His tie was never done up properly either and his shirt was slightly untucked. Urgh.
"Maybe get a hair cut." With a smirk, he reached up and ruffled his own hair, just to show the lack of 'goo' in it. He had changed, stopped slicking back his hair and he was a lot better off for it. His scalp had been very itchy.
"I like my hair just fine." Harry glanced up now, then shrugged. "Anyway, it grows back. My aunt cut it when I was little and the next day, it was all back."
Why was he suddenly sharing childhood stories? Whatever, he would just stand by it. Malfoy had been the one to start with the hair talk. "I think it looks good on me."
He liked looking like his father. Just as he liked having his mother's eyes. it felt like a way to be connected to them. He saw it in Sirius' and Remus' eyes all the time.
"Looks like a lion's mane. I guess it works for a Gryffindor." He guessed. If he had to be less of a dick about it, he guessed. He looked at Harry and frowned, looking at him properly for the first time in a long time. Harry kept growing and changing - it was really weird. He looked more like a man these days than a boy. He was a lot less easy to push around too and he really followed through on his threats.
"Could use a trim is all, hotter."
... Wait, what. "Potter." Fuck. What? Why did he call him that? Draco actually went red and felt himself die inside. "Potter." Yeah, he'd just keep saying it. That'd fix it.
"...did you just call me 'hotter'?" Yes, of course Harry couldn't just let that go, especially seeing how red Draco was going. The aristocratic paleness was really working against him there, it was hilarious. "Ha! Hotter."
That was pretty funny. "You should magic some buttons for that too." He would prefer those vastly.
"Fuck off, I just got your names mixed up." Not that he had ever really said Harry much in his life but he could use that as an excuse. Stupid, handsome bastard! Smirking at him. "And you're not that hot, don't flatter yourself. You've got nothing on the blokes I usually hang around with."
Well, it made him sound less into Harry but it did also make him sound even gayer. His eyes widened as he realised and he once again tried to fix it. "Not that I'm into them! I just get that they're better looking than you."
"Oh yeah. Everyone knows that Crabbe and Goyle are every girl's dream. Who could resist them?" Harry had to snicker, just imagining that scenario. "They make me swoon too. If I was a girl, I'd be soooo into them. Who's better looking than them?"
They were as vile outside as they were inside. Something he knew ran in their family. It was truly unfair that Draco didn't actually look like the troll he knew he was, but was in fact pretty handsome. Not that he would ever admit that.
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"You know, Potter, you've got a knack for scrubbing. Maybe you should quit here and go wash dishes for a living. A destiny more suited for the likes of you."
Heh. Good one, Malfoy. He thought to himself. Cause no one else was here to say it.
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Honestly, he did have experience washing dishes, of course he did. But he never appreciated a Dursley reminder, today was no exception.
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"Some of us are made to be on top, Potter. And some of us are at the bottom, cleaning and scrubbing. More where you belong, isn't it?" On purpose, he pulled his sponge back and squeezed at the same time, purposefully flicked water towards Harry.
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At least he was pretty sure he had started it.
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"Shove it up your arse, Potter."
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Whatever. He moved over suddenly, sponge still in hand. And from one second to the other, he had his arms around Draco in an attempt to hold him down and use the sponge to scrub his face.
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"I'm telling!" Who he was telling, he wasn't sure but he was definitely telling. He raised his robe sleeve to clean his face. "You're revolting!"
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He said it sweetly and then he turned back to his own almost sparkly clean cauldron, feeling a definite sense of satisfaction. Nothing quite like knocking that arrogant git down a few pegs.
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"You kicked my chair. You did it on purpose." When he entered the room, before Draco sent the stupid note, Harry kicked his chair. And it was an act of war.
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There, that was some honesty. Maybe the others had a point about him spending just a little too much time with Sirius. Whatever. He was sure Sirius would laugh about him making Malfoy eat the bloody sponge. "You are just pissed Snape didn't make an exception for you this time."
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"I was hoping this year, you wouldn't come back." A boy could dream. "No one wants you here, Potter."
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His eyes were on Draco's sleeve. Had it not moved just a little? He imagined he could see the dark outline. Maybe it was in his head, this thought of Draco as a death eater, but maybe he was right.
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Glaring, Draco felt an urge to put his hand over his arm because he could feel Harry staring at it. He almost felt it burn on his arm but he knew it was all in his head. "You shouldn't speculate like that. It'll get you into trouble."
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"I am always in trouble. And I bet I'm right about you."
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Even if he wasn't a death eater, he'd hate this bastard. "I despise everything about you. You lazy show-off with your swagger and your-- your unbrushed hair. Drives me nuts."
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Maybe he should start wearing that gel helmet Draco used to have, perhaps that would tame his hair.
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"Maybe get a hair cut." With a smirk, he reached up and ruffled his own hair, just to show the lack of 'goo' in it. He had changed, stopped slicking back his hair and he was a lot better off for it. His scalp had been very itchy.
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Why was he suddenly sharing childhood stories? Whatever, he would just stand by it. Malfoy had been the one to start with the hair talk. "I think it looks good on me."
He liked looking like his father. Just as he liked having his mother's eyes. it felt like a way to be connected to them. He saw it in Sirius' and Remus' eyes all the time.
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"Could use a trim is all, hotter."
... Wait, what. "Potter." Fuck. What? Why did he call him that? Draco actually went red and felt himself die inside. "Potter." Yeah, he'd just keep saying it. That'd fix it.
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That was pretty funny. "You should magic some buttons for that too." He would prefer those vastly.
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Well, it made him sound less into Harry but it did also make him sound even gayer. His eyes widened as he realised and he once again tried to fix it. "Not that I'm into them! I just get that they're better looking than you."
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They were as vile outside as they were inside. Something he knew ran in their family. It was truly unfair that Draco didn't actually look like the troll he knew he was, but was in fact pretty handsome. Not that he would ever admit that.