Catch 22 (Harry/Draco)

Except, Apparently, When They Do

Harry blinks again. Snape is not speaking to him in the normal You Are Nothing But An Arrogant Little Twit tone. There is something more urgent about Snape's voice now, though his expression has lost none of its overt disfavour. 'What are you saying,' again, with a deliberate pause, 'sir?'

'What I am trying to get through that thick skull of yours, Potter, is that you have, predictably, not considered the consequences of your actions for yourself or those involved.' Snape sits back in his chair and folds his arms. 'It is, regrettably, not within my power to forbid you and Mr Malfoy from consorting with one another. However—' Snape lowers his voice, '—speaking in the best interests of the both of you, I would highly recommend that you muster enough self-control to refrain from doing so.'

Narrowing his eyes, Harry says, 'Pardon me, sir, but since when is it any of your concern who I—' Harry stumbles, '—er, associate with?'

'Since you chose to associate with my most virtuoso pupil,' Snape snaps, adopting the much more familiar Arrogant Little Twit tone. 'As self-absorbed as you may be, Potter, there are things to consider here other than your own welfare.'

'Do you mean Draco's welfare, sir,' Harry says icily, 'or your own?'

Snape's lips form a thin line and he narrows his gaze, apparently discomfited by hearing Harry use Draco's given name, but continues nonetheless. 'As I said before, it is not within my jurisdiction to prevent the two of you from... commingling. However—' Snape lowers his voice again and leans forward, '—if I find you are pursuing Mr Malfoy despite his efforts to avoid your company, the termimmediate does not begin to describe how quickly I will see you expelled from this institution.' He pauses, then adds, 'Do I make myself clear, Potter?'

Through gritted teeth, Harry says, 'Yes, Professor.'

Snape nods, satisfied, and then stands and flicks his wand; his desk clears itself, and two large cauldrons appear, both filled to the brim with a multitude of small miscellaneous items. Snape indicates several empty glass jars that are also sat on the desk. 'For your detention, you will sort and separate these ingredients. When you are finished,' he continued with a smirk, 'tap the cauldrons with your wand and they will refill themselves, and you will do it again.'

Harry stares at him. 'And how long am I supposed to do this for?' Then, delayed, 'Sir?'

Snape's smirk becomes more pronounced. 'Until I say so, Mr Potter.'

: : :

The next day, Draco hopes his lack of sleep isn't obvious. It very clearly is, unfortunately, for at breakfast Blaise sits across from him and raises an eyebrow. 'You look like right shit, mate.'

'Cheers,' Draco says dryly and prods his eggs with the end of his knife.

Perhaps it's wishful thinking to imagine that his day will improve. After all, Draco is not spending every waking moment reliving the tantalising three minutes he spent under the beech tree with Potter the previous evening, because that would be completely counterproductive to Draco's plan to pretend said three minutes never happened. He is not thinking about Harry's lips against his, or Harry pulling on his hair, or how good it felt to pin Harry to the tree and snog him to within an inch of his life. Draco is not thinking about how hot and slick Harry's mouth was, how Harry's hips probably bear bruises from their little liaison, or how utterly and irresistibly willing Harry had been against him...

I am doomed, Draco thinks woefully after snapping back to the present for the fifth time in Ancient Runes, a class in which he has never had trouble concentrating before. I am a hopeless case beyond saving. If anyone in this cruel, cruel world were kind, they would kill me now.