Ambrosia Salad

Extract

"You actually think Unicorns are better than Thestrals? You have to be kidding."

"No, Ron, I'm not. And I said that Unicorns are more interesting, not 'better.'"

"My arse they're 'more interesting'--I mean, come on, Hermione, have you ever seen a Thestral?"

Sigh. "No, Ron, I have never seen a Thestral. Have you?"

Pause. "Well, no. But I've seen pictures and they look wicked! All scaly and emaciated... kind of like a slimy, starving dragon... except smaller... and more like a horse, really..."

"Yes, I can see why you'd prefer a miniature, hungry, bloodthirsty horse to an attractive, enchanted Unicorn--completely understandable." Her eyes said it wasn't.

"They're not miniature, and I didn't mean they're actually hungry... look, Harry's seen plenty of Thestrals; he can tell you how cool they are... bloodthirsty horse... honestly..."

"Wait, Ron--where is Harry?"

"Er..." Ron hesitated and scanned the hallway before them. "Oh--up there! Hey, Harry; wait up!

Twenty yards in front of Ron and Hermione, Harry skipped one, and then leapt over the remaining three steps leading to the dungeons, tie flipping backwards over his flushed torso and disorderly uniform in smooth, excited flicks. Harry landed at the base of the staircase and spun around, waiting as Ron and Hermione ran to catch up with him. Two seconds later, when they were only halfway to him, Harry brought a hand to his hair and lightly tugged, tapping one foot and shifting his weight impatiently. Honestly, he just wanted to get to class on time--more specifically, he wanted to get to Potions on time--more specifically, he wanted to get to Draco on time. Or maybe even a little early--he'd already waited two days since their last meeting, six since their first. Harry's friends, however, weren't aware of his suffering, and were obviously less enthused about his plan; more than five seconds passed before they finally reached talking distance, and Harry let out an edgy sigh.

"Merlin," Ron panted as he finally descended the last few steps and stood in front of Harry, "we're going to Potions, not Zonko's. What's with the rush?" Hermione ran up behind Ron, and, catching the end of his question, remained silent and looked to Harry expectantly. Harry gazed back, green eyes sparkling and a slight pink glow emanating from the tips of his cheekbones, as his mind rushed through the possible reasons for his hurry--Draco, seeing Draco, sitting next to Draco, touching Draco, kissing Draco--and he replied, "Nothing. Just didn't want to be late for class, is all." Harry grinned widely at his friends and turned back around before either could remind him that they still had plenty of time before class started. Or that this was the first time in six years he was worried about getting to Potions on time.

Harry dashed down the cool dungeon hallways, not checking to see where Ron and Hermione were, or even if they were following him, only the frenzied taps of their shoes on the stones reassuring him that they were. He continued his pace--not quite running, but definitely not taking a leisurely stroll, either--until he reached the dark mahogany door leading to the Potions classroom, where, inside, he knew dozens of anxious students were chatting and preparing for class. Harry could only hope that one was as anxious as he was.

Harry paused at the entrance, took a second to run his fingers through his wind-tossed hair, straightened his shirt, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The quiet murmurs, muffled and broken in the hallway, instantly morphed into audible conversation as Harry stepped into the classroom, the heavy door swinging shut behind him. Rows of splattered wooden tables and bubbling, gasping cauldrons lined the room, crowding the short stone room with bulk and fume. A few ignored students greeted Harry as his eyes rushed over their features, swiftly searching out the back row of worktables, center, on the far right side of the room. Draco--A pair of grey diamonds flashed in his direction and immediately Harry's attention was focused on the look--teasing, inviting, knowing--and he began eagerly walking towards it, the pressure in his chest squeezing tighter with each impatient step he took.

* * *

Draco heard the door creak open over the din of noisy, clamoring students and turned around in his seat, veiled eagerness leading his gaze to the classroom entrance. This time, his labors were rewarded--just inside the room, wonderfully tousled and perfectly flushed, stood Harry, the sole reason for his eagerness; and for his veil. Harry's eyes immediately sought Draco's and soundly connected; Draco shot Harry an open, lascivious look, watched the shy grin form on Harry's lips, and turned back around in his seat, waiting. Patient. Draco rested his chin in one smooth palm and picked at the flecks of wood on the desk. Only once Harry was halfway to their table did Draco notice the pleased, impish smile adorning his own face, and he tensed, hastily wiping his mouth into its usual condescending sneer. He lifted his head from his hand and sat up straighter, eyebrows knotted in epiphanic consternation.

'Did I honestly spend the past ten minutes waiting for Harry Potter to walk through that door?' Draco asked himself in the slightest of amazement, gazing into his--no, their--swirling cauldron.

Draco's silver eyes darkened, and he was forced to admit, 'Yes.'

'Did I just send the very same Harry Potter a flirtatious glance, in the middle of a crowded room, with no consideration whatsoever to who might be watching?' One of Draco's hands clenched minutely on the table.

'Yes.'

'And was I smiling at the prospect of being nearer to Harry Potter, sitting next to, or touching him, even?' This time, Draco's eyes slitted and his other hand joined the first in its attempt to wring the life from his palm. His breathing became slightly labored.

'Yes.'

A slight chill of panic gripped Draco's chest. 'Openly smiling and flirting with Harry Potter in public, dearly risking my reputation and chancing a leak of my actions to most unfavorable people, and all before class has even started--' Draco closed his eyes-- 'What am I doing--is he even worth it?' Draco felt a shift on his bench and heard the thunk of a bookbag on the stone floor next to him, and slowly opened his eyes. Harry looked up from placing his bag on the ground and smiled, timidly. Draco's heart thudded once, loudly, in his chest, and he unclenched his trembling hands.

'Yes.'

The tightness edging Draco's mouth rapidly dissipated and a comforting grin formed in its place. Harry's eyes flickered downward and then quickly back up, his tongue swiping out to run between his own lips before glancing up once more, willing confidence swirling in his eyes. Their gazes locked once more, this time in close understanding, in remarkably wanton, willing understanding, and Harry dropped his jaw to speak.

"You're a right wanker sometimes, you know that, right?"

In a sudden, unexpected flurry of paper and red hair, Ron swung into the seat directly behind Harry and Draco's, slamming the bulk of his Potions textbook onto the speckled wood table and dumping his bag to the gray stones carelessly. Harry's mouth snapped shut and he and Draco both whipped around, breaking their intimate connection to face instead Ron's accusatory gape. Harry blinked and Draco glared at the redhead until he spoke again.

"Just what was all that?" Ron hissed at Harry across his table. "First you sprint all the way down here--to Potions, Harry--and then when we manage to ask for an explanation you stop for a second, stutter some lame excuse and take off again. And you forgot to hold the door open for us because you were too busy fixing your hair to bother. What the Hell is your problem today?"

Harry's eyes grew steadily wider as Ron's tirade progressed, and by "Hell" Harry's cheeks had flushed a brilliant red and the lip caught between his teeth appeared almost white under his embarrassed pressure. Slowly and without answering Ron, Harry turned his head to Draco. Draco's eyes were already riveted on Harry, a wide smirk splitting his face directly underneath the slight pink tinge that powdered his own cheeks. As Harry's gaze met his, Draco's smirk turned roguish and he raised one pale eyebrow, his leer intense and eerily discerning. Harry released his lip as a warm shiver snaked down his spine.

The door at the front of the classroom crashed open and Professor Snape billowed in, stopping to survey the room at the side of his broad desk. The students fell silent and Harry and Draco jumped, turning quickly to their professor at his resonant entrance. At the bang, Harry and Draco had reflexively clutched one hand around their wands, but both relaxed as they realized the sound's origin and that its worst possible outcome would be a few caustic words or a late-night detention. Harry held on to his wand slightly longer than Draco. As Snape's eyes examined the room, Harry and Draco glanced back at each other, contented, and sat forward in their seat, more space visible on the right and left ends of their bench than absolutely necessary. Ron, however, stared blankly after Harry's back for a full second before huffing angrily and sitting back in his bench, arms crossing in indignation at Harry's obvious avoidance of his questions. Next to Ron, Blaise sat, watched, and he grinned.

* * *

Harry sat down heavily on the far side of his bench and ran a hand through his hair, weary. His and Draco's potion was finished and perfect, and sat in a shimmering pool of crystal truth at the brim of their cauldron, ready to be flasked and stored for next class. Their table was cleared, save for the single bottle of liquid Belladonna they'd yet to put away, and their personal effects were stored neatly in their bags. Harry glanced up and took a bracing breath.

Draco strolled into their seat and sat, gracefully, close to Harry, completely ignoring the remaining four feet on his side. Nonchalantly, Draco draped one arm over the back of the bench, bending at the elbow so his hand hung limply between the two boy's bodies. Harry watched from the corner of his eye and tensed slightly as the hand began to swing imperceptibly, shifting to brush along the edge of Harry's upper arm, back towards Draco, and then back to deliberately stroke from the center of Harry's bicep to the tip of his shoulder, and back, leaving a trail of warm, tensing muscles in its wake. Harry hung his head in resignation and glanced sideways at Draco through his fringe, who continued looking around the classroom casually, a small smirk on his lips. Harry let out a brief, silent laugh and adjusted his trousers, scooting minutely closer to Draco in the process. Draco's smirk widened.

And so had the entire two-hour-long class progressed--a lingering touch here, a swift brush of sides there, and dispersed a few choice whispered words, causing concentration to become rather strained; or, at least, concentration on making the Veritaserum. They had only finished early by Draco's skilled persistence, and then only barely. Once or twice he had almost slipped the wrong ingredient into the cauldron due to Harry's wandering hands. Draco wasn't upset or acting out quick revenge, though--class was far from over.

Draco's hand rested, unmoving, against Harry's bicep, Harry's shoulder pressing ever closer in minute, purposeful degrees. Eventually, after a lengthy period of looking around the room in nonchalant boredom, Draco's fingers brushed the far right side of Harry's chest, palm smoothed firmly across the top of his shoulder and arm. Draco clenched his fingers, once, and Harry scooted closer. The bottom hems of both boys' black school trousers flattened against one another as Harry moved toward Draco; Draco sensed the contact and languidly slid his foot over to Harry's, the tip of his shoe running slowly across the other boy's ankle, followed by a lean calf until Draco's leg completely crossed over Harry's under their table. Behind their bench, a cauldron gurgled and a burst of steam shot into the air. Draco flexed the muscle and added more pressure to Harry's leg, who shivered slightly. Draco felt Harry's eyes glancing at him from underneath slitted lids and tried not to return the gaze. Instead, Draco moved his calf against Harry's again and brought his free hand out to the side, appearing to stretch his torso and shoulder blades wearily. Draco's other hand pressed harder against Harry's chest and began inching, gradually, impishly, down Harry's torso, across warmed pecs and a firm abdomen, Harry's furtive glances darting with increasing rapidity from Draco's stretching body to Draco's hand to flit around the stifling, crowded classroom. The tips of Draco's fingers faltered softly at the waistband of Harry's trousers, palm stroking, before his leg pressed with more force and his hand rode down, down, and the slits of Harry's eyes widened and his lips parted in silent shock, the creeping red of his neck and face goading Draco's palm and fingers as they caressed purposefully underneath their low worktable--

"Finished, Mr. Malfoy? Potter?"

Harry's head snapped quickly upwards, eyes wide and lips still parted, a small, high-pitched squeak escaping the back of his throat as Professor Snape peered inquisitively down at the pair from beside their station. Draco didn't move--anything--except for the controlled turn of his head to address their professor, "Yes, Professor Snape."

"Hmm..." Snape's oiled head bent curiously to the cauldron across the table from Harry and Draco, and Draco lightly squeezed his hand at the professor's distraction. Harry bit his lip and turned a heated glare on Draco, who returned it with equal vehemence. He stroked again, and Snape rose from his inspection. Harry attempted to control his breathing.

"All looks well here. Good job, Mr. Malfoy." Harry didn't comment on Snape's overt exclusion of his own name in his praise--Hell, he barely even noticed. "Flask it and store it in the cabinet for next class. And don't forget to put that Belladonna away." Snape spoke directly to Draco, flicked his eyes once to Harry, then moved down the row to inspect Ron and Blaise's cauldron. Harry immediately reached down and placed his hand over Draco's, restricting its motion as its motion restricted his thoughts.

"Draco--" Harry whispered, and Draco finally looked at him, smirk on his face and eyes shining. Draco shook his head imperceptibly and raised one eyebrow as his hand retreated from under Harry's, prolonged and agonizingly gentle. Draco held Harry's gaze for a moment more, and then stood to flask a portion of their Veritaserum, screwing the cap on roughly and striding away from their worktable with pleased elegance. Harry sat in a fiery stupor for a few moments, chest hitching and hand still residing on the inside of his thigh, too dazed to move. Then his eyes fell on the bottle of Belladonna, the only remaining item on their table, and Harry quickly checked the time. 3:10--only five minutes until the end of class. Harry smiled and moved his hand.

Draco sighed in contentment as he swung back into his seat, relaxing against the back of their bench with a satisfied grin on his face. Harry attempted to look chagrined.

"So," Draco began, turning to face Harry, "are you going to put that Belladonna away, or," Draco's silvery gaze flicked downward, "would you rather I take it?"

Harry glared convincingly and responded, "Actually, I think it'd be best if you put it away--I might drop it and we both already know that you're quite good with your hands." Harry smiled at the soft raise in Draco's lips. "Here." Harry reached out, grabbed the thick glass bottle of Belladonna and held it between himself and Draco an arm's length above the table's edge. Draco lounged for a moment, clearly reveling, and then sat up and moved to take the bottle from Harry's hands; as Draco's fingers brushed the rough containing glass, Harry released his grip and the bottle fell hopelessly to the tabletop. It hit, dislodging the loosened cork top, bounced once, spun, and landed, rolling on its side and gushing murky green Belladonna extract across their worktable and the floor beneath.

Draco had lunged for the bottle as it fell, but now he jumped back, sliding to the farthest edge of the bench away from the spill--toward Harry. His thigh and entire side ended pressed to Harry's opposite, sturdy and unmoving as Draco rushed to save his trousers from the streaming liquid. One of Harry's hands jumped to grab Draco's arm, and as Draco slowly raised his head, eyes wide, Harry's other hand snuck stealthily underneath his own sleeve and across the top of Draco's pants. Draco's eyes met Harry's and he asked, scandalized, "Harry--what the Hell was that for?"

Harry's hand crept forward.

"Well, you were so generous earlier today that I thought I'd return the favor," Harry replied bluntly.

"By knocking over a bottle of Belladonna extract? That's not exactly my idea of mutual reciprocation, you know." Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Harry's hand slid forward, over Draco's thigh.

"Nor mine. But--" Harry's hand inched closer--"now I'll have to stay after class to clean it up--" closer--"alone, because Snape has a meeting with Dumbledore--" closer--"and you're staying, too." Harry's hand closed around the slight bulge at the front of Draco's pants, and Draco's mouth dropped open, a small intake of breath invading his lips. Harry smirked and added to the pressure guiding his hand--

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor Snape appeared at their table's edge--again--and sneered down inquisitively, outraged inflection staining his words. Draco stared back at their professor, mouth remaining open and eyes widened--slightly more so as Harry turned his body to face Snape, trailing his hand reluctantly back across Draco's lap and thigh.

Harry faced Snape and innocently replied, "I--I don't know what happened, Sir; the bottle just fell over. Someone must have knocked the table..." Harry gestured hopelessly at the cloudy green liquid dripping from their table and pooled on the floor.

Snape's lip curled. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. You will stay after class to clean up this mess--without your wand--and twenty points from Gryffindor for lack of competence in even the simplest of tasks."

Harry gaped at Snape, the area directly surrounding their altercation conspicuously silent, only a background noise of oblivious, chattering students and the soft hissing of heated cauldrons. Draco blinked, regaining awareness and deriving a minor pleasure from Harry's reprimand, but not forgetting the stronger, much preferred gratification promised in Harry's plan. Draco weighed his options--To snog, or not to snog?--as Harry jumped to refute Snape's unwarranted punishment.

"But I didn't touch it, Professor--I don't know how it fell! It wasn't me!" Draco felt the strained tension of Harry's body, his heat, and made his decision.

Snape glowered. "Well, Potter, knowing your clumsiness, I'm sure I could guess at what knocked it ov--"

"Actually, Professor Snape, I spilled the Belladonna," Draco interjected suddenly, composure regained as he looked challengingly at his professor. "I'll clean it up after class, if you'd like." To snog.

Snape paused, slitted eyes contemplating Draco dubiously. Draco peered back, face expressionless; Harry attempted not to smile.

The smallest shift in Snape's expression signaled his resignation. "Very well," he spoke. "You will stay after class to clean your work station. Potter will help."

Draco nodded in acceptance and the corners of Harry's mouth raised, triumphant. Snape sneered once more and spat, "Ten points from Gryffindor!" before spinning to stalk to the other punishable corners of the room.

Harry turned to grin at Draco, who crossed his arms and muttered something about perverted Gryffindors with authority fetishes before looking up and smirking back. Moments later, the bell rang and the hastened gathering of supplies sounded throughout the dungeon. At a loud bang behind them, Harry turned in his seat to see Ron loudly packing his things away, and waited until he was finished and lifting his bag to leave before asking, "So I'll see you at lunch, then?"

Ron mumbled an indistinct "Yeah, fine," and stalked briskly toward the exit, where Hermione was waiting. She appeared confused once Ron reached her alone, but only had time enough to glance back at Harry before Ron dragged her through the door. Harry watched them disappear and then turned back to Draco, whose gaze was still fixed on the table at their rear. Harry looked back again and Blaise's feral grin greeted him, Pansy close at his side. Draco broke the silence.

"What do you want, Blaise? I know you're loath to leave my presence, but class is over. You can leave now." Draco scooted them out with his hands.

Blaise replied without acknowledging Draco's comment. "So. You and Potter are going to be in here, cleaning up, all alone. Right, Draco?" Blaise tilted his head in question.

Draco hastily replied, "It appears so."

"Just the two of you," Blaise continued.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"No one else but you and the Belladonna extract."

"Yes."

"Alone."

"Yes." Draco sounded annoyed and cut Blaise off before he could repeat himself once again, however diversely, "Look, Blaise, I don't know or care what you're getting at, but I think Potter and I can handle a few minutes, alone, without supervision--we're not going to fight."

Blaise's grin sharpened as he shouldered his bag to leave. "I know." He backed away, motioning a suspicious Pansy to follow. She did, inquiring furiously at his side. Blaise pulled her close and began whispering near her ear, shushing her intermittent shrieked exclamations until they passed through the doorway and into the hall.

Draco strained to hear his friends' rapid conversation, but years of training in the subtle art of gossip and conspiracy had served Blaise well, and Draco turned forward in his seat, defeated and suspicious. He chanced a look at Harry, though neither risked more than that as Snape appeared at their side. The professor's ominous figure paused, robes settling slowly, billowed on bursts of excess wind, around his body, and arms rising to cross in front of his chest with greasy condescension. Dramatic effect: Achieved. Satisfied, Snape began, speech clipped and authoritative.

"You may get to work now, no magic and no arguments. I have a meeting with the headmaster, so you, Draco, will be in charge. Make sure this mess is cleaned up, and if there are any problems, I shall be informed of them immediately. Is that clear?" Harry and Draco nodded their assent, Harry with slight reluctance. "Good. You can leave once you are finished." Snape stalked out of the room, pausing only to close the door firmly behind his flapping robes. The echo of wood on stone sounded once throughout the room, and Harry and Draco were left utterly and completely

alone.

Neither moved as the door's initial echo rose and quickly faded; the second, softer echo reverberated around their ears in muted duplication, and as its last wave fell, Draco turned, and he pounced.

Draco deftly swiveled around and threw one leg over Harry's lap, straddling his waist in seconds and reaching out to thread his hands in thick, dark hair, tilting back Harry's head to claim his open mouth in a fierce kiss. Harry took an instant to respond, hands lifting from the bench, one to wrap around Draco's back and the other clenched around his upper thigh, using the leverage to push their bodies nearer, Harry's up and Draco's down, closer, as he pressed back against Draco's lips and tongue, heat melding through contact in a flurry of desperation. Draco let his chest and hips rest against Harry's, reveling in the sweet pressure and rising adrenaline as it raced through his veins, and the demanding clench of Harry's hands letting Draco know that the boy under him felt the same; Harry opened his lips beneath Draco's and swiped his tongue along Draco's bottom lip, a broad, corporeal exploration, and Draco's veins pulsed with renewed vigor beneath his fevered skin. Draco pushed his mouth to Harry's, fully, and then pulled back slightly to run his teeth along Harry's lip, biting the sensitive flesh until Harry groaned softly in appreciation, hands running eagerly across the cloth of Draco's uniform and exhalations gasping rapidly past Draco's cheek. Draco bit harder.

Harry tore his mouth from Draco's to work the sensitive skin of his neck, nips, bites, and smooth caresses of lips and tongue drawing guttural sighs from deep within Draco's chest, coaxing his fingers to clench convulsively in Harry's hair and hips to press eagerly down in a smooth, unconscious rhythm. Harry kissed his way across Draco's neck, collarbones, and jaw line, rocking slowly with Draco's body, back and forth, closer and closer, dancing. Draco bent his head and melded his lips to Harry's once more, mouths and bodies hungry and devouring. Draco rocked, a little harder, a little faster, and Harry's eyes fluttered against his cheeks, pushing up eagerly to meet Draco's body. And then Draco pulled back.

"Never get me in trouble again," he panted, cheeks flushed, "or I'll--"

"Okay," Harry replied, and hastily pulled Draco back into the kiss.

Draco attempted to retreat once again, but soon forgot and melted back into Harry's body, one hand trailing down Harry's chest to wrap around his waist, pulling up as well as pressing down, and both boys softly moaned. At their table, the Belladonna extract dripped to the floor.

* * *

The door to the Potions room creaked silently closed, unnoticed by the room's occupants, and Blaise and Pansy stood in the hall, grinning madly at each other.

"I don't believe it!" Pansy whispered, voice pitched an octave higher than normal.

"I know--hot, isn't it?" Blaise replied, eyes sparkling.

Pansy nodded fervently. "I wonder how long it's been going on? Quite a while, from the looks of...that." She motioned vaguely to the classroom, awed.

"About a week, from what I've seen," Blaise agreed. Pansy nodded again, eyes slightly glazed and fixated on the worn Potions door. Blaise looked too, and his smile grew.

"But now that we know, what do we do?" he questioned, and Pansy glanced up. Blaise smirked.

Pansy's eyes cleared and her expression turned mischievous. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

Harry's mouth fell open in a long sigh as Draco's lips trailed down his neck, teasing the skin and leaving small red patches across his collarbones and shoulders, tongue venturing lower as Draco unfastened the top button of Harry's shirt and kissed a path across his exposed chest. Harry's hands, running in sporadic patterns underneath Draco's shirt, clenched, nails digging two sets of tiny, curved grooves into Draco's back and waist. Draco shifted and held Harry tighter against his body--pressure, friction, heat, oh God--biting his way to Harry's mouth and claiming his lips with a deep groan. Harry's head lifted up to meet his enthusiastically and his lips opened with fervor as their hips began moving with more intent against one another; their breathing became labored and Draco pulled up to rest his forehead against Harry's, breaths panting across each other's mouths, lips occasionally brushing and hands shooting spirals of electricity through contact with rolling muscles and fevered skin. Harry closed his eyes and let sensation flood his body. Draco moved faster.

* * *

"Oh, you're horrible!" Pansy shrieked, lips curled into an animated smile.

"I know," Blaise replied. "You love it."

"Yes, I do. This is going to be so good--Draco's going to hate you, though."

Blaise shook his head. "No, I don't think so. He'll be too busy snogging P--" Blaise stopped as a pair of footsteps sounded on the stone behind them.

Pansy whirled around and squeaked to Blaise, "Snape! We have to get out of here!" She began to pull Blaise toward the Slytherin common room, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"What about them?" Blaise pointed to the Potions room and Pansy's eyes widened. "Right. So stay here and be noisy."

Pansy nodded just as Snape's shadow appeared around the corner, followed swiftly by the man himself, a scowl set on his face. Snape's look deepened as he spotted the two Slytherins and he paused in front of them, crossing his arms inquiringly.

"And just what are you two still doing down here?"

* * *

Draco groaned and sped up, lips planting sloppy, wet kisses across Harry's face and torso, anywhere he could reach without breaking the sweet contact at his and Harry's hips. Harry leaned back, sighed, and one of his hands retreated from underneath Draco's shirt, lowering to run across Draco's thigh and then inward, stroking, adding to the pressure and heat, and Draco stopped kissing Harry's body to slump forward, hands buried in Harry's hair and breaths rapidly speeding into shortened, vocalized, gasps.

Thump.

Harry and Draco both jumped and froze, turning to stare at the entrance to the Potions room.

Thump.

"...so funny...Professor Snape...ha, ha..."

"Shit!" Draco whispered. "Snape's here!"

Harry swore and helped Draco off of his lap, both boys standing and rapidly adjusting their clothes and hair, grimacing at each other when their best attempts were exhausted and they still looked as though a gang of Veela carrying suction cups had stormed the room and demanded their immediate attention.

"We look like crap," Harry said, still a bit breathless, and Draco nodded.

Thump.

"Okay, bye...Professor...bye..."

"Shit!" Draco swore again and turned to the Belladonna extract, quickly brandishing his wand and clearing the slimy mess from the table. He replaced his wand and turned around as the door to the classroom opened and Snape entered, glowering. He paused for a moment, glancing between Harry and Draco skeptically, before walking over to examine their work space. Harry bit his lip and looked at the ground.

Eventually, Snape spoke. "Fine. You may leave." And he strode swiftly to his office, slamming the door behind his swirling robes.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other, smiled, and ran from the room.