Ten Days

Ten Days

Chapter Three: Blind

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;

And therefore, is winged Cupid painted blind

"Harry, why'd you take the blame for?" Seamus followed Harry to lunch.

"Don't worry about it, Seamus, I did what any friend would have done."

Seamus laughed at the idea. "I'm so sure, I know that I wouldn't have taken the blame for it. What? Was it to impress some girl?" Harry ignored him. "Well then," Seamus said, "What is it?"

"Nothing, Seamus, it's nothing. Don't worry about it, okay? What's done is done." Harry sped off ahead of his friend, leaving him left behind.

When Harry arrived in the Great Hall, he didn't get anything to eat and instead, just went and sat down. He wondered when he would be serving detention with Draco, and if he really was serving detention with him. Ron came and sat next to him.

"What did you do that for Harry?" the redhead asked. He grabbed the ketchup off the table and poured some onto his plate.

Even though Harry wasn't all that hungry, he grabbed a chip off of Ron's plate, dipped it in ketchup, and said, "Do what?" He shoved the chip in his mouth.

"What do you mean 'Do what'? We all know that you weren't the one who made Lupin do that. By 'we all' I mean me and Hermione, by the way." He went straight for his cheeseburger, taking a healthy bite.

"What I mean is, I did the right thing."

"Really, Harry. What has gotten into you lately? Now you're willingly jumping into detention with Malfoy! Honestly. Do you know if you're going to have to serve detention with him yet?"

"No," Harry replied, "I don't know. I suppose I'll find out soon enough, though." Just when he said this, he looked up at Professor McGonagall coming his way. "Hello, Professor."

Per usual, she didn't smile as she delivered the news. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. Professor Lupin has requested that you and Draco Malfoy serve five days detention together. As much as I disagree with friends sharing detentions, Professor Lupin appeared to very serious about this. I have discussed this with Professor Snape as well, he thinks that it would be a good idea. So I am here to inform you that your first detention will be midnight in the trophy room."

"Yes, Professor." Harry nodded as she walked away. He grabbed another chip off of Ron's plate.

"See, Harry, now you're going to have to spend time with that slimy git."

Harry shrugged, which was misleading, the truth was he wanted to die just then and there. Just what exactly did he get himself into? He got detention faster than he thought he would, now he had to spend that night with Draco. "Well, I'll live."

"If you say so Harry. But I'm sorry to worry about you. That prat does anything, you tell me and I'll get Fred and George on him, okay?"

"Agreed." Harry forced a smile.

Today was going to be a very long day.

***

Tonight was Harry's first night of detention, with Malfoy. Professor Lupin didn't waste any time, did he? Harry had to meet up with Filch and Malfoy at Midnight in the School's Trophy room. It was nine o'clock at night right now.

He couldn't get over that he confessed to doing something he didn't even do. Why was he obsessing over someone who obviously didn't like him in return? Harry was sure that Draco was going to make Harry's detentions a living hell. But there was nothing Harry could do about it but wait.

***

One hour until Draco had detention with Potter. There was nothing he wanted to come slower. He didn't know which was worse, the manual labour, or the fact he had to spend a few hours with his worse enemy. Either way, Draco did not want Midnight to come. Ever.

Especially that he was going to be practically alone again with Potter. The last time they were alone, granted, they were drunk...Well, Draco didn't want to even think about that night. And all he could do was hope that Potter had forgotten about it completely. Or if he did remember, not to try to start a conversation with Draco about it.

Or start a conversation with Draco whether he remembered the night or no. Draco, as said before, didn't like Potter. He didn't like boys. He certainly did not know what had gotten into him that night. But it was never going to happen again.

Draco closed his potions notebook, finishing his homework for the night. He had about forty-five minutes until detention. They were going to clean trophies, he guessed. Draco considered owling his father about it and perhaps buying himself out of the ordeal, but something had told him not to.

Draco was going to put up with the detention. For no good reason, actually. In fact, he had every reason to not go through with detention. His father could easily get him out of it, but Draco somehow didn't want him to this time.

The night in the prefect's bathroom, did bother Draco even now. He pulled out a book that he had taken to school with him from his father's own personal library. If there were such this as a Wishing Potion, it would be in here. Well, at least he hoped that it would be.

***

Ten minutes.

Harry had to leave for detention in ten minutes. He really did not want to go, and to be quite honest, Harry didn't think he's ever dreaded anything more in his life. He just wanted the next five days to go by quick as possible.

To make things worse, tomorrow morning he had Quidditch practice for the game Saturday. Something told him over the next week he was going to get the least amount of sleep possible.

Five minutes.

Should Harry leave now and be early for detention? He was going to, but decided he could wait to see Draco. All the same time, he wanted to leave to see Draco. Why did Draco do this to him? It just wasn't fair.

Harry left his dorm to go to the Trophy Room.

***

Draco shoved the book back under his bed and left his dorm. If he waited any longer, he was going to be late for detention. Not that he actually wanted to go to detention, but he didn't exactly want to be late. Filch would have went nuts if he was late.

So Draco arrived early. The hallway was deserted and the cold winter's air gave it this eerie feeling. It didn't bother him much, he liked that sort of thing. He leaned against the wall, waiting for either Filch or Potter to show up, whoever decided to come first.

He heard footsteps at the end of the hall. He couldn't figure out who it was, obviously, so he turned in the direction he thought the footsteps were coming from. As the other person neared, Draco saw moonlight reflect against the other boys glasses.

"Malfoy," Potter said.

Draco turned his head and looked at the wall on the other end of the hall. "I'm not here to socialize, Potter."

***

Draco's voice had gone back to the cold, cruel tone that he used to use. The tone Harry hated more than ever now. He didn't disgust it, it just hurt him for some odd reason. Harry didn't know why. Draco wouldn't even look at him. He ignored the comment along with Draco and leaned against the same wall to wait until Filch came to tell them that they'll be scrubbing the floor with toothbrushes or something.

At exactly midnight, Filch arrived. He didn't waste any time. "Well what are you two waiting around for? Get in there and start cleaning the floor. You'll be polishing the trophies later. I've got better things to do than sitting around here all night waiting for you two to get started."

"Yes sir," the boys said in unison.

As Filch stayed behind, watching them from the doorway, Draco and Harry made their way to the centre of the room, where a bucket of dirty, but soapy water was and two dirty sponges. "This water is dirty," Draco said.

"Well too bad, make it work. When I get back in a half an hour I expect the floor to be done," Filch replied. He looked around the room and fixed his gaze on them. "Or else," he added with an icy tone just before he left.

The blond and brunette just stood there, staring at the bucket of disgusting water. "I'm not going to touch it," Draco stated. By the boy's lack of movement, it was clear he really wasn't. "You first."

"It's just a little water, Malfoy." Harry just looked in the murky water, not making a move as well. He looked at it for just a few minutes and then slowly bent down to take up a sponge. "Now this," he said, "this is disgusting." He winced at the dirty built up in the sponge that must've been used dozens of times before them.

"Honestly, don't they have house-elves for this?" Draco picked up the other sponge, with two fingers, managing to barely touch it.

"They do, but we're in detention remember?" Harry dunked the sponge into the water and started to scrub the floor. If anything, the stuff they were using to clean the floor, was definitely dirtier than the floor itself.

Draco ignored Harry and got his own sponge wet and threw it to the floor. The water splashed all over him. "Bloody hell!" He began to pat himself down frantically.

"It's just a little bit of water, Malfoy," Harry said with a smirk. "Besides, you're going to have to get your hands dirty if you want to get the job done."

"I don't know about you, Potter," Malfoy spat, "but at my house we have house-elves to do this sort of... work. I don't even belong here."

"Well, now you're going to have to do it whether you'd like to or not, so get dirty."

Draco let out a discontented sigh, gave in, and began to scrub the floor.

They didn't speak to each other the entire time and when Filch came to check up on them, expecting a clean floor, he was disappointed. He stopped by the doorway, and took a look at the floor. "Well," he said, "my original plan was to come here and stomp more dirt on the floor, but it looks like you two are having problems with this. I'm not going to be here all night for you two, get working. When you're done with the floor (which better be soon) , get started with the trophies."

"Yes sir," Harry said. Filch took another look at the floor in disgust, and lifted a foot, almost as if considering putting more dirt on the floor. He didn't and turned around, leaving the boys alone again. "Y'know Draco, if you would broaden your horizons than to just scrubbing those three square feet maybe we would be done by now."

There was no response from Draco, he just rolled his eyes and continued to scrub the floor, listening to Harry. It amused Harry that Draco was this bad at housework, it as actually sort of cute how Draco got frustrated over the smallest chore like scrubbing the floor. Cute? Malfoy isn't cute. Harry caught himself staring at the boy, thank God he didn't notice.

Nearly twenty minutes later, they thought the floor was sufficient enough to begin to polish the trophies. The stuff for the trophies was far cleaner than the floor stuff, but that didn't mean that Draco didn't have a problem with it.

"So," he said, "what are we doing with this?" The funny part is, the boy really didn't have a clue. He was staring at the polish and cloth with a look of frustration and anger on his face. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"You're not kidding are you?" Harry asked rhetorically. He knew Draco didn't know. But it was worth a shot to ask.

"Of course I don't have a bloody clue what I'm doing!" Draco snapped, "Does it look like it?" He threw the cloth on the table out of frustration.

Harry laughed. "Here, I'll show you," he said.

***

As much as Draco would prefer to not be helped by Potter, he had no choice. He let him show him how to polish the trophies, he let him laugh at him, and he let him stare at him when Harry thought he didn't notice. At first, it didn't bother him, it was far better than Harry trying to start a conversation about that night him, or making a move. But now, it was becoming more constant and, well, awkward for Draco to be in the same room at a boy that was staring at him so much.

Draco didn't say anything about it, Potter didn't know Draco saw him. He seemingly didn't notice they were surrounded by glass and Draco could easily spot him out of the corner of his eye, even if he wasn't facing him. As time progressed, Draco realised that it was most likely that Harry remembered that night.

That night that never happened, the night that Draco wished had never happened, at least. Draco didn't know which was worse now, the fact that Potter remembered their meaningless fling, or that Draco did. He had no luck with the Wishing Potion thus far, but he wasn't going to quit. He wanted that night to never had happened.

After a while of Harry staring at him, he just about had enough. Without even looking up he said, "That night never happened, Potter."

Harry seemed to be taken aback by this; he nearly dropped the trophy his was handling. "What?"

"You heard me, Potter," Draco said, "and you know exactly what I'm talking about. I see the way you're looking at me." Really, it's disgusting, cut it out, he mentally added.

But Harry was pretending that he didn't know what Draco was talking about. Without looking at Draco he shrugged and said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."

"Oh please, Potter."

Who did he think he was kidding? Draco knew that Harry knew exactly what he was talking about, so why did he bother? Draco didn't talk, and neither did Harry. Draco wasn't going to talk to Harry. Why should he? He had nothing to say to him.

"No!" Harry shouted, "What were you talking about? Looking at you?"

"Never mind."

"No, tell me."

"It's nothing, Potter. I was just poking fun." Harry was too easy to make frustrated. Just one simple thing will get him all worked up. It was sort of cute.

Wait. What was Draco thinking? Harry wasn't cute, Potter was a boy and his worst enemy. "I don't believe you, Malfoy," Harry said in response.

"Well, you're going to have to trust me on this one, Potter. We're going to be spending four more detentions together."

"And what does that have to do with anything? I don't have to trust you to clean things with you and stuff." This, Draco knew was right, and quite honestly, Draco didn't trust Harry. He knew that Harry had remembered that night and had this feeling that the twisted freak with the ugly scar got off on it.

See? That was easy. Harry Potter is a twisted freak, Draco told himself. "I don't know what you're up to, Malfoy..."

"I'm up to nothing, Potter!" Draco said as he finished up his second to last trophy of the night. "Trust me."

The other boy ignored him. Harry's work was done just when Draco started his last trophy. "When's Filch going to get here, anyway?"

Draco shrugged. "Beats me, whenever he pleases, I guess. Too bad we can't just leave when we feel we're done."

"Yeah, too bad. If so I'd be out of here faster than you could say..." Harry tried to think of a word.

"What? I don't bite or anything, y'know."

"You could never be too sure."

***

Harry arrived at his dorm at three thirty in the morning. The trophy room took longer than he expected it would. Well, he also expected that Draco had worked a day in his life. He should have known better than to think someone like Draco worked.

He also thought that Draco had forgotten about the night in the prefect's bathroom, and was wrong. Unless Draco meant something totally different and Harry jumped to conclusions, though he was pretty sure he didn't.

So Draco remembered, Harry didn't know how much he did, but he knew it was just enough to disgust him. He was able to tell it by the tone of Draco's voice, he disgusted it. Chances were, he wanted to forget about it. Harry didn't blame him, after all, Harry was... well... Harry. He was Draco's enemy, and for some reason, Harry kept on forgetting that.

At least tonight was over, it meant that he had just four more detentions to go. He won't have to put up with being alone with Malfoy much longer. Four more days and he'll be done. These four detentions were easier said than done.

It was painful for Harry to be in the same room, alone with Draco tonight. The two didn't say much, but Draco was there, five feet or less in front of him. Harry was able to smell him, see him, taste and touch him if he tried. Harry didn't.

He wondered how much of that night Draco remembered as he changed into his pajamas and jumped into bed. Did he remember it like Harry did? Probably not.

***

Four more days and Draco was free. Tonight wasn't so bad, but considering they had four days ahead of them, Draco could only imagine what Potter was going to do next. He saw the way the boy looked at him, he clearly remembered a lot more than Draco. All Draco knew is that he just did things with Potter in the prefect's bathroom the night of the Yule Ball. He didn't want to know any much more.

Things would come back to him sometimes, and he would quickly shake them off. He didn't want to remember that night whatsoever. It was disgusting, what if his friends found out? What if his mother found out? Why is he thinking about that? It doesn't matter. He was drunk that night.

Just because Draco was drunk doesn't mean he didn't get any pleasure out of it, and that's probably what drove him mad. He wasn't allowed to get off on those kind of things. Well, he didn't. It was the alcohol talking.

If it was the alcohol talking, what did Draco want to grab Harry tonight and do him right there? Because I didn't, Draco reassured himself. He knew that this was a half-lie. He didn't like Potter and he did not enjoy his company. Not one bit.

Draco slid into bed once in his pajamas. In four days this hell would be over. He couldn't wait, he did not like being in the same room with Potter. It was far too uncomfortable for him, to have another boy practically drooling over him like that. It was far too embarrassing. Not that he didn't like the attention, of course.

He secretly enjoyed the attention, even if it was from another boy, even if it was from Potter. Now that he thought of it, Potter wasn't so bad. He has nice eyes, a cute face, could do without the hair though.

Snap out of it, Draco told himself, you don't like boys, you especially do not like Potter. So cut it out. Quit thinking about him so much.

But Draco didn't.

***

"Harry! Come on, you're going to be late for Quidditch practice!"

Harry opened his eyes wearily to only see his best friend, Ron hunched over him in his Gryffindor Quidditch robes. Harry reached at the table next to him, grabbed his glasses, slid them on and looked up at Ron. "What time it is?"

"Late enough that you should be dressed already, you're the captain! You can't be late."

"Yeah, Ron, I'll meet you down there in ten minutes, okay?" Harry lifted his glasses to rub his eyes.

Ron nodded and smiled. "You better, if we want to beat Slytherin again this year, we need to practice."

Harry hauled himself out of bed and got changed into his Quidditch robes. Ron just reminded him, he'd be playing Slytherin Saturday. The team that Draco's seeker for, just like him. Well, just his luck. He'll be going against Draco this Saturday. It was Thursday today. He'll live.

Harry ran down, late to the Quidditch Pitch. He arrived to find his team waiting for him. "Sorry I'm late," he said. They all shrugged and Ron gave him a look that almost said "I told you so."

They practised for about a half an hour. They had an hour and a half left until the team had to be at breakfast. Harry didn't want to go, he wanted to stay on this pitch, outside, in the air, for the rest of his life, and never see Draco or the outside world again.

There was nothing Harry loved more than flying, the sensation of the air rushing through your hair and your robes flowing behind you. It was amazing. The entire experience was great, Harry loved it.

Then there were times like this when nature would call. Harry hadn't gone since before detention yesterday, he was too busy thinking about Draco all the time. But now he really had to go and he wasn't going to hold it until breakfast. He landed his broom.

"Guys I'll be right back!" is what he shouted to his team as he walked in the direction to the school.

So Draco had made him forget about something called going to the bathroom, what was next? Harry wished he would just forget that night so he could stop thinking about Draco. His life was much better when he hated the boy. No, he had to still hate him, right? Wrong. Harry was developing a serious crush on the other boy.

He neared the school, and picked up speed, with his broom thrown over his back. When he reached the entrance, he ran into somebody he didn't expect.

There he was, in his school robes, waiting for Harry to come along.

"Potter," the blond said, "we need to talk."