Draco Malfunction 2: Detention Disaster

Of all the rotten, horrid luck. Really, this was not a situation one liked to be placed in, especially if that one Just Happened to be Draco Malfoy. As if detention itself wasn't bad enough.

He had to serve detention with the infamous Boy Who Lived.

Draco could feel the anger boiling up inside of him. In fact, he would almost wager that there was steam coming out of his ears. In frustration, he held his breath until he turned an alarming shade of fuchsia.

"Er--Malfoy, is something wrong?"

Eyes bulging, Draco slammed his fist down hard on the wooden table. "Damn!" he burst out, at the aggravation of that... that Potter boy being all friendly, and as a sharp pain stabbed into the side of his fist. He angled his hand so he could take a proper look at it. A splinter. CURSE THE BLOODY OLD WOODEN TABLES! he thought viciously, eyes narrowed.

"Malfoy, I think you need to calm down and take a deep breath--"

"What do you care what I think?" he sneered, so suddenly he hadn't really had time to think. A low growl was audible (and also an annoying chuckle, courtesy of Scarhead himself) as he corrected himself, "I mean, what do I care what you think? You're the one who got me here in the first place!"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"It's entirely your fault that I didn't get a chance to finish my Potions essay!" Draco shouted. Honestly, how thick could that idiot be? Obviously it was Potter's fault; how dense did someone have to be to not see that?

A wry, infuriating grin spread across his ruddy face. "Don't you mean that it's entirely my fault that you didn't get a chance to start your Potions essay?"

"Potter! Damn it, you dirty, rotten--"

"I really do think you should take my advice and calm down, Malfoy," Harry said reasonably. Draco wondered if his arch nemesis (yes, damn it, Harry Potter was his arch nemesis, not some snake-eyed freak's) could hear his teeth grinding in annoyance. "For one thing, it's hardly my fault you went dotty all over your parchment. I mean, once was enough, but three times? Honestly. You need to seek some professional help."

"Would you stop it with your bloody opinions? Can't you see I'm rather busy here?" For Merlin's sake, he was trying to scrub cauldrons! Icky, sticky, dirty, moulding, heavy things.

"Fine, fine," Harry said, raising his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say, Malfoy." Gloriously, he had been given the worse job of gutting dead toads, and to this he returned, quite peaceably.

Draco's eye twitched. "There you go again!" he said.

Harry looked up, befuddlement in his eyes. It would've been amusing for Draco, had he not been so stressed. "What? What'd I do?"

"Being all..." Draco trailed off as he tried to search for the word. Come on, now, think, he told himself. It was a tough chore, thinking of a word he so rarely had use for. "Being all nice," he finished at length, a fair bit proud of himself.

Harry snorted (when would he realise that was absolutely disgusting, really?) and replied, "You think I'm being nice?"

"Well, obviously, Potter, or I wouldn't've said so," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "All, 'Oh, dearest Malfoy, I'm so worried--'"

Harry laughed suddenly.

"What?" Draco demanded. "What's so funny?"

"I did not say that, Malfoy," Harry said upon recovery. "I do, however, seriously think that you are going completely insane, and quite frankly, I am concerned for my own health."

"Oh, that's right, of course," Draco sneered. "Potty wee Potter and all his own incidents would never measure up to my apparent insanity."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Are you the thickest person ever to walk the earth?"

"Don't answer questions with more questions!"

"Don't tell me what to do!"

At this point, Harry dropped the dead toad from which he had been easing its stomach, stood up, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Besides the sickening thock the toad had made when it hit the ground, Draco found this quite amusing. He giggled.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Are you--are you giggling at me?" he asked, seemingly horrified.

Between gasps for air, Draco wheezed, "I... do not... giggle!" The last word came off as a very high-pitched squeal, much to Draco's embarrassment. But it was just so funny... He couldn't help himself. He lapsed into guffaws before he knew what he was doing.

Another snort came from Harry. Draco looked up through teary eyes and choked out the words, "That's--so--disgusting!" But seeing that bloody Boy Who Lived trying to suppress his own laughter was only more comical, and Draco continued to laugh. He laughed so hard he could barely hear Harry join in.

When they finally realised what was happening, however, they both immediately stopped and eyed each other suspiciously.

"Something funny?" Draco asked, eyes narrowed once more. The nerve of that thickhead!

"Just your face," Harry replied smoothly.

Draco's shoulders shook as he tried to muffle the laughter that was building up inside of him, but as soon as he saw Harry do the same, he shot a scowl at the other boy, and discovered he was being glared at as well.

"I hate you," Draco said simply.

"I hate you, too," said Harry, reaching for his dead toad. "It's good to know we at least agree on something."

What was this? Was Draco, a pureblood Malfoy (not to mention a gorgeous blond, if he did say so himself), actually agreeing with Potty Wee Potter? He wrinkled his nose in distaste and said (well, it was more of a little whinge, but whinging isn't very classy), "I don't want to agree on anything with you, ever!"

"You are such a prat, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, looking like he was about to pull his hair out of his head. Not only was this somewhat humorous for Draco (though he had to control the twitches at the corner of his mouth, so as to remain whingy-looking - with class, of course), but he also thought it would do the boy some good; his hair was a complete disaster. Harry looked at Draco, and Draco put on his best "Not Fair!" face.

"Fine, I like you," Harry amended, sighing.

"And I hate you, so now we disagree again. All is right with the world."

"Hang on--why do I have to like you? That's hardly fair, especially when I'm more likeable."

Draco blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?" he asked, incredulous. "You are more likeable? When you go storming around, acting like a complete fool and idiot most of the time? Whereas I am devilishly handsome, charming, and I receive top marks..." Excluding his latest potions essay, that is. He quickly put that out of his mind and continued, "I think I am more likeable than you are."

"Maybe to all the Slytherins," Harry muttered.

"Oh, well, that's just great, isn't it?" Draco demanded. "Stereotype all the Slytherins, because they're not really people after all, is that it?"

"Then I guess that's saying something about your followers, isn't it?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

Draco paused. Damn! he cursed at himself. "I'm still more likeable than you are."

"Want to conduct a survey and see?" Harry asked, and Draco didn't like his tone. How dare somebody mock him, Draco Malfoy, a gorgeous pureblood, a Slytherin, and king of the world?

Okay, that last part was stretching it a bit.

Still, worry nagged at him, something Draco wasn't normally used to, and he disliked the feeling. He finally came to a decision, and as though admitting defeat (for him to not step up to a challenge like that...), he said, "No, no I would not like to do that." As a deeply annoying look of triumph began to spread across that blasted boy's face, Draco added for good measure, "Just because I couldn't stand to see you lose. That would be incredibly embarrassing for the both of us. Well, obviously you would be embarrassed, and though it would do you a world of good to teach you some humility--" Harry opened his mouth to protest "--I would also look bad, and we wouldn't want that," he finished quickly. As an afterthought, he said, "Well, at least, I wouldn't want that."

"How would you look bad if you won?" Harry asked. "Not that I'm saying you ever would; in fact, you won't because you're a dirty, lying, cheating little ferr--"

"Because!" Draco interrupted forcefully, before Potter could go on. He had a very nasty, sickening feeling about the word that Potter had just tried to say. He didn't want to think about it, lest memory take hold of him and put him through a journey he had already once been on and detested. He quickly went on, "You see, I would look like a poor sport, because we both already know the outcome. I would win, and I would know that I would win, so therefore, it's almost like cheating since I know the outcome and have still agreed to execute this survey in the first place. Everyone would be most displeased with me, accusing me of not being very fair on Potty Potter. It would be a mark on my character."

"You have strange logic, Malfoy," Harry said.

Hmph. Potter's so dotty that he's become stupid as well, Draco told himself. Wait--he already was stupid. This realisation dawned on Draco like a warm, summer sun, and made him feel quite elated.

"I mean, besides the fact that everyone knows you're a cheater," Harry added, "and that you have no character in the first place."

"Oh, I assure you, Potter, I have a lot of character," Draco said, his skin beginning to tingle as it always did before he got really angry. "And I think it would be wise to agree with me."

"Why would I agree with you?" Harry asked. "We've already had this discussion."

The tingling feeling disappeared suddenly, as Potter had made a very valid point. He thought a bit, and came up with a very Malfoy answer, "You don't have to agree. You just have to follow orders, like the good little boy that you are."

"I DO NOT FOLLOW ORDERS!" Harry bellowed suddenly. Draco was surprised he had not been blown away; after all, he was a wiry sort of young man (he was not skinny, who dared think such a thing?), and great bursts of wind were very dangerous.

"I AM A HERO, DAMN IT ALL!" he continued, just as forcefully, and Draco was given the mental image of a terrier going mad. As Harry yelled, "THEY SHOULD FOLLOW MY ORDERS!" Draco had to suppress another giggle (well, since Draco was so manly, and he didn't really giggle, not really, not at all, never, it was more a high-pitched chuckle).

"YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY, DO YOU, MALFOY?"

Draco could not hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing, and, unable to speak, simply nodded.

Harry's facial expression went instantly from angry to surprised, and then to amused, and then he, too, burst out laughing.

The two of them were laughing so hard they were doubled over in their chairs. Tears were streaming down their faces, and they were having an incredible time trying to breathe. Their stomachs knotted from all the pressure, and their faces hurt from being stuck in the same, wild, hyena-like grins.

Suddenly, the door to the Potions dungeon burst open, and there stood Snape, his robes somehow swathing about him in the still air. Draco made a mental note, while trying to muffle his howling, that he should learn how to do that someday. It was very menacing.

Menacing enough to make Harry stop laughing completely. He instantly went back to his dead toad, but Draco could not seem to hide his amusement.

"Is something funny?" Snape asked as he glided into the laboratory, his tone very, very dangerous.

"Just your face!" Draco blurted before he knew what he was saying. Oh no. What had he just said? Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear... Draco couldn't help it... He fell over onto the floor, writhing and choking and spluttering with huge belts of laughter.

Then, Snape did something he'd never done before, at least not according to Draco's memory (though he had quite skilfully repressed some traumatising things before, not to mention that his memory, at the moment, was drawing a complete blank). "Twenty points from Slytherin!" he cried. "Get out of here, the both of you, and consider your detentions extended until further notice!"

"But!" Harry began to protest.

"Ten points from Gryffindor! I don't know what you did to Malfoy, Potter, but I'm certainly not laughing, and neither will you once this is over! Now move!" Snape yelled furiously. Harry bolted out of his seat and was out the door before Draco could have said, "Alohomora!" Not that Draco actually could have said anything right then.

Instead, he struggled to his feet, wiping his eyes, and trying very hard to control his laughter. This whole situation really wasn't funny, it really wasn't. Not at all, not really. Well, except for that part where Harry got scolded. But it wasn't that funny, no, it wasn't, especially considering it was true - it was all Harry's fault. Not funny, just true.

Alas, to no avail. Draco exited the Potions lab still laughing. He leaned against the wall, just beside the door, and slid down to the floor, trying to take deep breaths before he suffocated himself.

Finally, finally, he began to calm down. His laughter subsided in favour of breathing, and heaving with air intake, he stood up shakily. He was mildly surprised to see Harry still there.

"You're in a heap of trouble, Malfoy," Harry said.

"What do you care, Potter?" Draco asked, but he didn't have enough energy to sneer.

Harry shrugged. "You really are going insane," he said, quite simply.

Draco shrugged back in answer.

"Same time tomorrow, then?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "And really, Potter, you are such a distraction. Now look at the mess you've gotten me into."

Harry sighed, and they parted ways.

Draco called over his shoulder, just before he turned a corner, "I'm still more likeable than you!"

*

Snape sat down in his desk heavily, musing to himself angrily. What had gotten into those two? He looked over at the dead toad laying spread-eagle on the table, and the cauldron tipped over on its side. But next to the cauldron...

That was curious.

Raising an eyebrow, Snape and his cloak swished and swathed over to the old wooden table. He picked up the box of detergent that Malfoy had been using and eyed it carefully. He then let his gaze fall on some of the detergent that had spilled into the bucket of toad innards that Potter had been compiling.

"FILCH!" he roared, and within seconds the caretaker appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked, panting.

"I told you to supply Malfoy with Scum-B-Gone detergent, not the Happy Bottom Cauldron Cleaner!" Snape cried.

"Well, Professor, I didn't think that it would make a difference--" Filch began to explain.

"Wouldn't make a difference, eh?" said Snape quietly. He looked at Filch, rage burning in his eyes, and said in a dangerous tone, "Were you not listening when I explained what happens when the chemical properties in Happy Bottom Cauldron Cleaner are mixed with certain ingredients such as, for example... the intestines of a toad?"

Filch looked around shiftily and mumbled something inaudible.

"No, you don't recall?" Snape asked with an air of impending doom. "Well, then, let me remind you so that this never happens again. When the person is unfortunate to combine these chemicals and ingredients, they will give him a high."

And with that, Snape threw the box of Happy Bottom Cauldron Cleaner on the table and stormed out of the Potions dungeon, leaving Filch behind him with his mouth hanging open.