Catch 22 (Harry/Draco)

Except, Apparently, When They Do

The boys do detention, Draco wants to die, Harry wants to have Draco for dinner, Blaise thinks this is getting disgusting, and Lucius is not pleased.

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8:05pm (that evening)

'Have you heard from your father yet?'

Draco tenses. 'No,' he says curtly, smoothing out a roll of parchment on the desk before him. 'Is this all, Professor?' he asks, indicating the third-years' homework Snape has given him to grade.

Snape taps the box on the desk with his wand and it springs open. 'Fifth-year proposal potion drafts for O.W.L.s.. That should keep you occupied long enough. And see that you double check the ingredients with particular care. When you undoubtedly dohear from him,' Snape continues, 'be sure to inform me immediately.'

Draco hesitates, waiting until Snape has moved away from the desk before saying, 'May I ask why, Professor?'

Snape stops, and turns halfway back around to look at him. 'Do you really wish to speak with him alone?'

Draco is barely given time to consider an answer before there is a sharp, impatient knock on the door. Snape rolls his eyes and mutters, 'As usual.'

Snape swings the door open with a flourish and moves to obscure the doorway, glaring down at the intruder.

'I believe the note said eight o'clock, Potter,' Snape sneers down at him—there is, admittedly, considerably less of a height difference now than there was a couple of years ago, but Snape still somehow manages to lift that monument of a nose in such a way as to still cast a shadow over Harry. 'Not six minutes after eight, but eight o'clock sharp.'

'Sorry, sir,' Harry mutters, matching the look of disdain Snape directs at him. 'I was held up.'

'I did not ask for excuses.' Snape closes the door behind him, sealing the Potions classroom that he has just left. 'Follow me.'

Harry blinks. He has seen, over Snape's shoulder, that Draco is in the Potions classroom—from the looks of it, grading papers on Snape's desk as way of detention—and wonders why Snape is taking him elsewhere. 'But sir, why aren't I—'

'I did not ask for questions, either,' Snape snaps. He starts down the hall towards his office. 'Be quiet, and come with me.' Harry seethes, but quietly, and follows Snape into his office. It's as tiny and dark and damp as always, and Snape directs him to the uncomfortable, spindly chair in front of the desk. 'Sit.'

Harry sits and folds his arms, glaring, as Snape walks around behind the desk, taking a seat in the large leather chair there. He watches Harry for a few minutes, as if tempting him to speak, to lash out, to scream at him and demand what the hell he wants, but Harry clamps down on his tongue and simply continues to glare, refusing to give in. No, he's not giving Snape any excuse for further punishments, Harry thinks. He'll sit here all evening in this splintery, thorny chair and glare, unblinkingly, if he has to.

After another two minutes, Harry's eyes begin to water; he blinks. Snape smirks and folds his hands on the desk, leaning forward. 'I would assume that you know why you are here,' he begins, 'but after more than six years of dealing with increasing incompetence, I fear that doing so would be setting myself up for disappointment.'

Harry refrains, with much difficulty, from rolling his eyes. 'It wouldn't have anything to do with this morning, would it?' he asks curtly. Then, with just enough of a delay to demonstrate the utter disrespect he has for his professor, adds, 'Sir?'

'Your antics in the Great Hall notwithstanding,' Snape says dismissively, 'I am referring more specifically to the underlying implications and any resulting events.'