Drarry One Shots

Detention in the Great Hall (Part One)

Revised: 8/2021
Tags/Warnings: Hogwarts, detention, cleaning
Summary: Harry and Draco have landed themselves in detention. Frustration, terrible heat, and some yelled words lead to Draco viewing Harry a bit differently. 
Notes: I don't know why prepubescents me decided to split this into two parts, but you can find the second part of this similarly revised and improved. The setting is meant to be the later years, but without all the emotional trauma of fifth and sixth years. 

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It was a hot day in late spring. At Hogwarts, many students were taking advantage of the weather to swim in the Great Lake, or to study for their finals in the shade of the large trees. Some couldn't deal with the weather as well, and cooped themselves up in their cool dormitories, chatting with friends and napping in the cozy atmosphere.

But two students spent the nice day inside the Great Hall, scrubbing the four tables which the students ate at three times a day. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, being punished for turning all the Slytherin robes bright pink, and for turning all the Gryffindors hair bright purple, respectively.

Draco looked up from his -still pathetically dirty- table to glare at Potter. But the Gryffindor wasn't looking at him. He stared into space with a vacant expression all while almost violently scrubbing his table. Draco wondered if Potter would even hear him should be speak out. Curious but mostly frustrated Draco smacked his rag against the table and threw his arms up.

"This is utterly ridiculous! There is no reason magic shouldn't be perfectly able to clean these tables and I refuse to do anything else until I have my wand returned to me!" He exclaimed, watching Potter for his reaction.

Potter did shift his attention, but it went to his table instead of Draco. "We won't be getting our wands back until they are clean. Just suck it up so we can get out of here before dinner rolls around and everyone sees us." His voice was monotonous as he spoke.

Draco, wanting to get more of a rise out of Potter, stalked over to his table. An insult about how disgusting it still was had been on the tip of his mouth, but the table was spotless.

"You must be cheating," Draco declared. There was no reason Potter should have been able to clean better than he, who had been pampered by House Elves his entire life. Potter's life had been the same, it must have, so clearly Potter was cheating. "Do you have a second wand you've kept hidden from everyone?" Draco glared at Potter as he spoke, though it was more because he wanted Potter to look at him with something in his eyes.

"It may come to surprise you, but I tend to do things the honest way. You know, without cheating and backstabbing and all those other skills your extraordinary at," Potter snarled.

Draco almost flinched from the sudden anger, but Potter was looking at him and the attention was encouraging him. "Don't play dumb, Potty. Everyone knows you've grown up with House Elves just like me-"

Potter dropped the rag, standing straight to look him full in the face. It was such a change that Draco stopped speaking. "Are you serious, Malfoy? You know absolutely nothing about me, and you decide that you can make utterly- completely! Completely ridiculous claims about my life?" Potter sputtered in his anger, jabbing a finger at Malfoy's chest. Malfoy took a step back, very glad for the table between them and wondering how fast Potter would be able to jump it and attack him.

"Of course I can make those assumptions. Your life must have been just like mine," Draco scoffed. He was oddly unsure of what he was saying, doubting himself because of Potters aggressive response. But he wasn't about to go back on what he said.

Potter shook his head, laughing humorlessly. He walked around the edge of the table, and Draco tensed and readied himself to be tackled. But Potter just passed him and began working on the Hufflepuff table. "If you really think our lives were anything similar, you've proven yourself to be much more dense than I thought you were," Potter murmured. He shook his head in what Draco thought was disbelief, which didn't make any sense to him.

But Potter had insulted his intelligence, and he wasn't going to let him have the last word. "Prove me wrong then, Potty. Think you had more riches than me? More gifts? A nicer house? I'll have you know Malfoy Manor is absolutely stunning, especially when the peacocks are out-"

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Potter cut him off. He gave Draco an eye roll that looked dramatic enough to hurt his head. Potter shucked off his robe, and to Draco's alarm started to unbutton his shirt. But before Draco could protest -did he want to? There was a funny feeling in his stomach- Potter was speaking. "No better than Dudley and Piers, absolutely no different. Doesn't understand anything, can't empathize to save his life, absolutely thick in the head, never shuts up," Potter trailed off, muttering. Draco felt he should be insulted, but didn't know enough about who Potter was talking about to know for sure. He decided that this was Potter, so he was definitely being insulted. He got more offended as Potter when on, but then Potter's shirt was being tossed aside and the moisture in Draco's mouth dried up.

Aside from the rather delicious muscles that caught Draco's attention first, there were numerous pale scars the dotted Potters arms and torso. Potter held his arms out for Draco to stare out, an eyebrow raised. "Some loving family, yeah? Do you have any idea of how different we are, Malfoy?"

Draco didn't speak, stuck staring. Potter scoffed, shaking his head once again. "Whatever. Just clean your damn tables Malfoy. I won't be doing it for you." Potter turned his back to him, picking up the rag once more and setting to the Hufflepuff table with a new vigor.

Draco, wanting to regain some composure sniffed pompously and sauntered back to the Slytherin table. "You can put your shirt back on, Potter. I'm sure the portraits got quite enough of a show." Draco refused to say that he had been enjoying the 'show.' Better to insult Potter to avoid his own feelings being shown. But part of him felt bad for picking on him when Potter had just exposed such a piece of his life.

"It's hot. I'm not putting it back on," Potter said curtly, then promptly ignored Draco regardless of what he said or did. Feeling a litany of emotions Draco didn't understand, he picked up his rag and tried to continue cleaning. His thoughts went back to Potters comment, 'Some loving family, yeah?'  That meant...what? Potter couldn't have possibly been implying his family had- hurt him? What family did Potter even have? Who had he grown up with? Draco had assumed it was some rich Purebloods that were all too eager to raise Potter and influence them in their favor. He had even wondered if Headmaster Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall had kept him, given how they acted around him.

"You aren't even trying, Malfoy." Potter's voice startled him. Draco looked around to find Potter standing a few feet away from him, and not in fact at the Hufflepuff table. Potter was looking pointedly at his hand, which loosely held the rag. Draco realized he had been slowly rubbing the cloth in circles, not doing anything towards the cleanliness of the table. He looked back at Potter, who still wasn't wearing a shirt and was looking at him with disappointment.

He pushed the rag towards Potter. "Show me, then." Potter glared, but picked up the rag and made sure Malfoy was watching him.

"It takes a bit more effort than you've probably ever put into anything, but if you do it methodically you'll find yourself cleaning. If you aren't working up a sweat in a few minutes, you aren't going it hard enough." Potter demonstrated for perhaps a minute, before throwing the rag back at Draco. Potter stared at him, waiting for something.

"What?"

"Show me."

Sneering, Malfoy tried to recreate the same type of movement Potter had shown him, and did find himself dripping sweat before long as Potter had said he would. Draco wanted to complain, but the memory of the white scars on Potters dark skinned stopped him. Potter had gone back to the Hufflepuff table after giving Draco a nod of approval, and wasn't looking at him.

Draco worked for awhile, wondering how much his progress was being hindered by having to continuously wipe his own sweat off of the table. He had reached the end of the Slytherin table soon enough, and stood to admire his work. It was much shiner than it had been when he started, though he still thought magic could have done it better.

He looked towards Potter, wondering after him. He was nearly finished with the Hufflepuff table. Draco moved to the Ravenclaw table, wondering if Potter would meet him in the middle. Draco set to scrubbing, and pretended to be utterly focused on that when he spoke. "What family did you grow up with?"

His question seemed to shatter the somewhat amicable silence that had accumulated between the two of them. He resolutely kept eye contact with the table, though he was terribly curious to how Potter was reacting. Was he tensing? Shaking his head? Rolling his eyes? Shaking with fury and indignation that Draco dared to ask a question?

A moment passed in which Draco thought an eternity could have fit in before Potter responded. "My mother was Muggleborn. She had a Muggle sister. I live with her, her husband, and my cousin. I didn't know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday." The answer was concise and very clear, though Draco still found himself bubbling with questions.

"Muggles? That's absurd! Why would Muggles be in charge of taking care of the Boy-Who-Lived! How could they have not told you about magic, and make sure you received the proper training and education you should have before even stepping foot onto Hogwarts!" Draco rambled, no longer cleaning and facing Potter, who watched him with a solemn expression. It made Draco stop, wondering why Potter was looking at him like that.

"You won't ask a question I haven't asked myself, Malfoy. It's useless. Let's just get this over with." Potter - Harry?- motioned to the Ravenclaw table. They now stood on opposite ends of it. Before long their punishment and their time together would be over.