White Lies

Hindrances

Potions went on in due course. Snape introduced to them a new potion, gave them homework consisting of a three-foot long essay, and deducted points from Gryffindor as per usual. Sometimes, a little routine was good. Harry didn't want any more surprises today; he's had enough to last him the school year, but while Snape did give him this small relief, he still felt very disturbed by the way Snape narrowed his eyes whenever Harry and Draco would sit too close to each other. (They had to, since they were using only one cauldron!)

Snape had dismissed them with his trademark sneer and they all sighed in relief at that signal of not only the end of the day, but the end of the week.

Hallelujah Merlin's beard.

"When's the essay due again?" Harry asked, hands rubbing at his eyes as he fought down the urge to yawn.

All around them, students were cleaning their worktables and fixing their things, excited to spend their Friday night finally worry-free.

Well... mostly.

"Monday, Potter," Draco replied, casting one last Scourgify on the table before nodding to himself in a satisfied manner.

"Joy," Harry said mournfully. "I'll see you after dinner then?"

Draco started at that, turning to him and looking confused. "What for?"

Harry blinked. "Uhm. Well. It'd be bad if you suddenly keeled over in an empty corridor, Malfoy."

At his choice of words, Malfoy glared half-heartedly at him. "Ha, ha. I'm starting to think you're simply doing this out of pity," he sighed dramatically.

Harry found himself smiling at his antics. "Drama queen."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him challengingly, smirking. "Wow, that was almost an insult."

Harry rolled his eyes and simply went back to collecting his own set of common ingredients.

Draco, unbelievably, pouted at him. "You're no fun."

Harry felt almost guilty, but then he realized that there was nothing to be guilty for! Really. "Sorry, Malfoy, I'm just –" Ah, the yawn prevailed. "— really tired," he finished.

"Ah, our nightly escapades tiring you out, Harry? Oh, don't worry. I'll be gentle tonight."

A squeak resounded from the other table and Harry didn't need to look to know that it came from Ron. Actually, Harry wasn't looking anywhere right now, except maybe Malfoy's shoes (Oh, they were very nice shoes. Very... black.) because his face felt really hot at the moment.

"What is this talk of being gentle, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape's icy voice crawled over to them from the front of the classroom. "If you are going to do anything, then I certainly wish to see bruises on Mr. Potter tomorrow."

The room was deathly silent.

Harry was dumbstruck. Did Snape just make a joke? With innuendo?

Draco looked proud.

Harry whimpered pathetically. "Oh, God, I'm going to barf."

He didn't have much of an appetite during dinner. He was busier trying to focus on staying awake rather than on his untouched and fork-abused dinner. Hermione was telling him something about Blood-Replenishing Potion and he tried to listen to her, really, but the words just weren't sinking in.

Dinner was the same as lunch, though thankfully less humiliating. Harry managed to go through dinner without horribly embarrassing himself or announcing to the world just how much of a pouf he was (which he absolutely wasn't). He was so busy thinking just how much of a non-pouf he was that he almost jumped when a warm hand clamped down on his shoulder.