Chapter Text
Anything would’ve been better than this.
Detention with Filch was looking like heaven at this point; polishing the trophy room by hand was much more appealing.
Even writing “I must not tell lies” was a hint more embracing than the situation Harry Potter found himself in currently. Well... almost.
Detention with Dumbledore was most humbling. Disappointing the old Headmaster had its own way of tearing him up from the inside out, and this brought his guilt to a whole new level.
He shouldn’t have gotten into a fight with Draco Malfoy, to say the least.
If he would’ve kept his mouth shut, quelled his Gryffindor instincts and pressed his lips into a hard line of defiance, then maybe he wouldn’t be here. But, no.
Malfoy had a way of pressing his buttons, like he knew every little quirk and sensitivity about him. He knew exactly when to push, and where, and it drove Harry absolutely mad. No one could affect him like this.
When Malfoy accused him of being gay, he all but snapped.
“I heard you and the Weasellete called it quits,” he called haughtily. “Did she finally realize that you’re into blokes?”
Harry was already in a piss poor mood. He and Ginny had called it quits, but for very different reasons. They just didn’t work, that was all. They were better off as best friends. There was just no...chemistry.
It most definitely had NOTHING to do with his sexuality. But somehow... Malfoy had found another of his irritating, sensitive spots. And Harry all but snapped.
“It’s none of your GODDAMN business, Malfoy!”
“Are you sure about that? I’m quite attractive; are you sure you’re not in love with me?” That smirk, that Malfoy sneer that Harry had known since first year tugged snobbishly at his lips.
Something about it, and Harry couldn’t quite tell what it was, caused his stomach to twist in knots. What an arrogant prat, a goddamn privileged brat, a fucking rude arse...
His blood was boiling. And all of a sudden, without a word, his fist had met Malfoy’s jaw.
When Potter realized what he’d done, Malfoy was already bleeding. He had that surprised, stupid expression plastered against his face that reminded Harry all too much of the infamous run-in with Buckbeak in third year.
There was something slightly different about his face, though. It was as if a flash of genuine hurt had crossed his eyes, silver irises blending into the depth of a storm. In that moment, Harry felt nothing short of confusion.
But then all too quickly Draco had straightened himself back into a statuesque Malfoy.
“What the FUCK, Potter?” He whined, hand cupping the bruise that was already forming on his right mandible.
“I- you-“ Harry stuttered, realizing that for some reason, Malfoy wasn’t going to hit him back. He shuffled confusedly, trying to make sense of what had happened. He didn’t get much farther before McGonnagal approached them.
“I have had it with you two. Mr. Potter, Did you do this to Mr. Malfoy?”
Malfoy’s lack of retaliation left Harry confused and reeling. Unable to make sense of the situation, he nodded once at his head of house, realizing quickly that his punishment would not be light.
And still, Malfoy didn’t move.
“Both of you. Headmaster’s office. Now.”
They’d followed Minerva McGonnogal to the large gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. Harry was sure his stomach was about to fall to his knees. How could he have let Malfoy affect him so easily?
Why was it so simple for him to hit a nerve? Didn’t he have more self control than this? And what nerve had he hit, exactly?
He’d called him gay, that was it. Why did that bother him so much? Was it just because it was Malfoy, or was it something much deeper?
This was the least of his worries at the moment, however. The look on Malfoy’s face revealed that he felt similarly, fear eating them from the inside. Would they be expelled? Punished? Never allowed to return?
Fighting was something the Headmaster never took lightly. Harry folded his hands in his lap nervously as they sat before him, awaiting the verdict.
Malfoy never looked up from the floor.
“I’ve decided to give you boys detention with me this weekend. You will forfeit your Hogsmeade priveliages and meet me here Saturday morning. Is that understood?”
Both boys nodded, extremely grateful for the apparent lack of expulsion.
“Yes, sir.” Harry spilled gratefully, and Malfoy nodded in agreement.
All in all, detention with Dumbledore was better than having his wand snapped. But being forced to spend an entire weekend alone with Malfoy... that was another situation entirely. And this was bound to be torture.
They met at the entrance to the office bright and early. Malfoy was already perched against the wall when Harry arrived, silent but lacking his normal contempt.
As he approached, Malfoy removed himself from his post and muttered the password that caused the gargoyle to leap aside. Wordlessly, he led the ascent to their doom.
Perhaps he was being dramatic, but Malfoy in all of his silence was no less than suspicious. Why hadn’t he cracked his normal insult? Flashed him a sneer?
Perhaps he just wanted this to be over with as much as Potter did.
Dumbledore waved them inside as they approached the top step.
“Come in, boys, I have your assignment prepared.” He smiled softly, an omniscient sign that belonged solely to Dumbledore. Harry breathed a sigh of relief at his apparent lack of anger. Perhaps detention wouldn’t be so bad, armed with the knowledge of Dumbledore’s forgiveness.
Draco seemed to soften as well, in all of his arrogance it appeared that he didn’t like to be on the Headmaster’s bad side any more than Harry did. It was an aspect of Malfoy he’d never noticed before.
He always seemed apathetic to authority, as if his last name was enough to place him above the rules. Not in this moment, though. The gentle expression on his face revealed his own humility and desire to please the Headmaster much like Harry did.
It puzzled him more than anything.
“Today, you will be working with one of my most prized possessions. This,” he tapped his wand against a circular basin that was propped on his desk, “is a pensieve.”
Harry nodded, familiar with the inner workings of the silvery substance floating along the edges of the stone.
He’d stumbled into it before in his fourth year, fallen straight into a world made purely of memory.
What on earth would they be using it for today?
Draco’s brow was narrowed, clearly wondering the same thing. He remained silent, awaiting the headmaster’s orders earnestly.
“I have a few memories that you will be sorting through today. It’s quite simple, really. Together, you will enter the pensieve and categorize each one by content. Memories with similar themes will be collected in like vials at the end of the of your detention. You will find that this task is much more easily accomplished by working together.”
He laced his fingers, peering at the boys above half-mooned spectacles.
“Do you have any questions?”
Neither spoke, and Dumbledore flashed another smile. “Okay, then. Let’s get started.”
Harry approached the pensieve, followed by a slightly apprehensive Draco. From opposite sides of the basin, they leaned over the silvery smoke slowly. In a sudden moment, green eyes met silver, and Harry swore he’d never seen those eyes appear so honest. Before he had a moment to process this, they tumbled head first into a swirling oblivion.
Harry’s stomach lurched as he arrived in what appeared to be a very different world than the one they’d left Dumbledore standing in. The room was spinning slightly, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he realized where they were standing. Hogsmeade.
The skies were a pallet of oranges and scarlets, reflecting against a grayish hue that marked their presence in a past memory.
It was as if they were stuck in an old photo, a classic version of the village they’d come to know. Harry had all but forgotten his enemy’s presence as he soaked in the details of his surroundings. It was almost sunset, and the town appeared eerily vacant.
“Well, are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to view this memory with me so that we can get out of here?” Malfoy’s familiar scoff brought Harry back to reality, and he found himself groaning internally.
Sighing, he turned to face the Slytherin. “Of course, Malfoy. I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
Rolling his eyes, he stalked past him and began heading toward the edge of town.
“Wait, Potter! Where are you going?”
There was a hint of anxiety in Draco’s voice as he followed the Gryffindor. Turns out he wasn’t as confident as he made himself sound, Harry thought with an internal smirk.
“Relax, Malfoy. I think I heard something.”
They approached the edge of town almost stealthily. When Harry reached the shrieking shack, Malfoy in tow, they were met by an appeased Dumbledore exiting into the open.
Malfoy immediately yanked Harry by his robes to the safety of a nearby bush, struggling to stay concealed in a way that Harry found charmingly hilarious.
Stifling a laugh, he turned to his nemesis with a glint of humor in his eyes.
“You know he can’t see us, Malfoy.”
Blonde eyebrows furrowed in momentary confusion before his face contorted into a grimace that held a trace of embarrassment. Harry couldn’t help himself; Malfoy being anything less than right and proper had him grinning.
With a roll of his eyes a and a slight push on the shoulder, Malfoy signaled for him to be quiet as another figure emerged from the shack.
“Albus, are you sure this will work?” The concerned voice of Minerva McGonnagal was enough to raise the hair on Potter’s arms. Pointlessly, the two remained hidden behind the bush together. There was an understanding between them that seemed to override any hatred held against the other. Whatever this was, it was important.
“I have no doubts that this will work, Minerva. We must have faith in young Remus.”
Remus. Professor Lupin. The Headmaster and the Head of House both appeared to be considerably younger, and pieces began to click into place faster than the latest fire bolt. This was definitely before their time, a memory that Harry would be most interested in sorting.
He could only hope he’d get a glimpse of James Potter.
Their elders paused momentarily before returning back the way they’d come, and it took a moment for Harry to realize that they should follow.
“What are they talking about, Potter?” Malfoy whispered harshly, aggravated suddenly at his apparent lack of understanding.
Again, Harry laughed. “They can’t hear us either, Malfoy.”
With an elbow to the ribs, Harry found himself being pulled toward the shrieking shack by the Slytherin.
“Well, if you don’t plan on telling me, I’ll figure it out one way or another.”
“Relax, Malfoy.” They entered the shack, and Harry began leading him to the familiarity of the trap door that would lead back to Hogwarts. “Professor Lupin? The guy you hate?”
“I never said I hated him.” Malfoy was strangely defensive, and Harry eyed him suspiciously before continuing through the shack.
“Okay, well, the one you refused to learn Defense from in third year?”
“Yeah?”
He stopped again, realizing the direction this conversation was heading, and just how divulging this memory might be.
“Never mind. You’ll see.”
Draco huffed from behind, and Harry could almost feel the eye roll. “I knew you weren’t going to tell me, you prat.”
“Don’t forget who got us into this mess.” Harry started mindlessly as he lifted the trap door to the whomping willow.
“First of all, YOU punched me. Are you completely mental? And secondly... are we going... down there?”
Harry paused, half bent and prepared to drop into the hole that would lead to the darkness of the upcoming tunnel.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Malfoy.”
“No, you idiot! Must I remind you that we’re not the best of friends? And I’m about to follow you Merlin knows where in the DARK-“ he started patting himself- “I don’t even have my WAND. Where is my wand, Potter?”
Puzzled, Harry began to feel his own robes only to notice the absence of his own holly and Phoenix feather.
“I don’t have mine either.” He eyed Malfoy curiously before shrugging. “Might as well go on without it.” As he lowered himself through the door, Draco Malfoy refused to be silent about his uneasiness.
“Fine, Potter. I’ll come. But not because you’re he Chosen One or anything. I just want to get out of here as fast as possible. That’s all.”
Harry couldn’t help but smirk at Malfoy’s lack of enthusiasm. The whole thing seemed slightly funny, and he felt an odd sense of appreciation for the blonde as his feet touched the dirt floor of the tunnel. If anything, at least this would be entertaining.
Malfoy followed Potter down the endlessness of the tunnel to Hogwarts.
“Just a bit farther,” he assured Malfoy, who’d complained for the tenth time that he was surely being led to his death.
As they emerged from the whomping willow, frozen by Harry’s doing, a glimpse of McGonnagal and Dumbledore could he seen entering the castle ahead. Harry motioned for Malfoy to keep up, who reluctantly continued to follow.
“Potter. Always telling others what to do. If I had it my way...”
Harry could hear the muttering and, again, felt his lips pull into a satisfied smile. The possibility of finding out more about his father and the days of the Marauders, AND the unlikely chance to piss off Malfoy?
Detention might not be so bad after all.
When they crossed through the grand entrance, both McGonnogal’s and Dumbledore’s robes were trailing the stone not far ahead. Harry stepped forward with Draco close behind with the intent on continuing their trail when suddenly the atmosphere began to bubble.
The air around them waved like oceans, the current flipping and flopping as one memory morphed into another. Draco instinctively grabbed Harry’s arm, unfamiliar with the alarming change in scenery.
Harry noticed the subtle grasp of each finger digging into his forearm, and for some reason it didn’t bother him. Instead, it seemed to ground him to the reality of detention as the setting changed completely.