Potter grabbed his inkbottle and placed it on the right top end of the parchment.

"Here, you can just hold this end," he mumbled and Draco quickly obeyed. It didn't improve their embarrassing situation by much, but Draco could at least straighten a little so his cheek wasn't threatened by Potter's touch. They were still too damn close, however. As Potter leaned in to write, Draco had to stare at his ear. For the next two hours, he reminded himself.

Potter's quill scratched on the parchment, getting on Draco's nerves quickly.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. It just wouldn't stop.

"This is ridiculous," Draco snapped. Both of his arms were going numb, especially the one tied to Potter's waist. He yanked it sharply, hoping to free himself.

"Ow!" Potter winced but didn't look up. "Stop it. It's pointless."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Potter, I didn't realise you wished to stay like this as long as possible." Draco lowered his voice, edged closer, and asked, "Is this doing something for you?" He leaned in and blew over Potter's ear. Potter rewarded him with a gasp and a shudder. "It does, doesn't it?" Draco grinned triumphantly.

"Urgh!" Potter shuddered again. "If by doing something you mean making me feel queasy, then, yes."

Draco breathed hotly over Potter's neck.

"Malfoy!" Potter spluttered and turned, trying to move his head away. He couldn't move very far and when he turned around to glare at Draco, their noses were only inches apart.

Draco stared at Potter's face, mesmerised. He had never been so close to Potter before. Merlin, Potter's eyes were green. Maybe it just seemed that way because of the lighting, or because Draco was looking at them through Potter's glasses, or because Potter's eyelashes were very dark and long, framing Potter's eyes with contrasting darkness, but it was the most intense green colour Draco had ever seen. Or maybe he had gone insane. Why the fuck was he staring at Potter's eyes, anyway?

"What are you doing?" Potter asked. 

It was a reasonable question. Draco wished he knew the answer.

"I'm bored," he claimed. Now that he thought about it, blowing over Potter's ear had been a very odd thing to do. Entertaining at the time, but odd. Why had he done it?

"Really?" Potter asked in mock surprise. "Bored during a detention? But they're such fun, normally."

"Normally, I don't have to stare at the ugliest prat in school."

"I don't see how you could possibly do that without a mirror."

Draco narrowed his eyes and, failing to think of an appropriate quip, he yanked his body sharply to the right. Expectedly, Potter choked, his free hand flying to the ropes on his neck. Distracted though he was, Potter retaliated immediately by pressing his hand firmly to Draco's crotch, but Draco was ready for him. He grabbed Potter's fingers and twisted them backwards cruelly. Potter grimaced in pain, swung his right arm toward Draco and grabbed a fistful of Draco's hair, pulling on it savagely.

"Fuck!" Draco cried. "Really, Potter? Hair-pulling?" He panted as tears of pain gathered in the corners of his eyes. "You're such a girl!"

Draco grabbed Potter's hip and tried to crush his squirming body with his arm. He only managed to pull Potter even closer to his chest.

"Let go!" Potter said in a strained voice, obviously in as much pain as Draco was.

Draco squeezed Potter's body even harder, hoping he'd cause him enough pain to make him release Draco's hair. However, Potter refused to budge and he thrashed around savagely. In the midst of their struggle, Draco felt Potter's lips brush against his temple before Potter's warm breath tickled his ear. For a second, Draco thought that Potter would bite him, but Potter merely growled, "Let go," again.

"You let go!" Draco said, his head hurting something horrid.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Potter grumbled and released Draco's hair. Draco nearly wept in relief; his head was on fire. He abandoned Potter's hand on his thigh in favour of rubbing his sore scalp.

"Malfoy," Potter said, his voice oddly muffled. He was hitting Draco's chest with his hand and squirming continuously. Draco frowned and then, horrified, realised he was still crushing Potter in a firm embrace, pressing the git's face into his shoulder. He quickly released Potter's hip and loosened the grip of his arm as much as he could. Potter pulled away at once and straightened his neck, greedily gulping for air. His hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed, his lips parting as he panted heavily.

Potter had nice lips, Draco noted randomly as he rubbed his head and stared at Potter's face through the hair that had fallen over his eyes. They were full and nicely shaped and they seemed firm. Draco found himself wondering whether they only looked firm or if they would feel firm as well.

Draco blinked, shocked by his own thoughts. What had caused them? Head trauma was the obvious possibility. He had suffered a severe head trauma when Potter hit him. That was why he had such silly thoughts.

Potter's tongue brushed over his bottom lip, leaving it shiny and wet; Draco unconsciously mimicked the movement, and then almost slapped himself. This behaviour was definitely the result of a head trauma. He was a goner. Next, he'd decide that hugging Potter was comfy instead of horrific. McGonagall might as well expel him; it hardly mattered — Draco would spend the rest of his days in the Janus Thickey Ward.

"Malfoy, do you want to be expelled?" Potter asked, obviously reading Draco's thoughts. "Because I don't."

"Why do you care?" Draco grumbled and then imitated McGonagall's brisk tone. "You have a Ministry position waiting for you!"

"It doesn't matter. I won't take it until I feel like I earned it."

"I hope you're prepared to be jobless forever."

Potter's eyes narrowed and Draco absentmindedly noticed that when he did that his nose scrunched up just a little. It was a funny sight. Not cute, though.

"Do you know this is my first detention this year?" Potter ranted. "I've been studying and staying away from trouble — that means you. If you can't stand me, then why can't you just ignore me like I'm ignoring you?"

Something painful twisted in Draco's chest. So Potter was ignoring him. On purpose.

Draco managed to keep his voice steady as he said, "Because you're an ugly, conceited git. Your very existence insults my sensibilities. I can't help it."

Potter's gaze turned cold. "Well, try. Because you do have a point. I have a Ministry position waiting for me — what do you have?"

Draco clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. He unclenched them long enough to say, "Now that's the Potter I know and detest. I'm sure you're dying to gloat. Go on, don't hold back on me."

Surprisingly, Potter's glare softened and he closed his eyes for a second, looking tired. "I'm not gloating, Malfoy. I'm merely pointing out that everyone, including me, seems to care about your future more than you do."

"Of course. You're not gloating. You just care about my future. Well, I'm not insulting you, Potter. I just care about your appearance."

"Yes, I do care," Potter said snappishly. "If I didn't, I wouldn't —" Potter shut his mouth abruptly.

"You wouldn't what?" Draco asked. He could feel the vein in his temple throbbing furiously.

"I wouldn't say I did," Potter said quietly.

Draco's heartbeat was pounding in his ears as he wondered if Potter meant to say something else. He felt like snorting. Saint Potter cared about his future, did he? Honestly, one of them must have eaten some funny mushrooms today. Draco feared it had been him. That would have explained why he was almost willing to believe Potter was telling the truth. Except that Potter had previously stated he regretted saving Draco from that awful fire.

"Can't you just shut up and hold the damn parchment steady for two hours?" Potter said, almost pleadingly.

Growling, Draco clenched his fist and slammed it on the parchment.

"Write the damn lines and stop pestering me, Potter!"

Potter opened his mouth, looking indignant, but then he just closed them, turned around and picked up his quill. Scratching sounds filled out the room again.

Draco stared at Potter's ear, contemplating the possibility of biting it off. That would have probably earned him an expulsion, however. Though, really, he'd be doing Potter a favour; the git had funny ears. His earlobe looked too meaty and floppy and biteable.

"Malfoy," Potter sighed, "hold the damn parchment steady."

Blah, blah, blah, Draco thought irritably. Merlin, Potter was an annoying little bugger.

"Malfoy, I said — mph!"

Draco froze in shock and stared at Potter's wide green eyes that were inexplicably staring back at him even though Potter's head had been turned away just a second ago. Somehow, a terrible thing had happened. Draco must have leaned in too much and Potter hadn't been thinking when he turned to yell at him. That was the only explanation that could have clarified how Potter's lips ended up pressed firmly against Draco's.

Draco should have moved his head away and slapped Potter silly; he should have wiped his lips and yelled, "Urgh!"; he should have said something, done something, but all he could do was let his thoughts spin in circles as a tiny voice in his head panicked and gasped, I'm kissing Harry Potter.