Drarry Oneshots 2

Nobody Pinch Me

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: A mysteriously locked door keeps Harry and Draco trapped in the room where they're serving detention.

Author: dracoladon, lazywonderland (on ao3)

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The bucket of water that Draco levitates and then spills over Potter's head is filthy with dust and grime and god fucking knows what else, a couple centuries worth of dirt and rot that the two of them have spent the last two hours manually scrubbing off of plaques and awards, et cetera. He does it because it's almost midnight and they're not even close to done, and he's tired, and his muscles are sore, and he hates cleaning, and the whole thing is Potter's fault.

"My mistake," he says. "I didn't see you there, Potty."

Harry hardly starts as the murky deluge soaks him, simply waits for Malfoy to allow the bucket to clang to the ground and say whatever little quip he's obviously rehearsed. He mops at his face with his sleeve, which, by now, is almost black around the cuff that he's pushed up to his elbow. "That's great, Malfoy, you shit."

"You know, you don't even really look any different," says Draco. "Probably you smell the same, too."

"Yeah?" Harry says, completely exhausted and sick of having to see Malfoy's stupid pointy face in his peripheral. "I'd rather smell like this shit than some stuffy poncy little twerp."

"Actually," says Draco, "my cologne is from Sweden. 'Stuffy poncy little twerp' is an English brand, and I don't wear English scents. They're very common."

Harry clenches his jaw. "That's clever and all, but you do realise it's past midnight and you've just given us at least another half an hour of cleaning to do."

"Au contraire." Draco, leaning back against a very large award he'd spent a solid twenty minutes on, gestures across the room sweepingly. "That's on your side. I've given you another half hour, and that's generous, by the way. Didn't you grow up with Muggles? Thought you'd be good at manual labour."

"You should know I'm seriously considering chucking you off this tower."

"I wish you would," says Draco. "Sounds like an empty threat to me, though."

Harry almost laughs. Malfoy's as completely dogged when it comes to getting under his skin as ever, and it'd be amusing if it weren't so bloody incensing. He says, "Do you ever shut up? If you're done with your side, feel free to fuck off."

Pushing off the award, Draco says, "I think I will, in fact. Ta, Potty. Be seeing you."

He drops his rag onto the floor in lieu of the bucket he'd sacrificed on Potter's head, both of which Filch can dispose of at his leisure. But when Draco gets to the door, the knob doesn't turn under his hand. He frowns and jiggles it, and finally resorts to an Alohomora that doesn't work. He says, "What the fuck is this, Potter? Let me go."

Harry, who had turned determinedly away from Malfoy as a part of his efforts to pretend the prick doesn't exist, says, "What." Malfoy clues him in with another ineffective tug. "Stuck, is it? You're stupider than you look if you think my idea of a fun prank would involve deliberately keeping you around."

"Oh, I look stupid?" says Draco scathingly. "Hark who's talking. Did you know you have a huge hideous scar splitting your face in half?" He jiggles the door again to no avail. "I'm serious, Potter. Open this door or I'll be forced to start flinging hexes."

Harry does laugh, this time. He says, "Every time I've seen you fight, you've been just about pissing yourself, so fling away."

Incensed and humiliated as he is by that, Draco covers it with an eye roll. "Well of course no one can compare to you, can they? Please do remind us how brave you are, I'd almost forgotten."