Title: Justice
Author: Cindelius ( )
Furniture: metal desk
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Nothing herein is mine. My sincere apologies to JK Rowling and Cassandra Claire. The former owns the characters and the latter gives new meaning to them. This fic is blasphemous.
Notes: Although this is set in the DV universe, the characters may or may not be in-character at various times, and one must not expect anything as glorious and heartbreaking as Cassandra Claire�s work. She is a goddess. I am not. Differences will be made obvious in the writing. There really should have been a word limit placed on this.
**My eternal thanks to the lovely lissa and mawaridi, both of whom came through as betas on very short notice.
Although he knew it was petty to do so, Professor Severus Snape had always prided himself on his sturdy mahogany desk. It had survived all seven Weasley brats (including various pranks-gone-awry), withstood the weight of mediocre potions essays (or short novels in the case of one Hermione Granger), and stood its ground in the face of several clumsy students. While poring over disgraceful tests, he had taken comfort in letting his gaze trace the calming patterns of the wood grain. Of course, there were several ink stains and suspicious charring marks on the surface, but the professor took these as a sign of durability, of the numerous hardships he and the desk had faced together.
So it came as quite a shock to his system when Severus entered the room for his upper-level potions class with Gryffindor and Slytherin, to find the classroom deathly still, students firmly placed in their correct seats, and his desk� a smoldering heap of ash.
With the calm of a viper waiting to strike, he turned to the class and raked an accusatory glare over the students. Many refused to meet his eye. He narrowed his eyes to notice Draco and Potter engaging in a secret argument, shaking heads and exchanging insistent looks. Severus demanded to know the identity of those responsible and observed several cursory glances drifting toward Neville Longbottom, who maintained eye contact with the floor.
�Longbottom! Is this-�
But Severus was never able to finish his accusation. Harry Potter had stood up from his seat and interrupted, �Sir, it�s my fault. It was an accident.�
Severus� cold, dark eyes rounded on Potter. The boy was obviously covering for Longbottom, a typical show of Gryffindor courage and stupidity. The potion master�s usual course of action would be to deduct points for Potter�s obvious cover-up. Instead, however, Severus smirked. He would finally show those Gryffindors where their blind courage and camaraderie could get them.
�Potter, fifty house points will be deducted from Gryffindor, and you shall serve detention with me for the rest of the month. In order to help avoid further� accidents� you will correctly label and sort the potions ingredients in the storage cabinets.�
�But, Professor, there are thousands of-� the boy stopped himself before further points could be deducted. The famous Harry Potter had finally learned a little self-restraint. Perhaps it was Draco�s influence. As the lesson resumed, Severus caught the two magids gazing off in front of them occasionally, as if enthralled in some conversation with an invisible partner. Yes, perhaps there was more to this class than met the eye.
**** a few days after the Desk Incident ****
Ever since Snape�s obvious distress over the Desk Incident (as it was now called by every child in Hogwarts), and the resulting shipment of a new desk to replace the demolished one, a new form of amusement had captivated the students. A general challenge and winner�s pool were formed in honor of finding creative ways to destroy Snape�s new desk.
Apparently they just didn�t make desks like they used to. The mahogany desk that had withstood the test of time was truly one-of-a-kind. The new desk only lasted a total of five days before falling victim to some well-aimed Filibuster Fireworks. Its successor endured two curses and a dissolution potion before splintering apart. As Snape�s growing wrath became more dangerous, the potential winnings increased.
Snape had retaliated in his own way, however. Instead of asking who the culprit was, he continued to punish Harry Potter, who was now showing signs of stress and resentment after four destroyed desks. It was a standoff, as Snape refused to punish other students, and Harry refused to betray his Gryffindor honor, even if two of the desks were courtesy of Slytherin.
Finally, after a total of eighteen curses, six potions, and several �accidental� run-ins between new desks and students, Snape had decided to take his precautionary measures to a new level. He sat behind his latest desk with the look of a mad man, poised to gloat. The metallic surface of the desk gleamed like his black eyes. He smirked at his class in his greasy way and announced in a cool drawl, �I trust that you shall find this desk much more difficult to destroy. At the expense of the school, I have obtained a desk made of adamantine. Now, for a house point, can anyone tell me the physical properties of adamantine?�
No one raised their hands. Curiously, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy seemed more interested in studying the cover of their potions texts rather than caution a glance up at the adamantine desk or answer the professor�s question.
Snape snorted. �I really shouldn�t be surprised that no one knows this. Judging from your most recent potions exams, you haven�t even touched the reading material.�
Hermione, looking indignant, took the bait and raised her hand. Snape grinned inwardly as she answered without being called upon, �It is the strongest material known to exist and is resistant to all magic. It has been proven to be nearly indestructible.�
�You are correct, Ms. Granger. However, you spoke out of turn and will not earn any house points. Perhaps in the future you will wait until you are called upon to speak.�
Hermione glared daggers at the Potions Master, as he smoothed his hands lovingly over the new, shining surface of the desk. It was truly a glowing monstrosity in the dimly lit dungeon, but Snape did not seem to mind this. The outrage of losing his beloved mahogany desk had clearly gone to his head.
Students pulled out of the competition, stumped by the unbreakable desk. It seemed that the highest pool yet (some 32 galleons) would go to waste due to technicality because no one could break the adamantine. Students demanded that their money be returned, but had already entered a secret, binding contract with non-returnable funds and the rules clearly stated that the money could only be collected by whoever destroyed Snape�s new desk. So ended the hesitant, short-lived interhouse alliances. It was not long before students were once again at each other�s throats, the uncollected money a source of further anger.
All of the students escaped the numerous Desk Incidents unscathed, save Harry Potter. He was serving his nineteenth straight detention, grimace in place as he handled the questionable ingredients from the storage room. During the past weeks, his only motivation to keep awake during detention was the occasional glare that Snape sent his way, as well as a very irritating noise of Snape tapping his quill on the metal desk.
Tonight, however, Snape (and the resounding tap of his quill) were not present in the room due to a staff meeting. Harry still had to complete his assignment, however. He glared once more at the door, which glowed a foreboding red. It was a trap that would be activated with his personal magic signature if he attempted to leave the room.
As Harry relabeled a jar of newt eyes, which he could have sworn watched him sympathetically, he sensed some movement at the back of the room. For all the movement, however, the room was silent. Harry caught a shock of blond hair out of the corner of his eye and exchanged the newt eyes for a new jar.
There was a breath on his neck, which would have scared him had he not already detected the other person�s presence.
Harry grinned to himself and asked, �Malfoy, you wouldn�t happen to know whether this is crushed rat liver or liquefied salroot, would you?�
�Neither. That�s coriander paste with sap infusions.�
Harry sighed and began to scribble a new label. �So how many of my labels are wrong, then?�
Draco stepped in front of him and inspected the jars, a cursory glance enough to tell him what he needed to know. He replied, �You started off alright, but got sloppy toward the end. The last three are all mislabeled.�
Harry rubbed his eyes. �Well, it would bloody figure, wouldn�t it? You try staring at these night after night. After four hours alone the beazle hair looks like rabbit tonsils, you see if it doesn�t.�
Draco�s lips twitched. �I can fix them for you. Take a rest.�
Harry nodded his thanks and retreated to sit atop one of the front desks. He cast a suspicious look at his friend. �That was too easy. You wouldn�t by any chance be in cahoots with Snape, planning to make me live out the rest of my days slaving away in this dungeon?�
He received a laugh in response.
�What? And deprive myself of an excellent would-be-servant? Hardly,� said Draco.
�Would-be-servant?!� Harry squawked.
A smile. �Perhaps you�re right. You�re much too delicate for servitude. Too obstinate as well.�
Harry was torn between objecting verbally and braining Draco with the cauldron to his left. While debating, however, he noticed that Draco was quickly scribbling down the correct labels for the next few jars on a piece of parchment. He observed Draco�s neat script with interest.
�You write like a girl,� commented Harry.
�If you mean legibly, then yes, guilty as charged. If you mean I write while wearing a skirt and smelling of perfume and flowers� then no,� Draco said.
�You�ve got loops in it.�
Draco sighed. �That�s cursive, git. At least you can read my writing, unlike your scrawl.�
Harry shrugged and looked about the room. He stepped up to Snape�s desk and ran a hand over the shiny surface; it was cold and made his hand feel as if it were suffocating as the magic was blocked. He tapped his fingertips on the surface, but they only made a small thudding noise. Try as he might, his bitten fingernails couldn�t replicate the annoying, twanging noise that Snape managed to produce during detention.
�Pity no one�s going to collect on all that money,� Draco�s voice drifted to Harry�s ears.
Harry�s attention was brought back to the present and he turned to glance at Draco, who had come to stand beside him. �It�s just money,� Harry replied, �Besides, I�d rather not serve more detentions, thank you.�
Draco�s grey eyes glinted silver and enveloped the light. �But, what if we could get the money, end the competition, and get Snape�s old desk back?�
Harry tilted his head. �And how would we do that?�
�We�re the only two people who would be able to break this desk. Snape knows that you didn�t break all of the others, so you owe him one for punishing you nevertheless. By breaking the desk, we would collect on the stagnate pool. Snape already said himself that there is nothing stronger than adamantine, so future competitions would prove redundant.�
The raven-haired boy nodded slowly. �But what about Snape�s old desk? It�s a pile of ashes.�
Draco tsked in response. �Really, I am a Malfoy. All I have to do is snap and any carpenter in the world is at my command to recreate Snape�s desk from a photo and pinch of the ashes.�
Harry�s doubtful look compelled Draco to explain, �Your Creevy admirer must have taken a picture of it at some point. As for the ashes, they�re somewhere in Filch�s office until the magical residue wears off. It would take a few hours at the most. A little work and a simple owl.�
�You really want this money, then?�
�Not just the money. Harry, you must have some dignity. You can�t let Snape continue to torture you for something you never did in the first place.� He edged around Harry so that Harry�s back was to the desk, Draco nearly forcing him to lean back on it. �Just imagine the look on Snape�s face to see his adamantine, unbreakable desk laying in pieces��
Harry frowned. ��And his string of words that include curses, expulsion, and my name..�
Draco took a step forward, their bodies now flush against each other. �But that wouldn�t matter because he�d have his old desk back. You know how much he loved that desk.�
Finally giving in, Harry sighed, �Alright, so how are we going to break the desk? You punch me first? I insult your parents?�
Draco thought on this for a while, ever standing his ground. Darker emotions suddenly flitted through his eyes and he turned them to the ground, recalling the previous bout with the adamantine door and the resulting pain. He would never be able to shake the image of Harry�s broken look of betrayal. If it took that much emotion to open a simple door� what would have to be done to break a solid desk? He paused, �I- I�d rather not hurt you.�
Emerald eyes widened slightly. �Do you have any other plans?�
Draco lapsed into thought, but emerged with a determined look on his face. �This means nothing, alright?�
Harry�s look of confusion was quickly smothered by something else. It took him a moment to realize that the tingling sensation that now spread through his body had sprung from his lips, and that they were touching the lips of another. A new feeling clouded his senses and the world went dark for a moment, to return in brilliant color. The other boy�s lips slowly moved against his own, making time slow to a lethargic crawl, meaningless. Just as Harry had begun to enjoy it, Draco broke the kiss. He looked at Harry hesitantly, an expression unfamiliar on Draco�s features. Hundreds of things that should have been asked were not.
In place of the words he wanted to speak, Harry said, �I know we�ve been over this before. I�m the Gryffindor and you�re the Slytherin; you should therefore come up with the cunning plans, but I really don�t see how that was either cunning or helpful in light of our goal. Are you feeling alright?�
Draco bit back a laugh and proceeded to explain his alternative idea for the desk.
�So� you really think we could do that? I mean, break the desk just by�well��
�Yes. Although I don�t think we even have to get that far, judging by your reactions to just the idea of it.�
Harry glanced with embarrassment at the exploded ink well on the lab table closest to Snape�s desk. Looking over Draco�s shoulder, he lifted his hand and whispered, �wingardium leviosa,� sending the newly labeled and sorted ingredients to the potions cabinet. Draco sent him a look that clearly said, �stop showing off, prat.�
Harry�s gaze strayed from Draco�s eyes to look back at his lips, now full and red with life. They started to move and he couldn�t bother himself to understand the words they formed. The mouth came forward and Harry found himself opening his own in anticipation.
Something gently stirred in Harry�s head and he suddenly heard Draco in his mind saying, You haven�t listened to a word I said, have you? Harry�s mind, which had been slightly foggy up until that point, cleared enough for him to respond, I was� distracted.
Aloud, Draco replied, �I know I�m attractive, but you flatter me, Potter. We are keeping in mind that this means nothing, correct?�
Harry shook his head and gave Draco�s body a small shove. �Of course. It�s just that there�s a rumor I once heard. The previous Potions Master bottled one of his students and passed it off as an ingredient. I�d rather not end up in a jar for some other poor student to sort through.�
�Your point?� Draco asked, finally pressing Harry onto the metal desk.
�I�d rather we have the money in-hand and the new desk available before Snape finds us here,� Harry clarified.
He wrapped his arms around Draco and brought his face closer until the pale details blurred. Harry softly brushed their lips together, reveling in the contact. The teasing movement quickly led to a more intense, eager kiss. They moved together so that they lay on the metal desk, light atop dark. The icy chill from the metallic surface crept through the back of Harry�s robe, creating a contrast to the sudden warmth that engulfed his body where he and Draco touched. It was almost as if electricity pulsed through his blood, sending pleasant jolting sensations through his nerves. Emotions and sensations sang through his body and Harry never wanted it to end. And yet, Draco pulled away.
The Slytherin cocked his head to the side, blond hair falling into a golden curtain that Harry desperately wanted to tug at. Draco seemed to be listening to something.
One raised eyebrow and ill-contained snicker later. �The phoenix song?�
Harry blushed, and Draco muttered something about damned Gryffindors and their clich�s.
There was a sharp yank of the Slytherin�s tie, and Draco suddenly found himself pulled down and face to face with Harry once more. Harry�s mouth and the feel of fingers weaving through hair abruptly devoured any utterances he may have had. As their kiss deepened and hands began to wander of their own volition, the boys became more oblivious to the faint tune that lingered in the air and the distant rattling of potentially breakable items in the room. The events of the night progressed from there. And, of course, it meant nothing. And everything.
**** much later that night ****
Severus had released the charm on his potions door halfway through the staff meeting. The way the meeting had gone, he would be in no mood to deal with Potter. If he had to listen to that bat, Trelawney, make one more demand regarding the staff room and feng shui, he�d-
He paused as he drew close to his room. The door was ajar and he could feel residual magic coursing from the room, lapping at the walls like waves and seeping through the opened door. Severus brandished his wand and carefully entered the classroom. The air was thick and shimmered a tad; sure signs that powerful raw magic had been released. His eyes darted about the room, looking for an attack, but none came. Eventually, he crossed the distance to his desk. No, to what remained of his desk.
Severus nearly dropped to his knees and cried. The beautiful, indestructible desk was in a poor state. It dipped in the middle as if the metal had melted and then frozen in mid-warp. He ran a hand down one leg of it, deeply disturbed to find that it was warm. Adamantine always remained cool as a distinct trait. A glance at the surface of his desk coiled rage around Severus� heart, threatening to constrict. A long, jagged gash marred the surface of the desk; a perverted lightening bolt.
Pure, unadulterated rage boiled through Severus� body. He knew exactly who had done this; the only people who could have done this. Certainly he would now have enough proof to expel Harry Potter, or at least kick him off of the Quidditch team and force him to serve the rest of his Hogwarts days in detention. Severus� wand sparked in anticipation. Just as he turned to leave for the Headmaster�s office, however, his eyes caught sight of a small piece of parchment on his chair. He picked it up and read:
Professor Snape~
Your new desk should arrive within twelve hours and should meet with your rather high standards. The carpenters at Captiva Antiques assured us of the likeness to your original desk and promised to use only the finest mahogany. In the future, be wary of purchasing metal desks, as they tend to bend when subjected to high amounts of stress. Or so we�ve been told.
~Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy