Harry's Wednesday was Depressingly Ordinary. Which was to say, Snape was still tottering around, though he went to great pains to hide how weak he really was. Harry was quite sure that not even Snape's Slytherins had noticed. He felt confident that Malfoy would have been doing -something- if he'd noticed. Possibly just being more watchful, possibly setting Pansy up as a decent distraction (everyone in Hogwarts knew her Prima Donna Hysterics, and it had taken until this year for Harry to realize they were feigned. Typically Slytherin, that. She hid a fierce and burning ambition to be known as herself, as a person, behind a Girly-girl persona beyond compare. Parvati and Brown, who really were girly-girls, had no hope of comparing.)
Harry knew better than to do such things. He knew that if Snape had one shred of uncertainty in his iron-clad confidence, he'd have not left his room. It was easy enough to call in sick, and Snape never took sick days. Come to think of it, Harry wasn't sure he remembered any of the teachers taking sick days. He should ask the Nurse or Hagrid, they'd know about such things!
Harry had been heading out to Herbology - that was the only reason he was anywhere near the Defense classroom. Cormac was starting a fight with Bletchley. Harry could hear it, and realized it didn't matter who was going to actually start the fight. Snape was going to have to deal with it, and Snape could barely stand.
Entirely discarding the idea of getting to class on time, Harry dove for the fight, using two rapid-fire Silencios to minimize the damage. They hadn't used anything direly dark, or extremely destructive either.
Harry knew he'd done well, even when Cormac and Bletchley turned as one towards him, fixing heated glares on his person. Harry gulped.
"Well, Mister Potter, it would appear that you have some delusions of being a prefect. How many bludgers have you taken to the head, Potter?"
"None, sir," Harry said, "Although the amount of contact my gob's had with the ground does leave something to be desired."
"Detention, for your arrogance and hubris. Take another for casting spells outside of class." Snape snapped. When Snape got into such a mood, Harry had trouble figuring out if he was upset or not.
"As for this squabble," Snape said, turning to the Gryffindor, "You will be serving detention with Filch. I'm positive he will be delighted to have someone younger and more agile to clean the pipes."
Harry tried to choke back laughter. Cormac was easily twice the girth of Old Man Filch. And being sent into the sewer pipes... that was actually far worse than Snape had ever had even Harry do. Well, Harry tried to choke back laughter, instead it escaped as a snort.
"Did I say something unintentionally amusing, Potter?" Snape drawled out, his tone excessively droll.
"Never, sir." Harry responded.
"Three more detention for your cheek, Potter." Snape snarled. It was only after Snape had said that, that Harry realized he'd called Snape sir, at Hogwarts. Harry wanted to nod acknowledgment, that he understood what Snape was saying, but couldn't.
Following a hunch, Harry turned the opposite way than Cormac (who was bravely fleeing before Snape could take points and assign more detentions), and stood just beyond the corner, waiting for he-knew-not-what.
"And as for you, Bletchley," Snape's tone quieted, and Harry heard no more.
It was enough.
[a/n: That's Harry for you, always helping. I've come up with a great chapter title "The Demon, The Devil, and Pure Consecrated Evil" - it's from draco's perspective, feel free to comment on who you think each person is. Also, please leave a review!]