(Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, CSI, nor anything else contained within these pages, no infringement is intended.)

Draco was waiting, slouched against the wall by the entrance to the potions classroom. "Glad you could join us Potty," Draco complained as he straightened up. He tidied up his robes and crossed his arms, icily glaring at Potter.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Malferret. Am I keeping you from torturing the first years? How thoughtless of me," Harry said in mock contrition.

Draco, bristling at the insult, brandished his wand and Harry responded in kind, each preparing to hex the other into submission. The door to the potions classroom opened unnoticed by either boy as they circled round each other.

"Seriously, how do you two make it through the day without losing limbs?" Professor Zhand asked from within the classroom.

Both boys jumped apart, shamefacedly hiding their wands behind their backs.

"Professor, I-" Harry began, moving into the room

"Save it, Potter, I don't actually care. You and Malfoy can murder each other on your own time,' Greg sighed as Malfoy followed Potter in. "I had planned on making you two clean up the mess you all made today. Unfortunately, as you can plainly see, the elves chose today to become proactive in their sanitary efforts."

From floor to ceiling, the class was sparkling, far cleaner than Harry or Draco could ever recall it being. Harry remembered how utterly filthy it had been after their last class and marvelled at the magical feats the house elves had performed in such a short amount of time.

"Thankfully, I ran into Filch, and he volunteered several suggestions, saved me from having to get creative," The potions professor said, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face at the boys' obvious distaste for anything Filch might have dreamed up. He then loaded both boys down with ingredients and cauldrons, and herded them out of the room.

The torches were few and far between as Greg led Harry and Draco deeper into the dungeons of Hogwarts. Twisting and turning, corridor after corridor, Potter lost all sense of direction as he followed behind the professor and Malfoy. Harry pulled his robe tighter around himself, breathing in the cold, damp air and tried to take comfort in the fact that if he was uncomfortable, Malfoy must be miserable.

"Keep up, Potter," Professor Zhand said, suddenly beside him, "wouldn't want you to wander off or get left behind. Might never find you again."

"Lumos." Potter lit his wand as they went down a darkened, uneven staircase, the steps shallow and worn with age, and found Malfoy waiting at the bottom, clutching his wand and looking as wretched as Harry had expected. A massive stone door behind Draco opened with groan. Greg went right through and the boys followed with far less enthusiasm. The door groaned shut behind them, sealing them in.

"Everything on the table. Malfoy, get those torches lit," Greg directed.

Armed with only his wand light to penetrate the oppressive darkness, Harry could barely see the table Zhand was talking about, let alone the torches presumably attached to the surrounding walls. 'I don't envy Malfoy trying to find torches to light in this... be funny if he walked into a wall though.' Harry could hear the professor moving about the room easily. 'No idea how he's doing it, he doesn't have his wand lit or anything.' Draco had obviously found the first torch without injury because it flared to life suddenly, though it didn't do much to illuminate the room. He could, however, make out more of the stone table he was resting against. The table came up higher than his waist and was quite thick too. It was supported by a central pillar, 'made of... granite, maybe? Are those blood stains on the surface?' Harry gulped anxiously, 'just old potions... I hope.'

Harry waited while Draco lit a few more and looked around the parts of the room he could now see. The walls were older than Harry was used to, and cobbled like the floor with stones jutting out sharply, at random. The air was drier too, despite how far down they must have travelled, and stale, as though this room hadn't been opened in a very long time. 'Doesn't feel right... not like Hogwarts.' Only now did Harry wonder why the professor had brought them all this way to serve their detention. 'There must have been other, closer, safer rooms. If he tries anything- I've got my wand, I'll be ready.'

Keeping a weather eye on the potions professor, Harry began to unpack the box of ingredients closest to him. "Sir, where do you want this?" he asked holding up a crystal decanter, filled with a thick, pale blue liquid.

Greg's eyes widened, "Safely away from you" he murmured and delicately removed from Potter's hands, before unpacking the rest of the ingredients and items, turning the room into an temporary potions lab.

Halfway around the room, Draco called out, "Is that Dragon's milk, Professor? I've never seen so large an amount."

"Is it rare?" Harry asked, interested despite the circumstances, because he had never heard of it before, "is it dangerous?'

Draco scoffed, moving closer to the item in question, "Understatement, Potter. Must you be so ignorant? One would think you were a mud-" Draco cut himself off, glancing at the potions professor, "muggle born," he finished, sneering, trying to pretend that was what he meant to say all along.

Harry grit his teeth, and moved closer to the other boy, glaring; his hand clenched in a tight fist around his wand, "I'm wizard enough to beat you Malfoy," he whispered harshly, "you and your master."

Trying to break the sudden tension, Professor Zhand cleared his throat, and eyed both students, "Power isn't everything, Potter, especially when you don't have the knowledge to back it up and use it properly. You know, I've read some of your past assignments," Greg continued dryly, "you might want to crack open a book once in a while. I'm sure there are plenty of them lying around, this is a school after all."

Harry rolled his eyes at the insult, "and you're a teacher, so teach me about Dragon's milk."

"Use your head, Potty," Draco jeered, "I know you've got one. It's got a great big, ugly scar on it." His arm shot out, and he flicked his finger against the infamous scar on Harry's forehead. "It's called Dragon's milk for a reason."

Harry flinched back from the contact, "what, milk? You mean they have to- From dragons? Eugh!" Harry shuddered, repulsed.

"Not much fun for the dragons either," Draco shared, with a half grin. "It's damn near impossible to get your hands on-"

Harry interjected, "no surprises there."

Draco persisted, ignoring Potter's outburst, "because it's illegal to extract." Malfoy perused the rest of the ingredients on the table with obvious interest. "There are a few reputable sources of course, if you have proper connections," he finished arrogantly.

Harry snorted, "Only you would call Borgin and Burkes a reputable source for anything."

Draco blinked in surprise at Harry. Shock was evident on his face for a split-second before it was hidden away behind Malfoy's regular Slytherin mien. He reached out blindly, grabbing the first item that came to hand and pretend to examine it in detail. Inwardly his mind raced, 'And what do golden Gryffindor's like you know about dark and dirty places like that? First Granger and now Potter... Does no one in this ruddy school act like they're supposed to?'

Harry carried on despite Malfoy's silence, "and if it's illegal -"

"It's not illegal to own, just to extract," Professor Zhand clarified, offhandedly.

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Its Wizarding law, did you really expect it to?" Greg asked, raising his eyebrow. "Put that down Malfoy!"

Frowning, Draco moved away from the table, "Aren't you going to put us to work, isn't that what that squib is always grumbling about."

"How can I put this... I wouldn't trust either of you to clean a cauldron, let alone stir it. You two can't spend five straight minutes together without drawing wands. And that squib, as you so charmingly call him, would much rather have you strung up somewhere than anything else.

"So we're just supposed to sit here?" Harry demanded, "and watch you make a potion?"

"Oh, you won't be sitting. This is meant to be a punishment after all," Professor Zhand replied.

"Incendio!" A massive, Hagrid-sized fireplace was revealed directly behind the professor, as a fire within roared to capacity, before dying down to a more reasonable size. On either side of the hearth, a pair of ancient, iron shackles hung on the wall.

As Harry squinted in the sudden brightness, he mused, 'That's the second time I've seen him do wandless magci. Why doesn't he use his wand? He must have one.'

"You have got to be joking. You're not chaining me up!" Draco screeched. He pulled his wand and pointed it defensively. "My father will hear of this. You'll be out of Hogwarts so fast your head will spin."

"Silencio!" Professor Zhand silenced the irate Slytherin.

"Stop with the dramatics already, Malfoy, before your face sticks that way," Greg admonished. "Dumbledore gave me an annoyingly long list of things I was not allowed to do to students in detention. 'Clapping them in irons' was unfairly high on it."

"On your knees, Malfoy," the Professor instructed, "hands behind your head." Greg moved around behind him, manoeuvring the boy's hands into the correct position.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Look at him,' a voice in Harry in Harry's head commanded, 'Slytherin's Prince brought low, before me.' Harry was frozen in place, as though a petrificus had been cast. He could not look away from Draco. 'I could do anything -'

"While we're still young Potter," Zhand said with exasperation.

Harry stumbled over to where the Professor impatiently waited, eyes still locked on Malfoy's kneeling form. Malfoy glared furiously up at him. Harry shook his head slightly, trying to shake loose the ridiculous thoughts that now filled it. 'No, he's glaring at both of us... more the professor than me... probably.' Potter yelpedas Greg pushed him down in front of Malfoy, slamming his knees into the unforgiving stone floor.

'And far too close to Malfoy for my comfort,' Harry thought, grimacing as his hands were jerked up behind his head.

"Boredom is the order of the day. Spend the next few hours thinking about your behaviour, because, let's face it," Greg smirked, "there's not much else here for you to think about, is there?"

Harry had turned his head away, to avoid looking at Malfoy, choosing instead to watch the Professor's movements, only to snap his attention back when Malfoy spoke. 'When did Zhand take that spell off...'

"You can't expect us to -"

"Contemplate quietly Malfoy or I'll spell you both shut and for a good deal longer," Greg said, cutting short Malfoy's latest complaint. "No moving either, or I'll stick you to the floor, ruining those fine robes of yours."

Malfoy sneered at the Professor before unleashing a look of absolute hatred on Potter. It wasn't any more effective, despite being only half a foot away.

'Brilliant,' thought Harry, 'just how I wanted to spend my Monday night.'