"Mr Potter!"

Pansy's all too chipper voice cut through Harry's thoughts like a hot knife through butter. He stopped and half turned as she raced up with a cheerful, and terribly fake smile.

"Could I interview you, Mr Potter?" Pansy asked, "You did say-" she broke off with a meaningful look.

"Can you stop calling me Mr Potter?" Harry asked.

Pansy nodded without hesitation, "Harry? Potter? What would you prefer?"

"Potter, I suppose. It's what I'm used to."

Pansy leaned forwards slightly, "So? Interview?"

Harry sighed, "How much say do I get about what you write?"

Pansy's eyes narrowed slightly before she covered up the expression with another cheerfully fake smile, "I'll give you one veto. I'll let you look at my notes and you can get rid of one thing if you like," she sniffed imperiously, "but that's only if this is absolutely exclusive, deal?"

Pansy raised an eyebrow and extended her hand.

Harry hesitated for a second before reaching out to take it, "Alright. I've got a free period now before my last class so-"

Pansy cast a tempus charm so quick her wand was only a blurred twitch before it disappeared u her sleeve again. She glared at the time, latched her hand around Harry's wrist and dragged him into the nearest empty room. The door slammed shut behind them followed by a locking and silencing charm as Pansy sat on top of a desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and a peacock quill that had been charmed pink to float beside her, poised to write.

"First off, thank you for granting me this interview, Mr Potter," Pansy said brightly, her eyes watching the quill to make sure it was transcribing everything before she focused her attention on him.

"Err... sure?" Harry said, feeling a little off balance at the sudden change in tone. He leaned against an empty desk, dropping his bag on the ground by his feet.

Pansy nodded absently, watching the quill again, "Every wizard-born has grown up hearing bedtime stories of the story of the Princess and the Priestess but now it's come to play out right in front of us in the life of our own Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world."

Harry frowned at the description.

Pansy smiled wickedly at his discomfort but her tone stayed professional, "But this isn't a fairy story and Harry Potter is just a person." She paused and cleared her throat as she folded her hands neatly together above her knee, "So, how are you feeling since news of your condition came out?"

Harry gave her a funny look, "It's not a disease."

Pansy frowned faintly at herself, grabbing the quill and scratching out a few lines. "Right, forget about that." Her frown furrowed faintly and she hazarded, a great deal more carefully, "Would you say- Would you confirm earlier reports about your inability to kiss anyone are true?"

"They are," Harry said a little reluctantly.

Pansy nodded, "In the wake of this reporter's last story, Mr Potter has been inundated by those wishing to test their luck. Despite Headmistress McGonagall's best efforts students have continually attempted to kiss Mr Potter without his consent, disrupting both his life and those of other students."

"Usually-" Harry cut in, "-interviews have a lot more questions in them."

"Oh shut up," Pansy snapped and then grabbed the parchment again with a scowl and scratched that out. "Fine. I'll just ask a lot of questions then and work out the article later."

Harry shrugged.

"So you can't kiss anyone. Have you gotten close?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"With who?" Pansy asked, her eyebrows twitching up in interest.

Harry sighed, "Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas came close."

Pansy tried to hide her interest by glancing away at the quill as if happily scratched away, "A boy and a girl? Would you be upset if your perfect magical match was a bloke?"

"Not really."

"Can you say more than two words at a time, Potter, or is that your limit as far as conversation goes?" Pansy said impatiently, snatching her quill before it could write any of that down.

Harry smirked and shrugged nonchalantly.

"ugh," Pansy groaned under her breath. She closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself and fixing her hair absentmindedly. "Okay," she said levelly, "How do you feel about students trying to kiss you without your permission?"

"I don't like it," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"But one of those students could be your perfect match, your Priestess," Pansy went on.

"I think..." Harry mused, "if it's like the stories and the stronger your magical connection, the more perfect you are for one another then my perfect match would be someone I'm at least sorta attracted too right? Not random strangers or students I don't know or little kids."

"And what if you never find someone?" Pansy asked her voice dropping.

"I-" Harry broke off as the thought lodged in his mind like a thorn. A part of himself, a very small part he hadn't wanted to acknowledge, wondered that as well and wondered if maybe he had dreamed what had happened at the party. He had had a lot to drink. It was late. It had been so brief.

He chewed on his lip then forced a smile on, "It'd be nice if I did. No one wants to be alone.... If I couldn't find someone I suppose I could always marry a muggle."

"A muggle?" Pansy's nose wrinkled in disgust.

Harry laughed weakly, "Other than being magicless, they're the same as us. I'm sure I could find someone smart and clever... sarcastic... sharp," he smiled faintly. Harry wiped the expression off his face when he realized who he was thinking of, and just as promptly the feeling of dread returned. He told himself it had happened, it wasn't a dream. It had been real. He was certain. He had to be certain.

Harry grabbed his bag, pulling it over his shoulder, "That's good enough right? I need to head to class." He headed toward the door without waiting for a reply.

"Wait!" Pansy said hastily.

Harry stopped and half turned back towards her.

Pansy flushed faintly and quickly tucked her hair behind her ears, "You've been talking with Draco right? You're going to study in the library later?"

Harry gave a brief nod.

"Just- If you could-" she broke off, bit her lip, glanced away awkwardly, "...Don't hurt him."

Harry's brow furrowed, "Hurt him? I won't-"

"Not physically, you brute," she said impatiently. She went on more carefully, each word delicately laid out like the silver cutlery for a ten-course meal, "He's- He's always wanted your attention."

"Alright," Harry said, not knowing what else to say. He removed the locking spell from the door and was about to leave when he remembered, "I get one veto, right?"

He heard Pansy stifle a hissed shit under her breath. Harry let the silence draw out, enjoying the way Pansy's shoulders tensed and drew up around herself.

"In your article, refer to me as the Priestess would you, and the other- whoever as the Princess," Harry said.

"What?" Pansy said in utter confusion.

"I just prefer it, alright?" Harry said. He waited until Pansy nodded and then left the room, slowly heading to his last class for the day and imagining Draco in ermine-trimmed robes, crowned in gold.

Draco had picked a table near the back corner of the library. His face was partially hidden by his fringe as he leaned over a piece of parchment. As Harry got closer, he noticed that Draco seemed paler than normal.

"You alright?" he asked as he pulled out the chair beside Draco.

The parchment crumpled under Draco's hand as he reflexively tried to hide it. He scowled in recognition, his hand relaxing, "Do you get some sort of perverse enjoyment out of sneaking up behind me, Potter?"

Harry thought about it for a second, dropping his bag onto the empty chair beside him, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Draco repeated, his voice caught between mocking and bewilderment.

Harry smiled faintly, "I mean, I could certainly learn to like it well enough."

Draco kicked out at him but only succeeded in hitting the leg of Harry's chair. He flushed faintly either in pain or embarrassment and asked, "Why are you sitting next to me?"

"You said you'd help me on the potions paper?" Harry said.

"That doesn't mean you need to be right next to me," Draco said stiffly.

"Why?" Harry asked, "Is being a prat contagious?"

Draco took another kick at him and this time managed to connect with Harry's ankle.

Harry jumped, letting out a hiss of pain.

Draco smirked triumphantly, "It must be since I caught it from you."

Harry rolled his eyes, "What's this then?" he tapped Draco's wrinkled parchment.

"Oh." Draco looked down, smoothing his hands over the parchment, "Well..." he bit his lip briefly in thought, "It's a letter, from my Mother."

"Yeah? She alright?" Harry asked.

Draco sighed, "Why are you so interested in my Mother, Potter? Quite frankly, it's a bit unsettling"

"She saved my life," Harry said with a shrug, "Did you tell her I was doing alright? Since she asks after me and all that."

"I told her no such thing," Draco said.

Harry fought down a smile, "What does it say then? You looked a bit pale when you were reading it."

"Don't pretend you care," Draco said so softly Harry wasn't sure he was meant to hear it.

"I'd like to- to care," Harry said, his face feeling warm.

Two spots of pink bloomed on Draco's cheeks, "Oh shut up," he muttered, hastily folding up the letter, "I asked my Mother about what you said last night and she-" he took a deep breath," -she said that you were hit with it, the spell, and doesn't know how you survived. She thinks a powerful magical artefact must have been involved which I am far more inclined to believe over the power of love."

Harry laughed at his tone, "My mum's love saved me the first time, your mum's love saved me the second- I'm rather partial to the power of love myself," he smiled even wider, "considering my situation, third time's the charm, right?"

"Ugh," Draco said flatly, picking up a book four inches thick and dropping it in front of Harry with a thump. He looked slightly more pleased with Harry's dismayed expression, "This is the best text to reference for the moon and other celestial phase effects upon ingredients and how they combine."

Harry slowly lifted the cover, he swore it creaked, and groaned, "It's only a foot and a half of parchment, I don't need all of this."

"And that is why you're rubbish at potions," Draco said with a sniff of superiority.

Harry flipped through to the introduction. There was no table of contents and the writing- and it was handwritten- was tiny and cramped like the author was afraid of wasting parchment. There were very few illustrations and they were all very small and crowded like begrudging afterthoughts.

"Books like this are why I hate potions," Harry grumbled.

With a very put upon sigh, Draco grabbed the book back, opening halfway and turning the pages until he somehow found the one he was looking for, and pushing it back in front of Harry. "Start here."

Harry smiled, "Thanks." He didn't miss how Draco flushed faintly even as he quickly turned his head away.

Harry had been afraid he'd be too distracted by Draco to get much done on his assignment but he was sorely wrong. Draco was used to tutoring the notoriously thick Crabbe and Goyle, he didn't tolerate idle chit-chat, distractions or daydreams. No matter how much Draco sighed and complained he always made sure Harry was on the right track and would explain anything he wasn't certain about in the most succinct way humanly possible, the polar opposite to how Hermione went about helping. For all that, once dinner got close, Harry couldn't have focused a second longer.

"What are you working on?" He asked Draco.

"There's still ten minutes left," Draco said, not looking up from his writing.

Harry glanced at the massive potions book and flipped it closed, "I'm halfway done."

"Not the point."

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned in a little closer, "The point is that I'm done as I'm going to be. Are you working on the Defense assignment?"

"I'm working right now, if you don't mind," Draco said coolly.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Draco continued to 'work', although Harry was fairly certain he was not 'working' in the slightest. Harry waited. When Draco went to dip his quill in the inkwell, Harry snatched the parchment away.

"Hey-!" Draco grasped after it.

Harry leaned away as far as he could in his chair, reading- Dear Mother, I am speaking with Potter now as you so surmised, but it is nothing of any import. I am not entirely certain of his- and the letter ended there.

"You write mum a lot, don't you?" Harry said, putting the letter down in front of himself.

"Return it please," Draco said stiffly, his mouth pursed in a thin line.

Harry took his quill, dipping it fastidiously in the ink, "Ron hardly writes at all and Hermione only writes once a week. Do you write every day?"

"Not every day!" Draco blurted, looking embarrassed and pretending not to be embarrassed in the slightest, "She worries. After everything that happened-" he hesitated, "-She worries is all."

Harry held the parchment flat and wrote at the bottom in his neatest handwriting, which meant he had to write quite slowly- Mrs Malfoy, this is Harry Potter, I'm doing well. Thanks-

"What are you doing!?" Draco sputtered, grabbing for the paper again.

Harry smacked his hand away, "Saying hi to your mum, since you won't do it."

-for asking after me and for everything really. I've been getting to know Draco, although he's being very difficult about it. I hope you are doing well. HP-

"There." Harry smiled at his handy work, grabbing his wand to seal and protect his message before handing it back to Draco.

"I could just tear it off," Draco muttered, squinting as he read what Harry wrote, "Start the whole letter over again-" he frowned, "-Merlin, your handwriting is atrocious."

"It's legible!" Harry said defensively.

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, placed the parchment on the neat pile of his other paper and stacked his books atop that.

Harry cast a tempus and saw that dinner had already started, shoving his things haphazardly into his bag.

"Do you always make such a mess?" Draco asked. He held his bag open and with a quick charm, his neat stack of paper and books, filed themselves into his bag just as neatly.

Harry sighed, "Hermione tried to teach me that charm once, never could get the hang of it."

"Shocking," Draco muttered sarcastically.

Harry began absentmindedly fussing with the chaotic mess of his bag, not wanting to leave first.

Draco stood, looping his bag over his shoulder. He half turned away, his hand still resting on his chair, "I'm not going to go out tonight, much as I am loath to disrupt your stalking."

Harry grinned, "Terribly inconvenient, I'll have to rearrange my schedule entirely."

Draco paused, his fingers toying absently with the swirls carved into the wood on the back of his chair, "I was- Tomorrow night I might go to the pitch."

"Might? When?" Harry asked.

"You're the stalker, you figure it out," Draco said as he quickly walked past Harry and out of the library.