Three more days, Draco told himself as he trudged to his potions lab, dragging his hand along the wall. He had finished four; it was more than halfway through, at least until the next month. It should have been easy, considering how much practise he had, but the last couple days always seemed like a special sort of torture. Just about the only thing he looked forward to about going home at the end of the school year was sleeping until noon if he wanted to.

The door moved under his fingertips. Draco froze, anxiety creeping up his spine. He was sure he had closed it when he left the night before. He peered through the illusionary wall. The lights were on as well.

Potter pulled off the cover off the second cauldron and set it to the side, looking up when Draco stepped inside, "I'm pretty sure everything's ready, and I've washed my hands already," he held up his hands.

Draco stared at him then let out a resigned sigh.

Potter narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"Since we were eleven years old you've been nothing but a test of my patience," Draco said. He set his brewing case on the end of the table and used his freed hand to rub his temple.

Potter raised his hands in a wordless expression of pure exasperation.

Draco wanted to complain about Potter asking for time and, he had assumed, distance and yet here he was forcing Draco to exercise what little impulse control he had against the constant feeling in the back of his mind that he was running out of time. Unfortunately, he couldn't find a way to word it that wouldn't make him sound like a petulant child, and he had already heard enough from Potter on that particular subject for one day. He settled on, "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"I shouldn't have skipped out yesterday. Hermione said I was overreacting," Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow and pulled open the drawers containing what they would need to brew, "Words of wisdom from the only person in your group with any," Draco said.

"Hey!"

"Did she give any other helpful advice?" Draco said, turning away and going to the sink to wash his hands.

"Not really," Potter said evasively.

Draco patted his hands dry and rolled his sleeves back down, buttoning the wrists and smoothing his hand unconsciously over his left forearm. When he came back to the table, Potter was slowly slicing the asphodel in a fair approximation of how Draco preferred it.

Draco sat on the other side of the table and selected a small clean piece of bone and the file rasp, "You don't have to keep coming. This isn't your obligation."

"You want me to leave?" Potter asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "That's not what I meant, as you well know."

Potter used the edge of his knife to push the sliced asphodel into one pile, "...I want to."

Draco knew he should take the statement at face value, but he couldn't stop himself from prodding at it, "You want to help because it's the right thing to do or because you want to help me?"

"Both," Potter said without hesitation. He took out the scales and leaned over the potion instructions, "How much asphodel for each potion?"

"Two and three-quarters of an ounce," Draco said without looking up. He shifted on his stool, his knee brushing against Potter's.

Potter twitched at the touch but didn't pull away. "Erm, wolfsbane uses powdered wolf bone, which can only be obtained from wolves that have died naturally, right? So how did you-?" he pointed at the piece in Draco's hand.

"It's not wolf," Draco said.

"What is it then?"

"Feral dog," Draco said.

Potter grimaced, "Dog?"

"The supplier is paid to catch ones that have gone rabid or become dangerous. He sends me the bones." Draco said.

"So you can just replace wolf bone with dog?" Potter asked. Bottles chimed faintly as he searched for the powdered moonstone.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Interested in potions theory all of a sudden, Potter?"

"NEWTS are coming up, and you're the best at Potions in the school so it can't hurt right?" Potter rambled.

"It's certainly a way to fill the silence," Draco said.

"I am interested," Potter said stubbornly.

"Of course you are," Draco said sarcastically. He explained anyway because he missed lecturing like he used to, "I had to increase the ratio of dog bone to achieve the same effect, and the potion's potency degrades faster with dog compared to wolf. I also increased the nettle by three percent to balance the base effect of the bone because a certain level of acidity is needed to incorporate the moonstone," Draco said.

Potter blinked at him.

Draco shook his head, "And before you ask, I get the moonstone from a muggle gem seller. It's much cheaper. There are quite a few potion ingredients whose prices are artificially high simply because wizards have no idea about muggle markets."

"And you do?" Potter said faintly, "You buy from muggles-?"

Draco frowned, "Absolutely not. I have better things to do. I hired a broker; she's muggleborn and very good."

Potter said, "Oh. Right. That makes sense."

"You don't have to sound so relieved," Draco said archly.

"I mean you buying from muggles just seems impossible," Potter said.

Draco took out the aconite, "You don't know anything about me."

"I do-!" Potter broke off, and winced in embarrassment, "I mean, sixth year."

"You know the worst of me," Draco said adding a tiny piece of aconite to the little vial of reagent and swirling it gently, "And I know all the worst of you. Yet somehow, here we are."

Potter put away all the bottles and boxes while Draco finished preparing the aconite.

Potter tapped his fingers on the table. He caught Draco's eye and grinned, "We both have awful taste in blokes."

Laughter bubbled out of Draco without warning and he nearly dropped the parchment of aconite in his hand. Potter caught his wrist and took the aconite from him and the look in Potter's eye- it left him more breathless than the laughter. He had had Potter intensity directed at him before but it was always in anger and this, this wasn't anger.

Draco bit his bottom lip, turning his hand and catching Potter's hand in his, "You're the worst."

"What? I haven't done anything," Potter said

"That joke was terrible-"

"You laughed,"

"-and no flirting when brewing."

"I wasn't flirting!" Potter protested.

Draco gave him a look and squeezed Potter's hand before letting go, "No flirting."

"Is this on the brewing rules, right after washing your hands?" Potter joked.

"It's on my list of rules because it's a safety hazard to try and brew when you're too turned on to focus properly," Draco said.

Potter's eyes widened and he glanced down at the table.

Draco smirked in amusement, "You embarrass too easily, Potter."

"Most people don't just say things like that," Potter protested.

"I wouldn't advise hanging around any drunk Slytherins then, or Pansy, at any time." Draco said, "Not that she would. Should we get started?"

Potter nodded fervently.

Draco didn't need to worry about Potter flirting. Just like when they brewed together before, Potter was very quiet when he was focused on something, and moving from decanting vials of wolfsbane, to washing out cauldrons, to assisting Draco in between all of that didn't leave him time for anything else.

"I'll do the last one," Potter said. He took the instructions and the tray of ingredients next to the cauldron he'd just finished cleaning.

Draco sprinkled in the moonstone, "Don't forget the base and my spare stirring rods."

"You're not going to stop me?" Potter asked, taking the bottle of base, "or make me wait until you can watch?"

"You've seen me brew it enough times that if you can't at least produce a half decent facsimile at this point, I'm not certain I'd trust you with a butter knife," Draco said fighting back a yawn and picking up the next square of parchment.

Potter grinned, "And there are instructions. Did you make this for me?" He held up the piece of parchment.

Draco did. He was not under any circumstances inclined to admit it, "I always bring a copy to make certain I haven't missed anything."

Draco put in the aconite and began stirring, counting under his breath to twenty-nine and a half, taking out the stirring rod and dispelling the flame under the cauldron. He watched the colour and gave the potion one more sniff to make sure it was correct and then sat back on his stool with a sigh.

Potter had already started his potion, his brow furrowed in concentration. Every time he leaned over the cauldron to check the colour, and the smell, the steam would make his hair curl just a little bit more at the ends. Potter would try to push it out his eyes with the back of his wrist and it would flop right back into his eyes.

It was truly regrettable when Draco had to decant his potions and could no longer watch such high-quality entertainment.

Once Draco was finished cleaning up, he went over to check Potter's potion as he dispelled the fire.

"It looks right?" Potter said.

The potion slowly stopped bubbling as it settled. Draco sniffed it, narrowing his eyes. "A little watery and the smell is...sharp?"

Potter blinked at him.

"Slightly too much base and you stirred too long after adding the asphodel." Draco hazarded.

Potter shrugged helplessly.

"It should still be fine." Draco opened the bottom of his potion case and took out a long thin box, "I'll test it to make certain."

"Because we have so many werewolves handy," Potter said sarcastically.

Draco raised his eyebrow and opened the case. They were all made of undyed fabric, in a human enough shape with a single coarse grey-black hair sewn onto the chest of the doll.

Potter's eyebrows shot up, "Dolls?"

"Poppets," Draco said rolling his eyes. "All professional potion brewers used to test their potions with them until mice became more popular."

Potter studied the little cloth dolls, "Are they like voodoo dolls?"

"I haven't studied Haitian magic so I don't know," Draco said picking up an eyedropper, "Poppets can be tied to a specific person and used to transfer sympathetic magic to them, although it weakens the spell in question, and its usually not used for good magic as you might imagine."

Potter nodded.

"A poppet can also be used to imbue an object with a general humaness," Draco waved a vague hand and took a small amount of the potion in the eyedropper and put two drops on the doll, one at the mouth and one at the heart.

"So that's just a person stand in?" Potter asked.

"Not quite. That would only be useful to make sure the potion wasn't lethal. It also has to test if it's strong enough to effect werewolf transformation."

Potter stiffened, alarm colour his features, "So it is tied to someone?"

"Greyback," Draco said.

"He's-" Potter's expression switched to confusion, "-dead."

"Yes, but the hair," Draco pointed to the chest of the poppet, "is werewolf. So the poppet is a werewolf-person stand in." He took out his magnifying loupe and examined the poppet for signs of degradation and checked the hair; which had correctly had changed from the thick wiry hair of a werewolf to a finer, smooth wolf-like fur.

"How do you have Greyback's hair... and so much of it," Potter looked over at the array of dolls still in the box.

Draco looked up and gave Potter his best impression of Pansy's are you stupid expression, "He lived in my house."

"Oh," Potter's eyes widened, "I knew that."

"Yes and he shed like a cat with mange. I have a jar of the stuff at home." Draco looked at the poppet one more time and then put everything away, dissolving the magic on the doll before he vanished it.

"Malfoy..." Potter said hesitantly, "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Draco grabbed his stool and sat across from Potter, leaning his elbows on the table, "Go on then. From your tone I'll just anticipate being upset by it now, shall I?"

Potter rubbed the back of his neck, "How'd you start all this?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and Potter gestured to the cauldrons around them.

"I told you," Draco said.

"You told me you were doing it and that you started this summer. I just wanted to know why," Potter said.

Draco sighed and rubbed his face. He wanted to lie. Yet he also knew from experience it wouldn't go well in the end. But the reason was awful.

"Malfoy?"

"Shh." Draco glared at him, "I'm thinking."

"You need to think about it?" Potter said.

"Yes, well, there is such a thing as making a good impression, and I realise it's a lost cause in my case, and you can't understand on account of being a walking good impression-"

"What?" Potter laughed, "I am not. And I get it, sort of. Just tell me Malfoy."

"Decant the potions and wash out the cauldron?" Draco said.

"Malfoy-"

"I'll tell you," Draco said impatiently, "We can finish working at the same time. I don't want to be here all night."

Potter smiled like he knew Draco just didn't want to say it to his face, and got up, retrieving the vials.

Draco put his hands on the table and stared at them, "I was... bored."

"What?" Potter said as he came back, "You were-"

"I was bored." Draco repeated with a huff, "After the war, we were under house arrest. Father was tried fairly quickly but Mother and I... weren't priorities. Our trials were months later." He took a deep breath and went on, "We weren't allowed to leave the manor or cast magic. Our wands were confiscated. But brewing was either allowed or untraceable."

Potter put funnels into the vials and poured the potion between them.

"I started with brewing potions we needed, calming draughts, dreamless sleep, invigorating draughts. Then I restocked any potion we might need," Draco threaded his fingers together, "And cleaned out the greenhouse, restored what I could, started growing my own plants."

Potter said taking his empty cauldron to the wash basins, "And then you just started brewing for everyone else?"

"I read an article about potion shortages due to so many apothecaries being closed in the war. I got our solicitor to find out what was needed and a couple charities that were trustworthy to send them to."

"Wait, you sent your lawyer out on errands?" Potter asked in amusement.

Draco glared over at the sinks, "He's paid enough and knowing that lazy bastard he had one of his paralegals do it for him anyway. And there wasn't anyone else. We weren't allowed contact with anyone but family and our solicitor."

"Then how'd you deliver them? Wouldn't the aurors check that sort of thing?" Potter asked.

"House elves," Draco said.

"But couldn't they have got you wands and anything else you wanted?" Potter asked.

"Yes," Draco said. "As you have so masterfully shown on several occasions, house elves are often overlooked by wizards."

Potter winced, his expression darkening, "Dobby died," he said quietly.

"I heard," Draco said.

Potter was quiet, rinsing the cauldron and drying it with a quick charm. He finally said, "He died helping us escape your house."

"He was a friend to you, and I'm sorry for your loss," Draco said carefully.

"You sound like a greeting card." Potter said coldly, dropping the cauldron back on the table with a thunk, "You aren't sad he's died."

Draco took a shaky breath, "I rather regret anyone died."

"He worked for you," Potter said.

"I didn't know him."

"You owned him."

"I didn't know him!" Draco stood.

"But you-"

"I can't change the past, Potter!" Draco snapped, hitting the table top in frustration.

Potter's hand closed over his, "Wait. Wait-" he hesitated, and added quickly, "You're right. The past is the past. I just still get worked up about things like that sometimes." Potter explained looking guilty and torn and so sad it made Draco's chest ache, "Sorry, it's... still hard sometimes."

Draco frowned furiously at Potter then grabbed him by the front of his robes, pulling him close and hugging him as hard as he could.

"Malfoy-" Potter floundered, "What are you doing?"

"You're the worst," Draco muttered.

"You're hugging me?"

"I wanted to hex you," Draco said sourly, "I want to curse you and call you an idiot and then you went and apologised."

"So you hugged me," Potter said.

"To keep myself from hexing you," Draco said.

Potter hummed absently, he slid his hands around Draco's back and tentatively squeezed back.

Draco shivered, He felt suddenly and inexplicably like crying. It was wretched. "It's inconsiderate. And rude," he complained

"Sorry," Potter laughed.

"Yes, because that helps," Draco grumbled.

Potter pressed his face into Draco's shoulder, "What were you going to curse me with?"

"Incarcerous," Draco said.

"Just ropes? That's..."

"A very strong incarcerous and a silencing spell and then I would have left you here until morning," Draco said.

Potter hugged Draco even tighter, "I like this much better."

"What did I say about flirting?" Draco said, trying to sound stern.

Potter tried to stifle a laugh in Draco's sleeve, "You're such an ass."