"Here you are."

The curtains around Draco's four-poster were jerked open.

"You skipped dinner," Pansy said.

Draco muttered something back; the words lost to the blankets he had pressed his face into.

"Did you go to class?"

The sound that rose from Draco was somewhere between a groan and the last dying breath leaving a corpse.

Pansy sighed loudly, "... let's talk like adults, shall we?"

A shoe was firmly pressed into Draco's side, and he quickly rolled onto his side to avoid having his lung punctured by a kitten heel.

Draco glared up at Pansy.

Pansy rolled her eyes and dropped onto the bed, "Dinner?"

"No."

"Class?"

"Of course."

"Potter?"

Draco groaned and tried to roll back onto his stomach.

Pansy jabbed him in the side making him recoil, "Tell me what happened. All of it," she said, "but speak slowly so I can translate the bullshit."

Draco grabbed his pillow and hugged it to his chest as he told Pansy about the meeting with Potter.

Pansy stared at him after he had finished and finally shrugged, "So?"

"I thought you were listening!" Draco said in outrage.

Pansy shrugged again, "Understanding your drama is an art, not an arithmantic equation."

Draco glared at her but his expression quickly dissolved into despair, "He thought I was bullied into it, Pansy. He'd rather save anyone on in the world than me. It's over. There's no hope."

"If it were me I would have thought you were ill," Pansy said. She paused and then laughed, "Oh, wait! I already thought that!"

Draco clutched the pillow tighter to his chest.

"Oh, don't pout," Pansy said, "He also said he wasn't trying to save the world, so you're on equal footing with just about everyone."

"Pansy," Draco bemoaned

Pansy shook her head, "You're not giving up."

"What?"

"You're not giving up, I've decided it," Pansy said.

Draco sat up, "You can't decide that!"

"I can, and I have," Pansy said primly.

Draco shook his head, "Potter said-"

"I don't care," Pansy cut him off, "If you tell him you like him then you can give up. Otherwise, I shall assume you're overreacting."

"I'm not overreacting!" Draco said.

"That remains to be seen," Pansy said, "Tomorrow you'll start step three."

Draco stiffened, "I've only done step two for one day!"

"It's fine. Steps two and three work well together, and you're trying to chicken out so I might as well raise the stakes," Pansy stood and smoothed her skirts, "I'll make a list for you tonight."

Draco scrambled to the edge of his bed, "Wait! Pansy, I can't-!"

"You can," Pansy said rolling her eyes, "You've done harder things than this, Draco Malfoy."

Draco watched her leave in silence. Once the door was firmly shut, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled scrap of parchment with the words after class written on them. He stared at the sloppy handwriting and squeezed his pillow a little tighter to his chest.

  '~*~' 

Step 3: Begin conversations with him so you can get to know one another better.

Draco read over the list of conversation ideas Pansy had given him with a frown and shoved them in his bag. They were awful, every last one of them. 

Draco had waited until he was nearly late to get to class, rather hoping that he wouldn't be able to sit next to Potter and thus save himself from having to speak to him at all. And yet, despite all the filled desks, the seat beside Potter was quite empty.

Potter was watching Draco like he had been waiting for him. His brows drew together in a silent challenge.

Draco slowly walked up the risers to the empty seat and found a bag on the bench, a bag that Potter quickly grabbed and shoved down by his feet.

"You're late," Potter said stiffly as Draco sat down.

Draco carefully extracted his textbook and parchment, setting them on his desk with far more care than was necessary, "Yes, well.... good morning, Potter."

"I'm going to figure out what you're doing," Potter said with absolute certainty.

Draco shivered.

"I've figured it out before, I'll do it again," Potter muttered, "You're not as clever as you think you are."

The flaw in Potter's logic, Draco mused, was that Draco would have been quite relieved to have been caught sixth year, even knowing the consequences. This time being found out would likely result in rejection and a horrifying amount embarrassment that he'd rather not deal with.

Draco dug through his bag looking for his quill and found Pansy's list crumpled at the bottom. He impulsively picked one of the conversation suggestions, "Do you think it's going to snow soon?" he asked as neutrally as possible.

Potter looked over at him like he'd grown a second head.

"It's been getting colder," Draco persisted, finding his quill, also on the bottom of his bag. He smoothed his fingers over the ragged white feather, and the inbuilt magic pulled it back together, as good as new. "As far as seasons go, I tend to prefer spring." Draco said setting his ink at the top corner of the desk, "How do you feel... about seasons?"

Draco looked over at Potter.

Potter stared at him in utter bewilderment.

"No preference then?" Draco said, trying not to feel foolish as he basically talked to himself, his voice dropping as he opened his book to where they had left off the day before, "There is an appeal to all seasons, I suppose."

Potter remained silent for the entire class. Draco was fairly certain he hadn't even taken notes. He was starting to suspect that he might have broken Potter somehow, but Potter managed to pack up his bag again at the end of class, even as he lagged behind his friends, looking back at Draco twice before be even stepping out of the classroom. 

  '~*~' 

The next day found Draco in much the same situation, except the class in question was double potions and sitting next to Potter meant they'd have to work together. Draco quickly looked around as he mentally panicked but there were only two open seats left. He could sit next to Potter or Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Draco sat down next to Potter with a sigh.

"What?" Potter said defensively.

"Nothing," Draco said, "Good morning, Potter. I look forward to working with you."

"No, you don't," Potter shot back. He paused an shook his head, "You hate working with me. Especially in potions."

Draco hummed absently in response as Slughorn came into the classroom.

"Morning!" Slughorn said jovially, "Since a few questions about the Wolfsbane potion will be on the NEWTS, I thought it would benefit you all to brew it once. Damn tricky potion. You'll want to take your time; we've only enough ingredients for one go each. Page two hundred and twelve in your books. Take care not to let the aconite touch your skin! Use gloves and tongs. Feel free to ask me any questions!"

Draco watched the lazy bastard fold his hands over his stomach without any other advice or interest. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, Severus might have been vicious, but at least he was more than competent.

Potter had his book open and was reading the instructions as closely as Draco had ever seen from him. Then again, Potter's brewing proficiency in sixth year had apparently been a fluke and he needed all the help he could get.

Draco took out his brewing notebook and flipped to his notes wolfsbane, "Shall I get the ingredients or would you rather do it?" he asked.

Potter's head jerked up from his book, and he blinked at Draco then seemed to shake himself awake, shooting his feet, "I'll get them," he said quickly.

Draco retrieved a silver lined pewter cauldron and started a low flame beneath.

"Malfoy," A Weasley sort of voice hissed behind him.

Draco turned, looking at Weasley and then to Granger beside him.

The two exchanged a look that could best be summarised as you talk to him.

Draco glowered at them.

Granger huffed faintly and crossed her arms, "Malfoy... we-" she glanced at Weasley who nodded encouragingly, "- we would appreciate it if you left Harry alone."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Granger frowned but continued, "He finally has a chance at a normal school year. Even you can understand wanting things to just be normal can't you?"

"...Yes," Draco said warily.

Granger nodded, "Good, so, the last thing Harry needs is to be obs- worrying about you."

"Here," Potter dropped a tray of ingredients on the work table.

Draco jumped, his heart thundering his chest. He quickly turned back to his cauldron, scowling briefly before wiping the expression off his face.

Draco carefully examined the ingredients, "This won't do," he picked up the yellowish piece of bone and held it out to Potter, "Also get more aconite."

Potter's shoulders drew back, his eyes flashing with anger, "What? It's perfectly fine, isn't it? Just bone! And what's wrong with the aconite?"

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He said tightly, "Bone is very porous and can easily absorb trace amounts of other elements. Yellowing in this instance might mean contamination. So please find one that is white and smooth to the touch. As for the aconite, the levels of toxicity varies between the leaves, flowers and roots. This," he pointed at the tray, "is mostly stem and root. It would work provided it was pulverised and soaked in the base overnight. We're brewing now, so we need leaves."

Potter took the bone, his anger mixing with embarrassment. "You could've said that to begin with," he said, turning on his heel and heading back to the ingredients closet.

Draco rolled his eyes and took out his brewing gloves and carefully began preparing the ingredients on the tray, placing each onto its own square of parchment. Potter returned, and Draco held out his hand for the small piece of bone, which Potter dropped into his palm with a sour look. It was white, clean and perfect.

"Powder the aconite in the mortar and pestle," Draco said, picking up a fine rasp and a piece of parchment.

"You can't just-!"

Draco paused and looked over at Potter who was bristling once again.

"You're ordering me around; you haven't even looked at the instructions!" Potter retorted.

Draco's hands clenched, the metal of the rasp digging into his palm. The desire to snap back at Potter was nearly overpowering. He bit the inside of his cheek and said with forced nonchalance, "My apologies. I've simply brewed this potion a great deal and have it memorised. I will, of course, check the instructions before we begin brewing. If you would prefer to take the lead-?"

Potter stared at him, "What?" He sat down, looking put out and mildly disappointed for some reason. He let out a huge sigh and asked, "You brewed it enough to memorise it?"

Draco turned back to his task, "I brewed a lot of potions over the summer, but I focused on those that were the most needed."

"You made potions for people?" Potter asked sceptically.

"Yes, Potter," Draco said.

"I didn't think the reparations were that bad," Potter said.

Draco finished turning the bone into a fine powder and put it back on the tray, picking up the aconite leaves and mortar. "They weren't." He spoke slowly for the hard of thinking, "I didn't sell them. I gave them away."

Potter blinked at him, "I hadn't heard about that."

"Because no one knows," Draco rolled his eyes.

"You?" Potter's brow furrowed, "There's no way you would do that."

"Because I'm a horrible person," Draco said flatly.

"It's just you always- whenever there's a chance of getting attention you always- did." Potter said.

Draco allowed himself a small bitter smile, "True. In this instance though, I had to be anonymous."

"Why?"

"Imagine if you will, what would happen to any potion with my name attached to it?" Draco said.

"It would be tested?" Potter guessed.

"It would be thrown away," Draco said without hesitation.

Potter's brow furrowed.

Draco finished preparing all the other ingredients, took off his gloves and placed the silver and quartz stirring rod on a clean cloth on the opposite side of the cauldron.

"Can I do anything?" Potter asked.

Draco looked at him in surprise.

"I can manage," Potter said with a stubborn lift to his chin.

Draco nodded, "I've laid everything out in the order I'll be needing it. If you could hand them to me?"

"Alright," Potter shifted his stool closer, "When I read over the potion, it didn't seem all that difficult to me. I mean, compared to what I thought."

"Its difficulty comes from how quickly it has to be brewed, about twenty minutes start to finish. The more of it you brew at one time, the more volatile it is and, of course, the toxicity of the ingredients. The slightest mistake in ratios will create a poison rather than a tonic."

"A poison?" Potter said. He opened his mouth to add something and then quickly closed it.

"I didn't send people poison, Potter, I can assure you it's easy to test if the potion has been brewed properly," Draco said.

"Okay..." Potter said.

Draco cleared his throat nervously and refocused on the potion. He poured the potion base into the cauldron and brought the flame up. He stood so could see the potion better, waiting for the first bubbles to indicate a simmer. He reached for the first ingredient and found Potter already offering it out. Draco didn't even have the time to acknowledge him, keeping focused on the potion, watching for the subtle shifts in colour and smell he knew by heart.

When he added the last ingredient, powdered moonstone, the potion gave an unpleasant glurp and turned a putrid greenish brown. Draco sat down with a sigh of relief, tossing his stirring rod to the side and turned the flame off. He pushed his hair back, gone loose and damp from the steam but it stubbornly fell back in his eyes.

Draco glanced over at Potter and found him with his chin propped on his hand, watching Draco with an unfamiliar intensely. He felt himself start to flush and blurted, "So that's it. I hope you were paying attention."

Potter looked from Draco down to the cauldron and shrugged, "It's not like we have to brew it for the NEWTS, I can just ask Hermione about the questions."

"...I see," Draco said.

Potter leaned closer to get a better look at the potion, "That's disgusting."

"Yes, it is," Draco said with a faint smile.

Potter sat back. He stared at Draco again.

Draco's smile fell away in a wave of nerves.

Potter quickly looked down at his hands, picking distractedly at his fingernails, "Do we have to do anything else?"

"No, we just wait. The residual heat of the cauldron will make the potion more stable," Draco said.

Potter leaned over his textbook, skimming the instructions, "It doesn't say anything about that in here?"

"It's something I discovered in my research," Draco said proudly.

"Really?" Potter said absently, lifting his hand.

Draco grabbed Potter's wrist.

They stared at each other in mutual shock.

Draco opened his mouth and managed, "You should clean your hands before putting them near your mouth."

"I wasn't going to-" Potter's brow furrowed, "How'd you know I was-?"

Draco felt his cheek flush, "You bite your nails," he frowned as he felt his face get even hotter, "It's a filthy habit."

"It's not that bad!" Potter protested trying to jerk his hand away, "Anyway, I didn't touch the aconite or the potion with my bare hands, so it'll be fine."

Draco stubbornly kept a firm grip on Potter, "It's basic safety -"

"I didn't-"

"Do you want to end up in the infirmary again? I thought you were giving that place a rest for once-"

"It's fine; I didn't touch it!" Potter wrenched his hand away.

"Please," Draco blurted, nearly biting his tongue.

Potter started badly, his eyes going wide, "What did you say?" his mouth hung open like he wanted to say something else then closed it and stood, heading to the sinks, nearly tripping in his haste. Leaving Draco to try and piece together what had just happened.