A/N: I plan for this to be a long and extensive fic that will stretch into post Hogwarts. It's also very canon, I'm trying to follow the canon OotP plot closely.

"Potter, this is truly... dismal."

Snape lazily fingered the ladle in Harry's cauldron as the class shifted in their seats to look Harry's direction; snickers broke out from the Slytherin throng in the back of the room.

Harry's jaw clenched. He stared at the table in front of him, not giving Snape the satisfaction of eye contact.

"Truly," Snape repeated. "I'm sadly ignorant of the nuances of your brain, but I imagine it is either halfway on or completely turned off. Potter, see me after class."

He strode away from their table.

"What an unbelieveable prat," Ron muttered. "It wasn't even that bad. Sorry, Harry."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said stiffly. He was already retreating back into his mind, what had just happened fading blankly away.

The class ended abruptly, at least for Harry, who started at the sound of the bell. Ron had already begun shoving his things in his bag.

"Harry, if you could use extra help in Potions," Hermione whispered to him gently as she patted him on the shoulder. Harry had a vivid feeling of being handled with kid gloves. The way he had been acting this year, he wouldn't suspect they all thought him on the verge of collapse.

Which he might be.

"Thanks, Hermione," he murmured as they headed toward the door with the rest of the class. She nodded at him and smiled and was gone.

"Malfoy, stay a moment as well," Snape said. It took Harry a second to process that. He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder.

Draco was leaning on the closed door, looking at Snape. Harry might as well have not been in the room.

"Due to the headmaster's insistence that I not let you fail out of this class, Potter," Snape said, "I am assigning Malfoy to you as your tutor."

For some reason, Draco reacted as if he had expected this, with a curt nod of the head, still ignoring Harry's presence.

"Every Tuesday night, seven o' clock, until your performance in my class drastically adjusts, Potter," Snape said. "You're dismissed."

"Wait, sir, why--why--" Harry couldn't figure out a way to properly phrase "why Malfoy, of all bloody damned people on the planet," but Snape cut him off.

"Why Malfoy? He has the highest marks in my class, and the most natural talent at Potions. It is not a conundrum, Potter, or a riddle."

Draco smirked, his face shadowed slightly as he glanced at Harry. Harry couldn't read his eyes.

"Fine," Harry said woodenly, making as if to exit. Draco moved swiftly from the doorway as Harry walked out into the hallway, feeling as if he had just added a hundred pounds to a load already too heavy to bear.

"I don't get it," Ron said.

"What?" Harry said, moving over on the common room couch so Hermione could sit down.

"It's just that your excuse for..." Ron dropped his voice, "...Occulumency lessons is that you're taking remedial Potions. Why would you be tutored by Snape and Malfoy in Potions?"

"Someone has it out for me?" Harry said drily. His mind wandered. Of course, someone did have it out for him, but that was a seperate matter.

"You need a new excuse," Ron said, twigging to Lavender Brown laughing loudly across the room and watching her for a moment. "Like Snape is, er... giving you year long detention, or something."

"Harry?" Ginny said, creeping up to them. "Is there a DA meeting soon? Please say there is."

"I haven't checked my schedule, yet," Harry said, rubbing his scar as it prickled uncomfortably. "Why?"

"Oh, Umbridge is just so awful," Ginny said dully, leaning her elbows on the back of the couch. "I hate the Ministry," she added.

Hermione shook her head. "The Ministry is fine, it's who's in charge is the problem."

"Fudge," Harry said. "With the Malfoys in his pocket." He snorted with resigned amusement.

"Oh, this is so irritating," Hermione huffed. "I could teach you so much more than Malfoy could, Harry. And you'd actually be willing to learn from me, too."

"I'm fine with it," Harry said, grimacing. "Quidditch. Practice. When."

"Wednesday," Ron said.

Harry put his head in his lap as his scar burned more intensely. He was feeling a little giddy for no reason at all. His eyelids ached.

"We have Divination homework," Ron said. Harry felt rather than heard Ginny leave, the couch cushion next to him springing up in the abscence of her weight.

Ron paused. "Are you all right, Harry?"

How tired he was of hearing that. "Fine," Harry said into his lap, his mouth twisting from the familiarity of that word. He said it so often it didn't mean anything anymore. With disdain, he mouthed "Malfoy" into his thighs. His breath was warm.

"Fuck," Harry murmured for no reason at all. He wondered it he was going to be discontent forever.

"You're late, Potter," Draco said as Harry entered the dungeon, which looked twice as foreboding as it did during the day.

Harry bit his tongue to keep from retorting. Instead, he sat down with a proviso of "No shit," and opened his Potions book.

"Draught of Peace," Draco said flatly, without making eye contact. "Make it."

Harry flipped to the correct page and began rifling through his page for ingredients.

Draco began to tap his quill on the desk.

"Could you not, Malfoy?" Harry said irritably.

Draco made some half-snort noise and set the quill on the desk with irritating exactitude.

Harry set the hellebore on his desk and soon the potion was bubbling. It was lightly fragrant. He was not surprised he was better at Potions in the company of Draco Malfoy as opposed to Snape. He hated them both, but Draco didn't make him feel inept, just extremely irritated.

He was about to add moonstone to the potion when Draco's hand shot out and stopped his.

"What?" Harry demanded, jerking away from Draco's touch.

"It's powdered moonstone, you imbecile," Draco said through his teeth.

Harry barely refrained from saying what he actually thought at that moment. "Whatever."

Draco sat back in his chair and fiddled with the quill some more as Harry sweated over the potion. Finally, he asked, "Is that it?"

Draco peered into the cauldron. "It's crap," he said definitively.

"As much as I value your opinion, Malfoy, I asked whether that was it or not."

"I guess," Draco said dismissively.

Harry felt his temper rising slightly. His fists curled. "Yes or no?"

"Yes, fine, but it's not going to get you a passing OWL," Draco snapped, sitting back down.

"Who cares?" Harry demanded.

"Not me," Draco responded coolly. It seemed the more flustered and angry Harry got, the more unruffled and calm Draco became, which was beyond infuriating.

"Fine," Harry replied through gritted teeth. "Next Tuesday, then." He grabbed his bag off of the chair with such force it clattered over, knocking into his cauldron. Draught of Peace spilled onto the floor.

Harry strode out of the dungeons burning with fury. He couldn't wait until the match against Slytherin.