Probably Doesn't Matter
When Lucius first approached him with the proposal that Severus give him potions tuition, he thought that the blond wasn't being serious.
"And what do I get out of this?" he asked of the other, crossing his arms.
"Why, the pleasure of my company, of course." Lucius replied with his most charming smile.
Serverus turned on his heel and walked the other way back down the corridor.
After a week, he began to wonder if Malfoy was serious after all. It was almost as if, he thought wryly as he picked up a small bunch of flowers from his bedside table, he was being courted. (Which he wasn't, of course- sixth years did not waste their time on lowly third years).
When a note accompanied the seventh bunch of flowers –in neat, cursive penmanship, 'Potions tuition?'- he was sure that he wasn't.
Or, as he found himself in a particularly compromising position with a certain haughty Slytherin blond, maybe he was. It wasn't as if he was particularly knowledgeable in these matters; he could brew love potions but had no desire to utilise them, and he suffered from no delusion that any sort of romantic liason involving him would happen without the aid of such a charm.
But as Lucius pulled back, looking rather dishevelled, he wondered: did it really matter?
(As the blond descended upon his neck once more, he decided: no).