Disclaimer: No, I do not own any characters that belong to J.K.Rowling.

Warning: Male/Male relationship. Completely AU, Non-Magic. Not a one-shot.

A/N: Sorry for any missed typos! Hope you enjoy :D

It was an early April morning and the sun was glistening through loosely hung curtains of the third-floor bedroom. The warm breeze sneaked playfully from the open window, ruffling the leaves of the blossoming plants that dwelled peacefully on the window sill. A faint scent of spring lingered in the room, combined with a pleasant odor of boyish cologne and freshly washed clothes.

Draco brushed a strand of hair away from his pale face and looked in the mirror once more. A white blouse, a silk tie, a pair of dark grey trousers – all of those incredibly expensive and sophisticated. Draco shot a look of longing on the clothes lying on his bed – a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey hoody – and then back to his reflection in the mirror. A classy, beautiful man was gazing right back, a look of wonder and disdain coloring his face. Porcelain skin, blond locks, deep grey eyes, high cheekbones that led down to a pointy chin…

So disgustingly familiar.

"Draco! Honey, hurry up!" A voice rang from downstairs and he heard footsteps along the second floor corridor. He spun around, scanning the room for his belongings.

In a matter of seconds, he was tumbling down the stairs towards the front door and onto the lawn of their manor, scarf clumsily wrapped several times around his neck and school bag tilted to one side, out of breath. Narcissa Malfoy, in a grey pencil skirt and a cream blouse, made a point to smile and straighten his collar delicately, as Lucius scoffed at them from the front seat.

"Get in already," he demanded, ushering Draco to seat himself beside his father. Leaning out of the window, he planted a small kiss on Narcissa's powdered cheek, as she swished past towards her elegant black car. Draco slumped onto the passenger seat and earned a disapproving glance from his father. The car engine rumbled furiously through the early morning mist and sped gracefully onto the main road.

It took five minutes for the same silver Mercedes to pull up near Hogwarts Academy, coming to a halt beside the glorious golden fountain round-about. A dozen of posh cars were stacked orderly in the parking lot, spotless windows flashing with morning sunbeams. The Hogwarts building towered upon the square, giant and ancient and yet proud and beautiful at the same time.

Lucius leaned back and observed the scenery; Draco held his breath, not daring to move, waiting. Finally the man straightened himself in his seat. "I expect the best from you, Draco, and you know it. Your previous report was a disappointment to me and your mother." His sharp, icy eyes glided along the greenery of the Hogwarts Park and finally landed on Draco's identical grey ones. "But it will not happen again. Get to class."

Draco scurried off his seat and out of the car, offering his father an uncertain smile. The car awoke with a loud start and glided along the road before fleeing out of the school gates. He stood there, watching as the parking lot filed with cars and fancily dressed women fussed about their children in a motherly fashion. Well. Yet another ruined morning.

Great.

"Why, what a lovely morning," Pansy Parkinson appeared next to him, placing her hand onto his lower back tenderly. Draco shrugged with one shoulder and nodded silently. "Your dad still the same?" She asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. They slowly headed for the large set of steps that led to the entrance.

"Some things never change." Draco sighed with a roll of his eyes. "Like him lecturing me endlessly."

Two girls ran past, quickly kissing Draco on both cheeks before scuttling down the steps hurriedly.

"Or like him never being satisfied with anything."

Three boys walked by and patted the blond on his back amicably, joking about something Draco didn't quite hear. A group of seniors called Draco's name and waved from the top of the stairs, to which Draco waved back, grinning, and continued walking up. A couple of girls eyed him from their seats on the marble stairs, to which Draco smiled friendlily. He readjusted his bag over his shoulder and huffed irritably. "Be a man, Draco," he mimicked his father's voice. "Well thanks! Now I'm not even manly enough!"

Pansy traced her fingers along the blonde's upper arm soothingly. "It's okay. Just ignore him."

"Kind of hard to do when he's insulting you twenty-four seven." He sighed frustratingly. Pansy opened her locker and threw her handbag into it gracelessly, earning a couple of surprised glances from the crowd behind. Some of her belongings scattered across the bottom of the locker, to which she only rolled her eyes. Draco imitated her, slamming a few folders on the shelf.

A tall brunet with slightly Southern features and a sporty complexion appeared in front of the pair with a loud laugh echoing through the corridor. A few juniors looked up fearfully. He placed a hand on Pansy's butt and whispered huskily in her ear, "Fancy a shag before first class?"

"Oh, sod off," Pansy muttered, shoving him away half-heartedly.

"Sorry, I forgot I'm not Mystery Man." He snickered gleefully. "Should I call him instead?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Pansy mumbled even quieter, a blush spreading over her face.

If possible, the brunet looked even more amused. "Mystery Man! Where might he be? Drooling in the library? Begging for coins on the pavement?" He scratched his front thoughtfully. "I wonder. Maybe he's gone off shagging our new secretary."

"Blaise, man, seriously. Drop it." Draco rolled his eyes.

Blaise swallowed his bitter remark and, instead, offered Pansy a mocking grimace. He leaned against the locker set, next to Draco and tapped his fingers against the cold metal. "So. What you doing this weekend, Drake? Wanna go to the mountains again?"

Draco stacked his books into his bag and shook his head. "Can't. Have to study this weekend."

"Way too bad! What about next weekend?"

The blond shrugged. "Dunno yet."

"Well, good for you, cause I'm planning a party at my mountain cottage."

Draco grinned. "Are we guests then?"

The brunet looked surprised for a moment. "Naturally!"

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Why thanks, Zabini. I thought I'd never see the day when I'd be so honored."

"The pleasure is entirely mine," he smirked. "I'm gonna get you piss-drunk and show you around my bath a little. Unless Boy Wonder gets his dirty hands on you before me." He heaved against Pansy with his hips, pushing her into the lockers sideways, and made his grand exit.

"Do you think he's serious about this?" Pansy asked once he had rounded the corner, and a couple of juniors flew out of his way frightfully.

"About shagging you? Or about getting you drunk?" Draco beamed down at his friend.

Pansy blushed. "Well, both."

"You never know with Blaise," Draco gave out a small laugh. "Otherwise, how's it going with Potter?"

"How's itgoing? You mean the serious love affair we're experiencing? The deep emotions we share through our perpetually long conversations? Or the fact that he doesn't even say hi to me, or even bother asking how my day was at school?" Pansy sounded indignant. "You know, I wrote to him on MSN last night-"

"He was on MSN? Wow. First time since stone age."

"Yeah, exactly. So the one time he is online, I decide to write to him. So I'm like: "Hey, how's it going?" right? And he doesn't even reply!" Pansy rounded her eyes comically, and made an exasperated motion with her hands.

"Asshole." Draco shook his head. "Selfish, obnoxious asshole. He's so full of himself, I'm actually surprised his brains fit in. It's all he's got. Ego and brains for A-star results. No place for a heart."

Pansy sighed, as they took their seats in the second row of their Math class, along with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who seated themselves next to Draco. "Hey guys," Pansy sighed again, waving at the two girls.

"Hey, Panse. You okay?" Parvati asked, pulling her bag off of her shoulder.

"You look kinda green." Lavender mentioned, looking at her in concern. She fiddled with the tips of Draco's blond hair absent-mindedly.

"I'm fine. Just tired," Pansy smiled. She leaned into Draco and snuggled against his shoulder. Soon, the class filled with loud, animated chatter. Seamus Finnegan and Theodore Nott sat on Draco's desk, as Dean came from Pansy's side and leaned against her chair. Ron Weasley stormed into the classroom, slamming his books in front of Draco and starting to shout out curses randomly, as Hermione Granger flowed languidly to the front desk and brought a chair closer to the same table. The entire room seemed to revolve around one person.

Draco Malfoy.

"Do you think he ever had a girlfriend?" Draco heard Pansy asking and he tilted back in his chair to listen.

"Dunno," Parvati whispered. "I don't even know what his parents do."

"I don't know anything. Actually, no one knows anything about that guy." Lavender added fiercely. "It should be illegal to be so mysterious."

"But, like," Pansy continued, pursing her lips thoughtfully, "surely someone's heard if he's got a girlfriend. I mean, he boards with other guys. Don't they ever talk among themselves?"

Parvati shrugged and glanced questioningly at Lavender. The latter turned her gaze to the doorway the exact moment a pale boy walked in, carrying numerous folders and books in his hands. Pansy snuggled deeper against Draco's shoulder as he followed the boy with an inquisitive stare. It was Harry Potter. It was obvious thatpeople were curious of him. Especially when your friend is head over heels about him and you can't possibly begin to understand why.

Potter looked up from his seat in the back row and Draco was stunned by a pair of brilliant green eyes that stared straight into his own. He held his challenging stare for a couple of breathtaking moments, before tearing his eyes away. Pansy lifted her head too, as if on cue, and her cheeks reddened scandalously, as her gaze met the boy's. She gave him a small wave and he returned in tentatively with a nod of his head. A thick black fringe covered his forehead and eyes and it was hard to tell what he was thinking that very moment.

"He just nodded at me." Pansy seemed satisfied with his reaction and turned timidly towards Draco.

"Oh, hurrah, Panse. He finally knows you exist," Draco muttered angrily. Pansy's gaze turned quizzical. "Don't know why you like him. Just can't understand."

"It'd be scary if you did," Pansy beamed.

Professor McGonagall walked in, her hair typically pulled back in a tight bun and her clothes perfectly ironed. All students rushed towards their seats and stood beside them, watching as the woman set a heavy looking folder atop a spotless wooden desk. She nodded and, in complete silence, everyone sat back. Draco's chair scraped the floor thunderously and he winced under McGonagall's strict stare.

"Our objective is to prepare you for A-levels. For some, still AS. And get you your desired A's." McGonagall announced, pacing around the blackboard. "If you do not wish to pass your exams with brilliant results and honor yourself and the school by getting into a prestigious University, then I suggest you reconsider your plans. Hogwarts students traditionally stand on the highest ranks, achieve excellent results and are known all over the country, if not the world."

Draco rolled his eyes at Pansy, who raised her eyebrows in response.

"What's her problem?" Parvati whispered in Draco's direction and he lifted his shoulders, puzzled. The woman's voice rang about the class and her heels clacked against the shining, squeaky clean wooden floor, as she paced back and forth.

"Wonder what's up herarse," Lavender added and Draco shrugged again. Personally, he had had enough lectures for the day. "As if she doubts our intelligence," she continued. "We've all gotten our GCSE's last year. Apart from Rupert, of course, but look where his single C got him."

Expelled, Draco thought bitterly. That's what happens to you if you do something wrong at Hogwarts. No second chance. Logical, one might say, because it's not just any school. It's the school, it's Hogwarts Academy. One of the most prestigious schools in Europe whose alumni are prominent figures all over the world. People would do almost anything to move up the enormous waiting list and get into the school. Because here, at Hogwarts, everything was right. People weren't ordinary looking – but gorgeous; they weren't well-off – but rich; they weren't good – but excellent.

"Poor bloke," Draco nodded back. "Where's he now?"

"France, in an International School. He's taking French Baccalaureate." Parvati said knowingly.

Draco eyed her mirthfully. "Why, would you believe it? Parvati and Rupert. Rupert and Parvati-"

"Oh, pah-lease," she flicked her black hair back.

"Sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!" Lavender cheered.

"Come on. You'd look good together." Draco smiled gently, "Too bad he's gone to France. Maybe you could visit him in Paris. I've heard they have this exchange program-"

"Mr. Malfoy." The class suddenly fell silent. Draco's words died out as he turned to face the board.

"Yes, Professor?" He asked innocently. He could almost feel everyone else staring at him worriedly.

"Would you be kind enough to repeat what I've just said?" Her furious eyes never left his.

He blinked. "I… I wasn't listening, Professor."

"I'm aware of this. As well as that, I'm aware of your falling grades. And I believe I've just found an explanation." Her eyes flickered between Pansy, Lavender and Parvati disdainfully. "You'd be better off sitting somewhere else, Mr. Malfoy."

"Pardon?" Draco blurted out before actually thinking.

"I want you to move to sit somewhere else. Next to Mr. Potter perhaps." She gestured to the back row. Potter stopped writing in his notebook and looked up. Then he met Draco's gaze and lifted an eyebrow daringly. Draco resisted the attractive temptation to throw a chair at him.

"I don't want to sit next to Mr. Potter, Professor."

There was a moment of silence, as McGonagall straightened her back visibly. Pansy stared at Draco incredulously and a whisper spiraled amongst the students in the class. "Well, I believe it's not your decision. Mr. Potter has excellent achievements in Mathematics, whereas your grades aren't as good as they used to be. Now, you will remove that tone with me and seat yourself where I tell you to? Understood, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco got up hesitantly, scraping his chair against the parquet purposely. "Understood. Professor."

McGonagall's gaze stayed on him for a couple of calculating moments and flickered back to her documents, which she held in hand.

The conversation was obviously over. Draco collected his things from his desk. Everyone in the class watched him disbelievingly, as if waiting for an objection or rebelliousness. There wasn't anything he could have done without threatening his reputation amongst the teachers. One or the other. He chose to live. Not be slaughtered by McGonagall out of all.

"Hello Potter," Draco muttered as he sat next to the boy. A pleasant odor of freshness surrounded him instantly.

Apple, definitely. Hm. Strange. Maybe Potter was human, after all. Here goes the revelation that he isn't as alien as he looks.

"Hey," Harry replied darkly, looking back into his notebook. He moved his folders away from Draco's side of the table and slumped back in his chair, notebook and pencil in hand.

Draco wasn't surprised when the lesson finished and the only words communicated between the two were: "hello" and "bye". He itched to say something all throughout the double period. Something cocky, something that would surely make the raven-haired boy scream or throw porcelain in a scandalous fit. But no such luck. Or maybe, no such trouble.

If "hi" and "bye" were the only things Potter was capable of saying – it was fine by Draco. The good news were that he was never going to sit with the freak again.

"She wants me to become a lawyer! A lawyer for Christ's Sake! She knows I can't become a good lawyer!" Pansy exclaimed the next day, as she and Draco paced along the roundabout during lunch break. She had phoned her parents earlier in the day and now had an air of a beast that rampaged hopelessly in a stuffy cellar. Draco reached affectionately for her hand.

"You had to make a choice between acting and law," Draco said quietly. "You did the right thing. Acting's not serious enough for you, Panse, and your parents know it. You're smart, intelligent, organized – perfectly suitable to study law. Don't give up now. Now that you're heading for a thriving career. Now that you're planning to become something big and successful."

Pansy gave out a tearful chuckle. "You talk like my parents."

Draco shook his head, ignoring the bitter comment. "You can become a good lawyer. You will, but only if you want it yourself."

"My parents want it."

"Of course your parents want it. My parents want me to become a diplomat. I wanted to go into art, become an artist, designer…" Draco laughed openly. "To think only how pathetic I would have become."

Pansy smiled through her sobs. "So you chose to become a diplomat?"

"Of course I did. My parents approve. It's a serious job, not like art. Art won't get me anywhere."

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Pansy wiped her tears with the sleeve of her blouse quietly and Draco stared at the pavement, thinking over his own words. How many times had he thought of quitting law and becoming an artist? How many fights had he had with his parents about his future career and how many times had they called him pathetic and careless about his choice of profession? He still wanted to become an artist. He sure had the potential. But becoming an artist while having the unique chance of studying in the most prestigious school of the country, of having a wealthy family who would financially support an excellent degree in the best University, who pray on you to become something serious. Well, it's obvious what choice to make. To become a diplomat. Full stop. End. No discussion.

"Thanks, Draco," Pansy said, as they came closer to the cafeteria. She hugged him tightly. "I don't know what I would have done without you. You make sense. I so don't sometimes."

Before he had the chance to disagree, he was swiftly pulled towards the cafeteria. A group of lower-sixth students beckoned him from the far-end corner of the room and Pansy, holding onto his hand, led him towards them. Draco grinned half-heartedly at everyone and took a seat near Ron Weasley, a freckled red-head boy. Lavender and Parvati beamed back and Ginny, Ron's smaller sister, waved enthusiastically. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, sipping fizzy drinks and passing around packets of chips. Draco took a gulp of his Cola and looked around.

"Draco, are you going to the Spring Ball?" Seamus suddenly asked.

"Yep. Are-"

Lavender sat up excitedly. "You are?"

"Who with?" Dean asked curiously.

Everyone stared up at the blond inquiringly, abandoning their conversations. Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't know. Maybe Madam Houch is still free for the night," he joked.

"Ah, but all the good girls are taken," Ginny smiled, ruffling Seamus' hair gleefully. He looked up and grinned back.

Lavender rolled her eyes, "Not all of them. There's still Bullstrode." There was a chorus of laughter.

"Or me," Pansy batted her eyelashes and everyone laughed again. "Or Hermione." She hooked arms with the girl and made a grimace. "But I guess we're just not as good as Bullstrode, are we, sweetie?"

Draco giggled and nudged Ron in the ribs painfully. Ron leaned forward, reddening. "Speaking of which," Ron cleared his throat and looked straight at Hermione. "I'm free too."

"So feel free to say yes to him," Draco mouthed and the entire circle of lower sixth gave out a loud cheer. Everyone in the cafeteria turned their heads to watch.

Hermione was suppressing a wide grin."Yes to what?"

Ron began smiling too. "To go to the ball with me, of course." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Was that a yes?"

"We-ell…" She grinned back. "I suppose I could say yes…" For a moment no one spoke, as if waiting for something great to occur, before laughter broke out.

They sat in the cafeteria, chatting and sharing the fresh news and gossiping passionately about everything that has happened during the week. When everyone settled back into their seats, calming down from the romantic encounter between Hermione and Ron, Lavender proceeded to her favorite pastime: research of new gossip. She shrugged her blazer off of her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest gravely. "Now back to business." She announced loudly. "I wonder who Potter's going with. Do you think he'll bring his imaginary girlfriend?"

Pansy and Draco exchanged a mirthful glance.

"Maybe the librarian." Dean joked. "He's gotten to know her better than anyone here, since he practically lives in the library."

"Or maybe me," Pansy whispered quietly to Draco. "If he's going at all, that is."

"We'll make him go. With you. Or else I'm gonna shove his locker up his arse." Pansy's lips quirked up. "Sideways," Draco added and Pansy broke into a fit of girly giggles.

"Do you think he might ask Cho?" Dean asked, resting his head against his palm.

Theodore Nott snorted and everyone turned in his direction. "You really think he still likes Chang? After all her drama and vein-cutting in the girl's dormitory? Although I must say he was pretty heartless breaking up with her after she lost her – well –"

"Virginity," Parvati added helpfully, to which the brunet nodded.

"Exactly. With him. And his excuse was probably that she wasn't experienced enough for him in bed. Poor girl," he said darkly, as the rest of the group agreed silently. The moment Lavender opened her mouth to pursue her investigation regarding the partnership at Spring Ball, the bell rang piercingly above their heads. The cafeteria quieted down, as everyone moved towards the exit, rushing to their lockers. Draco glanced at his watch quickly and cursed – his prefect duty at Junior Section had already started.

"Gotta go," he said, getting up from his chair. "I'll see you guys at Math."

He rushed to the Junior Hallway, skipping past smaller students and terrified eleven-year olds. Juniors were pupils from year seven to nine, then went middle school, from year ten to eleven and then the seniors – including Upper and Lower Sixth form, thus year twelve and thirteens. The Junior Section occupied the entire fourth floor of the building, and a locker hallway that consisted of a chaotic mass of noisy and nosy kids, all self-important in their size-S blazers, skirts and ties. Draco, one of the four prefects of the school, was responsible for the Junior Section twice a week, since he was the youngest of all prefects. Surveying them wasn't as easy as it seemed, and certainly not a pleasant task. So, by the time he ended his duty and was walking down to Mathematics on second floor, he was positively murderous.

He knocked on the door and entered. A silent cluster of ten pairs of petrified eyes looked up from their papers. Professor McGonagall, seated behind her enormous wooden table lifted her milky eyes to stare accusingly. Draco cleared his throat and prepared to apologize, "I'm sorry – I had prefect d-"

"Seat yourself down, Mr. Malfoy. No time for apologies. You have a test to write," she instructed. Draco looked around and headed for the place next to Pansy, placing his bag soundlessly on the desk. McGonagall made an irritated sound with her tongue. "Sit next to Mr. Potter. Was I not clear last lesson?"

Draco stuttered. "I thought it was for one lesson."

She lifted her thinly plucked eyebrows. "And you thought one time would make a difference?"

"It did." He could hear his heart beating loudly inside his chest. "I'm determined to make a bigger effort."

"I'm glad you are. Now would you seat yourself where I tell you? You have a test to write," she repeated, sounding annoyed. Then returned to her work.

Draco collected his bag from his desk, catching Pansy's sympathetic gaze and slammed it against the floor next to Potter's desk. The latter fixed him with a puzzled glance and looked down at his test. "Stupid cow," Draco muttered, staring angrily at McGonagall, as if willing her to evaporate into the blue. She didn't.

Well, news flash.

Not wasting any more time, the blond leaned forward and started working on his test. Approximately forty minutes passed in complete silence, only the sound of turning pages and the constant scratch of pencils audible. Hermione was leaning back in her chair, reading a book quietly, probably finished. Potter was staring into the open window, finished no doubt; probably awaiting another A-star. Draco looked over his own test. Everything done, except for one exercise. Ironically, the one with the most marks available. He tried cursing at it, squinting, even tapping his pencil forcefully into the paper – but to no avail. Fruitless.

He was about to close the paper and give it in, when he felt Potter shifting closer to him. Freaked, Draco turned to face the raven-haired. His green eyes were scanning the last page of the test – the one which was full of notes and false answers, the question he could not have done to save his life. Potter lifted his mocking stare to level the blonde's and stared. "It's wrong, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Draco hissed back, annoyed.

"Well, it's not that hard."

Draco snorted knowingly. Not for you, no. "Not really." He replied tensely. Potter shrugged and turned back to his professionally performed activity: smiling mysteriously and watching everything as if it were dirty trash, sprawled beside his feet. Obnoxious little bastard, Draco thought irritably. The damn guy knew the answer, knew how to do it and yet couldn't help without being begged. Well, two could play this game. Maybe Potter would get the satisfaction of helping out the leader of their class, and Draco would get a better grade. Then maybe McGonagall could move him back to where he sat.

Yeah, right. As if he needed to be tutored by Potter out of all. Let the guy be even more obnoxious – he'll eat everyone alive with his ego. He could do without Potter's help.

Draco sighed and closed his test. He caught Potter's eye and raised his brows, deliberately, daringly – in the same manner the raven-haired always did it. He returned it with a mirthful smile, as if Draco had bird waste on his head, but he would never ever say it aloud – only snicker gleefully in his face. Laugh as much as you want, Draco thought angrily. He wanted out of here, and fast, back to where he always sat. But no. McGonagall would never let him do that.

Unless I start talking even more in her classes. A triumphal smile spread itself across his features. Of course! If he made Potter talk and they would distract her lectures, then maybe she would understand that she made the wrong decision about placing him here. And move him back to his desk. Ha! How easy!

With a wide smile, Draco turned to Potter. He was writing something in his notebook again, in an incomprehensible curly handwriting. "So, Potter. Found anything interesting in the test?"

He lifted his head and stared confusedly for a couple of moments. "No."

"Me neither. Couldn't do the last exercise, though." He sighed and watched as Harry eyed him skeptically and returned to his manuscript. Did this guy ever talk?

"Did you find it hard?"

"No," he said it, as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.

Draco nodded sternly. "Of course not. You probably didn't even study, did you?"

"No," Potter repeated anxiously.

"Of course not. And you probably didn't even open the book to review the theme." Draco supposed, more to himself than to the boy.

"No." He looked alarmed now. Probably wondering why the hell Draco Malfoy was talking to him.

"Do you know anything apart from the word 'no'?" Draco asked irritably.

Potter seemed a little affronted. "Yes," he said impatiently.

With that, Potter tore his gaze away and returned to his curvy writing. Draco stared at him for a long time. He was very good-looking, no doubt. The spotless skin. The curly, messy black hair. The fringe that fell over his eyes – the eyes themselves: a beautiful color of dark forest green, outlined by a set of dense raven lashes and heavy brows. A straight nose. Pink lips. A tight masculine chin, and in addition to that a perfect athletic structure. Damn thus guy. He hated him. To be as obnoxious, mean, heartless and to have such looks must be a sin. That explains Pansy's strange attraction. A dangerous, mysterious and alarmingly attractive young man fresh from a typical romance novel right here at Hogwarts.

Draco scoffed to himself. Potter lifted his head again and stared. "What?"

"What what?" Draco asked rather aggressively.

The same mocking smile spread across his dark face. "I thought you said something."

"Yeah, actually," Draco placed his elbow onto the desk and laid his head against his hand. "Who're you going to the ball with?"

If it was possible, Potter's eyes turned even more scornful and laughing. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Malfoy?"

Anger filled Draco's chest. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you ever talk?"

"Didn't we just talk?"

Mirth never left those damn green eyes, did it?

Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously. Everyone knew those eyes meant trouble. "Oh, so that's called conversation wherever the fuck you come from?" Woo. It felt good to let some anger out.

Potter gave out a silent laugh and shook his head. "This isn't conversation you're doing either. If you're trying to get your place next to Parkinson – go and ask McGonagall. Ask. Beg. Bribe. But you're wasting both your and my time by makingyour so-called conversation"

Draco opened his mouth to reply with a cocky retort, but nothing came to mind. Out-smarted. Unpleasant surprise. The guy just figured out his ploy. He hadn't been outwitted by anyone at Hogwarts. He was a prefect, and people were petrified of prefects when they were angry. No discussion and arrogance – then no trouble. This sort of attitude would usually make Draco even angrier. No one went that far with him at school. To be hated by Draco Malfoy, especially in Lower Sixth, meant being an outcast. To be admired by the blond meant being popular. It was an easy rule around here. Either Potter hadn't learnt over all those years at Hogwarts or he simply didn't care.

With no trace of smugness, Potter turned back to his notes. The blond gave out a bitter laugh. He didn't want to retort anymore, he was quite past that infantile stage. He could deal with being outsmarted. Take that as a little defeat of his own.

The rest of the lesson passed in absolute stillness. Potter kept scribbling down notes and Draco read his book. Stefan Zweig. Engrossed in his reading, he didn't hear the bell ring. Everyone scrambled to their feet, glad that the double period was over. An audible sigh of relief passed amongst his classmates. He closed his book and stacked his folders into his bag accurately. Looking up, he caught Potter watching him. He wore the same slightly superior look, but the mocking green eyes were directed into Draco's grey ones.

"The final answer was X plus Y," he said cockily. "You picked the wrong formula to solve it."

Draco held his stare confidently. Nothing happened for a while. Draco took a deep breath. "The relief is almost too much to bear," he said, smiling.

Potter snorted and walked off, grinning.

The weekend flew by swiftly. After a loud night at Pansy's on Friday, Draco spent the entire Saturday studying Economics and History. Sunday was spent lazing out with a pencil and an album on the windowsill of his third floor bedroom. Draco locked the door and watched as the storm bellowed its last traces of winter. Rain poured heavily all throughout the day and only closer to dinnertime, did it cease roaring against the windows of his bedroom. He opened the windowpane, climbed out onto the slippery roof and lit a cigarette. Taking out his phone, he dialed the all-too familiar phone-number.

She picked up almost instantly, "Hey, Draco."

"Hey. What's up?"

Pansy sighed and a distant sound ruffled paper was heard. "Ah, nothing much. Trying to get all my homework done. You?"

"Same." He took a generous amount of smoke in and blew it out evenly. "Just really tired."

"Are you smoking again?"

Draco laughed out in a cough. "It's okay, Panse. My first today."

"You should be on Mr. Snape's suicidal list," he heard her bright laughter. Then she sighed again and her tone switched. "I hate him…"

Draco frowned. "Who?"

"Potter. He's online and not responding. I wish I knew what he's doing right now. What could keep him away from his computer for so long?"

"Porn?" Draco chuckled and drew in a shaky breath, his cigarette in his mouth.

Pansy chuckled. Then there was silence and she wailed miserably. "Why would he need porn when he has me online?" Draco shrugged into the darkness of the evening. "I wish he could just… I don't know. Like me. At least a bit."

Draco sighed tiredly. "It's possible."

"But he doesn't like me." He could imagine her rolling on her bed wretchedly. "Do you think he could like me a little bit? Just a tiny bit?"

Annoyed, Draco sighed again. Here goes the same sort of consolation as every single day. "He might. He just doesn't know you."

"Well, he doesn't seem to want to. There's no way he'll ever ask me out to the ball."

"There is. Panse… Just… I don't know. Don't expect him to fall in love with you when you don't even talk to each other."

She groaned despondently. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he's just too much of an arse to like anyone but himself. Bastard. Heartless bastard. I hate him. I- oh my God!"

"What?"

"He replied!" He heard a crash – supposedly another laptop of hers broken – and she squeaked again, "He replied! He says hi!"

Draco threw his cigarette away. He felt like punching someone. Girls were so annoying with their obsessions.

"I'm fine, thanks," she dictated slowly, typing. "What else should I write? Draco! What should I write?"

"Ask him how his weekend was." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Right. How – how was your weekend?" She muttered, typing. "God, we're actually talking!"

"I thought you hated him," Draco mumbled.

Pansy ignored the comment. "He says it was great and asks me how mine went."

"Well, I guess I'll leave you to it, then." Draco snorted.

"Okay. Well-" Pansy started typing something.

"Yeah, well. I'll see you at school tomorrow." There was no reply. "Bye?"

"Yeah. Bye!" She repeated, distracted. The phone snapped shut.

Draco sat on the roof, staring at his cell phone. Instead of calming him down, the call got him even more agitated. He clambered back into his room and washed his hands thoroughly, to rinse away the strong smell of smoke. He changed his clothing and quickly descended the stairs to arrive on time for dinner. His father and mother were already seated at the large oval table that stretched to the other side of the hall, waiting. He apologized quietly.

"Would you like to say grace, Draco," Lucius said.

Draco nodded, "For what we're about to receive, maybe we may-" he shook his head. "Sorry. May we be thankful. Amen."

Lucius eyed him suspiciously and began his meal, all in silence. Narcissa cleared her throat. "So, Draco. How's school going?"

Draco glanced at his father quickly, "Good. A lot of work to do, though. Mr. Bins and Professor Flitwick gave us enormous amounts of homework. And Professor Connor gave us a huge list of Literature to read for this term and the summer."

Lucius nodded gravely. Draco had to suppress a grin at how serious he looked. "And Mathematics?"

Draco's desire to grin vanished. "It's – well, I'm working on it," he lied, remembering the blank pages of homework sheets in his room.

"It's your only B for the term." Lucius pointed out, reaching for another spoonful of gravy.

Draco's jaw clenched. Was it always about grades? "I know. I'm working on it."

"I think it's quite inappropriate to spend your time drawing up in your room while your Mathematics isn't on the highest level. In fact, I think something should be done about it." He said it with an air of simplicity, as if he was talking about today's weather. "Professor McGonagall phoned your Mother to inform us of your falling grades in this subject."

"Is something the matter, Draco, honey?" Narcissa put her fork down onto the table and leaned forward. Lucius also looked at him expectantly. Even their servant watched him from his place next to the kitchen door, a silver platter in hand.

Draco looked around suspiciously. "Nothing. It's just a hard theme this term. 'S all." He shrugged, mid-mouthful.

"Well," Lucius shifted in his seat ceremoniously, "if that's the cause, I'm sure it's easily fixed. I believe you're just as determined to get your A. Until that's the case, you will be grounded during the weekends."

There was a moment of complete silence. "Grounded?" Draco spat. "But you can't – you can't just-"

Narcissa bit her lip. "Draco, honey-"

"I'm working hard enough already!"

"Your sister got all A's, Draco, and she too had been grounded several times-"

"Mom! I'm not my sister!" He looked at his Father hopelessly. "I have a right to go out!"

"When you get your A in Mathematics-" Narcissa pointed out calmly.

"It's not fair-"

"Will you listen to your parents, Draco Malfoy!" Lucius bellowed, towering upon his son threateningly. "I've had enough of your arrogance! Don't ever argue with your Mother! And listen to what people much wiser than yourself have to say!" Draco shut his mouth, eyes wide open, staring up at his Father. "If I said you'll be grounded – then you'll be grounded! Now if you don't want to be grounded for the rest of the term – do as you are told!"

Silence fell upon the room. The tension was so thick, one could have cracked it with a knife.

"Lucius-" Narcissa began, reaching cautiously for his arm.

"And from now on you'll bring every result of your test and homework to me, personally. Understood?"

Draco breathed in and out unevenly, not daring to say a word.

"Understood?" Lucius roared.

"Yes," Draco croaked. "Understood."

Well, things were looking up apparently. No parties at Pansy's, no parties at Blaise's, no parties at the Weasley's and no Spring Ball. No fun allowed. Whoever said seventeen was the best age, most probably wasn't a Malfoy, or, at least not one of those doomed teenagers whose parents were fanatical about excellence.

On Monday morning, Draco, feeling rather annoyed, asked Pansy's chauffeur to pick him at Malfoy Manor. Pansy, however, couldn't be happier that morning. She hopped into the car and hugged Draco tighter than usual. Then she opened her bag and slipped out an expensive maquillage set. Dior was engraved on it, in italic silvery letters.

Draco ripped his gaze away from her make-up and settled in his seat. "So how did it go with Potter last night?" Draco asked curiously.

"Oh, good," she beamed. "We talked for a bit, mostly about school and everything. But he had to go to dinner at six-thirty – they have it with the entire boarding section in the Dining Hall – so I didn't get to ask much. Oh, and he said he'd probably be online today as well."

Draco only raised an eyebrow.

"I wish we'd be able to talk more. I wish he would like me. It'd be so much easier that way." Pansy sighed. "And then my parents are driving me nuts. Mom bothers me about my Spring Ball dress and Dad can't stop talking about his football World Cup. I wish they'd just leave me alone for a bit."

Draco considered telling her the problems he had in his family right now. It's not dresses, balls and football matches. It's grades, honor and excellence. And complete absence of fun for the next month.

"And Jimmy phones me every day now – doesn't he understand I don't like him anymore?" Pansy ranted on, packing her make-up set irritably. "I mean, get a life!"

"Yeah," Draco nodded absent-mindedly, watching her fuss about.

"What's up with you this morning?" Pansy asked, frowning into her bag, her hand rummaging through her belongings.

"Me? Oh – nothing." Draco said dismissively, honestly waiting for further inquiry from Pansy's part. When none came, he continued, "Just had a row with my parents."

"Oh?" Pansy asked.

"Yeah. About my grades and stuff…" Draco rolled his eyes and awaited a consolation, consisting of complete and violent verbal assault of his parents.

"Did you do your Math?" She asked instead. "Oh God – Math's first lesson."

Draco frowned. Okaaay. So she wasn't showing any interest in him whatsoever, this morning. "What Math?"

Pansy glanced at him weirdly, "The Math homework she gave us after our test. Didn't you hear?"

Draco slid down in his seat.

"Shit!"

One thing Draco learnt while having McGonagall as a teacher and Lucius as a father was that both went gibbering mad when promises weren't accomplished. Including homework. So when granted with five minutes before first class, Draco seized the chance to begin his work. Of course, technically, it was impossible to complete it within five minutes. But those who've found themselves in a similar situation would most likely agree that doing it right didn't actually matter as much as doing it all.

Students arrived one after the other, slamming their bags onto their desks and burying their heads in their arms. These were consequences for those whose weekend was based on activities parents and teachers would rarely approve of. Draco sat at the back row, bent over stacks of papers and books. He barely acknowledged anyone's arrival into the classroom, dismissing them with a nod of his head and a distracted smile. Potter walked in seconds before the bell rang. He nodded at Draco, who offered him an anxious look and nodded back, a little too nervously than intended.

"Homework?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. "Can't do shit."

Harry shook his bag off of his shoulder and placed it on his chair, all the while squinting at Draco's homework. A humorous smile spread across his dark features, the same kind that one would call mocking. "Oh. Today's homework."

Let the beast play with its prey, Draco thought irritably. "Yes, today's homework." He imitated Potter's voice with annoyance.

Harry regarded him for a long moment and sat down gracefully. Then he pulled the homework sheets closer to himself. "What don't you understand?"

Draco gaped. Harry Potter not only talking but offering help? He must have been hallucinating. "I don't get any of it, to be honest."

Harry's eyed him mirthfully yet again. "Right. Well, there are four equations to learn. Do you know them off by heart?"

Draco felt his cheeks heating up. "No. Not really."

"That's a start," he snorted. "Then there are four equivalent rules, one of which is purely logical – so you don't really need it. I suppose you haven't learnt those either?" Laughter played in his eyes.

"No. Not really," Draco repeated carelessly.

"Basically, each exercise is based on one of the rules. The last one includes random questions on the theme-" he suddenly stopped and looked at the door expectantly.

Professor Snape, a tall murky-looking man, walked in and the entire class shot up from their seats in greeting. He nodded impatiently and spoke with his voice alike a croaking raven, "Professor McGonagall is absent today, hence my presence here this lesson. If you have homework to complete, you may do so, otherwise I can gladly provide you with some work down in the laboratories. Any questions?"

Silence enveloped the classroom.

"Good," Snape nodded again and sat down at McGonagall's mahogany table.

Draco saw as Pansy whispered something to Parvati and they giggled girlishly. Hermione whispered something to Ron, apparently something too intellectual for him to understand, because he was soon staring at her with his brows almost dimwittedly furrowed. The rest of the class gazed around curiously, mouthing questions to each other. Draco turned back to Potter. The latter was glaring at the new-comer, eyes venomously narrowed into two green slits.

It was Draco's turn to smile. "You hate that guy, don't you?"

Harry averted his eyes towards the blond and the glare instantly lost its poisonous intensity. "You're very observant," he whispered sarcastically, a sinister glint sparkling in his eyes.

"And here I thought you were Potions Master's little pet," Draco grinned.

Harry eyed him humorously. "Do you have a nickname for everyone at Hogwarts?"

"Only – well – the most extraordinary ones deserve a title," Draco replied, remembering shamefully that Potter too had a nickname. Boy Wonder. Mystery Man.

"Right," he watched the blond calculatingly for a couple of moments. Then, as if something clicked automatically, he switched themes. "So. You want me to help you out with that homework?"

Draco raised his brows in surprise. Seize the chance while it's there. "Sure."

Okay, so the one other thing learnt over the past four years of studying in Hogwarts Academy was that not all people in class were as talkative as he was. People like Draco, who socialized as a hobby on a regular basis, who were easy conversationalists and who, most of all, loved people in general, were singled out in the class as especially cheery. They were like butterflies, floating above the crowd, enlightening everything with their weightlessness and optimism. People who enjoyed company. Enjoyed talking. And most of all, enjoyed when the crowd appreciated them.

There were people like Lavender, who talked a little too much and mostly about oneself. There were people like Ron, who took pleasure in silence more than in conversation, but loved a company of close friends nevertheless. And finally, there were people like Harry Potter, who enjoyed only God knew what and liked God knew who – mostly because they didn't talk at all. Leave alone socialize somehow, or float above the crowd, enlightening. Especially Harry Potter. Those green slits were as murderous as daggers at times.

Another fact that seemed fundamental at Hogwarts, to Draco, personally, was that Mathematics wasn't an enjoyable subject. Never had he been able to pass an exam with brilliant grades and to relax, confident in his knowledge. Especially when McGonagall's sharp remarks would get to you one way or another. Or Pansy and Parvati would giggle from both sides, never paying attention to the lecture.

So obviously when he started looking forward to Mathematics out of all subjects and Harry Potter, out of all students in the school, offered him help with catching up – Draco felt a little suspicious. Distrustful of his mental health. Wondering whether the world has gone crazy. In all, just a little suspicious.

It was on the Wednesday, as Draco rushed to Maths, the usual sparkling grin on his face. Pansy could barely keep up with him as he raced through the corridors and endless flights of stairs. Lavender, Hermione, Parvati and Ron were standing beside the door, chatting. Draco beamed at them and Lavender kissed him on the cheek, reaching up to slide her hand through his silky hair, as she always did. Pansy huffed and readjusted her fringe irritably.

"Why the hell were you running up here like crazy?"

Draco glanced at her, taken aback. "I wasn't running."

"Yeah, right. Just sprinting."

Parvati raised her eyebrows questioningly and Hermione gazed back and forth between the two blondes in a typical languorous manner. Pansy walked inside the classroom, mumbling under her breath. Draco followed suit. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing." She shrugged a little too indifferently. "Everything's just peachy," she added.

Potter, seated at the back of the classroom lifted his head and eyed them cynically. She gave him a forged smile and slammed her books on the table. Draco frowned and reached for her arm tenderly, "Panse. Is something wrong?"

"I said nothing!" She looked up and her gaze turned apologetic. "I'm just… really annoyed with everything at the moment."

Oh. More sulking, Draco thought bitterly.

"What now?" Draco asked exasperatedly.

"Actually, nothing." She gave him a dirty look and returned to her folder.

Draco sighed tiredly and walked to his seat. "Fucking hell!" He muttered angrily.

He had had enough of her drama for a lifetime already, he decided. Get a counselor. Go to a psychologist. But don't always get snappy when faced with a small problem.

Potter only looked at him curiously, as if waiting for a continuation.

"Can't fucking deal with anything," he mumbled. He buried his head in his hands.

"Fairytale over?" He asked in his usual skeptical manner, glancing at Pansy.

"For the next four weeks – definitely."

"A month of doom?" Harry snorted.

Draco grinned despite himself. "Something like it. Basically grounded until I improve my grades in Math."

The raven-haired smiled, cat-like. "So McGonagall was right. I always wondered if sitting next three girls sucked your brains out."

Draco laughed quietly. Meanwhile, the lesson began, as Professor McGonagall paced before the blackboard, lecturing. "Not really. You just tend to miss out bits of lectures." He shrugged.

Harry half-nodded and began scribbling in his notebook again. It was unbelievable, really, how the guy never did any Math in class but got the best grades possible. A talent worth hours of reading in early childhood, no doubt. Or simply a skill of a self-denying genius. Draco sighed and watched as the old woman opened her mouth to talk, never actually hearing her. "I wonder why she ever went into teaching if she hates us so much."

Harry looked up and smirked. "Being excellent at math is enough for this place."

Draco huffed. "Yeah, right. I suck at Math."

Harry snorted and continued scribbling down notes in his neat, curvy handwriting. "You just need to learn more," he commented quietly, his green eyes never leaving his notebook.

"I can't. I can't learn something I don't get." Draco sighed and stabbed the table with his pen several times. When he looked up again, Potter staring him down.

"You need help then."

Draco grinned. "Look who's talking," he joked. Harry gave out another ironic smile. "No, but seriously. Could – could you do it? Like, help me? A bit?" he added hastily.

Harry regarded him calculatingly. "Yes. I could."

"Really?" Draco asked, unbelievingly.

"Yes," Harry repeated, his velvety, low voice leaving no doubts. "The question is when. Can you stay after school?"

"Can you?"

"I'm a boarder. I live here." He shrugged with one shoulder.

"Oh right. Well, I'm free this afternoon." Draco suggested.

Harry pursed his lips in thought. "In the library at four?"

"Sounds good to me. And, thanks – really – I know I wasn't really-"

"Yeah, okay, yeah." Harry cut him off, the same mocking glint appearing in his eye.

Draco nodded and turned away, a smile playing across his features. Well. Things were definitely looking up in the Math Department.

"What exactly don't you understand?" Harry asked, settling down at an empty desk in the library.

"Everything. It's like Japanese to me." Draco opened his Math notebook and fumbled with the pages idly.

Harry glanced at him mirthfully. "Right. Well, you could start by learning those equations by heart."

Draco looked down into his book and sighed. Then he looked up at the raven-haired boy. Curiosity was eating him up. "Potter?"

He lifted his head and his black fringe drooped over his eyes. "Yes?"

"Why are you helping me?"

Harry's smile grew wider. As in, more sarcastic. "Charity."

Draco snorted. "And seriously?"

"And seriously, by being here, I'm skipping boarders' basketball practice."

"Oh," Draco nodded appreciatively. That made more sense. "'Cause I was starting to think you might be ill."

Potter laughed shortly. "No, I just hate basketball. So if you're free tomorrow afternoon, you can be my alibi again."

Draco smirked. "So much for being charitable."

Harry shook his head. "They make us do shit in the boarding section. Even during the weekends."

"What are they making you do this weekend?"

Harry shrugged. "We're going on an expedition. To the mountains."

"Like hiking?" Draco laughed aloud. "Careful not to run into Heidi."

Harry sent him one of his precious glances. "Learn those equations, will you?"

"Yes, sir."

Potter snorted and began writing in his notebook again, with the same small black handwriting that suited him so perfectly.

When Draco got his test back – the first one he's written at his new place next to Potter – he wasn't especially surprised. Forty-eight percent. Well – a failure, but so what? It's acceptable to fail in Mathematics. It's too logical. You either get it, and you pass – or you don't get it, and you fail. So getting a back a test with a red circled, big, fat "Fail" written across it, was considered a habit.

Hence, when Draco wrote his test on Friday afternoon and got it back during the same double period with a red circled big, fat "94" written across the front page, he was in shock. After two afternoons spent in the library with Potter, Draco was awaiting a good grade. Good as in, eighty percent at most. Not ninety-four.

"You're so fucking good, Potter!" Draco sang, grinning at his grade. "I passed! Man, I passed!"

Potter eyed him with one of his especially sardonic gazes. "I noticed, Malfoy."

"Not only passed – but I passed with ninety-four percent! How fucking amazing is that?" Draco couldn't stop grinning. He felt like hugging someone. "Thanks to you, of course."

"I only helped you understand the topic, not do the test. You passed it yourself," Harry commented, stacking away his papers.

Draco beamed, holding up his test. "You know what this piece of paper is?"

Potter raised a brow. "A low-service good from the near-by store?"

Draco was tempted to roll his eyes, but knew he only did it with Pansy, his best friend. "This is an official permission for me to go out this weekend. Blaise's throwing a party at his mountain cottage."

"Woo," Harry said sarcastically, rounding his eyes in false joy.

"Aren't you coming?" Draco asked, then suddenly remember who he was talking to. Of course. Potter never went to parties. Not the enlightening butterfly. Harry seemed to be thinking of the same. "Oh. Right. You're stuck with Heidi in the mountains."

"And Mr. Warton."

"Screw Mr. Warton and Heidi," Draco exclaimed. "Come to the party."

"Okay. How about I park my tent next to Zabini's cottage?" Harry asked sarcastically. Draco blinked confusedly and the raven-haired gave out a chuckle. "I can't."

"Yeah, you can. I can sign you out for the weekend."

Silence met his proposal. Harry frowned at him, puzzled.

"Sign you out – you know, sleep over at my house-"

"I know what you mean."

"Then what's the problem?"

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why would you do that?"

Draco furrowed his brows, perplexed. Then he got it. Of course. How weird must it look to Potter? Draco Malfoy proposing to sleep over at his manor. Apart from the fact that even the most privileged were rarely invited to stay over, was the fact that he was just a Potter, some freak of a classmate, not a family-friend or a world-wide celebrity. Just Potter.

Draco shrugged. "Charity."

A typically Potterish grin appeared on his face. "And seriously?"

The blond sighed. He almost forgot that it was always supposed to be posh and sophisticated with Malfoys. So there must be a reason much more ingenious than just a simple invitation. "You get to skip the Heidi show up in the mountains and go to the party. Come on. I have to somehow thank you for the tutoring."

The grin widened. "I don't see what you get out of it."

"You want a deal?" Draco asked irritably. "Okay. Here's your fucking deal. I sign you out and you tutor me. Fair enough for Mister I-don't-do-thank-you's?"

"Fair enough," Harry laughed.

"I'll phone my mother to send in a fax. You need your parents to send in an e-mail or something, allowing you to stay at Malfoy Manor on Saturday and Sunday."

"Manor?" Harry whistled. "So you guys are posh."

Draco grinned. "Posh? You kidding me? Noble sort. Aristocracy. I'm a total snob."

"I have a hard time believing that." Harry's green eyes glittered with mirth. "But keep up the image, it suits you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco was awaiting another sardonic joke.

"Honestly?"

"Preferably, yes."

Potter looked thoughtful for a moment. "Snobbery doesn't become you. Neither does all the expensive arrogance. You can play aristocratic and posh - all those luxurious pricey things would most probably suit you. But I'd say you're noble. Using the good definition of the word. As in, truly noble."

Draco smiled in surprise. "Why?"

"Stable impressions over the past four years. You somehow get to observe more when the spotlight isn't directed on the top of your head."

Draco nodded absentmindedly. So Potter didn't live in his own little mysterious, magical world like everybody had the tendency to think. He wasn't only a straight-A student, commonly known as year twelve genius. He seemed confident. Intelligent. Strong and honest. And very, very observant. So silence didn't mean oddness. It meant attentive secretive analysis of his surroundings.

"Earth calling." Harry exclaimed with laughing eyes.

The bell rang, interrupting Draco's thoughts abruptly. He started. "Right. Let's go."

He phoned Pansy after school, while waiting for his mother to pick him up in the front yard. She was rough all week, but their row on Monday was forgotten and forgiven mutually.

"Hey, Panse."

"Hey-llo," she said in her usual cheery voice.

"What's up?"

She sighed into the receiver tiredly."Finally the weekend. I felt like dying during English."

Draco decided not to waste any time. "Are you coming to Blaise's party?"

"Of course. Aren't you?"

"I thought so," he said, ignoring her question purposely. "I thought you'd want to come."

"Why's that?"

"Well," he shrugged, "there's someone who you might be interested in-"

"Oh my God-"

"-and, well, I thought maybe you'd be glad that he'd be there too-"

"Don't tell me! Omigod!" She shrieked excitedly.

Draco grinned. "I signed Potter out for the weekend."

"You did? For the- Draco, you're crazy! Did he say yes?"

"Of course he said yes. No one says no to Draco Malfoy," the blond grinned.

"Omigod! You're so crazy! I love you!" She squeaked delightfully.

"I thought you'd want him around. You know. Your girly seducement and all that stuff." He scoffed half-heartedly.

"Ah, I love you! Omigod, that means I'll have to wear something different to the party." He heard her shuffling, then she gasped, "Are we still going to the mall tomorrow?"

"Yeah, 'course," he rolled his eyes, "and, yes, I allow you to flirt with Potter."

She laughed brightly, "I don't know about that. 'Mione, Lav, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Theo said they'd be coming too. Which means we'll take up most of Charlie's again."

"Okay, I'll order a table at Charlie's for lunch, and then we can go up to Blaise's to help him organize stuff. Sounds good to you?"

"Sounds great. So, by the fountain at eleven? Dean and Seamus said they'd be there before and Ron's picking Hermione at her house at about quarter to-"

"Eleven is perfect." Draco agreed, checking the time anxiously. "Where the hell are my parents?"

"You said your dad was in New York. No point in waiting for him to pick you up," she giggled.

"No, but mother's supposed to-" He saw a black jeep sliding through the school gates gracefully. "Right, well, there she is. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"'Kay. See you tomorrow. Eleven o'clock. Don't forget to bring Potter." She sang merrily.

Draco chuckled as he approached the car. "I won't. Bye!" He climbed into the car, onto the passenger's seat. "Hey, mom."

"Hey, honey," she echoed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She did a sharp turn in the parking lot and drove out of the iron gates yet again, and onto the main road. "Draco, I've sent in the fax. But who is that boy? Harry Potter, is it?"

"Yeah. Harry Potter. He's been helping me out with my math – as in catching up on the topic. In fact, he's helped me understand everything so well that I passed my test with ninety-four percent."

"Oh, honey, that's marvelous!"

"Yeah." Draco nodded, looking at her cautiously. "That's why I was hoping I could go out this weekend."

Narcissa shot him a look of surprise. "I don't know what your Father would say. He told me to not let you out at all."

Draco bit his lip. "Well, it's only a trip to the mall with a couple of classmates. I could buy the groceries on my way home." Narcissa wavered slightly. "I'm sure father would agree. I passed the test with an excellent grade. That's what you wanted, right?"

"Well, honey, I don't know…" Narcissa sighed, watching the road. "I was hoping you could study. Especially in the evening. I'm going to that cocktail party in London Saturday evening, and I asked Clara to stay over for the night, so you can stay up late at home. Maybe even get some of your homework done, so you can sleep late on Sunday."

An ingenious idea sparked up. Draco bit back a grin. Act a well-behaved and obedient child and you'll get what you want. "Okay, we'll study. We've got loads of homework anyway. But please – please, please – can I go to the mall tomorrow?"

"Fine. Fine." Narcissa dithered for a moment. "But not a word to Lucius – you hear me?"

"Of course, mom. You're the best!" Draco smirked and settled more comfortably in his seat. It was far too easy to fool a parent when you acted sweet and compliant. The easiest would be to fool Clara – the old woman would gladly go home for the night instead of watching two youngsters 'study'. If not, a small doze of magical anesthetic potion would do even better. Then he and Potter would sneak out to the party and return before anyone suspected a thing.

In his room, Draco climbed onto the window sill with his phone and cigarette in hand. He dialed an unfamiliar number and waited till someone picked up.

"Hello, boarding section Hogwarts Academy speaking," a pleasant female voice echoed.

"Hello, could I speak to Harry Potter please?"

"One moment, please, sir."

Draco awaited, thinking of where Potter could be right now. Avoiding basketball practice in the library? Ditching volleyball sessions in his room?

A minute passed and an agitated voice picked up the phone, "Hello?"

Draco recognized the voice, but not the tone. Harry usually spoke in even, low and self-confident tones. "Hey, Potter. It's Draco."

"Oh, it's you," Harry almost gave out a sigh of relief.

"Who did you think it was?" Draco asked, curiously. He lighted his cigarette.

"Just – family." He sounded hesitant. Another phenomenon. "What's up? Why are you calling?"

"Just wanted to make sure at what time to pick you up tomorrow. You still wanna go to the mall with us, don't you?"

"Yeah, I could."

"I'll pick you up at ten to eleven, okay? And you can leave your bags in the car."

"Sure."

"I thought we'd go to the mall and then have lunch at Charlie's with everyone."

"Sounds good."

"Well, then, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. See you tomorrow!"

Draco hung up quickly, his hands betraying him slightly, as the phone dropped from his grasp. For the first time in ages he felt nervous. And he couldn't figure out why.

"I need to buy a dress," Pansy announced for the fiftieth time that afternoon.

"Pansy. We know," Seamus rolled his eyes. So did all the boys of their group. Ever since they've exited Starbucks at half-past eleven, they've been in and out of girly shops, watching Pansy try different outfits on and either nod appreciatively or scoff disgustedly.

"We could go to Chanel or Dior," Lavender suggested, fixing her hair in a compact mirror fussily.

"I've bought half the shop last weekend. Plus it's too couture," Pansy replied. "It's just one of Blaise's odd parties."

"Exactly!" Dean exclaimed. "Then why have we been hanging in here for an hour?"

"It's only been fifty minutes," Lavender rolled her eyes. "Get tough, boys. You'll need this when choosing a bride."

"No such trouble," Ron smiled and slid his arm around Hermione's waist gently. She blinked at him sweetly.

"Aw," Draco grinned, then caught Potter's amused eye.

"You'd actually start believing they're about to marry," he whispered to the blond.

Draco acknowledged the joke with another smile and looked around. A couple of girls giggled at him from the other side of the mall. He turned away. "I need you to do me a favor. Actually to all of us. Can you tell Pansy she looks good the next time she tries something on? I'm sick of this girly shopping."

Potter smiled mysteriously. "I won't ask why you need me to tell her that."

Draco nodded. "No, don't. I bet you figured by now."

He eyed the girl comically. "Why don't you try this on?" Harry suggested, picking up a silk mini-dress. Theodore snorted.

"It's a night-gown, Potter. I thought you'd know by now." His eyes glittered unpleasantly. "Didn't Cho like wearing this kind of stuff?"

Silence hung in the air. Potter didn't look insulted, but, if it was possible, even more amused. "Why, you'd know, wouldn't you?"

Draco blinked confusedly. So did the rest of them, while Theodore's cheeks colored slightly. Lavender, apparently completely unaware of their earlier discussion, squeaked from the middle of the shop. "Pansy! I've found you a dress!"

"Sweet Merlin!" Seamus sighed and banged his hand against his forehead.

Pansy rushed into the changing rooms and slid out minutes later, in a velvet mini. Draco caught Potter's eye again, but this time he was even more cynical.

"You look stunning," Potter commented, his voice sarcastically sharp. No one but Draco seemed to notice, though, amazed by the fact that Potter spoke aloud. It even overcame the crazed astonishment when they've found out Potter was going to the mall with them in the first place.

Pansy's eyes lit up with happiness. "Seriously?"

"Honestly." Potter's eyes met hers. Was she too blond too notice the mirth that filled them?

"You do look wonderful, Panse," Draco said with a smile hoping to cover Potter's arrogant expression and at the same time knowing that if he said so, the others would also be convinced. "Buy it."

"Okay." She beamed gleefully. "I'll be a second!"

One second turned out to be five minutes, but it didn't really matter, because they were finally out of the shop. The nine of them dined at Charlie's, an expensive restaurant across the road. It was Ron's and Draco's turn to pay the bill – as each Saturday, or at least every two weeks, they traditionally gathered in the restaurant and two people had to pay, to make it fair. He could tell Potter was used to paying for himself and dealing with his own bills, but Draco insisted on the rule. It was a rule. A tradition that he hoped would never change, even after graduation.

After that, they rushed to their houses, each on a separate car or bus, saying their rushed goodbyes and planning to reunite at Blaise's.

Draco called his chauffeur hurriedly. Then he turned to Potter. "There's the plan. My mother's leaving to London in a couple of hours. We need to pretend to be working. She can't know anything about the party at Blaise's cottage. She doesn't know. There's also an old woman who's staying to watch over us at night, but we need to get rid of her somehow. She shouldn't know either."

"That's fixable," Potter shrugged.

Draco smiled. It was so easy with Potter. No useless questions, no pointless conversations, on the contrary - he seemed to understand everything rather quickly. Rare talent nowadays.

"Let's get started then."

Blaise's party was a bash. The usual sort of Saturday night teenager party with a young DJ turning the newest hits on the dance floor, light snacks and heavy alcoholic drinks with high degree-values. The house was enveloped in semi-darkness, occasional sparkles of colorful light blinking from every corner. Comfortable sofas were aligned against walls in the living room and busy bartenders occupied the kitchen. Blaise, for it was apparent, loved showing off his wealth and invited two professional stripers who were now busy smothering metallic poles in the lounge. Not that his house wasn't a show of incredible riches itself– one could hardly imagine how much this castle cost Zabini's parents. Huge in all its dimensions – it took up at least a thousand and a half square meters of space - unbelievable amounts of territory for just a mountain cottage they rarely visited.

It was half-past eleven and the party was at full blast. Draco didn't know half the people and frankly, the desire to meet them didn't arise either. The non-Hogwarts girls had taken a layer or two off while rocking on the dance floor and boys had apparently taken it under their supervision to get the girls' innocence properly sabotaged. Not that anyone minded, of course. On the contrary, actually. Blaise seemed to enjoy the fact that his party was slowly transforming into a passionate orgy.

Draco came down from the dance floor, in need of a drink. Only their year, and the grade above was invited to the party, but he suddenly lost everyone he knew in the crowd. Hermione and Ron had disappeared together mysteriously minutes before and Parvati and Pansy were too drunk to comprehend anything. He took a Martini in the bar and returned to the black leather coaches in the living room. He saw Potter sitting with a long-haired beauty on one of them and approached them tentatively. Before he had the chance to greet the two though, Blaise advanced on him, with his loyal troop of slender blondes tiptoeing closely behind.

"Draco, man! I've been looking for you all over. You like the party so far?"

Draco gave him a reassuring smile, "It's great."

Blaise smirked proudly. "So, ladies," he said, addressing the three blondes by his side, "this is the person I wanted you to meet. Soul of any party, heart of our community at Hogwarts. We know each other ever since first grade, right, Draco?" Blaise cackled self-righteously.

"Draco Malfoy," presented himself, giving each a light peck on the cheek. They melted under his smile.

"This is Savanna and Shannon Green – twins, and this is Lira San," Blaise announced, his hand on the latter's butt. She giggled drunkenly.

Savanna, a tall dirty-haired blonde with light brown eyes, picked up the speech, clearly under the influence of numerous drinks. "We've heard a lot about you, Draco – I'm so glad to have met you – Blaise has the best-est bestfriend ever-"

"You two seem like best buddies," commented Lira, a light short-haired blonde.

"Oh, here's Potter." Blaise interrupted her, sputtering his Malibu carelessly. He didn't seem to like the idea of seeing Potter at his house.

Draco turned to face Harry, who was standing by his side, looking bored, one hand holding some fancy alcoholic cocktail and the other in his pocket. "Oh, right. This is Harry Potter," Draco said to the three girls. "A friend of mine."

Both Potter and Blaise gave him surprised glances. The blondes didn't seem to notice and reached up to brush their cheeks lovingly against Harry's. "A pleasure," Shannon murmured, undressing him hungrily with her eyes. Potter looked down at her cautiously, like one would if an alien landed on his roof.

"Right, well, Draco. Hope you enjoy the party. If you need a bedroom," he winked his eye amusedly, "I reserved one especially for you. Have fun."

He vanished just like he appeared, instantly. Draco fell onto the leather coach and fished out a cigarette from his pocket. He offered one to Potter, who dropped next to him on the sofa. "I don't smoke," Potter shook his head. He narrowed his eyes, watching as Draco lit it up carefully.

Draco took a drag and relaxed in his seat. "Why?"

Potter watched the cigarette in Draco's elegant fingers, as a foreign dangerous creature. "It kills you. Inside-out."

The blond snorted. "Sweets kill you too."

"I don't eat sweets either." Potter confessed, turning away and sipping his drink.

Draco shot him a shocked look. "Healthy. I do both. I wouldn't survive without sugar or tobacco. Those are my life sources."

Potter eyed him with sudden seriousness. "That's sad. Sad that you depend on something that harms you."

Draco only rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't drink either."

"Never." Potter took a sip of his drink and grinned. It was Martini and Fruit Juice.

Draco snorted. "What do you depend on, then? Perhaps something not as horribly material." Draco's eyes observed Harry's face for a while before he grinned foolishly. "Maybe you depend on lurve?"

Harry smirked. "Love? What rubbish. Soupy, cheesy rubbish."

Draco raised his brows indignantly. "Love is rubbish? Love isrubbish?"

"It is. Complete waste of vocabulary. I'd have love as a synonym to trash-"

"Oh – so you're one of those who don't believe in love," Draco rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "It's stupid to say it doesn't exist when you know perfectly well it does."

"I never said it didn't," Harry took a small sip of his cocktail and sat back calmly. "I only expressed my opinion about it."

"Love's not trash. Love's one big power that keeps this world rotating-"

"Right, so you're the hopeless romantic here," Harry smirked.

"Most of the world's greatest literature is based on the theme of love. Not sex, not lust – love. Like Romeo and Juliet, whose dramatic end was caused by their desire to be together."

"How on Earth could love cure Romeo and Juliet's natural suicidal tendencies?" Harry asked with a wide smirk. "And plus, look where their so-called love got them."

"Well, if it's not love towards your partner, then it's love of your relatives and friends." Draco insisted stubbornly.

Harry shrugged. "Love towards your friends is called respect. Love towards your partner isthe cheap aftermath of sex and lust. It's quite easy, really-"

"Oh, so you don't love your parents? You only respect them?"

Harry shrugged and leaned towards the table to add some ice into his drink. Draco also leaned forward, watching the raven-haired. By now, if the debate was going on between Pansy and Draco, the girl would either be in hysterical tears or in hysterical anger. Pansy had the tendency to overreact and get mad at any occasion. Draco never understood what sort of sadistic pleasure she got from trying to ignore him and make him feel guilty for voicing his thoughts aloud. He learnt to keep his opinion to himself. People were never grateful for advices, unless they asked you specifically for it. And very often people took debates on a person level.

Potter apparently wasn't this type of person, to which Draco was truly grateful. And even if utterly stubborn, neither was angry at one another. After all, debates were only a part of conversation.

Draco wanted to add something else, to talk, to discuss, but Lavender, so very promptly, dropped onto Draco's lap, her hair flipping across his chest. Parvati, in a drunken state, fell onto Potter, draping her arms around his neck for support. Potter locked perplexed gazes with Draco, amusement clear in his eyes.

"Omigod," Parvati suddenly realized who she was sitting on and slid onto the table in shock. "Are you Potter?"

"I told you," Lavender sang.

Parvati gave out a drunken hiccough, "Why aren't you dancing?"

"We were talking," Draco said, hoping she would get the hint.

Lavender rubbed her face jadedly. At least she wasn't as drunk as everybody else here. "It's getting hectic in there."

"You were talking?" Parvati addressed Potter incredulously.

"Yes, we were," he replied looking down at her almost with pity.

"Where's Pansy? I thought she'd be with you guys," Draco asked Lavender.

She shrugged and glanced at the dance floor. Then, leaning closer to the blond, she whispered, "I'll tell you later."

"She's with Blaise. In his room – or bath, can't remember," Parvati announced officially. She looked at the bar. "Lav, I think I just saw Craig."

"Really?" Her eyes searched the crowd hurriedly. Then she looked at Draco. "I'll be back. Keep Parvati safe. I've never seen her in such a state before."

"Okay," he nodded and took Parvati's hand in his. She took Lavender's place on Draco's knees and leaned back against him. "Are you sure Pansy's with Blaise?"

"Sure, sure, sure," she said enthusiastically, but her words were slurred. "They were snogging-" her eyes widened comically. "Shit! I wasn't supposed to say that."

Draco sighed. "So much for wanting you around, Potter. You could have granted her a chance instead of letting Blaise ravage her."

Parvati suddenly leaped to her feet and, spilling her drink onto her skirt, skipped to the kitchen. Literally skipped, with her arms flapping and her skirt bouncing up and down like a shutter on a windy afternoon. Potter followed her with his eyes, the same Potter-ish smile playing across his features. "That one drank too much."

"It is getting a little too hectic in here." Draco eyed the dance floor pitiably.

Potter agreed silently, watching as a group of girls winked at them from the other corner of the room. "You want to leave?" He asked, loudly, over the music.

"Yeah. We can hail a cab and get home early." He stood up and placed his drink onto the table. "Just make sure Blaise doesn't see us."

They left without further ado. It was almost one in the morning and the night breeze was fresh against their faces, as they stepped out into the darkness. In forty minutes or so, they were rounding the familiar corner of Draco's village. The taxi came to a halt in front of Malfoy Manor and Harry lifted his sleepy head from the window. He blinked several times to readjust to the yellowish glow of the car and flattened his black silk blouse and dark blue jeans.

"Come on," Draco gave Harry a hand to pull him to his feet.

He grunted and straightened, yawning. "You paid again didn't you?"

"You were sleeping," Draco shrugged apologetically. The taxi rumbled to life and pulled away from the manor unhurriedly. "Let's go. I have a great idea. You want to swim?"

"Swim?" Potter raised his brows. When Draco nodded, he blinked confusedly. "Swim. Yeah. Sounds refreshing."

Draco grinned. "An idea worth a total drunken maniac, but a great one nonetheless."

"How much did you drink?" Potter asked curiously. His speech sounded a lot less strained now than during soberness.

"Not as much as Parvati, for sure," Draco smiled. He pulled his keys out and unlocked the front door quietly. "Take off your shoes here."

"Wow!" Harry looked around, amazed. "This house is huge. Is this a castle?"

"Not really," Draco took his shoes off swiftly. "It's Malfoy Manor. Everyone around here knows how it looks. My mother throws parties for the neighbors and my father's business partners."

Potter listened attentively, while walking across the enormous entrance hall, full of mirrors and golden décor. He spun on his heels, in his socks, his hands thrown to the sides. He looked up to the four meter ceiling, which consisted mostly of beautifully engraved granite and marble plates. Draco smiled and walked to one of the doors along the creamy marble walls of the hall. "In here," he beckoned the raven-haired, who followed obediently. They crossed a corridor and entered a section of the Manor that held a totally different, modern style of architecture – the spa section. There was a huge swimming pool with large, spotlessly clean windows surrounding it, opening a breathtaking sight of their Versailles-style Park. There was a wooden Sauna and a Steam room to their right and several doors to their left, opening to bathrooms and massage therapy rooms. In all, everything a high-class Hogwarts student would and should, in any case, possess.

Potter gazed around with wide green eyes. "This is amazing," he said after some time. "Amazing," he repeated dazedly.

"Well," Draco shrugged his shirt and pants off and kicked off his socks quickly. "Come on. Let's swim."

"Right," Harry unzipped his jeans and took off his socks, throwing them aside; he then took off his blouse. Draco huffed impatiently and tackled the half-naked Harry Potter into the pool, with his black tee shirt still on. The latter protested in surprise and splashed onto the water. He reappeared moments later, laughing loudly.

They swam for a bit before climbing out and clambering onto the wooden benches in the Sauna. Teeth clattering from the cold, they still had the energy to push each other around and punch teasingly, as they did in the swimming pool. Potter finally took his tee shirt off, revealing a perfect set of abs and a flat stomach. He had large tan shoulders and a generally masculine structure – slightly different to Draco's slightly effeminate slenderness. Not that the blond would ever admit it, but the raven-haired was probably a lot stronger than himself.

"You live like a King," Harry commented, playing with the tip of his towel, while lying on the warm, wooden bench.

Draco chuckled. "King's didn't have Saunas in their era. Or electricity, or chlorine filters in their swimming pools. So I prefer living like a Malfoy."

In spite of the time – half-past two in the morning – both seemed full of energy. Harry rolled onto his stomach. "No doubt."

The idea of someone not having a swimming pool in their house – however big it was – seemed weird to Draco. "Don't you have a swimming pool at home?"

"No, not really. We used to have a small plastic one when we – me and my cousin – were small, but I guess we kind of grew out of it."

"Where exactly is your house?"

Harry averted his eyes, casting them downwards. "In Bristol – but then they moved-"

"They?" Draco frowned.

Harry glanced up, looking anxious. "Yeah. As in family. They moved to a flat in London. I stay most of the time at Hogwarts, so I haven't seen the flat. Yet."

Draco nodded comprehensibly. "What do your parents do?"

"Nothing much," he fidgeted hesitantly. It looked like the theme annoyed him and, frankly, Draco has never seen Potter as uncertain.

"We can talk about something else if you want," Draco suggested, watching him closely.

Harry sighed deeply. "No, it's fine." He looked indecisive of whether to carry on. Apparently Draco seemed worth it, and Harry continued. "We're not very rich. Well, to be honest, my family's not very generous to me either. I usually deal with my own fiscal problems."

Draco mouthed an "oh". Okay. A surprise. He thought all Hogwarts students were over-bloated with money.

"I would never be able to pay the Hogwarts bills and my family would most likely refuse to spend such money on me alone. So I study hard. It gets me my scholar-ship. I'm only at Hogwarts as their little show of generosity to poor hard-working students. And, of course, I'm someone who lifts their rating. I get good grades – they keep me at school. Very simple."

Draco lay on his back, dumbstruck. He never knew. Never could have suspected. Potter looked like a self-respectable, arrogant son of some wealthy politician. He never looked poor. He wore expensive clothes, took care of his appearances and always looked worth a million bucks. Well, that's what girls always said about him. But obviously things were much, much more complicated for the boy.

"It was one hell of a pain to get into the school. I had to pay to enter the waiting list, about a thousand pounds. That's it. Everything else is covered by the school. So, technically I'm not much of a financial gain for them. For anyone, actually."

"I never knew," Draco finally voiced out, barely trusting his voice. He understood that he was one of the only ones to know these details.

Harry nodded. There was no mirth present in his eyes. "Yeah, well, now you do." he lay his head atop his arms. He still looked physically powerful, no doubt, but at that moment Draco's heart went out to him, like it would to a small defenseless child. "And I'd be grateful if you were the only one for the moment." Harry added quietly.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Draco smiled and rolled onto his side, holding his head with his palm.

Harry snorted with his head low, between his arms. "It's getting really hot in here. Do you want to go swim a bit?"

"Sure," Draco jumped off the bench and opened the door for Harry to go out. They stumbled into the big shower cabin and Harry nudged the blond playfully with his hips. He looked larger than Draco – his hands, his body – he was slightly taller too. Draco slipped out of the shower, laughing loudly and dived into the pool. Harry followed suit, plunging gracefully into the water.

After some time, Draco clambered onto a floating mattress and sighed. Harry mimicked him and lay on his back, gazing into the light blue reflections of ripples on the ceiling. Draco sighed contently, looking through the darkened glass windows of the room – onto the dimly lit park outside. "I'd usually be in here alone." Draco looked to his right, where Harry lay on his large blue mattress, tracing his fingers through soft waves of water. "It's good that you came."

"And I'd probably be in the mountains, rotting in my tent," he stretched his arms over the mattress and sighed. "It's good that you offered," Harry smiled genuinely, his wet hair falling onto his dark green eyes.

Draco's heart performed a lurch in his chest. The alcohol was really influencing his emotions, he thought perplexedly. He tried to smile through his confusion.

If someone asked him what was going on – he couldn't have answered that very moment. What was Potter doing in his house, floating nonchalantly in his swimming pool? Why was he pouring out his soul to Draco? Why was Draco's heart beating so fiercely in his chest? The answer would be – he had no idea. No idea what was happening. No idea why, and no idea what this would lead to. He could have solved any problem, answered any query and explained any scientific phenomenon in the entire universe, it seemed, but never could he have answered those three questions.