(A/N: This is really just an idea, a ficlet, but I'd like to develop it into a full story. I wanted to get feedback on it, so please review!)

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A year ago, half a year ago, probably a few weeks ago, if Dean had been told that he'd soon be sitting in a remote corner of the library across the table from Draco Malfoy, peaceably studying and sometimes having polite, if somewhat stiff, conversation he would've laughed in the face of whoever had mentioned the absurd idea and suggested they swing by St. Mungo's for a check-up. As it was, Dean was sitting in a remote corner of the library across the table from Draco Malfoy, peaceably studying and sometimes having polite, if somewhat stiff, conversation. Every time he thought about it, he had to stop himself from laughing at his own predicament.

The early morning study sessions had begun by chance, when the two boys both needed the same book on ancient agricultural spells, for the same essay due on the same day. After a short argument, they'd come to an agreement to share the book and help each other finish the essays before breakfast.

That was supposed to be that, just a one-time-only study session between peers in the same mundane Herbology class. It seemed acceptable for Slytherins and Gryffindors to forget their house differences once or twice under those purely academically-desperate circumstances. But Dean knew something awkwardly unspeakable was happening when the next morning he found himself studying with the Slytherin again.

It wasn't like he was choosing Malfoy over his friends, he told himself. He just happened to be the only other seventh year awake and in the library at such an ungodly hour. Had Seamus, Hermione, or one of the other seventh year Gryffindors been awake he would've been with them.

But there was always that annoying little voice in the back of his head, quietly whispering to him that he was waking up earlier than usual to spend time in the library. The first time, when he had an essay due later that day, it was understandable; but when he was waking up before the sun rose so he could study with a Slytherin, he was crossing a line. No, he wasn't just crossing it, he was tap-dancing across it and making faces and rude gestures to those safely on the other side.

The fact was undeniable though, his already good grades were on a steady rise upwards. It seemed that mornings suited his brain (even if his body heartily disagreed), and Malfoy seemed to be a decent study partner. Outside of the library, he was still an arrogant, aloof bastard, and Dean was still the arty quiet kid.

And this was the argument that he had with himself almost everyday. If it wasn't in the shower, or at breakfast, then it was at night while he was falling asleep. Back and forth, and back and forth, he bickered with himself over what the hell he was doing. Was he betraying his friends or merely taking advantage of good study time? Did he sit at that particular spot in the library because it was quiet and comfortable or because Malfoy was there? And even if it was because Malfoy was there, was it because he actually liked the Slytherin as a person or because the company helped him keep focused?

Dean figured, as he floundered about in his own head, wallowing in the same pros and cons, that he would probably never get straight answers to these questions; emotions were too complicated to ever give straight answer.