I was busy with the daily prophet when one of Rita Skeeter's pathetic articles caught my eye; Death Eater Prevention Program (DEPP) Set to Debut in December. There was barely a full sentence about the actual bill, but I gleaned more than enough useless information from the multitude of embellished testimonials. It changed my life! and I've never seen things so clearly! filled the page, but just as I was ready to move on I was captivated by another line.

DEPP is designed to address and identify the deep-seated issues that live and breed within the pureblood community. If studies continue to yield positive results it could become an effective weapon against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…

I doubted that whatever peer counselling madness they planned to implement could reverse millennia of bigotry and self-importance, but whatever. Speaking of which… Harry and Ron were huddled over their breakfast, whispering about how Draco Malfoy looked over his shoulder before he took a whiz. Everything revolved around Malfoy these days and I was justifiably sick of it. We couldn't talk about the weather without one of them finding a way to connect it back to him. Meanwhile, the subject of their obsession was usually half a football field away, looking smug or picking over his breakfast –just as he had since the start of the year.

Harry had just gone to grab another breakfast roll when something exploded at the Slytherin table. Before a professor could interfere Harry, Ron, and I had stormed the scene wands at the ready. For a moment, I couldn't distinguish danger from coincidence. Everything was in high definition and there were spells locked and loaded at the tip of my tongue, but then McGonagall's hand landed on my shoulder and my world snapped back into view. Malfoy shoved something into his pocket and bustled away and I could finally breathe again.

"Just a glass, dear." Her smile was tight and her expression prying, but I disregarded it. My heart was still slamming against my ribs and I was forced to ask myself; how much of this rubbish about Malfoy did I truly believe? We stood feet away from his place at the table, wands drawn, but no questions asked. How close had we been to hexing an innocent man? Without another thought I put my wand away and headed as far away from the cafeteria as I could. There wasn't a bone in my body that wasn't water logged with the guilt of what I'd been prepared to do, but what could I do? Malfoy and I weren't friends –we weren't even friendly- how could I intercept his plans (or even find out if there were any) when we fought like frozen broccoli in a hot, over-oiled pan?

My feet led me towards my first class of the day while I mulled it over, but I wasn't struck with an idea until I plopped into a seat smack dab in the middle of the room. The board was laden with instructions written by an absent professor and so I snuck back outside, waiting for Malfoy to breeze past me. Just as expected, he took to the very last row, cradling his head in his arms and he squeezed into the smallest possible space. I set to work estimating where our fellow students would fall. There were all of eight students, so I reread the board –just to be sure.

Today's class will mark your very first potions project. Outside of today your research, your experimentation, and your meetings will all be held in your own spare time. All pairings and submissions are final. Do not come seeking me out to ask to swap. I will dock points. Because I cannot trust any of you to pick adequate pairings there is a system in place. Once class begins the sub will count you off 1,2,3 as this is the advanced class I hope I don't need to explain how this system will work. Behave or there will be essays. –Snape.

I'd have to plan this carefully to end up in group three alone with Malfoy. A few other students trickled in and I made a show of digging through my bag for something. At this rate, I'd have to sit at an unsavory angle. My view of the board would be compromised, but one day couldn't throw away six years of schooling. Hopefully. Hagrid came fumbling into the room moments after the bell rang and he took a few moments to read –and then reread- the days instructions.

One by one the students were paired and the room was filled with the sound of chairs scraping along the stone floors. I heard students mulling over what they'd brew, a few girls were excited to try their hand at amortenia while another group was content to keep it simple and brew skele-grow. Malfoy, however, dropped beside me without a word. He kept his eyes trained on the desk and offered nothing by way of acceptance or resistance. I was about to apologize for this morning when he pulled his notebook from his bag and began flipping through pages upon pages of elegant scribbles. I was awash in the faint smell of paper and cologne as he dropped his book and dug out another.

"So, what potion would you like to do? I'd like to learn something, so I'd love it if you didn't suggest something I've already made." Again, he turned away from me, flipping through the first book again until, finally, he found what he'd been searching for.

"We're making Falshiva Smurt." The few notes he had under the double circled name were illegible and I found myself looking away in order to avoid looking too curious, "there's little to nothing on it in the library here so you'll have to outsource. I'm certain we won't be meeting for potions tomorrow since Severus caught something nasty from a muggle born first year. We can meet just outside of Knock Turn Alley tomorrow morning before breakfast to go book hunting." He slid free of the desk, slipping the ink stained paper into the submission box before Hagrid.

There was a moment of silence as I began to pencil in the meeting when before I regained all semblance of rationality, "are you out of your mind?" My ink well fell on its side and spilled along the desk in an unrelenting sea of black. My face was red with fear that coursed uselessly through my veins at the very mention of that place. He watched me stalk up to him, wand secure in my right hand, but didn't move to retaliate. "I will not set foot in Knock Turn Alley, especially not with you." A few of our classmates turned to stare, hoping to see something interesting. His expression, however, remained even despite my thinly veiled accusations. There was another beat, another moment of silence, before his lips tilted upwards in a self-satisfied smirk.

"I can understand the sentiment." His silver eyes dropped to my wand for a moment, "I am, after all, the one who keeps charging you with my wand at the ready and a spell on my tongue." Embarrassed at being caught doing the same thing twice within an hour, I tucked it away.

"Regardless-,"

But he had no time for arguments. He sauntered to the board and underlined a very damning line, "all submissions are final so I'll see you tomorrow morning." I was about to object, to insist that I would die before I let him kill me when he leaned in far too closely. His breath tickled my ear and chills rolled down my spine like sweat, "maybe next time you don't try to outsmart a Slytherin?"

*X*X*X*

A.N./: I'm going to go ahead and lie and say that I have an update schedule. Truthfully, I'm aiming for 3 times a week (Friday, Monday, and Wednesday) but there are no guarantees with me. Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing.