Pairing/Characters: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: Draco tutors Potter in Potions.
Author's Notes: digthewriter let me use one of the prompts given to her on her LJ; I, of course, couldn't stick to it, because it would have required me to be funny. Prompt was: McGonagall forces Draco to tutor Harry in potions, and Harry messes up various potions during the sessions. See, it sounds hilarious. This is not hilarious. It is mostly sweet and fluffy. This also is the first story in a long while that I had trouble ending as oppose to getting it to be long enough. It kept wanting to be longer; in fact, I think it still does. Thank you to digthewriter, for betaing this for me; even though it was so late, and even though you are on vacation and shouldn't have been working on anything to begin with.

The other Slytherins in Draco's year were right. Taking their N.E.W.T.s at the end of the war was their best chance at getting anything near a fair grade. There wouldn't be time between then and the exams for the Ministry to investigate everyone. They'd still have some of the examiners who were sympathetic towards them, and perhaps the others would be too worn out or too happy with relief from the end of the war to be vengeful. But giving the Ministry a year to sort things out, and everyone time to settle back into a comfortable life, meant anyone who could even have been seen as fair would be gone.

But Draco didn't care, he had a point to prove: that he was good enough. He was good enough to succeed even when everything in his life was stacked against him. His sixth and seventh years had been hell, and very little practical learning had happened. He needed another year to be able to show his full potential. So he stayed, and he shared a room with five boys who all hated him. It was a daily challenge to avoid them all, but he managed.

He lost the ability to avoid one of them, though, after Professor McGonagall asked him to stay after class one day.

'I'd like you to help Potter with Potions,' she said.

Draco stood there in shock, simply staring at her as she went on about how the war was especially hard on him. How important it was to him to become an Auror. And how much it would help both of them in the future to learn to work together.

He truly believed it was some sort of joke, but she persisted and emphasized that it would be good for both of them. Draco could add "tutor" to his transcript; he could even add whom he tutored without it seeming an odd thing to mention, because if the person he tutored did well then he must be good at what he did.

He didn't want to, but he accepted. How could he not?

The Head Auror would drop the potions requirement for Potter. It had been all over the newspapers that they'd do anything to get him to join. He had no reason to return to Hogwarts to make up his seventh year. Though Draco understood having something to prove, what more did Potter of all people need to prove to anyone?

Which was what Draco said to him on their first forced Potions tutoring session.

Potter simply rolled his eyes and said, 'I'm not enjoying this any more than you are.'

'Then why are you even here?' Draco folded his arms across his chest and kept his distance from Potter and the potion. He had to stand next to him; there was no avoiding that.

Potter mumbled something Draco couldn't hear.

'What was that?'

'Nothing.'

'Besides,' Draco said. 'During sixth year, you were at the top of the class. Ahead of both Granger and me. How could you forget all of that Potions' theory in one year?'

Potter had no answer for that and Draco smirked at the back of his head. Draco knew he'd been cheating. How he'd been cheating he wasn't sure, but he knew it. He wouldn't have even been allowed in the class had Snape still taught it, so it was impossible that he was the top even with a slightly less picky professor heading it.

Everyone always found excuses for Potter. His grade slipped because he was in love. The war was hard on him. The war was hard on everyone. No sane person skipped around during a war excited about it.

While lost in his thoughts, the potion in front of them quickly turned hot pink as it began to boil briskly.

'Quick!' Draco said, when he saw it inching toward the top of the cauldron. 'Put out the flame!'

Potter flicked his wand, but instead of putting the flame out, it grew. Draco fumbled for his wand as he backed into the desks behind him, and the potion—the love potion—exploded all over them. Thankfully, it didn't burn their skin, even though it had been boiling. It was warm though, and Draco knew this potion should have been cool to the touch. Potter regained control over his wand and vanished the lot of it.

'I suppose we ought to go see Madam Pomfrey.'

All Draco could do was glare.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over Potter checking his skin even after they both drank her required potions. 'Are you sure that all the ingredients were correct before it boiled over?' She was worried about the side effects, of course, they all were. She even had them drink the antidote just in case, but if the potion was mixed incorrectly it hardly mattered.

'It was the right colour, light pink, before it got too hot, turned the hot pink, and exploded.'

Draco continued his silence and his glaring at Potter. Pomfrey didn't bother directing any of the questions toward him. What had Professor McGonagall been thinking? She had to have known this would be a disaster. Madam Pomfrey finally released them. Potter looked up at him nodding his head for them to go.

What had Potter been thinking? Why would he ever agree to it?

In the hallway, Potter asked, 'When are you free again?'

'You can't be serious.' Draco stared at Potter, who finally returned the glares Draco had been sending him all day. 'After that, you still want to continue this?'

'I'm not giving up.'

'I meant,' Draco said, 'about studying with me. Why don't you ask Granger?'

'Hermione is smart, but she doesn't have a lot of patience.'

And Draco did? If it hadn't been an outright lie, Draco would have taken the compliment, but he knew better.

'McGonagall said . . . I should give you a chance.'

'Give me a chance?' Draco bristled at the idea that he was the one who needed to be given a chance. 'Well, that turned out well, don't you think?'

'Had we not been fighting, the potion was going fine.'

They had fought through the whole process, and Draco made only slight corrections, until it exploded on them.

'I have plenty of free time,' Draco said, 'as long as I'm not in class.' He realised that he really didn't have a way out of it.

Potter looked up at him, hopefully.

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled out the parchment he'd written his schedule on earlier—per the orders of Professor McGonagall. Potter took it and read through it with a hint of a smile.

'You're free most of tomorrow?'

He nodded.

'Meet me in the practice room at one o'clock?'

'So,' Potter said, 'should we try Amortentia, again?'

'I thought we'd start with something simpler.'

'Oh . . .' The disappointment in his voice was obvious.

Draco smirked at him. 'Did you need Amortentia for something?'

He rolled his eyes. 'No.'

'I simply want to see where you are in Potions' theory. So as we go through these next potions I want you to tell me why we use which ingredient, why we prepare them the way we do, and how they react with other ingredients.'

'That all?'

Draco ignored Potter's sarcasm. 'I did some reading this morning and made a list of potions that you'd most likely be brewing or need to recognise for the Aurors. I put them in order of difficulty. So no worries, we'll come back to the love potions. We're starting with a common healing cream, though.'

Potter flipped through his book while Draco watched and waited. It wasn't in their book; it was far too low level for that.

He looked up after a moment and asked, 'From memory?'

'You'll have to memorise these sometime. Don't worry I know them . . . you just start, and I'll direct you when you go wrong.'

Potter took a long time gathering ingredients while Draco waited. He kept glancing at Draco—probably trying to gauge if he was on the right track—but Draco stood as still as possible trying to give nothing away.

It was obvious that Potter's gaps in Potion Theory went far back. None of his movements were confident, and Draco must have been easier to read than he thought because Potter could tell by looking at him when he was going in the wrong direction. Which in turned helped him, slowly, find the right direction.

He figured it out enough to complete the potion. Draco explained the parts of the potion's theory to him that he hadn't figured out himself. It would take forever to get through the list he'd made at the rate Potter went on the easiest potion. So he pulled out the list he planned to use and copied it down for him as Potter cleaned up.

'Oh.' Potter took the parchment with a look of surprise.

'Yeah, well, we only have a year not a decade.'

His surprise turned into a scowl. 'I wasn't exactly prepared for this type of an assignment.'

'Clearly, but isn't that why I'm tutoring you?' Honestly, he should have been prepared. They didn't allow books or notes at exams, and Professor Snape only did with new potions. It was expected for them to be memorised.

Draco headed out into the hallway with his bag, but this time Potter was right behind him. They'd gone their separate ways after the hospital wing at the end of their last session. Draco planned on returning to the dorm as most of the boys were never there during the day. They all, except Draco, felt more at home with their previous houses, and therefore spent most of their time with what was left of their old friends. Potter spent most of his time with Granger, as Weasley had moved in with his brother at his shop instead of returning to Hogwarts.

So it surprised him when Potter fell in step beside him as though they were going to their room together. He didn't say anything, and neither did Draco.

Draco would have asked what he was doing, but just when he decided he should, a group of Hufflepuff girls rounded the corner. They stared openly and the looks on their faces were priceless: all wide-eyed and slacked jawed. Potter hadn't noticed them. He was too busy staring at his list of potions as he walked.

'When do you want to meet again?' Draco asked this time.

Potter's head snapped up, his eyes widened, probably because Draco was being civil.

'I meant—how long will you need to be prepared? We should probably do more than one a session if we want to get through them all.'

He nodded. 'That's a good idea . . . or just meet often.'

Potter wanted to meet often? 'How often? You'll want a break in between, I'm sure. You still have all your other classes. I'd thought we'd met once a week?'

'Twice a week?'

Draco gave it a moment's thought. 'If you think you can handle it.'

The Hufflepuffs were whispering excitedly behind them as they got farther and farther away. Did they think Draco and Potter were friends? Did they look like friends? Excitement bubbled up inside him at the mere idea of it. He'd had very little reason to be hopeful the last—well, five to seven years, honestly, but he'd given up on hope when he received the Dark Mark. It didn't disappear; it didn't fade. The only power it held was in people's imaginations, but it looked as it always had.

But if just walking down the hall caused such a reaction then McGonagall hadn't lost her bleeding mind; this could actually work.

'If you think you can handle it,' Draco said, 'then twice a week is fine with me.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I can handle it if you have the time.'

'All I have is time,' Draco mumbled to himself.

The eighth years' common room and dorms weren't in a tower nor below the school. They were down one of the random halls that you could only get to when the staircases moved to it, and they hadn't had a reason to in the last seven years. When he was eleven, the staircases had terrified Draco. Even living with magic his whole life, he rarely had magic move the floor beneath him while he was walking. He was afraid he'd never know where they would lead and would be lost for days instead of finding his classrooms.

It didn't take long for him to realize that his fear was for nothing. They, like the hat, were charmed mind readers. They moved where the people standing on them needed to be, even if they themselves had no idea where that somewhere was. So even though the corridor their new dorms were down hadn't been used in years, none of them had trouble getting there.

There was the added benefit that the younger years couldn't get there no matter how much they wanted to. A benefit to Draco; most the other eight years complained about it constantly.

It interested Draco that Potter was not one of those that complained. As his girlfriend was a year younger, and therefore could not sneak into his room and he, being a boy, couldn't sneak into hers; Draco thought he would have had the most reason to complain.

The common room had a few groups of students that were doing homework as usual, and Draco expected Potter to join them. Especially as Potter did take notice of their reaction to them entering the room together, but he stayed in step with Draco all the way to their room.

Draco froze once he made it to his bed. He'd planned on pulling out his books and studying right there. He often did. But Potter looked as though he had the same idea and it suddenly felt very silly that they weren't talking, that they were pretending they were alone. If people thought they could be friends, did that mean the idea of them being friends wasn't so odd after all? That is was a real possibility?

But as soon as he opened his mouth to offer—what, he wasn't so sure. To study together? He lost his nerve.

And they silently worked on separate projects for separate classes on separate beds.

'Calm down,' Draco said and then stilled Potter's shaky hand. He'd done well up until they hit the love potions, again. Potter was tense. He'd been tense the last time, but Draco thought it was the situation, not the potion. 'You've been doing fine.'

Potter looked down at their hands, and Draco pulled his back abruptly.

'I'm not going to let you mess it up; just keep going.'

Potter nodded. 'It's just—are we going to test this one, like the others?'

Oh, right. That could be dangerous. As many times as Potter was almost slipped one of these, Draco could see why he was reluctant to try it on purpose. As well as being temporarily in love with Draco probably wasn't high on his list of things he wanted to experience in his lifetime.

'I can test this one,' Draco said. It was the sort of thing friends did for each other, right? 'We have the antidote right here, just get me to drink it as soon as you know the potion is working.' What really was the worst that could happen? Draco could utterly humiliate himself, but Potter would know it was the potion and not himself. He focused on the potion and refused to look to see Potter's reaction; Potter was being very quiet, but after a moment he moved on to the next step.

Potter cleared his throat, before he asked, 'Are you sure?'

'Yes; it'll be fine.' Draco could feel himself flushing. He glanced at Potter, who was trying not to smile at him. It was rather warm in the classroom all of a sudden.

Draco couldn't tell if his offer had calmed Potter down or simply made him more nervous about the potion. The rest of the process was just as slow as the beginning had been. He did it, though. It came out with the perfect mother of pearl sheen to it, and smelled—well, it smelled different to everyone, but it smelled just like Draco had always experienced it to smell for himself.

Potter took out a sample and vanished the rest. There was no need to have a cauldron of that stuff around. As the rest of their potions had been common healing ones, they'd brought them to Madam Pomfrey for her stock. He handed Draco the phial and then made sure the antidote was nearby.

'Ready?' Draco asked.

Potter nodded. 'If you are.'

Draco took a deep breath and then drank the dose. It worked fast. He could feel the emotions spread through him—warm and soothing. This stuff could become an addiction. Then he started talking but had no idea what he was saying. He felt too good to care. Nothing could possibly ever be wrong again.

Harry's eyes widened as Draco stepped toward him, but his mind told him it was from feeling the same things as him: the desperate need to touch, taste, and smell him. What Draco wanted, Harry wanted.

'Okay, fine.' Harry's words finally made it through to him. 'If I let you kiss me, then will you drink this?'

'Yes.' Of course, anything that Harry wanted from Draco he'd give him. 'Anything you want, Harry. I'll do anything you want.'

Harry's eyes grew even wider. Then Draco kissed him. Harry didn't kiss back at first but complied after Draco introduced their tongues. The more he got the more his simple wanting turned into a need. Far too soon, Harry pushed him back and handed him the little phial of potion. Draco drank it quickly and then pulled Harry into another kiss. That time he didn't hesitate. Draco pulled him closer and dug his fingers into Harry's beautiful, messy hair as his unnatural state of calm mixed with pleasure slowly faded.

They were kissing; they were still kissing as all of Draco's senses returned him. He stopped, pulled back, but didn't push Potter away. Potter's eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy.

'Potter?'

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have let you take the potion.'

Draco was about to say it was all right; they knew the consequences; it could have been worse. When Potter pulled him into another kiss. Draco kissed back. That time Potter was the one pulling at him, driving the kiss deeper and more forceful until he abruptly stopped.

'I'm sorry,' he said, again. Then without looking up at Draco he grabbed his bag and ran out the door missing Draco's whispered, 'It's fine.'

Draco wasn't sure if Potter would show up at their next scheduled session. He'd done his best to avoid Draco the rest of the week. He got up early and went to bed late. Otherwise, he surrounded himself with people he knew Draco avoided himself.

And Draco spent too much time trying to figure out what had happened. Why would he kiss him, if he didn't have to? Had the love potion somehow affected Potter from their first kiss, and that was what caused the second one? That couldn't have been it. Potter wouldn't have been able to avoid Draco for so long if he were under the influence of a love potion.

Which didn't even get into his thoughts about how he felt about the kiss.

Potter was late but he showed.

He went straight to the cupboard and gathered the ingredients for the day before he came to sit next to Draco at their table.

Draco looked over what Harry gathered and said, 'Those aren't—'

'I know.'

Looking again he saw what Potter intended to make. 'Veritaserum? I didn't have that scheduled until next month.'

'I know.'

He understood why Potter would want to hurry through the lessons as quickly as possible, but Draco made the list in its order for a reason.

'It takes a month to brew,' Draco said.

'I know,' Potter said, again. 'I'll be taking this one.'

Draco hadn't expected otherwise, until the love potion Potter had been the one to test them all. But being that he was pointing it out, Draco had to ask: 'Why?'

Potter blushed, struggling to find the right words. 'I . . . want to say . . . to tell you something, but I don't know if I can without the help of a potion.'

'The potion doesn't force you to speak unless someone asks you a question.'

'Then you'll have to ask me questions.'

'What if I don't ask the right ones?'

Potter rolled his eyes, but then finally looked at him. 'I'll write them down for you.'

Draco thought about that for a minute. 'Why don't you just write down what you want to tell me?'

'I also don't think you'll believe me without a potion.'

Draco wasn't sure there was much he wouldn't believe after their last session, but he nodded. It was only a month. It wouldn't be torture.

It was torture.

Even though Potter had stopped avoiding him, he wouldn't talk about what was so important to tell Draco. As much as Draco wanted to brush it off as something that probably wasn't that big of a deal, he couldn't. Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, and Potter had many times before proven himself to be. This cautiousness was not something he'd seen from him before.

Which meant, it probably was something important.

They were on Draco's bed studying. All Potter did recently was study, and since all Draco ever planned on doing was study they began to study together. Potter had his legs crossed and his feet bare. His toes wiggled when he was deep in thought, and it was very distracting. So Draco moved his foot on top of them to make them stop.

Potter froze.

'You fidget a lot,' Draco said.

'Sorry.'

Draco took his foot away. 'It's fine. It's just . . . distracting sometimes.'

'How do you stay so still all of the time?'

'I don't know; I guess it was always expected of me.'

Potter shrugged. 'I don't think others' expectations have ever really controlled me that much. My family expected me to never use magic, but it happened anyway, even though I didn't know I was using it. Didn't you have uncontrollable magic, when you were a kid?'

'Sometimes.' Draco thought about it. 'But that was expected by my family.' Others' expectations had always counted a lot in Draco's life.

'Right.'

They got quiet again and returned to studying. That was almost like a real conversation. Were they already friends? Draco was used to his friends being introduced to him. He supposed he did just fall into friendship with Pansy, but their relationship wasn't like this. He had the urge to ask, but thought better of it.

Potter would probably think him mental for such a question. Are we friends? Yes, it sounded like a stupid question, but Draco wanted to know.

Draco couldn't tell which of them was more nervous the day the Veritaserum was ready. Potter held the antidote, so he could take it as soon as he was ready. Draco was afraid he'd take it after the first question. Though Potter did write him a list, the first one was simply: what did you want to tell me?

It might be the only question he had to ask.

The potion was perfect. Made from memory just like the ones before it, but Draco had studied this potion off and on when Potter wasn't looking all month. There were ways to get around it if you wanted to. Potter really didn't want to, at least, Draco didn't think he wanted to.

Potter closed his eyes and took a sip.

A moment past and he opened them and nodded.

Draco asked the question.

'I wanted to tell you how I feel about you.' Potter sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but it didn't seem like the potion was going to force him to say anything more. He motioned Draco to move on to the next one.

He was more nervous then. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how Potter felt about him. He'd been pretty clear about it when they first met, and Draco wasn't sure how much honesty he could take from Potter. But that had to have changed, hadn't it? They'd got on well for the last few months. Draco thought they might even be friends, though they hadn't voiced it.

'How do you feel about me?' Draco read the next question.

'I fancy you.'

'What?'

'I fancy you,' he repeated, and then added, 'I told you that you wouldn't believe me without the potion.'

The next question suddenly made more sense. 'Since when?'

'Sixth year.' Potter's face contorted in confusion. 'I didn't realise it until near the end of the war . . . I actually didn't know that. I'd say this potion is working then.'

'You knew it,' Draco said. 'You just didn't know you knew it.' One of the ways around the potion was to believe something to be true, even if it wasn't. Potter had to have known on some level to have said it in the first place. 'Do you want me to keep reading?'

'Do you believe me?'

'I don't know.'

Draco folded up the list. 'Why did you need the potion to tell me?'

'I already told you that.' Potter shuffled his feet, and when it was obvious Draco wouldn't ask him anything else, he took the antidote. 'So . . .' he said, as he began to clean up their table. 'Are you going to say anything?'

What could he say? 'But you hated me.'

'You worked rather hard to ensure that.'

Well, Potter had started it, but Draco didn't point that out. He'd find some way to twist it around to being Draco's fault.

'You hated me as well,' Potter pointed out. 'But . . . he gestured around them. It's obvious you don't anymore. I mean you did help me with this. And you study with me.'

Draco nodded. 'It's hard to hate someone who repeatedly saves your life.' It's hard to hate someone, when you never really hated them to begin with, as well.

Potter smiled and Draco let himself admire it. 'I didn't expect you to feel the same way. I just wanted to tell you. And I am really sorry for taking advantage of you when you tested—'

'You didn't take advantage of me. I knew that was a possibility. I'm not stupid.'

Potter began to say something, but Draco stopped him.

'I don't do confessions. I'm not a Gryffindor. I can't return this favour.'

'I know you're not interested—'

'That's not what I said.'

Potter looked at Draco, hopeful. 'Then what are you saying?'

'Just . . . you be the reckless Gryffindor you are, where you rush into things without thinking, and let me be me.'

'And what is that then? Who are you?' Potter stepped closer to Draco. 'You think things through, but . . . you said . . .' He paused in thought. 'That you can't "return the favour" so what then?'

'I can tell you if I want you to stop.'

Potter smiled then and leaned in to kiss Draco, but stopped a breath away from contact.

'I didn't say stop.'

'I was just giving you the chance.' Potter kissed him lightly and pulled back waiting for something that Draco wasn't going to give him. He kissed him and then pulled back. Then again and again with each kiss lasting longer than the one before it, until Draco leaned toward him and kissed Potter instead of the other way around.

'This seems like a very one-way form of communication,' Potter said.

Draco smirked. 'You'll get used to it.' He hoped.

And let Potter kiss him, again.