It was with a grimace and a wince that Harry stumbled into the informal dining room the following morning. Severus folded a corner of the Daily Prophet to watch the young man, a dark eyebrow quirked upwards and small smirk on his lips as Harry half walked, half stumbled, his way towards the table.

Harry's arm was once again in his sling. Although gloved, he thought it best to not take any chances this morning, especially given post-drunken birthday celebrations. Severus could not stop the soft chuckle that escaped his lips as Harry collapsed into his chair with a groan, proceeding to drop his head onto the wooden surface on the table with a thunk.

"I would ask how you're feeling but I daresay the glare I would receive from doing so would answer my question."

There came an affirmative grunt.

"I can imagine Draco must be feeling somewhat the same."

Another grunt.

"If you lift your head long enough to consume this hangover potion perhaps you will prove to be better company."

Face pale—with a delightful tinge of green—Harry lifted his head, reaching for the vial Snape offered him. The older man flicked his wand and the vial unstoppered itself, Harry downing it all in one go. Severus could tell exactly how unwell Harry must have felt when he did not waste any precious time to complain about the taste of the orange fluid.

"I hope this has been an enlightening experience as to the limits of your alcohol consumption."

"Ugh, it definitely has," Harry mumbled in reply, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I can barely remember what Malfoy and I did last night after we headed up to my room. I know we were just being stupid and saying random crap… and I think we—"

Harry trailed off, his words failing him momentarily as a particular memory flashed bright and intrusive in his mind's eye.

Oh.

He snorted. "Yeah… definitely going to watch how much I drink in the future," he finished, fingering the empty vial thoughtfully. He lifted it, gesturing towards his teacher. "Thank you for this, I promise not to overdo it in the future."

"Good. Do you feel up to having some breakfast?"

"I think so, yeah."

It was in that moment that Harry realised there was a third spot set across from him.

"Is Malfoy still here?" he asked, somewhat surprised. Surely Draco would have gone home as soon as he would have been able? Especially after what they had done last night…

"He is," Snape replied offhandedly as he returned to his newspaper, "I sent Tokey to awaken him not long before you arrived."

Harry remained silent, but his mind was off on a tangent of 'what ifs' and 'surely nots'. What if Malfoy doesn't remember? What if he does and he's only just woken up…? What if he brings it up in front of Severus? Surely not—

Harry's thoughts immediately ground to a halt as the familiar blond stepped into the room, dressed impeccably as usual, and sauntered over to the table.

"Severus," Draco greeted pleasantly. "Potter," he finished with a smirk. He sat down gracefully, all evidence of any alcohol consumption prominently lacking. "I hope I find you… well… this morning." His gaze lingered meaningfully on Harry for a few seconds and Harry knew in that instant that Malfoy most definitely remembered what had occurred the previous night.

Harry groaned silently. Judging from the knowing glint in Malfoy's pale eyes, the Slytherin was particularly pleased to be aware of the information.

This was going to be a long morning.

Breakfast passed surprisingly without incident. Aside from the occasional smirk or innuendo, Malfoy had not actually gone out of his way to reveal what had happened between them last night, and Harry was beginning to question why that was.

Of course, maybe Malfoy is actually trying to be decent for a change? Maybe he's trying to respect me…?

Even Harry's subconscious had to snort at that idea.

Unless… Harry's heart skipped a beat. Unless Malfoy thinks there was more to last night than I'm realising… oh shit, does Malfoy think we're dating or something now?

But Malfoy was being annoyingly obtuse on the subject. All morning the sly Slytherin had sent smirks over to Harry, his silver eyes glinting with contained glee, but had yet to bring attention to the events that had occurred the previous evening. When Malfoy suddenly suggested an innocent game of chess as they were leaving the informal dining room, Harry felt a small spike of panic. Maybe this was it, maybe this would be the time he mentioned something.

"What is wrong, Master?"

Impes's head poked out from Harry's collar. She had been beneath his shirt and wrapped around his left upper arm ever since he'd begrudgingly rolled out of bed with a throbbing headache and a firewhiskey abused stomach.

"Ugh nothing, Impes, it's alright," Harry replied.

Impes flickered her tongue. Harry couldn't help but notice it seemed to be in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Your heart races and your skin grows moist…?" she questioned.

"It's nothing," Harry insisted. "Just worried about something, I'm sure it will be fine."

"Is it about your shiny friend?"

"In a manner of speaking…"

"Potter, are you going to join me or speak to your snake all day?"

The soft chuckle that followed had Harry's head turning toward the sound. He was not surprised to see the cheeky smile on Malfoy's face.

"Of course, dependent on the snake, perhaps I could… assist you with that." He sat at the chessboard table, staring up at Harry in a way that Harry could only describe as impertinent.

"Yeah, well…" Harry's voice trailed off as he too sat down, rubbing the back of his head again awkwardly. "Are we going to talk about this?" he blurted.

"Talk about what, Potter?"

"This," Harry replied angrily, gesturing between the two of them. "Last night specifically."

"What on earth is there to talk about? I find you attractive, you obviously find me attractive. We just happened to act on that last night. Doesn't mean we're dating or anything, Potter."

Harry's erratically beating heart began to calm. "Oh," he said, lowering his still outstretched arm. "Okay, good."

Scrutinising grey eyes swept up and down. "Are you sure?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah." Harry bobbed his head to help emphasise his words. "Look, I'm not exactly looking for anything complicated at the moment given the circumstances."

"You don't say," Malfoy replied with a soft snort. "Because your life has been anything other than complicated."

Harry could only offer a weak shrug and a sheepish look in reply. "With stuff like this, I'm usually the one that bungs it up. Shove Voldemort in the mix and I'm surprised I'm not a complete mental case."

"Who say's you're not?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

Draco chuckled easily. "Sometimes I question my own sanity based purely on the fact that I find you attractive."

"Yeah? Well ditto."

The smile that lingered on Malfoy's face for a meme moment was almost pleasant. Harry stared at it until it was gone, and then shifted his eyes back up to the pale eyes gazing at him thoughtfully.

"So we're in agreement?" Malfoy continued, moving a hand forward to slide a pawn into place, instigating the beginning of their game.

"About not dating?" Harry asked, forcing his gaze onto the chessboard as he finally slid into the opposite chair.

"Correct."

"Well yeah." Harry picked up a pawn and mimicked Malfoy's move. "But maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Well, just because we're not dating doesn't mean we can't…"

"Yes, Potter…?"

Harry rubbed his suddenly very warm face. "God you can be such a prick sometimes."

"A fact I shall never deny," Malfoy smirked. "Are you suggesting that while we may not necessarily be dating, we continue to… fraternise?"

"Um, yeah?"

A soft chuckle fell from Malfoy's mouth. "I suppose that could be arranged. I most certainly wouldn't want to deny myself the chance to fuck the Boy-Who-Lived whenever I was feeling particularly horny."

Harry watched him analyse the chessboard once more. "But… just casual."

"Just casual," Malfoy repeated. "Be rest assured, Potter, I am definitely not looking for anything serious, alright?"

"Good, yep, casual it is."

Harry had fallen into a deep funk.

What little hope he had had of his arm healing and him getting back on track had blown up in his face—much like the pillow he had attempted to non-verbally wingardium leviosa moments before.

His magic was unstable and dangerous… and Harry had no idea how to control it.

He and Severus had been working on simple spell work for the past few days. Regardless if he used verbal spells or nonverbal spells it made no difference—everything Harry tried exploded spectacularly before his eyes. His magic was simply too erratic to control. He could feel it, same as it ever was, but there seemed to be more of it now somehow. His wand practically vibrated in his palm every time he tried, and, what was worse, the more he practised, the stronger the explosions or mishaps seemed to become.

Come on… come on…! Harry thought desperately, relaying every little bit of determination he could muster into the simple spell.

Another pillow burst into a flurry of soft duck feathers, a rain of grey and white floating teasingly before him. Harry didn't even bother to attempt a reparo, let alone a scourgify. Lord knows what might happen.

With a frustrated grunt Harry sunk to his knees, resting his face in his hands as he allowed his wand to fall to the carpet. It spluttered red sparks in an angry stutter, before lying still and innocent. Harry glared at it. He knew it was silly, feeling so angry towards a piece of holly, but at least feeling as if he could blame something else aside from himself made him feel slightly better.

Harry sighed, pressing his hands to his face with a small amount of force before allowing them to fall away, rocking back on his heels.

"Tokey."

The little elf popped into the room. "You be calling Tokey, young sir?" she squeaked happily, curtseying.

"Yeah, could you um—would you mind?" Harry asked awkwardly as he gestured to the mound of feathers.

"Young sir is not be having much luck," Tokey stated with a sympathetic glance. With a click of her fingers, the two pillows returned to their original, luscious self, all evidence of the fluffy explosions completely gone.

"Thanks." Harry got to his feet, feeling rather awkward having to ask Tokey to fix everything he broke. "Where is Severus at the moment? Is it a bad time to bug him?"

Tokey beamed happily. "Tokey be knowing Master is brewing, but Tokey is happy to be checking for young sir!" And she popped away before Harry could tell her not to worry. If Severus was brewing, it was always best to leave the Potions Master alone until the man himself deemed it appropriate for visitors.

Harry allowed himself a small ironic smile, stooped down to pick up his wand and slipped it into the thigh holster he had had Tokey pop out and acquire for him. While there was nothing he could, at the moment, actually use his wand for, Harry felt strange going about without it. And Severus had already given him a talking to about shoving it in his back pocket for safe keeping.

When Tokey still had not returned after five minutes, Harry bit his lip. Had she gotten in trouble for distracting Severus mid-brew? Harry had never seen Severus outwardly scold Tokey for any mishaps, he was surprisingly patient with the house elf, but it was also uncharacteristic for Tokey not to return after undertaking a request, even if Harry never actually asked Tokey to check—

Knock, knock.

Harry crossed the room with a faint frown, his brows relaxing as Severus's familiar face appeared in the doorway.

"I take it your brewing is done then?" Harry asked, stepping aside to allow his mentor access.

"Fortunately, the potion I am working on has reached a twelve-hour undisturbed simmering window." Severus took a few steps inside, eyes casually sweeping the room. "So, how many pillows has Tokey been required to reparo today?"

"Just two," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms in annoyance. "I don't know what is going wrong. No matter how hard I try I can't make a spell work. I've tried every angle I can think of and I just—everything I do has no control."

"Non-verbal?"

"Same result," Harry replied with a sigh. "The smallest explosion I've managed was non-verbal and with as little magic used as possible. I don't—I don't know what else to try… and it feels as if it's getting worse."

Severus observed Harry carefully. "Show me again," he requested, gesturing to one of the recently repaired pillows.

Harry drew in an unsure breath but unsheathed his wand all the same, staring in trepidation at the soon-to-be destroyed object. He decided on the same non-verbal levitation charm as before as he held his wand firmly in his hand. Just as all the times before, his wand began to hum, almost in anticipation, and Harry could already begin to feel his magic seeping into the stick of holly, filling the wood to the brim with uncontrolled power. He barely had to think the incantation before the pillow had exploded, even more violently than before, and Harry lowered his wand again with a grimace and a further deepening of desperation that settled as a familiar ache in his chest.

There was a brief moment of silence before the Professor spoke.

"What I think you may need," Severus began, stroking a finger across his chin, "is to attempt to regain control over your magic wandlessly."

Harry frowned up at the Professor, confusion evident on his face. "But isn't the entire purpose of a wand to channel our magic?"

Severus inclined his head. "That is indeed correct. However, I am wondering if it is because of your wand channelling your magic that is causing your spells to become too powerful." The confused expression remained on Harry's face. Severus suppressed an exasperated smirk. "It is possible that the dragonhide glove is augmenting your magic. As in denial I have been in the past, Harry, you are in fact a remarkable wizard, one whose magic has proven beyond a doubt that it is stronger than most. While the spell the Dark Lord used may have injured your arm, thankfully it has not touched your core. Your wand arm is simply the extension your magic flows through. The magical nature of the dragonhide seems to be acting as an amplifier, which in addition to your innate magical ability, it seems to be proving too much for your wand to handle."

Something suddenly occurred to Harry. He remembered the day when Severus had removed his bandages for the first time, how uncontrolled and wild his magic had felt coursing within his arm, simmering just below the surface of his skin as if the smallest touch could have sent it surging.

"Well… we can only try, right?" Harry said finally, not daring to hope as he gazed at his teacher with the smallest amount of desperation.

"Like everything, this will take time. You will be frustrated and impatient and will, no doubt, not see much improvement for a decent while. To first control your magic wandlessly, you are required to completely retrain your body's access to your magical core, to strengthen connections within your body that you have never considered before. But with determination, I am sure you will be successful."

Harry looked down at his hands. Was it possible? Was the reason why his spells ended in destruction purely because they were becoming too powerful?

"Okay," he said, returning his gaze back to Snape. "I'll need to at least give it a go. There's only a month left until school returns and I won't be passing my NEWTs at this rate."

Snape inclined his head in agreement. "I have some texts on wandless theory that will be off some help. We will begin with those before we move on to practical lessons. Wandless magic can be very potent and wild; many witches and wizards struggle to adapt without the use of a wand. I do not feel that this will be the case for you, however you know I am not one to take risks."

"Not you, Severus, never you," Harry replied with an impish grin.

Snape's lips twitched, his dark eyes gleaming with hidden mirth. "You best watch that cheek, Mr Potter."

The younger man chuckled. "Alright, alright, I'll be good," he replied. "Can I have a look at those texts now? Please?"

"Where was this enthusiasm during my previous lessons hmm?" Severus replied, turning and gesturing for Harry to follow him.

"Who needs enthusiasm when you have Hermione," Harry replied. He and Severus stepped into the corridor and Harry, expecting his teacher to turn left and start downstairs for the manor's library, was slightly surprised when his teacher turned in the opposite direction, heading further down into the depths of the estate.

"These particular books are rather… valuable. Because of this, I keep the them in my private collection," Severus explained, answering Harry's unasked question as to the whereabouts of their destination. "I trust you will take care of them."

"Of course," Harry said.

"Whilst we have the freedom of the summer holidays it will be prudent for you to gain an in-depth understanding on wandless magic. We may be able to continue your lessons when we have returned to Hogwarts but that will, of course, be dependent on your school timetable and my own. We will also have to be mindful not raise suspicion, there are still many loyal to the Dark Lord who would be more than happy to report their scepticisms to gain his favour."

"So more remedial potions then?" Harry asked innocently.

Snape emitted a soft snort. "As loathe as I am to admit it, I feel your potion-making skills have exceeded the need for remedial potions this year. We will have to come up with another, hopefully believable, lie."

"You could just throw me into a bunch of detentions."

"Then we would be seeing an awful lot of one another, Harry," Severus stated with a smirk.

"I'm not that bad!"

Severus's chuckles were warm as they echoed down the corridor and Harry felt a smile pull at his lips. Sometimes he couldn't believe how far the two of them had come. Once, so enraged by the mere sight of one another to sharing a jest at the other's expense. Warm was spreading through Harry's chest as he walked beside his mentor and he was unable to remove the gentle smile from his face, even as Severus continue to poke fun at his rule breaking.