A/N: And we're back with more fluffy Draco angst! The following scene also contains a scene from the first chapter of 'A Comparable Nose' but from Draco's POV, obviously. If you haven't read that one yet, you'll probably want to, just our of sheer curiosity by the time you're done this one. :P

And just as a warning for future chapters, this story will overlap with it's prequel a few more times, but I'll try not to rehash too much. :D

Potions Class:

BANG!

Draco popped up to attention at the slamming of the door.

His godfather, performing one of his impressive entrances that never got old, strode into the room like a dark archangel, his robe flaring behind him in the wake of his own momentum. As he moved up the central isle of large desks, his deep, no-nonsense voice said, "You are to write a twenty-four inch essay on the pros and cons of common, everyday type potions that are generally found in a typical Wizarding household." He spun on the ball of a foot upon reaching his desk, robes flaring wide, and scowled at them. "You have exactly one hour and thirty minutes to turn in your complete essay, or you will lose five points for your House. But, as an added incentive, the five best essays will receive points FOR their Houses." One last sweeping glare, and then he seated himself behind his desk with a firm, "Begin."

As a whole, the class knew better than to groan out loud, but Draco knew he wasn't the only one thinking that Professor Severus Snape could be a first-class tyrant and a royal pain in the ass. They also knew to expect to have to work all the way to the bitter end, having come prepared with fresh quills and parchment.

Everyone, that is, except for the Intrepid Imbeciles (Uncle Sev's name for them that Draco had adopted years ago), who had somehow managed to bumble their way through school with Granger's help, and defeat Voldemort, also with Granger's help. (Girl was disgustingly brilliant and talented.)

"But it's the last day of school!" the Weasel whinged from the other side of the classroom from Draco. "We've already taken our NEWTs. We shouldn't have to do any more essays!"

An accurate complaint that I'm sure we're all thinking, but this is SNAPE we're talking about. Of course we're going to do essays until the last minute of school. Only an idiot would say it out loud.

Draco barely held in the snigger when his godfather nearly echoed his thoughts.

"Really, Mr. Weasley?" Uncle Sev's tone all but dripped with dry-as-a-hundred-year-old-virgin contempt. "You've attended my class for how many years now and you don't know that you'll be expected to WORK while here? I could say that I'm disappointed, but that would be a lie, because I honestly expect no better from you."

Ouch.

The Weasel made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl, and then bravely soldiered on like the moronic Gryffindor he was. "But I didn't bring my bag. And neither did Harry. We have nothing to write with." Weasley jumped as Potter hissed and apparently, and justifiably, kicked him in the leg for adding his name to the mess.

Draco's (and the rest of the class's) very entertained gaze flew back to Snape to see his reaction to this.

He wasn't disappointed.

Uncle Sev's scowl deepened to nearly epic proportions and the temperature in the room dropped at least a dozen degrees as his magic snapped with anger. His robes and hair started to float and lash on their own as he rose to his feet again and planted his hands on his desk. He suddenly looked like the Death Eater that had managed to survive as one of the Dark Lord's lucky (yeah right) favourites because of how powerful and intimidating he could be when he wanted.

Some of the students actually started to visibly tremble. (Cough, cough, Longbottom.)

Draco smirked proudly. You show em, Uncle Sev.

"I see." Snape's voice was even colder than the already frigid dungeon classroom. "Five points each, for being unprepared. And another five to Mr. Weasley for questioning my assignment." His gaze settled on Granger, sitting in the front row as close to his desk as she could get (the suck up), and his expression softened fractionally. "Miss Granger. I trust you can supply your… friends… with adequate supplies?"

"Of course, Professor," she said sweetly, not intimidated by him at all.

She never had been, even when the rest of the world believed he was a heartless murderer. Draco had always reluctantly admired her for her courage. And hated her for it, too, for a while, along with her smarts and her talent at magic, because it had made him feel inadequate. And no Malfoy should ever feel inadequate. Or so his grandfather's portrait loved to tell him on a nearly daily basis.

Draco had since learned that a bit of humility doesn't hurt as much as one would think.

"I always have extras," Granger continued with. Draco could only see a small portion of her face from his location at the back of the room, but it was enough to see the huge smile she gave Snape before she leaned down to start digging in her bookbag. Teacher's Pet till the very last day. What a surprise.

Not.

Uncle Sev's mouth actually twitched upwards for half a millisecond. Draco doubted anyone else noticed it. "Very good, Miss Granger." He sat back down and busied himself with a stack of scrolls already on his desk, presumably from the last class.

Her head snapped up and the class gawped at him, including Draco. Did he just COMPLIMENT Granger?!

Uncle Sev never compliments anyone! Not even me! Maybe he's actually starting to soften up again now that the war is over?

Snape looked up again, frowning fiercely at the lot of them, not even sparing Draco or Granger. "One hour and twenty-six minutes."

The classroom practically erupted in a flurry of movement.

Never mind.

Fifty-five minutes later, Draco was finished his essay, but he knew better than to show it. So, after reading it again quickly, looking for mistakes and finding none, he used the wand tucked up his sleeve to discreetly make the last quarter of the essay invisible, just in case Snape made a circuit of the room like he'd already done twice before. And then he pretended to write while letting his mind wander back to his predicament with the arranged marriage his father was forcing on him.

Or more specifically, how he could possibly win over one Ginny Weasley in the next five hours.

Actually earning her affection is probably impossible considering that she thinks I'm a right berk. But maybe I can appeal to her sympathetic side and talk her into at least posing as my girlfriend until I can come up with a better solution?

He glanced over towards the girl in question, but only received a view of her long red hair as she bent her head towards Granger. It appeared that they were done their essays as well, but had elected to gossip instead of pretending to write.

Big mistake. Uncle Sev is going to eat them alive any minute now.

Three seconds later, Snape looked up from his marking, scowling deeply. "Miss Granger. Miss Weasley," he snapped.

Called it!

"If you have time to talk, you have time to write an additional nine inches of essay for me." Snape flicked his wand towards their desk and Draco could almost feel their outrage as their scrolls were lengthened.

But like the smart girls they were, they merely mumbled, "Yes, Professor Snape," and bent their heads to their task.

Draco couldn't help the snicker that escaped; it was just so nice to see Granger get in trouble.

Snape shot him a scathing look, which Draco rolled his eyes at after ducking his head back down obediently. Merlin, I can't wait until he's not my teacher anymore. I miss our relationship from before I started school. It was so much better when I didn't have to pretend that he was a royal bastard all the time. I miss when he used to smile at me instead of sneer. He's still stuck in Professor Snape mode even when he visits the Manor. It's bloody awful. It's like he can't turn it off anymore.

I miss Uncle Sev.

But on the other hand, at least he's the only one who doesn't treat Granger like a princess. Although, I think he could have been a bit harsher. He should have made Granger and The Weaslette write another foot of essay. Nine inches is too lenient.

He would have made ME write another foot of essay.

Ever since it had been revealed that Granger had been so fundamental to the end of Voldemort's reign of terror, the entire world seemed to worship at her feet, most especially Headmistress McGonagall and the teachers of Hogwarts. They acted like she could do no wrong and it drove him up the wall.

Honestly, if he hadn't already known that she was genius level smart, he'd suspect that her perfect grades had been given out of gratitude instead of hard work.

Speaking of good grades… Draco turned his shuttered gaze to the Weaslette again. He'd heard through the Hogwarts rumour mill that she'd received just as many Outstandings as he had. It hadn't meant much to him at the time, other than to inspire a passing hint of surprise. But now, it was just one more point in her favour towards winning over his father's approval as a possible match for him.

Even if it was just temporary until Draco found someone real that his father could approve of.

She was also very talented and powerful at magic, if her survival during the war was any indication. He knew for a fact that she'd faced and survived multiple Death Eaters, including the worst of them all, his psychotic Aunt Bellatrix.

Add the above to the fact that she was bloody good at Quidditch, which he knew first hand from playing against her all year, and you have a recipe for a very desirable witch, genetics wise. Even though he generally spent most of his time focusing on Potter as they both looked for the snitch, it was hard to miss the red-haired dynamo as she flew around the pitch and scored point after point for Gryffindor.

And for Merlin's sake, how did I not notice that she was stunningly good looking before? Is it because of my past prejudice against anything Weasley? Is it because she was Potter's and I just automatically looked down on anything he was involved in or with? Is it because she's a pain in the arse Gryffindor?

Probably all of those.

I AM an idiot.

All these months, she's been free, and I could have been trying to win her over, even if it was just to take something that used to be Potter's, which would have been immensely satisfying if I'd had the brains to think of it before now.

Now, I've only hours left, and the best I might be able to pull off is to bribe her into doing a little acting for a bit.

I wonder what it will take to buy her as an accomplice?

Draco flicked his eyes back towards his fake writing when Snape suddenly stood up from his desk again for another patrol of the room.

Writing. Writing like a good little student. That's what I'm doing. Don't mind me.

Snape didn't, fortunately, only glancing towards Draco's parchment for a moment before moving on in a very prolonged stroll of the room. Draco uncovered a few inches of prewritten words, just in case he wandered back his way.

While Snape meandered almost aimlessly, Draco kept half an eye on him, half an eye on his fake writing, and the rest of his attention on Ginny.

Now that the idea of her being a suitable match for him had taken root, he found himself suddenly fascinated with her. He studied the way the light played with the varying shades of red and gold in her long and straight hair as it fell over her slender shoulders. The way her long eyelashes cast a shadow on her the soft curve of her cheekbone when she blinked. The line of her cute little nose. The tilt of her pink lips when she smiled at something she'd written. The creamy paleness of her skin adorned in freckles that he had the sudden urge to chart with kisses.

What the fuck?! he thought as he felt a sudden stirring of arousal, tearing his gaze off of her. I've known the chit since she was about three feet tall and told me off in Flourish and Blotts so many years ago, why the hell am I going all gaga over her now?

Surely not because she might be my salvation?

The odds of that actually panning out are like one in a thousand anyway, you dipstick. She's way more likely to hex your bollocks off than listen to anything you have to propose.

Well, when you put it that way… he thought back to his cynical side with a humourless and silent laugh. Unfortunately for our bollocks, we're going to have to try anyway. I'd rather not have them available for use if it means shagging that hideous Russian witch for the rest of my life.

"Bloody hell!"

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when Ronald Weasley all but yelled out loud enough to wake the dead as if he'd heard Draco's thoughts, the timing was so perfect. It was also just loud enough to cover up Ginny Weasley's identical exclamation at the same time.

Along with the rest of the class, he gawked at Ron as the Gryffindor idiot made a valiant effort at climbing over his desk with a nearly murderous expression on his face, only held back by Potter's desperate grasp on his robe.

Granger had turned around and was gawping at Weasley as well, her face flushing nearly as red as Ginny's hair. And the very pretty Miss Weasley was looking somewhere between mortified and amused.

What the fuck is going on? What did I miss?

"Ron! I… Um…" Granger was stuttering and clearly failing to come up with words. Merlin, I think that might be a first. I didn't even know that was possible!

And then Uncle Sev, in pissed off Professor Snape mode, was billowing his way across the classroom to deal with the situation. I can't wait to see this!

"Mr. Weasley!" he thundered as he strode. "Is there something the matter that requires you to disturb the class so?"

The Weasel tore his nearly feral gaze from Granger and wisely focused on Snape. He visibly gulped and quickly sat back down, shaking his head like a dog trying to rid himself of water. "No. No, Sir. Just something I… remembered."

Now there's a lie if I ever heard one. I wonder what Granger said to make Weasley go all mental like that? And now Ginny is all but giggling out loud. Merlin, she's pretty.

Oh fuck. When did I start thinking of her as Ginny instead of The Weaslette?

I think I'm in trouble.

Snape came to a stop beside Granger's desk, robes still moving forward for a moment due to the momentum before settling down around his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Weasley one of his patented glares that could make every single person on the planet rethink their actions, with the exception of maybe Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. Oh, and Auntie Bella, but that was because she was too mental to register when Death was looking her in the face.

I should feel guiltier about how happy I am that she's gone, but I really can't make myself. If Father hadn't changed sides and killed her in retaliation for murdering Mom, he'd be back in Azkaban right now.

Despite trying not to, Draco flashed back to the day of the battle, skin suddenly crawling like he'd been encased in dry ice from the remembered horror if it all. So many people that he knew dying all around him. The school left in ruins. His poor mother murdered on Voldemort's orders for lying about Potter being dead. His father looking like an exhausted vagrant as he avenged her with some random wand he'd picked up off the ground. And Uncle Sev, lying unconscious in the dirt as curses flew all around them, bleeding all over the place from multiple snake bites and a partially successful Organ Frying curse as Draco did his best to patch him back together while shielding them from Dolohov until his father finished taking care of Bellatrix and came to kill Dolohov too.

That was, and forever would be, the worst day of his life.

Uncle Sev's voice thankfully snapped him back to the present. "Do try and control your inclination towards any further outbursts for the next ten minutes, Mr. Weasley," Snape growled. "I'm sure even you can manage that?"

Weasley looked like he wanted to curse Uncle Sev to hell and back, but he very wisely only said, "Yes, Sir." It wouldn't have done much to Snape anyway, even if he could. Uncle Sev had already gone through hell at either the hand of Voldemort or by his orders more times than he had years, and those were just the ones that Draco knew about. Anything that Weasley could dish out could never possibly compare.

One of the other worst days of his life was when he and his father had been ordered to use Cruciatus on his godfather for half an hour straight to prove their loyalty to the Dark Lord when Uncle Sev had taken too long to show up after a summons.

At least they'd become even again when Uncle Sev was ordered to torture Draco for not killing Dumbledore when he should have.

It had been only one of many similar occasions when Draco was punished for not performing up to standards, starting even before he was forced to take the Dark Mark to replace his incarcerated father at sixteen or watch his mother get passed around like a dockside whore. But it was usually Bellatrix who did the punishing. She'd loved punishing people for her Lord, cackling with hair-raising glee the entire time. I hope she's burning in something like Muggle Hell right now. Her and Voldemort.

Snape raised a condescending brow at Weasley and sniffed like he smelled something foul. "Good," he spat, and then he spun on his heel, aiming for his desk, the words, "Five points from Gryffindor," floating on the air behind him.

"Fucking git," Weasley mumbled just loud enough for Draco to hear.

Now you've done it. If I heard that, I can guarantee that Snape did too. He hears EVERYTHING.

Snape paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Five more, Mr. Weasley," he said almost pleasantly, but no one in their right mind would interpret it as such. "I trust you're finished 'expressing yourself' now?"

Weasley clenched his fists, and his expression turned downright mulish, but he astonishingly refrained from saying anything else.

Snape shot him one last warning look and then finished his trip to his desk, sitting down as if nothing was amiss.

The room was so quiet Draco was sure he could hear the individual heartbeats of all twenty-six students in the room. Certainly no one was breathing.

Snape noticed.

He glanced up and somehow managed to catch the eye of every single student at once. Heads bent and quills started flying over parchment again. People exhaled in relief at not being scolded as well.

Draco smirked. My godfather is such a badass. The man in question noticed that Draco hadn't done as the others had and raised a single brow at him. Draco grinned widely. Uncle Sev very nearly cracked a smile in return, the corner of his mouth deepening and his black eyes glittering.

They both knew how much he enjoyed putting down Weasley and Potter whenever he could get away with it for a reasonably legitimate reason.

Laughing silently to himself, Draco bent his head back to his fake writing and passed the time waiting for class to end by sneaking furtive looks at Ginny, unable to help himself.

Overall, it wasn't the worst way to end the school year.