Disclaimer: You all know the drill, I own nothing, characters belong to J.K. Rowling. "Birches" the poem belongs to Robert Frost.

A/N: "Birches" is one of my own favorite poems, hence it's use. I also recommend the reading of it. Told from Draco's point of view, though I believe this is easy to discern after a while. No flames please, though constructive criticism is welcome.

Titles of the chapters and the italic quotations are excerpts from the poem itself. They skip sections in order to fit with the chapter and will probably not move in chronological order, though they have so far. The poem will be posted in full in the epilogue.

Chapter 1


When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them...


Robert Frost once wrote of his childhood, swinging in the branches of birch trees; of how he now wished to be able to return to those days, to be carefree and innocent.

I don't think you could have ever defined my childhood as a happy one. And certainly not innocent. But the idea of returning to it has always appealed to me because it was certainly more carefree (not that I had any notion of this at the time). Therefore, this poem remains my favorite, read from a book actually recommended by a girl I had yet to truly notice at the time and that I have yet to thank for suggesting it. Even now, after all that's happened, I don't think I could ever admit that my favorite author was a Muggle. Even to her. Especially to her.

I once idly wondered what my father's reaction would be to such a revelation. I didn't let the reverie wander very far. I could already hear the laughter in my head. Could picture him not even glancing up from the papers on his desk if I had actually worked up the courage to set foot in his study. Any time I had ventured in there when I was younger, I had been greeted with yelling and a lecture some time later. Now that I actually knew everything he worked on in there (hence, the less carefree portion of my late teenage years), I was usually greeted with apathy and a cool inquiry such as "Don't you have some studying to do before fall term starts?"

Back to aforementioned girl who always maintained rank one in my class, leading to such comments from which I was meant to infer that she was not to be this year. And this was the way every last week of summer vacation. However, moving closer to our seventh year when rank actually mattered due to graduation, I figured perhaps it was approaching that time when it might be to my advantage to pull ahead.

Unfortunately, while this was the plan, after arriving at school I was met with the constant realization that my social circle was rather limited, especially when it came to academia. I was not about to sink so low as to ask Crabbe or Goyle for tutelage in anything other than how to scratch one's ass properly or tune out the professor when wanting to sleep through class. I considered Pansy briefly, but quickly dismissed the idea. She was below me in grades and the last thing I wanted was her getting the wrong idea if I approached her.

Which left me with only a few options. The most prominent of which would also be the most damaging to my ego. Unfortunately, I saw no other way (other than leaving my grades as they were that is).

This brings me to where my story truly begins.

It was maybe a week into seventh year. I had been sitting at the fourth elongated varnished table in the Great Hall, contemplating the sheer madness of the actions I was considering and not really eating my food so much as pushing it around my plate with my fork. A few conversations were going on around me, but I was involved in none of them. However, all eyes, at least at my table turned to me when I rose to my feet, stepped out of the bench and crossed the large chamber to the Gryffindor table. Potter actually paused mid-bite, fork in his mouth and all when he spotted me. You would have thought he was petrified.

I placed my palms on the tabletop beside Weasley and leaned forward to where Hermione sat beside the "frozen" wizard. "I need to talk to you."

She arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

It was here that Potter seemed to recover, swallowing his bite finally. "What's all this about Malfoy?"

I shot him a glare. "Was I talking to you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at both of us. "What do you want?" That was directed at me.

I jerked my head toward the exit, indicating for her to follow me. Merlin, I could just picture the reaction this was going to get. But I'd rather face a little easily forgotten teasing than admit to the other two of this trio that I had come to ask for help. Not that she probably wouldn't tell them later anyway.

I was somewhat surprised when she followed me, albeit reluctantly. I did my best to ignore the stares on our way out, from student and professor alike. They didn't seem to bother her so much. She was either more secure than me or she was aware that her actions could be easier explained than mine. I was the one out on a limb here. She hadn't sought me out.

When we reached the corridor she crossed her arms over her chest and gave me an expectant expression.

"I need a favor," I began.

She gave an ironical snort of laughter at this. "From me?"

"Yes, from you Granger," I sighed. "You're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"

"What do you want Draco?"

I wondered somewhat at the use of my first name, but not long. "I need you to tutor me."

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "In what?"

"Everything."

This must have increased the confusion. "School's just started. Classes haven't even gotten hard yet."

"Do we have some doubt that they will?" I argued. "I need to pull up my usual average, alright?"

She stared at me for a moment, her gaze appraising. "And what's in it for me?"

"Gratitude?" I offered. I received a Look for this. "Look, you're supposed to help people, aren't you? That's what you hero types do."

She sighed and glanced back into the Hall where I figured everyone had returned to their meals other than Potter and Weasley and possibly Crabbe and Goyle. "Okay, I tell you what. We'll call it an I.O.U. for now."

I nodded, just now realizing that I had never expected her to agree. "Great," I managed, already taking a step backwards, toward the Great Hall. "Meet me tomorrow afternoon in the library. Bring your Potions notes." I turned to leave, then rounded again. "Oh, and it's probably best not to mention this to anyone."

I left her there, staring after me, no doubt marveling at the fact that this might very well have been our first conversation where no blatant insults were exchanged.


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