See Chapter one for Disclaimer

Random French

The random French Harry mumbles in potions.

Harry looked down at the note in his hand.

Meet me at the potions room at 8. Bring your ingredients.

He knew well enough who it was from, but could not for the life of him figure out what Draco wanted to do in the potions room, with ingredients, and hours of free time. It was not like they were going to making a potion? No, of course not. Draco must have come up with something…interesting to do.

Harry reached the door to the potions room, looked around quickly, and walked in when he was sure that he was alone. Oh gosh. Draco was planning on making potions. He had all his ingredients laid out, book open, and cauldron over an un-lit fire. He looked up when Harry entered, a slightly malicious grin splitting his face.

"Bonjour mon petit ami, comment t'allez tu? Tu sais ce j t'aime beaucoup, non?"

"That was French, right? Because I don't speak French, and please tell me that we are not making potions."

Draco just chuckled and went to stand in front of Harry.

"We are making potions" he sped up when he saw the look on Harry's face "BUT, I thought I would make it fun" he raised his eyebrows suggestively and lead Harry over to the table. Harry sighed. And then he looked at the book.

"Wait, Draco, this is in French too."

"I know, that's where the fun comes in. I figured that since you are not that good at potions, another language wouldn't hurt any." He put his arm around Harry's waist, and squeezed for a moment before moving to the other side of the table.

"Maintenant, voir le recette pour cette potion. Voir les mots, les numéros. Ils peuvent faire la sensé, non ? Voir le premier" Draco pointed to the first item on the list "Coupe une mandrake en tranches." Draco pointed to the mandrake and mimed cutting it into slices. Harry understood. He sliced the mandrake.

The rest of the potion went like that. Draco would say and mime the direction, and Harry would do it. Every now and then Harry would do something wrong, but Draco would intercept him, brushing his fingers lightly while he was fixing the mistake.

Finally "Mélange le potion cinquante fois par minute pour le prochain dix minutes" Draco held up his fingers to indicate that Harry should stir the potion fifty times a minute for the next ten minutes. Harry nodded once to show his comprehension, and started stirring. Draco moved to stand behind him.

Harry felt hands on his shoulders, working out the knots. It felt good and he moved back into them. Draco cleared his throat to remind Harry to stir, but he needn't have. Stirring was one he was good at in potions. He just had to know how many time a minute, and his arm would do the work. Something about muscle memory from cooking for the Dursleys.

Draco's hands moved down, working the rest of Harry's back. When Harry stirred for the last time, Draco kissed him on the back of the neck, and moved to extinguish the fire. He poured the contents into a shallow bowl and spelled the cauldron clean. He checked the temperature before handing the bowl to Harry.

"Bois" and he moved Harry's hand with the bowl to Harry's lips. Harry just raised his eyebrow before letting Draco tip the bowl. It did not taste bad, just mildly different. When half the potion was gone, Draco took the bowl back drank the rest. He set it down on the table and looked up at Harry, expecting the question that came.

"So, what did we just brew, and drink?"

"'Bonne Rêves de Son Amoureux' which translates as 'Sweet Dreams '"

Harry missed Draco's small smile.

"I think that I like the French."

"Me too. Let's put these ingredients away, shall we?"

They started cleaning, leaving lingering touches when possible. When everything was packed away, Draco gave Harry a peck on the lips and walked quickly out the door, throwing a good-bye over his shoulder.

Harry frowned. Draco should have stayed for a little bit. Oh well; maybe the blonde had somewhere to be. Harry shrugged, and made his way back to Gryffindor tower.

That night Harry was plagued—well , not really plagued—by dreams of him and Draco doing things that would make anyone blush.

He did not get much sleep. The kind of sleep that a growing boy really needs.

He waited for Draco outside of breakfast the next morning, trying to get his attention when the Slytherin walked by. Draco just waved a hand at him.

Harry was getting ready to be annoyed, until he noticed and small piece of paper flying towards him. He grabbed it out of the air when it was close enough, went up a flight of stairs and around a corner to find somewhere quiet to read the note.

Looking closer, he discovered that it was actually a small heart. He unfolded it, and read.

Literal translation of "Bonne Rêves de son Amoureux":

'Good (nice)Dreams of your Lover'

I guess I should have told you that that particular potion is only found in French.

They are known to be very romantic people.

And, rest assured, we will both probably crash in the middle of charms. I wonder what Professor Flitwick thinks of stereo snoring?

Harry just snorted and made his way to class, deciding that he was very lucky indeed.