A/N: I do not own anything. It's all Rowling. Though I do wish I did… That would be so awesome…

Draco absentmindedly played with the piano keys before him. He had no desire to play anything, but the Room of Requirement had been the logical place to go after the disastrous Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Knowing Blaise would be looking for him, he had decided to avoid the common room and library. There was no reason the music room couldn't also act as a thinking room. Damn that Kemp man. Of all the things he could have taught us, he chose that.

He hadn't even known what his boggart would turn into when the trunk had first opened. Maybe Voldemort, or Bellatrix. He could even understand a dementor. You got the dementor all right. And you should have ended it there. But, no – he had proceeded to show the class the nagging concern that kept him up at night.

It wasn't that Draco was afraid of Lucius. What scared him was that Lucius had been so convinced that everything he did was for the greater good of his family. Lucius had first joined the Dark Lord because of the pull of power and the sense of superiority that ran through his veins. And then suddenly there was a ring on his finger and a screaming baby in the room next door, and it was too late to get out. The plan to distance himself from his wife and son to 'protect them' failed as that indifference became habit, and not even that night in July, seventeen years ago, could convince Lucius Malfoy that it was safe enough to love his family again.

And Draco was afraid. Afraid that one day he would shun everyone and everything in a futile attempt to save them. Afraid that people would pay for his sins the way he was paying for his father's. Afraid that he would be too proud admit it when he was wrong. Afraid that his moral compass was too screwed up to even know right from wrong.

Draco started as the door behind him opened. It was Blaise – of course – and he was carrying a plate of sandwiches.

"Wasn't sure if you would be hungry," was all he said when Draco raised a sardonic eyebrow. He set the platter down on the piano and merely stood there, gazing at Draco, who stared right back.

"If you're expecting a tearful confession of what happened during class, Blaise, I'm afraid you'll have to leave unsatisfied."

"Really, Draco? You're really going to pull your whole 'I don't give a crap' act and expect me to just go away?" Draco just continued to look at his friend, watching Blaise grow frustrated.

"What's the point?" he finally drawled. "We've told each other everything for the past seven years, so there's not much to tell."

"The point, Draco is that I want to help you," Blaise finally exploded. "The point is that you haven't told me anything about what actually happened to you last year, and I'm worried. You just hid away behind you little smirk and don't let anyone get near you. The point is that I can see you turning into your father every day because you're so afraid that people will actually bloody care about you!" Draco stood up and gave Blaise as good as he got.

"Don't you dare compare me to my father, Blaise Zabini. And I don't deserve to have people care about me. In case you hadn't noticed, the headmaster is dead and half the people at this bloody school lost someone because of what I am. So why don't you go comfort Weasley about his brother because he sure as hell deserves it more than I do." Draco folded his arms and glared at Blaise, who looked slightly smug.

"Good. At least I managed to get one thing out of you for today. Look, Draco, I do want to help you, and I can't do that if you just… bottle everything up. Because one day you're going to crack around someone who isn't as… equipped to handle you, and that day isn't going to end well for anyone. I'm sorry for yelling at you, but I just wish you'd talk, if not to me, then to someone." Draco felt his anger at Blaise drain away when he heard the raw concern in his friend's voice.

"I'm sorry too, Blaise. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Not when you've put up with me for so long. And I deserved that." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I guess I just… I don't know. I don't know what to do or be or act like now that Lucius is… not here."

"It's okay, mate. You'll figure it out. You have me and Pansy and Daph and Theo, and it'll all be okay."

"Thanks Blaise."

"Yup. Merlin knows you've done this for me before."

"So… what kind of sandwiches did you bring up?"

-O-O-O-O-

The potions classroom was filled with various fumes and multi-colored smoke. Draco languidly cut up dried salamander tails as Blaise stirred their cauldron counterclockwise in precise movements. Their fight two days before was merely a memory, and Draco had finally gotten a full night's sleep with a carefully measured dose of Madame Pomfrey's dreamless sleep potion. He could only take it once or twice a week, but even that made a difference.

Today they were concoction concealment potions, which were more powerful than the concealment charm. While the potion was tricky, Draco was having no problems with it and his potion was looking quite good. He glanced around the classroom to see how the other students were doing. Pansy was working with that Ravenclaw, Anthony Goldstein. The pair looked frustrated that their potion was a deep green instead of the proper green-yellow it should be. He caught Pansy's eye and held up a salamander tail. She looked at it, then at the instructions, and her eyes widened. She said something to her partner, who looked surprised but added a bit of tail. Their potion turned the correct shade, and both Pansy and Goldstein gave him a look of gratitude. He nodded slightly in response.

Blaise, who was focused on his stirring, didn't even notice what Draco had done. He felt someone watching him, and turned to see Granger giving him a narrow-eyed, speculative look. He ignored her and moved on to powdering a gryphon claw.

Twenty minutes later, Draco was cleaning out his cauldron while Blaise brought their potion up to Slughorn, who awarded them ten points. Just as he finished packing up, he heard Slughorn's unmistakable boom.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, if I might have a moment of your time?"

"Of course, sir," Draco replied politely, abandoning his bag and coming to the front of the classroom. Granger followed close behind.

"Well," Slughorn began jovially, clapping his hands together. "I have rarely seen anything like the pair of you. To have one gifted student is all a teacher can ask for, but to have two in the same class is fantastic, simply a dream." Draco waited for the professor to get to his point. "It seems the two of you have been finding this class a little lacking in challenge. So, I talked with the Headmistress and she agreed that I could take the two of you on as special, advanced students. You will still take the NEWTS at the end of the year, but I thought you would enjoy learning about some more interesting potions." Draco gave a nod of agreement, and Granger practically exploded with eagerness.

"Oh, thank you, Professor! I can't wait!" Typical Granger. It seems she forgot she would be working with me.

"Excellent, excellent. Well since we'll be working with some particularly fiddly potions, I don't want you distracted by the rest of the students. So we will meet here twice a week after lunch, since I looked at your schedules and saw that you had no classes at that time on Tuesdays and Fridays. Instead, you'll use this class as a free period, perhaps enjoy a nice dinner before the rest of the school gets out. Does that work well for everyone?" Draco nodded again, and glanced at Granger. She only showed excitement at her chance to learn more.

"Wonderful!" Slughorn shouted. "Well, I'll be seeing you on Tuesday, then. Have a good weekend, you two!" And he sailed out of the room, leaving his new special students behind.

"Well then, Granger," Draco said, somewhat awkwardly. "I'll be seeing you."

She merely nodded in response and walked out of the room, looking a little dazed. Draco sighed and followed her out, planning on going to the library and avoiding the dinner rush. This new Potions class intrigued him – he had always loved Potions, and Snape had acted as mentor and teacher to him as he experimented with different ingredients.

He knew Granger was good at Potions – she was good at everything – but he thought that perhaps in this one subject he did better than she did. And not just because of Snape's prejudice against Gryffindor. No matter what that House thought, or how unfairly they had been treated in class, Snape always gave credit where credit was due. And Draco had no doubt that Granger had been able to impress his dead godfather.

Draco was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice that people had come up behind him until he was pushed into the wall. He struggled to keep his balance, but a strong arm pinned him while another grabbed his cane. He couldn't see who was attacking him – Merlin, was it really that late? – but that didn't matter when one of them punched him in the gut. Draco sank to his knees only to be pinned against the wall again.

"Remember, don't do anything where it'll show."

"Won't he run to Pomfrey or something?" The voices were unfamiliar – neither from Slytherin nor his year.

"Nah, it'll be fine," another blow to his ribs, "that damn stuck-up pride won't let him." Draco closed his eyes as a third fist pounded into his left kidney. It was true – he wouldn't tell anyone. He had half been expecting this since his first day back. Voldemort had hurt so many families, and he was the closest representation of all the Light side had been against. He supposed he deserved this, he thought idly as another punch made him gasp, after all he had done.

He hung limply against the wall, taking their curses and blows without resistance, without groans or cries. After a little while they stopped. He dropped to the ground and lay there. A last kick to the ribs – he barely flinched.

"That's the least you deserve, Death Eater scum." He heard footsteps walk away, but simply lay on the floor, feeling the cool stone beneath his cheek. After a minute, he crawled around to locate his cane before hoisting himself to his feet and limping off towards the library. He had a Charms essay to write.

A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed. So, if it seems that Draco and Blaise got over their fight way too quickly, it's just because they've known each other forever. Neither of them is really touchy-feely, so they kind of get all their problems on the table and get over it. At least they try to. Also, lo siento for hurting poor Draco, but it had to be done. As always, reviews are much appreciated!