Author's Note: I've been writing in Harry's POV for the last three chapters, so I thought I'd switch it up and make it Draco's for the next three.

Chapter 4

After the two boys had split ways down the corridor, Draco began to wander aimlessly down more corridors. He didn't feel like going back to the Slytherin common room quite yet. Of course, it was well after curfew, but Draco didn't care. He just needed to clear his head. This assignment is insane, he thought. This whole class is insane. This school is insane; this world is insane. I'm insane.

Draco laughed bitterly. Was it just his imagination or was Potter staring at him more often these days? He'd played it off before, but it was starting to unnerve him a little. Sure, he had expected that Potter would be paying some kind of attention to him now that they were back at school, but he hadn't expected the staring—it was like Sixth year all over again... Draco had to wonder if Potter thought that he was up to something. It irritated him. Couldn't he go two steps without Potter trailing behind him as if he were a criminal?

But then again, perhaps that was what Potter still thought of Draco. The barmy Gryffindor didn't know a lot of things about him... right before the war, Draco had changed sides—at the very end of Sixth year, in fact—and from then on, had acted as a personal double agent for Dumbledore. It had been a very covert job, and the loyalties of Draco were still unknown to his friends and most of his family; not even Potter had been informed of the change. Draco had preferred to keep it that way, and therefore insisted on secrecy, but it was still annoying how Potter still walked around acting like he was better than Draco. He wasn't. Mostly.

Draco's reason for switching sides had been simple: he'd stuck by his family. Though Lucius had gone and royally fucked up, Draco had always looked up to Narcissa—he'd respected her, stuck by her, did everything to keep her happy. But the summer before Sixth year, she had confided in him that their side—Voldemort's—was not what Draco had always been told it was. And in time, Draco had discovered that she was right; Voldemort's campaign was all about power. An immense amount of power, yes, but with that power came a price—a terrible price of innocent lives taken and constant fear. Draco did not want to pay it. One night, Narcissa had informed him that she was going to switch sides on the sly and she wanted him to come with her. And so, right then, Draco made a pact with his mother that he would never join the ranks of Voldemort. He would never sell his soul to the Devil. He would never throw his life away. And he would fight for the right side to the very last moment...

But a year or two after Draco had made that pact, his mother had gone missing. It had been his Seventh year and he was preoccupied with many things; Potter had come back from who-knows-where and full out battle had occurred, throwing Draco's covert mission into disarray and confusion... He had not had time to locate Narcissa. It was then that she had vanished completely and Draco had heard that she was suspected of being a traitor... She never came back. And even now, Draco prayed every morning and night that she was safe, wherever she was—if she was. Gods, he missed her terribly. Draco shook his head. It hurt to think about these things, so he typically didn't; he liked to block out these emotions with a stone wall of composure, and his trusty go-to hadn't broken down yet, though he was constantly afraid that it might. Especially when it came to thinking about the war. And his mother.

Draco sighed and carried on through the empty corridors. It was a corny thing to say, but Draco felt like a changed man. He really did. And for some reason, he rarely felt as if he were much of a figure anymore. Of course, his friends and Housemates had tried many times to connect with him, take him by the hand and crown him their fearless, ruthless leader once more, but no matter what they did, they'd never quite succeeded. Perhaps the stress of his life for the past few years had finally gotten to him, or perhaps it was just teenage angst... It didn't really matter to him; he had tried his best to appease them. He preferred to brood—he liked the calm, level-headed aura his new solitary gave him. This afternoon, however, had been the first time he'd come out of his shell, fighting with Potter as if it just yesterday he'd done it. Draco scowled. If he were to be honest, it wasn't really a surprise. Potter was the only one who had ever given Draco a real reason to react.

And it was inevitable, really. The moment Draco had walked into that Marriage Sex and Family class and spotted Potter, he had felt this strange, powerful urge to get back into the swing of things with him. It had hit him like lightning. Whether it had to do with Draco's changing sides and everything that had gone along with that experience, or something else, there was just something about Potter that remained so perfectly unchanged. Draco didn't know why—he didn't even like the prat—but Potter was a sense of relief... and fighting, at least, was something Draco knew how to do with him. He understood, sort of. It was uncomplicated, and at this point, Draco needed uncomplicated.

After a few more random twists and turns, Draco sighed, opting to finally make his way back to the Slytherin common room. It was rather late, after all. Once he stepped into the portrait hole, he was not surprised to find Pansy and Blaise waiting up for him on the couches, as they often did. Draco almost smiled. His friends—the ones that were still here—were fiercely loyal to him, as they always had been. At least he could be grateful for that.

"Draco," Blaise called out, glancing up and patting a seat on the couch for him to take. "Where have you been?"

Draco sat down. "Detention," he muttered. "With Potter."

"That should have been over ages ago. What took you so long?"

"I was just walking."

"Clearing your head again, I see," Pansy remarked. She sat down in between the two boys, tapping Draco's knee affectionately as she did.

"Yeah. It's just… this assignment with Potter." Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. "One day in and we're already snapping at each other's throats. Impossible, really. And what's more, we've gotten the ultimatum from Snape: get along or fail out. Can you believe it? I know I've got to try, but Merlin, he is so bloody irritating."

Blaise chuckled. "He's quite a piece of work, isn't he? But so are you, so I suppose it's even."

Draco shoved Blaise away from him. "I reckon we are a good pair then," he said dryly. "Props to Dumbledore, Free Leader of the Wizarding World and part-time Matchmaker. Too bad we're going to end up killing each other, though."

Pansy laughed comfortably, lying back on the couch. "Well, I can't say I'm feeling completely sorry for you, Draco," she admitted. "Potter may be a prat, but he's not an unattractive prat. If I were you, I'd take advantage of that arse."

Draco gasped, dismayed. "Pansy Parkinson!" he cried. "How could you even say such a thing?"

"What?" Pansy smirked. "It's true. If Potter wasn't so... Potter, I'd have a go at him. Wouldn't you, Blaise?"

Blaise grinned at Draco. "He's not horrible to look at, I'll admit. Anyway, he's got more than half the population at this school—not to mention the whole wizarding world—sending him marriage proposals. Aren't you glad you got to him first, Draco?"

Blaise and Pansy shared a laugh. Draco tried scowling, but he ended up losing that battle. He cracked a teensy smile and chuckled along with them. Not because he thought it was a funny situation (it wasn't), but because at least they were on his side, and that was as much as he could hope for. Most people weren't.

~x~

God damn it. Draco had been searching the library for Blaise for a few minutes now, but his friend seemed to be nowhere in sight. Blaise was supposed to be working with Granger on their Marriage and Family assignment, but he had sent a message up to Draco asking him to 'save him from the Gryffindor bitch'. Draco had complied; it was late afternoon, and he had nothing better to do at this time... Plus, he knew just how aggravating Granger could be—the girl could probably force Dumbledore himself to lose it if she wanted to. Of course, Draco also felt it would be a rather ideal time for him and Blaise to sit underneath a tree outside to critise whoever and whatever happened to walk by... He was particularly eager to do it today, as he was feeling rather irritated and pent-up from his classes and all... A good old sneering session with Blaise should do the trick. It always did.

After a few more long minutes, Draco finally found Blaise and Granger sitting in one of the back booths scowling angrily at each other. It didn't look good—Blaise had been right to call for help. Granger's face was as blotched as a Weasley's and her hair seemed to frizz up more than usual. Draco had to wonder what Blaise had said or done to make the normally temperate Granger blow up like that... if his best friend's life hadn't been in succinct danger at the moment, Draco would've found it rather hilarious.

"Zabini, for the last time, I did not say that," Granger snapped.

Blaise pursed his lips. "You didn't say it, but it was implied," he retorted. "You insult me. Do you really think that you are superior to me just because you get higher marks on exams?"

Granger folded her arms across her chest. She was done playing games. "Uh, yes," she countered. "That is typically what high marks represent. Intelligence."

Blaise scowled. "You're a fucking elitist, Granger."

"You are calling me an elitist?" Granger shrieked. "Oh, that's rich!"

"Fuck you!"

"What did I tell you about language, Zabini?"

Draco cleared his throat and stepped up to the table, hoping to ease his friend out of the tricky situation he had woven himself into. Granger looked as if she could kill. "I got your message," he said to Blaise. "Let's get out of here."

Blaise looked up at Draco, clearly grateful for the distraction. "Thank Merlin," he hissed. "I was just about to strangle her."

Granger snorted. "As if you could," she all but sneered.

Blaise merely ignored her. He began to tug Draco's arm until they were sufficiently far enough away from the table.

"I can't handle this," Blaise whispered, pulling Draco around a bookcase and glancing around. "She's insane. Worse than Pansy when you-know-what happens you-know-when, I swear. One more minute, and I really would have killed her. There is no question about it."

Draco cringed. "I know the feeling," he replied sympathetically. If Granger was bad, Potter was much worse—if not for their feats in the war, the Gryffindor trio were probably most notably famous for their righteous attitudes. Speaking of, Draco had to wonder how Pansy was faring with Weasley; it couldn't have been much better. And she, unlike Draco and Blaise, had less self-control.

"Let's just get out of here," Blaise said again.

Draco nodded. The tree. But just as the two boys were almost at the exit, Draco suddenly remembered that he needed a book for his Arithmancy assignment. Fuck—that was due the next morning. He felt slightly dumb that he had been lingering around the library for a while without thinking of it, but hey, he had other things on his mind: saving his best friend's arse, for one.

"Blaise, wait," Draco said, turning around. "I've got to get something. Hold on."

His friend nodded and trailed after him faithfully so that they could search for the text together; Draco headed back over towards the booth they were at before. The text he had happened to need was inconveniently in perfect range of Granger's study table, so they had to be quick—It would be a bad scene if Granger looked up and found Blaise standing right there: in perfect hexing range. Draco reached the section with the book and swiftly plucked it from the shelf, swirling around to leave before he got sidetracked by the wrathful Gryffindor girl himself.

But as he turned, he caught sight of said Gryffindor now sitting with her fellow Gryffindor best friend... namely, Potter. Draco frowned. He hadn't seen Potter arrive at the table, but he supposed that he and Blaise had been off to the side talking long enough for Potter to slip in—it wasn't as if it were a major feat or anything. Draco gazed at the duo curiously. Potter was leaning in to listen to something that Granger was saying, and after a bit, he laughed and shot her a brilliant smile that for some daft reason made Draco's stomach feel all flippy-floppy. What the fuck? Draco idly wondered if Potter had any romantic feelings for Granger, because Draco always teased Potter nowadays with it but he had never really pondered if it were in fact true. Well... It would make sense.

Of course, Draco had heard the rumours that something might have gone on between the two while they were gallivanting off last year (and where the Weasel had been during that time, Draco didn't know), and that was the reason why Potter and the Weaselette had not gotten back together this year. But then again, those were rumours. Draco tended not to listen to them, especially when they were about the Golden Trio and their trivial dilemmas. But... it seemed somehow more plausible now that he was staring directly at it. It didn't look like a rumour to him.

Draco watched now as Potter reached forward and grabbed Granger's arm, perhaps in a speech of passion, rambling at a rapid pace about something that was probably stupid and Potter-like. How fucking romantic—Draco's stomach lurched a little and he shook his head, trying to forget the thought. He didn't care about either Granger's or Potter's love life. It's not like he watched Potter anymore… not that he ever had, of course. Perhaps it was just old habit to notice.

Suddenly, Blaise tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of it. "Any day now, Draco," he muttered. "You've been standing there for ages. Have you got it?"

Draco looked away from Potter now and frowned in confusion. "Got what?"

"The book, dumbarse."

Oh, right, he'd almost forgotten that was what he'd been doing. "Yeah, yeah..." Draco gave his friend a look and held it up. "I have it right here."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "That's all you had to say."

Draco stole one last look at Potter and Granger, shaking his head and turning around. The affection was obvious, but why so much of it? Gryffindors were so strange.

~x~

The next day Draco arrived to Marriage Sex and Family with the utmost confidence—he and Potter had filled out their questionnaire with minimal bickering and had not outright fought in approximately twenty-four hours. It was bloody amazing. Shouldn't Draco get an award for that or something? ...Granted, he'd only seen the bespectacled prat for an hour at dinner and brief passing periods between classes, but he could still be proud of himself for it. It was, in fact, the longest the two had gone without some sort of unpleasantry between them. And by Merlin, Draco was going to revel in it, damn it.

Draco noticed Potter walking in at the same time as he; the latter surrounded by his friends and admirers looking quite uncomfortable, albeit still happy. Draco wondered for a moment why the boy always looked so tense around all of those people. Was Potter disconcerted by the constant attention? Draco had never noticed that... Wait. Potter had always loved the attention and so it certainly wasn't the problem. Who said there had to be a problem? Besides, Draco didn't care either way. It was just that Potter's face looked kind of good like that. Relaxed.

What? Draco shook his head again. These thoughts were getting annoying... It must've been a result of coming into this nonsensical class. Gods, he hated it. He blew a strand of blond hair out of his eyes and watched Potter make his way over to their bench through the sea of Potter-lovers. Git.

"Malfoy," Potter greeted stiffly, as he sat down. Draco noticed that he wasn't sitting on the very edge of the bench anymore. It was a start, at least.

Draco nodded in return. "Potter."

He didn't know what else to say without accidentally offending Potter and Potter seemed to feel the same way, so they both sat in silence until Snape had arrived at the front of the room, looking aggravated as usual.

"I expect that these essays are flawless, given the amount of time you've had to conduct them," Snape remarked, as the sound of parchment rustling became evident. "Let us hope that I am not mistaken. Today, we will be working on a partner survey. Afterwards, we will discuss the next part of your assignments." A set of parchments appeared in front of them again. "You may begin."

Draco looked down at his sheet. It was the same type of thing that he and Potter had gotten the day before, but it was suspiciously longer than the one they had received. He groaned. Honestly, Snape was making a mockery out of this and he knew it—obviously, the man had decided that if he had to endure hell for this class, so were the rest of them.

"I'll start," Potter piped up, causing Draco to look up at him. Potter gazed down at his parchment and frowned. "Er... Describe your ideal partner," he read, chewing on the end of his quill in a way that was utterly barbaric. Gods, how distracting.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Grace and class, of course, and hair that doesn't stick up in the most atrocious way." He sniffed. "In short, not you—if you didn't get the hint."

Potter gave him a withering look before writing that down with his chewed up quill. "You can joke all you want, Malfoy, it's your grade."

"Who said I was joking?" Draco muttered under his breath.

Potter hadn't heard him—or at least, pretended not to—and gestured at Draco to start writing. "For me, I start by looking for compatibility," Potter declared. "They've got to be passionate about something. They need to have opinions. I don't want them to be boring; I want them to make me work for it. Wit and unwavering loyalty is everything, you know. Creativity, quirk, laughter... Because, really, love is nothing but a game." He grinned, and Draco noticed that his teeth were very straight and white. He tried not to stare so much.

"You are such a Gryffindor," Draco muttered. He wrote down the response and scowled at it for good measure.

Potter shot him another look, but didn't comment further. "What do you want to do after you graduate?" he asked.

Draco pretended to think for a moment. "Sit on my arse, perhaps?" he suggested. "Honestly, I haven't really thought about it."

In truth, Draco had thought about it—a lot. He knew that he wanted to be an Auror; to help rid the world of horrible people and to right the wrongs he'd done. He'd dreamed about it ever since he'd decided to switch sides... But of course, that was a far-fetched dream, even for him. The Wizarding World would never accept him, a former Death Eater, to represent them and fight off their evils, no matter how much training he received. Besides, there were many people that still thought that he was evil. Including Potter, probably. There was no point in arguing against it.

Despite Draco's shallow answer, Potter looked pensive. "Me neither, I suppose," he mused. "Though, I think I want to try being a Healer or something. That would be cool."

Potter's response surprised Draco. "Really?" he asked. "I'd have thought you would want to be a professional Quidditch player or an Auror, or something obnoxious like that."

Potter pursed his lips in a way that reminded Draco of the uncomfortable look that Potter had on before around his followers. "Yeah, I guess that's what most people would pin me down to be," he said slowly. "But that's what they want, not what I want. Maybe I want to be an Auror now, maybe I want to be a Healer later. Maybe I don't want to be anything. So what? Sometimes people forget that I'm actually a living, breathing human being and not just some mythical legend."

Draco searched his face. He had fancied believing that Potter was an open book for the whole world to read, with all the celebrity that the Gryffindor was used to receiving, but it didn't seem to be the case as of now. Potter was somewhat like a vault full of mysteries... It made Draco sort of curious. "You know, you surprise me sometimes, Potter," he remarked.

Potter shrugged. "I live to do just that, Malfoy."

They continued in that way for the rest of the questionnaire, treading carefully along to ensure that no tempers flared up. Draco couldn't say that he was having a bad time—in fact, he might have laughed once or twice (though it had been because Potter had confessed that he had once been stung by a bug and cried for ten minutes straight; Draco had guffawed loudly, Potter had smacked the side of his head). All in all, Draco couldn't help but feel sort of optimistic. About what, he didn't know, but it was a nice, new feeling... Especially when it came to Potter.

By the end of class, Snape had appeared at the front of the room again, still seemingly agitated. "So far I presume that you have all learned each other's information to the point of familiarity." He appeared even more annoyed at this. "But you have not been officially 'married' yet. We will conduct a short ceremony for everybody next class, but as of right now you are all, in terms... dating."

Oh, fantastic.

"I reckon we're getting married in the morning, Potter," Draco whispered to the other boy on his side.

Potter just snorted softly.

"Following that, the next part of your assignment will be the 'moving in' aspect of marriage life," Snape continued. "One of you will stay in the other's House dorm for the next month. Of course, you will be separated into girls' and boys' dormitories, but you will get the experience of 'living together as a couple' for the rest of the month. I will be randomising the names again right now. Listen closely for your assignment."

Draco bit his lip. Really? He'd have to live with Potter now? Of course, it was one thing to learn to get along during classes and mealtimes, but during lounging evenings? Early mornings? Week-ends? This was obviously just another set-up for disaster. And right when he and Potter had started to act a bit civil towards each other, too! Awful timing. Still... Please don't let me be in Gryffindor, Draco prayed silently. When he glanced over, Potter was fidgeting nervously in his seat.

Snape cleared his throat. "Miss Granger and Mr. Zabini, Slytherin. Mr. Weasley and Miss Parkinson, Gryffindor. Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood, Ravenclaw. Miss Weasley and Mr. Nott, Slytherin. Mr. Thomas and Mr. Finnigan, Gryffindor. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter…"

Oh for the love of—

"Slytherin."