Author's note: I hope y'all have a wonderful day. Characters aren't mine.

Harry

"Get out of my way."

"You're in my way, you git, I was here first!"

"No you weren't, I was!"

"Just freaking move, Potter…"

It was a few weeks after their little 'truce' had passed, and they hadn't tried to stalk the other, they hadn't tried to hex the other and they hadn't snarled any insults regarding past events, but they couldn't help but get rid of their built-in frustration with each other by snarling, pushing, pulling and a whole lot of sighing. Today, the first of October, they'd collided at the entrance of the Great Hall, and neither was backing up first to make room for the other.

"You're blocking everyone's path, Malfoy," Harry said tiredly, pointing at the crowd who was assembling behind them.

"It takes two people to clog up the entrance, Golden Boy," Malfoy smirked.

"Then get out of my way! I can't move through you, unless you suddenly became a ghost –"

"What's going on?" Came an annoyed voice behind them – Blaise Zabini. "Why isn't anyone moving?"

"Yeah – I'm hungry!"

Harry couldn't help but think that that voice'd had to belong to his best friend, Ron. And not even two seconds later Ron's face perked up from the crowd, screening it intently until he locked eyes with Harry's. And then with Malfoy's. With Harry's again. His frown increased, and he started pushing and pulling through the crowd, trying to get through.

"Just move, Malfoy," Harry said again, this time physically pushing the blonde boy. He wanted to get this scene over with before Ron reached them – and he wasn't even sure why.

"Hey!" Malfoy brushed his robes, almost jumping away from Harry's touch. "You can't just touch me."

"Then don't get in my way!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, as if tired and amused at the same time. "Merlin, you certainly aren't miss Sunshine in the morning –"

"I can't very well be any kind of 'miss', considering I'm a boy –"

"Something of which we are all well aware of, I'm sure," Ron intervened, stepping between them with a scowling expression on his face. "What are you up to, Malfoy? Trying to starve everyone by blocking the way to breakfast?"

"Oh, no," Malfoy feigned surprise, clutching his heart. "You found out about my elaborate evil plan! Whatever am I supposed to do now?"

Harry fought the urge to laugh at Malfoy's joke – he was just tired, he didn't think Malfoy was funny, absolutely not – but he let himself go when he saw Ron's angry expression. Ron in the morning was bad enough, especially if he hadn't eaten yet, but him meeting Malfoy before breakfast – that was considered hell for the red-headed boy. "Very funny, ferret," Ron said, smirking when Malfoy winced a bit at the nickname. "You still haven't moved from everyone's path, though."

"Harry's in the way, too," Malfoy said, pointing vaguely in Harry's direction.

"Yeah? So? You are supposed to act good on your own, Malfoy, not just copy-cat Harry –"

Malfoy snorted. "And you're saying Harry's so flawless, even I would want to copy him?"

Harry groaned, "It's way too early for this kind of –"

Suddenly someone groped his arm, pulling him harshly from the crowd and into the Great Hall. Harry was just in time to see that Malfoy was pulled along too before he was pushed into a seat at the Gryffindor table. "Honestly!" Hermione said, quickly letting go of Malfoy's arm – he looked ready to hex her into oblivion for daring to touch him – before settling down beside Harry. "You two act like two bickering children, and it's got to stop!" Ron sat down beside her, and started filling up his plate. "I don't care that you two are old enemies – you fought on the same side during the war, you both survived, you both saved each other and you are grown-ups now! Can't you let it go?"

"We have let it go." Harry said simply, grabbing some toast. Malfoy wasn't saying anything, which was to be expected, but he wasn't walking away either, which was kind of odd. "What's wrong with an argument now and then?" Harry added, pointing his piece of toast in Malfoy's direction. The boy snarled at him, which made Harry want to smirk. (So he did.)

Hermione looked up, her mouth half open to start talking, but she faltered when she caught the look in Harry's eyes. Harry didn't know what she saw – were his eyebrows on fire or something? – but he did see the gigantic smile that grew on her face before she turned to look at Draco. If it were possible, her smile grew even wider. "You're right," she said abruptly, and Ron started couching, having accidentally swallowed a bit too much Pumpkin Juice in his surprise. "Never mind. Do carry on, don't mind me." And with that she turned towards the table, as if nothing had happened.

Harry and Malfoy locked gazes – both with their eyebrows raised.

"Uh, Hermione?" Ron said carefully, "Did you just say what I think you said?"

She ignored him. "Could you pass me the eggs, Harry? Thanks."

He passed her the eggs, still not looking away from Malfoy's face.

"Um," he said, clearing his throat, "I'm… I'm gonna eat now." And with that he strode away, his pace a little less graceful and Slytherin than normal – but still very much Draco Malfoy.

Ron stared at his girlfriend – who was casually helping herself with an English breakfast – before turning to Harry. "What in the name of Merlin's bloody under–"

"Ron!" Hermione scowled, nudging him without even looking up from her plate. "Language."

He cleared his throat, and said, "What just happened?"

She started smiling again, and when she looked at Harry he could swear her eyes were twinkling with mischief – not something that happened often with her. "Something good is happening, Ron," she said, still looking Harry in the eye, "Something someone deserves so, so much."

Harry looked away to the Slytherin table, and his gaze crossed Malfoy's again.

This time, however, the heat that bubbled up underneath his skin felt different then the usual irritation and annoyance and humiliation – this heat felt like a slow fire, warming him up from the inside, making even his toes twirl.

Hermione's soft voice brought him back to the present, and Harry turned to her – with more effort than he'd care to admit. "But I'm pretty sure," she said, looking as if she was telling them her biggest secret, "that you're not ready to hear about it just yet."

Harry knew that the last sentence had been directed to him – and he couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly.

Draco

After the 'incident' at breakfast Draco had rushed out of the Great Hall for several reasons.

The first being obvious – Potter. The second was that infuriatingly odd muggleborn girl, Granger. And the third was his best friend Blaise who couldn't stop asking him why he hadn't punched Potter in the face that morning.

"C'mon, Draco," Blaise whined, following him like a lost little puppy, obviously not getting the hint that Draco was trying to avoid him. "The rumors about your fight are already spreading – I mean, you did clog up the hall way for nearly twenty minutes…"

Draco pulled a face. "It was ten minutes, at most. And we really need a new threat, Blaise, if this is the standard of our rumors nowadays –"

"You're changing the subject again –"

"And am I succeeding?"

Blaise laughed, and shoved him. They were walking towards the dungeons together – their first lesson of the Monday being Potions. It was a month since they'd started to brew Veritaserum, and today would be the day that their self-brewed potions would be tested. It'd be an interesting lesson to say in the least. "Who do you reckon shall taste your Potion?" Blaise said after a while of silence.

Draco physically relaxed – he hadn't expected his best friend to really change the subject so quickly. "Aren't you my partner?"

"Lisa is." Blaise reminded him. "I'm with that dumb Hufflepuff remember – Slughorn had pulled us apart after that accident two weeks back…"

"Right." Draco felt a blush creep up his cheeks – and he had to mentally strain himself to stop it. It didn't happen often, him being wrong in brewing potions, but that infuriating Potter had distracted him by (licking his lips) being Potter, which had resulted in the slight explosion of his wand. (He'd accidentally held it inside the fire, setting of a Bombarda spell without knowing he did. The look on Blaise's face had almost made up for Slughorn's detention.)

"But she's got allergies, hasn't she?"

"I wouldn't care if she'd drop dead from it," Draco said honestly, "I'm not taking it in front of the class."

"It wouldn't matter anyway, would it?" Blaise muttered, brushing his hair from his face. He'd grown it out last summer, and Draco had to admit that he looked better this way. "People who are skilled at Occlumency can withstand it, and you're perfect at it, so –"

"So Slughorn wouldn't know if my potion would work in the first place. I can see what you're getting at." And he did. Blaise was right – his partner couldn't taste the Potion, and neither could he. "You don't happen to want to help me out?"

Blaise snorted. "When have you ever needed, or rather asked, for my help?" Truth. "And besides, I'm already tasting my own potion – I don't trust that Hufflepuff kid for one second – so I can't taste yours."

Draco cursed, jumping down the last two steps.

"Maybe Potter wants to try your Potion?" Blaise suggested, a twinkle in his eye. "I know the Weasel's tasting theirs – I heard him complain about a lost bet last week – so Potter's free to do it for you."

"For all you know he could be better at Occlumency than I am." But then Draco remembered Potter's temper, the way the Golden Boy wore his heart on his sleeves, the way he never held anything back – not in the way Draco did, anyway. Potter was the exact opposite of him, always caring, never cool, never collected and never thinking before speaking. "You know what," Draco said, smirking, "I actually think he sucks at it, to be honest."

"There you go," Blaise said, pushing the doors of the classroom open with a big smile, "Now you can finally find out if he likes you back."

Draco, being used to this by now, just rolled his eyes at him. "If I can get him to drink my potion, his love life isn't the most important thing I'd like to know –"

"Oh, no?" Came a voice, which startled both the Slytherins in their walk. Harry Potter was sitting on his table, his legs crossed and his arms by his side. His black hair was literally standing in every direction, as if he'd just been sparked with lightning, and his green eyes were glowing in the dark dungeon. He was also slightly out of breath – he must've taken a short-cut to make it to the dungeons before Draco's done.

Something was twirling in Draco's stomach, and he had to mentally refrain himself from jumping Potter.

Wait.

What?

"I thought my love life was considered of high importance to you, Malfoy," Potter said – and did he just drawl his voice? Dear Merlin: Potter was trying to copy him.

And he had to admit; he was pulling it off rather splendidly.

Malfoy sighed, trying to keep his voice as even and unemotional as possible. "Considering we all already know you're bedding with the Weasel's sister," Potter's face fell for a few seconds before slipping back in a smirking mask, "finding out who your heart greatest desire is isn't all that important." Malfoy threw his bag on his table, nearly knocking his cauldron sideways. He couldn't care less. "So if I was to get you to drink some truth potion, your love life wouldn't be my priority. You really need a lesson or two in –"

"Right, then, can I have your attention please?" Cut in Professor Slughorn's excited voice, and reluctantly everyone got to their seats. (Not after Draco had winked at Potter, causing the latter to fall off his table and onto his seat in embarrassment. Blaise had to bite in his own robes to keep himself from laughing too hard.) "As you all know, it is precisely one month after we started brewing our Veritaserum, or, it will be in five more minutes." He pointed at the clock excitingly, and Draco wondered if the man would start peeing like a happy dog within those next five minutes, too. "All we have to do now is wait and see what happens – you've all already decided who is going to test the potion, correct? Whom of you is going to drink it?"

Some hands were raised – and Blaise had been right, Draco saw, for Ron was putting up his hand instead of Potter.

"Draco Malfoy," Slughorn said suddenly, and Draco jumped, quickly turning to look to his professor again. "and Lisa Turpin. Didn't you choose?"

"We can't." Lisa said before Draco could. "I'm allergic, and he's a skilled Occlumence."

"You know Occlumency?" Professor Slughorn asked, obviously baffled, and for the first time he didn't have a smile on his face. "At your age?"

"Yes." Draco just answered, not feeling the need explain why he'd needed it in the first place. He didn't talk about the war, nobody did, and he guessed it would kind of kill the mood to tell him that he'd been forced to do it in order to survive.

"Right, then." Slightly disappointed, the professor turned to the class. "Any volunteers in wanting to help them out?"

As expected, nobody raised their hands.

If it had been Potter's potion, everyone would've sprung to his aid, even while his reputation for screwing potions up was about as famous as his skill in Quidditch. His, Draco's, potion however… no matter how good he was, no matter how big his talent in potions was supposed to be – it all didn't matter in their eyes. Nobody was going to drink a potion made by an ex-deatheater, not even in front of a teacher and their savior.

Draco was about to say that he'd rather have a T for potions than have Slughorn force-feed it to someone, when a clear voice rang through the dungeon.

"I'll do it."

Draco's neck snapped with the speed he'd turned his head, and he wasn't the only one. Every eye turned to look at the Golden Boy, who'd raised his hand dryly, with a sly smile on his face.

When Slughorn just stared at him as if he'd lost it, he repeated, this time a little louder: "I'll do it – I'll drink Malfoy's potion."

And Draco was positive that his heart had just skipped a beat.

Harry

For the first time in his Hogwarts career Harry wished he had a camera.

Ron's face would certainly be worth remembering (a whole Quaffle could've fit in his open mouth, and if he'd been a cartoon character his eyes would've popped out) and Dean was surely having trouble breathing, but the one reaction Harry enjoyed the most was Malfoy's.

Sure, they still bickered now and then, they could still very easily get under each other's nerves. But he wasn't going to sit here and do nothing while Malfoy got humiliated by their whole class like that. Maybe Professor Slughorn wouldn't even have seen it like that, like bullying, if nobody had volunteered; but Harry knew better.

Nobody would've wanted to try Malfoy's potion willingly, something he wouldn't've done either two years ago, and to have the professor to force someone to take it wouldn't be all that pleasant either…

So Harry had just gone on impulse and volunteered. He didn't know why.

Maybe it was the defeated look Malfoy'd had on his face minutes earlier.

Maybe it was their 'truce.'

But whatever it was, he couldn't help but enjoy the genuine smile on Malfoy's face thoroughly.

Draco

A bell was ringing. That probably meant that the potions were ready.

Draco couldn't care less. All he saw was the quick nod of Slughorn granting him permission, and the sly smile Potter shot in his direction before grabbing his stuff, his cauldron and books, before trudging through the class to jump in one of the empty seats at Draco's and Lisa's table. Ron followed him, a bit reluctant and still gaping like a stupid fish, and he sat as far away from Draco as possible.

"Have you gone mad?" Draco said as soon as Potter sat down. His smile had disappeared – had he seriously smiled? Merlin, he was turning soft – and he knew he was glaring.

"What do you mean?" Potter asked, quirking a brow innocently.

"This!" Draco gestured to him, to the seat he'd taken at the Slytherin side of the classroom, to his own cauldron and lastly at himself. "If it goes wrong, everyone will blame you being hurt on me! I'll be in Azkaban before you can even say 'it's fine'!"

Potter stared at him for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. "Malfoy, don't tell me you're worried–"

Draco snarled. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter. I'm merely stating the obvious."

"I know, I know." Harry took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. The Weasel was still unable to speak, mouthing words that didn't exist. "And you mean it, too… God." He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it up even more. "Listen, we all know you're the best bloody potion maker of our year, probably our entire school, so you shouldn't have to worry about me collapsing suddenly. Secondly, are you serious? You really think that they'll send you to Azkaban for accidentally hurting a student?"

"Yes." Draco didn't even care that the whole class was probably listening in on their conversation. "Do you really think they'll let an ex-death eater walk free after poisoning their savior – even if it was accidental?"

Potter's smile fell, and he sighed deeply. "Let's just do this, okay? I thought I was doing you a favor."

"Well, you thought wrong," Snapped Draco, turning his attention to his and Lisa's potion. His hands were still shaking.

"All right, class," Professor Slughorn called, "Assemble at your tables with groups of four. We're going to take the potion in turns – one person at a time drinking it, one person asking the rehearsed questions, and two people witnessing it and taking down notes of the effects. We shall only drink one drop each, so the effect of the potion can last five minutes. No one shall drink more. I will have no jokes, no pranks, no accidents, no one stealing their potions under my noses – because the consequences will be quite severe. Is this understood?"

"Yes," echoed the whole class in unison.

"I'll take down the notes," Lisa said quietly, grabbing some parchment. It was obvious that she didn't really want to be part of this – whatever this was, anyway – but she didn't really have a choice.

And neither did the Weasel.

"I'll go first," Ron said, still stealing glances at the Slytherin. "Gives you more time to back out, mate," He whispered to Potter, as if Draco wouldn't hear.

But before he could say something about it, Potter beat him to it. "I won't back out."

This day was certainly not what he'd expected it to be when he woke up this morning.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you say so, Harry. Can you pass me the Pumpkin Juice, then?"

Potter may have been horrible at potions, but he was even worse at handling them delicately. He almost spilled an entire spoon full of Veritaserum into Ron's bowl ('Are you trying to poison your best friend, Potter?' 'Shut up, Malfoy, my hand just slipped –') but at last he succeeded in getting just one drop of the potion in.

"Finally." Ron sighed, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling – obviously used to Potter's theatrics in this class. "Cheers, mate," He said, raising his glass, and drank it all down in one big gulp.

"How are you feeling?" Potter asked as soon as his best friend put the glass down.

"Confused, mostly," Ron answered – and hopefully, truthfully.

The two Gryffindors had obviously stolen their questions from the examples in their book, for they were tediously boring and predictable.

"What's your favorite colour?"

"Orange."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"What's your second name?"

"Bilius."

Draco started coughing, unable to keep himself from laughing. "Excuse me, but come again? Your name is Ronald Bilius Weasley?"

Ron glared, obviously trying to find a good insult but unable to keep the; "yes, it is" from escaping his lips. "Like your name is any better?"

Draco smirked. "Of course it is."

"You're such a pretentious bastard."

This time Draco let himself laugh, and he clutched his hand above his heart. "Knowing you're saying this under the influence of a truth potion really warms my heart."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Please, can we not do this right now? We really need to finish the assignment and I don't like having the words 'pretentious bastard' on our final essay."

"You're right." Draco turned to Lisa, pointing at her notes. "Scratch that, and change it into 'glorious human being'."

"Sod of." Potter said, smirking, before turning to Ron again. "What's your favorite kind of dish –"

"Merlin, Potter." Draco leaned forward. "This isn't how you interrogate someone under the influence of Veritaserum. These are all questions he could've answered truthfully without any potion – you need to catch him off-guard, you need to ask him something he'd rather not tell, something even you don't know…"

"I'm not going to –"

"The ferret is right." Ron said, startling them both. "I hate to say this, but he is. Slughorn isn't going to give us a good grade if we keep doing these kind of questions, we need to do something… original."

"Two minutes left," Lisa said, quirking a brow. "I suggest you get a move on, whatever kind of questions you want to ask."

When nobody said anything, Draco sighed and asked; "Ronald Bilius Weasley –" "I hate him," Ron whispered to Potter "- what is your greatest fear?"

Potter chuckled. "Everyone could answer that one for you, Malfoy. It's spiders."

"Well, aren't I glad to know you can answer the question. Such a shame, then, that you aren't the current subject of a very important part of our N.E.W.T.'s!"

Potter rolled his eyes at him. "Just pointing out the obvious."

"Well, don't." He turned to Ron again, not liking the smirk the red-head was giving him one bit. That Gryffindor needed to be taught a lesson or two on how not to piss a Slytherin off while under the influence of a truth potion. "Have you ever fantasized about kissing a boy?"

Draco ignored Lisa's barking laughter – and purposely didn't look in Potter's direction to see his reaction – but continued to stare at Weasley, both his eyebrows raised and his hands tucked underneath his chin as if to appear curious.

The Weasel was obviously struggling very hard to keep himself from answering – and the fact that he even felt the need to do so was answer enough. Still, Malfoy enjoyed seeing him struggle. "N-N- C'mon, Merlin, n-" Ron swore loudly under his breath before finally saying; "Fine. Fine! Stupid bloody potion and a buffoon of a Malfoy – Yes. Once. Now shut up."

Potter's hand fell on the table with a loud thud. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Ron's ears were about as red as his hair – which was saying something. "Let it go, I beg you."

"Oh, absolutely not." Draco leaned forward even more, his bum leaving his chair completely. "When?"

"In our Fourth year." Ron answered quickly, groaning immediately after. "I take it back, this was a stupid idea – I want to do those stupid and boring questions again."

Potter looked torn, as if he either wanted to bolt from this conversation to save him and his friend a bunch of embarrassment, or join in for more information. The Slytherin side of him must've won – because Potter's lips turned upward in a smirk before he asked innocently; "Who?"

"You're a right bloody bastard, you are," Ron said, hiding his face in his hands.

Draco couldn't help it; he was curious. He hadn't really expected the boy to say yes – but it wasn't so surprising when he thought about it, every boy fantasized once or twice about a guy… right? – but he couldn't help but be insanely curious to find out whom had been the subject of the Weasel's shameless fantasies.

"Krum." Ron finally said, his voice a little louder than intended. His whole face was red at this point, his hands were shaking, and he looked more murderous than he'd ever looked before. "It was Victor Krum – are you happy now?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Draco said, and leaned back.

"You, my dear Malfoy," Ron said, pointing at him angrily, "are an awful person."

"Maybe." Draco admitted, "But I'm rich and I'm pretty so it doesn't really matter."

Potter choked on his laughter.

Harry

The last thing he'd expected to have during a Potion lesson was fun, but here Harry was, laughing so hard he was afraid he was going to cry – about a joke Draco Malfoy just told, no less.

"I do sincerely hope you are taking this assignment seriously," Professor Slughorn said sternly, though he was smiling. He had appeared at their table the moment Harry'd started laughing.

"Of course we are, sir," Lisa Turpin said quickly, trying to keep the smile off her face. "We're nearly done with testing their potion."

"Good, very good!" Professor Slughorn grasped for her parchment, obviously wanting to check what they'd said, but Malfoy pulled the parchment away quicker than Harry'd been able to blink.

"Sorry, Sir," Malfoy drawled, "We're still finishing up, perfecting it – we don't want to ruin the first draft by spoiling it to you, would we?"

If the Professor was surprised, he didn't show it. "Of course." He sighed, clasping Potter quickly on his still shaking shoulders before saying with a thundering voice; "If all went well, the effects on the first test person should've worn off. It's time to discuss and prepare the next round!"

The minute Professor Slughorn turned away, Ron cursed under his breath and said, "We're never discussing this. Ever. And don't you breathe one single word of this to anyone, Malfoy," he added, his left hand grasping his robes – probably with his wand safely tucked inside. "And most importantly," he turned to Harry this time, "I'll kill you if you tell Hermione."

Harry snorted. "Are you sure you don't want to? Maybe you both can drool and stare at Krum's newest Quidditch photo shoot –"

Ron punched him. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," Harry smiled broadly.

"Which means your potion wore off," Malfoy said, sighed, and handed him half a glass of Pumpkin Juice without further ado. Harry hadn't even noticed him prepare it – but he should've known that of course Malfoy could do it as delicately and fast as only he could. "Bottom's up."

"Cheers," Harry said, winked at Malfoy – what? It wasn't as if the other boy hadn't done that before. Multiple times. That day already. – and gulped it down. "Oh," he said, scrunching up his face. "This just tastes like Pumpkin Juice."

"No kidding, Potter." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's tasteless, even you should know that."

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect it, so you can just –"

"Let's just get on with it, shall we?" Lisa Turpin intervened, ticking with her Quill on the table impatiently. "We've got five minutes, and Draco hasn't prepared his questions yet."

"I didn't need to," Malfoy said, and somehow Harry believed him instantly. " What's your name?"

Harry had expected him to at least ask him something insanely embarrassing, so his voice sounded a bit higher than normal when he stated, "Harry James Potter."

"Eye color?"

"Emerald green." Being under a truth potion felt weird. He didn't have to fight to answer the questions (yet) but it still felt as if his body was physically straining itself to get the answer out as quickly as possible, as if something really horrible would happen if he wouldn't.

Malfoy tsk'ed. "Very specific, but all right. What's your boggart's form?"

"Malfoy," Ron warned, "That's personal."

"What, and me asking your gay fantasies wasn't?"

"I haven't got any gay fantasies –"

"Dementors." Harry said quickly, his hands balled under the table. This question was still okay to answer, but he still didn't really want to share his worst fears with his ex-nemesis.

Malfoy seemed to have stopped breathing.

Lisa answered for him. "Wait. Just – wait. Your biggest fear is… a Dementor? Merlin, Potter, you're the one who killed You-Know-Who, aren't you supposed to –"

"I don't know what I'm bloody well supposed to fear most, all right?" He snapped. "Shall I go with the man who murdered tons of people, including my own family and myself, or with your great sweet aunt Bellatrix who murdered my godfather and tortured Hermione, or –"

"Harry!" Ron snapped, quickly grabbing Harry's shoulder to intervene, "snap out of it."

Harry sighed deeply, trying to control his heartbeat. "Sorry. You're right. I'll shut up now."

Ron nodded gratefully, before turning to Malfoy and adding; "Leave it, okay? Just do another question."

Harry was infinitely grateful for Ron right now – and the fact that Malfoy seemed to listen to him. "Fine. Okay." The Slytherin took a deep breath, and said, "Are you a virgin?"

"Malfoy!" Came from three sides of him.

He didn't seem to care. "Well?"

Harry was trying to say no – he really was. It wasn't as if he was ashamed that nothing had happened between him and Ginny, but to admit that… to Malfoy, no less… in a crowded room full of his fellow students, who probably expected him to have shagged at least a dozen people because of his fame… "Yes."

If Malfoy was surprised, he didn't show it.

"All right, we're done now," Ron said, still feeling on edge.

"We're not." Malfoy pointed at the clock. "I got more than two minutes left."

"I really don't like your questions," Harry admitted.

The other boy smiled. "I know you don't."

"Can I ask something?" Lisa Turpin said suddenly. She'd put her quill on the table, the parchment included, and she looked more excited than she'd been all morning.

"Sure," Harry said before Malfoy could argue.

"You just said You-Know-Who murdered your family –"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and Harry fought the urge to do the same.

"- and you, too. Is that true? Did you really die – are the rumors true?"

Oh, bugger.

He didn't need to look at Malfoy to know he was listening intently and curiously – merlin, he didn't even need to look around the class to know that everyone who'd heard the question had dropped silent, too. All he knew was that he couldn't answer that question, never in a million years, not without admitting the fact that he was really the freak they all thought him to be.

Ron was talking, Harry knew that, but he couldn't concentrate on it right now. It took all his willpower to keep his lips tight together, to keep himself from ruining everything.

But when his head started to ache from the lack of oxygen, he let go.

To hell with it.

"Yes," he blurted out, gasping to catch some breath. "Yes, I died, are you happy now? I'm the 'Boy Who Lived – Twice'! I'm the freak you all believe me to be, so I really hope this satisfied whatever twisted needs you have, and if you'll excuse me, I'd like to –"

"You're not leaving." Malfoy was the one who'd interrupted first, and he was standing up, too.

(Harry couldn't even remember rising up from his seat. Nor could he remember everyone falling silent to watch the scene.)

"And you're not a freak, Potter, are you out of your mind?"

It took a second for Harry to comprehend what Malfoy was saying. And even when he did it didn't make sense. "Are you sure? I survived the killing curse twice, how am I not –"

"You're a freaking idiot, Potter, don't you see how amazing that is?" Malfoy ran his hand through his hair. Malfoy's grey piercing eyes seemed warm for the first time in years, containing some raw emotion Harry didn't even know he had. "Just tell me one thing, one single thing, and then I'll let you go."

"Fine."

Harry regretted it the moment Malfoy started to smile. "Ever wanted to sleep with someone currently in this room?"

The whole class bursted out laughing, the tension that was building up gone within seconds. Even Ron spluttered, his breath caught in his throat from the surprise.

"I – what?" Harry was too baffled to feel the effort it cost not to answer. "Did you just –"

"Answer the question, Potter." Malfoy said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Have you ever fantasized about sleeping with someone from this class?"

And then Harry realized what he was doing.

Sure, on any given moment this question would've been humiliating, something the Slytherin would've asked to anger Harry. It sure would've embarrassed the heck out of Ron, probably resulting in Ron punching Malfoy in the face.

Now, however…

Malfoy had succeeded in focusing the class' attention at Harry's embarrassment rather than his weirdness, making them forget about their earlier discussion by making them even more curious for the next one.

And for a fleeting second Harry wanted to hug him.

"Yes," he admitted, letting it and the tension that came with it go. "I have. Problem?"

Malfoy smirked. "Not at all."

A/N: Feedback? Oh, yes, that's very highly appreciated.