Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the annoying grammar and spelling mistakes I keep making. Lo siento.

A/N: Okay, so I just want people to know that I will take prompts. I'm not sure if anybody wants to give them, or if I will do any good by them, but that option is out there for all the categories I write for. Also, if anybody reading this is British, could you possibly tell me a couple of phrases used commonly, so I can make this story more realistic?

Chapter 6

Draco took a bite of his scone, never looking away from where he was watching Potter as he ate breakfast with his friends. He was horribly worked up over something, and Draco wished to know what it was.

Purely for blackmail reasons, that is. Not because he thought that Potter was cute when he was flustered.

"Draco, take a moment from your Potter staring and join us, would you?" Pansy asked, good-naturedly. Draco reluctantly turned away from Potter and looked at her.

"I was simply wondering why Potter was not sitting at his house's table," Draco said stiffly. Blaise snorted from across from him.

"Yeah, that's it," He said disbelievingly. He glanced behind him and then back. "I don't think that there is any rule that says you have to sit at your house's table."

"You're just sad because he isn't sitting beside you," Pansy said. Draco scowled at her and she laughed.

"Was there something that you guys needed, when you so rudely interrupted my pondering?" Draco asked.

"Pondering how good Potter's arse looked today, maybe," Pansy said. Draco got up and they reigned in their snickers. "In all honesty, though, Dumbledore wanted to speak to you about something."

"Probably the whole spy thing," Draco said quietly. They nodded seriously and Draco was glad once again that he told them about how he had been propositioned the Dark Mark. There was no way that he could have survived the pressure of having the Dark Mark but not wanting to be a Deatheater without his friends. "I should probably go."

"See you later," Blaise said.

Draco sat down in the Potions classroom, taking his usual seat. His godfather was at his desk in front of the class, showing no signs of starting the class until he was ready, though it was due to start in less than ten seconds.

Potter skidded into the room in the last second and looked around, his perfect face falling when he realized that the only seat left was the one next to Draco. Draco pretended that didn't hurt him as much as it did.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter," Severus said idly. Potter approached the empty seat cautiously and then sat down, sending a careful look at Draco. Draco felt his short patience, worn thin by his meeting with Dumbledore, snap.

"You don't have to look at me like that, Potter, I'm not going to break," He said heatedly as Snape flicked his wand and the chalk started writing the potion they would be doing today.

"I'm not looking at you like anything," Potter said, grabbing his knife and starting to chop the root that was in front of him.

"Yes, you are," Draco argued.

"No, I'm not. I'm looking at you like you jumped down my throat the last time I talked to you," Potter corrected. Draco found himself stunned for a moment and he struggled to find the appropriate response. Was it possible that Potter didn't pity him?

"You're doing that wrong." Draco said instead, stopping Potter's hand. Potter looked down and then squinted at the board.

"I am not, it says diced," He said. Draco looked up at the board and then back at Potter.

"Can you not read?" He asked. "It clearly says sliced. Now we have to start all over again."

"It doesn't look that clear to me," Potter mumbled under his breath, sliding the diced roots off of the cutting board. Draco spared a glance at him and then looked away. The board wasn't that far away. Potter should have been able to see it.

Draco pushed three rat tails into their cauldron and pushed the thought away, vowing to talk to his Godfather about it later.