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He was late to Potions, again , and he feared that Slughorn would have his hide for another tardy arrival.
He pushed into the dungeons, settling behind his desk and threw the Professor an apologetic smile, “Sorry, Professor Slughorn, it won’t happen again.”
Slughorn gave him a fatherly smile, “You said that last time, my boy, so I fear that that may ot be entirely the truth. But, alas, maybe you could ask a friend for some notes, just to catch yourself up?”
Harry nodded and turned to Hermione, a soft smile on his face, “Heeeey, ‘mione.”
Hermione scoffed and shook her head, “If you think you’re getting notes from me, you can think again.”
“‘Mione.” Harry groaned, “Don’t be like that.”
“No, you need to learn to set an alarm, Harry. I’m not going to keep covering for you.” She snapped, steadfastly ignoring him in favour of writing down every word spilling from their Professor’s mouth.
Harry found at her less-than-chipper attitude and slumped forward on his hand, sighing heavily as he tried to make sense of the gibberish that was Potions. He groaned softly and buried his head in his hands, deciding that the effort to catch up was fruitless.
Hermione was right, he needed to set an alarm.
Just as he was about to give up, someone poked him in the arm and he snapped his head towards them, frowning at Malfoy.
“What?” Harry whispered, his words coming out harsher than he meant to.
Malfoy arched an eyebrow at him, sliding a piece of parchment across the table at him, “My notes. I see that Granger isn’t being particularly helpful.”
Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion, warily pulling the notes towards himself, “What’s the catch?”
Malfoy shook his head, white blond strands falling into his grey eyes, “Just wanted to help.”
“There’s always a catch with the Slytherins.” Harry replied, still watching Malfoy with a cautious gaze.
“Yes, the catch is that I get the satisfaction of having helped out a classmate.” He drawled, “Do you want the notes or not?”
Harry grinned and nodded, “Please.”
Malfoy made a motion for him to get to and Harry turned to the pages in front of him, marvelling at the neat, almost calligraphic lettering of the blond’s handwriting. He read through the notes, smiling at the little comments that Malfoy made to himself- whether it be about the horrendous suede patches on Slughorn’s robes or the nature of the potion that they were studying.
Amortentia- a potent love potion. Makes the drinker fall in love with the maker- obsession, not love. Smells different to everyone- the things that attract them. Should have mother of pearl sheen, if brewed correctly.
Harry smiled and nodded, reading through the ingredients and their properties- how they interacted with each other and how they worked in the potion. Malfoy’s notes, whilst a little lengthy in places, were heavily detailed and written in a way that caught Harry up to speed pretty quickly and soon, he had a pretty solid understanding of where they were in the lesson.
Harry slid the pages back across the desk to Malfoy and smiled softly at him, “Thanks, it really helped.”
Malfoy blushed and nodded, shoving the notes under his current piece of parchment, “You’re welcome, but do try to be on time next lesson?”
Harry chuckled and gave a returning nod, “Yeah, of course.”
Malfoy smiled and turned back to his note-taking, so Harry did the same. Soon enough, Slughorn was pairing them off and telling them that it was time to brew their own batches of Amortentia.
Malfoy turned to Harry and smiled softly, “Looks like Slughorn’s paired us together.”
Harry shrugged, “I’ll go get the ingredients and you can set up our station?”
Malfoy snorted and smiled wider, “Yeah, get to it then.”
Harry chuckled and pushed out of his seat, shuffling over to the store cupboard to retrieve their ingredients. On his way back, he froze in his stride, gaze falling on Malfoy. The blond was leant over the cauldron, a glass stirring rod clutched between his fingers, and the light from the flames was reflecting over his pointy features making them seem much softer and warmer. His hair was falling into his eyes, disguising the way that they shone silver in the firelight. Malfoy’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, his canines worrying the flesh, turning the plump skin a deep red colour. Harry tore his gaze away from Malfoy’s mouth and his eyes drifting down to his forearms, his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose his Dark Mark, faded but there, and Harry noticed the additional flowers surrounding it, drawing attention away from the evil mark and towards the beauty and colourful bloomage of the plants.
Hermione caught Harry’s gaze from across the room and gave him a knowing smirk, eyes flicking briefly over to Malfoy. Harry blushed and averted his gaze, head bowed as he marched towards his and Malfoy’s workstation, depositing the ingredients on top of the table with a soft smile.
“Got them all.” Harry whispered, catching Malfoy’s attention.
“That’s good.” He replied, glancing up at Harry through his lashes, and the brunet’s breath caught in his throat at the provocative glint in Malfoy’s eyes as he chewed harder on his bottom lip.
Harry cleared his throat, “Should we, um, get started on this then?”
Malfoy grinned and nodded, “Do you want to drop the ingredients in, if I tell you what order to do it in?” Harry hummed his affirmative, “Okay, so the first ingredient is an Ashwinder Egg.”
Harry plucked the bright red egg from the desk and dropped it into the cauldron, “Next?”
“A handful of rose thorns, please be careful and don’t prick your fingers.” Malfoy whispered, his brow furrowed in concern as Harry tipped a handful of thorns out onto his palm before depositing them in the cauldron.
“Now, the peppermint oil.” Malfoy waved to the vial of clear liquid beside the Ashwinder eggs.
“How much?” Harry whispered, peering into the cauldron, and grinned when Malfoy kicked his ankle to get him to move.
“I can’t see if you do that, Potter.” He drawled and motioned for Harry to pour the oil into the cauldron, “The entire bottle.”
“Okay.” Harry tipped the liquid into the cauldron, smiling as the minty scent washed over him, and turned to Malfoy with an expectant look, “Moonstone next?”
Malfoy arched an eyebrow at him, “Do you see any other ingredients left, Potter?”
“Shut up.” Harry retorted, “It was an innocent question.”
Malfoy chuckled, his features softening slightly, “Yes, Moonstone. Then, we stir and hope for the best. But, it’s better if you crumble the moonstone into the cauldron, it dissolves easier.”
Harry nodded and followed Malfoy’s instructions, crushing the moonstone in his palm before sprinkling it into the potion. Malfoy got a look of intense concentration on his face and stirred three times counterclockwise and four times clockwise before pulling the stirring rod out of the potion.
Harry found the determined look in his eyes to be quite attractive.
“We wait a few seconds,” Malfoy replied, reclining back on the desk behind them, “the ingredients should be melted down and combined, then we stir again, and it should be done.”
Harry nodded and dropped himself down onto his stool, eyes falling back to Malfoy’s redesigned Dark Mark, “I like the flowers.”
Malfoy’s gaze flicked down to his wrist, “So do I. They’re Narcissus, for my mother.”
“It looks good.” Harry grinned.
Malfoy smiled softly, “Thank you. I was just tired of people looking at it with this fearful look in his eyes, so I decided to turn it into something beautiful. The evil connotations will always be there, but the flowers make it easier.”
Harry hummed in agreement, “I think that it’s beautiful, in a way, the Dark Mark. It’s a story, for you at least, it was forced upon you and you were told to do a job, but you still chose to make the right choice, despite that thing on your wrist.”
Malfoy snorted, “You have such a weird thought process.”
Harry shrugged, “You just have to find positives in these things. You can’t dwell on the negatives because it’ll tear you apart. Might as well find reasons to be happy.”
Malfoy arched an eyebrow, “I take it back. You’re wise beyond your years.”
“It happens when you have to grow up quick.” Harry mused, tugging a hand through his messy hair.
Malfoy made a noise of agreement and pushed off the desk, moving back over to the Cauldron, “You and me both.”
“I think that you’re brave, Malfoy.” He whispered and smiled at Malfoy’s shocked, but expectant look, “You defied everything that you knew, Pureblood Traditions and Voldemort, because you knew it was wrong. You grew a conscience, which isn’t something that could be said for all Death Eaters, and you did it whilst Voldemort was living in your house . It was hard enough sneaking past him when he was in my head, but literally under his nose? That took serious guts.”
Malfoy preened at the praise and shrugged his shoulders, “ Well, when you put it like that.”
Harry stood up, hovering just behind Malfoy’s shoulder, “Is it done yet?”
Malfoy hip-checked him out of the way and Harry grinned in response, “If you give me space to work, it will be.”
Harry sighed exaggeratedly and flopped down onto his chair, “This is so boring .”
“Find something to entertain yourself then, this is almost done.” Malfoy whispered, gaze trained on the cauldron as he carefully stirred the mixture.
Harry fell silent, watching Malfoy work, the muscles in his arms rippling as he stirred the potion. Suddenly, Harry’s nose was assaulted with a mixture of glorious smells. There was something sweet, Harry could taste it in the back of his throat, and he instantly recognised it as Treacle Tart. There was something woody as well, not like trees, more clean, like the handle of his broomsticks. But, then, a scent, stronger than all the others, set his lungs alight, spreading warmth through his body.
Citrus . Sharp and sweet. Inviting. Glorious.
The same scent currently radiating off Malfoy.
Harry cursed under his breath and recoiled slightly, gaze falling on the blond with a new perspective. Amortentia didn’t lie.
Ever since they’d come back for their unofficial eighth year, Malfoy had been a much better person. He was nicer to be around, friendlier. Nothing like the snobbish pureblood heir that Harry had come to know over the last seven years. This Malfoy was much more appealing.
This Malfoy Harry was attracted to and Harry allowed himself to feel it in an unabashed way.
“It’s done.” Draco breathed, lifting his head to stare softly at Harry, a glint in his eyes that Harry couldn’t identify, “What do you smell?”
Harry’s gaze locked with Draco’s and the two teens gasped, neither wanting to tear their eyes away as a heady atmosphere settled over them. Harry took a step forward, determination sparking in his chest, and he wrapped his hand around Draco’s tie, pulling his down into a short but searing kiss.
They pulled away after a few short moments, their chest heaving and wearing matching grins.
“You.” Harry breathed, “I smelt you.”
Draco grinned, brushing his knuckles over Harry’s cheekbones, “That’s lucky then.”
Harry chuckled, “Luck has nothing to do with it.”
“No,” He responded, tucking a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear, “I suppose it didn’t.”
They broke away from each other when Slughorn announced that the end of the lesson was fast approaching. Both teens refused to let go of each other, hands intertwined as they worked as a pair to bottle their potion, pushing a stopper into it before taking it to Slughorn at the front of the class, who looked down at their conjoined hands with a knowing, smug look.
Draco and Harry smiled before turning on the spot, marching back to their table to clean up.
As they wandered through the halls, hand-in-hand, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this was what people meant when they said
make love, not war
.