Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy's entire world revolved around knowing things other people didn't.
It gave him security nothing else could quite match. He knew who was speaking with whom, he knew who did best or worst at which subjects. He knew family lines, blood status, betrothal contracts, sometimes he even knew things before the involved parties knew it themselves.
This is what made him a contender in Slytherin, but not what made him dangerous. Draco saw saw weaknesses. He saw slips in masks, he memorized hand gestures and habits and he saw when people had something to hide.
It was these two skills together that made him the undisputed prodigy in Slytherin, for there was only one other person in it's history that was named Prince in first year, and only two others that held the Prince title with no rivals in their third year. His father was one of them.
The Dark Lord was the other.
He was a Legacy. A cold, marble icon walking among boot licking lower families who clamored over one another to earn his favor. Draco was a Malfoy, he wasn't here for friends. He was there for connections. And the sort of person he was could hardly afford friends anyway.
He had rivals outside of Slytherin though. Two. Potter and the Weasel.
Weasel was more of a ginger haired nuisance who was unfortunately turning out to be rather broad shouldered and strong. A dangerous nuisance physically, in comparison to Draco's own, sleek form. Then there was Potter. His favorite past time. His hobby. His future archenemy if the rumours were true, and it'd be nice if they were. He certainly wouldn't mind becoming the next Dark Lord and facing off against Potter as the new Light Lord.
Would be fitting, actually.
Because there was no one else in this school who could give either of them a run for their money the way the other could. Sure Nott and Granger were the top of their classes. But regurgitating facts hardly counted as intelligence, and being a bookworm was nothing compared to skill.
And Potter was skilled.
Sometimes it took all of his self control not to grin maniacally, which was inappropriate when one wasn't planning world domination, every time the messy haired boy was called on to demonstrate a spell in class. The air became static and it smelled like a forest fire afterward, such was his raw power.
It was fantastic.
Draco watched in carefully hidden interest the crimson clad object of his thoughts wander into the potions classroom with the bushy haired know-it-all at his side.
The Gryffindor pulled back his chair, tossed his bag underneath it carelessly and sprawled in his seat in a graceful way only wild animals could obtain. Granger leaned in to tell him something and Potter raised a hand to cut her off, not interested. She huffed, plopped down in the chair beside him and crossed her arms. He shook his head and said something else that made her smile grudgingly. All that was missing was-
"Harry I wasn't finished!"
The ginger.
Everyone in the class turned to stare at the outburst. Draco covered his mouth with his hand, turned to the side and coughed delicately, hiding the grin dying to break out. It was one of those days. People liked to say that he and Potter were bad when it came to fighting, but honestly, Potter and Weasley were far worse.
Maybe because it was personal?
Potter never took anything Draco said personally and easily gave as good as he got without whining about the outcome later on. When Potter and Weasely fought though, the whole school moved out of the way to avoid getting hit and, of course, to watch. It may have just been the novelty of seeing inner house politics out in the open, everyone knew most of Gryffindor listened to Harry unless Weasley opened his big mouth. The house would watched them fight and whoever won was who everyone else agreed with, because Potter would always grudgingly stand by Weasley's side if genuinely lost or didn't care enough to keep the fight going.
It wasn't like this all of the time, this change came about last year and the year before that didn't help either. In second year no one knew what to make of Potter, let alone the Gryffindors, who were disturbingly quick to turn on the boy when he didn't have a viable defense for his actions concerning his snake speaking ability.
Circe knows why it should matter. If he could speak with kittens none of them would have minded, and they certainly wouldn't have shunned him for it, even though that would have been a true magical abnormality and an obvious sign of a Feral whom standard light affiliated magic users, politically light anyway, favoured about as well as they favoured Werewolves or Centaurs.
As in not at all.
Obviously a Feral even if it was a feline-feral that only spoke to kittens, is an agent of evil here to do evil things. Perhaps manipulating the poor innocent kittens to do his bidding in his evil cat army? Such was the mind of the average Gryffindor.
He thoroughly enjoyed watching Potter and the Weasel when they weren't getting on. The tall hot-headed boy would say something undoubtedly stupid, tact was not one of his skills, and Potter would send him spinning into the wall.
CRUNCH.
Draco practically salivated in those moments. Because the only other time Potter had that look in his eyes, the only other time his power rang out like that, was when he was fighting Draco himself. You could say the Slytherin was addicted to the feeling. That immediate sense of a worthy opponent, of danger and darkness and all the things Potter pretended not to be. But Draco knew the truth.
After all, he saw things other people didn't see.
The flash of red coming through the usually emerald green eyes hidden behind hideous spectacles. The tightening of his jaw and the mostly hidden smirk whenever he and Draco got in a confrontation. The desire to hurt Draco, to duel, to curse. The face of a boy longing for the moments he could be himself. And Draco went out of his way to antagonize him, to get him to the point his true self broke the golden boy mask and the real spirit within came out to play.
If there was any justice in this world Potter would have been in Slytherin and they would have ruled the school together. But he could settle for attempting to kill one another. It livened things up a bit either way.
Granger fixed them both with a glare. "This is insane. Make up already. I told you it was a stupid thing to get in an argument over, need I repeat my list of reasons why?"
"First off, you don't even know what it is I'm mad at him about." Said Potter in a bland voice, "Secondly I'd rather you didn't, that is why I ignored you the first time."
Unfortunately Snape arrived and ordered the lot of them to their proper seats. Draco's lips tugged downward just a bit. He gave a silent sigh. Potter would probably forgive the menace before Draco got to see them pummel each other.
Pity.
"...will no doubt be a shock to the system. I do not care if you are sick, suffering a brain injury or imprisoned, you will finish the assignment and be prepared for your presentation on time. No exceptions. No, none Mr Weasley, there are many of you I am sure your parents can replace you with a brother if the need arises. Deliberate misinterpretation of the project instructions will result in a zero, loss of points, detention as well a significantly soul searing reduction to your final score at the end of the year. If you do not wish to repeat this miserable year you will take me seriously. If I have to endure an extra year of your presence, you will wish you'd thrown yourself off of the Astronomy tower rather than screw this up. Clear?"
Snape waved a hand.
"On the board you can see a list of suggested topics to research in your initial search for a suitable potion to do your presentation on. Do not choose any of them. They are the easy way out and I am forced to present them by the Headmaster, who believes I push you beyond your capabilities. If you are in fact, the age of fourteen or greater and can not yet think for yourself it is my opinion you have more important problems than this assignment." He surveyed the class, openly unimpressed.
"Those of you interested in pursuing in career dealing with potions or alchemy will do well to pay attention, as there will be, as required, a small invited assembly to witness your presentations. Allow me to remind you that the non-lethal requirement of this project is non-negotiable, and I have a highly developed ability to sense poisons in my drink as well as discover the one who put it there and return your gesture accordingly. You will have access to only the ingredients you are able to procure on your own, this does not mean sneaking into my private stores or the school stores shared by the potions classroom, the healing night class or the medi-wing. Anyone caught will..."
The day brightened considerably several minutes of not-quite-subtle threatening verbiage later, when Snape declared it was a partnered project.
In a feeble attempt to thwart what they knew was coming everyone reached out and grabbed hold of their preferred choice for partner. Draco of course did not participate in the tradition of useless optimistic actions, and did not like physical contact.
He merely nodded at Zabini over Nott's head, whom was trying desperately to get his attention, Zabini nodded back in agreement. The Nott heir pouted. Draco ignored that as well.
Their stoic professor gave them one minute of hopeful breath holding before dashing it to pieces with a vicious half-smile. "I have already assigned partners for you. As I call you move to sit with your partner, you will be sitting with each other for the next three weeks. Enjoy."
While those around him scowled and groaned and moaned about injustice Draco turned to his right and locked eyes with Potter, who was already looking in his direction. Draco raised a brow, Potter returned the gesture flippantly. Draco crossed his arms and put his feet on the table. Potter copied him. They glared at one another, neither yielding, until Pansy Parkinson unceremoniously dumped Potter out of his chair so she could sit beside Granger.
Potter stood, shot Pansy a look. She smiled sweetly. Potter scowled, grabbed his bag and moved to sit beside Draco.
They didn't bother listening to Snape or waiting for confirmation. Whenever they were assigned pairs in any class that Slytherin and Gryffindor held together the professor would always put Draco and Potter together. It was some unwritten rule of cruel and unusual punishment.
Pansy, having done the math, sat beside Granger.
None of the pureblood boys would work with her and the last time Granger had been paired with Millicent the two got into a physical fight. Tracey was conveniently sick, her older brother no doubt warning her ahead of time, that left Pansy. Tracey would get to do the project alone.
Lucky wench.
The chair next to him was pushed back. Draco glanced to the side and grinned at the newly arrived Gryffindor.
"Welcome Potter. Have a seat." He said that magnanimously, as was deserving. Anyone should be thrilled to partner with him in potions, it was his best subject.
Potter sat down, the very picture of someone annoyed to all Hell. Apparently he didn't see the opportunity for the blessing it was. "I would have won that one." He grumbled.
"The world will never know." Said Draco, already copying down the instructions from the board.
"The most dangerous non-lethal, legal potions in use today-" Potter read aloud.
"Glad to know those ugly glasses at least do their job."
"-explain your choice and be prepared to defend it."
"Any ideas in that thick head of yours?" He asked, half-listening, eagle feather quill moving along the parchment in practiced perfection.
Potter rested his cheek against his hand and shook his head. "I've sworn to Hermione I won't quarrel with you today."
Draco eyed the other boy through his lashes. "That's...unlikely."
"I'm aware. She's loyal to the idea it can happen so who am I to destroy her unrealistic dreams? Additionally, that insult sucked."
It had. "Its been four years. Embarrass yourself a bit more if you want better insults."
The raven haired boy looked at him with mock sincerity. "I'll get right on that."
When he continued staring at him Draco leaned away slightly, not out of genuine fear Potter might try to end him, but because Potter giving anything that amount of his attention seemed to leave the object of his attention worse for the wear after word. Being burnt to ash or stabbed with a sword or nearly eaten by a werewolf.
He, very casually, slipped his wand from his sleeve and prepared to body-bind the boy if needed. He had no interest in being involved with any of the boy wonder's mysterious adventures. The journey into the forest first year was more than enough.
"What?" He demanded.
Potter was startled for a moment, Draco could understand after all he was quite good looking, and paused before asking, "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Look perfect all the time."
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Is this the part where you tell me you're secretly in love with me? Because the potions classroom is a tad unromantic."
"That isn't what I meant!" Potter exclaimed, cheeks flushed.
"Alright." Draco said, "What did you mean?"
The smaller boy gestured at him. "You're always so clean. Your fingernails are clean and trim, never stained with ink, and your clothes are clean and creased and I don't think I've ever even seen your tie undone."
He leaned forward and motioned for Potter to come closer. "I'm pure at heart. It repels the dirt."
Potter snorted.
"I take offense to that." Said Draco. "First I'm perfect and now you're making derisive noises in my direction. What am I supposed to think with all of these mixed signals?" In front of them a Gryffindor with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail giggled.
Potter's quill tore his parchment, his face red again. "Are you always this loathsome and annoying Draco?"
"No, sometimes I'm asleep."
"Let's be fair, I bet you manage to be annoying even then."
"But not loathsome?"
"I'm sure you give it your best effort."
He felt his lips pull upward. "Alas, sleep-wickedness is beyond my current capabilities."
"But potions brewing isn't. As such I elect myself for theoretical research and you for the actual brewing process. It's best to play to our strengths!"
Draco turned in his seat. "Using compliments to get yourself out of something? How un-Gryffindor."
"I won't tell if you won't."
"Ah, but I have no desire to do all of the brewing myself therefore-" he raised his hand.
Potter tackled him before Snape could see it, hand planted over Draco's mouth. They hit the floor and scrambled to pin the other, Draco still trying to wave his hand and get the professors attention. The Gryffindor octopus made this difficult by somehow being everywhere at once. Draco lifted the smaller boy, who gave a very unmanly squeal he would be teasing him about later, and tossed him to the side, knocking a chair over.
Several students looked over at the sound of the crash, seeing it was him and Potter they smirked and went back to their work. His peers' concern was heart warming. Truly.
Managing to pin the boy beneath him he punched Potter in the stomach, and sat up grinning in triumph when the smaller boy released him.
He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his robes, folding his legs under him to survey the damage to their work station. "Are you going to do your share of the work?" he asked.
Potter, still trying to catch his breath, flipped him off.
"I'm going to take that as a yes."
The Gryffindor sat up, panting and rubbing at his stomach. "That hurt."
"You tackled me to the floor."
"Point."
Potter stood and began fixing their workstation. Draco cleared his throat and held out his hand expectantly. Potter scoffed but helped him to his feet. He always did.
"I don't know how you can be so stubborn."
Draco tapped his notes, which had managed to remain exactly where he left them, to make another copy and then he handed it to Potter. He meant it when he said they were doing it together so the raven haired menace better read them.
"It's a superpower. I was bitten by a radioactive mule." He deadpanned.
Silence. Draco debated not asking but his curiosity was a vital flaw in his genetic makeup. With a resigned sigh he asked, "What now?"
"That's a muggle reference." Said Potter, the-boy-who-lived-to-state-the-obvious.
"I do read you know." Draco paused, "You'd think Granger would stuff a bit of literature down your throat once in a while out of know-it-all ever-loving-book-worm principle."
"...I read."
"If you say so."
Draco felt something nudge his shoulder.
"Stop"
It happened again followed by a whine. "Stop touching me Nott, you're not stealing my topic." Another nudge.
Potter's hand snaked out and caught Nott about the wrist. Draco watched him turned in his seat to stare down the spiky haired Slytherin sitting there.
"Seriously." Said Potter, "Stop touching him."
Nott swallowed uncomfortably. Potter held on to the arm, delighting in the fear, and took five minutes to relinquish his hold.
"Noble." Said Draco.
Potter turned narrowed eyes on him, red glinting through the green. "Don't start."
"So, you don't want anyone else touching me? Because you just tackled me to the ground, you remember that don't you?"
"Malfoy."
"A regular knight in shining-"
The bell rang. Everyone began to leave.
A hand on his jumper stopped him. "The next time I see you outside of class I'm throwing something at you." Said Potter. He let him go.
"I'd expect nothing less."