Archive of Our Own

“I'm quitting Potions,” Harry announced, as he sank into a couch in the Gryffindor common room.

From across the coffee table, Ron only sighed dramatically in response, having got used to his best friend's antics over the years. It hadn't been the first time Harry had made such a proclamation and, with the current state of his Potions classes, Ron wasn't too sure that this would be the last.

As the least emotionally constipated one in the trio, Hermione took it upon herself to comfort her friend. “What happened, Harry?”

So, what had happened?

Like nearly everything else in Harry's life, it had started with a war. Just this time, it was the Second Wizarding War.

After Hogwarts had been shut down temporarily because of the damage, special provisions had been given to all students not in their OWL or NEWT year to complete extra holiday assignments in lieu of their final exams. However, with the OWLs and NEWTs having been cancelled, students expecting to take these exams would need to take them in the following year instead and had been combined into the same classes as the incoming fifth- and seventh-years. As such, the NEWTs classes had almost doubled in size since Harry's sixth-year.

To no one's surprise, the handling of these classes had not gone well.

There had been an overwhelming number of accidents in the first two weeks, especially in Potions, and Professor Slughorn had had no choice but to split the class into two. As one of the few students without scheduling conflicts with the new time, Harry had been switched over, away from Hermione's helpful guidance.

With Ron having dropped out of Potions soon after, having received a positive response from Ollivander for an apprenticeship after his graduation, and Ginny sitting right across from him in every single lesson, Harry's Potions classes had quickly turned into a series of disasters.

Fortunately, unlike his predecessor, Slughorn was an overly pleasant man. Even with Harry's constant slip-ups and mishaps, Slughorn still smiled at Harry. Though now, his smiles felt a little more pitying than proud. And sometimes during class, when he thought Harry wasn't looking, he stared at Harry as though he was still trying to understand what had happened to his talent, how he'd gone from being a prodigy like his mother to—to this.

Today, however, that look had been well-deserved.

Harry held his face in his palms, looking away from his two best friends. “Instead of valerian leaf, I accidentally added valerian root to my near-perfect antidote to the Alihotsy Draught that I had been working on for the last two classes, and it vaporised the potion. Completely fucking vaporised it. And Slughorn was being completely unhelpful as the entire antidote was boiling over and disappearing from my cauldron. He just smiled over at me, after it had completely disappeared into thin air, and said that I'm ‘welcome to come back to his classroom any day to start over.’ And not to sound ungrateful for the offer, but I really, really didn't want to start over.

“Plus,” Harry continued, “even before this, I was barely scraping through his classes. Now, if I can't manage to learn to brew a perfect batch in time, I'm pretty much failing. I don't know. I guess I'm just ready to give up on Potions.”

“Are you not planning on applying for Auror training anymore?” If Ron looked a little too gleeful at that thought, it was only because he had failed, over and over, to convince Harry to consider alternate (and safer) career choices in the months after his little tussle with death.

Harry shrugged in response. “I'm just not cut out for Potions. I mean, look at Ginny. She wasn't even in class half of last year, and she's getting straight Os in everything. I should just start considering alternate careers at this point.”

“Don't say that.” Hermione chided gently. “Anyways, there's no shame in needing tutelage in Potions beyond what Slughorn offers.”

Harry looked up with surprise. She almost sounded like she was disparaging a professor, even if it was Slughorn.

“Oh, come off it. You know I didn't mean it like that. I just think that a study group or a tutor would be more beneficial at this stage, rather than your current strategy of pushing through the lessons with your sheer force of will alone. Honestly, I’d offer to help but… you remember how that went.”

Harry did remember.

After their struggles with their academics in the first few weeks of school, having forgotten a lot of key concepts in their year away from education, the trio had often come together weekly to revise their sixth-year subjects.

On one such day, with Ron busy in Quidditch practice, Hermione had taken the opportunity to help Harry revise their previously untouched subject of Potions.

To say he had given Hermione a fair shot wouldn't be fair to either of them. And as such, to neither of their surprise, it had been a complete disaster.

Hermione had been lecturing Harry on antidotes for hours and hours, to the point that he wished he was back in the classroom with Snape so at least he could focus his frustration and anger on something tangible.

Harry had slowly lost his patience for the depth of theoretical knowledge and precision required for the subject, and without Ron acting as a buffer the duo—along with a portrait, strangely enough—had ended up in a three-way screaming match regarding the Half-Blood Prince.

Their arguments hadn't lasted long, and they were back to being best friends just the next day, but if neither of them initiated the study of Potions during their weekly study sessions, well… it wasn't either of their favourite subject anyways.

Hermione's voice broke him out of his train of thought. “Anyways, since you said Ginny's doing well, why don’t you ask her for help? She's right there.”

He glanced in the direction of her gestures, to see Ginny engrossed in a heavy discussion with an unfamiliar face. Harry just stared back at his friends, unable to make any excuses that did not reveal the complications that had arisen in his relationship with Ginny.

He knew what everyone expected from them.

Ever since the war had ended, he had felt Molly's expectant gaze on him, waiting for the two of them to realise their feelings for each other again. As he began popping over to the Weasleys', he noticed that everyone seemed to be trying to give them as much privacy as possible within the confined living spaces. He'd enjoyed it at first, wanting to spend more time with the girl he'd come to love. But then, Ginny had dropped a bomb.

And they hadn't talked since.

It wasn't that Harry was unwilling to keep her secret. He just didn't know what to tell anyone about them any longer.

In the absence of a response from him, Ron turned to beckon over his sister, and Harry felt his face turn a few shades paler.

Don't hear him. Don't hear him. Don't hear him.

Unfortunately, Ron was loud enough to be heard by the entire Gryffindor tower. The other girl looked over at them, waved enthusiastically and started walking towards them.

Mistaking his growing dread for a request for privacy, Hermione nudged Ron and gave him a look. “Oh no, look at the time,” Ron deadpanned, packing up his things before getting up and leaving with her.

“Hey, Gin.” Harry mumbled as his ex-girlfriend grinned down at him, before plonking herself down beside him.

In the silence that followed, Ginny's eyes gazed upon him curiously. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Potions.” Harry muttered grudgingly, “I need help in Potions. I'm on the verge of flunking out.”

A strange flash of disappointment crossed Ginny's face, but it faded just as quickly. “Oh, yeah, of course. I can lend you my notes. I'm almost done with them.”

“I don’t need your notes. Sorry, Ginny, not that I'm ungrateful but it's not really theory that's causing problems.” Harry leaned in to confide in her. “I haven't got a single potion brewed to the requirements since term started.”

As Ginny's gaze turned pitying, Harry felt his regrets setting in. “Never mind. I shouldn't have—”

Ginny cut him off. “Harry, stop. I would have loved to help. But between my Head Girl duties, Quidditch practices, and academics, I barely have time to breathe. I'm so sorry.”

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before continuing. “Look, I have an idea. A bunch of Slytherins and Ravenclaws have started a study club. I know it's not exactly your crowd, but maybe, you should ask Pansy about it. She's in charge of the rosters.”

Harry looked at Ginny incredulously. “You want me to speak to Pansy? After—”

“She's not that bad, honestly… if you can put aside the fact that she slept with your ex-girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry. And I know. She's been nothing but decent since term started.” Harry sighed. “It's just a bit weird for me.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Seeing me with a girl?”

“Seeing you with someone else.” Harry corrected her. “It's not easy.”

“You're the one who broke it off, Harry. You left me at Hogwarts alone in the middle of a war. I know you did it for my protection and safety, but it really hurt. You can’t blame either of us for grasping onto fleeting comforts.”

“I know Gin. I just… I always thought—” He cut himself off mid-sentence before he made a fool of himself, or worse.

“I know.” Ginny shook her head sadly. “I know.”

~

If it took Harry two full weeks to approach Pansy, it was only because he was so busy with his other lessons. Besides, in addition to his academics, he'd been signed back on as Seeker after they’d been absolutely thrashed by Ravenclaw. At least, as Captain, Ron had let him off from some of the practices, including that day’s training.

(Harry would have felt guilty for this preferential treatment, if only he hadn't been blackmailed into playing through a letter from their beloved ex-Captain Oliver Wood.)

Picking up his long-lost courage, Harry trudged along narrow corridors towards the Arithmancy classroom. In the last hour, he'd considered all his options, and found that approaching Pansy right after her class would be the easiest way to catch her attention. At least this way he didn't have to sneak into the dungeons again.

As the population within the classroom dwindled at the end of their lecture, Harry gave a short wave and a shrug in response to Hermione's wary look. He'd known he'd be unable to avoid her without his cloak, but until moments ago he had still hoped that she wouldn't notice him there. Fortunately, she was quickly distracted by questions from an overeager Padma Patil, and Harry could slip away from her watchful eyes.

Towards Pansy Parkinson.

Harry suddenly stopped short at the sight of Malfoy, who had been whispering to Pansy at the back of the classroom. Malfoy, who was now looking right at him.

It had completely slipped Harry's mind that Malfoy would also be in this class.

Oh hell, in for a penny… or whatever that Muggle saying was.

Harry strode forwards, attempting to exude confidence, but with Malfoy still peering at him questioningly his feet started getting heavier with each step. As he came to a standstill, he was startled by the realisation that he hadn't actually been this close to Malfoy since the beginning of the school year, even with all the inter-house friendships that had seemed to arise at the end of the Second Wizarding War. Actually, Harry's stringent avoidance of the other boy had been going really strong since the start of the school term, and Malfoy seemed to reciprocate the efforts by keeping away from him. They hadn't even accidentally landed within arm's length of each other.

In fact, Harry realised he hadn’t actually been this close to Malfoy since—

Since the Manor.

He tried to ignore the heavy pounding in his chest, but his eyes were now absurdly transfixed on Malfoy. As much as he tried, they refused to turn back towards the reason he had even ended up in this classroom.

Perplexed at the recent developments, Pansy looked between her friend and the unwanted interruption before turning back to Draco. “Guess I’ll leave you to it.”

In her hesitation, Harry had thought that she would accost him with questions before walking away, but she just turned around and left the two of them alone in the classroom.

“What do you want, Potter?” Draco asked with a deep sigh, as though he was expecting yet another spouted accusation and pointed finger. He didn't know why Malfoy would look at him like that. It was not like he'd acted with any kind of suspicion towards Malfoy since the war had ended. In fact, Harry had even volunteered to speak for the Malfoys (with the exception of Lucius) in the trials. And when he'd realised that his testimony wouldn't be enough, he'd been the one to request that McGonagall speak as a character witness for Draco. Malfoy had no reason to distrust his reason for approaching him anymore.

Harry gritted his teeth instead of a response, choosing to instead continue his internal conversation. In the moments after Pansy had left, he’d considered following her and demanding entry into her study group. But Harry didn’t exactly want to talk to Pansy. And hadn't Draco always been great at Potions (sixth-year excluded)?

Making up his mind, Harry opened his mouth and let the words tumble out. “Wudjututrinposhons—”

Instead of finding amusement in Malfoy's exponentially growing befuddlement, Harry subtly pinched himself and tried to repeat himself with a bit more clarity.

“Please, would you mind tutoring me in Potions? I haven't been doing too well in my brewing lately, and, well, you're good at Potions.” Harry finished lamely.

In the silence that followed, Draco sighed under his breath and gazed at Harry. After what felt like a full minute, he replied in agreement. “Alright.”

Harry shut his jaw firmly, having come up with multiple arguments and even been prepared to beg for the other boy’s consideration, but opened it again to reply. “Wait, really?”

“I said alright, didn't I?” Draco asked mildly, though there was no heat in his words.

“Yes, but… I just expected you to ask me for something in return first. To ask for some sort of reciprocation?”

“Alright, well, I do have one condition,” Draco added. “I want my wand back.”

“Oh, shit, yes, of course.” Harry blurted out. “I mean, yes, you'll have it back right away. Sorry for keeping it for this long.”

Harry had been meaning to pass it back to him over the break, then in the train, then at Hogwarts. Somehow, he could never quite get the nerve to walk up to the boy. And now, three months into the term, he'd forgotten about it completely, stuffed at the bottom of his overflowing suitcase.

He was a terrible person.

He opened his mouth to apologise further, but Draco just shook his head, unbothered about the current whereabouts of his lost possession.

“Don't worry about it, I didn't need it urgently or anything. And it's not like I'm ever going to be able to use it, with its allegiance having shifted over to you. I just wanted it back because”—Draco glanced around the classroom, to ensure it was still empty, and lowered his voice—“it holds a significance for me.”

Harry would have sworn that the expression on Malfoy's face was nostalgic, if only Harry believed him capable of feeling such sentimental desires.

“Of course. I'll pass it to you in…” Harry's voice trailed off.

“You can bring it to our first session on Thursday evening. Be there at Snape's old office after dinner. Say about seven?”

Harry startled again at the decisiveness but recovered quickly this time. “Yes, seven is perfect. Thank you, Malfoy.”

Draco just waved off the gratitude dismissively.

~

The first session had seemed quite strange to both of them, with Harry and Malfoy sitting across from each other on the stony flooring of their dead ex-professor's office.

However, Harry had no time to wonder about the strangeness of everything, having been kept busy throughout the session by Malfoy spouting off rapid-fire instructions for him to follow. (Instead of going with the flow, Malfoy had planned out every second of the lesson, and the next few lessons too). Halfway into brewing, he realised that the instructions differed wildly from those in the assigned textbook. Just like the Half-Blood Prince.

However, Harry had soon realised that, unlike Snape, Malfoy hadn't been adding his own refinements to the recipes. He'd just been following a different book.

“Professor Slughorn's required textbook is completely outdated,” Draco had gritted out, reacting to Harry's suspicious glare at his potion turning baby pink instead of the expected light blue. “Professor Snape slipped me an alternate textbook mid-sixth-year. You may have hated each other and all, but even you have to agree that he was leagues above Slughorn in his teaching standards. I mean, he actually had the decency to stick us with books that had been written in the last decade. And on top of that, he even provided his own adjustments to the instructions whenever they were compatible with our lesson plans. This is one of his. It's a bit different in the intermediate steps, but it'll work itself out, don’t worry.”

Harry had just hummed in response, having now fully devoted his concentration to stirring the mixture clockwise, which, to his relief, slowly turned to the promised shade of dark grey with the stirring.

“I doubt Slughorn has even brewed a potion in the last twenty years,” Draco added snidely, a few minutes later, as they were bottling up the liquid. “You know, Madam Pomfrey doesn't trust him to brew for the Hospital Wing. She sources it from outside now that Snape’s gone.”

“Slughorn's not a bad teacher,” Harry disputed loyally.

Draco turned up his nose. “You just like him because he makes you feel all special with his little club.”

Not to be outdone, Harry countered, “Or maybe, you don't like him because he won't let you in his little club.”

Draco just scoffed in response, choosing to ignore Harry for the rest of their clean-up time.

But the second tutoring session hadn't been all bad.

Harry had even discovered that the Malfoy did indeed have a sense of humour, apart from the sense of amusement he seemed to have had at others' misfortunes.

As soon as he entered the office, Harry had started complaining to no end about his lack of skill in Potions, after a botched attempt at brewing Blood-Replenishing Potion in class. “I can't multitask to save my life when it comes to Potions. I swear, I looked up at Slughorn for a second and my entire potion had started solidifying. It was supposed to turn deep red after cooling, not into an ugly grey sludge. I just Vanished it before Slughorn could notice.”

Draco had laughed in response, not unkindly, but quickly shifted over into lecture mode. “The textbook assumes that you're using a pewter cauldron. Since you used brass instead, it would end up retaining heat for longer, causing the fluxweed extract to denature before the potion cools down fully. Next time, if you're insistent on using brass, you should add the extract a minute after you take it off the heat.”

“Oh.” Harry was stunned. He'd known that Malfoy had an innate knowledge of potions, compared to Hermione's memorised knowledge, but he'd never really seen it in person.

For his part, Draco seemed rather abashed at Harry's reaction.

Before Malfoy could do something silly like apologise, Harry thanked him and nudged his attention to that day’s scheduled brewing.

Bad things always happen in threes, Hermione had said once (back when the most stressful thing relating to Divination was passing Trelawney’s class).

It seemed only right that it was the third tutoring session when Harry had started getting a little suspicious of the Slytherin. He was slowly becoming certain that Draco Malfoy was keeping a big secret of his own.

It was Malfoy's prerogative to keep secrets, Harry supposed, since they weren't exactly friends. As such, Draco wasn't exactly required to report to him everything he was up to.

But Harry had developed a sort of Spider-Sense from his years of sleuthing, and it had been going off throughout their little lesson.

What his secret could be, Harry had no idea. But it was something. And Harry would get to the bottom of it in no time.

Actually, Harry was rather surprised it took three whole evenings with Malfoy for Harry to fall back into the same patterns from previous years. Unlike the previous years, however, Harry pushed down the urge to follow Malfoy around and catch him in the act of doing something unscrupulous, in favour of concentrating on Potions.

It had started with Harry noticing that Draco had done a really good job of tidying up the office since their previous session and saying so out loud. For some reason, Draco seemed to take exception to those words, even if he deflated soon enough.

But Harry had caught him out in some sort of secret, and he refused to let it go.

From what Harry knew of Draco—and Harry knew him rather well—he was not that tidy of a person. At the end of each session, they would clean up after themselves, but it had never really been tidied up to this extent. Yet, before every session, the Potions room looked like it had been sorted out with neat precision and set up accurately just for their session.

Malfoy had refused to let him touch or even glance into the book that he’d been reading from. Plus, half of the office had been marked as off-limits to him, which hadn't seemed too strange previously, but now caused his gut to churn with curiosity and a really bad feeling.

He'd thought the worst of Draco Malfoy before, back when he'd spotted him sneaking around Knockturn Alley. But that was before the war. And everyone had changed since the war.

Most of the students were either quieter or angrier now, and Malfoy fell into the first category.

Having narrowly avoided being sentenced to Azkaban due to the mercy of his professors, Malfoy had been more than happy to leave the past behind and make amends with everyone.

Harry had heard from other students that the boy had stayed back after the battle, even with his parents fleeing, and assisted in healing some of their injured students and staff. And Madam Pomfrey, who suspected everything and everyone, had trusted Malfoy enough to allow him to cast charms on her patients. After citing the deficit in restocking with their heavy usage in the academic year because of the Carrows' special detentions, she'd even accepted certain potions from him without even testing them out first.

So, he didn’t want to believe the worst of Draco Malfoy.

“Fuck it.” Harry thought to himself, as he lay awake on his mattress, unable to fall asleep as he ruminated over thoughts of Draco Malfoy. Decisively, he pulled the sheets back and walked over to his trunk, where he began rummaging for the enchanted parchment that he hadn’t touched since the school year began.

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good,” he whispered in the dark, and waited as the parchment lit up with black ink flowing around. He lazily gazed around at the names before landing on the one he’d been looking for.

Despite it being way past curfew, Malfoy's name wasn't in the Slytherin side of the dungeons. Instead, he found Malfoy pacing around Snape's office, bereft of any company.

“What could he possibly be doing?” Harry wondered out loud, before shaking his head and sinking back into his four poster. Sleep might not be coming easily to him, but he needed his rest. The next day, Harry had another study session with Malfoy and without his wits about him, he was going to be verbally eviscerated by the other boy.

~

Over the next few months, Harry had quickly fallen into his strange obsession of trying to figure out what Malfoy was up to (much like sixth-year and all the years before).

Although, to his credit, he still refused to physically follow the boy around under his cloak. Not because he didn’t want to. But because Harry knew that would be a true betrayal of the other boy. And Harry refused to hurt him, not when they were on the verge of friendship.

Or they had been, until, in the week before Easter break, Malfoy broke off their tutoring arrangement.

Harry had tried to get Malfoy to reconsider, to change his mind. But he had been absolutely insistent that Harry could manage without him, now that he’d been able to brew the Draught of Peace with just the official instructions, making the memorised changes when needed.

It was over. The tentative truce, their little alliance, it had all come crashing down.

And as always, Harry was the one left hurting.

During the Easter break, with his Potions grade back at E and Quidditch season having come to an end (with Gryffindor coming out on top again), Harry had finally found a bit more time for his sleuthing. It was finally time for him to figure out what Malfoy was up to.

Even though he was increasingly upset with the other boy, he was becoming less and less certain that it was anything illegal or even immoral. Malfoy may have hurt him, but he wasn’t that sort of person any longer.

He'd tried following Malfoy around for a bit under his cloak, but it had got too tiring even with magic, and Harry had gone back to stalking his name on the map instead.

At this point, Harry wasn't even suspicious of Malfoy. He just really, really wanted to know what he was up to. But unfortunately, he couldn't just go up to him and ask. With the not-so-friendly end to their sessions, Harry no longer had an excuse to approach the other boy.

Malfoy did try to catch his eye at times from across the Great Hall, but Harry refused to acknowledge his presence. Not when he was still fresh from the betrayal. Not when Malfoy refused to be alone in his presence anymore.

However, upon spotting a familiar face in the Great Hall, Harry realised that there was another way to get Malfoy and himself in the same room. The Gryffindor Quidditch party.

After all, all Quidditch players were allowed to invite guests to the party. And no one had said that these guests had to be your friends.

Making a split-second decision, he ran after her. “Pansy!”

Pansy turned around, ever the image of aristocratic neutrality. “Yes, Potter?”

Harry attempted to keep his tone casual. “We're having a bit of a post-exam celebration in the Gryffindor tower. I think Ginny would like to see you there, and you can even bring your friends over.”

“Why would Ginny Weasley want to see me?” She asked, twisting her eyebrows into a frown.

Harry stared questioningly before shaking his head and responding gently, “Oh, don't worry. I know you guys are keeping it a secret and I'm not going to tell anyone about the two of you. But for what it's worth, you both have my support.”

Now, Pansy looked even more confused. “Support? For what?” Suddenly, she seemed to come to a realisation, pulling a pained expression before speaking. “Potter, I'm not dating Ginny. Not anymore, at least. Not since the battle.”

Harry stared at her in disbelief. “What? But Ginny—”

She sighed at him. “I don't know why she would tell you that we were still together.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Or maybe… no, never mind. You need to ask her, not me.

“I am sorry about this,” Pansy added softly, before striding off in the direction she'd been heading towards.

“Sorry for?” Harry called out after her, but she had already disappeared. He groaned inwards. So much for his plan.

Harry arrived back at the Gryffindor common room in low spirits. He'd really been hoping that Pansy would drag Malfoy down to the party so Harry could accidentally-on-purpose bump into him and start a conversation, and ask him to his face about his secret.

(He hadn't realised how much he'd got used to the other boy's company before he'd lost it).

And Ginny. That confused him. Why did she lie?

On seeing her sitting alone in a corner, he decided to just ask her about it instead of ruminating for days, as he’d initially planned.

“I tried to invite Pansy down to the party. She seemed a little confused as to why I would invite her.” Harry said with feigned casualness.

Ginny stared into his eyes for a minute, then, finally whispered, “You know.”

It wasn't a question. So, Harry didn't bother to answer. “What I don't understand is why, Ginny. Why were you pretending to still be in a relationship with her? You could have just rejected me; I wouldn’t have pressed it.”

Ginny clenched her fists before settling them down against her thighs and nervously tapping her fingers. “Do you remember how mum and dad were after the battle? They have always been a bit too protective of their only daughter, but after the war it was like they refused to let me out of their sight, always keeping an extra eye on me. Only when you started coming around, they would relent and leave us alone, even if they looked exceedingly anxious while doing so. So, I tried to get you to come down more often.

“But then, you started coming around all the time. Granted, it was not just to see me, but mum would always look so happy when we talked. I knew what they expected from us, and what you expected from me. Harry, I really liked you, but I wasn't ready to be with you again, not after everything that happened. Maybe I never would have been. With Mum starting to pressure you to ask me out, I thought I needed an excuse to keep a bit of distance from you. So I told you what I thought was the best way to keep you from asking me out again.

“Honestly, I didn't even mean to say Pansy's name. I was just going to tell you that I had moved on to someone else. But that day, I'd been thinking about her a bit, and it all came spilling out. I'm sorry I put you in such a weird position with her, especially since she's tutoring you and all.”

“She isn't,” Harry said quickly. “I didn't end up asking her. Chickened out.”

“Oh.” Ginny seemed to be lost in thought. “Are you dating someone in Slytherin then?”

“What? No, I mean wait, what? Why would you ask that?”

“You don't have to tell me, or even confirm it. Not my business anymore.” Ginny shrugged. “It's just that I've seen you sneak out of the dungeons after curfew. I thought maybe you'd been studying with Pansy, but maybe you were seeing someone?”

“No!” Harry exclaimed. “I was just with Malfoy.”

At Ginny's incredulous expression, he quickly added, “He's the one tutoring me.”

“Oh… right. I didn't realise you two were talking?” Ginny’s uncertainty made it sound like a question rather than a fact.

“Well, not exactly talking. More like just tutoring, and sometimes ranting about stuff, mostly ranting about Slughorn.”

Ginny laughed at that. “I didn't think you'd be able to find common ground with Draco.”

“You did that with Pansy first,” Harry snarked, but seeing Ginny's face drop, he continued, “Can I ask, what exactly happened between the two of you? She said you had broken up after the battle, but I don't quite get what happened.”

“Broken up? We'd have to have actually been dating to break up with each other,” Ginny huffed indignantly. “Well, I already told you how we first got to talking at the Carrows' detentions. Towards the end of the year, we both knew our feelings well enough, but we hadn't done anything about it other than the occasional hook-up. She still refused to turn on her family and friends, or get involved in the war in any way. So, I couldn't exactly be with her. Plus, she didn't exactly give up on her views on blood purity, even if she wasn't willing to torture the Muggle-borns herself. It wasn't exactly easy on either of us, but we took comfort where we could get it, even if we didn't agree on a lot.”

Ginny continued, “But in the final battle, she did something unforgivable. She tried to give you up to Voldemort, knowing what it would do. We didn't exactly talk after, but we both knew it was over then. She didn't have the courage to stand up to her friends or family even after the war, and I couldn't be with someone who was still associated with blood purists.”

“I'm so sorry, Gin,” Harry whispered. “I wish things could have been different for you both.”

“You're being weird.”

“Hmm?” Harry mumbled.

“You're actually hoping for me and her to be together.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You deserve to be happy, no matter who you’re happy with.”

“That’s kind of you to say. But still. Most people wouldn’t be actively trying to ensure that their ex’s new relationship went well, no matter how much happiness they wished upon them.”

“Most people are idiots.”

“Probably,” Ginny said noncommittally, but her eyes sparkled with amusement, having quickly connected some dots and come to a grand realisation.

~

Slytherins loved making a dramatic entrance.

Draco and Pansy were no exception to that rule, even if they were showing up to their competitors' celebration for their Quidditch win. Either in mockery or support of the winning team, they walked into the Common room in the deepest, most Gryffindor shade of red.

Harry had no idea how they’d even entered, given that he hadn’t had the chance to share the password with either of them. But his heart fluttered with excitement, both for finally being able to solve his mystery and for salvaging the relationship between Pansy and Ginny.

Before they could be accosted by the rest of the team, Harry appeared between the two of them and exclaimed loudly, “Pansy, Draco, you’re here.” Tangling his arms into theirs, he pulled the two of them away from Ron, who’d turned a shade that could rival the duo’s outfits in team spirit.

After getting them seated on the side of the common room with glasses of spiked punch, Harry set about to find Ginny.

Hours later, Harry had grown tired of not being able to make conversation with his desired associate. The two Slytherins had quickly become friendly with most of the party, and even after Ginny and Pansy had sneaked off, Draco had remained engaged in intense discussions regarding the viability of the Tutshill Tornados' new strategy with the younger players. Even Ron, who had been grumbling about letting Slytherins in, soon acquiesced to his presence.

As such, he’d been sulking away for almost an hour, while glaring out of the tower window, when he was approached by the familiar voice. “Can I sit here?”

Harry nodded, but stifled his excitement at seeing him. He was still mad at him, after all.

“Thank you for inviting Pansy here,” Draco said, with genuine gratitude. “I had been trying to convince her to talk to Ginny for months, but she consistently refused to do so until you talked to her. I’m not too sure what you said to her, but it seems to have worked.”

Harry shrugged coolly. “I just told her the truth.”

“Fair. Anyways, speaking of truth,” Draco added, “the thing I've been keeping secret is a brand new Truth Potion. Actually, I’ve been working off Snape’s ideas and notes, and I think I've finally gotten it to work. That’s what you’ve been wondering about, right?”

“Yes,” Harry said, surprised that the tiny amounts of alcohol had loosened the boy’s tongue. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You helped Pansy out. I owed you, and you seemed exceedingly curious about my work.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Harry replied, finding this whole thing rather ridiculous. “You’d been helping me with Potions, free-of-cost, for almost six months.”

“Yes, but that was in exchange for my previous debt, for helping me with my court sentencing. I know it was you who spoke to Headmistress McGonagall. I was glad I could do something for you in exchange.”

Harry pinched the bridge between his eyebrows. “I don’t understand why you have to make everything about debts and obligations.”

“Fine, then you may consider that I told you because I wanted to. Besides, this potion could completely revolutionise legal statements in court. Veritaserum has been banned for years, as it forces people to answer each and every question. This new potion changes the game completely; a Truth Potion that doesn’t force you to answer questions, but rather ensures that everything that you say is the full truth of what you want to answer at that moment. Can you imagine?”

“Oh,” Harry stumbled over his words, marveling at the other boy’s enthusiasm and intellect. “That’s incredible. I didn’t know you were passionate about truth serums.”

“Well, not quite. I just wanted to complete Professor Snape’s potions for him. He should have had the time to do so himself. Anyways, I’m going to be testing it on myself tomorrow evening. Do you think you’d want to help?”

A feeling of elation filled Harry’s lungs, as he opened his mouth to respond. “Yes. But only if you let me be the test subject. That way, you can fully judge the effects. And I can feel like I helped.”

Draco rolled his eyes in an un-Malfoy-like manner, but accepted it without argument.

~

Harry tossed the pitcher back like a shot of Firewhisky, and grinned sharply up at the other boy. “Time for the questions.”

“Fine,” Draco said, pondering for a few moments before settling on a question. “What is your full name?”

“Harry James Potter,” Harry responded with ease.

As Draco continued asking questions, he began getting more and more innovative with them. After all, he’d just got a once-in-a-lifetime chance to question the boy wonder. “What is your most embarrassing memory?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry answered honestly. “When I was six, I had snuck into the living room to catch a glimpse of Vernon's nightly rewatches of Charlie Chaplin. The next day, inspired by the show, I had accidentally magicked a moustache onto my face and gone about almost the entire day without noticing. I'd thought… well, I'd thought that people were being pleasant towards me. It wasn't till I got to the toilets that I realised they'd been laughing at me.”

“Oh.” Draco muttered quietly.

Harry nudged him gently. “Go on, then. Ask me something more difficult. Something I wouldn’t want to answer.”

“Alright, fine. Why have you been avoiding me?”

Harry had never hated someone like he did in that moment. How dare he? How dare Draco take something so personal to him and try to get his confession with a Truth Potion? Harry opened his mouth to scream at him, to tell him how much he hated him, but the only words that came out were, “I don't want to be in love with you.”

Harry frowned at those words. They sounded nothing like himself.

And he was quite certain that he'd never thought those words. Why would he be worried about being in love with Draco?

He turned away from the other boy to give himself some privacy and tried again, in barely a whisper. “I think I'm already in love with him.”

What.

Where had that come from?

Surely, even someone as oblivious as Harry would have noticed if they'd fallen in love with someone, right?

And there was no way he was in love with Draco Malfoy.

Yet, his subconscious mind seemed to be so sure that he was. Harry thought about it. Could he really be in love with him? Logically, he could justify it. He had followed Draco around for over a week for no good reason, and he'd even spoken to Pansy just to get her to bring Draco to the party. Plus, earlier, even Ginny said he’d been acting differently, as though he no longer felt anything for her.

And sometime during their time away from each other, he’d started to think of Draco as Draco.

…oh.

Harry felt sick to his stomach. “I need to go,” he mumbled, and ran through the door without even stopping to pick up his belongings.

Draco had been watching the proceedings with increasing confusion. First, he'd heard Potter say that he didn't want to fall in love with him, which was absolutely ridiculous. There's no way a few words between them would be enough for the Chosen One to fall in love with his enemy-turned-tutor. (Draco pointedly ignored the pangs in his chest at Harry's spoken words. They meant absolutely nothing).

Then, Potter had looked panic-stricken and pale, and before Draco could even react or ask if Potter was doing alright, he'd run off without a word.

So, Draco did not have a single clue as to what had just happened.

Perhaps Potter had just thought they’d grown too close with their semi-regular meetups, and didn't want to risk catching any sort of feelings. It definitely would have made things awkward for the two of them, with their history.

Or, more likely, he'd messed up the potion. Just because Harry had answered some of his questions, Draco couldn't just assume that it worked. The moonstone must have reacted too strongly with the pearl dust, even on low heat, and created infatuating properties. And maybe he'd also added too much Jobberknoll feather, which had resulted in Potter feeling sick.

That did seem more likely than Harry finding himself on the verge of falling in love with him.

“Sorry!” he called out to the empty hallway, as he ignored the hollow feeling in his chest and stuck his nose back into his diary to tweak the formula.

When Harry showed no signs of returning after over an hour away, Draco began nervously pacing around the empty office.

He didn’t know what to do.

On one hand, Harry hadn't exactly said that he would be returning, and it sounded unlikely from the sound of his statements before he left.

But on the other hand, Harry wasn't the kind of person to leave someone hanging without a very good reason. And his stupid words weren’t a very good reason.

Fortunately, Draco had taken back his previous conclusion of a botched potion after conducting various tests on it, and even testing it on himself. It seemed to be working fine.

Plus, his dose had worn off within the minute, so the effects on Potter should have worn off long before now.

Potter should definitely have been back by now. Unless—

“Oh god, Potter’s got himself into some sort of trouble again.” Draco concluded with a worried expression.

He needed to find the boy.

~

“Hullo, Harry.”

Harry’s head spun to face the familiar voice. He should have known she’d be able to find him anywhere, even in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. But he’d been too busy looking for an object, or rather, the only object that could get him the advice that he desperately needed.

Finding a soft smile for her, Harry asked, “Luna! What are you doing here?”

“I suspect the same as you. The Thestrals have become awfully shy this year.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I was just looking for something.”

“Everyone’s looking for something. Oh, but you’ve already found what you’ve been searching for.”

Harry looked puzzled at those words. “I don’t know, Luna. I don’t think I’ve found the Stone just yet.” But he still looked around in the grass as though expecting it to appear.

Luna smiled sadly at him, tapping his shoulder in comfort. “I didn’t mean the Stone, Harry. You don’t need it anymore. They’re in your heart.”

“Besides,” she added, “it's not them that you need to talk to.” Her odd look told him exactly who she thought he needed to talk to, who she expected him to be looking for.

Harry didn’t necessarily want to talk to Malfoy anymore, least of all regarding his feelings. But over the years of knowing Luna, he’d learnt not to outright dismiss her advice. “Maybe I will.”

“I should hope so,” Luna replied cheerily, “since he’s flying right at us.”

As though right on cue, Malfoy’s broom flew right into their little section of the forest. Malfoy seemed to be yelling Harry’s name while staring out into the sky.

“Malfoy?” he called out. Seconds later, he found himself with arms full of a sweaty teenage boy, as Draco was knocked right off his broomstick. The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds, until the awkwardness got the better of Harry and he dropped the other boy.

“What the fuck was that, Potter?”

Harry had no idea. Turning around to ask for Luna's opinion on his current level of sanity, he realised that she'd disappeared in the seconds between their conversation and the fall.

“You stole my confession from me,” Harry mumbled, as they had both settled down onto the fresh grass to make an attempt at a civil discussion.

Instead of sitting facing each other, they’d both scooted in beside each other, allowing them to stare into the forest rather than at each other.

Draco shrugged. “Not the worst of my crimes.”

“No,” Harry agreed after a second of consideration. “Not even close. And I’ve forgiven you for the worst one.”

“For what it's worth, I am sorry for forcing the words out of you. I didn't expect that sort of confession. I thought you were suspicious of me. I was waiting for your accusations.”

“I’m confused. What accusations?”

“Well, you had started following me around for weeks right after we stopped talking. I just assumed… it doesn't matter. Anyways, I just wanted to say, you don’t have to worry about anything you may or may not have said. It’s all forgotten.”

“All forgotten?” Harry could feel the bile building up in the back of his throat.

Draco tilted his head and muttered, “You sound almost disappointed.”

“Not disappointed. Look, I don’t want you to forget it or ignore it. I’ve fallen in love with you and it’s not going away, so you’re going to have to deal with it or walk away.”

“Wait, you’re in love with me?” Draco looked astonished. “But you said you didn’t want to fall in love with me. Now, I’m confused.”

“So, you didn’t hear the second part? Fuck.”

“Second part?” Draco could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “What second part?”

Harry exhaled sharply. “Your potion worked. I wanted to say I hated you. It didn’t quite let me say that.”

“You love me?” Draco mouthed, his speech having been knocked out of him. Without any hesitation, he leaned in experimentally towards Harry. He was close enough for Harry to lean in for a kiss, but far enough that the other boy could lean away if he wanted to.

Harry suppressed the laughter of relief that threatened to overcome him. “Draco.” He whispered delicately, as though the use of his first name was a gift, and placed his fingers along Draco’s jaw.

~

If anyone asked either of them who leaned in first for the kiss, neither of them would ever be able to remember; it had been too quick, too desperate, and too intense.

But both of them could describe to no end how it had felt: the comfort, the ease, and the love.