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Prompt: Harry asks Draco to tutor him in Potions. 

Harry hadn’t really asked Malfoy to tutor him and it wasn’t like Malfoy had offered either, not really. It had just… sorta happened. 

It had started one night, too late for Harry to understand the words he was reading out of his Potions book, because let’s face it; he’d defeated Voldemort only a few months ago and he was still recovering, okay? Trying to pass his classes and of course it was just Harry’s luck that his new Potions teacher didn’t particularly like him. Without the Half Blood Prince’s book, he was also back to suck at the delicate art. So he snuck down to the dungeons and practiced when he couldn’t sleep. Which was to say extremely often. 

The first time Malfoy had come around, Malfoy hadn’t noticed Harry before he’d put his books down and brought out all of his supplies. Harry had coughed; scared the shit out of the blond and Harry had grinned viciously. They might have called it some sort of truce - because they had found a little bit of that thing called “adult” in themselves after the war - but that didn’t mean Harry would just magically like Malfoy or stop taking pleasure in his humiliation. Malfoy had sneered and taken two seconds to decide whether it was worth staying now that he knew Harry was there and decided that it was. Harry hadn’t really minded, he could always throw some rat tails at the boy if he got bored. 

The second time Malfoy had stormed in while Harry was minding his own business, he’d sighed loudly but decided to stay that time too. Which had been a great thing for Harry because when he’d tried making the Calming Draught he’d accidentally set the thing on fire instead. 

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing, Potter?!” In an instant, Malfoy was next to him, searching for something among Harry’s ingredients and exclaiming when he found what he was looking for. The thing he’d picked up was dried leaves of Dittany and he crushed them between his fingers before adding them to Harry’s burning cauldron. It stopped smoking. More importantly, a second later the fire subdued. 

“How did you know that?” Harry asked, stunned. Malfoy gave him a look. 

“Some of us pays attention in class,” he only answered and went back to his own brew. 

“So why are you here practicing, if you’re all so good already?” Malfoy looked up from under his eyebrows as he measured eel eyes into a cup. He only scoffed as an answer. 

Harry took to watch Malfoy more closely after that. Trying to figure out each time they shared the class room, what potion the other boy was making. It was all of them, he figured. There was the Antidote for Common Poisons, there was the Confusing Concoction, the Laugh-inducing Potion, Skele-Gro (that brought back some insanely bad memories) and Harry didn’t know, but he guessed that every single potion Malfoy made was one that could be used. Without fearing for your life. He hadn’t realized he’d gone a little too far with his watching before Malfoy had looked up one night, for which Harry of course turned back to his own things and… there wasn’t anything there. He hadn’t even started a potion, he hadn’t even opened he damned book. Malfoy gave him a pointed look, which Harry absolutely did not blush at. 

After they’d played the charade - of ignoring each other or drop mean comments - a dozen times, it was just time for them to start talking. It was the natural progression, it also included Malfoy putting his things in the seat next to Harry’s. None of them said anything about that particular thing. Harry could’ve never guessed it but having Malfoy beside him, dropping actually helpful comments every once in a while and talking about all random things was something he quite enjoyed. Even if it was in the middle of the nights, even if it was cold as ice in the dungeons, even if they didn’t really do anything remotely fun in a normal sense, even if he probably wouldn’t have wanted to admit it to anyone, he started to look forward to their nightly escapades. 

Some nights Harry was alone. It was no real pattern to the nights Malfoy would show up, at least not that Harry could see. Those nights went past quiet and slowly and he almost burned the castle down a few times. 

The smell of treacle tarts was overwhelming one night when Harry strode into the classroom. Malfoy was already there and at first, Harry just thought that the other boy had snuck a treat with him from dessert (even though Harry hadn’t seen any treacle tarts that night) but as the evening went on, his nose picked up on a load of assorted smells he was sure he couldn’t actually smell. There was the breeze of a morning of quidditch practice; one minute he had a sudden rush of the feeling that he was actually at the Burrow when he knew he of course wasn’t; for a while there was nothing special, just smelled like Malfoy; then he smelled Hogwarts Christmas Dinner and the puzzle fell into place because there were few thing he loved as much as just that, all those “few things” he also had already smelt that night. He snapped his head towards Malfoy. 

“Are you… brewing… a love potion? Are you literally standing there brewing Amortentia?” Malfoy just shrugged. 

“Why? Should I have skipped that one?” Harry opened his mouth to answer but didn’t know what to say so he just turned his gaze towards his own cauldron and tried not to breath with his nose. 

“Would you like a sip, Potter?” Malfoy asked when he was finished, shit eating grin on his face, just as he poured the pearly liquid into a vial. Harry only snorted, shook his head and thought I don’t need it, then proceeded to wonder for the rest of the night why he’d thought that. 

Harry found himself actually brewing less and less. Instead, he just hopped on top of the table next to Malfoy as the blond cut and stirred and boiled. He made Malfoy tell him what he was doing, why and always got baffled by the near-to perfect results. It was the night that none of them actually got their ingredients out that Harry understood that this, this “friendship” had definitely gone too far. Yet he didn’t do anything about it; because he liked sitting on a table next to Malfoy and talk about their classes and friends and last night’s wonderful dinner and what they will do for Christmas and Malfoy’s parents and the war and finally: themselves. It didn’t feel like such a huge thing at first, but then Harry mentioned Sirius and all of a sudden he was crying. Sitting opposite Draco bloody Malfoy. But the other boy just looked at him. Patiently. Not really comforting, but nowhere near nasty either.

“It’s okay,” was all he said, voice flat but Harry believed him.

Not sure whether or not it was a good idea, Harry went down to the dungeons the next day too. Both of the boys had found themselves way deeper down in conversations and memories than they had intended last night and now, after thinking about in the light of day, Harry was scared. Scared that whatever was going on, had only been going on last night. That now, Malfoy was going to look at Harry like he was vermin again and voluntary forget the intimate secrets they’d shared with each other. He felt stupid because he was more afraid that Malfoy would pretend like nothing had happened rather than Malfoy telling the world Harry’s darkest memories. 

When Malfoy stepped in a quarter to twelve, there was a sort of hesitance in his step. Like he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to come in either, but he didn’t stop and just strode up to Harry who was standing beside their usual table with his hands in his pockets. 

“Wanna talk?” Harry asked.

“No,” Malfoy said and continued after he was by his place. He dropped his things at his on his usual chair, yes, but they also usually had a few feet between them, always out of reach and now Malfoy was just there. Close. He wasn’t even intimidating or trying to be, so at first Harry got confused.

“Malfoy-” But he cut himself off because Malfoy raised his gaze then. His eyes might have been grey but right there, right then, they were alive, they were a crackling thunderstorm and they were not looking into Harry’s eyes. They were fixed on Harry’s lips. 

“Potter?” Malfoy said his name like a question, flicking his gaze up for a brief moment before staring at Harry’s mouth again. Harry could only nod and thank Merlin that he had his hands in his pockets because he wouldn’t have known where to put them otherwise when Malfoy’s lips were suddenly pressed to his. As for kissing went, Harry hadn’t had much experience. There was that one with Cho back in fifth year and then a few he’d shared with Ginny. Nothing like this. Nothing this heavy. Malfoy didn’t seem to care if Harry almost fell backwards because he was pressing so hard on him, he didn’t seem to think that Harry was fragile and he certainly didn’t seem to think he needed to hold anything back. Harry agreed on all points, because this, was the best kiss he’d had so far. 

Malfoy pulled back after what seemed like hours later. It was probably just a few minutes. Harry didn’t care for how long, he just wanted more. He finally retrieved his hands from his pockets and grabbed a hold of Malfoy’s robes like he was going to leave if he didn’t, Malfoy hadn’t even stepped away. 

“You didn’t slip me some of that love potion, did you?” He breathed on Malfoy’s lips. 

“Could’ve asked you the same thing, Potter,” Malfoy answered while ghosting Harry’s chin with his mouth. Then he snorted and looked up at Harry. “But then again, you come here because you suck at potions.”

well, the general message of the anon was something like this at least. Here’s the full prompt! and okay so i take prompts kind of “lightly” if my mind starts spinning but I hope the anon approves of this story because I quite like it. please send me a prompt if you have something you’d like!

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