When the Leaves Turn (Drarry)

Potions Class

Harry peeked into the classroom to see if professor Snape had started teach yet.
Sadly he had, and so he turned to Draco.
"We're late on the first day!" He whisper shouted to the blonde.
Draco looked over Harry's shoulder to see for himself.  His friend was right, it looked like Snape was already half way through his introductory speech.
"We'll have to wait until he turns around, and then try to sneak in." He explained to the smaller boy.
"But it's the first day, all teachers just talk on the first day."  Harry whispered back.
Just then the door holding both of the boys weight flew inwards, and both Slytherins fell inside the classroom.

"So nice of you two to finally, join us."  The greasy haired man spoke over the two,
"Please take a seat, if I'm not, interrupting your conversation."
"Yes sir."  Draco replied while helping Harry to his feet.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled as he followed his friend to the only two empty seats in the back of the classroom.

"Twenty points, each, from Slytherin house."  Snape exclaimed as the two boys became situated.
The classroom was a mixture of groans and laughter, both coming from their respective house.  Harry hung his head in embarrassment as Draco looked at the desk in shame. 

"As I was saying before I was, rudely interrupted."  Snape resumed his "welcome" speech.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he resumed.  He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses; I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stop death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."  As he came to the last part he stared at Harry, who was taking notes as Snape was teaching.

"Potter!" He shouted, bringing Harry out of his parchment.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I- I don't know sir." He answered quietly.
Snape's thin line of a mouth had a small smirk playing on the corners of his lips.
"Tut, tut-fame clearly isn't everything." He continued to embarrass the young Slytherin.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Silence was the only response before he became annoyed,
"Well?"  He pushed on.
"I don't know." He answered again. 
Across the room, on the Gryffindor half of the classroom, he could see Hermione who's hand was strong and tall in the midst of eyes focused on him.
"I think Hermione does though, why don't you ask her."
The smug face on the teacher fell when the young boy countered his question.
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomack of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." He looked around the room to see bored faces staring back at him, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" He snapped at the class.
The classroom was soon filled with the sound of children hurriedly scratching their quills against parchment.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked him, his face contorted with care and shame.
Harry nodded his head as he whispered back,
"Yes, I'm fine." He raised his head from his parchment, "Are you okay?"
Draco sighed at looked up at Snape for a moment before returning his gaze to Harry.
"Yes, it's just that I didn't expect my godfather to be so rude to you." 
Harry was shocked, his mind flashing between the kind lady and reserved man at the train station to his professor.  Why would they choose him of all people to be a godfather?
As if he could read Harry's mind Draco shrugged his shoulders,
"I don't know why my parents chose him sometimes.  I barely see him and he's incredibly rude."  His face shifted into one of disgust as he continued writing on his parchment.
Harry didn't know how to respond, and so he just nodded his head as a reply.

"Are you planning on trying out for the Quidditch team?" Draco asked, changing the subject.
"What's Quidditch?" The brunette replied, making sure to keep his hand writing and his eyes down.
Draco nearly dropped his quill out of surprise,
"You don't know what Quidditch is?"  He whisper shouted, eyes now facing him in bewilderment.
Harry only shook his head,
"We don't have that in the Muggle world."
Draco picked his quill back up and smirked,
"Well that just won't do, I'll teach you how to play tonight after dinner."
Harry smiled; for the rest of his classes he couldn't wait until after supper.