BEAUTIFUL DISASTERS ｢DRARRY｣

PART 6

Harry let out a yawn, cracking his neck and opening his eyes.

It had been two weeks so far since he got here, and this was the first day that Draco hadn't woken him up. He thought that maybe he had woken up first for once, but when he checked his watch, he saw it was 11 am.

With a jolt, he got out of bed and quickly threw on his robes which Draco had bought for him at Diagon Alley two weeks ago. Did something happen to Draco? He felt that he shouldn't be concerned—Draco was an adult and certainly could take care of himself—but this had never happened before. Was he alright?

Hair still completely messy, teeth unbrushed, he ran out the door, only to freeze. The classroom that was normally empty was filled with students that were now staring at him and Harry, to his own horror, realized that it was Tuesday morning. Draco taught his actual classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while the woman he now knew as Ms Parkinson filled in the rest of the time so that Draco could teach Harry.

Draco, who was interrupted mid-lesson, was also staring at Harry with one eyebrow raised. Harry felt himself blush furiously at his mistake and at the attention. "I—I..." He began to stutter, but found himself at lack for words.

"Is there a reason you're interrupting, Mr Potter?" Draco asked, and Harry was almost impressed at how different he seemed as a teacher; he was the person Harry knew the first few days after he got here. Of course, he was still that person, but wasn't afraid to let his shoulders loosen. He also looked at Harry when he talked to him, which he avoided earlier, not out of fear but out of something else. Harry didn't know, maybe it was a wizard thing.

But here he was, back straight and hair orderly but not gelled. His face was straight and he held a professional and powerful atmosphere, but approachable nonetheless. He'd called him Mr Potter for the first time ever, and Harry realized that he actually kind of liked it, especially when Draco said it. It made him feel important, strangely enough. It made him feel respected, especially when back in the orphanage he was called idiot boy or pathetic.

"I just—" He stammered on, although slightly more comfortable this time. "I didn't know where you were, that's all." One or two girls said awww, and Harry felt himself blush. Draco didn't seem to pay them any attention.

"Grab breakfast, or go back in your room, or watch the lesson if you'd like," Draco said, holding his perfect posture. "Merlin knows you need a lesson or two in Potions," Draco added under his breath, so quietly that only Harry and those in the first row can hear. A few students giggled.

He wasn't very hungry, in all honesty, and there was nothing much to do in his room. Watching Draco teach sounded amusing, as well, and maybe he could learn something as well. Who knows, maybe by the end he'd magically be a Potions expert and Draco would congratulate him on it. Maybe he would tell him how impressed he is.

He sat at a spare desk at the back, aware that his little fantasies were unrealistic, and readied himself to pay full attention to Draco.

"This is a sixth year class, by the way, Mr Potter," Draco said, and that was that. He continued on with the lesson as if it had never been interrupted, barely glancing at Harry, who sat in the back corner.

Surprisingly, he payed very close attention. He was never one to focus during class. He succeeded in spite of it, of course, but he always found himself zoning out. Now, however, he couldn't help but pay attention to the way that Draco's lips curled when he said specific words, or the way he sometimes rambled about the effects of certain potions. Draco taught him on a daily basis, of course, and he found those lessons to be interesting as well. There was something different, however, with Draco standing at the front of the room and acting all formal with the students. Harry felt like he could never get bored of watching him teach.

The students seemed to pay attention to him, too. He could see why. He was interesting and didn't focus too much on the boring bits. As for the girls... well, he certainly was a sight for sore eyes. Harry found that Draco had the ability to capture anyone's attention, even the most unpleasant of students.

By the end of the class, Harry had a much more extended knowledge of Draught of Living Death, which was much too advanced for him anyway. He had been told by Draco that after two weeks he was at least at a second year level since he picked up on things rather easily, but sometimes he learned things ahead of his current levels, such as the Summoning Charm, which was proven quite useful. This potion, however, was way ahead of him, and he felt shocked that he actually understood it and its complexity. It wasn't too surprising, however; Draco had explained it so clearly and thoroughly.

The class was over in what felt like minutes, and as the class streamed out of the room, Harry remained seated at his desk. A few students smiled at him as they walked past, and the rest snuck glances.

"Was the lesson interesting, Mr Potter?" Draco asked, his attention back on Harry after everyone left. Harry, who was strangely overcome with affection once more, grinned. He decided that he liked Draco, and that he didn't think he'd find anyone better to be his friend in this strange and unfamiliar place.

"Of course, Sir," he replied, smiling as he continued the joke.

Draco was still at the front of the room, his posture still perfect. Harry wanted to see him relax.

"The next class will be here in a few minutes, Harry. You should get some breakfast," he suggested, but Harry just shook his head.

"I want to watch the next. I just need to brush my teeth first," he said, and thought he saw Draco smile, but it must have been a trick of the light.

**********

Finally eating dinner felt magnificent. He'd watched a total of four of Draco's classes, and although he enjoyed them, he felt exhausted and in need of a break. It was certainly worth it, however. He had a better knowledge of potions, and he really did like watching Draco teach. It felt like a win-win; he learned more and wasn't bored during it all.

He sat beside Draco, which was now his usual seat at the head table. He was loading steak onto his plate and a few small potatoes here and there. It all smelt great, and despite Harry's exhaustion, he felt great.

Draco was engaged in conversation with the man with the lightning scar, who Harry knew as Neville, or Professor Longbottom. Harry smiled at the interaction.

He nudged Draco, who almost immediately turned to him. Harry grinned. "I just wanted to tell you that you're a great teacher. Thanks for letting me watch today," he said, thoroughly happy when he saw a small tinge of pink flash across Draco's cheeks.

"Thank you, Harry. You can watch any time," he replied before turning back to Neville, who watched the small exchange with interest.

Harry grinned and turned back to his dinner, feeling giddy.