How Are You, Really? (Drarry)

Chapter Twelve: The Necessary Tutor

            Harry watched Malfoy drag his feet into the room, barely making it in time. He slumped down onto the stool next to Harry, avoiding the other man's eyes. They had come to an understanding: Harry would prepare the ingredients, and Malfoy would brew the potion all without speaking. Although he was still struggling, Harry had to admit he'd learned a lot from watching Malfoy, who was a natural-born potions brewer. He seemed to possess an innate sense of what to put in when, unlike Hermione, who knew everything from reading the textbook. But even with their routine, Harry knew his essays were substandard.

It came as no surprise when Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together and said, "Excellent job Hermione, Draco, as always. Harry and Blaise, I think it'd be in everyone's best interest if you start being tutored by your lab partner."

Hermione's hand shot up. "Professor Slughorn, I think it'd be better if Harry and I worked together."

Smiling jovially, Slughorn shook his head. "Oh no, my dear. That won't do at all. You're in your daily pairs, I'm afraid." At Hermione's disgruntled frown, he added. "You'll be getting extra points, of course." Hermione's face instantly cleared, and she smiled. Harry kept his laughter in check. "You'll start this evening."

Harry turned to look at Malfoy, who was frowning. It's been such a long time since Harry had seen his profile. It was quite shocking to find out that the baby fat of youth was gone, replaced by a chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. He was almost delicate looking.

"What're you staring at, Potter?" Malfoy snapped. "Am I just too handsome for you?" He smirked.

Harry felt himself blush but didn't know why. "When do you want to meet?" Harry was free all evening; the graduate students couldn't play quidditch, and he could only study for so long before his brain felt like mush.

Malfoy turned to look at him. "You really want to do this? Don't think I'll hex you once were alone?" There was bitterness in his voice.

Harry blinked at him and was surprised to find himself saying, "No, not really."

Draco stared, his mouth slightly open. He snapped it shut after a moment. "After dinner. Potions lab 3. Don't be late." He grabbed his bag, magicked it pocket-sized, and put it inside his robes before turning and walking out.

Hermione approached Harry. He was staring after Malfoy. "Why don't we ever do that with our bags?"

Hermione shook her head. "It never occurred to me. But it's brilliant. I'll be doing it from now on."

That evening Ron couldn't stop abusing Malfoy, to the extent that eventually both Harry and Hermione told him to shove it. "I'm just saying you can't trust the git."

"He's done nothing to Harry all year, Ron," Hermione sighed. It looked like she wanted to say more, but she stopped herself.

Ron shook his head. They were on speaking terms again, having both decided they really were just better as friends. It was one headache Harry didn't have to deal with anymore.

Harry had been glancing at Malfoy repeatedly throughout dinner and was the first to notice when Malfoy rose. Harry stood as well. "Better get going." He waved goodbye to his friends and hurried out of the Great Hall, keeping his head down. If he didn't meet the stares, he didn't have to acknowledge anyone.

Quickening his step, he sped to catch up to Malfoy. When he did, the other man didn't acknowledge his existence. "Hey."

Malfoy nodded once.

"How was dinner?"

"Are you going to try and make small talk all night? Because I'm not interested, Potter."

Harry groaned internally. It seemed like Malfoy was in a bad mood already; this lesson wasn't going to be fun.

Once in the potions room, Draco directed Harry on how to set up. It was different than how he set up in class, so he hit his tongue around the sarcastic comment waiting to be set free. He really needed to bring his grade up. Harry expected Draco to give him a potion and then ignore him, but instead, he came and stood next to Harry, flipping through his book. "Here," Draco pointed. "I know we did this sixth year, but it's going to come up again on the NEWTs, whether actually brewing it or just writing about it I don't know. And whatever magic that possessed you and made you top of the year seems to have vanished, so you need the practice."

Harry's cheeks colored. He found himself admitting, "I had Snape's old textbook. It had notes in it."

Instead of being angry as Harry expected, Malfoy just nodded slowly. "Yea, Snape was always a good teacher when he tried. If he had written down half of the important stuff, everyone would have done better. He was wonderful in our private lessons."

Harry frowned. "Why would he give you private lessons? I know he liked you, but..." he trailed off.

Malfoy blinked at Harry. "He was my godfather, Potter."

"He was your – what?"

A slow smirk spread across Malfoy's face. "Yes, Potter, he was my godfather. And quite a good one, I might add."

Thoughts of Serius caught Harry in their current, and for a moment, he felt as if he was drowning. But the feeling was quickly gone.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked, having noticed the expression on Harry's face.

"Yea, I'm fine. So what are we making tonight?" Harry lied.

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue, but ultimately he thought better of it. "Not we, you. And you're going to be brewing Amortentia."

"The love potion?" Harry choked out. He didn't' want to brew a love potion for Malfoy.

He must have realized where Harry's mind had gone because Malfoy quickly backtracked. "I'm not going to try it, Potter, if that's what you're worried about. No way in hell."

"Oh." Harry felt foolish. "I'll get started then."

To his utter amazement, Malfoy walked him through the process in-depth, going into the theory behind why each ingredient was added. He was an amazing teacher, and Harry almost resented him for it. Almost. But his potion came out perfectly. "Now, what to do you smell?" Draco asked, lounging on the stool next to him. "Still smells like the Weaslette?"

Harry stuck his nose in the potion and drew a deep breath. What did he smell? "I smell soap and grass, and no trace of Ginny. Wait, I also smell..." Harry trailed off, sure he was wrong. Aftershave? Why would smell aftershave?

"Yes?" Malfoy asked, sitting up straight.

"Nothing, I was mistaken," Harry said in a rush. "There's nothing else."

He watched Malfoy deflate. "Alright, Potter, you're done. Clean up, and you can go." Malfoy turned on his heels to go. Something possessed Harry, and he found himself blurting out, "Aftershave. I smell aftershave in the Amortentia."

Freezing, the other man didn't say anything for a long moment. "I see. Well, I'll see you upstairs, Harry."