Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon

                                    

                                          
Harry groaned when Slughorn assigned partners for the rest of the year, claiming that no one should be slacking off in their most crucial year. Harry was not surprised by the Potions master's decision to assign him to Malfoy but that was not to say that he was happy about it.
                          
Malfoy simply grunted in acknowledgement of his presence when he dragged his bag and potions equipment over to the desk where Malfoy was originally sitting by himself.
                          
As they set about concocting the Forgetfulness potion they were assigned, neither of the boys attempted to make conversation. Harry had no clue what he would even say to the Slytherin after their conversation the other night.
                          
Harry was slicing his Knotgrass while he was caught up in his head, thinking about how to talk to Draco. He thought jokingly to himself that the last person that he this much trouble talking to was Cho Chang.
                          
"Potter!" Yelled Draco, grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling it away from the desk. "I doubt the potion calls for your blood."
                          
Harry dropped the knife from his free hand and realised that he had sliced his finger open while not paying attention. The pain of the injury finally set in and he ripped his hand away from Malfoy and grabbed a tissue to wipe the blood.
                          
"I'm just glad you didn't get any on the grass or I would've had you try the potion. Maybe you would've grown an extra brain, so you can concentrate on what you're doing." Harry swore that beneath that snark, Malfoy was actually smiling.
                          
He waved over the Professor who tapped his wand to the tip of Harry's finger. A strange feeling shot through Harry's body as the magic mended the cut. 
                          
"Perhaps I'll do the rest of the cutting, save the rest of your precious seeker's fingers," said Malfoy, chuckling as he continued cutting the Knotgrass before scooping it up into his hands
                          
Harry laughed awkwardly at his comment before grabbing his wand to stir the potion.
                          
"Maybe I need more tuition," said Harry cautiously. He just wanted to keep the conversation alive, but he knew how strange that sounded. Malfoy stopped what he was doing and looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed.
                          
"Maybe you should pay me," Draco said after a few seconds, in a nonchalant tone.
                          
"What! You wish! I'm not paying you for something I don't actually want to do. And even if I did, no," Harry rolled his eyes.
                          
"Then why did you ask?" Malfoy smirks.
                          
"I, uh, no," Harry stammered. Malfoy laughed, it even sounded genuine.
                          
"After dinner in the common room," Malfoy shook his head with a smile still lingering on his lips. "If you're late I'll hex all your socks to bite you."
                          
     
                          
In the end, Draco and Harry's potion turned out fine. Harry stirred the cauldron clockwise instead of anti-clockwise which Professor Slughorn told him would have not only caused the drinker short-term memory loss, but all the hair on their body would fall out.
                          
Harry and Draco parted ways on the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts as their two houses did not take that class together. In fact, out of all the classes that Harry took, he only had potions class with the Slytherin house. He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny arrived to DADA barely in time for class to begin thanks to Peeves the Poltergeist's antics on the staircases.
                          
Harry took his usual seat near the back of the classroom with Ron and Hermione as Professor began her lesson on the unforgivable curses, something that the whole class had already been taught during their fourth (or third) year by Bartimous Crouch Jr who disguised himself as the Auror, Alastor Moody.
                          
"I can't believe he put me with Melissa Linch," said Ron, still complaining about Slughorn's partner assignments. "She kept laughing at everything. What is so funny about leeches?"
                          
"It's because when you're allowed to decide who your partner is, you barely do any work," Hermione rolls her eyes. "But at least you don't have to put up with Quinn Mark's halitosis."
                          
They all laughed amongst themselves as they copied out the legal consequences of the three curses.
                          
"Sucks to be you though," Ron muttered to Harry. "Forced to speak to that git even more."
                          
"He's alright now," Harry tried to defend Malfoy, something he never thought he'd do. "He's a lot more mature than what he used to be."
                          
"I still don't know why you didn't send him to Azkaban," Ron shook his head. "He tried to kill Dumbledore! He tried to kill us!"
                          
"That wasn't exactly his choice," said Harry. "He didn't know any better, and when he did, he was forced to do all those things."
                          
"Will you two stop it?" Hermione hissed. "Maybe Harry's right, maybe he has changed."
                          
Ron rolled his eyes and leant closer to Harry. "He still could have stood up for himself, spineless git."
                          
"Self-Preservation," Harry muttered, remembering his and Malfoy's conversation in the common room. "He's a through and through Slytherin."
                          
     
                          
Harry arrived in the common room with his potions things and sat at a two-chair desk. Looking around the room, he could not see Malfoy. He chuckled to himself about how Draco had such little faith that he'd be on time yet was late himself.
                          
It had been ten minutes before Harry saw Draco enter the common room, he looked flustered and a little on edge.
                          
Harry watched him as Draco scanned the room for him. Their eyes met. Malfoy bowed his head as he made his way over to him. Harry worried that the reason he was late was because those nitwits tried to harass him again.
                          
Malfoy sat down without a word to Harry, he reaches out for some of Harry's notes and reads through them.
                          
"Are you okay?" Harry asked quietly, not wanting to anger the boy.
                          
"I'm fine," said Draco, grabbing Harry's quill and crossing out something that he had written.
                          
"You're lying," Harry deduced. "What happened?"
                          
"Drop it, Potter," Draco warned.
                          
"No, tell me. Was it them again?" Harry asked, reaching out to Malfoy's arm. He pulls himself away and jumps to his feet away from him.
                          
"I said leave it!" Malfoy growled. "I do not need your help! I do not need perfect Potter to come to save me! I can handle my problems by myself believe it or not!"
                          
The whole room had quietened to watch Malfoy's outburst. Harry sat in stunned silence and stared at Draco's face reddened with madness, his hands curled into fists at his side.
                          
Harry snapped himself out of his stupor and got to his feet to face him.
                          
"Maybe you should stop being a defensive twat and let me help you!" Harry rebutted.
                          
"Why can't you just leave me alone? You and your goddamn hero complex. You just have to save everyone, don't you? Well, guess what Potter? I don't need your pity!" Malfoy raised his voice so that the whole room could hear, whether this was on purpose or not, Harry could not tell.
                          
"If it wasn't for my 'help' you'd be you wouldn't be here with your full course meals and your comfy bed. You'd be in Azkaban with dear old daddy-"
                          
"Don't you dare talk about my father!" Draco roared.
                          
If the whole room wasn't looking at them before, they certainly were now. Draco shot a dirty glare at the eighth-year cohort before storming upstairs to retreat to his bed perhaps, hiding away behind his curtains.
                          
Harry knew the eyes of everyone were upon him, but he didn't care. He was furious at the insolence of Malfoy. No matter what he did, all that blonde git wanted to do was push him away.