Drarry Oneshots

The Power Of A Potion

Harry, who was reaching out for something on the table, whipped his head towards him to stare at him, "Hey, you can't do that! I don't know shit about this potion-".

"Then find out", Draco smirked, "We have a huge library, go for it. Ask Weasley to bring down the taller ones".

He pulled all the books towards himself, when the other boy reached out to place his hand on them.

Grey eyes snapped up to look at green ones, their fingers just inches away from an electrifying touch.

"You wanna argue about it or something?", Draco sneered.

Harry sighed, "The second one is my textbook. Can I have it back, please?".

Draco glanced at the books, and let go in sheer embarrassment. He saw that the textbook was in a very awfully maintained fashion, "If you don't like the subject, it's fine. You don't have to show your anger on the poor textbook".

Harry glanced at him, and returned to stuffing the book in his bag, "This book came from the cupboards of this room, in this way".

"Well done all of you. I hope to see all your essays in two weeks' time. The winner of this small test will be announced a week after your submissions. For now, please leave for the Great Hall for your lunch", Slughorn cheered, walking out of the emptying classroom and patting Neville on the shoulder on his way out.

"Ah, reminds me", Draco turned to his partner, who had stood up and was planning to walk away, "Potter, I need a rough copy of the essay from you on Sunday".

Harry looked at him, groaning, "Malfoy! Please! I don't know anything about this potion, except for its name, and that eye of newt has to be added at the end for a pink hue".

"You have five days with you to research and write about the contents, the procedure, and the effects. And I'm asking for it only because I don't want to be embarrassed by your lack of understanding", Draco rolled his eyes, standing up.

Harry sighed out, "Fine", and turned on his heels to reach out to Ron and Hermione, who were waiting for him. Honestly, what he needed to do right now was have Lunch and go for a nap.

***

But sleep itself was a big deal, Harry being able to even nap was a bit of an exaggeration. Nightmares still marred him. Ranging from the graveyard of his Fourth year, to Sirius' death from the year before.

Damn, if he didn't already hate Voldemort, these reasons would absolutely drive him insane for vengeance.

He sat up in his bed, looking around at his dorm. Ron was snoring loudly, Seamus and Dean were in their attached beds with the curtains drawn, and Neville was missing because of him having Detention with McGonagal.

Wearing his glasses, he reached out for his bag next to his desk, aiming to read the little notes the Half-Blood Prince had left. But what was next to the textbook took his attention.

A small piece of folded parchment was pressed between that and his Charms textbook. He assumed it was the Marauders' Map at first, but it was too small.

And as he opened it, an involuntary "Wow" slipped from him. For the handwriting gracing the slightly crumpled parchment was exquisitely beautiful.

His handwriting was a mess, or so he had heard ever since he had began writing, but this writer was like a natural calligrapher.

'What do I even say about him?', he read the title. He knew he shouldn't be reading something so unclaimed, but his curiosity whispered otherwise to him.