Sorry it's taken me so long to get these chapters posted. ;

Potions class was awkward, if he wanted to gloss over the fact that Draco kept staring at him as if the boy had x-ray vision and could see straight through Harry’s clothes, and if he could ignore Professor Snape—every bit as greasy as Sirius had made him out to be—who was staring at him as though the man had heat vision and was trying to melt Harry’s face. They weren’t the only ones staring, though. Being a Potter could be pretty damn frustrating sometimes.

And though Harry honestly enjoyed potions—or had while at his old school—he had to say that most of the fun was taken out of it when his every move was being assessed and graded by a man who had hated him on sight. He didn’t seem to be the only one having this problem, fortunately enough for him. One of the Gryffindors—a round faced boy named Longbottom—seemed absolutely terror stricken. And though Harry had to admit that he felt slightly sorry for the boy, he was also glad for the small lapses in the attention Snape paid him as he insinuated the boy was no more fit to brew a potion than a flobberworm. He’d already lost his house thirty points only twenty minutes into class. And though Vincent and Greg seemed to be botching their potions just as badly—if not worse—Professor Snape seemed not to notice. Even Hermione Granger had lost them five points. She’d only tried to answer a question; really, he didn’t see what the big deal was. He cast a sympathetic glance back towards her and Ron, but Blaise elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Harry noted when he turned his attention back to the task at hand that Draco was trying to remedy the pus-like substance simmering in Crabbe and Goyle’s shared cauldron while Snape stalked across the Gryffindor side of the room, looking to take more points. Pansy rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and continued grinding scarab beetles into a fine powder.

Blaise was Harry’s partner today, and was actually pretty good at potions. Their combined effort had rewarded them with a grass green substance about the same consistency of melted chocolate. According to Blaise’s heavily marked textbook, they were on the right track to creating a successful Wit-Sharpening Potion.

“Now we just have to cut up these ginger roots while it simmers and is there any particular reason that Draco won’t stop staring at you?”

Blaise said this evenly enough that it took Harry a moment to catch on. Harry flushed, unsure of what to say. “Hell if I know,” he finally said, grateful that he sounded nonchalant.

“Mm.” Blaise was smirking again.

It was in Transfiguration class that Harry met a few of his old friends. Steven Cornfoot and Kevin Entwhistle were cousins, and their whole family had been in Ravenclaw—or so they claimed—since The Grey Lady had been head of house. Their parents had known his during school, and the Cornfoots had been members of the Order. It was good to see them again, Harry thought, glad to have an excuse to escape Blaise and Draco.

“Slytherin?” Kevin exclaimed as Professor McGonagall turned her back to write on the board.

“Yeah, weird, isn’t it? I’ve sort of noticed this trend with families.”

“Oh, that’s rubbish,” Steven interjected. “You remember Amelia don’t you?”

“How could I forget?” Harry groaned, remembering Kevin’s baby sister and her crush on him all too well.

“Well, she’s a second year now, and she’s in Hufflepuff. I thought Aunt Jane might die of shock.

“We think it’s psychological,” Kevin quipped, poking at the goblet they were supposed to be transfiguring into a sparrow with his wand.

“Oh,” Harry said, not sure how to respond to that hypothesis. “Ah, what about Wayne?”

“You mean Hopkins? Hufflepuff, like his dad. Says his mum can’t get over watching him floo in for the holidays. Shook her up real bad when she found out they were wizards. His dad never even bothered to tell her until Wayne’s owl showed up.”

They quieted down when McGonagall cleared her throat and gave them a pointed look. Harry pulled out his wand and tried to concentrate on the book in front of him.

“Rod ended up going to Durmstrang, I think. Haven’t heard from him in awhile now,” Kevin continued, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s attempt to study.

By the end of class though, he’d found out where just about everyone he’d known as a child had ended up, and even managed to produce a rather nice looking sparrow, even though there were a few jewels around its neck. Steven’s bird looked alright, save for the fact that he hadn’t managed to transfigure the legs properly and it was hopping around rather sadly. Kevin, for all of his talking had only managed to procure a feathered goblet that twittered a little when he gave it an experimental poke.

It was at the door that Draco accosted him. Steven and Kevin bade him farewell, even though he gave them his best pleading stare.

“After lunch we’re going to the library, if you’re interested,” Draco said, keeping his voice low.

“Who exactly do you mean by ‘we’”?

Draco rolled his eyes. “The royal we. As in, just me. You coming or not?”

“And by studying,” Harry said hesitantly, “you mean—”

“Slamming you up against the nearest hard surface and fucking your brains out?” He laughed at Harry’s look of surprise and trepidation. “Of course not. Just to study. Unless of course, you’d rather do something else while we’re there…”

“No, no thank you. But studying does sound like a good idea.” Harry would just have to make sure that they were in a place where the librarian could keep an eye on them.