#7: Old Habits Die Hard
Draco sighed as he closed the last book from his stack and cast it aside. They had been perusing over ancient texts from the Restricted Section, and they were getting nowhere. Why Godwin thought a term project was a good idea, he would never know.
He knew he could have gone to Hogsmeade with the rest of his friends, though that trip wouldn't have gone over too well. Madam Rosmerta hadn't forgotten about Draco's Imperius Curse, and many people still believed Draco should have been sent to Azkaban. So, he had chosen to spend his time doing research with Potter.
Draco snorted as he glanced over at Potter, who was currently sleeping with his cheek pressed against an open text. It didn't seem like Potter was making much progress either. His glasses had fallen onto the table a while ago, his mouth open as he snored softly. He almost looked peaceful, but if they were going to get somewhere with this Defence project, they needed to find something.
Reaching over the table, Draco flicked his ear. Potter's hand jerked unconsciously, almost knocking over his ink pot. Draco caught it and set it upright. He tried to wake Potter up again, this time kicking him hard in the shin. Potter yelped and sat up immediately. Draco smirked.
Potter threw him a nasty glare as he put his glasses on, snatching fresh parchment and a quill.
Rolling his eyes, Draco gestured for Potter's abandoned text, which Potter gladly tossed at him. He was sure he could keep reading all day, and not find anything on Occlumency. The topic had been Draco's suggestion, much to Potter's hesitation. Potter had eventually gave in when Draco declined all of his suggestions (Disarming spells were for third years, anyway). That had been that.
After an hour of hopeless reading, Draco gathered his things up. Potter looked up and did the same. It wasn't until they were out in the corridor that Draco found himself pressed against the wall by one furious Harry Potter.
"Potter? What's going on?" he gasped out, trying to break away.
"Seriously, Malfoy! What's your problem?" Potter growled out, shoving Draco in the chest. "Really, Occlumency?"
"If you're so keen on changing the topic, we can. Maybe nice Stunning Spells or Patronuses--"
"Shut up! I already know you're a pretty good Occlumens yourself. Why would you choose Occlumency, of all things? You do realise we'll have to demonstrate this shit in front of the class, yeah?"
"Yes. And you know nothing about me."
"Bollocks. Your aunt taught you, and only very few witches and wizards can master it. What are you trying to prove?"
"Fuck you, Potter," replied Draco irritably, pushing Potter off of him. "Maybe I think it's an art that people should know, in case there are more evil Dark Lords running around! It would save us a lot of trouble. Did you ever think of that?"
"I--no. I didn't," admitted Potter quietly, rubbing his neck with a hand. He worried his lip. "Sorry."
They stood there awkwardly and stared at each other. What was getting Potter getting so riled up? Maybe he still didn't trust Draco. It wouldn't be a surprise, as Potter had taken the habit of stalking him in sixth year. Draco finally broke the eye contact and checked his watch. People were probably coming back to Hogwarts now.
"Right. See you on Monday," Draco muttered stiffly. He didn't make it very far down the corridor when he felt a warm, rough hand grab his wrist.
"Teach me," said Potter, looking at him earnestly.
"I--what?"
"Teach me Occlumency. If you're willing--in return, I might be able to teach you something."
"Like?"
"I don't know, whatever you want. Not that you really need the help with anything but--"
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Draco.
"Nothing," mumbled Potter, shaking his head. "Never mind what I said. I'll see you around."
Potter nodded at him before walking off. Draco watched him go, trying to figure out what that had been about. There were times where Draco thought he knew Potter really well, but apparently, he was still a mystery. As Potter moved further down the corridor, Draco saw a small slip of paper flutter to the floor.
When Draco got closer, he realised it was from a Fiery Fortune Cookie. Picking up the slip curiously, he read it.
"Interesting," Draco said to himself before tucking it into his pocket and walking in the other direction. "Very interesting."
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