September

Week One

"Blimey, Hermione, have you gone mad?"

Ron flopped down on the couch beside Hermione, jostling the books she had laid out on the couch beside her. She stiffened noticeably at Ron's words before she began to collect her books to try to fit them on the table. But Ron wasn't sure there was any room left. The table in front of her was covered by open tombs, unrolled, fresh parchment, and her notes from her classes. How did she already have so much work? The first week of classes had only just ended!

Nudging her with his elbow when he didn't get an immediate response, Ron grinned when she turned her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were tight in frustration. She pushed her wild hair from her face.

"Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I see," he said, inclining his head towards the table. "Do you have another Time-Turner me and Harry should know about?"

Harry let out a choked laugh that made Hermione's cheeks pinken. Ginny, seated beside Harry in the large armchair, was clearly biting back a grin. Their amusement made Ron's lips stretch wider.

"I missed a year of school, in case you forgot. I'm far behind the other students academically and I'll need top marks in order to pursue a career in… well, in whatever I decide to go for."

"But you picked up extra classes again, didn't you?" Ron pressed.

"Yes."

"Do you not enjoy free time?"

"Oh, Ron, leave her be," Ginny said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hand. "Maybe she'd rather be in extra classes than hanging out with you."

Ginny was teasing, Ron knew. He could tell by the way her eyes twinkled that she meant no harm. But that was only because she had no idea the state of Ron and Hermione's relationship. She didn't know how quickly everything had seemed to fall apart over the summer as Hermione searched for her parents and he had to deal with…

Ron swallowed thickly, aware of Harry's gaze on his face and even more aware of the fact that Hermione had looked away from him and back down at her books. He could envision her without even looking at her—she was probably concentrating as hard as possible on not paying attention to what was going on around her. He wanted to say something, anything, but feared his voice would shake and then what would everyone think of him?

"The professors will likely be harder on us this year, won't they?" Hermione asked suddenly, breaking the strained silence. Relief flooded him at the sound of her voice and he glanced at her. "Last year's curriculum was hardly up to standard and they have to make sure we're ready for our N.E.W.T.s."

"Which makes it even more mad that you're taking more classes than normal. We don't even really have to be here." Harry motioned to him and Ron. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Kingsley said if we wanted to skip this year, he'd let us."

"Yes, he'd let both of you," Hermione corrected stiffly. "But only if you decided to begin Auror training right away."

"I remember," Harry said, tossing a grin at Ron. "It was tempting—"

"Insane, more like—"

"—we could be partners right now, chasing down rogue Death Eaters," Harry continued, leaning forward eagerly and ignoring Ginny's muttered interruption.

"Not worrying about homework or having to pay attention in class. I understood nothing during Potions today. Everything Slughorn said went in one ear and out the other," Ron complained with a groan.

"And how is that different than normal?"

Ron glared at his sister as she smiled cheekily back. Harry laughed beside her. Traitor.

"If you're having issues with a class, McGonagall set up a tutoring program," Hermione informed them distractedly, waving towards the bulletin board.

Glancing at it, Ron saw that it was already almost completely covered with parchment despite it being the first week of September. Ron looked back towards Hermione.

"We don't need that! We have you, Hermione."

"No, you don't." The words came out like a growl and Ron noticeably winced. "I have no time to hold both your hands this year."

"You're not going to help us?"

Harry barely choked out the question, pale as though he had seen a ghost. Ron wondered if his face had lost all color also. Hermione wasn't going to help them? That was—that was unthinkable. Did it have to do with what had happened between them over the summer? His heart squeezed at the thought. The summer couldn't have ruined their friendship so horribly. It just couldn't have.

If Hermione noticed the turmoil Ron and Harry were going through, she didn't show it. She brushed the feather of her quill across her lips before answering Harry.

"You beat Voldemort last year, Harry, I'm sure you can pass your classes without my help. And you, Ron, are more than capable of getting a tutor."

"But because I didn't beat Voldemort personally, I'm not able to pass my classes without a tutor?"

He had said it in the hopes of amusing Hermione, not offending her further, and he was pleased to see a smile bloom on her lips. A flash of warmth went through him when she joined Harry and Ginny in laughing. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand to stem the giggles. It was like everything was normal again for a brief moment. Ron wanted to cling to the feeling so he made a show of climbing over the back of the couch and heading towards the bulletin board.

There was a sign-up sheet for tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes also had several advertisements pinned up—Ron had done so at George's request, and given several to Luna so she could put them up in Ravenclaw's tower. His eyes skimmed over a sheet about a Gobstone meetup and another from a first year named Randy who was looking to trade Chocolate Frog cards. Then he spotted the long signup sheet for tutors.

When Ron looked back at his friends, he was surprised to see them all watching him.

"Are you going to sign up?" Hermione asked, eyebrows high on her forehead.

"Not if you're going to help me," he replied hopefully.

"I'm not."

"Well, then," Ron grumbled, looking back at the board.

Potions had always been hard for Ron and he'd need good marks in order to be considered for an Auror position once he left school. Even if Kingsley had promised that Harry and him both had spots, he could always take it back if he saw Ron got a Dreadful on his N.E.W.T.s. He picked up the quill that was magicked to the board, twirling it between his fingers.

If Hermione was being honest, which Ron was rather certain she was, and she wasn't willing to help him then he'd be in a spot of trouble. Sitting with someone who really understood Potions would help him. He didn't need to do spectacular in the class, just better than a Poor or Dreadful, though an Acceptable would be nice. And the signup sheet said it would only be once a week, every Thursday. That wasn't bad, was it?

"Harry, you don't have that book anymore, do you? The one Snape wrote in?" Ron called over his shoulder.

He looked back in time to see Hermione's eyes narrow, Ginny frown sharply, and Harry smile sadly.

"Sorry, mate. Left it in the Room of Requirements. Probably got destroyed in the fire."

Ron nodded and looked back to the board. Then, feeling rather proud of himself, he signed himself up for tutoring.

Week Two

Why had he signed up for this again? Drumming his fingers against his leg, Ron peered over the crowd that was slowly funneling into the Great Hall. He had always been rather tall but now it seemed like he towered over every student. Merlin, had there always been this many munchins here? And why had so many students signed up for tutoring?

After what seemed like ages, Ron finally entered the Great Hall. There were no familiar faces around him but that didn't stop him from eagerly searching. It was mad, really, how packed the Great Hall was. Students of all ages crowded the four long tables. Unlike during meal time, though, the students were scattered about uncaring of house. Ron only noticed because he spotted Luna at the Hufflepuff table with a Gryffindor fourth year he recognized. Luna must've felt his gaze for she looked up and waved happily at him. He waved back. When she looked away from him, he grimaced. He couldn't imagine having Luna as a tutor. Poor kid.

Walking through the crowd, he spotted Hannah Abbott with a clipboard and a trailing piece of parchment attached to it. She was directing several students to different tables. He made his way over to her.

"Hello, Ron," she greeted cheerfully. "Fancy seeing you here."

"'Ello. Thought I'd give this a try. You're assigning the tutors?"

"Everyone's been placed already by Headmistress McGonagall but I can tell you where to go. Hmm, let's see," she murmured, looking over the long parchment. Near the end, she paused, eyebrows furrowing. A slight smile curled on her lips when she looked up. "Um, you'll be at the Ravenclaw table. The end near the teacher's table."

There was something curious in the way she spoke; it was as though she was holding back laughter. His eyes narrowed. What was so funny? Self-consciously, Ron rubbed at his face, wondering if there was ink on it. Hannah pointed at the Ravenclaw table when Ron was slow to move.

"Just that way. Have fun."

"Thanks," Ron said suspiciously.

She giggled behind him as he walked away but he ignored it. Instead, he looked at the students who were already sitting. It was mostly sixth, seventh, and eighth year students as tutors but those being tutored ranged all ages. Thank Merlin. If Ron was the oldest student here, he wasn't sure he'd be able to come back.

His gaze flitted to the end of the table as he approached it and a scowl twisted on his lips. A familiar shock of blond hair had immediately caught Ron's eye. With absolute certainty, he knew who it was: bloody Draco Malfoy. Of course. He'd get no learning done with that git seated near him. And who was the poor soul that had Malfoy as a tutor? Laughter bubbled in his throat at the idea of it. Hopefully it wasn't some first year. They'd end up scarred for life. Maybe Ron would say something to Malfoy to make sure he didn't harass whatever student ended up with him…

His amusement disappeared with each step he took closer to the end of the Ravenclaw table. Everyone was paired off and already discussing different topics at this end of the table. Everyone… except for Malfoy. It couldn't be—there was no way. Eyebrows furrowing, Ron slowed to a stop in front of Malfoy, who was lounging and studying his nails like they were the most interesting things in the world. Ron looked left then right but each tutor had a student and each student had a tutor, except for the ferret. There was clearly a mistake or—Ron felt his lips twitch into a smile. Hannah was pulling a trick on him. Odd of her, since she never seemed the prankster type, but it was the only thing that made sense. He turned, ready to head back to Hannah, when a horribly familiar voice made him pause.

"Come on, sit down. You're wasting enough of my time as is."

Ron looked at him and their eyes met. A flicker of something—heat that was tinged with hatred or anger or annoyance—shot through Ron. He had forgotten how much Malfoy's voice grinded his nerves. Malfoy continued staring at him, jaw clenched.

"You're my tutor?"

"Observant, you are. Now sit."

"No, I mean—you're not my tutor. You can't be."

Malfoy scoffed at him.

"And why not? My marks are nearly superior to Granger's."

"Nearly but not quite," Ron said under his breath, eyeing Malfoy.

A flush colored Malfoy's cheeks.

"Sit down, you brute, before McGonagall makes her way over here."

McGonagall. That was right—she was the one who arranged this. Ron looked away from Malfoy and around the Great Hall. This had to be some mistake. McGonagall must've made a mistake and if Ron went to her, explained the situation, she'd fix it. There was no way she was going to force Ron to work with him. If anyone understood Ron's hatred of Malfoy, it was McGonagall. She certainly knew the dark history between them. And—yes! There she was, standing by a Slytherin Prefect at the entrance. Before he knew what he was doing, Ron began making his way towards the pair.

He heard Malfoy rush to his feet behind him but ignored it. After all, it wasn't like Malfoy would curse him in front of this many students and professors. He didn't have the guts.

"Profess—Headmistress! Sorry, er, excuse me," Ron said, slipping by several small students. How young were they letting kids in these days? Merlin.

"Weasley, wait!"

"Go back to your spot, Malfoy," Ron called over his shoulder. "I'll fix this. No need to stalk me."

"Stalk you?" He could hear the sneer in Malfoy's voice. "This isn't a mistake. I'm your tutor."

"Shut up."

"Weasley—"

"Shut it, really, before I hex you. Your voice reminds me of a shrieking banshee. It's going to give me a headache."

McGonagall was close enough now that Ron could get her attention if he shouted a bit. Dodging another student, Ron was ready to call for McGonagall again when someone grabbed his arm. He stopped at the contact, whipping around and meeting Malfoy's sharp gaze.

"Let go of me," Ron ordered, voice low.

He had sworn to himself that this year would be easy, normal, and that he would ignore the Slytherin goons as best as he could. After all, they had lost the war and most of their family members were in Azkaban. But Malfoy's touch, warm and wrong and firm, made his mind go blank and his scalp tingle. Who the hell did he think he was?

Ron hadn't realized he had pulled out his wand with his free hand, pressing the tip of it into Malfoy's stomach, until he saw the git visibly swallow. His eyes tracked the movement before he met Malfoy's gaze once more.

"I need this."

It sounded as though Malfoy's throat was constricted when he spoke. Ron continued studying him. Malfoy's breathing had quickened and his grip on Ron's arm was firm but not tight. If Ron wanted to shake him off, he could. Not only was he taller than the other boy, but he was leaner too. Since the last time Ron had seen Malfoy, it seemed he had lost some weight. There were dark purple smudges under Malfoy's eyes too, as though he was utterly exhausted, but his lip was curled arrogantly.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy—"

Malfoy interrupted him before he could finish, his grip on Ron's arm tightening ever so slightly.

"The old bat won't let me play reserve if I don't tutor you." When Ron made a defensive sound in his throat, Malfoy breathed sharply through his nose and released him. Some relief washed over Ron at the loss of contact. "I'm banned from playing Quidditch unless I tutor you, you moron. I don't like this anymore than you, fucking trust me on that, but I have no choice."

"Bugger off!"

"I'm telling the truth."

"That's a first," Ron snorted.

"You insolent fool," Malfoy spat. "You think I want to do this?"

Ron faltered; Malfoy's nostrils had flared with rage, a sight familiar to Ron from their many spats. But he didn't seem mad at Ron. Frowning, Ron shook his head. This was stupid. Why was he still talking to Malfoy? Turning away from the him, Ron walked towards the headmistress without another word. Ron made a show of waving to her.

"Headmistress!"

"Mister Weasley," McGonagall greeted, turning to face him. She looked entirely unimpressed. "The point of these sessions is for you to sit and be taught, not to roam around socializing."

"I'm not socializing!" Ron said, cheeks warming. "I swear! I just—there's, um, been a mistake. Malfoy was assigned as my tutor. But he can't be my tutor, right? You must've made a mistake."

One of her eyebrows ticked upwards.

"Well, no, not you. You wouldn't make a mistake. Something must've gone wrong, without you knowing—"

"Correct you are, Mister Weasley. I did not make a mistake. Mister Malfoy will be helping instruct you on your N.E.W.T. level Potions work."

Ron blinked in surprise. She had done this on purpose? McGonagall pursed her lips, waiting for him to respond. He knew Malfoy was likely still behind him; nosey bugger was probably listening in on the conversation. Ron pointed over his shoulder.

"I can't—I can't work with him. I can't."

"Is there a list of students you'd like me to avoid partnering you with or is it simply Mister Malfoy you have an issue with?" she questioned, words dripping with sarcasm.

Normally Ron would've laughed that off but he couldn't. He thought of Malfoy letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts their sixth year. He thought of hearing Hermione's screams from the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. He thought of the fire that engulfed the Room of Requirements and socking Malfoy in the face after they saved him from a Dementor during the battle and he thought of all the insults Malfoy had made about his mum, his dad, his family and… and, Merlin, he wasn't sure he'd be able to sit across the rat and not punch him again.

Ron wasn't sure if something had shown on his face but it must've; McGonagall's expression softened, her lips twitching into a small frown, before she nodded.

"If you'd like a different tutor, I'll send Mister Malfoy back to his common room and see if there's someone else for you to sit in with. Would that please you enough, Mister Weasley?"

His shoulders sagged in relief, thankful that she understood without him needing to explain. Ron met her gaze, hoping to express how grateful he was in a simple look, but something distracted him—a choked sound that made the hair on his arms rise. He looked behind him in surprise and found Malfoy right away, eyes closed and fingers kneading his forehead. Had that sound come from… from him?

"The old bat won't let me play reserve if I don't tutor you."

Why was Malfoy on reserves anyway? He recalled Harry saying something earlier in the week about McGonagall refusing to let Malfoy retake the spot as Seeker on the Slytherin team. He had almost forgotten about that. But there was more to that, if Ron were to trust Malfoy. McGonagall took away Malfoy's spot as Seeker but would let him play reserves—but only if he tutored a student. A student that happened to be Ron.

Why wouldn't McGonagall give Malfoy back his spot as Seeker? Why would she require he tutor a student in order to play reserves? It was laughable to think Malfoy was so desperate to play reserves, which was honestly hardly playing at all, that he'd tutor a student of McGonagall's choice. Laughable, pathetic, but… in a way understandable. Playing Quidditch was one of the few things Ron had looked forward to when he decided to return for his eighth year.

Ron fought the urge to groan out loud as he felt his conviction sway. He wasn't sure why he was considering helping the prat yet here he was, hesitating over accepting McGonagall's offer to get him a new tutor. It wouldn't hurt him in any way if he let McGonagall send Malfoy away. Merlin knew the git deserved it. No one could blame him. Even McGonagall understood why he didn't want to work with Malfoy. This was his chance to speak and accept her offer.

He looked back to McGonagall and sighed.

"Well, Mister Weasley?"

"No. No, it's alright, Professor. We'll make it work."

"Headmistress," McGonagall corrected. "Now get back to your seats."

It took a long moment before Ron finally turned around to face Malfoy but his hesitancy was for nothing. Malfoy was already stalking back to their table. Ron followed, drumming his fingers against his leg nervously. He shouldn't have agreed to this. He was an absolute loon to agree to this. There was no way Malfoy and him could share the same breathing space and be peaceful.

Ron inhaled deeply through his nose as he took the empty seat across from Malfoy. Malfoy was staring down at the table, an intense look of concentration on his face. Or maybe he was simply fighting the urge to spew vomit everywhere over the fact that a Weasley had done something nice for him.

As the silence stretched on, broken only by the voices around them, Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had assumed that Malfoy would say something—perhaps thank him?—but it was clear that wasn't going to happen. So… so he'd have to speak first.

"Why'd she take you off the team?"

Malfoy stiffened before looking up, his eyes narrowed and lips pressed together. The reminder of his wand in his pocket comforted him at the dark look.

"Where's your book?"

What book?

Malfoy lifted his eyebrows.

"Well?" he drawled.

"I asked you a question first," Ron retorted.

"A question that I'm not going to answer."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not necessary to this tutoring session, Weasley," Malfoy hissed. "Whereas the location of your Potions book is necessary. So. Where is your book?"

He could feel the heat spread up his neck and color his face. For fuck's sake, he had forgotten his Potion's book. An idiot, he was an absolute idiot. It was clear Malfoy was thinking the same thing, a cruel smirk curling on his lips.

"I forgot it."

"Clearly."

"Well, you're the tutor, aren't you? Tutor me," Ron challenged.

Malfoy shrugged lazily.

"Are you so used to Granger doing your work for you that you think you can learn about something without having the source material in front of you? I'm hardly a miracle worker."

"Well, why didn't you bring a Potions book?" Ron shot back. "You didn't bring anything with you either. You thought just having me repeat the book line for line would help me?"

Malfoy was silenced. He tapped his fingers against the table top, eyeing Ron blankly. Ron glared back, waiting for an insult. Deciding to let Malfoy be his tutor was such a stupid idea, really, Harry was either going to murder him or send him to St. Mungo's to have his head checked—

"I'll bring a copy of the book next week, as should you, or these sessions will be pointless," Malfoy said, interrupting his thoughts. "Today, I suppose, we can go over what issues you had with the last Potions lesson."

Ron blinked. Malfoy's voice seemed carefully emotionless, professional almost. It was completely opposite from what Ron was expecting. His stomach clenched as he realized Malfoy was waiting for his answer. Admitting to Malfoy what part of the last lesson he struggled with (all of it) seemed… seemed risky, in a way. As the seconds ticked by, Malfoy's lips tightened and the drumming of his fingers against the tabletop quickened.

"I assume you're here for a reason," Malfoy drawled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean—"

"So, you can see why sitting in silence is not going to help this process? You realize that you staring stupidly back at me when I ask a question is going to make tutoring rather hard? Honestly, I think I feel bad for Granger. How she's dealt with helping you in your studies—"

"Fuck off, Malfoy!"

"Come now, Weasley, you can't be such an idiot that the whole lesson confused you."

Malfoy paused, his eyebrows lifting, and a rush of anger hit Ron so hard he saw red. Because it had all confused him. He wanted desperately to yank out his wand and hex Malfoy, to resort to the old and normal way of dealing with the Slytherin git. He wanted to shout. He wanted to push away from the table and storm back up to the Gryffindor tower, to apologize to Hermione for how the summer had torn them apart and ask her to help him with his schoolwork and for everything to be normal again, to laugh with Harry and Hermione about the situation that had almost been if he had decided to stay in the Great Hall with Malfoy—Malfoy, of all people!

Instead Ron closed his eyes and raised a shaking hand to them, pressing his fingers against his eyelids in the hope of relieving some of the pressure that seemed to be building there. Painfully slow, the rage seemed to disappear within him. It had been hard, the past year, to deal with his emotions. Sometimes they overwhelmed him to the point he thought he would just scream or cry or…

Ron lowered his hand, realizing that he was in the Great Hall, sitting across Draco Malfoy, barely holding himself together. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't surprised to see Malfoy staring at him. He was surprised to see curiosity in Malfoy's gaze though. Malfoy's head was tilted, eyes light, as he studied Ron.

"Thought for a moment there you were going to send the Killing Curse my way," Malfoy said tensely.

"Tempting. Though it'd be much more likely for me to reach over and strangle you with my bare hands," Ron grunted, folding his arms across his chest.

Malfoy sniffed.

"Comforting."

Some of the students around them were beginning to stand, saying their goodbyes and thanking their tutors. Ron watched all the movement before glancing back at Malfoy. It seemed Malfoy too had been paying attention to the fact that some of the students were leaving, for his eyes were darting around the hall before landing on Ron again.

"Bring your book next week."

Then Malfoy stood up and left.

Week Three

It was easier sitting across Malfoy the second time around. With his Potions book and fresh rolls of parchment ready, Ron had taken the time to note what he didn't understand in last week's lesson so that he could have Malfoy explain it to him. If Malfoy was able to explain anything without insulting Ron, that was. But Ron had a plan now.

After their first meetup, Ron had gone back to the common room and hesitated. Harry and Hermione had been sitting in their normal seats in front of the fireplace and they had been laughing and doing their homework and… and when Harry caught sight of Ron and asked him how tutoring went, his eyes bright and a teasing note in his voice, Ron had found it hard to tell them the truth. Any other time, any other year, they would've been the first to know that Ron had to endure Malfoy's presence. But he hadn't been sure how to explain his thought process in allowing Malfoy to be his tutor. He hadn't been sure how to express his worries and anger.

Mostly… he hadn't wanted to make Hermione feel bad and offer to help him out of guilt over him having to deal with Malfoy. Even worse, Ron had been afraid she wouldn't offer.

So, instead, he had decided he'd go through the tutoring sessions without worrying Harry and Hermione. He'd tell Malfoy what he didn't understand and he'd hope that Malfoy would explain it to him and that they could go through the motions without throttling each other. Malfoy would play reserves and Ron would get a decent grade. And, well, Ron was an adult now. An adult that was back at Hogwarts because he hadn't been ready to become an Auror yet. As an adult, he could handle dealing with a git, even if the git provoked him on purpose.

"—the potion would turn purple at this point," Malfoy clarified. "As it says here in the text."

"But it didn't turn purple."

"Then you did something wrong."

"Yeah, I know that. What did I do wrong?"

"How am I supposed to know? If you followed these instructions—"

"I can read. I read the instructions," Ron growled. "That's not the issue."

"Isn't it?" Malfoy remarked dryly. "I've never understood how anyone has issues in Potions. It's the easiest class at this godforsaken school. Read over the instructions, follow the instructions, and you have the potion you need."

Inhale. Exhale. Don't kill him.

"What could I have done wrong?"

Malfoy lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

"At this point, you've already completed seven steps of the potion. If you added too much of the African Sea Salt or put a dash too much leech juice, it won't show till this step. I wouldn't know unless I saw it myself."

Their conversation so far hadn't been pleasant but it hadn't been as infuriating as normal. Ron was pretty sure Malfoy was making an attempt to not piss him off too much—after all, this was the longest they had been in each other's company without hexing one another. But frustration was building in Ron; it felt like it was about to suffocate him.

He shut his book. Malfoy's eyes flitted down to the closed book before lifting to meet his gaze once more.

"We've barely covered the lesson."

"Yeah, well," Ron said, fisting his hands on the table so he didn't grab the book and chuck it across the hall. "It seems rather pointless, doesn't it?"

"Now, now, Weasley, don't doubt yourself so horribly. I'm sure even you can be taught how to brew a potion. I never considered you as incompetent as Longbottom."

"Don't you dare insult Neville."

The warning made Malfoy's lips twitch, whether in irritation at being told what to do or amusement at Ron's anger, Ron didn't know.

"I believe we covered last week that without looking over the source material, you'll learn nothing."

"Looking at the instructions doesn't help me! That's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't need you sitting here and reading the instructions to me, I'm not an idiot, I can bloody well read!"

Glee colored Malfoy's face before disappearing. Ron noticed and his mood darkened.

"How do I even know you can help me with Potions?"

"You think I'm incapable?"

"Well, you haven't helped yet!"

"It's been barely an hour," Malfoy snapped back, his cheeks pinkening. "We need to pinpoint where you went wrong, what you don't understand—"

"With our imaginations? This is pointless."

Ron stood up and grabbed his book. His outburst had caught the attention of a few students around them but he didn't care. This was pointless. If Malfoy needed to watch Ron make the potions in order to figure out where he went wrong then there was no point to this. Yeah, sure, Ron needed some stuff explained to him but he didn't need to go over everything step by step. He just needed to know where he was messing up. Ron would need to be able to make these potions correctly for the N.E.W.T.s. There was no way to know which potions they'd test him on and this wasn't helping him.

Malfoy rushed to his feet before Ron could walk away.

"Where are you off to?" he snarled.

"I'm not wasting my time here anymore. I'd rather take the Poor."

"You can't leave!"

"Why not?" Ron growled.

Malfoy pressed his lips together. It was clear he was thinking; there was a calculating gleam in his eyes. Ron waited, curious despite instinct telling him to leave while he still could.

"I'll figure it out," was all Malfoy said.

Disbelief clouded Ron's face.

"You'll figure it out?"

"Yes. Now sit and I'll look over what you've done for the homework assignment."

He hesitated, eyes still locked with Malfoy's. After a second, Malfoy spread his arms wide and lifted his eyebrows, as though in challenge.

"I can't make it any worse, can I?" Malfoy questioned.

Ron scowled but sat down.

Week Four

After Malfoy spent so much time muttering about Ron's lack of effort on his homework assignment the week before—"My God, Goyle was able to write sentences that made more sense than this in our first year!" and "What word, exactly, were you trying to use here? Because whatever this word is isn't real." and "I can't believe I'm reading over this, no wonder Snape hated the Gryffindors so much, this is torture."—Ron had tried harder on his homework this week. He had received decent markings on last week's homework and knew it had solely been because of Malfoy. Even Harry had been surprised when he saw the grade.

So Ron let Malfoy look it over again. Malfoy still was complaining under his breath, eyebrows knitted together as he read through it, but Ron liked to think he wasn't whining nearly as much as he had the week before. Ron let himself daydream as Malfoy worked so he couldn't help but jump a little when Malfoy pushed the parchment back to him.

"No wonder you signed up for tutoring."

Ron glanced down at the parchment. Malfoy had scratched out whole sentences and added edits in the margins to the point that most of what Ron saw was Malfoy's tidy handwriting and no longer his own. He knew he'd have to rewrite the homework but he sagged in relief, glad to have it basically done.

"See you next week then."

He rolled up the parchment and then grabbed the rest of his stuff, tossing it all into his barely held together bag. It had been Fred's and his mum had gone to toss it over the summer, not realizing. Ron had snatched it before she could, unsure of how he'd use it at Hogwarts. It worked well for these sessions.

"Weasley."

Ron looked up, surprised Malfoy was still across the table from him. The week before, Malfoy had edited his homework then left before Ron could even think of thanking him. Not that Ron would ever thank Malfoy.

"Uh. Yeah?"

"I've been given permission to use an empty classroom on Tuesday nights to tutor you."

"What?" Ron frowned. "Why?"

Malfoy's fingers twitched on the table.

"We'll never figure out where you're going wrong when brewing a potion unless I can see where you're managing to ruin it."

Ron blinked and opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out.

"You're free on Tuesday nights?"

"I have Quidditch practice." Gin would have his head if he tried to skip the practices for bloody tutoring sessions.

"Then after the practices, we'll meet."

Malfoy left no room for argument. He stood from the table and adjusted his robes, scowling.

"Why are you doing this?" Ron couldn't help but ask, getting to his feet also.

Malfoy's eyes met his quickly before he looked away.

"We already have to meet on Thursdays," Ron continued when Malfoy remained silent.

"Because you're an idiot. In general, of course, but it seems Potions is one of many weaknesses you have."

"I'd rather not spend half my week with you."

"Not quite how times works, Weasley. It will only be a few hours at most. I'd rather that than have to do these meetings all year. If your grades improve, you won't need a tutor anymore. Don't think too much into it."

Malfoy handed him a folded piece of parchment and Ron took it hesitantly. As the Slytherin strode off, Ron opened it. It was a classroom number, somewhere on the sixth floor. He shoved it into his pocket and started heading out of the Great Hall, glad to be rid of Malfoy.

Hours later, though, Ron couldn't help but think of the git he had spent his afternoon with. He was stretched out on the common room floor, robes discarded and sleeves rolled up. It wasn't cold in the common room and the heat made Ron tired but he found it easier to look into the flames and think than to listen to the discussions around him.

Why was Malfoy willing to meet up another day of the week to help Ron with Potions? It seemed so… odd. Almost nice of him. As if he cared about how Ron did in class—which, Ron knew, he didn't. The prat was hardly willing to help anyone at all but now he offered even more of his free time to help Ron. Of course, Ron was helping him too. If they weren't meeting up, Malfoy wouldn't be able to play reserve for Slytherin. It had only been a few days ago that Ron, Harry, and Neville had decided to go outside and relax by the lake. Ron had seen Malfoy practicing with his team, his familiar light hair catching his attention right away.

Could this be Malfoy's way of showing his appreciation to Ron? The thought made Ron snort. Impossible.

"Something funny?"

Ron looked away from the hearth to see that Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had paused their conversation. Ginny had her head tilted, grinning down at Ron. He sat up and shrugged.

"Thinking about how badly we're going to destroy Slytherin in our first game," Ron lied, though he had been thinking about a certain Slytherin.

Ginny's face brightened and Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione made a sound in her throat and turned her attention back to her work.

"Slytherin's team is almost completely new," Ginny said, leaning comfortably against Harry. "I went to their tryouts. Their Seeker is a third year and she looked… decent, I guess. New to it still."

"Most of the Slytherins didn't come back for their eighth year," Harry noted. "Except Nott, Zabini, Parkinson, and Malfoy. And they're not playing."

"Malfoy is," Ron said without thinking.

"What?" Harry and Ginny exclaimed at the same time.

Ron shrugged uneasily.

"He's the reserve Seeker."

"I thought McGonagall kicked him off the team completely. She must've felt bad and let him play reserve," Ginny mused. "Almost worse than being kicked off the team though, isn't it? Having to go to the practices but knowing you'll be unlikely to play."

"I wouldn't put it past Malfoy to figure out a way to get that Seeker injured," Harry said, though he was frowning as if the words tasted bad in his mouth.

"He must feel horrible."

Ron looked at Hermione in surprise. He had thought she wasn't listening but she had lifted her head, chewing on her thumb nail as she looked at the group.

"He's certainly superior to the Seeker they have playing now. He almost bested Harry every year. And his last opportunity to play you, Harry, he hardly has a chance of getting on the field."

Hermione's observation left the group silent. Ron's stomach flipped unpleasantly. That did sound awful. Malfoy had always boasted that he was better than Harry at Quidditch and he'd have no chance to prove himself this year. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and even Ginny looked solemn. Ron ran his hand along his jaw, lost in thought over whether Malfoy was really so desperate to play only during practices that he was willing to spend an extra day in Ron's company. The more he thought on it, the more Ron was convinced it was true.

Week Five

He was already tired. After Quidditch practice, where Ginny had them running laps and plays for over two hours, Ron now had to go spend time with Malfoy in some abandoned classroom. Great. Finding the classroom, he sighed and turned the knob, leaning against it with his shoulder to open the door. He stilled in the doorway.

Malfoy was already there but hadn't heard him enter. Mumbling under his breath, Malfoy was running his finger down a page in his Potions book. Ron stared at him, surprised to have caught him unaware for once. There was no scowl darkening his face, no tension in his shoulders—he seemed relaxed. Slowly, Ron took another step in but Malfoy heard him. He looked over at him and his lip curled immediately.

"My God, Weasley, did you not bathe?"

Ron's face warmed at the disgusted expression on Malfoy's face. He hadn't risked showering after practice, sure that Malfoy would throw a fit if he was any later than he already was. Sweat made his skin sticky and he was sure he smelled. The urge to leave the classroom, to go and shower and then return, made him take a step back.

"I'm sure you're used the stench of a pig but I'm not quite used to the odor," Malfoy continued, eyes narrowed to slits. "Here I am, trying to help you, and you're attempting to suffocate me with your stink."

"I just thought—I was trying to get here fast, it's already late—"

"Thinking is not your strong suit, clearly. Get in here, don't bother trying to bathe now, I'll hold my breath. Come on, I'd like to finish this before Prefects start their rounds."

Malfoy made a show of pinching his nostrils shut. Ron pressed his lips together and took a look around the room to calm his temper that was slowly but steadily rising. The classroom was clearly abandoned, dusty and unused for how long, Ron wasn't sure. It could've been left empty after the battle the year before, he supposed. There were still many parts of the castle that hadn't been properly repaired and were off limits to students fifth year and below. Ron looked back at Malfoy, whose face was scrunched up with displeasure as he stared at Ron, and noticed that behind him he had set up a cauldron on a long table that leaned against the wall. He shut the door behind him and approached the other boy.

Ron looked at the book Malfoy had been reading. It listed the ingredients needed for the potion they were going to brew. Unsurprisingly, Ron had managed to botch it the week before during class and wasn't sure why. Next to the book, evenly spread out, were the ingredients. Malfoy must've come here early to set up.

"Try not to fuck this one up," Malfoy said with a sneer that made Ron grind his teeth. "Though I know how hard that will be for you."

This was going to be a long couple hours.

Author's Note: Hey guys! This was done earlier in the year for the Ron/Draco Fest- Better Together over at A03. This is my first time writing Ron/Draco, so I hope you enjoy it!