His love for Potions I ✔

Small Extra: Curses and Conversations

Draco and Harry both got kicked out of the library after getting into a shouting match about who got to borrow the last copy of 500 Countercurses Across The Ages.

"Why not do this with Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry asked, sometime after it became clear to both of them that their habit of dueling at every opportunity had become a real habit and not just something they did when they were angry. They'd started to get the knack for when certain corridors didn't have other students and teachers around to get caught in the crossfire.

"You have the best reflexes in the school. They're slow."

"Did you just give me a compliment, Malfoy?"

"You're still terrible at Quidditch, Potter. Don't let it go to your head."

"I don't think those two go together."

"You catch the Snitch by fainting, falling off your broom, breaking your arm, or catching it in your teeth. It's not my fault your good choice in brooms and weird luck disguise your lack of actual ability."

Harry hit him with the strongest disarming spell he could, because he'd gotten his breath back. Draco responded by changing shape and darting into the shadows behind a statue.

"You're white," Harry pointed out, and got Draco with a tickling jinx as he darted from one bit of cover to another.

#

"Why're you really doing this?" Harry asked Draco, offering him a dose of healing potion for the blossoming bruises - they'd made the mistake of talking during today's fight and it had dissolved into a flurry of fists and hair pulling Harry was never, ever admitting to. Harry could admit that neither of them thought clearly when they started talking about families.

"Oh. I realized last spring that I don't want you to die."

"...so you're helping me learn to duel?"

"Only as a side effect. I'm going to convert you."

"You want me to be a Death Eater. Me."

"Look at it from my point of view."

"My point of view is that he murdered my parents and I still hear my mother begging for mercy in my dreams."

Draco was silent for a moment, then shrugged.

"You never knew your parents, really. They're an - an idea, to you. You know me and Professor Snape." Draco gave him a direct, eerie look. "You think I haven't been paying attention to how much time he spends tutoring you?"

"It's just Potions," Harry muttered. "He hates me."

"But you don't hate him. You practically worship at his feet." Draco jerked his chin up and met Harry's eyes. "I'm not going to push. There's no rush."

Harry wished wistfully for a couple years ago, when Draco's idea of a cunning master plan was tricking Harry into getting detention and losing house points. What a sweet, innocent time that had been.

#

"If you're so interested in learning dark magic and curses, why do you never try to hit me with - with crucio or something?"

"Are you saying you want me to?"

"No. I just want to know why not."

"Mm. It's not my style."

"...I think you're right, but I didn't think you thought so."

"If I told my father he'd treat it as a horrible weakness, but I've decided it's a strength to know how I want to approach things. Power's all about being able to do what you want, and if what I want is to do things without any messiness, why shouldn't I?"

Draco sounded rather defiant. Harry tried to figure out how to handle this declaration of purpose.

"...you could be a healer or something and not fight anyone."

"Don't be stupid."