The next morning Draco made his way to the Great Hall and sat in his usual seat. He did his best to ignore Potter and Friends, but he was so used to sneering at them that he found himself glancing over occasionally, only to remember and look away as quickly as possible. Thank Merlin none of them seemed to notice.

At that moment, the owls came in, carrying the morning post. It was a welcome distraction, until Draco actually opened the letter his mother’s owl had brought him. It was from his father, and very short, only two words long. ‘Befriend Potter,’ it said, in that familiar, curling script.

Befriend Potter! He had tried that in the past and it hadn’t worked. The two of them had settled into a nice, comfortable, mutual hatred, and he found himself loathe to disturb that. On the other hand, this was his father asking. Draco sighed, and decided he would just have to go see Snape sooner rather than later. Perhaps his professor would have some time free after dinner this afternoon?

Harry had awakened feeling no better about going to Snape’s class than he had the night before. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the man; it was more that he didn’t want his professor to think badly of him. They had just finally gotten things straight between them at the end of the summer, and Harry didn’t want to ruin that.

Just after the post came in McGonagall came around to hand out the sixth years’ schedules personally. “You’ve all been given every class you qualify for, but if you decide you don’t want to take one of them, come see me. I would recommend you go to the first class first, though,” she said, looking sternly at them over the rims of her glasses. “Miss Granger, a word after breakfast, if you would.” Hermione nodded.

When Harry got his schedule, his head of house winked at him. He looked down and sure enough, there it was, Advanced Potions. The first class was that afternoon, and he had lunch and a morning of Advanced Charms to get through first. He couldn’t work out if he was happy for the delay or not.

Advanced Charms was just the sort of class that Hermione called “fascinating.” It was exciting enough, they were allowed to perform new and interesting spells, but they focused more on the theory behind the spells than ever before. Charms was, however, one of the few classes that Harry, Ron, and Hermione still had together as a trio, since Ron hadn’t made it into Potions and Hermione dropped Care of Magical Creatures, so in Harry’s eyes it was marvelous.

Following Flitwick’s class Hermione had Ancient Runes, but Ron and Harry had a break before lunch. Hermione nagged them about doing the Charms homework before she dashed to her next class.

“I’m not doing homework yet,” Ron intimated when she had left, “the first day isn’t even over with!”

“Yeah, but think how impressed she’ll be if you do,” Harry replied.

Ron didn’t reply to that remark, instead he asked, “Are you going to do it?”

“I’m thinking about it. I’ve got Potions this afternoon, and I have no idea what Snape will assign, but I bet it’s long and hard.”

“Tough luck, that. I’m just as happy to be done with Potions, myself.”

“Aurors need Potions,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Well, I think I’ll go and talk to Neville for a bit,” Ron said, spotting the other boy on the other side of the common room. “I’ll be back to start reading before ‘Mione gets here.” Harry smiled and nodded as Ron stood up and walked over to Neville.

After a few minutes, Harry almost wished that Ron had stayed, if only to serve as a distraction. Every time he settled down to read the chapter, his mind wandered to thoughts of Potions class that afternoon. Really, he told himself, it’s ridiculous to be worrying like this. Either he’ll be okay with it, or he won’t, and you can survive either way. A traitorous voice at the back of his mind, however, was whispering that it would really rather not go through a repeat of the estrangement or mutual loathing that had formerly characterized his relationship with his potions master.

Five minutes before the period ended Ron returned from playing Exploding Snap with Neville and a few other students who had a break. He had just found the chapter and managed to read the first page when Hermione came in. “Doing your homework already,” she asked as she walked up. “I’m impressed.”

Harry looked up and smiled at her while Ron said, “Yeah, all this reading is making me hungry though, let’s go get lunch.” Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron hastily shut his book so that she wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t got very far at all.

They headed down to lunch listening to Hermione’s happy chatter about how challenging her Runes class had been and how useful Charms was going to be. “Really, though, I almost envy the two of you,” she said as they approached the Great Hall. “Why, I bet you’ve got your Charms work nearly done by now!” Harry and Ron exchanged a knowing glance as they entered and sat at the Gryffindor table.

Lunch passed happily as the trio talked to a few of their other year mates about what they had done that summer. Harry mostly listened, as he still wasn’t ready to discuss living with Snape, but Hermione kept covering his silence with questions to others and no one seemed to notice. At long last, however, the dreaded hour arrived and Harry and Hermione traipsed down to the dungeons, leaving Ron behind.

As they lined up with the other students they were slightly surprised to find members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses there as well. “It’s because of scheduling,” Ernie Macmillan said authoritatively. “No more splitting us all up, it’s take what fits best now.”

Draco sauntered up and glanced dismissively over everyone not in Slytherin House. “Ugh, Malfoy,” Harry groaned quietly to Hermione.

“Look on the bright side,” she whispered back, “at least there’s no Crabbe or Goyle.” At that moment, however, Hermione was proved wrong as Vincent and Gregory walked up and got in line behind Malfoy. “What,” Hermione hissed angrily, “I thought this was an advanced class, how did they get in?”

“Maybe Snape had to let them in,” Harry murmured soothingly.

“Still,” she spluttered.

Just then the classroom door banged open and Snape stepped out. “Well?” he asked, “Are you all just going to stand there, or will you get in the classroom?”

Harry shivered a little at the quiet menace in his professor’s tone, but pretended that he hadn’t noticed. Meekly the class slunk in and took their seats at the tables. There was a small bit of milling around as pairs who normally sat at the same table adjusted to the new set up, but they were seated and prepared for class within moments. Snape stood by his desk glaring at them all until they were quiet.

“I must say, I am surprised to see some of you here,” Snape began, looking around, though he very carefully did not let his eyes rest on Crabbe or Goyle, or on Harry, though he did look over his head, “and I expect some of you will drop out soon enough. I can only ask that if you are going to drop, please do it as soon as possible and quit wasting my time. This is an advanced class, intended not only for those of you who want to sit the NEWTs, but also for those of you who have a serious interest in potions. All of you, if you are here, have the necessary preliminary knowledge to go far in this field. I expect hard work and a serious effort at learning the new material and improving your skills.”

He gave them a final glare before turning to flick his wand at the board. “If any of you read the first chapter of your text, you will be familiar with this potion. If not, I suggest you work alone and well away from your partner so as not to splatter them when you fail,” he smiled predatorily. No one moved. “Well? What are you waiting for? Begin,” he snapped as the class jumped into action, gathering supplies and heating cauldrons. He stood at the front, observing for a moment, before he began stalking up and down the aisles criticizing their technique.

“Did you read the first chapter,” Hermione asked Harry as they set up their potions and began adding the necessary ingredients. While the base heated and came together they prepared the other ingredients.

“I did,” Harry said. “I think this one was the Anti-inflammatory Infusion.” Hermione gave him a small smile and nodded to show he was right before glancing discreetly at Snape and bending her head back down over the aloe she was chopping.

Although Snape walked past them several times he never actually said anything other than, “Not quite so much bicorn powder, Potter,” which was a relief to Harry and a surprise to everyone else.

The reaction of the class was quite amusing to Severus; he supposed they had all assumed that he would instantly begin berating Harry and using him as a scapegoat as always, and to be honest any other year he might have. Then again, he had never known the boy quite as well as he now did.

One thing did concern him, though, and that was the way Draco kept shooting glances at Potter. It was almost as though the blonde was nervous about something, though what that could be Severus had no idea. He supposed he would have to find the boy soon and have a chat with him.

Malfoy wasn’t a bad kid so much as an arrogant, misguided one with an overgrown sense of entitlement, and Severus had some small hope of keeping him from the Dark Lord. Most of his peers in Slytherin would follow his lead in that regard, and Snape felt that even if they had been as bad as everyone else seemed to think he would have wanted to save his students from making the same mistakes he had made.

Taking another look around the classroom Severus decided he would also have to talk to Harry soon, the boy was refusing to look him in the eye, which was very uncharacteristic behavior for him. He would be glad when this class was over, he thought with a sigh, thank Merlin it was the last of the day for him.

As the end of the period approached Severus announced, “You should all be finished by now. Bottle a sample of your results, label it with your name and your best guess as to what this is, and for some of you I’ve no doubt it will be a guess, and bring them to my desk, then you may clean up.”

Harry was thankful that his potion, while not perfect like Hermione’s, had at least a closer resemblance to the desired result than some of the other students. He snuffed the flame under the cauldron and picked up a flask which he labeled. He was just about to ladle some of the potion into it when Hermione put a hand on his wrist and said, “Wait a minute.” She then murmured an unbreakable charm over the flask and smiled at him.

“Thanks, ‘Mione,” he whispered, then filled the container and capped it. He carried it to the front and placed it well back on the desk, unbreakable charm or not he didn’t fancy having Malfoy knock it on the floor; he thought he recalled something about the bicorn powder precipitating out if it was handled too roughly, and he was fairly certain that if that were the case any sign of precipitate would result in a lower grade, which he had no desire for for a number of reasons.

To his relief Malfoy didn’t say or do anything to his potion or him, and didn’t even seem to acknowledge his presence, despite standing a mere three feet away. Harry would have supposed that the blonde was just trying to get to him by ignoring him if it weren’t for the faint crease between his brows. If anything, it looked to Harry like the other teen was preoccupied with something. Deciding that what ever it was it wasn’t likely to be good, Harry resolved to keep a close watch on the Slytherin, unobtrusively, of course. He still remembered promising Snape that he would try to leave Malfoy alone, and while he had no problems with not approaching him, he had never promised to stop paying attention to his rival.

Harry and Hermione had just finished all of their cleanup and were sitting quietly at their table when the chime indicating the end of class sounded. Not a student moved, however, until Snape said, “Homework, write a two foot essay on the potion you attempted today and its properties. Class dismissed.”

“Only two feet,” Hermione said as they stood up and picked up their bags, “That’s not bad at all.”

“No, not really,” Harry replied absently. They were only half way down the corridor when Harry said, “Oh, Hermione, I forgot my quill, you run ahead to Transfiguration without me, I’ll be right there,” as he turned back toward the dungeon classroom.

“Alright,” she said curiously, “I’ll see you in class.” Harry nodded to show he’d heard as he strode off and Hermione watched after him a moment with her head cocked to the side and a calculating look on her face. She came back to herself a moment later and rushed down the rest of the corridor and up the stairs to McGonagall’s classroom; it wouldn’t do at all for a prefect to be late.