On our first session, he was already there, sat in the library at an empty table, attired in his usual black suit with arms folded defiantly across his chest.

It was clear, by his scowl, that he wasn't happy with this arrangement.

I took a deep breath before letting myself known to the white-blond haired Slytherin.

"Hello, uh- Malfoy." I said, silently cursing myself over the tremor in my voice. Show him no fear. "Did you bring your books?"

He stared at me long and hard, making me feel quite uncomfortable.

"I'm not a complete imbecile." His voice was slow and deliberate, his steely expression remaining set on his face as he lazily uncrossed his arms and reached down for his bag.

I tried not to flinch as he slammed his Transfiguration book down loudly on the table, the sound seeming to ring out into the quiet and still corners of the library.

I couldn't help but peer around nervously for Madam Pince.

"Scare easily, don't you?" Draco smirked.

I glared at him as I pulled out the chair opposite and sat myself down, getting my own book out and opening it out to the first page.

"Now, I thought we could start from chapter one," I spoke, trying to sound authoritative. "There's no place like the beginning, after all."

He made no movement to open his book.

"Fancy yourself as a little teacher, don't you?" He drawled lazily. "I bet you jumped at the chance to do this. Couldn't wait to put your bossiness to good use. Ten Galleons says you've even made a lesson plan."

"If you could just open up your book, Malfoy," I said in a clipped tone, my mind flashing to the colour coded and carefully thought out plan in my bag, "and then we can get started. The sooner we begin, the sooner we finish. Now, chapter one, if you please."

He gave a soft chuckle as he reached out and pulled his book toward him, flicking it open to the correct page and slowly smoothing down the spine with a single long slender finger.

"Well, do go ahead, Professor," he smirked. "I'm waiting."

I was about to tell him to read the chapter in silence, when I realised just in time that I was in danger of sounding too much like Umbridge. I closed my mouth and shuddered.

"Look, Granger," Draco said in a bored voice. "As much as it simply thrills me to be spending my evening in the library with you, I do have other things I need to attend to. So if you would please just tell me what it is we are supposed to be doing here, then perhaps we can get on with it."

"Fine," I spat, snapping my book shut. "And just so you know, you're not the only one with better things to do."

Our eyes locked, and I felt a faint squirming inside the pit of my stomach.

He waited. I itched to reach into my bag for my lesson plan but did not want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"What do you want out of this?" I found myself asking instead.

He studied me carefully, seeming to consider his answer.

"I want," he said slowly, his grey eyes piercing mine as he leant forward to get closer, "to get out of this fucking hell hole. I don't give a shit about Transfiguration, I don't give a shit about N.E.W.T.s, and I sure as fuck don't give a shit about your poxy little tutorials. I know Transfiguration, I know how to complete assignments. And I also know that I don't need some Mudblood lecturing me on the importance of education, because what does any of this matter at the end of the day? It's all just a fucking waste of time."

"Don't."

"Don't what?" A sneer curled at his lip.

"Don't call me a- a... Mudblood."

"Why not?" He shrugged, sitting back in his chair. "It's what you are."

I felt a wave of anger and saw a flash of red.

"Because I am a witch." I said steadily, trying to keep my temper under control. "And may I remind you, one who you specifically requested. Which is why I'm sat here with the merit over my head and you are sat there at my mercy."

"I'm at nobody's fucking mercy."

A beat.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked sharply, my voice unwavering.

There was a look in his eye which I'd never seen before. It could almost be described as respect, but that was asking a lot from the boy who was intent on seeing me as nothing but a disgust to the wizarding race.

Suddenly feeling highly uncomfortable, I tore my eyes away from his and hurriedly packed away my things.

"Where are you going?" He asked. I was surprised to detect a note of alarm in his voice.

"This is clearly not going to work out," I said stiffly, pushing my chair back and getting to my feet. "I'm not a masochist, I'm not going to sit back and listen to you insult me, and I'm certainly not going to force these lessons upon you. But if you wish to continue, then perhaps you should seriously think about what you really want from me. Otherwise, let's just call it quits now and get on with the more important aspects of our lives."

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I wheeled around on the spot and began to stride determinedly towards the exit.

"Get your butt back here and sit down right now, Granger."

I stilled. Slowly, I turned back around. Draco was still sat at the table looking at me with a fierce expression.

"I don't want to be wasting my time." I repeated. "It's not worth the extra merit if you're just going to use this as an opportunity to insult me-"

"You're not wasting your time," he said slowly. "And I'm... I'm sorry." He grimaced as though the word had been difficult for him to say. "Now please, sit back down and maybe we can start again."

He held out a hand, gesturing to the chair opposite him that I had just vacated. I hesitated, unsure. I couldn't help but feel Harry was right, that I must be out of my mind wanting to help someone who enjoys throwing hurtful slurs in my face.

"Come on, Granger. And maybe we can start with the lesson plan I know you're itching to consult."

"I didn't-" I stopped short at the knowing glint in his eye and immediately felt my face flush.

"Nothing wrong with being organised, Granger," he stated, sitting up straighter to rearrange his tie, as though he were ready to do business. "It's a trait I'm somewhat lacking these days. Perhaps you could set me back on the straight and well-kept path?"

"I'm not a miracle worker," I gritted, returning to my seat. "But I'll try my best."

A smile twitched at his lips as I removed a scroll of parchment from my bag and tentatively unrolled it.

"Let me," he said, reaching an outstretched hand towards me, beckoning towards the scroll.

I went to pass it to him, when I caught the faint scent of his citrusy cologne. I hesitated, recalling when I'd smelt it before.

"That day in Umbridge's office." I found myself saying, keeping a tight hold of my lesson plan. "Why did you refuse to hand me over to Millicent?"

A look of surprise flitted across his face. His gaze was so intense that I found the breath hitching in my throat. His tongue made a brief appearance, the tip sweeping quite suddenly across his lips as he appeared to contemplate his answer.

"She would have hurt you." He simply said.

I found my heart skipping a beat and the world falling momentarily away from beneath me. I'd never felt anything like it before.

A faint smile tugged helplessly at my lips, and I finally conceded the lesson plan, praying that my face didn't look as flushed as it felt.

*****

Neither Harry nor Ron had waited up for me by the time I arrived back in the Gryffindor common room after my first tutorial with Draco Malfoy.

To be fair, I thought, glancing up at the large grandfather clock by the fireplace, it was a lot later than expected.

The study session had ended up going surprisingly well after the somewhat rocky start, with Draco actually showing an interest in everything I had to say. He had completely dropped the attitude that I'd grown accustomed to, and I discovered it was like sitting with a completely different person.

A likeable person. And not only that, it was refreshing to converse with someone with intelligence. Sitting with Harry and Ron was often like watching an episode of Beavis and Butt-Head. And that was being generous.

"So," Harry said as he joined me at breakfast the following morning. "How was it? Find out about him being a Death Eater yet?"

"Harry, that's not why I'm doing this," I said sharply, pouring him a pumpkin juice.

"Sure, whatever," Harry shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose, "but if you get the chance to take a look at his left arm-"

"I'm not going to ask him to strip for me."

"Who are you getting to strip?" Ron huffed noisily, looking outraged as he threw himself down on my other side.

"No one," I began, "I-"

"Hermione had her tutorial with Malfoy last night," Harry announced loudly over my head. "And we were just discussing ways in which she could use this as the perfect opportunity to get the dirt on him."

"Oh, yeah," Ron muttered, glancing over at Lavender who had started giggling loudly about something with Parvati. "I forgot."

I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hurt as his eyes lingered on Lavender, a sausage hovering at his lips.

"I'm not going to do that, Harry." I said sternly. "He's clearly suffering enough from having his father locked away in Azkaban for committing serious crimes."

Ron started guffawing really loudly, and I looked at him, bewildered.

"Serious." He wheezed, his face purple with laughter. "Geddit? Sirius."

There was a loud spluttering sound as Harry spat his juice everywhere.

They were still laughing about it halfway through our first period, so much so, that Harry had to be excused for time out.

See what I mean? Beavis and Butt-Head have nothing on them.

*****