A/N: Yes I ship them. No I won't explain why here. I'll post my reasoning on my profile eventually. Be warned that I have university exams coming up, so Chapter 2 isn't going to come out

for a couple of weeks (probably). It's only halfway done.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this idea in my head. If I did, they'd be canon. ^^

You Look Good in Gray

Chapter 1

Now he's really done it. Poor Neville Longbottom has landed in detention. Again. Wasn't his fault this time, too. They were having Transfiguration class and he'd sat next to Hannah Abbot, who had to make up a lesson because she was sick. She'd bumped his hand while he was trying to turn his block of wood into a wind-up monkey, and, well....Let's just say Hannah wasn't too pleased to have suddenly sprouted a tail and cymbals. Now he has to make it up with Snape of all people.

I am going to die. I'm not gonna come back to the common room and they won't even find my body.

What made all this even worse, was that Snape had decided that the best way to torture poor Neville was to have him help Draco Malfoy with his extra potions work. That'll get him another detention for sure. Draco was brilliant in potions and Neville would surely ruin his work.

Why is he doing extra work for Potions anyway?

Just then, the lithe blonde sauntered into the room, as if he owned it. Which, due the fact that Snape practically adopted him, he kind of did.

"What are you doing here Longbottom?"

"D-detention."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Neville was a charity case, he was sure. Ever since last year, when he started his makeshift apprenticeship, Snape seemed to enjoy giving him completely useless assistants that just happened to get detention. Something about hoping Draco's influence would make them better in the class. All of them had been failures, of course. Potions wasn't something one got by practising. You either do or you don't.

"I am going to make Boil Cure potion for the stores. You, Longbottom, will either do exactly as I say, or you can stand there, look pretty, and get off with the easiest detention ever. Am I clear?"

Neville turned carnation pink, hiding it by scratching his face with his sleeve. Something was weird about having the boy mention him and the word 'pretty' in the same sentence.

"I-I'll try to help."

Draco turned away, muttering something about 'gods-damned Gryffindors' and started to set up the cauldron. Neville stood off to the side, shifting from foot to foot and looking generally useless. Until Draco decided to yell out:

"Hand me the dried nettles."

It was very much an order. Neville looked up, startled, then started looking around frantically for the ingredients. It took him about five minutes, but eventually the dried nettles were retrieved successfully, and Neville ran back to Draco with the bottle. The latter stood tapping his foot, looking very bored. Snatching the bottle from Neville's hands, he turned back to the cauldron and began working. But soon after:

"You better be faster next time, Longbottom. This potion shouldn't have to take four hours just because you can't find your way around a cupboard."

Neville sighed, staring down at his shoes, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe, his honey-blonde hair falling in front of his face. He would never ever be good at Potions. He couldn't even fetch the ingredients properly. But apparently, he wasn't as useless as he had thought, because Draco soon called out another ingredient. This next one took less time to find, and as time went on, Neville became quite used to the stores. Instead of moping about his apparent fate as Draco's human house elf, he resolved to just watch the boy brew. It soon became quite clear why he'd received such good marks in Potions. Careful and methodical, he followed all of the directions by the book exactly. He cut the necessary components with an exactness that was almost scary, but then again, Neville thought, he was like that with his plants too. No one, not one of the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, understood just what it took to grow a plant properly. Professor Sprout frequently lamented this particular fact during his (prolonged) stays in the greenhouse. Snapping out of his little revere, he noticed Draco adding the last ingredient he delivered to the potion. Neville took a glance over into the book and saw that there was only one component left to add: porcupine quills. He spotted it on the top shelf of the stores and went to retrieve it. Just when the young Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, there was Neville, dropping the last bottle into his hand. Draco froze, surprised, and stared at the thing as if it had apparated there of its own accord, before resuming the work. Neville was quite proud of himself.

Rendering the infamous Draco Malfoy speechless. That was a feat not even Harry Potter could achieve.

"Is it done?" he heard himself ask

"Almost."

Surprisingly, the response was devoid of any sneer or contempt. In fact, Malfoy sounded almost excited. He turned for the stirring rod, and Neville caught the gleam in his eye. It was so startling, that he took a step back.

I recognize that look. That's the look Harry gets when he mounts a broom. It's the look Hermoine gets when she announces she's going to the library, or when Parvati is about to reveal a piece of what she thinks is particularly interesting gossip.

The prospect that the Slytherin Prince was so very similar to his own housemates was a bit of a shock to the shy Gryffindor. He barely heard said prince remark, with a smirk, that this potion was nothing short of perfect.

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