Warning: slash, male/male explicit sex

Disclaimer: I own nothing; no copyright infringement intended.

A/N: These will be short chapters and I will attempt to update every day. I plan to only have four or five chapters for this story.

All Catastrophes Start in Potions Class

A crush was a mysterious thing, Draco mused, as he walked towards his first class of the day: Potions with the Gryffindors. One could go for years sitting next to a person and barely even remember their name when suddenly, BAM! That person is the only thing you can think about. And then it ends after a few months, and it's on to the next person without even realizing you had made the transition. The crush doesn't even need to make sense. Take Draco's last crush for example: Justin Finch-Fletchley. That was a total mistake, and Draco was quite glad that it had finally ended two months ago. I mean, really, a Hufflepuff? As Draco entered the smelly potions classroom, continuing to rant in his head, he had no idea that the fates (a.k.a. the author, muahahaha) had a new crush for him that would cause him to seriously question his sanity.

"Today, we will be making the Draught of Living Death," Professor Snape drawled. All of the Gryffindors groaned. All of the Slytherins sneered at the Gryffindors.

"I will pair you up in order to make the brewing process faster. The pairs are as follows: Ron Weasley and Millicent Bulstrode; Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger; Blaise Zabini and…" Draco zoned out as his monotonous professor rattled off names. He didn't need to hear who he was paired with; the person would be coming to his table, not the other way around. Chairs scraped across the floor as the students shuffled to their partner's table. No one was excited about whom they were paired with and they moved slowly, as if hoping that Snape would miraculously change his mind. He didn't.

A bag dropped heavily to the ground and the chair next to Draco's was shoved backward. He sighed, and reluctantly turned to see who he was stuck with. It had better not be someone too dumb—well, shit. There goes that hopeful wish. Potter sat stiffly next to Draco, resolutely staring at the front of the room. Great. Just bloody fantastic. Before Draco could even open his mouth, Potter stood up and , without so much as a glance his way, said, "I'll get the ingredients." He stalked off toward the closet crowded with the other students.

Draco smirked. Good, he knows his place. While Potter returned with the ingredients and began spreading them out on the table, Draco lit the fire under their cauldron. He snickered as the cheesiest pick up line in the world popped into his head, "I'll light a fire under your cauldron." Then he wondered why his mind was supplying him with pick up lines in the first place. What, was he planning on flirting with Potter? As if.

He glanced at the instructions he had written in his notes: Cut the sopophorous bean and pour it's juice into the potion. That seemed easy enough, so he shoved the bean at Potter and ordered him to do it. This earned him a glare, but Potter took the bean none the less. Draco turned back to his notes and began to chop the valerian root. After a few minutes of silent cutting, he looked over at Potter to check his progress, only to find that those delicate hands were crushing the bean instead of cutting it.

Wait, delicate hands? Potter's hands were not delicate! They were…..quite small, actually. Draco stared at the short, slender fingers connected to a palm that had to be half the size of his. They really were delicate! Draco had assumed that the Gryffindor would at least have callouses from playing quidditch, but the skin looked smooth and soft.

Draco suddenly wanted to reach over and entwine his fingers with Potter's. How would such a small hand feel being held in his larger ones? Slightly creeped out by these strange new thoughts, Draco cleared his throat.

"Potter," he sneered in an attempt to regain some semblance of normality, " You're supposed to be cutting the bean, not crushing it. I know that both actions start with the same letter, but can't you tell the difference?"

Potter looked up at him with an uncharacteristically calm expression. "Yes, Malfoy, I realize that I am crushing the bean. If you would get your pointy nose out of the air and look around, you would notice that everyone else is having trouble cutting it, because it's slippery. I figured that, since we only need the juice, it doesn't matter if I crush it instead."

Oh. Well. When he puts it that way, there's nothing I can make fun of. Since when did potter get a brain? Draco sneered at him once more for good measure, before turning back to his notes. A smart Potter was extremely unnerving.

They spent the rest of the class in silence, during which Draco most certainly did not stare continuously at Potter's hands and did not mess up the potion a few times due to said staring. Finally, after what seemed like hours (Draco swore the clock was broken) Snape dismissed the class. Draco walked briskly (he most certainly did not run) out of the room, all the while damning Potions class.

A/N: I'm playing around with format. Please tell me if you have ideas on how to make the story easier to read.