Draco Malfoy Gets an Improvement

One cold winter morning, Draco Malfoy decided he needed an improvement.

It wasn't out of kindness for others. It wasn't to help the teachers deal with him. It was simply so he could be classified as "The Most Perfect Prefect in Hogwarts History."

There was, of course, the problem of who to ask to help him. Draco Malfoy had a rep at Hogwarts, one that he may want to keep up. The rep was that he was the mean one, who everyone would love, or may the gods help them. He was the guy that everyone loved, but at the same time, was afraid of. Being a Malfoy, he loved it. He basked in the glory of being the most loved, and feared, student at Hogwarts.

Being the guy he was, though, made it hard for him to make decent friends and to get help with his homework. Sometimes, living the dream wasn't as good as just dreaming it.

That aside, he had spent his last week looking out for someone to teach him the basics of Perfectness. If there was such a thing. He had carefully observed the behavior of other students, asked pupils who they thought the other most perfect person in the school was, and he also took it in his liberty to talk to the teachers too. In the end, he was dissatisfied with the results.

When he snooped around at the behavior of students, Harry Potter was perfect.

When he asked others who was the other most perfect person, Harry Potter got the most votes (also connected with a nod and an , "oh yes, most definitely!")

When he asked the teachers, they praised and worshipped Harry James Potter. (except Snape, who simply brushed off the request.)

So he had no choice. It was either ask Harry Potter for help, or just settle with his average perfection.

Of course, Malfoys are Malfoys. When the time comes for help from an enemy, the gods only know that they'll ask them and stab 'em in the back once their desired information is acquired. But, as goes with many rules, the "stabbing Harry Potter in the back with a sharpened wand" rule remained intact and as much of a "no-no" as ever before. This angered Draco very much so. He had so wanted to jab Potter in the back with a wand and laugh at him until, by some twist of fate, Harry got up and cast the Cruciatus curse on him before running off.

The day Draco approached Harry was a Monday after breakfast. He had snagged his sleeve and muttered, "I have to talk to you."

"Why?" Harry had questioned suspiciously, glaring daggers through his thick glasses.

"I have to ask you something," Draco said rather impatiently, dragging Harry by the sleeve into a corner. "Listen. I want your help."

"MY help?!" Harry said, shocked at first, then he doubled over laughing.

"Stop laughing!" Draco stomped his foot. "This is serious. I want to become... more perfect. If that makes sense. Considering I am already perfect. In fact, I am the most perfect student in the whole school."

"So, then why do you need my help?" Harry was wiping tears from his eyes as the aftereffects of his laughing wore off.

"I need your help because I've been doing some investigating, and after a while, I learned that you're probably more perfect than me. Not by a lot, but slightly... so I was just wondering if you could tutor me?" Draco's feet shuffled slightly, and he blushed wildly.

Harry doubled over again. "Yeah, I'll try," he said between laughs, "but it's going to be hard for me to tutor Hogwart's Best. You up to dealing with my annoying 'Potter-ness?'"

Draco smirked. "If I wasn't, would I have asked you?"

"Guess not." Harry shrugged. "I'll start tomorrow after breakfast."

Draco stared for a moment longer, then grinned. "Okay, see you tomorrow."

*~*

The next morning, Draco began his training. He hadn't expected it to be rigorous, because he believed that one Mr. Potter was still slightly scared of him.

Turns out, Draco was wrong.

Harry had met him on the Quidditch pitch, clad in a pair of tatty blue jeans about 7 sizes too big and a sweatshirt about the same size reading, "MRS. DOGLEBERRY'S PIANO CAMP". Draco stared quizzically at the sweatshirt and burst out laughing.

"Honestly!" He said through gulps of laughter. "You went to a piano camp? A piano camp?"

"If you must know," Harry sighed, "it's Dudley's old piano camp sweatshirt that he very 'kindly lent' to me. He only gave it to me because I got a terrible cold one day from not wearing a jacket, and I gave it to Widdle Dudderkins." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Let's get started. And, because you made fun of me, you get to do twenty push-ups. Down and at 'em!" When Harry saw the disbelieving 'I'm-NOT-getting-into-the-dirt' look on Draco's face, he moved close, pointed hard to the ground, and yelled, "NOW!"

Draco complied and found that twenty push-ups is rather hard when you're cold, not to mention that you've never done them before. He was panting when he lowered himself to the ground.

"Right," came Harry's voice from above him. "Get up. Let's go over the schedule." Grudgingly, Draco complied and sat up. Harry was pacing about. "Firstly, we'll have basic social skills, first thing after physical exercises, meaning you've got some sprints to do." At this, Draco wrinkled his nose. "THEN, social skills. Then we'll do manners. I don't think they covered that at Malfoy Mansion? And that's the morning agenda... after lunch, you'll meet me by the lake for basic flying and magic skills. After dinner until midnight, we'll do romance training and an extra training of your choice for the day. Got it?"

Draco nodded, registering the information. "Wait, romance training?!"

"Yeah," Harry said comfortably. "You've noticed it. I'm not conceited, but I'm pretty popular with the ladies. I've noticed you're kind of an idiot when it comes to girls. I've decided to tutor you in the ways of love. Got a problem?"

"No," Draco muttered as he stood.

"Great," Harry responded cheerfully. "Now, five sprints up and down the pitch."

"WHAT?!"

"You heard me. Move your arse."

Draco took off down the field, back, down, back... five times. When he finished, he collapsed on the ground.

"You're not done," Harry said, pulling him up. "Thirty jumping jacks, let's GO. Allez-y!"

"Al-ezz-ee?" repeated Draco.

"It means 'you GO' in French! Now, MOVE."

Draco tugged himself up. "What're 'jumping jacks'?"

Harry demonstrated quickly. "Thirty. Now."

Draco complied and prayed silently that this was the end of his physical training. He was weak, no doubt, and now he was furious. What were Harry's reasons for doing this?! He turned violently to his trainer and yelled, "RIGHT, Potter! What the HELL is the meaning of this?!"

"Honestly. You haven't heard that one imperfection about you? You have no physical shape. Your like a stick. I'm just defining your body." Harry crossed his arms. "Any objections?"

"No." Draco lowered his head, somewhat in shame. He was yelling at the person who was trying to better him. It just didn't work like that, he decided. "So, we have-"

"Social training now," Harry continued, smiling. "Here's where you need help. Firstly, let's start out with basic greeting of person of lower social status."

"A pauper?" Draco asked eagerly. If this involved spitting insults heatedly, he was already pretty much an expert at it. If this training resulted in screaming at Potter, he was excited. It gave him an excuse to think up creative new insults. His mind was yelling, Draco! Use the words WEASEL LICKER!

"No. I mean, actual social status," Harry said, gesturing vaguely. "You know, someone less popular or perfect than you. Not necessarily poor. And besides, I don't think those with financial problems would like to be called 'paupers' these days. Now, demonstrate how you greet someone of lesser popularity."

Draco cleared his throat and said, "I do it somewhat like this... 'Excuse me, did I hear something? No? Hm, must've been from someone who isn't significant to the school. Oh, well, I guess I can do without knowing what a social reject has said to me.'" He grinned proudly at his coldness, when he saw Harry rubbing his eyes. "I did that well? My, I think I'll ace this training. Can I go get some breakfast now?"

"No, no, no... I'm stunned." Harry shook his head. "If you don't mind my saying, you are by far the coldest human I know."

"Thank you."

"It's not a compliment, Malfoy."

"It is when you're me."

"Look," Harry said, getting frustrated, "I'm going to show you the proper way to do it. 'Oh, hello! Sorry, I think I misheard you. Can you repeat it?' or maybe the nicer approach, 'Oh, really? How interesting! Want to talk further about it over a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks when we go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?'"

"We're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Draco asked, excitedly.

"No, it's an example, you git!" Harry retorted.

"Ah, now who needs social tutoring?" Draco smirked. "You're disapproving of insults... yet you insult me?"

"It's okay to insult slime like you!"

"Ah, Potter, you have a bad temper. I think, in all fairness, I should be training you."

"Shut it, Malfoy. Now, why don't you try being nice for once and improvise an invitation."

"What if I don't want to have lunch with them?"

"Well, you don't just brush them off!" Harry put his hands on his hips, obviously frustrated. "You simply say something nice to them, and then continue with your day!"

"Well, what if saying, 'I'll beat you if you talk to me again' is 'nice' by my standards?" Draco grinned devilishly. It was so fun to bust Harry's chops! He was turning red.

"It shouldn't be, you prat," he muttered. "Please, try." His voice was almost pleading, so pleading that Draco's heart skipped a beat.

"Fine," Draco hissed, then he cleared his throat again and began, "'Ah, what an interesting argument you pose. Might I question as to where you are having lunch? It would be most splendid to continue your persuading points over a nice lunch of steak and kidney pie. What do you say, care to take me up on it?' How was that?"

Harry looked ready to burst. He finally said, "You overdid it, but it's a start." He looked at his watch. "Well, breakfast is over..."

"I MISSED BREAKFAST?!" Draco cried. "SHIT."

"Calm down, I asked Dobby to save some for you. Chances are you'll find your breakfast in your room." Harry nodded. "Eat lots, gain weight. I'll see you at lunch." He turned and began to stride into the castle.

"OY, POTTER!" Draco called after him. "AM I GOING TO MISS LUNCH TOO?"

He was only answered with an erratic smile and a wave.

End Chapter One