Rebuilding the Impossible Room, Chapter 1
A/N: Yay, I finally found a plot I like for a Drarry fic. The chapter's in this are going to be much shorter than my other fic, which is a Sirius/OC mystery fic (therefore foreshadowing is easier with longer chapters, since it can be conveniently inserted whenever I think of where the story will turn next). I'm aiming for around 2,000 words for each chapter, although this one may be a bit shorter. So yeah, hope you enjoy this :) I'm hoping to have this fic be around 20K words, something fairly fluffy. Although, and bear with me, Harry might be a bit morose in the beginning. But hey, that's why we need Draco :) to cheer Harry up.
Harry awoke with a start, cursing after his owl's large screech. She had been christened Berta by Ginny, who apparently had a knack for terrible pet naming. Harry winced a little. It was too early to be thinking of Ginny. And yet, there she was, a painful reminder of three years. Three useless years. In the end, it came down to lack of interest. At first, when Harry felt she was starting to get bored, he tried all the usual things. Fancy dinners, kinky sex, expensive wine. But it seemed, the charm of Harry Potter had worn off after three years. And Harry couldn't blame Ginny for it.
After all, what had he done over these past three years? Trained to be an Auror, only to realize it couldn't compare to before. Catching petty criminals was not a thrilling job, especially after avenging Voldemort.
Harry gave a great sigh, and reminded himself not to dawdle on things that didn't matter anymore. It was the last week of August. He had a few days before he started the new job.
It seemed, even with Voldemort gone, the jinx on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job had stayed. Hogwarts had re-opened last year, and the new teacher had found out, 6 months in, that his mother was gravely ill. And, who better to teach it than Harry Potter himself? Not that Harry needed the gold, but life was just dull without a job. He'd spent the better part of this year exploring various hobbies, but his ambitious nature couldn't be sated.
Berta screeched once more. Ginny called her "Bert" most of the time, making it sound like "bird". Harry reminded himself, once more, to knock it off and went to feed Berta.
August heat had settled in by midday, and Harry decided to cool down by broomstick instead of cooling charm. All thoughts of Ginny and the divorce had fled his minute moment he kicked off. He had picked a house on a cliff, with a rocky beach below. Reachable only by broom.
Harry skimmed the water with his toes, enjoying the salty taste of the ocean air.
By the afternoon, he was all packed and ready. Harry sat down in his squishy arm chair, so like the ones in the Gryffindor common room, and doubts flooded his mind. What if he got there and decided their were too many bad memories? That he was reliving all the hellish parts of his life? But also all the best, a little voice added in his subconscious.
Besides, it was far too late for McGonagall to find a replacement at this point. And DADA was a core subject. Harry did his best to fix his hair, which had calmed down, if only a tiny bit, over the years. It was still pointless, the hair did whatever it pleased. Surrendering to his bed head, Harry grabbed his trunk and owl cage, and disapparated to Hogsmead Station.
Harry met Hagrid, filled with nostalgia. He hadn't seen Hagrid in months. McGonagall had, out of pure goodness of heart, allowed him to keep the Care of Magical Creatures position. At least Harry had him and Neville, though he wasn't sure which other teachers stayed. He didn't read the papers much these days. It wasn't as if anything exciting really happened anymore.
Hagrid and Harry walked to the front gates, waiting on a house elf to get Harry's things, and headed back to Hogsmead to visit the Three Broomsticks for a pint.
"So, I hear Hermione's pregnant," Hagrid said, his usual bluntness evident.
"Yeah, she's due in February. I still can't really believe it," Harry said, chatting.
"Ah, tha's great. I'm real happy for 'er, although it'll be ruddy difficult, teachin' more Weaselys. Fred and–" Hagrid abruptly stopped, and muttered, "Oh sod it all," and ordered a firewhiskey.
"So," Harry said, attempting to retrieve the conversation. "So, you and Olympe still going strong, then?"
"Oh yeah, yeah we're great. Went shark-fishing in Madagascar a few weeks ago. Them people there were stunned to see us, us bein' the size we are. Although, I suppose Asia was worse. The people are just so tiny." Hagrid seemed lost for words by his own statement, as if he simply wasn't able to process the smallness.
"Anyway, how've you been in the romance department? Seen anyone since Ginny?" Hagrid said, as insensitive as always. Which was surprising, considering the last time Harry had seen him, Hagrid had pulled out two tankards and bottle of Rosmerta's finest. And then another. And another, though Hagrid naturally poured double for himself. It was odd, to see Hagrid turn into Harry's drinking mate. It certainly wasn't cheap, but Harry enjoyed it. At least Hagrid wasn't an angry drunk like Ron.
"Ah, no. Not really," Harry tried to sound bored. But Hagrid's eyes twinkled, and Harry knew he hadn't pulled it off. Or, perhaps, Hagrid was just pretty drunk and in a daze.
They whiled away the afternoon, and Harry decided to try and sober himself before returning to the castle. His ruddy cheeks certainly wouldn't make a good impression with McGonagall.
"No, really, you go on Hagrid. I just need to get some more appropriate robes for teaching," Harry said. Hagrid had conceded, although Harry suspected it was mainly because Hagrid didn't fit inside Walpurga's Wizarding Wear.
Harry opened the door, only to find himself facing a pair of piercing grey eyes.
"Potter. What're you doing all the way over hear?" Malfoy's tone wasn't unkind, though slightly territorial.
"Shopping," Harry said, gesturing around. "It's what people do in shops, mainly. And interrogate, apparently."
Malfoy smirked, "I meant, what are you doing in these parts? Shouldn't you be off having loads of redheaded little brats with your wife?"
"You're a fucking git, Malfoy," Harry said. His divorce had been well reported on in the papers. At least, according to Ron and Hermione. And the occasionally pitying looks he'd received from wizards on the street.
But Malfoy looked genuinely confused. "Alright, nice to see your back to your old, mental self again, Potter. This has been a nice chat." He turned to leave.
"Wait," Harry said, "You didn't know?"
"Didn't know what, Potter? Speak plainly."
"I got divorced. A couple months back, actually. It was all over the Prophet."
"Oh," Malfoy seemed to struggle to find the correct words. "Sorry, I don't read the Prophet anymore. Load of rubbish."
"Me neither," Harry agreed, glad they could find some common ground.
"So, why are you here?" Malfoy asked, once the atmosphere cleared.
"Truth be told, I'm here for the job. I'm the new Defense professor."
Draco looked murderous, "I can't McGonagall didn't tell me, I knew she was hiding something. Her lips always reappear when she's hiding something. Bloody old bat."
"And why would she tell you?" Harry asked, amused.
"Because I'm the Potions Master, git."
"Oh," was all Harry could think to say. He contemplated the thought of him and Malfoy as colleagues. The thought was laughable.
"I'm going to kill her," Draco muttered. "No offense," he added, sarcastically.
"Of course, how could I possibly interpret that to be offensive?" Harry replied, equally sarcastic. "After all, why would you ever want to offend me?"
"Bugger off, Potter, I just found out I'm spending the better part of my year with you. Or worse, if you wanna get technical."
Harry scowled, "I won't tarnish your day with my presence any longer, then. Goodbye, Malfoy."
Malfoy muttered, "First Longbottom, now him," but realized that he actually sort of looked forward to teaching with Potter. He shrugged to himself. Longbottom never had good comebacks anyway.