Title: Career Options
Author: xxdoublexx
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Compliance: Compliant up until Order of the Phoenix, NOT HBP and DH compliant
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, this is a work of fan fiction, not for commerical purposes
Warning: Character death before story
Length: Part 1 - 3400
Summary: The war was over, but Harry never walked out of his nightmares. With Voldemort gone, what he feared nobody could guess. But something was horribly wrong, and Malfoy hated this new Potter who spoke to him with no rage.
Author's Notes: This is my first HP fanfic, so still testing the waters. I'm a newbie, any comments would be greatly appreciated. Also, I update more on my LJ account, so if you want to read more faster (I'll eventually update here too), please come here: xxdoublexx. livejournal (add http and com and minus space)
It makes replying to comments easier on LJ. I would really appreciate if people could also leave messages there.
Thank you ^_^
...
The idea was practical and well-meant. After the final war, the wizarding community was in desperate need of order and restoration, to move forward and relinquish their pains for the fallen and the shadows in the darkness. It was sensible then that Hogwarts took the step forward and endorsed a Muggle practice into its teaching curriculum, showing that wizards should accept the foreign, and are safe to do so.
It was a Muggle practice called career guidance, a course where seventh year students should take in order to familiarize themselves with the real world and their foreseeable future, now that there actually was one other than death by Death Eaters.
To rectify the effects of the war on the students' education, all students were called back to Hogwarts to make up for the year they had lost. Most people were more than thrilled by this decision, headed by none other than the Hogwarts head girl, Hermione Granger.
"What a brilliant proposition! To think that I could have O's on all of my NEWTs and not know a thing about the wizarding professions! All the job aspects I've gathered so far are Aurors, Ministry employees, teachers, merchants, mediwizards and researchers, how limiting is that!" Hermione exclaimed in exuberance, like when she found out there was another shelf of books she hadn't read through in the library.
"Blimey, chill down, 'Mione." Ron muffled between crunches of salad and chicken pie for the year's welcoming feast. "That's about'll there is, 'eally. Professions."
Hermione huffed, "I suppose you've already decided your course?"
"Yeah! I'm going for the Auror test with Harry. Can't shake us apart during the war, won't shake us apart now. Right, mate?" Ron glanced beside him for approval, but received none.
"Sorry, you were saying?" Harry looked up from his withdrawn silence.
Hermione and Ron shared a look, and the latter continued to say with double the previous cheerfulness, "The new career guidance class, you know. You've been aiming to be an Auror forever and hell, Merlin knows if you've accomplished more than the whole Auror department combined. You're born to be an Auror." Ron grinned with all the lettuce stuck in his teeth.
"Oh, that." Harry nodded with a half-way grin at Ron's goofiness that disappeared all too quickly. "Um, I'm not sure yet… about the Auror thing. Actually, I don't feel quite well today. I'll see you guys later in the tower."
"But Harry, you haven't eaten a –" Hermione's ranting was cut short as Harry stood and abruptly left the table. She watched his retreating profile, then at the empty space where Ginny used to sit. Any trace of silliness was wiped clean from Ron's face.
She gave his hand a tiny squeeze.
...
He thought that the nightmares were over, that he no longer needed to see through the snake's eyes. No Voldemort haunting him, no awaiting enemies out for his blood.
It was only himself he was stuck with, himself he feared.
There were dreams of past and dreams of future, of Ginny's limp form in his arms, and the next madman to rise up and make Voldemort junior in comparison. He wondered where he had stood when the darkness came crashing over his head.
There was killing, always had, but no blood. Not a trace of redness in sight.
Only green, like the Slytherin flag, shining like neon lights. The green that was hate so dense that it exploded from the tip of his wand. It was power, fear, guilt, grief and overwhelming satisfaction.
He was convulsing in disgust. He was roaring with laughter.
And he was screaming until Ron shook him awoke.
...
Draco Malfoy stared at a spot on the wall as Professor McGonagall, Headmistress McGonagall rather, droned on and on about the importance of this course that reeked of Muggle stupidity.
He'd never given a thought about his future occupation before the war, simply assuming that he'll trace his honorable whack job of a father's footsteps in climbing up the power chain. It wasn't as if Malfoys ever need to work for a living anyway, when their fortunes in Galleons could have buried the whole Hogwarts.
Now, the Malfoy fortune could probably be just enough to crush an owl's nest. Bloody fantastic. Apparently the Ministry thought that having a member of the family rot in Azkaban was their warrant to loot the poor sod's Gringotts vault. Property rights his arse. To think that he'd have to slave for Sickles like the Weasels… Draco shuddered in distaste.
Speaking of distaste, the wires and twigs sprouting out of Potter's head today were greatly complimenting their usual piteous attempts at resembling hair, since right now, they were anything but humanly. Potter's face was ashen, the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the sunken cheeks made him look sucked dry. No pun intended.
Won't someone put that tosser out of his misery and spare the human population of his deformity. Draco stared at the back of Harry's head, wishing looks could kill.
"This course aims to introduce students to every major industry in the wizarding world, and for each segment, professionals in that field will bring you to their work sites, where students could experience the job first hand. Everything conducted would have passed Hogwarts' security clearance, and I myself will supervise to ensure the students' safety." McGonagall pronounced. Perched regally behind the podium, her back was straight as ever, a slanted managed to cover her hair that had long turned grey, but there was nothing to shield the weariness from her eyes.
Gryffindors did tend to overexert themselves. Of all the people, Draco should know. He wasn't the arch nemesis of the ultimate Gryffindor for nothing.
"And to emphasize to students the harsh realities of life, as well as to promote inter-house harmony, the course will be conducted with the students in pairs with a member of another House. Let us not forget Headmaster Dumbledore's valiant efforts in trying to achieve this, and make it upon ourselves to fulfil his wish."
Did she get her cerebellum hexed off into the next generation during the war? Draco narrowed his eyes at the former Gryffindor head-of-house, wondering if she knew Dumbledore's all two-hundred and thirty three attempts had all crashed (Hogwarts: A History page 1067) like rooming up Potter and delicacy. The intelligence requirement for being a Hogwarts Headmaster had obviously been degraded from that of a Muggle-lover to one of a cat.
"Now I will announce the partnerships, and please move to sit with your respective partners." Murmured protests filled the room but fell on deaf ears. Teachers did not allow democracy and the school functions on fascism. Bet old Voldie couldn't have done better himself.
"Ronald Weasley and Blaise Zabini. Dean Thomas and Theodore Nott. Lavender Brown and Vince Crabbe."
The Weasel looked like he was choking on slugs and Blaise seemed to have found that his dick had been turned into one. Not that the two images should fit together. Ew!
Draco thought absentmindedly of how Pansy would have responded, probably hold her head high while shoving her tits into the face of the unfortunate Gryffindor. The indignation! Bless her soul.
"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode..."
He must have heard it wrong. The possibility of his name and Potter appearing in the same sentence was beyond negative, or that the announcer had a death wish, which was why Draco was still examining his nails when Potter dropped down like a sack of flour beside him.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco hissed.
"You heard the professor. I'm your partner for the class." Harry answered, voice bland. No reluctance, no heated glares, no gritted teeth, no clenched fist, not even a "shove off, Malfoy".
No nothing.
Draco inclined back into the chair and found his usual drawl, patented sneer ready with lips curled in the perfect angle. "What is that on your head, Potter? Did Voldemort jinx you bald and you had to pick thatch and straw to plant on your head?"
"You've spent seven years mocking my hair that I'm sure if I replaced them, you'd be first to notice." Harry replied not missing a beat, with eyes transfixed on McGonagall.
The bugger was going to play it this way? So be it. Draco leaned in close. Potter needed the personal space of three meters radius so that any physical proximity other than by his two sidekicks and the Weaselette would render him into a blushing babbling flustered virgin. Oh, virgin he must be. Draco would bet his entire owl's nest of a fortune that Potter would sooner resort to magical impregnation than have sex.
That said, Draco was already three centimetres away from Potter's ear and the chaste Gryffindor hadn't moved an iota.
Hot little bubbles were starting to rise up from Draco's stomach to congregate in his chest. "You know, Potter, looking at you now makes me truly glad for your Mummy and Daddy that they died before witnessing what completely worthless git you are." Draco spat out, feeling his own breath bounce off Harry's ear and back onto his lips.
"If being a completely worthless git means that I don't have to hate you, I'll take that." Harry continued his emotionless tirade that sent Draco wanting to smash something or somebody's head.
"So you don't hate me, Potter?" Draco's eyes froze over.
"No. You're not worth it."
A sharp screech cut into everyone's eardrums as Draco burst up from his seat and sent the table flying. "I shall be excused." He said darkly, evenly, and strode out of the classroom.
...
"Draco, you're the first person I know to go into an all-consuming rage when he's been told he's not hated. You'd make a good masochist. Wanna try?"
"You won't have the means to after I Reducto all your bondage gear, Blaise. Yes, I know where they are." Draco trampled the hallway rushing to the second Career Guidance class, leaving younger students with broken toes in his wake.
The nerve of Potter! He did not hate him? So Potter was being the all-forgiving hero who didn't even know how to spell hate, and where did that place him? An ex-Death-Eater-in-training trying to tarnish Saint Potter's halo by chasing him around with a one-sided obsession, in other words, a fucked up wanker?
It would be a cold day in hell when Draco Malfoy ate whatever bollocks Potter fed him. Nice try, scar-head.
Turning the corner, Draco saw Granger and the Weasel headed his way, without Potter sandwiched in between. Stepping into their path, he demanded, "What's wrong with Potter?"
"And since when do you care?" The Weasel taunted, stepping up to fend his lovely lady and brought Draco a foot closer to those freckles. Disgusted, Draco sneered, "Have you never heard of the phrase 'keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer'? Well, of course not since nothing eloquent has ever entered your plebeian mind. Care for Potter, yes I care for him so much that I'm unable to go to bed before I think of a new torment tailored just for him."
Weasley grimaced, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a very sick mind?"
"Let's not waste time with this sociopath." Granger tugged her boyfriend's arm and walked around Draco.
"You haven't answered my question." Draco called out after them, "Least you could do is show some courtesy after I've stooped down so low to talk to you. Prove me wrong that Gryffindors are not barbarians after all."
Granger swerved around, eyes glinting and bushy hair in a flare, "You know well how much Harry has lost in the war, so do be the noble pisspot that you are and piss off!"
"And which one of us hasn't lost something in the war?" Draco snarled, "If the dim-witted Weasleys can even root the earth and spread happily like weeds after the war, I don't see why Potter can't get over it!" Potter grieved by moping, not lapsing into complete shutdown.
He stormed past the shell-shocked couple, casting them a contemptuous glance as he swept by. In a quiet voice, he stated, "You know that's not the reason, so stop fooling yourselves. It's pathetic to see."
Hermione and Ron hung back in silence and after a while, Ron gently enveloped his arms around his girlfriend's shaking form.
...
The students were portkeyed to the main hall in the Ministry of Magic and welcomed by Kingsley Shacklebolt with a row of ministry workers lined up neatly behind him, grinning like maniacs.
Draco wobbled a little on the landing, and was surprised to feel a warm hand steadying him at the elbow. It was the newly placated and world-loving Harry Potter. Draco jerked his arm free.
"Welcome, students of Hogwarts, to the Ministry of Magic." Shacklebolt boomed, pride etched all over his face. After transcending from his temporary Minister of Magic position to the real deal, Shacklebolt began a series of revolutions in the Ministry with re-staffing, reorganizing and restructuring. The 3 R's, he called it, and the project was progressing like Harry on a Firebolt. But even so, he needed more fresh air in the Ministry to override some of the 'conservatives' that still stuck around like blood-sucking leeches. What better target was there than the batch of young war heroes about to graduate?
Shacklebolt snuck Harry a not-so-subtle wink that reminded Draco distinctly of Slughorn.
As the students gathered, Shacklebolt begun, "I am honoured to be pioneering in this new practical course that helps student realize their potential in the society. In this peace that we have gained through the sacrifices of so many, we should never let their blood go to waste. Now more than ever, we need to rise up and build a new world, and it is fitting that the new generation rise up and lead the change. The Ministry welcomes you with open arms."
Blah blah blah bullshit, Draco automatically tuned out and observed how extraordinarily cheerful Granger and Weasley were behaving, surrounding Potter with a tight little circle of happiness that the latter neither noticed nor conformed to.
"Over the next month, you will be introduced to every department under the Ministry, starting of course, with our current chief priority, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I'm sure through the extenuating circumstances in the past decade most of you have come to be familiar with the job aspects of the Auror, and I ensure you that your qualifications will be a great asset to the Department." Again, he gave a pointed look in Harry's direction.
"We have assigned a ministry official for each pair of students to act as a guide through these two weeks of simulation. Think of yourselves as already working in the Ministry, and we will treat you just as our equals. Now come on, I'm sure you call can't wait!" Students grunted.
"You heard him, Granger, Weasley. Shoo, before you gag me with freckles and Muggleness." Draco taunted, expecting Potter to jump to his friends' rescue but none came. Even Weasley only frowned a tad and left as told. The world was suddenly spinning on another axis and Draco seemed the only one to be uninformed of the change.
Uneasy, Draco decided to give a last try to his old routine of needling Potter. Seeing Shacklebolt coming straight for Potter like bee to honey, Draco mocked, "Why is it that you have always been an allure to middle-aged, bordering-on-unsightly men? Let's count, the pea-brained Dumbledore, that student-molesting Slug of a professor, the werewolf in teaching robes, Azkaban escapee, and now the new Minister of Magic. Oh, Arthur Weasley, but let's really not go there. Tell me, are you going for power or maturity or thrill? I've already confirmed that your sexuality is out of the question."
Draco rambled, and Potter just studied, studied him with a quirk on his lips. The smugness! Draco felt his skin prickling with infuriation.
"Malfoy," Potter finally opened his mouth, "I would sooner turn into a real poofter than be Snape's pet. How you could bear taking that up your aristocratic arse I cannot imagine."
The Potter was coherent! And Crabbe and Goyle would be dancing in tutus when he got back.
"Actually, Malfoy, you are not so annoying at all now that I can see you past the old school rivalry. Call it a truce?" Potter looked at him with eyes cool as the Great Lake and Draco wanted to scream 'you don't see me one fucking bit' but he held on to it.
Those eyes reminded him even more of the lake in the Malfoy grounds, its waters cold and green like glaciers even on a scorching summer day. He would always dip his hands into the water and feel his fingertips freeze, then ran back to the Manor so that when he touched anything, it won't seem as cold anymore. He always ran for his mother first, though, and reached out his arms to latch at her waist while telling himself that she was a living thing beyond those dead grey eyes.
It would be over his dead body before he admitted it but he took a secret relish in jabbing with Potter because the legendary hero indeed flared his tempers legendarily with the single-minded heated gibberish that only he could master. At these times green eyes flashed to a smouldering emerald and Draco could taste the burnt crisps of anger on his tongue.
Without that, Potter wouldn't be worth a Knut.
"Malfoys and Potters can never be friends." Draco hissed, knocking Potter off balance to prove his point.
"Hi boys, it's certainly nice to see you all alive and jumping." Shacklebolt greeted, smiling and dazzling Draco with the whiteness of his teeth. Watch out: arse kissing Minister of Magic coming your way. "I'll be guiding you guys of course. The Ministry can't wait to get its hands on you, Harry."
"Yes, drag him off to bed won't you?" Draco drawled, and was that a grunt of chocked back laughter he heard from Potter? Draco shot him a look of pure venom, but Parseltongues were obviously as immune to that as they were to snakes.
"I like the way you added plurals to our names, Malfoy." Potter whispered as he passed to follow Shacklebolt. "Makes it sound as if we still have some bloody family left in this world."