Disclaimer: belongs to J.K. Rowling, numerous publishers, and Warner Brothers, not to me…sadly.
Warnings: this is going to be SLASH, so if you don't like it get over it. Harry/Draco slash, specifically, and again, if that is not your thing, go elsewhere. I'm not gonna stop you from flaming, complaining about slashiness or harry/draco, but if you send me flames that mean you clearly did not read the warning and follow my advice, I will LAUGH.
1: Meet the
Competition
Everyone said seventh year was easier, mostly. The NEWTs, or course, were a huge hurdle to jump, but they were also the reason that teachers assigned less work and spent most of their classes reviewing. Harry tried to gain confidence from what others said about seventh year at Hogwarts, but he couldn't help feeling a slight sense of foreboding.
He had also been told that seventh year did things to you. That the last year of school, your first year of being of Age, the important transition period between child and adult when you are both and neither simultaneously (Percy's words, obviously), held some of the most crucial moments of your life. You could start the year as one person and finish as an entirely different one.
Or, as Harry feared, you could start as one person and watch all your friends change, and not change at all yourself.
Harry hurried through the corridors, determined to be early to his first class. Not is first class as seventh year student – that had been NEWT Potions with Snape and it had been positively dreadful. No, Harry was looking forward to his first class as a teacher.
Technically, he was supposed to be a teaching assistant, but he'd heard from students who'd graduated before him that often, if the teaching assistants seemed responsible enough, Madam Hooch would hand the class over to them to lighten her own work load. Harry, feeling optimistic about handling a bunch of second years, already considered himself a teacher.
"Harry!" exclaimed an excitable young Gryffindor who reminded Harry of one of the Creevy brothers. "I'm so excited – I've been thinking about this all summer – or at least ever since I found out about you – I mean, you're like a national Quidditch legend!"
Harry felt his cheeks growing pink with embarrassment. "Er…I think 'national' might be a bit –"
"Oh, what's this I see? The 'National Quidditch Legend,' blushing? Not ashamed of your fame, are you Potter?" drawled the smug voice of Draco Malfoy. "Or perhaps you feel it's a bit…unjustified?"
"You want unjustified, Malfoy?" Try…you, getting on to the Slytherin team!"
"At least I have a father who cares whether I'm on the house team or not!"
Harry raised his wand threateningly, pointing it at Malfoy's neck. "Just give me a reason –"
"GENTLEMEN!" bellowed Madam Hooch, striding across the grass angrily. "I will not tolerate any childish displays of rivalry in my class! ESPECIALLY not from my teaching assistants! 10 points from each of your houses – " Harry felt his good mood leak out of him like a balloon with a hole, and he saw that Draco looked crestfallen and even rather abashed – "And I hope the two of you can behave like adults for the duration of the school year."
Some of the students (some of which Harry realized were in Slytherin) began laughing at the two seventh years. Madam Hooch motioned for them to be quiet and then began a lecture about what to expect from their second year sports class, leaving Harry standing beside Draco, speechless.
"Pathetic bunch, aren't they," Draco goaded in quiet tones. "Especially the Gryffindors."
Harry turned to look at the blond. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"
Draco chuckled softly, looking like he couldn't believe his ears. "Really, Potter. Hooch made it quite obvious. I'm her teaching assistant." Draco finished, sounding more conceited than usual, if possible.
"I'm her teaching assistant," Harry defended, feeling like losing more house points would be worth it if he could teach the Slytherin a lesson.
"You both are," interjected Madam Hooch in an aggravated tone of voice, turning away from the pupils to glare at Harry and Draco. "But believe be, if the two of you can't learn to behave yourselves, it will be a very short-lived post indeed."
"But –"
"No buts, Mr. Malfoy. Grow up or don't show up…either of you," she added reluctantly, giving Harry the impression that she was much more on his side than on Draco's. Draco shut his mouth tightly.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I know neither of you has ever taken the second year sports class, so I will quickly summarize. These students are in their second and final year of physical education at Hogwarts, and all of them know how to fly. I generally spend the year with physical conditioning and Quidditch practice, things I know both of you are familiar with." Harry grinned at the gray-haired teacher. "This is why my teaching assistants are always members of the house teams.
"Except for the first month, we will spend the last class of every month in a class Quidditch match. Although class time must be spent together, class teams may practice separately in their own time. As captains of your house teams, you both already have access to the supply shed.
"I expect you both to make every effort to help these children receive the best Quidditch education possible, and not to spend any time trying to hex one another. Should nothing else motivate you, I will remind you that teaching assistants receive an additional grade for the year based upon their participation and behavior." She flashed a grim smile. "I hope we manage to have a great year." Harry noticed Draco roll his eyes. Harry himself felt like laughing, but he wasn't sure Madam Hooch would consider such behavior appropriate.
"Now, for the remainder of today's class, we will refine our flying technique. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, and I will move around to each of you and make whatever corrections we feel necessary." Madam Hooch shot Draco one last, withering look and began to move amongst the students. Harry summoned his Firebolt and flew towards the Gryffindors, moving the placement of hands and giving encouraging tips.
He overheard Malfoy speaking to a Gryffindor. "Nice broom," he commented sarcastically, flying close to a pink-faced girl with scraggly, dark blonde hair. "What is that, a Comet 260?" Harry frowned at him. "I'm just saying what I felt was necessary," he provoked. "What are you going to do, tattle on me? Winge to Hooch? Or maybe to your mate Dumbledore?"
"Shut up, ferret," growled Harry as he flew off, relishing the way Draco's face noticeably paled.
He had no idea how he was going to make it through the year and come out still sane on the other side.
Reviews, anyone? What do you think? Any ideas for what I should do? (I have my own, but, you know, just in case)