Chapter 1
The Sky is Laced with Fitful Red
For many years, the Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been characterized by his vicious temper and intimidating presence. Severus Snape caused students to scurry frantically away with a single glance or even burst into distressed tears in his cavernous dungeon classroom. After his untimely death in the Second Wizarding War, the time came to fill the formidable shoes of the dreaded Potions Master. Although the late Professor Snape was afterwards venerated as a war hero, many still breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of a less vindictive replacement. Seldom has any glimmer of hope been so thoroughly and harshly extinguished as the day that the Headmistress informed Horace Slughorn that he could return to his comfortable retirement after maintaining his undesired post for nearly three years.
"And whom have you found to replace Severus once and for all, Minerva?" Professor Slughorn asked with unabashed curiosity.
"Draco Malfoy," Professor McGonagall replied soberly. Professor Slughorn lifted an eyebrow.
"Do you really think that wise? The Malfoy name isn't what it used to be."
"Be that as it may, he is one of the few qualified candidates who is interested in a long-term position."
"I see. Well, no doubt Severus would have been pleased to have his legacy continued by a Slytherin."
"No doubt."
"I don't envy him," Slughorn admitted. "Many parents won't take kindly to their children being taught by a former Death Eater."
"Mr. Malfoy became a Death Eater under extreme duress and fear. I trust that he can find a place for himself here at Hogwarts. Many an outcast has called this castle home," McGonagall reminded him.
/
While the Malfoy name had lost much of its luster since the end of the war, the Malfoy gold remained as plentiful as ever. The family still enjoyed fine clothes, fine furnishings, and fine food – even if their social lives had taken a drastic downturn. Narcissa rarely left the mansion, preferring to spend her days redecorating its many rooms or confined within its massive library. Lucius could only be glimpsed on a handful of occasions throughout the week, his time abroad eclipsing that which he spent in Britain.
Draco's appearances were even less frequent than his father's, although he remained within the walls of the manor. Over the years, the entire wing that housed Draco's bedroom had been transformed into a giant laboratory which he seldom ventured away from. His meals were delivered by the house-elves, who often struggled to find a place amongst the cauldrons and phials to set their perfectly polished trays. The many windows were always open to allow the escape of various fumes as well as admit the owls that delivered responses to Draco's numerous communications.
On occasion, Narcissa would drape herself across a large crimson couch against the far wall with a book. Sometimes she inquired as to what Draco was working on but more often than not she simply read in silence for several hours before leaving as unobtrusively as she came.
In the event that Lucius desired a family meal during one of his homecomings, Draco materialized in the dining room punctually and properly attired. They made small talk about Lucius' recent travels, Narcissa's latest interior endeavor, and Draco's reclusive experiments.
It was during just such a conversation that Draco announced his intentions to abandon his solitary existence in order to accept the position of Hogwarts Potions Master.
"A very odd choice, Draco, I must say, " Lucius drawled.
"I realize it must seem that way," Draco replied.
"You always seemed so content up there by yourself, darling," Narcissa added.
"Quite content, mother," he agreed. "But I have become restless."
"And you think going back to that castle where everyone will likely loathe the sight of you is going to soothe your agitation?" Lucius asked mildly.
"Professor McGonagall considers me the best person for the position," Draco informed him. "So clearly not everyone will loathe the sight of me."
"Indeed," the older man said flatly.
"You've never expressed any interest in teaching, Draco," his mother declared.
"I confess I've never had any particular interest," he replied. "But I am always eager for new experiences. I can't stay in this house indefinitely."
"I suppose," Narcissa nodded.
/
Draco spend the next day in Diagon Alley, restocking his own personal potions supplies at Slug & Jiggers, perusing textbooks at Flourish and Blotts, and purchasing new robes at Twilfitt and Tatting's. Although he encountered genuine enthusiasm from the sycophantic Tiberius Tatting, others who recognized him exhibited only shock or disgust.
It was common knowledge that Draco hardly ever left Malfoy Manor - every few months there was an article in the Daily Prophet about 'The Eccentric Draco Malfoy' and whatever recent paper he had published in The Pratical Potioneer courtesy of Rita Skeeter. His isolationist behavior was no secret, so his sudden appearance in Wizarding Britain's busiest shopping district warranted surprise indeed. However, many managed to stamp down their astonishment in favor of a sneer or scowl in his direction.
Having summoned a house-elf to relieve him of his many purchases, Draco now stood in front of Potage's Cauldron Shop. As he examined a silver self-stirring cauldron in the shop window, an enormous reflection appeared beside him.
"'Lo there, Mr. Malfoy," a gruff but familiar voice greeted. Draco looked up into the smiling and bushy-bearded face of Rubeus Hagrid.
"Um, hello Hagrid," he replied, utterly dumbfounded as to why this man was talking to him.
"Getting ready for school, eh?" the giant asked excitedly.
"Yes."
"Professor McGonagall told me you were taking up the position. 'Spect Slughorn will be glad to get the 'ell out of Hogwarts for good."
"I expect."
"Surprised it was you as took the job, though. I 'ear you don't get out much these days."
"No."
"Well no one can blame you tha'," Hagrid laughed. "I was just goin' to get a drink. Care to come along?"
"Um, alright?" Draco replied, unused to such civil behavior from the outside world.
They walked the short way to The Leaky Cauldron in silence and Draco followed Hagrid to a booth towards the back of the bar. Tom the barman came over with a mug of firewhisky and set it in front of Hagrid before turning to Draco.
"Same," Draco told him.
With their drinks in front of them, Draco waited for Hagrid to offer an explanation for his strange behavior.
"'Spose you're wonderin' why I'm not arborin' a grudge for a wha' a little git you were back at 'Ogwarts."
"Yes."
"Well, I never was much for tha' sort of thing. I reckon you di' a lot o' things you wish you 'adn't. But you've kept yourself locked away for a while now an' I reckon if you're ta'in this job you're rea'y to be forgiven. We can't live in the past forever," Hagrid told him. Draco took a drink but didn't respond. "Tha's alright. A lot o' people didn't care for me much a few years ago. But 'Ogwarts 'as a way of makin' people at home. People like us. Outsiders."
"Outsiders," Draco repeated.
"Ay. You'll be alrigh', Malfoy," Hagrid promised. He placed a coin on the table before lifting his large frame up and heading back towards the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Draco stared into his firewhisky for a long time before he apparated back to Malfoy Manor.
/
The week before fall term began, Draco prepared to leave for Hogsmeade early. His father had made himself conveniently scarce, having left for Bulgaria the previous afternoon. Narcissa floated into Draco's laboratory while he was packing his bookshelves.
"Why don't you let one of the house-elves do that for you, darling?" his mother asked.
"I prefer to organize them in my own way," Draco replied simply.
"Very well," she sighed, watching him shrink a large stack of books and levitate it into his trunk.
"Was there something else?" he asked without looking at her.
"I suppose not, Draco," Narcissa answered, hesitating slightly before turning and leaving the room.
Half an hour later, Draco examined the skeletal remains of his workspace to ensure he had not forgotten anything. Satisfied that he needed nothing more, Draco locked the door and Apparated outside of The Three Broomsticks.
The skinny brunette boy behind the bar looked at Draco suspiciously as he handed him his room key, gesturing vaguely towards the stairs at the other end of the pub. After confirming that his luggage had been sent ahead by the house-elves, Draco set out along the High Street.
Just as in Diagon Alley, Draco received frequent looks of both loathing and amazement from witches and wizards he passed. Years of practice made it easy for Draco to exude an air of indifferent confidence, allowing him to appear unruffled despite great internal discomfort. He went about his business like any other unconcerned Hogsmeade patron, spending nearly two hours popping in and out of shops he had not visited for many years.
"Will you be taking these with you or shall I have them delivered?" asked the tall redhead behind the counter at Gladrags.
"I'll take them," Draco responded, sliding the dark green dragon-hide gloves into the pocket of his robes.
"Have a nice day," the girl said with a smile. Draco raised an eyebrow at her, mentally assuming she had been living under a rock for the last several years since she clearly didn't know who he was.
"Thank you," he replied before sweeping out the door. As Draco started back towards The Three Broomsticks, a slow rain began to fall. By the time he reached his destination, the sky had completely opened up and Draco was soaked to the skin. He cast a drying spell on his clothes as he headed across the floor towards the stairs.
"Mr. Malfoy," a voice called from his right. Draco looked over to see the stern face and severe bun of Professor McGonagall.
"Professor," Draco said, "I wasn't expecting to see you."
"Nor I you, Mr. Malfoy. Term does not start for several days."
"I thought I'd just enjoy Hogsmeade until then."
"I see," she replied, gesturing to the chair across from her. Draco sat down and ran a hand through his hair, which was still wet from the rain. "Been doing a bit of shopping this afternoon?"
"Yes. I haven't been here for sometime," Draco confessed.
"You've been keeping to yourself. But apparently teaching a bunch of 'dunderheads' was tempting enough to lure you out," she said with a small smirk. The corners of Draco's lips twitched in response to her use of Professor Snape's favorite insult.
"A change was lure enough."
"But surely you've enjoyed committing yourself to research for so long? Your work has been most impressive."
"I have. And I plan to continue my research - with less intensity."
"Hogwarts is lucky to have such an accomplished addition to the staff. Though I think you will find it much changed from the last time you were here."
"For the better, I expect."
"I certainly believe so," Professor McGonagall replied. "The animosity that thrived so strongly is much diminished. But I'm afraid Slytherins will always be Slytherins."
"Indeed," Draco agreed.
"Have you made your decision concerning the Head of House position?"
"It will be an unfamiliar role for me, but I will accept it should you still wish it."
"I am very glad to hear it. Professor Vector will be inappropriately relieved - she has no taste for the position. The ability to relate to students was never one of her talents."
"Neither is it one of mine," Draco reminded her. Professor McGonagall took a sip from her wine glass.
"I have faith that it will be good for you," she stated plainly, "A learning experience."
"Do you suppose that Professor Snape found it so?" he asked wryly.
"Not at all. Perhaps you will do better."
"Perhaps."
"Well, I must return to the castle. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Malfoy. I will see you very soon," Professor McGonagall said, leaving a few coins on the table before getting up and heading for the door. Draco looked after her, wondering why she and Hagrid had made such an effort to engage him in friendly conversation and be polite. He assumed that he had only been hired because he was the most qualified for the position and quite possibly the only one who had been willing to accept it. Professor Slughorn had been anxious to abandon his post ever since he had been obligated to take it, so Draco was surely a last resort.
As he lay in bed that night, Draco allowed himself to experience a miniscule glimmer of hope. There was a chance that someday, far in the future, that he could be known as something more than a Death Eater, a traitor, incapable of any redemption for the mistakes he had made as a weak, scared child.