A/N: Okay guys! This is like, my third attempt at Harry/Draco. I haven't posted the other two but I promise when I hit three chapters I'll post them! Let me know if you enjoy this so far. I really need to hear from you guys so I know whether to continue or just trash it. I'm not going to continue putting my soul into a work that is not enjoyed. If you have advice on how to make it better, I'll accept that too! I love you guys!
This chapter was beta'd by my lovely Blue Rhapsody3 :hugs:
Draco's hands drifted over tanned flesh, mapping out the familiar territory with his heated digits. Muscles clenched in response and deep sounds blossomed from the prone figure. His breath hitched when a hand drifted to one of his more sensitive spots. Despite himself he felt the familiar prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes.
His hand continued to wander, fingering the smooth surface only marred by red spots in various places. He watched in wonder as the small hairs of the plane rose into goose bumps.
Silver eyes shadowed over when a loud cry accompanied his touch. That was it, that was what he had been searching for. He touched that sot again, watching in veiled fascination as the figure's face scrunched up in unnamable emotions.
Of all of the features and reactions, he found the eyes the most captivating. The haunted emerald eyes flickered with various emotions as his hands pressed once more against that spot that provoked such a change in features.
"I do believe you are hurting him."
Draco snapped back to reality and focused his attention on the task at hand. He flashed one more searching glance toward his newest patient and turned to fix a threatening glare upon the one who'd broken his trance. "I do believe I am the doctor here, not you."
The one who'd (thankfully? He wasn't sure yet.) broken his staring was none other than the git's best friend. And by git he meant his patient, of course.
Blue eyes flashed angrily at emotionless silver orbs. "That may be so, Malfoy." He said the name like it was something fowl-tasting. "But I would think that such an accomplished Medi-wizard would know when his patient is howling in pain!"
Draco smirked at the irate redhead and suppressed one of his usual degrading comments. He was more mature than that, and plus, it pissed the redhead more when he was silent and smiling.
Ron shivered at the eerie look Draco was sending to him. After ten years of knowing Malfoy he still thought his smile had 'evil, conniving mass-murderer' written all over it. He narrowed his eyes then turned to his best friend who had, once again, found himself in the hospital ward of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry.
They had come to visit Hagrid when Harry had hurt himself. Ron remained (rather fiercely) that it was Harry's fault "he'd stepped on a box of blast-ended skrewts. Really, you'd think he would've learned from the last time..."
Malfoy was, in an ironic turn of events, the new medi-wizard of Hogwarts. Of course, when Ron heard this bit of news he'd guffawed about how 'unmanly' that line of work was. Predictably, Draco had not hesitated in delivering a blow to Ron in return. The argument ended in Ron getting a bloody nose and boils covering his body (which Hermione fixed) and Draco smirking all the while nursing a small bruise on his head (of which Harry had been elected to look over).
Harry now lay on the bed of the Medical Ward, silent and staring upwards. He didn't want to make eye-contact with the wizard treating him, mainly because of who the person was...
He hadn't wanted to come to Hogwarts at first, it just wasn't the same with Dumbledore absent. The castle held many memories for him and he found he didn't even want to relive the pleasant ones.
Voldemort was a subject untouched, as a rule, when it came to Harry Potter. Painful memories still haunted him in both the waking world and the dreaming world. He remained at Grimmauld Place and didn't work after school finished. He was dependant on dreamless sleep draught and become distant and seldom spoke.
Seeing Draco again had made him remember the good old days when all he cared about was a childish dispute over friendship and houses. Really, they wouldn't have been enemies if Draco wasn't such a snot-nosed, pig-headed twit with an overblown ego. That, and he had been a Slytherin, and a son of a death eater...
He really hadn't wanted to come, but he'd been called upon by Headmistress McGonagall. The tawny owl had flown through his window this very morning, carrying with it a very important-looking letter he couldn't ignore.
And now he lay in the Hospital ward with Draco poking and prodding and staring with those deep seas of grey...
"Is it a rule with you?" The wizard above him spat in a displeased and mocking tone. This comment pulled Harry's thoughts from the perfect features of the man above him and to the tone in which he had been spoken to.
"Huh?" Harry said rather stupidly. He still hadn't recovered from his day-dreaming.
Draco rolled his eyes and muttered a spell under his breath and the red marks lessened as did the pain. "Do you have a code or something that states you must go to the medical ward while at Hogwarts?"
Ron stepped up to defend his friend when a banging of the doors opening shifted their attention elsewhere.
The three of them turned toward the door, thoughts stopped, stares were broken, breaths slowed, and McGonagall walked through the door. She had changed since the dark lord had been defeated. She had been strict before, and now she seemed hard as a statue. Having to not only become Headmistress at the drop of a hat, she had also become the leader of the Order and thus, of the fight against Voldemort.
Her strides were swift and her heeled boots clicked audibly upon the gleaming white floor. Her eyes were as hard as her features had always been. Her hair was pulled back in its customary bun, and a black necklace hung from her thin neck. Her robes had remained black since Dumbledore's death, her own sign of mourning the loss of a comrade (and, if the rumors were correct, lover).
"Mr. Potter," her voice was the same as he remembered it. "When I sent for you, I hadn't meant for you to meet me in the Hospital ward, in young Malfoy's care." Her attempt at humor was nothing of the sort. None of them found the statement funny so they stared at the imperious Headmistress McGonagall with blank stares.
Malfoy stared from McGonagall to Potter in turn and noticed that the weasel was in a similar state of confusion as he. He also had the distinct feeling that their minds were wondering the same question. What did the Headmistress want with Harry Potter? And, he was pretty sure the muggle-lover was pondering upon why Harry had not told him of the summons.
McGonagall turned her steely eyes toward Malfoy's silver ones in question. "Is he stable?" Her hands were not visible as they were under her sleeves, held in front of her. She had grown thinner over the years, a sure sign of depression accompanied with old age.
"Yes Headmistress. As a matter of fact," he looked into Potter's green eyes and spoke to him directly. "He can leave right now."
Ron looked as if he was about to say something or argue with him but decided not to as his mouth snapped shut. His red eyebrows furrowed and he stared at Malfoy. Just because Malfoy had helped them by being a spy didn't mean he was suddenly his best friend. Harry did look fine though, fine enough from the way he was currently trying to find his shoes and only grimacing when he bent in half at the stomach.
Malfoy saw this evidently, "you should get that checked in a couple of days Potter." The voice still sounded the same, that sneering smirk was still in place, even if it was half-hearted. Malfoy thought he saw something flicker in McGonagall's eyes, something between the mirth and wily mischief that had once flashed continuously in the previous Headmaster's blue eyes.
Potter's only reaction to his comment was a narrowing of his eyes. He then proceeded in pushing his foot through his lost sneaker. "I'm ready Prof-," he stumbled over the word but did not bother to correct himself. He did not know why and he knew it was silly, but he couldn't say the words 'headmaster' or 'headmistress' without a panging in his heart. He fought the urge to narrow his eyes at Malfoy. He had never forgotten what Draco had done, but after years of 'getting over it' he decided that Malfoy had done his part in Dumbledore's (and thus, his own) cause.
Plus, Snape had been the one to utter the curse...
Snape had gotten what he deserved in the end. His death had been by the Avada Kedavra curse and he wondered how he'd have felt if he'd been the one to kill him. Harry didn't want to think of those things now. The point was McGonagall was requesting a meeting with himself on some matter that was too important to write to him about.
"If you will Potter," she spoke crisply. Then added to Ron, "I'm sure Ronald will understand." She raised her eyebrows at him and dropped them when Ron nodded in reluctant understanding. "Very well then," She placed a hand to his back and guided him through the door and down the familiar corridors to her office. The very one that had once been Dumbledore's.
It had changed a bit while under McGonagall's watchful eye. The interior was lit by torches and the trinkets that Dumbledore had kept were still there, whirring and shiny as ever. He found this comforting and noted disappointedly that the cabinet that had once held the pensieve was no longer present.
He sat in a leather chair opposite the Headmistress. He sent her a questioning gaze when she remained quiet and staring. "I will get straight to the point, Potter." She spoke with her usual clean, crisp tone. "I have called you here to offer you a job."
Harry did not display his shock openly but chose to keep his face an emotionless mask instead. After a few seconds of staring the woman across from him showed the first signs of weariness that she had not shown for years. "Please Potter," she interlocked her fingers together and rested her elbows upon the table. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts position has been opened once more."
Harry raised his eyebrows and leaned forward in the chair. "I thought Remus filled that position?" Lupin had indeed filled the position of dark arts teacher and had remained at the school for several years.
McGonagall sighed a loud and exhausted sigh. "He has resigned yet again; he feels that the children, and parents, still do not trust him. He has also said he wanted to do research on some subject or other." She dismissed the statement with a wave of her hand and shifted topics. "Potter, you have outstanding marks on your OWLS and NEWTS for D.A.D.A. and I would consider it a great favor that you do this for me, for the year at least."
Harry found himself astounded at the way Minerva McGonagall had changed within the span of three minutes. He could tell she was at the end of her stick and he couldn't suppress the feelings of sympathy bubbling up within him against his will. He fought with himself mentally, telling himself he wouldn't be able to deal with the memories contained in Hogwarts. Even the staff held people he knew, Professor Sprout had moved down from her position of Herbology teacher and in her place was Neville Longbottom. Hermione taught Muggle studies, Ginny showed up to teach Apparition to sixth years two months a year, and Draco was the Medi-wizard.
But, despite his mental battle against the offer, he found himself opening his mouth. "Sure, I'll teach this year."
Telling Ron what had happened in his meeting with McGonagall, whom he now had the right to call Minerva, was eventful. Ron had mixed reactions, first choosing to stare confusedly at him for a few seconds, second to laugh in his face, and third (his personal favorite) offer his undying sympathy. Telling Hermione (a.k.a. Mrs. Weasley #2) had warranted him a tight hug and a squeal of joy. Apparently he would like teaching and she would help him wherever he needed it.
At the feast he sat uneasily at the table the teachers sat at. The view of the dining hall was much different than when he had to crane his neck from the Gryffindor tables. He saw the line of first years being sorted and smiled reluctantly at Hermione when she beamed at him with excitement.
Minerva tapped on her glass as was customary with Headmasters(mistresses) and proceeded with the speech. She congratulated the reappearing students to another year and welcomed the incoming first years. After several announcements about what was now outlawed by Argus Filch (who, to Harry's severe disappointment, was still there) she reached the topic of teachers.
"Some of you will be sad to hear that Professor Lupin has resigned," many outraged whispers erupted with this statement. McGonagall didn't seem perturbed at all, she held up a hand to silence them. "In his place is Professor Harry J. Potter," she smiled slightly at the murmurs of awe that accompanied this.
Harry shrunk in his seat but was coaxed to stand up with Hermione's incessant poking. Applause accompanied his standing and he looked out toward the crowd. He was surprised that Slytherins were clapping but what nearly floored him was that Malfoy was clapping as well. The clapping itself wasn't what disturbed him, it was the fact that Malfoy was smirking rather...supportively. The kind of smile Hermione was now giving him except more subtle and less intense. He did a slight double-take, trying to make sure he'd seen what he'd thought he'd seen. The smirk was not on Malfoy's face and he wasn't clapping anymore. Harry sat down and waited out the rest of the speech so he could flee to his rooms.
A/N: I know its pretty short, but the next chapter's almost done and if I get enough reviews I might continue! Please tell me what you think! Be honest, but be nice about it too! Please and thank you!
Ja ne!
