Writers Notes:
This is just a little AU scenario I dreamed up. Yes, it's Dumbledore/Draco. Yes, it has explicit content. Yes, I have a kink for older men... #sorrynotsorry!
Explicit sexual content. Teacher/Student relationship. Age gap relationship. Bad language. Mild school yard violence. Some angst. Some humour.
It's not too angsty and emotional, because they are not my OTP, just a naughty little diversion...
I'm going to upload one chapter per day for the next 9 days.
Enjoy! x
1. Difficult Pupils.
Albus Dumbledore sighed deeply. He often did that. He observed the students hurrying about the school at lesson change over, from his vantage point above the court yard. They were all so different, each and every one of them. Hundreds and hundreds of individual people with their own complex emotions. It was a huge responsibility, looking after all of them. Being the head teacher, the pastoral figure above all of these young people.
You had to be careful not to get too emotionally involved, of course, because that would probably kill you. But you care. Of course you care. And you hope they will come to you if they need support. You flatter yourself that they will trust you, look up to you, turn to you for advice and tell your their secrets. Then you will be able to advise them against doing all the things that you did when you were their age. Because as a responsible adult, a teacher no less, this is what you must do.
Sometimes it's easy. Some of them warm to you, they come to you all the time. They want your attention, they talk to you. They are likeable, amiable, relatable. You can empathise with them easily. Nice, decent young people. Like Harry Potter. The poor orphaned boy. His parents died in the war, defeating the dark lord, freeing the wizarding world from evil and oppression. Albus had always liked Harry. He had liked his parents too, they were good people. Albus looked out for Harry in a paternal way, even though Harry had Sirius, his god father, to take care of him. Harry had always liked Dumbledore too. He came to him for advice, talked to him, looked up to him, the way teachers hope their students will. Harry was an absolute pleasure, to teach, to talk to... If only they were all like that. And in truth, many of them were. There were lots of good ones: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, Hannah Abbot, Neville Longbottom... There were many lovely students. Then there was Draco Malfoy.
They say no one is born bad, and you really want to believe that, but then you meet a child like Draco Malfoy. Of course if you've also met his father, it sort of puts it in context, so you try to be sympathetic. You try your best. But by the Gods, he's a little horror. Some of them are bound to hard to reach, you learn to accept that, but Draco Malfoy is downright impossible. However, you believe in the goodness in all people, so you tell yourself the boy just needs help. A nice person is buried within... Deep within. The question is, how do you reach out to those difficult pupils?
Albus sighed again as he watched the tall, blond boy elbow two first year Ravenclaw students out of his way as he crossed the court yard. He could easily have walked around them, Albus thought. Draco lashed out at everyone, whether or not they had done anything to wrong him. The boy was permanently poised to attack. Attack. The best form of defence, perhaps? Albus mused. Had Draco's bullying father caused him to always be defensive? No matter how he rationalised it, he couldn't excuse Draco's poor behaviour. He would have to speak to him. Shoving someone out of the way might not be a major crime, in and of itself, but it was the underlying attitude that was the real concern.
Draco's next class was History of Magic and Albus knew he could easily cut back along the corridor and apprehend the boy as he arrived. He hurried down the stairs and sure enough, was at the classroom door in time to see Draco approach with his usual conceited swagger. The boy hadn't noticed him and headed directly to the classroom door, shooting a nasty look at the group of Gryffindors who had arrived at the same time.
'Draco Malfoy...' Dumbledore's rich, deep voice rang through the corridor. Many of the students jumped.
Draco stopped in his tracks and sighed. He paused for a second before turning round. He then proceeded to approach the headmaster in the same casual manner in which he had strutted down the corridor.
'What is it... professor?' Draco pouted crossly. He left a deliberate gap before the word 'professor' to give the impression he was not going to say it at all.
'I would like to have a quiet word with you, Draco. That is all.' Dumbledore said calmly.
Draco sighed huffily.
'What have I done now?' He asked rudely. Students nearby were listening.
'What makes you think that you have 'done' anything?' Dumbledore asked him.
'Errr... Because you are talking to me?' Draco retorted. 'I can count on one hand the times you've ever spoken directly to me, professor. And every single one of them was because you thought I'd done something wrong.'
This was neither fair nor accurate, Dumbledore thought, but it was cutting none the less. If he had ever chastised Draco it had certainly been deserved. Draco could hardly argue that he was unfairly persecuted, although Albus rather suspected that he might. Had he really never spoken to Draco other than to admonish him? That would be very poor form indeed.
'If ever I have challenged you for poor behaviour, it has always been because you have displayed it.' Dumbledore said fairly.
'Bullshit!' Snapped Draco. Several students jaws fell open. Even Dumbledore was taken aback. 'You hated me from the moment the sorting hat was put on my head and it shouted 'Slytherin'.' Draco continued. 'So why don't you just tell me what I have done wrong, decide on my punishment and let me get on with my day?'
This discourse, unsurprisingly, had attracted quite an audience. Years of teaching had taught Albus that if there was one thing that would make a bad pupil act up, it was having an audience. Calmly, he took hold of Draco's arm and guided him a few paces down the corridor, away from the disappointed onlookers who were being summoned into class.
'Take your hands off me!' Draco hissed, although he didn't flinch or try to pull away, if anything he moved closer.
Dumbledore stopped and rested his hand on Draco's shoulder.
'There really is no need to be so defensive, Draco.' He began. 'I don't hate you. I don't hate any of my students. I saw you push past two younger pupils earlier, and I wanted to talk to you about that.'
'So, basically, I am in trouble then?' Draco replied.
'It concerns me greatly that you behave so aggressively all the time, Draco. Your rudeness when you speak to me is simply another example of it. I feel that something may be troubling you, and I would very much like to help you if I can.' Dumbledore said kindly. It was a long shot, but sometimes you can catch a naughty student off guard with this kind of talk.
Draco stiffened and straightened up. It had caught him off guard. He was silent for a second. He looked quite shaken. His eyes glistened, as if maybe he was going to cry. That had not been Dumbledore's intention at all. Draco looked down at the floor.
With a feather light touch, Dumbledore gently lifted Draco's chin. Draco's eyes were wide and shining. He frowned, confused by this kind gesture. He had been expecting to be told off.
'Are you alright, Draco?' Dumbledore asked softly.
His words seemed to jar Draco out of his trance-like state.
'I'm fine.' He snapped, jerking his head away from Dumbledore's hand. 'Are you going to give me detention or not?'
'I'm not.' Dumbledore said kindly. 'Not on this occasion. I will simply inform you that I will be in my office until 9pm this evening. If you felt that you wanted to come and speak to me, perhaps to apologise for your rudeness, or simply to talk to me, you may do so.'
Draco scowled.
'Whatever. Can I go to class now?'
'You may.' Dumbledore replied.
Draco left without another word and he did not look back.
Dumbledore walked slowly away. He had learnt three things from that little encounter. Firstly, Draco thought that he hated him. Secondly, Draco did not know how to respond to kindness. Thirdly, Draco's skin was as soft as velvet.
Draco slunk into class and slouched down in his chair. This particular class was usually a good time for a nap, but today Draco's mind was working overtime. That brief encounter had given him plenty to think about. Dumbledore had just been very kind to him.
Draco had noticed three unexpected things from their exchange. Firstly, Dumbledore had chosen not to punish him. Secondly, Dumbledore had a surprisingly strong grip. Thirdly, Dumbledore's touch had sent shivers through him.
He hadn't anticipated that, not at all. Draco frowned. Was Dumbledore attractive? He was old, certainly, but there was something about him. He was powerful, and he could be gentle. Draco's mind wondered. What would it be like to kiss him...?
This was really wrong, Draco told himself, which only made him want to think about it all the more. As far as student/teacher crushes went, this one was about as odd as you could get, Draco thought to himself. However, whatever it was he had felt when Dumbledore touched his face, he wanted more of it. Lots more. Draco smiled a devious smile. This would not be easy, but he liked a challenge.
Draco stared at his reflection in the mirror in the Slytherin dormitory bathroom. He tilted his head from one side to the other, pleased with his profile. His skin was immaculate and his hair freshly washed. He sprayed himself liberally with scent. He applied a subtle lip gloss and pouted at the glass, practicing his game face.
He had done his research too. From the pocket of his trousers he pulled a folded piece of paper. He straightened it out and looked at the photograph of Gellert Grindlewald.
Grindlewald was very handsome Draco thought. But so was he, and they weren't dissimilar. Grindlewald's hair was more of a rich, honey colour than Draco's striking white blond. However, he had the same type of bone structure. Defined cheekbones and a clean jaw line. Large eyes and long lashes. Draco applied the lash lengthening charm he had so often seen his mother perform. The young Grindlewald had worn his hair a little longer than Draco's. It fell right to his shoulders. Draco usually scraped his own hair back with gel, but if he didn't, it fell almost to his chin. This evening, he left it down, combing it so it fell softly around his face, framing his delicate features. He smiled and wondered why he hadn't worn it like this before.
Crabbe's voice came suddenly through the door.
'What the fuck are you doing in there, Malfoy?'
'Your mum!' Draco shouted back crossly.
'Get the fuck out!' Crabbe replied, not rising to Draco's comment. 'People are waiting you know!'
Draco took a last glance at himself. Yes, he was pretty perfect! He opened the door and pushed past Crabbe who was right outside.
Crabbe stared at Draco's new hairstyle and laughed.
'Sorry sweetheart!' He drawled. 'But shouldn't you be in the girls dorm?'
'Shouldn't you be in the great lake with the rest of the pond life?' Draco retorted sharply.
'What have you done with your hair, Malfoy, you look a right ponce!' Crabbe said.
'I've washed it and brushed it.' Draco said. 'Basic personal grooming activities, you might like to try them some time.'
'Whatever.' Crabbe barked. 'You look like a rent boy, that's all.'
'Shame no one in the dump could afford me!' Draco replied as he chose a black scarf to wrap around his neck.
'Take it you've got a date?' Crabbe asked.
'Yes.' Said Draco. 'Only the other person doesn't know it's a date yet.'
Crabbe laughed.
'Good luck then!' He said.
'I don't need luck, I'm irresistible.' Draco answered as he strutted out of the dormitory.
Albus hadn't expected a visitor. In truth he had almost forgotten the conversation with Draco Malfoy that had taken place that morning. So many things happened in a day, even a quiet day, he often found he made appointments he forgot and promises he couldn't keep. He would have worried it was his age, only he remembered clearly that this had been happening ever since he started teaching. It wasn't an age thing. It was a result of constantly spreading yourself too thinly and making far too many demands of yourself.
He sat comfortably by the fire in his office, indulging himself by smoking a pipe of his favourite sandalwood tobacco, a treat he occasionally allowed himself. The rich, heady aroma filled the air. He had been working all evening, drafting out midterm reports for the new cohort of first years. They had been in school only 6 weeks. He had hardly seen them, some he had never even spoken to. Yet he was expected to find a pertinent, personal comment to make about each one of them. Something that would reassure the parents that they were settling in. Or something that would flag up any potential issues, to make sure he covered his staff in the event of any child performing poorly in the end of year exams. At least being the headmaster meant he could carry out this task in the luxury of his own office. Not like when he had first started teaching and had to try to commandeer a quiet corner of the staffroom for marking pupils work. He had a lovely office, and he was thankful for it every day. It had a roaring fire and a comfortable sofa, allowing him to be hospitable whenever he had visitors.
The knock at the door came as a surprise. The surprise redoubled when, after he shouted 'Enter!', the tall, slender figure of Draco Malfoy crept nervously into the room.
'Mr Malfoy.' Dumbledore said, their conversation coming back into his mind. 'This is an unexpected pleasure.'
Draco pouted crossly. He had prepped himself on the way up to the office. He had to be careful not to act too differently at first because he could end up giving the game away.
'You told me to come and see you.' He said defensively.
'I invited you to come and see me.' Dumbledore corrected him. 'I am very pleased that you have. Do sit down, Draco.' He gestured to the couch.
Draco sat down, at the far end of the sofa. It was not convenient. Dumbledore was sitting in a chair and he was being told to sit on this sofa. That would be challenging. He would sit at the far end and be difficult. That way, Dumbledore might come and join him on the sofa in an attempt to bring him round.
'I'm not sorry for what I said to you.' Draco informed him, folding his arms and looking away.
Dumbledore almost missed the comment, so fascinated as he was by simply looking at Draco. He couldn't recall ever seeing Draco out of his school uniform and in his casual clothes before. It was interesting. Dumbledore supposed it was hardly surprising that he was well dressed. He may have been starved of love and kindness, but he had never wanted for material possessions. His clothes were a stylish mix of traditional and contemporary wizarding garments. He would never wear muggle clothes, of course. He wore black trousers and a black top which was a cross between a shirt and a traditional robe. It fell a few inches above his knees at the front and slightly longer at the back, making it look pretty and flowing. The sleeves, he rolled up to above the elbow. A fitted waistcoat gave the outfit shape and definition, showing off his slim build and a black silky scarf hung casually around his neck. He wore his hair down too and it was alarmingly becoming! Perhaps he only slicked it back for school, for convenience.
Dumbledore shook himself. He was staring. And he had not responded to what Draco had said.
'You are not sorry?' He repeated. 'If you have not come to apologise then you must have come to talk to me.' He smiled.
'What do you want me to talk about?' Draco asked, still looking away.
'Oh, I don't know, Draco.' Dumbledore said. 'I have been thinking about what you said to me earlier and it occurs to me that you may have had a point.'
'About you hating me?' Draco asked, giving him a reproachful glance.
'No. Not about that part.' Dumbledore replied, standing up and coming to sit on the sofa. It would help to make the conversation feel friendly, he thought. 'About the very small number of conversations I have had with you since you came to school here.'
'Because you hate me.' Draco prompted.
'No.' Dumbledore sighed. This was going to be hard work. 'Because there are a great many students in this school, and you have never shown any desire to have me speak to you.'
'I've come here tonight haven't I?' Draco answered, turning to look at him.
'Yes, you have.' Dumbledore smiled. 'I thought perhaps I should make the effort to get to know you better.'
'Don't go to any trouble!' Draco snapped sarcastically. 'I'm sure I'm just as horrible as you are imagining.'
Dumbledore leant nearer and rested his hand lightly on Draco's exposed forearm.
There were those shivers again, Draco noticed instantly.
'I don't imagine you are horrible, at all.' Dumbledore said gently. 'You are very angry a lot of the time though, which saddened me somewhat. I do not like to think of my students being so unhappy in my school.'
'You can't possibly worry about all of them!' Draco gave a dejected laugh. 'So what am I? The latest project?'
Draco tried to sound so angry but Dumbledore remembered the look of sadness in Draco's eyes that morning, and his bewilderment when he was shown kindness. He needed to find a way through the boys defences. Here was a child with absolutely no faith in humanity. No concept that anyone could like him or want to show him any kindness. Something had to be done to change that.
'You are a young man who I should have made a greater effort to form a friendship with from the start.' Dumbledore answered, moving a little closer.
'Why?' Draco asked suspiciously.
'Because you are very intelligent, quick witted, if not always kind with it...' Dumbledore began. 'You are very defensive, Draco but I am keen to get to know the person behind all that.'
Draco frowned, silenced by the compliments for a moment.
'What would you like to know about me?' He asked at last.
This caught Dumbledore off guard and he struggled for a moment to think of a question that wasn't "what scent are you wearing" or "is your hair really as soft as it looks"?
'What sort of things do you like to do?' He asked, having collected his thoughts. 'Hobbies, interests...?'
'I like spending money.' Draco replied. 'I like expensive things and showing them off to other people who don't have them.' He upped his game a little. 'I like teasing Hufflepuffs and winding up Gryffindors. I like learning about dark magic and I like being the best at things.' He concluded with a spiteful grin.
This little speech shouldn't have been endearing, but somehow it was. It was so childish. Draco was trying to be difficult on purpose. Dumbledore smiled.
'Do you really...?' He asked. 'So, what is it you plan to do when you leave school, in between spending money and teasing people, or course?'
'I didn't come here so you could make fun of me!' Draco snapped and turned away sharply.
Dumbledore rested a supportive hand on Draco's shoulder.
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you, Draco. But I can't help but feel you didn't give me a sensible answer.'
Draco turned back round to face him. They were close now. Closer than perhaps was appropriate, Dumbledore thought, given that now he couldn't take his eyes off Draco's full, glossy pink lips.
'I don't know what I like.' Draco said. 'I like being at school because it's better than being at home. I like learning things because it's useful to know as much as you can. I like reading and I like walking around in the grounds by myself. And I like it when...' He stopped suddenly.
'When what?' Dumbledore asked. This was more like it. Draco had just admitted he liked being at school more than home. Now they were getting somewhere!
'I like it when you're nice to me.' Draco said very simply.
Dumbledore was staggered. He frowned in a concerned way as Draco looked back at him with clear, steady, grey eyes.
'When I am nice to you?' He echoed, trying to understand what this meant.
Draco nodded.
'When you're nice to me, like you were this morning when you touched my face. And just now, when you stroked my arm.' Draco smiled shyly.
Albus felt his heart rate rise, and he began to panic. Both of these instances involved him touching Draco. He hadn't really realised he had done it, which might actually make it worse, not better. But Draco had noticed and had added the experience to his rather short list of things that he liked.
Dumbledore drew back from Draco a little.
'I am sorry, Draco. It was probably wrong of me to have touched you. I am not in the habit of seeking out physical contact with my students. I would not want you to think this were the case.'
Draco looked sad and a little crestfallen.
'But I liked it.' He almost whispered in a very mournful tone. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it, should I? It's just, it felt kind, that's all.'
This was rather heartbreaking, Albus had to admit. Draco sounded so forlorn and vulnerable and his intentions in mentioning it seemed so innocent. Dumbledore rested his hand lightly on Draco's, to reassure him.
'You haven't done anything wrong.' He soothed. 'There is nothing wrong with wanting to be shown kindness. Perhaps a good way to start is if you try to show it to others a little more often?' He was pleased. There seemed to have been a breakthrough and the conversation had turned a corner. Hopefully Draco would not fly of the handle at this suggestion.
'OK.' Draco said with a smile. 'I will try, professor.'
With that, Draco lent in towards Dumbledore. He locked his eyes with him for a second before his fluttered shut and he closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together.
Draco's kiss was chaste. As chaste as a kiss on the lips can be. It lasted no more than three seconds. Draco did not open his mouth, he did not use his tongue. He simply pressed their lips together affectionately and then pulled away.
He stood up.
'I'm going to go now.' He said decidedly. 'Good night professor.' He turned and walked away.
'Good night Draco.' Dumbledore somehow managed to utter though his shock. What on earth had just happened?
