Harry was waiting. Lurking really. In an abandoned classroom with the door slightly ajar, two green eyes could barely be seen peering through the crack of the door. It was a Friday afternoon and his classes were done for the day. And he was waiting for his dinner companion.

Although after this, he may be eating alone.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he waited, and then widened along with his smile. It was starting.

A rumble of noises was coming from the room across the hall, along with a thin stream of smoke. Suddenly, a stream of students came pouring out of the room, laughing and chattering away. Behind them came more smoke. And then, a man in robes came out, except oddly the man had a tea kettle instead of a head. Steam and smoke were pouring out of the spout where an ear should be.

"Potter." The tea kettle man tried to yell but it came out more as bubbles. "POTTER!" Hot water spilled out of his spout.

Harry chuckled and threw his invisibility cloak on so he could sneak around the transfigured man. He ran from the hall and towards the Great Hall, ripping his cloak off as he got closer. He slowed down to a walk and smoothed his hair down. Calmly, he walked to his spot at the head table, pretending he had no idea something was amiss.

A student was whispering to the Headmaster, who gave Harry a knowing look before standing up and leaving the room. Harry sat and began to serve himself some food, a smirk on his face.

It took about ten minutes before the Hall door opened and a frazzled looking man entered. Draco looked like a drowned rat. His hair was wet and plastered to his head and his robes were leaving a trail of water as he made his way to the head table.

Harry expected an explosion worse than a Howler, but Draco just sat down and began to serve himself. He was obviously avoiding Harry's eye.

Harry smiled wide before steeling himself. Calmly he passed the tea kettle to Draco, "Tea, Malfoy?"

Draco's face went white with rage. And then Harry found himself on the ground with a wild blonde attacking him. "Fucking Potter." More punches. "Tea kettle." A knee to the groin. "Hot."

Harry had his arms up blocking his face, trying to defend himself but laughing more than anything. Draco could do a lot of damage if he wanted, but he wasn't. Harry let him get his frustration out before pushing the man off him, who rolled to his back on the floor next to him.

It was an interesting sight. Students and teachers alike surrounded the two men, who were laying side by side breathing heavily.

"You made a pretty piece of china." Harry said casually.

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep." Draco answered, just as casually.

"I'll just haunt your classroom."

Draco snorted and stood up, ignoring the stunned silence from the people around him. He sat back down and began to eat. Harry joined him moments later.

Draco eyed the tea kettle and quickly pushed it out of sight. This set Harry off again, who banged the table with his fist with each laugh.


It was a bright and sunny morning. The sky was littered with little puffy white clouds and the sun was hovering at the tree line. A slight breeze cooled off what was sure to be a hot day. Harry was busy setting up for his first year Slytherins, who were practicing flying that day. A large trunk lay on the ground of the Quidditch pitch, where the old practice brooms were kept. Harry opened the trunk and began to place them evenly in two lines on the ground.

Four years ago, Harry had started out as the flying instructor. Madam Hooch had decided to retire and who was better for the job than the youngest seeker of his generation. And Harry had even travelled with a professional Quidditch team for a season after he graduated, not knowing what he wanted to do with his life just yet. Harry wasn't sure exactly whose idea it was to hire him, because it didn't seem like a Snape move. But when the Defense Against the Dark Arts position had opened up just months after he started, it was the Headmaster that approached him. So there he was, just barely 20 and now in charge of two groups of students.

But Harry never regretted his choice.

Flying was his favorite class to teach. He got to introduce new students to the love of flying. Although most of the students had been flying since they were babies, it was a different feeling doing it at Hogwarts.

Harry snapped the lid of the trunk closed and moved it further away from the brooms. He lay his own professional broom on top of the trunk. He was tempted to use the last few minutes before his class showed up to fly around the pitch, but he couldn't promise he would come back down in time. Instead he lay in the grass and looked up at the sky.

Some would think his life was boring and monotonous. He taught the same things every day and was surrounded by the same people. Harry had friends outside of Hogwarts of course. He still spoke to Hermione and Ron frequently. But they all had busy lives and rarely found time to hang out. But Harry felt care free and content. He liked the consistency. And when things became a little too stale, he had the blonde ferret to liven things up. There were very few things Harry would change about his current situation.

Harry was brought out of his musings by the sound of tiny children feet coming towards him. It still amazed him how small the first years were. He sat up and turned around towards the children, crossing his legs beneath him. "Hey there!" He was always cheerful with the children. He thought it made a difference.

The children exchanged weary looks, not accustomed to their professors sitting in the grass in front of them.

Harry waved them over and patted the ground, "Come come! Sit sit!" And then children obeyed, sitting in a semi-circle in front of the man. "Welcome to your first flying lesson! Not that I'm biased or anything but this will probably be the most fun you'll have in a class."

"Now, I know most of you know things about flying, but I don't want to single anyone out who didn't get that chance growing up. So we will learn it all. First and foremost, this is the Quidditch pitch. Each house has their own team and this is where they practice and play games. You'll become familiar with this area as the Quidditch season begins."

Harry stood up, "But flying is not just for Quidditch." He walked towards the brooms. "It is a form of transportation, although most Witches and Wizards use apparation as their preferred method. Now come on over and pick a broom. Your choice, but they are mostly all the same."

Harry watched as the student obediently followed his orders. "No, don't pick them up." A couple of them had stooped down to pick up their brooms. They quickly released them. Harry smiled encouragingly. "These brooms feel your energy and magic, they will respond to you. Be confident in your ability to handle them. Now put your dominant hand over the broom and clearly say 'Up!'" And just as he remembered with his own experience, some of the students had trouble with it. Some of the Slytherins had obviously done this before, as they stood there with brooms in their hands. Others were trying to whisper the word and nothing was happening.

"Be clear and confident. No need to yell the word, but do put some force behind it."

Harry watched patiently as they continued to try. Some of the students were groaning and whining, but Harry gave them a quick silencing look. He nodded with a smile towards those that still had yet to accomplish the first task.

Once all the students had their brooms in hand, Harry beamed in delight. "Yes! Exactly. Congratulations, you are on the path to flying!"

Harry turned to get his own broom and faced his class. He lay it down on the ground and followed his own rules to show them how it worked. The feeling of his broom in his hand was his favorite feeling. "Once you have your broom in hand, it is time to straddle the broom like so." He put his leg over the broom. "Now grip the handle in …." But he was rudely interrupted by his own broom rising off the ground.

It was weird, as Harry definitely hadn't meant to do that. He rose higher, the broom not responding to him at all as he tried to lower himself. Instead, it began to buck wildly. Harry held on and wrapped his legs around the handle. He began to roll as the broom raced towards the stands. Harry tried to pull back on the broom. He tried to lean forward. He tried to do any and everything. Instead, the broom rose higher, bucking and swinging around as if it wanted to knock Harry off. Harry had deja-vu, feeling as if he was 12 again. But this time, he didn't think Dobby was the one behind this.

And then all at once, it stopped. Which would have been great, except now he was falling.

Harry scrambled for his wand while trying to keep hold of the broom, hoping it would come back to life and listen to him. But the ground was approaching much faster than he could grab his wand and with a loud boom, Harry became close friends with the ground.

There were definitely stars and maybe some birds flying around him. He tried to move his arm to swat them away but it didn't particularly want to move. He tried to roll over, but his legs didn't want to move either. Either his body parts were being lazy or there was something seriously wrong with him. "Don't move, Professor Potter!" A high pitched, scared voice exclaimed, "We'll find some help." Harry thought that was a marvelous idea and then passed out.

When he woke up next, he recognized the smell first. Clean. Sterile. The hospital wing came into view as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights. Harry had managed to stay out of this part of Hogwarts for a long time, but he should have known it wouldn't last.

"Couldn't even handle your broom, Potter? What kind of professional are you?"

"I would strangle you, but I think I would hurt myself more than you," Harry groaned in response. He turned his head and saw his blonde friend sitting next to him. Despite the sarcasm in his words, Harry saw the worry in his eyes. "I forgot how good you were at charms."

Draco smiled, relief spreading over his face, "In my defense, it was just supposed to scare you."

"I was definitely scared." Harry rose his head and looked down at his body, he saw some scrapes and bruises. He tried to raise his arms, and thankfully they obeyed with only a little bit of pain. He wiggled his toes as well. "What was the damage?"

"A broken ankle, two broken ribs, and you're lucky that was all, boys!" Madam Pomfrey had her stern lecture voice on.

Harry smiled at the witch, "Hey there, Poppy!"

"Don't you 'Hey there' me, Harry Potter! Your foolish pranks have once again put your life in danger."

"My prank just involved hot water and a tea kettle, this was all him." Harry retorted, tilting his head towards his companion.

Draco looked down sheepishly.

"Oh I'm well aware on who is to blame. You're lucky you're not children, otherwise you would be in detention." The Matron huffed as she messed with the potions Harry hadn't noticed on the bedside table. "Take this," she said as she shoved a small vial into his hands. Harry obediently drank it. Warmth came over him and the pain he felt was instantly lessened. Magic. He loved it.

"Cheers." He said to the witch with a smile. Draco chuckled. Madam Pomfrey glared at the men as she pulled the curtains shut around them.

A thought occurred to Harry, "Can Poppy even give students detention?" Draco's laugh echoed throughout the empty room.