"… YOU BETTER KEEP YOUR BAGS PACKED, POTTER, BECAUSE IF YOU THINK I'M GOING TO SIT BY AND LET YOU AND THAT MALFOY SCUM POISON THE MINDS OF OUR CHILDREN, THEN YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING!"
Harry just stared as the parchment – that had been flapping in his face and screaming abuse for the past minute – curled up on itself and burst into flame.
He'd just had a howler… His first one ever. He'd known there would be backlash, once The Prophet published the story on the new Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers… but really? A Howler? It seemed so… childish.
Kreacher tutted as the ash floated down onto the table. "I waxed that today." He grumbled, climbing up on to a chair to wipe the fine grit away.
"Sorry, Kreach." Harry pushed his plate away. "I'll, uh, try not to get any more?"
Kreacher chuckled his desiccated chuckle as he dusted away the grime. "You're lucky it didn't explode, sir. It came with the morning owl."
"Damn." Harry shook his head. "Wonder if Hermione's gotten any."
Kreacher nodded his wrinkled old head and climbed back down to the floor. "I imagine Mr Malfoy is receiving the lions share, however."
Ah, of course. Actually… Harry checked his watch. Damn, he was going to be late. "Talking about Malfoy, I gotta run." He pushed his chair back and stood up.
He'd seen Draco twice since that first strange meeting, both times at Grimmauld Place, both times unremarkable. Draco never wavered from his wry, efficient, unflappable self, no matter how much he drank or how much Harry teased him. Malfoy, always impeccably dressed in well-tailored suits, countered every one of Harry's stupid comments with a dry remark, or a raised eyebrow.
Harry was, if he was going to be honest, quite intrigued to see if his old nemesis would be any more animated on his home turf… and to see if he ever wore anything but suits.
He dragged his phone from his pocket, opened his chat log with Malfoy to check the address and study the photo one last time (it was brilliant working with a wizard who also used technology… it made coordinating things so much easier) and closed his eyes, spinning on the spot to disapparate with a crack.
Ugh. He hated the feeling of apparating. The squeezing, and how it felt like his eardrums were being pushed in. Even once he appeared (with another crack) at the end of a deserted hallway, two steps away from Draco's apartment door, that awful pressure in his ears didn't ease.
He swallowed, trying to dislodge the sensation, before he knocked on the door.
Nothing.
Strange. Draco didn't seem like the type to just not show up, but he couldn't hear any footsteps approaching the door, he couldn't hear anything coming from inside the apartment at all…
It took a good three seconds before he realised what was going on.
It was a silencing charm. A strong one. That was why his ears still felt clogged, when normally they cleared straight away.
He huffed. A charm this strong would mean that, while Harry couldn't hear anything happening inside the flat, Draco wouldn't be able to hear him knocking. Brilliant.
He was just shoving his hand into his pocket to grab his phone again, when a flash of red light shone beneath the door. If he hadn't been looking straight at it, he would have missed it… but he knew a magical blast when he saw one.
His wand was in his hand before he had time to think. He grasped the door handle in the other and had alohomora click the lock open to burst into Malfoy's apartment.
DEATHSCUMGETYOUFINDEATERDAREPOTTERTHINKCURSEFRIENDSKILLEDFATHERDUMBLEDOREHOGWARTSWILLSNAPEDISGRACEYOUVOLDEMORTWARBLOODMUGGLEKILLEDCRUCIATUSFATHERONYOURSLEEPHANDSDIEDWANDHARRYGRAVESAROUNDSAVEDIMPERIUSLOSTDAUGHTERBATTLEMINERVAMALFOYTHROATMURDERER
Noise assaulted Harry as soon as he broke through the barrier of the silencing charm, stopping him in his tracks. The room was full of furious, angry screaming, a cacophony of rage that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and threatened to deafen him if he didn't do something about it.
Inauritus. He waved his wand at his own head, shuddered in relief at the blessed silence that plugged his ears, and cast his eyes around the room to take stock of the situation.
He was standing in an open plan apartment, all very modern, and sitting sideways at a desk against one wall, was Draco – in a suit – his chin propped in one hand, one eyebrow raised, and a dozen howlers rushing around his head.
He looked almost… bored. He definitely looked resigned. As Harry watched, standing there like a complete plonker with his wand drawn, Draco lifted his chin from his palm, and Harry's eyes followed the motion.
Draco's long, thin fingers were graceful, his wrist bending to fold his hand forward as his neck twisted to regard a clock on the wall. He then raised his eyes to the flailing howlers (even as one of them burst into flame), and gestured again, his expression clearly conveying that bored resignation. Well, what can you do?
Harry gawked. Again, Draco was making him feel like a stupid kid. Harry had been flustered by one stupid howler… and here Malfoy was surrounded by the things, and he was completely calm.
He stood, his pale hand gesturing for Harry to come in. Harry did, shutting the door behind him. It was eerie, walking through the sparse apartment in complete silence. Not being able to hear your own footsteps was always weird.
Especially eerie when there were sporadic blasts of fire as the howlers wore themselves out.
Using pantomime, Harry accepted Draco's offer of a cup of tea, and watched those pale hands as they went about filling the kettle and measuring three precise scoops of tea leaves to drop in the pot. It seemed Draco did a lot of stuff manually, without magic. It was something most witches and wizards found really strange, but that Harry quite liked. Even Hermione, a muggle born, did almost everything with some magical help… the change was refreshing. Draco clearly didn't rely on his wand as much as most wizards.
As they waited, awkwardly, for the kettle to boil, a final rush of flame signalled the last howler had burned itself out. Harry lifted the deafening charm from his own head. Auritus.
"Sorry about that, Potter." Malfoy was perfectly composed as he lifted his own deafening charm. "Running late."
Harry shrugged, a little uncomfortable, like he'd just seen something he shouldn't have. "Not like howlers care about your schedule." He offered a wry smile. "Had one of my own today, actually…"
Draco's eyelids lowered, looking at Harry like he was a moron. Whoops.
But before he could say anything, there was a rustling back at the desk, and another piece of parchment rose into the air.
"I'M GLAD YOU'LL BE AT HOGWARTS THIS TERM, MALFOY." A slow, low voice boomed menacingly through the room. "NOW I'LL KNOW WHERE TO FIND YOU. SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN, DEATH EATER." The parchment fizzed into ash. Not the bright burst of fire that consumed the others, but a dangerous, threatening burn.
Malfoy sighed. "There's always one." Another flick of his narrow wrist, and Harry could suddenly hear cars and voices as the silencing ward was lifted.
Harry sneered. "That's… charming." He watched the ash crumble to the floor. "What was that blast I saw?"
"Ah, so that's what brought you in, wand blazing?" Draco smirked. "One of them got impatient waiting for its turn, it exploded." He said lazily, like getting a sack full of howlers was a common occurrence. Which it probably was, for him.
"Oh." Was all Harry could think of to say. He knew howlers exploded if left too long… he didn't know that they could wait their turn. Though it did explain that last one.
Malfoy just scoffed. Harry didn't like that. He preferred Malfoy's caustic little remarks to his silence. The jibes were almost jokes, something Harry could counter and play along with. The pointed looks were as good as calling him an idiot, without giving him a chance to retaliate.
It's not like Harry was completely naive. He knew that Malfoy was hated by a lot of people, and he understood why. He didn't agree with it, but he understood.
He hadn't really considered, however, what it must be like to live with that hate. Harry had lived through his own brushes with negative fame, and they'd been difficult, but they'd blown over. Draco had been dealing with it for eighteen years, maybe really for his whole life, to varying degrees… damn.
He wanted to ask about it. To ask if the howlers were a regular thing, or if it was just after press releases like the one the Daily Prophet had published. He wanted to ask if Draco was safe… but something told him that Draco wouldn't be particularly open to those kinds of questions, so he kept his mouth shut.
Probably the wisest course of action.
Definitely the wisest course of action.
"I did ask Minerva if they could use pens, but she got that look in her eye and started talking about the sanctity of tradition." Draco sighed, gazing contemplatively at the pen in his fingers, at the ink smear on his knuckle. "Quills and scrolls… the novelty wears thin very quickly."
Harry was laughing, sprawled out next to Draco on the leather sofa. "Honestly, I don't know how anyone read anything I wrote in first year. It took me ages to get the hang of sharpening the things."
Draco shook his head. "You pressed to hard. You shouldn't have to sharpen a quill often if you've got a light touch." He smirked. "Though I suppose I should consider who I'm talking to."
Harry just shrugged, still smiling. "Yeah, can't say I'm known for my light touch."
"No, you never were particularly subtle."
Harry snorted. "And you were? Jesus, Malfoy…"
A self-depreciating smile spread across Draco's face, Harry counted it as a win.
"I'm sure we both managed to keep a certain number of secrets." The Slytherin said cryptically, then effectively ended the conversation by asking if Harry had eaten.
Harry hadn't, so Draco ordered in some Indian food, and answered Harry's last questions about the first week of lessons while they waited for it to arrive.
Harry was quite nervous about teaching, though he wasn't about to tell Draco that. He'd been given copies of the terms plan, had even suggested changes to some of it, which had been written in. It's not like Harry didn't know, practically speaking, what to do…
He just felt like he had no idea what he was doing. Why were people going to let him teach a class? Even co-teach? It made no sense. It wasn't like when he was with Dumbledore's Army… back then, he was with his peers, all the kids wanted to be there, it was all practical, and they were fighting against an oppressive system. So very different to being the dull old professor standing at the front of the room, droning on to a class of bored students…
"How weird do you think it's going to be, being called Professor Malfoy?" He asked, stabbing his fork into the spicy red chicken pieces that Draco had spooned onto his plate.
The blond grimaced, a surprisingly unguarded expression. "Quite. Though not as bad as being called Doctor Malfoy, which makes me sound like a Bond villain." He gave Harry a sideways look, clearly inviting him to make a joke about white cats or something, but Harry was distracted.
"You're a doctor?"
Grey eyes rolled. "I have my doctorate, yes. Surely that's in my file… amongst all the other things."
"I haven't read your file." Harry stated. He hadn't. Ever. It felt too… voyeuristic. He didn't read the files of anyone unless he had fit reason to. He'd even made Ron promise that he wouldn't go prying through Malfoy's paperwork in some misguided fit of over-protection. Ron hadn't liked that, but he'd agreed eventually.
Draco just blinked, his fork hovering in front of his face. "No?"
"No."
"Hmm." And he popped the chicken into his mouth, his eyes watching Harry thoughtfully as he chewed. "Well, I suppose that puts us on a more even footing, Professor Potter." He smiled after he finally swallowed his mouthful.
"Doctor Draco and Professor Potter." Harry smiled right back. "Sounds like a kids science show." Then something occurred to him. "Hold on, how do you know about Bond villains?"
Those eyes rolled again. "I've been living Muggle for years, Potter." He waved a hand at the big flat screen that perched on top of a cabinet across from them. "Television included."
Why did Harry's eyes always follow Draco's hands?
"In fact…" Malfoy continued, "I have a Netflix account, and I have even been known to play games, from time to time."
"Yeah?" Harry's ears pricked up at that. "What you got?"
Draco sniffed. "I can't recite my entire Steam library off the top of my head."
"Well, what are you playing at the moment?" Harry asked.
"I'm re-playing Portal Two."
Childish excitement bubbled up in Harry's throat. Ron wasn't in to puzzle games, he liked blowing the heads off zombies and the like, so Harry rarely got the chance to play games like Portal with other people, and Portal was his favourite. "Have you played co-op?"
Draco shrugged, a wary look on his face. "Minimally."
"Got any plans tonight?"
The wary look deepened. "No."
"You do now." Harry held Malfoy's gaze, daring him to disagree.
Narrow nostrils flared when Draco finally gave in to Harry's beaming smile. "Fine. But if you're awful, I'm not above kicking you out."
Victory.
On more than one front, actually… when it turned out that Draco did indeed wear things other than suits. After finishing their dinner, he stalked up the stairs to the loft bedroom, and re-emerged a few minutes later in soft looking pants and a long-sleeved t shirt. His feet were as pale and thin as his hands, the sharp bones of his ankles showing under cropped cuffs.
Kinda hard to miss when he had his heels propped up on the coffee table.
"No, not there, there, behind you." Draco growled. "Then come back down and place your other one on the ceiling again."
"OK, OK… hold on." Harry did what Malfoy asked, stifling a yawn. They'd been playing for hours, and he was starting to get square eyes.
"Alright." The robot that Malfoy controlled (the orange one, P-body) leaped on to the aerial faith plate, was catapulted through an emancipation grid and into Harrys (or Atlas's) portal, to be flung through the air to the exit.
Two quick blasts, and Draco made a little hmph. "Come on through, Professor." Harry (Atlas) stepped through the orange portal, and they headed to the disassembly area.
"Hmm, back at the hub." Draco drawled when their characters were spat back out at the beginning. He dropped his controller into his lap and raised his arms to stretch. "Probably a good time to call it a night."
"Yeahp." Harry agreed, he was knackered. The last two weeks had been hectic, with wrapping up at work and training his replacement. Two days to blob out, then he'd be heading to the school on Monday, to get ready before all the students arrived on the 1st. "Pity Hogwarts doesn't do electricity… this has been fun."
"It has." Draco smirked again when Harry cracked an eye open to look at him. "Surprisingly."
Harry stood, scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Maybe it won't be as bad as you thought, working with me."
Draco laughed. A depreciating laugh, but a laugh none the less. "No, maybe it won't." That was definitely a win. He leaned over to grab his wand off the coffee table, and Harry's ears popped when the silencing charm spread across the room.
"I'll get dinner next time, yeah?" Harry grinned, patting his pockets to make sure he had everything.
Draco just raised an eyebrow, he didn't need to say anything for Harry to hear his question. Next time? But for some reason, that didn't bother him. He just smiled. "Well, see ya Monday, Doctor." He quipped, and disapparated before Malfoy could reply.
Kreacher wasn't around when Harry apparated straight into the kitchen, but there was a pot of hot tea sitting under the cosy. Harry poured himself a cup and leaned against the bench to drink it, still smiling to himself.