"You weren't absolutely terrible today, Potter." Draco strolled off the pitch, his broom slung casually over his shoulder.
Harry fell in step beside him, glad for the teasing distraction from how good Draco looked in his flying leathers. Back in the 90s, the uniform they wore had been loose, almost to the point of baggy. But now, Draco was strapped tight into garments that – while covering him from ankle to wrist – showed off the curves and planes of his lean form in a way that was almost indecent… at least that's how it felt to Harry, as he tried to reign in the insistent desires of his body.
Then, to add insult to injury, Draco was also always disgustingly happy on these Saturday morning flying jaunts. That was what really did Harry in, Draco's big smiles, and the blush high on his sharp cheekbones. It made him grateful for the standing Saturday afternoon visit that he made to the Glen. He needed an excuse to put some physical distance between him and Malfoy after these Quidditch bouts, or he was afraid he'd do something very, very stupid. Like offer to help Draco out of his leathers.
Now there was a thought…
– ahem – he cleared his throat, pushing those useless thoughts aside so he could speak. "Always did like a challenge." He wasn't really trying to tease back. There was no point, when it was so obvious that Draco was now the stronger seeker.
"That's an understatement." Malfoy snorted, glancing back to shoot Harry one of his raised-eyebrow looks, making Harry's stomach coil into an uncomfortable knot.
Kiss him. His body demanded.
"HARRY!" Harry turned at the high, familiar voice that was calling his name. "Harry wait!" A little figure was hurrying towards them across the grass. Harry stopped and waited for it to catch up, noting with a weird kind of pleasure that Draco had stopped too, standing just behind him.
"Morning Rose." Harry grinned. "Going for a fly?"
She shook her head. "Nah, a bunch of us are going with Neville to find some kind of mushroom for Madam Pomfrey."
"Forbidden Forest?" Harry had to hold back a laugh. Rose wasn't overly enthused with Herbology (even if she did love Neville), giving up her Saturday morning to do extra-curricular work must mean there was something else in it for her… or she'd been given a detention.
She nodded happily. "Yeah, but Hagrid's coming with us, and Beast, so we'll be fine." Clever girl, pre-empting the be careful talk… and if Harry wasn't mistaken, she put a slight emphasis on the name of Hagrid's dog. Fang had been dead for years now, but Beast was definitely cast from the same mould, and Rose knew all about how Draco had chickened out in the forest back in their first year. Was she teasing Malfoy? The little smirk on her face told him she was. Good girl.
"Anyway," she puffed, still smirking, "Have you seen this yet?" She waved a copy of Witch Weekly under his nose.
Harry plucked the magazine from her fingers. On the cover was a photo of some witch-lit author, preening with what looked suspiciously like a Quick Notes Quill. Written down the side of the simpering woman's face was the headline Hogwarts Hotties – Meet the teachers you wish you'd had at school.
He handed the magazine to Draco without a word, biting his tongue to keep from laughing, especially when he heard Malfoy's snort of disgust.
"Uh, thanks, I think." He said to Rose. "Is it as bad as it looks?"
She shrugged, distracted by a knot of people who were forming outside the glasshouses in the distance. "Not really. You've got your shirts on in all of the pics, at least."
"Thank Merlin." Draco glowered behind him.
"Look, I stole that off Jess." Rose grinned again. "So if you wanna keep it, you'll have to get your own."
"I don't keep clippings, Rose."
"Suuuure." She chuckled, knowing she was getting under his skin. Ron had insisted for years that Harry kept a big scrapbook of all of his newspaper and magazine clippings. It was a joke that had grown old a long time ago.
"Anyway. Mum's got a package for you to bring back for me, so I'll get the mag off you then. Seeya Harry, Malfoy." She wasn't even looking at them as she said goodbye, moving to run up the hill to where she was meeting her friends.
Draco grumbled, the magazine clutched in his fist, the picture of the author peered out from around his hand. "Professor Malfoy."
What witch wouldn't want to be the top in this class?
Unless you've been living under a rock, you'll know that our favourite wizarding hero, Harry Potter, has joined forces with his ex-Death Eater enemy, Draco Malfoy, to become the newest Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers at Hogwarts.
What you might not know, is that the two are now inseparable friends, and with their fresh new take on DADA, and their candid explanations of the roles they played in the Wizarding War, they have become the most popular teachers since their own time at Hogwarts.
"They're really cool. Like, I thought Professor Malfoy was going to be a real [tyrant], y'know? But, like, he's real chill. He's probably more chill than Potter, even. We can ask them anything, and they'll tell us about it. Even told us about the time Potter almost killed Malfoy when they were at school." A current student told us about his favourite teachers. "It's cool how they're friends, too. I mean, they used to hate each other, right? But now, they're like, always talking and stuff… all the teachers seem to like [Malfoy], but you pretty much never see him and Harry apart."
Though all of the students we spoke to had only good things to say about the duo, not all of the praise was just for their personalities.
"He's so good looking." A fifth-year girl told our reporter. "Mr Potter is really nice and all, but Professor Malfoy is just so handsome."
Her friend felt the opposite. "We always fight about this. Malfoy's handsome, but Potter looks like he rescues kittens from burning buildings or something. He's, like, so buff. You should see them playing Quidditch. Potter looks sooo good in his leathers."
"Malfoy's a better seeker though."
It seems that even Draco's alleged superior skill on the pitch can't put a damper on his new friendship with the man who was once the Gryffindor Quidditch darling.
"It's all Draco." Potter said recently. "Any auror could do what I do in that class, teaching defensive spells and [stuff]. But what Draco's doing is really going to make a difference, in the long term… It's really exciting to watch. He's a really good teacher."
While we're sure that Harry is being as modest as ever, it's refreshing to see that these two wizards could put their pasts behind them for the benefit of our next generation (continues on page 43)
The article (such as it was) was punctuated by photographs. Older images of them both, back from the aftermath of the war, when Harry was still scrawny and Malfoy still looked ill, and pictures from just the week prior, when they'd met with Neville, Luna and Hagrid over at the Three Broomsticks for a couple of drinks.
He liked the recent pictures.
Like most commercial images, they just looped. A moment in time captured on thin, shiny paper. The five of them crowded around a table, all smiling, talking. In his favourite one, Draco and Harry were sitting elbow to elbow, and during the few seconds the picture had captured, they looked… close. Draco said something, turning his sly grey eyes to Harry as Harry turned to reply to him, and they smiled at each other. It was a small interaction, clearly one of Malfoy's knowing jokes that made Harry feel like he was in on some secret… but he hadn't realised how it looked.
Or maybe it was just him, reading more into every interaction because he so desperately wanted there to be more to read.
"Well, this reaches a whole new level of humiliating." Draco sighed, pushing the magazine away.
Harry chuckled, sure that he was blushing. "It's not that bad. We could have been topless."
Draco glared. "I don't do topless." He grumbled. Harry didn't doubt it. He couldn't imagine Draco going swimming, which was how The Daily Prophet had nabbed shirtless pictures of Harry. "Don't you find this… uncomfortable?"
Harry shrugged. "Sure, but I'm kind of used to it. It has to be better than being vilified, right?"
Malfoy's grimace was one Harry hadn't seen before. Was he actually upset by this silly little fluff article?
"I'm not comfortable with students talking about me like that." His nostrils flared when he finally spoke. "It's inappropriate."
"You haven't noticed some of the, uh… the looks you get? Especially from the Slytherin girls?"
"No." His voice was flat.
Harry just shrugged. What could he say? "You're the behavioural expert, Draco. Surely it's normal for kids to idolise some of their teachers?" He smirked, "Even 'Mione had a crush on Lockhart, back in second year."
"Ugh." Draco sneered, but his mouth did curl up a little. "Don't bring Granger into this, we both know her taste in men is questionable."
Harry growled. "Those are my best friends you're talking about."
"Yes, well… I can't say I think much of your taste either." His smirk was back. Good.
"And after I said all those nice things about you." Harry shook his head in mock despair, reaching over to tap at the open magazine. "If my taste is so untrustworthy, maybe you're not the amazing teacher I thought you were…" He teased.
Draco frowned. "You actually said that?"
"It's a bit edited I think, but yeah." Harry sulked. "Don't sound so surprised. It's not like I don't get that you're the brains behind the operation."
"You gave an interview?"
"Uh…" Harry shook his head. "No. I was talking to Shirley. The reporter must have been at the bar or something. You know how sneaky these reporters can be."
"I suppose I do." He must have been thinking about Rita Skeeter, and all of the trouble she'd caused back in fourth year… with his help, of course. "Thank you."
Well, that was unexpected. "What for?"
"For taking this seriously." Draco's gaze was, as always, unwavering. "You've been far more…" he paused, searching for the right word to use, "willing, than I assumed you'd be. We work well together." A smile softened his lips, made Harry's stomach flip.
"Yeah, we make a pretty good team."
"You don't miss it?"
Harry and Hermione were stretched out on her largest sofa, her bare feet in his lap as he rubbed them, waiting for Ron to get back from a call-out about a cursed record player.
He shook his head. "Not even slightly. But what's to miss? Paperwork? I haven't been in the field for years."
"I suppose that's true." 'Mione let her head tip back against the armrest. "So, what now? Try to get a teaching job?"
"No idea." He pressed the pad of his thumb into the ball of her foot, making her toes twitch a little. "Not much call for teachers really… and I'm not that keen on the traditional curriculum."
Hermione snorted. "Of course you're not. Too much reading." She sighed. "Though you're right in a way. The academic approach to magical education doesn't suit everyone."
"Huh. Never thought I'd hear you say that." He teased.
"I'm serious. Students like Fred and George, Neville, even you… you just approach magic differently to people like me. You're more… intuitive."
"Intuitive." Harry parroted. "You know, Draco was doing wandless magic at seven?"
"What?" Her head jerked up, eyes wide.
"Dobby taught him." He said simply, knowing that any mention of their favourite house elf would dampen any misgivings she had about underage magic.
Her face got all soft. "You finally talked about that?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Last week. I took him to see the grave."
Her hand rose to her chest. "Oh… that's really lovely of you, Harry." Her smile was all soppy, damn her. "I'm so glad you're working things out between you."
"You know him better than you let on, don't you, 'Mione?"
It was her turn to smirk, looking eerily like her daughter. "I did wonder how long it would take you to figure it out." She nodded. "We became quite close in eighth year. We still owl occasionally."
Huh. He'd wondered over the years if that had been the case, but he'd never asked. He supposed he'd never wanted to hear the answer. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Draco asked me not to." She shrugged, reached over to grab her wine glass off the coffee table.
"Why not?"
"Because you would have both hated me for it." Her voice was matter of fact, and she was probably right in a way, but it still hurt.
"I testified for him… I got his family out of Azkaban…" He protested weakly. "I wouldn't have hated you…"
She gave Harry the same indulgent smile she gave her kids when they were being ridiculous. "You did, and he's thankful… but you never wanted him in your life. Being my friend would have been too close to home for you, I think."
He groaned, trained his eyes on where he was massaging her heel. "I'm a piece of shit."
She laughed. "You weren't much better than a child, dealing with the war the best you could. Draco understood, so did I."
Harry didn't know what to say. He knew she was right, but it still sucked. Draco had – arguably – been more cruel to Hermione than he had to anyone, but she'd forgiven him so long ago…
"I'm proud of you, Harry." Her voice was soft. "Really. I think this has been really good for you."
"Can I ask…" He started, but his voice dried up before he could finish question. If this conversation went the way he was planning it would, there would be no taking it back.
"Go on." She urged.
He swallowed. "Is Draco gay?"
She was silent for a second, her voice a little harder when she answered. "That's not a fair question to ask me, Harry."
He nodded, her response telling him everything he wanted to know. "I know, I'm sorry."
"I hope it doesn't change your opinion of him."
"No." His voice was low, but vehement. His heart was thudding in his chest. "I just…" He trailed off, hoping that the desperate look in his eyes was enough to tell her what he wanted to say.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"And you haven't told him." That wasn't a question. She knew him too well.
"No."
"Well, I'm sure you know what I'm going to say."
"Yeah."
"But you still won't talk to him."
"Prob'ly not."
She sighed, letting her head fall back again. "You're your own worst enemy at times."
"I know."
