Inevitable

by Caspian28

In that moment, Harry knew two different things to be true: The first, that going back to Draco Malfoy's rooms was probably a terrible, terrible decision. The second, that he would do whatever Draco wanted, whatever he needed, because in the Days After it seemed that there was one thing that was important; Draco Malfoy was inevitable.

9. On We Go

Pansy, Harry, and Draco had been in the Slytherin common room far too late into the night. They had spoken, separately, to each dorm about the upcoming year – had worked on getting to know each and every student (although this was mostly Harry; Pansy and Draco were familiar with the majority of the students in their former house). The younger students had reacted with awe and wonder at the seventh years. Many clung to Pansy, wanting to tell her about their summer or receive comfort about being back at the castle. The older students, meanwhile, were mostly angry and sullen at Harry and Draco's presence, refusing to speak to anyone other than Pansy. It had been…exhausting.

They had gone back to the eighth year dorms, after, Draco trailing behind Harry and Pansy. He had been fiddling again with his left forearm, Harry had noticed. But Draco hadn't seemed to want to address it or acknowledge it, so the group of three spent the walk back acting as though they were all fine. Blaise was there when they got back, and without preamble or discussion they had pulled the mattresses, blankets, and pillows to the floor before the four of them curled up; talking quietly until the early hours of the morning.

It was late, definitely later than usual, when Harry was woken to Pansy's voice, shrill with anxiety beside him.

"-can't just walk him out with other people around," she said as he came to. He felt around for his glasses, accidentally smacking Draco on the nose as he did so. The other boy, who was already awake, huffed out an exasperated "Potter!" before handing Harry his glasses.

"What's going on?" he asked, once he felt more oriented. Pansy was sitting up on his left, glaring at Blaise, who was standing over her. Draco was still curled up beside Harry, their legs tangled underneath the bedsheets. Ahh DS Ah FHalf of him wanted to stay like this all day.

"We slept in," Pansy said, turning her dark look on Harry.

"Okay," Harry responded. He felt like he was missing something – they were always up early to eat by themselves in the kitchens, but surely waking a little bit late wasn't the end of the world. Especially now that the castle was full of students, not just eighth years.

"She means me," Draco said after a moment. He disentangled his legs from Harry's to stretch out. "I'm not supposed to be here, twat," Draco continued at the confused look Harry shot him.

Harry slapped himself mentally for not realizing sooner – for not realizing last night, even. Draco was expressly forbidden from sharing sleeping quarters with other students; and while there was probably nothing technically wrong with him staying the night in Blaise and Harry's room, there were also too many people itching to see him expelled.

"Can you disillusion yourself?" Blaise asked suddenly. "If you walk sort of – in-between us, I don't think anyone will notice if you're a bit fuzzy at the edges."

The plan was accepted as the best one they had, although Harry knew it wasn't, not completely. It wasn't, because nearby, at the foot of his four-poster bed was his trunk. And inside his trunk was his invisibility cloak.

He still hadn't told the three Slytherins about it. He was beginning to feel that they might be angry with him for hiding it from them. He wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't told them, either. There was no need to keep it secret. After all, he trusted his three friends implicitly. It was more that it was one good reminder of the Days Before. A connection to his dad, but also a reminder of the fun he had had, Before. And was wasn't quite ready to give that up, to share it around – not yet.

Draco was a bit fuzzy on the edges – since they were out of class he couldn't cast the charm on himself. Harry couldn't cast it, because – well, his magic was still unpredictable. And getting worse, it seemed, but he was trying not to dwell on it. So Pansy and Blaise had fought over whose disillusionment charm was better – a fight which Pansy ultimately won. Still, no one seemed to notice his slight edges as they ducked out of the common room.

Once they were in an empty hallway, Pansy removed the charm. It was just in time, too – as they started on again, a group of young looking Hufflepuffs came around the corner and nearly ran into them. Instead of shock or fear the group squealed.

"Pansy," gasped one of the girls. She rushed forward again to hug Pansy around the middle, the rest of the group following until Pansy was nearly buried under Hufflepuffs. A couple made their way to Blaise, too.

Harry exchanged a bemused look with Draco, who pulled him closer to lean against his side. It was strange to think of the bonds that had forged, in the Days Before. In another context, perhaps, it could have been comforting – but how many nightmares did these children have? How many scars, how much fear?

"How are you feeling?" Draco murmured in Harry's ear. He didn't have to specify, he knew what Draco meant. He could tell his nerves for the upcoming day were coming off him in waves. He was anxious – anxious about classes, trying to learn again as if everything were normal, helping Binns, tea with McGonagall that afternoon – just anxious.

"I'll be okay," he said in response. It wasn't really an answer, wasn't what Draco was even asking, but it was the best he could give. Draco's encouraging squeeze of his hand told him that he understood, too.

They began moving again, now surrounded by the group of Hufflepuffs. Harry tried not to let the noise upset him, but it did – the talking, the chatter; it grated on him. Before long he felt like his skin was crawling on his bones. His ears were ringing, skin was itching, and even the steadying presence of Draco's hand on his did nothing to quell the panic.

By the time they entered the Great Hall, he was on high alert – every sound making him jump and shake. Draco was still holding his hand on one side and Blaise had materialized on the other, both keeping him steady. Pansy was ahead of them, saying goodbye to the Hufflepuffs as well as a couple Ravenclaws that had joined along the way.

"Breathe," Draco said in his ear as they sat down at the table. Harry did his best to give Draco a smile, but was sure it came out looking wobbly. As usual, though, they were the only ones at their end of the eighth year table. Ron, Hermione, and Neville weren't there yet, either, which helped calm his panic some.

The buzzing in his body slowly cooled. He was able to eat a couple bites of toast, and Draco poured him coffee that warmed him from the inside. He wasn't feeling calm by any means, but he was present. And in the Days After that was often the best he could hope for.

"Harry, I saw an eel last night!" The voice came from behind him – loud enough to make him jump and spill coffee down the front of his robes. Blaise gave him an exasperated look from his other side and waved his wand, cleaning up the mess.

"Must I always clean up your messes, Potter?" he sighed. There was no malice behind it, though, and Harry was able to roll his eyes back before turning around to see Mar grinning ear-to-ear at him. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, too, but she wasn't tapping her fingers today.

"I hope it wasn't in bed with you," Harry responded jokingly. He felt more than a little forced, and it must have shown because Mar frowned at him in clear confusion.

"Of course not," she said, finally. "I saw it through the window. Also three lampreys, two trouts, and I think a Salmon, but that doesn't really make sense because they're supposed to live in rivers." She was looking at him expectantly and didn't seem to notice Blaise, who was trying to hide a laugh with a cough and Draco, smiling beside him. Harry elbowed Blaise in the ribs.

"Maybe it was a magical fish?" Harry said. It came out as a question – he didn't know anything about fish, but Mar was looking at him so expectantly that he felt like he needed to say something. It was the right decision – as soon as he said it, her whole face lit up with excitement.

"There are magical fish?" she asked in wonder. Harry couldn't help but smile.

It was Pansy, though, that answered. "There are," she said. "And I think the library has a great big book about them with pictures and everything."

Mar ran forward and, much to Harry's amusement, flung her arms around Pansy. "Can you show me now?" she asked eagerly.

Pansy smiled down at the girl and gently disentangled herself. "I'll show you after dinner," Pansy said. "Look, Professor Vector is handing out your timetables now. You don't want to miss that."

Mar squealed and gave them a jerky wave before dashing off to the Slytherin table. At almost the same moment, McGonagall appeared beside the group with their timetables.

"Its good to see you taking your House Guardian duties so seriously," she said with a bemused sort of smile at the four of them.

Harry looked down at his timetable as she walked away. It was, quite frankly, the most packed timetable he had ever seen. He glanced over at Draco's – it was emptier. He had some time slots free. Pansy's seemed more similar to Harry's, packed full from breakfast to dinner, and sometimes after, too.

Draco let out a low whistle when Pansy and Harry passed over their timetables for him to look at. "None of you will have any free time, will you?" He smiled a little at Harry, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Harry felt another pang of… not sadness, not really – something worse. That feeling as if his heart was breaking despite already being so broken that it couldn't possibly break anymore. "I'll still have weekends, yeah?" he said, leaning into Draco slightly.

"Yeah," said Draco quietly. "It would be easier if I was as busy as you are, though."

"Didn't McGonagall say the new potions professor was willing to unofficially take you on?" Blaise asked, grabbing Draco's timetable out of his hands. "That's not even on your timetable yet, I'm sure some of those slots will fill."

Draco gave Blaise a small smile. "Yeah," he said. "She seems alright, too."

"We'll know soon enough," Pansy responded. "We have her first…with the seventh year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws."

Harry couldn't help it, he let out a small groan. In the bustle of getting up to start heading to the dungeons, no one seemed to hear him except Draco, who just cast him a slightly exasperated look. Maybe he was being..dramatic, but it was for good reason. He could already think of a host of reasons why he didn't want to share classes with the seventh year Gryffindors all year.

There was a crowd already at the door to the potions classroom when they arrived. Professor Stone, the new professor, was standing next to the door that was closed behind her. Harry and Draco followed Pansy and Blaise to the edge of the group. Ron and Hermione weren't far in front of them, but they were standing with Neville, Dean, and Seamus, so Harry didn't bother to even think about approaching.

"It looks like almost everyone is here," said Professor Stone cheerfully after a moment. The chatter in the hallway quieted. "Before I let you in, I'd like to go over some ground rules."

Harry felt Draco nudge him. The other boy raised his eyebrows when Harry looked over, as if to say This is strange. And it was strange – they weren't even inside the classroom yet, not even seated, but she was speaking as if they were.

"Firstly," she continued, through the whispers of other concerned students, "You will be working with dangerous, volatile potions and ingredients. I do not want to see anyone getting hurt. If you're fighting with a friend, an ex, an enemy – that all stays at the door. In this classroom I expect everyone, especially my oldest students, to be calm and respectful. If you cannot manage that, you will be asked to leave and to make up your work on your own time."

Harry cast a look around him – most of the gathered students just looked confused. Hermione looked appreciative, of course. So did Pansy.

"Secondly, you'll be choosing your partners for the rest of the year today before you enter the classroom. You will do all your potions work with them, from your brewing to your assignments. Potions is not a solitary field and I do not believe it should be solitary in the classroom either. You will be able to enter today once you have chosen your partner and have seen me to have your names written down. Your partner cannot be someone in your own year. Eighth years, please partner with seventh years. If anyone is left over at the end we will go from there."

She stopped and watched them expectantly – it took the group a moment to realize that she was dismissing them to choose their partners. Harry looked at Draco, feeling panicky all at once. He wasn't okay with this – hadn't expected it, couldn't deal with changes from his expectations or routines right now. His breath was coming shakily and he flinched when Pansy reached toward him. The world was darkening, the only steady presence was Draco's hand in his.

"Come on, you idiot," came a girls' voice from his side. He couldn't focus, couldn't see, even; couldn't think, but he allowed whoever it was to lead him toward the door to the classroom. He came back to the world once they were face-to-face with Professor Stone, jarred out of his panic by Draco, who had hastily dropped his hand.

"Me and Harry, Professor," said the voice – Harry now recognized it as Ginny's. "And Luna and Mal- Draco."

Professor Stone waved them in. Harry could feel the concerned look she trained on him as he walked by, but he kept looking ahead. There were more pressing things on his mind than his breakdown – like why Ginny Weasley had shown up out of nowhere after months of anger to partner with him in potions.

"Don't make me regret this," she mumbled to him as they sat down at a table directly beside Draco and Luna. Draco shot him a concerned look as well, which he ignored, choosing instead to raise his eyebrows in Luna's direction. Draco merely shrugged in response, but Harry could see him fiddling with his shirt on his left forearm again.

"Still angry, then?" he asked, despite his better judgement telling him to be quiet and just do what she said. Handling an angry Ginny was much like handling an angry Pansy – nod, agree, and do whatever she asks of you.

She cast him a disparaging look. "Yes," she said. Then, after a moment's pause – "No." Then "Yes," again. She sighed. He took a moment to look at her – properly. She had cut her hair short over the summer – shorter than it had ever been. It now reached just to the bottom of her ears. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes more pronounced than he had ever seen them. But then again, wasn't that true for them all?

"I should have been a better friend," he said after a moment. "I'm sorry."

She looked surprised, just a little, but hid it quickly. "Let's not bring it back up," she said, almost immediately. "I don't want to think about…" She paused setting up her cauldron to rub her face. "We're here now. That's all."

Harry did his best to give her a smile as he pulled out his potions book. He glanced back at Luna and Draco again. The two were deep in conversation, now, but Draco was still scratching at his arm.

"I don't think she can hold a grudge," Ginny said with a sigh. It was obvious she was talking about Luna. "Now are you going to tell me why you aren't speaking to my brother?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, but was cut off by Professor Stone before he could say anything.

"I know we have a class that's probably quite mixed in terms of skill," said Professor Stone. "So we'll start off with a practical review. Please turn to page 17 in your books. You'll have this class to brew Dreamless Sleep potion as a review. It won't be for an official mark, but your grade will allow you and I to see where your skill level is at."

By the time Professor Stone had finished speaking and Harry had gathered the ingredients, and Ginny had divvied up the steps to the potion, he had hoped she would have forgotten her question. One pointed look from her after a moment of silence, though, told him she hadn't at all. He felt panic gripping the edges of his mind, tried to push it away.

"I'm not," he said. "I mean – I am speaking to him. Or trying to. He's just always around…"

"People who are being right pricks?" She asked.

"I wasn't going to put it like that," Harry responded with a rueful smile. He snuck a glance at Draco as he looked down to sort his cut ingredients. The other boy wasn't looking at him - was focused on Luna instead, almost smiling. He seemed to be much more comfortable now that he was brewing. When he glanced around the room quickly he managed to find Pansy with a Ravenclaw sixth year, and Blaise, looking aloof next to a seventh year Gryffindor girl who Harry vaguely remembered as being named Melanie.

"Well, how would you put it?" Ginny asked after a moments silence. Seeing he wasn't going to get out of it, Harry relayed to her the events of the first week – everything from the first day in the eighth year common room to smuggling Draco out that morning.

Ginny hummed thoughtfully when he was done. "It will sort itself out," she said finally. She gave him a pointed look. "It usually does."

"I don't know," he said. He paused to watch her as she poured some of their potion into a vial to submit to Professor Stone. It was supposed to be dark purple upon completion; theirs was a little bit too light, he thought, but not horrid. "Some things are just…broken."

"Maybe," she responded with a resigned sigh. "Still, maybe you just need to try again."

He felt like crying, suddenly. Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying to keep his mind in his body and his eyes present on the clean-up he was doing. "They haven't tried, though," he said once he had gathered himself. "It took you one day to find me. And listen. They've – I mean, we've talked a bit. But they haven't listened. They haven't sought me out."

Ginny gave him a small smile. "They've been through a lot, you know. Not that we all haven't," she added at his look. "But when they left for Australia so quickly it made me think that they weren't able to confront their grief. They couldn't stay here and handle it. So we," she gestured broadly around the classroom, "Have been confronting our demons all summer. Trying to make sense of everything. They haven't."

Harry's mind, unbidden, went back to their year on the run – to Ron running away. He came back then, though.

You were children. You are children. You are allowed to grieve and you are allowed to change.

"The rest of them don't have an excuse," said Ginny, with what Harry could only describe as a sarcastic laugh. "They're just pricks." She had raised her voice at the end of what she was saying as Seamus walked past them. He shot a nasty look in her direction, but didn't comment further – probably because Professor Stone had just walked by to collect their sample.

Soon they were in the corridor outside the potions room again. The air was cooler, here, and Harry felt himself breathing more easily, although he hadn't recognized how stifling the potions room had been until he exited. Draco followed him out, flanked by Blaise and Pansy.

"Alright?" Harry asked Draco as they started walking. Draco was flushed and looked as though he'd be sick at any minute.

"No," Draco sighed back. "But on we go."

Thankfully, there were no forced partnerships for the rest of the day, and they didn't have any more classes with the Gryffindors. Harry wasn't able to eat at lunch, still feeling too sick from the morning's events. Draco seemed to be feeling much the same. By the time evening came, both were exhausted, so Blaise offered to go to with Pansy to show Mar the library while Harry and Draco got some rest.

Harry had fully intended to rest, too – he really was exhausted. But Draco, of course, had other plans. They were barely inside Draco's rooms before he had Harry up against the wall. The stone was rough and cold on Harry's back, but with Draco's lips on his he hardly noticed.

Harry tilted his head back, letting it play out. Draco's lips had moved from his own onto his collarbone. He sucked hard, then bit suddenly before lapping at the spot. Harry brought his hands up in return, pulling on Draco's robes until he stepped back to shrug them off and then working his way through the buttons.

He gasped as Draco's lips came back up to his, let himself go pliant underneath Draco's hands, too tired to really do anything except feel.

Draco maneuvered him away from the wall for a moment so Harry could shake off his robes and shirt. Draco's hands and lips trailed across Harry's body as he pulled his clothes off, until he was a whimpering mess. He reached for his own tie but found Draco's hands on his before he could even begin to undo it.

"Let me," Draco whispered, before nipping his earlobe. He pressed their bodies together at the hips. Harry felt his knees go weak at the pressure. Then his tie was in Draco's hands, but instead of undoing it Draco was pulling on it, forcing Harry to tilt his head to the side. He felt Draco's exposed mouth on the skin of his neck, then, their bodies pressed together as Draco licked and sucked. He was sure that there would be a mark but didn't care, not now.

"Bed?" Harry managed to gasp out between ragged breaths. He could hardly keep up with Draco, with his hands and his lips and his hips tilting just right.

"Here," Draco whispered in response before dropping to his knees. "Take your tie off," commanded Draco as he began working on the buttons to Harry's trousers. Shaking with desire, Harry complied.

When he had the tie in his hands, Draco reached up to take it from him. "Tell me if this isn't okay," he said, before guiding Harry's arms behind his back and wrapping the tie around them. He didn't tie it or bind him, really, in any way, but Harry felt his cock twitch in anticipation anyways. Draco smirked up at him.

"Okay?" Draco asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Harry choked out, resisting the urge to thrust his hips in Draco's face. As if reading his mind, Draco let out a low chuckle. Then, his lips were on Harry's prick, and all sense of time or thought or language left Harry's mind altogether.

He could tell, somewhere in his subconscious, that Draco had his hand on himself and was jerking off in time to his mouth's movements on Harry. He was torn between the desire to grab Draco's hair and the desire to leave his hands where they were, until he didn't have to make that decision because he was coming harder than he ever had, orgasm sneaking up on him like a train screeching to a halt.

When his breathing slowed, he disentangled his hands and pulled Draco, who had also finished, to his feet, kissing him long and hard.

"What was that for?" Harry asked finally, once his breath was back. He let Draco lead him to the bed and threw himself on top of it, utterly spent.

Draco was flushed bright red, and Harry guessed it was more from the question he had asked than their previous activities. Suddenly, something clicked and he couldn't help but grin at Draco.

"You're jealous of Ginny," he said.

"No," Draco huffed back, much too quickly to not sound defensive to Harry's ears.

"You are," Harry pushed, hoping his tone came off teasing. He looked over when Draco didn't respond, to see the other man stubbornly looking at the wall instead of Harry. His right hand was back to playing with his left forearm.

"Hey," Harry said. He reached over to grab Draco's right hand and hold it, feeling a little bit guilty as he did so. "There's nothing there," he said. "There hasn't been anything there in over a year."

"Not over the summer?" Draco asked – and in that moment he looked so vulnerable that Harry just wanted to hold him, although he guessed that that approach wouldn't be particularly well-received.

"Not over the summer," Harry said with a sigh. He tried not to let his mind wander back to the summer, it would do no good for anybody.

Draco continued to look at him expectantly, so Harry sighed and continued speaking. "We fought badly over the summer. About – a lot of things, I guess. But I think we fixed it today, a bit. So really, there's nothing to worry about. We're just…sort of friends."

"Sort of friends?" Draco asked. There was amusement tinging his voice, now. Part of Harry wanted to make fun of him for being jealous, but the other part of Harry knew that would, more likely than not, end in disaster.

Harry filled him in quickly on what they had spoken of during the class. He even added, for good measure, how well their potion came out. He wasn't sure when, but at some point while he was talking, he drifted into sleep.

Harry woke, hours later, groggy, confused, and mildly panicky when he realized Draco wasn't in the bed. He only had a few seconds to panic, however, before Draco came out of the bathroom, hair damp but freshly dressed. When he saw Harry was awake, he grinned.

"We're late for breakfast," he said, by way of greeting. Harry sat up quickly at that, shock coursing through his system.

"Breakfast?" he asked. "We were only supposed to nap."

Draco threw a towel at him. "Blaise and Pansy know where we are – they came looking for us last night. You didn't even move when they came in. Pansy was convinced you were dead."

Harry rolled his eyes, but was silently impressed. This was likely the longest he had slept without nightmares since, well – as long as he could remember, anyways.

After a quick shower they headed towards the Great Hall together. With the whole school now back, it seemed much safer to eat in the Great Hall again. It was harder for the other eighth years to follow them, and even then their interest seemed to have gone from something that felt genuinely dangerous to whispered comments and threats.

Draco had a free period in the morning while Blaise had Care of Magical Creatures, Pansy had a meeting with Professor Stone, and Harry had Arithmancy. His Arithmancy happened to be in conjunction with the fourth years on this particular day, although he'd be in a separate classroom watching through a one-way magical hole in the wall. It was still slightly embarrassing. McGonagall had assured him that it wouldn't take him long to progress to the level of a fifth year, but sharing classes with fifth years wasn't that much better, in Harry's opinion.

Still, the period passed quickly. History of Magic, after it, was horrifyingly slow – although Harry was almost used to Binns' drone at this point, and even managed to take some notes. Hermione was sitting across the room, but he could feel her glancing over often, as if shocked that he was actually paying attention. Especially compared to Ron, he figured, who was napping beside her.

They actually made it to lunch without being accosted by a single Slytherin first year. The first years had spent most of the previous day shadowing them, and even Pansy had noted that it felt strange that morning when not a single one approached.

"You're teaching us history, right?" Mar's voice came from behind him as soon as he sat down. Plenty of the others seemed to find her annoying or weird, but Harry quite enjoyed her presence. Pansy, too, seemed to have taken a liking to her.

"Professor Binns will be there too," Harry responded, doing his best to dodge the question. The truth was, he was teaching first year history – two double periods per week, each a mixture of all the houses that had students – but he had wanted to keep it quiet until classes were underway.

Mar furrowed her brow. "But everyone says he's boring. I think you'll be a better teacher." Her fingers were tapping on her thigh again, a fast pattern that Harry couldn't make sense of.

"I am teaching it," he said finally. "But try not to tell anyone, okay? It's just after once, so you won't have to keep it secret for long."

Her tapping stopped, replaced almost immediately with bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Okay!" she said, before sprinting back to her friends.

"She's not going to keep that secret," Blaise muttered to Harry. Harry found himself laughing, a rare occurrence.

"She won't," he said. "It doesn't really matter, anyways."

Sure enough, when he arrived at the History of Magic classroom, there was already a gaggle of first years waiting outside. He let them in, trying not to sigh too loudly. He was excited, sure, and yes, they were eager and adorable, but if he had to go through a year of hero worship from all the students he was teaching, he wasn't really sure how he'd manage.

By the time class was due to start and all the students were settled, Professor Binns was still nowhere in sight. Feeling nervous, but deciding he may as well give it a shot, he cleared his throat to start class.

"Welcome to History of Magic," he began, looking out at the classroom. It wasn't quite as full as a usual class would be – as classes were when it wasn't the year after the war, anyways. There were officially twelve Slytherins – five boys and seven girls - seven Hufflepuffs, and nine Ravenclaws.

"I'll be teaching you this year, but you don't need to call me Professor or anything because I'm still a student, just like you. You can just call me Harry."

It was strange, he thought, to be speaking in the History of Magic classroom without anyone speaking over him or dozing off. In Binns classes, both were usually occurring.

"You're all going to get to learn history this year in a way that no one else has learned it at Hogwarts since…before Professor Binns." The class tittered at this. Bolstered, Harry continued on. "I need you all to work hard and do well, because if we all do well together that means other students will get to learn what you're going to be learning this year. And I think it's much more interesting than what Professor Binns is teaching," he added with a wink. All the students laughed again.

"What are we learning then?" asked Mar. She looked a little bit confused – or maybe frustrated – and was sitting slightly apart than the rest of her classmates. He decided that he would definitely keep an eye on her during this class, especially. Instead of expressing his concern, though, he smiled at her.

"Well, I think this year we'll talk about some big wizarding history events that happened in the last fifty years. We'll talk about Grindlewald and Voldemort," some of the students shuddered at the name, but he chose to ignore it, "and how those wars affected us and the muggles. We'll also talk about the founding of Hogwarts a little bit. Those are the big things. Some of you will know a lot about these things already," he cast his gaze across the room, trying to make eye contact with all of his students. All except Mar. "Lots of you won't. So if you know some stuff already, I want to see you helping the people who don't, okay?"

The class nodded in agreement. "We're going to learn about some muggle history, too." He anticipated whispers, and let them have a moment of surprise before hushing them. "We're going to learn about World War One and World War Two, mostly, and what the role of wizards were during those wars. Now, can you all take out a quill and some parchment for me?"

He waited a moment as the class reached into their bags to pull out the requested materials, and stayed quiet until they were all settled and focused again on him. "For the second half of the class today," he continued, "I think we can play some games that will help us all get to know each other. But for the first half of the class I have a writing exercise for you all." There was a collective groan from the class that he couldn't help but laugh at.

"Part of what we're going to do in this class is make sure that your reading and writing abilities are good enough to help you keep up in your other classes. And if they're not, we'll figure out how to fix it. Today, to see where we're all at, I'd like you all to write me six inches on what piece of history you'd like to learn about most this year. It can be something I already mentioned, or something I didn't, and it can be magical history or muggle history."

He turned to write his instructions on the chalk board. He could have done it by magic, sure, and it would have been faster, but there was always the chance he'd make the chalkboard explode instead. He should really, probably tell McGonagall about how unstable his magic was being.

"I'll try to make sure we learn about everything you write down," he said once he had turned around, "As long as it's appropriate for this class. Take all the time you need, and once we're all done we'll do something fun, okay?"

"Okay," a couple voices chorused back, and then there was silence – or mostly silence – as they all set quill to paper.

Maybe, in deciding to open a school, become a teacher, he had made a great career choice. Or maybe this would all fall apart around him. But for the first time in the Days After, Harry was feeling hopeful.