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The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.
"You look ridiculous, Harry," Draco said through a scowl as he picked half-heartedly at the scrambled eggs on his plate. "The only thing more tragic than your beard is the limp rat you're calling a moustache hanging above it."
Draco rolled his eyes as Harry mimed a stab to the chest.
"What, Draco? You don't like my full, thick beard? I think you're truly just jealous that you don't have a beard as big and luxurious as mine. I could probably braid it into something for you. Maybe a rose?"
Harry ran his fingers through the long, wiry beard that had sprouted on his chin, and, stomach lurching uncomfortably, Draco had to turn his eyes away to avoid losing the little breakfast he'd managed to eat. He abhorred facial hair of any sort, with the only exception being Dumbledore's pristine, almost regal beard. There was something about the rugged, uncivilized nature of a beard that made Draco's skin crawl. Looking at the groundskeeper still made him a bit ill, even after all these years, and he could not keep his eyes on Harry for more than a moment without fighting to keep his food down. He wanted to punch Weasley for laughing, but to do so would have meant Draco had to turn in Harry's direction.
Weasley's owl had brought him a package from his brother at the start of breakfast, and the two idiots dove right into its contents. Harry pulled out a spray bottle of what looked like expensive cologne and, without bothering to read its label, immediately turned it on himself. A cry of alarm rose from both Draco and Hermione as Harry's face erupted in a spring of fast-growing black hair until the Boy Who Lived was left with an embarrassingly long beard and moustache. Draco once again felt the urge to gag as he spotted a long black hair resting atop his eggs, but instead pushed them to the side and drew his wand on Harry.
"Get rid of it before I do," he growled, and Harry complied with a sheepish grin.
On top of his queasiness, Draco was by no means a morning person, and there was only so much he could put up with when it came to Harry's antics. If Harry began his tomfoolery this early, Draco would be ready to kill his newfound friend before lunch.
A familiar screech had Draco's head turning toward the window, and he lifted his arm up as a perch once he recognized Anticlea, his mother's owl. The large owl landed softly on his forearm, and Draco offered her up some ham in exchange for the mail she dropped on the table. Ruffling her feathers and nipping Draco's finger in thanks, it wasn't much longer before Anticlea was spreading her wings and leaving the way she had come.
Two letters laid on the table before him, one face down and the other revealing itself to be from his mother. Reaching out to flip the other over, Draco's blood ran cold. Another letter from his 'pen pal'? It had been almost a month since he'd received a letter of this nature, and he knew he was a fool to let that lull him into dropping his guard. But how had his mother's owl been intercepted? Why was she unharmed? Draco had clearly underestimated his black mailer, and, with shaking hands, he stuffed both letters into his bag, but not before Gregory saw him.
"Who're those from?"
Draco wanted to scream. Couldn't things just go how he wanted for once?
"My mother. I suppose she forgot to mention something before she sealed the first, and so she wrote me another. I'll get to them later today."
Draco hated lying, but as Gregory shrugged and turned back to listen to Hermione scold Weasley and Harry for trying something without knowing what it did, he could see the necessity of it. Still, lying to Gregory made his skin crawl, and after a few minutes he could take no more of it. Standing from the table, Draco excused himself with the claim he needed to get some work done. He'd only made it a few steps before Hermione popped out of her seat and called after him, hurrying along with her own books to join him.
"Are you going to the library?" Hermione panted out, trying to match Draco's stride.
"No, not today, I don't really have much time for studying."
"Can you please? I only need your help for about an hour! My Ancient Runes exam is tomorrow, and you know how difficult that subject can be!"
Draco's initial instinct was to tell her to bugger off, but upon looking into her sad, desperate eyes, he saw no other option than to cave.
"Fine, alright, one hour, and then I've got things that need to be done."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cried, looping an arm through one of Draco's and toting him down the corridor behind her.
…
One hour became two, then three, before Draco managed to escape Hermione's mounds of notes and textbooks. The curiosity and apprehension about these stupid, unopened letters were burning a hole in his brain, and as he hurried back toward his dorm, he found solace in the knowledge that he would soon be free to study them in peace, whatever they contained. Draco wound his way down the halls briskly, and almost made it past Slughorn before the professor reached a hand out to stop him.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. You are just the young man I've been looking for today. Do you have a moment to chat with me in my office?"
The jovial smile directed toward him would have surprised Draco if he weren't in such a bloody hurry, and, rather than the validation he would have found there as a sixteen year old, Draco could feel only a surge of annoyance for this interruption. Shaking his head impatiently, Draco tried to step around him.
"No, Professor, I'm sorry. I'm really quite busy today-"
"Nonsense, m'boy," Slughorn persisted, the hand now resting on Draco's chest and holding him in place. "Besides, I think this chat will be of interest to you as well. It's about your friend, Mr. Goyle."
"Gregory?"
Draco paused then, torn between pushing past this geezer and stopping to hear what he had to say about Gregory. Loyalty inevitably won over curiosity, and he yielded his full attention toward Slughorn.
"Alright, what about Gregory?" Draco asked.
"Please, indulge me for a few minutes. My office is just down the hall. We'll have a treat, a chat, and then you'll be free to be on with your business."
Slughorn did not wait for an answer, and even as Draco opened his mouth to protest, he was disappearing down the hall. Seeing no other option than to follow him, Draco was filled with the temptation to stomp down the hall like a child. Trudging behind Slughorn up six flights of steps, Draco found himself in a corridor he did not often like to go down. Wendelin the Weird stared back at him from her pyre, giggling and throwing her head back as she enjoyed yet another of her burnings, and the skeleton near her tipped his hat to Draco as he passed by. Shuddering, Draco hurried past them and into Slughorn's too extravagant office.
Drack watched as Slughorn sank down into a large chair by the fire he kept burning and made a gesture for him to sit as well. Making his way to one of the couches nearby, Draco cautiously sat on the edge of the plush cushions and waited for Slughorn to speak. Infuriatingly, the man instead summoned a tea set and began to pour some for them both. Draco's temper was at its own boiling point when Slughorn finally opened his mouth.
"How would you like to have my job, Mr. Malfoy?"
Dumbfounded, Draco could only stare at him.
"Your what?"
"My job. You'd make a smashing good Potions Master."
"What?" Draco couldn't help the incredulous laugh that left him. "What does this have to do with Gregory?"
"Ah, yes, I suppose I should start there. Your friend Mr. Goyle is rubbish at potions. I know it, and I know you do too." Slughorn held up a hand as a protest rose to Draco's lips and carried on more quickly. "You've been carrying his weight since he was eleven, and it's done him no favours. However, he is lucky to have someone as adept at potion making as you, Mr. Malfoy. I know that you tutored him on the Laughing Potion, and I will have you know that it is the best potion he's brewed for my course since I returned two years ago. His technique was nearly flawless, and more than once I saw him mouthing instructions to himself that weren't in the book. That bit with the Alihotsy leaves? I've only ever seen that done by two other students in my career – Severus Snape and you."
"Severus was a great teacher, and a better godfather. He taught me everything I know about potion making."
"It's true, Severus Snape was one of my best students. A shame that I could never get him under my wing, always too busy sulking after James Potter-"
"Professor," Draco interrupted through gritted teeth, temper flaring once more, "I would appreciate it if any discussion of Severus were done in a positive manner. I was very close to him, and his passing has been rather difficult for me."
"Yes, of course, sorry m'boy!" Slughorn had the decency to look embarrassed and took a sip of his tea. "You understand my meaning, though? You improved Mr. Goyle's potion making, a task I have failed time and time again, within just one session, and don't think I've missed the jump in Mr. Potter's skills as well. He was rather good in his Sixth year, as I'm sure you remember, but it seems he's let the slack go too far since then. I could give him a break, with all that happened, but your skills have stayed sharp. I would go as far as to say that you're evenly matched with Miss Granger, if not more skilled."
"Forgive me, Professor, but what does any of this have to do with taking your job? Those are isolated incidents."
"Even so, I'm certain that if I set you up in front of a class of First years with a potion in mind that you could have them proficient in just a day. I don't know what your tactics are, but you have turned my most impossible case into a rather good student, Mr. Malfoy. It's no secret that I am… advancing in years, though I'd say I'm still spritely enough to live a full life, but-" Slughorn paused and ran a hand across his chin. "Well, where was I? Right, of course, I'm not getting any younger, Mr. Malfoy. The position calls for new blood, and I can think of no other man better suited to this task."
"Professor, I must stop you there. Even if I were inclined to teach, the parents would never stand for it. A man with my past? I wouldn't make it past the first round of interviewing before the Prophet tore me apart."
"With the proper support, you would do just fine! I've already spoken to Headmistress McGonagall about this, and she agrees with me. I've shown her your scores from the OWLs and informed her that you are on track to acing your NEWTs as well. Not to mention, the healer curriculum you're in now is almost exactly the same as the professor's. You could continue taking those extra courses, if they're something you enjoy, and shadow me in your free block, hmm? Now, you don't have to make up your mind now. Take your time to think about it, and have an answer for me before you leave for the Christmas Holidays."
Slughorn stood from his chair and escorted Draco promptly toward the door, scooting him out without stopping to listen to his protests.
"But Professor-!"
"Before the holidays, Mr. Malfoy! But I should warn you, I won't take 'no' until you've put some real thought into it!"
With that, Slughorn shut the door in his face. Draco blew a great, frustrated sigh through his nose and stomped down the corridor. He dared not look Wendelin the Weird in the eye, trying to control his temper as she snickered at his retreating back. This day could not possibly get worse. It had been at least five hours since breakfast, and Draco had not even had a quiet moment long enough to think about the letters, let alone open them. He was reaching down to do just that when his body collided with another.
"Merlin-" Draco muttered, the letter from his mother falling from his hands.
"I'm sorry!" A familiar voice cried, and as Draco looked up, his face fell into a scowl.
Pansy Parkinson stood before him, leaning down to pick up the letter he had dropped. When she stood straight again, a look of apprehension crossed her features, and she held the letter out with a hand that trembled only slightly.
"Oh, Draco." She paused, worrying at her bottom lip as he pulled the letter from her grip. "It's good to see you."
Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Draco moved to walk around her. Unexpectedly, she followed him.
"Wait, Draco!" She called, but he did not slow his pace. He was forced to stop when she ran to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry. I wanted you to know that."
"A little late for apologies, Pansy," Draco answered curtly, hate bubbling in his stomach. "The damage is done, and I see where you stand now."
"But you don't, and that's the problem! All I wanted was to sit down at your table at breakfast or something and talk all of this out. I'm not used to confronting a friend, you know that we've never had to do anything like that. It was Blaise's idea to get you separated from everyone, but then you went and did it for him, so I wasn't ready with what I wanted to say, and that arrogant loudmouth screwed it all up!"
Draco stuffed the letter back into his bag and dragged his hands down his face, the exhaustion of all of this weighing heavily on his shoulders. He could walk away now. Brush right by her and leave his old friend feeling as empty as he had the last two years. His feet willed him to move, but that soft, tired voice in his heart rooted them to the floor.
"What are you going on about?"
"You really hurt my feelings when you ignored me that day in potions, and then you never came to us. It was like we weren't even there, like we weren't even a thought in your mind. We used to be best friends, Draco, and now all of a sudden, we aren't. We aren't even friends anymore, and that's hard for me because other than Blaise and Theo, I don't have any. They're both daft, and don't know what I mean half the time, so it's like being friends with strangers most days. Blaise has gotten better, but Theo hasn't been the same.
"He's going off on his own more than usual, I think there's something wrong with him, but Blaise won't buy it. I'm lost, and I'm alone, and seeing you with Perfect Potter and his Perfect Friends hurts, alright? It really hurts, because we were all supposed to come back and be there for each other, and that isn't how it turned out."
Draco felt a stab of guilt as tears began falling down her cheeks, completely blindsided by this perspective. His own hurt threatened to well up and spill over, but he took a breath and instead quelled the rage that bubbled below.
"Then why didn't you write me?" he asked, and the petulance poured out of him. "You didn't write while I was gone, you didn't write after the battle, and you didn't write this summer. Why?"
"Draco, love, I tried. I wrote you letters all Seventh year, asking you how you were, what you knew, what you had to do. But you never wrote me back. So, after a while I stopped. Now I figure someone must have been intercepting them, whether that was the Order or the Dark Lord, I don't know. But I wrote to you weekly until the Holidays. After that, I just assumed that you didn't want to hear from me, but I kept holding out hope that when we all came back it'd be a sort of reset. We'd all be here, together again, and we would be okay."
"And then it looked like I made new friends and threw everyone away but Gregory," Draco answered, understanding washing over him like a fresh ocean breeze.
"It was completely out of line for Blaise to say those things about Vinny. He was always jealous of how close he and Greg were to you, and he knew that it would hurt you to bring it up. Blaise is angry and lost too, but he never should have gone that far. I'm not here to apologize for Blaise, though. I'm here to apologize for me. Draco, I'm sorry that I didn't try harder, and I'm sorry that I gave up on you."
"And I'm sorry too," Draco answered, suddenly tired of holding on so tightly to his resentment. "I let my anger and my bitterness cloud my judgement. I never should have left you behind like that. Can you forgive me?"
Pansy gave a little nod, and, bottom lip trembling, Draco fought back tears of his own. But then they were both pressing forward and opening their arms, and Draco was sinking into the embrace of the one person he'd let hug him in his school years. Falling into Pansy's arms was like a breath of childhood – easy, guiltless, akin to flight. He held her tightly, and her grip on him was just as solid as they laughed through their tears. When they had finally let go, Draco brushed the tears off her face and gave her a smile. A weight lifted from his chest, he took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze.
"Thank you, Draco, for hearing me out. Knowing that you thought I agreed with Blaise has been killing me. You don't have to include me in your Potter Party, but it would be nice if you could start making some time for me too, yeah?"
"Of course, Pansy," he answered, words full of sincerity. "I'm sorry, again, and know that I'll do better from now on."
"I know that you will. Well, I'll leave you to...whatever it was you were doing. I was just on my way to talk to Slughorn about my progress in Potions. I'll see you later?"
"See you!" Draco called as she walked away.
The weight that had left him for that moment began slowly pressing back down on his chest as he remembered the letters stuffed into his bag. Shaking his head, Draco made his way back down the flights of stairs to the main level and ducked behind a pillar as he saw Weasley. He refused to be side-tracked again, and turned to take the long way back around to the common room. He didn't stop when someone called his name, but rather sped up to avoid them. Draco was tempted to scream and wail like a child as this person grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Ginevra Weasley stood before him, her face as red as her roots, and gave him a great shove backwards.
"Where do you get off ignoring me, Malfoy? When someone's calling you, the decent thing to do is turn around and listen."
"What do you want from me?" Draco snapped, filled with ire at her sudden attack.
"Why did Harry break up with me?"
"What?" Draco cried, his frustration finally bubbling over as he shouted. "Why are you asking me? I'm not Harry's keeper, and it wouldn't be my place to tell you his feelings even if I knew them! So there's no point in following me around and pestering me about why your ickle boyfriend dumped you!"
The rage blinded him, and as Draco let loose, Ginevra took a step away from him. He could tell his face was red by the heat on his cheeks, and Draco blew out a frustrated breath as she hesitated.
"I just thought since you two were so close now… it's just that Ron's my brother, and I don't want to put him in that position-"
"Oh, but you're okay with doing that to me?" Draco laughed cruelly and straightened his bag on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ginevra, but you're either going to have to ask Harry yourself, or resolve to never know, because I have nothing to tell you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm really quite busy."
Draco shook her off and pressed on down the hall, the clock tower tolling one, two, three, four, five times before it fell silent once more. Where had the day gone? He'd meant to open these damned letters directly after breakfast, and Draco could not believe he had let himself become so distracted. He'd missed lunch entirely, had not even gotten the chance to study for his own exams, and if he weren't quick about it, Draco would miss dinner too. Practically dashing through the common room, Draco did not stop until the door to his dorm was firmly shut behind him. Sliding down the wood, he pulled out the letter from his mother first.
My love,
Minny tells me you're well, and that she saw you and Gregory down in the kitchens the other night. I am immensely relieved to hear that you have recovered nicely, and that you and Gregory are still getting on. Because I can see my fears were silly, I feel comfortable sharing them with you now. I was worried about you two returning to Hogwarts this year. I was fearful that your peers would seek some retribution, that you would be run out of the castle, or worse. I don't know that I could continue living if something happened to you. I am so very happy to hear that you are safe, and that you've befriended Harry Potter.
Please, continue to be cautious, but live your life unapologetically. That's the other reason I'm writing to you today. Because after all we've been through, all I want is for you to be happy and free. Know that you can confide in me, and that there is nothing about you that I won't love. You are my son, the most precious thing in my life, and I will support you unconditionally.
All my love,
Mother
Draco couldn't help the tears that slid down his cheeks at this blessing. He didn't know how, but Mother knew about his feelings, and she loved him anyway. That alone gave him the strength he needed to open the next letter.
Malfoy-
Be at the astronomy tower at 5 pm sharp. You won't see me, but I'll be there waiting for you. You will bring a good batch of bicorn horn and boomslang skin and deposit them on the steps without snooping around. Failure to comply with my instructions will result in great misfortune for you. I hope for your sake that you do not fail.
I'll be watching.
Hands shaking, Draco let the letter drop from his hands. Five had come and gone, and Draco had missed the deadline.