January 1st, 1999
Per usual with young adults on New Year's Day, the night prior in the Burrow involved dancing, laughing, and most certainly, staying up until midnight at the very earliest. Also per usual, the annual New Year's kiss as the clock counted its way down to that fateful hour was a time-honored tradition that the young couples simply couldn't ignore. What to do after that was mostly up in the air, and once the traditions were upheld, games were played, and snacks eaten, the tired partiers ran out of things to entertain themselves with.
Eventually, they all trudged up to their respective beds in the wee hours of morning and fell fast asleep under the covers as soon as their heads hit their pillows. Harry, Ron, George, and Hermione all decided to sleep at the Burrow for the night since they were all too exhausted to safely apparate home and the idea of spinning through the floo network was not an appealing one to those who had drinken their fair share of firewhiskey. So, Harry and Ron found themselves sharing the top-most room yet again, but their minds were too befuddled with sleep to note the nostalgia. Hermione collapsed promptly into the additional bed that had been moved to Ginny's room, and George and Ginny both awoke to the familiar sights of their childhood bedrooms.
Ron, on the other hand, awoke to the familiar sound of moaning and thrashing sheets from across the room. Bleary-eyed, he rolled over from his stomach to his side to peer groggily at Harry. With the faint headache and dulled senses that accompanied the few firewhiskeys that he had consumed, it took him a moment or two longer to fully process what he was seeing.
The black-haired wizard was flailing and kicking out underneath the few sheets that still remained intact on his mattress. One of the blankets lay crumpled on the floor and the other was pushed against the foot of the bed. Squinting slightly, Ron forced himself to his feet, throwing off his own blankets, and trudged slowly to the opposite bed. Skipping past the usual preamble of gentle nudging and soft interruptions, Ron went straight to what he knew from experience would work.
"HARRY!" he yelled loudly, close to his ear, and shoved him heavily in the arm.
Sure enough, Harry's eyes snapped open and he lay still on his back with his chest still rising and falling rapidly and his shirt slick with sweat. He blinked slowly for a few moments, then took in his surroundings. Ron's blurry face was hovering over him, anxious with a hint of curiosity. The back of his shirt felt damp against his skin and he could not believe the sweltering heat that had apparently accumulated in the room throughout the winter night.
Groaning, Harry pushed himself onto one elbow and reached blindly for his glasses that he knew were somewhere on the bedside table. Ron grabbed them and held them out, then waited for Harry to shove them onto his nose and regain his sight before speaking.
"What was it this time?" Ron asked, not giving Harry any chance to pretend that everything was fine.
"That bloody forest," Harry muttered and pushed himself into a seated position. He hastily kicked off the blankets and took a deep breath, appreciating the slightly cooler air. Ron nodded to himself and grabbed the blanket from the floor. He dropped it in a clump onto the bed and sat beside Harry.
"Same type of nightmare?" Ron asked, feigning casualness.
"Same type of nightmare," Harry confirmed numbly.
Ron turned to look Harry straight in the eye, determined to be able to see if he was lying. "Do you have them every night?"
"Not every night exactly, but… often enough," Harry admitted, not meeting Ron's eye.
"Harry! You should have told me!" Ron cried exasperated.
"It's not like you can do anything about it!" Harry replied, instantly matching his heat.
"It's like Hermione said at Christmas. We have to be there for each other. You don't have to go through it alone," Ron said, holding his gaze firmly on Harry's.
"Okay, okay," Harry conceded warily, not wanting to get into a fight at the moment. His ears were still ringing and his two scars prickled uncomfortably.
"I mean it," Ron said firmly, not believing for a second that Harry would give in so quickly. "Talk to us when this happens. Maybe talking through it will help it go away."
Harry scoffed and fell back against the bed, bouncing the mattress and Ron slightly. "You want me to tell you every night that I had a nightmare?" Harry asked sardonically.
"You said it wasn't every night," Ron said with an eyebrow raised in accusation.
Harry shut his eyes, trying to block out the dull scream echoing in his skull. "It isn't. I was exaggerating."
"Either way, the answer is yes," Ron said firmly.
"Right," Harry said dryly, perfectly content to forget his demands at the earliest possible convenience.
"Tell me every morning that you have them, okay?" Ron asked persistently.
Harry swung his legs around and shoved himself off the bed, looking distractedly around the room.
"Okay?" Ron asked again, leaning sideways to get a look at Harry's face.
"Yeah, sure," Harry replied with little conviction. Then he pulled off his uncomfortably sweaty shirt and shoved it into a ball in his hand, still looking around for another shirt to wear.
Ron knew that Harry had no intentions to follow through with his agreement, but Ron did intend to ask him every morning anyways. "How come I've never woken up?" Ron wondered aloud. "I know I'm a deep sleeper, but you do tend to moan quite loudly sometimes."
Harry made no response and kicked at a pile of discarded clothes in his search of a clean shirt.
"I mean, you've even screamed in the past. Even I would wake up from that," Ron continued, peering anxiously at Harry.
Finally, Harry glanced up and met his gaze for half a second before answering. "I put a silencing charm on the room so I won't wake you," he explained casually.
"WHAT!?" Ron erupted and stood abruptly from the bed. Although, since the beginning of this particular conversation, that was the answer that Ron was beginning to suspect. Harry's head snapped up to look at him, startled by his extreme reaction.
"I don't want to wake you every night," Harry repeated, somewhat more cautiously.
"But…," Ron started defiantly. In truth, he wasn't sure why he was so adamant about Harry's use of magic, but he felt the need to make a bigger deal of this than it is so that Harry would realize he was being serious when he said he wanted to help. "You should have told me!" Ron said in only a slightly lower volume.
"Why?" Harry asked dumbfounded, his head cocked to the side and still shirtless with his large lightning scar stretched across his chest.
"Because-"
"Happy New Year!" The door to their bedroom flew open to reveal Hermione and Ginny, both wearing their pyjamas and ecstatic grins. Harry spun around to face them, instinctually reacting to the noise, then took a hesitant step back when he realized he was still shirtless. Both of the girls' smiles fell when they took in the scene.
Hermione instantly noticed the defiant gleam in Harry's eye and the frustrated expression lining Ron's face to know that they were arguing. Ginny, on the other hand, instantly noticed the giant scar on Harry's bare chest. Then, they both talked at once.
"What's going on?" asked Hermione.
"Harry, your scar!" Ginny said flimsily.
Harry glanced at his chest, felt his cheeks grow red, and instantly cast his hopeful gaze around once more in a slightly more desperate search of a clean shirt.
Ron, answering Hermione, said acidly, "Harry here, has apparently still been having nightmares every night." He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows while Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, clearly telling him that he was making a big deal out of nothing.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said in a motherly way, stepping forward. "You are? I had no idea."
Harry looked between her and Ron, something having just clicked in his brain. "But…," he started uncertainly. "Don't you still have nightmares too?"
"Sometimes," Hermione admitted. "But much less often now because Ron and I talk about them whenever I do." She glanced at Ron and gave him an adoring smile while also correctly guessing the crux of their argument.
"Oh," Harry replied lamely. He ran an awkward hand through his hair and stared intently at the floor, pretending to still look for a shirt.
"If you let us help you, they could start to go away," Ginny said patiently, ignoring the scar on his chest for the time being.
"But-"
"Talking about it helps," Hermione affirmed, knowing where his argument was headed. "It lessens the effect that they have on you by reducing your feelings of isolation, granting you validation, and helps you process and understand what is happening."
Harry, Ron, and Ginny all looked at her blankly.
"What?" she shrugged defensively. "I did my research."
Harry couldn't help but grin at her, automatically loosening the tension of the room. Ron followed suit and Ginny let out a snigger.
"So," Hermione prompted, tucking some hair behind her ear and ignoring their reactions. "What was it?"
Harry sighed. "The forest," he admitted. "Getting this." He motioned vaguely to the scar on his chest.
"Oh, good. So we're not ignoring the obvious anymore?" Ginny said, glancing between them and only getting vacant looks in return. "The scar on his chest?" She clarified with a hint of doubt and flicked her hand towards him.
"Oh…," Hermione said slowly. "We… Well, we already knew about it."
Ginny's expression hardened instantly, but then she shrugged it away philosophically. "I guess you would have." Then she turned back and stared at Harry's chest, her gaze flicking between his newest scar and the one on his forehead that she was so used to by now to the point that she often forgot about it. Harry spun away under her gaze, feeling his cheeks burn, and grabbed his wand from the bedside table. He held out his damp pyjama shirt and flicked his wand at it to clean it as best he could, feeling the dampness fade and thinking to himself that it will have to do for now.
"Wait," Hermione commanded while placing a gentle hand on his upper arm.
"What?" Harry asked bewildered, still not over the embarrassment at standing shirtless in front of his new girlfriend.
Hermione copied Ginny and flickered her gaze between his chest and his forehead, though with more of an analytical eye than Ginny. "It looks better," she said simply.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, joining Hermione and standing in front of Harry.
"It's less red than before. It looks more faded. More like the one on your forehead," Hermione explained.
Now Ron joined the two girls by staring at Harry's two scars, only exacerbating Harry's mortification.
"Oh yeah!" Ron said happily. He pointed at Harry's chest. "It was all red and… and irritated before!"
Harry rolled his eyes and said loudly, "Can I put my shirt back on now?"
Hermione smirked and replied cheekily with, "That's up to Ginny."
Not quite sure what she was getting at, Harry cocked his head quizzically at Ginny who just managed to shut her slightly agape mouth in time and force her widened eyes back to normal. Ginny blushed a fierce pink, making Hermione giggle even more so.
Ron made an undignified "bleh!" sound and shook his head like a dog ridding itself of water in order to get rid of the image that was now burned into his mind. But then, Hermione effectively distracted him by wrapping her arms around him and kissing him tenderly. "Happy New Year," she whispered with a sly smile.
Suddenly, Harry wasn't quite as uncomfortable with his current shirtless predicament and instead gave her a lopsided grin.
She smirked slightly at him, her cheeks still slightly flushed, and said quietly, "Happy New Year, Harry."
Harry smiled back. "Happy New Year, Ginny."
She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. A shiver of pleasure went through her body and she shut her eyes to focus on the wonderful feeling of having Harry wrapped in her arms. Harry replied with equal passion and used one hand to pull her closer to him while the other stretched through her soft hair.
"Blech!" Ron said loudly, his arm wrapped around Hermione's waist. "Stop snogging my sister shirtless and put a damn shirt on!"
They pulled apart regretfully, both wearing identical smirks. Ginny shook her hair out of her face shamelessly and glided to the door.
"I'm going for breakfast," she said idly and Hermione followed with a smile.
Harry shrugged somewhat apologetically at Ron and finally pulled on his shirt, not able to douse his smile or glee.
"We need to set some boundaries," Ron grumbled and left in a hurry. Harry snorted, not trusting himself to reply, then followed him out of the room.
Meanwhile, George was sitting on the edge of the second bed in his room staring at the small clock that was facing him. His hands gripped the edge of the crisply folded blankets until his knuckles turned white and another salty tear made its way down his cheek.
The door creaked open quietly and George hung his head, not bothering to look up. Instead, he saw brown leather shoes appear on the carpeted floor and felt Fred's bed sink as his father sat beside him. Mr. Weasley lifted a hand and let it rest on his son's shoulder, knowing that nothing he could say could ease his pain.
Without warning, George threw his arms around his neck and buried his head into shoulder. Huge sobs began to course through his body and Arthur leaned his own head against George's. He rubbed his hand around his back in a soothing pattern and did nothing to hide his own glistening tears that started to fall onto George's unkempt hair.
They sat like that well into the morning. Neither having to say a word.
George cried, wondering how he could manage a full year without his other half. His partner in crime. His brother and best friend. And Arthur cired, knowing that he could do nothing to ease his son's pain which he knew was somehow even more unbearable than the pain engulfing himself.
The rest of the holiday break passed by in a blur. Somehow, the days melted into weeks and the Sunday before their return to normalcy was upon them. Hermione and Ginny boarded the Hogwarts Express leaving Harry and Ron to apparate back to their stoop. They landed on the top step outside Grimmauld Place simultaneously where Ron opened the front door and with a mock bow, said "After you."
With hands in his pockets and face still flushed from being recognized on the platform, Harry slipped through the open door. Ron and Hermione were recognized too once the well-wishers got closer, but Hermione was able to escape to the train and Ron genuinely enjoyed meeting them and shaking their hands.
"Wait a minute…," Ron said, staring over his shoulder in bewilderment.
Harry paused with one foot over the threshold. "What?" He followed his friend's gaze and suddenly the source of his confusion became clear. Harry let his foot fall back to the outside step and his head tilted to the side. The two wizards stood, side by side, gazing across the street at a figure leaning against the park fence and emanating apparent boredom.
"Is that…," Ron asked, afraid to voice his true thoughts in case he was imagining things.
"I think it is," Harry confirmed, refusing to remove his gaze. There stood Draco Malfoy, in muggle London, staring at the gap between buildings eleven and thirteen, just waiting for number twelve to appear. Although, they all knew it never would.
"What in the bloody hell is he doing here?" Ron demanded, suddenly indignant and more than mystified.
"No idea," Harry replied.
"George was home all day. Let's see if he knows how long he's been standing there."
Harry nodded and turned to follow Ron into the house, already calling his brother's name.
A few minutes later, the three wizards stood cramped on the top stoop, still studying the blond figure.
"That's definitely him," George confirmed.
"And you didn't see him come?" Harry asked.
"Nope." George shook his head cheerfully, apparently ignorant of the disappointment his answer caused them.
They all stood in bewildered silence for a few moments more.
"Should I go see what he wants?" Harry asked.
"He could try to attack you," Ron mused.
"Then why would he come alone?"
"To make it seem safe and lure you out?" George responded thoughtfully. Harry looked at him dubiously. "What? I wouldn't put it past him."
"I doubt he's here to attack me," Harry said. Although, he would be lying if he said the thought had never crossed his mind. "What makes us think he's here for me anyways?"
"Well he's certainly not here for me," George shrugged.
"I'll just go see what he wants," Harry determined with a set look about him.
Neither Ron nor George seemed surprised by his decision, but it was Ron who added, "Then I'm coming too."
With a nod to his friend, they disapparated and appeared on the deserted path in the midst of the park across the street. George watched as they stepped clear from the shadow of a tree, wands already out, and approached Malfoy cautiously.
Entirely focused on his task of studying the buildings before him, Draco didn't turn at the faint popping sound or the crunch of footsteps on the dirt path behind him.
Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry, both equally confused as to what to do next. Eventually, Harry walked cautiously forward so that he was just a few paces behind him and said, rather loudly, "Malfoy?"
Draco spun around abruptly, his expression one of abject panic, but then calmed when he saw the two familiar faces. He eyed their wands warily, but held his hands up, palms forward, in a universal expression of peace.
"Potter. Weasley," he greeted hastily.
He made no motion to reach for his wand, so Harry and Ron both let their arms lower, but neither stowed them away.
"What do you want?" Harry asked roughly.
"To talk," Draco said, hurrying to answer. "I just want to talk." His face was paler than usual, his eyes were set in dark bags, and his hair had lost its usual pristine shine.
Harry raised his eyebrows at his friend and Ron shrugged neutrally. "What about?" the latter finally asked.
"The hearing. And the war," Draco replied, wringing his hands together nervously. When he saw they still weren't convinced, he added, "I swear I'm not here to attack or to try and get into the Blacks' old house or anything."
Harry and Ron shared a sideways glance.
"I'll even give you my wand if it makes you feel better," Draco threw in as a last ditch effort.
"Fine," Harry surrendered at last. Draco nodded gratefully with a persistent air of nerves about him and waited uncomfortably.
"Should we… go to a table or something?" Ron asked, filling the silence. Without waiting for a confirmation, he led the way to a nearby wooden park table and slid onto one bench with Harry beside him and Draco across from them both.
"Here," Draco said, laying his wand on the table and preparing to slide it over to them.
"It's fine," Harry said with a wave of his hand.
Draco nodded gratefully and pocketed it once more. Ron, on the other hand, wasn't so sure and turned to Harry with a question already on his lips.
"I don't think he's here to harm us," Harry whispered as an answer.
"Are you sure you aren't being too trusting again?" Ron asked in a tentative murmur.
"No," Harry shrugged. "But either way, we can take him."
Ron grinned at his shorter friend and gave a shrug back, content yet not at ease. Both facing Draco once more, they sat silently, unwilling to be the first to speak. Ron squinted his eyes at the blond wizard while Harry leaned forward so that his elbows rested on the surface and studied him curiously. Malfoy squirmed in his seat and he pocketed his wand slowly, temporizing the start of what is sure to be an awkward conversation. He quivered under their unflinching gazes and wrung his hands beneath the table. But still, what he needed to say was not coming any easier to him.
"My mother and I wanted to say thank you," Draco said, glancing up sporadically before turning hurriedly away, "for saying… what you did at the hearing." He raised his eyes to meet Harry's and this time, did not drop them.
Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. In fact, he still wasn't sure if he should have said what he did at all. To prevent any burgeoning guilt, he typically attempted to think of that day as little as possible.
Ron's brows furrowed at Draco's words and he asked, "Where is your mother?"
"She's… at home, actually," he admitted guiltily. Before either could press him for details, he added, "She's quite distraught over my father being sent to Azkaban and all that."
If he was hoping for pity from either, it was a pipe dream. Both continued to stare icily at their long time adversary and remained silent. Actually, both were musing to themselves how strange it was to be having a conversation with Draco Malfoy that didn't involve insults or attempts to curse the other.
"We… er… we're also selling our old house to help pay off the fines," Draco continued, lowering his gaze once more. "And with just the two of us for a few years, we don't really need all the space." He attempted to make his voice sound matter-of-fact and unemotional, but it was wrought with concealed despair at the loss of his largest cause for boasting.
"You needed 'all the space' for three of you?" Harry asked blandly while Ron snorted mirthlessly beside him.
"Oh… er, yeah. I guess not," Draco conceded uncomfortably.
Again, Ron and Harry remained silent, apparently oblivious of Draco's discomfort.
After a few more moments, Draco took another stabilizing breath. "We also both wanted to apologize for what happened at the Manor." He looked at them with pleading eyes, clearly hoping that they would accept his rather weak apology.
Harry and Ron shared an incredulous glance. "That's it?" Ron eventually asked after a tense minute of silence.
"What do you mean?" asked Draco.
Ron's face flushed with anger. "You tortured Hermione! You kept Luna and Ollivander in a cellar for months! You killed Dobby! You-"
"That was all Bellatrix! That wasn't me!" Draco defended immediately, his hands slamming onto the table, yet his shoulders shrunk away at his accusations.
"You did nothing to stop it!" Ron yelled.
"No one can stop her! She's insane!"
"We've noticed," Harry added coolly.
"Look…," Draco said, taking a forced deep breath. "I've made a lot of mistakes. And I wish I could go back in time and just start everything over again. But I can't. So instead I'm here, trying to make amends and apologize."
"You didn't apologize though," Harry said. When Draco gave him a confused look, he clarified, "You said you and your mother want to apologize. But you never really did."
Harry gave him a piercing gaze with a single eyebrow raised and eventually, Draco slowly nodded and made to amend his statement.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for everything." He could see that the two Gryffindors were still not convinced. "For everything that happened at the Manor. For trying to stop you in the Room of Requirement. For accidentally poisoning you in our sixth year," he said to Ron specifically. "For cursing Katie Bell. For plotting to kill Dumbledore. For making those stupid buttons in our fourth year. For not fighting during the Battle of Hogwarts." A few lonely tears escaped from the corners of his eyes as he started to shed himself of his guilt. Slowly, those few drops grew and he dropped his head into his hands, covering his face as his shoulders started to shake with repressed sobs.
Once his cries melted into sniffles, Harry spoke quietly. "Thank you for saying that."
Draco composed himself slightly and nodded, knowing it was as close to an acceptance as he would get.
"And while you're here, I'm sorry too," Harry said. Ron turned towards him in alarm, but Harry paid him no heed. "For hurting you in our sixth year in the bathroom. It was really stupid of me."
Draco gave him a watery smile that somehow was more off-putting than when he was crying. His hands were trembling underneath the table and he didn't trust himself enough to be able to say anything else.
Harry finally gave in and addressed Ron, who was still staring at Harry with an open-mouth. "What?" he asked with a defensive shrug. "I feel bad about it."
Ron shut his mouth and shook his head in disbelief. "You are unbelievable, you are."
When the two Gryffindors turned back towards Draco, he started to slowly rise to his feet. "I should probably go," he said.
Ron and Harry stood too and stepped clear of the bench. The three stood awkwardly, alternating between staring at each other and their own shoes.
Finally, Draco said with a small smile, "Thank you for listening… and I hope that next time we see each other, our first instincts aren't to hex the other."
Harry and Ron shared an all-knowing glance, then, with a sigh, Harry took another step forward. He held out his hand without a word and Draco quickly seized it. When they unclasped their hands, Draco slid his back into his pockets of his ever-present black suit and stepped away.
"Good seeing you," Draco added politely, even if 'good' was not the word any of them would use for the experience. He then turned on the spot and disappeared from the park.
Harry and Ron stood side by side, staring at where Malfoy had stood moments before, both too stunned for words.
Finally, Ron managed to comment, "Well… that was… something."
Without turning to look, Harry agreed, "Indeed it was."
Ron led the way towards the small gate at the edge of the park, pushed it open with a rusty squeak, and walked leisurely towards number twelve. When they approached the steps, the front door tore open with George standing behind it, waiting impatiently, not bothering to hide his attempt at reading lips from the window.
"Well?" he urged.
With a sidelong glance at his friend, Ron answered, "he wanted to apologize."
George's eyebrows soared. "Really?"
"Really," Harry confirmed and slipped past them both into the entry hall.
"Not that that can do much now," George added acidly.
"Maybe he's turning a corner," Ron suggested. "Maturing and all that."
"I didn't know he was capable, the little git that he is," said George thoughtfully. They followed Harry into the kitchen where he already had a kettle warming. "So what did he say?"
Harry turned towards George, then said to Ron, "You tell him."
Ron complied and repeated their conversation as best he could remember. A few minutes later, Harry joined them, laden with three cups of steaming tea, his own thoughts straying fray from the conversation that filled the room.
"Harry?... Harry!" Ron shouted, waving a hand in front of his face to break through Harry's glazed over expression.
"What?" Harry asked, shaking his head.
"We said, do you think he meant it?"
Harry gave them both a blank stare.
"Draco!" Ron said exasperated. "Do you think Draco meant everything he said?"
"Oh, sorry," Harry said, realization dawning on him. "Yeah, I think he did."
"Hmm, I guess he did seem genuine," Ron admitted.
"Well I'm still not convinced," George announced. Then the two brothers began their circular conversation once more, trying to decide if this was a ploy or an authentic repent.
"Good seeing you," Draco added politely, even if 'good' was not the word any of them would use for the experience. He then turned on the spot and disappeared from the park.
He reappeared at the edge of the Malfoy Manor property and without thinking, strode up the path. The familiar dark hedges loomed overhead and the gravel crunched softly under his feet until he stepped onto the cold stone that surrounded the imposing door. Before he had even reached the door itself, it swung open on its hinges, apparently by its own volition, and shut duly closed once he had passed.
"Draco? Darling? Is that you?" A soft voice called out from the floor above him.
"Yes," he replied monotonously.
"Come up here," his mother called again, her voice sounding faint as it rebounded through the maze of walls.
Draco slowly made his way up the stairs, his head drooping, and then he turned to the right and mindlessly weaved through the hallways towards the room he knew his mother would be in. Sure enough, she sat in a straight backed chair in one of their many entertaining rooms with empty boxes surrounding her and an old vase in her hand that was supposedly handed down for generations. The empty boxes were meant to be filled with things to either take or sell, yet hardly anything resided in the boxes to be sold.
"Draco, what do you think?" she asked when he came into the room. "Keep or sell?" She held up the vase for him to see and added, "It was your great grandmother's aunt Belvina's most favorite vase. Do you remember dear old, Belvina?"
"No. And I don't think Belvina would care if we sell it," Draco said boorishly before striding into the room and casting his gaze around. "I thought you said you were going to finish sorting this room"
"I'm working on it, Draco," she replied with a glare. "But what about the vase?"
"Sell it."
"Now, now. It is a family heirloom."
"You asked for my opinion. We have never used it before and prior to today, I didn't know it existed. So just sell it," he replied, his patience long gone.
"But Belvina-"
"Belvina is dead. And if she gave it to you, she probably didn't care for it either." He strode towards her in two purposeful steps and tore it from her hands before adding it to the sell box (the first item in it).
Narcissa peered into her son's anxious face. Sometimes, it felt like she could hardly recognize him any longer. The confident and proud young man that she called son had evidently disappeared and been replaced by a sunken shadow of his former self. Finally, she cautiously asked, "Did you see him?"
Draco turned abruptly towards her. "Yes. Potter and Weasley."
When he didn't elaborate, she pressed and asked, "Well?"
He opened his mouth, about to shout angrily at her, but forced himself to take a quick breath before replying with a forced calm. "They stayed long enough for me to say what I wanted to say."
"Of course they did, darling," she said with a casual wave of her hand. "What did they say?"
"Not much," he responded, desperate to withdraw from this conversation as quickly as possible. Before she had a chance to press him further, Draco practically ran out of the room, back down the stairs, and back out into the front yard. He sank onto the front step, ignoring the bitter cold that nipped at his skin in the shadows, and let out a pent up breath he wasn't aware that he was holding.
How had things gone so wrong?
The question weighed on his mind, as it had for months, sinking further into the depths of despair and he sat on the stoop of his childhood home mulling this over until the shadows lengthened and Monday morning came into his sights.
Thursday morning, Hogwarts
"Welcome back everyone! I hope you all had a great holiday," Harry said cheerfully to the class assembled before him. The fifth year students were arranged in a clustered semicircle broken up by a single desk that Harry had left in the middle. Red robes mixed with green and all wore anticipatory smiles that came when their Professor had cleared the room of desks, suggesting a hands-on lesson. Their bags were all still slung over their shoulders, but most wands were already in their hands.
Smiling to himself at their eager grins, Harry abandoned his incipient plans for dramatic antics and decided not to add to the suspense and just get on with it. "As you can probably tell," he said, unable to resist the temptation of drawing it out slightly, "we are having a slightly different type of hands-on lesson today."
A few students gave a few whoops, followed by well-meaning chuckles. "So please put your bags at the sides of the room," Harry continued over them. "And I know that we're supposed to be promoting inter-house unity, but I think that we've done quite well with that and as a New Year gift to you all, I thought we could have a little friendly competition today. What do you think?"
That really set the class over the edge and their excitement reached a boiling point. The students began to eye the other house as their grins grew wider.
"Calm down, calm down," Harry said with his hands spread out beside him to quiet them. The students eventually complied and refocused their attention on their Professor. "Gryffindors on this side. Slytherins over here."
All of the students with red robes lined up against the left side of the room so that they were facing the Slytherins, all shoving to get what they presumed to be a good spot. While they were busy shuffling, Harry flicked his wand and two targets rose from behind his desk and followed him and his wand to levitate in the air near the door to the classroom, halfway between the two houses.
"All right. Pay attention now because the winning team will get twenty five points for their house," Harry warned and with the bribe in place, all of the students were immediately rapt with attention. He allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts and plan out how to best explain his idea, then he dove right in.
"I charmed these two textbooks here to randomly fly in front of your two lines and stop directly in front of one of you," he motioned to two slightly beat up Defense Against the Dark Arts books lying in the middle of the room on top of the desk. "They'll stop at the same time, and whoever they stop in front of has to run to the desk where there's a stack of cards. Pick up the card from the top of the stack and read the description of the spell that it says. Then turn towards your house's target and fire the spell, aiming for the center. I'll be keeping track of the score and the number of points you get depends on which ring of the target you hit."
He quickly scanned his internal monologue for any details that he missed. "Any questions?" he asked, knowing that he must have forgotten something.
"Professor?" A Slytherin girl asked cautiously.
"Yes?"
"Do you get points for being the first person to hit the target?"
"Yes! Thank you for reminding me!" Harry slammed the palm of his hand into his forehead. "Only the house of whichever student that hits the target first will get points based on which ring they hit. The other student's house doesn't get any. Does that make sense?" He cursed internally, knowing he was butchering this explanation terribly.
The Slytherin girl nodded slowly and he allowed a moment to pass while he waited for another question. Once all questions were answered and he managed to conduct a slow run-through, they all felt prepared enough to begin. He flicked his wand at the two textbooks and every face turned to watch them float by torturously slowly before the two walls of students. Then, they suddenly sped up and flew back and forth amongst them before abruptly stopping in front of two of them. Immediately, Dennis Creevey from the Gryffindors and Carter Bush of the Slytherins ran forward, dodging the textbooks, and slammed into the desk. They each grabbed the card and read 'slows down opponent.'
With only a moment of hesitation, Dennis turned towards the target and screamed "Impedimenta!" with Bush just a moment behind. The Gryffindors cheered as his spell hit their target first and Carter's hand dropped in slight disappointment when he realized he was just half a second too late.
"Well done! Well done!" Harry said as the two boys returned to their teams. "Three points to the Gryffindors for hitting the second ring. And don't worry Mr. Bush. Everyone will get to go at least three times before class ends today."
Carter nodded from the right side and Harry flicked his wand again, setting the textbooks whirring once more before landing in front of two other students. An hour passed in a blur of laughs and excitement with only one mishap when a Gryffindor student tripped in their haste, barely managing to get their hands down before they face planted.
"Slytherins are up by eight points!" Harry shouted into the growing din and he could feel himself slowly losing control of the noise, but he couldn't really get himself to care. The class was having a great time and they were reviewing everything that they had learned so far. The green clad students cheered loudly at his announcement, leaving them distracted and the Gryffindor girl that the floating textbook landed in front of had quite the head start, gaining the Gryffindors another five points.
As the Gryffindors erupted into cheers, the door flew open and a livid McGonagall appeared, standing irate in the doorway.
"Potter!" she said loudly, although she really didn't need to because the moment she entered, every student fell silent.
"Damn," Harry whispered quietly so that only Dennis, who happened to be standing nearest him could hear, and a snort escaped before he could stifle it. The tall witch strode through the classroom, dodging the two still floating targets which promptly collapsed to the floor with a quick wave of Harry's wand.
"I have gotten two separate noise complaints within the past hour, Potter," she said, her eyes squinted and lips pressed into a thin line. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"
A few students drew in a breath and bit their lip anxiously, fearing her impending wrath, but Harry just grinned and pushed himself off his desk as a greeting.
"We are playing a game, Professor," he responded calmly, just barely withholding a grin at the sight of his old teacher about to berate him.
"A game," she repeated icily.
"A game," he confirmed. "It's a review game that works on their aim and quick thinking."
"I see," she said with an eyebrow raising. Something tugged playfully at the corner of her lips, a smile threatening to envelop her face. "And did a silencing charm never cross your mind?"
"Ah… right," said Harry sheepishly, nodding to himself. He pointed his wand at the floor, cast the charm, then slid it back into the loop at his leg. "There we go. Sorry about that."
Harry stood, smirking and staring at McGonagall. McGonagall stood, arms crossed and lips pursed. Finally, she let her arms fall to her sides and she let a small smile escape from her tightly maintained facade.
"Well. Let's see this game of yours then. Based on how loud you were, it must be good fun." She crossed the rest of the classroom, turned and stood beside Harry near the front desk. Dennis Creevey's eyebrows rose substantially up his forehead, as did the rest of the class, upon seeing their strict Headmistress stay to watch them play a game.
Harry clapped his hands briskly to stop the surprised murmurs that ran around the class. "Right! Slytherin is up by three points, but we still have fifteen minutes left of class! Here we go," he flicked his wand at the textbooks and they were off once more.
The Gryffindors overtook Slytherins, but then the Slytherins came back and managed to maintain their slight lead, so when class ended, they left the room in high spirits. The Gryffindors left with good-hearted smiles and ribbing those that had missed the targets most dramatically.
"They do seem to have enjoyed that," McGonagall admitted after the last student left the room.
Harry grinned at her reluctant back-handed compliment. "And it was beneficial. It had a point."
"Indeed, it did," she replied with a smile, her single eyebrow raised yet again. "Very creative."
"Thank you, Professor." Harry accepted her praise humbly with a bow of his head.
"Is this your plan for your other classes too?"
"Yes. But I have different stacks of spells for the different grades." He waved vaguely at the other stacks of cards behind him.
She nodded thoughtfully. "And you'll recast the silencing charm?"
"I'll try to remember." She gave him a withering look and he amended his statement to: "I'll remember."
"Good. Then I'll leave you to your next class." She walked back towards the door, her heels clacking against the stone and her emerald green robes swishing in her wake.
Just before she reached out to grab a hold of the door handle, Harry said, "See you, Minnie."
She turned and looked straight into Lily's green, almond-shaped eyes, saw James' lopsided smirk and perpetually messy hair and said quietly, "Good day, Harry."
Another chapter done! I hope you enjoyed. Please leave reviews, suggestions, comments- anything would be greatly appreciated!
Next chapter, we're skipping ahead to Valentine's Day, so there will be some really cute Hinny/Romione fluff!