Draco spent the next several days purposely trying to avoid Harry and all of the other annoying Gryffindors. Except Mcgonagall of course she was the Headmistress after all, making avoiding her rather difficult and ill-advised. He would still catch Harry staring at him on several different occasions. Honestly it creeped him out. It severely creeped him out. It wasn't like 6th yelu Harry had a legitimate reason to be stalking him. He was trying to kill the head Master after all. So it made sense then. But now? What had he done recently? Nothing. The weirdest and most out of character thing he'd done in recent years was accept this job. But he didn't think it was to big a deal he needed to be watched all the time. Well, more then he already was. Many, of the students watched him, and not because he was doing anything sketchy or evil. He might of been in Slytherin but he out right refused to have a reputation like his God father. No the students seemed to like him for a different reason. The amount of fan mail he got was honestly bloody impressive. Of course Mcgonagall obviously kept surveillance of him, she wasn't stupid and neither was he. He'd made peace with Mcgonagall awhile ago so that didn't concern him at all. Potter on the other hand, not so much. He'd love to say he'd tried. But that'd be a lie. A very blatant lie. He hadn't tried at all.

It's not that he didn't want to get along with Harry, he did. He wanted to coexist with him. Honestly he wouldn't mind being friends. Not good friends of course. Just somebody he could talk to time to time. It was a little embarrassing having Mcgonagall as your only friend. He'd made nice with Longbottom when he started needing things for his class and his small herb garden wasn't big enough. Once again the only problem he had was the great Harry Potter. Out of everyone his scorn and hatred hurt the most.

After everything that he'd seen the people he'd seen change for the better, he still couldn't forgive Malfoy. He couldn't even pretend too. Yes he had been worried about him the night before. Even Stalking all the way the to his room just check on him. ' He even stayed for tea' Draco smiled slightly to himself but it seemed as though that worry was more out of Harry's need to know everything then anything else. 'He seemed worried though genuinely worried' the thought kept popping up into his head. 'Yes and the last time Potter seemed genuinely worried about me I ended up crying in pain on the bathroom floor blood pooling from his body' he'd always respond back. It didn't matter anyways if he was worried or not, Potter needed to learn to mind his own business and that was that. Heat crawled up his back and neck making him feel anxious. It was so hot. Why'd he always have to wear these stupid clothes. He tugged at his collar loosening it and circled around the cuffs of his sleeve being careful not to tug to much or to touch his tender skin. Harry was right on one thing. He'd been spending a lot of time in the infirmary lately. To much time. Way to much time. If he kept it up he might have to stop teaching soon. Only for a little bit of course. But ethier way he really didn't want that to happen. He surprisingly really enjoyed it. Once everyone got over there prejudice of him it worked out really well. He even tried to make interactions "mandatory" as Harry had called it. The idea that he'd spewed out the night before wasn't just some random concept he'd thought of on the spot. As much as it might have seemed like it with the way it was poorly executed and explained. But it'd been the way he'd been running his classroom for the past several months now. Not only had he done that, but he'd up'd the amount of group projects his students had to do. With Mcgonagall's permission of course.

It was no secret that Draco hadn't always had the most accepting views on people. In fact it was those views that cost him a potential friendship. One that went greatly missed over the span of his life. He'd love to say he grew out of those thoughts on people. But once again, he'd be lying. Yes he stopped thinking that the dark lord was right in his ways of doing things and yes he thought it was wrong to kill Muggles and their children. But he still believed that there were people who were worth more then others and it was a list for him mostly determined by class.

It wasn't until right before Voldemort was defeated that he really started to get the idea, and that was just because he was tired of seeing people die. It had terrified him when they'd brought Potter over to him to determine. He said "he couldn't be sure" but he obviously knew how could he not. He'd stared at that face a million times before even if it was all mangled up at the moment. All he really needed to see was his eyes, as pure as jade they shone like emeralds. They always did. It was something Draco had noticed in there third year. Though he honestly didn't pay that much attention until later years. Years that would not be kind to him. Draco swallowed looking at his left arm where the dark mark lay on just above his skin hidden beneath his shirt, very un kind. He'd been proud of it when he first got it. He really had. But that feeling hadn't lasted for very long. His family had fallen out of favor with the dark lord at that point so it wasn't long before they started paying for it and everything was then placed on him. It became his responsibility to make things right for his family and the only way he could do that was to become a murderer. He'd been cruel and terrible before, he'd admit that a million times over. But he never wanted to kill anyone. It wasn't him. He was not a killer. Or at least he never wanted to be. To this day he'd never actually killed anyone. He'd attempted it many times though.
Not just counting the previous headmaster. He really didn't like to talk about any of it. The ministry had made it a little bit difficult to do that right after the war though. Despite his family somehow getting off completely free with only there reputations truly being damaged afterwards. While he was redoing his seventh year at Hogwarts the Ministry required him to go see some kind of magical therapist. If he didn't the ministry made it very clear he could be tried for attempted murder and so could his family for countless other things. He really hated the way his life had turned out up until this point. He hated it so fucking much. He pressed the fingers of his right hand against his left forearm the pressure on the wound causing him pain.

He relished the pain. Every bit of it. He knew it wasn't healthy, not in the slightest. But he could never bring himself to care. He was raised on pain and cruelty. Why should now be any different? Yes he was personally nicer to people but why should they be nice to him in return. Why should he be nice in return. What he and his family had done in the past was unforgivable he didn't care what other people thought. Only real problem Draco ever felt he had nowadays was that his Father no longer around to punish him in the was that he saw fit. Which was typically a slap or a beating. Now that he was an adult no one was there to correct him when he messed up, he had to handle it all on his own. Unfortunately do to his raising he'd become a bit of a masochist.

But only when he thought about his past mistakes.
He never craved pain when he messed up in the present. Because he'd never do anything again that required it.

After the war he would see his dark mark and feel sick. It was a reminder of everything he wanted to forget and never wanted to be. He'd hide it the best he could with long sleeved shirts and looses clothing. He'd even tried Muggle Cosmetics but often found that they didn't last long enough and would soon fade his skin being so pale and the ink being so black. The contrast was to strong he thought maybe if he got out in the sun and let his skin darken maybe it'd be more effective. But to his dismay it just hurt and after his skin was done being red it really didn't help. He was just to pale no matter what. Despite all that ne never thought about striking it out against his skin until after Mcgonagall had reached out to him about being a teacher. He'd then debated it for weeks and months until finally he just stopped thinking about it and just did it. He wasn't suicidal in the slightest. He just got really tired of hating himself every time he looked at it. He'd love to say slicing his arm open had fixed that problem. But truthfully, it only made it worse. Now he felt like a failure two times over. He would feel a phantom feet heat shoot up his arm whenever he'd think about what he'd done. Like he'd been cursed or something. The feeling in his gut would grow and make him feel sick. The morning after he cut through the mark on his skin he threw up like a sick dog. His body was shaking so uncontrollably he couldn't even write his name. He was so scared that despite being ashamed of what he had done felt he had no choice but to go to the infirmary. Of course when Mrs. Pomfry saw she gave him absolute hell about it and was furious with him when he told her she wasn't allowed to remove the damage. She'd threatened to tell Mcgonagall but thankfully Patient confidentiality was still a thing in the wizarding world or else he would have been thoroughly screwed. It didn't matter that he was an adult Mcgonagall scared the shit out of him.

"Excuse me, Professor" Draco looked up as a student pulled him from his thoughts. It was a 3rd year student "Yes miss Heathers" he looked at his student giving her his attention.
" Well umm I was just wondering" she paused hiding behind one of her books "how hard is it to become a teacher here" she asked very sounding very self conscious. This was the first time he'd ever been asked this question before but it didn't suprise him that this little 13 year old girl was asking him. She had earned a similar reputation to a Mrs. Hermione Granger when she went to Hogwarts. Draco tried to learn about all of his students. This little girl was from the world of magic and he'd learned she came from a similar world as his own. Of course her family was never listed on the sacred 28 but then again neither had the name Dumbledore.
" Well I'm not really the professor you should be asking about that because I don't actually know" he answered weakly she continued to stare at him intently " but theoretically, how hard do you it is". Draco thought for a moment "Lauren" he began "do you want to be a teacher" she nodded in response "Well first of all you don't really have to start thinking about that -". "Until 5th year, yes I know" she cut him off "but" he took the conversation back
" if you work hard and I mean really hard and a position at this school opens up that you did really well in its possible that the Headmaster at that time could give you a position here". You could see her brain running the calculations in her head trying to make the most of his answer. Which in his opinion wasn't much. She looked like she was going to ask him another question when one of her classmates came in to collect her. Funnily enough it was a red head with poorer grades then her ironically he wasn't a Weasley. Draco laughed as the young Muggle born ginger dragged his blonde wavy haired friend away to do something he considered to be entertaining.

Draco smiled quietly to himself. Even if he was never apart of the 'Golden Trio' it didn't mean he never paid attention. Something many people will point out, he was always paying attention to them. Their little group of friends always seemed so happy and full of life. Despite him having his own friends who he hung out with he always felt envious of them. They had genuinely liked each other and formed they're friendships naturally. To which his friends had only been his friends because they were raised around each other and had little choice if they didn't want to be lonely. So despite the fact that yes he did care for his friends at the time it left their friendship to be a very strained one at times. He'd always wanted friends to play with like the ones that Harry had. He'd never gotten it. But it did warm his heart to see history already repeating itself. Though the two students who had run out of his class were more of a duo than anything else, but they still had time to grow. Draco went back to his thoughts as the day crept on.

It wasn't un-usual for Draco his day just thinking to himself occasionally reminiscing. It was probably not very healthy for him but he didn't really care.

At meals he could feel Potter staring at him and whispering to Longbottom occasionally. It was driving him absolutely crazy. He had hoped that after Harry had stopped by he would of left him alone. But no of course that's not what happened because the universe loves him so much. Though he'd give him some credit the stupid and mindless pranks stopped. But his visibility got worse. Instead of Potter only caring about his existence some of the time, he seemed to be aware all of the time and would not let him go. The next time he caught Harry staring at him from the corner of his eye. He turned his head quickly, and glared at him. That stupid plotting bafoon. Harry's face turned bright red as he quickly turned back to his meal and continued eating. Draco smirked at this. From the teachers table Draco could see the same two kids from earlier sitting at Hufflepuff laughing at something. He'd love to be able to see things like that and feel happy but it just typically made him feel lonely. He'd enjoyed Potter's company a few nights before when he had stayed and had tea with him and they just talked for a while. Even if he did question him a little bit. It was still nice. He glanced over at Harry at the other end of the table. He was joking around with Neville Longbottom having finished eating. Draco's eyes wandered down to Harry's smile. His beautiful sparkling smile that always reached his eyes. It was something that had always knotted him up on the inside. Even when they were younger it would knot up his chest. Being very young and naive he would always say it was his anger and hate for the golden boy, and to some extent it was. But children and adults alike repress and ignore feelings under normal circumstances. These children were pitted against each other in the middle of a coming war that neither of them should have ever had to deal with. Even now that the war is over and had been for a few years. As previously stated, Adults repress and deny too. Sometimes so well they don't even realize they're doing it. Now I could just be reading or writing, ha, to much into it. But people can suprise you in so many ways. Yes there are times when people want to make up with someone they never got along with because they've changed and want to be better and mending a friendship that never was is a good way to do that. But that's not always the case and humans are rarely that simple. Now I'm not saying that people want to bridge the gap because of some ulterior motive or unrequited love all the time though that does happen. Just that people are complicated.

Draco's eyes moved over to Neville who was sitting right next to Harry. The two had been decent friends in school but Draco had never really seen them as being that close. Not as close as Ron anyways.
But ever since Harry had started teaching Him and Longbottom were always together laughing and being friends. It bothered Draco for some reason he didn't know why. Maybe it was because once again The Great Harry Potter was choosing to be friends with someone he saw inferior over him a second time. I mean it could be that. But it's not. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't like Neville. He'd never really liked Neville, well he didn't dislike him. But he did remember picking on him quite a bit in school for his poor magic abilities. But of course his magical abilities had improved greatly since then. So Draco really didn't have any personal reason to dislike him. Not really. But he did for some reason and that's what bugged him. He was afraid that the prejudice that had been distilled in him from a young age was still there despite the fact that he'd tried very hard to change it. Because he couldn't think of any other reason why he could possibly dislike Neville Longbottom now that he was an adult other then that. For what other reason could it be. Jealousy? No he wasn't jealous of anything that Neville had. Both of his parent's had gone insane and had no hope of ever being saved. Why would that be something to be jealous of? And there was absolutely nothing else he could be jealous of ethier. At least nothing he could think of.

His eyes once again traveled to Harry still drawn to the chosen one. To great annoyance to him. His emerald eyes were sparkling reflecting the lights from the cealing above. God he hated him. He really hated him. Though despite his best efforts he could never stop being drawn to him. Stop thinking about him. Hoping that some day they could actually try to know each other. To be friends even. To think maybe in another life things had worked out differently. Maybe he'd been nicer when he'd asked to be friends. Maybe in their 6th year Harry and him wouldn't have dueled but had just talked things out.

But that's not what happened. It's not how anything turned out and he still hated Harry Potter for it.
Stupid Harry Potter with his Emerald Jade eyes and messy moplike dark brown hair. With his dead parents and hero complex. His stupid friends and ex girlfriend. He hated it all.

And It killed him.

All these years and still worlds apart.

After everyone was done eating Draco. Went patrolling on the seventh floor. He didn't know why he chose that floor exactly but it was where he ended up. He didn't have another class to teach for a good bit. But he had been thinking about going to the library.

While he was casually strolling he ran into a couple of students who were being a little to erm, affectionate for public. Draco magiked them apart quickly awarding them both a loss of points from their individual houses.
They attempted to get him to sympathies with them. Him being one of the younger teachers and closer to their age. Asking him to 'try and understand' or ' hadn't he ever been young once' he didn't think they realized that sounded like an insult. But regardless their attempts didn't work, and to answer their questions. He had been young once but no he couldn't understand. He'd never been that kind of teenager. He simply didn't enjoy it or see the point.

After that short endeavor Draco returned to his thoughts swallowing. They would swallow him like a storm at sea and he'd get lost if he wasn't careful. His thoughts would wander over his childhood, aimlessly going over his raising. From all the love and adoringness of his mother to the cold disappointment and discipline he'd endured at the hands of his Father. Their differing parenting tactics had really messed him up growing up. He was constantly torn between thinking he was the greatest thing in the world deserving of love and that he was worthless and pathetic. He still hadn't quite figured which he was yet. He wanted so desperately to figure out who he was and to get over everything in his head. He wanted so badly to know what he wanted that he had started reading up on the mirror of Erised knowing good and well that he'd never find it and that it'd been removed from Hogwarts years ago. But he still tried. He tried so hard that as he was walking around the 7th floor a door appeared as he was approaching a rather peculiar painting. He looked at the door curiously. Obviously he knew where it led but at this moment his brain was not connecting it.

So he very cautiously pushed open the door and stepped inside. Revealing a marvelous hall of mirrors before the slammed shut behind him temporarily locking him inside.