Hey, everyone! Are you ready for chapter three?! It's not going to be very interesting, not in the way some of the yaoi parts of your minds are thinking. Sorry. But you'll really want to catch the next chapter. . It's…shall I say…worth the wait.
Until then, this one will have to satisfy.
Enjoy.
Seventh year…The only year he wanted to erase completely from his mind. And the first person he'd gotten killed...
Gill Dorison, a first-year Ravenclaw, had been almost hysterical about the war when it was at their doorstep. The thought of fighting and dying terrified the little girl, and Harry understood that. He had tried to help her, keep her away from the battles, and for a while succeeded.
Then Voldemort made his move, swift, clean, and absolutely devastating. He attacked a group of Hogwarts students when they had taken a trip to Hogsmeade. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had not been among them that time, having stayed to look over old texts in the Library in hopes of finding lost information to give them a bit more of a upper hand in the war.
Harry remembered everything that happened that day as clearly as though it were mere hours ago. How his scar had seared to life, and his mind had been alive with pictures that belonged in horror movies. Chains and blood and hanging bodies with parts of their flesh torn off. His classmates sprawled on the ground, writhing and screaming in pain from the Crucio curse.
He remembered how his eyes had found Gill, and how he had heard her screaming above all the rest.
"Help me!" She cried when enough of the pain had faded for her to be able to even think slightly. "Merlin, please somebody help me! Harry! Harry!"
And Harry remembered being pulled from Voldemort's mind just as the evil man lifted his wand to point it at the girl. He could feel Voldemort thinking the most unforgivable curse. He could feel it rising to the tip of that monster's tongue, and sliding free with ease.
"Avada…"
Then Harry was free, and he realized he was screaming as well, clutching his head. Screaming, not it pain, but in a rage so complete and suffocating, he felt like he was being swallowed whole by it.
He'd told Dumbledore where the students were, and aurors were dispatched immediately to retrieve them. Harry didn't notice much, and only waited until they returned with everyone barely alive. Except for Gill, who was dead, her eyes still wide and begging. Still calling for Harry…who'd failed her.
Harry shook himself back to the present, slipping off his glasses to wipe his eyes dry. He took a shaky breath and stood to go to the bathroom and wash his face.
It seemed his demons were still strong, Harry thought, twisting on the cold water and gathering it in his hands. It was harshly cold on his hot face, pulling him completely back into reality.
Of all the scenes that Harry had seen through his seventh year of hellish warfare, that was the one that stuck out furthest. Perhaps because it was the first death of the war Harry had felt. Perhaps it was because he'd known and wanted to protect the girl so much...a symbol of complete failure in a time of desperate need…
"That…bastard…" Harry mumbled, bracing himself on the sink, thinking of Draco.
That son of a git probably had no idea he'd hit an open wound so accurately. Harry'd never told anyone but Dumbledore every detail of what had happened that day. No one knew how powerless Harry'd been when she cried for him to help her. And no one but Dumbledore knew how much he despised himself for that weakness.
At least, Harry wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that Draco had reformed a little after hearing Hermione regale his achievements in each of her letters. How Draco had opened the Malfoy Manor into an orphanage for wizards and witches after the War. How he'd stopped being so biased about bloodlines.
Harry wanted to believe Draco was becoming the good person he'd glimpsed of a few times in their seventh year when they'd been forced to put their personal war against each other aside to fight Voldemort. He'd seen it, not often and Draco always denied it venomously, but it had been there, definitely. A sort of protectiveness that lay underneath the icy exterior of the so-dubbed Slytherin Prince. Harry liked the possibility of Draco actually having a heart, and wanted to see more of it.
With a sigh, he collapsed on his bed and rolled under the covers. The trip down memory lane had exhausted him, and all Harry wanted to do right then was sleep for a hundred years.
He rolled over and set his alarm for six thirty in the morning. Unfortunately, he'd have to settle for a good twelve hours instead.
An instant later, the alarm went off, aggravatingly rousing him to another day of teaching. Harry groaned, blindly reaching for the source of irritation, and threw it forcefully at the wall. The noise stopped with a shattering sound, and Harry laid there for a few minutes with a small smile on his face, pleased with the quiet.
With a small sigh, he reluctantly pulled himself from the warmth of his bed and went about getting ready. He'd have to think of a suitable insult to face Draco with at breakfast. And there was all the reading he never got to last night…
As Harry stepped out of his room, and into his classroom since the two were conjoined, he was met with the distressed faces of the Gryffindor girls.
"Professor!" One of the sixth-years cried, spotting him.
Instantly he was swarmed with crying, outraged teens, catching only snippets of words here and there. They were gesturing furiously, and he was reasonably certain he heard something about Draco and a Weasley Sex-Changing Bomb.
"Woah, woah!" Harry called, holding his hands up for silence. "Hold it, ladies!"
Instantly everyone fell silent and Harry motioned them all into a seat, himself going to lean against the front of his desk.
"Alright now," he said. "What's this all about? One at a time, please."
Hands went up, and Harry carefully selected a fifth-year girl named Sarah Scroval. She always gave a clear and concise rendition of what was going on.
"Ms. Scroval," Harry called, "please explain to me why all my House ladies are here so early in the morning."
"Yes, Professor Potter," the girl said calmly. "We are all here because of what happened last night at dinner."
Harry frowned a little, confused, and called in a cup of coffee to help wake him up. "Last night?"
"We saw that dirty Slytherin Head!" Another girl, a seventh-year by the name of Patricia Valenmore, cried. "He must of said something really mean to you!"
"I bet it was about the war!" A second-year girl shouted.
"He's such a jerk!"
"And he was smiling as you left, the heartless prat!"
"We just wanted to make sure you were alright," Sarah called over the noise of outraged adolescents. "We were going to come last night, but the boys said you'd want some free time before we swarmed in."
Harry blinked, surprised, before smiling at them slightly. They really were worried about me, he thought warmly. "Thank you all, ladies, for your kind concern. But I'm fine. Honestly."
"Are you sure?" They asked. "You looked really upset!"
Harry laughed again. "It's alright, I promise! And Draco's not so bad."
"How can you say that?!" Patricia yelled. "He's so mean to you!"
Harry chuckled. "That's just the way Draco is. And he's definitely not dirty. Actually, you could say he's a bit anal about staying clean," he added dryly.
"But…!"
Harry held up a hand and gave them all sharp looks. "And I do not want to hear about any of you planting any sex-changing bombs or traps of any kind for Draco. And trust me, if anyone does something to him, I'll know about it."
There were more objections this time, but Harry shook his head firmly.
"Draco Malfoy is your teacher," he pressed. "Not to mention he's a hell of a bloody lot more powerful. If you can't respect him as a person, which is understandable, at least try to respect the strength he's earned."
The girls pouted, trading mutinous glances with each other, but slowly agreed. Harry sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was Draco screeching like a banshee down his neck because his girls were out for revenge for his honor.
"Thank you," he said. "Now, it's almost time for breakfast, so you'd better run along."
"We'll see you in class, Professor," they called as they rose and fled from the room.
Days passed quickly, and Harry found himself coming to like teaching more and more with each passing day. His House had the Quiddich Cup, thanks to some after-class tutoring. And they were in the lead in points, despite Draco's best efforts. All in all, things were looking up for him.
"Potter!"
Harry paused on his way back to his classroom and turned to see Draco stalking towards him. He sighed, knowing that surly look on the man's face meant he was spoiling for a fight.
"What now, Malfoy?" He demanded, irritated. "I have tons of work to finish."
"And you think I don't?!" Draco snarled. He held up a crumpled piece of parchment, shaking it furiously. "What in the seven hells is this, Potter?!"
Harry narrowed his eyes and felt himself warm up to a fight, also. "I'm going to go out on a limb here, Malfoy, and say that's a piece of paper."
Draco's temper snapped a little more. "This, Potter, is a letter! One you wrote requesting a large amount of a certain potion!"
"Yeah, so?" Harry demanded. "I need that potion for the kids when I bring in the dark seelie! Unless you want a couple hundred kids running around trying to kill people!"
"A Dark Seelie?! Have you completely lost your mind, Potter?!" Draco ranted. "They're damned near extinct!"
"I happen to know one that isn't, so sod off, Malfoy!" Harry roared back. "I need that potion by next week, and if you're too lazy to get off your fat arse and actually do some real work that doesn't involve tormenting kids, then I'll—"
"You'll what, Potter?" Draco hissed malevolently. "Go cry to Albus?"
"You wish," Harry snarled, leaning close enough that their noses almost touched. "If you don't get me that potion, I'll let loose my House on you. You know they've been dying for a chance to get you back for all the nasty things you've done to them." He smirked. "Guess the apple doesn't rot far from the tree after all. Malfoy."
Draco went pale, then flushed with anger and swung at Harry. Having expected this, Harry ducked under the punch and shoved him into the wall.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, looking down, keeping Draco's shoulders pinned to the wall. "That was out of line for me."
Draco stilled, and Harry could feel his shock at the honesty in his apology. But Harry was sorry. He knew how hard Draco had been working to free himself from his name, to make it something respectable, and yet he'd gone straight for that weakness in the man. It seemed Harry hadn't changed as much as he thought he had, either.
"Let go of me, Potter," Draco said coolly, the anger gone now, too.
Harry sighed and pulled back. "I'll tell you what," he said, scooping up their books and handing Draco's to him. "If you help me out on this, I'll owe you one."
Draco snatched his things from Harry. "One what?" He demanded, eyeing the man suspiciously.
Harry shrugged as they started down the hall together. "One anything." He paused, before adding, "So long as it's not throwing a Quiddich match or anything cheating like that."
Draco snorted. "Like I'd ever ask you to throw a fight." He paused as they came to the split in the hall, where Draco would continue downstairs and Harry would go up. "I'll think about it," he allowed.
Harry grinned. "Great! Only, don't take too long. The potion takes—"
Draco stopped him with a withering look. "I know how long that potion takes to make, Potter."
Harry blushed slightly. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."
"Whatever." And Draco left.
Harry shook his head and went off to his classroom to finish ever-growing pile of work.
Thanks everyone for reading! As always, review and it will come…the next chapter, that is. . Ja ne!