Here is where I begin to separate from Canon.
The next scene takes place in the summer between the 4th & 5th book; the following scenes take place during and immediately after the 5th, leading the reader into a possible interp. of the 6th book and after. Reminder – this is a work in progress; I'm still "fleshing out" Lori's years as a teacher, the war with Voldemort, and how it all ends.
On we go.
Summer 1995
His father all but dragged him into my office. His mother, a soured expression on her face was unreadable. "You. You're the ex-professional quidditch trainer? This is my son. He fancies himself a seeker and a fine quidditch player. I will no longer tolerate him disgracing the family with these notions. Teach him how to play properly, or break his broom." The last was said as he all but threw Draco into a chair next to my desk. "I can pay you, when can you start."
"Please have a seat Master Malfoy, Lady Narcissa. Should I summon tea?" Without waiting for a response, I conjured a full tea tray into my office. I was not expecting this interruption of my time this afternoon. But my instincts told me this interview could well be interesting. I serve tea to my unexpected guests.
"Draco, do you want Quidditch training from me?" I say directly to him. Asking him the questions I ask any of the students sitting in his position. "Are you prepared to treat this seriously? Do you have any goals to take to Quidditch professionally, or merely as a lifetime hobby-sport or is this for school recreation?"
Draco mumbled something sullenly, and looked out the window then at my personal broom rack and various award plaques.
"What was that, I didn't quite catch it."
"I want to catch the snitch, win the quidditch cup from Pott... the Gryffendors, and take back the house cup."
"Ah, recreation then. That's fine. Would you prefer to start while it's still summer, or wait for the term to start?"
"I never said I needed help to win against Potter."
I ignore his parents and looked at the indolent child sitting in front of me. I spoke to him as if they weren't even in the room.
"Draco, I've heard your whining, your complaining. 'His broom is newer,' 'He's Dumbledore's Pet'.'My arm is injured' Blah-Blah-Blah-Blah-Blah! Has it ever once, just once in the past 2 years of playing against him, that he just might be a better player then you? Have you taken that into consideration and actually practiced or focused more on your playing?"
"I fly perfectly well, and I've won plenty of matches for my team! And I repeat, I don't need any help from a Potty-fan. If you were such a great trainer, how come you're here now?" He made to leave, but his father pushed him back into his chair. He looked like he was about to go into a tirade, but I interrupt him.
"I've watched every quidditch game at this school since I came here. For all that he's still sloppy, Potter is the better quidditch player if only for his concentration on the game, rather then heckling opponents. In three years of playing Quidditch, Only once did he ever fail to catch a snitch, and that was because of the dementors." Draco snickered. I resist the urge to strangle the child.
"Potter may be the youngest, but Cedric Diggory was the best seeker this school has ever seen in my tenure, second was Charles Weasley. Oliver Wood was an outstanding keeper despite a tendency to get in the way of the bludgers. Can you name the last Slytherin player to ever be recruited for any National or International Quidditch league teams? I tell you Mr. Malfoy, it hasn't happened in over 15 years."
"How dare you say such things to my son?" His father looked outraged.
"You ask me to instruct him, and yet you think I will tolerate any sort of rudeness from him? If his entire purpose is to show that he knows my job better then I do, then my task is meaningless, and my time wasted. And I for one do not waste my time."
The trio looked at me, astounded.
"How dare a half-blood witch show such insolence to me!"
I cut him off mid-sentence wondering what Grams would say about that.
"Half-blood? I see. Good day, Master Malfoy." With a wandless gesture, the door to my office nearly flew off its hinges opening.
I open a drawer and take out some papers, a quill, and start writing. Beginning a file on Draco and taking some notes of this conversation. The trio still sat there, Draco- looking like he was torn between respect for me and defiance. I look up, with as cold of an expression and inflection as I can place in my voice. "Good. Day. Master. Malfoy."
Draco broke the silence with a much-humbled tone of voice. "Please, Madame Finnigan, would you coach me to be a better seeker."
"No." I say looking directly into his eyes. "You've convinced me that you can do it on your own." They continue to sit, staring at me. I go back to writing.
"You know he can't." Narcissa almost sounded pleading.
"I know that, Lady Narcissa. But the two of us seem to be the only one in this room who understands it." I say without looking up.
She takes a side look at her husband. "Not that it matters, but wasn't your mother born of muggles?"
"And my father, heir and first-born son, from one of the longest pure-blood lines in Scotland and Ireland. Who on the insistence of the family matriarch, married outside the pure-blood lines. And why would that be? She felt that a fresh perspective in the family was necessary. Then my father met the unexpected. One of the blessed of Erie." I didn't think it was possible, but Lucius actually got paler. Draco looked confused.
"There are five muggle family lines who are fully and completely aware of the existence of our world. Who to every seventh generation, for reasons that vary according to family legends, are born powerful witches or wizards whose gifts nearly always breed true and strongly into their children. My mother was one of those, brought to Ireland by her American family that was stationed near Bahn in the air force. She received two owls one for the Salem Institute, one for Hogwarts. To stay closer to her parents, she went to Hogwarts."
"In my tenure here, I've watched the amount of pure blood witches and wizards dwindle to nearly none. The Dark Lord has so far failed in his mission. He hasn't ridded the world of the muggle-borns, and half-bloods. He's created a world where they will soon have the majority."
"I wish you luck and success finding a proper match for young Draco here. If you're looking for a pure blood witch of proper age, there are 2 in Hufflepuff, 3 in Ravenclaw, and one in Gryffendor, and none in Slytheryn that are not previously engaged in arranged marriages. I believe he's made himself unpopular enough in all those houses, that none would consent to the marriage. But you didn't come here to discuss family genealogy and wizard husbandry. You came to me for Quidditch and you seem to feel that my ancestry isn't good enough for instructing your son. I wish you success finding any professional trainers who would consider working with a purely recreational player for any fee. Good day, Master Malfoy, Lady Narcissa, and Mister Draco." They finally stand and make their way to the open door.
"Draco," He turns towards me. "If you change your mind, ask again at the beginning of the term." He made a slight bow in my direction, turned and left the office.
I shut the door gently with another wandless gesture.
And smiled.