2.

"Keats?"

"Yes sir…"

"Niederer?"

"Yup…"

Year 5 seemed as unimpressed with their new teacher as he used to recall from his own days here. Draco slowly ran his finger down the list, stating each name as it appeared, then ticked it with his quill.

"Parkinson?" He raised an eyebrow and looked at the student raising her hand, but no likeness to his old pal was obvious. Unlikely that any relation of Pansy was going to be sorted into Gryffindor, but miracles hadn't ceased to exist… He returned to the list, and raised another eyebrow, then looked into the group before him, wondering which one it was, and stopped when he noticed a dark-haired young man stare at him, slouching on his chair.

"Potter?" he stated.

The young man raised a hand, stared blankly at him and acknowledged being called. "Yes sir."

Draco nodded, then carried on.

"Stevens?"

No answer came, so he tried again.

"She's got a tummy bug, sir," he heard the girl that answered to Anderson explain, after she raised a hand to get his attention.

"Thanks, Anderson." Draco noted something on the paper, and carried on with the Slytherins, not seeing any familiar names, other than families he knew from his circles. Not that he had much to do with the people his parents used to hang out with, but it might not be far fetched to come across a Goyle, or a Nott, or indeed a Parkinson, in the roll calls as he started the classes, but so far, no children of his former fellow Slytherins seemed to have made it to Hogwarts. There was still a Year 6 today, and a Year 4 tomorrow though, so who knew.

"Right, people, my name is Professor Malfoy, and I will be teaching you the amazingly interesting subject Potions. I assume that Professor Slughorn has gone through the curriculum as he should have, so you will be clued up on the ones you'll be tested on during your O.W.L. exams," Draco started, fast losing his pupils' interest. "You may have even tried one or two out, if you lot are anything like myself at this age…"

This got a few sniggers, and he smiled at them.

"Will we be learning Amortentia this year, sir?" he heard, and giggles rose from the assembled teens.

"Um, it's not on the list for year five, Keats. Why, do you have a specific reason for this?" Draco turned up a corner of his mouth into a slight smile. Keats was a burly chap, rather spotty, but a friendly demeanor.

"Not me, no…" his face flushed quickly, and he was poked by Potter, who sat next to him, pointing at one of the girls behind them.

"Maybe by February…" Draco replied, raising an eyebrow and smiling a knowing smile. He then watched the way Keats looked at Potter, once he turned back to face their teacher. He recalled the hours of fun he had with the potion in question, the mortifying embarrassment it would invoke on it's subjects who would suddenly have their secret crushes revealed. "Now, if you can all open up your Magical Drafts and Potions book and find page 86, we'll be having a go at a Wit Sharpening Potion, just to get up off to a good start… Now, this potion can be used as an antidote…"

The class followed his instructions nicely, and Draco was impressed with the students' eagerness to learn. His first few days were filled with pleasant surprises, not having met anyone with an outright attitude, although he still had a Year 6 later that day, and some of them might be less eager.

Seeing Potter there was a little bit of a surprise, though. Saint Potter had produced offspring, of course. Three guesses who the boy's mother was, he thought, although the lack of obvious ginger hair was a little bit odd. His cousin in Year 1, Rose, might as well have been unnamed, as she was so obviously a Weasley. Draco grinned at the thought of Weasley's daughter and also a niece in his classes. Did they know of his reputation? Were they aware of the history between their parents and their new Potions Master? Should he fill them in? Nah, the way gossip worked in this place, they would be up to speed within days. James Potter would know that his dad used to be weirdly obsessed with Professor Malfoy, infuriated and intrigued, in equal measures. As he was himself, to some degree or other. What was Potter Sr. up to these days?

At the end of the period, the students had cleared up their work stations, and walked out of the classroom, chatting away about the things they would be doing later that day. Draco himself thought of the drinks he had planned to have on Friday night with Arthur Braithwaite and Cassandra Paisley, as he now knew the new Music teacher was called, as well as some others. They had agreed to celebrate their first full week of teaching of this new year in the Three Broomsticks, a haunt he recalled from outings to Hogsmeade. Some unpleasant memories filled his head, when he was asked by his colleagues, and he really hoped that Madam Rosmerta would have either forgotten or forgiven him for the Imperius Curse he had used on her, back in those dark days, and he almost declined their offer to join them.

Professor McGonagall caught up with him as he was getting ready for dinner in the Great Hall.

"How are your first days teaching, Draco?" she asked.

"Yeah, okay, I guess… Strange to be on the other side now," Draco grinned back. "No troublemakers as yet amongst the ranks."

"No, I suppose it's early days for that, still…"

"Saw that one of Potter's kids is in Gryffindor," he offered. May as well get that particular elephant in the room mentioned.

"Yes, James, you've met him then," McGonagall carried on. "Bright youngster, like his mother. I had thought of telling you before you started, but didn't think it would matter too much…" She looked sideways. "Does it? Matter?"

"No, it doesn't… Unless you think it might be problematic…"

"Bit late for that now, isn't it?" she smiled at him. "I wouldn't have asked you, if I did. I assume you have matured a tad from… those days…"

"Not for me to say…" Draco grinned. "I don't bear any grudges against Potter's dad, or the Weasley's, for that matter."

"Water under the bridge?"

"In as far as that's possible, yes…" Draco stopped when they reached the door to the Hall.

"Glad to hear it, Draco."

"Thank you for trusting me enough to give this a go," he said with a smile, as they walked through.

"Well, your faculty head recommended you, said you were great with the younger folks, teaching them potions even she had trouble with…"

Draco felt himself blush.

"Mind you, she wants you back after this year, said she'd make my life hell if I wanted to keep you. Hope you've kept up your dueling skills since you were here…"

Draco laughed out loud at that, and received a smile from the headmistress.

..o0o0o0o0o..

The noise in the Gryffindor common room was pleasant, and the students were divided into those who wanted to study and those who wanted to relax. The sofa near the fireplace was filled with seventh years, all engrossed in conversation about the forthcoming Quidditch selections, and who would be possibly standing a chance, and in another corner, some boys were playing Exploding Snap. James had placed his books on the large table in the middle, and was chatting with his friends, Horace Keats and Dolores Anderson about the homework they were given. Dolores was great in History of Magic and Transfiguration, while Horace loved learning all there was to know about Astronomy, all subjects that James was less enthusiastic about, but was keen for them to help him out. They all loved Quidditch, though none had made the team - something he knew his dad was fairly disappointed in with him.

"Did you understand what Flitwick meant with the angle of the wand, with the Deletrius Spell?" he asked Dolores, who had been doing a lot of swishing just now, trying to get the charm just right.

"Like this, I think he wants it," she said, and showed James how to hold his hand by bending his wrist at an obtuse angle. "There, now try it…"

He said the Spell again, emphasising the second syllable, and lost his mug of tea in the process. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed, and looked at Horace in shock. Dolores quickly cast a reverse charm and the mug reappeared, though without the tea.

"Shit… I'll never get the hang of that," he grumbled.

"You will, just keep at it," Dolores smiled. "Maybe you can help me with the Numerology essay later on. It was like Vector was talking in riddles during class. Did you get any of it, Horace?"

"Not a dicky-bird… She may as well have spoken Russian, for all the sense it made." he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how you get any of it, James…"

"Neither do I, but I guess my aunt Hermione was helpful, she explained a few tricks over the summer, and a lot of it made so much more sense…"

"Maybe she should be teaching it then, give Vector some time off," Horace grinned.

"Yeah, she's nice, your auntie," Dolores smiled. "Isn't she something high up in the Ministry?"

James nodded, smiling.

"Isn't she the mum of that girl over there?"

They all looked at the group of first years, sitting at the other table, drawing pictures of plants they were taught about that week. Rose was good at drawing, James knew, and he was curious to see her work.

"Yeah, Rose is one of my seventy-four cousins…" James grinned.

"Hey, Potter!" they heard from the sofa near the fireplace. James looked their way, and saw his cousin Lucy swatting one of the guys.

"Stop it, Rowan! Don't give him a hard time!" he heard her say to the tallest of the guys, who had turned towards them.

"Is it true Professor Malfoy used to rough up your dad?"

"Rowan, shut up!" Lucy tried to make him stop. To no avail.

"They tried to kill each other, is what I heard," another boy chimed in.

"Potter's dad, and the new Potions Master? Really?" a third guy asked. "Bloody hell…"

"It was before the war, when his dad was trying to stop the Dark Lord from taking over, you idiots," Lucy tried to explain. Rose had turned towards them, trying to figure out what was going on, looking at James, who was feeling rather uncomfortable.

"Her mum and dad were part of all that," the boy called Rowan carried on, nodding towards Rose. "Right pair of thugs…"

"They weren't thugs," James grumbled.

"The Professor was more of a thug, from what I heard," the boy next to Rowan said. "He was a Death Eater, apparently… Killed someone..."

"Really?! What!? And he's teaching here?!"

"Can you guys just pack it in?" Lucy snarled at them. "You don't know what went on then. It was a long time ago."

"Um, Death Eaters were horrible, Weasley…" Rowan replied. "You don't just choose to be one and then stop being one the next day cos you don't fancy it anymore…"

"I heard he had the hots for Potter's dad…" said a blond girl who had been quietly watching from her seat on the floor. "What!? This is common knowledge, my mum was in the year above them, in Ravenclaw, and they had bets on them getting it off with each other…"

"Betty, what the hell! James is sitting right there," Lucy was livid now, enraged at the insensitivity of her classmates. She looked over and smiled at her cousin, mouthing a silent 'sorry!' at him.

"My mum said that Potter is a sad has-been, that he's washed up and a drunk…"

"How the mighty have fallen!" Rowan exclaimed dramatically.

"Yeah, okay, Rowan, enough now…"

The seventh years returned to their business, apparently bored with their jibes at James, and he hid his face in his hands, leaning his elbows on the table.

"Great… My dad's reputation putting in an appearance again…" he mumbled after a bit.

"Don't listen to them," Dolores said, laying a hand on his arm. "They just think they're being hilarious."

"All I know is that your dad is a hero, James," said Horace with a big smile.

"If only he remembered that," groaned James, then sighed deeply.

..o0o0o0o0o..

On Friday nights, The Three Broomsticks was not a quiet place, Harry had begun to realise. Nursing a pint of stout, sat in a corner, awaiting the arrival of Ron, Harry watched the punters take their seats. Wizards and witches he had seen there often, by now, his fifth week in the rooms above the pub. Some recognised him and nodded in his direction. Most just went about their business, unaware of who Harry was, and he was thankful for this. It could be nice, getting offered a pint or a friendly clap on the shoulders, but ever since he himself became aware of the reputation attached to his name, and face, back in his first year in Hogwarts, he tried to do his best to go by unnoticed. Unless of course he was too pissed to care.

He didn't know his drinking habits had reached the Prophet - and therefore the General Public - until Adrian mentioned it to him, and tried to get him to modify his behaviour a bit. Not get so brawly, be less noticeable. Harry tried, for James' sake, to spare Ginny the embarrassment, not let it reflect on Ron and Hermione's lives. But the ache inside, the anger or emptiness, whatever it was always won, and that bottle of Elderflower Wine, or Malt Whiskey took the edge of it all very nicely.

"Hey Harry!" he heard next to him. Ron had arrived, and smiled. "How are you?"

"Ron! How great to see you, man!" Harry beamed. "Come and sit here." Harry patted the seat next to him and moved up a little. "What are you having? Beer? Whiskey?"

"That stout you're having looks good, thanks…"

Harry got up and wandered up to the bar, where a few witches were debating the merits of brass cauldrons over pewter ones, and specifically the newest self-stirring version, which was getting mixed reviews in the Cauldron's Finest magazine. Apparently. One of the witches was eyeing up Harry, and gave him a sweet smile and a wink, and Harry replied with a lukewarm grin, keeping eye contact. She looked kind of nice… Long brown curly hair, bit messy, done up in a weird bun, her blue eyes glistening, and breasts poking slightly out above a brown bodice - he could pull tonight… That might be a nice distraction…

He returned to Ron with two pints of stout, just as a group of people walked in. He heard the voices behind him, and had a look as he parked himself next to Ron, who was chatting with an old wizard on his other side. A group of teachers from Hogwarts, he figured. He recognised Professor Flitwick, and Vector, and wasn't that Professor Sprout, with her even greyer shock of curls than he recalled. He smiled as they passed him, too busy in conversation to see him. A few others walked up behind them, a dark-haired woman, very striking looking, and a blond man, discussing something very funny, as they both burst out laughing. The blond man did look around him, and noticed Harry and Ron, and nodded towards them. Was that… Malfoy?!

Harry gave Ron a poke with his elbow, and pointed towards the small group that went to sit by the back wall, near the fireplace.

"Look! There!"

""What?" Ron answered, still finishing his chat with the old wizard next to him.

"There, that lot there… Look who it is…"

Ron turned towards where Harry was pointing and recognised the same people Harry had, and smiled at the realisation.

"Blimey, they've gotten old!" he said, smiling. "Professor Sprout must be a hundred by now…"

"No, next to that woman there, don't you recognise him?"

Ron squinted and had another good look. "Is that Malfoy?!" he said eventually.

"My guess… What the fuck is he doing with the teaching staff of Hogwarts?!"

"Um… Teaching?" Ron looked at Harry bemused.

"Teaching?! What does he teach? How To Be A Death Eater?"

"Potions, apparently…"

"Potions?!" Harry looked very confused.

"Yeah, Hermione told me, had to check him out for Professor McGonagall. Special request, or something…" Ron smiled, not seeming very bothered.

"And you never said? James is there… And Rose…"

"He's okay, Harry. Been living and working in Germany for years, doing okay for himself there…"

"Should've stayed there…" Harry was glaring at the man in question.

"Leave it, Harry…" Ron said in a warning voice. "How is your book coming along?"

"Fine… Why is he teaching my son?"

"Harry, leave it! He's been working and teaching for years, in Germany, not so much as a scribble in his files, according to Hermione, and if there was any doubt, she would be the first to recommend he'd be taken off the list." Ron insisted Harry look at him. "He's changed, Harry. Been in a steady relationship until recently, reliable researcher…"

"Means nothing…"

"Well, if McGonagall's happy, then who are we to doubt her?" Ron took a swig of his beer. "She's a damned sight more thorough in finding staff than Dumbledore ever was…"

"Don't you dare badmouth Dumbledore," Harry grizzled.

"I don't. But even you must admit that his Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers were very often a bit… off. Apart from Lupin, we never had anyone useful…"

"Well, maybe, but…. Malfoy?!" Harry was still glaring at the group, then turned towards Ron. "Anyway, how is Hermione doing?"

Ron looked confused at the change of tack, but was grateful it happened. He hated whenever Harry got like this - a bee in his bonnet over something with no chance of him letting it go.

They talked about his wife, and the kids, and the fact that Percy was now Penny, and how much Ron's mum was loving the improvements that Charlie was doing to the Burrow, making it into almost a new house. Even Ginny was mentioned, and how well her career with the Prophet was going.

"She's amazing, your sister…"

"I know…"

"Was she mad that I wasn't at King's Cross?" Harry asked, slightly self-conscious.

"She wasn't pleased, no."

"I meant to… It just…"

"James reckoned you were with Adrian…" Ron looked sideways for the reaction.

"What…? Why?!" Harry looked mortified.

"I don't know, Harry, he said he'd known for a while, cos you told him," Ron took a deep breath. This version of his best mate was getting tiresome. "Were you?"

"No… I was with Martha… Or Maryam… I meant to come to London, but time… And then… I went to the station here, at Hogsmeade… Used a Disillusionment Spell on myself and watched the kids get off the train. Hagrid was still doing his helping out, helped Rose onto the boat - she was with a couple of girls, seemed really happy - and went off with them. James also seemed so happy, so lighthearted. He looked so handsome in his robes, I felt so proud… My boy, there, with his friends…" Harry smiled at the memory of last Monday.

"You should be - proud…" Ron smiled. "From what I gather he's very level-headed. Doing well amongst his peers."

"And we both know he has Ginny to thank for that…" Harry smiled, looking sideways.

"And you. You took care of him when he was little…"

"True… Until I got off the rails…"

"Harry, you're not off the rails… You just need to sort yourself out a bit." Ron looked at the group of teachers, then back at Harry. "Maybe living in a pub isn't the best idea at the moment…"

"I don't know, I like it here… Lively…" Harry searched through the group of witches again, spotting the one that winked at him earlier. She was still there. "Hang on a sec…"

Ron waited and drank the rest of his beer, watching Harry walk up to the bar again, ordering some more drinks, then smiling at the witch nearest to him. Good god, she was ready for him… Ron noticed how Harry was touching her, whispering in her ear. Earmarking her for later that night, possibly? What happened to Adrian? Ron looked towards the Hogwarts group again, and noticed Malfoy glancing Harry's way as well. The woman to his left, the dark-haired professor, leaned into him, saying something, and Malfoy nodded. He seemed concerned, or at least interested. He then looked at Ron, nodded again, and carried on with his conversation.

Ron grinned, the realisation hitting him, the irony of how Harry and Malfoy had both ended up here, but with such different situations...

~ to be continued ~