3.

The smell of freshly baked pumpkin pie filled the small kitchen, and tea was being brewed in the large red teapot. Three people walked in from the hallway, having just come in from a long walk, carrying on chatting about their day, ready for a slice of pie and a mug of warm tea. As September wore on into October, the days were getting slightly colder, although the warmth of the summer still hung around. Ron, Hermione and Ginny settled around the big table and Ron made a start with slicing the pie into parts, placed three of them onto a glass cake plate and spelled them to his wife and sister.

"Smells delicious, Ron!" Ginny said, as she eyed the orange tart, which settled itself in front of her on the table. "You're getting really good at this!"

"Well, as far as hobbies go, this one is rather useful, I feel…" Ron smiled at his sister, who tucked happily into his latest attempt.

"These beat the earlier versions, I can tell you Gin," Hermione grinned.

Ron smirked at the memory of the pies he started out with, usually being tasteless or charcoaled. Sheer determination got him to improve (or rather, pay attention) and once he got the hang of the basics of making the cases, having asked his mum to explain the finer points of blind baking, he was off and running, and Hermione and the kids were treated to one gorgeous creation after another.

"It's a good thing we have plenty of guests, or I would have to get another wardrobe," Hermione continued, taking a swig of her tea.

"I know where I will be on Saturday's from now on," Ginny grinned, tucking into the tart with delight. "So, things still busy at the Ministry then, 'Mione?"

"Yeah, thankfully. We're working in some new recruits, some kids fresh from Hogwarts, so it's good to not have anything too taxing going on." Hermione poured some more tea from the pot.

Hugo joined them, having finished practicing his broomstick skills in the back garden, demanding some of the tart from his dad.

"Got the hang of that swoop you taught me, dad!" he beamed, and Ron grinned at him happily.

"Maybe you can show auntie Ginny in a bit?" he replied, smiling at his sister.

"Do you mind? I know you're the best flyer in the country…" Hugo tried to sugarcoat his aunt.

"Yeah, of course! I'd love to!"

Ron liked to see his sister this relaxed. Not having James around made her forlorn, and although her job was challenging her enough, she really missed being hands-on with Quidditch. Thankfully Hugo showed some potential, so she had something to work with.

"When is uncle Harry coming over again?" he asked, once the pie was eaten and he had drunk some of his tea.

The others went quiet, Hermione and Ginny looking at Ron.

"Um, don't know," he said, honestly. "He's still busy, he said."

"Ah, shame…" Hugo replied, then jumped off the chair. "I'll go and get changed now."

The silence in the kitchen carried on for a bit.

"How was he?" Ginny asked after a few moments had passed. She looked at her brother.

"Alright, I guess…" Ron answered.

"Not too bladdered…?"

"Not more than usual."

Ginny sighed.

"I wish there was something we could do…" she said.

"He needs to work himself out, by himself, Gin," Hermione joined in.

"He's been trying to do that for how many years now?" Ginny spoke, her voice sounding harsher than she meant to.

"I know… But what can we do? He's thirty seven…"

"I just wished he'd settle down… With Adrian if he had to…"

"I think he's moved on from him again," Ron said, looking at how his sister would react. Both women looked at him confused. "When I was with him in The Three Broomsticks he was chatting up this woman, who seemed very keen on him…"

"Oh god, not another golddigger…" Hermione groaned.

"Bloody hell!" Ginny joined in.

"Quite…" Ron grinned, but noticed his sister's face turn dejected slowly, realising how far the love of her life had sunk.

Maybe an intervention might be a good idea...

..o0o0o0o..

"Can I have a word with you after class?" Draco asked young Potter as he was clearing up the debris from his workbench. The mess the students had made while preparing for this week's potion was unbelievable, and it took quite a few attempts to get them all to leave their chopping boards and utensils behind as clean as they found them at the start of the class.

Potter shrugged, and looked at Keats quickly, hoping for back up, maybe? Draco knew they had a free period after this, so they weren't going to have to rush to the next class. Keats frowned, and looked at Draco, then carried on with the cleaning of his knife. The rest of the students wandered out in dribs and drabs, and soon the dungeon was empty, leaving only teacher and student. Draco made sure the door was left open, aware of the school's code of conduct - only too aware of how easy accusations of unwanted behaviour could spread in the castle.

"What…?" he heard a snarling voice say, filled with attitude. It took Draco by surprise.

"Sorry?" he replied with a stern look.

"What do you want?" Potter didn't meet his eyes, and Draco sighed deeply. It seemed like his suspicions were right.

"What do you want Sir…" Draco tried, inserting authority in his voice.

A quieter reply followed. "Sorry…"

Draco scratched his head, sighed and carried on.

"Do you have a problem with me, Potter?"

"What? Why?" Potter looked at him now, his eyes surprised, a frown on his brow.

"Are you aware of the issues your dad and I had, when we were your age?" Draco sat down on one of the desks, arms folded in front of his chest.

"Um, yes…" Potter looked down to his shoes. His demeanor had changed from arrogance to ill at ease. "I think so…"

"Has he filled you in on it?" Draco tried to work out how to approach this one. The boy seemed to have become more distant towards him as the weeks had worn on, a kind of animosity settling in. Someone must have said something about either his past or the animosity between his father and himself.

"Dad hasn't, no… He doesn't really speak about what happened here. Back then…"

Oh great…

"So what do you know?"

"Dunno…" Potter shrugged. "That you two… hated each other… And that you… Um…"

"That I what?" Draco looked at the boy unceasing.

"Killed someone…" Potter said almost inaudible, but Draco heard the words. So this was the gossip - that he had killed someone.

"Okay…" Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose. Tough one… Wrong, but he could see that it would stick. "That's it?"

"Think so…" the boy sighed.

Right…

"Well, to start with that one, I didn't… Kill anyone… I was a Death Eater - you probably heard that one as well - and I was extremely sorry about that, had to prove to a tribunal that I wanted nothing more to do with that. See this?" He pulled up his sleeve on his left arm to show Potter the Dark Mark, now a strange looking tattoo, and he saw the boy recoil at the sight.

"I read about that…" Potter whispered. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Not anymore. I can't get rid of it either. It's a permanent reminder of my past. Just like that scar on your father's forehead. His has a different origin, obviously."

Potter still looked at the mark, and Draco rolled the sleeve down again, buttoning up the cuff.

"But your father and I had a lot of difficulties, because I believed stuff that I now know is wrong, following orders from someone called Lord Voldemort-"

"Yeah, I know about him… My aunt Hermione told me about that…"

"Right… and he - your father - was doing his best to stop all that, with the help of your aunt and uncle, and loads of others, and we didn't get on very well…" Draco sighed. "At all…"

"You tried to kill each other." Potter now looked at him incessantly.

"Yeah, I guess we did…" Draco rubbed his forehead, thinking back to then, the horrific things that happened, the awful things he himself had done to this guy's dad, all to please some power hungry madman. "It must be really hard to understand what it was like back then. Your father… Your father stopped me from being killed a few times actually. And I saved his life…"

"So you didn't hate him?" Potter looked at him questioning, and it suddenly struck Draco how handsome he looked. In ways that his father had some days as well.

Okay, bad move, Malfoy…

"No, I didn't hate him… Thinking back, I suppose I was jealous. He had come from nowhere, didn't have a rich family and he wasn't a Pureblood - like your mother is - but everyone loved him… Everyone thought he was the best thing that happened to the Wizarding world since Butterbeer, and all I could see was the enemy…"

Bloody hell, that sounded so petty… All of that, all the horrible stuff he did, because he was jealous… young Potter here must think he was rather pathetic…

He rounded off his chat with a few cliches, about how time heals, and how he hoped that they could get on, not let his father's past get in his way too much.

Potter seemed relieved to be allowed out of the dungeons, and Draco himself was pleased to get back to marking essays. Visions of Markus came into his mind, remembering how great it was to talk to him about his day, or to listen to him about the mad politics in the orchestra.

Draco closed his eyes, focussing on his breathing. The past has gone. He was here now. Markus was living his own life, back in Berlin. Breathe in, breathe out...

..o0o0o0o0o..

Harry plashed his face with very cold water, up in his room. It had been a few days since he'd been here, since Siobhian proved to be a very relaxed companion, after getting to know her the evening Ron had come over. She was amazing in bed, and a laugh both there and elsewhere, and he enjoyed the lack of pressure when he was with her. They just chatted, had meals together, laughed and had wonderful sex. Lots of it. All he wanted from life at the moment…

The final chapter of his book was looked at by Adrian, and sent back for him to have a look at, so that was going to be his plan for today. Finding different ways to say the same thing. Great… He'd had breakfast and lunch sent up to him earlier, by Deidre, the cook, and he was ready to go for a walk, get some fresh air. The clock on the wall said 4 o'clock, so he only had two hours before it got dark.

Hogsmeade was calm again, after the first frantic weeks once Hogwarts was back to it's usual busy self. The woodlands around the village were pleasant, especially now that autumn was settling in, and trees had slowly started to change colour. Harry loved this time of the year, loved this part of the world this time of the year. Scotland was beautiful any given time, but autumn here suited Harry's melancholy nature. Ginny once quipped that he was happiest when there was a thick mist and the ground was soggy, and she was basically right. Thick mist and soggy grounds made for less people around, and less people meant less bother. It was only with a skinfull that Harry liked people around him.

After a while he reached the lake, and enjoyed the view over it. It stretched far away, onto the mountains, and the surface was clear. Like a mirror. The scent of autumn was less clear here, different, not like in the woods, where the fallen leaves and fireplaces made for a sense of joy inside him. Harry loved being here most. The lake had been a great place to think, to let the madness that was always happening at school fall away a bit. He had come here to chat with Ginny, when their romantic feelings towards each other seemed to be blossoming. Amongst the chaos and the fear, Ginny had always been an anchor, of sorts. Her level-headedness was so very welcome in his life. Ron and Hermione had their own way of dealing with it all, together, and he felt like a spare wheel so often, but Gin was there for him. Until he fucked that up well and truly.

He sat on a fallen tree, his coat wrapped tightly around him. Memories came flooding back, of the battle, nineteen year ago. Of people he lost, over the years. People he had dared to feel so close to. Trusting people to mean well with him had never been his strongest suit, he knew. Having had the childhood he had made him wary of those that were close to him. Ron and Hermione were an exception, as were the Weasleys as a family - it had taken him ages to not feel like he was intruding, like he was just there on approval, and would be outcast and ridiculed at the drop of a hat. Sirius and professor Lupin had been the closest he had to his parents, knowing his parents, loving his parents… Loving him, loving each other…

And then they went and fucking died on him as well…

The sound of a piece of wood snapping took him away from his train of darkening thoughts, and he looked around to see if someone was nearby. He knew that this path was well used, leading from the town to the lake, but it wasn't that busy when he walked it, just now. Someone was there, though, a dark figure appeared, also wrapped up, and seemed to stop a little when he noticed Harry sitting down. He turned back to the water, not wanting to disturb the person's walk by forcing them into reacting to him. The sound of steps coming clearer made Harry think he was going to be talked to, so he braced himself, but then the footsteps carried on. And they stopped again.

"Potter," he heard a familiar voice say.

Harry looked up, and saw the light hair of a man he knew very well.

"Malfoy…"

The men nodded to each other. Unsure of what to do next, Harry smiled. Malfoy smiled back. Wow… It had only taken the best part of twenty years of ignoring each other to be civilised…

"Nice day," Malfoy offered.

Harry nodded. "I love the quiet here…"

Malfoy nodded as well. "Amazing place to meditate on life…"

"I guess…" Harry answered, then looked at the tall blond man next to him. "You meditate?"

Malfoy looked at him, and smiled again. "When I remember, yeah…"

Harry sniggered back, reminding himself of the many times he tried to give it a regular go, and how wonderful it felt if he could get a run at it.

"I hear you're teaching at Hogwarts," Harry carried on.

"Yeah, got asked by McGonagall in the spring. They needed another Potions Master when Slughorn stopped, and she heard I was doing okay… Seemed like a nice change…"

"Going back to your old school…"

"Yeah, that was a bit of a hurdle, but I thought it might be good to go back, put the past behind me."

"Can't imagine going back there, somehow. Teaching… Especially now that my son is there." Harry looked over the lake, towards the castle.

"Yeah, I guess that would be weird."

"You have kids?"

"No, never wanted to. My ex wasn't too keen either…" Malfoy smiled, looking out over the water. "Teaching the blighters is quite enough, thanks…"

Harry laughed at this. Malfoy sounded very relaxed, not the jumped up git he was back in year 7. Still looked attractive though. Older, like he himself was now. He had matured wonderfully…

"Your boy is doing well, at Potions at least. Keen learner…" Malfoy looked sideways. "Must have that from his mum…"

Right… Hadn't changed much after all.

"Very likely, Potions was never my thing…"

"Well, it can't have been very helpful to have Snape as your professor, back then, I suppose…" Malfoy carried on.

Harry stood up and motioned to walk on along the path. Malfoy joined him and they walked in silence for a while.

"I read your book on Black and Lupin," Malfoy carried on. "Very insightful… Beautifully written."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, unsure of how to react to this. "It helped to put a lot of crap into perspective, deal with losing both of them…"

"I can imagine."

Another silent spell. It felt nice to just walk, hear the birds chirping, the twigs snap, the leaves crunch underfoot. With Malfoy.

"Don't you miss where you were before? Where was it?" Harry broke the silence after a while.

"Germany. I was researching and teaching at a wizard university in Weimar - do you know it?" Harry nodded. "It's really beautiful there. Gorgeous woodland and streams, and the town was lovely, not too big. I lived in this cottage in the woods, with Markus, my partner. He plays violin in an orchestra, and he was in Berlin a lot, and in Vienna. We split up in April…"

Harry noticed a sadness when he spoke about that. Obviously not a split he was at peace with.

"Sorry to hear that," Harry spoke.

"I miss him, and I miss Weimar, some days…" Malfoy smiled halfheartedly. "I miss the wizarding community in Germany. It's nice there."

"Sounds like you don't miss Britain much, then…"

Malfoy shrugged. "Only my parents."

They carried on chatting about this and that, wandering slowly back towards the village, where the lamps in the streets and the houses had come on, and it looked very cosy.

"I'll go back to Hogwarts from here," Malfoy said, and greeted Harry as he turned onto the road to the castle.

"Yeah, it was nice to talk to you, Malfoy." Harry smiled.

"Likewise, Potter…" returning the smile, then setting off properly.

Harry was left feeling rather odd, walking onto the High Street, and he stopped by the Post Office, to see if there was anything for him there. He arrived back at the Three Broomsticks with a large parcel under his arm, and was greeted by Gertrude, who was talking to a handsome young man, with dark curls and a sweet face.

..o0o0o0o0o..

The silence in the sleeping quarters was only broken by the sound of snoring. Horace was known to sound like an elephant, and Alex talked in his sleep, so James wasn't feeling too worried about it. It wasn't the first time he had found himself having vivid dreams that left him feeling rather flustered. They usually featured one of the Slytherin girls, a blond one, called Mildred, who sat behind him and Horace at Potions, and was looking a lot more mature than most girls in his class. He had never been anywhere near a girl before, so his fantasies were purely based on speculation, but his mind was often working overtime. Elaborate scripts were being played out, and they often involved the Quidditch hut, or the Astronomy Tower… Only, this time Mildred wasn't anywhere near his fantasies.

This time around, he was in the dungeons, after one of the classes, last period of the day, clearing one of the work stations, and the stench of one of the potions gone wrong was lingering in the room. He had been scrubbing for ages, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. He wasn't alone, he knew that the Professor was talking to someone in a corner. His voice was carrying through the space, as he was reprimanding whoever it was. He liked the sound. Professor Malfoy's voice was nice, strong, confident. Just like he himself was.

James had been thinking about him, ever since their chat, a few days ago. About the way that being around the Professor made him feel. It scared him, in the same ways it made him feel aroused. It freaked him out that he was getting turned on when he thought about him. About the way he was looked at, not eyed up or felt sorry for, but just… treated like a person… taken seriously.

He wanted him… He wanted him to touch him. To hold him. To be held by him. James knew it was wrong - he was his teacher, for Merlin's sake. But he wanted to know what it was like to be kissed by him. Kissed by another guy. He'd thought about it before, especially since Alex had been really close to kissing him, one time after a walk back from Hogsmeade. He knew how Alex felt about him, that he fancied him, but James was too worried to let him touch him. And it had been on his mind ever since…

He was still scrubbing, in his imagination, and it made little difference, but it didn't matter, because he was in the same room as him. A few footsteps sounded behind him, and he felt the warmth of another body on his back. He knew the Professor was behind him, not quite touching, but close by. The thought made James feel very excited. One step to his rear, and they would be touching. He could feel his breath speeding up, lying in his bed, and cast a quick Quietening Spell on himself - one he learnt from his cousin Roxanne, that summer - just to be safe. His excitement was increasing, and he knew he'd be wanting to touch himself soon. Oh, but he wasn't ready yet, he wasn't where he wanted to be, the professor wasn't near enough…

His mind's eye was back in the dungeon, where the smell of the potion had disappeared, and he was leaning against the desk, still moving a cloth over the surface, and he noticed how the presence behind him was getting slightly closer, he felt a warm hand on his back, on his shoulder, on his neck. A strong hand, stroking his skin gently, as his own went down under the covers, and a body leaning against him, moving slightly, rocking very gently against him. You're doing very well, James, he heard a voice say, breathing onto the skin of his neck. You're doing a wonderful job there… You're beautiful, James… Oh… Fuck... You're… oh… yes… oh… god…

With a deep groan he came, panting, sweating, feeling thoroughly spent. A vision of his Potions professor holding him close still on his mind, fading gently…

Shit…

~ to be continued ~