Old Places and New Beginnings

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warnings: brief mentions of what can be construed as PTSD and depression. If anyone finds these topics triggering, please skip this chapter.

Coming back to Hogwarts for an eighth year might well have been one of his worst ideas to date.

Sure, helping with all of the reconstruction and restoring his first true home to its former magnificence was truly rewarding, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the war. Bodies, flying spells, heart-wrenching screams … It was a literal nightmare.

The only consolation was that everyone else in his year looked the same.

The Eighth Years as they were called now had their own tower, regardless of House affiliations, and each and every one of them were wearily pulling themselves along until they could graduate. Even if some buckled down and studied with a previously unseen fervour – like the newly dedicated Seamus – there was still a general air of suffering about the teenagers.

Harry leaned back against the tree in the Forbidden Forest, mere metres away from Hagrid's hut and mechanically ate the roll that Hermione stuffed in his hands before he wandered off. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry, it was just … tiring to eat, to force himself to care for himself. Not for the first time, he was astounded that Sirius had been as put together at the end as he was.

"Bloody little shits, as if – oh. Sorry, Potter."

He looked up to see Hogwarts' new Potions assistant, one Terence Higgs. The former Slytherin had come back to try and earn his Mastery in the difficult subject, and McGonagall had proven herself to be one of the sneakiest Gryffindors to ever exist by all but jumping at the chance to improve House relations. Higgs was one of two students who'd been accepted as Mastery students this year, and he'd been put to work as Slughorn's assistant in the dungeons.

Having a hardworking Slytherin teach all the students – who also had a very polite demeanour – was doing wonders to ease the friction from the war. Having the personal backing of the Headmistress – an openly proud Gryffindor – certainly didn't hurt, either.

Well played, McGonagall.

"Can I help you, Mister Higgs?"

The other man huffed and rolled his eyes at Harry. "You don't have to be so polite, you know. I did do to school with you for five years, remember? I know full well how you usually speak to people.

"Anyway, have you see a group of firsties wander this way? I heard that some of them had been dared to come in here and look for werewolves."

Harry snorted at the stupidity of the children. "I haven't, no. They might have given up before they even started. That is what kids tend to do."

"Unless your name's Draco Malfoy, you mean," Higgs muttered irritably.

Harry choked on his laughter, leaning back into the ancient tree and letting loose with his amusement. He snorted a few times trying to get back some control, but eventually he calmed down and grinned at his fellow Seeker. He wasn't exactly wrong, but times does lend itself to maturity.

"He's not so bad anymore, you know. I mean, yeah he spends way too much time getting ready in the morning, but at least he isn't the world's most Gryffindor-like Slytherin now," Harry said with a grin.

"Don't remind me."

Harry smiled and shifted where he sat, leaning more heavily against the solid tree so he didn't end up with an aching back later on. "Do you want me to keep an eye out for the kids? I've got the rest of the day off, and I won't be going back inside any time soon."

Pale green eyes studied him intently for some reason, the other man's expression putting butterflies in Harry's stomach. Harry might have accepted that he was attracted to both men and women, but that didn't mean that he knew what to do when a good-looking man was looking at him so closely. Granted, he wouldn't have any idea if it was a woman either, but the point remained.

"No need, I'm quite content to wait them out. I've got nothing better to do."

And with that, the older man strode over to Harry's spot and sat down next to him, leaving less than an inch between their bodies. What the fuck?

As if he didn't have anything else to do. Higgs probably had marking to do, or research for his Mastery, or brewing for the Hospital Wing, or even Family stuff to be getting on with. Why's he here? Harry thought. Even if Higgs wanted some peace and quiet, there were plenty of other places he could hide away in. And as for the troublemakers he was looking for, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that the other man could just use a Point-Me spell to find them. Or one of the many loyal elves around the castle.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked warily.

Green eyes turned to meet his own, and Harry noticed that Higgs had some faint freckles dotted at the tops of his cheeks, giving him a boyish air that contrasted with his strong jaw and defined cheekbones.

Cute. He blinked at that thought and immediately willed it away. Don't go there, Potter. Not going to happen.

Higgs raised a brow at his question. "What do you mean?"

"It's just – you don't need to be out here to find those kids, and I know how busy you are anyway. You've got god knows how much work to do, and …"

The other man just stared at him for a few seconds before a wry smile found its way onto his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're a tad oblivious, aren't you?"

Harry wanted to feel indignant, but he was well aware that it was the truth. Hermione and Ginny had complained about it enough. His fiery ex had especially ranted on it a few times, before and after they'd broken up.

"Your point?"

Higgs smiled at him, the gentle expression at odds with the wicked amusement in his eyes. "My point is that it's hardly a chore to spend the afternoon alone with such an attractive man."

Harry's eyes widened, and he felt his face burn with embarrassment. There was no way that that meant what he thought it did. Impossible. It –

He jumped a little as he felt soft lips press against his cheek, thrillingly close to his mouth. He sucked in a breath as Higgs pulled back a few inches until they were face-to-face. Pale green eyes had darkened slightly, the other man's face set in a mask of desire. Harry had to swallow at the sight; his mouth was far too dry.

Higgs – he should probably call him Terence now, shouldn't he? – leaned forward until their breath mingled, hot between them. "May I?"

"Please."

And if Harry spent the rest of the afternoon getting acquainted with the inside of Terence's mouth, well …

There had to be some perks of Eighth Year.

A/N: Hey guys!

Literally had no idea what to do with these two, but this is thanks to Wednesday_addams_potter on AO3. I hope I didn't completely destroy the ship.

(If you want to know about my lack of updates - A/N on ch.40.)

See ya next time!