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Second Chance Year	By : Spacefille Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2925 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money off of the following work of fiction.

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2. School

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After spending a few more days sulking about the Black house, Harry decided it was time to go meet his godson.

The child, of course, was adorable, with brown eyes like his father and ever changing hair color like his mother. He ached when he saw him, an odd happy sad feeling, knowing that two of his friends were gone permanently and only this small, red faced, crying thing remained. Harry pushed his feelings aside and decided to make a go of being a father, at least until September. Because of that he learnt a great deal about dirty diapers (thankfully there was a spell for that), and how to take care of a baby (don’t drop him).

During the last two months of summer he divided his time between visiting the Weasleys and Andromeda Tonk’s house, trying his best to keep busy. Keeping busy kept his mind off of things, there were an extraordinary lot of things he found himself thinking about, and nearly none of them were pleasant. He would get into moods, considering the friends he had lost, his godson… the fact that he hadn’t been able to get a chance to talk to Ginny recently. Lucky for him, when he spent too much time in Mrs. Tonk’s immaculate sitting room gazing out the window, the older witch would let out a huff of frustration and thrust Teddy into his arms. She’d then proclaim that she was going shopping to pick up supplies and apparate away, leaving Harry alone with the baby.

Panicking over a squalling baby was more than than enough to keep Harry’s mind occupied. The first time he even had to floo Hermione over to help because he had no idea what to do.

By the time September came Harry was glad that baby Teddy had somehow survived his ministrations and attempts at childcare, proving that babies were perhaps more resilient than he had previously thought.

.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Harry muttered for not the first time since they boarded Hogwart’s Express that morning. He felt out of sorts and ill at ease, and it had been a more than trying day already. Random people he didn’t know had come up to him to give him hugs or pats him on the back, and other random people had glared at him from a distance as if he had ruined their lives. Which he probably had.

And he thought he was famous before killing Voldemort…

Hermione shot him a look from across the table. “Of course we should be here,” she said. “Stop saying that.”

Neville looked up from his plate. “I’d like to graduate so that I can become an Auror,” he offered. He looked confused for a moment. “I thought you wanted that too, Harry?”

Harry made a face and shrugged. “I. Well, maybe…” he began and Hermione kicked him from underneath the table. “Yes!” Harry said with much more enthusiasm. “That’s why I’m here.” He avoided Hermione’s glare and the way Ron stared at him like he was nuts.

He wasn’t going to win this one, no matter how he felt about being a year older than any other Hogwart’s graduate in history. Well, beyond the rest of his returning class… well okay the next seven years of graduates as well. But really, spending last year in a tent had completely taken his mind off of any sort of academia. Being back at Hogwarts brought home the fact that he felt doing something as trivial as school work didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things…

Convincing Hermione of that would be futile. She was going to stay until the bitter end and make it through the entire year, Harry had no doubt about that. And if Hermoine was doing it, he would have to as well, there was no point in even bringing it up. If he did he had no doubt she’d guilt trip him by reminding him who, exactly, had stayed by his side all winter long last year…

He sighed to himself and let his mind drift as McGonagall got up to address the students. He looked out over the great hall as she spoke. There were so many empty spaces now, and that hit him with an unexpected jolt. The Professor’s table was missing teachers. Harry let his eyes slide over where Snape would have been sitting, to continue skimming down the house tables. All of the students were subdued, even the first years.

Of course they were quiet, Harry thought to himself, it had been too soon. Three or four months wasn’t nearly enough time to forget a dead parent or sibling, some of which had died in this very room. And everyone here had lost someone, in some cases more than one. Classmates… Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw… both tables were missing people, especially among the older students, though admittedly not as much as the Gryffindor table. The abundant empty spaces at the Slytherin table were the most surprising though. Pansy was missing, so were a couple other classmates from his own year. Harry supposed it was because those parents were reluctant to send their children back to school. Since most of them came from well off wizarding families he supposed they either decided to finish their schooling with tutors or in one of the other European schools.

It did make him wonder why, exactly, Malfoy had come back to Hogwarts after all, as his gaze settled on the blond haired boy sitting at the far end of the table. He stared at him for a bit, considering.

It struck him as he watched him, how perfectly odd it seemed to see him there. Of all the people he hadn’t expected to get out of the war alive, minus himself of course, was Malfoy. He had been so deeply mired in all of this… nearly as much as Harry had been, if not more…

Almost as if sensing his gaze, Malfoy looked up, eyes locking with Harry’s. He held it for a moment, and the expression on Draco’s face seemed more curious than anything. Then, almost as if remembering himself, Draco’s lip curled and he sneered at him. Harry flushed without even knowing why and looked away quickly, then wondered at his reaction. Two years ago he would have returned Malfoy’s ugly look without a thought. He cleared his throat a bit self consciously and made an effort to concentrate on the rest of McGonagall’s speech.

He sat through the Sorting Hat too, utterly bored and wondering yet again why he was being forced to endure this. He found his eyes roaming the great hall once again. For some reason he found his gaze drawn back to Malfoy. He supposed it was to see if he’d still be sneering at him. But no, Malfoy, for his part, studiously did not look at Harry, and instead kept his gaze pinned directly on the professor’s table.

What he didn’t expect was for Professor McGonagall to stand again, and while dismissing everyone else, ask that three of the students to stay behind and meet with her.

Those students were himself, Hermione… and he half expected McGonagall to say Ron as well and briefly wondered how on earth they had managed to get in trouble *already*. But when Professor McGonagall said Draco Malfoy, Harry’s jaw dropped open with shock and he whipped his head around to stare at the other boy.

Draco had his gaze focused on McGonagall and did not look at Harry. Harry looked back at Ron and Hermione, his mouth still open. “What did we do?” he asked. “I haven’t gone anywhere near Malfoy yet, did either of you-”

“No,” Hermione rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she added. “See you back at the tower Ron?” she asked.

Ron smiled, or at least attempted to, and gave her a hug. “Yeah,” he said. He shot a glare over at Malfoy before heading off.

*

No, this definitely wasn’t usual, Harry decided, as McGonagall asked Professor Slughorn to stay as well. Harry sat down one table over from Draco, Hermione on his other side and waited to see what this was about.

McGonagall gave them all a long look over the top of her spectacles before she steepled her fingers in front of her. “As you well know, we happen to be a bit short on staff this year. With the rest of the Ministry focused on rebuilding, they are unable to spare us any new professors and have suggested a, shall we say, unconventional solution,” She waited as Harry exchanged glances with Hermione, then continued.

“Professor Slughorn here has agreed to allow his attentions to be split between the Defense against the Dark Arts class and the Potions class. However he is unable to do both classes alone. It has been suggested,” she cleared her throat. “That two exemplary students in both fields be asked to help teach the younger students on these subjects, leaving the good Professor free to teach the older ones and prepare them for graduation.” She stopped and pinned Harry with a sharp look and then Draco in turn. “That would be you Mr. Potter, and you Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry’s mouth fell open again. He turned to look at Draco, but Draco had a fairly impassive look on his face, maybe even slightly bored. ‘He knew!’ Harry thought in his head. Of course he knew, Harry thought a moment later. It explained why Malfoy was here in the first place, if McGonagall had sent an owl asking him to come back to help at the school at the same time that Harry had gotten his…

Harry shook his head and turned back to the Headmistress. “Professor,” he began. “I don’t think I’m qualified…”

“Nonsense,” McGonagall interrupted him. “You have had more than enough practical experience with the Dark Arts to teach the younger students Mr. Potter. As do you Mr. Malfoy.” Harry shut his mouth and felt a bit of anger flare up at that, which he wisely kept to himself. He didn’t CHOOSE to do any of that. He had to out of necessity, because of the war…

“And your marks in potions were exceptional during your sixth year,” McGonagall continued. Now Harry exchanged slightly uncomfortable looks with Hermione. “As were yours Mr. Malfoy,” she added. “You are both perfect choices to assist us with the teaching of these two classes.”

“Wait,” Harry said as something occurred to him. He looked up, confused. “Which of us do you want to help teach Potions and which of us do you want to help with Dark Arts?”

Now the Professor pinned him with an assessing look. “That will be up to you and Mr. Malfoy to decide,” she replied. Harry looked at Malfoy in horror despite himself and that earned him a cold glare back. Harry nearly groaned out loud. Great. He fully remembered the last time he had to talk to Malfoy for any amount of time and how it had ended in an argument. “But… but what about our own classes?” he tried to protest.

McGonagall nodded, as if she expected the question. “It will have to be around your own class schedules of course, but we will consider this a practicum of sorts. It will count towards your final marks.”

“I’ll be here to help you create class assignments and schedule the times,” Professor Slughorn added, bobbing his head eagerly.

“And you Miss. Granger,” McGonagall continued, turning her head towards Hermione before Harry could protest more. “I’m sure by now you’ve noticed that Ms. Charity Burbage is no longer with us,” Harry didn’t miss the small choked sound Draco made and turned his head to look at him again, his eyes narrowed. Draco didn’t look up, but inspected his hands and it struck Harry that Draco knew what, exactly, had happened to the Professor. Harry could figure it out himself… Voldemort had probably killed her. Heck, it was possible that Voldemort made Draco kill her, though he was fairly sure Malfoy didn’t have the stomach for it unless his own life was in immediate danger. He made a bit of a face and decided that he really didn’t want to know. Thinking about it or blaming Malfoy wasn’t going to bring her back. “And we are lacking a teacher to provide us Muggle studies lessons.” McGonagall continued. “We have asked Mr. Author Weasley come in on a part time basis to teach that class, but he requires an assistant. We are wondering if you would be willing to assist Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione bobbed her head. “Of course Professor,” she said with a lot more enthusiasm than Harry.

McGonagall clasped her hands together. “Good,” she replied, looking as pleased as Professor McGonagall ever got, which was not very. “You are dismissed.”

Harry was going to try to catch Draco on the way out, to ask if he had any idea how they were going to do this, but Draco had already beaten them out the door and didn’t look like he was very inclined to slow down and turn back. Harry sighed and didn’t call out to him. He’d ask Professor Slughorn tomorrow what he expected him to do instead.

.

Sure enough they met with Slughorn bright and early on their second day back to school. Slughorn was the one that decided that Malfoy was going to teach first and second year Potions and Harry was to teach the first and second year Dark Arts. He didn’t even have to talk to Draco if he didn’t want to. Draco nodded stiffly when Slughorn asked if the schedule was okay with him, his face expressionless.

When they left Slughorn's office, Harry stopped in the hallway. “Hey,” he called out.

Draco paused and turned, his face still blank as he looked at Harry. It was at that moment that Harry realized he didn’t know what he was going to say. Again. He felt he should say something but nothing came. So instead he opened his mouth and closed it again. “I… I’ll see you in class?” he offered.

Draco looked wholly unimpressed. But, instead of letting off a string of condescending insults like Harry expected, the other boy just turned and walked away.

Also again.

.

It took Harry a couple days to clue in, but Malfoy sat alone at the Slytherin table. He was at least one seat over from Goyle and none of the other Slytherin students seemed to speak to him during mealtimes. Harry wondered at that, until he caught wind of it from a grinning Ron that even the Slytherins hated Malfoy now.

When Harry looked surprised, Ron continued, leaning in towards Harry as he shared what he had heard with glee. Half of the Slytherin’s, he said, had parents that had either been killed or banished to Azkaban, but Malfoy parents had both lived and escaped Azkaban. The other half of the Slytherins were not on the Dark Lord’s side and hated Malfoy because he was a former Death Eater himself and Death Eaters had been responsible for the deaths of relatives, “blood traitors” and the like. Why Goyle, once entirely faithful, seemed to have distanced himself from Malfoy, Ron didn’t know if it was because of Crabbe’s death or because Goyle’s parents were in prison. It may have been both.

Draco didn’t seem to mind, eating by himself. In fact from a distance Draco seemed to be handling it very well, but Harry couldn’t help but to feel a bit sorry for him. He remembered what Mrytle had said during their sixth year, about how Draco was lonely. If being ignored by all of his old friends wasn’t enough to make the other boy feel alone Harry didn’t know what would.

Harry had other things to worry about though, beyond Draco. Like teaching the classes. The first and second years were rowdy and tended to not listen to him very well. He had eventually threatened to fail them all in the class and owl home to their parents, and that seemed to scare them into semi-obedience. He was lying of course, but they didn’t need to know that. He grimly set about explaining some of the easier counter spells to the children, even though he hoped very much they’d never have to worry about using any of them.

.

The days turned into a week, then two. Life started to get routine again, which is to say life was extremely busy. Between teaching classes and taking his own Harry barely got to see his friends except at meal times. To make matters worse, whenever he did see Ginny, she seemed distant, barely spoke to him, and ran off as soon as she had a chance, as she had all summer.

Despondent, he told Ron about how Ginny was acting. He got a sympathetic look from his best friend. “Ah, don’t worry about her, mate,” Ron said. “She’ll come around.”

But after those first couple weeks Harry wasn’t sure she was going to. He didn’t understand women at all, so he went to Luna to ask if she knew. Luna just gave him a sad little smile and replied that death tended to change people and not always for the better.

And when he tried to ask Hermione about it, she had replied that she was busy getting ready for her class but that she’d talk to him later and gave him that look she always did when Harry didn’t understand something and she did.

So that was great. Now Harry felt depressed, his friends were busy, and he still hadn’t escaped the attention brought to him by the fact that he had killed Voldemort, by students and even professors constantly asking him to tell the story of how he had defeated Voldemort.

That night found him looking somewhere, anywhere, for a place to hide. He considered the Room of Requirement but either it was out of commission since the fire, or it didn’t feel he required it as much as he thought he required it. This led to him walking through the school looking for a quiet place to just sit and think and collect his thoughts without other people around.

He ended up wandering down to the dungeons without even thinking about it much. He paused when he heard someone moving around in Snape’s old Potions classroom. He quietly approached and stuck his head around the corner to peek inside.

It was Malfoy. The other boy stood at a desk, chopping up something purple and leafy with confident hands, a look of concentration on his face. Harry watched Malfoy moved to place the chopped bits into the caldron, then moved back to gather up something that looked like a bit like a carrot and started cutting up that as well.

It struck Harry then how much like an adult Malfoy looked now. He was no longer the young boy he once was... well, either of them were. His actions and motions conveyed confidence; he knew what he was doing. The black buttoned up collar outfit made him look dignified and authoritative, and, as he moved around the Potions classroom with purpose, just a tiny bit like Snape. Granted, instead of long black greasy hair, Draco’s was short and blond, and instead of brown eyes, Draco’s were a piercing grey.

Harry gave up hovering at the door and walked into the room. He sat down in the desk beside the one where Malfoy was working.

“I’m not helping you teach the Dark Arts class, Potter,” Malfoy said without even looking up, his words slow and drawled. “I have enough on my hands with this class.”

Harry was taken aback. “That’s not why I’m here,” he said.

That actually got a somewhat surprised look from Draco, though he looked away quickly with a frown and a disinterested sigh. “Then why are you here?” he asked, in a tone of voice that said he really didn’t care to know.

Harry shrugged.

“You’re not very decisive these days, are you, Potter?” Malfoy asked.

“Guess not,” Harry replied honestly.

Draco gave him an irritated look. “Don’t you have friends, Potter?” he asked. “Somewhere else to be right now?”

Harry shrugged again. He was quiet for a moment. “Ginny’s ignoring me. Luna is studying. Hermione and Ron are probably off having some, ah, alone time,” he made a bit of a face at that.

“Gross,” Draco declared. “Like I really want to know what that insufferable mudblood is up to.”

“You shouldn’t use that word,” Harry said, though far less crossly than even he expected.

Draco obviously picked up on it because he gave him a quick appraising look. “I can say whatever I want to say, Potter,” he replied dismissively.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t have like it,” Harry said quietly.

Draco turned on him quickly, his potion all but forgotten. “Dumbledore is dead you IDIOT,” he ranted, surprising Harry at the suddenness of his outburst. “In case you didn’t notice, and I really DON’T CARE what someone who died over a year ago has to say about anything I say.”

Harry stood up. “Fine, Malfoy,” he snapped. “I don’t like it.”

Draco’s face twisted. “Like I even care what you…” he stopped and glowered, looking furious. “Why are you even HERE, Potter?” he demanded to know. “Enjoy bothering people when they want to be left alone?”

And there it was. Harry stared at him in amazement, anger leaving as fast as it had come. “You want to be left alone?” he asked. He had thought… what had he thought? Really? That now that he was being ignored by Slytherins he’d leap at a chance to be friendly with him? Since when did he want to be friendly with Malfoy anyway?

“Yes, VERY good,” Draco replied, his voice coming out in a bit of a hiss. “Go AWAY, Potter,” he turned away from him, very deliberately.

Harry stared at his backside for a long moment as he slowly processed that. Then he shrugged himself and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He felt a bit hurt as he left, which surprised him. He had to honestly consider this. Why on earth did he care if Draco wanted him around or not? He had never wanted him around back when they were in school… why would this matter now?

He had no idea, but he suspected it had something to do with the fact that his friends were ignoring him and he really didn’t have anyone else to talk to. He managed a bit of a wry smile at that. He had never expected to reach the day where Malfoy was the only other company he could think of, or even wanted to try to be around.

At least Malfoy wasn’t going to ask him to tell any stories about the war, Harry thought. Partly because he had been there. And the old animosity was almost comforting, what with everything so changed.

Harry decided then, laughing at himself in utter disbelief. He was going to try to spend more time with Malfoy wasn’t he?

.

No, he definitely didn’t want to leave Draco alone, he realized over the next couple days, as he found himself glancing towards the Slytherin table more and more often, or trying to catch sight of him in the halls. Draco, if he noticed the extra attention Harry was giving him, didn’t show any indication of it.

It was about three days later, when Hermione and Ron had disappeared again, Ginny was still missing from his life, that Harry decided that he really didn’t want to study all cooped up in the Gryffindor tower. So he took out the old Maurader’s Map and looked for Draco’s foot prints. They were outside, heading towards the lake. Harry pocketed the map again and set out.

He did find Draco sitting beside the lake, peering over the water with a far away look on his face. He carefully approached as if sneaking up on a dangerous animal, and, when Draco didn’t react, he sat down next to him.

The only sign that Draco gave of noticing him was the way his back stiffened for a moment before he hunched in on himself a bit.

Draco watched the water. Harry watched Draco.

It was nice, he decided yet again, to see Draco like this. Especially since for so long all he had seen from Draco was animosity, antagonism and fear. Just to see him calm and quiet, no longer terrorizing like he had been before their sixth year, or terrorized like the last couple times he had seen him before the end of the war. He hadn’t wanted that, even on his worst enemy. Which Malfoy kind of was, come to think of it…

The calm didn’t last long. Harry watched as irritation, anger, and finally resignation came over Draco’s face until he turned and gave Harry a look like he was something undesirable stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “What do YOU want?” he demanded to know.

Harry shrugged. “Nothing,” he replied.

Draco sighed, shut his eyes, and appeared to count to ten before opening his eyes again. “Well you must have some sort of reason for stalking me, Potter, though I can’t for the life of me imagine why.”

Harry shrugged again.

Draco let out a little growl and jerked his arm towards Harry suddenly, pushing up the sleeve. “Look. It’s gone, see?” And, indeed, the arm was bare. “I’m not a Death Eater anymore, I’m not going to curse any of your stupid little friends, or poison anyone, kill any mudbloods or anything like that, so if the Ministry put you up to this…”

Harry raised his eyebrows. Both of them. “You think the Ministry is having me keep an eye on you?” he asked, a bit incredulously.

Draco stared at him, then jerked down his sleeve. “What else could it be,” he muttered grumpily.

Harry studied him then looked out over the water as well. “You’re one of the only people who isn’t bothering me right now,” he said quietly. “I can’t go anywhere without someone paying attention to me or asking me stupid questions about the stupid war like I really want to talk about it over and over again. I don’t want to think about my friends dying, thanks…” he was rambling, he realized. To Draco of all people. He shut up quickly.

Draco, for his part, was giving him a look of dawning understanding. That quickly was covered by a scowl and a disgusted look. “Well, if attention will get you to leave me be, Potter, I’ll be more than happy to oblige,” he growled, reaching in his robes for his wand.

Harry caught his wrist before he could pull it out. Draco gave him a surprised, almost fearful look, then jerked his hand away quickly, lip curling again.

“Don’t,” Harry said. “I don’t want to fight right now,” he said firmly. “I promise I won’t say anything, and I’ll leave in a minute.”

Draco just stared at him like he had grown two heads. When Harry didn’t say anything else Draco hunched in on himself again, scowling as he looked back out over the water.

When Harry was sure Draco wasn’t going to make any sudden movements for his wand, he relaxed himself, rolling his head back and sighing. After a few minutes of sitting there in silence, Harry saw Draco slowly relax himself, his eyes falling half lidded as he drew his knees up and rested his chin on top of them. That made a small smile cross Harry’s face. The time passed amicably until Harry finally decided he had bothered Draco long enough and got back to his feet with a stretch and a yawn.

“Good night, Draco,” Harry offered peacefully.

That got him a muttered. “Finally.” Even so Harry couldn’t help but to smile a little bit more as he walked away. That had been minorly successful… well, they hadn’t argued or cursed each other at very least.

Harry was glad.

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Second Chance Year