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A Secondary Education	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Keep 'em coming.
Here's chapter two, where we get into some juicier stuff. No smut this chapter, but it will begin very soon :)
Lesson 2: What You Miss When You Don’t Pay Attention
Draco welcomed the bustle of the start of term with open arms. Before the students arrived the castle was far too quiet for his liking. He’d tried to fill the time the best he could with lesson planning and familiarizing himself with his new classroom and store pantry, but even then there were way too many empty hours that left themselves open for brooding, and that didn’t suit Draco at all.
But once classes started, there was plenty to distract. He was teaching all seven years, as there was currently no other Potions Master on staff, and what with Potions classes always being double-periods, it meant his mornings and afternoons were quite busy most days, and the free periods he did have were spent on further lesson planning, inventory of his ingredients, and looking over Slughorn’s old evaluations of the students, in order to get to know them better.
Draco found himself thinking fondly of his godfather, Severus Snape, throughout that first week, remembering how the late Potions Master used to refer to most of the students (who weren’t Slytherin, or the occasional Ravenclaw) as “dunderheads” and complain about their incompetence and basic lack of critical thinking skills.
Draco thought he’d have the hardest time with the 1^st years, as most of them were coming in without any prior Potions knowledge at all and were therefore bound to be as incompetent as Severus had always complained they were. But he found them surprisingly tolerable. They were so small and wide-eyed and awestruck about being at Hogwarts that they did just about anything he instructed them to, and seemed very eager to please. (Plus, though he would never admit this aloud, their sweetness and tiny-ness rather endeared them to Draco, in the soft, hidden part of his heart that his father never would approve of if he knew it existed.)
It was the 2^nd and 3^rd years, Draco soon discovered, that were the most frustrating. They had been at Hogwarts long enough that the novelty had worn off, and they were comfortable there. Yet they also didn’t know nearly enough Potions theory or have nearly enough practice to be very good at brewing. The latter made them incompetent, and the former made them irreverent, and that was not a good combination. Draco found himself in those classes doing quite a bit of yelling and docking points that first week, determined that if they were going to insist on being dunderheads when it came to Potions, they should at least have the decency to be ashamed of it.
But the more advanced classes, particularly his NEWT students, were outright enjoyable. The 6^th and 7^th years were passionate, knowledgeable, and fastidious, he could already tell, and knew his time with them would be the bright spots of each week.
Navigating the social aspect of being on the Hogwarts staff was another matter altogether. While everyone continued to be welcoming, there were still certain people (Potter) that Draco wanted to avoid, but said people (Potter) made it quite difficult, considering that these people (Potter) had no qualms about sitting near Draco during mealtimes and chiming in on conversations that were not theirs (Potter’s) to chime in on.
Draco would have liked to be able to accuse the Defense Professor of going out of his way to annoy him, but that didn’t seem to be the case either. Potter sometimes sat nearby, particularly if Draco was sitting next to Francesca (the witch had insisted after a few days that they ought to be on a first name basis), Flitwick, or the Headmistress. But other days he was far on the other side of the staff table, looking perfectly content to chat to Hooch about Quidditch or ask Gibbs details about his time spent traveling in Asia, paying Draco no mind at all. Likewise, when they passed each other in the halls Potter would often meet his eyes and give him a nod or a friendly “Professor Malfoy” in acknowledgment. And yet other times, when Potter was walking and talking with a student or a colleague, he would be so engaged in the conversation that he wouldn’t notice Draco passing by at all, and completely ignore him.
Being ignored by Potter irritated Draco almost as much as being acknowledged by him, for some reason, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
Perhaps it was the fact that Potter walked around Hogwarts like he owned the place. Draco remembered (with wistful fondness) Severus accusing Potter of the same thing when they were in school. But Draco had to admit that compared to now, the younger Potter hadn’t strutted very much at all. He’d actually been rather timid and reserved, at least in the early years. And then in the later years Draco remembered him being unreasonably angry and self-righteous. But he hadn’t done much strutting.
He was making up for that now, apparently. The problem was, the behavior of the students and staff seemed to only encourage him. Draco had already seen firsthand how well liked he was among the staff, but he’d been horrified to discover just how true this was of the students as well. Draco overheard many conversations that first week about how exciting it was that they would be starting Defense that day. And it wasn’t even because Potter was famous! They just thought he was a good teacher. They just liked learning from him.
He’d even won over some Slytherins. Only three days into the term Draco saw Potter on his way to the Great Hall for lunch while Artemis Flint, a Slytherin 7^th year who’d had a promising start to the term in Draco’s own class, talked Potter’s ear off about some Defense theory they had just learned and how apparently fascinating it was, and maybe did Potter have some time over the weekend to discuss it some more over tea, because he might want to do his final NEWT thesis on it.
Potter had smiled graciously and informed the student that it would be his pleasure, but then reminded him not to work too hard, since it was only the first week and he didn’t want Flint to get too burnt out.
Flint had merely grinned and told him not to worry, then scurried off with a “Thanks Professor, you’re the best!”
By then he and Potter were both at the doors to the Great Hall, and Potter had opened one of them and then gestured to Draco with a small smile. “After you, Professor Malfoy.”
Draco’d had no choice but to nod and say “Thank you, Professor Potter” like he really meant it, which really was the icing on the cake for this whole ridiculous situation.
Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter did not nod and smile and open doors for each other, for Merlin’s sake.
But Draco was determined that, no matter how much irritation Potter caused him, he would carry on. Even two weeks in he felt he’d already hit his stride as a teacher and was settling into the routine nicely. This was much better than sitting around the manor moping, and he would be damned if Potter was going to ruin it for him.
***
“Miss McNeal, would you be so kind as to stay behind a moment?” Draco asked of the small, sandy-haired witch who’d sat in the front row for every single one of his classes so far.
Raisie McNeal looked at him with wide blue eyes and nodded as the others around her packed up their things and made for the door. It was Friday and this was the last class of the day, so the students were even more anxious to get out than usual. Draco suppressed a smile at the girl’s sudden nervousness.
“You’re not in trouble,” he told her once the other students had gone. “I was simply curious about your treatment of the Galerina in brewing today. The instructions stated they needed to be shredded, and yet you chopped them, and your anti-nausea potion turned out to be far more potent than the others in the class. I was curious if there was a connection between the two, as I haven’t seen that method before.”
McNeal blushed. She was a shy young woman, but quite bright. She was a 4^th year Gryffindor and a Muggleborn, the kind of person that Draco would have ignored (or terrorized) in his youth. But Draco was not fifteen anymore, and he could recognize talent when it was sitting right in front of him.
“It was something I decided to try, to see what would happen,” McNeal said softly. “I remember Professor Slughorn saying last year that mushrooms sliced against the grain of their fibers release more of their active ingredients when stewed. And then you were talking at the start of class about how working with Asphodel leaves can reverse the effects of poisonous ingredients, which was why it was safe to use the Galerina in the first place…”
“And so you made the Galerina more potent, believing that the Asphodel would counteract the poison and make the anti-nausea effects stronger,” Draco finished for her.
“Yes, sir. Exactly.”
“That,” Draco said, considering her line of thinking for a moment, “was absolutely inspired.”
She outright beamed at him, and Draco felt an embarrassing amount of warmth bloom in his chest.
“I’m going to ask you not to write the essay I assigned on herbal infusions. I would rather you write me an essay on the theory behind your experiment and how it could be applied in other circumstances.”
She was wide-eyed again. “Yes sir, but why?”
“Because it’s an interesting theory, and it may be the beginning of something for you to work with in the long run. You’re not NEWT level yet, but you will be, and this is just the sort of topic that could work well as a research thesis. I thought you might want the opportunity to get ahead.”
“Oh, I do, Professor,” she said, looking at him with pure awe. “I really do.”
“Good, then write me the essay, and we’ll go from there.”
“I will. Thank you, sir.”
“Of course. Have a lovely weekend.”
“You too, sir,” she squeaked, and was gone.
Draco tried not to smile to himself, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about young minds at work that warmed him. He found the prospect of shaping and honing those minds more exciting than he ever would have thought.
“Good week?” came a voice from the open doorway, and Draco looked up. Potter stood there, watching him, and Draco felt his smile dissolve.
“Come again?” he asked indifferently as he packed up his desk for the day.
“I asked if it had been a good week,” Potter said, stepping further into the room. “You were smiling, so I thought perhaps it was.”
Draco hesitated, but realized he really had no reason not to answer honestly. “Yes, it was a very good week.”
“I’m glad to hear it. It seems like you’re settling in nicely.”
A number of snarky replies bubbled in Draco’s throat, but he suppressed them with a swallow and merely nodded.
“I just passed Raisie McNeal on my way here. She was positively glowing. She says you’re the best professor she’s ever had, and you’re giving her the opportunity to do NEWT level work.”
Draco watched Potter carefully a moment, wondering what his angle was. “It’s her doing, not mine. She’s already naturally advanced. I just thought I’d help her take advantage of it.”
“Yes, she’s quite talented, isn’t she?” Potter agreed. “She’s doing exceptional work in my class as well. But I have a feeling she likes Potions better than Defense. She loves to read and research. Reminds me a lot of Hermione, actually.”
“Yes, except unlike Granger Miss McNeal doesn’t have to make sure everyone knows how intelligent she is all the time.” The words were out of his mouth before he remembered whom he was talking to. He then shrugged internally and reminded himself that he shouldn’t care if he offended Potter or not.
To his utter surprise Potter laughed and said, “Very true. Hermione really did have a habit of that sometimes, didn’t she?” Even though he was apparently agreeing with Draco, he said it with affection rather than disdain. “I remember how she used to be so intent on being called on to answer a question that she would practically stand up in her chair trying to be noticed.”
Draco snorted, in spite of himself. He remembered that as well. “How is Granger, these days?” Again, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Why was he asking after Hermione Granger of all people and actually prolonging a conversation with Potter?
“She’s great. She works at the Ministry, as does Ron, though she’s a solicitor and he’s an Auror. They’re married now, and talking about children, maybe.”
“Lovely,” said Draco, feeling even more sorry he had asked. He had no interest in hearing about other people’s happy marriages or plans to start families. Potter had probably married the Weasley girl and had a couple of brats of his own, come to think of it. Draco had always assumed that was what would happen, not that he’d paid much attention to whether it did.
A surreptitious look at Potter’s left ring finger found it empty, and Draco had to wonder why he even cared in the first place.
“So, look, I, um…” Potter said, and actually sounded a bit awkward, almost like his teenage self. Draco found himself looking up at the brunet again. “I noticed you aren’t on duty tonight, and I’m not either, and I was wondering if you’d fancy grabbing a drink in Hogsmeade with me.”
Draco was outright staring now, and Potter raised his eyebrows, waiting.
“A drink. With you.”
“That’s right.”
“And no one else.”
“Yes.”
Draco stared some more. “Why?”
Potter laughed nervously. “It’s, uh…” He laughed again, the sound making Draco grit his teeth. “You have to admit, it’s just a little… strange, us being here, together, colleagues, and all. And what with the way things used to be, in school. I just… I’d really like to put that chapter of my life behind me in every way. Seeing you… has… brought back some of it for me and I’d like to move forward instead of backward, if that makes any sense. I’d like to move on.”
Draco found himself staring again. Every time he thought he had Potter’s game figured out, the man surprised him. First, at the staff introduction, he was overly charming, as if trying to win Draco over, or perhaps outdo him. Then, when term started, he behaved like Draco was just any other colleague. And now he was here, spilling his guts about how Draco’s presence brought up trauma from his past.
It was as though he wanted to keep Draco constantly off-kilter, and never let him get comfortable.
“I can tell you’re uncomfortable too,” Potter went on, and Draco had to wonder if the man had started practicing Legilimency. “Even though you’re handling it very well. But I thought… well, I’ve seen what can happen when two Hogwarts professors don’t get on. It can become a pretty toxic environment for the students. I don’t want that to happen. And I also… well, with the way things were left after the war, it seemed like maybe there was an opening for us… I’m not saying we’ll wind up best mates or anything. But we could at least be friendly.”
Friendly. Was Potter actually admitting that he wanted to be friends with Draco? It was true that towards the end of the war, and in the aftermath, Potter and the Malfoys had actually done some things to help each other out. Some life debts had been accrued in the process, though it was agreed, after Potter testified for them and kept them all out of Azkaban, that those were settled. But he hadn’t heard a word from Potter since.
He doesn’t actually care about being your friend, Draco told himself. He just wants to make sure that if you’re going to be on staff here that you don’t fuck things up for him in his perfect little world where everyone loves him.
Then again, Draco rather liked it at Hogwarts, and didn’t want Potter fucking things up for him either.
“So what do you say, Malfoy? One drink? Don’t worry, I’m buying.”
Draco scoffed at the last part of that sentence. “I have an entire Malfoy fortune with which to buy myself firewhiskey, Potter, thank you very much.”
“Fine then. You’re buying,” Potter replied with a grin.
Draco let out a surprised laugh before he could stop himself. Dammit. Potter was not supposed to be able to make him laugh.
“Fine,” he heard himself say. “One drink. You pay.”
“Excellent. Meet at the Three Broomsticks at nine?”
“Sure,” Draco said, dread already settling in his stomach like lead. “Nine o’clock.”
***
Draco adjusted his tie and scowled. Why he was even preening himself, just to go to the Three Broomsticks, just to see Potter, was beyond him. At least he’d had the sense to stay in his teaching robes, rather than putting on something nicer and more stylish, a clear sign of how much he didn’t care for this outing.
It’s going to be a disaster anyway, he reminded himself. He couldn’t imagine what the two of them would have to talk about. They would probably just sit across from each other awkwardly and comment on how the décor hadn’t changed a bit and finish their drinks quickly so they could get out of there.
Maybe then Potter would let go of this “being friendly” business and they could settle into the inevitability of avoiding each other for the rest of the school year.
Draco deliberately left his quarters only a little before nine, guaranteeing that he would be at least ten minutes late to the pub. It was mainly to make sure that he and Potter didn’t run into each other in the entrance hall, and therefore have to find a way to make conversation all the way to Hogsmeade, but it also had the added bonus of making Potter sweat.
Let’s leave him wondering if I’m even going to show. He smirked to himself at the thought of Potter sitting alone, drumming his fingers on the table and glancing at the clock every ten seconds.
It was petty, he knew, but when it came to Harry Potter, he reserved the right to be as petty as he liked.
The Three Broomsticks was quiet for a Friday, Draco noted, although he quickly remembered that it only ever really felt full on Saturday afternoons when the students were in Hogsmeade. There were some patrons, mostly on the older side, nursing drinks at the bar or chatting quietly together at tables, looking relaxed but weary from a long week.
Draco searched the room and spotted Potter at a small table in the corner, a firewhiskey in front of him that looked mostly untouched. He was… reading of all things, some Muggle paperback by the look of it, seeming fully immersed. In fact, it took a few seconds, after Draco had approached the table, for him to realize that his companion had arrived.
As Draco’s shadow fell over him (quite pointedly) he glanced up, smiling.
“You showed up,” he said simply.
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.” Draco thought Potter might have commented on his lateness, but he didn’t, instead signaling to the barmaid. “What’ll you have?” he asked Draco, turning back to him.
“Firewhiskey, thank you.”
Potter nodded and turned back to the barmaid, pointing at his own drink and signaling for another. She nodded.
“Have a seat.”
Draco sat, looking Potter up and down as he did so. He hadn’t remained in his teaching robes, but rather was wearing tight black jeans and a purple jumper, whose sleeves were rolled up partially, revealing the tan skin and taut, lean muscles of his forearms. The sight was distracting for some reason, and Draco found himself annoyed that Potter even owned jumpers that suited his coloring so well. He never remembered the old Potter having any taste.
And it made Draco feel very… frumpy in comparison. And frumpy was not something Malfoys were ever supposed to feel.
What had he been thinking? Here was an opportunity to show off a sense of style that Potter could only hope for, and he had passed it up. For the sake of what? His mood soured further at the thought of his own shortsightedness.
He glanced at Potter to see that the man was looking at him expectantly, as though waiting for something, and he realized that Potter must have asked him a question.
“Sorry, what?” he said.
“I asked you how your classes were going.”
“Oh. They’re going fine.”
“Any favorites?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Do you play favorites, Potter? For shame.”
Potter grinned. “Inside the castle walls, of course I don’t. But between you and me, sitting right here, sure. Every teacher does, at least a little.”
Draco sat back in his chair and looked the brunet over. It was a very Slytherin answer to give, and that… intrigued Draco more than he cared to admit.
It’s probably just Francesca rubbing off on him, he thought, which brought up a whole series of images he didn’t want of them “rubbing” in various positions. He scrubbed them quickly from his mind.
“I’m quite enjoying my NEWT students,” he admitted.
Potter nodded. “Yes, it is nice when the less dedicated get weeded out and you’re left with those who actually want to be there.”
“True,” Draco found himself agreeing, “but there are also a few 4^th and 5^th years who are showing a lot of promise, Miss McNeal included.”
“Lucky you,” Potter replied. “McNeal’s good, yes, but my other 4^th years are making me mental right now. They think they know everything already.”
“I’m having the same experience with my 3^rd years.”
Potter hummed sympathetically. “Cheeky little prats, they are,” he said with a wry smile.
“Which, of course, we never were,” replied Draco, realizing he was mirroring Potter’s expression with his own.
“Oh, yes,” Potter agreed, suddenly solemn. “We were model students, you and I.”
Draco snorted in amusement and then bit his lip. No, he would not enjoy himself, or laugh with Potter about anything, especially not their past.
“How long have you been at Hogwarts?” he asked.
“Five years now. So this will be my sixth.”
Draco did the maths in his head. “You started here at twenty? That’s quite young for a professorship, isn’t it?” Draco hadn’t even finished his Potions mastery until he was twenty-one.
Potter shrugged. “It was lucky happenstance that there was an opening, and I already had the prerequisite experience. I was an Auror for a couple of years, you know.”
“I see. You started training right after the war?”
The brunet nodded. “I had the summer to recover, attend all the, you know… funerals.” He took a sip of his drink. “And there were the trials of course. By the time August rolled around I was well ready to do something with myself. Luckily the Academy was willing to accept me and Ron both without the required NEWTs.”
Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Potter and Weasley had received special treatment. That was hardly a surprise.
“But you left?”
Potter nodded again. “I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would. The first few months, after training, the Ministry was focusing on rounding up the last of the Death Eaters, and that was rather satisfying. Like tying up loose ends, you know?” Draco caught himself nodding as Potter spoke, and checked himself. “But after that, with new cases… I don’t know. We’d catch one criminal and there’d still be a dozen more waiting to be caught. It was never going to end. And it was always about catching and punishing someone after bad things had happened. I started to… well, honestly, I started to get a bit depressed.”
“And that’s when you decided to leave?” Draco realized he was leaning in with his elbows resting on the table, and pulled back a bit, not wanting to appear too engrossed.
“I was thinking about it, and then Minerva contacted me about the DADA post that had just opened up, and it seemed like… a sign, I suppose. I really liked the idea of teaching, and it was a way to focus on the future, not the past. It was an opportunity to shape the new generation, affect real change, you know?”
Draco was nodding again. He did know. “How did Weasley take it?” he asked, out of pure curiosity.
“He was… disappointed, I guess,” said Potter. “We’d always planned to be partners, once we had enough experience to work on our own. But he also understood. And Hermione was very supportive. They could both see the toll it was taking on me.” He took another sip of whiskey. “When I got to Hogwarts, I felt better within weeks. It was really incredible. Helping young people…” He laughed softly. “Perhaps it sounds… daft to say it this way, but it feeds something in me, something I’ve never gotten anywhere else.” He bit his lips, his cheeks a bit pink, and Draco couldn’t stop himself from thinking that the expression was rather… endearing, for its vulnerability. Merlin help him. “And the staff was brilliant as well. They were all just so happy that Hogwarts was open and whole again.”
“Yes, I imagine that was rather… heartening,” Draco said, trying not to cringe at his own word choice. It seemed like a very Gryffindor type word to use.
“It was. Although it still seemed… newer then, I suppose, fresh. You could tell which parts had been rebuilt. Now the castle seems like it’s old self.”
“I noticed that.”
“Was this your first time being back since the war?”
Draco nodded. “I didn’t really have any reason to come back, until now.”
“You didn’t finish your NEWTs here? I thought maybe you had.”
“No, I finished my education at home.” Apparently, Potter had forgotten that all three Malfoys had been under house arrest for that first year, and Draco had not been given the option to return to Hogwarts. Not that he’d really wanted to. It was better, in the end, to be hidden from the world for a little while and wait for the backlash and dislike of the Malfoys to subside. “I took the NEWTs independently, then went on and did my Potions mastery.”
“That’s, like, apprenticing, right?”
“Essentially. And I did some of my own research as well, of course.”
“Is that what you wanted to do, research and experiment with potions?”
“I considered it. And I did a little, after I finished my mastery, but I never published anything. It never got that far.”
“You lost interest?” Potter’s expression was merely curious as he looked at Draco over his drink.
“I got married,” Draco said, surprising himself. “And that… distracted me, you could say, from my work.” It had actually been incredible, how easy it was to slip into the routine of being married and become more and more distant from his academic interests. Draco had hit it off with Astoria surprisingly quickly, given that the marriage was arranged. But from the beginning he had enjoyed spending time with her, going out to parties and events with her, making love to her. She seemed to enjoy him as well, at least at the time. But that, he later learned, had been an elaborate ruse. She’d been sleeping with Blaise the whole time.
Draco saw Potter glance rather conspicuously at Draco’s lack of wedding ring, and he smirked. “I’m not married anymore,” he told the Gryffindor drily. “Obviously.”
“I had wondered,” said Potter. His smile turned mischievous. “Or really, Francesca had wondered, and she told me about it. She’d thought she’d heard something about you being married, but then she noticed you weren’t wearing a ring.”
“And you and Professor Bianchi were discussing my personal life why?” Draco asked.
Potter laughed. “I thought that was obvious. Francesca fancies you.” He shrugged in reaction to Draco’s impassive stare. “Seems obvious to me, at any rate.”
Draco furrowed his brow, confused. “I had thought… perhaps… you and she…”
Potter nearly choked on his whiskey, and he put the glass down, laughing. “Me and Francesca?” he asked incredulously.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Draco replied haughtily. “Is it really that absurd, the notion of dating a Slytherin?”
“It’s not that,” said Potter. “It’s just… you know… she’s a woman. Not exactly my type.”
Draco stared at Potter in increasing confusion.
Potter’s face registered some confusion of his own, before it dissolved into amusement. “I’m gay,” he said.
Draco had no other option but to keep staring. Shock and surprise were zipping through him rapidly, followed not far behind by a strange, sweet thrill of pleasure that he really didn’t want to examine too closely.
Potter was gay? Potter was… gay? Since when?
“Sorry,” the brunet said, fighting a smile at Draco’s stunned silence, and not really looking very sorry at all. “I assumed you knew.”
“And why would I know something like that?”
“Just about everyone else does. The press had an absolute field day when I first came out. Which was years ago, by the way, when I was still an Auror. And the Prophet still likes to report when I’m spotted out on a date, although thankfully it’s not front page news anymore.”
“I haven’t read the Prophet in years,” Draco said. “Or much media at all.” None of the papers had been particularly kind to the Malfoys after the war, and Draco had quickly learned to just ignore them. Apparently it had become such an ingrained habit that he had completely missed this very… interesting (intriguing, even) piece of information.
Draco rather wished he had known this sooner, although what it would have actually gained him, he didn’t know.
“Well, there you are, then,” said Potter. “I like men. Exclusively.”
“But you dated girls at Hogwarts. I remember you at least pairing up with the youngest Weasley for a while.”
“Yes, I did, 6^th year,” said Potter, his smile somewhat sheepish. “I thought… well, the idea that I could be gay didn’t cross my mind at all, back then, to tell you the truth. And I always cared about Ginny, and I sort of confused protective, brotherly feelings for romantic ones. Sex wasn’t much on my mind at all, at the time, which I recognize is odd for a teenage boy. But I did have some other things going on, as you may remember. Voldemort took a lot of my focus.”
That actually made quite a bit of sense to Draco. He’d thought plenty about sex in his adolescence, but his 6^th year, the year he became a Death Eater and was supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore, his hormones had taken a backseat to outright terror. And, considering the Dark Lord had been terrorizing Potter in some form through most of his Hogwarts years, it only stood to reason that the young Potter might have been similarly diverted.
“You’re not going to go running for the door now, are you?” Potter asked him, still sounding amused. “Because surely you know better than to think I asked you for drinks with romantic overtures in mind. The invitation was strictly platonic.”
Draco arched a brow, deciding that if Potter could make light of it, so could he. “Now I’m sitting here wondering if I should be insulted. I’m not good enough for the Great Harry Potter, then?”
“Not gay enough for the Great Harry Potter, I would think,” Potter replied.
“And just how gay do you like them?” Draco asked. The firewhiskey had loosened his tongue perhaps a bit too much, but he was definitely enjoying himself, and that was something.
“Oh, I have a… broad range of tastes,” Potter quipped, grinning widely now. “So if I’m wrong about you, by all means, enlighten me.” He winked.
Draco looked away, fighting a smile. “So who is the lucky wizard then?” he asked, making sure to infuse his tone with enough irony to make it clear he hardly thought anyone who ended up with Potter was actually lucky. “Surely the Great Harry Potter already has a lover.”
Potter chewed on his bottom lip, his green eyes glinting behind those delicate spectacles. “I don’t have… a lover, really.”
Draco stared at him, trying to figure out what that odd word emphasis meant. Then it clicked. “More than one?” he asked archly.
“A fair few.” Potter downed the rest of his drink.
“Well, well, well, this is interesting,” Draco admitted. “The Great Harry Potter sleeps around.”
Potter’s mouth formed the beginnings of a frown, but his eyes were still glinting too much for him to be truly upset. Then he smiled. “Yes.” He leaned forward. “But it’s all very above board, you know. All of my partners know we’re not exclusive, and they see other people as well. We’re all clear with each other, and we’re careful. I’m no liar, and I’m no cheat.”
“Never said you were,” Draco replied, because while the tone of the conversation was still light, he could tell that Potter was serious about that last bit. Serious enough that if Draco pushed too far, he could really upset Potter.
And he found he really didn’t want to do that. Maybe it was the warmth of the firewhiskey talking, but… there it was.
“So how many is a ‘fair few,’ if you don’t mind me asking?” Potter was loose-lipped at the moment, and Draco didn’t see the harm in prying further, so long as he was careful.
“It depends. They sort of come and go,” said Potter, glancing up and to the right as if doing maths in his head. “I date less during the school year, for obvious reasons. Usually there are… maybe three or four that I see on occasion. During the summer I go out most weekends, so it’s a bit more than that.”
“A bit more?”
“Like, twice as many.”
“And you’re content with the press just… reporting on all of that.”
Potter chuckled darkly. “They report on the wizards I date. But I also date a lot of Muggles, and the press doesn’t know about those.”
“Hmm,” Draco said, looking at Potter with new eyes. This wasn’t what he expected at all.
“It works for me now,” he said, as if answering a question Draco has asked. “I think I’ve earned the right to have a little fun, and do what I like to do. I know wizarding Britain, including many of my friends, would be happier if I settled down, got married, started a family. But it’s not their life; it’s mine. And I’m not ready for that yet. I like keeping my options open. I like focusing on my teaching and spending time with the people who know me best. I haven’t met a partner I trust that much yet, to really make them a part of my life. But I also like sex. So…”
“It works for you.”
“Exactly.” He glanced down at Draco’s empty glass. “What do you say, then? Another round?”
Draco hesitated. He’d agreed to one drink, and he’d fulfilled that agreement. But… he was having a surprisingly good time. He had expected Potter to turn out sanctimonious and straight-laced, the good little Gryffindor that did what people expected of him, that had a wife and a family or was on his way to having one. That Potter would have been hard to be around, succeeding in all the ways Draco had failed. But this Potter… he was free, unburdened, and refreshingly… himself. This Potter was one he could tolerate, even enjoy.
He pushed his glass towards the brunet, who had already stood and was watching him expectantly. “Sure. Another round.”
Book_addict_89: Thanks! Glad to have you on board for this one as well! And a double review, extra bonus for me.
I already said my thoughts when I reviewed Redemption, but I’ll say again: Keep at it! And trust you will figure it out. Ruts don’t last forever.
LadyShire: Yay! I’m so glad you’re back and reading this! I will be releasing the next chapter of Unstoppable soon as well. Don’t worry, I am keeping up on both and plan to update frequently!
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A Secondary Education