Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

WONKY CROSS	By : JanisJ Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 59358 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
A/N: Thanks for all the reads, rates and reviews. You guys are awesome!

Unneeded: I love your insights and predictions…. I wish I could take credit for the term ‘manscaping’ but sadly, I can’t. But please feel free to use it and spread it around— I think it’s perfect AND hilarious :)

~O~

BRIGHT, PART 3

“Hey Cuteness,” Charlie called over his shoulder while he wrestled their two duffle bags hanging at his hips out the narrow doorframe, “grab my bag, would you?”

Harry looked at him confused; the redhead had adamantly insisted that he would carry both satchels not two seconds ago.   He surveyed the empty space curiously. His boyfriend had all the luggage-- which wasn’t much since they hadn’t brought, or needed a whole lot over the Summer. Their room looked forlornly lonely without any of their few belongings strewn about.

He shook his head; there wasn’t anything left to take. (And he was fairly certain that request hadn’t been a bawdy attempt for him to handle his bald ball-sac just then since they just spectacularly spent themselves and were all packed and leaving by Portkey momentarily.)

“Which one?” he asked, reaching to relieve Charlie of half the meager burden he held.

The redhead smirked, tightened his grip on the straps and tipped his head towards the bed. “The one with the toys in it.”

“Nice!” The brunet grinned, hurrying to pull the hidden case out from under the mattress. He’d been a little saddened a few days ago at the thought that his favourite pleasure devices would be left behind for the upcoming school year, but had resigned himself to their absence.

(Then he remembered the only reason Charlie had left them in Romania last Summer was so he didn’t have his mum snooping and finding the kinky accoutrements at The Burrow.)

He happily clutched the treasure trove to his chest as they made their way to the central square where they would soon depart for Scotland.

Every member of the staff that was currently at the Homebase was assembled to see them off; they were also glad that Vlad and SerenaRose had been allowed to Apparate in from their field-shift for the farewell.

(Although Charlie had to admit, his brilliant lover was solely responsible and to be credited for the away-team’s presence at their bon voyage; with the teaching and subsequent ability for everyone to communicate almost instantaneously via verbal Patronus, they were allowed to communicate much more effectively, and therefore, could call those in the field for a quick five minute con-fab when necessary-- if there were no major pressing issues on the ground at the moment, of course.)

Everyone looked at each other with long faces at the fact that they would be separated for several months and terribly missing each other. But then one by one, the dragon-handlers started nudging and pinching each other, snickering and sniggering when they saw what Harry was carrying.

Realization slowly dawned on the Summer visitor with frightening clarity.

Bloody buggering FUCK!!

They had ALL obviously seen the collection at some point and knew EXACTLY what he had tucked in his arms, hidden within the confines of the pale-khaki canvas. The brunet blushed a bright vermillion and shot a scathing stink-eye at his lover.

Charlie just chuckled— and had the audacity to wink at him!

The prick planned this on purpose!!

(Harry was mortified, hoping against hope that Mr. Yakinov didn’t know what the group’s unusual reaction was all about.) (Although, if he was honest with himself, the man seemed the type that nothing got past him.)

“Oh, c’mon Love,” Charlie jostled Harry’s tense shoulder with his own loose one, “just trying to lighten the mood. Keep them laughing as we go and all that….”

The embarrassed teen ‘humphed’ and set the baggage down at his feet and moved to accept the hugs and handshakes they were all exchanging. He had to admit he was a little mollified when Charlie whispered in his ear that, “They are all now thinking sexy thoughts about you, but they will have to eat their hearts out knowing that you’re leaving with me…. and without so much as having had a taste of your delectable deliciousness….”

That sentiment earned a little rueful smile; he was really going to miss all his new friends who always wished him the best. He was going to SORELY miss being ‘just Harry’….. just himself. Just ‘Little-Man’! He’d miss the easy camaraderie un-tainted by insane hero-worship….

SerenaRose smoothed a gentle hand down his arm and smiled, imparting some last sage words of wisdom. “Always look on the bright side of Life….”

The misty-eyed girls made them promise, under the threat of impotence and ball-shrinking hexes to write. After the gruff, austere supervisor’s invitation to visit any time was issued, they gathered their things and produced the Portkey punch-card.

Green eyes rolled as Charlie hoisted the suitcase of sex-toys and waggled his eyebrows at his grinning cohorts. With one last look to the Preserve (and a plaintive howl from the wolfy resident dog Ayla echoing in their ears) they simultaneously, tenderly uttered the pass-code ‘Smeck’.

The couple was whisked away with the ‘hook-in-navel’ sensation.

Deposited back in the UK right in front of the wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts, they squared their shoulders, ready to embark on the next chapter of their lives.

~O~

Harry blinked rapidly, gasping into the dimming shadows and darkened canopy of their familiar, homey Gryffindor-red drapes. His second orgasm had been particularly crippling and his heart-rate had yet to slow down. He wistfully took in his last looks to the circular, rough-hewn stone walls with blurry vision. This was where he had had profound moments of enlightenment, discovered his true self and clearly fallen deeply in love.

He’d been disappointed when Minerva (SHIT! McGonagall. Professor. HEADMISTRESS! He was going to have to retrain himself now that he was to be a student again— and DAMN, he’d JUST gotten over the formality of her names and titles during the last half of the restoration work!)

He had been disappointed WHEN THE STERN WITCH had informed them upon their arrival that they would all have to move out of the Tower the next day before the kids got there.

(Harry was glad that his two best friends had gotten all his supplies last week though, and they were securely tucked away in his trunk ready for the new term to begin. He really hadn’t fancied a trip into the general public again before he had to deal with the wider student population arriving tomorrow.

Hermione was rather brusque with the crazed fans when she encountered them and they had learned to give her a quiet sense of respect but he was grateful that Ron rather liked the newfound, extra attention— that helped quell some of his jealousy over Harry’s fame. He loved that they were both more than willing to gather his school things so he didn’t have to venture out.)

He was also reluctant to leave the comfort of the dorm that had provided the safe haven that was his and Charlie’s alone.

The dragon-caregiver-cum-part-time-professor and professional adjunct Forbidden Forrest dragon-project monitor had been given a choice of staff offices and quarters. The tattooed Gryffindor alumni had wanted a place close to where his favourite student would be bunking, but since they didn’t yet know where that would be, he hadn’t decided.

The Headmistress was being infuriatingly mum about the housing arrangements to be made for the unorthodox returning pupils that were going to be completing their education at Hogwarts (though she DID hint to them, with a Dumbledore-esque twinkle in her eye, that the seventh floor was nice).

‘The Saviour’s’ class was going to be an odd assortment to be sure.

There were people like Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dean that had been entirely absent and then there were those like Neville and Hannah Abbott who wanted to take their last year for real— and were proud and brave enough to face down their fearful memories of the place.

The Gryffindor had been more involved with the underground rebellion and taking the nasty brunt of punishments for the rest rather than actual schoolwork— and she’d mostly hidden out in the Room of Requirement making sure the DA’s hide-out remained available. The Hufflepuff was also in charge of sneaking into the kitchens near her old common room to procure food for the rag-tag crew when others were there to occupy the space to keep it in existence.

For those two strong souls, it would be more of a healing-- than harmful-- experience for them to be at the Castle and settle into the wonderfully mundane task of actually learning in classes.

(Although Hannah had missed most of her sixth year, having been pulled out of school in Autumn when her mother had been murdered by Death Eaters, she had been determined to keep up with studying many subjects on her own while sequestered in her family home. She also diligently applied herself in the DA hideout while things fell into ruins within the once-beloved institution and out in the Wizarding world. Despite her lack of formal instruction, she’d made the decision she was ready to tackle the seventh year curriculum).

Luna was in a class all by herself— as usual— and was in some sort of strange combination of all of those; she also had had parts of her schooling, large portions missing, yet had made up all the work and taken exams at the end of the Restoration, so was more than officially qualified to be promoted to her final year.

But it was also well known that most of the students that were cheated out of an actual seventh year AND had been traumatized by choosing to stay for the Final Battle had no desire to return. (They were all given the choice to revise at home using texts, guides and practice-tests provided from the staff and come take the N.E.W.T.s with the Ministry approved officials in June.)

All the returning friends knew for sure that there were so few of them that had chosen the on-site education route that they would all be seeing a LOT of each other in their classes.

It was rumored that most of the sixth years from the last terms under the tutelage of the Carrows opted to retake the syllabus and proceed from there since not much of value was learned. Therefore, there was a glut of returning sixth-years and truly, precocious advancing sixth-years from their fifth. All the Houses were going to be filled to capacity with their usual number of rooms available.

So, where was the Castle going to put the so-called “eighth-years”?

They had all their questions answered after the Sorting and feast on the first of September.

~O~

The sequence commenced as usual, with the eleven-year-olds coming in windswept from the boat ride and taking their turns coming up to the rough-hewn stool for their Sorting. (Jeez, had they themselves ever been that tiny?) One by one, the little tykes made their way on shaky knees to their new House tables amongst thundering applause.

But then after young Steffen Zephyr was sorted into Ravenclaw, The Hat split its slit again and began a new song:

The small group of elder, returning students (that had been asked to hold back and remain standing off to the side) had their eyes widening in varying degrees of astonishment and comprehension. The shock deepened even more so when an unexpected age-mate of theirs slipped up behind them, hidden in the shadows but had incredulous and glances cast in his direction.

The trepidation was palpable— from both ends. Malfoy!

Harry shook his head to clear it. Sure, he’d missed the Sorting in his second year, but all of this was bordering on impossible….. unreal.

The old, worn, patched burlap was crooning something about blending and melding, repairing rifts and representing a new era of peace and harmony; it was proclaiming that they were to be an example of the new World Order, letting bygones be bygones and working together in unity towards a bridge to the future….

(Or some such…. Harry wasn’t paying attention too much after noting the fact that Malfoy (MALFOY!) was standing at his back. He subtly cast a Shield Charm behind him and his friends.)

Hermione huffed at the all the Gryffindor boys who seemed too Stupfied to listen properly to the true message. Exasperated with their idiotic questioning looks, she expressed her disbelief and irritation. “It says we are all to be resorted, as an unprecedented new generation and class!” she hissed. “Just go with it! It has wisdom we know not! We are all in this together!”

(It was Malfoy, Lovegood and her that traded knowing nods, in an odd show of solidarity.)

Ron shot his mouth off without thinking, acting on his first instictive reaction. “Why do we need anything different?”

“Because everything has changed,” Luna answered matter-of-factly, in a dreamy but bright, singing voice. Hermione had to smile in approval at that. The girl’s simple statement held all the unconventional wisdom of the oft misunderstood witch and summed up the situation perfectly.

Headmistress McGonagall called forth Hannah Abbot and placed the floppy brim on her head. “Huffledor!” it roared. The classmate they’d known for eight years looked relieved and took a seat at the peculiar round table that was set between the ends of the Four Houses’ and the raised, perpendicular Head table.

(The dirty-blonde-headed girl picked up her place card, smiling bemusedly at it and then turned to watch the rest of the ceremony.)

The entire Hall had mouths agape and was reeling in shock that the Sorting Hat had taken its own advice of joining together quite that literally!

The older kids were looking amongst themselves with incredulity but perked back up again when it came to Hermione Granger. “Gryffinclaw!” The other two of the Golden Trio-- quickly catching on to the new procedure-- rolled their eyes at each other, clearly non-verbally communicating ‘big surprise’.

Longbottom ended up being a “Gryffinpuff.”

(It was a testament to Neville’s inherent bravery that the young man hadn’t flinched one bit even though his last encounter with the seemingly-sentient headwear had flames doused down around his ears, trying to force him into Slytherin as the one and only House sanctioned by the rule Voldemort wanted to enact.)

Harry subtly nodded at his mettle— and was surprised when he glanced back and caught the look of approval on Malfoy’s face as well, murmuring to himself, ‘hard-working, bravery and loyalty’ with no trace of derision held in his countenance. It was if he was honestly assessing the traits and truly admiring the Hat’s decision! Weird!

Then it was Luna, smiling serenely as the frayed hem descended on her brow. “Ravendor!” She took her seat in the alphabetical seating arrangements and grinned wildly. “Ha!” she sparkled, “That was fun to do again. Didn’t you all sometimes feel like you were split between two?”

But the next name had the entire hall holding its breath: Draco Malfoy was in their midst, and either by reputation or personal experience, people were curious as to how and why he would come back and have the guts enough to show his face (let alone continue with his schooling among them).

So far, he’d been really quiet and not trying to cause problems.   He just stood there stoically, with his head down. He seemed really uncomfortable about being around all these people that could retaliate for his past misdeeds at any second….

As the enchanted cloth was fit around his head, it took no pause to yell to the Great Hall— “Slytherclaw!”

No one really cared all that much what the proclamation said about him though-- everybody there was waiting just for this:

“Harry Potter!” Minerva McGonagall’s voice rang out in the cavernous walls and shining celestial ceiling (restored to all its shining brilliance from the brilliant Headmistress herself).

Harry grimaced at the rise in muttering and whispered speculation all up and down the House tables; he knew in his very soul what he would be.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Gryffinin!”

Harry just shrugged at Ron’s pointed look and dutifully sat beside Malfoy who had given a token applause along with the rest of the crowd; if the brunet didn’t know any better, he’d say the bloke looked strained or surprised, but the formerly pure Slytherin was very good at hiding his emotions so it was hard to tell his true reaction.

At least there was no familiar sneer or cutting remarks.

The Headmistress waved her hands for quiet as Dean’s proclamation was barely heard over the din: “Gryffinpuff!”

The youngest Weasley brother was the last of their little group and was labeled “Gryffinin!”

Ron looked flustered, but sank into the last empty chair in between Dean and Hannah without a word.

“Very well done, everyone,” the Headmistress called out to the crowd from the podium.

She shot her wand towards the older students, changing their ties to a combined swirling of gold and silver, devoid of any specific colour associated with previous House affiliation. “Now that we are all settled in and sorted, there are a few pre-dinner announcements. The Forbidden Forrest is still strictly off limits to all students who don’t wish to die a horrific death, now more so than ever before.”

Harry could have sworn he saw the witch’s eyes flicker towards Hagrid and Charlie in a warning regarding Blanca but tried to pass it off as that the beings residing within had some grudges.

(Actually, on second thought, that probably wasn’t too far from the truth either— the fucked-up folly of dark witches and wizards had severely mucked up relations to their closest non-human neighbors when the Death Eaters had infested the place.)

(And Grawp being housed there since Hagrid brought him there had strained things further for the last few years….)

“Mr. Filch informs me there is a list of items that are considered contraband tacked to his door,” the Headmistress continued. “So please review it at your earliest convenience— most of them starting with the letters WWW— and get rid of them unless you would like them confiscated, House points taken and suffer detention with our Caretaker.”

Yeah, she still got it. Her no-nonsense demeanor still served to instantly bring everyone to obedience. (All her underlings— staff included-- knew that her picture should be printed beside the word ‘formidable’ in the dictionary)

“Secondly, I’d like us all to welcome two new professors!”

Charlie Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy stood from their places at the Teacher’s table on the dais. There was a collective intake of breath, for numerous reasons. (Harry couldn’t be sure, but he knew the striking beauty of both had to be a contributing factor.)

“Professor Malfoy,” Minerva unfurled an arm in the direction of the uppity, yet graceful woman, “will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor.”

Draco led the polite smattering of applause with the most gusto out of anyone in the room— that nearly drowned out (but not entirely) Ron’s uncouth interjection of: “But she’s a Death Eater!”

Hermione looked like she’d like to smack her boyfriend for his lack of tact-- if the twitching on her right hand was anything to go by-- and would love nothing more than to berate her other half’s failure of not holding of his tongue until he had the chance to think things through logically. But alas, she was too far away due to the alphabetical seating arrangements to even kick his shin under the table.

(Not to mention that she trusted Headmistress McGonagall’s judgment implicitly; the venerable witch must have great reason and assurances that this was a good choice.)

Mrs. Malfoy seemed to have anticipated such a reaction, or at least had the good manners and poise to handle such an outward display of dissention right away.

“I assure you Mr. Weasley, I am not, and never have been.” She slid an elegant hand up her sleeve to reveal the unmarked, unblemished creamy skin of her left forearm for all to see. “Although, due to a certain set of very unfortunate circumstances and life experiences,” she looked down at him with grim determination, filled with an ocean of unspoken— but inferred-- details, “I believe I am in a unique position to teach you to defend yourself from the darkest of spells.”

The entire Hall was stilled in silence as she paused, and then continued in a frozen tone of a direct challenge. “If you care to learn….”

The younger kids didn’t quite understand the tension but held their collective breaths at the blatant disregard for authority. The regal blonde’s calm but uplifted eyebrow stared Ron down and he quickly conceded, after he’d had the time to think it over and hung his head, nodding. “Yes, of course, Madam. I truly believe you would be. I welcome your expertise.”

Charlie looked down at the round table, first embarrassed by his sibling’s disrespectful outburst, then curiously at everyone’s reaction and finally in admiration at how his new colleague handled such a prejudiced reaction. (He was proud that Ron made a decent ‘save’ after he’d had time to think about it for more than a second and hadn’t childishly retaliated against a public chastising.)

The Headmistress cleared her throat and then announced the new, part-time Care of Magical Creatures professor for the younger years. The redhead thought his pulse was buzzing in his ears as all eyes turned to him until he realized the noise was the whole student body in a sudden whirl over getting a good look at the youngest professor the school had seen in over two decades.

He wasn’t so cocky as to believe that it was because he was overwhelmingly handsome, but that compared to the rest of the staff, he was clearly much closer in age to them than any of the other teachers. He gave his signature easy grin and waved, trying to dismiss the collective sigh from the female population (complete with fluttering eyelashes and simpering hair primping) as he sat.

Food appeared on the plates and everyone was lost in their meals and making conversation with those around them. Charlie kept looking at the round table and his boyfriend. Minerva had raised the issue earlier over the returning group accepting the Malfoy boy, but it didn’t seem to be a problem so far.

Charlie hadn’t been able to wrap his head around how his young lover might not get along with someone— he was always so sweet, ingratiating, endearing and polite! But even he could tell that it was all was very tense down there with the ‘eighth years’ and that was odd….

But it was working…. So far.

And damned if that boy (looking so on edge) between Luna and Harry didn’t look the spitting image of his bro Nick at that age! How strange was that? Harry had mentioned that Nick reminded him of someone, but he didn’t realize just how much he meant that….

(He’d said he’d never had an interest in another bloke before but…. they sure were acting like there was a lot of intense history there!!)

Something didn’t set right with him…..

The whole (admittedly tiny) class was jittery and stiff but he was glad for the little magical microphone set-up that the Headmistress and DADA professor had set up.

(The new teacher thought it was funny that his siblings’ twins’ Extendable Ear innovation had been forbidden for the students, yet the professors held no compunction over utilizing the product themselves.) They listened in on the receiver hidden in the center-piece so they could monitor the going’s on at what (he thought) should have been a happy reunion:

“So, erm, Hannah,” Hermione valiantly tried to break the ice and introduce the least offensive topic of dinner conversation, “how has this past year been for you?” Her eyes were diverted as she ladled more vegetables onto her plate. “We missed you with the rebuilding.”

The mousey girl squeaked and then attempted a shaky smile. “I wanted to come, really I did, but my dad needed help with re-establishing our restaurant.”

“Yeah,” Ron mumbled through chewing, “’Abbot’s Habit’— Best coffee, croissants and sandwiches on the Alley!” (Her boyfriend’s one-track mind and atrocious table manners were effective in making the bushy-haired witch’s first misty, pained reaction of missing her parents morph into thinly veiled disgust.)

Hannah giggled shyly and added, “I think he also just wanted to keep me close by. He’d missed me coming back for seventh year thinking it would be safer but then being in The Battle scared him to death. You know….. especially….. because after my mom….”

Dean piped up, trying to dispel the heavy cloud of remembering those they’d lost. “Yeah, Seamus’ dad needed him to help with the family business as well….” The scrape and tink of cutlery rang in everyone’s ears. “His Da is in Muggle pyrotechnics, sells fireworks and choreographs the explosive effects for rock concerts, so…..obviously…..” he offered with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood.

They all laughed at that (Charlie had to wonder what THAT meant as an inside joke, but he figured it didn’t matter as long as no one was fighting).

Even the blond boy smiled in amusement, bobbing his head little bit; the casual remark served to shatter a small crack in his façade of unflappability despite the obvious reticence he held with being a part of such a gathering.

The conversation dropped off again in awkward silence and the focus on eating continued amongst the anxious group. The teaching staff looked to each other, wondering what the next move would be in this potentially volatile group.

“Well, Draco,” (and the Pureblood flinched a little at Lovegood addressing him so informally) “I’m glad you got your wand back and are here,” she remarked conversationally as she sliced up her pork chop. He stared at her, wondering about her ulterior motives until he inspected her face carefully and surprisingly saw no guile or artifice there.

“Uh…. Erm….” He spluttered uncouthly until he realized it was probably a ploy to get him to apologize to his school-yard adversary. “I am eternally grateful that Potter had the grace and honour to return it.” He gave a cursory nod to the brunet on his left (who gave a dip of his chin solemnly back).

Ron looked up again in surprise while he uttered with his mouth full, “When’d you do that?”

Luna laughed merrily with an abandon that made everyone twitch uncomfortably, and jubilantly informed them, “When he was done borrowing it, of course!”

Whether the ephemeral blonde truly didn’t catch the dubious looks being silently exchanged over her sanity or was just trying to promote his come-back and was ignoring them, Draco didn’t know. All he knew was that the unusual girl was far more intelligent and calculating than anyone gave her credit for…..

Her cunning was hidden under a subterfuge of being stuck in the clouds— though she was anything but airheaded. She was smart. He respected her ability to fool them all. (Why wasn’t she a newly-invented Ravenin?!)

And if that didn’t astound him, her next statement DID:

“Thank you for the extra food,” she smiled sweetly and placed a buttered roll on the edge of his plate. Draco barely held in a cringe as he remembered her incarceration in his Family’s dungeon and how they’d both helped each other in their times of desperation.

The shaky blond quickly schooled the surprise on his features and then softened his tight facial features, “How about some more water?” and poured from a pitcher into her goblet, the ice clinking over the surprise covering the muttering of everyone there. The least he could do was draw on his upper-crust courtesy and sense of decorum to repay debts that were due….

(Hermione got the symbolic gestures and acceptance, guessing most accurately at what had happened during The War in the bowels of his childhood home. Her eyes rolled as the rest of the boys were too dim to comprehend it. But it made her wonder though….. And her estimation of Draco rose— at least on a trial basis.)

“So, Malfoy,” Hermione made another courageous attempt at conversation since no one quite knew what to say in the wake of that awkward exchange, “will you be taking Ancient Runes with Luna and me?” She was determinedly raking strange markings in her mashed potatoes, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

The newly-named Slytherclaw’s spoon paused and his eyes darted to the girl across the table that he’d tormented when they were younger, trying to judge for any unexpected ambush there. He didn’t sense hostility, per se; there were nerves, sure, but solely good intentions.

He was visibly surprised at first. He was suddenly inundated with the irrefutable fact that she was a woman now and he was impressed by her willingness to try for civility-- and thankful for her mature approach to including him in the mealtime conversation, when she could have just as easily (and entirely justifiably) ignored him.

“Yes. I need that N.E.W.T.—“

Ron cut him off, blurting out, “Why didn’t you just come back and take them at the end of the year like so many people are doing?” At his girlfriend’s hiss of ‘Ronald!’ he turned to her across the heavily food-laden surface that separated them, “I was just curious! It can’t be enjoyable for him to be back at the Castle….” and his volume lowered, “with all that happened here.”

Hermione’s bristle deflated somewhat. That had to be true. Ron’s outburst, while blunt, hadn’t been the insensitive taunting she’d feared at first.

Malfoy sighed and stated softly in a tone of voice no one at the table but Luna had ever heard. “He’s right, of course, but the memories haunting my home are far worse and I need letters of recommendation from the professors to be accepted into any Master’s program. I wouldn’t be likely to get those if I did not come back, study hard and prove myself a productive member of society.”

The girls all nodded while Ron looked flabbergasted that he’d been told he was right. Neville looked unfazed, Dean looked amused and Draco seemed to be holding his breath. Harry remembered that last phrase during the summation at Malfoy Jr.’s trial and nodded in understanding.

“It’s not like he didn’t have it as hard as the rest of us,” Luna chimed in. And then she added with an air of innocence (as if everyone there didn’t know already), “Did you know that the Death Eaters and Voldemort were just as brutal and ruthless to their side as to their enemies? One small disappointment of unrealistic expectations gets you tortured, and not like the ones we got here. Real ones.”

The blond boy cringed at her candor. The youngest male Weasley objected, “But the things he’s said…. And done…. He—“

“He was a pampered prat at eleven years old and we all said and did stupid things when we were kids,” Harry said wearily, “Ron, he did his time— and you heard what I said at the trials. I’ll take you to the Pensieve if you want!” (Charlie squinted in confusion over the perceived threat held in the undercurrent there.) “He never wanted any of it. All he’s after is a fresh start and a chance to move on, like we all are.”

Neville cleared his throat and leaned towards Malfoy from around his girlfriend. “Thanks for all those times you looked the other way in our last year when you could have turned us in. I’m sorry that you had to pay so badly for that disobedience, but it IS appreciated.”

Harry was looking gob-smacked at the red face of the blond kid and Charlie turned to study his new colleagues; they were all wearing expressions of triumph and pride.

He’d thought they were exaggerating when they deemed the kids successfully putting the past behind them and negotiating a peaceful coexistence might possibly be insurmountable. At the staff meeting when they were making back-up plans, he’d thought them all mental. He was friends with almost all of them and they’d all had a great time hanging out together doing the Restoration….

He knew nothing of the specific history of the young adults but it appeared the teachers were extremely pleased with the interactions of the unusual group’s occupants. And judging by some of the subtext included in the stilted conversations from the round table— and the professors earlier concerns over possible violence erupting— it had been pretty serious.

~O~

Charlie led the “eighth years” up to the seventh floor. He’d learned that afternoon that he was to act as the blended group’s Head of House. He’d chosen and moved his things into an office and living space adjacent to the students’ and chatted amiably to his-- still very quiet— charges.

Since it seemed that even the friends that had worked together over the past year were still unusually tongue-tied and ill-at-ease because of the little Nick look-alike, the new professor struck up a conversation with him. He didn’t seem so bad….

“Draco,” he stated, throwing over his shoulder at the obviously uncomfortable outcast skittering on the edge of the group and imbuing his timbre with his most kind coaxing. He pretended he didn’t notice the visible flinch at being singled out and gave him a warm smile. “I like your name.” He also ignored the raised eyebrows and pointed looks the others were giving each other, as if stunned over why he would be so relaxed about including him at all.

The ensuing silence didn’t stop the outgoing man who held nothing of the usual reserve when treading carefully around a Malfoy.

“Draaaacoooooo…… Dragon’s are cool. Intelligent, strong, temperamental, fierce…. Gotta respect them….”

“Mmhm,” Malfoy made a non-committal noise of agreement, trying not to come across as churlish by turning down this unexpected extension of unbiased sociability (but was utterly unsure as to what to reply).

Ron, who still didn’t quite like his brother chumming it up with a guy that had been his enemy whined, “Charlieeeee…. Not everyone is as crazy for dragons as you are! Not everyone wants to hear you talk about them all day and night.”

“I DO find them fascinating,” Draco whispered, then cleared his throat and spoke a bit louder, trying to sound diplomatic (rather than derogatory, knowing his new housemates were friends with the half-giant), “but please don’t tell me you are as fanatical about them as your co-Care professor. Do you know he birthed one in his…. home?”

The unconventional, yet charismatic teacher threw back his head and laughed heartily, (the echo causing many of the portraits lining the walls to ‘tut’ in indignation). “Good Lord, no! Dragons, I love them, but I’m not mental!   Any dragon, freshly-cracked or not, would make a lousy house-pet!” His chuckles over imagining a hatchling in someone’s home were cut-off abruptly. “Hang on. How did you know about Norberta?”

He looked quizzically to the blushing blond looking sheepishly at the noticeably fidgeting trio. “I saw the birth because I was spying, trying to get these three in trouble,” he vaguely gestured towards Harry, Ron and Hermione, finally copping up to part of his childish vendetta.

“I found out about the plan to smuggle it from the tower….” The blond confessed, and then twitched a bit as enlightenment dawned. “You must be the ‘Charlie’ that Weasley wrote to!”

“One in the same,” the burly man replied, still grinning. He turned and jogged up the steps backwards without looking where his feet were going in order to speak face to face. At the astonished looks the man was receiving paused and murmured, “Didn’t you ever have to do this for Quidditch drills?” (Nobody knew how to answer that— only three of them had played….. and they were all gob-smacked at his athletic coordination so he filled the silence.)

“So did they get busted?” Charlie just laughed and shrugged when the young man admitted that he’d gotten detention along with the others for breaking curfew to carry out his dastardly (poorly thought-out) ploy.

“Speaking of that night, I was too new at the Preserve to be allowed on the mission, but one of my good friends came here that to collect Hagrid’s dragon…. And you look SO much like him! Do you have any Eriksens in your family tree? I swear, you must be related.”

The blond looked contemplative a moment and then mused, “I seem to recall a Norwegian woman by the name of Adelis Eriksen that married my great grandfather on the Malfoy side four generations ago….”

Charlie looked smug. “Well, she obviously had at least one brother to pass the genes and name on down another branch…. AHA! Here we are!” He flung out a heavily-muscled arm in a grand flourish.

The group, wrapped up in the strange, cordial— bordering on downright friendly— exchange, stopped in front of a door they’d never seen before in the exact section of corridor they were well acquainted with:

The Room of Requirement!

“Relax!” Charlie told the group that was blanching in varying states of horror and disbelief (some even going as far to take a step or two back.) “McGonagall set up our new house here. She assured me that everyone has their own room and it has everything we will need…. It’s really nice. The password’s ‘Amalgam’.”

He truly didn’t understand why they were all balking as badly as livestock being taken past the wards and into the field to feed the dragons. (Surely it couldn’t be the odious tapestry on the opposite wall that portrayed Barnabus the Barmy trying to teach Trolls to do ballet!— although he had to admit, that vision was pretty hideous.)

He waved a dismissive square calloused hand at them and forced a casual tone (inwardly cursing Minerva for handing him something that she probably knew would push them too far or cause problems but had not deigned to clue him in— he would be having words with her later). All he could do was play it off as nothing and lead them in.

He was heartened by Neville’s determined stance; he felt pride when the young Herbologist made a strong first step forward.

The double-doors opened and the new quarters were revealed. There were exclamations of surprise, awe and admiration which he took as a good sign. To be honest, he’d thought this would have been all (and NOT that strange scene in the hallway). But no matter, they were here now, trickling in and fanning out to explore their new Common Room with unveiled interest.

It was laid out like a posh flat’s open floor-plan with high ceilings. There was a large fireplace and an ample seating area full of squashy armchairs and sofas-- complete with a kitchenette and bar on the other side. There were smaller tables littered along the edges under the tall windows and bookshelves in between the heavy mullioned glass panes (that promised lots of magically charmed sunlight during the daytime).

Along with the gentle illumination coming from the hearth, there were colored glass sconces and lamps at regular intervals. It gave a very comfortable, homey feel to the space.

The room was dominated by a bland neutral shade— pale gray stone walls and various gradients of light brown (with silver and gold highlights) in the furniture’s fabric, area rugs and woodwork. But there were throw-pillows and blankets of jewel-like hues scattered around the space to add pops of color here and there to complement the neutral monochromatic colour-scheme.

(It was obvious the decorative items were the blended accents of Slytherin emerald-green, Gryffindor deep ruby-red, Hufflepuff topaz-yellow and the royal, sapphire-blue of Ravenclaw.)

“OK!” Charlie clapped his hands to gain everyone’s attention on himself again. “Your rooms are down the hall.” He pointed towards the archway at the other end of the room, “Go check them out, your stuff should all be in there and I’ll meet you back here in five minutes. We’ve got a few things to discuss.”

He pulled Harry’s arm and whispered in his ear, “Bring your birthday picture back here.”

The returning students scurried to find which door had their name upon it. It followed their alphabetical sequence of the Sorting and Harry was glad to see his near the end of the corridor; he was less pleased to see that Malfoy’s lodging was right beside his at the dead-end of the walkway.

All his belongings were placed at the foot of his bed. He shirked off his student robe and then pulled out the photo in question from his trunk. The brunet felt nostalgic (and a bit sappy) in remembrance of when this image had been recorded for posterity:

When the couple had arrived back at the Preserve after his birthday celebration at The Burrow last summer, they’d been greeted by everyone in the central square; a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” had been sung by the caregivers and their freshly-learned Patronuses.

He fondly ran a finger over Tiger’s raccoon, remembering when she’d first cast it successfully and MaryAnne laughed about how it was perfect for her best friend— how the critters were cute and clever, opportunistic, resourceful, good with their dexterous hands and were drawn to shiny things. The blond woman’s lioness dwarfed it, and they’d all agreed that it made complete sense for her personality; the witch was a natural-born warrior, full of strength and grace and was a fierce, protective nurturer whose strengths lay in feeding her whole pride.

Mr. Yakinov’s rhinoceros wasn’t to be seen-- since he had snapped the photo-- but Josh’s dolphin swam lazily overhead and Jason’s mynah bird flapped around above its dorsal fin.

He grinned as he recalled how they’d all exchanged knowing chuckles when it turned out that Vlad’s form was a strutting, preening peacock, but the only reason they all thought it was funny that Nick’s was a ferret was because he bitterly complained that he’d wanted a big tough animal like a shark or an anaconda.

(Only Harry found the ferret connection to Nick looking like Malfoy downright hilarious— and no amount of explaining about when the fake Moody transfigured his classmate in his fourth year truly led them to understand the irony. Apparently it was a “location joke”— you had to be there.)

But now he was meant to bring this touching memento to show his former arch-nemesis his distant relation? How would Malfoy react? Sure, he was acting contrite and polite for now, but would that information push his buttons into acting like the vicious git he’d always been before? Harry shrugged to himself and figured Charlie would be a good referee and brought the framed portrait with him back to the Common Room.

“—but he held you prisoner in his dungeon!” Ron was close to verging on yelling.

“Ronald,” Luna’s voice sounded tired, strained, even for her, “He is not the one who put me there.” She sighed. “He helped me in there. So just ease up, OK? We ALL had it bad….”

Harry winced when he heard Ron splutter and gear up for one of his classic un-thought-out tirades. “You— he— his father almost killed us in the Department of Mysteries!”

He heard Hermione huff. “He is not his father! Until he does something we have to give him the benefit of the doubt! Professor McGonagall wouldn’t let him back otherwise!”

“The apple doesn’t fall from the tree!” Ron insisted. “He nearly had Ginny killed when she was no more than a child!” The brunet started badly when a familiar drawling voice came from behind his ear.

“Actually, there’s more to that story than you know, Weasley.” Harry did a double take behind him; the Slytherclaw sidled around his shoulder with his usual aristocratic poise, but none of his past smug swagger. “And yes, Granger, that’s quite astute of you, although I’d expect nothing less from your intellect.” He readjusted the lapel of his robes as he entered their new living room.

“The Headmistress has an unbreakable reassurance from myself and my mother that we shall ‘do no harm’ whilst residing here.”

Harry hurried to Charlie’s side, wanting them to soothe each other’s tense muscles with tender touches but knowing they could not.

The rest of the new house flitted in and arranged themselves about the seating area. Malfoy perched himself priggishly in one of the armchairs and proceeded to shed some light on the facts lacked about the whole, dark and treacherous Chamber of Secrets incident.

~O~

A/N: Sorry about the long wait, things have been busy.

But also, I’ve been struggling in my head with this chapter, the next one and possibly a separate, companion piece about this year from Draco’s POV (still not sure if I will— please let me know if that would be welcomed or not!— otherwise I will write his POV in very general terms in the next chapter like I did in this one). It’s been hard to tease apart the bits which I wanted to include in each installment while having so much backstory rattling around in my crazy brain….

And then I realized what all I’d written so far was RIDICULOUSLY long, so I broke it into two parts. The good news is that the next chapter is pretty much finished, just needs editing so it should be up really soon!

Thanks to you guys that have been sticking with this fic…. Hope you enjoyed this last part and come back for the next! :)
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WONKY CROSS