Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Extra Credit: ASE Oneshot Collection	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3968 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

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Hello my lovelies! I'm excited to get to share this little nugget with you and get this collection started. I've wanted to do some extras for A Secondary Education for a while and I finally got around to writing one! I will be adding more to this collection in the future, but I am listing it as complete since each story will stand on its own. For that reason, feel free to jump around as you like once there is more content. It will be in no particular chronological order.
I have a pretty hefty list of requests for this, and some of my own ideas, but I will always happily take more. Leave me a review and let me know if there is something specific you want to see.
I received a number of requests for the beginning of the story from Harry's perspective, and I figured that was a great place to start. This is not an exact scene-for-scene rewrite, but it does cover all of the important events from the first three chapters. I hope you like it! <3
Update, as of 11/4/19:
Hi all! So I realized way too late that I wanted to leave responses to reviews on ASE's epilogue at the bottom of this story. I was so excited to post this and totally forgot :( I'm trying to make up for it now. If you left a review for ASE before the date above, there's a response at the bottom for you. I hope you all actually see it! And my deepest apologies. Feedback means so much to me and I always want you all to feel appreciated <3
Enigma
“I’ve hired Draco Malfoy to be our new Potions Master.”
Harry went very still, one hand gripping the handle of his instrument cabinet. He took a deep breath, processed that sentence, and then opened the cabinet door. Various Dark Detectors from his Auror days came into view, all draped in a thin layer of dust but otherwise looking intact. He took out the Sneak-o-Scope, more to have something to do with his hands than anything else, and turned to place it on his desk. It was only then that he looked up at the headmistress to acknowledge what she had just said.
“I wasn’t aware he had applied for the position.”
She hesitated, watching him. “He didn’t, in truth. I invited him to come for an interview many months ago, when Horace first announced his retirement.”
“I see.”
“I offered him the position immediately afterward. He was far and above the best candidate.”
“But you didn’t announce it to the staff,” Harry observed flatly.
“No, I didn’t. Because at the time, he declined.”
Harry stared at her, stymied and confused.
“He expressed a great interest, but had to admit that his… life circumstances made it inconvenient. I took some time to seek out new possibilities. Before I could hire someone else, he contacted me. Things had… He had changed his mind. He wanted to join us this fall. I happily took him on.”
“And this was… yesterday?” Harry asked carefully.
Her gaze sharpened. “This was in late June.”
“And yet you’re just telling me about it now, a week before the fall term starts.”
Her eye twitched, the only sign that she had picked up on the (admittedly, poorly masked) accusation in his tone. “I had concerns about how you would react. Is there a foundation for them?”
Harry stared down at the Sneak-o-scope on his desk and considered that. If he thought rationally about it, he could understand why she might worry about his reaction. The animosity between himself and Malfoy during their youth had been visible and enduring to all who were at Hogwarts at the time. It didn’t much matter that Harry had spoken up for the Malfoys at their respective trials or that Malfoy himself had sent him a letter not long after thanking him for that, and for the return of his wand. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t had any interactions in seven years, that Harry had hardly spared any thought for the man in nearly all that time.
In the end, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would be fixed in the wizarding zeitgeist as mortal enemies, whether or not it was really true.
And yet, when he thought about Malfoy, or even about the idea of him teaching there, at Hogwarts, alongside Harry for most of the year, the only thing Harry really felt was ambivalence.
“I’m not sure exactly how I feel about it,” he said aloud. “It would have been nice to know sooner, in order to… prepare myself.”
Minerva sighed. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said grudgingly. “But I will admit that… I had the thought that you and the other staff might talk, and perhaps a biased attitude might form against him before he had even arrived. And I knew that wouldn’t be productive.”
“You think I would have… gossiped? Trashed him to the other staff?” Harry had to admit himself offended that she would think such a thing of him, after all this time. “I would never have done something like that.”
“I know, Harry,” the woman said gently. “I know you would not have done anything malicious. But even the truth of Mr. Malfoy’s history can influence… You know the kind of sway you have here. As a head of house, as a very well respected teacher, you know the staff and students both look to you for guidance. They model their behavior off of yours, and if there was any indication of a dislike on your part of Mr. Malfoy…”
“But I don’t dislike him,” said Harry. “I have no opinion on him whatsoever.”
She arched a skeptical brow.
“I don’t,” he insisted. “Honestly. We haven’t… I haven’t even seen him in years. I don’t even really know him, what he’s like now.”
“You might find yourself surprised,” Minerva replied with a small smile. “Just as he might find himself surprised by you.”
“That may very well be true,” replied Harry. “So long as we…” He sighed. “I will keep an open mind, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll be a professional.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she said. “But I suppose, in the end, I was hoping you could be… more than that.”
Harry blinked at her.
“We’re a family here,” she said. “You know that full well. Professionalism is all well and good but my hope is that you will welcome him openly. My hope is that you will show him kindness. Merlin knows he…” She trailed off, closing her eyes, and Harry had to wonder what she wasn’t saying. “It would do him good to receive kindness from us, and if it comes from you, I believe it will mean even more.”
Harry held back an incredulous snort of laughter. He doubted Draco Malfoy had any sort of emotional stake in Harry’s behavior toward him. And yet he could see Minerva’s point, at least in that being a new teacher at Hogwarts could be quite overwhelming. He remembered his own experience, and how the manner in which he was welcomed and mentored by the rest of the staff made such a difference to his success. Harry supposed that Malfoy deserved the same chance, the same welcome, at least.
And there was more to it, he could tell. There was more that Minerva wasn’t saying about Malfoy’s circumstances, and that piqued Harry’s interest, in spite of himself. He found a strange curiosity surging inside himself about what this “new Malfoy” would be like. Perhaps he would be unrecognizable. Perhaps Harry really would find himself surprised.
“Very well. I’ll do my best,” he said. “When does he arrive?”
“Tomorrow. In time for the staff social.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll be there.”
The headmistress seemed satisfied, and she took her leave. Harry remained in his classroom, shaking his head and actually laughing a bit to himself.
Draco bloody Malfoy. What were the odds?
***
“Maybe when you’re home for Christmas we can go.”
“I’d really like that, Ted,” Harry said, grinning at the boy’s excited face in the fire. “We’ll have to ask Gran when we get closer to the holidays.”
“I can practice,” said Teddy. “I bet I can get really good.”
“I have no doubt,” said Harry. “You’re already decent on roller skates.” Ever since Harry had taken Teddy to one of those Muggle skating rinks a couple of months ago, the boy had been talking non-stop about trying it on ice as well. Harry didn’t see the harm, and, given Teddy’s natural athleticism, he was sure to pick it up quickly. But it was always best to ask Andromeda. She was already nervous enough with Teddy on a broom so young.
The woman in question appeared in the fire only a moment later. “Harry, didn’t you say you had to be somewhere at 3?”
“Yes?”
“Well, it’s quarter past.”
“What?” Harry looked at the clock. Bugger. “Oh, Merlin, I really am late! I’m sorry, Ted, I’ve got to run.”
“That’s ok. Will you call me tomorrow?"
“Sure thing. Right before dinner, all right? I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Teddy and Andromeda both waved goodbye and Harry closed the floo connection, hurrying to his feet. He’d really let time get away from him, though, in truth, he felt some quality time talking to his godson was more important than any staff social. He was going to be spending practically all of the next nine months with the Hogwarts staff and, as much as he loved them, he loved Teddy more. So he decided not to feel guilty about the extra fifteen minutes spent with him.
He hurried to the staff room and found it already full of his fellow teachers, milling about with pumpkin juice or gillywater in their hands.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he said sheepishly as he was greeted with a cheer. “I got caught up on a floo call.”
No one seemed to mind, greeting him with hugs and handshakes. Harry leaned down to give Septima Vector a kiss on the cheek, and she asked him with a wink what lucky young man he had been so caught up with as to make himself late.
Harry laughed. The woman was always curious about his dating life and wondering when he was going to find someone to settle down with. Harry knew it only came from a place of love, though, so it didn’t bother him. “Teddy might consider himself lucky to have me as a godfather,” he answered, “but I will always think of myself as the lucky one.”
“Ah,” she said, understanding. She gave him a small but warm smile. “How is the lad?”
“Good,” Harry answered somewhat wistfully. “Sorry that the summer is over, I think.”
“I’m sure he misses you.”
Harry didn’t answer, not particularly wanting to dwell on it. There were others to greet anyway, so Harry gave her shoulder a light squeeze in goodbye and made his way through the room. He shook Gibbs’ hand and asked about his summer, saying he was looking forward to hearing about all of his travels. He nodded and smiled at Filch and Pince, both of whom seemed to respect him as a fellow staff member but had not taken much time to get to know him. He gave Rolanda Hooch a hug and reminisced with her about an exciting Harpies match they had both attended that summer.
Eventually he had worked just about the whole room, although there was one professor he hadn’t spotted yet, and he was looking forward to talking with her. His eyes scanned about and found her in the far corner of the staff room, talking to-
Talking to Draco Malfoy.
He couldn’t help a small gasp of surprise, partially because he had honestly sort of forgotten, thanks to Teddy and rushing to get to the social, that the man was going to be in attendance.
But also because Malfoy really was, well, different. He was still tall and lanky, though he seemed even taller and perhaps a bit more muscular than his Hogwarts days. But he wasn’t nearly so pointy and angular as Harry remembered. There was a ghost of those shapes about his person, but it was as though he had grown into them, allowing them to soften just enough to be… quite striking.
In truth, Harry realized as they caught each other’s eyes for the briefest of moments, Malfoy was quite fit. Almost… painfully handsome. One might even say beautiful.
It was a strange thought to have, but Harry decided to chock it up to that he hadn’t seen the man in seven years, and it probably shouldn’t have been surprising that he was good-looking. He had been rather good-looking in school too, actually, it was just that the perpetual sneer that Malfoy aimed in his direction rather ruined the effect.
Malfoy wasn’t sneering now. If anything, he looked rather surprised himself, and it lent a wide-eyed, innocent quality to his face that made Harry’s stomach clench pleasantly.
Which was stupid, really. As if Malfoy would ever…
These thoughts were unproductive, and he cut them off quickly, making his feet move him across the room towards his friend and the new Potions Master. Francesca immediately noticed him.
“Harry,” she said warmly.
Harry bent down to kiss her cheek. “Francesca. You’re looking gorgeous as ever,” he told her. And she did, sun-kissed and healthy in a way Harry couldn’t help but be jealous of. “How was your summer?"
“It was lovely,” she answered, giving him a smile that was quite bright, even for her. “I spent it in Tuscany with my family, as usual.”
Harry thought this a very funny thing for her to say, considering he knew already where she had been. But then he thought of whom she had just been talking to, and realized that this information, and the smile that accompanied it, was likely not for Harry’s benefit at all. It was for Malfoy’s.
Interesting. Not that he could blame her. He had just been thinking how handsome Malfoy was himself.
“Of course,” Harry said, not about to call her out or tease her in front of their companion. “How’s the vineyard?”
“Doing very well. Papa says it’s going to be a very good year for Chianti.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll have to reserve a case.”
“Oh, you should. I can set one aside for you if you’d like.”
“I would like that,” he answered, almost absently, automatically. He was realizing that more than the socially acceptable time had passed without Harry acknowledging Malfoy’s presence, and that he should probably do so. Only… he found he had no idea how. Did he just turn to the bloke, say, “Oh, right, Malfoy, good to see you. I heard you’d be joining us this year,” and hope he didn’t sound completely awkward or disingenuous? The wording seemed too canned to him, rehearsed, and he had no idea what to do about it.
Luckily Francesca rescued him from himself only a moment later.
“And, of course, you know Draco Malfoy,” she said. “He’s our new Potions Master.”
“Right, of course.” Harry jumped immediately on her words and made sure there was a real smile on his face when he turned to the blond. “Good to see you again, Malfoy,” he said, thanking Merlin he sounded sincere. He held out a hand for good measure.
Malfoy didn’t hesitate to take it, which Harry thought was a good sign. Still, as he thanked Harry and expressed his happiness in being at Hogwarts, his gray eyes searched Harry’s face as if trying to catch something in his expression. Harry kept his smile in place as best he could as he mentally scoured for some harmless topic of conversation he could breach, hoping this would end the uncomfortable scrutiny.
“How are your parents?” he settled on. “I will admit I haven’t heard any news of them in years.”
Malfoy hesitated for one surprised beat before he answered. “They are well. They’re living in France now.”
“Oh, wonderful. Whereabouts?”
“The Malfoys have had a hidden estate in the Loire Valley for centuries,” the blond replied, his voice now a drawl that Harry found almost comfortingly familiar.
This really was Malfoy after all, then, and not some extra-attractive and strangely cautious doppelganger.
“Right,” said Harry, racking his brain. “That’s central France, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I was talking to someone recently who was telling me about how beautiful central France is,” Harry said, trying to fill in the gaps of Malfoy’s limited contribution and aware he was in great danger of starting to babble. “Most people go on and on about Paris, and Provence, and Nice, but in truth the central regions are equally beautiful. There are all these extinct volcanoes and everything is very green there, so I hear. And apparently they make very good cheese.”
Cheese, really? he admonished himself. How asinine was he sounding right now? He looked at Francesca, praying she would jump in.
“And excellent wine,” Francesca said, seamlessly taking her cue and acting as though what Harry was going on about was perfectly reasonable.
“Well, you would know all about that,” Harry answered, giving her a grateful smile. He could run with this topic. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Malfoy, but Francesca’s family are all winemakers. Her father and one of her aunts have their own vineyard in Tuscany.”
“How nice,” Malfoy murmured, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.
“They use a mix of magical and Muggle methods, as I understand it,” Harry went on, looking at Francesca. She nodded. “It’s really quite excellent. The best Chianti I’ve ever had. You should reserve a case yourself while they’re still available, if you are inclined toward medium-bodied reds.”
“Certainly,” Malfoy intoned unhelpfully.
“In fact, I’m sure we could scrounge up a bottle for you, if you would like to try it,” Harry pressed on, almost unable to help himself. “Do you have any of that 2001 left?” he asked his friend. “That was particularly good.”
“Not the 2001, I’m afraid,” said the brunette, sounding genuinely disappointed. “But I could still get ahold of a 2003, which was also an excellent year,” she added perking up. She aimed a demure smile in Malfoy’s direction. “If you were interested in trying it, Draco.”
Draco. Her mouth wrapped very warmly around the name, and Harry’s suspicions were confirmed.
“Yes, that would be lovely,” Malfoy replied graciously, meeting her eyes with genuine gratitude.
Very interesting, Harry thought. Malfoy was being perfectly civil to Harry, but his attentions aimed at Francesca were far more than that. Perhaps he fancied her in return.
Which was just as well, really. Harry knew he would be better off if Malfoy was clearly and unequivocally off-limits, for so many reasons. And it would be a boon for Francesca as well, who had, despite her manifold beauty and brains, found herself unexpectedly unlucky in love in recent years. If Malfoy really was a decent bloke now, that could mean good things for her if they got together. Much better results than what Harry and Malfoy would create themselves. Any decision to cross that line would surely result in disaster.
If Malfoy was even remotely interested in men, which seemed unlikely.
“Is he what you expected?” Francesca asked him softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Malfoy had just been snagged by Bathsheda Babbling and was now out of earshot, giving the two friends the perfect opportunity to discuss him. “You two knew each other in school, as I understand it.”
“An understatement,” Harry said, chuckling. “And no, he wasn’t what I expected, though Minerva told me he would be different.” He glanced in Malfoy’s direction again to find him deep in conversation with the older witch, nodding along to what she was saying with a soft smile on his lips. There was true affection in his gaze as he looked at his former Ancient Runes professor, and the sight of it affected Harry more than he liked to admit. He turned back to Francesca. “I was keeping an open mind, per Minerva’s request,” he finished. “Which wasn’t difficult. I haven’t kept track of him in recent years, so I would have no way of knowing what he’s like now.”
“I heard he got married,” Francesca said off-handedly. “But he’s not wearing a ring.”
“You couldn’t help but notice,” Harry teased.
Francesca went a bit pink and nudged him playfully. “I only meant that it’s strange. Divorce is very rare in pureblood circles.”
“Perhaps your information was false. Perhaps he’s never been married.”
“Perhaps.”
“Either way, it appears he’s single now.”
“A lack of ring doesn’t tell you everything.”
“No, but you could always ask.”
Francesca shook her head and rolled her eyes affectionately. “We’ll just see what unfolds, shall we?”
They both glanced back at the new Potions Master as he was drawn into a conversation with Babbling and Vector, and Harry realized he still had no idea what to make of this new Malfoy.
See what unfolds. Yes, he supposed that was the best plan.
***
What unfolded, it turned out, was a rather normal start to the school year. The students’ energy was high and Harry managed it as usual with some fun but draining practical lessons as well as a decent amount of homework. After a couple of weeks of that their over-eagerness started to mellow, though Harry still had himself some very dedicated NEWT students and a handful of awed first years who never seemed to get used to the fact that he was their teacher.
On the surface, Draco Malfoy’s presence in the castle didn’t appear to change things very much for Harry. The blond had integrated quite seamlessly into the fabric of the staff and by all accounts the students were responding well to him. They’d had no major blow-ups or really any unpleasant interactions to speak of. When Harry didn’t give the issue too much thought, it was rather easy to ignore the potential strangeness of it, the weight of the history that hung over them.
However, when he did give it a lot of thought (over-thinking, Francesca might accuse him of), he suspected that the situation was not quite as easy as it appeared to be. The conversation from Malfoy’s end had a tendency to be overly polite, while Harry himself always felt like he was trying too hard to be friendly to Malfoy. He knew Minerva wanted him to make an effort, and he really was doing that. But sometimes he got the impression that the effort was unwelcome and that Malfoy just wanted to be left alone.
Left alone by Harry, at least. Malfoy got on very well with most of the staff and could be caught having animated discussions and sharing charming witticisms with all of them, Francesca most of all. And yet in conversations with Harry the man wasn’t quite so animated and didn’t feel a need to display his dry, ready humor. Harry was pretty sure no one else had noticed this, but he had noticed, and it bothered him the more he thought about it.
It was like he and Malfoy were in some sort of bizarre and cautious dance around each other, a pattern they were unwilling to break out of. It wasn’t a destructive pattern. It wasn’t a problem, really. And yet Harry couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if they could get over the weirdness between them, if they could be… friends. Because while at the moment their working relationship was perfectly functional, it was still… uncomfortable. And Harry didn’t want to spend the school year carrying around this discomfort. He wanted to get beyond it. And the only way he knew how to get beyond it was to move through it. But how would they do that?
That Friday he caught himself looking over the patrol schedule in the staff room, seeking out Malfoy’s name. No Friday patrol, just like Harry. It was an opportunity, and he resolved to seize it. Whether or not he could get Malfoy to do the same was another matter.
He decided seeking out Malfoy in his classroom was the best way. Classes would be out and they could chat alone. Harry had no interest in offering this invitation with others listening in, and he suspected Malfoy would resent him for giving him the pressure of an audience as well.
The downside of having no audience, of course, was that Malfoy would find it easier to refuse. But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Harry could convince him.
In the Potions corridor he passed a number of fourth year students, all with intermediate Potionmaking textbooks in their hands, and he knew that Malfoy’s last class had released for the day. With a deep breath and a solidifying determination he made his way down the corridor, waving to students as he passed.
He was just turning the corner towards the actual classroom when he nearly ran headlong into an apparent straggler.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” Raisie McNeal said breathlessly. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Not a problem, Miss McNeal,” he replied, looking down at her and noticing her flushed face. “Is everything all right?”
To his utter surprise, the student beamed at him. “Everything is wonderful, actually. I’m just a little in shock right now, I suppose.”
“In shock?”
“Professor Malfoy, he…”
Harry furrowed his brow, wondering what McNeal was going to say. What had Malfoy done?
“…he told me that my experiment with the Galerina in class today was inspired, and that I should use my theory as the starting point for my NEWT research. And he thinks I’m ready to start on it now, can you believe that?”
“Extraordinary,” Harry murmured.
“I’ve just never had someone… see me like that before,” she said. “I mean, Slughorn used to give me good marks, but he never took the time… I just can’t believe…” She laughed. “Sorry. Like I said, I’m still in shock.”
“But a good shock, at least,” Harry said smilingly, genuinely happy for McNeal. She did work incredibly hard, but her natural quietness in the classroom meant she could be overlooked by her peers and some of the professors.
“Definitely,” she replied. “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but Professor Malfoy is honestly the best professor I’ve ever had. I’m so glad he’s here.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened further as she remembered whom she was talking to. “I mean… not to say that you aren’t brilliant as well, Professor Potter, that’s not-“
Harry laughed. “I am not at all offended, Miss McNeal. I’m just glad you finally have a Potions teacher who is going to push you the way you deserve to be pushed. It sounds like a promising beginning.”
“I hope so,” she said with a grateful smile. She looked back behind her, towards the half-open classroom door. “I suppose I should get going.”
“Of course,” said Harry, stepping aside to let her pass. “Enjoy your weekend.”
“Thanks, Professor. You too.”
Harry stood there a moment, lost in thought as McNeal rounded the corner and disappeared from view.
It wasn’t as though Harry thought Malfoy was still a blood purist. Minerva would never have hired him if he still held onto those kinds of beliefs. But one could be fair-minded in the classroom without going out of their way to help Muggleborn students. That level of special encouragement aimed at such a student – and a Gryffindor no less – did surprise him. Either Malfoy really had changed considerably or he had some other agenda.
Harry shook his head, snorting to himself in disbelief. He had no interest in being paranoid about Malfoy’s intentions again. That had only landed him in trouble in the past, even if he had been right. He was an adult now, and he knew how to learn from his mistakes.
If anything, he was even more intrigued by Malfoy than he was before. He turned back towards the classroom and made his way to the door.
Lurking in the doorway, he had a clear view of Malfoy at his desk. He was standing, looking over some papers with a wide, warm smile on his face. It was completely unself-conscious, and Harry felt like he was gazing at a secret, that familiar lurch in his stomach again.
He couldn’t explain what it was about Malfoy smiling, but it really got to him.
“Good week?” he asked, opening the door just a little more to make himself fully visible.
Malfoy looked up at him, and the smile immediately dropped from his face. “Come again?” he asked, his voice flat.
Harry took only a moment to mourn the change and the fact that he was undoubtedly the cause of it. “I asked if it had been a good week,” he repeated gamely. That was why he was there, right, to see if he could find some way to get Malfoy to warm to him? “You were smiling, so I thought perhaps it was.”
Malfoy watched him a moment, as if he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Yes,” he said finally, carefully. “It was a very good week.”
“I’m glad to hear it. It seems like you’re settling in nicely.”
Malfoy seemed to chew on that before nodding mutely.
“I just passed Raisie McNeal on my way here,” Harry made himself go on, despite no invitation to do so. Merlin, he can still be so difficult sometimes, he thought, but quickly tamped down his frustration. “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.”
Malfoy’s gaze sharpened noticeably. “It’s her doing, not mine,” he answered. “She’s already naturally advanced. I just thought I’d help her take advantage of it.”
“Yes, she’s quite talented, isn’t she?” Harry said, happy to find some common ground. “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.”
Harry felt himself take a breath, surprised. It was the first small sign of antagonism he’d gotten from the Slytherin since his return to Hogwarts, and he wasn’t sure entirely what to do with it. At least, until he saw a momentary widening of Malfoy’s eyes, as if realizing what he’d just said.
Old habits die hard, don’t they? he thought, with some amusement. He let out the breath, turning it into a laugh. Perhaps the best thing to do was make light of this.
“Very true. Hermione really did have a habit of that sometimes, didn’t she? 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.” The image of her flashed in Harry’s mind, and he couldn’t help the surge of brotherly affection that followed.
Malfoy let out a small huff that one might be able to mistake for a laugh. “How is Granger, these days?” he asked conversationally.
Harry tried to recover quickly from Malfoy actually attempting some small talk with him, answering eagerly. “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.”
Unfortunately, the friendliness appeared to be short-lived. Malfoy’s expression closed as he uttered one dull word. “Lovely.”
This was followed by silence, Malfoy not meeting his eyes.
Shit. Harry wasn’t sure where to go from here. The blond was still as much of an enigma as ever.
May as well cut to the chase. He had come there with a purpose, though the possibility of Malfoy agreeing still seemed bleak.
“So, look, I, um…” Merlin, this shouldn’t be so difficult. “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.”
Malfoy stared at him in bewilderment, which was about what Harry had expected, frankly. He waited, taking steady breaths to manage his nerves.
“A drink. With you,” the Slytherin reiterated blankly.
“That’s right.”
“And no one else.”
“Yes.”
Malfoy’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
It was almost funny, the utter disbelief in Malfoy’s voice. “It’s, uh…” Harry tried to reply, interrupting himself with a few nervous chuckles. It was a legitimate question actually, and one Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.
Because Minerva asked me to be kind to you.
Because you treat me differently than everyone else, and it’s irritating.
Because you’re actually rather fit and interesting and I’d like to get to know you better.
All true, and yet none of them answers Malfoy would want to hear.
“You have to admit, it’s just a little… strange, us being here, together, colleagues, and all,” he ventured, finally. “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.”
Yes, all right, good. That sounded reasonable, if not a little stilted in its delivery.
Malfoy was staring again, although the bewilderment had given way to something else, something just a little uneasier and a little more vulnerable than before.
“I can tell you’re uncomfortable too. Even though you’re handling it very well,” Harry added quickly, as it seemed Malfoy was in danger of closing off his expression again. “But I thought… well, I’ve seen what can happen when two Hogwarts professors don’t get on,” he went on, thinking suddenly of Remus and Snape. It would be a problem if their relationship devolved into that level of dysfunctionality. “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.”
He had outright shocked Malfoy now, he could tell. It was as though the notion of being friends had never crossed the blond’s mind, which Harry couldn’t help but think was a bit ironic, considering that their entire rivalry had begun because of Malfoy’s offer of friendship that Harry had chosen to decline, all those years ago.
Harry had no idea what to make of Malfoy’s impassive mask or the silence that pervaded the room. The only thing he could think to do, really, was ask again.
“So what do you say, Malfoy? One drink? Don’t worry, I’m buying.”
Malfoy’s mask cracked, finally, though it was only with derision. “I have an entire Malfoy fortune with which to buy myself firewhiskey, Potter, thank you very much.”
The answer was patently ridiculous in its haughtiness, and yet so very Mafloy-esque that Harry found it rather funny, if not also disheartening. “Fine then,” he riposted, wondering if he should give up entirely. “You’re buying.”
To his utter shock, Malfoy actually laughed. It was a surprised bark of a laugh that the blond stifled quickly, but it was most definitely a laugh all the same.
And Harry had to admit he found it rather miraculous.
“Fine. One drink,” Malfoy conceded. “You pay.”
“Excellent,” Harry replied. The miracles just kept coming. “Meet at the Three Broomsticks at nine?”
“Sure. Nine o’clock.”
Harry left then, not wanting to give Malfoy a chance to change his mind. He thought it best not to push his luck, considering he’d gotten much luckier than he expected already.
There was a part of him that wanted to rebel, to insist that he shouldn’t have to work this hard just to convince someone to be friendly to him. If Malfoy wanted to be an awkward git around him all the time, that was his prerogative.
But Minerva’s request was also ringing in his head, reminding him that there was likely more to Malfoy and his behavior than met the eye. And then there was Malfoy himself, at once guarded and yet also clearly different from the boy Harry had once known. Gifted at his job, genial with his colleagues, kind to his Muggleborn students…
Harry wanted to know that Malfoy. He wanted to see what layers were hidden under there, what he could uncover with a little patience and finesse.
He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to make that happen, but he was determined to.
***
Twenty minutes in, and it was actually going better than expected. Malfoy had actually shown up, for one thing. Harry had counted that as yet another victory on its own. He knew when he had sat down in the pub with a whiskey in hand that there was still a very good chance that he would be stood up. It was why he had brought a book with him, just in case.
But Malfoy had shown, albeit a bit late, and was now sitting across from Harry, nursing a firewhiskey and actually making an effort at conversation. He still had a bit of a guard up, but not enough to make him unpleasant company. He’d given Harry more than one word answers to his questions and asked some questions of his own. He’d even acted interested in Harry’s replies and looked like he was almost smiling once or twice.
So, progress.
At the moment they were discussing what they had been up to since the end of the war, Malfoy’s expression containing just a hint of wistfulness as he talked about achieving a mastery in Potions and considering going into research.
“I never published anything,” he said, and Harry thought he could catch some regret in his tone. “It never got that far.”
“You lost interest?” Harry asked, curious as to where that regret was coming from.
“I got married,” Malfoy replied, almost in surprise. “And that…” He frowned in thought. “…distracted me, you could say, from my work.”
So he was married, at least at one point. Francesca might find that information useful. Harry glanced automatically to the blond’s ring finger, though he already knew he would find it empty. Francesca’s observations had told him as much.
“I’m not married anymore,” said Malfoy, drawing Harry’s eyes back to his face. He was smirking in wry amusement. “Obviously.”
“I had wondered,” Harry admitted, before realizing there was a window of opportunity here he didn’t want to pass up. “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?”
“I thought that was obvious,” Harry said, deciding to go for broke. Francesca would either thank him or murder him for this, depending on if it landed her Malfoy in the end or not. “Francesca fancies you.” Malfoy looked at Harry as though this was news to him, and perhaps it was. Harry shrugged. “Seems obvious to me, at any rate.” He picked up his whiskey glass, still watching the blond.
Malfoy appeared to not believe him. “I had thought… perhaps… you and she…”
It was lucky Harry hadn’t actually taken a sip of whiskey yet, or it would have been in danger of coming out his nose as he choked on a surprised laugh. “Me and Francesca?” What was Malfoy on about?
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” said Malfoy, stiffening his posture. “Is it really that absurd, the notion of dating a Slytherin?”
Was Malfoy serious? Had he honestly forgotten that Harry only liked men? “It’s not that. It’s just… you know… she’s a woman,” Harry said pointedly, since it seemed Malfoy needed reminding. “Not exactly my type.”
The Slytherin still didn’t seem to get it, though. And that made Harry wonder. Was it possible Malfoy had no idea, had never known?
“I’m gay,” he said, watching Malfoy carefully.
Malfoy’s eyes widened, but otherwise he had no response. Harry believed the surprise was genuine, and he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or worried. The reaction reminded him of what he had seen in the early days, right after he came out. He’d gotten a kick out of the public’s shock then, just as he was getting a bit of one out of Malfoy’s now.
At the same time, though, Harry had no way of knowing Malfoy’s beliefs on homosexuality, and he realized there was a chance, given his pureblood upbringing, that the blond could have an issue with it. Of course, if he turned out to be anti-gay he could fuck right off, as far as Harry was concerned. He didn’t waste his time on people like that. But he and Malfoy did have to work together either way, and it could cause some problems.
“Sorry, I assumed you knew,” he said, to gauge Malfoy’s reaction.
“And why would I know something like that?” the blond replied incredulously, almost accusingly.
“Just about everyone else does,” said Harry. “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,” he added, just to make it clear how behind the times Mafloy was. Harry was not about to take responsibility for not properly disclosing the information or any such nonsense. “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,” Malfoy murmured, more thoughtfully than defensively. “Or much media at all.”
“Well, there you are, then. I like men. Exclusively.”
“But you dated girls at Hogwarts,” Malfoy argued, returning his eyes to Harry. “I remember you at least pairing up with the youngest Weasley for a while.”
Harry’s mouth twisted, knowing Malfoy did have a bit of a point there, especially if he had actually missed Harry’s coming out to the world as he claimed to have done. “Yes, I did, sixth year. 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.”
A lot of people hadn’t bought that explanation when he first gave it, though it was the truth. Part of the problem was that many people seemed to think of gay men as overtly sexual, as though they weren’t allowed to have any priorities or concerns other than getting laid. It was very annoying.
And yes, Harry had quite a bit of sex now, and had since he came out. But that was because he could finally enjoy it, now that he wasn’t constantly fearing for his life. But he wasn’t sure Malfoy would believe him.
The blond didn’t look skeptical at least. He appeared to merely be thinking that over, and it gave Harry hope. Malfoy wasn’t fleeing in disgust or accusing Harry of asking him for drinks under false pretenses, which was a good sign.
“You’re not going to go running for the door now, are you?” Harry said, thinking maybe it was safe to infuse some humor into his voice. “Because surely you know better than to think I asked you for drinks with romantic overtures in mind. The invitation was strictly platonic.”
His stomach clenched a little at the half-truth. The invitation had been platonic, true. Harry certainly didn’t expect Malfoy to be interested.
But if it turned out that, by some fluke, Malfoy also happened to like cock, well…
Nope. Don’t even go there. He shut down his wayward thoughts as he saw the blond arch an amused eyebrow.
“Now I’m sitting here wondering if I should be insulted,” Malfoy replied, and, though his tone still carried a haughty edge, there was also something else in it, something a bit warmer than before. “I’m not good enough for the Great Harry Potter, then?”
Harry was both surprised and please that it appeared Malfoy was willing to joke about this. “Not gay enough for the Great Harry Potter, I would think.”
“And just how gay do you like them?” the blond asked, leaning forward. There was no mistaking it now. Malfoy’s tone was definitely different, infused with amusement, warmth, and even a bit of… suggestiveness. Harry smiled widely, showing all his teeth in that way he knew made men weak in the knees.
“Oh, I have a… broad range of tastes. So if I’m wrong about you, by all means, enlighten me.” He tossed in a playful wink for good measure. He knew he was walking a fine line here. And yet Malfoy had already invited it by asking the question in the first place, and Harry found he couldn’t help himself.
Malfoy simply turned his head, as though he didn’t want Harry to catch his involuntarily smile. He turned back after a moment. “So who is the lucky wizard then? Surely the Great Harry Potter already has a lover.”
Harry hesitated, chewing on his lip. He probably should have expected the question. It was just strange, because pretty much all of the wizarding world knew about his dating habits, and it had been a long time since he’d had to explain it to anyone. He wasn’t sure how honest he should be.
Then again, Malfoy had asked.
“I don’t have… a lover, really,” Harry said finally, deciding to play it a bit coy.
For a moment he wasn’t sure Malfoy would get it. Then understanding sparked behind his eyes, suddenly. “More than one?” he asked.
“A fair few,” Harry replied nonchalantly, finishing off his whiskey and wondering how Malfoy would respond.
“Well, well, well, this is interesting,” Malfoy said, and he did sound genuinely intrigued. “The Great Harry Potter sleeps around.”
Harry felt the corners of his mouth turn down slightly, perhaps because he was starting to tire of this “Great Harry Potter” epithet, but also because he wasn’t wild about that characterization. “Sleeping around” carried a negative connotation that he didn’t think was entirely fair. Then again, he didn’t have to let it be negative if he didn’t want to. “Yes,” he confirmed with a smile, but fully prepared to qualify it. “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,” Malfoy answered immediately, seemingly aware that they were venturing into potentially fraught territory. He didn’t sound inclined to antagonize Harry about it, at any rate, and that made Harry relax. “So how many is a ‘fair few,’ if you don’t mind me asking?” Malfoy said instead.
Harry thought that over before answering. In truth, he never kept a running count, so it was hard to be sure. “It depends. They sort of come and go. 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 multiple times a week, so it’s a bit more than that.”
“A bit more?”
“Like, twice as many.” Or maybe more. Or less. Harry wondered briefly if it was the sort of thing he was supposed to be keeping track of. It just varied so much, and there were men he only ended up having a few dates with, and men he saw every now and then for a number of months, or even as long as a year. It wasn’t like he carried around a little black book or made notches on his bedpost to count his conquests. It wasn’t like that. The numbers were irrelevant.
“And you’re content with the press just… reporting on all of that,” said Malfoy, as though he found that hard to believe.
Harry laughed, acknowledging what was a quite valid point. “They report on the wizards I date. But I also date a lot of Muggles, and the press doesn’t know about those.”
Malfoy didn’t really answer, only hummed and stared at Harry as though he had suddenly become infinitely more interesting. And maybe, to Malfoy, he had. Harry very much doubted consensual polyamory was all that common in the pureblood world, and Harry’s lifestyle probably seemed very novel to him.
“It works for me now,” Harry went on, unsure if Malfoy was hoping for more of an explanation but deciding to give him one anyway. “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.” He thought of Hermione’s blatant nagging, Ron’s not-so-subtle hints at how nice married life was, colleagues like Septima Vector asking after his “boyfriends” and if any of them were serious prospects. He knew they all meant well, but it didn’t change the fact that they didn’t really understand. “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,” Malfoy echoed, his tone free of any derision or judgment.
“Exactly,” Harry said, pleasantly surprised yet again. Who knew it would be a conversation about Harry’s sexuality that would finally get Malfoy to loosen up?
Of course, there was a chance the alcohol had something to do with it as well, Harry had to acknowledge. He glanced down at their two glasses on the table, noticing they were both empty.
One drink. That had been all that the blond had promised him. And yet Harry couldn’t help but feel that they were just getting started.
“What do you say, then?” he ventured. “Another round?”
It was a test of sorts, as much as an offer, to see if Malfoy was just tolerating him or actually enjoying his company. Harry stood up, reaching for his empty glass to bring back to the bar, hoping this would spur a response.
Malfoy’s smile was small as he pushed his glass in Harry’s direction, but it was a true smile nonetheless. “Sure. Another round,” he said.
“Great,” said Harry, strangely elated. He picked up Malfoy’s glass as well. “I’ll be right back.”
When Harry returned with more firewhiskey only minutes later, Malfoy was already armed with questions, though none relating to Harry’s dating life. He was apparently ready for some gossip, wanting to know what the Hogwarts staff had been up to in the past five years and if there was anything particularly juicy to report. Harry entertained him with that for a bit, and conversation flowed easily from there as they sat and stretched out their second firewhiskeys for another hour.
Now that the walls were down, Harry felt like he was learning more about Malfoy in one evening than he had learned in the past fourteen years. There were some things that were unsurprising, like the fact that the Slytherin was highly opinionated on just about everything, whether it was pedagogy in education or which Quidditch team deserved the most support. The man was hard to sway, having a quick response to even the most reasonable of arguments.
Part of it seemed to be that he just enjoyed arguing. His eyes were bright as he talked, his tone fervent, his gestures expressive. As the evening went on Harry caught himself smiling more and more widely, just watching him.
The man had a sense of humor too, however. Harry had caught glimpses of it in the past few weeks, but he was getting the full force of it now. It was dry, sarcastic, and frequently at Harry’s expense, but the Gryffindor found he didn’t mind that so much. All he had to do was toss an affectionate accusation of “prat” or “git” in Malfoy’s direction and the blond would laugh, take a sip of whiskey, and grin at Harry, his eyes twinkling.
It did things to Harry, every time Malfoy looked at him like that, and he knew he had to be careful. Malfoy was a bit of a flirt, it turned out, though Harry knew better than to read anything into it. It seemed to come naturally to the Slytherin, an inherent charm that was at once teasing and coy, with enough genuine warmth to keep a person hooked.
The fact that he was almost absurdly beautiful, with those intense gray eyes, silky hair, shapely lips, elegant hands… well, that hardly helped matters. Harry was realizing, as the night came to a close and they prepared to head back to the castle, that he was in great danger of liking Malfoy much, much more than he should. Which had the potential to be a major problem.
It was highly likely that Malfoy was straight, or at least heavily female-leaning. Francesca, one of his dear friends, had already developed quite the crush on the Slytherin, and Harry didn’t want to interfere with that. And, even of the rest weren’t true, there was no way, absolutely no way, Malfoy would ever go for him. Flirting was one thing, but actually dating Harry… the brunet could not imagine Malfoy being willing to set aside their differences enough for that. He’d only recently started even tolerating Harry, in fact.
So, as they walked up to the castle, chatting idly, Harry reminded himself to be realistic, told himself not to think about how if this were a date, it would have been the best date he’d had in a long time. And he definitely, definitely shouldn’t be thinking about flattening Malfoy against the nearest upright surface and ravishing that pretty mouth of his.
No. He definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that at all.
Which was why, when they finally reached the entrance hall and their conversation had naturally petered off, Harry made himself quickly and efficiently end the evening. The pat he gave to Malfoy’s shoulder felt strange and overly gruff (he was used to displaying affection more gently, these days), but he did it anyway.
Just two men out for a drink, trying to learn how to get along, that pat on the shoulder seemed to be trying to prove. Absolutely no sexual tension here. No sir.
It was possible he was overcompensating a bit.
Malfoy didn’t seem to see anything amiss in it, though, and he returned Harry’s farewell with a friendly one of his own. They parted ways in silence, Harry determined to find a way to go to bed without his thoughts full of Malfoy. That would only lead to trouble.
***
Harry was actually rather successful, at least until he awoke the next morning with an almost obnoxiously stiff erection. Not that morning wood was a rarity for the Gryffindor; he had a rather active libido, after all.
But it was a bit more painful than usual, the kind that begged to be taken care of, and Harry knew there was nothing for it. With a roll of his eyes he reached a hand under the sheets and grasped it firmly.
He was very efficient at tossing one off, when he needed to be. Sometimes a nice, leisurely wank was what was called for, but he knew in this case that if he took his time, he would start imagining things he wasn’t supposed to be imagining.
Like Malfoy spread out naked on his bed, his usually immaculate hair sexily disheveled, his lithe back arching. Malfoy biting his lip demurely, begging silently for Harry to take his pretty pink cock into his mouth. His eyes rolling back in pleasure, his lips releasing an erotic moan, when Harry finally did. Heavy breathing, long, agile fingers gripping into dark hair. Delicate features contorting in pleasure as he finally, finally came down the Gryffindor’s throat with an unabashed crying of Harry’s name.
“Fuck,” Harry whispered to the air as he climaxed. He threw an arm over his eyes, as though this would let him hide from his own stupidity. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He was already annoyingly attracted to the conundrum that was Draco Malfoy, and wanking to thoughts of him was not going to help him manage that attraction. He knew better, and yet he couldn’t seem to help himself.
What was it about Malfoy anyway? he wondered bitterly. Harry’d always had more self-control than this.
I need a date. A real date, he thought as he waved his wand and vanished the mess on his stomach. It’s just been too long, that’s all.
It had been a while. He hadn’t been out with anyone since the start of term, in fact, too busy focusing on his classes and students to worry about his sex life.
Too busy thinking about how to get Malfoy to like him. Stupid, really.
A date was what he needed, a nice conversation with someone who actually enjoyed being around him, some flirty banter, some making bedroom eyes across a table. And then an enthusiastic fuck in someone’s bed. Some dirty talk, a blowjob or two. A hot shower afterwards. Maybe a rimming, just for good measure.
Yes, that would put him to rights. But who should he ask?
He immediately thought of Callum Foster, that adorable Ravenclaw he’d been out with twice now. The man had mentioned, not long before Harry left for Hogwarts, wanting to schedule another go.
He might be just what Harry needed. He was versatile, pliant. He liked when Harry took charge, and he was up for just about anything.
Harry resolved to owl him that very day. With any luck he’d have something scheduled for as early as next weekend. And then his problem would be solved.
And, in the meantime, he had to just act normal around Malfoy.
***
Harry awoke slowly the morning after his date with Callum, his body satisfied, the smell of sex on his sheets. The bed was empty, the Ravenclaw having snuck out in the early hours of the morning. Harry stretched his limbs against the cool sheets, thinking it was just as well.
His body was quite satisfied, yes, but now his brain was whirring.
It had been, by any measure, a successful date. Callum was pleasant company; smart, cheeky, a good conversationalist. He didn’t take most things all that seriously, and Harry liked that in a casual partner. It had been a little nerve-racking sneaking him into Hogwarts. It wasn’t his usual practice, but Callum was in the midst of moving flats and didn’t have anywhere to take Harry home to.
They’d made it work, though. Harry had a gotten a very enjoyable blowjob in the corridor outside his quarters (heavily warded of course; he wasn’t trying to get sacked), and then had quite a bit of fun tormenting just about every inch of Callum’s body until the younger wizard was begging desperately to be fucked. By then Harry was ready to go once more, and was more than happy to give in.
He’d had a good time, all told, managing to scratch an itch with someone he liked quite a bit and would normally be planning to see again.
Only… he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be seeking a next time, and he wasn’t sure Callum would be either. When it came to what Harry liked, he found them very sexually compatible. But Callum was starting to reveal some other interests in their play, walking the edge of things Harry didn’t particularly care for.
He definitely had a humiliation kink, that was becoming clear. He referred to himself as a whore or a slut multiple times, and tried to encourage Harry to do the same. Harry was willing to indulge his partners a little bit in that, but it did nothing for him. Harry had always gotten off on praise much more than humiliation, both giving and receiving. He understood, intellectually at least, why embarrassment could be arousing in some circumstances. But he’d had enough humiliation as a child to last a lifetime; he had no interest in including it in his sex life.
Beyond that, Callum also liked pain play, something Harry had been peripherally aware of when they first got together. But he hadn’t understood to what extent until the night previously.
“You can hit me harder next time, if you want,” Callum had said after they shagged, his arse still a tender pink from the spankings Harry had given him before and during. Harry didn’t mind that – actually kind of liked it, sometimes – but he didn’t want to have to beat on his partners to get them going. “Or, once we get a chance to go to mine again, I have a cane you can use instead.” He bit his lip and looked at Harry seductively, as though nothing would make him happier.
That had been the nail in the coffin. Again, Harry could understand in an academic way why some enjoyed BDSM so much. There were elements that Harry himself liked and would incorporate into his practices on occasion. Light bondage, edging, coming on command… they didn’t make him wild with lust, but they were fun.
But real pain… that was different. Even the thought of picking up a cane, or a paddle, or, worst of all, a belt, and brandishing it at a partner made him a little sick. Vernon Dursley, his face purple and twisted in hatred, his large body looming over Harry, one arm raised high and ready to strike… Well, nothing deflated an erection faster than that image. And it was that image that came to him every time he thought about using those sorts of objects on a partner. He just couldn’t help it.
It had become abundantly clear to Harry, by the time Callum was dressing and preparing to leave, that he could not give the Ravenclaw everything he was looking for. Though there was a chance Callum wouldn’t mind. He clearly could enjoy vanilla as well, and Harry also knew that Callum had other partners who were likely fulfilling his other needs.
But Harry wasn’t sure he could see the point in continuing if he would always know, in the back of his mind, that there was more Callum wanted that Harry couldn’t give him. Harry guessed that it would leave him feeling rather inadequate, and that was an unpleasant thought.
Making sure my partners are having a good time, I suppose, Harry had said only a few days ago, when Malfoy had asked what sort of things Harry was “into.” Pleasing his partners, making them beg for more.
He’d actually found it rather difficult to answer, at first, which was odd. With all his experience… he did know what he liked, of course. Yet it was possible he didn’t spend all that much time actually thinking about it. He thought about what his partners wanted more.
His Mind Healer from five years ago would tell him it was because he had been conditioned his entire life to subvert his own needs for the sake of others, and he would probably (annoyingly) be right. Harry had to be constantly mindful of that habit and do a lot of extra work to remember to be a little selfish sometimes, or to find a balance between what he needed and what someone else needed. He was good at it now, but it did require work.
And he did still really, really like it when he knew he was giving someone the best sex of their life. That, he couldn’t deny. Maybe it was that competitive streak of his, or his praise kink in one of its many manifestations, or something else entirely. Who was to say? He wasn’t sure it mattered, in the end. He had answered Malfoy’s question as honestly as he could, and, based on the blond’s reaction, it had been a sufficient answer.
I wonder what Malfoy’s into, his mind supplied unhelpfully, adding a number of images of the Slytherin in the throes of pleasure, just to torture him.
Women, probably, another voice within him argued as he rolled his eyes at himself. So just give it up already, you stupid, horny prat.
The thing was, he wasn’t really that horny at the moment. He and Callum had taken care of his physical needs quite effectively. Any craving in his gut was utterly gone, at least for the time being.
And yet he was still thinking about Malfoy. And sex. And sex with Malfoy. And he had no idea what he was supposed to do about that.
He’d never been in this situation before. He’d felt passing attraction to men who were straight or otherwise unavailable; that happened sometimes. But Harry’s libido had a pragmatic side, and his interest soon faded as their lack of availability immediately rendered them less attractive to him.
So what was it about Malfoy? It couldn’t just be that he was pretty. Lots of men were pretty. It couldn’t just be his competence, charm, and biting wit. He’d known other men with those things too.
It was something else. An X-factor. Some mysterious quality that kept Harry drawn to the blond despite himself, despite the fact that, given their history, he ought to be the last person on the planet that Harry would want.
He wondered if putting in so much effort to befriend Malfoy was a mistake. The man clearly would have been fine with remaining his mere acquaintance and work colleague. But now Harry had opened that door, and Malfoy was being perfectly friendly to him, much warmer than before. He smiled and laughed more easily in conversation; he asked Harry personal questions. Harry thought that was what he wanted.
But now he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting more, and it was affecting his behavior. Making him seek Malfoy out in obvious ways, making him casually mention that he had a date, just to see Malfoy’s reaction, making him talk openly and rather flirtatiously about his sex life.
(Though, again, Malfoy had asked. Why did he keep asking?)
Harry was having a hard enough time acting normal around him, and Malfoy was only making it more difficult. The playful banter, the mild flirting, the small hints of bicuriosity… none of it was helping matters.
If only Malfoy would just ask out Francesca and be done with it, Harry thought, frustrated. He wasn’t sure what was taking so long. He’d outright told the blond that Francesca liked him. He’d pointed out windows of opportunity for them to grab drinks together. Yet Malfoy was hesitating. Could Harry have read the signs wrong? Had it just been wishful thinking on his part, his hope for happiness for his friend combined with a need for Malfoy to be made completely out of his reach?
He couldn’t be sure. All he knew was, he had to find some way to get over this little infatuation. And if neither Malfoy nor Francesca were going to help him in that regard, he was going to figure out how to do it himself.
***
Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair and bracketing yet another passage of the essay he was currently reading. It was, like many of paragraphs before it, copied almost verbatim from another student’s essay for the same assignment. The two students had obviously done their writing together, hoping, naively, that Harry wouldn’t notice the similarities.
He couldn’t be sure which student had copied the other, though he had his suspicions. It didn’t matter, though. They were both culpable, and Harry pulled out the other offending essay from the stack.
THIS IS COPIED. SEE ME AFTER CLASS, he wrote on both parchments in bold red ink.
Some overlap in language here and there he could ignore (he had been guilty of as much in his school days), but this, this called for a stern talking to and a couple of detentions. As loath as he was to dole out that sort of thing.
He barely heard the quiet thunk of a door closing, but the click of a lock got his attention. He looked from the essays to see none other than Draco Malfoy standing on the other side of his classroom, a closed door behind him.
“Malfoy,” he said, surprised. This was a first, he was pretty sure. Usually it was Harry seeking him out rather than the other way around. And he had been trying to do that less the last couple of days, wanting to avoid letting his attraction to the blond intensify any further. Still, he couldn’t help but be curious about what Malfoy might want from him.
That curiosity only grew as Malfoy stood staring at him silently before walking toward him. His expression was sober and a bit pinched, and Harry’s curiosity gave way to concern. Had something happened? If it was an emergency, or something with a student, surely Draco would have gotten to the point already.
Yet still he said nothing, stopping in front of Harry’s desk while Harry stared up at him, wondering what he was going to do. To his surprise, Malfoy placed his palms on the desk and bowed his head, hiding his face from Harry’s view. It was almost as though he was trying to muster the wherewithal to say something, and Harry decided it best not to interrupt the process.
“Astoria and I got divorced,” he began, finally, his face still hidden, “because she was sleeping with my best friend behind my back for the entirety of our marriage.”
What? Malfoy wanted to talk about the end of his marriage? With Harry? The brunet had no idea what to do with that. He’d avoided the topic entirely, assuming it was too private a thing to bring up.
Malfoy looked at him, as if waiting for a reaction, but Harry wasn’t sure what to do except remain silent and wait for him to continue. He did, after a beat.
“She was going to keep it from me indefinitely. It seems she was willing to lie to me for the rest of our life together, if she could. But then she gave birth to Blaise’s son instead of mine, and that rather ruined her plans.”
He paused again, staring at Harry even more expectantly.
Merlin, all right. Well… This was entirely new territory. Divorce, infidelity, his wife having someone else’s kid? “That’s… pretty fucked up, Malfoy,” he said, then winced internally. It was an entirely inadequate response to what the Slytherin had just told him.
Malfoy only laughed, though, that same surprised bark Harry had heard before. His lips twisted wryly in some semblance of a smile. “Yes, Potter,” he said drily. “It is, in fact, ‘pretty fucked up.’ But that’s not the point. Or perhaps it is, in a way. The point is, really, that I can’t…” He trailed off, shifting from foot to foot, ducking his head again, briefly.
Harry leaned forwards, wondering what it was that was even harder to say than what had already been said. He didn’t prod, though. Malfoy’s face was twisting further, in pain, or embarrassment, or something else, and Harry felt his heart clench in sympathy. He waited.
“It appears that Astoria, for the time being, has rather…” The blond swallowed and took a deep breath. “… ruined women for me. I can’t seem to… I have no interest in women, not even gorgeous pureblood Slytherins like Francesca Bianchi, who incidentally I should be drooling over and scooping up for myself as soon as humanly possible. But I… can’t.”
Harry leaned back again, completely floored. Malfoy hadn’t outright said it, but Harry felt he could read between the lines. It was something about the Slytherin’s sexual interest, sexual performance. He wanted to like women. He wanted to like Francesca; he was trying to. But it wasn’t working. It explained so much, and yet was entirely unexpected.
Even more unexpected was that it was Harry whom Malfoy had chosen to confide in. He couldn’t fathom why; he didn’t think he had yet earned that level of trust, that Malfoy could be this vulnerable with him. Perhaps the man didn’t have anyone else to turn to, no other man who was around his age who might be able to empathize. Whatever the reason, Harry was fully aware that all of their future interactions hinged on Harry’s response. He needed to be very, very careful.
“I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, Malfoy,” he said, keeping his tone gentle. “Maybe you just needed to tell… someone. But…” he went on, feeling at a loss, “I’m not sure how much I can give you, besides telling you that your ex-wife sounds like a real piece of work, and that she obviously didn’t deserve you.” That was most definitely true, though Malfoy must surely already know it. “Other than that, it seems like… time… and distance from this are going to be the only things that can really help you. I don’t know what else to say.”
“I don’t need you to say anything specific, Potter,” came Malfoy’s calm reply. “I don’t need you to talk me through this. That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then what are you asking?”
The blond hesitated again, his tongue flicking over his lips a moment. “I want you to help me meet men.”
Meet men. Meet men. Meet men? Harry’s brain glitched for a moment.
Wait. Hold on. Wait just a damn second. Did Malfoy mean what Harry thought he meant? Was this possible?
“Sorry, um… just to be clear,” he managed after a moment. “You mean ‘meet men’ as in, romantically?”
“Sexually, I mean. For the purposes of sex.”
Sweet Merlin. This can’t be happening.
“You’re interested in men?”
“I think I might be,” Malfoy said, his voice still quite calm. “Signs point to yes.”
What signs? Harry wanted to ask, but didn’t. Malfoy was still talking.
“I definitely… well, I can’t say for sure, as I’ve never been with a man, but I think I could really enjoy it. It would be different, and that’s what I need right now. I need sex, and I need it to not even remotely remind me of my ex-wife. Do you think you can help me?”
“You’re looking for a casual fuck,” Harry said, his disbelief still evident in his voice. “With a man.”
The universe had a twisted sense of humor, apparently.
“Yes. But I don’t know how to go about picking up men,” Malfoy said reasonably, “and given that you seem to be the expert-“
A laugh bubbled out of Harry’s throat before he could stop it. And it was followed by another, and another, and another. Because it was just too absurd. It was just too perfectly, twistedly, frustratingly ironic.
Malfoy was attracted to men. He wanted to try sleeping with one. And he was coming to Harry, not for actual sex, but for advice on how to get other men to have sex with him. As if Malfoy would have any trouble with that.
As if Harry wouldn’t happily bend himself over his desk and let Malfoy take him right now.
He doesn’t want you. That’s what it comes down to.
That thought was sobering enough to quell him, at least so that he could breathe properly. He looked at Malfoy, seeing immediately that his laughter had not been well received.
“Sorry, sorry,” he insisted, swallowing the last of his mirth. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing because…” Because the universe is intent on torturing me. Because you never for a moment considered the possibility that I could be a man you could try sleeping with. Because you’re a walking contradiction of innocence and sex appeal that absolutely blows my mind. “All right… well… maybe I’m laughing at you a little.”
Malfoy clearly didn’t like that, starting to turn away.
“But only because the idea that you would need my help,” Harry said quickly, unable to help another small laugh. Thankfully the Slytherin turned back to him, listening. “Malfoy, you could walk into any gay club, magic or Muggle, and a dozen men would immediately try to pick you up,” Harry explained. “I mean… look at you.”
“What are you saying?”
“What am I saying?” Had Malfoy not looked in a mirror recently? “I’m saying you’re fit. You’re bloody gorgeous. A perfect ten. I’m saying you could snap your fingers and have yourself a casual bed-partner in seconds. You don’t need my help at all. The very idea is… absurd. That’s what I’m saying.”
He had hoped this would reassure Malfoy, boost his confidence, let him know he had an excellent shot even without Harry’s help. But Malfoy didn’t seem to take it that way. “Fine,” he said curtly. He made to go.
Shit. “Malfoy, wait,” Harry called to him, standing up. He was clearly going about this all wrong. Malfoy had come to him for help, likely nervous and confused. And Harry had laughed in his face, brushed him off, too caught up in the irony of the situation. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Just… come back here for a second.”
Malfoy didn’t walk back towards him, but he did turn around, at least.
“I wasn’t thinking,” said Harry. “It makes sense that you would… I understand why you wouldn’t want to go out somewhere alone, when you’re not familiar with the place, or the people. Of course you’d want someone to have your back, to give you advice. That makes complete sense.”
And it did. Harry wasn’t all that keen on being just Malfoy’s wingman, but that was what the man had asked of him, and it would be wrong to refuse to help.
“You just caught me off guard, is all. I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting…” Harry didn’t even know how to explain the surprise he felt. “Well, anyway, I meant what I said. You could have any man you wanted. You could take your pick. But I’ll go with you, keep an eye on you, make sure you know what to expect. You’ll easily be able to do the rest. How does that sound?”
Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed, and he looked genuinely pleased. “It sounds like exactly what I’m looking for.”
Harry nodded, heart hammering, stomach sinking. “All right. Then what’s next is you have a few decisions to make. About where you want to go, about what you’re looking for. A club, a bar? A party with some people I know? Do you want to try wizards or Muggles?”
Malfoy stared at him wide-eyed, as if he didn’t know how to answer.
“It’s all right. Just think about it. And when you’ve decided, and when you’re ready, we’ll go, yeah?”
“Yes,” said Malfoy. “That sounds… good.”
“Good then.”
“Yes,” said Malfoy again. He stood there a moment. “I ought to get going. Let you get back to your marking, and all.”
“Sure. I’ll… uh, see you later then.”
“At dinner, I’m sure.”
“Right.”
Malfoy made for the door, turning around once more as he opened it.
“Thanks, Potter,” he said, his tone soft, almost gentle.
“Of course,” said Harry. “Happy to help.”
When Malfoy was gone, Harry returned to his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and burying his face in his hands with a frustrated huff.
It was decided then. Draco Malfoy was going to be the death of him.
goddess-of_dragons: It feels sort of silly to write you this note when it feels like we’ve talked a lot since I posted this epilogue. But I wanted you to know how much I appreciated the feedback on this story, and all my stories. It means so much that you’ve stuck with me this long.
And so happy that Scorpius felt relatable to you! Your daughter sounds adorable :) I don’t have any kids myself (yet), but I spend a fair amount of time with my housemate’s kid, so I’ve learned a few things along the way.
And you know they have to get married by the lake. The movies made it the most beautiful spot at Hogwarts!
emeraldeyes: Thank you! Both for following along with the story chapter by chapter but also for your lovely comments :) It means a lot. I will definitely be continuing to write, so I hope you will keep an eye out for my future works!
Jan: Thank you!! I definitely hope you will read more from me in the future <3
Shaymarsh640: Thank you so much for this and all of your other amazing comments! It has been clear from the beginning that you have had a special connection to this story and it makes me really proud, because that’s what I wanted it to be. It’s incredibly relatable for me as well, in some painful ways as well as good ones. I really appreciated your sharing a bit of your life with me. I really like thinking about the impact stories can have. It motivates me to keep writing!
I will always have a soft spot for Draco because I think JKR did a good job of making it clear why Draco is the way he is. He’s a product of his environment, one that sounds pretty hellish, actually, but towards the end of the series he is trying to learn how to transcend it. One of the reasons I like writing HP fics is that I can give him that chance. Yeah, he’s a right little shit in the books… but that’s what makes his redemption so much sweeter. And why I challenge myself to try and make him relatable.
It means a hell of a lot that you would be willing to read some of my original work. I’m actually working on a novel right now, but it’s in the early stages. If it ever gets published, or even if I decide to just publish it myself, I’ll be sure to let you know :) In the meantime, fanfic is the way to get my stuff. I still post here, obviously, but I also post on AO3, which allows for more interaction and where users can subscribe to their favorite authors so they get email alerts when they update. I’m Thunderbird587 over there, if you ever want to find me. I’d love to chat with you there as well <3
Gingerguy: I can’t tell you what your review meant to me. I mean, really, I can’t. As you mentioned, it came a little while after the epilogue was posted, and on my end I was in a bit of a writing slump and trying to find my mojo again. And to see this… not just that you liked the story, but that it meant so much to you… I just don’t have words. As I think I mentioned before in my A/Ns, this story in particular was incredibly personal to me. I borrowed a lot from my own life for it, and Draco’s journey is, in many ways, a reflection of my own for the last few years. So to hear that was true for you as well just validated everything I was trying to do and also made me feel like I wrote this for a reason. I just felt like it was something I had to do and, even though it was fanfiction, I wanted it to mean something. I’m so, so gratified to hear that it did for you. I hope all is well in your world and that things keep looking up. I am honored to have been even just a small part of that journey. <3
NurseKari: Yay! I’m so glad!! <3
blake5156: Thank you so much! It’s always great to hear I’ve kept a reader hooked! I hope you’ll keep reading my stuff <3
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