Harry Potter looked across his classroom, pleased with the dueling techniques of his students. They had all seemed to come such a long way in only three months. It reminded him of his fifth year when he taught the secret classes affectionately known as "Dumbledore's Army". That's when he first got his taste of teaching. It had been Hermione's idea and if she had never mentioned it, it might never have occurred to him to become a teacher. He had certainly learned a lot since that fifth year, but if he had learned anything at all, it was from Snape the last year he was at Hogwarts when he was finally able to teach Defense and tried to drill into their heads about non-verbal spells. Even when Harry was certain that Snape was a villain who had killed Dumbledore before his eyes, and Harry was in hot pursuit of him bent on revenge, Snape kept stopping to instruct: "Blocked again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!" The only way he could tell Harry to keep at it, to occlude his mind, because even at that moment Voldemort was listening to everything Snape did. So though it hadn't usually been permitted, Harry started teaching first years how to perform simple non-verbals and the older students how to occlude their minds, though Harry had never been very good at it himself.

If there was another Voldemort waiting in the wings, Harry was going to make it as difficult as he could for him.

Malcolm Treeloft was too good at non-verbals and he sent three hexes in a row to the Hufflepuff girl he was dueling. Speaking of another Voldemort… The other students were afraid of Treeloft and for good reason. He was a loner, a dangerous wizard in his fifth year, and he had a very ingrained distaste for Muggles. Dumbledore had told-no--mandated Harry to take Treeloft under his wing and change him, keep him from becoming another Voldemort, but Harry found it wasn't so easy. Now he had new admiration for Dumbledore when he had been faced with keeping an eye on the young Tom Riddle. Evil was always a difficult thing to tame.

The husky Hufflepuff girl Jane Grittney was now in tears and Harry stepped in. "Treeloft, you're taking this a bit too seriously again. I suggest you apologize to Miss Grittney."

Treeloft gave Harry his trademark sneer, reminding Harry all too well of another Slytherin with whom he was well acquainted. Treeloft's spiked, brown hair never moved with the defiant swish of his head. "Why should I? She's a Mudblood."

Harry didn't think. He simply grabbed Treeloft by his robe's collar and hauled him in, almost nose to nose with him. "That kind of language is not tolerated in my classroom, Treeloft. Detention." He shoved him back and released him. "Now. Apologize."

Treeloft glared at Harry and then at Grittney who sniffed. Her brown eyes were wide and wet with fear. Sullenly he readjusted his stance, trying to hide the wrinkles in his robes from Harry's fist. "Sorry, Grittney… I'm sorry you're a Mud-"

But Treeloft suddenly couldn't finish the sentence. Nothing was coming out of his mouth.

"And here, class, is a perfect example of the Silencio, which renders a person unable to speak," said Harry. "When done correctly and thoroughly, they can't even think a non-verbal at you. Can you, Treeloft? Because I can feel you trying."

"You can feel him trying?" asked Serenity Hudson, the pretty Ravenclaw with the long black hair.

Treeloft struggled in the background, trying to get Harry's attention. His scowl grew blacker and blacker.

"When you get to a certain age and, I suppose, a certain level in your skills, you'll begin to feel and sense when there is magic nearby. It's sort of strange, actually. For me, it was as if a door opened inside of me one day. Just like that."

"Was that when you were hunting Voldemort?" asked Rupert Fenwick, a lanky boy from Hufflepuff.

"Yes, thank goodness. I needed to be able to sense magic and recent spells. Without it, I don't know if I would still be hunting him today."

The room quieted. No one wanted to consider that possibility. As far as the Wizarding world was concerned, it had taken long enough to stop Voldemort.

Harry heard a noise behind him and glanced at Treeloft struggling. With eyelids low, Harry looked at him and restored his voice with another non-verbal.

Treeloft's first utterance was a very loud swearword that caused the short-haired Felicia Rosencrantz next to him to squeal in shock. Treeloft didn't look as if he expected to say it aloud either and he threw his hand over his mouth. His face reddened.

"Do I have to cast that again, Treeloft, to keep a civil tongue in your head?"

"No, sir," he said as sullen as ever.

Harry sighed. "Okay. Everyone make sure you work on your non-verbals. I want to see a much improved class next week. That's your homework. Class dismissed."

Treeloft gathered his things before he seemed to remember, and he marched to Harry and stood before him like a prisoner before the bench. "Oh yes, detention. Look, Malcolm. I thought we were getting along here. You know I don't put up with that sort of talk. You've got to change your attitude about Muggles and Half-bloods. It's a different world now. That just won't be tolerated."

"Not in your circles, you mean."

"And what are your circles? Death Eaters in hiding?"

Treeloft raised his square nose. "I don't know any Death Eaters. Except for Professor Malfoy." Harry shot him a look. Treeloft smiled. "That is well known, sir. He was arrested for it the first week he was a teacher here, wasn't he?"

"And he was arrested falsely, Treeloft. Don't forget that part. All charges were dropped."

Treeloft shrugged. Harry wanted to strangle him. He supposed that was against school rules. "For your detention, Treeloft, I want you to go to the library and write me fourteen inches of how Muggles in history have helped the Wizarding world." Treeloft's face folded into a grimace. "And I want it on my desk by tomorrow afternoon-no. Tomorrow's Saturday. It's your lucky day, Treeloft. You have till Monday. That means it had better be exemplary. That's all."

He watched Treeloft leave and leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. The blue sky outside caught his attention, reminding him how long it had been since he'd been on a broom. He envied Draco a bit being head of Slytherin because it meant such an intimate association with the Quidditch team, and that was something else Harry missed.

He thought idly of his Firebolt back at his London flat and of flying in lazy circles among the clouds. But then his thoughts soared back down to earth and to Malcolm Treeloft and he wondered how in the world he was to get through to him. He didn't think detention after detention was going to be the way to the boy's heart to veer him from the Dark side. He needed a project he could do with him. He'd have to give it some thought. Maybe get a few ideas from Draco. If there was anyone who had the inside track on veering away from the Dark side, it was Draco.

* * *

Harry flooed to Draco's dungeon but forgot that Draco had lessons with McGonagall that evening. What was he going to do for the next hour? He wandered around Draco's room looking at the various objects left behind by Harry's hated Potions Master Snape. It was a scary collection of some Dark objects, things that maybe former Death Eaters shouldn't have in their private rooms, except that Harry would never openly mention that to Draco. He was pretty sensitive about his past and since everyone else was keen to bring it up he thought he'd do Draco a favor and leave off mentioning it himself.

Draco was doing his best to sort through things, but Malfoy was easily distracted. Harry supposed it was his upbringing as a spoiled rich child, where his every whim used to be looked after.

He grabbed a book from a shelf-it was on potions, naturally; they all were-and settled down to wait.

Draco found him an hour later stretched out on his bed. Harry tossed the book aside thankfully and stood up. Draco smiled on seeing Harry, walked up to him, and planted a sloppy kiss to his mouth.

"Ready?" asked Harry.

"For you, Potter? Anytime, anywhere. So drop 'em."

"Um…as romantic a notion as you make that sound, I mean 'are you ready to go to the Weasley's?'"

"Oh damn! I forgot! And I was ready for an evening of unrelenting shagging."

Harry's ears warmed. "I'm sure they'll be plenty of opportunity when we get back, but we've put them off for three months and they're probably pretty offended by now. We can't put it off anymore. And they are my best friends, Draco."

Draco sulked and tore his scholarly robes off and heaved them to the bed. "I suppose that means we have to go."

"Yes, it does. Come on, Draco. You promised. And I thought you'd made friends with them at last."

"You mean when they helped capture Minx Mercer and his stupid Death Eater pals? I think it was more the emotions of the moment. I was only just broken out of Azkaban as you remember-you being the one who broke me out."

"They are making the effort and I think you should too. I can't have this enmity between my boyfriend and my best friends."

Draco gave Harry a smoldering gaze. "I do like it when you call me your boyfriend. It's so provincial. And cute. As are you."

Harry sauntered over to Draco and slipped his arms around his waist. He shoved his hips against him and spoke softly, his lips playing tantalizingly on Draco's. "It'll be fun. And we'll have more fun when we get back because I will be in such a good mood."

Draco sighed a trembling breath. "Are you trying to bribe me, Harry Potter?"

"Maybe." He turned his head and laid a soft kiss on Draco's lips just barely touching, all the while his groin ground into Draco's. He could feel Draco's hard arousal against his own. "Is a bribe so bad, Mr. Malfoy?" He angled his head the other way and touched another moist kiss to Draco's mouth, this time running his tongue over Draco's lips. Draco moaned and tried to take more, but Harry pulled away, a little breathlessly. "We'll be there a few hours and then come back. What do you say?"

"I say we're going to have to wait a moment or two as I don't think the Weasleys will appreciate this." He gestured to his trousers and to Harry's. They each had an obvious reaction to the other.

"Hmm," said Harry with a Slytherin-like smile. He licked his lips. "We may just have to do something about that before we go."

* * *

Draco's fireplace was connected to the outside floo network temporarily for the weekend, but for safety's sake it connected only to Harry's flat in London. They flooed there and Harry stepped out, checking the place for any problems since it had been locked up for the last three months. "Come on, Potter! What's the delay? We're already late."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours!"

"Oh. Well there's a book I've got to look for. Just give me a minute."

"You are worse than a woman," Draco muttered under his breath. He flopped down in the green wing chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He stared at the tips of his boots and then gazed at the darkened apartment. The place was cozy with its early 20th century charm of high ceilings and bay window. Fond memories flooded back. This was, after all, the place Harry first took him to when Draco was sacked from his stupid Muggle job at that damned tea shop. And there was the old leather sofa he slept on when Harry invited him to stay. And in the other room where Harry was rummaging was the bedroom, where Draco and Harry first made love. He smiled, thinking of that first terrifying night he got up the courage to enter Harry's room. If he hadn't followed his instincts, where would his happiness be today?

He eased his palms over the worn arms of the wing chair. He looked down at it in the dark and shook his head. Wasn't that just like Harry to pick up something old and secondhand. He snorted a half chuckle. A little like Draco, he supposed.

Harry burst through the bedroom breathless and holding up a book. "Found it! I'll leave it here and pick it up on the way back. Don't let me forget."

"Potter, why do you have this old chair, anyway?" Draco rose from the wing chair and glared at its shabbiness. "I know you can afford better."

Harry stared at Draco with a funny look on his face. "Don't you recognize it?"

"Recognize that? Why? I never worked in a Muggle secondhand shop."

"That's from the Slytherin common room."

He looked at Harry before he turned his gaze to the chair. "That? I don't remember that. And what are you doing stealing from Hogwarts?"

"I didn't steal it. When I and the others began cleaning up and repairing Hogwarts, they were going to toss it out. I said I wanted it."

"In Merlin's name, why? It's a wreck."

"Well…I saw you sitting in it once…and I…wanted it."

Draco's mouth fell open. Of all the sentimental twaddle. He was as bad as a- "Hang on. How did you see me in that chair in the Slytherin common room? Another little trip with your invisibility cloak? You really are a menace, Potter."

"Not the cloak. Er…Poly Juice Potion."

"WHAT?"

"You see, Ron and I got a hold of Crabbe and Goyle's hairs and-"

"I don't believe this. And here I was, so bloody proud of myself for getting those damnable Vanishing cabinets to work and all this was going on around me by a bunch of Gryffindors! Excuse me, Potter, but I think they arrested the wrong Death Eater."

"It was when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, you git. We were trying to find out if you were the heir of Slytherin. People were being petrified, you know."

"Me the heir? I only wished I was." But his mood shifted when he thought about the implications. His smile fell. "Well, I wasn't."

"I know."

Harry had on his best contrite expression. He's too adorable. Draco could never stay angry at him long. And he really wasn't angry anyway, only a little shocked. But then… "Hang on, Potter. That was second year. What about this 'thing' you claim you had for me. Wasn't that in fourth year?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head and laughed self-consciously. "Did I say fourth year?"

"You bloody well did."

"Maybe…actually…it started in second year."

"Blimey, Potter!"

"Can I help it if you were so damned attractive!"

Draco frowned and stared at the ceiling. "Well…I suppose it would be difficult for you. Me being who I am and all."

"Yeah. You were just so cute and so…annoying."

"Me? Annoying? That's rich coming from Invisibility-Cloak-Poly-Juice-Boy-Who-Lived. You were a real case, Potter. I wish I'd had some Attitude Draught with me then."

Harry raised his brows uncertainly. "Why?"

"Why? You really weren't very good with Potions, were you? Because, Mr. Potter, if you administer Attitude Draught to a person under the influence of Poly Juice Potion, it nulls its affects. I would have found you out."

"Well it's a good thing you didn't. Nothing like being caught in the lair of the devil."

"Is that what you thought of me? And still you pined. You're one messed up bloke, Potter."

"I thought we established I was in love."

"'Was'?"

"Am." He smiled at Draco. "But I dare not kiss you or we'll never get to the Weasleys."

Draco sighed, shook his head, and stepped into the fireplace. "All right, then, Harry. Let's go."

As soon as Harry joined him and tossed down the floo powder yelling, "Ron and Hermione Weasley!" they were there in the couple's fireplace.

Sooty, Harry ducked his head and coughed, but he came up smiling at his friends who greeted him literally with open arms. Draco hung back a bit, pretending to be absorbed with wiping the soot from his cloak.

"Hello, Draco," said Hermione. She looked as if she would step up and kiss his cheek as she had done to Harry, but he was glad she didn't. Old habits died hard, and he still found it difficult letting a Muggle-born touch him.

"Hello, Hermione." It took every effort to say her first name, too. A disingenuous "Granger" was on the tip of his tongue, but of course she was a Weasley now anyway.

Ron approached and put out his hand. Draco didn't suppose he could ignore it and he took it, giving it one shake, just like they had done at Minx Mercer's hideout.

They excitedly gathered Harry into the sitting room and seated him on the settee with one Weasley on either side of him. Draco fended for himself and sunk into a soft side chair.

"I know you've been so busy at Hogwarts," gushed Hermione, "but I'm so glad you came at last. Both of you." She jumped up to go to the kitchen. "Butterbeers, everyone?"

"Yes, please," said Harry. He turned to Draco with a wide smile. He was obviously happy he could share time with his friends and "boyfriend". It melted Draco's resolve somewhat to have a miserable time.

Draco accepted the butterbeer and Hermione sat back down, looking from one to the other. "So, Draco," she said, leaning toward him as if she were conducting an interview. "How is teaching Potions going?" She took a quick sip from her glass.

Draco looked at his glass and the amber liquid within. "Potions is going swimmingly. You wouldn't think the little darlings could learn a thing from an old Death Eater like me, but they manage to do it anyway."

Harry's smile flattened. He gave Draco a warning look.

Draco rolled his eyes and shrugged. "It's…uh…you know. Going all right."

Hermione exchanged a quick look with Ron. "We were a little worried, actually. The Daily Prophet has been running all sorts of nasty stories since you started there. And we wondered if it's had…well…if there were any problems…"

"That old fish wrapper? Are you still reading that?" Draco squirmed in his chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. "Problems? You mean students dropping out left and right? Dumbledore claiming he's not worried? Yeah, I would say there are problems."

"But where are they going if not to Hogwarts?" she persisted. "Surely they can't prefer Bauxbatons or Durmstrang?"

"To me teaching them? Apparently so. I offered to resign plenty of times-"

"But you can't find another Potions Master this late in the year," said Harry, not meaning to mimic McGonagall's chant.

Draco gave him a withering look. "I still think he would be better off without me." He dropped the tough façade and looked at his hands clutching the chair arms. "I just don't want to do anymore damage to the school than I already have," he said almost too quietly to hear.

"Draco, you're not!" said Harry. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "Dumbledore has said what a great job he's doing. He's really proud of you."

Draco reddened and knocked back his glass. He wasn't certain about that, but thankfully, the conversation turned elsewhere.

Hermione complained about one Death Eater still at large, but Harry waved it off. "I'm not going to be cringing at every mention in the Prophet of a loose Death Eater. They'll probably be reporting these things for years."

"But he was a nasty one, Harry," said Ron. "I dueled him. I barely got away."

"I'm leaving worrying over Gordon Harper to the Aurors. They can handle it."

Draco said nothing. He supposed Harry had enough of Death Eaters with Minx Mercer and his gang back in September. Come to think of it, so had Draco. After listening to them all talk for a bit, Draco thought he'd best interject something or he'd fall asleep. "So…Weas-um, Hermione, Ron. Where are you two working these days?"

Ron perked up. "I work at the Ministry, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. With my dad. I used to think it was all rubbish by the way Dad would talk about it, but it's really quite interesting. Course Harry, here, knows more stuff than I do, raised as a Muggle. And, of course, Hermione with her parents…" He seemed to realize what he said and waited with a frown for Draco to say something rude.

Draco only looked back at him with innocently widened eyes. "And you, Hermione?"

She settled primly beside Harry. "I'm also working at the Ministry doing research. They seem to have an awful time keeping their records straight."

"Sounds like the perfect job for you," said Draco keeping all inklings of anything snide out of his voice.

Harry seemed a little tense but relieved.

"Well, shall we go to the dining room for our dinner?" she said.

Draco sat across from Harry and passed bowls and plates when asked, tasted the merely adequate wine without comment, and ate the passable cooking of Mrs. Ron Weasley, nodding when it seemed appropriate.

In fact, there was nothing really too miserable about the evening except for his being forced to attend it. He just had nothing much to say to them. He didn't really know them, after all. But Harry was having a good time and he found he really didn't want to spoil it for him no matter how tedious it became. Besides, it did feel good to get away from the other teachers for a while. They were all so old and creaky. To talk with someone his own age was somewhat of a relief. He hadn't noticed how stressful that could be.

Hermione turned to him more often than Ron, who still threw mistrustful glances at Draco when he thought he wasn't looking. How could he blame Weasley? But Hermione was being civil at least and it seemed odd coming from a Mud-that is, Muggle-born.

"Harry tells me you like Muggle music?" she said brightly.

"Only one kind. 'Motown'. Ever hear of it? It came out of somewhere called Detroit. I think that's in Scotland."

Hermione hid a giggle behind her hand. "Well, perhaps…but I took the liberty of making some recordings for you." She handed Draco a small rectangular device, decidedly Muggle. When he worked in the tea shop, he remembered seeing people with these all the time, with wires hooked into their ears. It always looked a little disturbing to him. "That little device records music digitally," she was saying. Digitally? What in the world was that? "But I've enchanted it so it works like, well, magic." He looked at her sidelong and then popped the ear buds into his ears. "Just tell it to play," she said.

"Play," said Draco and suddenly his ears filled magically with a collection of 'Motown' hits. He smiled and looked at Harry. "Pretty neat," he said. He felt a strangely generous feeling towards her. "Thanks, Hermione."

She blushed and cocked her head. "That's all right."

Draco told it to stop, pulled out the ear buds, and stuffed it all into his pocket. "So tell me, Weasley," he said, leaning his arm on the table and turning to Ron. "What's this I hear about you and Harry and Poly Juice Potion?"

Ron's eyes widened and his freckles seemed to pale. "Harry! You told him?"

Harry laughed at Ron's expression. "He's not going to hurt us now, Ron."

Ron seemed to remember that and relaxed. "Actually, it was pretty weird being Crabbe. His clothes didn't smell the best as I recall."

Draco turned to Harry with an amused smile. "So you were Goyle."

"Yup."

"What about you, Gr-Hermione? Trying to disguise yourself as Parkinson? You would have had a big surprise had you come to Slytherin late at night. We were an item then, you know." He waggled his brows.

She blushed furiously. "No. And now I'm certainly glad I didn't. It was Millicent Bulstrode. Except-"

Ron burst out laughing. "Except it sure wasn't!"

"Ronald Weasley! If you tell-You swore!"

"Ah come on, Hermione! It was seven years ago!"

Draco looked from one to the other and finally at Harry who was trying to keep from laughing. "Oh now you really have to tell me!"

Ron pleaded with his eyes while Hermione pressed her lips tight, her arms crossed over her chest.

Draco was smiling now. "Now, now Hermione. If you tell, I promise to tell my most embarrassing story."

Still blushing, she looked at him and gave a weary nod of her head. Ron was on it instantly. "Well! She thought she got a hair from Millicent's robe but what she really got was a cat hair."

Draco shot a glance at the miserable Hermione. "You didn't?" He burst out laughing, the image of a half-transformed Hermione coming to his mind.

"I do miss the tail," snorted Ron.

She gave him a withering look. "All right, then, Mr. Malfoy. What's your embarrassing story?"

Draco's face split with a Slytherin smile. "The time I lured Potter out of doors late at night in only his knickers, and Snape caught him and gave him a detention."

"What's so embarrassing to you about that?" asked Ron.

"I didn't say it was my most embarrassing moment, Weasley, just my most embarrassing story. And Potter was pretty red when Snape caught him."

"That was you?"

He shrugged. "It's always me, Harry. Haven't you figured that out by now?"

"Just wait," he said under his breath.

Draco only smiled.

* * *

They flooed back to Harry's flat and decided to stay because of the late hour. Hermione had invited them for the Christmas holiday next month, but Harry reminded them that he and Draco were the ones with the least tenure and therefore had to stay at Hogwarts to watch any students who remained over the holidays.

In the morning they flooed back to Draco's rooms at Hogwarts. Harry tucked his book under his arm and watched Draco go to his wardrobe for clean clothes. "You're walking a bit funny this morning, Malfoy."

He gave Harry a swift glance. "Little wonder. You're insatiable, you know that?"

"Well don't go to Pomfrey or…well, I'm not anxious to know."

"Don't worry. I'm not stupid. I have potions, you know." Harry watched him for a minute and then sat on the bed. Draco glanced at him and rolled his eyes. "Now Potter, honestly! You've got to give it a rest."

He waved Draco off. "No. But seriously. What are we going to do?"

"About what?"

"You know. About us. About…others knowing."

"We're going to do nothing. Are you mad? Just because Dumbledore is a saint doesn't mean anyone else is. The Wizarding world doesn't look much more kindly on homosexuality than the Muggle world. Especially in a school. Two gay teachers in the same school? You think the parents hate me now as a Death Eater, just watch the owls come in when they discover I'm a homosexual Death Eater."

"Oh. I thought things would be different…"

He ticked his head. "You're so naïve, Harry. It's one of the things I love about you."

"Gosh." He ran his hand over his untamed hair. "I was kind of hoping to dance with you at the Yule Ball."

"Now I know you're mad."

"But doesn't it make you angry, Draco? I mean, here we are trying to convince some of these bloody students not to hate Muggle-borns and we can't even sort out our own prejudices about-well, about other things."

"I'm used to people hating me. I don't suppose you are."

"Are you kidding? I spent the first seventeen years of my life with my Muggle guardians. They hated me and wizards and they probably would have hated me more if they had known I was gay."

"So what are you getting so excited about?"

"It's not right! Draco! I can't believe you are not more upset."

He shrugged. "It's the way of the world, Harry. There is always some segment of society that will not be liked. Face it. We're it."

Harry grew thoughtful.

"Oh I don't like that face. Whatever it is you're thinking, don't!"

"It's nothing bad."

"But it's not good, I can feel it. Just think of me, okay? What are they going to do to you? You're the great Hero! But me? I'm the spectacular Villain. It will be me who gets dragged in the mud…and I've had enough of mud, thank you very much."

Harry looked up at Draco suddenly and got to his feet. He wrapped his arms around him and leaned his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about you. That's not fair, is it? Oh well. We can dance here, I suppose. I bet you're a good dancer."

"Too right. Dancing lessons since I was seven."

"You look so good in dress robes."

He glanced at Harry's expression and eased out of his arms. "Potter. Give me a break, okay. I'm sore."

"All right, all right. I have to go back to my rooms and grade papers anyway. But get yourself a potion because I'll be free later this afternoon."

"You're killing me, Potter."

He watched Harry step into the fireplace. Harry smiled that I'm-so-in-love-with-you smile that made Draco melt. With a handful of floo powder he said, "Harry Potter, Defense!" and disappeared in a blast of green flames.


On to Chapter Three
"Close Your Minds"

Back to Chapter One
"All Students Great and Small"

Chapter Index

Mystwriter's Story Page