The Entrance
Draco Malfoy sat in Headmaster McGonagall’s office, his heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and impatience. He had been preparing for this moment, eager to put the interview behind him. Deep down, he was confident that the position was already his; after all, he possessed a wealth of potion mastery that he had honed over the years, and McGonagall was intimately familiar with his skills and background. Her decision-making had always been influenced by personal connections, and his qualifications had landed him here right after the untimely passing of Professor Dreadcast.
Yet, despite his certainty, a lingering wave of anxiety tugged at him, unsettling his thoughts. The ornate clock on the wall ticked steadily, each soft tick amplifying his restlessness. He glanced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings, reminding himself of the history that enveloped these walls.
McGonagall's grandfather clock ticked, Draco grew more and more antsy. He could not help it. After a long and painful 4 minutes later, she finally stepped into the round room. Draco's nerves cooled. She sat in her chair and smiled at him, "I called you because, as you know, our former Potions master passed away a few nights ago. I have looked over your written resume you sent me, and I would like you ask you about a few things, is that alright, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco nodded, and he noticed a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "It appears that you have studied under three potion masters in the last 15 years," she remarked. "Could you tell me their names and their current occupations?"
“Certainly, Headmaster. From 2002 to 2009, I studied under Mr. James Carbelle, a renowned botanical potions expert who is currently—” He paused, realizing he had been holding his breath. After a moment, he continued, “I apologize. I also apprenticed under Madam Fench, the current Potions and Brew Specialist at the Ministry, from 2011 to 2013. She focuses on the safety and technical aspects of potion brewing.”
Draco could feel the sweat forming on his brow as his long hair started to slip from the loose half-up style he had done that morning. “And more recently, I spent six months this past year under the guidance of a family member, Magnolia Black.”
McGonagall smiled at him and then glanced down at the paper in front of her. “Truthfully, I was already planning to hire you; I was just being curious,” she said with a light giggle. “Mr. Malfoy, thank you very much for coming in today. I would like to officially welcome you to my staff, if you choose to accept?”
Draco extended his hand, saying, “Thank you, Headmaster.” Instead of shaking it, she gently pushed his hand aside and pulled him into a warm embrace. “I am truly delighted to have you here, Mr. Malfoy. I recognize that your experiences here as a boy were not as fulfilling or happy as you deserved. However, I assure you that this time will be different.”
She gently stepped back from the hug and smiled at him. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make the arrangements for tonight's ceremony. Please do join us; I know how much you loved hearing your house called during your time here.”
After that exchange, he exited the round office and made his way to the dungeons at a snail’s pace. As he descended, fragments of memories began to surface; it had been nearly 20 years since he had last been there. This time, however, would be different—sleeping in a dorm, attending classes—well, at least one class—and reuniting with his old classmates. It was an exhilarating sensation, one that left him uncertain about how he truly felt.
He found his way to his classroom, which had a few remaining items from the previous professor. He found a pale box in one of the storage rooms and packed all the remanence inside. Then, after placing those items in the storage, he sits in the chair. The desk was long and black, Not the exact same as Snape’s desk, but similar enough. It became slightly overwhelming, so he stood and moved immediately to his designated seat in the desks.
He rested his head on the desk and took a deep breath. Draco felt uneasy in the castle; it had been since his eighth year since he had last been in this classroom. The thought of teaching there now felt strange.
Lost in his thoughts with his eyes shut, he didn’t notice the door open or the footsteps that approached until he felt a tap on his head. His eyes flew open in surprise.
“Potter? What are you doing in my classroom?”
Harry grinned at him, that familiar winning smile lighting up his face. “I heard McGonagall hired you. I wanted to swing by and say hello before heading to the ceremony.”
Draco rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words in years, just casual nods at the platform while dropping off their kids; hardly a conversation. “We’re not friends, Potter.”
“I never said we were.”
“Good.”
Harry’s smile faltered. “We’re not schoolboys anymore, Malfoy. You can’t treat me like we are. We’re colleagues now.”
“Oh, right.”
Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, making his way towards the door. As he watched him leave, Draco silently chastised himself. Perhaps being back in this place was dragging him back into the toxic mindset he had the last time he was here. After all, he had made Harry despise him for years. What had possessed him to approach Harry like that? Was he out of his mind?
_
As Scorpius navigated the winding hallways, he searched for his best friend, but it appeared he was nowhere to be found. He meticulously explored every corner of the Slytherin Common Room, ventured into classrooms, and even roamed through the Greenhouse; yet each effort was met with disappointment. Eventually, he found himself at the boathouse, where he settled onto the dock and swung his feet rhythmically over the water.
With only the Potter siblings as his closest friends, Scorpius remained confident that, eventually, their Marauder's Map would guide them to him. Just then, he heard Albus calling from across the field, “Scor! Scor! The ceremony is about to start without us!”
“Coming, Alby!” he called back, a smile breaking across his face at the thought of joining his friends.
He stood, and ran to the boy, entrapping his hand in his own. Not in a romantic way, but in a way that the boys had gotten used to over the last few years. It was comfortable, and warm. Just for Comfort on nights like tonight.
They made their way to the Great Hall, both oddly upset to let go of each other, having had been missing them relentlessly over the summer. Though, it wasn’t romantic, or anything more than just missing one’s best friend.