The Letter
No matter how many times Draco read the letter or how often Pansy pestered and bullied him for a glimpse, he still couldn’t quite believe the piece of parchment he held between his fingers was real. The thick, light beige paper, edged with a faint golden trim, seemed almost too official—too surreal—to be meant for him.
“Draco Malfoy,” Pansy’s voice cut through his thoughts, her red lips pursed in both determination and barely concealed annoyance. “You will give that to me this instant or I swear to Merlin, I’ll tell everyone about that time you cried during The Tale of the Three Brothers in third year. And don’t think I won’t add embellishments—plenty of them.”
Draco groaned, rubbing his temple in frustration. “Pansy, you wouldn’t dare.”
The thing was, Pansy’s threat held more weight than he would’ve liked. She’d somehow managed to forge an entirely unexpected relationship with Luna Lovegood-a development Draco still found mystifying-which meant that she met with Neville Longbottom and his Gryffindor gang at least once a week. It wasn’t just Longbottom she had become friendly with, either. To Draco’s dismay, Pansy had even spoken to Potter on more than one occasion. Not that “spoken” was quite the right term. The first time, Pansy had been drunk and distraught, leaning heavily on Potter and stammering out tearful apologies as she smeared snot across his shoulder. The second time, she’d managed to hold Potter’s attention by loudly proclaiming what a “devilishly handsome, heart-wrenching enigma” Draco Malfoy was—so loudly, in fact, that she ended up losing her balance and vomiting squarely onto his shoes. Draco, in his typical Draco fashion, had barely been able to stop himself from laughing when he first heard the story. He’d listened to Pansy’s dramatics with his composure intact, though, loyal enough to keep from smirking outright-only to laugh about it alone later when he was comfortably nestled at home with a glass of Château Labelle in hand.
Yet knowing that these stories weren’t strictly “nobody’s business” added a palpable edge to her threat. If Pansy were tipsy—and two glasses of whatever she was having that day would get her there pretty quickly—she seemed to have no issue dredging up her Hogwarts tales and any embarrassing tidbit she knew about her closest friends. And with her now entrenched in Gryffindor circles, Draco couldn’t help but worry she might share even more than she intended.
Her eyes gleamed with playful mischief. “Oh, darling, you know I would. Now, be a good boy and hand it over.”
With a heavy sigh, Draco finally gave in, holding out the parchment with a reluctant hand. Pansy snatched it up before he could change his mind, unfolding it with a flourish. She scanned the elegant handwriting with eager eyes and began to read aloud in an exaggerated tone, though as she went on, her voice took on a more serious note:
Dear Mr. Malfoy,
I hope this letter finds you well. It has come to my attention that your work as a potioneer has garnered considerable success and acclaim, particularly in the area of innovative skincare products. Hogwarts has always taken pride in seeing its former students achieve greatness, and I must say, I am pleased to hear of your accomplishments.
However, I write to you with a matter of more immediate importance. As you may know, Professor Slughorn has recently retired from his position as Potions Master, leaving us with a vacancy in a role that requires not only skill but also a dedication to the students of this school. After much consideration, I would like to extend an offer for you to take up this position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
I am fully aware of the history you share with this institution, and the memories it likely brings. However, I believe you possess the talent and perspective that would greatly benefit our students. The past does not define who we choose to become, and I have every confidence that you will bring both expertise and fresh insight to our Potions curriculum.
I understand this may be a significant decision, and I encourage you to give it careful thought. Should you wish to discuss this further, I am more than happy to meet with you in person at a time of your convenience. Hogwarts, after all, has always been your home, and it would be an honor to welcome you back as a member of the faculty.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
When Pansy finished, the room fell into a brief silence. She lowered the letter, her usual teasing demeanor softened by the gravity of what she’d just read. “Draco,” she murmured, handing the letter back to him, “this is... huge.”
Draco took the letter back, folding it carefully between his hands, as though the act of putting it away could hide the enormity of what it asked of him. But even as he tucked it into his robes, the words echoed in his mind, impossible to ignore. “I know.”
Pansy eyed him for a moment, then gave him a small, knowing smile. “Professor Malfoy. That has quite a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Draco managed a faint smirk, though his mind was still buzzing. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s the worst idea in the world.”
Pansy leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Or maybe it’s exactly what you need.”
Professor Malfoy.
It seemed laughable. Absurd, even. And yet, beneath the disbelief, there was something else, something he couldn’t quite name—a flicker of possibility, a whisper of change. Perhaps Hogwarts was as much a part of his past as it was a path to something new. Pansy didn’t say anything else for once, but the look she gave him said enough.
Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.