Chapter 2
Harry always loved coming back at Hogwarts. Even after all these years, he felt more at home in the old castle than at his flat. Hogwarts will always be his first home, the first place he can remember felling safe in.
It wasn’t the same now that he was a teacher, and Ron and Hermione had their own little life, but Neville was still there. Just like Malfoy, the prat. Of course, it would have been too easy to peacefully live his life, Malfoy had to ruin it and come teach potions…He even had to sit next to him for every meal! Minerva promised him that she didn’t actually chose to put them next to each other, but he was pretty sure she was full of shite. Who else would decide of the table setting except the Headmistress?
Shaking his annoyed thoughts, Harry focused back on the sorting ceremony. The first year, with their baby faces and big innocent eyes were probably his favourite students. They were always so eager to learn, and never caused him trouble, impressed have the Chosen one for teacher. He wasn’t as respectful at their age, and it was a miracle that karma never came to bite him in the arse…
He could see Teddy at the Hufflepuff table, chatting with his friends, clearly not as interested in the sorting ceremony as the year before. It was wonderful to have him close, and Harry couldn’t help but to play favourite sometimes, letting him inside his apartment for a cup of tea.
Next to him, Malfoy sighted, clearly bored and not at all fond of the little children facing them. What a dick. Harry decided to break their silent agreement to not talk, and turned to him.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to focus on the ceremony”, he said, trying not to sound too mean as to not spike a fight. It obviously didn’t work, and Malfoy rolled his eyes.
“And I care because…? Right, I don’t. It’s the same thing every year, it’s not like you’re missing something. Plus, we are going to teach them for the next seven years, I’m pretty sure even an idiot like you can remember their house, Potter”, he said, rolling his eyes so far back it was a miracle their weren’t falling of their sockets.
Merlin, how annoying he was. Malfoy always did everything to get on his nerves, and it almost always worked. He could feel his blood boiling, and the urge to punch him in his smug face was almost overwhelming. He could almost feel the silky blond hair in his fist, how they would slip if he yanked on them. But he settled for a kick in his shinbone under the table, making him groan in pain.
***
Draco hated Potter so much he could almost feel its sour taste on his tongue. It has been more than ten years, ten years since they left Hogwarts and the war ended, and yet Potter was still as annoying. Draco could barely stand to be in the castle, flooded by the shame and the memories, and Potter was only making it harder. It was enough that McGonagall was the only one in the wizarding world to accept to employ him after his studies, and Potter just had to shove in his face how much better than him he was. As if he didn’t already knew.
The sorting of the first years was honestly the least interesting thing he could think about, he really didn’t see the point, he was going to see the kids all year for seven years, for Merlin’s sake! But he couldn’t skip it, as McGonagall framed it as “part of the job”. It was in these moments that he really wished he still had an obscene amount of money, just so he wouldn’t have to work.
Working with kids was the last thing he ever wanting to do but, well, it’s not like he really had a choice anymore, was it? He had no affection for children, and teenagers were honestly the age group he hated the most. Luckily, it has been more than ten years since the end of the war, so none of them knew him during his Hogwarts years. It had been really weird to teach people he used to share a common room and meals with.
Potter was obviously focused on the ceremony, his stupid smile coming up for every name, clapping for every house. The guy was the Gryffindor’s Head house, but of course he clapped for everyone. Draco barely even clapped himself for Slytherins, and he didn’t see why it was such a big deal, the kids were clearly focused on the table they should go to, no one was paying attention to teachers.
When they could finally eat, Draco almost inhaled his plate, before taking off as soon as he could. His first class the next morning was with a group of fifth year, which wouldn’t have been a problem if they weren’t a mix of Gryffindors and Slytherins, AKA his worst nightmare. He could himself remember the sabotaged potions that almost always exploded when they were in the same group. What a mistake, the Headmistress should have fix it.