Nearly

Harry tears his half-hearted glare away from the door where his dad disappeared and falls back against the black-tiled wall of the corridor with a frustrated huff. 

He’s not really angry with his dad for not letting him tag along to his office. Ever since he was a little boy, he’s known that his dad is an Unspeakable and therefore can’t tell him or Remus anything about his job, or he’ll be fired quicker than a hex in the cheering sections of a Tornados-Cannons match. If anything, Harry’s annoyed with himself for choosing to come along to the Ministry in the first place, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed into the Department of Mysteries anyway, so he’d be stuck waiting for his dad in some boring place (like Weasley Senior’s broom cupboard of an office or an even more boring corridor!)

But he’s always wanted to see what the Ministry of Magic looks like, ever since he was a little boy. It’s just one of those places that he’s heard so much about, from his dad in particular, that it’s sort of become like a place from a fairytale… but he should have known that that wouldn’t make it exciting in real life, but rather the opposite… and he’d been right. So far this whole experience has been decidedly underwhelming — 

Harry hears echoing footsteps approaching suddenly and looks up in time to see a man dressed in all black robes round the corner. At the sight of Harry he stops dead and for a second that spans at least an hour, Harry’s heart seems to have stopped as well. 

It takes his brain a fraction of a second to register the silky strands of blonde hair that fan out over the man’s shoulders and the widening pale blue eyes, and even less than that to flash back to the graveyard of his nightmares, which is where he stared into those eyes the last time… across the desecrated grave of Tom Riddle Senior, surrounded by jeering Death Eaters and watched by the Dark Lord himself… just before Lucius Malfoy raised his wand and fired the Cruciatus Curse at his heart — Harry feels like he’s back there now, tied to that tombstone and unable to move — he also feels like all his organs have suddenly been vanished and replaced by stones. 

Unable to tear his gaze away or do anything, Harry simply stares back. 

”Mr Potter…” Lucius murmurs softly, his face composed into a mask once more. 

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but his throat closes up before he can even draw a breath. 

The older man’s pale blue eyes narrow into slits before flitting away completely and then he pulls back slowly, before whirling around in a flurry of billowing robes and stalks back round the corner from which he’d appeared. 

The breath trapped inside Harry’s lungs leaves him again in a sudden rush and he collapses bonelessly against the wall. His heart is hammering wildly in his chest as if trying to catch up now that it can beat again and when he reaches up to wipe the layer of cold sweat from his face, he can see his hand is shaking. 

”See, what’d I tell you, one second—!” Sirius voice rings out in the eerie silence suddenly and Harry startles.

With considerable effort, he gets his legs to steady under him again and pushes away from the wall. Sirius  clamps a hand down on his shoulder and peers into his face. 

”Harry? Runt, what’s wrong?” 

”No- nothing…” he says. ”Can we go home now? Please?”

”You’re shaking! What’s—?”

”Please, dad! I want to go home—!”

”Alright, alright”, Sirius says quickly, looping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. ”Let’s go home…”

They walk back to the lift, Harry’s heart pounding in trepidation the whole time, expecting to see Lucius Malfoy pop up behind every corner they pass, but he never does… Sirius keeps his arm wound around his shoulders tightly and Harry can feel his worried glances every time, but pretends not to notice them at all. 

A pink paper aeroplane zooms into the lift and narrowly avoid crashing into Harry’s head. He swats it away in irritation. 

”Inter-Departmental—” Sirius starts to tell him. 

”I know”, Harry snaps.  

They ride up to the Atrium in tense silence after that. Harry looks over at the Arrivals’ Hall and remembers the floo fireplaces they’d walked past when they first arrived at the Ministry. Stomach already upset, Harry feels even less keen to Apparate home — but the thought of running into Lucius again is worse, so he stops dead and looks up at his dad with pleading eyes. 

”What?” Sirius says immediately, frowning with worry. ”What’s wr—?”

”Can we Apparate? Please?”

”Oh”, Sirius mumbles. ”Yeah, sure… hang on…”

Sirius scrambles for his wand and then tightens his arm around Harry’s shoulders again. Harry feels the wind knocked out of him for a second time, except now the pressure that hugs him from all sides and squeezes his lungs together continues even after there is no air left inside him… his eyeballs are pushed into his skull and his ribcage is squeezed together with such force he’s sure at least one rib will crack… 

Then just as suddenly as it started, the sensation stops again and he feels solid ground slam into his feet. His knees buckle and he goes limp in his dad’s half hug for a second, before he gets his legs under him again. His stomach flips over and nausea rushes through him like a sudden storm —

Pushing away from Sirius, Harry scrambles through the hallway and dives into the lavatory. He collapses on his knees in front of the toilet and wrenches the seat up just in time, before he loses his breakfast… hacking and coughing miserably into the bowl, Harry vows to never Apparate again — but if he’s completely honest with himself, given the chance to go back five minutes in time, he probably would have asked his dad to Apparate all over again… 

”You okay, runt?” Sirius asks from the doorway. 

”Yeah…” Harry gasps. 

He pushes to his feet again and quickly washes his face, then drinks some water straight from the running tap and by the time he turns around to face his dad, he actually does feel okay again.

”Want to tell me what happened back there?” Sirius asks. 

Harry considers telling him. For a full three seconds he considers it. But in the end, he just shakes his head. Sirius’s frown deepens slightly and Harry suspects he’s thinking he’d probably tell Remus if he was here — and the truth is, Harry probably would… but that’s just because Remus has this ability to get him to open up, about everything and anything, whether he wants to or not (really, he suspects there’s magic involved — or some kind of werewolf hypnosis, at least!) 

”I’m fine”, Harry assures his dad, and he means it. 

Sirius face smoothes out again and he nods, seemingly believing him. 

”Coffee?” 

Harry’s face breaks into a grin and he nods gratefully. They’re so alike, his dads, he thinks fondly. You wouldn’t think so — and they’re probably not even aware of it themselves, because in many ways they’re each others’ opposites, which is why they work so well together, Harry suspects — opposites attract, and all of that — but when you look a little closer, when you start noticing the little things… that’s when you realise just how alike they are… 

Harry follows Sirius out into the kitchen and takes his usual seat at the table while the other man makes the coffee, and just to keep the silence and the memory of Lucius at bay, Harry starts telling him about one of the articles he had time to read in Snitch before Arthur Weasley distracted him. 

They stay in the kitchen and keep chatting well into the afternoon, cradling their empty coffee cups as they exchange Hogwarts stories and for the first time ever, Harry almost feels like an equal to his dad, not just his kid but an actual almost-adult person, talking like friends… it’s not until it’s time for Sirius to go get Remus that he realises they’ve completely forgotten about lunch. 

”Damn it…” he mutters, glaring at the wall clock as he places both their coffee cups in the sink to wash up later. ”Remus never would have forgotten lunch… aren’t you hungry?” he adds almost accusatory to Harry, who shrugs.

”A little, I guess…”

”Well, you should have said! I’ll make you something before I go —”

”Dad, you don’t have to”, Harry says and stands up as well. ”I’ll do it, just go get daddy…”

”Really?” Sirius says, looking uncertainly between Harry and the clock. 

”Yes! Just go!”

”All right… see you in a bit!” Sirius says, striding round the table to give Harry a rather forceful peck on the forehead, before he quickly turns on the spot and Disapparates.

Huffing out a chuckle, Harry rubs his hand across his forehead and then walks over to the counter to prepare something to eat, but as he eyes the door to the pantry, a staggering lack of energy suddenly grips him and instead he retrieves his cup from the sink again and makes some more coffee, then turns a couple of slices of bread into toast with a simple heating charm and butters them. It’s enough to sustain him until his dads get back and Sirius can make them all supper, he reasons. 

Selina appears in the doorway, stretching her front paws out in front of her and then twitches her back paws slightly as she pads over to him and rubs up against his legs with a purr. 

”You hungry too?” he asks her around a mouthful of toast. 

”Meow…” 

”All right…” he mumbles and puts his coffee and toast down, so that he can refill her bowls.

”Meow… meow…”

”Yeah, hang on, I’m doing it…”

”Meow… MEOW—!”

”Yeah, all right already!” Harry exclaims, then places the refilled food bowl down in front of her and steps back again in anticipation. ”There! Eat up!”

Selina promptly plops her bottom down and stares up at him with her most unimpressed look, blinking her narrowed eyes slowly. 

”What?” Harry says. 

Selina says nothing, just blinks up at him again. 

”Go on, then… eat!”

With another withering stare, the cat stands up and then stalks back out of the kitchen. 

”Hey!” Harry calls after her. 

Shaking his head, Harry grabs his coffee cup and toast again and returns to the table. But as soon as his bottom hits the seat, he hears the crack of Apparition from the hallway and immediately springs up again. 

”Daddy!” he calls out excitedly as he runs out of the kitchen. 

Remus is leaning heavily on Sirius and the lines on his pale, almost sallow face seem a little deeper than they were a few days ago, but when he sees Harry in the doorway, his eyes immediately light up and he returns his smile sincerely, if a little weakly. 

Harry immediately walks up to him and snuggles into his other side, transferring some of his weight from Sirius to himself and together the three of them walk into the lounge and collapse on the sofa. Sirius gently disentangles himself from his husband again and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing out into the kitchen to start supper.

”How was your weekend? Did you get up to any mischief?” Remus asks Harry once he’s settled against the cushions again and Harry simply smiles back, shaking his head. ”Like I’ll believe that…” 

”How are you feeling? Okay?”

”I’m fine…” Remus says, his smile softening. ”Ready to practise your Patronus?”

”Yes”, Harry says immediately, jumping back to his feet. 

He’s been thinking about what his daddy told him and realised it’s true, his mind has been flitting between happy memories without really settling on any one memory in particular. So now, he’s going to focus on just one particular memory… and if facing Voldemort in that graveyard is his scariest memory, then Harry figures the moment he was safe in his daddy’s arms again afterwards is a good place for him to start. 

He grips his wand tightly, then closes his eyes and concentrates… not just on the feeling of safety and relief, but also the physical sensation of having Sirius’s fingers combing through his hair and Remus’s strong arms around his body, and of the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating together… he recalls the scent of the man, which is a scent he’s grown up to associate with home and safe… he also recalls the other smells around him in that moment; the grass and soil of the Quidditch pitch, the hint of metallic in the damp evening air… 

Taking a deep breath, Harry focuses his every sense and lets the memory fill him up… 

”Expecto patronum…” he murmurs under his breath, just to get his tongue used to the words again, then takes another deep breath and opens his eyes with determination. ”Expecto patronum… EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

He’s vaguely aware of his daddy letting out a ha-haa of triumph and clapping his hands together, as streams of silvery light shoots out of his wand and feels his heart leap with joy and pride. The silvery substance doesn’t take form, but it lingers for a long time and appears a lot more solid than any of the feeble sparks Harry has managed in the past. 

Once it’s finally faded away, Remus claps his hands again. 

”Well done, Harry!” he exclaims happily. 

”Still not corporeal”, Harry says, even as he beams back at the other man. 

”No, but that was a massive improvement! I’m extremely proud of you!”

”Me too…” 

Harry whips his head around and sees Sirius lounging in the doorway, smiling at him. If possible, the grin on Harry’s face widens even further and he feels his cheeks heat with pleasure. 

”You’d have given James a run for his money”, Sirius says. ”And that is saying something!”

Not knowing what to say to that, Harry just keeps grinning and nods his thanks. 

Even though it’s a Dreamless night, Remus tucks Harry into bed and sits with him until he falls asleep and the last thing Harry is aware of before he slips into the comfortable darkness of unconsciousness, is the soothing rhythm of his daddy’s fingertips grazing his scalp. 

The next thing he knows, the darkness of his eyelids explodes into a fleshy orange and as he blinks them open, he’s immediately blinded by the bright sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. 

”—lmost ten, rise and shine!” Sirius calls from the kitchen. 

Harry arches his back in a languorous stretch and kicks his duvet off as a yawn slowly splits his face in two. He rubs his eyes thoroughly, before feeling around on the floor for his spectacles, knuckles bumping books and fingers getting tangled in dirty clothes. 

”Harry! Did you hear me?”

”Yeeees!” Harry shouts back, pushing himself up to sitting. 

”Your coffee is getting cold—!”

”I said, yes! I’m coming!” he hollers, then grumbles to himself for a good five minutes, before he realises he’s still sitting on his bed, so technically his dad has a point.

With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles across the floor of his bedroom and out into the hall. 

Both his dads are sitting at the table and are almost finished with their breakfast when he staggers into the kitchen and collapses into his seat. He lets his drooping eyelids fall shut again and lets out another yawn, barely resisting the temptation to tilt his head and purr when he feels Remus’s fingers in his hair.

”Sleep well?” 

”Mmmmm…”

”Drink some coffee, you’ll feel better…” 

”Mm.” 

He hears his dad snort, but ignores him… it’s too early… why am I awake this early, anyway?… glaring through his sleep-swollen eyes at Sirius, he opens his mouth to ask the question out loud, but is distracted by the worried glint in the man’s eye as he watches his husband discreetly. Harry follows his line of sight and registers the shadows under his daddy’s eyes and immediately feels his irritation subside again. 

”How’d you sleep, daddy?” he croaks. 

”Fine, cub… thank you…” the man says, smiling softly. 

Harry nods, not really believing it. But at least the man looks a little better than the night before. Not as well as he should be by now, but getting better, at least… Harry quickly drinks half his coffee in two eager gulps, determined to wake up properly, so that he can spend the morning with his dads. 

At lunchtime, Remus finally admits defeat and withdraws to the master bedroom for a nap, but not before giving Harry a massive hug and demanding he promise to stay out of trouble this year. Harry hugs him back just as hard and nods. 

”Promise, daddy…” he says, voice muffled as he’s got his face burrowed in the man’s chest. 

”Good boy…” Remus murmurs. 

Harry spends the afternoon cuddling with Selina, then starts packing his trunk at the last minute before Sirius comes to tell him it’s time to go. 

It’s already dark outside by the time they make their way across town towards Hogsmeade Station and the sky is covered by a blanket of clouds so thick that the waning moon’s light can’t penetrate it, but at least it’s not raining… yet, Harry thinks, peering up at the sky and as if his thoughts have somehow triggered it, a light drizzle begins to fall just as he and Sirius reach the station. 

”How’s that for timing!” Sirius exclaims happily. 

Harry doesn’t answer, because he can already see the headlights of the approaching Hogwarts Express through the darkness and his stomach gives an excited jolt at the thought of seeing Draco and his friends again soon. 

”So do you want to wait for your friends outside or do you want to get into a carri- Merlin’s beard!” 

Harry wheels around to see what’s startled his dad and then instantly jumps back himself. With his heart thumping in fright, he stares at the beast harnessed to the nearest carriage. If hard-pressed, Harry guesses he’d have to call it a horse, or at least a horse-like creature, but something about the head reminds him of a dragon as well… it’s sleek black coat is stretched across the skeletal body, showing every single bone of the creature’s skeleton and from its back a couple of gigantic, leathery wings protrude. 

But what really gets the hairs on Harry’s arms to stand, is the eyes… the pupil-less and eeriely staring white eyes… 

”What… what are they?” Harry says, glancing at last from the beast and seeing a hundred others standing in front of the other carriages. 

”Thestrals”, Sirius says, sounding slightly winded. 

”Thestrals?”

”Yeah… I didn’t realise… I mean, I knew Hagrid bred them up at the Forest, but… it’s okay, they won’t harm you!”

”Are you sure?” Harry says, subconsciously inching a little closer to his dad as he stares into the white eye of the nearest one. 

”Yeah, positive”, Sirius says. ”They have a bad rep and you don’t want to get too close to a wild one, but these are domesticated, so you’re fine…”

”Domesticated… by Hagrid?” Harry asks carefully. 

Sirius lets out a snort of laughter and finally tears his eyes away from the thestral and smirks down at Harry. 

”I promise you, you’ll be fine.”

”If you say so…” Harry mutters, but again he’s distracted as the steam enginge pulls to a stop behind them and lets out a shrill whistle. 

”Harry!” they hear Draco shout over the ruckus of students getting off the train. 

”Over here!” Harry shouts back, waving his arm. 

They watch as the blonde and the other slytherins make their way — quite roughly — through the crowd and Harry beams as Draco darts forward and envelops him into a embrace that nearly lifts him off his feet. 

”Why didn’t you get the first carriage?” Blaise complains next to them and Harry laughs, finally letting go of Draco to give the other slytherin boy a quick hug as well. ”No, seriously, why are we standing next to the very last carriage?”

”Hello to you too, Blaise”, Harry says good-naturedly, then moves on to hug the others. 

”Good evening, Mr Black”, he hears Draco say in his stilted pureblood etiquette-voice, as Harry has come to think of it as, ignoring Sirius’s snort and ploughing on bravely. ”It’s a pleasure to see you again—”

”Oh, shut up”, Sirius says. ”How many times do I have to tell you to call me Sirius?”

”S-sorry, Sirius…” Draco mumbles. 

”That’s better… so you made Prefect, then? Congratulations.”

Harry blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the Prefect badge on the blonde’s chest, but now that it’s been pointed out to him, he’s not sure how he could have ever missed it — it’s practically shining in the darkness — and a matching badge is shining on Pansy’s robe front, as well. 

”Harry, I’m going to head back”, Sirius says after a moment, as Harry has just finished giving Daphne a quick hug and he hurries back over to him and lets the man envelop him in his larger arms and squeeze him tightly, nodding when he mutters, ”Be good this year, Harry. You know your daddy worries about you…”

”Yeah, I know… I promise I’ll stay out of trouble!”

”That’s a good boy…” 

Sirius steps back and ruffles Harry’s hair quickly, before Harry skips out of reach. 

”See you at Christmas — and not before!” Sirius says in a mock-serious voice. 

”I said I promise!”

”All right then…”

Harry gives the man a wry smile and waves back as he holds up one hand in a parting gesture, before turning on the spot and Disapparating. 

Draco immediately grabs Harry’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Harry tilts his head back and looks up at him, his smile wavering as it suddenly strikes him how much the blonde has grown over the summer. 

”Don’t start”, Draco mutters, seemingly reading his mind and quickly ducks his head plant a kiss on Harry’s lips. ”Now, come on… I’m starving!”

Pulling on Harry’s hand, he leads the way to the carriage, shoving a few third-years out of the way in the process.

”Hey, have you seen the thestrals?” Harry asks as he steps inside the carriage and takes the seat next to the other boy. 

”What’s that?” Draco asks, looping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulling him even closer to his side. 

”Er…” Harry blinks up at him, feeling his cheeks flush. ”The ehm… er… thestrals?”

”What’s a thestral?” Seamus asks from where he’s squeezed in on Harry’s other side. 

”They’re a death omen”, Blaise says, squeezed in-between Pansy and Daphne in the seat across from them. ”They look like winged horses.”

”What?” Harry says, whipping his head around. ”Death omen?”

”Yeah, I mean, if you believe that stuff… why? Did you see one?”

”Er… yeah?”

”What?” Draco says sharply. 

”You did?” Blaise says, his smirk falling. 

Harry blinks, looking between his friends shocked faces. 

”You’re taking the mickey, right?” he says after a moment and they all shake their heads. 

”Where did you see it?” Draco demands.

”You’re having me on?”

”No! Where did you see—?”

”Outside — just now!” Harry exclaims. ”It’s pulling the carriage!”

A stunned silence falls inside the carriage, and then as one, all of Harry’s friends begin to snicker and shake their heads. 

”Bastard…” Draco mutter and steals another kiss from him. 

”Don’t joke about stuff like that!” Daphne squeals with a shudder.

”You really had me…” Blaise admits.

”No, I’m serious!” Harry says, shoving Draco back again. ”My dad told me it’s called a thestral and yeah, it kind of looks like a winged horse, and I’d never even heard of them before—”

”Harry, stop it, it’s not funny!” Draco says, pulling his arm away and frowning at him. 

”—and there are about a hundred of them outside — I’m not trying to be funny! I’m telling the truth!”

”Well, it’s good to be back…” Blaise mutters. 

”Five minutes, that’s a record”, Pansy says drily. 

”Fine”, Harry snaps. ”Don’t believe me! I don’t know anything about a death omen, but my dad said Hagrid’s been breeding them in the Forest and they’re harmless!”

”But Harry…” Seamus says reasonably. ”How come only you can see them, then?”

”No, hang on…” Blaise murmurs, gazing at Harry with calculating eyes. ”Thestrals are invisible to most people… the only ones who can actually see them are people who have seen death…”

”R- really…?” Harry says. 

”Yeah… which is probably how the whole death omen superstition got created in the first place…”

”And they’re not the prettiest of creatures either…” Harry mumbles, remembering the skeletal black body and the eerie eyes. 

”Why is it never easy eith you?” Draco demands suddenly, glaring at Harry.

”What?” Harry says. ”It’s not my fault—!”

”Why can’t we just sit down like normal teenagers and talk about quidditch and — and — opera! Why does it always have to be something grim and—?”

”Opera?” Harry splutters. 

”—and foreboding and — yes, opera! — I’ve just had a stressful summer holidaying with my mother and I would very much like to sit down and relax and have a normal conversation about Tristan and Isolde, without having to worry about you dying! But no—!”

”What teenagers talk about opera—?” 

”I ALWAYS HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT YOU DYING!” Draco exclaims shrilly. 

”I’M NOT GOING TO DIE!” Harry hollers right back. 

”Who are Tristan and Isolde?” Seamus asks the others in an undertone, but they just roll their eyes at him and sigh. ”What?”

”It’s called culture, dorcus…” Daphne says in a long-suffering voice. 

As their carriage comes to a shuddering stop below the stairs leading up the front doors of Hogwarts, the drizzle has turned to a proper downpour and the Slytherin friends sprints up the stone steps to avoid the worst of it. Harry skids along the polished stone floor of the Entrance Hall and nearly falls, but Draco catches him and helps steady him. 

He then gives Harry’s hand a final squeeze, before letting go of him, but stays really close to his side the whole way across the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall, so close in fact that their shoulders keep bumping together and more than once Harry feels the other boy’s fingers brush the inside of his palm before flitting away again. It’s maddening in all the right ways and by the time they’re sitting down next to each other at the Slytherin table, Harry feels like fire has replaced the blood in his veins. 

As they settle into their seats, the blonde immediately knocks his knee into Harry’s under the table. Harry looks up at him, trying to catch his eye or at least read his expression but the other boy is staring up at the Head Table.

A side door opens and a an old witch with neatly cropped grey curls under her moss green hat bustles through it and takes the free seat at the end of the Head Table, next to Professor Vector. 

”Look, it’s that Professor Grubbly-Plank”, Pansy hisses, leaning slightly across the table to squint at Harry and Draco with shining eyes. ”You think they’ve finally got rid of that giant oaf?”

”Maybe…” Draco says, looking quite pleased at the thought. 

”Who’s that sitting next to Flit—?” Daphne starts to speak until her voice is suddenly drowned out by what sounds like a stampeding herd of hippogriffs, but turns out to be the First Years, lead by Professor McGonagall. 

Harry can see who she was referring to though. After all, there’s only one unfamiliar face sitting at the Head Table and he can also see why Daphne’s nose had been scrunched up, because even Harry, with his limited understanding of fashion, can tell that the pink cardigan stretched around the plump body of the middle-aged witch is ghastly, as is the Alice-band in matching pink stretched across her mousey hair.

”Where did she get that jumper?” Pansy says drily, giving the new teacher her most scathing look. 

”Same charity shop where she dug that Alice-band out of the bargain bin, I should think…” Daphne mutters. 

”Are we sure it’s a she?” Blaise drawls. ”Don’t let the pink fool you…”

”Hardly a he”, Seamus counters. 

Blaise lets out a non-commital hmphs, ”There’s something quite amphibian about her. You know. She might be half-toad…”

A burst of snickers explode along the Slytherin table and Professor Snape’s black eyes immediately dart over to them with a warning glare. They quickly hide their smiles behind their hands and carefully avoid eye-contact with each other for a good five minutes, while they fight the urge to break down in giggles again. 

By the time they’ve got their amusement back under control, the Sorting Hat has started singing and Harry feels familiar fingers slide on top of his knee under the table and almost jumps out of his skin, letting out another string of curses under his breath.

”Shhhh…” Draco admonishes with a smirk. ”I’m trying to listen…”

Harry shoots him a half-hearted glare and feels the fingers slide a little further up his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze, just ast the smirk on his face twitches. 

Merlin, I’ve missed you, Harry doesn’t say. But he sneaks his hand under the table and grabs the fingers before they can venture any further up his leg and put him in a very awkward position indeed, then interlaces them with his own. 

”… for our Hogwarts is in danger, from external, deadly foes…”

Harry blinks, then tears his eyes away from Draco’s silvery orbs and looks over at the Sorting Hat as it continues belting out what can only be described as a lament. 

”… and we must unite inside her, or we’ll crumble from within…”

He feels Draco’s fingers tighten around his, and squeezes back. 

”… I have told you, I have warned you… Let the Sorting now begin!”

The Hat falls silent at last and stills as applause breaks out across the Great Hall. Reluctantly, Harry lets go of Draco’s hand and joins in with the clapping. 

”That was very poignant…” Pansy comments idly, as she claps her hands together slowly a couple of times. 

”Yeah…” Harry says, feeling dread pool in his stomach. 

Wonder if the Sorting Hat has ever warned the school before?

”Stop it…” Draco mutters, his nose bumping against Harry’s cheek bone. 

”Stop what?” Harry asks, frowning at him. 

”I can see the wheels turning in your head.”

”So what? I should stop thinking, should I—?”

”Yes”, Draco says immediately. ”At once, please.”

”Hey…” Harry protests, turning slightly on the bench so that he can face the other boy and his smirking face full on. ”What exactly are you saying? You’d prefer me to not have a mind of my own?”

”I’d prefer it if you stopped coming up with idiotic and reckless ideas that will get you killed, yes.”

”I wasn’t even—!”

”And knowing you for as long as I have”, Draco interrupts swiftly. ”And as intimately as I do—”

Harry feels his cheeks flush again, especially when Seamus and Blaise both mutter, ”Too much information…”

”—statistically, I’d say one in every ten or so thoughts that pop up in that frankly Gryffindorkish head of yours, are just… that… sort… of… idea… so on the whole, I’d say it’d be better for everyone if you did less thinking overall, yes.”

”Prat…” Harry mumbles, knocking his knee against the other boy’s under the table. 

”It’s just a hat, what does it know about anything, anyway”, Draco says. ”Don’t get your pretty little head all hot and bothered over a stupid Sorting song…”

”Don’t call me little”, Harry grouses. 

Draco’s smirk twitches again.

”Sorry…” he says, sounding and looking anything but.

As the last of the first-years get Sorted (a timid-looking girl by the name of Zeller, sent to Hufflepuff), Professor Dumbledore stands up to greet them all, his arms stretched as wide as his smile and the embroidered stars and moons on his sleeves glittering in the candle light. 

”There is a time for speechmaking — but this is not it”, he says warmly. ”Tuck in!”

The Great Hall explodes in relieved applause and giggles, just as the tables are magically filled with steaming hot meals. Harry’s stomach growls at the sight and smell of home-cooked food and he eagerly starts to fill his plate. 

Draco is now sitting so close to him on the bench that he accidentally elbows him in the chest while cutting into his steak and kidney pie.

”Sorry”, he mumbles. 

”…’s okay”, Draco murmurs, his breath ghosting over Harry’s cheek and Harry immediately feels warmth pool in his sternum and shifts a little awkwardly on the bench.

By the time they’ve all scraped their plates clean of pudding, the noise of chatter around the Great Hall dies down again and they all turn their heads to see Professor Dumbledore standing, ready to make his speech at last. 

Draco leans in even closer to Harry, his lips brushing the shell of his ear as he whispers, ”Hope the old coot keeps it short, ’cause I can’t wait to get to bed…”

Harry swallows thickly. 

”Y-yeah?” he croaks, then discreetly clears his throat and peers up into Draco’s face. ”Tired?”

Draco’s eyes twinkle at him. 

”No…”

Harry feels his cheeks heat up (which is amazing, really, considering most of the blood in his body seems to be rushing elsewhere…) and he quickly ducks his head to hide it, muttering a curse under his breath. 

”I hope you’ve been practising your Silencing Charms”, Blaise says pointedly from across the table, just loud enough for Harry and Draco to hear.

”And deprive you of your only source of sexual entertainment”, Draco says quietly and Harry can hear the smirk in his voice. ”What kind of friends would we be…” 

Blaise snorts softly, ”My only source… oh, if only you knew…”

”You keep insinuating, Zabini, but I’ve yet to see any tangible proof…”

”That’s because gentlemen don’t kiss and tell”, Blaise counters smoothly. ”And before you say it — I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about my partners!”

”Partners, now, is it? As in plural?” Pansy cuts in curiously, batting her magicked lashes at the boy. ”And are they all gentlemen or do you dabble in the fairer sex as well, Blaisey-boy?”

”Occasionally…” he says, giving the girl his most wicked smirk. 

”Good to know…” she murmurs. 

”… and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too!” Dumbledore says a little louder. 

Harry and his friends instantly fall silent and turn to give the Headmaster their full attention, just in time to see his pale blue eyes flit away from their group and gaze out across the middle if the Hall again. 

”… that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden for students when unaccompanied by a teacher. And on a similar note, Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch’s office door… we have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons—”

The Slytherins all exchange delighted looks. That definitely sounded like she’d taken the position permanently!

”—We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

There is a smatter of unenthusiastic applause across the hall. 

”Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the…” Dumbledore suddenly trails off and looks over at the new DADA teacher with a look of mild surprise on his face. 

”Hem, hem…” the woman coughs gently and it’s only then that Harry realises she’s actually stood up to make a speech, but being as short as she is, she’s hardly any taller standing up than she’d been sitting down, which is why Harry hadn’t realised it immediately. 

Professor Dumbledore seems to have come to the same conclusion, because he quickly sits back down and continues to watch the woman with a politely interested look on his face. The other professors are not as polite, Harry can see. McGongall’s lips are pressed so thin they’re hardly visible at all and Snape is glaring with such vehemence at his water goblet, Harry is surprised it hasn’t cracked yet… 

”Thank you, Headmaster”, the toad-woman says in a simpering, high-pitched voice that makes the hairs in the back of Harry’s neck stand. ”for those kind words of welcome… hem, hem… well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!”

She bares her pointed teeth in a smile and Harry shivers. 

”I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” 

With another cough, she continues what sounds like a well-rehearsed speech about the traditions of Hogwarts and upholding the ideals of all of their ancestors, while pruning and perfecting practises where possible, and other such ’tosh’ as Pansy calls it. 

Harry tunes most of it out, and keenly aware as he is, of every part of Draco that is pressed against him, he lets his mind wander to more pleasant things… throughout the summer, he’s been flicking through the book Remus gave him about wizard sex, lingering on chapter two more and more, fantasising about kissing his way down Draco’s body… tonguing his straining cock through his boxer briefs… pulling them down… 

Shifting awkwardly on the bench, Harry quickly bats the images away and focuses on the new DADA teacher again, just as she rounds up her speech and sits back down. 

Professor Dumbledore claps his hands, creating a sort of ripple effect of applause all along the Head Table, but none as polite and enthusiastic as Dumbledore. In fact, Professor Snape only lets the palms of his hands touch twice before he promptly places them on either side of his plate again. 

”Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating”, Professsor Dumbledore says with a slight incline of his head in the witch’s direction, before turning back to the student body. ”As I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…”

As Professor Dumbledore finishes up his speech and sends them all off to bed, Pansy squints down the table at the frightened-looking first-years and sighs. 

”I suppose we’ll have to deal with that lot now, Draco…”

”Yeah”, Draco mutters, squaring his shoulders as he stands up. ”First years!”

The whole lot of them jump and whip their heads around to stare at him, their eyes round as saucers. 

”Gather round, please!” Draco continues matter-of-factly. ”Now, let’s go! Hurry up, please!”

As he and Pansy waits for the First Years to scramble about and trip and stumble down the length of the table, Draco leans down and whispers in Harry’s ear, ”I’ll just be a moment… try not to fall asleep?”

Harry swallows thickly and, not quite trusting his own voice to behave as it should, nods quickly. 

”Good boy…” Draco murmurs with a smirk. 

Harry gives him a half-hearted glare, but feels his entire face immediately flush hotly which undermines the glare significantly. He climbs to his feet, extra careful not to trip over his own feet, well aware of Draco and at least half a dozen First Years watching him with great interest… he quickly side-steps one of them and joins his other friends at the end of the table, then amble after the newly appointed Head Boy and Girl, Roy Gamp and Zoe Accrington, towards the dungeons. 

Once inside the Slytherin Common Room, the boys wave goodbye to Daphne before filing inside their new dormitory and start unpacking their trunks and decorating the walls above their four-poster beds. All the boys except for Blaise have chosen to advertise their favourite Quidditch teams and Seamus has also chosen to pin a muggle poster of his favourite muggle Quidditch team (Actually, the sport is called something different, Harry knows. But he can never remember if it’s Bugry or Rugbyd, but it’s something like that…) next to his Kestrels poster. 

Blaise, on the other hand, who’s never really been into sports, has gone for posters featuring two of his favourite musical groups, Spellbound and The Rhythmic Runes, as well as a family photograph. 

Harry, too, has pinned a photograph of himself and his dads next to his Tornados poster, as well as the handmade Christmas card Draco sent him back in First Year. What he would really like to have pinned on the wall is one of the many beautiful drawings Draco has made him, but he doesn’t want to tear any of them out of the leather bound book.

They’re all idly getting ready for bed when Seamus tells them that his mum almost wouldn’t let him come back to Hogwarts this year, because of everything the Prophet has been saying about Dumbledore (and you, he doesn’t tell Harry, but Harry hears it anyway.)

”Well, she’ll learn the truth soon enough… they all will…” Harry says grimly. 

The others nod, exchanging uncomfortable looks and a tense silence falls inside the door. It’s almost immediately broken however, when the door flies open and Draco struts inside. The Prefect badge on his chest is shining more than ever in the pale green light from the lanterns and Harry feels a surge of pride as he looks at him. 

The blonde meets his eyes and the smirk on his face instantly softens to a small smile — it makes all the difference, Harry thinks. Being on the receiving end of a smile like that, it’s so easy to tell Draco apart from his father. Harry vows to himself to give the other boy ample reason to keep smiling like that, anything to disassociate him from Malfoy Senior and his aristocratic arrogance. 

”Oh, I almost forgot… Blaise, you’re going to love me…” Seamus says suddenly, digging up a Wireless Radio from his trunk. 

”Doubt it”, Blaise mutters, but his eyes glitter with interest when he sees the radio. 

”Me mam showed me that if you tune it a certain way, you can listen to some muggle channels”, Seamus says excitedly. ”They have so many musical groups and artists, you won’t even believe… like hundreds of them!”

”Yeah, but… it will be muggle music though”, Draco says, lips curling with distaste. 

”Have you ever even heard muggle music?” Harry asks him pointedly and gives his side a gentle jab. 

”Well, no, but… surely, if it was any good, the WWN would play it too?” Draco counters. 

”Oh, it’s good” Seamus says. ”There’s this one group called Nirvana that I’ve been listening to all summer, the singer died last spring so the radio keeps playing their greatest hits… there’s this one song called Come As You Are that is amazing… if I can just tune this right…” he adds, frowning with concentration as he fiddles with the knobs on the radio. 

Snippets of The Weird Sisters and Celestina Warbeck can be distinguised from the static noise of the wireless as the Irish boy continues to tune it, but finally he manages to find a muggle station and music such as Harry has never heard before suddenly fills the dorm… cringing back slightly, he frowns at the wireless, trying to determine what he thinks about it… it doesn’t even sound like musical instruments at all, at least not any type of instruments found in the magical world, rather random noises and really weird singing voices that are both whiny and disorted… and the baseline seems to be made up of hand claps.

The lyrics are no less weird, from what he can make out — admittedly, he can only decipher a word here and there in the verse, but as soon as the chorus starts, one or two of the singers whine ”Everybody groove to the music” while another singer is going on about something completely different (what, Harry can’t tell, but they do urge ”everybody” to ”come on now”, so at least it’s in the same spirit as the main message of the song.) 

”Please, turn it off…” Draco says after another moment. 

Seamus quickly turns a knob and the wireless goes silent again. He looks a little sheepish and his cheeks are flushed pink. 

”It’s usually not that bad…” he mumbles. 

”We’ll take your word for it”, Draco says drily. ”I’m going to go get ready for bed…”

”That other group you were talking about, Nirvana, is their music similar to that?” Harry asks curiously.

”No!” Seamus says immediately. ”I’m telling you, it’s awesome! Nothing like that…”

”They should come up with a way to choose what music you want to play…” Blaise says thoughtfully. ”You know, you should be able to, I dunno, tap the wireless with your wand and select what type of music you want to listen to!”

”Yeah… but then how would you discover new groups and artists?” Theo says. 

”Well, you don’t have to select something”, Blaise counters. ”But it would be cool to have the option, you know?”

Draco returns to the dorm again, putting away his neatly folded towel and pink and silver toiletry bag, before carefully unpinning the Prefect badge from his school robes and placing it on top of his bedside table. Harry watches him silently, feeling a surge of flutters in his stomach as he remembers Draco addressing the First Years with authority. 

Letting his mind wander for a moment, he imagines the blonde patrolling the corridors and dishing out detentions in his strictest Prefect’s voice… 

Draco looks up and meets his eyes, raising his eyebrows. Harry blinks and quickly looks away again, digging through his trunk for his own toiletry bag and a towel, keenly aware of the the blonde’s eyes still on him as he does. As his cheeks begin to heat up, he ducks his head and more or less flees the dormitory, mumbling about brushing his teeth. 

The Slytherin boys’s bathroom is empty when Harry gets there and he allows himself to get lost in thought while he brushes his teeth carefully and thoroughly, and for a much longer time than he normally does, his heart thudding hard in his chest as he tries not to let his mind flash to the illustrations of his Sexual Handbook (and failing remarkably, as usual…) 

Spitting toothpaste into the sink with a lot more force than strictly necessary, Harry glares at his own reflection. 

”Get a grip!” he tells himself sternly. 

The mirror snickers.

When he returns to the dorm, the others have all gone to bed and Harry feels torn between relief and disappointment as he looks at the drawn hangings around Draco’s four-poster. 

He walks over to his own bed and starts removing his school robes carefully, mindful of not making any noise. 

”Finally…” a voice whispers behind him. 

Harry jumps and spins around, heart hammering in his throat as his gaze flickers through the gloom and finally finding Draco’s blonde head sticking out through a small gap in the hangings of Harry’s own four-poster. 

Harry releases his breath with a whoosh, throwing the other boy a half-hearted glare. 

”Sorry…” the blonde whispers, smirking unrepentantly at him before disappearing back behind the drawn hangings of the bed again. 

Harry hurriedly steps out of his trousers and pulls on his pyjamas with trembling hands, then almost trips over his discarded robes in his haste to join the other boy. 

He tumbles through the hangings and scrambles to sit next to the other boy, who’s waiting patiently for him, back leaned against the headboard and eyebrow delicately raised as Harry kicks the hangings off when they get twisted round his leg.

”Stupid things”, he mutters under his breath. 

”What took you so long?” Draco asks, grabbing his wand and casting a quick Silencing Charm around them. 

Harry’s stomach flutters as his mind flashes back to dinner in the Great Hall when the blonde had leaned in to whisper in his ear… implying that he wanted — well, wanted Harry, wanted to have sex with him — I can’t wait to get to bed, he’d whispered, eyes shining with suggestion… and Blaise making a comment about Silencing Charms, in case they’d be — what, loud? Harry thinks hysterically and his stomach flips over entirely at the implication — he takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but there’s no calming the butterflies in his stomach or slowing the beats of his heart, it seems. 

”What’s wrong?” Draco asks, frowning slightly at him. 

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Just… no, nothing…”

Draco eyebrows twitch slightly and his eyes shutter immediately, but as soon as Harry brushes his fingers over his hand, they flare up with hope and want again. Harry smiles nervously. 

”I missed you… like… a lot…” he says. 

”Good…” Draco murmurs with a smirk and leans in to brush his lips over Harry’s. ”Missed you too, you know…”

”Yeah?” Harry croaks, wetting his lips in anticipation. 

”Yeah…”

Harry’s fingers twitch over Draco’s bare skin as he trails his hands up the other boy’s arm, before grabbing his shoulder and pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. 

Draco eagerly moves to sit in front of Harry instead, kneeling astride his lap and pushing him back against the pillows, while lapping at his lips like a starving kitten. Harry fists the material of Draco’s pyjama top and pulls him closer still, but the blonde quickly breaks the kiss and mutters something about changeant, before sitting back. 

”What?” Harry mumbles, as much confused about what the blonde has said as he is at the sudden space between them. 

He reaches out for the other boy again impatiently, only to have his hands batted away. 

”Shot silk”, Draco says, as if that would make things clearer, then carefully pulls his pyjama top over his head. 

”What?” Harry says again, his confusion shooting to hitherto unexplored heights and flirting with frustration as Draco is still. so. far. away —

”The top”, Draco says, rolling his eyes and waving the now neatly folded pyjama top in front of Harry’s face before leaning to the side and gently putting it down on the floor next to the bed. ”It’s made from shot silk, or changeant, also known as changable silk—”

”Are you seriously talking about fabric?” Harry says. ”Now?”

Draco sits back up and raises an eyebrow at Harry. 

”It’s very delicate and you were about to rip—”

”Shut up”, Harry says and nestles his fingers in the other boy’s blonde hair and pulls him down for another deep kiss. 

Draco lets out a noise of protest, but it quickly morphs into a moan and he wraps his arms around Harry and melts into him. Harry feels the tickling warmth of arousal pool in his sternum as the other boy rolls his hips, smoothly pushing their crotches together. 

Wrenching his mouth away from Draco’s, Harry gasps as he feels the unmistakable hardness that rubs against his own. 

”I want to see you”, he says. ”Please?”

”Okay…” Draco says quickly, his voice breathless and trembling slightly. ”You too…”

Nodding eagerly, Harry starts pulling on the drawstring of his pyjama bottoms with shaky fingers. Draco unstraddles him and scrambles to the foot of the bed to give himself room to pull his bottoms down his long legs and then quickly folds them up — not nearly as neatly as he’d folded the top, Harry notices with a sense of triumph — and drops them to the floor next to the bed, before kneeling in front of Harry again, reaching for him eagerly. 

Harry leans in to kiss the blonde again, but glances at his crotch and does a double-take.

”I don’t believe it, you’re even bigger — do you ever stop growing—?” he blurts out. 

The blonde jerks back in surprise and frowns at him. Harry bites his lip and looks down, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. 

”Are you complaining?” the other boy says archly.

”No”, Harry says hurriedly, pulling his knees up and unconsciously curls in on himself.  ”No, no, but — it’s just — I’m starting to feel a bit — you know, small—”

Draco huffs, ”You’re not small, Harry.”

”It’s bad enough that I’m short, why do I have to be smaller as well”, Harry mumbles, looking away. 

”You’re not small”, Draco repeats firmly. ”You’re actually thicker than I am.”

Harry’s cheeks heat up further. 

”Barely”, he mutters. ”Besides, who cares—”

”Eh, excuse me, I believe it’s my opinion that counts”, Draco says, sitting back on his heels. 

Harry just makes a face, but doesn’t say anything else. Draco’s arched eyebrow twitches. 

”Seriously, will you let it go…” he says finally. 

”I didn’t say anything”, Harry mutters, still avoiding the other boy’s eyes. 

”The difference is barely noticeable! How are we even having this conversation?”

”Again, I didn’t say anything —”

”Your face said plenty!”

”My face—?”

”Do you want me to go back to my own bed? Because I will—”

”No, no…” Harry mumbles. ”I want you to—”

”What’s that?” Draco cuts in sharply. 

”I said I want you t—”

”You want me?” Draco interrupts again.

Harry stares at him. 

”Because I’m not feeling very wanted right now”, Draco adds pointedly.

”Don’t be stupid—”

”Stupid too now, am I?”

”Oh, come on!” Harry splutters. ”The whole reason I’m feeling inadequate over here is because you are so damn perfect… just… come here…” he sighs and stretches his legs out again before reaching for the other boy.

”That’s better…” the blonde murmurs and crawls up Harry’s body with feline-like grace. 

He smirks playfully against Harry’s lips before sealing their mouths together in a deep kiss that steals Harry’s breath away, along with the last of his reluctance and insecurity. 

”But just to be clear”, Draco adds in a husky undertone once they both come up for air again. ”It’s the perfect size and so’s the rest of you.”

Harry swallows thickly and nods. He might not have conquered all of his insecurities yet, but there is no way Draco could possibly fake those blown pupils, so at least for now Harry knows that the blonde means what he says, even if Harry himself might not agree with him… but, as Draco pointed out, it’s really his opinion that matters, isn’t it? 

The smirk on the blonde’s face softens and he leans in to capture Harry’s lips again, softer this time but no less urgent. Harry eagerly kisses back and clutches the other boy’s shoulders as he’s gently guided to lie back. 

If Harry had had any intention of broaching the subject of so-called blowjobs tonight, it quickly goes out the window as his and Draco’s kiss turns heated and desperate and the blonde’s hands suddenly seem to be everywhere at once, because there’s no way he is going to last long enough for Draco to so much as ghost his breath over his crotch, let alone engulp him… but that’s okay, Harry muses later as he lies curled around the other boy’s body and catching his breath. I’ll need some time to come up with exactly what to say, anyway… and build up the courage to say it… 

”Love you…” Draco mumbles sleepily, before his breath begins to even out with sleep. 

Harry smiles against the other boy’s smooth chest and snuggles a little closer. I bet I could produce a perfect Patronus right now, he thinks happily and lets his eyes flutter closed… perfect… like this moment… just per—

Harry startles awake, his scar hurting and hair plastered to his clammy forhead. The damp blanket is clinging to his sweat-soaked skin and Draco’s arms are wrapped tightly around him, one hand caressing his head almost mechanically as he hushes him gently. It’s only then that Harry realises his throat is sore from screaming.

”I-I’m s-sorry I woke you up…” he gasps. 

”Don’t be stupid”, Draco says firmly and shoves his face against Harry’s cheek, kissing his jaw.

”It’s a nightmare night… s-sorry, I should have said…”

”What?” Draco mumbles, still petting his wet hair. 

”I can only drink Dreamless Sleep every third night, the other two I have to… you know…”

”I’m so sorry, Harry—”

”It’s okay”, Harry says quickly. ”I’m sorry I forgot, but tomorrow I get to drink the potion, so we can… we can sleep together then, if you want, that is…”

”We can sleep together now”, Draco counters and gives him another kiss on the jaw. 

”No, Draco…” Harry mumbles, pulling away from the other boy’s embrace. ”Just go to your own bed. There’s no reason for both of us losing sleep…”

”Are you serious?” Draco says in surprise. ”You’re kicking me out of bed?”

”I don’t want to wake you again…” Harry mutters, embarrassed. 

”What if I want to take care of you—?”

”I don’t need taking care of”, Harry insists. ”Just… I’m sorry I woke you—”

”Harry…”

”— tomorrow will be different, I promise. Please.”

”I’ll go if you really want me to”, Draco says quietly. ”But I really rather stay…”

Harry sighs. He’ll feel awful either way, he decides. If he makes Draco go sleep in his own bed after they’ve been intimte with each other for the first time in what’s felt like a lifetime, or if Draco stays and he has another nightmare and wakes him up for a second time. 

So, Harry thinks, a little selfishly. If I’m going to feel awful anyway, might as well let Draco stay and at least enjoy a bit of a cuddle.

”Okay…” he says. ”But if I start thrashing around again, just leave me.”

”Yeah”, Draco says sarcastically and Harry can picture him rolling his eyes. ”That’s what I’ll do… dork, just come back here…”

With another sigh, Harry settles back into Draco’s arms.

*

As they trundle into the Great Hall the next morning for breakfast, the Enchanted Ceiling is a gloomy grey and flickering sligthly as sparse raindrops fall from the blanket of clouds and then fade into nothingness just above their heads. 

Harry feels the familiar heaviness of insomnia weighing him down and glances over at Draco to try and determine if he’s feeling the effects of the previous night as well, knowing he can’t have got much more sleep than Harry, due to his restless movements and cries… but if the blonde feels exhausted, he hides it well. If anything, he looks positively energised, smiling openly as he chatters away with the girls and makes them collapse into peels of giggles with his snide remarks and, admittedly spot-on, imitations of various Gryffindors. 

Harry watches him fondly and chuckles tiredly as makes another hilarious observation that has Pansy snorting with laughter and Daphne clutching her sides. Their laughter finally dies down as Professor Snape comes striding down the length of the Slytherin table, handing out their timetables with a stern look on his face. 

Harry lets his tired smile linger as he accepts his timetable and thanks the Potions Master softly. Snape’s frown seems to twitch slightly, before he gives Harry a curt nod and quickly moves on. 

Wonder if that was him smiling, Harry thinks and watches the man’s retreating back in amusement — it’s short-lived though, because as soon as he glances down at the timetable and realises what a day he has ahead of him, Harry feels anything but amused… first they have Defence Against the Dark Arts with that ghastly toad-lady, then Potions, Herbology, History of Magic and finally double Transfiguration. 

Sure, the first two subjects are his favourites, but he doubts he’ll enjoy DADA as much this year as he has done for the previous two years, and as much as he’s begun to genuinely enjoy Potions, it’s still one of the hardest subjects and definitely not something he wants to have to tackle on a Monday morning — especially not when he’s barely had a wink of sleep the night before!

”Come on, better not be late our first lesson with the toad…” Blaise mutters.

The Slytherins make the trek to the Defence classroom in companionable silence and it’s really a testament to how tired Harry is that he doesn’t notice the whispers that trail them through the corridors until they’ve climbed two floors. He blinks and glances behind him, catching a group of frowning Hufflepuffs huddled together outside the Charms classroom and they all glare back at him defiantly. 

”There’s always something…” Harry mutters bitterly. 

”Just ignore it”, Draco says immediately and Harry realises the haughty look of nonchalance on the blonde’s face is in fact an act, and he’s been aware of the attention Harry’s receiving this whole time. 

”It’s kind of hard to”, Harry says. ”Trust me, I know, I’ve had four years of practise!”

”They’ll get over it, they always do.”

”Yeah”, Harry says heavily. ”Until something else crops up! I’m fed up with being the school pariah!”

”You have us”, Draco reminds him firmly. 

”I know…” Harry mumbles, letting the thought fill him up with a much needed warmth. ”I know, you’re right. Sorry for being a grump.”

Draco’s lips twitch into a small smirk and his fingers discreetly brush against the back of Harry’s hand for a second, just before they reach the Defence classroom and he holds the door open for Harry. 

The toad — Professor Umbridge, Harry corrects himself. He might as well get used to the name, so that he doesn’t slip up when addressing her and call her Professor Toad or something — is already seated at the teacher’s desk when they enter the classroom. Harry’s mind flashes back to Mad-Eye Moody — or rather the imposter Death Eater looking like him — lounging in that very chair, his magical eye swivelling around in its socket and registering everything around him. 

Professor Umbridge’s lack of magical eye certainly makes her less perceptive, but something tells Harry that her two regular, beady eyes are still registering plenty…

He goes to slide into one of the seats at the back, but Draco continues walking up the aisle towards the front, the others following suit. Harry sighs and drags his feet, trailing after them. To his chagrin, the blonde chooses to sit at the very front. 

Harry takes the seat next to him and hunches down as low as he’s able, giving the other boy a discreet glare that goes completely ignored. 

He imagines he feels the professor’s eyes on him, but when he glances up at her she seems to be studying her nails. She’s still wearing the hideous pink cardigan from last night, Harry notes. But instead of the Alice band, she’s now got a small, black bow balanced on her head. It reminds Harry of a fat, black fly and it makes the woman’s resemblance to a toad even more striking. 

When the last stragglers have taken their seats, an expectant hush falls over the classroom. The professor’s face breaks into a wide, but strangely insincere smile and Harry shivers slightly. 

”Well, good morning!” she says in a slightly exaggeratedly clear voice.

”Good morning”, the students mumble as one. 

”Tut, tut”, Professor Umbridge says, standing up behind her desk. ”That won’t do. I should like you all to please reply ’Good morning, Professor Umbridge’… now, let’s try that again, shall we? Good morning, class!”

A stony silence rings out in the classroom for a whole second and Harry feels a thrill when he sees the woman’s fake smile twitch and a glint of panic flare up in her beady eyes. 

”Good morning, Professor Umbridge”, the students obediently repeat, a decidedly chilled tone to their collective voice. 

Professor Umbridge’s smile widens again and she straightens up to her fullest height (which isn’t very impressive, but she still manages to look imposing behind her teacher’s desk), and Harry is perversely pleased to see that her forehead is a little shinier now.

We made her sweat, he thinks gleefully. 

He doesn’t know why he feels such vindictiveness towards the new teacher. There’s just something about her… but most likely he’s just feeling frustrated from lack of sleep and once again being the subject of vicious gossip, not only amongst the other students at Hogwarts, but the wizarding world at large, and he’s simply taking those frustrations out on the first available target. 

But I’m a teenager, I’m allowed to, he thinks wryly. 

”Well”, Professor Umbridge says shrilly, her smile persisting stubbornly but her face getting shinier by the second. ”Wands away and… er… quills out, then… please…”

While the students tuck their own wands away and pull out parchment, ink and quills instead, Professor Umbridge swirls around and taps the blackboard with her wand. Immediately words appear on it: ”Defence Against the Dark Arts — A Return to Basic Principles”

”Now”, Professor Umbridge says, turning back to face the class. ”It is my understanding that your teaching in this subject has been very disrupted and fragmented, so far, isn’t that right?… no consistency… constant changing of professors, many of whom didn’t even follow a Ministry-approved curriculum and one who wasn’t even human!” 

The short woman lets out a shrill tinkle of laughter, but it quickly dies down again as her eyes flit nervously between the students. Harry feels Draco’s fingers brush against the knuckles of his clenched fist and he realises the quill he’s holding has snapped in two between his fingers. He quickly drops the two pieces on the desk and hunches down in his seat again. A quick glance around the classroom tells him he’s not the only one glaring daggers at the professor and that, at least, cheers him up slightly again. 

”Well, I mean to say…” Umbridge croaks and lets out another tinkle of laughter. ”I only meant… no wonder you’re so far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year… but not to worry! We shall soon fix that!”

Swirling back around, she taps the blackboard once more and the words are quickly replaced with three bullet points:

• Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
• Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
• Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use. 

”Hem, hem… yes… as you can see, we will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year… hem, hem… copy this down.”

Another stony silence spreads throughout the class. Harry watches the woman with narrowed eyes, willing her to meet his gaze but she seems intent to look everywhere but in his direction… Harry feels his heart thud excitedly as he continues to stare her down, sure she must feel his eyes on her, even if she pretends not to… a small bead of sweat swells on her brow and slides down the side of her face suddenly and Harry smiles. She quickly bats the drop of sweat away with a trembling hand.

”Now… p-please…” she adds loudly. 

Harry keeps his hands clenched into fists on top of the table and continues to stare at her, even when the scratching of quills against parchment erupts all around him as his classmates finally comply. He can hear Blaise whisper something to Draco about using spells, but doesn’t tear his eyes away from Umbridge. 

Her eyes dart over to Blaise and Draco next to him. 

”There is no need to talk”, she tells them pointedly. ”Did you have a question about the course aims?”

”Well, actually, yeah”, Blaise says. ”Ma’am.”

Umbridge’s eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. 

”And your name is?”

”Blaise Zabini.”

”Well, Mr Zabini, if you just read the course aims carefully, you’ll see they’re perfectly—”

”They don’t mention using defensive spells, ma’am”, Blaise cuts in clearly. 

”Using spells?” Umbridge repeats and titters. ”Well, I don’t see why you would possibly need to use spells in my classroom, Mr Zabini…”

”What?” Harry blurts out. ”We’re not going to—?”

”Students will raise their hands, if they wish to speak, in my class!”

Harry debates with himself for a second, but finally decides to drop it and instead goes back to staring the professor down. 

Finally, her beady eyes flit over to meet his. 

”Yes, Mr Potter?”

Harry feels Draco’s knee knock against his own under the table. He maintains the eyelock with the professor for another second, but then he looks away and begins to dig through his bag for a new quill. 

”I asked you a question!”

Harry ignores her and upends his book bag on top of the table. His books and wand tumble out with a loud clatter… no quill… 

”Mr Potter!”

”What?” Harry snaps.

He looks up again and pins the woman with his coldest stare. 

”I didn’t have my hand up.”

”I will not tolerate insolence in my class!” Umbridge says, her shrill voice breaking slightly. 

”Fine”, Harry says. 

”You will address me as Professor Umbridge or Ma’am—”

”Fine, ma’am.”

”—and you will do as you are told. Now copy this down, and quickly! Everyone is waiting, Mr Potter—!”

”I can’t copy it down, Professor”, Harry says. ”I haven’t got a quill.”

Umbridge seems to still then, her narrowed eyes boring into Harry as another insincere smile splits her flabby face in two. Harry frowns.

”Then you can borrow one of mine, Mr Potter…” she says, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes glittering.

”That’s okay, Professor”, Draco says. ”I have an extra quill that Harry can borrow.”

Umbridge face falls slightly, but she quickly recovers and gives Draco a small nod. 

”Thank you, Mr…?”

”Malfoy, ma’am”, Draco mumbles. 

”Mr Malfoy, of course… well, Mr Potter, wasn’t that nice of Mr Malfoy? I daresay you’ve got no more excuses now?”

Harry says nothing, just accepts Draco’s spare quill when he hands it to him and quickly scrawls down the words on his parchment. 

”The rest of you, please turn to page five in your copies of Wilbert Slinkhard’s Defensive Magical Theory and read ’Chapter One, Basics for Beginners’… there will be no need to talk.”

Harry quickly finishes scrawling down the last bullet point, then reaches for his DADA book and turns to page five and begins to read. The text is so mind-numbingly boring, Harry catches himself re-reading the same sentence at least four times, and he still has no idea of what he’s actually read. 

”Yes, Miss…?”

”Greengrass, ma’am.”

Harry looks up and cranes his neck so he can see Daphne at the other end of the table, her hand still in the air. 

”Did you have a question about the chapter, dear?” Umbridge says in a sickly sweet voice. 

”No, ma’am”, Daphne says, lowering her hand again. ”I just wanted to clarify — about the course aims—”

”I don’t think there’s any need for that”, Umbridge says, still as sweetly. ”It’s perfectly straight-forward dear.”

”So we’re not going to be practising any spells? At all?” Daphne asks, a little incredulously and then catching herself and adding a muttered ma’am. 

”We are going to be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free—”

Harry snorts. 

”—way! Yes, Mr Potter, you had something to say?” she adds, the sweetness now gone from her voice. 

”No, of course not, Professor”, Harry says with feigned innocence. ”I didn’t have my hand up, did I—?”

”Mister Potter—”

”But now that you mention it”, Harry interrupts loudly. ”If we’re going to be attacked—”

”Ten points from Slytherin!”

”—it’s hardly going to be risk-free, is it?” Harry ploughs on stubbornly. ”So what’s the use of—?”

”Mr Potter! Do you think you’re very likely to be attacked in my classroom?” Umbridge asks in an even louder voice. 

”It wouldn’t be the first time”, Harry says. 

A few of his fellow Slytherins snicker behind him and Harry smirks, without tearing his eyes away from the now rather flustered professor. 

”Well”, she says, drawing herself up. ”That just goes to show, doesn’t it… you have all been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponisble indeed! Not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds—!”

Harry’s smirk falls and he feels white hot rage flare up inside his chest. 

”If you mean Professor Lupin, he’s the best teacher we’ve ever had”, Pansy says loudly and Harry feels a surge of gratitude to the girl, but it’s not nearly enough to put out the bonfire of pure hatred he feels for Umbridge in this moment. 

”Hand, dear!” Umbridge snaps. ”Now, as I was saying, you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you’re likely to run into Dark wizards every other day, but…” she lets out another tinkle of laughter, except it sounds decidedly strained now. ”How likely is that, really, if you think about it, I mean… who do you imagine would even want to attack children such as yourselves?”

”Oh, I dunno”, Harry says loudly. ”Maybe Lord Voldemort?”

A heavy hush descends over the class and Harry feels the weight of ten pairs of eyes on him, but refuses to look away from Professor Umbridge. She, on the other hand, is now definitely avoiding his eyes again and her fake, sickly smile has dropped from her face finally. 

”Now, listen to me…” she says softly, her voice quivering in a show of sincerity. ”You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —”

”He wasn’t dead”, Harry snaps angrily. ”But yeah, he’s returned —!”

”Mr Potter, you have already lost your house ten points, do not make matters worse for yourself”, Umbridge rattles off in one breath, still without meeting his eyes. ”As I was saying, you’ve been told a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. Now let me reassure you—”

”He is at large”, Harry bites out and Draco slams his knee hard against Harry’s under the table, but if Umbridge has heard him she pretends not to. 

”This is a lie—”

”It’s not”, Harry hisses. 

”A blatant lie constructed to spread fear and create chaos—”

”It’s not a lie!” Harry barks. ”I saw him, I fought him!”

”Detention, Mr Potter!” Umbridge cries and he catches an almost triumphant light flare up in her eyes, just before she turns her back to him. ”Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office… I repeat, it is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizards. But if you are still worried, by all means, come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. You see, I am here to help. I am your friend—”

Before Harry knows what he’s even doing, he’s thrust his fist into the air. Professor Umbridge insinctively turns her head towards him, but quickly catches herself and turns her back to him again. 

”Don’t…” Draco hisses next to him, but Harry ignores it. 

”So Viktor Krum, he just dropped dead of his own accord, then, according to you?” Harry says loudly to the woman’s broad back. 

”Only you can account for what happened to Viktor Krum in that maze, Mr Potter” Umbridge says coldly. ”And although I admit a resurrected Dark wizard with a murderous plot serves as an excellent alibi, if no such Dark wizard exists, we might ask ourselves who did kill Viktor Krum, now, mightn’t we?”

”What?” Harry says.

Umbridge slowly turns around and meets his eyes again. 

”Or, we can agree that his death was a tragic accident…”

”We could, but that doesn’t make Voldemort any less real”, Harry growls. 

Professor Umbridge simply stares back at him. Harry focuses on the hard thumping of his own heart, every beat another second ticking by… he counts eight of them, before the professor moves. Without breaking their tense eyelock, she slowly takes her seat behind the teacher’s desk again. Then she reaches for her quill and a piece of parchment. 

”Come here, Mr Potter…” she says softly, scribbling something quickly on the piece of paper. 

Gritting his teeth, Harry stands up and stalks over to the desk. She finishes her scribbing and rolls up the small parchment again, sealing it with a tap of her wand before handing it to him. 

”Take this to Professor Snape, dear…”

Harry snatches the roll of parchment from her without a word and whirls around, stomping out of the classroom and slamming the door shut behind him.