Entry tags:

hp fic, hp fic: harry/draco

So... this is my hd_inspired fic. I don't think anyone guessed :P but I'm not suprised as it's my first H/D fic... Anyway, here you go:

Author/Artist: okydoky.
Title: Hiding in Plain Sight (1/3)
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco.
Rating: NC-17. All characters are over the age of 18.
Summary: When the pressures of fame become too much, Harry Potter disappears into the Muggle world. However, when a desperate Professor McGonagall begs for his help he’s dragged back to Hogwarts, for a more difficult set of circumstances than he has come across before.
Warnings (if any): Explicit M/M sex.
Total word count: 23,000.
Original prompt request number: 189 for silver_ariel.
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta(s): leela_cat and lettiehatter.



‘Love fails, only when we fail to love’.
J. Franklin


“‘Harpies’s Star Seeker Not Bright Enough For The Chosen One’, Harry! I can’t take this anymore!” Ginny shrieked. She waved the paper under his nose before storming over to collapse onto his sofa. She threw the paper at him then folded her arms petulantly. Her tears threatened to over-spill.

Harry bent over and picked up the paper, glancing at the front page picture of Ginny talking to a man. She was standing on a Quidditch pitch, broom in one hand, the other tucking her bright red hair behind one ear. The man was her coach, and Harry was one hundred percent certain that that was all the man was. He had to admit however that the picture was incriminating. He watched as picture-Ginny tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled sweetly at her coach. A brief flicker of jealousy fired up within him, but it died down quickly.

“Ginny, I’m sorry. You know… I don’t know what I can do,” Harry said sadly before tossing the paper behind him. He flopped down into an arm chair and put his head in his hands, only looking up when Ginny let out a strangled, choked sob. She began to pace around the room, fidgeting, running her hands through her hair and throwing an angry glance at Harry every now and again.

She suddenly stood still and shook her head. “I can’t do this, Harry. I need… I think I need to leave.” Both of them knew that if Harry let her go, it would be forever.

“Ginny… you can’t. Please don’t leave. You’re the only one that understands me… I love you…” Harry said weakly.

Ginny laughed through her tears. “You can’t even say that like you mean it, Harry. I’ve waited and waited, but you still don’t feel as much for me as I do for you. Even the papers can see it Harry, why can’t you?”

Harry stood up to protest, but the glare that Ginny gave him was enough to tell him that now was not the best time to interrupt her.

“I’m not saying that I’m not good enough for you like the papers say… I’m just not the one for you, am I?” she asked.

“OK,” she said. Positive she was making this statement more to herself than him, Harry remained silent. “OK. Goodbye Harry.” Taking one last look at him, she Apparated with a soft pop out of his living room, and straight out of his life.

Harry sank back down into his chair in disbelief and stared into the unlit fireplace. The silence suddenly was too much. He walked to the fireplace cast “Incendio!” at the grate, and watched it burst into flames. Chucking a handful of silver Floo powder at the fire, he clambered into the emerald flames and shouted, “The Leaky Cauldron!” through the smoke. Tucking his elbows in belatedly, he spun through the fire and stumbled out into the pub.

After straightening himself up and brushing the ash off his shoulders he headed for the bar. The Leaky Cauldron was reasonably busy. It was just after six, so Harry assumed the majority of the patrons were workers from Diagon Alley, having a drink after work. He sighed. If he had realised what the time was before he left he’d have gone to a Muggle pub. The fight had obviously made him unable to think straight. He shook his head as if to shake the memories of that afternoon out of his head.

It seemed to Harry that as soon as he stepped up to the bar a space appeared. He frowned and stepped into it, looking straight ahead at the pub’s owner, Tom. Hannah Abbott, from school, was behind the bar as well. She didn’t see him, but as he was looking in her direction he noticed a large sign above her head.

‘The Harry Potter Special: RED CURRANT RUM!
Drank here, in The Leaky Cauldron, just last month!’

Harry groaned and slammed his head on the counter.

“What can I get you, Harry my lad?” Tom beamed.

“I think this man was here before me,” Harry said gloomily, pointing vaguely at the hag that was standing next to him. “Oh…” he said awkwardly. “Sorry, this woman….” He tucked his head into his chest in embarrassment only vaguely aware when the hag apologised to him, saying that she was very flattered that he had let her go in front of him in the queue. Such a hero. Clenching his fists as he heard this, Harry shut his eyes tightly to keep from making a scene.

“Harry!” Tom said jubilantly.

Harry looked up briefly, chucking a Galleon on the bar, before his eyes flickered back down to study a particularly interesting knot in the wood. “Er… cherry brandy on ice.”

“Coming right up!” Tom bustled away, hurriedly preparing his drink as Harry sat there, brooding. Harry knew that if he was in a slightly better mood he’d feel obligated to begin to chat with the people who were milling around him. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening today.

A cherry brandy appeared in front of him and Harry grunted his thanks, not looking up to avoid giving Tom the impression that he wanted a conversation. Thankfully, Tom took the hint and walked away. Unfortunately, when Harry turned around, nearly every eye in the pub was on him.

Without saying a word Harry downed his drink. Resisting the urge to make a face at the strong taste he put the glass down and walked straight out the door.

Almost as soon as he left, Tom pulled out his wand to change the advertisement on the wall. Cherry brandy on ice replaced red currant rum as The Leaky Cauldron’s bestseller within the hour.

Standing in the murky back yard of The Leaky Cauldron anger began to overcome Harry. He clenched his fists again and took a deep breath. A few minutes later, slightly calmer, he pulled out his wand and muttered to himself, as he always did, “Three up… two across” whilst he tapped the relevant bricks.

The atmosphere of Diagon Alley no longer excited Harry. Now he was an adult, he no longer desired the bustle of people and the shops which over-spilled with thousands of delicate mosquito wings, musty, dust covered books and opulent robes of every shape and colour imaginable were no longer desirable to him now he was an adult. As much as Ginny seemed to think he wasn’t in love with her, the problem, to him, seemed to be that he’d fallen out of love with the whole wizarding world.

Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was just across the street; Ron could always be counted on to cheer him up. He hoped he could get the first word about his and Ginny’s break-up as well. Ron had been working in the joke shop on and off ever since the war, and like Harry he hadn’t bothered finishing his NEWTS. Ron had always been protective of his family, but since the Battle of Hogwarts and Fred’s death the entire Weasley clan had gathered around to keep George up and going. Ron helped out at the shop whenever he could and Harry knew that tonight was one of his nights.

Ten feet from the front door, a voice screeched, “Harry! My darling, how are you?”

He looked across the street to see Rita Skeeter rushing over and standing in front of him. Wearing a lurid tangerine skirt with a leopard print top, she was dressed as ridiculously as ever. Harry’s eyes almost hurt to look at her.

“Rita,” Harry said through his gritted teeth. He glanced at the Weasley’s shop behind her and wished he’d made it to the door before he’d been cornered, or at least close enough to check whether George or Ron was there to come and rescue him. No such luck.

“So lovely to see you my dear,. How have you been? Ready to give me a juicy little scoop into that gorgeous little love nest you’ve got Gertie hiding in?” Jewelled golden rings on Rita’s fingers clacked together as she reached into her enormous dragon skin bag to retrieve a Quick Quotes Quill and a sheath of parchment.

“It’s Ginny,” Harry fumed, “and no, I’m not going to give you an exclusive on anything.”

Rita’s eyes glittered. “Lovely,” she said, “Lovely. I’m getting a rather hostile attitude off you today my dear. Are cracks appearing in your perfect relationship?”

Harry tried to walk past her, but she blocked his path. He knew better by now than to talk when a Quick Quotes Quill was about. Ever since his first encounter with them in his fourth year he’d been wary, especially when in the hands of Rita Skeeter. “Leave me alone,” he warned.

“Harry, my lovely, it is your duty to talk to me - ”

“NO!” he shouted. “IT IS NOT MY DUTY TO TALK TO ANYONE! YOU’RE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE, LEAVE ME ALONE!” With a loud crack, Harry Apparated straight out of Diagon Alley.

When he first opened his eyes he didn’t have a clue where he was. The evening was drawing in and the clouds overhead were threatening to burst any minute now. He was in a park, and as he looked around he suddenly realised where he was. It had been years but Little Whinging hadn’t changed one iota.

Harry stormed over to the set of swings, kicking an overflowing bin on his way. He sat down, wincing slightly as the chains dug into his thighs. Apparently, he’d grown since the last time he’d been here. The park was silent. The tiniest little sounds seemed loud. The cooing of a pigeon in tree not far away, a grasshopper in the bushes, and the kicking of his feet in the sand beneath the swing all served to temporarily distract Harry from his thoughts.

Slowly, the fight with Ginny crept back into his mind, as well as his altercation with Rita. As much as he loved Ginny, he’d quickly found that having a long term girlfriend was not what anticipated or wanted either. He knew a world without the press hounding at every opportunity was what he wanted, but how he was going to get it was a mystery.

It was over a year ago, when he and Ron had just begun their Auror training, and Hermione was taking a fast track course at Hogwarts for her NEWTs, that Harry decided to be friends with the press.

Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts he’d been constantly harassed for an interview. He always refused. He was only a tiny part of the army which had fought Voldemort. Sure he’d dealt the final blow, but the efforts of a lot of people in the war equalled, if not outweighed, his own. For that simple reason, refusing interviews had become second nature to Harry.

However, joining the Auror Department of the Ministry had meant he had made the headlines a lot more. It didn’t seem to matter that Ron had joined at the same time as him, or that Ron had also not finished his NEWTs. Harry Potter automatically made the front page. Ron never even got a mention. It didn’t bother him like it used to. Now, Ron took one look at the paper and snorted with laughter.

“Rather you than me, mate,” Ron had said, before taking a swig of his cup of tea and turning to the sports pages.

At the beginning of the Auror course, after three weeks in a row of front page headlines, Harry decided to tackle the problem of the press head on.

With Hermione’s guidance, he had contacted Witch Weekly to set up an interview. Although Harry was still very taken with The Quibbler, Hermione advised that Witch Weekly would be his best bet as nearly every witch they knew read the publication, and it was more suited to interviews.

The entire thing had been a disaster. A complete, unmitigated, cataclysmic disaster. When he arrived at their offices he was immediately dragged into a studio and pushed into a chair. A chubby, dark haired witch stood in front of him and cast a variety of charms over him. He hadn’t a clue what the majority of them did, but an awful lot of them were directed at his hair. After the witch had pronounced him complete, as if she’d just finished decorating a cake, he was pulled into a room and manhandled into and out of a number of different outfits. The entire day was a bit of a blur to Harry, and when Ron quizzed him about it later he couldn’t recall one question he’d been asked, or one outfit he’d been photographed in.

When the magazine came out a month later, Harry had almost managed to push the incident to the recesses of his mind and pretend it had never happened. But it had. He only vaguely remembered that the publication date had been mentioned.

“Harry…” Hermione had said through the fire, “the magazine is out…”

“Oh God. How bad is it?”

“That would depend on your definition of bad,” Hermione admitted.

“Have you got it there?” Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. “As soon as I got it I read it and Owled it over to you. I knew you wouldn’t have bothered to get a copy,” she said accusingly.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry sighed with relief. “How long is it going to be before I can leave the house?”

Hermione smiled weakly. “A week? I’m so sorry I suggested it,” she said guiltily.

“Oh God,” Harry whined.

“You’ll be fine, Harry,” Hermione reassured him. “You always are. I really am sorry.”

Harry forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I agreed didn’t I? It’ll be fine… Actually I guess I should take a look at the article before I say that.”

“Mmm hmm,” Hermione said awkwardly. “I should probably warn you it’s slightly more than an article… You’re a feature I suppose. There’s quite a few pictures. They’re quite flattering.”

Harry groaned. “Fine… fine. I’m going to skive off training I think… I want to see this before I see anyone else.”

Hermione nodded knowingly and understandingly. “Good idea. I have to go Harry… If you need to talk later, I’ll make sure I’m in front of the fire at six for an hour or so, all right?”

“Thanks Hermione,” Harry said gratefully. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “Talk to you soon.”

Harry smiled back at her, with only a hint of apprehension, and said his goodbyes. It couldn’t be as bad as she said. Hermione did have a tendency to exaggerate. He was going back to bed.

Harry awoke to an owl tapping at his window. He groaned, at his second rude awakening of the morning, and at the thought of what he was going to have to deal with now the article had been released. He got out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt before he went over to the window. As he opened it, a breeze came through, and he was very glad for his t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he said to the Hogwarts owl which Hermione had sent. It hooted at him as he took its package, then spread its wings and flew off into the distance.

Stressed, Harry ran a hand through his hair and then sat down heavily upon his bed. Ripping open the seal roughly, he pulled the magazine out and whimpered as he saw the front cover which pronounced him: ‘The Hottest Hero the Wizarding World Has Ever Seen!’.

There he was, dressed to the nines in some ridiculously tight Muggle jeans, his hair artfully styled, and was that eyeliner around his eyes? Oh God it was awful. He was half-naked on the front page of Witch Weekly. He doubted it anyone would care that he was edging his way out of the picture, only to be shoved back in by the editor. Why, oh why did he keep biting his lip like that, and running his hand through his hair?

He flicked to the middle spread, where there were still more pictures of him walking out of the frame. Even though he was fully clothed, somehow, all of that witch’s charms made him look like he’d just fallen out of bed after a fantastic shag.

The interview wasn’t as bad as it could be. Only a few bits had been manipulated. The interview, of course, very much focused on how much he was loved throughout the Wizarding world, but as far as he could tell, there were no outstanding, obvious lies and he supposed that was something. But, oh God… the pictures.

The week after the magazine had been published all hell had broken loose. Harry had had to have all of his post redirected and sorted away from his home after the first week after the magazine had been published. Just in that first week, he’d been sent forty-one boxes of Love Potion tainted chocolates, had seventeen marriage proposals, and twenty-nine naked photographs of witches and wizards.

At work he’d had to be taken off patrolling duty in the various wizarding towns around Britain after his patrol in Hogsmeade had unfortunately coincided with the weekend visit from Hogwarts. Ron, the bastard, had just laughed as Harry had been chased all the way down the main street. All the extra attention however, was not conducive to going unnoticed and catching criminals, so, Harry had been relegated to more desk work while the rest of the trainees got to run about the country, saving Kneazles from trees and the other menial things trainees did. It went without saying that he hated and resented it.

Ever since the article had appeared, Harry had been given a number of different ‘awards’ by the women’s magazine he’d grown to hate. Ron had found some sort of perverse amusement in the fact that Harry took Gilderoy Lockhart’s former title of ‘Most Charming Smile’ as well as the newly formed ‘Hero of the Year’.

As he sat, remembering, a loud shout from somewhere in the housing estate jerked Harry back to the present. His stomach rumbled, but the noise and funny feeling in his stomach only reminded him of food. And food reminded him of the embarrassment he’d endured, just a couple of months ago, when he’d turned up to work only to be teased for three full weeks for the headline of ‘The Harry Potter Corned Beef Sandwich Special’, complete with pictures of him eating a corned beef sandwich. He’d kicked a lot of walls that day.

His stomach rumbled again and he decided that it couldn’t be ignored. He didn’t want eat alone at home so he decided to look for a corner shop. He vaguely remembered the nearest one to the Dursleys’s house and thought he’d be able to get a sandwich from there.

He stood up, shoved his hands deeply into his jean pockets, and walked across the park straight into the housing estate. A group of skinhead boys sauntered past, giving Harry a quick look up and down. Harry smiled ruefully, remembering the days when Dudley used to be one of them. If Harry was honest with himself he wouldn’t be surprised if he still was.

Before he knew it, Harry was standing in front of Number 4 Privet Drive. While he walked the sun had almost fully set and the clouds had cleared, leaving the sky a gorgeous shade of red. Harry was reminded of a rhyme Mrs. Figg had taught him when he’d commented on the sky as a young lad: red sky at night, shepherd’s delight, red sky in morning, shepherd’s warning. He smiled and wondered how close to the Dursley’s he could get without being spotted. It then occurred to him to use a Disillusionment Charm which he quickly did, before he snuck (unnecessarily) up to the window. He had no desire to speak to them, or to make any form of contact, but there was something oddly comforting about knowing they were all right.

He stood right in front of the living room window and looked in. There they were. Aunt Petunia was sitting in an arm chair, her eyes glued to EastEnders. Uncle Vernon was sipping a glass of scotch in the chair next to hers, his feet up on a stool. The only thing that surprised him about the scene was the two people sitting upon the couch. Dudley, large as ever, and a girl, who Harry unfortunately had to admit was of a similar size to Dudley. They looked so happy. He had his arm around her, she had her hand on his knee, and they both had contented smiles on their faces. In that moment, jealousy overtook Harry with such force it left him breathless.

The next morning, when Harry was safely locked up in his flat, ignoring the tapping at the window from an owl which he knew would carry the newspaper detailing his outburst at Rita Skeeter, Harry decided to leave the Wizarding World behind to try and find a simpler life.


‘POTTER MANIA: A STEP TOO FAR?

The Wizarding World’s favourite hero has not been seen in public for nearly three months. In the beginning many people thought our dear Harry was simply taking a step out of the limelight, and attending his Auror training in secrecy.

However, it appears that since the break up of his relationship with the youngest member of the Weasley family, Ginerva Weasley, Harry has disappeared. Clearly devastated by the dissolution of his relationship with his childhood sweetheart, it appears Harry has been unable to continue to be around anything which reminds him of his red headed ex.

After months of speculation, his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley have released a statement; “It is true that Harry is no longer part of the wizarding community. We do not know where he is, and Harry, if you’re reading this, we would love for you to get in contact with us.”

Please see:
Pages 4-5 for our Potter expert’s theories on his whereabouts.
Page 6-7 for a re-cap of Harry Potter’s amazing success over You-Know-Who.
Page 8 for an update on the national cherry brandy shortage.’


The quote from Hermione and Ron was a lie, pure and simple. They were pretty much the only ones who knew where he was. Harry got news on all his old friends from them through weekly chats, and when people asked, Hermione and Ron filled people in on how he was, just not where.

He was in Loughborough, a small university town in the midlands. Harry was fairly certain that during the university term there were more students than other residents of the town. For him, it was perfect - It was busy enough to satisfy his boredom, and near enough to the bigger cities if he needed. But the best part? Harry was almost one hundred percent sure that he was the only wizard within a good few miles, and he loved it. He felt free.

Harry wasn’t a particularly fussy person. In fact as soon as he’d seen the town he’d loved it, although it wasn’t his favourite place he’d visited. Stratford-upon-Avon was the most gorgeous town he’d ever seen, but it was full to the brim with wizards gathering at the birth place of the 15th century wizard, Shakespeare. So Loughborough it was, with all its tiny streets and lack of men’s clothing shops.

He had bought a nice house in one of the quieter neighbourhoods, complete with fireplace so he could talk to Hermione and Ron every few days. Over the next few years this was a habit he kept to rigidly.

Squished up in the corner of a couch, reading the newspaper, Harry didn’t notice Hermione’s face appear in the fire. For all he knew she could have been there hours before he heard her, although he trusted her not to invade his privacy by spying on him like that.

“Harry,” she called.

Harry looked up with a start and grinned as he saw the familiar face.

“Hermione!” he said as he settled down in front of the fire. “How are you?”

“Fantastic,” she said with a smile. “Ron and I are having a few problems with caterers at the moment. Molly is insistent that we let her do it, but it’s not fair on her… We want her to enjoy the day as well, and not worry about any issues with the food.”

Harry nodded knowingly along to her as she spoke. “Couldn’t you try to distract her away from it, or something? Let her… I dunno, do the rehearsal dinner or… the decorations in the tent?”

“Marquee,” Hermione corrected absently. “That’s not a bad idea though, Harry. We aren’t having a rehearsal dinner. It’s just not done at wizard weddings, and I’m not overly fussed, but distracting her is a good idea… Maybe she could do the cake.”

“I’m sure she will be fine with that. You know what she’s like. She just wants to be included and it is the first wedding she’s had since the war,” Harry added. “She just wants to celebrate.”

“I know, Harry,” she sighed. “I know. We’ll work something out I’m sure. Anyway, how has your week been?”

“It’s not been too bad,” he said. “Not amazing but not awful. Going into town tomorrow night though, so that should be fun.”

“Oooh,” Hermione said. “That will be good. Are you going with people from work?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah it’s just the usual lot, it’s their last year this year so we figure we might as well make the most of it while we still can.”

“That sounds good Harry; I know you have some good nights out when you’re there.”

Harry blushed. If he was honest with himself, some of the nights out he had were more than good, and if Hermione knew their full extent she would be scandalised, while Ron would be proud. As it turned out the next night was going to be another one of those.

***

Harry heard a brief knock at the front door as he left the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, rubbing at his wet hair with another. He knew who it was, and he knew that they had no qualms about walking straight through his front door either.

He heard the familiar click of the door opening, Jade calling up the stairs. “Oh, Harrrrrrrrrrry.”

“You’re early,” he shouted.

“Need to get started already,” she yelled back. He heard some bags clinking with bottles and smiled.

“You do that. I’ll be down in ten minutes or so,” he called back. “Is Toby with you?”

“Nah, he just texted me; he’s running late. I’m the girl here, and I’m the only one ready! Oh, the irony!”

Harry flung open his wardrobe doors and stood in front of it for a minute. “Jade, what should I wear?” He heard a laugh from downstairs, and then someone bounding up the stairs before his workmate appeared at the door, posing in the frame.

“What do you think?” she said, with a pout.

“Gorgeous,” he laughed. “Now me?”

Harry had was a hit among the other staff his age at the art shop on the high street. They were mostly student working part time and were very keen on helping him live the student life – with no actual studying. Although Harry was pretty sure the majority of them didn’t do much studying either.

Tonight he was going into town with Jade and Toby, two of the part-time assistants who lived together in one of the student housing. Harry had learnt early on that when he did the three of them went out, they ended up… rather messy to say the least.

Once he’d been dressed by Jade, they went downstairs to find Toby, a tall blond lad, collapsed on the sofa in front of the fire.

“Hello,” Jade said. “Where did you appear from?”

“Sainsbury’s,” he grunted. “Had to get some cash out as well.”

Jade flipped her mahogany hair over her shoulder as she sat down on the floor, pulling a bottle of vodka out the bag. Toby nodded when he saw the bottle, “Six quid, Sainsbury’s?”

“You know it. The very best in petrol masquerading as vodka,” she said with a wink.

Harry laughed and pushed Toby’s feet off the end of the sofa. “What are you drinking?” he asked.

“Strongbow,” Toby replied, pulling a six pack out of the distinctive orange carrier bag. He pulled back the ring pull and grinned when it made a satisfying hissing noise. Taking a sip he advised Harry that it was, “Bloody excellent cider.”

“Very good choice,” Harry said with a nod. “I myself have some in the fridge.”

“In the fridge?” Jade said with a mock gasp. “What’s it doing in there?”

Harry grinned and went into the kitchen, returning with a large bottle. He waved it at Toby and Jade, who declared that now, it was a party.

“I think I’m drunk,” Harry slurred, four hours later. They had been in the club for an hour and a half by now. Toby had disappeared almost as soon as they had arrived. He never had trouble finding a girl to spend the evening with. Usually their nights out ended with Harry and Jade in a pizza shop, before they stumbled back to his house. Jade always slept on the couch, but Harry had a tendency to sleep in the oddest places. He never forgot the morning he awoke because Jade had to jump over him on the stairs to get to the bathroom.

Jade started giggling. “Of course you’re drunk, darling. It’s a Friday night!”

The vibrating of the bass pounded out of the enormous speakers, going right through Harry.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Harry decided.

“OK,” Jade yelled. “I’m going to the loo… I’ll come and find you in a bit!” She gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before she wandered off into the throngs of people.

Shaking himself in a bid to dispel some of the fuzziness which had filled his head, he walked towards the bar, carefully avoiding the tipsy dancers standing nearby. He weaved himself into the queue for the bar, trying to push himself as far to the front as he could, as he did want a drink within the next half an hour.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Harry said as he felt himself stand on someone’s foot.

“Don’t worry,” a deep voice said.

Harry forced himself to look up from the floor where he was trying to discern which foot he had stood on. His eyes skimmed over long legs in dark jeans and a tight red t-shirt and up to the face which that lovely voice had come from. The face was quite a lovely face as well, Harry decided.

“I’m Matt,” the man said and held out his hand. Harry was surprised by the gesture, but shook the hand. Nice and strong, he noticed dimly. Matt smiled at him, and Harry gave a shy smile back.

“Harry,” Harry said with a blush. “Let me… let me buy you a drink. To apologise for your foot.”

With a soft laugh, Matt told him, “It doesn’t matter. My foot’s fine, you’re hardly heavy. But I never turn down a drink from a good looking man,” and he winked.

Harry smirked at him slightly and nodded. “What are you having then?”

“A pint, please.”

A space opened up in front of him, and Harry slid into it, with Matt close behind. Harry could feel the other man pressed up against his side and leaned into it slightly. The motion obviously served as a hint to Matt, who put his hand on Harry’s waist, pinning him to the bar. The barmaid stood in front of Harry who ordered promptly, pulling a crumpled up note out of his pocket. The two men took their drinks and Harry smiled. It had been a while since Harry had met anyone he was attracted to this much and even longer since he had felt comfortable enough to pursue it.

Since being in Loughborough and the experiencing the freedom which accompanied it, Harry had realised that he was attracted to men as well as women. However, more often and not he was finding himself wanting to take a man home rather than a woman. Taking someone home from a club wasn’t a common occurrence for Harry though. A couple of times they had been one offs, a few had lasted a month or so, but never anything particularly substantial.

“Want to come and sit down for a bit?” Matt asked. Harry nodded happily, and followed Matt over to the other side of the club where there were a few seats free.

Harry sat down onto the sofa, making sure there was enough room for Matt to squeeze in next to him. Matt did so, putting an arm over the back of the sofa. They began to exchange the usual pleasantries for a few minutes before Harry noticed that a hand was now on his thigh, and slowly moving up. The club may have been dark, but Harry knew well enough that they were unlikely to get away with very much at all in a place like this.

Moving his lips towards Matt’s ear he whispered, “I want to kiss you… but we should leave here first.”

Harry was amazed at how fast the gorgeous blue eyes dilated and before he knew it he was being pulled up off the sofa with a growl and dragged out of the club. Looking round wildly on his way out he managed to catch Toby’s eye. Toby raised an eyebrow at him, but nodded. Harry knew that now Toby knew he had left he would keep an eye on Jade and at least stick her in a taxi. But that thought was quickly dispelled from his mind as he heard the bouncer say good night to them on the way out the club.

They stopped around the corner, and Harry was finally able to get a good look at Matt under the light of the street lamps. He was tall, at least 6’3” Harry guessed. Harry himself had not ended up particularly short at 6 foot exactly, but Matt seemed to tower over him. He had sandy blond hair which had looked darker in the club, although Harry wasn’t complaining as he had a thing for blonds. Harry couldn’t stop looking at his piercing blue eyes either.

“Do I get a kiss now?” Matt asked.

Harry grinned. “Well… if you can wait two minutes, my house is just around the corner.”

Growling again, Matt nodded, and they walked in silence down the streets. Harry was exceedingly aware of how fast his heart was beating in his chest, and that his palms were starting to sweat slightly. He wiped his hands in what he hoped was a discreet manner down his trousers –he hated sweaty palms.

Harry went up the stairs to his front door, Matt was on his heels, hands on Harry’s waist, lips on Harry’s neck. Harry fumbled with his keys, unable to do it properly. Eventually, he got the key in the lock, only to find he couldn’t turn it properly, and wandlessly opened the door. He took the key out, and the two men fell into the house, unable to take their hands off one another. The door shut with a bang.

“Will we wake anyone up?” Matt asked, as Harry pulled off his t-shirt.

“No,” Harry replied as he took his own top off, and pulled Matt down to kiss him, finally, fucking finally. Harry slipped his tongue between Matt’s lips, deepening the kiss as he slid his arms around Matt’s neck. He could feel Matt’s cock hard against his knee, and knew his own was in a similar state, Matt moved up against his leg, gasping into his mouth.

Harry pulled away momentarily and standing on his tiptoes, rested his forehead on Matt’s. “Upstairs?” he asked, staring into bright blue, severely dilated eyes. Matt nodded. Harry took him by the hand and pulled him up the stairs, losing belts and shoes on the way.

As soon as they got into the bedroom, Harry pulled down Matt’s trousers and pushed him onto his bed. As ever, his bedroom was a tip, he thought as he tripped over a towel he’d left on the floor. He looked at the nearly naked man lying down on his bed, propped up on his elbows, staring at him with lust and smiled predatorily.

“Come here,” Matt said.

Harry raised his eyebrows and took of his glasses and placed them very deliberately on the chest of drawers behind him. “Patience,” Harry chided. He slowly took his jeans off as well, folding them before he put them down. He then heard the growl he had been waiting for, and moved onto the bed. Harry’s heart was pounding in anticipation for the release sex brought him and the control it gave him. It was such a rush.

He straddled Matt’s hips, running his hands up and down lightly muscled arms. Matt’s hands immediately began to roam Harry’s body, his fingers threading through the small expanse of hair on his chest, tweaking at Harry’s nipples and teasing at the trail of hair that lead beneath his boxers. Matt’s hands dipped beneath his boxers to grasp at his hard cock and Harry gasped at the feeling of the hand moving up and down, pulling him off.

Harry revelled in the sensations for a minute before he moved down to pull Matt’s boxers down and throw them over his shoulder. Taking the opportunity, Matt removed Harry’s as well then pulled him up so they were lying side to side and could kiss properly. Oh Matt was a good kisser, hard and passionate. Lips were trapped between teeth then soothed by gentle tongues. Harry could taste the bitter flavour of alcohol in Matt’s mouth, and knew it would be his taste as well.

Pushing himself up, never letting his lips separate from Matt’s, he swung his leg over so Harry was again straddling the man beneath him. Finally taking his mouth away, Harry gave him a grin and moved down his body, taking his time to lick the brown nipples he encountered on his way then kissing all the way down to his cock.

Matt groaned and thrust his hips up in the direction of Harry’s mouth and Harry chuckled lightly. Wasting no time, Harry licked down the length of his cock before taking it into his mouth. Before Harry knew what was happening, Matt had dragged one of Harry’s hands up to his mouth and sucked two fingers.

Harry knew exactly what it meant and it was confirmed when he heard Matt gasp, “Fuck me.”

Harry pulled his hand back, before putting one, two fingers into Matt’s arse. Releasing Matt’s cock, Harry reached over to the bedside table, hastily put a condom on and took the lubricant out and smeared some on his cock. He withdrew his fingers from Matt, lubricated them and plunged them back into the deep warmth to stretch him out properly. Matt began to move up and down on his fingers, moaning and writing in Harry’s bed, and that was it, Harry couldn’t take it any more. He pulled Matt’s long pale legs over his shoulders, before he slowly pushed himself inside.

“It’s OK… I’m OK, just… please…” Matt begged, and what little restraint Harry had left was gone, and began to thrust harder, deeper.

Harry could feel Matt pulling himself off beneath him, and he batted the other man’s hand away, wanting to finish the job himself. It barely took a minute before Matt came, the warm liquid spilling down Harry’s hand. The contractions of Matt’s muscles dragged Harry to the edge, and with two final, clumsy frantic thrusts Harry came as well.

Collapsing on the bed next to Matt, Harry kissed him once more before burying himself within the quilt. He never knew what to do or say after having sex with someone.

Matt moved around and Harry turned over to look at him.

“Stay if you like,” Harry said quietly.

Matt smiled in the darkness. “I think I will, won’t be able to get a taxi at this time… Err, where’s the toilet?”

“Door next to this,” Harry said with a yawn.

“Thanks,” Matt replied and he wandered out the room, pulling his boxers on as he went, but not before Harry managed to have a look at the nice arse he had just been in. Harry was fast asleep before Matt returned.

Harry woke up with a very heavy head the next morning. He didn’t know why he was awake, he could see through a gap in the curtains that the sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and he was definitely still tired. Stretching out slightly, his foot kicked warm flesh, and then it all came rushing back. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to remember what happened. Thinking back it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but the man was still in his bed… Harry hated the awkward conversations the next morning.

“You awake?” A voice whispered.

Oh fuck. “Yeah,” Harry said back, and reluctantly turned over.

He was pleasantly surprised at how good looking the lad was, he hadn’t been wearing his beer goggles as much as he thought. It had happened once before and had put him off meeting potential dates while drunk for quite a while. “Hi,” Harry said.

Matt smiled. “Hi. Is it OK if I get a glass of water?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks. You want one?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, thanks that would be great.” His tongue did feel like sandpaper now he thought about it. Lovely. Tasted like he’d been eating Kneazle litter as well.

Maybe last night wasn’t as much of a disaster as he’d feared.

***

In fact, that one night turned into a fun couple of months, before both men decided to call it quits for no reason other than it just wasn’t working anymore; the spark had gone.

Once the relationship was over, Harry was restless. He’d liked having a boyfriend, the thought of someone being there for him unconditionally, all the time. He was mulling over the pathetic state of his love life when a head popped up in his fire.

“Ron,” Harry said warmly, sinking down onto the floor in front of the fire. “How are you?”

“Good mate, good thanks. You all right?” Ron asked, rubbing at his nose.

“Yeah not bad… bored as fuck,” Harry laughed bitterly.

Ron snorted. “I’d give anything to be bored. Work is getting right on my arse at the moment, and Hermione is as stressed as anything about this bloody wedding,” he said.

Harry snickered. That sounded just like the Hermione he knew and loved. “It’ll be over soon, mate,” Harry said. “She’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

“As normal as she gets you mean,” Ron said cheekily.

Harry held up his hands. “You said it not me.”

“Hmm...,” Ron said. “How’s work?”

“Fine,” Harry replied with a wave of his hand. “I was offered the assistant manager position again.”

“That’s great!” Ron enthused. “Are you going to take it this time?”

“I haven’t accepted it,” Harry said awkwardly. “I dunno if I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you want it?” Ron sounded rather confused.

“I don’t want to work in that shop for the rest of my life, I’ve already been there four fucking years,” he said, laughing slightly hysterically. “It’s just everything’s changed. Matt’s gone, and so have Jade and Toby, they were in their last year at uni and have moved back home. I just… I dunno.”

Ron nodded sympathetically. “That’s shit mate. Is there no chance of you and that bloke…”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want to anyway, but he was here, and now he’s not at the same time as everything else, and it’s just a bit shit at the moment.”

“Well…” Ron said, “What are you going to do?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t got a fucking clue.”

“Tough break mate,” Ron said. “Tough break.”

Didn’t Harry fucking know it?

***

“No fucking way.”

“Mr Potter!”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly.

Just one day after he spoke to Ron concerning his lack of enthusiasm for his job at the moment, this happened. It wasn’t a coincidence, no chance. For one thing, Hermione and Ron were the only ones who knew the address to Floo to talk to him, so it had to be one of them who revealed his address to McGonagall.

“Is your Muggle life fulfilling enough for you, Potter?” Professor McGonagall said, peering at him over her glasses.

“Look,” Harry said, “I don’t know what Ron has said to you, but I’m fine. Really.” He knew he didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. His life wasn’t fulfilling, but he didn’t want to be at Hogwarts either. How could he be a Professor?

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said reprovingly, “think about it seriously. The students of Hogwarts need you, as I’ve told you. If you can think of any way in which you can take up this position, please get in touch. There are only two weeks before the start of term…”

Harry nodded. “I’m not promising anything. But I’ll think it over tonight and send my word tomorrow. Is that acceptable?” Harry was aware that he was acting quite childishly, but at this point he didn’t care; he was fuming.

“Thank you, Potter. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Harry nodded again and Professor McGonagall disappeared from his fireplace. As soon as she did he let out a groan and staggered to his feet. Harry walked to the kitchen quickly, kicking the door as he passed. Pulling a half full bottle of whiskey and a glass out of the cupboard, he poured out an inch of the amber then downed it in one, which was quickly followed by another. Pouring a third glass, fuller than the rest, Harry went back into the living room, fully intent on spending the rest of the evening brooding.

But as he sat down, he found his mind drifting to Hogwarts, rather than stewing in his own anger. Would it really be so bad to be back there? It was the first place he had called home and he had so many fantastic memories of being there as well. Plus, his experience instructing the DA had been amazing; he had loved every minute.

On the other hand, he’d be in the public eye again, which he was desperate to avoid.

Harry took a sip of his whiskey and swirled it around the glass, noticing a smudge on the rim. It was at that moment, when he realised his life had become so dull that he was noticing the smudges on his glassware, that he decided he needed a change. And a major one at that.

He looked at his wand which was balanced on top of the fireplace. Maybe there was a way he could do it. Maybe nobody had to know he was there.

But first, he had to have a word with Ron.

***

One week later, Harry had finished his one week’s notice at the art shop, put his house up for rent and was at Hogwarts. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but Harry managed to convince McGonagall to agree to let him teach under a fake name, a fake life and most importantly a new face. Much to his annoyance, he knew it was necessary that someone knew what he was doing, so, against his better judgement, he had again told Ron and Hermione where he was.

Going up the steps to the front doors of Hogwarts and walking through the familiar corridors to the Headmistress’s office he had known he made the right choice in coming back. Harry hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the smell of the grounds, the constant quiet chatter in the hallways from the portraits or the breeze which made socks a permanent requirement.

Once Harry had managed to get over his anger at Ron for telling Professor McGonagall where he was, he’d found it very easy to imagine himself back at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had asked him to come to the school a week before the term started so he would have time to settle in and so he would be able to attend various faculty meetings that took place before the Autumn term began. As soon as he had decided to go back – and probably before if he was honest with himself – he had been imagining what Glamour he would use and what his name would be.

Would he choose to have dark hair still, or go for a total change? Did he want to stand out and have bright red hair like Ron, or blonde hair like Malfoy? Harry was almost one hundred percent sure he’d stick with dark hair, if for no other reason than to blend in. One thing he knew he’d have to change was the colour of his eyes. Witch Weekly had declared his eyes his best feature on more than one occasion. Harry didn’t get it… they were just green. In his head he had a pretty good picture of the person he was going to be for the next year. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular man, not too tall, not too short, no immediately distinguishing features. Harry was quite excited about the prospect of being able to live the life he would have had if Voldemort had not been part of his life.

Early in the morning, he arrived at Hogwarts, still himself. As soon as he entered, a house elf scooted up to him and took his trunk straight out of his hands. Harry knew that there were no classes on at the moment so there would be little chance of him being seen. Not that it would matter anymore if Harry Potter was seen one last time – it would at least end the rumours that he was dead. However, when he arrived at the gargoyle, which had been painstakingly repaired after it had been destroyed in the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry was glad he hadn’t been seen.

“Liquorice wands,” Harry said. He thought it was a really nice reminder of Dumbledore that McGonagall had left the passwords as different types of sweets.

The gargoyle leapt aside and the wall split in two to reveal the spiralling staircase up to Professor McGonagall’s office. Once he reached the top, Harry knocked on the door and was almost immediately greeted with a “Come in!” from Professor McGonagall.

The Headmistress’s office had changed quite a great deal from when Dumbledore used it. The high backed chair behind the desk had been replaced with a hard looking, tartan covered arm chair. The desk, once reasonably messy, was immaculate, as was the rest of the office. It reflected Professor McGonagall’s personality, as Dumbledore’s had been a reflection of him – pure eccentricity. Harry’s eyes flicked up to the portraits crowding the walls, and noted fondly that Dumbledore was snoring lightly.

“Good morning, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said warmly.

Harry sat down into the uncomfortable chair in front of the desk. “Good morning,” he said.

“I’m surprised you didn’t apply your disguise before you came here,” she admitted.

Harry shrugged. “I figured it would be OK. It’s early.” If he was honest with himself, he’d wanted one walk through Hogwarts as himself as well.

Professor McGonagall nodded. “If you would like to apply your Glamour we can go through your story. I don’t think you will be under very much pressure in regards to your story but it will need to remain cohesive, as I’m sure you realise.”

“I know,” Harry agreed. He stood up and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Harry had never taken Moody’s warnings about blasting a buttock off seriously. It wasn’t like that actually happened was it? Harry chanted the charm which he had been learning for the last week, moving his wand in an intricate pattern and picturing the guise which he was to take on. A couple of minutes later, Harry lowered his wand. Professor McGonagall conjured a mirror for him.

The person in the mirror was definitely not Harry Potter anymore. His hair had lightened to a nondescript brown, his eyes were no longer brilliant green, but a warm brown. He had moulded his features slightly so the angles were different to that of Harry Potter’s, and his scar was gone, leaving his forehead tanned, smooth and unblemished. He had decided against changing his height or body type – he felt there was no need, robes concealed a lot.

Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly. With a flick of her wand the mirror disappeared and Harry sat back down.

“Well, Professor Sebastian Griffiths,” Professor McGonagall said, “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

Harry grinned. “Thank you very much, Professor.”

“Please, Sebastian,” she said. “Call me Minerva.”

***

It didn’t occur to Harry that he had no idea who he would be working with all year until he was settled in his rooms on the first floor.

The suite he was in was relatively big. He had a large bedroom and living room which adjoined onto his office. The classroom which he would be teaching was just down the corridor; Harry planned to go and prepare it the next day. He also had to sit down and have a thorough read of the book which had been set for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Glancing at it briefly, he had surmised that it was quite useless, but he was going to have to do the best he could with what he was given.

Professor McGonagall had given him the lesson plans from the Professor who had taught last year, and Harry had decided to follow those for the first few weeks while he found his feet. After that he hoped to come up with his own plans which he planned to tailor to the age of the students he was teaching. At the moment, all the lesson plans seemed very similar, and very vague. Useless, except as a reasonable stepping stone, and a guide to how much the students already knew.

After that though, he was on his own. However, one positive element to having six different Defence Against the Dark Arts professors over his school career was that he had a lot of experience, not all bad. He’d observed the atrocious techniques his teachers had used and knew to avoid letting Cornish Pixies get loose in his classroom like Lockhart and he knew not to only teach the theory side of things like Umbridge had. And there was of course the bits from Lupin and even Snape if he was honest with himself which he could perhaps borrow as well.

Harry soon realised that he had been sitting thinking in his living room for quite a while now, and he had missed dinner and would soon be late for the staff meeting. Harry’s stomach rumbled and he groaned. He was going to have to put up with the growling noises of his stomach all the way through the meeting. What a fantastic first impression people would have, he thought, running his hand through his hair nervously. He rummaged through a drawer in his desk for some parchment and a quill and tucked them into his voluminous robes just in case, and left, almost at a run.

Arriving down at the Entrance Hall, he was only slightly out of breath; it wasn’t too far for a power walk after all. Catching his breath for a minute, Harry moved his hand up to flatten his hair before realising it wasn’t necessary anymore. He grinned ruefully at his hand before opening the heavy wooden door to the side of the Great Hall.

As Harry walked through the door, he felt every eye in the room upon him, although not all of the teachers were there yet. He smiled shyly and blushed slightly before he sat in the first available chair, which happened to be next to Madam Hooch.

“Rolanda Hooch,” she said sticking out her hand out. He took it gratefully for a brief shake.

“Sebastian Griffiths,” he said smiling.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts?” she asked, even though it must have been plainly obvious, as it was the only teaching that had been open.

“Yeah,” Harry said. He paused for a moment before he belatedly realised he wasn’t supposed to know what she taught either. “How about you?” he asked awkwardly.

He really hadn’t thought this through. Professor Flitwick had been his professor for years, just as Hooch had been his flying instructor. How was he going to pretend that he didn’t know them at all?

“Quidditch,” she told him proudly. Her yellow eyes glinted slightly as the door opened once more, and a couple more teachers filtered into the room, taking up all but one of the remaining seats. After brief introductions to the rest of the staff – Harry was very glad the faculty of Hogwarts was a small one – he sussed out that the only teacher remaining was the Potions professor.

The teachers sat, talking amongst themselves for a few more minutes and Harry drifted in conversation after conversation blindly before he heard;

“… bloody Malfoy, late again…”

Harry’s head whipped round to the owner of the voice, who took no notice of him at all. He turned to look at Hooch.

“Did she say Malfoy?” Harry said under his breath.

“She did,” Hooch said suspiciously. “Why?”

“N- no reason,” Harry said, inwardly cursing himself for reacting. He was going to have to get better at this, fast.

“Look,” Hooch said. “I know a lot of people have heard a lot about the Malfoys, but Minerva trusts him, and that’s good enough for me. He’s done fantastic things with the Potions curriculum apparently, and he’s more than made up for behaving like a spoilt brat during the war. All right?”

She sounded very protective of Malfoy, Harry noted. He schooled his features into a neutral expression. He couldn’t very well scowl could he? Sebastian Griffiths knew very little but the published version of the Battle of Hogwarts, and had no particular reason to hate this Malfoy.

Harry nodded at Hooch. “Yeah… sorry.” He sunk down into his chair slightly, before the door flew open and Draco Malfoy rushed through.

Turning around to take a look at the man who had just thrown himself into the chair next to his, Harry was struck by how much Malfoy had changed since the last time they had been face to face. It had been at Malfoy and his mother’s trial, all those years ago. Even then they hadn’t spoken; Malfoy had simply sat there, with his hands in his lap and his eyes permanently downcast. Once Harry had finished his testimony he had left, and had only thought of Malfoy once since then, and that had been when Hermione informed him that both Narcissa and Malfoy had been acquitted, although heavily fined. Lucius Malfoy had not been so lucky and was in Azkaban. Then, Malfoy had been a skinny, sickly looking boy who needed to put on some weight and losing the hair gel. Now, the Malfoy in front of him was a man, and quite an attractive one at that. He had grown into his face, although he was still a pointy git, and had finally lost the tub of hair gel. He had also grown a couple of inches and filled out nicely, like nearly everyone Harry had known when he was at school.

Malfoy was still looking flustered as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat to call order to the meeting. Harry pulled out his slightly crumpled up parchment and bent quill. Malfoy glanced over and snorted. Harry repressed a surge of annoyance. God, he thought, Malfoy might look different but he hasn’t changed at all.

“Our first order of business,” McGonagall announced, “is to introduce our newest member of staff, Sebastian Griffiths, who is taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts. You will all of course have a chance to get to know him over the year, but I am personally very grateful to him for joining us so late.”

Harry smiled and gave a little wave which drew a few chuckles from a couple of professors. Harry was very aware of Malfoy rolling his eyes.

Professor McGonagall began to speak again. “I would like to go through the procedure for the Opening Feast if that is all right with everyone.”

Everyone in the room knew this was not actually an option.

“Draco here has offered to greet the First Years in the Entrance Hall after Hagrid has brought them over the lake. Are there any offers from anyone to lead the rest of the years into the Great Hall?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Hooch coughed. “I will, Minerva.”

“Thank you, Rolanda. Are there any other volunteers?”

Professor Sprout nodded that she would assist as well. Harry felt slightly bad, but he was going to try and keep as low a profile as possible.

“Thank you,” Professor McGonagall said. “I would also like to confirm, for Professor Griffiths’s benefit, who the Heads of Houses will be. Professor Sinistra will be Head of Ravenclaw; Professor Sprout is Head of Hufflepuff. Professor Lewis will be Head of Gryffindor, and Professor Malfoy is Head of Slytherin.”

Harry was slightly shocked, but he tried not to show it. Malfoy was certainly not keeping a low profile within the school by the looks of it. Jotting the names down quickly, he tried his best to pay attention as his stomach growled, and Malfoy launched into a long speech about his latest changes to the Potions curriculum.

The meeting had been going for an hour and a half now, and Harry was bored. In addition to this, he was ridiculously hungry. No one had heard his stomach growling yet but unless he got out soon, it was only a matter of time. He’d been pressing his hand against his stomach for the last hour, for some reason it seemed to alleviate the ache.

Malfoy kept shooting him looks that clearly meant he thought Harry was insane. It was as if he didn’t have a Glamour on at all, and he pulled a hair out of his head unobtrusively. Still brown, he was still Sebastian not Harry. The Glamour he had chosen would wear off after about four hours, he’d refreshed it as he’d hurried down to the meeting, so was actually covered for a good two hours yet.

Harry picked up his quill and began to twirl it in his fingers. The Arithmancy Professor was talking, and Harry didn’t have a clue what was being said. Malfoy had taken almost an hour to complete his speech, and now the rest of the teachers were trying to speed through their own. If there was one thing Harry could say about Malfoy, it was that he was very passionate about Potions.

Drifting in between day dreams of Shepherd’s Pie, Roast Beef and chocolate cake, Harry barely heard the meeting being called to an end. Just as Professor McGonagall began to wish everyone luck for the upcoming year, Harry felt it brewing. The biggest stomach growl in history. There was no stopping it, as it rang through the room, loud and clear.

The sound stopped everyone in their tracks. Professor McGonagall stopped talking. Malfoy began to snicker. Harry went bright red.

“Missed dinner did we, Sebastian?” Malfoy whispered as Professor McGonagall resumed speaking.

Harry nodded blankly. Malfoy snickered again.

The other teachers began to move from their seats and Harry hurriedly stood up, shoving his parchment and quill into his robes. He had almost left the room when he felt a hand on his elbow, pulling him back.

“Malfoy?”

Malfoy looked at him very strangely. “Err… yes. You can call me Draco though. Do you want me to show you where the kitchens are?”

Harry had forgotten he didn’t know his way around. “Oh… err… yes. Thank you, that would be … err… nice.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry resigned himself to the fact that Draco thought he was slightly insane. “Indeed.”

The two men left the room. Harry let Draco walk half a step ahead so it looked as if Harry was following.

“Have you worked at Hogwarts long?” Harry asked.

“A few years, yes. This will be my fourth actually. My first as a Head of House though, it’s quite nice to be doing something a bit different. A bit more challenging. Have you taught before?”

Thinking back to Dumbledore’s Army, Harry decided that it didn’t really count. “No, I haven’t actually. I’m a bit out of practise to be honest,” he laughed.

“You weren’t at Hogwarts were you?” Draco asked abruptly.

“N-no,” Harry stuttered.

Draco nodded. “I thought not. I’m sure I would have remembered you if you were.” If Harry had been talking to anybody but Draco Malfoy he would have taken the tone of his voice to be appreciative.

Nervous, Harry laughed. “Your lesson plans for the year sounded good in the meeting,” Harry admitted.

“Thank you,” Draco said. “I didn’t think you were listening. You seemed half asleep for the majority of the meeting.”

“I was trying not to let my tummy rumble,” Harry said. “Didn’t work very well.”

Draco began to laugh. It was a sound Harry had never heard before, but he found himself wanting to hear it again. “Your tummy?” Draco teased.

Harry went bright red. “Shut up,” he muttered.

That only made Draco laugh more. A minute later he had managed to calm down. “I do apologise,” he said, wiping the corner of one eye with his finger.

Harry smiled. “Don’t worry.”

Suddenly Draco stopped. Harry looked around and realised that they were at the enormous painting of the bowl of fruit. Draco stretched his arm out to tickle the pear, the painting swung open, revealing the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Harry said.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to your meal then.” Draco nodded once and turned around.

“Come and have some tea or something,” Harry blurted out. “You can tell me which students are the ones to look out for.”

Draco turned back around to face Harry and smiled gently. “All right. Although, I do have to tell you, you have to watch out for them all. It just happens to be that there are some that are just awful. No worse than I ever was though.” Draco shot Harry a conspiratorial wink and climbed through the portrait hole.

Harry followed him with a groan. “What have I let myself in for?”


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