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Fic: 'Nineteen Years Later' 4/? HP/DM NC17[Aug. 1st, 2007|05:32 am]

Title - Nineteen Years Later
Author - [info]softly_sweetly
Beta - She Who Is Too Awesome To Be Named (or [info]potion_lady for the brave)
Rating - NC17
Word Count - 1526
Summary - The war is over, and now things can begin anew
Characters/Pairings - *snickers* who'd you think? All right – Harry/Draco
Warnings - Highlight for warnings *Canon to DH:UK:600 Adult Language, Slash, Sex, Angst, Total Fandom Cliches and slight OOCness, because apparently that's okay*
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story
Author's Notes - Are any of you truly surprised?

Harry stood in the shower, the steamy water rolling down his body as his mind wandered. For being thirty seven, he still had a nice body; no strange flabby bits or random sproutings of hair. Victoire assured him he looked younger than his years, and that the lines around his eyes and mouth were from laughter. But then she had a vested interest in keeping him sweet, so he took her words with a pinch of salt.

'I wonder if Draco thinks I look younger than my years?'

The thought startled Harry, and he cursed as shampoo dribbled into his eye. Tipping his head up to let the water hit his face and soothe his stinging eye, Harry went back to his thoughts. He'd realised soon after Dumbledore's death that Malfoy wasn't at fault, and if he were honest with himself, he could look back now and see a boy who was simply trying to please his parents, to live up to the expectations placed on him.

Though they hadn't been friends by any stretch of the imagination, they'd always swapped polite greetings when they bumped into each other, which hadn't been that often. So Harry didn't really understand the sudden interest in Draco Malfoy, or how he could be simultaneously interested in him and yet still think he was an arrogant prick at times.

The area where he was the biggest prick was definitely – still, Harry thought wryly – school. Draco seemed disbelieving that Harry was truly teaching at Hogwarts, and though a small voice in the back of his head pointed out that Harry didn't believe it either, and that he and Draco were unerringly asking the same question when no one else would, Harry was stung by Draco's doubt. Admittedly, he was still finding his feet, and there were still days when he cursed Pansy long and loud. But for the most part Harry liked teaching. Maybe it was the subject; knowledge of Muggle customs made it much easier to explain them in a way the students could understand.

But Draco remained unconvinced, getting in sly little barbs and digs whenever he got the chance. Harry was reminded forcefully of Severus, and wondered if maybe the Potions classroom was cursed, turning all teachers who worked in it into sarcastic, bad-tempered bastards with snapping robes.


Somehow, the process of thinking about Draco (and Snape a bit too, but Harry really didn't want to dwell on that) had convinced his hand to glide down his body and wrap around his cock. And no matter how hard he tried to picture this month's Playwizard centrefold, as his hand worked his mind never strayed far from thoughts of the blonde…


"Nice hair, Sir!"

Teddy grinned at the third years, screwing up his face to add electric blue streaks to his turquoise hair, grinning wider as they laughed and gasped. He bumped into Harry in the Entrance Hall, getting a crooked grin from his Godfather, the man who had raised him along with his grandmother. "Morning, Harry."

"Teddy boy. You supporting Ravenclaw in today's match, or are you heading down to Hogsmeade to meet up with the lovely Victoire?"

Blushing, Teddy chose not to answer that question, instead honing in on Harry's faulty information. "It's Gryffindor playing Slytherin now – half of Ravenclaw have come down with flu. Did you not know?"

"No! When did that happen?"

"Well, I ran into Professor Flitwick on my way here, and he told me. So maybe it only happened late last night, while you were holed up in Professor Malfoy's rooms…"

Harry coughed, damning the blush that raced up his cheeks. He'd only gone to find out what the twins had done to get three nights of detention with Draco; they'd been adamant it was unwarranted. So, maybe he'd loitered around until it became blatantly obvious Draco wasn't going to ask if he wanted a drink ('Or jump you', the annoying voice added). "You know full well I was there on school matters."

Ted shrugged, ducking the hand that came up to swipe him round the head. "Whatever you say, Professor Potter."


Lee Jordan's daughter had inherited his quick wit, scathing tongue, and ability to duck McGonagall's attempts to commandeer the microphone.

"And that was a disgusting foul by Autumn Rogers, apparently having perfect curls means it's okay to shove your opponents off their brooms!"

"Kianna Jordan!"

"Sorry, Professor! You're right, those curls are rank!"

Harry sniggered, watching Lee and Angelina's fourteen year old hellion duck McGonagall's attempt to de-mike her again. But his attention was soon drawn back to the game, and Harry eschewed Professor-partiality to jump up and yell cheers when Gryffindor scored again. He could see Draco out of the corner of his eye, and turned to grin at the scowling blonde. "Remind you of school, Malfoy?"

"Fuck right off, Potter."

Harry would have responded, but he'd just spotted the Snitch. Turning round, he was impressed to see the Gryffindor Seeker streaking towards it. The Seeker, Adrian Rawlins, was incredibly good, and he was almost on top of the Snitch when two Bludgers came barrelling towards him, and he had to swerve to avoid losing his head. In the cries of foul play, the Snitch was lost, and Harry felt a familiar burning rivalry rise inside him at the smug, satisfied look on Draco's face.


Harry grinned as he headed back to his rooms – Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin 420:260 and he hoped Teddy would be back so they could celebrate. He turned around in the Entrance Hall, having been trying to head up to the Gryffindor common rooms and not his private rooms, and almost walked into Draco. "Malfoy. Enjoy the game?"

"Fuck off."

Draco snapped past him, and Harry felt like he'd been punched. The students in the vicinity seemed oblivious to the altercation, but Harry was not going to let that lie. Giving chase, he caught up with Draco, resting his hand on the blonde's shoulder and spinning him around. "You always were a shitty loser!"

"And you always were a gloating bastard!"

"How does a friendly enquiry equate gloating? You're such a prick sometimes!"

Draco lost his temper. Drawing his fist back, he wasn't a teacher anymore. He wasn't even an adult. He was a fourteen year old boy faced with the one person who always beat him without even trying.

And then he was a man with blood on his fist and an irate Gryffindor lunging at him. Draco grunted as a fist connected with his jaw, and then it was a free-for-all. The force of Harry's lunge had knocked them backwards, and Draco only just managed to twist out of the way and avoid Harry landing on top of him. He hit his side hard on the stone floor but ignored the flare of pain in favour of flipping onto Harry and thumping the brunette again.

Harry growled and focused all his strength on flinging Draco off him, pinning the blonde beneath him and drawing his fist back. Goddamn, but the blonde was infuriating, and Harry pushed his fist forwards, but was yanked backwards by an invisible force.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?"

Suddenly, Draco was a teacher again. A teacher looking up through a swollen eye at his irate Headmistress and half the school population.


Pansy was so angry she couldn't see straight, the only things she could see were the two men sat in front of her desk. "How dare…how could…" taking a deep breath, Pansy began again, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"He called me…"

"He started…"

Losing her temper, Pansy brought her hand crashing down, transfiguring thin air into a long wooden ruler that smacked into the desk like a gunshot, startling both men into silence. Still holding the wood, and not entirely sure she wouldn’t be bringing it down on a softer target in the near future, Pansy spoke in a low hiss that positively dared either one of them to question or interrupt her. "You are adults. You are teachers. You do not wrestle in the corridors in front of the whole school. I assumed that I could safely hire both of you because you were both over your stupid childhood rivalry. Evidently I was mistaken! You will be in the detention room at seven tonight, and you will be there at seven every night until you either sort this out and ensure this afternoon never gets a repeat performance, or until you have decided which of you will be handing in your notice."

"You're putting us in detention? We're not eight!"

Draco regretted the words immediately, cowering back in his chair at the look Pansy gave him. He briefly thought she'd developed the ability to speak Parseltongue; her voice was naught more than a dangerous hiss, but then his brain caught up to her words.

"Then prove it!"

Neither daring to complain or question her, Harry and Draco didn't even dare scowl at each other as they were dismissed with a flick of Pansy's hand, scurrying away before she could change her mind and kill them both.

Author's Note - one of the names in this chapter was a reference to a movie actor. Tell me the reference, and you get a drabble, just leave me the prompt and pairing of your choice with your answer. No clues, other than that it makes the books movie-canon *looks mysterious*
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