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Fic: 'Nineteen Years Later' 2/? HP/DM NC17[Jul. 25th, 2007|06:27 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 - 2087
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?

Missed the beginning? Go here to play catch up.

Draco sighed softly as he walked up the lane towards Hogwarts. It was a long time since he'd been back here, nineteen years in fact. He still remembered it so very clearly, and he felt his stomach twist into knots. This made it all seem so much sharper – the mistakes he'd made and continued to make, the lies he'd told and the mess he'd played a part in creating. No matter how many times he heard their words, no one could ever make him feel as bad about the war as he did himself.

Though his luggage had gone on ahead, Draco had declined the carriages in favour of walking to the school. In the soft evening light, the school was beautiful. Potter had been the main figurehead involved in rebuilding the school, and it had been a successful project under his leadership.

Running his fingers up his chest, Draco ensured that the love bite from last night's whore was properly covered. The man last night had been good, but not what he was looking for. The sad thing was, he wasn't entirely sure what it was that he was looking for. He liked brunettes, that much he knew. And he was a firm bottom. But beyond those two facts Draco was at a loss.

The gentle ache in his arse as he walked thrust his mind back to the night before. A prick long enough to tickle over his prostate, but not hammer it should he need that, and thick enough to make its presence known, had been attached to an attractive "escort." That was another thing that bugged him – to listen to Pansy talk, it sounded like Blaise had a Van Gogh painting in his boxers, but Draco just found cocks…not ugly, but definitely not things of great beauty. He guessed that finding a cock breathtaking was something that came with the whole package.

Because, deep down inside, that was what Draco suspected he was looking for. Someone to love and trust. And he was searching for that someone with his galleons and a few shady contacts.

Scoffing at himself, Draco thrust his hands into his pockets and picked up his pace. The sad truth was, whores were paid not to judge him. Everyone else had their opinion of him, and for the most part those opinions weren't so good. But he had a handful of friends he could rely on, and he'd survived the war in one piece, with his parents both alive, thanks in no small part to Harry Potter.

As he lifted his head up, preparing to go into deeper thought about Harry, he saw Pansy stood by the gates. Speeding up, he ran the last few metres and pulled her into a fierce hug. "Hey you!"

Smiling, Pansy pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek and squeezed him affectionately. "Hey yourself. I'm so glad you're here! Blaise is already inside."

"Were you waiting for me?"

Pulling back, Pansy shook her head softly. "No, I was waiting to see if this letter was all a dream."

Taking the parchment from her hands, Draco smoothed it out and read the surprisingly short missive.


I have been offered a job teaching at Beaubaxtons. The pay is
substantially better, and it gets me out of this godforsaken

Sorry for the short notice,

Ginny Weasley.

"The Weaslette was going to teach here?"

"Yeah, was being the operative word. Damnit all to hell! The little bitch. I knew hiring her was a stupid idea. I'll have to cover the classes myself until I can find someone else."

Patting Pansy on the shoulder, Draco waited while she cast one more glance at the empty road before resigning herself to defeat and turned back to walk through the gates. "What was she going to teach?"

"Muggle Studies. I should have forced McGonagall to keep this job. I can understand why Dumbledore was so batty, this job drives you insane!"

They laughed, and Draco felt some of his tension ease. Maybe coming back to Hogwarts wasn't such a bad idea. After all, Pansy and Blaise both worked here, and McGonagall had always been pleasant to him when they bumped into each other. Plus, it took him away from the temptation of meaningless sex with sub-par men.

"So, I saw your cover shoot."

"Don't say a word."

"All right, all right. But you'll come up to my office tonight for a drink and to catch up? Me and Blaise have both missed you."

"Of course I will. Now come on, your first Welcome feast as Headmistress is awaiting you."


The announcement that he was to teach Potions, and that he was to have a teaching assistant, went down with little incident. Draco shot a reassuring smile at Ted, who looked a little overwhelmed being on this side of the top table. Leaning slightly towards him, Draco spoke softly. "I have to meet with the Headmistress tonight, but if you'd care to join me for a drink at nine in my office, we can talk a little about what you are expecting from this year?"

Looking relieved, Ted nodded and reached quickly for the peas, knocking his goblet over in the process.


Stretching and draining his goblet, Draco stood up and smiled softly at Pansy and Blaise. "I have to go and talk with Ted about how we're going to work and things. But over the weekend we'll catch up more, okay?"

Murmurs of assent and goodnight followed him out of the door, and Draco allowed a soft smile to curve his lips. With Pansy taking the Muggle Studies position eight years ago, and Blaise taking the Arithmancy position the year after, he hadn't seen much of his friends over recent years. Though none of them had redeemed themselves in the Final Battle, they'd begun to do so afterwards. Slowly but surely, the Slytherins had begun to claw back respect, finally earning it in the right ways.

Draco had gone to Kathmandu, studying under Nepal's finest Potions Master. He'd taught there for a while, but had soon become homesick. Returning to England, Draco had found work at the famous Leviathan Apothecary in Diagon Alley, soon making a name for himself in the European brewing circles. When Alicia Spinnet's husband had been offered a job in Visalia, and she'd left her position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts to go with him, Draco had been surprised and honoured to be offered the job. The only catch was that he would have to take on a Teaching Assistant who might be interested in becoming a Mastery student.

That scared him more than the thought of teaching children – being responsible for a Mastery student was a heady task. Taking a deep breath, he turned the corner and smiled at Ted as the young man leant against the wall outside his classroom. "Professor Malfoy."

"None of that. It's Draco."

Smiling, Ted nodded and followed Draco into his office. They walked through, into the private rooms at the back, and Ted sat in the comfy chair by the fire as Draco poured two brandies and moved to the chair opposite, levitating one glass over to Ted. They talked for most of the evening about classes and Ted's own study. When they'd ironed out most of the details, Draco refilled their glasses and leant back in his chair. "As my workload will be lessened by you, Headmistress Parkinson has arranged for us to supply the Sanctuary with a variety of potions, most notably Wolfsbane. I assume you know how to brew it?"

"Harry taught me."

"That's a no then."

Smiling, Ted took a sip of his drink. "Harry said that you never really understood his method of potion making."

"Harry said that?"

Nodding, Ted straightened up and looked at Draco, gauging his reaction carefully. "He did tell me about what happened. I know that you and I are…our family trees collide."

"A diplomatic way of saying our blood ties us but our souls do not."

Ted felt a slight flush creep up his cheeks, and tipped his head in acceptance of the point. "I…I've been wondering if…will…"

Recognising the stammered question, as he'd been thinking it himself, Draco took a chance and let his mouth speak without his brain's intervention, knowing that what came out would be the truth. "The first time you and I met was tonight. Many people learned the hard way that basing opinions on past events they weren't a part of would end in tears. I have no need of learning that lesson again. My opinion of you will be based on how you prove yourself in my classroom and in my lab. Sound fair?"

Nodding, Ted glanced at the clock and swore softly, "It's gone two, I should probably go." Standing up, he tripped over the rug and the cloak stand as he tossed a goodnight over his shoulder and left the room. Draco smiled – the boy was lucky to have inherited clumsiness off his mother in place of lycanthropy off his father – and extinguished the fire. Heading through the door that led to his bedroom, Draco unpacked his belongings with a swish of his wand and fell onto the comfy bed. Maybe, just maybe, Hogwarts could become home once more.


Harry smiled as Molly put another plate of cookies on the table. The Healers all agreed that the strain of the war had befuddled her brain. Some days she was all right, but some days she was different…not herself. Some days she was the woman that screamed 'Bitch!' at Bellatrix Lestrange and shot an Avada Kedavra curse from her wand.

And some days she was just plain odd.

The cookies were, in themselves, perfectly sane. However, the sheer number of them hinted that Molly was slightly more off-kilter than normal. Harry took one anyway, and bit into it, humming in contentment as the warm sweetness exploded in his mouth. As time passed, her episodes of inexplicable out-of-characterness got more infrequent, but Ginny's shocking departure to France had shaken Molly up.

Harry rolled his eyes and snagged another cookie. Ginny was an odd one – going from pleading for their relationship to restart to completely ignoring him. He suspected that finding him in a compromising position with Charlie had been what swung it. Still, at least she hadn't said anything to anyone – he liked that only his close friends and family knew his orientation.

His musings were disturbed by a knock on the door to The Burrow, and Harry wondered who would be calling so late. Standing up, he crossed to the door and opened it, staring in shock at the smiling face of Pansy Parkinson. "Uh…Merlin…Hi, Pansy! How'd you…"

"Apparated to the point closest to your magical signature. I was wondering if I could have a few words?"

Nodding dumbly, Harry stepped back and let Pansy in. Though her eyes widened slightly at the mounds of cookies on the table, she didn’t comment, instead smiling softly at a beaming Mrs. Weasley and taking a cookie from the offered plate. Sitting down, Harry looked at the woman expectantly. He had no idea what she could want. "How are you?"

"In a spot of bother, actually. You know, I assume, about…" Pansy paused and looked at Molly. She quickly worked out the reason for the obsessive cookie-making and changed direction. "My lacking teaching staff. I need someone to teach Muggle Studies."


"And I know you don't have a job right now, or any idea what you’d like to do."

"I can't teach, I don't know how and…how do you know that?"

Waving her hand dismissively, Pansy scoffed, "It was in the Prophet. Look, Potter, just give it until Christmas. If you hate it, I'll advertise for someone new. Please, Harry…I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

Every part of him knew this was a bad idea. He'd be a rubbish teacher, he'd end up wrestling Draco in the corridors or something and… "I'll do it."

Pansy smiled and stood up quickly, evidently desperate to leave before Harry could come to his senses; he guessed his internal shock was displayed on his face. "Fantastic, your first class is at nine tomorrow, but come to the Head's office at seven and I'll walk you through the basics. Bye, Mrs. Weasley."

And then, just like that, Harry was sat in front of a plate of warm cookies again, now a Hogwarts Professor.

With a very strange urge to wrestle Draco Malfoy in the corridors.

Chapter Three
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