Learning to Live

Chapter Five: Strange Return

It was definitely odd to be stepping on the stones of Hogwarts again, Draco decided, but it wasn't as bad as he had hoped. He kept his hood down, his face dimmed and darkened magically by its shadow so none could recognise him. It also helped because none could see the expressions drifting over his face. So many memories had passed by here, so many dangers. He had walked along the halls so many times in so many different moods. Who would have ever thought he'd pass through the doors with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley at his side as co-workers and friends? Or at least, they could be friends if Draco had allowed it.

Students gave the three Aurors wide berth, eyes growing large as saucers when they saw the silver star on their robes, the discreet hoods, and the swift and silent way they walked, or rather, stalked down the hallway. A first year was so nervous that he crashed into Draco as they passed each other, his books knocking over, one particularly thick Transfiguration text knocking into Draco's knee with surprising violence. With his wand quicker than he should have, due to his Auror reflexes, Draco slowed the fall of the other books and helped the shaking first year to his feet.

"Sorry, sir, really, I am very sorry," the child muttered, clearly disturbed by his own actions. "It's just, we've been celebrating the victory, and I didn't get any sleep. I'll be quicker on my feet next time." The child looked up at Draco's dimmed face, and he was glad for the disguise; the look of surprise that he knew crossed his own face would not have been very good to see.

"Don't think on it," was Draco's terse, clipped reply, handing the boy his books as Harry pulled him onwards towards a stone gargoyle. It was nice enough, consolation enough in all their hearts, that despite the terrible deeds they had had to commit and the blood-curdling sacrifices they offered, that their final vengeance could lift the darkness from childrens' hearts.

"Smarties," muttered Harry to the gargoyle, and the three stepped onto the moving platform. What had he gotten himself into? A few minutes ago he had been placed in the humble but secure prospects of staying at Potter's miserable little flat where he could languish, isolated from the magical forces to which he had been so accustomed. Now he was, instead, nursing a bruise on his knee and stepping into Dumbledore's office to ask him about his own father.

"Ah, Harry, Ron, Draco, what an excellent surprise," Dumbledore said, aged severely and staying in his chair. He motioned for them to sit down in the three comfortable poufs before him. "Your letter said nothing of your business; what is the matter?"

"Lucius Malfoy's disappeared," replied Ron as they drew back the hoods of their cloaks, Draco taking off the Shielding Charm. "We were wondering if you had heard any information about it, , Headmaster."

"It is never a problem, of course, to give you any information I have to offer. The trouble is, I haven't any intelligence on the whereabouts of Draco's father. None have given me any information at all," replied Dumbledore, trying not to look troubled. This could put a serious damper on the situation, particularly when Lucius was so important to Voldemort's operations. The senior Malfoy could possibly be the next Voldemort himself.

"We only hoped, Professor," replied Ron. None could quite ever bring themselves to call him Albus. They simply could not acclimate to the idea. They had not had the time to mature into that stage. Maybe they could finally grow up the proper way now, instead of being raised amongst battle plans and terrors, their first fumbles of romance after murders and battles (the Weasleys making desperate love right after Sirius' death), their small philosophical confessions blurted out in the heat of war (Malfoy admitting for the first and last time that he was afraid as they readied an ambush on his own uncle).

"Yes, but for now, I'm sure you wouldn't mind staying, Ron, as I discuss their possible positions with Harry and Draco? Good. I know you must be very surprised to receive your letters so soon, but we felt, Professor Lynch and I, that it would be something you could all look forward to. Don't you think so?" Dumbledore inquired hopefully. It was a perfect sort of arrangement, really. Potter and Malfoy would certainly not be staying on as Aurors; they'd done their part and now wanted lives. This was a perfect reinstatement into the world.

"With all due respect, sir, I cannot teach children while most of them would be more than eager to hex and hand me in to my own comrades, who would laugh, yes, no harm done, except only Minister Weasley knows of my employment outside of our Auror division. Should the students tell the Ministry or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement..." Draco trailed off. It didn't bear thinking. There had been talks of traveling Dementor packs to administer the Kiss on sight of Death Eaters. The Aurors were only a semi-autonomous branch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; if news of his appearance went to the upper echelons first, Draco might not wake up the next time he went to bed.

"Ah, well, my sources tell me most of the Death Eaters have not only been found or tracked, but that many are out of service and willing to bring their fellows in. Less work for you, obviously. So I think we can take 'Voldemort's right-hand man and wanted Death Eater' off your Chocolate Frog card by tomorrow, if you know what I mean. It warrants a Daily Prophet front pager, just like today's," replied Dumbledore, gesturing to the photograph of Harry in front of the Ministry building with a cloaked and disguised figure of Draco. It had obviously been taken incognito, but the headlines blared "Victory!" and underneath, "Harry Potter Defeats Dark Lord Yet Again."

"Do I have a chocolate frog card?" asked Draco, a bit stunned by the news. All the Death Eaters? How could it be?

"So does Harry," Ron volunteered. "I still keep a collection. What, not any time for chocolate frogs, eh, Draco?"

"Not so lucky," smiled Harry. "So this means we can teach at Hogwarts?" Draco didn't say a thing. Would he even want to each a bunch of immature little wizards and witches who could never understand what their elders had sacrificed for them? What they had given, their innocence, their lives, their youth, some of the best years of their growth, to protect these brats' futures? One of them had already done enough damage to Draco's knee, even though he could have healed it with a simple spell. Then again, the child had been so afraid of him. Could he and Harry get rid of that fear? He could be like Snape, possibly, only more reasonable and less of a survivor. Snape was possibly the best at knowing how to stay alive. Draco wasn't so lucky--as his scars attested, particularly the one on his chest.

"Why not Hermione?" he asked. "Or Ron? Why us?"

"As teachers, you need to undergo certain background tests regarding your credentials. I understand you both have trials coming up. Alai Darko is very eager to have you two incarcerated as murderers, for fear of his own position once the war hype dies down. If he convicted you, it would make his job seem less of a wartime measure. Thus, it might be best for legal purposes, that not only have you been well-recommended by Hogwarts staff, but that you will have been entrusted with the safety of the children you teach, by the time the trials are under way. It'll be a great common support for the two of you. Particularly you, Draco, who already will have trouble integrating back into society. There is no imagining the doubt everyone will feel towards you and your integrity, but I hope you remember that your fellow Aurors--and I know you don't think much of me, but myself as well--will always be supportive." When Dumbledore's little speech was done, Draco kept the clear silence, deep within him the knowledge, the creeping feeling of guilt that he who had risked so much in war did not deserve friends, much less such attention.

"I'll do it if Harry does," he finally said, knowing to what he was condemning himself. "What do we have to teach?"

"You and Harry will be teaching in January of next year, a few weeks from now, so you'll have plenty of time to prepare. You won't be starting now, not so soon," Dumbledore grinned, amused with the mental image in his head of Draco Malfoy trying to control a bunch of rowdy Gryffindors.

"Er, Professor, what ARE we supposed to be teaching?" Harry couldn't help but ask, hoping he wouldn't be, stereotypically, shoved into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position where he was bound not to last long.

"Harry will be taking over Potions with a retiring Professor Snape, while you, Draco, will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts." A stiff silence followed. "Afterwards, it is my hope that one of you will take my place as Headmaster."

"But Professor, I..."

"We can't possibly..." None dared to voice a true complaint, for who would protest a job offer for Aurors soon to have little to do?

"Are you serious, sir? Do you really think we're suitable for those positions, much less Headmaster? Considering, er, past history? Draco has a much better understanding of Potions and I wasn't bad at Defence," Harry finally protested.

"That's precisely it. Don't you think that in teaching, you could learn from the students as well?" That twinkle in his eye. He must have known more than they thought. Draco, having been on both sides and known of many other dangers not Dark Arts-related, would be excellent in DADA. As for Harry, he needed some antagonism to keep him busy and away from his thoughts. Snape had not failed to stay the same still, and Harry would be getting more than enough trouble from him.

"So erm, who will be taking Madame Hooch's position?" asked Ron. Draco wondered. Surely Ron wouldn't really want to teach here?

"I rather hoped you would, Mr Weasley, but I understand you've still duties to attend to." Ron was a powerful Auror, one who liked doing his work whereas Harry and Draco had more or less done it out of necessity. Harry for revenge and expectations, Draco for reasons he had never quite explained. The wizard was good at dodging questions; he asked them as the Chief Interrogator all the time. "That's fine then. Oliver Wood will probably taking on the position of Flying Instructor, if I can get him away from his Quidditch team."

"Yes sir. As much as I am flattered by your offer, I have to decline," said Ron hastily, out of politeness.

"Good luck to you all, then. Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, you won't be needing all those interviews listed. We know your credentials enough already. Please just show us your lesson plans by next week. Harry, please send whatever you do to Severus first. Happy Christmas to all of you." They said their little platitudes, and stepped back out, passing the period in silence. Draco would be a free man soon, free enough to walk down the street without being hit by a dozen hexes along the way. He might get some stares, maybe even some hisses from those who didn't believe his so-called act, but he would be, legally, cleared. Regardless of what he might have had to do during his period as a spy. Now was the chance to live again. Right?

"Well, that's no use. I'll go back to the office and speak with Darko about you guys, get it through his head that if he's going to put you two on trial, he's going to have to put all the Aurors on trial without popular support. Don't worry, Harry, Draco. I'll get you out of this. Stay incognito while I do," Ron said reassuringly as they walked back down to Hogsmeade. "Good luck...Professors." He was still grinning when they Apparated out.

The flat was quiet as Harry unlocked the front door, letting them both in. "Hullo Lily," he murmured, picking up the cat. "Did you miss us?"

"Please, Potter, it's only noon," snorted Draco as he closed the door behind them. "Honestly, I wouldn't think you were the sort to coo over a cat, as beautiful and darling as that one is."

"Ah, so you admit she's darling!" Harry replied, holding her up before Draco. It seemed like Lily was mewling for the other Auror's grasp. "Come on then, give us a kiss."

"Eugh, you can't be serious, Harry! I'm not going to kiss your cat!" Draco recoiled, making a face of mock disgust.

"How can you say no to this face?" teased Harry, approaching Draco with his cat wielded like a weapon. "Look at those eyes, look at those whiskers! She's practically begging you! Oh, don't make her beg, Draco!"

"No, you sadist!" replied the exasperated Auror. "Aah!" Having been wounded in the heart twice, cursed a dozen times, close to death thrice, survived four days of constant Cruciatus and worse, Draco Lucius Malfoy was currently being chased around the parlour by Harry Potter and a cat. He ducked around the coffee table, dove past the kitchen counter and pulled the rug out from underneath Harry. A heavy thud told him it was safe, and he leapt up, hiding in Harry's armoire and closing the door silently behind him. He sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest in the cramped space and putting his head in his hands. The great Draco Malfoy was hiding from a tabby. Fantastic.

And just when he thought he was safe, the door flung open and Lily was pressed mere centimetres from Draco's face. Draco yelped, and they stared at each other in surprise. When her pink tongue stuck out and licked his aristocratic, small and slightly upturned nose, he gave up. "All right, you win, you win, you deranged sicko." He kissed her red nose, wrinkling his own, and clambered out of the armoire. "What's so funny?" Harry was collapsed on his bed, laughing as Lily looked on curiously.

"It's just..." Harry tried, "when I found you, you screamed like a girl!"

"I do not scream like a girl!" protested Draco, although he really did yelp in a rather feminine way. "Take it back!" A trademark smirk crossing his lips, he surreptitiously snatched a pillow from the bed, whomping Harry on the head with it. Less than half an hour from when the two most deadly Aurors entered the flat, they were laughing and giggling--yes, giggling--as they launched a fierce pillow fight on Harry's bed. Ah yes, this was a great way for future Hogwarts professors to act. When they finally drew a truce, ending the fight sans magic, the two collapsed against each other on the bed, panting and content.

"That was the most childish thing I have ever done," breathed Draco, unable to prevent another giggle from escaping him. Just two days ago he was almost dying in a quickly closing shaft of stone.

"You've got to admit, we certainly know how to have fun," Harry said. "Just shows you how much we missed over the years."

"Yes," agreed Draco almost wistfully. "What else have we missed? Alcohol? Oh I know. Girls."

"Girls?" asked Harry innocently.

"Yes, those members of the other sex who are excellent to look at? Let's go see how charming we can be, eh?" he asked, rising from where he was using Harry's flat stomach as a pillow. Potter's own real pillows were discarded somewhere in the room, the place a mess. "It'll be something new." Neither had much time to really look for girlfriends and whatnot. Others had had time off. Harry and Draco were never at rest.

"Yeah, okay," replied Harry. "I just hope we don't make fools out of ourselves. You think it's too early to do something like that? Shouldn't we be making lesson plans or something?"

"Oh Salazar, I can't think of anything to teach those brats now. Let's get sloshed first," muttered Draco, casting off his robe and heading for his own closet to rummage through the new clothes he'd purchased. "Worry about women later. Like Dumbledore said, we need to be reintegrated back into society, don't we?"

Harry wasn' t sure if he liked that smirk on Draco's face or not.