After the War

Harry Potter was not surprised when an owl delivered him a letter bearing the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seal. He was only surprised that it had taken so long.

Mr. Harry Potter

44 Crescent Moon Road

Pimlico SW1 5FL London

Dear Mr. Potter,

I have perused your career record with the Ministry and your school records from both Hogwarts and Goshawk University and am much impressed. I am certainly familiar with your academic pursuits at Hogwarts on a more personal level, as well. I feel honored to have taught you while you were here and can only hope that I did well.

I hope that you will be willing to visit with me soon to discuss your career opportunities here at the school. I am under the impression that a possible teaching position was discussed with you prior to your graduation from Hogwarts. If this is the case, this invitation will come as no surprise to you. However, I realize that it has been a long time since the promise was made to you. We have only recently found ourselves in need of someone of your skills and wish that we could have availed ourselves of them sooner.

I hope that you have kept the offer in the back of your mind during your school and work career. Perhaps you are not interested in a change of career at this point in your life, but I would be very glad if you were willing to discuss the possibility and perhaps accept the position if the particulars are to your liking. Naturally, Hogwarts offers a competitive salary and benefits package, and I don't feel that I need to tell you how exemplary the school truly is.

Please send me an owl at your earliest convenience. I am free to meet with you whenever would suit you best.

Hoping we can meet again soon,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmaster

Harry read the letter twice and set it down on his cluttered desk. He went to his refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

He had been out of school for 12 years and had graduated with honors from Goshawk University in London. He had found a job with the Ministry in the Portkey Office. He enjoyed the work, but he did not find it fulfilling. And he recalled that Albus Dumbledore had practically guaranteed him a teaching position with the school when he was ready.

Harry sighed. "But is this what I really want?" he asked himself, taking another sip of his drink. "What do I want?" He racked his brain but discovered that his passions had floundered since Lord Voldemort's defeat. He had become complacent and bored and increasingly muggle-like in his personal life.

He knew he needed to respond to the letter, and he wrote offering to stop by the next afternoon.

The letter had served to remind him of his years of Hogwarts, years that had been crazy and fun but full of tragedy. Sirius Black had been killed in his fifth year, and Harry had fallen into a deep depression coupled with drug use and promiscuity, anything to end the pain of losing what was left of his family. Spending a summer of grief and memories with Remus Lupin had helped him,, however, and he returned to his sixth year of school feeling more like his old self but slightly more mature.

His sixth year, however, brought the death of his friend, Neville Longbottom, at the hands of Lord Voldemort himself. Harry comforted himself that Neville's parents were too insane to realize the loss and that his grandmother's increasing senility had left her only mildly aware of the tragedy.

The subsequent defeat of Lord Voldemort and his followers towards the end of his seventh year had brought many more losses to the school and the wizarding community as a whole, too many to count. The graduating class had been rather small, and the Slytherin students were mostly absent, their parents either dead, imprisoned, or bankrupted by the events.

Three years after graduating, Harry opened The Daily Prophet to discover that Hogwarts' long-standing headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had died quietly sitting in his office chair. Fawkes had cried over the man's body for hours, unable to heal him, before the loss was discovered by an unfortunate teaching assistant stopping by to ask him a question about the grading system.

The Ministry of Magic had been quick to install a new headmaster, Minerva McGonagall, and had held a monumentous ceremony in honor of the deceased headmaster. Harry did not attend the service, unable to see yet another old friend dead, and his absence had been noted in the next day's paper. Harry knew that Dumbledore's death had been hastened in part by being weakened by the Dark Lord's curses and spells, and Harry was racked with guilt over not being able to stop the attacks faster.

He tossed and turned in his bed. I'm going back there? Am I insane? he thought. Living in London, working and watching muggle television, had been a welcome escape from a world full of pain.

***

Harry decided that it would be amusing to take the Hogwarts Express up to the school. Only a few other people boarded with him. School was out for the summer and would be for another month.

A gray-haired woman wrapped tightly in a blue shawl leaned towards him from across the compartment. "And where are you headed, young man? Surely school isn't in session now? And you look much too old for school!"

Harry sighed inwardly but smiled. "No ma'am, I'm going up for a job interview."

The woman beamed. "Well, good luck! It's a great school, as I hear from my grandchildren. I'm sure you'll love teaching there. And I'm sure you'll love teaching Christopher and Tammy. They're such little dears, never a spot of trouble!"

"I'm sure," he said, visualizing the two hellbeasts as she spoke. A school full of kids? Kids who are like I was at their age? What am I getting myself into?

The train pulled into the station, and Harry was the only passenger to disembark. The others continued to Hogsmeade and further destinations.

"I don't believe it!" came a gruff voice from behind him. "It can't be! Harry? Harry Potter?"

He whirled around. Rubeus Hagrid, his hair graying but otherwise the same as ever, was approaching fast, his arms outstretched. Harry smiled and hugged him, careful to avoid the full force of the other man's embrace. "Hagrid!" he grinned. "Long time, no see!"

"Minerva told me you were coming up today, and I thought I'd surprise you! You're looking well, Harry. How is life treating you?"

"Fine, fine," Harry said. The two men climbed into a nearby carriage, the thestrals in front of it kicking at the ground impatiently and then irritably as Hagrid's weight was added to their load.

"So Hagrid, I see they still can't get rid of you," teased Harry.

Hagrid smiled. "True, true."

"Well, there's never been a better teacher of Care of Magical Creatures."

The two chatted amicably as the carriage rattled on, and they descended, laughing, before Hogwarts' huge front doors.

"Well, McGonagall is waiting, I'm sure," said Hagrid. He looked wistfully up at the headmaster's office and down at the ground again. "Darn it, I still can't get used to it, Harry."

"Me neither," Harry replied. "I guess it's worse for you. You knew him longer, and he saved you time and time again."

Hagrid sighed. "Yes, he was... great. The greatest headmaster the school has ever had. Ah, but there, I'm being unfair. McGonagall has done a wonderful job and is just as much on my side as Dumbledore ever was. She's a good woman, is Minerva." He turned and trudged towards his hut, which looked the same as it ever did. A young bullmastiff followed by a litter of puppies rose to greet him as he approached.

Harry felt a cloud descend upon him as he watched them. Fang must have died, he realized.

"Harry!" called a voice. Minerva McGonagall, looking no older, came out and walked towards him. "Harry, I'm so glad you could come!"

"Professor... Umm... Headmaster!" he replied.

The woman smiled. "Come in, Mr. Potter," she said, trying to regain her headmaster persona. "We have much to discuss."

***

The two spoke for hours about the school, the position, the benefits, Harry's education, and current events.

"Have you seen any of the old students?" Harry asked.

"You're the only one who has visited the school from your graduating class, but I've seen others in other places, such as in Diagon Alley. I saw your friends Ron and Hermione only a month ago. I assume you stay in touch with them?"

Harry grinned. "Oh yes. They're really the only ones I still talk to from my school days."

"Oliver is captain of Puddlemere United now! We've all been so proud of him. The Gryffindor girls have posters of him up on the walls. It's funny to see. I knew him when he was only 11 years old. I watched him get on a broom for the first time, and I laughed when he fell on his butt after rising three feet into the air."

The two laughed. "Practice makes perfect, I guess," Harry said.

Minerva sighed. "I just wish... Well, I wish we hadn't suffered so many losses. I'm glad Voldemort was finally defeated, and some say that that is really the end point of all this, anyway. Some people sacrificed themselves for the cause and helped rid us of a very evil force. We try to honor their memories in the school, we really try."

Harry thought of his parents, parents that he had never known because of the Dark Lord. He thought of his beloved godfather struck down by a Death Eater. He thought of his friends, his acquanitances, the parents of his Slytherin classmates. Were their deaths worth it? He hoped so, but he doubted it.

"So Harry, what do you think? Think you can handle teaching? I don't want to pressure you. If it's not the career you want, that's fine. I know you have a good position with the Ministry. But I had to at least make the offer. I agree with Albus's selection. You would make a wonderful professor, Harry," Minerva said.

Harry smiled. "It sounds wonderful. But it would be irrational of me to agree on the spot, so let me give it some thought for a few days and make sure it's what I want. I like my job, but I think I would be willing to give it up. And I love the school, but it brings back so many painful memories."

"I know," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Well, have a good journey back. I hope to hear from you soon."

***

Harry woke up the next morning feeling stiff. He had been up for hours mulling over Minerva's offer, and he was seriously considering accepting.

For a moment he thought of calling Ron, but he remembered that Ron did not have a phone. "Fuck it," he muttered, and apparated outside of Ron's flat door.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed happily, giving him a hug. "I haven't seen you in weeks!"

"Hi Ron," replied Harry, smoothing his hair back into place.

"So? What's new?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

Ron smiled. "Oooh, I can't wait!"

Ron suddenly realized that he had not invited Harry in. Harry was reluctant to enter, however, as Ron kept a notoriously messy home that was known for being littered with wizarding pranks.

"Um, let's go to The Flying Veela for a drink," Ron suggested, reading Harry's mind, and the two men headed down the street.

Ron and Harry grabbed a table in the back and ordered lagers.

"So Harry, what's this exciting news?" Ron asked.

Harry blushed slightly. "Well, I was offered a position at Hogwarts."

"Oh that!" said Ron. "I remember Dumbledore asking you about that. That's sweet that they kept his promise. Who's the headmaster now? Tell me it's not Snape!"

Harry laughed. "No. He's still around, still lost in his potions. But no, McGonagall took over."

Ron smiled. "Minerva? Good for her! So Harry, what's the new job? And correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you had a good career with the Ministry!"

Harry cleared his throat nervously. "Um, it's Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Ron's eyes boggled. "Harry, no! It's jinxed!"

"It's not jinxed. They just had bad luck... For several years..."

"Oh wow. Well, good luck, man! Anyway, you'll be great at it! You know more than anyone about defending yourself against dark magic!" Ron laughed.

"Yeah, I think it will go well."

"So you're going to accept? You're going to quit the Ministry and accept?"

"I really think I might," said Harry. "My work just isn't fulfilling. I mean, how meaningful can portkey regulation be?"

"But do we need to defend ourselves against that magic still? With Voldemort gone?"

"Gosh yes, Ron. You know the Ministry still fights it. Voldemort was the worst dark wizard, but he wasn't the first, and he won't be the last. There are always bad people, Ron, just like in the muggle world. The wizard equivalent of murderers and rapists, I guess. But it's on a smaller scale, and it's more one-on-one. Wizards who want your money or your powers or who try to trick you, that sort of thing, not armies of Death Eaters."

"True," Ron admitted. "Well, I'm glad for you. So, is Hagrid still there? And all the others?"

"Yeah, they're all there still," said Harry. "They reinstated Sibyll Trelawney as Professor of Divination. And they have someone else to replace McGonagall in Transfiguration, too. If I told you who, you'd never believe me."

"Oh come on, you have to tell me!" begged Ron.

Harry grinned. "Seamus!"

Ron gasped. "You're joking! Him? He's a danger to himself and others!"

Harry laughed. "Well, apparently not. It was discovered that he had some funny disorder... What muggles call ADD, I think. They treated him for it, and once he was better, they discovered he had a real gift for transfiguration. Once he could focus on the spells, he could transfigure using advanced spells right off the bat."

Ron laughed at the thought but then became serious."How about Luna Lovegood? I heard a rumor she was killed?"

"Yes," said Harry. "She was working on a story for her father's paper. She came across some juicy information and went to get the story. What nobody could have known was that it was actually true information she had gotten her hands on, information no one was supposed to know. A Death Eater silenced her." Harry swallowed.

Ron whistled. "Poor girl. She was crazy, but she was nice." He looked into his beer, swirling it around in the glass. "What about our beloved Draco? Any word on him?"

Harry was silent. "No... Minerva doesn't know anything. His family disappeared after the war. The rumors are that his father was killed. His mother, too, maybe. But no one knows for sure. And no one knows what happened to Draco at all."

"Well, good. I hope he's dead," said Ron, smiling.

"Ron, that's terrible! I know you two didn't get along, but really! He's a person!"

"Gee, Harry, when did this love affair with Draco start?" teased Ron. He regretted it even as he spoke the words. Harry looked wounded and mortified.

"Leave it, Ron."

"Sorry," mumbled Ron, looking into his glass.

"Well, Hermione's doing well, I assume?"

"Oh yeah." Ron's head picked up. "She couldn't be happier."

Hermione worked in the International Office of Magical Law in the Ministry and spent her days happily digging through dusty old books. Ron was climbing the ladder in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

"Any more little Weasleys on the way yet?" teased Harry.

Ron scowled at him. "She's a career girl. But yeah, one of these days... I think."

"Well, I look forward to teaching him at Hogwarts," said Harry, laughing. "I hope you can get him a proper wand, though!"

***

Three weeks passed, and Harry realized that he had not finished packing his things and getting his affairs in order for the move to Scotland.

"Bugger, bugger!" he said. Dobby the house-elf had come of his own volition to help him get ready, and Harry was regretting every moment of it. The house-elf broke more things than he packed, and each time he broke an item, he punished himself by banging his head against the furniture, causing more damage. It was a vicious circle, and Harry was getting angry.

"Dobby is so pleased that Harry Potter has agreed to return to Hogwarts!" said Dobby.

"Well, that's fresh, coming from you," retorted the young man, taping boxes closed. "I seem to recall that you put in a lot of effort to keep me away in my second year!"

"And Dobby apologizes, sir. Again and again," said the elf. "Oh sir, you will be a great professor! Dobby wishes he were a wizard so that he may see you teach!"

"Yeah, great," muttered Harry.

A few hours later, Harry managed to get all of his possessions into a taxi and was soon on his way to Kings Cross Station.

He arrived and boarded while porters loaded his things onto the train for Hogwarts.

"If it isn't the famous Harry Potter," snarled a voice near him.

"Snape!" he exclaimed. He realized that he was still afraid of the man, even years later.

"Look who's come crawling back. Not finished with school yet, eh?"

Harry shot him a menacing look.

Snape laughed. "Oh, I'm kidding! Sort of. You'll be a good professor. Not as good as I would be, though," he muttered, and he returned to his potion-stained book.

Harry found his seat, and no sooner than he had sat down than he heard another voice. "Harry! Great to see you, mate!"

He looked up to see Seamus, looking much the same as ever but older and more relaxed. The two young men hugged. "Good to see you," said Harry.

Seamus laughed. "Nervous?"

"Of course! I have the cursed position, remember?"

"Ah, but you don't have to fill Minerva's shoes, Harry. Talk about pressure! She breathes down my neck all year!"

The two continued chatting as the train chugged along. They bought as many candies as they could afford from the trolley and munched away like happy first-years.

The Hogwarts Express arrived with little fanfare to greet it, although a host of house-elves and other assistants rushed out to get their belongings. Professors like Snape who had been with the school for years waltzed in nonchalantly and headed straight for their flats or offices (or in Snape's case, the dungeon). Harry, meanwhile, stood in the hall, wondering what to do next.

Minerva swooped down upon him. "Oh good! You've arrived! Let me show you to your flat, hmm? And your office? Oh, don't look so nervous! You wouldn't be here if you couldn't handle the job!" She laughed.

***

The arrival of the students was a welcome but terrifying relief for Harry. He remembered being a first-year student and seeing the hall and the floating candles for the first time, not knowing what he was in for, excited and scared. And now he stood on the balcony, watching the little heads below bobbing along, following Seamus. He knew he needed to be in the Great Hall before the Sorting Ceremony began, so he hurried down a back staircase and joined the other professors at the head table.

The head table! he thought, flabbergasted. He was sitting next to Snape, next to McGonagall, next to Hagrid. He felt very conspicuous, not for the first time in his life, as he looked out over the long hall full of obscenely long wooden tables that would soon be full of little Harrys, little Dracos, little Rons, little Hermiones.

McGonagall looked at him and read his mind. "Weird, huh?" she said. He nodded. "You'll get used to it. Remember, I was a student here myself, and now I'm headmaster. It gets easier every year."

At that moment, the great wooden doors opened, and the room filled with students chattering away and bumping noisily into the large benches. Several of them looked at the head table, and excited whispering break out. He could not hear any of the conversations except the ones closest to him. A Ravenclaw third-year was staring at him and saying to his friend, "That's Harry Potter! He's our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

"Where? Him? Really?" gasped his friend. A few of their classmates looked at him, too. He smiled weakly and sank lower into his chair, wishing the food were out so that he would have something to do.

At that moment, Seamus led the first-years into the hall. Minerva got up and moved the stool and Sorting Hat so that they sat in front of the head table. The first-years crowded around nervously. Harry scanned the faces before him, knowing that he would be teaching them in the months to follow.

One face in particular stood out from the group. Harry stared at the boy and shook his head. I'm definitely under too much stress, he thought.

Seamus announced the students' names alphabetically, and one by one, the students were sorted into Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin had an even worse reputation among the other students because of the war, but its students were less feared.

"Jones, Bella!" called Seamus.

A moment later, the hat called out "Ravenclaw!", and the Ravenclaw table cheered.

"Lowell, Robin!"

"Hufflepuff!" Cheers rose up again.

"Malfoy, Altus!"

Harry sat bolt upright. It was not his imagination! He stared bug-eyed at the small boy who approached the stool nervously. Who could miss his white-blond hair or gray eyes or pale skin? He was a... a Malfoy!

Harry choked, and Minerva gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. "I know, Harry. I know," she breathed.

"Slytherin!" the hat said quickly, and the boy hopped down and joined his classmates. Harry was light-headed. How? How could there be a Malfoy child?! his brain screamed. A Malfoy! A Malfoy!

Several minutes later, the food appeared, but Harry found himself unable to eat. "How?" he finally asked Minerva.

The woman shrugged. "He was on the list. I don't question the list."

"But how? I mean, how?" Harry's brain was unable to form coherent thoughts.

Minerva smiled. "Harry, I don't know. I imagine the old-fashioned way." She grinned. "But who are his parents? I have no idea."

***

Harry steeled himself for his first lesson. Altus was one of the first students he would ever teach. He realized that it would be almost impossible to carry on the lesson with... that boy... sitting there. He walked over to him.

He drew a long breath. "I think I know your father? Or mother? Or uncle? Ummm... I know a Malfoy."

The boy looked startled about being singled out by the professor on the first day of classes, but he mustered his Malfoy pride and pulled himself upright. "Ummm... I don't know, sir."

"Well, who are your parents?" Harry asked, his heart beating violently against his ribs.

"My dad's name is Draco," said Altus, and Harry felt faint. "My mother is... Well, we don't talk about her."

Hmmm? Harry thought. He brightened. "Oh, so it's just you and your father."

"Yeah," replied the boy, getting out his parchment and quill. "So... You know my father?"

Harry laughed. "Oh yes. We went to school together."

The boy's eyes widened. "Gosh! So you must be old!" Harry winced, and Altus instantly realized his mistake. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He turned a very Draco shade of pink. "I just always think of adults as old... I didn't mean..."

Harry grinned. "It's OK. But your father isn't very old. He's the same age I am. So he wasn't old at all when they had you."

"No, I guess not," said the boy, fluffing the feathers of his quill.

The rest of the class had entered and taken their seats, and Harry quickly cleared his throat and began class.

Harry's classes went well. He was surprised to find that the Hufflepuffs were causing most of the trouble, not the Slytherins, a distinct change from his younger days. He covered basic concepts of blocking spells and addressed a number of curses and other ways for wizards to cause trouble. He taught mostly from the textbook with the students, although he branched into spellwork with the older students. The highlight of all of his lessons were his personal stories, stories that had far more factual basis than Gilderoy Lockhart's ever had.

Harry found himself wandering the grounds after classes ended, lost in thought. "Hey Harry!" called Seamus.

"Oh hi," he muttered.

"How was your first day?"

"Fine, I think. No problems. It was kind of fun. But there's this new student..."

"Ah, our little Slytherin..."

"Yeah. It's so weird."

"I know. But hey... I mean, we're adults now, and adults sometimes have kids. Although I'm a bit surprised Draco has. That's odd."

"Why?" asked Harry.

Seamus laughed. "Well, I thought he was gay."

Harry blushed. Draco? Gay? And why did his heart leap into his throat at the thought?

Harry had had a series of failed relationships both in and out of school. His troubled past always seemed to hurt his romances in the end. But none of the women he dated knew that he secretly kept a photo of his old rival in his bedside table drawer. He himself never knew why he kept it. He never knew why he thought about Draco at night, why he saw his face when his eyes closed. But maybe it all tied in somehow with the flip-flops he was currently experiencing in his stomach.

"Earth to Harry?" said Seamus.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Still in love, eh?" said his friend.

Harry's eyes boggled. "Love?!"

"Oh. Um, sorry. I didn't mean to..." Seamus trailed off awkwardly. "Um, I have lesson plans to work on..." The other man turned and walked back into the school with a sheepish look on his face.

***

It did not take Harry long to pen a letter to Ron and Hermione detailing his encounter, and it took even less time for a response.

"Draco has a son?! Are you joking?!" it read in full. Harry smiled.

Harry had spoken to all the professors, and no one could fill him in on the details. He wrote to Remus Lupin. He spent the next week researching old newspapers in the library looking for clues and had found none. Draco's progeny seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

He got up from his desk and decided to pace the corridors looking for students who were up to no good so he could give them advice and maybe a map. He chuckled.

The sun was beaming through the windows. Most of the students were on the grounds flying on brooms, chatting, fighting, and generally enjoying the weather.

He walked outside into the warmth and breeze and spotted Altus sitting under a tree, toying with his wand and attempting to cast spells on snails.

"How was your first week of school?" he asked him. The boy's body jerked backwards in surprise.

"Um, fine, fine," he muttered. Altus was apprehensive when Harry spoke to him, clearly nervous at being labeled the teacher's pet so early in his school life.

Harry looked around him. None of the other students noticed them there under the tree. "I'm sorry I keep bugging you," he said, sitting down. "The thing is, your father and I weren't exactly good friends in school, but I think I grew to like him towards the end of our time here. And I don't know what happened to him after the war. I've always wondered."

Altus looked at him, trying to understand his professor's seemingly inexplicable concern for a childhood enemy he had not seen in more than a decade. "I don't know much of what happened myself," he said. "He told me that the Malfoy name was all we had left of his family, though. And I get the impression that he doesn't like to talk about his past much." He paused, picking at a blade of grass, and Harry noticed that his fingers were as long and slender as his father's. "I think he's mentioned you a few times."

Harry perked up. "He mentioned me?"

"Yeah," muttered the young Slytherin. "He talks about his time at Hogwarts with me because it was before the war, so it's OK. He told me that he was a real horror in school, that he terrorized all the students. He said he went to school with the famous Harry Potter, and he gave him a hard time."

Harry grinned. "That's true."

"But he said that since the war, he's changed his ways some. He regrets some of his behavior as a child; he doesn't have the family pride he used to. His biggest hope for me is that I won't turn out like he did."

Harry was silent. Draco regretted the way he treated Harry and his friends? Draco had changed his ways? Could it be true?

He looked at Altus, who was gazing pensively at the lake in the distance. "From what I've seen so far, you've turned out just fine. I hope your father is proud of you." A thought suddenly struck him. "Altus, does your father know I'm a professor here?"

"Yeah," said the boy. "I wrote to him the first day of school and told him about all my teachers. And I told him that you knew him. Um, I hope that's OK?"

"It's great," said Harry, rising to his feet. "Well, stay out of trouble. I know it's not cool to be seen talking to your teacher, so I'll try not to bug you again."

Altus looked up at him. "Well, I guess it's OK. You're nice."

Harry's stomach turned over again. A Malfoy liked him, truly liked him. Life was so weird.

He returned to his office and began to pore through his books in preparation for the next week's lessons, but he found that his heart was not in it. His thoughts kept drifting back to Draco Malfoy.

An hour later, he heard a scratching at his window. He immediately recognized the owl as Remus's, and he hurried to let it in.

He took the letter the owl gave him, remembering to reward the bird with a treat. "Thanks," he said.

Dear Harry,

I received your letter and am as surprised as you were by the sudden appearance of an addition to the Malfoy family.

I wish I could help you in regards to Draco, but I know little more than you do about what happened to him and his family. The war was messy, as you know, and the Malfoys aren't the only Death Eaters in the wizarding world whose fate is unknown. It is likely that Lucius and Narcissa were killed. Some spells leave no physical remains behind. They could also be in hiding. I cannot say. However, Draco is clearly alive and well. The existence of his son is the first anyone has heard of the Malfoy family for several years. I asked around, and no one knows Draco's whereabouts, so it is not unlikely that he is living in secret off what remains of his family's fortune. Their house still remains intact and appears unused, but nobody from the Ministry has yet been able to get past the various security charms in place around it.

I feel that I must warn you that there are certain officials in the Ministry who are greatly concerned that a famous Death Eater's son is still alive and even more so that he has a son to carry on this infamous last name. They are actively seeking Draco and could visit the school in the near future.

I will close by saying that I am happy for you. I know how much you have missed Draco over the years, and I hope the two of you are able to meet again. I wish you all the best; unrequited love is a painful thing to bear, but sometimes, the passing years can bring about wonderful change.

All my love,

Remus

Harry read the letter three times, blushing hotly. Unrequited love? He laughed a little too loudly. He tried to visualize himself pining for Draco, hanging on Draco's arm, kissing sweetly in the moonlight. He laughed again.

However, when the visions returned that night as he lay in bed, they caused quite another reaction in Harry entirely.

***

Harry left his last class still lost in thought.

A student bumped into him in the corridor as she ran past. "Sorry," she muttered, struggling under a heavy load of books.

"Hermione?" he said, confused. The girl stared at him. "Oh sorry."

He shook his head. Being back at Hogwarts had done strange things to his brain. Earlier in the day, he had seen a red-haired boy waving a Quidditch magazine excitedly and had sworn it was Ron Weasley.

"Feeling OK?" asked a familiar voice. Seamus stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Uh, yeah," muttered Harry.

"You're seeing ghosts, aren't you?" the other man asked. "I did the same thing during my first year as professor. The most painful moment was seeing a boy who looked just like Neville. And I'm always being reminded of Dumbledore everywhere I go. He really left his mark on the school. I love him for what he did, but sometimes, I wish we could start fresh here."

"The hardest for me is Altus."

"Oh yeah, Draco's boy. I still can't believe it. I feel sorry for the kid, though. He's famous through an accident of birth."

Harry smiled wanly. "I know the feeling."

"Sorry," said Seamus, smiling.

Harry decided to spend his evening exploring his old haunts. He pulled his invisibility cloak out of his chest of drawers, shaking out the wrinkles, and wrapped it around himself. He smiled as he looked in the mirror but saw only a roomful of furniture. He hurried off to visit his old friend Hagrid.

"Who's there?" called the half-giant when he opened the door. Harry slipped off his cloak, grinning like a schoolboy. "Harry!" laughed his friend. "Just like old times!"

Harry walked into the hut and sat on the creaky bed. "The place looks the same," he commented, turning up his nose at the smell of Hagrid's late-night snack bubbling away in the cauldron.

"Yeah, not much has changed."

"Where's Fleur?" asked Harry, remembering Hagrid's old flame.

"She's at Beauxbatons. School's in session there, too."

"So you don't see much of her, huh?"

Hagrid sighed. "Not as much as I'd like, I'm afraid. We considered a change, we really did. I thought of leaving Hogwarts to join her, and she thought of leaving her school to join me, but we both love our work too much to stop. We still see each other every few weeks during the school year, though, and all summer."

"Well, that's good," said Harry, accepting the offered bottle of butterbeer and taking a swig.

"And you? No wife?"

Harry chuckled. "No. Nothing."

"Well, maybe you'll be able to meet up with Draco now that you know he's alive."

Harry choked on his drink. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Hagrid was startled. "I'm sorry. You don't want to see him again?"

"Well... I mean, everyone keeps thinking that the two of us are going to hook up or something. Remus spoke of unrequited love."

"Isn't it, Harry?"

"Isn't it what?"

"Love. Unrequited. Or at least not fulfilled."

Harry choked again. "Everyone thinks I'm in love with Draco. Why am I always the last person to know these things?"

Hagrid got up and checked his cauldron. "Maybe we're wrong. If so, I apologize. It's just that... Well, it seemed obvious, is all. The way you looked at him. The way he looked at you."

"But we were enemies!" protested Harry.

"Yeah. Enemies." Hagrid chuckled.

"Hagrid... Liking Draco would mean... It would mean I was gay, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know much about that stuff, Harry. I just know what I saw when you two were in school."

***

Harry looked at his picture of Draco when he got up the next morning. The boy snarled at him from the frame, but there was a mischevious twinkle in his eye that made Harry's heart leap. Draco waved his wand around his head, clearly amused by the trail of sparks it left and impressed by the power it possessed.

"Do I love you?" Harry asked the picture. The Draco in the photo just smiled and waved his wand again. Harry had found the photo in a book in the library, possibly left there by a lovesick Slytherin girl who had been gazing at the picture wistfully while pretending to study.

"Well?" he asked again. "Damn you, Draco!" The blond boy kept smiling and snarling. Harry sighed. "I suppose I must if I've kept this picture all these years, but honestly, I didn't know I was gay. How could I not know that?" For a moment, he thought he saw the Draco in the photo winking at him. He shook his head to clear it and put the picture away.

After his classes had ended for the day, Harry decided to go see Minerva. He had not spoken to her in weeks and had heard that she had been called away at least once on urgent and secret business.

"Chocolate Frog," he said at the entrance, still marveling at how McGonagall had continued to use Dumbledore's series of candy passwords.

He stood on the revolving staircase, which ascended slowly to the top floor.

"Harry!" Minerva said, looking up. "How have your classes been going?"

"Fine, I think."

"I think so too," she said, winking. "We have ways of finding out how our teachers do. I've been quite impressed at your syllabus and teaching practices, although I would recommend that you not focus so heavily on curses. These days, they aren't used as often, and the students need to learn how to defend themselves against all kinds of things."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just when I think of dark arts, I think of the dark curses that the Death Eaters used. If I can help one student survive such an attack..."

"Noble goals, Mr. Potter. But we can't be responsible for the children. We can only do our best."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I understand."

"Good," she replied, smiling. "So, is there something you needed to see me about?"

Harry fidgeted in his chair. "Well, headmaster... I just sort of wondered..."

"Ah, about Draco, right? Draco and his mysterious son. You're thinking that maybe I know something. You know I've been called away on secret business recently, and you're curious."

"Well, yeah."

"Well, Harry, I wish I could help you, but no one knows anything, really. However, and I shouldn't be telling you this, you understand... A member of the Ministry believes that he can break some of the seals on the Malfoy manor. If they can gain access to his old house, we might learn something. But we might not."

"But headmaster, why? Why is everyone so intent on tracking Draco down? I mean, I know he's a Malfoy, but..."

"Call it fear, I guess. People like to think the Death Eaters are gone. So any reports of living Death Eaters sparks an interest. Don't worry, they won't automatically haul him off to Azkaban or anything. But they will question him if they find him. Many in the Ministry still worry that the Death Eaters will find some way of returning, even without Voldemort. Perhaps a new dark lord will emerge, who can say? But people are very paranoid. The war was painful for everyone. And there are rumors, too..."

"Draco's not a Death Eater, though!" Harry protested.

"He has the mark."

"I have a mark, too. It's just a mark. With Voldemort gone, the Dark Mark means nothing. Altus tells me his father has changed his ways."

Minerva thought for a moment. "I understand, Harry. But we still want to know what happened."

"What confuses me is how it is that his son can be here at Hogwarts, and we still don't know where he lives!"

Minerva smiled. "The list is magical. We can't know about every wizard child born in this country, but the list does. Altus's name appeared on it the day he was born. Just that, a name. The letters are sent by the Hogwarts Board of Trustees. They review the list to determine which students to invite. Students are only struck from the list if they have a bad record in the wizarding world. Not all students are able to attend, but the letters are sent all the same."

"So how did they know where to send it? And where did it go?"

"Well, the owls have a way of knowing where people are. You discovered that when you sent owls to Sirius when he was in hiding. We wrote Altus's name on the envelope and nothing else. The owl returned, which it only does if the recipient has received and read the letter. But owls can't talk, so we don't know where he lives."

"And he won't tell you?"

Minerva looked puzzled. "No, that's just it. He doesn't know."

Harry's jaw dropped. "He doesn't know where he lives?"

"No. His father tutored him and never let him leave the immediate area around their home. He can describe the home, but he doesn't know anything else. We know they live in a small townhouse that's probably in London. But Draco has enchanted the house so that no one else can see it. Altus knew no other children before he came here, but somehow, he interacts with his classmates fairly well. I suspect his father made an effort to play with him."

Harry's mind whirled. Draco was in hiding somewhere in London, secreting away his son from the world?

"But wait, he sent him to Hogwarts! For someone living in secret, that was a strange move."

"I suspect that he's getting tired of his life there, tired of hiding. You know, you can only hide so long. Sirius snuck out often to visit with you. I once had to live in secret for several years, and it really got to me. Eventually, I came out, choosing the danger over the solitude. I think Draco's doing the same."

Harry left Minerva's office lost in thought, his heart pounding against his ribs. Draco was living in secret, hiding a son, all these years.

He turned down a corridor on his way back to his office, intent on grading some papers and writing to his friends with this new information, and suddenly felt a presence behind him. He froze.

He heard footsteps, slow, methodical, nervous footsteps.

"Harry Potter," came a familiar voice.

He spun around and came face to face with Draco Malfoy.

***

Draco looked much as he had in school but older and with scars over his neck and hands. Harry imagined that they ran over his entire body, although he could not see them. He was glad that his beautiful face had been spared. His robes were still of fine quality but were scratched and worn away in places. His once shiny shoes were scruffy. A single diamond in Draco's ear winked in the dim light of the corridor.

"Draco," he managed in a choking voice. "Draco!" He surprised himself and Draco by grasping his old classmate in his arms and clinging to him hard.

"Harry. Harry!" Draco sputtered. "Get off me!"

Harry released his grip and back away, tousled and blushing from ear to ear. "I'm sorry, I just..."

"Yes, Harry, it's me," said Draco quietly. "When Altus told me who his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was, I had to come see for myself."

Harry sputtered and suddenly felt weak in the knees. "Altus..."

Draco smiled. "I suppose I have to give you the story now?"

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed again, a tear in his eye. He hugged him again. He could smell the other man's cologne. His body felt hard and thin beneath Harry's arms.

"Harry, stop!" cried Draco, backing away. "Please! I thought we were going to talk! Are you always this forward?"

Harry turned bright red. "Talk. Yes. Let's," he said.

"Good. Let's find somewhere quiet. Somewhere where we won't be seen. I really shouldn't be here." He looked around warily.

"The Ministry is looking for you," said Harry weakly.

"Well duh," said Draco.

"Let's go into the Dark Forest," said Harry.

Draco looked at him blankly. "Um, Harry?"

"It's OK. I've been there a few times since I started here. The centaurs are very protective, as is the Weasley's old car. I've never had any trouble."

Draco agreed. "Get your invisibility cloak, then," he said.

A few minutes later, the two young men were walking towards the forest. Draco held the cloak over his head, but Harry decided to walk there openly. He carried a basket on his arm. If questioned, he would tell them he was going to pick herbs for a potion.

They crept into the darkness, pushing aside the brambles and branches as they went. They reached a small clearing and sat down on large rocks.

"So... Now I have to tell you my life story, huh?" said Draco.

Harry's face was beaming with joy. "I'm so glad you're OK! I've been so worried!"

"Thanks, Mom," Draco said, elbowing his old classmate. "I've kept an eye on you, you know. You're the first person I've spoken to since the war. Well, besides Altus. And I've gone seriously in cognito sometimes. I mean, you have to to live, you know? I saw you once near the Ministry's phone booth. I watched you from across the street. But you never knew. It was fun."

"Me? You spied on me?"

"Well yeah," said Draco, turning pink. "You're the only person I cared to see. Everyone else I knew is either dead or unimportant. No offense to your other halves. I suppose they're still around? The Weasel and the mud--sorry, Hermione?"

"They're married."

Draco rolled his eyes. "How dull of them."

"So Draco, you... You care about me? You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. Go figure. My thoughts kept turning to you. I had to see you. And eventually, I got the courage to come up here and see you."

"I've thought of you, too," said Harry, thinking of his photo.

"Aren't we a pair?" joked Draco. "Pining away for each other all these years. I think I'm going to be sick. But wait, Harry, I didn't know you were gay? I mean, my gaydar told me you were, but I honestly thought I was getting a false positive from Ron."

Harry laughed and then scowled. "I'm not... I'm... I don't know."

"OK, let's start simple. Do you like girls?"

"Um... I don't know. I've dated several, but it hasn't worked out. Honestly, there's something missing."

"Ah, a penis," laughed Draco. "Ever had a gay relationship?"

Harry blushed. "No."

"But you've thought of me wistfully. Maybe envisioned me doing things to you. No, don't tell me what." He leaned back. "Well, I'm gay, but I guess you knew that."

"I've kind of gathered it, yes. But Draco, how is it that you have a son then?"

Draco was silent. "I don't like to talk about the past. The past is just that. Past. But I can see that won't appease you. It was after the war. My father wanted me to become a Death Eater, even though Voldemort was dead. He wanted us to rise up, to continue the Dark Lord's noble work." He spat on the ground. "But he caught me in bed with a guy. I don't even remember the guy's name. My father, he hurt him terribly." He rested his arms on his knees.

"I don't know if the guy lived. But my father was crazed, his eyes were wild. How could any faggot become a Death Eater? How could I carry on our family name if I slept with men? So he... Found a girl."

Harry's eyes widened as he listened. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"You shouldn't. He kidnapped this girl, I don't know from where. She was only 14. He shut her up in my bedroom and cast some spell that made me... Well, I won't go into it. Eventually, she became pregnant. Altus was the result. The girl... I was never even told her name..." A tear rolled down his cheek at the memories. "I heard her screaming. He showed me her body later. I've never seen a person so badly torn up, even by the worst magic. My father told me that she was the right bloodline to be my wife, but she had refused to continue. He tried to rape her, and she resisted. He beat her, but she still refused. So she died."

Draco's body had gone limp, the tears coming faster. Harry, horrified, slipped his arm around his old enemy. "Draco," he breathed, trying to register what he had been told.

"I'm not done yet," said Draco, his lips curling up at the corners. "Somewhere, somehow, I found the strength to stand up to him. I killed him, Harry. I murdered my own father. He had to be stopped."

Harry swallowed hard. "And your mother?"

Draco was silent, drawing a line in the dirt with his shoe. "Um, she was killed in the war. "

Harry had gone numb all over. He let out a long breath. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I had no idea. I mean, I knew it was bad for the Death Eaters after the war, but I didn't know it was like that."

Draco smiled wanly. "I suspect it was worse for some families, frankly. But I don't know. My father was the only one who was in touch with the remaining Death Eaters afterwards."

Draco put his arm around Harry, and the two young men hugged.

"You see now why I've been in hiding, why I haven't told Altus anything. I know the Ministry wants to question me. When they find out about what I did..."

"But you had to! They'll see that!"

"Will they, Harry? You're still as trusting as ever." Draco gazed at Harry, breathing warmly on his neck. "Still as handsome as ever, too," he whispered.

Harry's body tensed. "Draco," he said, but he found that his voice cracked as he spoke.

"Harry," whispered Draco brushing his lips against Harry's cheeks. "I've always loved you, Harry."

***

Harry returned to the castle alone. Draco planned to return later that night under cover of darkness.

Harry skipped slightly as he walked, grinning like an idiot. Draco was back! And Draco... kissed him? He stopped only yards from the castle entrance.

Draco kissed me. And... I think I liked it. His relationship with the Slytherin had improved by the time school had ended, but he had never imagined things turning out quite like this.

He went back into the castle, still grinning, and was met in the front hall by Minerva and several older men wearing Ministry of Magic badges. Uh-oh, he thought.

"Mr. Potter," said Cornelius Fudge. "We wish to speak with you."

Harry gulped. "OK."

The group retreated to Minerva's office and sat down. All eyes were on Harry.

"You know what this is about," began McGonagall. "The Ministry is looking for Draco Malfoy. They want to know if you have any information."

"I wouldn't know anything you don't know, I'm sure. I teach his son, of course. But I really don't have anything to tell you. I'm sorry." Harry swallowed again.

Fudge smiled. "No, I didn't think you would. But we have to talk to everyone. Draco is... Well, he and his son are the last surviving Malfoys to our knowledge. And there are rumors... Well, I can't go into it with you, but there are rumors that he may have done something horrible. If those rumors are true, we must punish him according to our laws."

Harry gulped again. "I can't imagine what he could have done, sir. Altus tells me that he has changed his ways since school. I know he was a rotter in his younger days, but he's an adult now, a father."

"I understand your position, Harry," said Fudge, winking. Harry turned red. Everyone in the wizarding world knew he loved Draco except him! "But you understand that I can't trust that information considering who his family is."

Another man spoke up. "We thought he might have come here. We were told that a mysterious figure apparated near the school grounds, someone in disguise. We thought perhaps it was Draco, and if so, that he came to see you."

Harry shook his head nervously. "I haven't seen anyone. I was out picking herbs," he said, gesturing to the basket, grateful that he had remembered to pick some before returning to the castle.

"Well, we're sorry we bothered you," said Fudge.

Harry returned to his rooms lost in thought and lay down on the bed. He could not believe that he had finally found Draco, but discovering that he was in love with him had been a surprise, and discovering that the Ministry was hunting him like a wild animal had been terrifying. "Draco... I want to protect you. I want to save you," he said. "But I don't know what I can do."

"You defeated Voldemort countless times, and you can't figure out how to save someone from that pompous ass Fudge?" exclaimed a voice near him.

He sat up on his bed and saw Draco slipping out of his wardrobe. "Draco!"

"Look, I finally came out of the closet!" exclaimed Draco, laughing. "You need better clothes, though." He looked over Harry's collection of hand-knitted sweaters and shook his head.

Harry ran over to him. "The Ministry's here! They want to take you away from me!"

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "I like the way you phrased that. Gee, Harry, I had no idea..." He winked at him. "I know they're here. I know they want me. Tell me, what do you think they know, Harry? Do they know what happened between my father and I?"

"I think they've guessed, Draco. There are rumors. Maybe no actual evidence."

Draco shook his head. "Oh, there's evidence all right, Harry. In the manor. Afterwards, I ran out of there with my baby son and went into hiding. Presumably the bodies are still there."

Harry sat down on his bed again, feeling weak in the knees.

Draco sat next to him and stroked his hair. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, Harry. I don't want to get you into any trouble, though. I'll leave here tonight and not return."

"No!" cried Harry, grabbing his arm. "Don't leave me!"

Draco's mouth opened and closed again. He seemed to be having difficulty finding words. "Harry, I know you love me, but please, it's not worth it. I have to look out for myself and my son. You have to look out for yourself. It's the way the world works. Heroism is cute and makes for nice stories, but it also has a way of getting you killed. And I'm not worth dying for."

"Yes you are," said Harry, a tear rolling down his cheek. He wrapped his arms tightly around him. "Whatever happens, I'll go down with you. I'll even claim I helped you. I won't leave you."

"Don't go down with me, Harry. Go down on me if you'd like," said Draco, a twinkle in his eye.

Harry blushed. He leaned on Draco's shoulder. "I'm going to protect you."

"How? Do you even know how?"

Harry was silent. "Ummmm..."

At that moment, the door burst open. "Aha!" said Fudge. "I knew it!"

Draco jumped off the bed and pulled out his wand with a sneer as Fudge and the other officials piled in. "Get away from me, Fudge!"

Harry stood behind him. "Sir, please! Draco didn't do anything!"

"Stand aside!" yelled Fudge. His deputies grabbed Draco by the arms. His wand fell to the floor with a clatter.

"I see you're persecuting people all over again, Fudge," muttered Draco. "You've always had this thing about the Death Eater families. Even now that Voldemort has been killed, you still can't let it go. You're going to send me up the river because I happened to be born to the wrong parents. You feel like a big man?"

"I'm not going to send you up the river, Draco. Well, not right now. There are rumors. Rumors of what you did. Ministry officials have almost gotten past the charms protecting your old house. Maybe we'll find something of interest there?" Fudge smirked.

"Oh, give it a rest. I'll tell you what you'll find, Cornelius. I'll save your wizards the trouble. You'll find a young girl's body in the dungeon. Beaten and raped and killed. And you'll find my father's body, too, I'm sure."

Fudge blinked.

"I'm sick of running. I'm sick of hiding. Send me to Azkaban if you want to. I'll tell you what happened."

"And I'll back him up!" said Harry.

***

The next day, Draco and Harry found themselves being interrogated by a dozen officials at the Ministry's headquarters. They had been there for hours, and Harry was getting tired.

"So you killed him?" asked a witch. Harry straightened up in his chair at the sight of her, recognizing Nymphadora Tonks. She had opted for short blond hair that day. He smiled at her, and she winked.

"Yes," said Draco. "He was insane. I did the wizarding world a favor. There's nothing worse than a Death Eater who's lost his leader. He was celebrating the girl's death. He was grinning. He had forced me to rape her. I knew he would do it all over again."

One of the younger wizards on the council spoke up. "Draco, what happened to your mother?"

Draco shifted in his seat. "She was killed in the war," he said.

"But how?"

Draco swallowed. "OK, you want to know? She was killed by my father!"

Harry stared at him. "Draco?"

"Yes, Harry," he muttered. He addressed the officials again. "Voldemort was losing the war. Anyone could see that. My mother wanted out. She didn't want to be killed or imprisoned with the rest of the Death Eaters. She just wanted to live her life. She refused to kill some wizarding family that he asked her to kill. So he killed her instead."

The room was silent. "Does anyone have anything further to ask?" said Fudge, looking at his fellow officials. They all shook their heads, still appalled. "Then we shall render our decision after some discussion, Mr. Malfoy. You may wait in the hallway."

Thank god! thought Harry, glad to be on his feet and moving. The two young men hurried into the corridor.

"Was that true, Draco? About your mother?"

"Yeah," Draco sighed.

"I'm sorry," replied Harry, putting an arm around him. "If it's any consolation, I think the Ministry will absolve you."

"We'll see," muttered Draco, clearly not optimistic.

The officials did not debate Draco's fate for long. Twenty minutes later, they called Harry and Draco back in.

Fudge cleared his throat. "Draco Malfoy?" Draco rose. "We have decided not to charge you in your father's death. Your testimony and the evidence found at the manor have convinced us to let you go."

"Yes!" exclaimed Harry, jumping out of his chair and embracing Draco.

"But keep your nose clean," Fudge warned. He smiled weakly. The other council members grinned; a few clapped lightly.

"I'm glad you've changed your ways," said Tonks, coming down and shaking his hand firmly. "And I'm glad you and Harry finally found each other at last." She winked. "I wish you the best."

Harry and Draco left the Ministry together, emerging into the warm sunlight arm in arm, laughing.

"I love you!" said Harry, and he planted a huge kiss on Draco's lips.

Draco blushed. "I'm free. Altus is free." He paused. "Do you think he'll mind having two daddies?" He winked at Harry. The two burst into laughter again and headed for King's Cross Station.