Coming To Terms

"Hurry up, Michael. Get yourself down here, right this minute! The train leaves in an hour and we still need to get into London," Harry called up the stairs. Michael came running down with his hair sticking up everywhere and his clothes in disarray. Fondly, Harry ruffled his son's black hair and pushed him towards the living room where Remus was waiting. Waving his wand, Harry shrank his son's luggage and handed Michael's owl Rial's cage to Remus.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Remus shouted as he threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped in, and vanished. Harry took his son's hand, remembering his first experience with Floo Powder and ending up in Knockturn Alley.

"Ready, Mike?" Michael nodded with a smile on his face.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

They appeared in a dark pub and searched for Remus in the throng of people. Finding him, they headed towards the exit. Michael had hardly ever been in the Muggle world, although he and Remus had lived in the middle of it for most of their lives. Remus was unable to find permanent work in the wizarding world, even though Severus Snape had concocted a cure before his death, ridding the werewolf of the violent parts of his curse. He only felt mildly ill leading up to and during the full moon, and no longer had to undergo the change to canine form. Even the stigma of a once werewolf was enough to stop him gaining employment.

Harry and Remus navigated the London traffic and bustle with relative ease and arrived at King's Cross Station with fifteen minutes to spare. Remus left them at the barrier for Platform nine and three-quarters and gave Michael a big hug before returning to the Leaky Cauldron and home.

Harry looked at his pale son and took his hand. "Don't worry, Mike. We'll be fine."

* * * * *

Platform nine and three-quarters was teeming with students and parents. Harry hated crowds, so he and Michael made a roundabout way to the Hogwarts Express and boarded in relative silence.

Harry closed the compartment door behind him and sat down across from his son.

"May as well get comfy, Mikey. It's going to be a long train ride."

"I'll just read some of my course books then, Dad. The Potions one is interesting." Harry raised wide eyes to his son and saw him burrowed in amongst his books, reading the Potions manual avidly. Harry shook his head. Definitely Draco.

The rest of the train ride passed in relative silence. The trolley lady appeared about halfway through their ride, and Harry bought loads of snacks for him and his son. The old witch smiled lazily and continued on her way. At some point Harry nodded off and was awoken by a loud bang next to his head. Cursing loudly, he leapt to his feet and drew out his wand in an instant.

Instead of Death Eaters and Voldemort, as he had expected, he only saw his rather sheepish-looking son standing with a red-haired young boy. Harry's face paled but he managed to compose himself quickly.

"You didn't tell me that he'd nearly hex us," the redhead complained in a loud voice. He turned brown eyes that brought the memories rushing back.

"You must be a Weasley." The boy blinked and assumed an expression of great import.

"My name is Geoffrey Ronald Weasley, and my mum is Ginevra Weasley. " Harry suppressed a grin. The Ginevra Weasley that he knew would never want to be called Ginevra. It was Ginny and always would be.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Weasley. I'm Professor Moray, no doubt Michael has told you." The red-haired boy nodded, looking up at him with narrowed brown eyes.

"Are you any good at Defence? My mum says that a lot of the teachers have been really crap. She teaches Charms at school." Harry blinked. Ginny a teacher, think of that.

"Actually I graduated at the top of my class for Defence, and I was an Auror for a few years, so I guess that I can say I'm rather good." This boy was no ordinary Weasley. He had a tight rein on his temper and looked as though he actually had a brain cell or two. Ginny must have been the exception in the Weasleys. She was always the bright one. The last he had heard of her was from Remus when he had left Michael with him all those years ago. She had married Colin Creevy after he had killed Voldemort and had subsequently divorced him after only one year. Harry looked closely at Geoffrey and tried to see the Colin Creevy he remembered in the boy's features and failed. There was nothing of the Colin that he remembered in this boy's face. He could see Ginny alright, in the way that he stood and his eyes. The boy was tall and looking closer his hair was a darker red than his mother and uncles. Struggling Harry tried to remember who Remus told him had caused the split in Ginny's marriage. A sudden grin split his face and he remembered. Zabini. Geoffrey Ronald Weasley did not have a trace resemblance to Colin Creevy, but he resembled Blaise Zabini quite a lot. With the pale, reserved features that had never been on the face of a Weasley. Harry stifled the grin as the two boys looked at him strangely, Michael with embarrassment and Geoffrey Weasley-Zabini looking at him edgily as if he were mad. Michael will have fun with this one.

"We're nearly at Hogwarts. It's time to start getting ready, boys. Geoffrey, pleased to meet you, and I'm sure that I'll see you in class." Harry said as he looked out the window and saw the familiar countryside that surrounded Hogwarts.

Geoffrey Weasley nodded and left the cabin, shutting the door behind him.

"Did Remus show you that one, Mike?" Michael nodded and sheepishly handed over the bag of tricks that Remus had given him as an early birthday present. Harry shook his head. "Keep it, you'll find some use for it, but if anything goes wrong in my class, you know who I'll be looking to." Michael nodded and tucked the bag of tricks away in his school sack. "Here, you might want this too." He handed his son the Marauders' Map. "You remember Remus telling you about this?" His son's grey eyes brightened when he saw the heavy parchment, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Use it wisely, Mike. I certainly got myself into a fair few adventures with this when I was in school. Made the long nights pass quicker. But," he raised an admonishing eyebrow, "if I find out from Madam Rosmerta that you've been frequenting Honeydukes, you're in big trouble, lad." His son nodded emphatically and Harry could see his mind hatching various plans for the map already. "Now, it's time to get ready."

* * * * *

The Great Hall had changed very little in his years of absence. The roof was still enchanted to look like the night sky. The table layout hadn't changed one iota. There were still the four House tables and the teachers' table at the front raised on a small podium. There were conspicuous absences from the teachers' table, though. Harry felt Dumbledore's absence very strongly. Snape's brooding presence was no longer there to terrify the students, and little Professor Flitwick was no longer peering curiously over the table top at them. Most of all, Harry missed Hagrid's presence. The half-giant had been like a surrogate father to him at Hogwarts, and Harry had loved him despite his faults.

Instead, Minerva McGonagall sat in Dumbledore's old seat as Headmistress, Hermione Granger was Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor, Ginny Weasley replaced Professor Flitwick as Charms Professor, and of course Draco Malfoy sat brooding and scowling at the pupils as Snape had always done. Quietly Harry took a place at the far corner of the teachers' table and waited for the children to arrive.

All the older years arrived first and took their seats according to houses. Harry's breath caught in his throat as Hermione appeared with the first years. Harry looked at them and smiled fondly. Was he once that small? Hermione hadn't changed much; she still had the same bushy brown hair, but it was tamed better now. She looked good. The years had been kind to her. She wore a smart set of glasses that rested on the tip of her nose. She always had a school teacher appearance about her. He and Ron were forever teasing her about that. Harry half-listened to the Sorting Hat sing its song and only half-registered the names of the children being called. He idly played with the cutlery in front of him and hummed a song to himself.

Moray, Michael. Harry tuned into the goings-on now. What house would he be in? He cast a guarded look towards Malfoy, who sat a couple of seats down from him next to Ginny, and saw him watching Michael with a strange look in his eyes. Gulping, Harry focused on his son, who sat quite patiently as the hat decided where to place him.

A frown crossed Harry's face. The Hat was taking quite a long time. Did it take this long with him? Glancing at Hermione, he paled to see that even she had a slight frown on her face.

SLYTHERIN, the Hat shouted out. Harry rolled his eyes. It was to be expected. The Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin, and it had practically screamed Slytherin before it had even been put on Draco's head. What would Remus think? Grinning, Harry waved at his son as he scampered over to the cheering Slytherin table. From where he was sitting, the new Slytherins looked much friendlier than he remembered them to be in his days as a student here. Some were actually smiling! Things had definitely changed in Hogwarts.

Harry zoned out again and was staring at the ceiling, remembering how he had always liked to watch it, when a hush fell on the room. Looking around, he saw all eyes were on him. Panicking slightly, his hand brushed the pocket where his wand was kept. Looking towards the teachers, he saw Draco's eyes narrow as he caught his gesture and McGonagall nod for him to stand up and introduce himself.

"Ahem. Hi," he began. A few snickers were heard from the four tables in front of him as he blushed and became flustered. "I'm Nicholas Moray, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and part time flying instructor. I'm sure we'll have great fun in class, and I'm looking forward to meeting you all. Cheers." He sat back down quickly, still blushing, and saw Michael trying to stifle his laughter with his fist in his mouth. Brilliant. Great way to start off his new career.

McGonagall turned back to the students. "Another year has begun at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Tryouts for the Quidditch teams will begin next Monday, and all years are welcome to try out for a position in their house teams. Let the feast begin." She clapped her hands, and the food appeared on the tables. The students fell at the feast with little decorum, but the teachers were more relaxed about their meal.

A pretty young witch called Ileana Ixylon was the new History of Magic Professor, as Professor Binns had finally given up and become one of the castle ghosts. Harry half listened to her incessant babble as he watched his son and his schoolmates.

Geoffrey Weasley sat next to him at the Slytherin table, and Harry chuckled to himself. He could just imagine Molly's face when she found out that a grandchild of hers was one of the snakes. Ginny didn't seem affected by her son's sorting, but considering the Slytherin nature of his father he doubted that Ginny really minded. Michael caught him watching him and stuck his tongue out good-naturedly and waved at him. Geoffrey Weasley did the same, but with a bit more decorum than his son.

Harry watched the children file out with their prefects, sat back in his chair, and sighed. Standing up, he made to leave the table, when a pale hand at his elbow grasped his attention. He turned around and found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy.

"Draco," Ileana complained in a whiny voice that caused both men to wince reflexively. "I saw him first. You should at least give others a fair chance before you waltz in and steal him right out from under our feet. Hermione and Ginevra haven't even had a chance to meet him yet. Play fair."

Draco turned to face her with his trademark smirk on his sharp face. "When do I ever play fair, dear Ileana? Have you ever once seen me play fair?"

"Well there was last Halloween..." she began, but Draco cut her off, steering Harry away from the table and towards the doors. "Draco Malfoy," she screeched. "You bring him back here this instant."

Harry laughed along with Draco as they exited the main hall and sauntered towards the teachers' quarters. "You're in the room next to mine." Draco began. "If anything begins to smell, it'll probably be one of my potions. Just give the wall a good couple of thumps and I'll dispose of it." Harry nodded and engaged in small talk as they walked back to their rooms. They discussed lesson plans and flying. Draco had been acting as part-time flying instructor, but his potions classes were paying for it so he had to give it up last year.

Draco stopped in front of a large portrait of an old woman sitting in a rocking chair and indicated that Harry should go in. "This is your room. If anything is not to your specifications just call the house-elves, but don't let Hermione hear you. I'm next door if you should need anything."

"SPEW." Harry said under his breath as he yawned. "Goodnight, Malfoy," he said, stepping into his room and completely missing Draco's speculative look as he shut the portrait behind him receiving grumbles from the old woman as he moved her picture.

* * * * *

Harry woke up screaming with someone shaking him. Immediately his defences were raised. Someone was in his room, an uninvited someone. Reservations aside and his wand too far away from him, Harry used all that he could. Wandless magic. Energy crackled through him, sending the person shaking him flying away from him to land with an audible 'oomph' against a wall.

Clearing his groggy mind, he sat up in his sweat-soaked sheets and muttered, "Lumos." The lights in his room came on and the fire roared into life as he advanced upon the figure that was crumpled in the corner.

The pale skin and the silky black pyjamas identified him immediately. Draco.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Malfoy," he said as he helped the quite obviously dazed man to his feet. The touch of the man's cool skin against his sent shivers down his spine, and he broke the contact quite abruptly, causing Draco to stagger against the wall for support.

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" Harry asked, not quite disgruntled to find the man in his room in the middle of the night, but feeling as though his privacy was invaded.

Draco shook his head and looked up at him through his dishevelled blond hair. Grey eyes widened for a second, and Harry had a moment of panic when he thought that his glamours had vanished because of the explosion of his power.

"I heard you screaming through the walls, Moray," Draco said scathingly, his face guarded and composed again. "The noises you were making...." He shook his blond head. "Do you get them often?" he asked, sitting uninvited in one of the padded armchairs. He muttered under his voice, and a decanter of golden liquid and two glasses appeared on the table in front of the fireplace.

Not knowing what else to say, Harry simply nodded his head and took the seat opposite Malfoy. The man still managed to command a situation. "Since I was a child. They've not been that bad for a decade or so, though. I'd thought that I'd grown out of them with age, but I think tonight proves that theory invalid."

"If you don't mind me asking, why do you wake up screaming?" Draco asked bluntly as he poured a measure of the golden liquid into a glass and handed it to him. The liquid sizzled when it hit the cool glass and Harry groaned. Firewhisky. Harry looked at Draco; his poise was guileless, but Harry knew better. He was probing for information. Malfoy the spy.

"I see Voldemort killing my parents," he replied bluntly. It was a vague enough description. Lots of people his age had seen Voldemort killing their parents. Draco had watched Voldemort kill his mother when he was in sixth year. That was what made him change sides. He was pleased to see Draco blanch slightly and look away from his piercing gaze. Harry sank back into the padded seat and swirled the Firewhisky in the glass. This stuff messed with his mind; he was never able to find out how Draco managed to quaff it as if it were water. Draco hadn't changed much in the twelve years since their last meeting. He still had that foxy look about him. His hair was much longer now, a length of what his father's used to be, and was tied back in a low ponytail. He looked much more tired now, though. He wasn't young anymore. He'd be in his early thirties now, the same as Harry was. Harry sneaked a glance at his left hand, and a small smile creased his face when he saw no wedding band there.

"When is your first class tomorrow?" Draco asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"Flying lessons first thing with first year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff." He rolled his eyes and sighed, taking a hesitant sip from his glass. Strangely, it didn't burn like it used to. The hot liquid soothed his shot nerves. "Far too early to be catching children falling from the skies."

"I remember my first flying lesson. Harry Potter was in my class," Draco said offhand, staring at his nails. "He was a fantastic flyer even without having training. I may drop by. I know a few moves myself. I don't have a class until third period, are you free afterwards?" Harry looked intently at Draco, not knowing where this conversation was leading. "Would you like a friendly game on the Quidditch pitch? I assume that you can play, teaching flying and all." Harry simply watched him as he drawled in a voice that he remembered so well. Should he risk it? He hadn't had a really good game of Quidditch since their last match in seventh year. Annoyingly, everyone else he played just let him win, Harry being the Boy Who Lived and all. But would Draco notice from his flying style that he wasn't who he said he was? Would his game be up? Not even a day had passed, and someone would find out. Remus was right. He was terrible at keeping secrets.

He should say no, he should say no and walk away from Draco. He brought back too many bad memories. "Sure. Sounds like an idea," he found himself saying. He inwardly cursed his loose tongue but silenced his inner voice when Draco smiled. His pale, weary face lit up.

"At last, someone to give me a proper game. Can you believe that no one in this place actually plays save the students?" Draco shook his head and knocked back his Firewhisky in one go. He stood and made to leave but turned around at the last minute. "I can brew up a dreamless sleep potion for you if you don't want to be plagued by nightmares." Harry shook his head emphatically still sitting and nursing the Firewhisky.

"No, it's quite all right." To allay Draco's suspicious expression, Harry continued. "I'm allergic to some of the ingredients, thanks for the Firewhisky though. It's calmed me a bit. I'll see you tomorrow."

Draco nodded. He obviously knew when to make his exit. "Try and muffle your screams with a pillow next time," he said as goodnight with a smile. Harry nodded to him and gazed into the fire as Draco closed the portrait to his room behind him.

Harry sat in the chair for a long time. He remembered his last night in Hogwarts; Ron and Hermione laughing with him beside the lake, watching the tentacles of the Giant Squid lapping the surface, disturbing its calm waters. Ron and Hermione had left him to go and spend some time together, and Draco had taken their place. Draco had been a constant at his side since the beginning of sixth year, sometimes a little confrontational, but calming to him in a way that his two Gryffindor friends never were. He and Draco had become much closer in the next three years, graduating and becoming Aurors together, not separating as they didn't trust anyone save themselves in Auror training. They had relied on each other in ways that he had never relied on Ron and Hermione. Draco had loved him.

Harry set the finished glass down and pulled the chair over to sit by the window, trying to force these memories out of his mind but failing. Draco telling him that everything would be all right. Draco telling him that he'd never leave. How Harry must have broken his fragile heart by leaving him and vanishing, letting him believe that he was dead. Not letting him know that he had a son. He then remembered why he had left in the first place and knew that circumstances would have been a great deal worse if he had stayed. Grieving families pulling him aside and asking why he couldn't save the person that they had lost. Grieving families not caring of his own loss and grief. He wouldn't have been able to live in that environment. At least in this one he had a chance at his own life.

In the next room Draco lay on top of his silken bed sheets staring up at the canopy of his four-poster bed. The man nagged at a memory in him, a memory of Harry of all people. To stop himself from brooding, he took a bottle of the dreamless sleep potion from his potions cabinet in his chambers and knocked back the tiny bottle. He didn't want to remember Harry now, not at a time so near to the anniversary of his vanishing. He had too much to deal with at the moment. Sighing contentedly, Draco shut his eyes and fell into a soundless and thankfully dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

Harry awoke with the sun shining in his eyes. He stood up and yelped as his neck went into a cramp. He had fallen asleep at the window. A small smile crossed his face. Bad habits were hard to break. He couldn't remember all of the nights that he had fallen asleep staring at the stars from his dormitory in the Gryffindor tower.

Grunting, he stretched his aching muscles, grabbed a towel from his trunk, and went for a hot shower. Drying off his hair, he pulled a pair of faded denim jeans on with a plain black t-shirt. He wasn't going to be messing about with robes when there were a bunch of first-years zipping around on brooms.

He checked the time and saw that he only had ten minutes to get to the Great Hall before breakfast ended. Cursing, he grabbed his broomstick and bag with his Defence notes for his third, fourth and seventh year classes this afternoon. Sprinting through the corridors, he hoped that the staircases were being friendly today and not moving. God, did he need some coffee.

Arriving at the Great Hall, he noticed that most of the teachers had already left to go to their classes. No food until lunch then. Hungrily, Harry searched the top table for the silver pot that contained his precious liquid. Finding it, Harry zoned in on the shiny silver pot. "Coffee, must have coffee." He began his morning mantra. Not caring if the students heard him, he marched to the top table and took an empty seat next to the coffeepot. Reaching out to grab the pot and pour the steaming contents into a very large mug, he dimly noted that someone was speaking to him.

"Coffee, must have coffee," was all that he said. It was all that he was capable of saying at this point. He needed coffee to wake up. His eyes drank in the sight of the black liquid pouring into his mug. Sitting back in his chair, he raised the mug to his lips and drank deeply. He could feel his head clearing already. Finishing off his first cup in record time, he reached for the pot again and growled under his breath when he saw a hand appearing to take it away from him. The hand stopped and retreated from his narrow field of vision, and he snatched the pot again. Another mug down, he at last looked up.

He immediately saw Michael looking at him in amusement, a knowing smile on his young face. Sheepishly, Harry returned the smile and promised that he would seek him out for lunch later that day. Michael would be simply bursting to speak to him about his classes.

A low voice at his ear snapped his attention back to the teachers' table. "What?" he asked, turning to face the voice.

"I think that you should see someone about your coffee addiction, Moray," Draco said with a dark look on his face. Harry smiled broadly. He could tell from simply looking at him that he wasn't the only one with a coffee addiction. Harry picked up the pot again and poured Draco a large cup of the black liquid.

"I don't function very well in the mornings unless I have at least three cups of coffee in my system. It's a better habit than most I can think of."

"You didn't need to nearly bite my head off, though," the blond man said, grumpily swallowing his coffee. An almost serene expression crossed his face, and Harry laughed. The expression vanished immediately and grey eyes narrowed.

"And what is so funny?" he asked haughtily.

"Just imagining what I must look like before my first cup of the day." The blonde's expression remained unamused at his incessant chuckles, but he didn't complain when Harry refilled his cup with more coffee.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Draco asked lightly. "No more nightmares?" Harry shook his head.

"Didn't fall asleep for quite a while, but when I did I slept like a baby."

"I may be able to concoct something that will help you sleep without nightmares if you want." Harry swallowed a mouthful of coffee and pondered the blonde's words. If it meant that he didn't have to relive killing Voldemort and seeing his friends' lifeless bodies, he would gladly accept.

"Sure, that would be brilliant, just remember to avoid the ingredients from the dreamless sleep potion. You don't want me dying or anything." Harry reminded the potions master. Personally, he doubted that any potion to suppress nightmares would work on him. He had tried them all over the years, and the effects had always worn off after a couple of doses. He was now immune to basically all variants of dreamless sleep potion.

"I'll see you second period for a bit of flying?" he asked as he stood, downing the last of his coffee. Draco nodded and smiled at him. Harry's breath hitched the smallest amount and he hoped that the sharp-eyed Slytherin missed it. Draco went back to surveying the students, who were now all filing out of the Great Hall and heading towards their classes.

Nodding to his son as he passed, he briskly made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, where the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years would be waiting for him. He caught up with a few stragglers of his class and ushered them along to the pitch. Smiling at their beaming and apprehensive faces, he gathered them all together on the Quidditch pitch near the locker rooms. He pulled twenty-six of the school brooms out of the Quidditch locker rooms and set them out on the pitch.

"Right, I'm Professor Moray. You can call me whatever you wish as long as it isn't offensive in any way. I'm not a great fan of formalities, but as long as you listen to me and follow what I say I think we'll get on famously." That earned him a few giggles and grins from the boys and shy smiles from the girls. "Everyone stand next to a broom and hold out your writing hand, and say 'up' in a forceful voice. You have to know that the broom will obey your words. Treat it like a pet, if you will.

"Now everyone together. On three. One. Two. Three."

Twenty-six voices shouted 'up' in varying tones of command. Harry walked down the line and surveyed the children and their brooms. Surprisingly, all of the school brooms had responded to the children. They must have upgraded them since his own school days.

"Well done, all of you. Now mount the broom..." a few of the Hufflepuff boys sniggered at his words and he smiled along with them. They stopped laughing when they realised that their teacher was sniggering along with them.

"Bad choice of words there, then. Must remember that one." The boys began laughing again, and the girls of the class looked at them disdainfully. "Now sit on the broom like this." He showed them by mounting his own broom, his Nimbus 4490. Dismounting, he walked along the row of students, correcting their gripping techniques and position on the broom when he needed to. He was determined that this class's first flying lesson would go better than his own.

"Right now, could you three come and stand next to me. No, you're not in trouble, but I have a feeling that you've never flown a broom before." The three students nodded and turned slightly pinkish. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I just want to be able to help you all if anything goes wrong." The children nodded and scuffed their feet.

"Now everyone," he said more loudly, addressing the rest of the students as well as the three beside him. "Do as I do, and if anyone goes above a meter off of the ground there will issues to discuss between us all. Anyone disobeys me in the air and I will make sure that you will never touch another broomstick for as long as you attend Hogwarts."

The children nodded, and Harry felt that he had handled the situation well enough. They were well respectful of his authority but still were comfortable around him. A different approach would be needed for the Slytherin and Gryffindor flying class. They were more competitive with each other than the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and less likely to listen to an authority figure. He'd pull a Snape on them. An evil grin split his features, and the unlucky students to see his smirk blanched slightly.

"Again on the count of three, kick off the ground, but not too hard. I don't want to have to fly up to the cloud cover to fetch you. You can put your weight on the broom now, don't worry, it'll hold for you." There were a lot of exhaled breaths from a few of the students who were slightly uneasy. The three students on the broomsticks next to him let out explosive sighs when they realised that the broom indeed would hold their weight. "Now, push yourself up onto your tiptoes until your feet are no longer on the ground." Harry walked along the line of students and corrected their stance, and in some cases showed them how to actually cast themselves off from the ground.

"Right. Now this is the harder part. This will let you go either up or down. We'll try the up first. If we tried the down I'd be digging you all out of the turf, and I know the Quidditch teams would not be impressed." That elicited another few giggles and bolstered the courage of the more timid students. "Copy what I do. Are you all watching?" A chorus of 'yes' answered his question, and Harry saw that all of the students' eyes were glued to him. "Sit back on the broomstick and pull the front of it up towards yourself. Don't pull it up sharply, that'll cause you to rocket to the moon. Pull it up gradually." Harry showed them how it was done, rising a few feet off of the ground. He hovered above the heads of the students, who were watching him fixedly. Slowly he angled the broomstick down again by leaning on the front. He landed with ease and hopped off.

"I want you all to try now." Giant beaming smiles greeted him from the twenty-six children, all of whom managed to raise themselves on the broomstick and lower themselves without any glitches. He let them continue doing that for the remainder of the class.

Calling them all to land, he gathered the broomsticks from them and ushered them on to their next class. A few of the children waved at him as they left the pitch, but most of them just grinned at him as they passed. Smiling, Harry gathered the school broomsticks and put them back into the cupboard. Fondly he ran his hands over some of the older models that were in the store, remembering his own broom when he had been on the Quidditch team.

Still smiling, he went out onto the pitch and kicked off into the air on his Nimbus 4490. He tore around the pitch without a care in the world. This was how flying was meant to be, not the slowly up and slowly down crap. It was meant to be almost breakneck turns and dizzying spirals with death defying I-almost-didn't-make-it stunts. A shrill whistle broke his silence, and he pulled to an abrupt stop in midair and looked around.

Draco stood in the centre of the pitch looking up at him. Harry began his descent and landed nimbly on the ground next to Draco in high spirits. Draco returned his smile.

"You certainly seem in higher spirits than this morning. Was your first class good?"

"Yup," Harry chirruped gaily. "No casualties and no broken limbs. They took to it like naturals." Draco smiled though it looked slightly sickly. Harry surmised that his boisterous attitude still rankled like it used to do. "Here." He bent down and opened a Quidditch ball box. "What position do you play? Fancy a game of catch the Snitch?"

A bright smile crossed Draco's foxy face. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. Ginny, eh, Ginevra the Charms Professor only plays Keeper, and she's the only one that I can even hope to coax into the air. It gets rather dull scoring goal after goal with no real thrill." A dreamy expression crossed his face. "I've not played with the Snitch in over ten years. I hope I'm still up to scratch."

Harry looked him up and down, scrutinising his lean form. "You certainly have the physique for a Seeker. Have you ever played the position?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

A furious nod followed his question. "I used to play Seeker for my old House team. The best Seeker that Slytherin had seen in years."

"The best no longer, my son is an ace at playing Seeker. He'll be in tryouts for the House team and stands a very good chance at being picked, if I do say so myself."

"Oh, you do? I'll have to figure that out for myself then, since I am supervising the Slytherin tryouts."

"Game on then, I taught that boy all the moves that he knows. And I assure you that he'll outshine all of the others." Harry bent down and released the tiny Golden Snitch from the box. It hovered for a second above his open palm before zipping off to speed around the pitch. Harry mounted his broom and waited for Draco to do the same. His face coloured remembering the sniggers from some of the boys in his flying class. I am not going there. I will not even consider it.

"Ready?" Draco asked. Harry nodded, still blushing, and ignored the curious look that Draco directed his way.

"On the count of three. One. Two..." Both of them took off as soon as he had said 'two' and sped around the pitch searching for the slightest flash of gold that relayed the Snitch's location.

Harry wasn't even trying to catch the Snitch. He was just enjoying the pleasure of competing against someone who wouldn't just roll over and let him win. Here and now he was Nicholas Moray, not Harry Potter. Nicholas Moray was gaining the respect of his pupils. It was Nicholas Moray speeding about the Quidditch pitch with Draco Malfoy close on his heels, and even sometimes Nicholas Moray following in Draco Malfoy's wake, because Malfoy was an excellent Seeker and hadn't lost any of his tricks.

Harry pushed his Nimbus 4490 to its limits and was excited when Malfoy kept pace with him. Resisting the urge to laugh wildly, Harry spotted a flash of gold.

Abruptly he angled deeply to his left and started a steep descent to the ground at breakneck speed. At the last moment he pulled up sharply, hearing some bones in his back crack satisfyingly, and snatched the Snitch from the air in front of him. Giving into his urge to laugh, he leapt off of his broom and landed on the ground brandishing the weakly struggling Snitch above his head like a banner.

After jumping around laughing for a few seconds, he felt eyes on him and turned to face a crowd of Herbology students just returning from the Forbidden Forest with the old Professor Sprout. Thinking wildly for an excuse, he grasped the first one that came to mind. Knowing him, it was the most unbelievable thing to be concocted by man, but he stuck to his guns and waited it out.

"And that is how you don't play Quidditch. That is how people die or maim themselves horribly. Just thank yourselves that I was the one to show you what not to do and not you experimenting yourselves." His little speech didn't convince anyone, least of all himself or Professor Sprout, who was muffling her laughter with a leather glove.

"Come on, class. I'm sure you can pester Professor Moray for flying tips after the teachers' match on Saturday." Harry was dumbfounded to see a few students nodding furiously and watching him with envy. The students followed Professor Sprout dutifully but kept casting glances back to the flummoxed Defence Professor.

"Well, you've earned yourself some fans there, Nicholas," Draco drawled as he landed next to him nimbly. "If your son is even half as good as you are, I'll personally expel those who don't want him on the Slytherin team."

"He's not half as good. He's a natural," Harry said, simply enjoying Draco's awe-stuck look. "I need to get ready for my next class. I'll see you later." Nodding to the blond, he raced from the Quidditch pitch with elation bubbling from him.

Nothing could spoil today.

* * * * *

Harry met up with Michael in his rooms for lunch and listened to his son relay, minute for minute, his day so far.

Harry grinned wickedly when he found out that his son had Potions first thing after lunch, then lost the grin when he remembered that Michael actually liked Potions. It was a gift to Harry, his son's passion for Potions; it made his birthday and Christmas presents easy. A couple of books and some rare ingredients and the boy was relegated to the green house for a good few days. Peace and quiet.

Lunch passed peacefully and was over far too quickly. Michael was rushing off to the dungeons for Potions, and Harry was heading to seventh year Defence Against the Dark Arts. This was the class that he was looking forward to.