Second Chances

Harry Potter slid into his seat at the High Table in Hogwarts Great Hall, cursing his luck that he had come down late and ended up having to sit next to none other than Severus Snape. In his opinion, having to sit beside Snape was a poor beginning to his teaching career.

It had been twenty years since Harry had first set foot in the Great Hall as a student. More than ten years had passed since the last time he had been there. To return now - as a teacher, no less - seemed surreal and made him more than a little nervous.

Professor McGonagall, who had become Headmistress the previous year after Dumbledore died in the final confrontation with Voldemort, had offered Harry a position at Hogwarts after the war. She had, in fact, begged him to accept the position. The previous year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had been prone to nonsensical ramblings and was forced into a long over-due and much needed retirement.

Everything that Harry had endured during the second war against Voldemort had caused him to rethink his career as an Auror, and he was grateful for Minerva's offer. Although excited by the prospect of filling young minds with practical knowledge, he wasn't sure he was up to the task. He worried that he wouldn't be a good teacher. Minerva was quick to remind him of how he had undertaken the role of Defence teacher once before - when he was only fifteen - and in the end he had accepted the position.

As he watched the fresh batch of first year students file into the Great Hall, he found himself thinking back to his own first day at Hogwarts. He recalled how nervous he and his new friends had been as they worried over what the Sorting might entail. He remembered fighting with the Sorting Hat to not be placed into Slytherin.

Professor Sprout, who was now Deputy Headmistress, began to call the children forward to be sorted. "Andrews, Reese," became the first new Gryffindor that year. Harry watched the boys and girls move one at a time to sit on the stool and be sorted into their Houses, trying to concentrate on the faces and names, but feeling almost dizzy with the newness of seeing the ritual from a teacher's point of view.

When "Malfoy, Adrian," was called, Harry snapped out of his daydreams. His eyes narrowed as he watched the round-faced, curly-haired boy perch nervously on the stool. Professor Sprout dropped the Hat on Adrian's head, and for long moments, silence reigned.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat proclaimed. Harry watched as the boy's mouth turned down in a frown and tears formed in his deep blue eyes. Reluctantly the boy slipped off of the stool and made his way toward the Hufflepuff table, his eyes straying longingly to a stunned looking blonde-haired girl sitting amongst the Slytherins.

"Malfoy, Damien," Professor Sprout called, and Harry turned his attention away from the Hufflepuff and to the small boy sauntering up to the stool. Damien Malfoy was the spitting image of his father, from his flaxen hair and grey eyes to his arrogant strut and that damned infuriating smirk. Like his father, Damien was placed into Slytherin House.

Harry's eyes darted back to Adrian Malfoy, and he watched with great sadness as tears filled the child's eyes and spilled over the rims to cascade down his rosy cheeks. Harry tried to imagine how Fred and George Weasley might have felt had the hat put them into separate houses. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how bereft that child must feel.

Harry vowed to keep an eye on all of the Malfoy children, for more reasons than one.

******************

When Harry was a student at Hogwarts, his first and second year Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers had been worse than hopeless. Harry and his classmates had learned very little during those two years. Only when Remus Lupin came to Hogwarts in Harry's third year did Defence classes become worthwhile. Remus had taught them all about magical creatures, including boggarts, hinkypunks, and grindylows. Harry chose to pattern his curriculum based on his own experiences and started his first and second year students out with magical creatures.

Harry also considered it wise to throw boggarts at the children before their fears matured to things best kept outside of the classroom.

The very first Defence Against the Dark Arts class that Harry taught turned out to be second year Slytherins. Seraphine Malfoy reminded Harry a good deal of Hermione Granger. She knew all the answers, was polite and well-mannered, and paid close attention to his lecture.

The similarity to his childhood friend took him by surprise - especially since the girl was, after all, a Malfoy - and he felt a momentary pang of loneliness. For years, he had Hermione and Ron by his side. Now Hermione was busy with her research and Ron with his Ministry job, his wife, and his ever-growing brood of red-haired children. Things would never again be as they had when the three of them were young, and unless he kept himself busy, he missed his friends so much he could hardly bear it.

Later in the day, Harry met Damien Malfoy for the first time. The boy did not seem to be quite as much of an arse as his father had been at his age, and Harry was more than willing to give the boy the benefit of the doubt. Damien seemed to have a lot of potential, and he, like his sister, paid attention in class.

Only when Adrian appeared in the Dark Arts classroom the next day did Harry encounter a Malfoy that gave him cause for concern.

Adrian was not disruptive or disrespectful, but neither did he volunteer any answers or pay particular attention to the lecture.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, gaining the boy's attention. "Perhaps you could tell the class how to banish a boggart?"

The boy just stared. No shrug, no scowl, no snarky comment or dismissive gesture. Just a blank stare.

Harry moved up beside Adrian's desk and crouched down so that he was eye-level with the boy. "I'd like an answer of some sort, Mr. Malfoy. I won't resort to threatening to take away house points, as some do, but I do expect my questions to be dignified with a response," Harry said quietly. "Do you know how to banish a boggart?" he asked again.

Adrian nodded. Harry was not surprised that the boy knew how to accomplish the simple task. He decided to chance another question.

"Will you tell the class how it's done?"

Adrian shook his head slightly to indicate that no, he would not tell the class.

"All right," Harry acquiesced. "Are you ill? Do you need to go and see Madame Pomfrey?" he asked, although he was fairly certain as to what was troubling the boy.

Again, Adrian replied with a silent negative.

Harry returned to teaching his lesson, and did not call on Adrian again. He promised the class that he would try to procure a boggart for them to practice on before the next lesson, and then he dismissed them. As he watched Adrian slip silently out of the classroom, Harry couldn't help wondering what form the boggart would take when fueled by the boy's fears.

****************

As the days turned into weeks, Harry was pleased to see his students learning - and enjoying the learning process. His first and second year students tackled various dark creatures, coupling lectures with practical lessons.

As it turned out, it was several weeks before Harry could find the promised boggart for his students to practice on. Near the end of October, however, he happened on one and, after a brief review, turned the creature loose on his armed and prepared students.

Harry was disturbed to see Seraphine's boggart take the form of Pansy Parkinson Malfoy. He didn't make any comment, but praised the girl for successfully banishing the woman by picturing her bald, wrinkled, and dressed in a burlap sack.

When Adrian's class faced the boggart, Harry attempted to capture the creature before Adrian had to encounter it. He knew the boy would make no attempt to chase the boggart away; although the boy's essay and exam scores were near the top of his class, he rarely if ever spoke, even to cast a spell.

The boggart slipped away from Harry, and soon Adrian found himself staring down his worst fear: the creature transformed into Seraphine Malfoy, and then slowly and deliberately turned its back on Adrian.

"FUCK YOU!" Adrian yelled, jumping to his feet and hurling his heavy Dark Arts textbook at Harry's head. He turned and fled the classroom.

Harry, shell-shocked by the sudden outburst from the usually silent boy, merely stood and stared after him for a long moment. The boggart, changing from one fear to another, went largely unnoticed. At last it ended up in front of Harry and changed into a figure that looked suspiciously like Snape but had vivid green eyes. Not wanting to explain that to his students, Harry cast Riddikulus and nipped the boggart back into the box he had dragged it from.

After his students had all left for their next class - one of the boys was good enough to gather up Adrian's things and promise to return them to him - Harry sat down at his desk and rested his head in his hands. He was at his wit's end. Adrian needed help, even though none of the teachers Harry had talked to felt there was anything to worry over. Harry was on his own, and he knew what he must do.

**************************

Draco was shocked to receive a letter from Harry Potter. He was even more shocked to learn that his ex-arch-rival was teaching his children. None of them had mentioned Professor Potter. Of course, they had mentioned precious little about any of their teachers or classes. Still, to find that Potter was responsible for educating his babies disturbed Draco profoundly.

In the letter, Harry had expressed concern for Adrian's behaviour and asked that Draco meet with him at his earliest convenience. Adrian's behaviour had always been above reproach, and Draco automatically assumed that whatever it was that concerned Potter was likely the product of anti-Malfoy sentiments. Still, he hoped that the meeting would allow him to see his children, and so agreed to meet with Potter on Friday afternoon.

********************

A knock sounded on the door to Harry's office at promptly five in the evening on the Friday following the boggart incident. Harry rose to admit his guest.

Draco reminded Harry very much of his father, Lucius Malfoy, with his long, flowing platinum locks and his expensive, well-tailored black robes. He stood with an air of command, his head held at an angle that clearly said he felt himself far superior to any mere mortal.

Drawing himself up to his full height, still some six inches short of Draco's impressive stature, Harry faced the man with every bit of poise and self-confidence he possessed - a not inconsiderable amount.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted civilly, hiding his aversion to the other man's unwarranted arrogance. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Potter," Draco replied somewhat icily. "What exactly is this all about?"

"Please, have a seat," Harry offered as he returned to his own chair. "Would you like some tea?"

"I would like some answers," Draco shot back as he carefully removed and folded his cloak before taking the offered seat.

Harry sighed and sat back in his chair, his elbows propped on the arms and his fingers steepled together in front of him. "As would I," he said quietly.

Raising an eyebrow querulously, Draco made another attempt to get the conversation rolling. "May I ask why you've brought me here?"

"As I said in my letter, I'm quite concerned about Adrian," Harry began. "Until recently, he's been quiet to the point of being almost invisible. He rarely participates in class, but his essays and test scores indicate mastery of the theoretical part of the course. I had hoped that in time he would work out whatever was bothering him and could make up the practical parts of his lessons. I have every faith that he knows the practical as well as the theoretical, but that he is merely refusing to perform in the classroom setting."

A frown creased Draco's brow, pulling his pale brows down. "Adrian's been silent?" he asked. "He never shuts up."

"I believe the only words I've heard him speak all term are 'whatever, sir' and 'fuck you'."

Draco's eyes widened in shock. "I beg your pardon?"

"The first was in response to my telling him to go to Madame Pomfrey when he was burning up with fever. That was near the end of September, I believe. The latter was on Tuesday of this week, and prompted my letter to you."

"Whom was he addressing?" Draco asked, his jaw tightening in a way that reminded Harry very much of Draco's father.

"Me," Harry admitted. "He yelled at me and tried to kill me with his textbook."

"Shame he missed," Draco said, before he realised what he was saying. He shook his head. "I apologise," he said automatically, sounding like he meant it.

"Old habits," Harry returned with a grin.

"Obviously, I'll go along with whatever punishment you deem necessary. That type of behaviour..."

Sitting forward, Harry held up a hand, asking Draco for silence. "I'm not going to punish Adrian. I'm worried about him. I believe that his withdrawal and his anger may be signs of depression."

"Depression?" Draco asked, incredulity ringing in his tone. "He's eleven!"

"Yes, he is. He's eleven years old - on the cusp of puberty, which if you recall is a very confusing and emotional time. On top of that, he's been taken from the familiarity of his home and routine and thrust into a world that overwhelms him."

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. "Are you certain we're talking about Adrian?"

Harry scowled. "I'm certain he's not the only child who's ever felt this way, but yes, I am talking about Adrian." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. "Has he expressed any unhappiness to you?"

Draco nodded solemnly. "At the beginning of term he wrote, asking me to intercede on his behalf and have him re-sorted into Slytherin."

"Why?" Harry asked, settling back in his chair again. "And what did you do about it?"

"He didn't want to be separated from Sera and Damien. I talked with Professor McGonagall, and we agreed that re-sorting him would be blatant favouritism - which I, of course, had no qualms about - and that it would likely not be in his best interests. I reminded him that he would still be able to spend his free time with his siblings, and assured him that we'll always be family and always look after one another," Draco replied matter-of-factly.

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I honestly don't know how to proceed," he admitted. "But I'm truly worried for Adrian."

"Why haven't any of the other teachers noticed this? Why hasn't Snape? Why haven't any of them contacted me?" Why did it have to be you?

"Potions is one class in which silence is golden. Adrian is quiet but does his assigned work. He's at the top of his class, actually, so Severus thinks I'm imagining things. Herbology also doesn't require incantations at this level, so Sprout just assumed Adrian was unusually quiet. Again with Astronomy, and History of Magic. Damien is in his Charms class, so he does well there. As for Transfiguration, the Board of Governors overrode Minerva's decision as to who to hire as her replacement. The stupid cow they hired wouldn't know a troubled student if one walked up and bit her on the ankle."

Draco found himself shrinking back involuntarily from the heat in Potter's voice. Clearly, he did not approve of the Transfiguration teacher or the Board of Governors. "I see," he replied, unsure what else he could possibly say.

A moment passed in silence.

"What do you suggest?" Draco asked at last.

"I wish I knew what to suggest," Harry replied. "Taking him from Hufflepuff House seems so drastic. I believe he could excel there if he would give himself the chance. Yet, he seems so much more alive when he's with his twin that I can't help wondering if they shouldn't be together."

"It's Sera he misses most," Draco replied absently. He stood and began to pace around Harry's rather small office. "I should have taught them myself, or taken them abroad. Hogwarts and its damned Houses!" Suddenly he threw himself back into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

Harry fought back the sudden unexplainable urge to comfort Draco. "Is there anyone he would open up to, other than you or Seraphine?"

Draco scrubbed his hands across his face and leaned back in his chair. "I...I don't know. He's never really been much for making friends outside the family."

"I think perhaps he would benefit from regular sessions with a psychotherapist."

"A what?" Draco asked, looking completely perplexed.

"A psychotherapist."

"I heard you, I just...he's not crazy, Potter!"

"No, he's not," Harry agreed. "Visiting a therapist could very well help him keep his sanity, Malfoy. I think you should consider it."

"I think the notion is ridiculous," Draco said. He stood and wrapped himself in his cloak. "If that's the only suggestion you've got, I'll bid you good day." He swept out of the room in a swirl of robes and cloaks, and Harry dropped his forehead onto the desk with a rather loud thump.

Adrian was no better off than he had been before the meeting.

*******************

The next week, Adrian seemed to make an effort. He gave one or two monosyllabic answers in class, which was more than he had ever done before. Harry was certain his father had spoken to the boy about his behaviour. He hoped that Malfoy hadn't been too hard on Adrian -and since the boy seemed slightly improved, Harry had to give Draco the benefit of the doubt - but there was simply no way of knowing.

The weeks passed by, and soon the school was gearing up for end of term exams and the Christmas holiday. Adrian seemed torn between anguish over the verbal exams and pleasure at the prospect of going home for the holidays.

Just days before the exams were scheduled to begin, Adrian came into class looking more glum than ever. One of the boys in his dormitory explained that the Malfoy children had received word from their father that they were not to come home for Christmas. Draco had contracted a fever and was highly contagious; he didn't want to risk his children's health by bringing them home.

On the bleak, wintry Tuesday on which Harry was to administer the Dark Arts end-of-term exam to his first year Hufflepuffs, Adrian Malfoy did not come to class. This was the first time the boy had missed any of his classes, and Harry was greatly concerned. Torn between the duty of his job and the obligation he felt towards Adrian, Harry mulled over his alternatives as he handed out test papers.

At last he trusted the students alone with their exams long enough to go down the hall and fetch Snape to watch over them. Severus was more than a little irritated at being called out of his office during his free period, but he reluctantly agreed to watch Harry's class anyway.

Harry all but ran to the Hufflepuff dormitories, his heart pounding in his chest. He took the stairs two at a time, the way he had as a student, barked the password at the portrait guarding the common room entrance, and barged inside. Hoping that the Hufflepuff house's layout was similar to that of Gryffindor tower, Harry charged up a set of stairs, tossing open doors and checking the dormitory rooms. One after another, they all turned up empty.

Then, at the very top of the stairs, he opened a door to find a pale blond boy sitting with his knees drawn up and his back against the headboard of one of the massive four-poster bed. The child held an empty vial in his hand, and he was shaking as if with sobs or pent up anger.

Crossing the room quickly, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed. Adrian glanced up at him with red-rimmed eyes, his lower lip trembling slightly. Harry laid one hand on the boy's shoulder in a comforting gesture and with the other he took the vial from Adrian's hand. Carefully he sniffed the vial before stuffing it in his pocket.

"What was it?" he asked.

"Sleeping potion," Adrian answered automatically.

"Don't lie to me, Adrian," Harry said gently. "I know what sleeping draughts smell like."

"Silens Mortis," Adrian whispered.

Harry swallowed thickly. Things were worse than he had assumed. "How long ago did you take it?" he asked.

"Just a few minutes before you came in." He looked up at Harry, his innocent eyes filled with fear. "I didn't know what else to do. I'm scared. I...I don't really want to die, but I just didn't know what else to do!" he sobbed.

Hugging the boy to him awkwardly, Harry let out a relieved sigh. "You'll be fine, Adrian," he said softly. "Let's go and find Snape so he can fix this mess, all right?"

Adrian nodded, tears spilling from his eyes.

Harry left Adrian standing just outside the door to the Dark Arts classroom, in plain sight so that he could keep an eye on him. In whispered tones, he explained the situation to Snape who sprang into action. By the time that Harry was able to get away from his classes, Adrian was firmly ensconced in an isolation room in Hogwarts infirmary. Snape himself had sent an owl to Draco, urging him to come to Hogwarts if his health would allow it and consequences of contagion be damned.