Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Romance Slash
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 06/17/2003
Updated: 07/25/2005
Words: 99,146
Chapters: 29
Hits: 317,001

Second Chances

kishijoten

Story Summary:
For the first time in over a decade, Harry Potter crosses paths with Draco Malfoy. Both have changed a great deal, but what do those changes mean to them - and to each other? **slash**

Chapter 20

Chapter Summary:
“The second years did something to Harry.”
Posted:
02/10/2004
Hits:
9,343


Later that evening, Harry settled behind the desk in his office to go over his lesson plans for the next day. His mind wandered often from his work, shifting between replaying his visit with Dr. Ponsford and worrying over Adrian and Damien. His session with Sheila had been both comforting and reassuring, leaving him feeling more able to cope with his many stressors. It had troubled him, though, that the boys had not been at the counsellor's office as he had expected they would be, and he was unsure as to whether they had returned from Hogsmeade. Just as he was steeling his resolve to go and ask Draco about the boys, the door to his office opened unexpectedly and a small, cloaked figured slipped into the room. The cloak's hood fell back to reveal the slightly battered face of Adrian Malfoy.

Harry swore under his breath as he rounded the desk and moved to the boy's side. "What happened?" he asked as he gently took Adrian's face in his hand and leaned in to inspect the damage.

"Damien wouldn't listen," Adrian replied in a hoarse whisper. "We got into another fight. I don't want Dad to know. He'll worry."

Drawing his wand, Harry closed and locked the office door and set to work patching up the worst of Adrian's wounds. "I'm not as good as Madame Pomfrey, I'm afraid."

"It's okay," Adrian assured him. "Harry, I'm really sorry." The boy looked up at Harry with tears glistening in his eyes, and Harry felt his heart do a funny little somersault in his chest. The sorrow in the child's eyes spoke more clearly than his words - he had tried to convince Damien to recant, and failed. The last bastion of hope had fallen.

"You've nothing to be sorry for, Adrian," Harry said, resolutely squashing down the desolation that the unspoken pronouncement had caused to well up inside of him. Now was not the time to mourn; he had to be strong for this boy, his almost-son. "I very much appreciate your taking a stand for me and your father. You'll never know how much that means to me. But your father is right, Adrian. About 'family ties' and 'sticking together.' You need to forgive Damien and try to get along with him."

Adrian sighed sadly and looked down at his hands. "It just isn't that easy," he said.

Harry understood all too well.

*** *** ***

When Damien returned from Hogsmeade, he slipped through the castle and down to the Slytherin dungeons, doing everything in his power to keep his face hidden. He didn't want to answer any questions about how he had come to have a bloody nose and a black eye. In the Slytherin common room, he caught Sera's attention and motioned for her to follow him to his room.

"You and Adrian were fighting again," Sera accused as Damien shut the dormitory door behind her.

"He refuses to listen to reason," Damien replied evenly.

"You refuse to listen to reason, you mean," Sera countered as she set about healing the wounds on her brother's face. "When are you going to admit that you're the one in the wrong?"

"I am not in the wrong!" Damien snapped. "You can't possibly condone the idea of Father seeing Potter after what happened with Grandfather. Or have you forgotten about that?"

"I haven't forgotten anything," Sera said. "Neither of us knows what really happened with Grandfather. You shouldn't judge Harry based on whatever horrible story you've made up."

"I didn't make anything up, Sera. I heard Potter threatening Grandfather. Next thing you know, Grandfather's been hauled off by the Aurors. It's obviously Potter's doing. The Ministry'll believe anything Saint Potter says. The probably never even looked into whatever he accused Grandfather of to have him arrested."

Sera sat down on the edge of Damien's bed, one hand still firmly gripping her wand and the other twisting nervously in the folds of her robes. "I've heard things," she said quietly.

"What sort of things?" Damien wanted to know. His eyes held suspicion and distrust.

"Things about Grandfather. And about the war."

"And where did you hear these things? From your low-class Weasleys?" Damien asked, his voice dripping with contempt. "They're as gone on Potter as the Ministry is, and it's no secret that the Weasleys and the Malfoys have never gotten on. You can't trust what they say about Grandfather."

Sera shot to her feet, her hand rising as if on its own volition to strike Damien solidly across the cheek. "How dare you?" she hissed. "You are never, ever, to insult my friends again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

If Draco had seen his daughter, standing toe-to-toe with her brother, looking him square in the eye with righteous fury etched on her face, he would have thought her the very picture of her Grandmother. If Harry had seen her just then, he would have been reminded strongly of her cousin, Sirius Black, in one of his infamous face-offs with Severus Snape. All Damien saw when he looked at his sister was his life flashing before his eyes. He knew from years of experience not to test her when she was in a mood like this. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

*** *** ***

For Harry, the second day of classes seemed on track to go as well as the first. He gone to the Great Hall for breakfast, but luck had been on his side and he had not seen Oliver. Draco had been present, but seated at the other end of the Head Table where Harry could ignore him. The morning classes had gone smoothly, and he had lunched in his office. The majority of the day was past, and there had been no major mishaps. Harry approached his first class after lunch with a slight spring in his step.

When he arrived at the Dark Arts classroom, the second year Slytherins were already present and seated. The students were talking animatedly, but fell silent as he stepped into the room. His spirits plummeted as he realised that he had walked into a trap.

Someone - and Harry had a very good idea as to who that someone might be - had covered the blackboards in homophobic slurs, spelled Harry's desk a sickening shade of pink, and tacked a very realistic drawing of Harry in a dress to the wall behind his desk. Drawing-Harry had a speech bubble over his head reading "I like it up the arse."

Harry clenched his teeth to keep from yelling and took a deep, calming breath. He walked slowly to the front of the classroom and dropped his heavy attaché case on the now-pink desk with a loud thump that caused some of the students to flinch.

"I should very much like to know who is responsible for this," Harry said, surprised at the calm, even sound of his own voice. "If no one comes forward in the next...sixty seconds, either with a confession or with evidence, you will all be serving detention." He paused a moment for effect. "During next week's Quidditch tryouts." He made a point of pulling out his pocket watch - a gift from Remus some years ago - and looking at the time. "You now have forty-five seconds."

A few of the students twitched in their seats. Damien Malfoy looked smug, and Harry had a feeling that the boy thought his father could get him out of detention. Harry stared back at the boy, silently challenging him. With a slight smirk, he looked down at his watch again. "Fifteen seconds." The students remained steadfastly quiet, although Isabella Zabini looked as if she wanted to cry. One last glanc at the watch. "Time's up," Harry said casually, as if he were not pronouncing their doom. "Detention during next week's tryouts, and 10 points from Slytherin - each."

Harry made no attempt to clean up the Slytherins' handiwork. He merely launched into the day's lesson as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. Only when the class was over and the last student had filed out did he allow himself to sink down into his chair behind the horrid pink desk and rest his head in his hands. He allowed himself to wallow in self-pity for a few minutes, and then stepped out of the classroom, spell-locking and warding it behind him. He wanted to make certain that the evidence remained undisturbed until he could show it to Snape and the Headmistresses. He taught his last class of the day on Hogwarts front lawn, and then went in search of his colleagues.

McGonagall and Sprout agreed at once to meet Harry at the Dark Arts classroom, although he had been purposefully vague about why he had wanted them there. He imagined he would have to be more forthright with Severus, and as he made his way to Snape's office, he contemplated how little he could actually get away with telling the man. He thought the element of surprise would work in his favour.

Snape's door opened almost the instant Harry's knuckles made contact with the wood. "Potter," he said coldly. "What is this about my house losing 100 points in your class today?"

"I came to speak with you about that, actually," Harry replied with a calmness he didn't feel. "I'd rather show you than explain. If a single picture really is worth a thousand words, I could talk forever and not make my point half so well as what you can see with your own eyes." Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Please, Severus," Harry said, sounding put upon. "I've asked the Headmistress and Professor Sprout to meet me at the Dark Arts classroom, and I'd like you to join us as well."

Harry watched the battle play out in Severus' eyes. After a moment of calculation, Snape consented with a half-nod and locked his office door behind him as he moved to follow Harry toward the Dark Arts classroom.

Once the four of them were gathered in the hallway outside the classroom, Harry took a deep breath and removed the spells guarding the door. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Two sharp gasps from behind told him that McGonagall and Sprout had followed him. Snape brushed past him, going at once to inspect the spell-work and the drawing.

Harry quickly explained how he had dealt with the situation and was surprised when he received a small nod of approval from Snape.

"Do you have any idea who might have done such a thing?" Sprout asked.

Before Harry could answer, the classroom door swung open again and Draco stepped inside.

"Harry, Damien just came to me with....oh my God," he finished breathlessly, his eyes darting back and forth as they tried to take in the scene before him.

Harry gave Sprout a meaningful look, and he was certain that she understood just who Harry thought was responsible.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"The second year Slytherins decided to have a bit of fun at my expense," Harry explained.

"I shall speak to my students," Snape said as he handed the drawing to Draco. He swept from the room, already working out in his head exactly what he would say to the Slytherins.

"Coral isn't really your colour," Draco joked, the light tone a sharp contrast to the tightness around his eyes. "I'm sorry," he added more seriously. He met Harry's eyes for a moment, and Harry instinctively reached out to twine his fingers with Draco's. Draco allowed the contact, resolutely holding on to Harry's hand. Harry wasn't certain what it meant, but it felt good.

"Draco," Harry began. Draco cut him off with a shake of his head.

"I know what you're going to say. I wish I could deny it with any certainty, but I can't. I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you," Harry said in a near-whisper.

Draco forced a slight smile. He drew his hand away from Harry's, and then slipped out of the room.

*** *** ***

As Draco made his way down through the castle toward the entrance to the Slytherin common room, he turned over the situation in his mind. He wasn't entirely certain what he intended to say to Damien in regards to the re-decoration of the Dark Arts classroom. More importantly, he had no idea how to pull his son aside for a private conversation without drawing unwanted attention. As he paused for a moment near the entrance to weigh his options, the door to the Slytherin common room opened.

"I will handle the situation, Draco," Snape said almost before he was through the doorway. There was no need to explain which situation he was speaking of. "Your interference can only make matters worse. I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of dealing with my own house."

"Of course, Severus," Draco replied. "I would never imply that you were not able. Are you certain...?"

"Professor Malfoy," Snape interjected. "You will not interfere. You will, in fact, pretend you know nothing of the personal attack on Professor Potter until you hear it through the Hogwarts' rumour-mill. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Professor," Draco ground out. He hated being talked down to, and he took exception to the idea that speaking to his own son would be seen as 'interference'. "If I may be of any help to you, do let me know," he added rather snidely before turning to walk away.

"You should perhaps consider your own part in this incident, Draco," Snape advised. With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, effectively ending the conversation.

Draco resisted an urge to run after Snape and hex him. His part in 'this incident' indeed. As if he was responsible for the foolishness of a handful of children.

He stalked off toward his private room, struggling to quiet the voice in the back of his mind that insisted that the Slytherins would never have launched today's personal attack on Harry if only Draco had been brave enough to defy the ultimatum of a twelve-year-old boy.

*** *** ***

Seraphine Malfoy was furious. Professor Snape had just left the Slytherin dungeons after dressing down the second years - and anyone else who happened to be nearby - about the defacement of school property and vilification of a member of the Hogwarts staff. He had assured the second years that if no one came forward with information on the matter within the next hour that they would be all be assumed guilty and dealt with appropriately.

Not all of the second year students had been present, of course, but those who were present had dispersed at once to spread the word. Alliances were being formed, deals made, bribes offered. And Damien was looking both smug and a bit worried.

Sera had her suspicions about what was going on. She knew her brother rather well, after all, and knew what that particular expression on his pointy little face probably meant. She had her suspicions, but she wanted more information before she passed any judgments. Willing herself calm, Sera left the common room in search of her Head of House.

The door to Snape's office was partially open - an invitation for anyone with information about today's incident to come in and speak with the man. Sera stepped inside and shut the door. "Professor Snape?"

Snape looked up from the notes he was copying, his emotions carefully concealed. "Miss Malfoy."

"I'd like to know what happened today, sir," Sera said.

Snape laid his quill aside and straightened in his seat. "What precisely would you like to know, Miss Malfoy?"

"It was Harry, wasn't it, sir?" she asked. Snape's eyes narrowed minutely at her use of Harry's given name, but he said nothing. "The second years did something to Harry."

"What would lead you to believe that Professor Potter is in any way involved?"

Sera flushed slightly, realising that she had not only called Harry by his first name but also given her hand away in a very un-Slytherin way. "Just something I noticed in the common room, sir," she hedged. "Was it Professor Potter?"

"It was."

"God damn it!" Sera swore, stamping her foot ineffectually.

"Language, Miss Malfoy," Snape rebuked mildly.

"What did they do to him?" she demanded. Snape gave her a look that would have had a lesser woman quaking where she stood, but Sera merely tilted her chin a touch higher and waited for an answer.

"You will address me with respect Miss Malfoy," Snape commanded.

Sera sighed softly, and she relaxed her stance slightly. Her eyes softened from defiant to worried, and she wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself. "Forgive me, sir. It isn't you I'm angry with. Please, will you tell me what they did to Harry?"

Although he could tell that Sera's concern for Potter was genuine, he felt that her sudden change in demeanor was anything but. At thirteen, she already had womanly wiles down to an exact art. He smothered a smirk and answered her question. "Professor Potter was not harmed in any way, Miss Malfoy, so you needn't worry so. The students simply felt it would be humourous to deride certain aspects of Potter's character."

"What could they possible...?" The puzzled look on Sera's face turned to one of outrage as the pieces clicked into place. "They made fun of him because he's gay," she said flatly.

"Does this fit in with your suspicions, Miss Malfoy? With what you observed in the common room?"

Sera looked him dead in the eye. "You know it does. Sir."

"Do I?" Snape asked, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his desk and steeple his fingers together in front of him.

To his surprise, Sera laughed. Then she slumped down in one of the chairs facing Snape's desk, buried her face in her hands, and cried.

Even after thirty-odd years of teaching, Snape was no expert on crying girls. Or crying boys, for that matter. He simply sat where he was, waiting for the storm to pass, and then escorted Sera out of his office as quickly and kindly as possible.


Author notes: Reviews feed my muse :D