Life Isn't a Fairy Tale

"Do you have everything, Harry?" Hermione asked for the seventh time in the last five minutes. "Did you remember to pack that book list I made for you, the one with the names and addresses of the local bookshops closest to campus?"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry sighed. He was really going to miss her, but it drove him crazy when the woman acted like he was a kindergartener who needed his name pinned to his jumper before being allowed out into the world.

"Hermione, you practically packed for him, so I'm sure he has everything. Besides, if he needs something, it gives us an excuse to go over and visit him," Ron said, smiling from his position in the doorway. Leaning heavily on his cane, he limped across the room and pulled his wife away from their best friend, as she was now trying to smooth Harry's still untamable hair.

Harry hated that cane, but he loved Ron all the more because of it. During their quest to find and destroy all of the Horcruxes, Ron had once again sacrificed himself for the greater good, just like with McGonagall's chessboard all those years ago. Healers were able to repair much of the damage he sustained during the capture of Hufflepuff's cup, but some of the curses were too powerful and obscure for them to reverse. As a result he had to give up his dream to join the Auror corps with Harry, but after the war he had found his niche as an assistant coach to his beloved Chudley Cannons. Harry still felt guilty that Ron had been the one hurt instead of him, but he had no doubts that his friend was truly happy with his life.

Ron and Hermione had married, and she worked in the Ministry as the Head of the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures. House elves, centaurs and other sentient creatures had turned the tide of the war with their assistance and support for the side of the light, so her department was now more of a community education and outreach center than a controlling body. Hermione had even succeeded in repealing most of the discriminatory laws against werewolves, although she would be the first to remind anyone who would listen that there was still a long way to go before prejudice was erased and equality was achieved.

Harry was sad to be leaving them, but there was little left for him in England, now. He had joined the Aurors immediately after the war, needing to be involved with the search and capture of the remaining Death Eaters. People had tried to convince him that he had other options available to him, as he, Ron and Hermione had been through special tutoring and had taken their NEWTs, but he never considered any other career. Fighting the darkness was all he really knew, and revenge was a motivating factor, even if it took him years to acknowledge that to himself. His friends were able to intervene before Harry succumbed to the bitterness and the hatred, but he had a rough few years. Naturally the press was there for every misstep, alternately portraying him as a demigod or an unbalanced potential Dark Lord.

The people of Wizarding Britain treated him accordingly. There were those who literally bowed down before him, or fell all over him with tears and gratitude for being their savior. Harry didn't like that very much, but he liked the suspicious reactions even less. The remaining Weasleys and surviving Order members were the only ones who saw him as a person, so it was nearly impossible for Harry to find any peace.

Having a decent relationship was virtually impossible, unless he wanted to go to the Muggle world. That wasn't worth the trouble, as he'd have to hide his magical side from his lover. He'd had enough of hiding who and what he was, thank you very much. A lifetime with the Dursleys had given him his fill of denying his magic, and a very nasty bout of publicity when he came out as bisexual made him determined to be himself from now on and damn the consequences. Honestly, didn't people have more important things to worry about than whether he liked to bag birds or blokes, or both?

Five years as an Auror and a celebrity had Harry burnt out and fed up with his life. Then, McGonagall had offered him the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for a year. Tonks, of all people, had been teaching the class for several years, and she was going to need maternity leave. Thrilled at the chance to return home to Hogwarts, Harry happily accepted. During that year, he realised that he really loved teaching, and that he was actually good at it. He had not been looking forward to vacating the position and going back to the Aurors at the end of the school year, but with Tonks returning, there were no available positions at Hogwarts. Harry didn't speak French, so Beauxbatons wasn't an option, and Durmstrang was too focused on the Dark Arts for Harry to be comfortable there. Besides, Hermione would kill him if he joined the staff at a school that did not admit Muggleborn students.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he was offered a position at the Salem Institute in America. Unbeknownst to him, Minerva had sent an owl to their Principal and inquired if they had a need for a teacher with his skills, and they'd jumped at the chance to add him to their faculty.

Now Harry found himself just a few minutes away from Apparating to the Ministry to catch an international Portkey to Salem, Massachusetts, where he'd be living for at least a year and teaching students about DADA. It seemed improbable, and more than a little overwhelming, but a fresh start might be just what he needed.

Kissing Hermione on the cheek and slapping Ron on the back, Harry prepared to Apparate away and take the journey that would lead him to his new life.

***

Harry landed with a thump in the office of his new employer, staggering slightly on impact. He was much better at Portkey travel than he used to be, but going across an ocean in a matter of seconds was more than a bit disconcerting. Thankfully his luggage had gone by a separate Portkey, so he didn't have to worry about dropping something en route.

Harry barely had a chance to get his bearings before his hand was grasped in a firm, hearty handshake. He realised that a small, gray haired woman was standing in front of him. She was wearing a simple Muggle business suit and pearls.

"Welcome, Harry," she said, smiling as she continued to shake his hand. "I'm Carolyn Stout, Principal here at the Salem Institute. We're so delighted you could join us here."

"Thank you, er, Principal Stout," he replied. "I'm glad to be here."

"Please, call me Carolyn," she said, letting him go and indicating for him to take a chair in front of what must be her desk. "We don't stand on ceremony very much around here."

As Harry sat, she moved around the desk and sat down. Indicating a full tea set on her desk, she asked, "Would you like some tea? I can't guarantee it will taste like it does at home, but we want you to be as comfortable as possible."

Smiling, Harry accepted a cup and sipped gratefully. He'd been worried that this American coffee obsession Hermione had told him about would make it impossible to find a decent cup of tea in his new home, but Carolyn's offering was quite good.

"Thank you, it's wonderful," Harry said, taking a biscuit from the offered tray and nibbling on it.

He took a moment to look around the office, taking in his surroundings. It was quite nondescript, looking on the surface like a regular Muggle office. Only upon looking closer did Harry notice that the pictures on Carolyn's desk were wizarding ones, and that the resident of the painting over the fireplace seemed to be snoring softly. The titles on the bookshelves that lined two walls of the office were decidedly un-Muggle as well. He recognised a few titles from his Auror training days, but most seemed to be unfamiliar to him. There were some ancient looking volumes that would probably make Hermione swoon, and quite a few of what appeared to be history books.

"I was the history teacher before becoming principal," Carolyn said, seeing which titles Harry was looking at. "I think that we can learn a lot from the past, so it's important to study it in order to prepare for our future."

"You should tell that to the history professor at Hogwarts," Harry said with a grin. "He's a ghost who is so caught up in the past that he hasn't even realised that he's dead yet."

Carolyn looked as if she wasn't sure whether she should believe him or not, so Harry nodded.

"It's true. Professor Binns is a ghost who was so old and set in his ways that one day he woke up in front of the staff room fire and went off to teach class, leaving his body behind. He has yet to notice the change," Harry said dryly. "It makes no difference to the students, as he drones on about the countless Goblin uprisings in the same boring monotone he used when he was alive. History of Magic was good for a nap at Hogwarts, honestly... but I'm sure that it's much more interesting here."

Harry tacked that last part on hurriedly, realising that he was probably severely insulting his new boss and her area of expertise before he'd even been at her school for five minutes. Thankfully, she seemed inclined to overlook his slight.

"A ghost teaching! We don't have anything as unusual here at the Salem Institute," she said with a smile. "I'm afraid that we're mostly stereotypical educators, a bit boring and prone to embracing academia at the expense of other, more exciting pursuits."

"We had a centaur too, and a werewolf, oh, and a half-giant," Harry recalled. "Professor Dumbledore was willing to give anyone a chance if he thought they deserved it and were up to the job." He smiled sadly, remembering his mentor. "He even had a Death Eater on staff for more than fifteen years."

"Severus Snape, correct?" Carolyn asked gently. Harry nodded.

Snape had turned out to be Dumbledore's man to the very end. He had been following the Headmaster's wishes that night on the tower. He had killed the already dying man to make the unavoidable death serve many other purposes, as had been Dumbledore's plan. It enabled him to keep his position as a Death Eater and funnel vital information to the Order up until the end of the war. It also enabled him to meet the terms of his Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy, which Dumbledore knew of all along. Snape had gone to the man as soon as he heard of the Dark Lord's plot, and Dumbledore suspected that Narcissa would come to Snape for help. At that time Dumbledore had already suffered the effects of destroying the piece of Voldemort's soul in the ring, and knew his life was coming to an end because of it. He told Snape to agree to anything to protect Draco, including committing the murder himself.

Snape had been bitter about being forced to kill the man he had respected and admired, and angry about being unable to cure the curse damage his mentor was suffering. He vented all of his frustration and pain at Harry two nights before the final confrontation, when he came to deliver the final Horcrux to Grimmauld Place. The two had dueled fiercely, both drawing blood, and Snape had once again bested Harry. Then, instead of killing him, he had thrown Tom Riddle's Award for Special Services to Hogwarts at Harry's feet and then broken down. Eventually he had used Dumbledore's pensieve, which Harry had taken from the late Headmaster's office, and shown Harry the memories of all Albus's scheming and planning for his own murder. After a long night, Harry accepted his story and Snape stood with the Order for the final confrontation.

He had died protecting Neville Longbottom from a curse Bellatrix Lestrange threw at Nev from behind. Neville had killed her in return with Sectumsempra, and then held Snape in his arms as the man died. Later, Neville told Harry that all Snape had said before dying was "Tell Potter I'm glad it's over."

Afterward, Harry made sure that Snape was honored for his years of service and sacrifice, and Snape was hailed as one of the brightest heroes of the war.

Shaking his head slightly, Harry emerged from his memories to remember that he was in America, sitting in front of his new employer and woolgathering.

"I'm sorry, Carolyn," he said.

"Not at all, Harry," she said with a sympathetic smile. "You've been through some incredibly difficult circumstances, and remembering the people you've lost must be painful for you. I'm sorry I mentioned Professor Snape."

Before things could get more awkward, she changed the subject.

"Now, do you have any questions about the Salem Institute, or about your duties here? I know we didn't have time to discuss many of the specifics before requiring an answer about the job offer, so please let me know what I can fill in for you."

"Well," he answered," I understand that I'll be teaching defense, and that it's taught with a different focus here. I know that I've come over in July to get the lay of the land, as it were, and to work with you on lesson plans. I also know that I'll be assisting with typical supervisory duties, like making sure students aren't sneaking about after hours and seeing to their safety and well-being outside the classroom."

Carolyn nodded, pleased with his assessment.

"Yes, Harry, you have the gist of it. Our system of magical schooling is slightly different here in America," she explained. "Our society is much more integrated with the Mundanes here - that's what we call your Muggles - so we mirror their educational system in most ways. Children receive an invitation to attend when they're entering sixth grade, which is at approximately age twelve. We have seven years covering grades six through twelve, with most students graduating at age eighteen."

"Graduating?" said Harry curiously.

"Yes. Here in the US, students are considered graduated when they leave school. We make a fuss, actually. Schools hold ceremonies to bestow diplomas or certificates, with lots of speeches and awards given out. Students dress in gowns and mortarboard caps, or in our case, traditional Wizarding robes and hats. Many graduating students will be given a large party by their parents, and everyone close to the graduate gives a card or a gift. We really make a huge deal of it all, as a sort of coming of age ritual."

"So, the students aren't of age at seventeen then?" Harry asked.

"No," Carolyn replied. "We use the Mundane majority of eighteen, and it really does simplify things. Our country's laws for minors govern students even when they turn eighteen during the school year, so they don't really attain all the rights and privileges of an adult until they've graduated from school."

"So no drinking or leaving the grounds without permission regardless of how old the student is, right?" said Harry.

"Absolutely," Carolyn answered. "In fact, the drinking age here is twenty-one, so students who are caught indulging in alcohol are breaking the law and can be expelled."

"Wow," said Harry. "I didn't realise how different everything would be. I mean, I knew that America was a foreign country and I expected some differences, but..." he trailed off, a bit overwhelmed with so much information.

"Well, some things are very similar, I'm sure," she reassured him. "I expect that our academic standards are comparable, with the addition of traditional subjects like English, math, science and physical education. I understand that none of those are covered in European schools of magic."

Carolyn went on to explain to him the letter grading system that was used at the Institute, as well as that there were state and federal standards that must be met by the students in their traditional Mundane subjects.

"What about discipline?" asked Harry. "Do I give detentions, take points, or what?"

"We do not have Houses here like you do at Hogwarts. Students are grouped by year and at least two teachers are housed in the same wing with each class. Each person is responsible for his or her own behavior, so there are no consequences to the year as a whole if one student is a troublemaker. However, we do offer intramural activities to allow students to compete with one another and come together as a group."

Carolyn paused and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"In fact, Harry, do you think you might be willing to work with some of the students on Quidditch? Quodpot is the traditional sport here, but Quidditch is beginning to catch on and we'd like to offer it as an intramural this year. Our flying instructor is familiar with it, being one of your countrymen, but with so many kids to teach I'm sure he could use some help. Would you be able to help with coaching, and maybe serving as a referee?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure!" Harry said brightly. He'd been bracing himself for the loss of his beloved sport, so this came as a welcome surprise. He'd have to send an owl to Ron and have him offer some suggestions.

"Speaking of staff members," Carolyn went on, "I'm afraid you won't be meeting many of them until August. Very few of us remain here over the summers, but I will introduce you to those who are here. Faculty members start to return around August first, and our first staff meeting is set for August eleventh. The first day of school is August fourteenth."

"Why so early?" he asked.

"Again, we follow the Mundane school calendar in most respects. We do board most students, but some Portkey in each day from their homes. It helps them blend in better if they have similar school schedules to their non-magic peers. However," Carolyn added, "starting earlier also means finishing earlier. The last staff day is May thirty-first, and then you're free for the summer."

The two went on to discuss the details of his classes, and to their mutual relief, Harry's Hermione-enhanced plans would dovetail nicely with what the school had already been offering. Getting lesson plans finalised shouldn't be difficult, and textbooks had already been assigned. Harry could change them if he felt it necessary, or add to them with supplemental materials, but he didn't have to start from scratch. He was pleased to hear that.

Harry soon found himself leaving Carolyn's office with a small stack of papers to go over, along with a map of the school and its grounds. She had offered to show him to his rooms, but he had politely declined in order to do a little exploring on his own. The buildings were a mix of original and modern, since the Institute had added on through the years as needs dictated. The dormitories and faculty rooms were apparently the most modern, with heat, air conditioning, electricity and plumbing that were the same as one would find in any Mundane home. Harry reminded himself to ask Carolyn later why electricity was no problem here like it was at Hogwarts. Maybe it had something to do with the age of Hogwarts versus the age of the Institute, or lack thereof? That would make sense, he mused as he traveled the corridors aimlessly, checking out classrooms and other facilities as he wandered.

Through the windows of a hallway, Harry saw a large field. Taking the nearest door, he went to see what it held. He was surprised to find equipment for a number of Muggle sports, like football - soccer, they called it here, he remembered - tennis, a running track and a paved area with two basketball backstops at either end. He wondered where they'd put the Quidditch hoops, but it was a nice, large area and he thought he'd enjoy being out there with his students.

Wandering back inside, Harry finally made his way to his own quarters. Since his early years were spent in a cupboard, and his formative years sharing a dormitory with four other boys, Harry was easy to please when it came to accommodations. He found his rooms to be quite nice though, with windows that overlooked the field he'd been admiring earlier. The bedroom was nothing special, although the bed was large and seemed comfortable enough when he tried it out. He had his own bathroom, which was a luxury he hadn't even considered, and a well equipped kitchenette that featured both a stove and a refrigerator, as well as a microwave that he'd have to ask Carolyn how to use. There was a small dining area that consisted of a table with four chairs, and it led to his sitting room. Living room, they called it here, he remembered. It had a combination TV/DVD player, a fireplace, a sofa, a comfortable looking chair and a low table. All in all, the place reminded him of a hotel suite he'd stayed in once when Hermione had forced him to splurge on a first class vacation to Hawaii. There was no warm beach just outside his door, sadly, but the rooms were more than serviceable and Harry thought he could be at home there.

***

After spending the rest of the afternoon unpacking and settling in, Harry met Carolyn in the dining hall for dinner. It was a bit of a disappointment after spending so many meals in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but the food smelled good and he was eager to meet some of his fellow teachers.

Carolyn was waiting for him, and she introduced him to the three other staff members who had stayed over the summer. Harry shook hands with Emily Goodacre, the herbology teacher; Frank Williamson, the Vice Principal; and Marianna Peters, the librarian.

"Are you finding your way around well enough, Harry?" asked Carolyn as he took the empty seat she had indicated.

"Quite well, thanks to your map," Harry answered. "I think I've seen much of the school already." He unfolded his napkin into his lap and tried not to look too eager as his stomach let out a deep growl.

Carolyn laughed. "I see you've definitely worked up an appetite. I hope you'll like the food here."

Different platters and bowls appeared on the table as she said this. Each staff member took the food that was closest to them, dished some onto their plate, and then passed the dish on, family style.

"What wing are your rooms in, Harry?" asked Emily. She was an older witch, perhaps in her sixties, with close cropped salt and pepper hair and bright blue eyes. Her rosy cheeks made it obvious that she spent a great deal of time outdoors, and Harry found himself liking her immediately. Perhaps it was that she reminded him a bit of Professor Sprout.

"The eighth grade wing, Professor," he answered, taking a dish of potatoes from her as she passed them on.

"Professor! Oh, that makes me sound so much more sophisticated than an old lady who likes to dig around in the dirt all day!" she said with a broad smile. "You'd better just call me Em or Emily, or people will think I'm putting on airs."

"Eighth graders, that's not so bad," said Frank approvingly. "They're too old to get homesick all the time but too young to get into the real trouble. Carolyn must be starting you off easy."

"We'll see about that," answered Harry wryly. "I remember what I got up to as a Third Year, and I'd not like to deal with anybody who takes after me."

'Trouble, were you then?" asked Frank. He seemed amused, but it was a bit hard to tell. Frank was a gruff, heavyset man in his late forties or early fifties, with hair so close cropped it was impossible to tell what color it was. He gave off an aura of control and strength, and was more than a bit intimidating.

.

"Well, I didn't usually go looking for it. It just seemed to find me," Harry protested.

Frank snorted. "I just bet it did. You'll be a fun one to work with when it comes to outthinking the kids and staying one step ahead. Let's put some of that "youthful indiscretion" to practical use, eh?"

"Frank is in charge of our security and discipline," Carolyn said. "He retired from the Bureau of Wizarding Affairs a few years ago, and we were able to snap him right up. He's been wonderful at helping us update our wards and security plans. It certainly doesn't hurt that his reputation frightens most of the children into rethinking the majority of their plans for mischief."

"Reputation?" asked Harry.

"BWA is similar to your Auror Corps, although we're mostly used inside other government agencies like the FBI or the Secret Service. We provide both the muscle and the magic to deal with major crimes and protect the Mundane bigwigs from magical attacks," Frank explained.

"Wow. I guess that would be intimidating to most of the students," Harry mused.

"Only to the ones with any sense. Unfortunately, that covers hardly any of them," Frank replied with a grimace.

The others at the table laughed. Conversation dimmed for a few minutes as everyone enjoyed their food.

"This is wonderful, Carolyn," Harry said, pausing to drink some of his water. "Do you have house-elves in the kitchens?"

"No, we don't," she answered. "House-elves were never widely used here in the United States. A few of the wealthiest families have them, usually because they're descendants of the original elves brought over when the family emigrated from Europe, but most of us have never seen one."

"Really? I didn't know that," said Harry.

"It wouldn't be practical anyway," said Emily. "Our world and the Mundane one overlap so intimately that having magical creatures as servants just wouldn't work."

"Do American wizards do their own cooking and cleaning?" Harry asked. "Who cooks and cleans here at the school then?"

"Yes, most of us do for ourselves. Very few Americans have servants at all, so it's the norm to do one's own housekeeping and cooking in both the magical and Mundane worlds. Some of the wealthier families have housekeepers or cooks, but it's not standard practice," Carolyn shared. "Here at the Institute, we hire the magically disabled. They know about our world already, so we don't have to worry about confidentiality or Obliviation like we would if we hired Mundanes. They benefit from finding employment within the magical world, and we do have a generous compensation and benefits package. It works out well for everyone."

"'Magically disabled'?" Harry questioned. "What does that mean?"

"Those born into magical families who don't have magic of their own," Frank answered in a very matter-of-fact manner.

"Oh, Squibs," Harry said, finally understanding. This garnered a gasp from Marianna Peters, a small, elderly woman with glasses who had been silent throughout the meal.

"How dare you use such language!" she hissed. She looked as if she might slap him.

Harry looked around the table, dismayed. Everyone was looking at him with disapproval, or at least discomfort. Carolyn had a frown, and her brow was wrinkled.

It was Emily who broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Do they still call them that in England?" she said calmly, sipping her coffee. "I knew that British magical community was somewhat behind us culturally, but that term went out of favor here some thirty years ago."

"I - I'm sorry," he said weakly. "I didn't know."

"We have another British teacher who didn't know any better either when he first arrived. I should have remembered and mentioned it to you earlier," Carolyn said apologetically.

"Another British teacher?" Harry echoed, grateful for the change of subject. "Where is he from?"

"We're not sure exactly," Emily shared. "Dante is rather tight lipped about most of his past. He has a silver tongue, and he always manages to turn the conversation round so that you don't realise he's avoided answering your questions until after he's walked away."

The five of them spent the rest of the meal chatting amicably about absent staff members, acquainting Harry with most of them. Everyone seemed to forgive him, with the exception of Miss Peters. She remained silent, occasionally glaring at Harry as if he was about to say something else she found unacceptable or insulting.

'Well,' Harry thought to himself as he went back to his rooms after dinner, 'you can't win them all.' He was quite used to being disliked, but he'd hoped to leave all that behind when he came to the Institute.

'Maybe the rest of the staff will be easier to get along with,' he thought to himself as he got ready for bed. 'I guess I'll find out soon.'

***

The next few weeks flew by for Harry. He met daily with Carolyn to hammer out lesson plans and familiarise himself with the state and federal regulations regarding educational standards. He even sat for the teacher's licensing examination, which was nerve wracking. Suppose he failed? He was beginning to like it here, and he had no desire to return home with his tail between his legs if it turned out that he wasn't up to snuff.

Harry spent his downtime wandering Salem and exploring the world around the Institute. Naturally he toured the Salem Witch Village and Salem Witch Museum. They turned out to be purely Muggle, much to his surprise. The Salem Witch Trials Memorial had a magical section though, and it chronicled the madness from the Wizarding perspective. He enjoyed learning more about the city and sightseeing via the Salem Trolley tour. He saw what felt like a dozen museums and pioneer sites, but his favorite was the Spellbound Museum, which passed off everyday Wizarding items as supernatural memorabilia, much to the wonderment of tourists. He had even found a comfortable bar just about 15 minutes walk from campus, and to his delight he discovered that it was a gathering point for most of the gay men in the area. There wasn't much nightlife per se in the area immediately surrounding the Institute, but The Cellar was what passed as a hotspot and Harry had come to enjoy his evenings there very much. He still wasn't much of a dancer, but he did like watching. He had gone home with various blokes a few times and had quite enjoyed the experiences. Nothing serious had come of his encounters, but Harry was having a lot of fun, and for the first time in a long time he felt young and carefree.

Before he knew it, August 4^th had arrived. Harry had enjoyed meeting more of the staff as people had arrived back at the Institute, but he had yet to meet everyone. This would be his first gathering with all of his new colleagues, and he was nervous. There was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he'd come to identify as a warning of trouble to come, and Harry was unsettled as he approached the staff room. Slipping inside, he found a seat next to Frank and nodded in acknowledgment to the teachers he'd already met.

"Let's come to order, please," Carolyn said, her voice cutting through the conversation and noise bounding around the room.

"Wait, where's Dante?" asked a thirtysomething woman with dark blonde hair and cat's eye glasses. "Has anyone seen him yet?"

"I don't know, but he knows we do not wait for latecomers," Carolyn said brusquely. "Let's begin the meeting."

Papers shuffled and chairs squeaked as people got comfortable, settling in around the large table. When she was satisfied that she had everyone's total attention, Carolyn continued.

"First on our agenda is the introduction of our newest Defense teacher, Mr. Harry Potter. Harry is from England and most recently taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He has passed his teaching licensure exam," with those words she shot a smile at Harry, who grinned back in relief, "and is all set to go on Monday. I expect you all to welcome him as a colleague and treat him with the respect due every member of this staff."

There was a smattering of polite applause from around the table, and a few comments of "Welcome!" or "Nice to have you, Harry!" rang out. Harry blushed, and waved feebly.

"I'll introduce you individually after the meeting. Now, let's move on to this year's housing assignments," Carolyn said. "For the Sixth Graders, we have..."

Harry tried to pay attention, but he was mostly trying to put names and faces together when Carolyn called out the assignments. He did note that he would be paired with Dante Mallory, the tardy British teacher, as well as an older, kindly charms teacher named Abagail Moorehead. She seemed nice, if a bit hard of hearing and rather doddering.

Carolyn efficiently moved them through the material in the booklets she'd had owled to each of them earlier in the week. They had gone through patrolling schedules, sports schedules, town trip chaperoning, and the school calendar and were discussing changes to the Student Code of Conduct when a noise in the hall drew their attention.

"Ah, that will be Dante," said Carolyn.

"I wonder what the excuse will be this time?" said Emily, laughing. "For someone who seems to love teaching so much, he is always so reluctant to return each August."

"I bet he blames the boy again," said Frank knowingly. "It's a foolproof excuse, and has a fifty-fifty chance of actually being true."

Harry was about to ask what they were talking about, when Draco Malfoy burst into the room.

"I apologise for my tardiness, Carolyn, Frank, everyone. You wouldn't believe that the airport was like in New York! Our flight was delayed for hours," he said, all in one breath, as he strode toward the table. "Then Xavier wasn't feeling well, so I didn't want to leave him until he was soundly asleep..."

Harry didn't remember consciously deciding to stand and draw his wand, but somehow he was standing at the table, his chair toppled over behind him, brandishing his wand with a shaking hand.

Draco must have seen the movement, because he turned toward Harry. When he saw who it was, all color drained from his face, and he gripped the edge of the table to stay upright.

"Potter..." he whispered, beginning to shake badly.

"I thought you were dead," Harry said in a voice he didn't recognise as his own. "You deserve to be dead."

"Gentlemen! Stop this at once!" Carolyn cried, jumping to her feet as Frank forced himself in between Harry and Draco, pushing down Harry's wand arm.

Emily and Catherine, the blond who had been asking about Dante earlier, were each on either side of Draco, holding him up. Everyone looked confused.

"I think I need to take these two to my office and sort it out," said Frank, steering Harry towards the door as he continued to force Harry's wand down at his side. "C'mon, Dante."

Draco seemed to visibly pull himself together slightly, and he nodded. Harry allowed Frank to manhandle him out the door, with Draco trailing along behind silently. He numbly registered that the room exploded into chaos as they exited.

When they arrived in Frank's office, he dropped Harry unceremoniously into a chair and snagged his wand. Motioning for Draco to sit in the other chair, he took a bottle of firewhiskey out of his desk drawer and poured three glasses. After handing one to each of them, he downed his own drink, and turned to Harry.

"Want to tell me what the hell that was all about?" he asked.

"Want to tell me why you have a fugitive Death Eater teaching at your school?" Harry shot back, downing his whiskey in one gulp.

Frank raised one eyebrow, and poured them each a refill.

"Dante? Anything you want to tell me?" he asked the other man.

Draco looked as if he was about to be ill. Throwing back his own liquor, he slammed the empty glass down on the desk.

"What do you want to know, Frank? My real name? If I was a Death Eater? What the fuck I'm doing here? Tell me where to start, and I'll give you everything you want to know."

Frank refilled Draco's glass and said mildly, "The beginning is usually the best place to start, especially if it's a long story."

Draco sighed, downed his whiskey again, but refused the proffered refill this time. Slumping down in the chair, he began to speak.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I became a Death Eater at the age of 16. My first task was to murder Albus Dumbledore and get a group of Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I failed on the first one, but succeeded on the second. As a result, the Headmaster was killed, students were attacked, and the war began in earnest."

He sat forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Where did you go after that night?" demanded Harry.

"Back to the manor. Where else was I to go?" Draco answered, raising his head to look Harry in the eyes. "The Dark Lord was threatening to kill my parents if I didn't complete the tasks he'd given me, and what would have happened to them if I'd run? Not that it mattered in the end," he added bitterly. "I was caught immediately, and my father didn't survive the night."

"What about your mother?" Frank asked, in an oddly gentle voice.

"He let her live for another month or so, mostly to make each of us watch the other suffer."

Harry was taken aback. He had not seen or heard of Draco Malfoy beyond that terrible night on the tower. He knew Malfoy was willing to take Dumbledore's offer, willing to lay down his wand and take up refuge with the Order, but that didn't change the things that he'd done. He knew that Snape's killing of the Headmaster was preordained by Dumbledore himself, but the man was far from innocent. Malfoy was the reason Bill Weasley was maimed, why Ron had been poisoned, and Katie Bell cursed. He'd let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, turned them loose amongst innocent children, and the results had been ugly. He'd never been caught, never tried or brought to justice, and Harry itched to make him pay for his transgressions right here and now.

Yet this wasn't the same arrogant, hateful boy he'd known. Something was different, but he didn't know what. It confused Harry, made him hesitate.

"Am I still wanted by the Ministry?" asked Draco, interrupting Harry's conflicting thoughts.

"I don't know, Malfoy. The charges are definitely outdated, but I doubt they've been rescinded. There's no statute of limitations on attempted murder, you know," he said sharply, finding himself trying to hurt the other man.

"Please, Potter," Draco said quietly, "Please, don't report that you've found me."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," growled Harry.

"Because I don't know what would happen to my son if I were dragged back to England and thrown into Azkaban," said Draco.

Harry was floored. Malfoy had a child? How? When? With whom?

He looked to Frank for guidance. Frank nodded, confirming what Malfoy had said.

"Xavier is a good kid. He lives here with Dante during the school year, even though he won't be old enough to start for another few years."

"Why can't he live with his mother?" asked Harry, still trying to accept Malfoy as a father.

"He has no mother," snapped Malfoy.

At that moment a knock sounded on the door. A moment later, it swung open to reveal Emily, who was holding the hand of a pajama clad little boy who looked to be about six or seven years old. The boy had dark hair and pale skin, and was rubbing sleep out of Malfoy gray eyes.

"Daddy, what's going on?" said the boy. "I woke up and still didn't feel well, so I went to find you in the staff room but you weren't there. Why are you in here instead of at your meeting like you said you'd be?"

Draco crossed to his son, kneeling in front of him and feeling his forehead. "You're a little warm. Is your stomach still upset?" he asked concernedly. To Harry, it seemed like no one else existed to Draco except his son. It didn't go with the image he had in his head of the selfish, spoilt Malfoy he knew, and it was disconcerting.

Meanwhile, the father had reclaimed his chair and drawn his son onto his lap. He was whispering to the child and smoothing his hair off his forehead. The boy was snuggling into his father as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Harry felt like an interloper intruding on their closeness by watching.

Malfoy looked up and caught Harry staring. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then seemed to come to a decision.

"Xavier, there's someone here I'd like you to meet," he said, drawing his son's attention toward the other man. "This is Harry Potter. We were students together at Hogwarts."

Emily and Frank seemed surprised to hear him offer up information about himself so freely, but Xavier just looked up at Harry curiously.

"You knew my dad when he was a kid?" he asked.

Unsure of how to proceed, Harry decided to just tell the truth and take it from there.

"Yes, I did," he answered simply.

Xavier studied him silently for a moment. "Cool," he finally answered, cracking a grin.

Harry couldn't help but smile back.

***

The men eventually brokered an agreement of sorts, with Frank's intervention. Harry was surprised that the former government agent wasn't in favor of immediately taking the fugitive into custody and taking him back to England to stand trial. When he tried to ask him about it, all Frank would say was, "It wasn't my war. It's up to you to decide what's right."

Harry agreed to discreetly look into the status of the charges that might still be pending without tipping anyone off to the fact that he'd located the fugitive in question, and to give Malfoy a chance to prove why he deserved a second chance. Draco agreed to stay in Salem and not run away, and to abide by whatever Harry decided by the end of the school year. They would have to be civil to one another in the interim, working together as colleagues and getting to know each other for who they were now rather than who they were ten years ago. It was an uneasy agreement, but it would enable both of them to meet their obligations at the Institute while they decided what should happen next.

As the principal and head of the Institute, Carolyn had to be informed of the full details, but she was surprisingly unconcerned that she'd been harboring a fugitive Death Eater on her staff.

"Whatever he may have done in the past, Harry," she said," Dante is a good man now. He is an excellent flying instructor and he is very good with our children. He's also a wonderful father to Xavier. I will stand by him and do whatever I can to support him during these difficult circumstances."

Harry tried to shake her faith in Malfoy by telling her about what had happened their sixth year at Hogwarts, but Carolyn remained steadfast. Anything that may have happened in the past was done, and she was firmly on the side of the man Malfoy was today.

Harry encountered that attitude amongst virtually all of the staff. The full story hadn't been shared, but they knew that Dante Mallory was actually an assumed name for a man who had fled after being brought up in a family that had been on the wrong side of the war. It probably helped that the US had never become very involved in the war itself, so there was no emotional reaction to the terms Death Eater or the sketchy details of Draco's misdeeds.

'How had Malfoy earned the trust and respect of all these people?' Harry wondered to himself. He found it hard to believe that the boy he knew could have changed enough to become a person worthy of so much affection and loyalty.

Most of all, Harry wondered about Xavier. How had Malfoy raised such a great kid? Xavier was beloved amongst the staff, even with the foul tempered Marianna, who still scowled at Harry anytime the two were in the same room. Xavier didn't take advantage of their affection or use it to get away with misbehaving. He was bright, inquisitive, quick to help others, accepted by the older students as an equal, and his smile made Harry practically melt into a puddle each time he saw it on the child's face.

In the weeks after the confrontation at the staff meeting, Xavier had taken to following Harry around whenever he could slip away from his minder, begging for anecdotes about his father as a child. At first Harry had a hard time coming up with stories to tell him that wouldn't portray his father in a negative light, but eventually he was able to spin most of their rivalry in a humorous way. Xavier loved the story of Ron's backfiring wand causing him to spew slugs (Harry had edited it a bit so that it was solely an argument over Quidditch), and the second year dueling face-off thrilled him tremendously. Now as they entered the middle of October, Xavier was after Harry to hold a rematch with his father.

"C'mon, Harry! It would be constructional, or something!" Xavier insisted as the two headed outside to the athletic field for Harry's Quidditch team practice.

"You mean constructive, and the answer is still no," Harry answered, trying not to laugh. Xavier was so eager, and very, very persistent.

'I wonder if this is what Malfoy was like when he was that age?' Harry thought,, and then mentally shook himself. Who cared what Malfoy was like as a little kid? He turned his attention back to Xavier, who hadn't stopped begging during their entire walk out to the field.

Before Harry could counter his latest reason why a duel was a good idea, Draco spotted his son.

"Xavier! Leave Mr. Potter alone!" he called, frowning as he jogged over to the pair. "It's not okay to follow him around and pester him like that."

Xavier immediately moved to his father's side, looking sheepish.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to bother you," he said, eyes downcast.

"It's all right, really. Snidget is good company," Harry said, chucking the boy under the chin and using the nickname he'd given him the first time the two had flown together. He was rewarded with one of those breathtaking smiles.

"Xavier, why don't you go see if you can help keep the goal for the sixth grade soccer team? I bet they could use your help with their practice," Draco said, ruffling his son's hair. Turning his grin on his father for a moment, Xavier yelled "Okay!" as he dashed off to play with the other children. Both men watched him go before turning toward each other and standing in awkward silence.

"I'm sorry about that, Potter," said Draco stiffly.

"S'alright, Malfoy," replied Harry. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching his mind for something to say. "Er, he's a good kid."

"Thanks," said Draco, his face lighting up a bit. "He really is, isn't he?"

Harry snorted. "No false modesty there, eh Malfoy?"

Draco's face darkened, and he opened his mouth to retort.

"I meant it, Malfoy," Harry cut him off. "Xavier is a really great kid. I enjoy having him around."

Draco bit off whatever he'd been about to say, and paused for a moment. "What was he after you about?" he finally asked, glancing over to his son to check on him.

"I told him about our duel in Second Year. He wants us to go at it again."

Draco threw back his head and laughed, a full throated sound that startled the hell out of Harry. He had never heard the other man laugh before, not really. Nasty little chortles were a far cry from what he was hearing now.

"Oh, that would be a disaster! We'd probably lose all sense of where we were and what we were supposed to be doing, and just hex the bollocks out of each other until one of us passed out," he laughed.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at bit at the mental image Draco's words created.

"You're probably right. Still, maybe someday we'll do a practical demonstration for my classes," he found himself saying. Where had that come from?

"You'd want to duel with me, in front of witnesses?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow and looking skeptical.

"Well, yeah, I guess," backpedaled Harry. "They don't really do formal dueling over here, so it would be a unique opportunity for the kids to see the traditional form in all its glory."

"I suppose it might be interesting for them," mused Draco. "If you decide to do it, just give me a week or two to practice. I'm really out of shape."

Harry found himself thinking that Malfoy didn't look out of shape to him. In fact, he looked quite fit. Wait - what? Was he thinking of Malfoy in that way? He'd have to get himself down to The Cellar that weekend and find someone to go home with. It must have been a little too long since he'd had some companionship if he was beginning to entertain thoughts about Malfoy's fitness.

"I'm going off campus Friday night," Harry said abruptly.

"So am I," said Malfoy, apparently unfazed by the sudden change of subject. "I've already mentioned it to Abagail, so she knows to be on watch if any of the kids needs something."

Abagail was the third teacher in their wing, and the three could take turns heading out for the night as long as arrangements were made for at least one of them to be on duty every evening.

"What about Xavier?" asked Harry.

"He is sleeping over with Jennifer's son. He's the same age and they get on well," answered Draco. Jennifer was one of the magically challenged workers at the school who took turns serving as Xavier's caregiver. Harry had wondered how it worked out when Draco was teaching or otherwise busy with job related duties, and Emily had told him that Draco had hired extra help when he first came to the Institute five years earlier. Now that Xavier didn't need a full time nanny anymore, a few members of the support staff took turns minding him and Draco paid an additional wage to them for doing so.

At that point the team Harry was working with streamed onto the field, and the two men went their separate ways. Harry couldn't help but turn back to watch while Draco collected his son, and the two headed back to the school hand in hand. He didn't even realise he was smiling at the picture they made.

***

When Friday night arrived, Harry was ready for it. He dressed himself in his favourite jeans, which were relatively form-fitting, faded and worn in all the right places. He topped it off with his favourite red Manchester United t-shirt (their logo reminded him of his old Gryffindor badge).

"Not too bad," he thought, checking himself out in the mirror. He rubbed some gel between his hands and finger-combed his hair into something resembling tousled rather than unkempt. Wiping the excess gel from his hands onto a towel, he exited the bathroom and sat on his bed to slip on his trainers. Grabbing his wallet, keys and wand off the bedside table and shoving them into various pockets, he went to the front closet and pulled out an old black leather jacket that had once been Sirius'.

The bar wasn't too far from campus, and Harry usually enjoyed the walk. Soon it would be too cold to walk the city, so he'd have to Apparate or call a cab when he went out.

Once he reached The Cellar, Harry made a beeline for his favorite spot at the bar. It had a great view of the dance floor and it was right in front of the Guinness tap.

'Here's to you, Seamus,' Harry thought, raising his glass in a silent toast before taking a long drink. Even all these years later, he still carried pieces of his old friends with him in his daily life and in his heart.

Swiveling around on his bar stool and using the wand up his sleeve to cast a discreet sound dampening spell around himself to lower the volume on the music a bit, Harry checked out the night's offerings. He nodded to a few acquaintances, but didn't notice any former flings he felt like revisiting. In fact, there was one over by the bathrooms that he definitely wanted to avoid, and Harry turned away quickly before the man could catch his eye.

"What's the matter, Potter?" drawled an amused voice behind him. "Avoiding one of your fans?"

Harry spun his barstool around so fast that he actually felt dizzy for a moment.

"Malfoy?" he exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you, I'd imagine," Draco responded, seating himself on the stool next to Harry's and signaling the bartender for a drink. The man must have known what Draco wanted, because a minute later he placed a Scotch in front of Draco, and was rewarded with a wink and a smile.

Harry was speechless for a moment, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. Finally, his brain began to function again.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "It's not your kind of place."

"Well, it's unexpectedly astute of you to acknowledge that I am far too refined to be mingling with Muggles in a dirty pub like this, but one must make do and endure, I suppose," Draco responded. He sighed and took another healthy sip of his drink, visibly savoring the taste of his Scotch in his mouth before swallowing it, and then licking a drop off his lower lip.

Harry thought it looked obscene, and he felt his pants tighten. So much for forgetting about those thoughts he'd been having about Malfoy. He had to get him out of here, and fast. There was nothing for it, so he'd just have to be blunt.

"Malfoy, it's a gay bar," Harry said, and sat back to wait for the reaction.

"Well spotted, Potter. Were you always this quick, or is it something new? I don't remember you having much of a clue when we were younger," said Draco, smirking.

"Wha..." stuttered Harry, spilling a bit of his stout on his lap. "It doesn't bother you to be in a gay bar?"

"Oh, honestly, Potter," Draco replied, dabbing a napkin in Harry's lap to soak up the spilled drink. That was not helping the situation at all, so Harry snatched the napkin away and mopped up the mess himself.

Returning to his drink, Draco turned to scan the room. "Obviously I don't have a problem with it, seeing as I am homosexual myself," he said smartly.

Harry paused in his efforts to fix his trousers, napkin hovering in midair, his mouth hanging open. "You're gay?!"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at him in response, and sipped more of his Scotch.

"Why did I not know this?" Harry asked out loud, mostly speaking to himself.

"Because you're an idiot," was the response.

"Hey!" cried Harry, stung.

"Potter, you should be asking yourself how you, an accomplished Auror with well-honed skills of reasoning and deduction, someone who has known me since I was eleven years old and been privy to my impeccable standard of grooming and my marked lack of female companionship, could possibly not know that I was gay," said Draco, looking at him over the rim of his glass.

"There was Pansy," Harry protested.

"Fag hag," replied Draco. "She loved to play with my hair and dress me up like a sister when we were small, and she never quite outgrew it."

"Your father allowed that?" asked Harry, curious despite himself.

"Not if he'd known about it," allowed Draco, finishing his drink and signaling for another for both Harry and himself.

"Well bugger me," said Harry, overwhelmed by this new information.

"Is that an invitation?" asked Draco interestedly, causing Harry to choke on his drink.

Draco kindly pounded him on the back until his coughing and sputtering had subsided.

"If I'd known how easy it was to wind you up, I'd have taken this tack a long time ago," said Draco, laughing. He thanked the bartender as another round was placed in front of each of them.

"So, you're not gay?" asked Harry, totally confused, picking up his fresh pint.

"Yes, I am."

"But, what about Xavier?" asked Harry.

Draco's face hardened and closed off. "That," he said, punctuating his words by setting his glass down so hard that it sloshed onto his hand, "is a long story."

Harry knew well enough when to leave something alone, so he changed the subject.

"How did you end up teaching all the way over here in America, mingling with Yankee Muggles?" he asked. "There has to be a good story in there somewhere."

"Good? I wouldn't call it that," Draco said darkly. Looking into his glass, he said slowly,"I've never talked about this before, and it's not easy."

Harry could understand that sentiment. He placed his hand on Draco's arm and said seriously, "You don't have to tell me. It's alright."

Draco looked at Harry's hand, and then at his face. He looked at Harry for a long moment, and then glanced around the room. "This isn't exactly the place for it, is it? Besides, I don't think heavy conversation is what either of us had on our minds when we came in here."

Was Draco coming on to him? Harry began to feel flushed.

"That gent over there has been eyeing you up for the past ten minutes," Draco continued, and Harry's stomach dropped even as he turned to look in the direction Draco had indicated.

"Don't look! God, Potter, you're completely lacking in subtlety or finesse," Draco griped.

Looking again in a much less obvious manner, he checked out the man Draco had indicated. He was fit, with broad shoulders and sandy blond hair, but for some reason Harry didn't feel any interest in him at all. The man caught his eye, smiling broadly and waving at Harry, but he just smiled shortly in return and quickly turned back to the bar.

"Not your type, eh?" asked Draco.

"Guess not," said Harry, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. What was happening to him? Did he want Malfoy to be interested in him?

"Well, you'll have a better chance pulling if I make myself scarce, so I think I'm going to go dance," said Draco. He stood, swigged the rest of his Scotch and placed the glass back on the bar before resting his hand briefly on Harry's shoulder.

"I think we should have a long talk back at the Institute sometime soon," he said, looking at Harry seriously. "I think maybe it's time I tell you what happened and how I got here."

Squeezing Harry's shoulder briefly, he dropped his hand and stepped away. He took a few steps toward the dance floor, then turned back with a grin and said, "Don't wait up for me, ok?" before disappearing into the throng of bodies writhing and swaying to the beat.

Harry watched him go, miserable and confused. Why was he feeling like this about Draco Malfoy, his nemesis? He'd loathed the man when they were kids, and flat out hated him in their sixth year after the incident on the train where Malfoy broke his nose. Granted, he had been affected by Malfoy's utter hopelessness in Myrtle's bathroom, and had felt the urge to reach out to the other boy before things spiraled out of control and they began attacking each other. He had also seen Malfoy lower his wand on the tower that terrible night, and Harry truly believed that if the other Death Eaters hadn't burst in at that moment, Malfoy would have surrendered to Dumbledore and accepted his offer of asylum. Still, the man had been responsible for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and the mauling of Bill Weasley by Fenrir Greyback, and he'd hoped that Hermione would be a target in their second year when the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Harry could name so many malicious, painful or downright evil things that Malfoy had done through the years that the very idea of being attracted to him should have been impossible.

So why was he sitting here at the bar, alone, watching jealously as Malfoy danced suggestively with one man after another? Currently he was pelvis to pelvis with a gorgeous black man, who was gripping Draco's arse with one hand and twining his other in that silvery blond hair. It was all Harry could do to keep himself from storming out on the dance floor and hexing the man off Malfoy.

Then the man bent down and kissed Draco, and Malfoy responded eagerly, mouth wide open, occasional flashes of tongue showing between their busy lips. That was it.

Harry threw some money down on the bar to settle his tab and left.

***

Harry managed to avoid having any meaningful contact with Draco for the next few weeks. It wasn't easy, but he was very motivated. He made sure never to be caught alone, and when approached by his new obsession, Harry would immediately bring up school issues or discuss their shared students until he had a convenient excuse to end the conversation and flee.

Xavier still dogged Harry's footsteps, but it was easier to deal with the child than with his father. Harry let Xavier help him grade multiple choice tests and sort papers, and he was always at Harry's Quidditch sessions, running around the field to fetch dropped quaffles or offer water to the players when Harry called a break. They usually flew together afterward, and Harry often thought that he'd been right to call the boy Snidget. He was fast and agile, even on his child's broom that had built-in height restrictions and safety charms. Xavier would be a formidable Seeker when he was older, and he hoped he'd be around to see him play when the time came. Harry found himself caring for the boy very much, and he halfway wondered if the Malfoy men had some special powers that enabled them to charm him despite himself. No, he decided, remembering Lucius with a scowl. Not all Malfoy men had that effect on him.

Soon Halloween was upon them, and Harry was introduced to the wonders of trick or treating and other American celebrations. He couldn't believe that people let their kids dress up and go begging for candy from strangers, but his students all insisted that it was a time honored tradition that must be upheld. Accordingly, he would be chaperoning any of his students that chose to go, and almost all of the eighth graders had signed up. At ages thirteen and fourteen, this would be the last year most of them would indulge in this childhood activity, and they wanted to make the most of it. After that there would be a party, which mercifully would end at 10pm for his charges. He did not envy the sponsors for the older classes, as they'd be on chaperone duty until midnight.

Naturally, as co-sponsor of the eighth grade, Draco would be accompanying him for trick or treating while Abagail stayed behind to set up for the party afterward. Fortunately, Xavier would be there too, and Harry was hoping he'd serve as a distraction and a barrier between himself and Draco. Xavier would be dressing as Superman, and had been trying to convince Harry to agree to cast Wingardium Leviosa on him so he could "fly" in his cape and suit on the big night. Teachers had to dress up too, but Harry had no idea what to wear. He had no experience with this sort of thing whatsoever, so he eventually let Xavier decide for him. The boy had decided that his grownup friend was a hero with dark hair, so he should be Woody from the Toy Story movies. He'd even loaned Harry his copies of the films so he'd know how to act. Carolyn had asked the Transfiguration teacher to see to all the staff costumes, so he was all set on that front.

Harry felt a bit silly in a big cowboy hat and a cowhide vest, but he couldn't help but feel the excitement and high spirits of his charges. He stood in their designated area of the dining hall, checking off students on his list, when he was tackled from behind and almost knocked over.

"Hey, Snidget," he said, knowing who it was without turning around. "Ready to go get all sugared up?"

Xavier let go of him and started dancing around him in a circle, chanting "Trick or treat! Trick or treat! Trick or treat!"

Harry heard laughter from behind him and turned around. At the sight of Draco, he almost forgot how to breathe.

Draco was wearing eyeliner. It made his gray eyes seem intense as they fixed on Harry. He had a short, stubbly beard and a mustache, both also darkened. His hair was darkened and it was now halfway down his back, with a thin braid on the side at his temple. He had a scarf wrapped across his forehead, tied on the back of his head, and he'd topped it with a three-cornered hat. His billowy white shirt was open to his waist, showing a toned, hairless chest and several gold and beaded necklaces. He had on a black belt that hung low around his hips, barely holding up tight black pants. They were tucked into knee high black boots with a wide, folded over cuff. He had a sword hanging in a scabbard at his waist, and a huge gold hoop in his left ear. Various beads and bracelets jingled up and down his arms.

Draco was a fucking pirate. Had he done this on purpose?

A few years ago, Hermione had decided that she would never take Ron to the movies again. The wizard born and raised man couldn't stop talking back to the screen or asking embarrassing questions that drew the attention of the Muggles around them, so Harry was pressed into service as Hermione's date for the cinema when there was something she wanted to see. The two friends had seen Pirates of the Caribbean together several years ago and he had harbored a secret pirate fetish ever since. Who could help having a crush on Jack Sparrow when Johnny Depp played him? Orlando Bloom wasn't bad to look at either, and Harry had thoroughly enjoyed seeing all three installments. He'd even bought them on DVD, even though he couldn't use a TV or DVD player at Hogwarts.

Now his crush was dressed like a sexier, blonder version of Harry's cinematic fantasies, and he'd have to deal with it all night long. God help him.

Draco mistook his silence for disapproval. Frowning slightly, he crossed his arms defensively and said, "What? Xavier picked it out."

"Have you seen the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, Harry?" asked Xavier excitedly.

"A time or two," answered Harry, in a slightly strangled voice. He was actually grateful for the hat now, as he took it off and casually held it in front of his crotch to hide his reaction to Draco and his costume.

Fortunately they were interrupted at that point by the arrival of the last remaining students in their group. Draco pulled on a sleeveless waistcoat that hung down to his knees and hid most of his costume, making Harry realise that he had yet to see him in those pants from the back. He didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed.

They finally set off on their rounds once everyone was ready. It was quite a bit more fun that Harry had expected, and he enjoyed watching the children as they examined their loot and traded candy in between stops. Xavier was beside himself with glee, collecting fun sized candy treats as if they were gold bars and celebrating each new acquisition with a "Dad, Harry, look what I got!"

Draco seemed less than thrilled with his son's excitement, but he carefully examined each treat and complimented Xavier on his manners toward the homeowners who were handing out the candy.

"Don't you want him to enjoy this?" asked Harry quietly as Xavier hurried to a doorway to stand in line for his turn.

"It's a Muggle celebration, Potter," Draco answered. "I'm being a blood traitor by even allowing him to mix with these people, let alone take candy from them and follow their traditions."

"Why are you doing it then?"

Draco looked Harry in the eyes before answering plainly, "This is my life now, the life I can give him. It's not worthy of him, but it's all I have."

He turned away and watched from the street as his son giggled with the older kids and waited for his turn to say trick or treat. "He doesn't know this is all beneath him. He has no idea of his legacy as a Malfoy, that our line is pure going back almost a thousand years. He is completely unaware that no Malfoy has ever before associated with Muggles, Muggle-borns, half-bloods or traitors, or that I've disgraced the family name by allowing him to do so. He just knows that it's Halloween and he is having the time of his life trick or treating with the kids he looks up to."

"If that's really what you think, what the hell are you doing here?" asked Harry angrily.

"Later, Harry," said Draco as Xavier received his treat and ran toward them to show it off. "Maybe tonight you'll stop avoiding me and we'll sit down for that long talk we've been putting off." He didn't look at Harry s he left the street and went to meet his son on the driveway.

Harry stared guiltily at Draco's back as he walked toward his excited son. It never even registered that Draco had used his given name.

***

Ten o'clock was upon them, and it was time to round up their charges and get them to bed. Harry was exhausted, and he had no idea how these kids could still be so wound up. Surely he had never had that much energy when he was that age?

Xavier had been allowed to stay up for the party, but he was now flagging. Harry could tell the boy was sleepy, as he was allowing his father to carry him. Harry reached out to smooth the hair on his forehead, and Xavier smiled gently, laying his head down on Draco's shoulder.

"Go ahead and take him home. I'll get the kids back to their dorms," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, between Abagail and me it should be fine," he replied. "Just go get that little superhero to bed."

"Thank you," said Draco gratefully, shifting his burden slightly in his arms. He started to turn towards the door, but hesitated. "Come by my suite after you're done?"

Harry took a second to breathe before replying. "Yeah, I'll come by."

Draco nodded, and then left. Harry and Abagail gathered their students and gradually herded them back to their rooms. Once he was sure everyone was settled for the night, he returned to his own room and changed into some flannel sleep pants (one of his favorite finds in America) and a long sleeved t-shirt. Throwing on a hooded sweatshirt and his trainers, he decided he was as ready as he'd ever be to face the other man.

He went into the corridor and walked down to Draco and Xavier's suite. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door. Draco answered the door almost at once.

Fortunately, he had changed out of his pirate costume and was wearing basically the same thing as Harry. He didn't think he could have handled trying to have a serious conversation while Draco was still in that outfit.

Draco invited him to sit down and offered him tea. Once they both had cups in hand, there was silence.

"Did it take Xavier long to fall asleep?" Harry finally asked, desperate to break the silence before it became too stifling.

"About thirty seconds," said Draco with a smile. "He insisted on wearing his cape over his pajamas and having his candy bag on the nightstand where no one would steal it, but once he lay down he was out."

"He really is a great kid," Harry said.

"Thank you. I think so too." Draco answered. "It's amazing really, considering..."

"Considering what?" Harry asked, when it became obvious Draco wasn't going to continue.

Setting down his teacup, Draco dragged a hand through his back-to-normal short hair and stood up to pace in front of the fireplace.

"Did Severus ever tell you what happened after we left Hogwarts the night... that night?" he finally asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, there wasn't time. He resurfaced just in time to give me the last Horcrux, and then we had the final battle two days later."

Draco stopped pacing and stood in front of the fire, his eyes vacant as they reflected the flames. "Once we were past the Hogwarts wards, he grabbed me and Apparated us to this some nasty little Muggle house. I don't remember too much; I think I was in shock. He shoved a money bag at me and told me to leave the country immediately. He said it was my only chance. He promised to get my mother and try to get her out too, but I didn't trust him to do it."

He swallowed hard before continuing. "I Apparated to the Manor instead of to an international Floo station in Knockturn Alley, like Snape had told me to. When I ran into Mother's sitting room, my Aunt Bellatrix was already there. She stunned me and took us both to the Dark Lord, who had taken up residence in the Manor."

"That fucking bitch," Harry said vehemently.

"What happened to her anyway?" asked Draco.

"Neville killed her," said Harry flatly.

"Never knew Longbottom had it in him," mused Draco. "I should owl him a thank you note." He sat back down on the sofa and drank a bit more of his tea before continuing.

"The Dark Lord was not happy with me," he said.

"But the task was done," Harry interrupted. "Wasn't that good enough?"

"Of course not. His orders had been disobeyed, and this would not be tolerated," said Draco bitterly. "Snape got a Cruciatus right off the bat for interfering, and he was the reason the deed was done at all."

"If he was Crucioed for eliminating Voldemort's biggest threat, I can imagine what he did to you," Harry said with compassion.

"He didn't kill my mother straight off. He kept her around to torture while I watched," Draco said, clenching his hands in his lap. "My father was killed right away. The first time I received a tray in my cell under the Manor, I removed the lid to find my father's severed head."

Harry was horrified. Unconsciously, he placed his hand on top of Draco's clenched ones as the man continued his gruesome story, instinctively trying to offer some sort of comfort.

"Some time later, he decided he'd had enough fun with my mother and he killed her in front of me. Then he raised her as an Inferius. Each time he summoned me for more torture, he'd have her there beside him, inanimate, staring at nothing with dead, milky eyes..." Draco trailed off, lost in the painful memory. After a few moments, he continued.

"I don't know how long I was there, held captive in my own home. Well, it didn't seem like home because all I saw of it was the dungeons. I'd never seen them before." Draco laughed bitterly. "I'd always begged my father to show them to me, and he had always refused."

"How did you survive and escape?" asked Harry gently. He still didn't realise he was holding Draco's hand.

"Snape. After the beatings, the torture, he'd do what he could to heal me without making it obvious that he was interfering. He told me to hold on, that he'd get me out eventually."

"And you trusted him," Harry said.

"I had to. If I'd only trusted him in the first place, I wouldn't have been in that predicament." Draco sighed, turning his hand so that his palm was against Harry's and entwining their fingers. Harry finally noticed the intimacy, but he didn't pull away.

"One day he came to me and said it was time. He filled me full of healing potions and performed I don't know how many healing spells. Once I was restored to some semblance of health, he handed me a Portkey and a bag of Muggle money, saying it would be enough to get me started somewhere else. He said the Portkey would take me to Belfast, and from there I should go to somewhere no one would ever suspect."

"So you did," Harry surmised.

"So I did," Draco agreed.

"Where does Xavier come in?" asked Harry.

At this, Draco disengaged his hand from Harry's and once again stood to pace.

"You do know how sadistic and twisted the Dark Lord was, don't you?" he asked. When Harry nodded, Draco said "He was especially... creative when devising ways to punish me for my 'weakness', as he called it."

"What did he do to you, Draco?' Harry asked, almost whispering. He was almost afraid to find out.

"He said I was pretty, like a girl, so he made me into one," Draco finally answered.

"I - I don't understand," said Harry, confused.

Draco turned back toward Harry, visibly bracing himself for the reaction to his revelation. "He made me a hermaphrodite."

Harry sat there, staring in shock at the other man. He had heard the words, but they just didn't make sense. "How...?"

"With a spell. I don't know what it was, but it hurt like a Crucio to the bollocks. I guess that's what it was, in a way," Draco answered.

"He removed your...?" Harry asked as delicately as he could.

"No, thankfully. He didn't take anything away, he just added new features. It was a big source of hilarity amongst the Death Eaters, and a great many of them made liberal use of my new attributes," he said, staring at a point over Harry's head, as if he were afraid to meet his eyes.

Harry finally understood what Draco was really saying. "So, Xavier... you're actually his mother?" he breathed, amazed.

"Yes. Turns out I was pregnant when I escaped from the dungeons," Draco confirmed.

"That's..." Harry tried to express his feelings, but words failed him.

"Disgusting? Abnormal? Sick? Freakish? Disturbing? Wrong? Abhorrent? Against all laws of man and nature?" Draco shot off in quick succession.

"No. No!" Harry reassured him quickly, going to stand by Draco's side and taking his hand again. "It's amazing, and miraculous, and all sorts of things, but not any of those bad ones," he insisted.

Draco looked at him in disbelief. "I just told you that I, a man, bore a child, and you think there's nothing wrong with that?"

"You didn't choose to be changed and become pregnant, Draco," Harry said firmly. "It's certainly, um... unusual, but it's not wrong or bad."

"How can you say that?" asked Draco, pulling away.

"Because it's true," Harry insisted. "Xavier is a great kid, regardless of how he got here. Even if the original intent was evil, what Voldemort did made it possible for you to bring him into the world. That's a wonderful thing."

Harry eventually convinced Draco that he was really ok with it. He did have questions though, and since they were being so open, he went ahead and asked once they'd settled back on the couch with more tea.

"Do you know who his father was?" Harry asked, trying to be as delicate as he could.

"No, I don't. I was so out of it much of the time that I don't even know exactly who raped me. There were too many," Draco was matter-of-fact when discussing the details of his ordeal. Harry wondered if it helped him cope.

"How did you decide to keep the baby knowing he was conceived that way?" Harry inquired.

"Abortion isn't unheard of in pureblood families, believe it or not. There have always been women who lay down with the wrong man and found themselves carrying a lover's baby instead of the heir, or those who became pregnant before the contracts were signed and all the arrangements made. I almost chose to end the pregnancy," he admitted. "I did always want to have children though, and I'd wondered how I'd have them since I was gay. This was an opportunity to have something I'd always wanted but thought I couldn't have, and in the end I just couldn't give that up."

"Can you get pregnant again?"

"I assume so. I can't actually give birth naturally, since I still have a male anatomy with a man's pelvis and all that, but whatever allowed me to get pregnant in the first place is still there." Draco answered.

"How did you explain things to the healers that cared for you and delivered him?" Harry asked.

"I told them my partner had died, and that he was a researcher in obscure, ancient spells. I said he'd died before he could explain all the details to me, and that all of his notes burnt up in the fire that killed him. They're actually trying to recreate the spell to use it as an option for gay men, or couples where the woman cannot physically carry a child. Apparently it would be a great breakthrough in the area of Wizarding fertility," Draco shared wryly.

"Even under pressure you still lie and scheme with the best of them," said Harry, impressed despite himself.

"Naturally," Draco said, raising one eyebrow. "I'm a Malfoy and a Slytherin. We hone our cunning from birth onward."

"Does Xavier know that you're his mum?"

"Yes. He doesn't know all the details, but he knows I'm different than other men and he seems to accept it. He also knows it's a private thing between us, so if anyone asked about his mum he just says that he doesn't want to talk about it," said Draco.

"How do you deal with dating and all that?" asked Harry, unable to restrain his curiosity.

"Do you mean how do I get laid by Muggles without them knowing I'm different?" asked Draco archly, and Harry blushed in response. "I use a glamour charm on my bits and I always top. It's not too hard to get around having them notice something's there that shouldn't be if I'm careful."

"Amazing," said Harry, unable to get the imaginary images of Draco in the throes of passion out of his head. He was mentally editing out the other men, like the man from The Cellar, and just picturing Draco alone, writhing on a bed, stroking himself and calling out for Harry...

"Potter!" Draco interrupted his thoughts. "Where did you go?"

"Um, sorry," Harry apologised, turning very red.

Draco seemed to notice something was amiss, but he let it go.

"I think it's time to call it a night," he said.

"All right," said Harry, rising from the sofa. He crossed to the door, followed by Draco.

Harry reached for the doorknob, but paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw that Draco was looking at him intently.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said, his face serious and his eyes locked on Harry's. "You have no idea what it means to me to be able to share all of my past with someone, with you."

Before Harry could react, Draco leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. Harry was stunned, speechless. He didn't know how to respond.

"Goodnight," Draco said, reaching past him to open the door. He gently ushered Harry out and closed the door behind him.

Harry returned to his own rooms in a daze. Despite all that he'd learned that night, all he could think about was Draco's kiss. He could still feel the gentle pressure of the other man's lips on his, and the way Draco had looked just before he'd kissed him was burned into his mind.

Could Draco want him? He certainly wanted Draco, if his fantasies were anything to go by. He had a crush, that was undeniable, but could he actually have feelings for his former enemy? Could they possibly develop into more, something that might be returned?

Despite his exhaustion and the late hour, it was a long time before Harry slept that night.

***

Autumn soon turned into winter, and Harry and Draco developed a tentative bond. That kiss hadn't been repeated, much to Harry's disappointment. He was afraid to act on his own growing feelings for the other man, fearful that he would ruin the blossoming closeness that he was enjoying so much. Draco as a friend was funny, interesting, and companionable - in short, everything Harry could want in a partner. They worked together on coaching the students in Quidditch, even going so far as to have a few Seekers' matches to show off for the kids. Xavier was their biggest fan, cheering madly for them both and refusing to take sides.

It was at the end of one of those matches that Harry realised he'd fallen in love with Draco.

It was mid-December, a few days before the children would be leaving for the Christmas break. The air was cold and crisp, with the heavy scent of snow promising that a white Christmas was on the way. The teams had pleaded for a Seeker's Match after their own practices, and since Harry and Draco enjoyed them so much it didn't take much to talk them into it. The two teachers had been looking for the snitch for about 20 minutes, spotting it a few times and losing it in the midst of trying to stop each other from getting to it first. They were down by the goalposts, taunting each other with well worn insults from their school days, when the snitch whizzed right in between them. Immediately they were both off after it, pushing and shoving each other, battling with well placed elbows and knees. They were too competitive to let their friendship get in the way of a good fight for the snitch, and they were both playing a little dirty. It was exhilarating, and Harry never wanted it to end.

Eventually the snitch took a quick swerve to the right, and Draco was able to snag it from under Harry's fingertips. It was the first time he'd won against Harry in all their years of playing against one another, and he was ecstatic. Unlike the Malfoy of old, Draco was genuinely pleased with his own achievement instead of thinking of it as a score over Potter. He sat on his broom 30 feet in the air, beaming, his cheeks reddened from the wind, his hair mussed. They sun was setting behind Harry, casting a golden glow over Draco and making him look incandescent. He was beaming with happiness, grinning at Harry with that same breathtaking smile he loved to see on Xavier, and Harry suddenly realised that he loved him. Harry Potter was in love with Draco Malfoy. The realisation made him dizzy with both fright and happiness, and he had to descend to the ground and dismount his broom. Draco followed, unaware of his inner turmoil.

"What's the matter, Harry? Surely you're not upset that I finally won against you?" Draco said, his eyes sparkling.

He was so beautiful Harry could hardly bear to look at him.

"No, you deserved it. Congratulations," he said, sticking out his hand. Draco looked at him curiously before taking it and shaking hands. Smiling again, he slapped Harry on the back with his other hand.

"How about the loser buys the winner a pint down at The Cellar later?" he asked with a smirk.

"You're on," said Harry, immediately wondering if he should take the opportunity that night to tell the other man how he felt. Maybe Draco felt the same? Maybe not. Harry hadn't been back since that night he'd run into Draco there, but that didn't mean Draco hadn't been there. The idea of it made his stomach drop.

Harry's mind was spinning all through dinner, and he barely noticed what he was eating or who he was talking to at the teacher's table. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of his closet in a towel, trying to figure out what to wear on his non-date. He finally settled on a dark gray cashmere jumper that Tonks had given him last Christmas and jeans, with black dragonhide boots. He was debating between Sirius' leather jacket and his black wool pea coat when there was a knock at his door.

Swallowing nervously and wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans, he answered the door.

"You clean up well, Harry," said Draco, appraising him with a smile. "Are you ready? Xavier is all settled at Jennifer's, and Abagail says she's fine holding down the fort for the evening."

Harry just stared at the other man, hardly hearing what he was saying. Draco was beautiful; there really was no other word for it. Harry didn't even notice what Draco was wearing. All he could see was Draco's face, his lips, his eyes...

Yeah. He had it pretty bad.

"Well, are you going to stand there and stare at me all night, or are you coming?" said Draco.

"Sorry, just thinking about something. Let's go," he answered.

The two men walked to the edge of the grounds, where the wards ended, and then Apparated to an alley about a block away from the club. Once inside, they settled at the bar with two pints, paid for by Harry.

He was trying to act normally, but he was still coming to terms with the realisation that he was in love with the man in front of him. Should he tell him? Did Draco have feelings for him too? Harry was rubbish at figuring out things like that, and he didn't know what to do.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, finally tiring of carrying on a stilted conversation. "Are you upset that I beat you?" He looked worried, and Harry found it endearing,

"No, not at all. It's been a long time coming," answered Harry reassuringly. "Most of the times I've beaten you, even back in school, luck was really the deciding factor." He drained his pint and signaled for another.

"My, in a hurry tonight?" said a voice at his elbow. "I'll get your next round, but don't get too drunk. I have plans for you later, and they don't involve vomit or whiskey dick."

Looking up, Harry realised it was one of his previous one nighters, the one he'd been trying to avoid the night he'd met Draco there. Darren, Derek, Darnell... what the hell was his name again? Damien, that was it. The sex had been okay, but Damien was a little too into pain for Harry's liking, and he had barely stopped bragging about his band long enough for them to shag.

Damien draped himself across Harry's shoulder and proceeded to start tonguing his ear while dragging his hands down Harry's torso. Harry was mortified, and tried to subtly wiggle free.

"Hey, Damien," he said weakly, grabbing the hand that was about to reach his crotch.

"Old friend, Harry?" said Draco, sneering at the newcomer.

"Yeah, Draco, this is Damien, an old friend. Damien, this is Draco," Harry said, still battling to get free from Damien's grasp.

Damien finally got the hint and separated himself from Harry, at least by a few inches.

"Who's he?" he asked, gesturing towards Draco before sliding his hand up Harry's thigh.

"His boyfriend, "answered Draco icily. He reached over and smacked Damien's hand loudly. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your hands to yourself," he said with a glare.

Harry was almost too surprised to go along with the ruse. He jumped slightly as Draco put an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

"Come on, Harry, let's dance," Draco said, ushering Harry off his stool and turning him towards the dance floor. "So nice to have met you," he snarked, and steered Harry away.

"Bye!" called Harry over his shoulder, grateful to have been rescued.

"Nice friends you have. Was he part octopus, by any chance?" Draco asked with a smirk, as he found them a spot on the dance floor and began to dance closely with Harry.

"Uh, we're not really friends," Harry admitted. "We're just sort of, um..."

"Fuck buddies?" filled in Draco helpfully, placing his hands on Harry's hips and swaying to the music.

"Not even that, really. It was just one night..." he trailed off helplessly, having a hard time carrying on a conversation when Draco was dancing so closely with him.

"And you've been trying to avoid him ever since, right?" Draco guessed. At Harry's nod, he sighed in his ear. "I know the type. We'll just put on a good show and he'll bugger off. Guys like that don't like competition," Draco said.

"Put on a show?" said Harry, confused.

Draco smiled wickedly and pulled their hips flush together. "A good show. Now act like you're mad for me. He's watching."

They continued to dance, with Draco making up for Harry's lack of skill. Draco put everything he had into it, grinding and groping and leaving occasional kisses along Harry's jaw. It was amazing, and Harry could only give in to the way it made him feel. Harry was being handed the opportunity he'd wanted for so long on a silver platter, so he decided to enjoy every moment. He put his arms around Draco's waist, running his fingers up under the edge of Draco's shirt to touch the skin just above his waistband. He leaned forward and nuzzled Draco's neck, first kissing and then licking that spot just above his collar. When Draco gave a tiny moan, Harry insides turned to jelly. He attacked Draco's neck with open mouthed kisses, reaching up to unbutton another two buttons so he could expose more of his throat for his attention.

Meanwhile, Draco's hands had traveled, with one firmly twined in Harry's hair and one gripping his arse. He had thrown back his head in order to give Harry more access to his neck, and when Harry paused to look, he thought Draco was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Draco brought his head back down and looked at Harry for what felt like eons. Then, in one movement, he ground his hips against Harry's and leaned in to join their mouths. This wasn't the soft, gentle, feather light kiss of a few weeks ago. This was a full on assault, with tongues tangling and teeth occasionally nipping at each other's lower lips when they needed to separate for a second to catch their breath. It seemed to go on forever.

When they finally parted, panting, they stood pressed against one another and looked into each other's eyes.

"This isn't just a show for you, is it?" asked Draco breathlessly.

"No, it's not," answered Harry honestly. "Please tell me it's not just an act for you either?" he almost begged.

"God, no, Harry. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone." Draco answered fervently.

"Let's go," said Harry determinedly, grabbing Draco's hand and leaving the dance floor. They claimed their coats from the coat check and headed into the night, hurrying for the alley so they could Apparate back to the Institute campus. They only stopped holding hands when they entered the dormitory, managing to maintain some semblance of decorum in case they encountered a student. Draco's rooms were closer, and the moment they were inside they fell upon each other again.

The two men blindly made their way to the bedroom, kissing wildly and losing clothing along the way. Finally they fell on the bed, naked, locked in a skin on skin embrace. It was almost surreal for Harry, to have what he'd been fantasising about for all these months.

As Harry reached down between Draco's legs, he felt his lover's body stiffen. Drawing back, he asked, "Is this... I mean, are you okay?"

Draco reached for Harry's hand, drawing it back to where it had been. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just, I've not, well," he paused for a second, and then rushed out the words. "I've not bottomed since the Dark Lord changed me."

"Or since you were raped," supplied Harry, pulling back and sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, horrified with himself.

"God, Draco, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think..."

"Stop it," snapped Draco, grabbing his arm and viciously dragging him back down. Rolling them over, he pinned Harry down and stared into his face.

"I don't want your pity! I am not some broken doll you have to fix, alright? I have dealt with what happened to me, and it's not for you to decide what I can and cannot handle."

Chastened, Harry nodded silently. Slowly, he leaned up and kissed Draco. They kissed gently for a while, before the intensity began to build again. Harry rolled them back over and reached down between Draco's legs once more.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked.

"Ignore the extra bits and fuck me like you would any other man," Draco said, a biting edge to his voice.

"I can't," said Harry. "You aren't just anyone."

Draco's glare softened, and he said, "Fuck me, Harry. I won't break."

They explored each other for the rest of the night. Harry had never experienced anything like it before. He'd had plenty of sex in the past, but he'd never felt such a connection with his lover, not just physically but emotionally. As he lay in the rumpled bed and watched Draco sleep, he realised that there was nothing he wouldn't do for this man. As dawn approached, he came to a decision. Kissing Draco softly on the temple, Harry slipped out of bed. He found some paper in Draco's desk and left a short note:

Draco,

There's something I have to do. I'll be back as soon as I can.

Please tell Xavier I'm sorry we can't get a tree today. I'll make it up to him when I get back.

Love,

Harry

He left it on the pillow opposite where Draco was sleeping. Looking down on his sleeping lover, he couldn't resist kissing him softly one more time.

"Bye, Draco. I love you," he whispered, and left Draco's rooms. The sound of the door disturbed Draco slightly, and he rolled over in his sleep and flung out one arm, knocking Harry's note off the pillow, where it slid down and fell behind the bed.

***

When Draco awoke, Harry was nowhere to be found. He was surprised and a little hurt. Showering and dressing, he went down to claim his son and the two went down to breakfast.

"Dad, do you think Santa will bring me a Spongebob TV like I asked for? I've been pretty good this year, haven't I?" Xavier asked anxiously.

"We'll find out on Christmas morning, and not a moment before," answered Draco, smiling at his son. "I think you've been good, but I don't know if you've been good enough for that. Only Santa knows for sure."

Xavier continued to natter on about Santa and how he might quantify the naughty and nice lists as they made their way into the dining hall. Draco looked around for Harry, but was disappointed when he wasn't there.

"Hey, where's Harry?" asked Xavier, frowning. "He was gonna let me help him get a Christmas tree for his room today."

"I don't know," answered Draco. "Maybe we'll find him after breakfast."

Harry never appeared during the meal, and Draco was starting to worry. Carolyn stopped him and Abagail as they were leaving the dining hall.

"I wanted to let you know that Harry has left for winter break a few days early," she told them. "I told him I was sure the two of you could handle the Eighth Graders in your wing without him for a few days."

"Where did he go?" asked Draco, shocked.

"He didn't say specifically," Carolyn answered. "He just said that something had come up and he needed to take a few personal days to deal with it."

Draco was stunned. He had thought that what had happened between them had meant something, been the beginning of a real relationship. He had never expected it, but Harry had become more and more important to him over the past few months. His presence in Draco's life felt right, and he welcomed the happiness Harry brought into his life and Xavier's.

It was one thing to leave Draco, but how dare Harry walk out on Xavier like that? He knew the child adored him, and that Xavier would be terribly hurt by the hasty exit with no explanation.

'Fucking Harry Potter, always finding a way to hurt my family,' Draco thought bitterly as he went to claim his son from the student table where he'd been sitting. He'd find a way to explain away Harry's absence for Xavier's sake, but it would still hurt the boy.

Xavier took the news about Harry's exit as well as could be expected. He was very disappointed, even crying a bit, but Draco soon had him distracted with wrapping gifts for his caregivers and the staff. Xavier declared that Harry would be back, and placed his wrapped gift in a place of honor under their tree.

"He'll be back for it, Daddy. I know it," he said.

Draco wished he could have that kind of faith.

***

Harry had been gone for ten days already, and it was Christmas Eve. Draco and Xavier gathered with the staff and students that had remained behind to enjoy some caroling and a small party afterward.

"Dante, you sing so well," said Emily, ladling out a healthy portion of eggnog for each of them. "Did you have lessons?"

Draco almost choked on his eggnog. "Hardly. Music wasn't a worthwhile pursuit for a Malfoy heir," he said snootily, putting his nose in the air and causing his son to giggle madly. Draco ruffled his hair and sent him off to play with the other children.

"I do forget about that whole name thing," Carolyn said, sipping her own drink. "I hope you don't mind, but you'll always be Dante Mallory to me."

"Well, at least I chose that name for myself instead of having it thrust upon me," said Draco.

"What do you mean?" asked Emily.

"Being a Malfoy is a huge responsibility," he explained. "We're one of the oldest, purest families in Britain. As the heir, I needed to be able to manage the estate in its entirety, as well as further myself politically and advance the family fortune."

"Sounds like you were one of those rich little snots with more money that sense or balls," Frank commented.

Draco snorted. "You're not far from the truth, even if I don't like to admit it. I am proud of my family heritage, but I can't say that being away from it hasn't been good for me." He smiled sadly. "With my parents dead and me here in the States, I don't know that there's much heritage left."

"Does Xavier know about your family, how storied and influential the name is?" asked Emily.

"Somewhat. He's never seen the Manor, or any of our heirlooms. There are some lovely tapestries with the Malfoy and the Black family trees that he would probably find fascinating. Both families go back almost a millennium."

"Black?" asked Carolyn.

"My mother's family," Draco clarified. "They're about as old and as pure as the Malfoys. In fact, the family motto is 'Toujours Pur', which means 'Always Pure'. I don't have much from Mother's family though. Ironically enough, I think Harry inherited most of the Black estate from my cousin, the Black heir. He was Harry's godfather," Draco said.

"I'm sure Harry would let you have anything you wanted for Xavier," Emily stated. "He adores that boy."

"Anyone want more eggnog?" Draco asked, rising from his seat. He had to get away from there before he got caught up in thoughts of Harry. He'd worked so hard to force the memories of their night together to the back of his mind, and now here he was bringing him into a conversation with his colleagues.

"Speak of the devil," said Frank, setting down his glass and crossing the room to the doorway.

Draco turned abruptly, almost knocking over the cauldron full of eggnog, and saw Harry standing just inside the door. He was still wearing his cloak, and he clutched a sheaf of parchment in his hands. Frank slapped him on the back and Harry returned the greeting without ever taking his eyes off of Draco. He was smiling brightly.

Draco turned away, and Harry's smile dimmed. He crossed the room and took his lover's arm, but Draco pulled away.

"Stop it," Draco hissed.

"What's wrong?" said Harry, hurt and puzzled.

"I have nothing to say to you, Potter," Draco said venomously, glaring. "Stay away from me."

"HARRY!" came a shout, and a blur of boy launched itself at Harry and clung to his midsection. Laughing, Harry picked Xavier up and swung him around.

"You left! We were supposed to get a Christmas tree, but you went away!" Xavier accused, his face clouding over.

"I'm sorry, Snidget," Harry said, putting him down and smoothing the hair from the boy's forehead. "I had to do something really important."

"More important than Christmas?" Xavier asked, disbelieving.

"No, not more important than that, and not more important than you," Harry answered. "It couldn't wait though, so I had to go right away. I did bring you a present," he added, shifting his papers into one hand and reaching into his pocket to withdraw several shiny packets.

"Thank you," Xavier accepted the gift politely, and then examined the packets closely. "What are they?

"That's a Chocolate Frog," answered Draco stiffly as his son tore open one of the packages. "They're Wizarding candy from Britain."

"Cool," proclaimed Xavier, catching the frog mid-hop and biting off its leg.

"There's a card inside that you can keep," Harry said, glancing at Draco.

"Hey, it's you!" said the boy, holding it aloft for all to see. He rushed off to show it to the other kids, while Harry rubbed his neck and looked embarrassed.

"You're even on a Chocolate Frog card now? That's just wonderful," Draco spat. He tried to walk past Harry, but Harry wouldn't let him.

"What is your problem, Draco?" Harry asked, beginning to get upset.

"What could possibly be my problem?" Draco sneered, looking around and lowering his voice. "You shagged me and then immediately disappeared without a word for over a week. What could possibly be wrong with that?"

"But I left you a note," Harry said, gripping Draco's arm.

"No you didn't!" insisted Draco.

"Yes, I did," said Harry just as insistently.

The two men stood and looked at each other for a long moment.

"We need to talk privately," Harry finally said. "I have some really important things to tell you. I was going to try and wait until tomorrow and give you a surprise on Christmas morning, but maybe you need to hear all of this now."

Indicating that Draco should wait where he was, Harry went to Jennifer and asked if she'd keep an eye on Xavier, who was happily playing with her son. Then he returned to Draco and steered him out of the party, waving at Carolyn and some of his other colleagues, but not slowing down or stopping.

Once they were in Draco's rooms, Harry threw off his cloak and set his papers on the coffee table. He pushed Draco down on the sofa and sat next to him.

I went back to Britain when I left," he said with no preamble.

"I guessed that much," said Draco, crossing his arms defensively. "It still doesn't explain why you left so suddenly and without warning."

"I told you, I left a note!" insisted Harry. "It was on the pillow, right next to you."

He stalked out of the room, into the bedroom. Draco got up and followed him, and entered the room to find Harry on his hands and knees under the bed with his arse hanging out.

A-ha!" he called out, backing out from under the bed with a small scrap of paper in his hand. He thrust it at Draco, who took it and sat on the edge of the bed to read it.

He looked up at Harry. "You really left a note?"

"Of course I did," Harry said, sitting next to him and taking his hand. "It's not that I wanted to leave you, but that I needed to go."

"Why, Harry? Why right then, just when everything had changed?" asked Draco, and Harry could see the pain that he'd been hiding behind the anger.

"I needed to go because everything had changed," Harry, bringing up a hand to stroke the side of Draco's face gently. Raising his wand, Harry summoned the packet of papers he'd been carrying. Opening them, he rifled through them until he found what he wanted and handed it to Draco.

"What's this?" Draco asked, glancing at the paper. It seemed like a legal document of some sort.

"It's your pardon," Harry said simply.

Draco stared at him in disbelief. Harry nodded. "It's true, read it for yourself."

Draco read it, his hands shaking as he held the paper up. Then he looked at Harry again, stunned.

"How did you do this? Why?"

"As I lay there, watching you sleep, I realised that you deserved it, and that I could give it to you." Harry said. "I went back to London and gave a statement to Kingsley on what Snape told me about the plot to kill the Headmaster. I also spoke to Dumbledore's portrait, and he was able to provide some details that I didn't have, and corroborate others for me."

"Portraits can't give testimony, Harry," said Draco, shaking his head.

"Well, it seems that certain people still have a lot of faith in Albus Dumbledore's word, even in his current form," Harry said with a laugh. "Between my statement, the Headmaster's portrait and some diaries he'd kept that he told me to share with the Aurors, it was enough to get a hearing at the Wizengamot."

"Amazing," breathed Draco, caressing the parchment in his hand. "He knew all along?"

"Yeah, he did," said Harry ruefully. "Not much got past Dumbledore, despite that barmy old codger act he had. He wanted to give you a chance to turn away from Voldemort, and didn't want you to be in any more danger than you were already, so he didn't interfere."

"He offered me mercy, that night on the tower," Draco said sadly. "If the others hadn't burst in at exactly the wrong moment, I might have taken it."

"You would have," said Harry firmly. "I was there, and I saw you lower your wand."

"You were? How?" began Draco. "Wait, the second broom! Were you there under that damned Invisibility cloak?"

He swore softly when Harry nodded his head. "Unbelievable."

"I was able to testify that you had lowered your wand and seemed to be accepting the offer of asylum when the Death Eaters came in," Harry added. "That was more evidence that you are willing to take a second chance if it's given now."

"What are the rest of those papers? What else happened over there? Why were you gone so long?" Draco suddenly had dozens of questions for Harry.

"Slow down!" Harry laughed, leafing through the rest of the papers and finally just handing the whole sheaf over to Draco. "These are papers from the law wizards and Gringotts. It's a good thing that the Wizarding world doesn't have the same privacy requirements as the Muggle world, or I'd never have been able to get anything done."

"This is a vault statement," said Draco, looking at one of the papers.

"Well spotted, Draco," Harry teased, earning a scathing look form his lover. "There are a lot of financial papers there, not that I could make heads or tails of them. It's all about the state of the Malfoy Trust and all that."

"I have a trust?" said Draco, confused. "I thought the Ministry confiscated all of my family's money and holdings?"

"No, not at all," said Harry. "I don't really understand it all, but I guess that with your parents dead and you missing and presumed dead, everything went into a trust administered by the Ministry. The goblins did most of the work, of course, but the estate is intact. There was no clear heir to fight for any of it, and with all the disappearances and everything from the war they made it mandatory for someone to be gone 10 years before declaring them dead, so it's all been sitting there, doing whatever it is estates do when no one is there to deal with them on a daily basis."

"With my father being Marked, and the Manor being the Dark Lord's headquarters for a while, I assumed the Ministry would take everything as war reparations," Draco said.

"No, even when someone was convicted as a Death Eater, the Ministry couldn't take their money. Sirius still had access to his vaults when he was on the run after escaping Azkaban, even if he had to send Crookshanks to do his business," Harry shared. "Besides, from what Kingsley told me, nobody could really do much with the Manor. It somehow sealed itself after the final battle, and only house-elves can get in or out."

"I have no idea why it would do that. I wonder if it would let me in?" wondered Draco, beginning to laugh.

"How about we find out this summer, while the Institute is on vacation?" asked Harry cautiously.

"I can go back home, to Britain?" asked Draco.

"Yeah, to Britain and to the Manor, if that's what you want," said Harry.

"With you," added Draco.

"With me," Harry affirmed. "If you want. You don't have to..."

He was cut off when Draco's mouth suddenly captured his own. The kiss soon became heated, and they ended up lying on the bed, tangled together.

"Yes, I want you with me at the Manor, and everywhere else,' said Draco breathlessly." I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, Draco," said Harry, gasping as Draco slipped his hand down the back of his pants and grabbed him.

The passionate snog soon became heated lovemaking. It wasn't the long, drawn out exploration they'd engaged in last time, but an intense, furious coupling that satisfied their immediate need to experience that connection again.

Satiated for the moment, they lay beneath the sheet holding each other. They occasionally spoke in whispers, but mostly communicated in caresses and kisses. They were just getting sleepy when the outer door slammed and they heard a voice calling, "Daddy!"

They sat up quickly, and Harry fumbled for his wand. He cast a quick cleaning charm while Draco summoned their clothes. Unfortunately, they didn't have time for anything else.

"Dad, are you in here?" Xavier called, bursting into the bedroom. He stopped short, his eyes wide and questioning.

"Xavier, what have I told you about knocking?" Draco asked calmly, as Harry tried to sink into the bed.

"Why are you in bed?" Xavier asked.

"We'll discuss it in a minute. Please go out into the sitting room and we'll be out there shortly," Draco responded.

Giving them another curious look, Xavier obeyed. He left the room, closing the door behind himself.

The lovers took a second to sit, silently, and then burst into muffled laughter. When they finally calmed down, they parted with a soft kiss and scrambled out of bed to dress. When Harry began putting on his clothes again, Draco rummaged through a bureau drawer and tossed him a pair of sleep pants.

"What are these for?" he asked.

"Don't you plan on staying?" Draco asked in return, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'd love to, "said Harry, "but what about Xavier?"

"We'll deal with that right now. After that you're coming back to bed with me, and we'll all have Christmas together in the morning."

Harry smiled goofily, kissed his lover, and put on the pants and a t-shirt Draco supplied. Once they were dressed appropriately, they held hands and left the bedroom.

Xavier was on the sofa, playing with his new Chocolate Frog cards. Draco sat on one side of him, and indicated for Harry to sit on the other.

"I'm sorry I didn't knock," said Xavier, snuggling into his father's side. He looked at Harry. "Why is he wearing your pyjamas?"

"Harry's going to sleep over tonight," Draco answered, cuddling his son.

"Is that okay?" asked Harry uncertainly.

"That's good," answered Xavier seriously. "We have a present for you, so it's better that you're here because you can open it as soon as you wake up instead of having to wait until later. Waiting isn't fun."

Harry smiled at his earnestness, and his heart clenched. Somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with Xavier too.

"Xavier, how would you feel about Harry moving in here with us?" Draco asked, startling Harry.

"Really?" asked Xavier, sitting up straight and smiling brightly.

"Really," said Draco, looking over his head at Harry.

"Do you want to live here with us, Harry?" asked Xavier hopefully.

"Nothing would make me happier," answered Harry honestly. Draco reached around Xavier and took his hand. He and Xavier turned the same breathtaking smile on him at once, and it was wonderful.

"Does that mean Harry is going to be my dad now, too?" Xavier asked.

"Would you like that?" asked Harry, afraid to hope.

"Yeah, it would be great. Then I'd have two parents to play with me and help me with stuff," Xavier answered happily.

"Well, we'll give that a try then," said Draco, kissing his son on his head.

So why were you two in bed, naked?" asked Xavier, yawning.

Before Harry could stammer out an answer, Draco jumped in. "Because that's what parents do sometimes. Now," he said, deftly changing the subject," I think it's time you get to bed so Santa can come."

He made to pick up his son, but Xavier asked, "Can Harry carry me?"

Harry carefully picked up his charge, and carried him to bed. He and Draco tucked the boy in and kissed him goodnight before retiring to what would now be their room and climbing into bed.

"I can't believe he accepted us so easily," Harry said, scooting towards the middle and entwining his limbs with Draco's.

"He loves you, Harry," Draco said, sliding his arm over Harry's middle and up under his borrowed shirt. His burgeoning plans were thwarted when Harry gave a huge yawn.

"Well, looks like Xavier isn't the only one who needs to get some sleep," he said amusedly.

Harry smiled sheepishly and rolled over to face him. "Sorry. That whole international Portkey thing is really tiring," he apologised.

"It's all right," Draco sighed, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. "Life isn't a fairy tale, so the romance was bound to die eventually."

"Hey!" protested Harry, trying to sit back up. Draco shushed him and pushed him back down. "I believe in happily ever after," Harry said.

"Do you really?" asked Draco curiously.

"Yeah, I do," said Harry sleepily. He scooted closer to his love and snuggled down further under the covers. "We will live happily ever after, but it won't be a fairy tale. You'll always be a snarky, spoiled, poncy pureblood, after all. They never write the princess that way in the books."

"Fuck you, Potter, you arse," Draco replied, yawning and snuggling down himself. "If there's a princess in this twisted tale, it's definitely you."

Harry snorted and threw an arm around Draco's waist, spooning his side. "Whatever, Malfoy." He could afford to let it go for now. They had all the time in the world to argue from now on. The thought made him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

***