professor? ( ✓ )

chapter one

When the students arrived a week later, Harry realized just how real all of this was. He was a professor, in fact, the leading professor of the subject Defense Against the Dark Arts. Everything the students would learn, they would learn from him. This brought a nervous smile on his face.

He would never consider quitting his position, but this caused him to wonder if he was really ready for such a responsibility. He frowned, realizing he really didn't have anyone to go to for guidance. He feared what McGonagall would say if he mentioned he was having doubts, and there no longer was a Professor Dumbledore to turn to. He wondered if Hagrid would be up for some tea, seeing as he'd failed to meet with the burly man during his week of preparations.

And so, Harry found himself seated at the long table that all the professors sat, beside Hagrid, eyeing the empty, golden chair that Professor McGonagall would fill once the Sorting Ceremony had taken place.

Harry watched the Ceremony enthusiastically, silently cheering every time a first year was placed into Gryffindor. He wondered then, if this was considered nepotism, what he felt for those few students. He watched as some of the older years stared at him in bewilderment, but all activity was silenced when Professor McGonagall walked up the few steps separating the teachers from the students, and cleared her throat.

"Welcome back to another year of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And to the first years, a most enthusiastic welcome." She halted, allowing the students to clap. "As most older students know, the Forbidden Forest is strictly prohibited. Upon arriving to your common rooms later this evening, you will find that Mr. Argus Filch, our school caretaker, has taken the liberty in placing your things where they belong."

The room silenced as Filch walked in, and Harry shuddered. Now, he and Mr. Filch were to be treated as equals, and yet somehow, he doubted that the man would ever feel the same way. The man was a squib, someone who came from a magic family, yet possessed no magical tendencies himself, and had held a grudge against Harry ever since the petrification of his cat Mrs. Norris, back in second year.

"And on one final word before we begin the feast, I ask you to kindly join me in welcoming our two new professors, Professor Harry Potter, who will be taking up the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and ah, so glad you could join us, Mr. Malfoy." It was then that Harry whipped around in his seat, watching none other than his old enemy during their school years walk into the Great Hall in a similar fashion that the imposter of Alastor Moody had in Harry's fourth year. His eyes widened when Draco's grey eyes met his, and then looked away as if he'd never noticed him, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table, stiffening his jaw.

"Erm, and Professor Draco Malfoy, who will be taking up our dearly departed Severus Snape's position as the Potions teacher. A round of applause, if you would." A thunderous clap made its way around the Great Hall, and once it had died out, the feast came to life before the students eyes.

During the whole meal, Harry would occasionally look over to find Malfoy glaring at him. He quirked an eyebrow, and the lad looked away swiftly. Odd.

~△⃒⃘~

After supper, once all the students had headed off towards their common rooms, Harry found himself walking along the abandoned corridor, for once not in fear of Filch sending him for a detention. He turned a corner, and took a sharp intake of breath as suddenly he was pressed tightly against a column. He gazed into the eyes of his attacker, and froze. Malfoy.

"And just what are you doing here, Potter?" The blond spat, glaring at Harry with snarled teeth.

"I could ask the same to you, Malfoy." Harry snapped, attempting to free himself from the grey eyed boy's hold.

"I'm a professor." Draco claimed indignantly, tilting his head upward slightly so his chin protruded proudly from his head.

"So am I."

"Well, I'm the new Head of Slytherin. You're just a prat who takes pride in taking the very job my godfather spent years trying to uptake." The blond sneered, pressing Harry harder against the column.

"You're ridiculous if you think I'm going to apologize. Perhaps your godfather just didn't have what it took." Harry spat, and Draco grit his teeth angrily.

"While you lallygagged yourself around this summer, some of us suffered! My father's in Azkaban, my mother's distraught, and I- I'm on probation!"

Harry paused, eyeing the Malfoy with interest then. Forcefully, he pulled his pinned arm from his side, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"This is what this is about? I offered to speak on your behalf, Malfoy. I tried to end this rivalry, and instead bring us peace. I was just trying to help." He claimed, staring at the blond in bewilderment.

"And help you did, Potter. You helped nobody to trust me. I'm a bloody wizard not allowed to do magic. They sent me here thinking I'd have better supervision. I should be with my mother, but instead I'm back here!" Draco was screaming by now, but Harry said nothing. He decided the spoiled brat needed to throw his tantrum in order for either of them to move forward. "I spent my summer a commoner. You took my wand, and instead, I'm left with this."

In his hands, Draco held a wand that looked similar to his old one, but Harry knew that it's magical equivalence was about as great as a rubber duck. He was limited of almost every spell, except for the very basic ones. When the screaming stopped, Harry looked to him with a bored expression.

"Are you quite done?"

"I should have your head! I should-" The blond broke down, and instead of anger, only remorse crossed his features. He paled, and broke away from the green eyed wizard, tears cascading down his face.

Harry placed his hand on Draco's shoulder, and the blond didn't flinch away.

"Come on, Malfoy, it's gonna be alright. It's gonna be alright." He spoke softly, but the other boy only shook his head.

"It's not gonna be alright. Even after my probation's over, people will still ridicule me. I'll never rest again." The boy sighed, willing his tears to stop flowing. He'd just allowed himself to cry in front of his longtime enemy, and instead of laughing at him, the unruly-haired lad had attempted to comfort him.

"Ahem." Both boys looked up to find Argus Filch standing before them, Mrs. Norris at his heels. He was glaring at them: small, beady eyes casted between them.

"Mr. Filch," Harry claimed in surprise, but the old man rose his hand in silence.

"Have you any idea just how loud you're being. First day back for the students, and you're already setting a poor example at your jobs." He sneered, crossing his arms. Mrs. Norris rubbed against him affectionately, purring.

"We're sorry, sir." Harry blushed, turning away from the two others and finishing his walk towards his sleeping quarters. Draco sputtered behind him in disbelief, and then sent an apologetic glance towards the caretaker before hurrying off to the dungeons.