Work Text:
On the second day back at Hogwarts, Hermione calls a meeting of all the returning students from their year. They meet in the Transfiguration classroom. Even with everyone there, the room seems oddly empty to Harry. There’s only about fifteen of them; around half their year opted not to return, and a few never had the choice. Despite the empty spaces, it’s still a loud, unruly reunion that has no intention of quieting down soon.
“We should probably get started,” Hermione says, getting up from her seat with Ron and Harry and moving to the front of the room.
“Hey! Everybody quiet down!” Ron calls out.
“You’re not the boss of me, Weasley,” says Pansy Parkinson, and goes back to talking to Malfoy and Zabini.
“Attention, please,” Hermione says calmly.
Parkinson looks her up and down. “You, I’ll listen to,” she says, and winks.
Everyone turns to stare at Parkinson, and Hermione takes advantage of the stunned silence.
“I have a sign-up sheet here,” she says, waving a parchment around.
“I’d like to opt out,” Malfoy says.
“You can’t opt out,” Hermione returns. “And you don’t even know what it’s for yet!”
“We know you’re in charge of it,” Zabini points out. “It’s got to be boring.”
Hermione plants her hands on her hips. “Well, you’re all doing it whether you want to or not. There isn’t enough teaching staff at Hogwarts this year, because Headmistress McGonagall couldn’t find qualified replacements for everyone, and there are extra students this year since we’ve got two classes of first years. So the Headmistress and I agreed that the eighth years will all sign up to be teaching assistants, to help out with the younger years.”
Hermione brandishes the parchment again. “You all need to fill this out with your name and your top three choices of classes you want to assist with. You have to have gotten at least an EE on your OWL to be considered. Each class will be assigned two teaching assistants, so you’ll have a partner to help you out. Are there any questions?”
Four hands shoot into the air. Hermione smiles at Ernie.
“This can go on our resumes as volunteer experience, correct?”
“Of course,” Hermione says. “Headmistress McGonagall assures me she will give glowing recommendations to anyone who satisfactorily fills their position.”
Ernie nods and settles back.
Hermione turns to the waving Slytherins.
“Are you sure we can’t opt out?” Zabini asks.
“Like, really sure?” Parkinson asks.
Draco opens his mouth, and Hermione cuts him off. “Malfoy, if you ask if I’m sure, I’m sure you’ll regret it,” she says.
“No, I have a different question. May I?” Draco says.
Hermione nods reluctantly.
“I’m asking this on behalf of someone who I think is too embarrassed to ask for himself,” Draco says, and kicks Harry’s chair. “What if one didn’t get any EEs or Os at all?” In case kicking Harry’s chair wasn’t enough, he coughs, “Potter.”
Harry is so glad to see that this year is going to be just as wonderful as the past seven.
*
Hermione announces that she’ll post the assignments in a week. Harry is therefore instantly wary when she comes to him six days later and says, “Harry, just hear me out.”
“I will not teach anyone potions,” Harry says.
Hermione is still biting her lip.
“Or Divination!”
Hermione shakes her head.
“Or history, or astronomy, and I’d rather not do Transfiguration but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” Harry says. Hermione still looks worried. “Hermione, I just listed all the horrible subjects, why do you still look like you have something horrible to tell me?…. It’s not the subject, it’s who I’m partnered with, isn’t it?”
Hermione winces.
“No,” Harry says. “No, no, no. And he’s definitely not qualified to teach DADA!”
“Well, no, but you’re not teaching DADA,” Hermione says. “Everyone wanted to teach DADA, and we didn't have very many good flyers.”
“… You think it’s a good idea for me to teach first-years to fly with Malfoy?” Harry demands. “Hermione, you were at our first flying lesson, right?”
“But you’ve both grown up since then!” Hermione protests. “Besides, remember what you said about giving second chances and getting over interhouse prejudices and working together?”
“… No, when did I say that?”
“Well, maybe I said it, but you agreed with me!” Hermione says. “Please give Malfoy a chance? Otherwise I have to rearrange this whole schedule.”
Harry groans.
“Thank you, Harry.”
*
Finding a good time to talk to Malfoy is impossible. He’s always surrounded by other Slytherins - Zabini and Parkinson, mostly. It’s starting to remind Harry of trying to ask Cho to the ball.
Harry reminds himself that he is an adult and has defeated Voldemort, and marches up to Malfoy after Potions. “Hey, Malfoy, do you want to work on our lesson plan?”
Malfoy stares at Harry, and then starts laughing. Zabini and Parkinson giggle along with him. Harry regrets his bravery.
“Why would I want to do that, Potter?” Malfoy asks.
“…Because our first class is in two days?”
“Yes, and my lesson plan is ready,” Malfoy says. “And definitely better than yours, so I won’t be sharing any ideas with you.”
“What?” Harry gapes. “Malfoy, what are you on? We’re partners, it’s not a competition.”
The three Slytherins start snickering again. “That’s what losers always say, Potter,” Malfoy says, as he brushes past Harry and walks away.
*
Harry quickly finds out that leading a flying lesson for eleven-year-olds is a lot less teaching and a lot more babysitting. His lesson plan goes straight out the window, especially when it turns out that Malfoy’s idea of winning is being the first years’ favourite, and therefore he’s being the “fun” babysitter.
Harry lands after herding a couple of Gryffindors back down into the acceptable flying range (no more than five metres off the ground) that he’s trying to enforce, to find Malfoy hovering and holding the wide-eyed attention of half their class.
“When you’re a bit more advanced,” Malfoy is saying, “You don’t just have to fly in straight lines. You can do tricks - here’s an easy one, see, just hold tight and lean your whole body to one side - ta-da!”
Harry cannot believe Malfoy is instructing first-time flyers on how to do a barrel roll.
“I want to try!” yelps one of Malfoy’s audience.
“NO,” Harry yells, and everyone looks around in surprise.
“No barrel rolls!” he says. “Malfoy, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Malfoy winks at his audience. “Potter gets jealous of my time,” he says. “I’ll be right back. Everyone practice your grip - the first step to learning to do a barrel roll is having your grip down. Otherwise you fall in the mud and look silly.”
The first years all start studiously working on memorizing the proper way to hold their brooms, which Harry is definitely not at all impressed with. Sure, he’d tried and failed to get them to concentrate on that for the first twenty minutes of the lesson, but probably the novelty of the brooms has worn off by now, and that’s why Malfoy was able to get them to listen.
“You wanted a word, Potter?” Malfoy says, having glided over to him.
Harry works to recall what he was about to say. “Yes,” he says. “You can’t teach them barrel rolls! They can barely stay on their brooms. You need to start taking this seriously.”
“Really?” Malfoy says.
“Yes.”
“Because it sounds to me like you’re just a sore loser.”
Harry is so infuriated he cannot speak.
“Look, those Gryffindors are trying to escape again,” Malfoy says. “Better go catch them.”
*
“Malfoy is being utterly ridiculous,” Harry hisses to Ron and Hermione in Charms the next day, when they’re supposed to be practicing. (Which is not to say that Harry didn’t bring this up last evening over dinner, last night in the dormitory with Ron, or that morning at breakfast.) “We’re supposed to be teaching them! Not competing to see who likes us better. And anyways, how will Malfoy even know who wins?”
Ron thumps his head against his desk and then raises his hand.
Flitwick squeaks in surprise. “Yes, Mr. Weasley?”
“Professor Flitwick, I have some questions about Silencing Charms,” Ron says.
Meanwhile, Hermione gives Harry a baleful look. “Harry, you’ve got to stop complaining about this. From what I’ve heard, Malfoy’s doing fine. And if you listened when I talked to you, you’d know that we’re going to have the first-years fill out evaluations of the teaching assistants to help us improve, so I’m guessing that’s how Malfoy will know who wins!”
“What do you mean, Malfoy’s doing fine?” Harry says. “Yesterday, he was-”
Ron points his wand in Harry’s face. “Silencio de Draco Malfoy!”
Harry’s voice stops mid-sentence. “Hey, what did you do to me?”
“Topic-specific Silencing Charm,” Flitwick says, beaming. “Excellent casting, Mr Weasley, five points to Gryffindor.”
*
Harry vacillates between not wanting to give Malfoy the satisfaction of stooping to his level by competing for the first-years' favour, and wanting to blow Malfoy out of the water and be the undisputed favourite. (Of course, there’s also a nagging little voice that tells him out-doing Malfoy might be a little harder than Harry would have bargained for, because apparently Malfoy is really good with kids and they all love him, and not just because Harry keeps spoiling their fun.)
Malfoy keeps taunting him in between lessons. Every time Harry passes him in the hall it’s something new.
“Oh, Potter, I just thought of showing our excellent little pupils how to stand on their brooms! What do you think?” (At their next lesson, Harry storms up and yells at him that it’s not happening, except it turns out Malfoy has a perfectly safe and reasonable plan of charming a broom to hover, perfectly motionless, about six inches off the ground, so Harry looks like a ridiculous evil dictator trying to deprive the first years of anything fun.)
“Potter! I thought I might introduce them to Quidditch at our next lesson - unless of course that’s too fun for you?” (Harry spends the whole lesson avoiding the temptation to “accidentally” let loose a bludger in Malfoy’s direction.)
“I’ve got a fun surprise for our next lesson, Potter, I really think everyone will love it. Except you, of course, but we’re used to you raining on our parade by now.” (Malfoy brings his new broom - a Nimbus 2004 - and Harry practically ends up in a wrestling match with him trying to take it away.)
“That’s a huge blister, Wilsby! Come on, we’ll go see Madame Pomfrey - she’s got this great salve that I always use after my Quidditch games, it’ll heal your hand right up and you’ll be good as new for next lesson!” (This one doesn’t appear to be directed at Harry, actually - Harry doesn’t think Malfoy even sees him in the corridor. But apparently the first-years are now seeking out Malfoy outside of their regular lesson time, and Malfoy is being weirdly sweet with them. Harry pushes away any fond feelings that may or may not swell up at this - Malfoy is still being a git to him.)
The point is, Malfoy is definitely winning, and Harry does not like losing, and something needs to be done.
*
Harry brings a starter Snitch - a really slow, low-flying one - to their next lesson for the first-years to play with. They’re delighted.
Malfoy flies up close to Harry as the first-years go chasing after the gold dart.
“So, finally caught on that you’re losing, Potter?”
“I’m not losing because it’s not a competition,” Harry insists.
“Still sticking with that loser’s line?” Draco asks. “Pathetic.”
“What’s pathetic is that-”
“Excuse me, Mr Malfoy? Mr Potter?”
It’s a couple of the first-year girls - one Slytherin, one Gryffindor - who have broken off from the pack chasing the Snitch.
“Miss Kim, Miss Jones, what can we do for you?” Malfoy says smoothly.
They giggle to each other, and then the Slytherin (Harry thinks it’s Jones) says, “We want to see a real Snitch. The Muggleborns” - she points at her companion - “keep saying they don’t see how Quidditch can be exciting, if even we can catch a Snitch.”
“You’ll see one in the first Quidditch match,” Harry points out.
“But that’s weeks away,” Jones says. “We want to see one now!”
“I’ll bring one next lesson,” Malfoy says. “Potter and I will show you how real Seekers play.”
“But-”
“Scared, Potter?”
“No! I just -”
“There you go. Seeker’s match, next lesson. Tell your friends,” Malfoy says.
Harry throws his hands up in exasperation.
“Keep your hands on your broom,” Malfoy chides. “Talk about a bad example.”
*
Ron teaches everyone in Gryffindor the topic-specific silencing spell and is lauded as a hero.
*
Malfoy brings a real real Snitch. It’s faster than Hogwarts’, the same speed that professional Quidditch players use. The class all head up into the bleachers, going to the very top. Jones releases the Snitch for them, and they’re off.
Catching the Snitch takes them about half an hour. They stick close to each other, not wanting the other to have an advantage when the Snitch is spotted. They get very close five times, but each time the Snitch escapes, even though once it brushes Harry’s fingertips.
Harry is sure that he and Malfoy trash-talked each other the entire time, but later he cannot remember anything that was said, because the sixth time they spot the Snitch, Draco goes off his rocker.
They’re neck and neck, so close to the Snitch, when suddenly it drops below them, too quickly to go after and it would get away again -
Except Malfoy drops too.
For a split second Harry thinks this is a feature of the new Nimbus that he didn’t know about, and that Malfoy’s broom is infinitely better than his. But then he realizes - Malfoy dropped without the broom.
Harry screams and shoots downwards, Snitch completely forgotten. They’re hundreds of feet up in the air; Malfoy is free-falling; he’ll die. Harry pulls his broom underneath Malfoy’s falling body and Malfoy lands hard against him, knocking the wind out of Harry.
The Snitch is clutched in one pale hand.
“You idiot,” Harry yells at him, when he can breathe again. “You complete moron.”
“I knew you’d catch me,” Malfoy says smugly. He turns in Harry’s arms so he’s facing forward on the broom, sitting properly, and he takes control of Harry’s broom to glide slowly to the ground, Snitch held up victoriously for the benefit of the first-years, who are charging down to the pitch, cheering.
When they land, Harry grabs Malfoy’s arm before he can go rushing into his crowd of admirers.
“Yes, Potter?” Malfoy asks, smirking. He looks totally calm and collected, and not at all like he nearly just died. “I do hope you’re not too disappointed you lost?”
Harry grabs him by both shoulders and shakes him, hard. (Harry is shaking, so Malfoy should be too.)
“This isn’t funny! Your life is worth more than winning some stupid competition! That was irresponsible and reckless and you could have died and - that was a horrible idea, Malfoy!”
Malfoy meets his eyes. All traces of the smirk he’s worn almost constantly this year are gone, and he actually looks sincere. “You’re right, Potter. I apologize.” He pauses. “Two things, though?”
Harry groans, knowing he’s not going to like either of these things.
“I did know you’d catch me.”
Okay, maybe Harry does kind of like one of the things. Malfoy sounds completely confident, and obviously was completely confident, and that makes something inside of Harry warm and gooey. He asks hesitantly, trying not to anticipate the answer too much, “And the second?”
Malfoy beams. “You admitted it’s a competition.”
Harry does not slap him, but it’s a near thing.
Malfoy pulls away from him and waves the captured Snitch at the first years. “Who thinks Quidditch is boring now?”
*
Ron takes credit for Harry not bringing up Malfoy even once that week, but even without the threat of silencing charms, Harry would’ve kept quiet. He’s too confused to talk about it. What would he even say? My heart almost stopped beating when I saw Malfoy fall, and I did not want to let go of him when we landed, and when he looked into my eyes I wanted to -
No, see, it’s better that Harry does not start that conversation with anyone.
(He kind of, maybe, would like to talk to Hermione about it, but Hermione has been missing a lot lately, because teaching potions with Parkinson is apparently taking up a lot of her time. Besides, Harry isn’t sure Hermione would understand.)
*
Hermione does the evaluations the next week, and calls a meeting of all the teaching assistants. She has a pile of parchments which Harry’s eyes are glued to.
“Now I want everyone to keep in mind that this is the first time you’ve been teaching and nobody expected you to be perfect,” she says. “Professors Flitwick and Sprout have both offered to coach any of us on our teaching abilities, so you can all improve if you want. Also - ”
Draco jumps up and snatches the pile of parchments, much to Hermione’s annoyance. “Charms,” he says, chucking the parchment at some Ravenclaws. “Defense-” he throws this at Ron. “Ah, here we go, Potter - let’s see who won, shall we?”
Harry grits his teeth.
“‘Mr Malfoy is sooo much fun,’” Draco reads. Harry doesn’t believe that’s a direct quote. “‘Potter is a boring stick in the mud, I can’t believe Mr Malfoy puts up with him.’”
“It does not say that, Malfoy, give it here.”
“No, no, I’m reading,” Malfoy says. Harry tries to grab it, but Malfoy easily holds it over his head and out of reach. “Let me find a good one…”
Suddenly Malfoy turns scarlet and nearly drops the parchment. Harry finally manages to snag it and pull it down to his level.
It takes him a second, but he finds the line Malfoy is reacting to.
It’s a one-line evaluation from someone clearly taking their education seriously: Just kiss already.
Harry looks incredulously at Malfoy.
Malfoy blurts, “I have somewhere I need to be,” and bolts.
Harry is frozen for a couple of seconds, and then goes charging after him.
“Malfoy! Wait up!”
“No,” Malfoy says. “I am not going to talk about this.”
“So,” Harry says hopefully, “There is something to talk about?”
Malfoy narrows his eyes. “You sound almost happy about that.”
“Well,” Harry says. “Maybe, yeah.”
Malfoy still looks like he might run away at any moment, and he is definitely not going to make the first move, so Harry steps forwards and leans in on his toes and kisses him.
Malfoy kisses back.
“One thing though,” Harry whispers when he draws away.
“Anything, Potter,” Malfoy says.
“Let’s call it a draw.”