She has known for a while, in fact, who the new Astronomy professor is. It isn't as if McGonagall had tried to hide it from her, or from anyone for the matter; at the end of last school year, she'd assembled the entire staff of professors to announce who would replace Professor Sinistra come September, considering the woman was headed towards Ilvermony's for a career change.
It just felt like a bitter irony, that was all. That the person who had potential good reason to never wanting to step into Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower again would not only apply for the job but also accept it.
I suppose many things have changed since the war.
It has in fact been five years now, and many things have changed. For instance, Hermione is no longer engaged and on her way to becoming a part of the Weasley clan as of two years ago. She is not on speaking terms with Molly, though she still sees Ron whenever she joins him and Harry for their usual weekly meals - well, monthly during the school year. She is also no longer interested in working for the Ministry. It took two years for that particular dream to wither and die off, and for her to grow bitter at the fact that some prejudices were still there and she had no more patience for them.
She also does not want to save the world anymore. She'll settle for teaching students how to be better people, and how to be better students.
Finally, though perhaps most surprisingly, what has changed the most is that Hermione does not return to Hogwarts to fill in the Transfiguration role left by McGonagall as soon as she takes over the Headmistress position. It's the dungeons that become Hermione's newest home, and with the position comes the lead of a house that gave her nothing but trouble and scorn.
She's learned to let go of the grudges, in a way. The students sorted into Slytherin are ambitious and clever and she can work with that. If they can handle a muggleborn Head of House, there's hope for them yet. It's a beautiful irony, here as well.
See? She's gotten used to change. In fact, as she stands in the Great Hall and prepares for the first staff dinner, where she will come face to face with her newest colleague again after what - five years as well since his trial? - she is resolved to prove how much she's changed by giving him a chance, and not outright hissing at the very sight of him.
The story of the constellation Draco is more straightforward than the rest. The dragon Ladon protected Hera's golden apple tree, but died in the hands of Heracles. The hero used poisoned arrows, and took the apples to fulfill his quest. Saddened by the dragon's death, Hera placed him in the sky among the constellations.
Draco has heard this story often when he was a child; it was bedtime story told under his mother's breath every night. She taught all him there was to know about the constellations in the sky, and the traditions of House Black. To honor our family, she had said, I named you after the dragon that protected the tree, as you would soon protect our family when you grow big and strong.
The fascination with the sky and its secrets didn't end with the bedtime stories she was no longer allowed to tell as he grew older. As with all things his father deemed useless or mindless, Draco was careful not to toe the line between academic interest and passionate obsession. Lucius tolerated it, for his wife's sake, and our of respect for the family she was born of — but not one of them held the notion that he'd someday make sure of this knowledge. He was a Death Eater's son, after all.
The five years after the war have been unfathomable in ways that Draco did not expect. To avoid incarceration and live out the rest of his life in peace albeit ostracized by society — it's been baffling, though the circumstances remain manageable. Somehow, he's discovered his own resilience and has kept himself alive through it all. The next thing that comes his way is what grinds everything to a halt: freedom.
Freedom, from his father's domineering presence, his parents' endless expectations, the burdens of his birthright. Freedom, from a madman that would've thrown them all in Fiendfyre if that's what it takes to rule the world. Freedom, from a lifetime to wrongs pounded into his head, prejudices and shortcomings that he could reorganize and dismantle before his very eyes. Freedom, to look at the sky above and see the glittering stars overhead, always shining and beckoning to be noticed.
When he spoke with McGonagall during his interview, they played a good game of avoiding talking about the war. It was questions about the stars charts and lunar phases, a passing note regarding his test scores (no N.E.W.T. due to his "extenuating circumstances", but his 'O' O.W.L. for Astronomy said more than most), and a few questions regarding his apprenticeship under a famed Astronomy professor at a distant wizarding school. The most she'd insinuated was, The Astronomy tower may look different now from when you last set foot up there, Mr Malfoy, but I'm certain we all prefer it that way. Draco has taken that as a win, anyway.
The next challenge is... much more complicated, in a way. The Astronomy tower may have changed (and he will see soon enough) but Hogwarts as a whole has not. It has welcomed him, as it always did every time he stepped foot within its walls. The Great Hall certainly hasn't, though he knows its occupants would alter every year, between bright young kids entering it for the first time and young adults saying their last goodbyes. The teachers remain constant, only changing as necessity requires it. McGonagall has given him their names and the subject they teach, though nothing could really prepare him for the sight of Hermione Granger standing in the Great Hall, a once specter of his past, manifested so vividly before his very eyes.
"Granger," he coughs out, after a distinct pause. "It's... good afternoon," he trails off awkwardly. It's good to see you, is most likely not the preferred greeting, in this scenario.
You can do this. It's not the bully from school, he's changed. At least give him a chance to prove it. "Malfoy."
She sounds so dry and tense, it's almost reminiscent of one of Hogwarts' old Potions professors. She wears different robes than him, at least - not the dark and fully buttoned up Potions robes, but something in pale green that reminded her of scientists in old films, with the cloak on top for good measure; no hat, only her hair braided into submission, to keep it from accidents when brewing.
The bottom line is, she has been accused of being dry and tense before, when the engagement was dissolved. Not by Ron, who would not have had the guts to do it, but by his mother, who blamed Hermione for the fact that a whirlwind romance born in the middle of the war did not immediately push her into a matronly role. Disappointment had always been a sore sentiment in Mrs Weasley's control, and toppled with the fact that her parents' memories were never going to be returned...
It had rankled. It has stayed with her.
But that's not entirely why she's tense, when greeting Malfoy. She doesn't expect him to look - well - good. Not just well, not just healthy, but rather more at ease with where he is in life right now. She can't say she begrudges him that, though; he's not the one who doled out the torture. She'd been at the trial, standing as witness for him and as witness for his mother (respectfully she'd declined to be a witness for Lucius Malfoy, because fuck him).
She is rather pleased to see that her testimony achieved more than just Draco's freedom of the errors of his youth. He's done something for himself.
That's what pushes her to awkwardly stick out her hand, offering a truce. "Welcome to Hogwarts again."
Draco stares at her face in slight disbelief, before his gaze drops to her outstretched hand. Welcome to Hogwarts again, she has said, as though it's that simple. Extend a hand to your once enemy, forgive his transgressions, and all is right in the world. Most of Draco's life has never been this easy, but then again, Hogwarts itself has welcomed him home.
He looks into her eyes again, and takes her hand. A truce. "Thank you," he says, sincerity rolling of his tongue like they belong, awkward as it may seem. To be allowed to return, to right his wrong in the way he knows — through actions, not words. It starts here, shaking Granger's hand and looking at her in the eye.
"I heard that you're Hogwarts' Potions Master," he says.
The brightest witch of her age, they've all said. Beyond the cracked mirrors of his fallible past, there's nothing in Draco's memories that would make him doubt her capabilities. Anger and envy once occupied his thoughts whenever he looked her way, the very existence of a witch that could've — and did — dismantle long held notions of blood purity and supremacy, the very core his family's beliefs. And yet, when he looks at her now, he sees more or less someone who is just like him — born of magic, capable of great feats, with human emotions. Someone on equal footing, just making their mark on the world one step at a time.
Someone who has seen the best and worst of what their world has to offer, but has come out strong, standing in front of him with a hand outstretched despite what his presence could possibly entail for her, if the tone of her voice as she speaks is anything to go by.
"Congratulations, as late as it is," he says, to start.
There, look, they've shaken hands and neither of them have burst into flames on contact. What's more, his hand hasn't withered off from touching her - though she can't imagine that McGonagall would hire him if he actually still held those blood prejudices close to heart.
It takes effort to give people the benefit of the doubt, and Malfoy is putting her through the ringer here.
"I am - and thank you," she says, to follow. Then chases it down by sticking her foot in her mouth with, "And the Head of Slytherin, believe it or not. No more favouritism on my watch."
Draco hopes that whatever expression that showed up on his face didn't convey the flash of emotions he felt when she spoke her piece. His indignation on behalf of Severus, still thus far an important figure in his life, belied by the uncomfortable truth in her words. Along with that came the acknowledgement of her righteous behavior, the seven years Severus used to wield undue power over a group of underaged kids, if only to exact his own form of petty revenge. And, of course, wry disbelief, more on the fact that McGonagall didn't see fit to warn him of the fact. He supposes that she might have enjoyed the thought of provoking him a little, a harmless enough knowledge if he leaves it as such.
Still, he felt his face move — a grimace or a frown, he doesn't know — and after an uncomfortable beat of silence, he forces himself to speak.
"I was not informed," he said, honest yet halting, almost pained. "I suppose it's only natural, as the Potions instructor. You'd be situated in the dungeons along with the rest of the house." Dungeons that he called home for seven years, with windows that looked into the depths of Hogwarts' lake. He remembers looking through those windows in his youth, admiring the vastness of the deep waters and creatures that watch them as they pass by, wondering how deep it would go if he ever decided to dive in. A passing fancy that called to his childlike curiosity, but he'd have been an idiot to say such out loud.
He wonders what would have happened if he was the Potions instructor, but he dismisses that thought as swiftly as it came. Just as Snape was never given the chance to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts until Dumbledore had no choice, Draco doubts that he would ever be given the dubious honor of sitting in his old professor's seat. Thus, he's chosen to make the climb, from the lowest parts of the dungeons to the highest tower, as far away from the temptation as he's able.
"When snakes bite they can be poisonous, but they take care of their own — that's what they've always said." It's an ideology passed down from Slytherin to Slytherin, a call to arms for every student to remember that they will rise and fall together, as they have always done. An old way of thinking, unfortunately instilled in so many of them. "As long as you take care of them, Granger, they will take care of you in turn — even if you are a - Gryffindor. Or, were."
Gryffindor, he says, but the passing thought of muggleborn crosses his mind so swiftly, that he tactfully purses his lips. Years of conditioning doesn't stop the thoughts from straying, but he can at least stop them now before they begin.
For a fraction of a second, her eyebrows raise there while she expects the insult to land - and then her expression settles into something like satisfaction, when he avoids foul language and manages to convey something like good wishes to boot.
It makes her crack a grin. "Well - that was very diplomatic," she says, with some wry humour.
Around them, the remaining professors are mingling with new and former colleagues, and she imagines that sooner or later someone will come to greet Malfoy too. She wonders how many of them remember him as that terrified young man, pushed towards Voldemort's side by a toxic combination of family love and loyalty to the wrong monster. Maybe it would be best for him, if they don't.
She puts her hands in the pockets of her cloak out of habit, to hide the nervous ticks, the twitch in her fingers; he unsettles her, but maybe not in the same way he did when they were classmates.
There's going to be no academic rivalry now, to give them some common purpose. She can almost imagine Ron's outrage in the future, when he finds out she tended not one but two olive branches to Draco Malfoy. (Not Harry - Harry would get it. Harry was there at the trials, offering proof and testimony that Narcissa and Draco were not inherently evil, that he'd seen them act out of fear of Voldemort in their house. Harry would likely approve, albeit silently, that Hermione is also able to move on.)
Maybe it's pettiness that makes her do it, because she can't be bothered to be wary of Weasley judgement anymore. But she waits for one second, and then steps closer, almost conspiratorial.
"Look, Malfoy, let's just try to get along. I'm not going to attempt to be your foil here, and I'd rather appreciate it if you can return the favour. We can be colleagues - I expect it'll benefit us both better if we are."
Draco doesn't quite sweat under her gaze, and he valiantly resists the urge to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket and dab it over his forehead. He suspects that this is a feeling he'll have to learn to live with, as he attempts to integrate back into a society that will watch for every mistake and listen to his every word. Anything less than perfect might just land him on the wrong side of another person's temper.
"Lucky for you, Professor Granger," Draco says, nothing more than a wry smile on his face, "I'm only here to teach students how to read the stars." That is to say, he'd prefer little to no trouble either — nothing outside what to expect from a castle full of teenagers. Perhaps some friction with his colleagues, but that can always be smoothed over through exposure to good behavior.
Speaking of which — "I only know a handful of our esteemed colleagues," Draco says, grey eyes flitting towards the familiar face of the Herbology professor, another ghost of his past that he must face head-on, as well as a couple of other faces in the crowd, "I would be... extremely thankful if you would care to introduce me."
It was possibly the least excruciating situation Draco could think of throwing himself into, while having to meet the eyes of old and new acquaintances that may or may not recognize him. It would signify his and Granger's effort in maintaining careful civility, at least, if she agrees.
She offers a diplomatic smile of her own, and sweeps her hand towards the table in invitation for him to follow.
She'll make the introductions for him, and it will be like a stamp of approval. Sure, it won't mend all the bridges immediately, but what they'll see is that if Hermione Granger could forgive and move on, surely their petty grudges can be put behind as well.
There is only one more day to go before school actually begins, and Hermione doesn't see Malfoy again after the staff breakfast meeting; presumably he is as busy setting up the tower for the first lessons as she is about setting up the dungeons for classes to begin tomorrow. She has a lesson plan already set, but as every year almost, the arrival of the students makes her a hint nervous - she wants them to like her. That's her biggest problem, and the Slytherins probably can smell it on her.
Breakfast with the staff goes about as well as Draco expected. Wariness and doubt creeps up in the space between their brows, but they accept that he's here to stay, professional in all the ways that matter. The war has been over for five years, and most people have been ready to move on for a long while now. That he's remained courteous and reticent throughout the whole affair, as well as civil to those he'd faced down on opposite ends of the war, is only a point to his favor for now.
Before long, Draco is off to start his new job. He starts with observing the changes brought to the Astronomy Tower to coordinate it with his lesson plans, though he lingers at parapet that overlooks the castle's courtyard. Old memories flash by, half dormant in his mind but not quite forgotten, and they linger now in the periphery even as he turns to shut himself inside his office.
As he typically requires the presence of the night sky overhead to plan his lesson plans, he waits for the evening before finalizing them. For him, that meant missing dinner, and staying up all the way to the darkest hours of the night, when the stars and planets twinkled overhead. He tallies the constellations as maps them out in his mind, and smiles a little when he sees Draco, curled around Ursa Minor. Not quite beholden to the brightest starts in the sky, but ever present.
But he gets hungry eventually, and is forced to put down his work in favor of feeding himself. Dinner should be long over by now, so the next best thing is for him to go down to the kitchens and hope that they won't mind the interruption.
She should have quit working by now, but despite the late hour she's still at it. A grumble from her stomach tells her that she's missed dinner in the Great Hall, but is not safe from the concept of hunger, and Hermione concedes to it.
With a last sweep of her lessons, she sends everything away to its proper resting place and leaves her classroom locked in her wake, heading towards the kitchens.
As she turns a corner, she comes face to face with Malfoy - Draco? - again.
Draco can't even pretend to be surprised that she also missed dinner — he's willing to bet that she lost track of time, planning the year ahead of them. She's always been hard at work even during their school days, a quality he once resented and mocked in her.
"It would be difficult to plan for Astronomy classes if there aren't any stars to look at," he says plainly by way of an answer, nothing mocking or arrogant in his tone. Just a simple conversation — that he can do, at least. "I can't say this would be the last dinner I would miss once school is in session."
A new plate of food appears next to him, and he nods at it. "Yours, I believe."
It makes sense - Sinistra was rarely seen at breakfast, likely because the woman was up in the tower planning lessons at night.
As her food appears, she is confronted with two options. Either they take their respective food and make their way back to their respective offices, or she can make true on her offer to put the mistakes of their childhood (okay, his) behind them and move on.
She picks the latter. "Would you like to join me?" A pause. "I was going to eat dinner in my office, but the table is good enough for two."
The offer makes him pause as well, and he quite doesn't know which option is the safest. Would rejecting her offer be seen as rude and dismissive, or would accepting it subject him - the both of them, really - to an awkward fate full of stilted, small talk and underhanded barbs? Neither experience are worth their weight in galleons.
But they can be civil. They've managed long enough at the staff meeting, under the eyes of so many others that he felt like some form of cheap entertainment that they were all waiting for explode.
This time, however, it'll be a conversation away from prying eyes.
"Certainly, thank you," he says, after clearing his throat thanks to the small, awkward silence. He sits down on the table next to her, eyes fixed on his delicious looking plate of steak and potatoes, an all-time classic. "I take it your own lesson plans are just about done?"
Well, as far from prying eyes as one could go with the house elves, but at least Hermione is not trying to push unwanted socks into their hands; McGonagall promised that they are all getting wages - she was there when the contracts were drafted even, they're one of a kind!
His question draws her attention to the conversation they're effortlessly attempting to have here.
"Yes, just brewing some things for the Infirmary for now," she answers with a small smile. "Are you settling in?"
Settling in? In the very tower where he disarmed one of the greatest wizard of the modern times, which then led to his death and ushered the second war against Voldemort? Quite, though that's a conversation he doesn't necessarily want to have with anyone, least of all Hermione Granger herself.
He savors the bite he's been chewing before opening his mouth. A good, tasty meal, as it always have been.
"Lots of things and places - and people - are familiar enough," he says, not quite answering her outright, but lingering on safer topics. "The tower provides a spectacular view at night, between the stars overhead and Hogwarts' well-maintained grounds. It'll be different sleeping at the highest tower, than it is to sleep in the dungeons. I suppose we'll be exchanging nightly experiences, this time."
He idly wonders what it's been like, sleeping in Severus' old chambers, taking this position, living up to his professional legacy. He doesn't ask that.
"It was so chilly," she admits, practically blurted out, with a bit of a sheepish smile. "I mean, the fireplace is powerful for sure, but it...well, let's say that I am glad that Professors are allowed to do with decorating their sleeping arrangements as they will."
Everything that belonged to Severus Snape is gone - disposed of or in storage. Truth be told, despite the man playing a double spy for so long, despite Harry confirming that he was on the side of the Light in the end, there is no love lost between Hermione and the old Potions professor. The man was a bitter bully, whose prejudice towards muggleborns and students was not only prevalent but also motivated by pettiness. The idea that what, his whole reason to be the way he was had to do with romantic rejection? It made her blood boil.
But the school materials, they remain. Beyond the doors of her office, the Potions classroom remains the same. It is only that the office is brighter, the ceiling enchanted by Hermione to reflect the same sky as outside, the dark colours turned neutral and bright. Her actual bedroom - not that Malfoy cares about that - is more a reflection of who she is as a person than of her role in Hogwarts; books, controlled chaos, a fireplace that always is running whenever she steps inside.
It took her some work to get it there, but she's made the place hers. Much like she's made the role hers, longer than Malfoy has had a chance to do the same with his.
So there is no bitterness when she adds, "I do like the view though. The windows leading into the Lake, they're so fascinating. It makes me miss swimming."
"It wasn't the warmest," he is quick to admit. But it was home, or felt like it. Perhaps it was the decor, reminiscent of the grandeur of the ancestral pureblood homes that he grew up in and around. Hogwarts itself, regardless, has a way of endearing itself to its occupants.
"Sometimes the creatures underwater would stop by and peer through the windows," he says, with a little nostalgia in his voice. "Even the Giant Squid would visit. The common room would be buzzing every time. The first years would definitely enjoy that."
Speaking of which - "How goes the preparations as Slytherin's head of house? Are you ready?" Throwing a lion in a pit of vipers was... going to be something worth watching and watching out for, because Draco knows how vicious young Slytherins could be.
But he supposes Granger - Hermione? - would know that just as well.
"But it could be," she says softly, almost as a way to hint to him that she thinks Slytherin House can have more to it than just snakes, green and leather. "It could be warm - and interesting, like the underwater dwellers coming to say hello? It just needs ...um...incentive."
Which is a diplomatic way of saying it needs its students to not be little shits. Course she can't say much, considering the house she comes from. And Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs aren't saints either. In fact, the closer she gets to her thirties, she more she believes are teenagers are little shits, truth be told.
Back to point, and his question, she shrugs. It's not her first year experiencing teaching to Slytherins. "I like to think I'm fairly prepared. Most of them have had me as their professor for a few years now and will have had time to get used to my method and behaviour. It's the first years that will find it all novel, really, but...that can be told of every year."
She looks at Malfoy with a little smirk, and then shakes her head. "You'll see. The first week you teach first years, you will start seeing...mini-Malfoys and mini-Grangers everywhere." She lets out a laugh at that. "It's a scary revelation to see children with behaviour akin to yours from years ago and think, oh bugger I was such a little git."
He snorts at that, not really denying it — he was a little shit, all things considered. Still is, but probably better at being polite about it.
"I imagine my experience will be a little different for this year alone," Draco says. "I am the new teacher after all, even if the class I teach is not as exciting as - oh, I don't know - making cauldrons explode by mixing worm guts and dried nettles with crushed dragon horn. Just - for example," he adds as an afterthought, because he definitely did not do it when he was a student, and even if he did, it wasn't on purpose.
"A night once or twice a week under the stars mapping out constellations and planetary movements would seem comparatively easy," he says, almost blithely.
In his defense, most students didn't take Astronomy until year three, when they could be trusted to stay awake that late - or until their guardians decided they could be trusted to stay awake that late - so he will have to deal with some more mature specimens. Also the most hormonal ones.
"You do make a point," she says wryly, "but at least none of mine will be making jokes about Uranus."
"Perhaps I'll give them points if their jokes are creative enough," he says dryly. "But that is harmless enough, if obviously childish. I'd wager that most of my worries will lie on preventing the most adventurous students from wandering into the Tower for some late night trysts under the stars."
She lets out a bark of laughter, and shakes her head. "You have two choices, for teenagers will always try to sneak off for a tryst, either in the Tower or the dungeons where it's quiet. You can lose sleep over it and become paranoid about catching them, like Filch, or you can just ignore it and clean up the Tower every morning just in case."
A pause, as she takes another bite of food, and she adds, "If it's any comfort, I have students brew a contraceptive potion in the first semester of their fifth year."
"Professor Sinistra adapted to the second system quite expertly," Draco says, with a tinge of envy and admiration. Now that he has the chance to think about it, outside of Astronomy classes and events at the Great Hall she was rarely ever seen moving away from the comfort of her own office, that even the tower scarcely showed her presence. "I suppose that's what prefects and Head students are for."
And teachers, of course, as they will probably need to patrol once in a while, just as their professors did when they were in school.
Well, that tells her a lot about many things. Like maybe he was not a stranger to visiting the Astronomy tower with some paramours?
Shit, did I really just think in terms of paramours? Am I fifty?
She shakes her head, distracted. "It should be - and in any case, it does no harm. I mean, I don't think it does any harm, as long as it's character building type of rule-breaking. Like clandestine snogging, or other normal things for teenagers to do."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
egotistic;
It just felt like a bitter irony, that was all. That the person who had potential good reason to never wanting to step into Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower again would not only apply for the job but also accept it.
I suppose many things have changed since the war.
It has in fact been five years now, and many things have changed. For instance, Hermione is no longer engaged and on her way to becoming a part of the Weasley clan as of two years ago. She is not on speaking terms with Molly, though she still sees Ron whenever she joins him and Harry for their usual weekly meals - well, monthly during the school year. She is also no longer interested in working for the Ministry. It took two years for that particular dream to wither and die off, and for her to grow bitter at the fact that some prejudices were still there and she had no more patience for them.
She also does not want to save the world anymore. She'll settle for teaching students how to be better people, and how to be better students.
Finally, though perhaps most surprisingly, what has changed the most is that Hermione does not return to Hogwarts to fill in the Transfiguration role left by McGonagall as soon as she takes over the Headmistress position. It's the dungeons that become Hermione's newest home, and with the position comes the lead of a house that gave her nothing but trouble and scorn.
She's learned to let go of the grudges, in a way. The students sorted into Slytherin are ambitious and clever and she can work with that. If they can handle a muggleborn Head of House, there's hope for them yet. It's a beautiful irony, here as well.
See? She's gotten used to change. In fact, as she stands in the Great Hall and prepares for the first staff dinner, where she will come face to face with her newest colleague again after what - five years as well since his trial? - she is resolved to prove how much she's changed by giving him a chance, and not outright hissing at the very sight of him.
i... have feelings about this i guess.
Draco has heard this story often when he was a child; it was bedtime story told under his mother's breath every night. She taught all him there was to know about the constellations in the sky, and the traditions of House Black. To honor our family, she had said, I named you after the dragon that protected the tree, as you would soon protect our family when you grow big and strong.
The fascination with the sky and its secrets didn't end with the bedtime stories she was no longer allowed to tell as he grew older. As with all things his father deemed useless or mindless, Draco was careful not to toe the line between academic interest and passionate obsession. Lucius tolerated it, for his wife's sake, and our of respect for the family she was born of — but not one of them held the notion that he'd someday make sure of this knowledge. He was a Death Eater's son, after all.
The five years after the war have been unfathomable in ways that Draco did not expect. To avoid incarceration and live out the rest of his life in peace albeit ostracized by society — it's been baffling, though the circumstances remain manageable. Somehow, he's discovered his own resilience and has kept himself alive through it all. The next thing that comes his way is what grinds everything to a halt: freedom.
Freedom, from his father's domineering presence, his parents' endless expectations, the burdens of his birthright. Freedom, from a madman that would've thrown them all in Fiendfyre if that's what it takes to rule the world. Freedom, from a lifetime to wrongs pounded into his head, prejudices and shortcomings that he could reorganize and dismantle before his very eyes. Freedom, to look at the sky above and see the glittering stars overhead, always shining and beckoning to be noticed.
When he spoke with McGonagall during his interview, they played a good game of avoiding talking about the war. It was questions about the stars charts and lunar phases, a passing note regarding his test scores (no N.E.W.T. due to his "extenuating circumstances", but his 'O' O.W.L. for Astronomy said more than most), and a few questions regarding his apprenticeship under a famed Astronomy professor at a distant wizarding school. The most she'd insinuated was, The Astronomy tower may look different now from when you last set foot up there, Mr Malfoy, but I'm certain we all prefer it that way. Draco has taken that as a win, anyway.
The next challenge is... much more complicated, in a way. The Astronomy tower may have changed (and he will see soon enough) but Hogwarts as a whole has not. It has welcomed him, as it always did every time he stepped foot within its walls. The Great Hall certainly hasn't, though he knows its occupants would alter every year, between bright young kids entering it for the first time and young adults saying their last goodbyes. The teachers remain constant, only changing as necessity requires it. McGonagall has given him their names and the subject they teach, though nothing could really prepare him for the sight of Hermione Granger standing in the Great Hall, a once specter of his past, manifested so vividly before his very eyes.
"Granger," he coughs out, after a distinct pause. "It's... good afternoon," he trails off awkwardly. It's good to see you, is most likely not the preferred greeting, in this scenario.
damn damn damn
She sounds so dry and tense, it's almost reminiscent of one of Hogwarts' old Potions professors. She wears different robes than him, at least - not the dark and fully buttoned up Potions robes, but something in pale green that reminded her of scientists in old films, with the cloak on top for good measure; no hat, only her hair braided into submission, to keep it from accidents when brewing.
The bottom line is, she has been accused of being dry and tense before, when the engagement was dissolved. Not by Ron, who would not have had the guts to do it, but by his mother, who blamed Hermione for the fact that a whirlwind romance born in the middle of the war did not immediately push her into a matronly role. Disappointment had always been a sore sentiment in Mrs Weasley's control, and toppled with the fact that her parents' memories were never going to be returned...
It had rankled. It has stayed with her.
But that's not entirely why she's tense, when greeting Malfoy. She doesn't expect him to look - well - good. Not just well, not just healthy, but rather more at ease with where he is in life right now. She can't say she begrudges him that, though; he's not the one who doled out the torture. She'd been at the trial, standing as witness for him and as witness for his mother (respectfully she'd declined to be a witness for Lucius Malfoy, because fuck him).
She is rather pleased to see that her testimony achieved more than just Draco's freedom of the errors of his youth. He's done something for himself.
That's what pushes her to awkwardly stick out her hand, offering a truce. "Welcome to Hogwarts again."
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He looks into her eyes again, and takes her hand. A truce. "Thank you," he says, sincerity rolling of his tongue like they belong, awkward as it may seem. To be allowed to return, to right his wrong in the way he knows — through actions, not words. It starts here, shaking Granger's hand and looking at her in the eye.
"I heard that you're Hogwarts' Potions Master," he says.
The brightest witch of her age, they've all said. Beyond the cracked mirrors of his fallible past, there's nothing in Draco's memories that would make him doubt her capabilities. Anger and envy once occupied his thoughts whenever he looked her way, the very existence of a witch that could've — and did — dismantle long held notions of blood purity and supremacy, the very core his family's beliefs. And yet, when he looks at her now, he sees more or less someone who is just like him — born of magic, capable of great feats, with human emotions. Someone on equal footing, just making their mark on the world one step at a time.
Someone who has seen the best and worst of what their world has to offer, but has come out strong, standing in front of him with a hand outstretched despite what his presence could possibly entail for her, if the tone of her voice as she speaks is anything to go by.
"Congratulations, as late as it is," he says, to start.
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It takes effort to give people the benefit of the doubt, and Malfoy is putting her through the ringer here.
"I am - and thank you," she says, to follow. Then chases it down by sticking her foot in her mouth with, "And the Head of Slytherin, believe it or not. No more favouritism on my watch."
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Still, he felt his face move — a grimace or a frown, he doesn't know — and after an uncomfortable beat of silence, he forces himself to speak.
"I was not informed," he said, honest yet halting, almost pained. "I suppose it's only natural, as the Potions instructor. You'd be situated in the dungeons along with the rest of the house." Dungeons that he called home for seven years, with windows that looked into the depths of Hogwarts' lake. He remembers looking through those windows in his youth, admiring the vastness of the deep waters and creatures that watch them as they pass by, wondering how deep it would go if he ever decided to dive in. A passing fancy that called to his childlike curiosity, but he'd have been an idiot to say such out loud.
He wonders what would have happened if he was the Potions instructor, but he dismisses that thought as swiftly as it came. Just as Snape was never given the chance to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts until Dumbledore had no choice, Draco doubts that he would ever be given the dubious honor of sitting in his old professor's seat. Thus, he's chosen to make the climb, from the lowest parts of the dungeons to the highest tower, as far away from the temptation as he's able.
"When snakes bite they can be poisonous, but they take care of their own — that's what they've always said." It's an ideology passed down from Slytherin to Slytherin, a call to arms for every student to remember that they will rise and fall together, as they have always done. An old way of thinking, unfortunately instilled in so many of them. "As long as you take care of them, Granger, they will take care of you in turn — even if you are a - Gryffindor. Or, were."
Gryffindor, he says, but the passing thought of muggleborn crosses his mind so swiftly, that he tactfully purses his lips. Years of conditioning doesn't stop the thoughts from straying, but he can at least stop them now before they begin.
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It makes her crack a grin. "Well - that was very diplomatic," she says, with some wry humour.
Around them, the remaining professors are mingling with new and former colleagues, and she imagines that sooner or later someone will come to greet Malfoy too. She wonders how many of them remember him as that terrified young man, pushed towards Voldemort's side by a toxic combination of family love and loyalty to the wrong monster. Maybe it would be best for him, if they don't.
She puts her hands in the pockets of her cloak out of habit, to hide the nervous ticks, the twitch in her fingers; he unsettles her, but maybe not in the same way he did when they were classmates.
There's going to be no academic rivalry now, to give them some common purpose. She can almost imagine Ron's outrage in the future, when he finds out she tended not one but two olive branches to Draco Malfoy. (Not Harry - Harry would get it. Harry was there at the trials, offering proof and testimony that Narcissa and Draco were not inherently evil, that he'd seen them act out of fear of Voldemort in their house. Harry would likely approve, albeit silently, that Hermione is also able to move on.)
Maybe it's pettiness that makes her do it, because she can't be bothered to be wary of Weasley judgement anymore. But she waits for one second, and then steps closer, almost conspiratorial.
"Look, Malfoy, let's just try to get along. I'm not going to attempt to be your foil here, and I'd rather appreciate it if you can return the favour. We can be colleagues - I expect it'll benefit us both better if we are."
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"Lucky for you, Professor Granger," Draco says, nothing more than a wry smile on his face, "I'm only here to teach students how to read the stars." That is to say, he'd prefer little to no trouble either — nothing outside what to expect from a castle full of teenagers. Perhaps some friction with his colleagues, but that can always be smoothed over through exposure to good behavior.
Speaking of which — "I only know a handful of our esteemed colleagues," Draco says, grey eyes flitting towards the familiar face of the Herbology professor, another ghost of his past that he must face head-on, as well as a couple of other faces in the crowd, "I would be... extremely thankful if you would care to introduce me."
It was possibly the least excruciating situation Draco could think of throwing himself into, while having to meet the eyes of old and new acquaintances that may or may not recognize him. It would signify his and Granger's effort in maintaining careful civility, at least, if she agrees.
a semi jump
She'll make the introductions for him, and it will be like a stamp of approval. Sure, it won't mend all the bridges immediately, but what they'll see is that if Hermione Granger could forgive and move on, surely their petty grudges can be put behind as well.
There is only one more day to go before school actually begins, and Hermione doesn't see Malfoy again after the staff breakfast meeting; presumably he is as busy setting up the tower for the first lessons as she is about setting up the dungeons for classes to begin tomorrow. She has a lesson plan already set, but as every year almost, the arrival of the students makes her a hint nervous - she wants them to like her. That's her biggest problem, and the Slytherins probably can smell it on her.
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Before long, Draco is off to start his new job. He starts with observing the changes brought to the Astronomy Tower to coordinate it with his lesson plans, though he lingers at parapet that overlooks the castle's courtyard. Old memories flash by, half dormant in his mind but not quite forgotten, and they linger now in the periphery even as he turns to shut himself inside his office.
As he typically requires the presence of the night sky overhead to plan his lesson plans, he waits for the evening before finalizing them. For him, that meant missing dinner, and staying up all the way to the darkest hours of the night, when the stars and planets twinkled overhead. He tallies the constellations as maps them out in his mind, and smiles a little when he sees Draco, curled around Ursa Minor. Not quite beholden to the brightest starts in the sky, but ever present.
But he gets hungry eventually, and is forced to put down his work in favor of feeding himself. Dinner should be long over by now, so the next best thing is for him to go down to the kitchens and hope that they won't mind the interruption.
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With a last sweep of her lessons, she sends everything away to its proper resting place and leaves her classroom locked in her wake, heading towards the kitchens.
As she turns a corner, she comes face to face with Malfoy - Draco? - again.
"I see I'm not the only one who missed dinner?"
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"It would be difficult to plan for Astronomy classes if there aren't any stars to look at," he says plainly by way of an answer, nothing mocking or arrogant in his tone. Just a simple conversation — that he can do, at least. "I can't say this would be the last dinner I would miss once school is in session."
A new plate of food appears next to him, and he nods at it. "Yours, I believe."
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As her food appears, she is confronted with two options. Either they take their respective food and make their way back to their respective offices, or she can make true on her offer to put the mistakes of their childhood (okay, his) behind them and move on.
She picks the latter. "Would you like to join me?" A pause. "I was going to eat dinner in my office, but the table is good enough for two."
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But they can be civil. They've managed long enough at the staff meeting, under the eyes of so many others that he felt like some form of cheap entertainment that they were all waiting for explode.
This time, however, it'll be a conversation away from prying eyes.
"Certainly, thank you," he says, after clearing his throat thanks to the small, awkward silence. He sits down on the table next to her, eyes fixed on his delicious looking plate of steak and potatoes, an all-time classic. "I take it your own lesson plans are just about done?"
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His question draws her attention to the conversation they're effortlessly attempting to have here.
"Yes, just brewing some things for the Infirmary for now," she answers with a small smile. "Are you settling in?"
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He savors the bite he's been chewing before opening his mouth. A good, tasty meal, as it always have been.
"Lots of things and places - and people - are familiar enough," he says, not quite answering her outright, but lingering on safer topics. "The tower provides a spectacular view at night, between the stars overhead and Hogwarts' well-maintained grounds. It'll be different sleeping at the highest tower, than it is to sleep in the dungeons. I suppose we'll be exchanging nightly experiences, this time."
He idly wonders what it's been like, sleeping in Severus' old chambers, taking this position, living up to his professional legacy. He doesn't ask that.
"How has the dungeons been treating you?"
headcanons on interior design in hogwarts why not
Everything that belonged to Severus Snape is gone - disposed of or in storage. Truth be told, despite the man playing a double spy for so long, despite Harry confirming that he was on the side of the Light in the end, there is no love lost between Hermione and the old Potions professor. The man was a bitter bully, whose prejudice towards muggleborns and students was not only prevalent but also motivated by pettiness. The idea that what, his whole reason to be the way he was had to do with romantic rejection? It made her blood boil.
But the school materials, they remain. Beyond the doors of her office, the Potions classroom remains the same. It is only that the office is brighter, the ceiling enchanted by Hermione to reflect the same sky as outside, the dark colours turned neutral and bright. Her actual bedroom - not that Malfoy cares about that - is more a reflection of who she is as a person than of her role in Hogwarts; books, controlled chaos, a fireplace that always is running whenever she steps inside.
It took her some work to get it there, but she's made the place hers. Much like she's made the role hers, longer than Malfoy has had a chance to do the same with his.
So there is no bitterness when she adds, "I do like the view though. The windows leading into the Lake, they're so fascinating. It makes me miss swimming."
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"Sometimes the creatures underwater would stop by and peer through the windows," he says, with a little nostalgia in his voice. "Even the Giant Squid would visit. The common room would be buzzing every time. The first years would definitely enjoy that."
Speaking of which - "How goes the preparations as Slytherin's head of house? Are you ready?" Throwing a lion in a pit of vipers was... going to be something worth watching and watching out for, because Draco knows how vicious young Slytherins could be.
But he supposes Granger - Hermione? - would know that just as well.
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Which is a diplomatic way of saying it needs its students to not be little shits. Course she can't say much, considering the house she comes from. And Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs aren't saints either. In fact, the closer she gets to her thirties, she more she believes are teenagers are little shits, truth be told.
Back to point, and his question, she shrugs. It's not her first year experiencing teaching to Slytherins. "I like to think I'm fairly prepared. Most of them have had me as their professor for a few years now and will have had time to get used to my method and behaviour. It's the first years that will find it all novel, really, but...that can be told of every year."
She looks at Malfoy with a little smirk, and then shakes her head. "You'll see. The first week you teach first years, you will start seeing...mini-Malfoys and mini-Grangers everywhere." She lets out a laugh at that. "It's a scary revelation to see children with behaviour akin to yours from years ago and think, oh bugger I was such a little git."
headcanon!!
"I imagine my experience will be a little different for this year alone," Draco says. "I am the new teacher after all, even if the class I teach is not as exciting as - oh, I don't know - making cauldrons explode by mixing worm guts and dried nettles with crushed dragon horn. Just - for example," he adds as an afterthought, because he definitely did not do it when he was a student, and even if he did, it wasn't on purpose.
"A night once or twice a week under the stars mapping out constellations and planetary movements would seem comparatively easy," he says, almost blithely.
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"You do make a point," she says wryly, "but at least none of mine will be making jokes about Uranus."
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Since they're talking about hormonal teenagers.
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A pause, as she takes another bite of food, and she adds, "If it's any comfort, I have students brew a contraceptive potion in the first semester of their fifth year."
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And teachers, of course, as they will probably need to patrol once in a while, just as their professors did when they were in school.
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Shit, did I really just think in terms of paramours? Am I fifty?
She shakes her head, distracted. "It should be - and in any case, it does no harm. I mean, I don't think it does any harm, as long as it's character building type of rule-breaking. Like clandestine snogging, or other normal things for teenagers to do."
The implied thing here is not that we'd know.
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IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS....
ROSE LET ME GET ON THE GD DOOR WITH YOU