The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel

Chapter 13: Perchance To Dream

‘Harry…I miss you. I only loved you…Harry.’

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, gasping for breath. He wasn’t afraid, but only apprehensive. He fumbled for his glasses at the small table beside the bed, knocking over the near empty glass of water that lay beside them in the process.

“Damn! Damn it! Damn it to hell!”

There was no one to hear him curse, while he blinked and checked the time. Quarter to six in the morning. Still very early. His dreams had roused him again. Whiskey had become a thing of the past. He didn’t even keep any of the leftovers. He’d handed the last of it off to Ron, and thanks to Prewett’s potions, he hadn’t felt the withdrawal at all. But he was dreaming. Of Draco. Every night. Vividly.

It was just as well that he had another appointment with Prewett tonight. The way the last few days had gone, there was a lot to talk about, in spite of his earlier reticence. Whether he liked it or not, talking had helped a bit, a Harry felt less pressured than before, but apparently even old John’s potion making skills couldn’t calm Harry’s dreams. Waking to memories of Draco, as he looked years ago, was actually more stressful than dealing with Draco’s son.

If there was one upside to things, it was that, tired and distraught as he might sometimes be, Harry had been up early every single morning, and could usually compose himself fairly well with the extra time this afforded him. Classes were becoming more complex, as they inevitably did once the start of the year was out of the way, and that meant more time spent preparing each course of study.

Harry always looked back to the lessons he’d had from Remus Lupin, and somewhat grudgingly, Severus Snape. While Lupin had been the first DADA instructor to display real competence to Harry, he’d also shown an uncanny knack for engaging students in their studies. To this day, Harry made a point of bringing Boggarts and other creatures into classes for practice, especially with the middle years. As for Severus Snape, whatever Harry might have felt about the man’s horrifying attitude toward children, his uncompromising thoroughness had rubbed off, and Harry’s sixth and seventh year classes in DADA had long since learned to expect hours of dueling practice once the initial course had been laid out at the beginning of the year.

After fifteen years, Harry’s course material may have been fairly rote and predictable, but he kept notes on which students needed more work on any given spell, and these reminders to himself took a portion of each morning before class. After a decent shower and a hastily spelled shave, Harry took his tea to his study desk and started his morning’s work before breakfast, letting the needs of his students brush aside memories of yesteryear.

Eventually it came to make his way to breakfast, and Harry packed his bundle of notes and lesson plans and headed out the door, only to nearly run into Draco in the hallway.

“Oh! Ah…you’re up early. Didn’t mean to nearly run you over on the way to breakfast. Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Malfoy?” The lad looked pensive, but basically calm.

“Yes, professor. I’d hoped to borrow that book. I finished a few of my projects last night, and I’ll have the last draft of your assignment finished by tonight. I thought I’d make time to read something different. You don’t mind? I’ll treat your things with the utmost respect…you have my word.”

“Well, I don’t doubt that you will. Certainly.”

Harry opened the door to his room and stepped in to grab the book from his desktop. When he turned around, Draco was already in the door, just a few feet away, peering about without any obvious interest, but the invasion of his personal space was disconcerting none the less. Not that anything all that offensive had been done, but it simply made Harry uncomfortable. Something had to be said. Harry handed over the book while he fumbled over what to say. Given that his mornings hadn’t been easy lately, he wasn’t really at his best.

“Mr. Malfoy…I am very happy to lend you a book, and particularly one as good as this, but I should say these are my private quarters. I didn’t extend my invitation to enter here, and I’d appreciate it if, in the future, you could wait by the door.”

Draco looked perturbed, and a little confused. “Why? No disrespect intended, but haven’t people come in here before?”

“Well, yes, but they’re people I’ve known-”

“You know me. I’m your student. You’re normally quite reasonable…what’s wrong with my talking to you here as opposed to anywhere else?”

Harry felt like he was losing control of the thread of conversation rather quickly, and fumbled again for a more definitive answer.

“Precisely! You are my student. It’s inappropriate for you to follow me into my quarters. There should be a certain professional distance maintained between students and instructors.”

“Who said anything about propriety? We aren’t doing anything wrong. Or do you…do you dislike me? Have I offended you?” There was something in Draco’s tone, edgy and nervous, faintly hurt, that Harry couldn’t ignore.

“NO! Nothing like that! Not at all. Would you at least accept that I’m a very private person? You didn’t visit the quarters of your instructors at Durmstrang, did you?”

“Well, no! But they were perfectly horrid! Why would I? You seemed decent enough. I wanted to talk to you. I had nothing to say to them. What’s wrong with you?! Why does it even matter?!”

Draco had obviously begun to lose his own temper, and Harry could feel his own fraying, but was too adamant to stop now. “Why means nothing! I’ve made it clear that I expect to give invitations before people enter my home! That is more than sufficient reason for you to respect my wishes. This conversation is finished. Talking is all well and good, but once I’ve made myself clear, I expect you to follow my instructions…to the letter…without complaint! Now go!”

The young man purpled quickly, clearly biting his tongue and holding back further comment at great personal effort, then placed the book on the table and turned to the door, choking out his last words.

“Yes…professor. As you wish.” Acid venom dripped from each word, the sarcasm as plain as day. Harry ignored the naked insolence, as well the faint hint of extra force when the door was closed.

Exasperating! That’s what it was. What on earth made such a simple request into a cause for dramatics? Things had gone quite well up until today. He’d expected some outburst of temper or misconduct at some point, but he’d hardly expected it to be over this! Inexplicable!

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Breakfast itself was easy enough, since Draco merely tucked into his meal with his face firmly fixed in the direction of his plate. The rest of the day was the same, with Draco sullenly keeping to himself, and Harry scarcely had time to gnaw over the matter until quite late. Draco had fled their last class together so quickly that Harry hadn’t gotten a word in. Perhaps it was just as well, since the moody nature of adolescents often required time to cool off after things like this. Besides, Harry had an appointment with John Prewett to keep, and he really needed his mind on that at the moment.

When Harry arrived at Prewett’s office, just a couple of hours before dinner was to be served, he found John Prewett in good spirits and cheerily treating two young men with faint scrapes and bruises.

“You’ve already gotten your points and your detentions, so I’ll leave off the long lectures today. You’ve thick heads, the both of you, and after all that effort, all you’ve got to show for yourselves is some bruises. Nothing but a couple of bruises left, and you can keep those and think about them. I won’t waste my time healing anything you’ve inflicted on each other that isn’t serious. Now, go on. And behave like young men, not brawling louts! Shoo! Off with you!”

The pair of fourth years slouched away, headed out the door and glaring daggers at each other while Harry made himself comfortable. John Prewett put away everything but his wand before leading Harry into his private room.

“Don’t be fooled by that strict tone, Harry. I tell you, it was all I could to not laugh my way through the entire thing. Makes me remember being that age myself, many a year though it’s been. The two twits actually got into a shoving match over ingredients in Potions class, and wound up dumping a shelf onto themselves. Professor Grimes was beside himself at the mess. He’s usually quite the softie, but those two will be cleaning up the Potions classroom for the rest of the week. Without magic. Couldn’t help but think of my third year here. As I recall, it was over the favors of a certain lovely Ravenclaw. Another fellow had asked her out, because he knew I was about to do the same. Prewetts aren’t much better in the temper department than Weasleys are, and quite predictably, I was polishing trophies for almost a week.”

Harry relaxed in the comfortable chair in the corner, taking the glass of water that John handed him while the older gentleman moved to take his own chair. It was always a pleasure to hear John’s stories, and the man possessed an aura of unflappable calm that soothed those around him.

“So? Whatever happened to the girl? Did she agree to a date with you…or with him?”

“Seventeenth of next month. We’ll have been married fifty years. Heh. I’d no idea then what I was fighting for, but if I had, I’d have fought twice as hard! She’s a jewel, my Marie. But enough about me. This is your time, Harry. Let’s hear what’s been on your mind. Last time you’d said you’d try to talk with a few old friends and open up a bit. Any luck on that?”

“Aye…enough. I suppose. Hermione took it well enough, and Ron hates all things Malfoy and that won’t change anytime soon, but I think I got him to give young Draco a fair shake. That aside, I’ve two things we really need to talk about, and the first is my dreams. The other potions worked fine…but the one that’s supposed to give me something like Dreamless Sleep without side effects…complete failure. Every night this week, I’ve come awake after dreaming about Draco. My Draco, as he was then. Whispering things to me. Or just saying them from far away so it’s hard to hear. If it wasn’t for the Calming Draughts I’d be a nervous wreck, but those have worked fine. Even so…it’s hard to keep off the drink when I can’t look forward to sleep, and the notion of waking up with those memories fresh in my head isn’t working for me either. Is there anything else you can do?”

John Prewett rubbed his chin carefully, looking concerned. “That’s a bit off. I haven’t had that potion let me down before. I’ll check the batch I mixed up and see if it lost some of its potency. It’s usually very efficacious in cases like these, where Dreamless Sleep is too strong and can’t be used long term. I wonder if there’s a more pressing reason for your dreams than I’d expected. Hmmph. Anyhow…we’ll see. I might be able to mix it a bit stronger for you, but this potion doesn’t leave much room for error or for variations of strength. I’ll do my best…I can promise that. So what else is on your mind?”

Harry sighed. “The other Draco. He barged into my quarters when I went to lend him a book this morning. He hasn’t any sense of boundaries or personal space. At least not when it comes to me. All I asked was for him to respect my privacy, and it all went pear-shaped from there! He was completely out of line, barking out questions as if he had right to intrude into my personal quarters. Before I knew it, I was on the defensive again and I ordered him out of the room. He was furious, and stormed off without even taking the book he’d come to borrow. It’s been annoying me all day. I deal very well with students, but he doesn’t seem to grasp the dynamics of student and teacher very well. Any ideas on how to deal with this?”

John Prewett ran Harry back and forth through what he remembered of the row that morning, picking apart exact words. Harry quickly became exasperated again, answering questions edgily, already tired of the subject.

“Relax, Harry. You’ve obviously let this work you into a state. I’m sure it’s the disruption of your sleep making you this edgy over small things.”

“Well…bugger! I’d like something to be uncomplicated for once! I go along with everything…the potions, these meetings, taking Draco as a pupil…all of it. What has it gotten me so far? More complications. Tense bloody conversations with my friends. I’m tired and I dread sleeping and waking up, and frankly, even with the potions, I want a bloody nightcap and a decent night’s sleep. Is there anything you can tell me that doesn’t involve questions instead of answers?”

John smirked. “Alright, lad. It’s just a thought, but has it occurred to you that perhaps Draco thinks of you as a friend? He obviously admired you enough to sign up for an extra year of schooling just to work with you. You’d said before that the two of you had got on quite a bit better than expected. Last time we met, I recall you bringing up his having trouble socializing, and you’d tried to get him to open up a bit and spend more time getting to know people. I expect he got worked up because he suddenly felt unwelcome…rejected.”

Harry was aghast. “You must be kidding me! I told him to make some friends his own age. Why on earth would he be following me around instead? He’s a student, I’m a professor. I’ll be the first to admit that he could benefit from making friends, but he needs friends his own age. The entire concept of instruction is based on a certain amount distance between student and teacher…because unbiased assessment of learning is impossible otherwise. How could he expect anything other than that?”

“Harry, Harry, Harry. He’s eighteen, uncommonly gifted, and socially awkward for his age. All this according to you yourself. He seems to interact better with adults…once a few boundaries are established. The impression that you didn’t want him around except for required class work probably just rubbed him the wrong way. Obviously he overreacted, but I’m assuming he hasn’t much experience with social dynamics. Just pull him aside, and for the sake of dealing with someone half your age, try swallowing your pride and being the better man. Tell him you overreacted just as he did, and that you really are a very private person. At least assure him that you approve of him as a student and a person. Set a clearer boundary, calmly, and see if he can accept that. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Harry exhaled loudly. “Bloody hell. How could I have missed that? I’m usually good at these kinds of things. I’ve been doing this for fifteen years…I ought to know bet-”

“Nonsense. You’re tired, a little distraught, and the youngster in question is who he is. You‘ve got your reasons for missing the signs I picked up. Besides, I’ve counseled professionally now and again over the years. I’d see about having the lad drop by here myself, but I doubt he’d say anything productive if he felt as though people were deliberately prodding about for personal information. He already has a certain rapport with you. Get back to work and do your best, and I’ll get started on checking my potions, alright?”

Harry rubbed his scalp, easing tensed muscles. “Alright. I can do this. Bloody nuisance is what it is, but I can do it.” Why couldn’t anything be easy these days?

TBC!!!