The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel

Chapter 14: Legacy


‘This is something I can do. Come on, Harry! Prewett was probably right. You lost your temper and made it all sound worse than it was. You have to work with this boy every day…just get this over with and set the kid at ease. For the love of Merlin…you fought Voldemort toe to toe…so how hard can this be?’

Harry had finished outlining his expectations for the next week, prepping his seventh year class for the start of dueling practice, along with lists of spells he expected them to practice in advance. The hour was up, and Harry announced the dismissal of class, hastily adding a request before it could be ignored.

“Class is dismissed with the exception of Mr. Malfoy…who will see me in my office… now.”

Harry turned and opened the door to his office, watching as Draco rather sluggishly rose and ambled in, looking un-amused but calmer than he had been the day before. At least he wasn’t as actively insolent, but Harry was familiar with every form of teenaged slouch and sneer. He’d seen them all, and it was obvious that while Draco was covering it a bit, he was still irritable.

“Take a seat.”

“Where would you like me to take it?”

“Don’t even start that with me…we need to talk.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Start what? I just want to make sure I follow the orders I’m given to the letter.”

Harry ground his teeth a moment, then resigned himself to doing this the hard way.

“Alright. As you wish. Your orders, to be specific, are to sit down in the chair across from my desk, opposite me, and remain silent and still until I tell you to move or speak.”

There was no mistaking Harry’s tone. He let his eyes do some of his work for him, using ’the stare’ that had served him well with countless recalcitrant students in the past. To his credit, Draco looked nervous instead of just smug, but as long as he took his seat and remained quiet, Harry didn’t really care how he looked. Harry took his own seat and composed himself. He’d had several moments free today to work out what he wanted to say. He just hoped that it was worth the effort.

“With regard to yesterday, I have this to say. Mr. Malfoy…I overreacted, and I clearly upset you. I apologize. That was not my intent.”

“But…”

“DID you forget the part about silence!? I will invite answers when I am finished!”

Draco looked like he was about to say something more, but thought better of it and remained silent, slumping back into the chair.

“Right, then. As I was saying! I am going to explain several things to you, and then I will invite you to answer. If you can’t manage that, you will wish that you had. I overreacted yesterday, because you met me off my guard, not unlike another incident I recall quite recently, after entering my private quarters without my invitation.

Allow me to be frank. You are a wholly exceptional student. I am very glad that you chose to come to Hogwarts, and I am flattered that you felt so strongly about choosing me as a mentor. I hold your abilities in the highest regard, because I have never had a pupil so extravagantly gifted in these arts, or so diligent in the pursuit of knowledge. I am genuinely looking forward to working with you, and I have every expectation that you will surprise me and impress me along the way.

That having been said, you lack an understanding of the differences between other people’s feelings and your own. For instance, I, for reasons of my own, am a very private person. I strongly prefer to invite people into my home, and in point of fact, most people feel very uncomfortable when someone they don’t know well steps into their living quarters without invitation. I understand, upon reflection, that you have lived in dorms until you arrived in England, and that you may not realize that privacy is valued by others. I assure you…it is.

I lost my temper, and what I said was unkindly. You have my apologies. I hope you’ll at least trust me that they are sincere. What I expect from you is this: whether you accept my apology or not, you should ask my permission to enter my quarters when that circumstance arrives. If I say no, you will be expected to conduct yourself like an adult, and accept that choice. If I say yes, then you may come in and feel welcome. Depending on the circumstance, I may say yes, or no, for any number of reasons, and because we’re speaking of my living quarters, those reasons don’t need to be explained to anyone else. That choice is mine to make. You may speak now, but try to be civil if you can. It reduces people’s respect for you when you fall back upon insults and sarcasm in lieu of actual communication. I should know…because I lapse occasionally myself. Alright?”

Draco sat in silence, looking pensive and curious. The silence lingered until Draco reached into his book and withdrew a parchment, pushing it across the desk to Harry.

“Apology accepted. This is the assignment you gave me. I finished it last night. I…I didn’t know you were…so adamant about your privacy. I’m sorry I offended you. I just…sometimes…it’s like you…you don’t want me here. I can feel it. I believe you…when you say you think highly of my abilities, but…no offense…I don’t believe it when you say I’m welcome. I don’t feel that way. You’re always on edge, like you’re in the room with something grotesque, only I’m the only other person in the room. What should I think?”

Draco’s voice was quiet and serious, no trace left of sarcasm, but there was a faint note of bitterness, both in his tone, and in the set of his mouth while he waited for a reply. Harry put aside the parchment for a moment, and hung his head low while he thought of what to say. Honesty was a two edged sword, and the edge that cut deepest was evident now.

“Hell. This is my fault. You aren’t wrong. I am uncomfortable. I’m sorry, but…there are reasons…I can’t…it isn’t you, alright? It’s-”

Draco’s voice was almost a whisper when he interrupted. “It’s about my father…isn’t it? It’s always about that. I’ve been paying for that my whole life. I know what he did…here. Some of it. I thought you said you were his friend. Was what he did so bad that…even you…wish I’d just leave?”

“No. That’s not it. That’s not it at all. There are things that…they’re history now. They shouldn’t matter, but…it’s hard to explain this.” Harry rubbed his temples, teeth gritted while he tried to maintain his composure.

“When someone…a friend…dies…a part of you dies with them. And a part of them lives with you. You…Draco…even your name…you’re a living reminder of someone who can’t be with us anymore, even if we wish he could. It isn’t your fault. Don’t…don’t think you’ve done something wrong. You really haven’t. The problem is mine and mine alone. I suppose…I’m glad you’re here, even if there are…reminders…of your father. I knew him very well, and I can promise you this: he would have been terribly proud of you. More so than I could possibly describe. Let me assure you…whatever else I may feel…however uncomfortable I may be, I’m glad that I’m to be part of your education, and it would be a disservice to your father’s memory to do any less than my best.”

Draco remained quiet, glancing toward the window, clearly as uncomfortable as Harry.

“I can…I can understand that. I think. That’s been my whole life. No one ever really sees me. They see my mother or my father. They haven’t been here for any of this, but I’ve still been in their shadow my entire life. I’ll never understand why I have to pay for it, though. It isn’t fair. I should have had parents! It should have been different!”

Draco was losing his grip quickly, looking a bit wild about the eyes while his voice began to rise.

“…not my fault! I don’t-”

His voice trailed off suddenly, and the muscles of his face betrayed what he was struggling with while he composed himself.

“I don’t…want to…talk about this…anymore. I’m sorry I brought it up. Let’s…review my work. Student…teacher, right?”

Harry had floundered while Draco broke down, unsure of what to say, uncertain of what would help and what might do more harm than good. He snatched the parchment back eagerly, happy to accept the break in the tension, which was still so thick in the room that it nearly seemed to choke out actual air.

“Right. Let’s see. Wait! This is it? One sheet? There are less than thirty spells on here!”

Draco turned crimson almost instantly, sitting up with his mouth pinched into a tight little line while he growled out an answer.

“Are you implying that I prepared this in bad faith?! You asked for a list of spells that I don’t know or haven’t used, cross-referenced and complete with descriptions. I read each of the books. These are the spells that met your criteria! Are you accusing me-”

“NO! Stop right there! I trust you, alright! I was just stunned for a minute! Relax. It’s just…that was almost eight hundred separate spells you went through. This list is only twenty seven spells. That’s bloody amazing! I accuse you of nothing…I’m just saying I’m impressed. More than I thought I’d be. Did you have access to those texts at Durmstrang?”

Draco huffed, his color shifting back to red, and then finally to a faintly flushed pink. “Yes. Our library was smaller, and strictly controlled, and we used different texts, but the books you gave me were available there. Except the seventh year one. It was restricted on principal, and most of the spells I didn’t know were from that. There were a few others I should see used before I practice them…from the sixth year text, but that was all.”

“Well…I guess I’ve got some work to do. You can join the seventh year class in dueling practice, and we’ll work on some of these at first. I see I’ll have to break out some of my old Auror texts if I’m going to show you much of anything new this year. Consider yourself complimented.”

Draco grudgingly smirked, still too upset to easily calm. “Alright. I stand, or rather sit, complimented. I’ve never studied Auror’s spells. That should be interesting.”

“I thought you’d like that. I just hadn’t imagined starting on them quite that soon. We should have what’s on this sheet out of the way in a few weeks time. Possibly less, if I’m an accurate judge of your speed of mastery.”

Draco seemed only slightly less tense, eager to change the subject to one he was comfortable with. His own skill was a familiar thing to him, but often a surprise to others. At least Harry accepted that he wasn’t cheating, and didn’t downplay the quality of his work.

“I think I can meet that expectation. I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I know this isn’t Durmstrang. It’s different here…better. I think I’m still getting used to it. Seven years is a long time to be anywhere…especially there. I’m sorry…professor. I will try to…control myself…better.”

Harry was just as eager to move forward from this past couple of days. The brief step into the past had been more than enough to tire him, and any relief was welcome now.

“I’ll pull those books immediately. Dueling starts for most of the classes this coming week. Every second day of each of my classes will be for applied and practical use of spells. Since we have a full docket of students, I’ll work you into the routine, training against the other seventh years students, and against me. With some of the advanced studies, I only allow the students to target me with their spells, since I’m best able to counter them and gauge the strength of their success. Among other things, I’ve had the fewest injuries to students in my classes for almost twelve years. That policy would be the reason why.”

Draco nodded neutrally. “I see. Very different from where I learned. We trained against each other most of the time, but we didn’t target the instructors…they targeted us. It didn’t go well for a student who…say…for instance…successfully counterattacked after breaking the curse that hit him. I should be very interested to see what your classes are like.”

Harry covered his frown well, trying to appear distracted and organizing the paperwork on his desk. The style of ‘instruction’ at Durmstrang still bothered him more than a little, but he hadn’t any intention of displaying such an emotional response in front of any pupil.

“Very well then. Mr. Malfoy…I will look forward to hearing your thoughts after we start the new week’s dueling classes. We’ll review in private after each dueling session, or thrice weekly. I think that concludes our conversation today. Good night, Draco.”

Draco stood, but looked like he was about to say something, and was uncertain of how to broach the subject. His cheeks were faintly pink. Harry invited any questions, taken the burden of silence away.

“Yes? Is there something amiss?”

“Um…I…about that book. I still…I’d like to read it.”

Harry pulled the book from under a pile of papers. He’d had it in his office since they’d last spoken, hoping that once things had smoothed over, Draco would still show an interest in Byron and other works.

“I’d hoped you might still want it. Here. Enjoy it.”

Draco took the book, flustered by the sudden realization that Harry had expected and hoped to hand it over all along.. It was easy to imagine someone as unreasonable right after a small row of sorts, but to realize that they hadn’t born any malice, and had only been waiting to make peace as soon as it was possible…it was sobering to say the least.

“Thank you…professor. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

Harry leaned back in his chair after the door was closed, rubbing his temples. It always came back to his Draco. One thing he knew well was what it meant to live in the shadow of parents he’d never met. Draco had left behind only one legacy, and that legacy was now a temperamental adolescent boy of eighteen, gifted and yet haunted, hungry for acceptance and full of the headstrong desire to take on the world his own way. Harry hadn’t been speaking idly. Draco Malfoy would have wanted his son to have a bright future. Harry hadn’t any choice now…the matter was long decided. Whether this boy drove him scatty or not, he would find a way to make his Draco’s legacy a happy one.


TBC!!!