The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel

Chapter 15: A Complicated Boy


Harry made his way to Minerva’s office, restless after his most recent session with John Prewett. It had been a week since their last conversation, and not really a good one. The potion to soothe his sleeping mind had been an utter failure on every count. The dreams had become more vivid, and even less clouded. Draco…his Draco of many years ago…calling him to him, separated from him by cloudy, gray mists. Words of affection and comfort. Words of kindness. They still cut like knives. Harry had begun to dread sleep as much as he had in years past, when he’d withdrawn for whiskey and Dreamless Sleep. He felt hollow, and tired, most of the time, and it felt as if a blanket were wrapped around him and yet he couldn’t quite get warm. It wasn’t yet impairing his ability to teach, but if things continued as they had so far, he would have trouble concentrating when he needed to…and soon.

His erstwhile pupil was another matter. At least Draco had taken their peace-making to heart. He’d been quiet enough lately, and hadn’t been any trouble, but he had seemed a bit off during the dueling sessions. The boy scowled now and again, but performed the spells assigned to him, and participated with others as requested. He still didn’t seem to socialize well, and was constantly stiff and at guard when forced to work with the seventh year class. His spell work was superb, and his form and style while casting was nearly flawless. If anything, the boy’s only weakness was his youth and occasionally over eager urge to rush his spells. There was no question in Harry’s mind that, given time to mature and calm down, Draco would be a magician of stunning power and competence.

That brought him to his current meeting. Minerva was due to make a report to the Ministry soon, and wanted a complete review of Harry’s working relationship with his pupil before she made her report. While Harry intended to state as much as possible in Draco’s defense, there were thorny issues that were yet unresolved, and Harry knew it quite well.

He still had only Draco’s original answers regarding his intentions, and the boy hadn’t set any career goals per se. There were no solid answers for his social choices, even though Harry could make some adept guesses, and even Harry had to admit that there were things Draco chose not to speak of openly. To the Ministry, anything Draco did would likely be looked upon with suspicion, and until more information came Harry’s way, there was little he could say that they would consider to be of worth.

That, too, brought a new issue to light. The young man seemed to trust Harry, even if he was an argumentative and stubborn boy, and in the spirit of trust, Harry had brushed up against knowledge of the things that seemed to bother the boy most. These were very personal things, and Harry couldn’t escape the feeling that, if more details were to come to light, he would have to choose between guarding Draco’s right to privacy, and revealing to the Ministry those truths that might best serve to calm their fears. It wasn’t an appetizing choice either way. He didn’t want to leave the boy blacklisted for life because of a name he inherited, and he certainly didn’t want to betray the trust of a young man who clearly trusted very few people, but who obviously admired Harry enough to make a significant effort toward sharing his thoughts, however uncomfortable it may have been for the both of them.

None of this was made any easier by Harry’s ’condition’. In all other respects Harry was feeling better, but his sleep had become fitful and restless, mostly because of the anxiety that came of knowing what his mornings would surely bring. He woke early each day, sometimes hours early, always with the dream memory of his own Draco calling to him. It wasn’t that he woke with horror, or even with fear of some kind. It was sadness.

When he dreamed, it felt as if Draco was close by, nearer to him than could ever be possible. He could almost remember exactly what it felt like to reach out for him and find Draco there waiting for him. When he woke, it was to an empty bed, and an empty life, echoes of yesterday reverberating through his soul. He didn’t wake because his sleep was a hell of the mind. He feared to sleep because it made waking more horrible than slumber. In his sleep, he heard the words he’d wanted to hear then. Draco, proclaiming his love, swearing fidelity, forgiving Harry’s explosion of temper, and apologizing for the silence between them at the finish of it all. It was a sweet fantasy. Too sweet, if one had to wake and return to a world that would never have that Draco in it again.

All of this was on Harry’s mind when he entered Minerva’s office and took a seat while she sorted out a few papers, acknowledging Harry with a smile and a kindly nod while she furiously scribbled away. Minerva tucked her quill back into its holder and took a deep breath.

“Ahh! Much better. My hands cramp something awful on days when I’ve this much to sign. It’s a cruel thing, aging. Grants a certain insight with one hand while stripping one of the energy of youth with the other. Are you doing alright, Harry? You look a bit tired.”

Harry sighed. “You’d be right. John Prewett and I are working on it, but I haven’t slept well at all…lately. That aside, I think I’m getting on fairly well. Not tipping over or anything of the like. Just bit ‘drawn out’, as it were.”

“Don’t play the stalwart hero with me, young man. If you’re in need of a rest, I’ll see what can be done to cover your classes while you and Master Prewett look after your health. Just because young Lord Malfoy is a priority, it doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate seeing you work yourself sick. Am I understood, Harry?”

“Absolutely! I’ll be alright. I’ve seen John every few days for the last couple weeks. If he thinks I need a break, I’m sure he’ll tell me. You know as well as I do that he isn’t the least bit shy of sharing his opinion. He’s been a great help, but…I still have dreams. I’ll admit…working with Draco the Younger isn’t a great help. He’s a good student…incredible actually…but it’s…very discomforting at times.”

“Well, that brings us to the subject of the hour. I have an initial report to draft now that he’s settled in here and fully vested in Hogwarts’ curriculum. The Ministry will be expecting me to update them as the year progresses, and I’ve made a few small inquiries of my own by requesting more elaborate records from Durmstrang. We’ll see soon enough what they have to say. I haven’t heard much of anything about the lad from the staff. I can only assume that he hasn’t been much trouble?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “To be entirely fair, I’d say that you’re right, but I seem to catch more of his interest than others. Minerva…there is something very off about his behavior. I can’t put my finger on it, and I’m sure he isn’t up to serious mischief of anything like that, but Draco has more than his share of issues, and he seems to keep his own counsel about them. He’s very sensitive about his family history, and I suspect his mother’s family made him aware of his father’s tarnished family name…and possibly the reasons for it as well.

He’s incredibly gifted. Far beyond any student I’ve seen in years. He lacks patience with people, but when he sets his mind to class work, the boy is capable of miracles. I’m not entirely sure of how I’ll keep him busy this year. I’ve taken to re-reading my old Auror textbooks just to prepare some new material for him, and I drew a few musty, old tomes I haven’t read in years from the library. Building a DADA curriculum for a student past his seventh year is going to be quite a bit of work…especially for a student this far above the curve.

I can give you my personal confidence that Draco wants nothing more than to be recognized for his abilities, but I can’t give you more than guesses at his motivations or goals. And that brings me to another question. With all due respect, since he does seem most comfortable discussing his thoughts with me…albeit just barely…I’m not entirely comfortable divulging his innermost thoughts or feelings to anyone…especially if they’re to be inscribed and shipped off to some Ministry office. Would it at least be acceptable to give you literal reports of his behavior, and just gloss over anything not relevant to his case?”

Minerva MacGonagall pursed her lips, thinking carefully a moment before she answered. “Yes…I think that would be a perfectly acceptable compromise. I trust your judgment here, Harry. If you feel something is of sufficient importance, by all means, tell me, but if you’d feel better keeping the lad’s other confidences to yourself, go ahead. I don’t see any harm in that. I really ought to have something more than modest observations to share with the Ministry, though. Do you have anything you’d recommend?”

Harry gave the matter a little thought. “Yes…not much…but yes. Try pushing the misunderstood and confrontational genius angle as hard as you can. Assure them that I’m working with the lad personally and that his response seems very positive so far. In my opinion, and you can quote me on this, he seems very interested in overcoming a reputation he was born with rather than earned. Very much an uncompromising over-achiever, and I expect he feels very insecure about people’s opinions of him. I think that’s what really makes him seem so stand-offish. I honestly don’t think he has any ill intent in him, Minerva. He’s just a young man who got handed a few hard blows early on in life, and he’s making the best of it…figuring it out as he goes along.”

Minerva chuckled. “Sounds like another student I once had. He was a perfect terror when it came to following the rules and doing what he was told, but he certainly turned out alright in the end. I think you see more of yourself in him than you do Hermione Granger. I‘m glad you‘ve put some thought into this, Harry. I knew you‘d do your best even if it wasn‘t easy at times.”

Harry flushed crimson. He hadn’t had cause to seriously blush in years. He also hadn’t really drawn a clear comparison between Draco and himself…aside from the fates of their respective parents…until now.

“Alright. You have a point. I suppose I can’t help but feel something for a boy whose parents were killed when he was an infant…especially when he’s paying the price for their name in spite of never having met them. It just rankles, Minerva. It’s Draco’s son, for God’s sake. I feel like a very bright kid is being assigned some stigma over matters that have very little to do with him. I can’t ignore it, even if I wish I could get his father off my mind for just a few days. You’ve got my word on this…I’ll tell you if anything serious crops up, but I really think the Ministry has blown this entire thing out of proportion.”

“Very well, Harry. Your sentiments speak well of you. I’ll try to make this report as mitigating as possible, and we’ll see if the Ministry budges a little. You might find it hard to believe, but your name still carries a bit of weight over there. Until you told me of things that had passed years ago, I’d never have guessed at them. You’re a person still spoken of with respect in those halls, and I’m sure your words will do some good on the boy’s behalf. For now, just keep doing the best you can, and if John Prewett tells you that you need rest, I expect you to take his advice…or you’ll hear from me!”

Harry nodded, somewhat mollified and feeling better. It was comforting to know that, in spite of what he’d done years ago, his word was still taken to mean something. He’d never been given to lying or exaggeration, and a lifetime of honesty had its rewards. The only time Harry had ever broken that pattern of basic honesty, it had been because of Draco Malfoy, and because of the turmoil it would have caused in wartime. Afterwards, he’d kept his silence out of bitterness, and a deep desire not to be pitied. In the end, he’d kept his silence because of shame, and because others had worked hard to erase the evidence of his mistakes. Once he’d come to Hogwarts as a teacher, he’d returned to a lifetime habit of giving his unvarnished opinion to people, and now the fruits of that labor were becoming useful.

“Thanks. I’ll listen to John…don’t you worry. And I’ll take care of myself. You needn’t give it another thought. We’ll work something out. I think this ends the day well. Hell, I actually feel a bit better already. I’ll see you at breakfast. Alright, Headmistress?”

“Alright, Harry. Good night.”

Minerva picked up her quill and returned to her workload, and Harry strolled back into the halls, headed for his suite. He made himself comfortable as soon as he was safe inside his own quarters, peeling off his professor’s robes at last, and set to making a cup of tea. The knock at the door was a respectful one, and Harry made his way over to answer it, only to find Draco waiting for him quietly, Lord Byron’s poetry in hand.

“Professor…I’d like to speak with you at length. May I come in?”

It was phrased with perfect politeness, but there was a subtle undertone to the question. A hint of testing. Despite the fact that Harry rather wanted his tea in silence, telling the boy no after a he’d demonstrated an understanding of what he’d been told would probably be counter-productive. Harry nodded quietly and made his peace with his nerves.

“By all means. Please do. Would you like some tea?”


TBC!!!