The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel

Chapter 22: Facing Ugly Realities


Draco was traditionally an early riser, owing to a lifetime of strict discipline, both in the home of his grandparents and at Durmstrang, but he hadn’t had to rise much earlier than other students here in weeks. Frankly, he was worn out and more than a little shaky from the events of the previous day, and rising before dawn to meet Master Prewett was just enough to leave him seriously wan and sluggish.

’He’s insane. It must be senility. He really expects me to work along side that thuggish dolt! I’ll probably have to stand in a corner and just wince all day while he mangles spell after spell. It won’t work. I’ll do it…but it just won’t work!’

Ron Weasley might be a professor, but he was an instructor for Flight and a Quidditch referee. Sure, the man had survived the war against Voldemort, but Harry Potter had been the final cause of victory…no one else had played such an important role. There was nothing to be learned from slogging along in the class of some ham-fisted lackwit who’d tagged along years ago and managed to live in spite of himself! That was his punishment?! A complete absence of real learning!

Well…that and those insipid apologies. There was only one person he really wanted to speak to, and that was Harry Potter himself. The only real motivation he had for this early morning visit was the possibility of learning about the professor’s condition. There were…things…that he wanted to speak of…if he would be allowed to. The man deserved an apology. It was horrifying to think that he’d been the root of such a complete collapse. The man had seemed edgy and sometimes intemperate, but never…never vulnerable. Not like that.

It was easy…one supposed, to imagine a hero as perfect. Easier, too, if one had learned so much of him in the way that Draco had. It was disconcerting…seeing himself suddenly as a deluded boy. Draco was older in some ways than his few years suggested, and it rarely showed but when he lost his temper. The idea of having been naïve…made Draco shudder. Harry wasn’t all powerful, or perfect, or some kind of living saint. He was just a person who had endured, hanging on by a fingernail’s grace, scrabbling along in life like anyone else, until a stupid boy had pushed him too far on the one and only subject that could have hurt him the most.

’I…I didn’t once think of him. How he felt. I just…I wanted answers. I never thought…I thought he’d be alright…after so long. Healthy at least. Sane. How can I make any of them understand? I never wanted this…for him.’

Too many heavy thoughts. Too sobering for an early morning. He still didn’t have apologies written for anyone. He hoped that Prewett would be reasonable about the timing. It might take awhile to work out something that would be acceptable without being utterly humiliating.

The infirmary doors were never locked during the school year, and Draco paused only a moment before opening one and stepping in. He was invited and expected, so there was no need to knock like some timid titmouse. Strange. He’d never concerned himself with such a trivial thing…until Harry had made it clear that privacy was a thing to be respected. It was something of an alien concept for Draco. He’d never really had any…except for the trunk that held his possessions.

It was…it was always about other people. Thinking about them…at least a little…as if they mattered. Did they matter? They shouldn’t have…or didn’t…except…except for Harry. Now at every turn he was pushed to think more and more about people that should have had little relevance to him. The sticky, frightening world of emotions and feelings. Certainly he had those things as well, but in Draco’s mind, they were things to be rigidly contained and controlled, never permitted to demonstrate one’s own weakness in front of others.

’Merlin. When…when he kissed me…I knew it wasn’t me he wanted. Who would? Why would they? It still…it felt so good. If I could be…those things he wanted me to be…to other people, maybe…I could have that…someday. With someone. Would they look at me differently? Have they all been right? Is it always me…my fault? Have I always been blind…and only now been given eyes? There has to be a way…to get this right…’

“Ahh! Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. Care for a cup of tea before breakfast?”

John Prewett had emerged from the long hall of beds in darkness, the dim light from his chambers behind him.

“Yes, sir. That would be…alright. Please, is the professor better?”

John Prewett let Draco follow in his wake, answering convivially as they walked into his suite and made use of the table and chairs there.

“Harry is quite stable. Exhausted and still sleeping, but stable. I checked right after I woke. I expect the potions will wear off sometime late this afternoon, but if you’re wondering, he hasn’t been awake yet. It’s just as well. Rest is what he needs most…as well as a prolonged absence of stress. I’ll be ensuring that for awhile.

“I think I owe him an apology of my own as well. I’ve been wrong more than a few times in my life, less so these days than when I was a younger man, but it seems to me that we all overestimated his strength. He’ll need all the rest he can get, and I’ll be making sure he gets it. Can’t say yet how long that will be though. Good thing we have some sound replacements ready and waiting to teach Defense Against The Dark Arts, isn’t it?”

Draco bit his tongue. It didn’t seem likely that he’d gain any ground by offering complaints. Prewett really didn’t seem like the type to back down without just cause, and Draco had agreed to any punishment Hogwarts mandated for him. He wasn’t prepared to look a coward after having been given a remarkable chance to set things right…no matter how daunting the task in front of him might be.

“Sir…about that. I’m ready. Just…are you sure this is a good idea? I’m willing to do whatever is asked of me…but I don’t think I can help teach a class effectively. If you say I should try, I’ll try, but I don’t want to do more harm than good. Please believe that.”

John Prewett chuckled over the rim of his tea cup, eyes twinkling far too merrily for this time of morning.

“Come now…I have more faith in you than that. Besides…I told you…I spoke with Professor Weasley…at length, before I even saw you yesterday. Your part in this will be to assist him in coaching Harry’s students through their learning, and to make the sudden transition easier for him. It might encourage you a little to know that, while he isn’t any more amused by this idea than you are, he relented after it became clear that you put yourself through those wards just to help Professor Potter. Whatever you might think of Professor Weasley, he isn’t without a keen mind all his own. Try a round of wizard chess against him if you don’t believe me. I haven’t won against him since he was just a boy.”

“Alright. I’ll give it my best. When do you want me to make my apologies? I haven’t anything ready yet, but I will…as soon as I have a moment I can spare to put some thought behind them.”

“I’d prefer them made in the next day or two. Tomorrow if you can, the day after if you can’t. You can see me first thing in the morning as soon as you have them done. It’s very quiet here and I’ve plenty of time to go over them with you. Now…about your counseling with me.”

“Yes?” Draco pulled a face, dreading even surface level conversation about his personal thoughts. Far too many of them were just that…personal…and very much so! Discussing them was…well…it couldn’t be out of the question, since he had to agree to it, but it would intensely unpleasant. There had to be a way to keep at least a few things as his own business!

“I’ve already drafted a short list of meeting times for them. Three days a week, as I said, and they’ve been set to make sure you don’t miss any of your classes. I think it’s reasonably fair to warn you…I’m attending a meeting today with the rest of the staff of Hogwarts. We’ll be discussing Professor Potter’s absence, for one thing, and I’m sure we’ll be discussing you as well. Let me be entirely frank. My intervention yesterday guaranteed your chance to remain here. Not everyone feels as I do, but Harry did.”

“Wait…what? He spoke to you? About me?”

“Yes. On several occasions, sometimes with great indignation and irritation, but never without an underlying belief in your potential. You’re not a child, and you aren’t a traditional student here, so I feel no particular compunction about treating you as an adult…if fact, I suspect it’s overdue.

“You’re quite the topic of conversation around here, with your inclination toward stoicism and your moody silences. The self imposed isolation, the sudden fits of temperament that curiously seem to erupt precisely when you want to see someone else drop their guard. The prevailing opinion is that you’re a spoiled brat and that it’s much too late to do anything about it. I, having listened to the opinion of someone who thinks fairly highly of you, suspect otherwise. Don’t think that this will purchase you any favors, but if it means anything to you, I’ll be listening to you with an open mind, because I personally think Harry was right.

I can tell that Harry’s opinion means more than just a little to you, and I can vouch for this…if you want to make the nay-sayers and doom-speakers eat their words, then don’t try to waltz through these punishments with half efforts and sneers of insincerity. Mean it. Make it real. You’re not being denied opportunities, you’re being granted them…grab hold of them and use them, or your time here really will have been wasted.

Your first session is at the start of the coming week. That’ll give a little time for you to get used to the change of routine. Come with the intention of helping yourself, and understand that this isn’t about picking you apart for anyone’s amusement…it’s about helping you help yourself. Are we understood?”

Draco’s tea hadn’t been touched in several minutes. He’d been too dumbfounded to remember that it was even there. What to say? It was too much, but at least he could give assent and flee for breakfast, buy time to think alone for awhile.

“Yes…sir. Will that be all? I just need some time to…work a few things out for myself. I’ll be ready for things as they come.”

“All right then. I’ll see you as soon as you have those apologies ready for my review, and again at the start of the new week. A good day to you then, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Thank you.”

Draco excused himself hurriedly, privately wishing that Harry Potter hadn’t been given a private room in which to recover. It would have been some small comfort to see him in person, but it was unlikely that John Prewett would be letting anyone near Harry until he was awake. Still, he could try to finish the apologies early, and perhaps wrangle a visit late tonight or tomorrow. In the meantime, he’d be in his own suite, wolfing down whatever the house elves could bring him for breakfast, hoping he could come up with something plausible in the way of an apology!

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The Headmistress opened the meeting with her usual no nonsense directness, hiding well that the events of the previous day had shaken her more than she dared to admit.

“Well, we’re called to order, and I should like to start by reassuring everyone that Harry is quite alright. The largest part of my reason for gathering us today, was to let all of you know that, while Harry is under Master Prewett’s care, and did collapse yesterday, that he is resting comfortably and is expected to recover, given enough time to make certain that his recovery is complete.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that so many people worried after him, as soon as he wakes. In the meantime, Professor Weasley will be acting as the instructor pro-tem for Defense Against The Dark Arts, with a measure of assistance for his convenience. Yes…Professor Weasley?”

Ron still looked vaguely perturbed, but resigned to his fate.

“Yeah…about that. Let’s talk about that ‘measure of assistance.’ I want to hear from anyone who has actually had to teach a class with him in it. Just to be fair. You already know my opinion…but let’s at least look at what the rest of you have to say about this. Especially since I’m the one who’ll have to make use of him as a teacher’s aide.”

Minerva stifled a sigh, but it wasn’t a bad idea. An exchange of thoughts and experience might have its use, but Ronald Weasley was obviously looking for ammunition, hoping to rouse a few sympathizers or at least some information that would support his opinions. What Ronald didn’t know, was that Minerva had discreetly spoken with all the instructors who regularly worked with Draco, ever since the boy’s arrival. Of them all, only Harry had been troubled. She acquiesced pleasantly, already knowing the results that this would bring.

“As you wish. A fair enough idea. In turn, would each of you please describe your experiences in working with Draco Malfoy, please. Let us start with Professor Hagrid.”

Hagrid stroked his enormous beard, which was shot through with a bit more gray than it had been years ago, but smiled cheerily enough. He was always the shyest at these meetings. Even after decades had passed, he still hadn‘t grown entirely comfortable with the notion of himself as a professor.

“Heh. Hmm…well…see, eh. Ne’er mindin’ the name an’ all, e’s a good enough lad. Too quiet by half. Always nose in the books n’ all. Does all ’is bookwork, like, but keeps mum while he ’as to be ’round the others. Nothin’ more to say, really.”

Cho Chang spoke up next, shrugging mildly. “Hagrid is right. He barely says a word, but he hardly seemed like trouble. His class work is at a level all its own, and I can’t fault that. To be honest, I was a little surprised by him at first, knowing his father as some of us did, but the only surprise to me now is that he’s considered to be a problem. I still can’t believe half of what I’ve heard. It’s true that he challenged Harry to a duel, and he was certainly very wrong to do so, but it hardly seems like him.”

It was the same with the others, one by one, except for Hermione and Firenze, who were absent. There hadn’t been any sign of trouble in any of the classes, and only Harry had endured something beyond what the rest of the staff had seen. Ron unfolded his hands and rubbed his head. There wasn’t anything more to be done for it.

“Alright. Fine. Consider me settled on it. Go bloody figure. A Malfoy at Hogwarts after twenty years, and the only people he makes insane are a Potter and a Weasley. I’ve said my piece. Let’s just call it a day and get on with this.”

The meeting plodded forward only a little longer, with Neville Longbottom discussing a few smaller points along the way, and John Prewett making a few concessions to the worries of others, informing them in vague terms of Harry’s well-being, inasmuch as he could ensure Harry’s relative privacy while doing so. When all was said and done, the gathered staff disbanded and made their way to breakfast eagerly…except for Ron Weasley…who had lost a little of his appetite suddenly.

The tension in his stomach didn’t settle easily, and he had more than a few worries of his own.

’Harry, old chum, get well as soon as you can. Looks like the only way I’ll see my own home again anytime soon is if you get a good rest while you can. I just hope a few weeks of working with a Malfoy doesn’t wind me up in the bed next to yours!’

TBC!!!