Divided

Author\'s note: I would just like to mention what a badass my beta is :) Thanks Alicia! divinexrapture I promise you\'ll get your chance, I\'m working on something else right now just for you to beta when you get ready! :)



Chapter 4 What Was Lost



Yawning widely, I padded from my bedroom over to my desk, candles flickering to life as I came into the sitting room. The castle made me feel at home that way; the way the magical energy felt like a separate living entity, anticipating what you wanted before you even had time to say it out loud.



Malfoy Manor worked the same way, but then so did a lot of the ancient magical buildings. Hogwarts, itself, was originally built on a magical hot-spot. The lake, forest, and surrounding grounds are riddled with power and energy. Father would sometimes call areas like that fey belts. They weave and wind through all of Europe, and usually muggles avoid settling on them, or even near them in some cases. A major exception was London.



London is full of magic, nearly to the point of bursting. Father speculated that it was because of the vast number of magical families that have made it their home over the centuries. Even the great Merlin himself, at one time, lived in what is now London.



A slim, burgundy envelope on the desk caught my eye and I picked it up, flipping it over to look at the seal. It was the Hogwarts crest, only slightly off. I recognized a phoenix in the seal, wrapped around the “H” in the center.



I opened it swiftly and pulled out a short letter, reading it silently to myself.



Dear Mr. Malfoy,



As a new professor at our school, your classes will be under probationary review for an undetermined period of time. I’m sure you understand that the education of our students here is of the utmost importance, and we do everything we can to make sure their learning experience is the best it can be.



Please expect me to sit in on your first day here with us, and at random class periods within the following days. Thank you in advance for your understanding.



Deputy Headmaster



I couldn’t help but grumble slightly. Minerva had briefly mentioned a probationary review, but I had thought it would simply be a review of my curriculum and assignment scoring. I had no clue one of her cronies would be watching me teach.



It made sense in a way that I didn’t feel like acknowledging at that moment. Additionally, it looked like someone had been in my room while I was sleeping to deliver the letter, which made me feel slightly violated. I made a point to check the security charms on the door when I had a free moment.



I wondered vaguely who the Deputy Headmaster was; none of the professors I met on my first day introduced themselves as such. Potter would be the only one selfless enough not to brag about it, but he was far too young to hold the title.



--



Students arrived in throngs over the weekend, and I got the distinct impression that they hadn’t cared for their previous Potions professor, and that they were not going to care for me, either. Maybe it was just the course. Not many people had the patience for proper potion making.



After showering and dressing, I made my way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Potter wasn’t there and I wasn’t sure if I should have been elated or disappointed. He had made great work of avoiding me the entire weekend, only joining us in the Great Hall for the welcome feast, and left the second he could reasonably excuse himself.



Part of me was happy, because if he did show up, he would only sit awkwardly beside me, carefully avoiding contact of any kind. It was already growing tiresome. Then the other part of me wanted desperately to have him sitting so close, under any circumstances I could get.



Minerva seemed more put off then she should have over Harry’s absence, and it made me wonder if my potions expertise was really the reason she contacted me for the professorship.



I looked up from my breakfast of toast; my first day nerves were too much to stomach much else. My eyes moved to scan the students eating their own meals. Four tables were arranged in the hall, same as they had been during my time here, but instead of being sorted into houses, the students were divided up by year. The first years had a table to themselves, then the second and thirds sat together, next to them the fourth and fifth years, followed by the sixth and seventh.



I knew my cousin, rumored to be Harry’s godson, would be starting school the following year. According to my Aunt Andromeda, he had already begun showing aptitude for magic and even seemed to have inherited some of his mother’s traits. The last time I had visited, young Teddy changed his hair color three times throughout the two hours I was there.



The doors opened, and my eyes flicked to the entrance automatically. Harry strode into the hall, looking decidedly edible. I tried not to stare but found it nearly impossible. He was dressed similarly to the night I had arrived, black washed jeans, a faded ivory tee with some mottled gray image on the front, and what appeared to be a solid gray blazer. Over his muggle outfit he wore the standard issue black professor robes with the Hogwarts seal.



His hair was still slightly damp, hanging in loose tendrils around his face, which was newly shaven. His green eyes met mine for a moment before he was distracted by several of the older students calling him over to their table.



It seemed that Harry was quite popular with the students. It figured. No matter how hard he tried, fame was obviously inescapable.



Harry never made it up to the head table, much to my and Minerva’s dismay. He stayed at the seventh year table chatting with a group of students. They happily made room for him and chatted animatedly about Merlin only knows. He listened intently to whatever they blathered on about, nodding, laughing, smiling or shaking his head in disappointment. He seemed to be having a genuinely good time in their company, just sipping pumpkin juice and listening to them prattle.



I envied him and pitied him simultaneously. He seemed so at ease as I watched him with the students, but at the same time, I realized Harry had never been able to be a carefree teenager during his first stint at Hogwarts. Maybe he was making up for all that now?



At least Minerva seemed to let go of her initial annoyance when she saw the smile plastered on Harry’s face. It was hard to stay angry at that smile. I knew that from experience.



--



I opened the door to the Potions classroom shortly after the students had assembled, and Draco had begun the lesson. His gray eyes went wide when they took me in, standing in the entrance to his class. It was all I could do to repress a snicker; he obviously hadn’t put two and two together yet.



His attire surprised me. He actually wore a well-tailored muggle suit under his robes. The suit and tie were a pale gray and matched his eyes perfectly. It was then that I realized I had also dressed to match his eyes, and I blanched slightly. I quickly regained my composure as he stuttered in front of me.



“Pot – er – Evans? What are you doing here?” he stammered. I found I thoroughly enjoyed making him nervous.



“Didn’t you get my note?” I asked, knowing full well he had. The magic let me know the moment the seal had been broken.



His eyes flicked to my robes then, lingering on the Hogwarts seal on the left collar. “Your note… you’re the Deputy Headmaster? But you’re only twenty seven!”



I laughed. It usually didn’t amuse me to be so vastly underestimated, but something about the shocked look on Draco’s face made it all too funny. “My, aren’t we astute today,” I replied, still laughing slightly.



The entire classroom had burst into giggles and murmurs, and I wondered how he would get them all under control.



The room was arranged like spectator seating, where each row was raised a little higher than the one in front of it. Draco’s desk was in the front facing the students, and large blackboards covered the wall behind him. In the center of the room, under where the students sat, was the potions storeroom, or at least the public one that students were allowed to access. I knew from my school days here that Draco would have his own private storeroom located between the classroom and his quarters.



I made my way to the very back of the class so that I was sitting at the top most point of the room, looking down on everything. From there I had the perfect vantage point for watching the class… and Draco.



By the time I had situated myself, he had regained his composure and was looking around at the boisterous students. I stifled a smile at his discomfort.



“Quiet,” Draco began; casting furtive glances at various groups of teenagers not paying him any attention at all. They continued to ignore him much to his chagrin. After a few minutes, and several failed attempts, he lifted his wand into the air a thousand red sparks burst from it, sprinkling around the classroom.



The students fell silent, their attention fully on Draco. “I will have silence in my classroom,” he began. “I am Professor Malfoy; I will be teaching you the delicate art of potions this year. If you have a question, I expect you to raise your hand like a civilized person, and wait until I have called on you.”



“Now,” he continued. “I went to school here before the war, back when students were still sorted into houses. My head of house was the Potions Master during my time here, and in Slytherin -” Several jeers and hisses erupted from the students, but Draco silenced them with a glare. “- I learned to be great at potions. It is my job to pass my knowledge down to you, and make sure you each meet your own potential. Questions?”



A small hand went up in the third row and Draco acknowledged the girl with a nod. “Is it true sir, that you went to school with Harry Potter?”



I cringed at the name, and Draco’s eyes flicked briefly up to mine. A small smile curled his lips as he answered. “Yes, that’s true. Now, do you have a potions related question miss…?”



“Abernathy,” she replied. “No sir, we were just curious. The other professors never speak about him.”



“Really?” he asked, his smile spreading. “What would you like to know?”



There was a collective murmur through the crowd, and several hands shot up all at once. Draco laughed and smirked up at me as I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t going to be pretty.



“Were you and he friends?” asked blonde girl in the front row.



He met my eyes before answering and his held a deep sadness. I looked away instantly. I had no care for his regrets.



“Our relationship was…complicated,” he answered at last. I almost scoffed at the understatement, but bit my tongue and kept silent.



At that answer several more hands shot up. I groaned to myself, this had the potential of going on for hours. Draco nodded to the next student, a frail looking brunette boy. “Were you there when he killed You-Know-Who?”



Draco only nodded and shuddered, sending another wave of hands in the air. By that point almost every student had a question. He inclined his head to the next person, a small red headed girl, who seemed to be stretching out of her seat to be noticed. “Tell us everything you remember about him!” she squealed excitedly.



A few hands went down then, and Draco looked nervous. He looked back up at me then, for a long moment, seemingly contemplating his answer. None of the other students seemed to notice the delay. They seemed sure he would answer.



I felt my lips form into a smirk and he frowned, chasing away the mirth he had shown at making me uncomfortable earlier. I was more than a little curious how he would answer that question.



His words were slow and deliberate when he finally answered, his eyes never leaving mine. “Harry was the best person I have ever known. He was headstrong and stubborn,” he said with a smile, and the students laughed lightly. “We were enemies through school. I fancied myself his arch nemesis, but in reality he had much larger problems than me, as you already know.” A collective nod ran through the class as they all remembered their childhood stories, and Draco sighed.



“I got to know him though, just before and after the war and I found that he was extraordinarily kind, loyal, and generous.” His smoldering gray eyes bored into mine and he almost whispered the last words, as if he were speaking them directly into my ear. “I guess you could say that he grew on me.”



Our eyes stayed locked, and for a moment I forgave him. The sight of his watery gaze, and the sound of his sweet words, made me falter in my resolve.



I let all the memories rush through me in a blur, a soft pale hand running fingers through my hair, the feeling of soft platinum hair tickling my face, his smell, his touch, his taste. The images in my mind were so warm and fragrant that the heartache which followed caught me off guard. The snide, demeaning comments uttered in public, then the worst of it, the moment I refused to relive.



My jaw clenched and I cleared my throat. “I think you should get to your lesson now, Professor Malfoy.”



Draco looked up at me and his face fell. He must have seen the slip in my resolve and watched as I refortified it. A part of me felt sorry for him. He, most likely, had no idea what caused me to leave that night. He didn’t even know I had been there, much like the time in the Astronomy tower when he faced off with Dumbledore.



It always amazed me what you can find out about a person when they don’t know you’re watching them.



--



The lesson went smoothly once it got underway. Harry sat perched in the back of the class, boring his angry green eyes through the back of my skull as I stood at the blackboard, writing out formulas.



I assigned homework, to a chorus of groans, and dismissed the class. A few students grinned at me as they left, making me think that perhaps I wasn’t the most hated professor after all.



After all the students were gone, I studied Harry for a moment. I had recognized the crest on his robes as the same on the letter earlier. I hadn’t even noticed the difference in the Great Hall, not from that distance. It struck me then that Harry had been the one in my quarters while I slept. It made me wonder what else he might have been up to while he had been there.



Potter didn’t move from his perch, even after the last student had gone. He refused to meet my eyes, and instead looked down at his parchment and quill, which was scribbling away ferociously. I could only imagine what awful things he would report back about me to Minerva.



“Can we talk, Harry?” I asked. He cringed slightly and his eyes flicked to the door.



“We only have a few minutes before your next class starts,” he replied tersely.



I repressed a grin; obviously he had neglected to look at my schedule. The next hour was my free period. “Well then, if that’s the case, you won’t have to put up with me for long, right?”



His lips formed into a tight line and he nodded. “So, talk.”



It was fairly obvious he had no intention of coming down to me, so I went up to him. I draped myself lazily into the chair in front of him, turning it to face backward. It put me looking up at him, but just barely, because I was slightly taller, and he was slouching low in his seat.



“The students are fascinated with you,” I started, trying to keep it light.



Harry quirked his thin black eyebrow in confusion. “No, they are fascinated with Harry Potter, as are you it seems.”



I grinned. “Yes, I’m most certainly fascinated with the Gryffindor Golden Boy, but I was referring to earlier, at breakfast.” He still looked confused, so I continued. “They were all over you, and that was you as Professor Evans, not you as Harry Potter.”



Harry shrugged. “Did you have a point, Malfoy?” He pretended to look at a watch that didn’t exist on his wrist, his face looking annoyed. “Because if so, you should make it soon.”



It was then that I noticed the scrapes and bruises on his hand, but I didn’t take that bait – yet. “My point is that your charisma is inescapable. Your famous either way.”



He scoffed at me. “Fame and popularity are not remotely the same thing.”



That confused me. “Really? How so? They seem the same to me.”



“That’s because you have never been either one,” he sneered.



I winced slightly as the comment struck true. “I was… popular…” I argued halfheartedly.



Harry reached down and patted my head like you would a small child. “Whatever you say, Malfoy.”



“Fine, explain yourself then,” I responded, pulling away from his placating gesture, which made him laugh.



“Popularity is when people like and respect you,” he started, “fame, is when people just want to gawk at you like a freak,” he finished, his mouth turned up in disgust. “Harry Potter has fame, not popularity.”



“I think he has both, or at least he would if he stopped hiding under a false identity.” I hoped it would spur some of the argumentative spirit we used to have with one another, but he only shrugged.



“My identity is still the same, it’s just my name that’s different. I’m still the same person,” he replied quietly.



“You don’t seem the same to me,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.



“You never really knew me.” I winced. The statement was what he believed to be a fact, and I realized he never knew how much I had studied him when we were in school. Even before our relationship developed into something… more, I had watched him.



I always told myself that it was all merely strategy, and that I needed to know my enemy in order to defeat him, but it was more than that. It wasn’t until he saved me from the fire in the Room of Requirement that I even realized what he was truly capable of.



I was ready to kill him in that moment, ready to destroy him, but he moved past all our childhood animosity and hatred and saved my life. He had no idea if I would turn on him or not when he selflessly pulled me from the flames.



It was that act that made me seek him out that night. While the memorial services were underway, I found him out by the lake, just staring out over the wide expanse of unmoving water. Neither of us seemed to be able to deal with the death and mourning inside the castle, each of us for our own reasons.



We formed a silent companionship that night, with the stars overhead and the phoenix singing its sad song. I held him when he started to cry; his quiet sobs shaking his entire body. What would have normally been fodder for scathing remarks and teasing turned into a bonding experience. Some part of Harry must have known he was safe with me, or maybe at the time he just didn’t care.



“What happened to your hand?” I asked, ignoring his previous comment. I wasn’t going to let him in on the fact that I knew him better than he thought I did.



If he noticed my abrupt change of topic he didn’t say anything about it. “I hit a wall.”



I felt my eyes go wide and I laughed. “I hope it deserved it.”



He laughed then, too. It wasn’t his old laugh, the one that lit a fire in my belly, but it was still nice. I wondered if he even could laugh like he used to.



“I was imagining your face when I did it,” he replied, the laughter taking on a different tone.



I pouted. “Did the idea of kissing me really make you that angry?” I asked, not really thinking clearly.



His eyes flared for a second, and then resumed their usual brilliance. It wasn’t hard to ascertain that my line of questioning had gotten too personal. I had thought we were making headway, but apparently not.



He took a deep breath and seemed to reel himself in. “Would you just drop all that Malfoy? It was ten fucking years ago. Let it go. I have.” His voice sounded like it was threatening to break, so I knew he was conflicted in his statement. I just had to find a way to get to the part of him that still wanted me. I knew it was in there… somewhere.



“Have you? Have you, really? Because I haven’t. I can’t.” I whispered in question.



“Clearly,” Harry muttered.



I rolled my eyes. “Can’t you just listen to me? I don’t even know what happened to drive you away, I think about you constantly. In fact, every day for the last ten years! If I can forgive you for leaving without a word, why can’t you forgive me for whatever you think I did?” I was practically shouting; I was so mad. Harry could be so dense sometimes.



Harry stood up and paced down to the end of the aisle. I tried to stand, but something he did bound me magically to my chair. “Malfoy, where are your students?”



I shrugged. “In other classes most likely.”



He looked down at his paperwork and grimaced. “I suppose you knew this was your free period when you asked to talk?” He looked angry, but then I was getting pretty livid myself at his childish tantrums.



“Of course,” I sneered.



“Up to your old manipulations, I see,” he spat.



I was still struggling to remove myself from the chair, but meanwhile I just pointed to my chest and smirked. “Malfoy.”



He nodded, as if that cleared up everything, which I guess to him it did. “Trust me, I remember,” he said as he walked quickly to the door.



I had a moment of panic. I had just been the biggest idiot, and now he was leaving and I couldn’t even get myself out of that stupid chair. “Harry, will you be back?” I pleaded.



“Not because I want to, only because I have to,” he muttered as he left the potions classroom, not once looking back to meet my gaze.



I sighed and slumped in my chair. Why had I done that? Why couldn’t I have just left the conversation light and friendly? I groaned as I tried to violently extricate myself from the chair before my students really did start arriving.



The motion only sent me sprawling backward, though. Apparently Harry had lifted the jinx when he left the room. I just remained there, lying on the floor, hoping that none of my new students would find me as I contemplated what the hell I was doing at Hogwarts.



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