Especially Our Enemies

Chaz bounded up to me on my way to breakfast a few weeks later.

“Timothy says there’s a bookshop in Hogsmeade,” he said breathlessly.

“Bluestockings,” I told him.

“I was wondering, if I ordered something from them, if you would pick it up when you take the older students into town.”

“Sure.” Chaz smiled. “What are you buying?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted.

“You know, when I was your age, I spent my pocket money on sweets,” I said, walking with him towards the great hall. He allowed me to playfully tousle his hair.

“I’m not that fond of sweets,” he said.

“That’s all right, mate,” I told him, putting my arm around his shoulder. “Different strokes.”

“How do you like your classes?” I asked after a minute.

“Everything’s really great,” he said. “I’m having a lot of fun in Potions class.”

“Eugh.” I looked at him. “Are you sure you’re my son?”

I gave him a playful shove towards the Ravenclaw table and went up to the front of the hall. Malfoy was already seated, and I went to the other end and took a seat next to Flitwick. He did not look at me.

“He’s delightful, your boy,” Flitwick commented, as I sat beside him.

“I like to think so.”

“Really smart, and passionate.”

“Like his mother,” I said, picking up my fork.

“If you say so,” Flitwick murmured. I looked at him and he smiled back innocently.

I shook my head. I’m a simple fellow; too much had been going on lately, and I didn’t need Flitwick making vague statements like that. Breakfast was the matter at hand, and I was determined to ignore all else. Twenty minutes later I could not have told you what I ate.

Gryffindor had scheduled practice that morning, and I settled back by the field to watch. This was one of the perks of the job. Someone always had to be on hand during team practices, and I had the freest schedule of all the professors. The children were clumsy compared to some of the players I’d seen, but their exuberance and speed always impressed me. Small bodies clung closer to a broomstick, allowing incredible aerodynamics and feats like tight corkscrews. It was only a matter of time before the teams starting recruiting teenagers, I thought. Some of the players at Hogwarts were better than I had ever been, even at the peak of my game.

The Seeker was a seventh-year who might easily have been mistaken as a first-year. Dorothea couldn’t have weighed more than forty-five kilos or so, and came up to about the bottom of my ribcage when we stood face to face. She was lightning on the pitch, curling her tiny frame close against her broom and hurling herself at unbelievable speeds after that ultimately desirable little gold ball. I watched her track it and catch it a number of times during that practice, and she landed near me after an hour or so.

“Taking a break?” I called. She smiled and slung her broom over her shoulder. It looked impossibly huge against her body, although she rode one of the junior models meant for kids.

“How are they doing?” she asked, leaning her broom against the bench beside me.

“Hobbes is a little weak, but I’ll bet you anything it’s because he hasn’t been practicing,” I told her, offering her one of the plastic bottles in the cooler at my feet. She brushed sweaty hair out of her face and took it.

“And me?”

“You? You’re stinking up the field, McKinley. I can’t believe Kirke hasn’t cut you yet.”

“Thanks Professor Weasley,” she said, smiling. She sat down next to me.

“So how have you been?”

“Good. My parents took me to Rome.”

“Heavy schedule this year, I’m sure.”

“I’m not taking too many upper levels. Dad wants me to come in on the family business, so I figure I might as well take it easy.”

“What did you decide to take?” I asked, looking up at the Keeper, who was circling the goals slowly.

“Um, Potions, and Arithmancy, and a couple of others.” She paused. “And Defense.”

“Professor Malfoy knows far more about the Dark Arts than anyone else at this school,” I said. He could practically write the book, from what I’ve heard, I didn’t say.

“I know you two have some bad blood,” Dorothea said.

“It’s all right for you to like his class, Dot,” I told her, cracking open one of the plastic bottles. She was silent, and I turned to her. Her cheeks were pink.

“He’s a war criminal,” she said.

“Many of us have done things we are not proud of,” I said carefully.

“Can I be honest with you, Professor?”

“Certainly.”

She finished off her drink. I waited for her to speak, letting myself watch the team above us instead of staring her down.

“I think I might have a crush on him.”

I chuckled despite myself, and Dorothea blushed more deeply.

“He’s very charming,” she said defensively.

“No, no, I understand.” I smiled at her. “When we were in school all the girls wanted him. He’s handsome and refined, and very confident.” And evil, I thought. Mustn’t forget that.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“I’m sure he seems perfect,” I said.

“I feel so stupid,” she said.

“Don’t. He’s an authority figure. He’s mysterious and good looking.”

“Should I tell him?” she asked. “I feel so uncomfortable with the secret.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“I wouldn’t know what to do if he felt the same way.”

“He won’t.” She looked hurt, and I hurriedly amended my statement. “He’s a professor. He wouldn’t allow himself to be interested in a student.” I wasn’t sure he wanted me outing him to the student body.

“Oh.” She stood up and released the Snitch, picking up her broom.

“There are plenty of good guys your own age,” I said, as she threw her leg over.

“Thanks, Professor.”

I realized that the conversation would not have gone any other way if I had not slept with him, but I still felt uncomfortably certain that she would be able to piece it out.

Just as I had every night, I made my rounds warily, wondering if he would come and find me. Despite that, I jumped when he spoke.

“Who do you think I should get to help me teach dueling magic next week?” he asked. I turned and saw him leaning against the wall.

“I don’t know, Malfoy.” I tried to sound cool.

“You wouldn’t be interested, would you?” He buffed his nails on his robes and looked up at me slowly.

“I haven’t dueled in years,” I said.

“It’s like riding a broom,” he said, gesturing.

“I haven’t done that in years either.”

Malfoy touched my shoulder, running his hand over my arm.

“Because of your injury,” he said. I nodded. He hummed. The night we were together, he had stopped at one point and examined my scars, running his thumb over the white raised flesh where bones had torn through skin and muscle. He found the jagged ridge on my collarbone where they hadn’t been able to fit it back together properly. His own body was entirely unmarked, except of course for the Dark one on his arm.

“Are you alright?” I asked, touching his chest. He nodded.

“A few bruises. I was worried it might be a rib, but unless it was a hairline break there’s no harm done.” He showed me the gap where the tooth had come out and I could see a new baby tooth almost fully come in. The spells and potions needed to grow a tooth or a bone were complicated and painful; I did not envy him.

He kissed me with an almost experimental touch.

“I won’t slug you again tonight,” I said, smiling.

“Promises, promises,” he said, looking up at me.

“What are we doing?” I asked, as we walked back towards the main corridor.

“Going back to your quarters, I think,” he said quietly.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know, Weasley.” He looked at me and his eyes flashed. “Don’t go all mushy on me, okay? For right now, this is about sex.”

“You’re going to freeze up on me again, I see,” I murmured.

“Believe me when I say you’ll thank me.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, unlocking the door to my quarters.

“Because you don’t want to see what’s under the façade,” he said.