Too Cool For School (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter One

   Harry blinked. "Are you serious?" he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Mackleby Jones sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Potter..." she began tiredly, but Harry waved her off.

"I know, I know," he told his instructor.

She was a stout woman with dark skin and a disproportionate amount of patience. But then, when dealing with hot-headed, wannabe Aurors, Harry guessed that sort of trait was necessary. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate," she told him as they strolled together down the Llyffant Pwll Academy hall. "But we've talked about everything you did for the students of Hogwarts, no teacher ever coaxed out as many patronuses as you did."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, but you are aware in seven years that school only ever gave us one decent Defence teacher."

Mackleby sighed. "And if he were still with us, don't you think I'd be talking to Remus?"

Harry slipped his hands into his pockets. It had been a couple of years since the Battle of Hogwarts, but thinking about everyone he lost that day still stung. Of course he would prefer it if Remus were still alive, and Tonks, and Fred and any one of his departed friends. But they weren't. And Jones was right; when he was running Dumbledore's Army he'd seen students achieve things he'd never thought possible, because of him.

He knew he should be flattered, and he was. He was only a first year himself, and yet here his professor was, asking him to coach a fellow student. But it was the particular student in question that gave Harry pause. He couldn't ignore ten years of history between them.

"He's really not managing it at all?"

Mackleby shrugged and unwrapped a rhubarb and custard hard boiled sweet from her pocket – her answer when the nicotine cravings got too much. "Not even a wisp," she confirmed, offering Harry the packet of sweets. "If Malfoy can't produce a functioning patronus by the end of the year I'll have no choice but to fail him." She stopped walking and turned to face Harry. "I know you boys aren't close, but he's worked so hard after...everything."

Harry knew that, he really did. He'd actually swallowed his pride and spoken for Draco and his mother at their trails in the summer after the war. He knew there had been circumstances out of their control, and he'd seen how hard Malfoy had worked to rebuild his life after Voldemort had tried to wreck it. Harry could identify with that. It didn't mean he liked the pointy git any better.

"You really think he'll listen to me?" he asked. Surely Draco's stubbornness wouldn't allow him to be trained by The Chosen One, he'd rather die than admit to anyone he had a weakness, let alone Harry.

But Mackleby smirked. "I didn't give him a choice."

Which is how Harry ended up stood in one of the Academy's practice rooms, facing a rather grouchy Draco Malfoy, trying to channel his professor's patience.

Llyffant Pwll was much like Hogwarts in many ways – not as big, but still a reasonable sized castle nestled in the Brecon Beacons of Wales. It was home to those training for their Auror qualifications, as well as the Healers, Unspeakables and numerous other professions. The second and third years would Floo out for on the job experience, but the first years spent almost all their time ensconced between these walls, learning from some of the best instructors in the world.

"Give it up Potter," Draco grumbled. "You're wasting your time."

Harry was getting annoyed by his pessimistic mood, no wonder he'd not had any success before now. "You won't pass if you don't get this, so let's just relax and try again."

"Reminding me – again-" Draco bit back. "That failing to achieve a patronus will result in my repeating the year does not help Potter."

Harry swallowed. "Sorry," he said, and he meant it. He shouldn't let his own frustrations get the better of him. "Look, you're technique is pretty solid, I guess we should be focusing more on getting a really sharp memory for you to concentrate on. You'll never produce anything until you can tap into a source of something that makes you truly happy."

Draco scoffed and dropped his head back. "Some of our lives aren't all sunshine and daises Potter," he told him, wandering around the room with his hands in his blond hair. He had filled out a bit since school Harry had come to realise, training had bulked him up so he was less scrawny. It suited him. The same old miserable attitude however, did not.

"Oh come on," Harry said, laughing disparagingly. "Does it still have to be 'Potter'? We're all adults now."

"Yes, Potter," he replied pointedly. "It does. We are not bloody mates, we are just stuck here together for a little while." At that he checked his watch. "Look, why don't we call it a day. I'll tell Jones you worked really hard, but that I'm a lost cause. I'll...make up extra credit on something else or something."

"That won't work," Harry said firmly. "If you want to be an Auror, you need a patronus." And for some reason Malfoy did want to be an Auror. Something about making amends Harry guessed? "So come on, what makes you happy?"

But Draco was shoving his stuff back into his bag. "Just leave it," he growled.

"It doesn't have to be much-" Harry started, but Draco shut him down.

"I said leave it!" he snapped, storming out of the door.