professor? ( ✓ )

chapter five

The next morning, while everyone was at breakfast, Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall feeling extremely sore, ignoring the confused looks that Hagrid shot his way. Draco, also sore, smirked as he saw the young professor's limp.

"Serves you right." He murmured, biting into his toast.

Chatter quieted down as Harry made his way to the table, and he noticed that most of the students' eyes were locked on him. Most Gryffindors, especially the first years, looked worried. The Slytherins, on the other hand, were smirking and throwing subtle gestures of approval Draco's way.

"'Arry, ya look 'orrible. What happened to ya?" Hagrid asked, frowning at the dark-haired wizard as he took a seat beside him, cradling his head in his hand as he took a sip of coffee.

"Got into a bit of a fight with Peeves last night." He muttered, and then glanced down the table, where Malfoy was smirking at him. The blond faked a sympathetic gaze, and then returned to his bastard sneer.

"I always said that ghost's trouble!" The tall man boomed beside him, dropping a bit of egg into his beard, but Harry knew better than to point it out. Hagrid had a habit of making a mess of his meal. He expected it was because of his abnormally large hands.

"It's okay, Hagrid. I'm okay." He claimed, slowly bringing a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. If anyone knew it was actually from he and Malfoy fighting, they didn't speak up. Harry feared that, if it happened again, there would be consequences however. And so, he spent the rest of breakfast avoiding the blond's gaze, and focusing on not moving his arm the wrong way, in fear of a shooting pain that might occur.

~△⃒⃘~

In class Monday morning, Harry moved from table to table slowly. Any wrong move still brought an uncomfortable pain to his shoulder blades, as it proved Malfoy had quite a fascination in targeting those when he fought. For a kid who had grown up using magic for almost everything, he had to admit the blond had a pretty good arm.

"Professor?" He looked up from his desk to find the girl who resembled Ron, part of the new trio from Gryffindor, to be displaying her arm high in the air, desperately trying to receive his attention.

"Yes, Miss Morgan?" He asked, hoping that the student wouldn't require his assistance standing up. He'd just managed to make his chair feel comfortable, and today was one of the few lessons that the class wasn't on their feet.

"I'm sorry sir, but so many of us are curious, and I just have to ask," Madeline Morgan began, gesturing around to the rest of the Gryffindor first years before focusing on Terry Belski (the boy with dreadlocks), and Isaac Warren (the ridiculously smart one), and then back on the professor. "What's going on between you and Professor Malfoy?"

The other students stopped working on their assignment and turned to the conversation in interest. Harry's eyes widened, and he swore he could feel a ghost pain tremor on his back again. The blond had seemed so light and fragile, but had managed to pin the messy-haired professor ninety percent of the time.

"Absolutely nothing!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, cheeks turning pink.

"You sure, 'cause you're walking like you got shagged in a broom closet or something." Terry asked, a mischievous grin on his face. He set down his quill and balanced his head on his hands.

"Absolutely not. That- we- that would never happen. We're not like that." The professor sputtered, causing laughter to spread among the classroom.

"Do you like him?" Madeline asked, and Harry's cheeks turned even redder.

"No, I definitely do not. Ew, why would I like Malfoy?"