BEAUTIFUL DISASTERS ｢DRARRY｣

PART 9

"Good morning, Mr Potter."

It was a Thursday, an exact week after he had last visited McGonagall for answers. All he knew so far was that there was an evil man named Tom Riddle who was incapable of love.

"Care for a biscuit?"

He sat down in the chair in front of McGonagall's desk, as usual. Hesitantly, he took a biscuit off of a plate on the desk, and nibbled at it a bit. He felt no need to speak; McGonagall knew why he was there, after all.

"Last time I left off at the part when Albus Dumbledore visited the boy. Well, the story you're curious about doesn't start for a few more decades. Within those decades, the boy grew and fashioned a new image for himself. He was no longer Tom Riddle, but was instead known as Lord Voldemort. He conjured a large following. His inner circle consisted of people called Death Eaters. These people were Voldemort's most devoted followers. On their forearms, they bore the Dark Mark, which was used as a means of communication. The Dark Mark was a tattoo of a skull with a snake coming out of the mouth.

"Within these decades, Lord Voldemort started a war. One day, he heard a prophecy of a boy who was fated to defeat him, and of course, he decided to seek the boy and to murder him. This was his downfall."

Harry couldn't help himself; he snorted. He'd been listening intently, and although McGonagall didn't include much detail, he could tell that this Voldemort guy was, at best, a murderer. And McGonagall's telling him that he was defeated by a kid?

"Stop sniggering, Potter," she scolded, although he could tell she wasn't really upset. "The child is our very own Herbology Professor, Neville Longbottom."

Oh, was all Harry could think. Oh.

"He was at home with his parents when it happened; they were completely unaware that they were to be targeted by the Dark Lord himself. They were both Aurors—I'm sure Draco has told you what an Auror is—and although they were in the middle of a war, it was a bit of a nasty shock when Voldemort himself showed up. He immediately murdered Frank Longbottom and rushed upstairs. Alice Longbottom was with a Neville, who was only one year old at the time."

Harry already knew where this was going, but he didn't interrupt. After all, it was only yesterday that Draco explained this portion of the story. Love is the strongest of all magic, he remembered him saying.

"Voldemort told the mother to move out of the way, but she refused. And so, Voldemort killed her. She had sacrificed her life for young Neville. When Voldemort shot the killing curse at the young boy, it rebounded and killed him instead, bringing an end to the first war. It had rebounded because of his mother's sacrifice, and although he was an orphan, Neville had gotten away with nothing but a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

"Later, a man named Rubeus Hagrid picked him up, and Neville was sent to live with his grandmother. As long as he lived with his grandmother, he would be protected, as his grandmother had his mother's blood."

McGonagall stopped there, reaching for a biscuit and shovelling it in with one bite.

"If that killed him, how come there was a second war? Did he come back?" Harry asked.

McGonagall leaned back into her chair with an air of resignation and Harry almost groaned—he could sense that she was about to send him away without proper answers once again.

"That's enough for today, Potter. But to answer your question, he never truly died."

Harry left her office feeling more confused than ever. She literally said that the rebound of the curse killed him, and now she was saying that he never died?

He itched to ask Draco, but he didn't want to ruin the atmosphere between them. It had been a month since his arrival, after all, and he felt that he could finally say that Draco was his friend. Yes, he was technically his teacher, but Harry was a bit of a special case. He was more of a tutor than a teacher, really.

It was a Thursday, so Draco was teaching his normal classes. Before he had left to McGonagall's office, he told Harry that he was free to join the lesson if he wished. It was almost as if he knew how much Harry enjoyed watching him teach.

Therefore, he slipped into the Potions classroom as silently as possible, only a few heads turning towards the sound. He got a glowing feeling in his chest when a few kids waved at him, since they recognized him; Harry spent every Tuesday and Thursday watched Draco teach since the time he accidentally barged in on a lesson.

The kids were only second years, so Harry already knew everything Draco was teaching. He still listened, however, but instead of paying attention to to the words, he paid attention to Draco himself.

His hair was messier than usual today, but other than that, he looked normal. Harry noticed that some days he had really big bags under his eyes, but today wasn't one of those days, and he was happy to see that.

He liked watching Draco. When it was just them two, he was closer to Draco, which he really didn't mind, but he couldn't see all of him. Now, Draco was at the front of the room, and Harry could see everything from his hand motions while talking to the light tapping of his foot against the floor, which seemed to be a habit. Draco was practically the personification of grace; his movements were never sharp and rough. Every once in a while, he licked his lips, and sometimes he flicked his hair out of his eyes.

Harry watched, completely entranced.

Before he knew it, the class had ended, and the kids streamed by Harry, who was sitting at the very back. Most of them smiled at him; one kid even gave him a high-five, and Harry grinned.

Within seconds, it was just him and Draco, and Harry was feeling oddly filled with affection. Draco had been such a good friend since the moment Harry appeared at his feet. He was a good man, too. He was secretive, yes, and Harry knew there was a lot he was keeping to himself, but everyone had the right to keep their secrets.

"Was the lesson satisfactory, Mr Potter?" Draco asked, lightly teasing. Harry noticed that Draco often called him Mr Potter after a lesson as a joke. He found he liked it.

He shrugged in reply. "Could've been better," he teased back, and fought off a blush at the thought that it wasn't the lesson he was paying attention to.

"Really?" Draco asked. He was now slowly walking towards Harry. Step by step, he made his way down the aisle between desks, looking at Harry with an almost-smirk. "Maybe next time you should pay more attention to the lesson itself."

Harry froze. Is he joking? Does he know? Shit, it's not my fault he's...

Draco chuckled lightly; Harry liked the sound. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm joking. I know you're a bit too advanced for today's lesson."

Harry sighed under his breath. Clearly, Draco thought Harry merely zoned out during the lesson... Thank God.

"Shall we head to dinner, Mr Potter?" He teased, and for a moment Harry thought he would hold out his arm for him to hold onto. The moment passed.

Harry nodded.

"We shall, Mr Malfoy."