professor? ( ✓ )

chapter eighteen

The evening after everyone returned back to Hogwarts at the end of break was when things grew a little tense, for students and teachers alike. Classes would really be cracking down, as it was now time for the students to start really paying attention to their studies so they could pass their O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts.

At supper that evening, Harry and Draco sat just a bit closer than before, smirking slightly when their legs brushed against each other's. The rest of their visit with Narcissa had gone wonderfully, and at one point, the blonde woman had pulled Harry aside and told him that he was the finest person Draco had ever brought home for her to meet, and that she approved of the two of them greatly.

When the two had returned to Hogwarts much later that evening, Draco had smiled widely when his lover told him. They'd kissed for a while, and then sat in comfortable silence as they got their planning done for the next semester. The night was very peaceful.

The students came back that morning, and though classes didn't start for another day, they all gathered in the Great Hall for supper to talk with their friends about what they'd done over their holiday. Halfway through the meal, however, McGonagall stood up, clinked a spoon against her glass, and caught the attention of the student body easily.

"Normally I would've spoken before the feast began, but I saw the way excitement ran high in this room, and I decided to let it slip. However, I have just received some very important news that I wouldn't typically share in front of the class, but as it regards the safety of our Professor Malfoy, I ask for Charles Byerley of Ravenclaw to please come and stand before me.

The Great Hall grew even more quiet as Charles stood up slowly, running a hand nervously through his brown curly hair and shuffled towards the headmistress, head bowed.

"Have you no manners to look a professor in the eye when she speaks to you, Charles?" Minerva asked once he'd reached in front of her. He looked up at her, brown eyes darting nervously from her to Draco, who watched with mild amusement on his face as he caught on to just what was happening.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Am- am I in trouble?" Charles asked, Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke, folding his hands behind his back.

"Are you in trouble? Hm, it depends if you're willing to tell the truth. Think wisely, Charles, as your next few words will be highly accounted for. Regarding the Christmas dance, was it you who put a vial of Veritaserum into the pumpkin juice? Remember, be truthful." The headmistress asked, eyebrow furrowing sternly as she looked at the nervous student.

Charles' eyes shifted to Draco, who only rose an eyebrow awaiting his answer. Then, his gaze shifted to Harry, who was looking at him sadly - disapprovingly.

"I- it was me, Professor. I'm so sorry." An audible gasp was heard all around the room, and it was evident that, much like the teachers who had been curious as to who'd done it, the students had too.

"It's not me you should be apologizing to, Mr. Byerley. You may not know this, but that heavy a dosage as Professor Malfoy consumed could've very well killed him."

Charles nodded, and walked to where the blond professor was sitting, a solemn look on his face. He cleared his throat, and wrung his hands, feeling the eyes of the whole school on him.

"Professor, I'm so sorry. I- I didn't mean for you to consume so much of it." He admitted.

"But you did mean for me to consume some?" Draco asked, eyebrow quirked as he took a drink from his water goblet.

"I- yes, I did."

"Hmm. Risky potion, that is. I don't believe I've covered it, or will be covering it with you fifth years, which means you've been getting into work for the upper levels. Have you been sneaking about my office, Mr. Byerley?" Draco asked, an amused glint in his eye now, and Harry found that he couldn't bear to look.

Currently, he was seeing the Draco Malfoy he'd known from school: the one who did everything in his power to humiliate and torture the kids around him. He was back, and he was menacing as ever.

"Draco, let up a bit, will you?" He asked, placing a hand on the blond's shoulder, not caring that the whole school gasped again. He also expertly avoided Madeline, the first year from Gryffindor's gaze.

"I never went through your stuff, Professor." Charles admitted, teetering from foot to foot. Draco stared down at the hand on his shoulder, biting back a retort he was going to throw at the Ravenclaw, and smiled warmly at Harry, shrugging off the hand.

"And you best not ever start, or there will be way worse consequences than whatever Professor McGonagall can think up." The blond decided, meeting Charles' gaze, daring him to break the contact.

"Speaking of which," the headmistress jumped in. "Charles Byerley, as I really should expel you, I will instead assign you a month's detention with Mr. Filch, and Mr. Malfoy if he'd like you."

"He's all Filch's." Draco claimed, and the headmistress nodded. The blond continued to stare intently at Charles, who looked as though he were about to jump out of his skin.

"And so it's decided. Please report back to your table, Mr. Byerley. Following the meal, you will be escorted back to your dormitories. Until I find you've learned your lesson, you will be escorted to each class, as well as meals and free time, by Peeves, who will taunt you if you attempt to do anything out of line." The aforementioned poltergeist suddenly popped through a window with a gleeful look on his face.

"Oh, it's been years since you've let me have a student, Professor! Thank you!" He cheered, and began circling Charles. The brown haired boy ran back to his table, but the poltergeist only continued to circle the perimeter of the table, throwing taunts at him and scaring a few first years.

The meal returned to the way it had been soon afterwards, but over at the Gryffindor table, Maddy looked to Terry and Isaac, and nodded. The three of them would need to have a talk immediately following supper.

~△⃒⃘~

"It's real! Things are most definitely real between Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy. Did you see them at supper tonight?" Madeline Morgan asked her two Gryffindor companions while they sat near the fireplace in the Common Room. Little did they know that Maddy sat in the same chair Harry used to sit in, Terry took Ron's, and Issac sat in Hermione's. It was all too ironic.

"Mads, is this all you ever talk about?" Isaac asked, balancing a heavy book on his lap while he paged through it to start writing everything he'd need to study. There was no time to waste when it came to finals, even if they were too young to take the O.W.Ls yet, they still had other exams.

"Yes, Isaac, it is. I'm a problem solver, and I want this problem solved. It's a mystery, but it's so obviously cracked itself. They're dating; they're in love. Terry, they've probably shagged in a broom closet!" She exclaimed, and the boy with dreadlocks smirked.

"I called that one." He stated.

"I know! But, we can't assume this all, and that's what we're still doing. We need evidence: cold, hard evidence." Maddy explained.

"There's already evidence, Mads. At supper tonight, when Potter put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder, the pressure slightly moved his robes. Did you not see what was on his neck?" Isaac asked, deciding he'd get nowhere on his studies if Maddy kept on her rant.

"The lad had hickeys, and lots of 'em!" Terry claimed, and Isaac nodded. "I've seen them all over my older brother Josiah. He's a Head Boy in Ravenclaw."

"You think they're from Professor Potter?" Maddy asked, eyes wide.

"Who else could they possibly be from?" Isaac asked.

"You have a point." Terry claimed.

"Of course I have a point. I'm Isaac Warren." The Gryffindors then sat back with their studies, but Maddy's mind was racing with the possibilities. If only she could uncover the truth, said directly from one of the professors, seeing as A) Veritaserum had been used once already this year, and Charles Byerley had been nearly expelled, and B) She didn't even know how to brew such a potion, and it would be impossible to just flat out ask. She'd have to resort to much higher matters: her favorite godmother, Rita Skeeter, for instance.