Chapter Text
By the time it happened, every single student in Hogwarts was already sitting on the edge of their seat, waiting, dropping in anticipation.
It was a never-ending series of cycles which always followed the same pattern: Professor Potter’s behaviour would change and his ramblings about his personal life became more staged. Then he would start talking about the new thing that occupied every moment of his thinking, each time giving more and more detail until finally some sort of physical proof would appear in his classroom and the cycle would end.
It all began some ten years ago, not long after a new Defence professor came to work in their lovely school. The chemistry between Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy was striking and it spread through school in waves, so really, no one was surprised when one third-year found them snogging in Potter’s backroom while they came to serve their detention.
That was the beginning of the first cycle – or rather, the beginning was the day after when one sixth year Ravenclaw dared to ask why Potter was wearing a turtle neck instead of his usual, casual, muggle tees. Little did she know that he would go into a half an hour rant about how blind he’d been and how freeing it was to finally admit his feelings and how now he feels like a teen again but so much better. It went on and on and on, every single one of the kids waiting for him to mutter Malfoy’s name but he never did.
That first cycle was about revealing Potter’s boyfriend’s identity. It ended precisely two years seven months, one week and three days after the pair was caught snogging, on a fine Friday afternoon, with Professor Malfoy casually dropping by at the end of Potter’s last lecture for the day to ask if he was interested in going out for dinner that day.
Potter positively beamed excused the class early just so he could hurry towards his ‘adorable, kind, wonderful, dazzling’ boyfriend and kiss him on the lips not caring that none of the students have left the classroom and were then either squealing in excitement, passing galleons around with sighs and groans, or pretending to puke their soul out in a way not so dissimilar to the way children often do when their parents kiss in their presence.
Between that cycle and the next, a few things happened.
First, students learned to ignore Prof Malfoy’s visits which happened frequently and always resulted in Prof Potter becoming too flustered and lovesick to teach and then dismissing the class early. Second, most of the student body agreed that each week new students would be assigned with the uncomfortable task of politely asking Prof Potter to shut up about his boyfriend and continue on with his lesson because if he didn’t their education would be at risk.
Third, Prof Potter thought himself how to bake which wasn’t evident from his ramblings at the beginning of each lesson but rather by the distinctly sweet smell that always twirled through the air of the Potions classroom after the lunch break. And fourth, Prof Potter stopped rambling about his boyfriend but he did start rambling about his husband about the same time a simple, white gold band appeared on his ring finger.
The second cycle began unexpectedly when Prof Potter came to class more frustrated than any of his students had ever seen him.
“Take out a piece of parchment,” he’d said quickly and moved towards the board which he’d never used in his lessons before. He wrote three words: dog, cat, neither. “You have five minutes to pick one. Write your answer and pass the folded parchment towards the front of the classroom.” When every answer was stored securely in one of the empty drawers of his desk, he started the lesson without a word of Prof Malfoy or his feelings or a magnificent chocolate cake he’d made two days ago. The word of this strange happening spread like wildfire and when the class after got the same treatment, the whole student body was certain – the new cycle began.
This one was about pets and responsibility and babysitting the small Bichon Frise named Albus that became a part of the Potter-Malfoy family about two weeks after the whole ‘voting for your new pet’ charade.
From there on, the only thing that was left to do, and the only thing that the students knew would end the cycle was Albus’ appearance in the classroom.
Usually, the dog would patiently wait for either Potter or Draco in their shared flat in Hogsmeade or from time to time in one of their backrooms but it was in the middle of April that Prof Potter was late to class and appeared dishevelled and tired with the small, cotton-ball-like dog in his hands.
“If you don’t tell Draco that he’s here, I’ll give you all an O on your next homework,” he promised, panting and laid the dog to sit on his desk. Albus was surprisingly well behaved but grew bored rather quickly. It was one of his students’ ideas to pass Albus around the classroom so he could get some cuddles and belly-rubs and stay calm while the professor continued on with the lecture.
With bags under his eyes, and slumped shoulders, Prof Potter agreed and that was the end of the second cycle.
And then it was nothing for a while. A year or two passed and it was nearing year three, the original witnesses to the favourite domestic pair in Hogwarts long gone. The tale of the cycles moved down from ear to ear, each new student learning the tale as if it was a legend. Everyone had to be careful; everyone had to stay vigilant because they never knew when a new cycle might begin.
Around the nine-year anniversary of the first cycle, Prof Potter began coming to class obviously exhausted, with headaches he never stopped complaining about, and impossibly huge cups of coffee which no one doubted were milk-less and as strong as they got. His morning ramblings were cut short and his lessons turned into duelling classes because he couldn’t bring himself to have seven hours of talking every day. The students took pity on him and kept the noises to a minimum as the practised their hexes and charms on each other while Potter dozed off in his chair.
For a while, they were uncertain if the new cycle had truly begun because unlike all the previous times, there were no talk and murmurs and almost begging for help coming from the professor. They knew nothing but that Potter was incredibly sleep deprived and by the state of his grumpiness they were fairly certain it wasn’t because he and Prof Malfoy decided to become more adventurous in bed.
Maybe two weeks after this state had become the norm for Potter, the Prefects gathered in the Room of Requirement to analyse the current situation. After hours of talk and collecting gossip they had four possible theories:
1.) Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter fell out and were on very bad terms so Prof Potter was sleeping on the couch.
2.) Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter decided that their 20s hadn’t been adventurous enough and decided to join a club of thirty-something-year-olds who hit the clubs every evening leaving Prof Potter hangover and tired in the morning.
3.) Prof Potter inherited Odgen’s firewhiskey company and became an alcoholic due to the lack of excitement in his private and professional life.
4.) Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter adopted a child and were now tortured by the very thing that is a baby and the inconsistent (read: non-existent) sleeping schedule that came with being a parent.
All of these had their flaws: from the undeniably smitten looks that Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter still shared during meals in the great hall, to the disdain that both of them had for clubbing. The theory that was least likely to be true, however, was certainly the last one and it was one simple fact that made everyone agree: if Prof Potter had a child under his care, he would never, ever, not in a thousand years, be able to stop talking about them.
It’s easy to imagine the shared shock that spread through Hogwarts when a joint class of Slytherin and Ravenclaw third years came out of Prof Potter’s classroom with their jaws still on the floor and their eyes as wide and saucers.
The ending of the third cycled came down like this...
Prof Potter was surprisingly cheerful, rambling on and on about all the creatures he had to fight in the lake during his attempt at the Triwizard Tournament as if his overblown tales were supposed to be a good introduction to their lesson on grindylows. His words were interrupted by the appearance of a big glowing figure that has become a welcome guest in the Defence classroom.
Prof Malfoy’s thestral spoke in an urgent but sweet voice which was only reserved for his husband. “Hey love, could I bring Lizzy to you? I know you’re in class but mother’s feeling a bit confused and they want me to come to see her... I won’t be gone longer than an hour...”
Prof Potter’s face softened at the sound of his lover and with a glance to the confused students he picked up his wand. “Sure, baby, bring her in,” he whispered and his famous stag disappeared through the wall towards the village.
About a quarter of an hour later, Prof Malfoy entered the classroom in a pair of distressed muggle jeans and a worn-out Gryffindor jumper that couldn’t have been anyone’s but Potter’s. The entire scene that followed was so incredibly domestic that all the prefects that dared to doubt the state of the Potter-Malfoy’s marriage cowered in shame.
“Hello darling,” Potter cooed as Malfoy handed him a small baby girl dressed in a yellow woollen dress. “How are we feeling today, hm?”
The question was directed to his husband and as Malfoy tickled Lizzy’s tummy he answered with a small smile. “She ate and I changed her before we came here. We played for a while and I think she’s somewhat tired... you might want to put her to sleep soon if you can manage.”
“You know I do,” Harry chuckled and then repeated the sentence over and over while playing with baby’s small hands. The baby giggled and some of the students exchanged hushed comments and excited whispers while the pair was still in their own world.
“You’re going like that?”, Potter asked when he settled Lizzy firmly on his hip so he could slide his fingers tenderly through Malfoy’s hair, cupping his cheek with a look he so often wore when his husband was in question. There was nothing on his face but pure adoration.
“No, I’m gonna change,” Malfoy murmured and leaned in to kiss Potter chastely on the lips. “But it suits me, doesn’t it? The red...”
“You know it does,” Potter laughed and kissed him once more, rocking Lizzy when Malfoy pulled away.
“Potter, I need to go and you have a class to teach,” Malfoy stated firmly and there was a hint of his professional strictness that was often echoing his classroom but there was still the loving look in his eyes that couldn’t be erased no matter what.
“Come by later, yeah?”, Potter asked and Malfoy’s grin widened even more if that was possible.
“Of course,” he nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Love you,” Potter replied and Malfoy just kissed him once more, quickly so it was more of a peck. There were so close when Malfoy muttered the response that only the students in the first row were able to hear it.
“Love you too. Bye now.”
“Goodbye Professor Malfoy!”; Potter called after him and Malfoy rolled his eyes, already walking to the door. Before he stepped out, he turned on his heel and searched the class quickly before his eyes stopped on the blond boy near the far end of the classroom.
“Jeremy, could you please tell the rest of the group that I won’t be able to come to the Alchemy club meeting today?”, he asked with the level of ease that has never been directed at a student. Prof Malfoy had never, in his fifteen years of working in Hogwarts called a student by his first name. Jeremy was quite sure that no one is going to believe him.
“Yes, professor,” he chirped and nodded quickly and Prof Malfoy shot him a smile which was twice as unusual as the name.
“Thanks,” Prof Malfoy said and with that, he left the classroom. A wave of heads turned from the closed door to the front where Prof Potter was now sitting on his desk as he did so often, but instead of his hands being crossed over his chest or leaning back against the table, they were holding a child.
“Okay guys, I know I haven’t really mentioned her before,” Potter started, with a sigh and a small smile, “but this is Elizabeth Potter and she’s my angel. She’s tired so we will have to keep our voices calm and low but I won’t dismiss you – “, several groans rippled through the classroom, “– because we’ve missed enough time as it is with my rambling. Would someone care to remind me where I stopped?”
“You were telling us about the time your Defence professor had a grindylow in a tank in his office, sir,” one of the Slytherin girls replied in a murmur and Potter nodded, going on with the story, gently rocking Lizzy in his arms and pretending as if this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Once the lesson ended, Prof Potter retired to his backroom, leaving the students to whisper in shock and surprise, letting the gossip flow through the castle as it always did. With that, the third cycle was over, and everyone couldn’t wait to see what the new one would bring to the table.