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"Year 5 is driving me mental!" Neville groaned, banging his head against the table of the staff room and making the charmed tea set jump. He muttered an apology and the teapot let out a frustrated puff of steam.
"What did they do this time?" Hannah asked with a smile.
"I split them into two groups, boys, girls," Neville sighed. "Because they kept complaining about the groups I came up with, so I thought this would be clean and simple. But then Jeremiah Goldstein had to go and challenge me." Harry flinched in sympathy as Neville straightened up and delivered an imitation of Jeremiah that was almost scary in its accuracy. "'But what if I don't identify as a boy, Professor Longbottom? Can I join the girls then? What if I identify as neither boy or girl?"
"Oh Merlin," Padma rolled her eyes. "We all know Jeremiah is neither trans nor non-binary or anything in between, and if he was, he would have reacted differently to this situation, not with such cheek."
"That's what I said!" Neville called. "But then the students said telling Jeremiah he wasn't trans was transphobic -"
"Why do you let discussions like these escalate, Longbottom?" Malfoy asked, looking up from the essays he was grading. "You have to nip these things in the but!"
"I know," Neville sighed, sounding miserable.
"But engaging the students is usually a good thing," Harry smiled at him. "They want to be listened to." Malfoy snorted and went back to his essays. "What?!" Harry demanded, immediately defensive.
"Well, that's just so you," Malfoy shrugged without looking up. "Only most of us can't afford to be the 'cool teacher' . We'd all be eaten alive if we behaved like you."
"What the - are you questioning my methods, Malfoy?!" Harry snapped, making the teapot hiss in warning. Hannah stroked a soothing finger along its back.
"I would never," Malfoy said solemnly. "They work for you. But you have an advantage when it comes to the students. They already worship the ground you walk on before they even step one foot onto the Hogwarts express."
"That's not -" Harry spluttered, looking at Neville for help, but Neville looked sheepish now.
"It's true," Neville admitted, making Harry gape at the betrayal. "It's okay, though. They just think you're cool."
"Exactly," Malfoy smirked, looking unfairly attractive as he did so, infuriating Harry even more. "Unlike the rest of us. As teachers, we're destined to be lame. So we don't have the luxury of going easy on these brats. If we give them a finger, they'll take the whole hand and feed it to the giant squid, and I happen to like my limbs, Potter. I don't think I'd rock the Mad-Eye Moody look."
Harry glared at him half-heartedly. "I think you're full of shit, Malfoy," he declared.
"Fine," Malfoy shrugged, collecting his essays and getting to his feet. "Don't believe me. We all know it's true, anyway. But do us all a favour and do something about Goldstein? He's in your house and he's a bloody menace. We don't have the time and the energy."
With that, he left the staff room. A moment later, the bell rang, announcing the end of the lunch break. The others started shuffling to their feet, too, pointedly not looking at Harry.
"Guys," Harry sighed, sending a couple of third-years a pointed look as they ran down the hallway. "Slow down. You don't want Filch to get on your case, do you?"
"Yes, Professor Potter," they chorused, slowing to a walk. Satisfied, Harry smiled at them approvingly before flinching as Malfoys voice echoed through the hallway.
"WRIGHT! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING YOUR BROOM IN THE STAIRWELL? TWENTY POINTS OFF RAVENCLAW! AND NEXT TIME, IT WILL BE FIFTY AND A MONTH WORTH OF DETENTION!"
Harry counted to ten in his head and only when the hallway was silent again did he turn the corner. Malfoy had his arms crossed and was glaring after a fourth-year Ravenclaw boy.
"You know," Harry said quietly. "If you behaved a little less like Snape, maybe the students would be more inclined to listen to you."
Malfoy turned to glower at him. " I listened to Snape," he huffed. "For the most part."
Harry snorted out a laugh. Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"I'm just saying," Harry shrugged, "I always responded best to teachers who respected me and treated me like a person. Lupin. McGonagall."
"Oh, and I bet you never went behind their backs," Malfoy deadpanned.
"I did," Harry admitted. "But I always felt horrible about it, which was much more effective than Snape's yelling."
"Fine," Malfoy said. "I'll be the first to admit Snape wasn't the best teacher. He didn't care to be. But I'll also say that maybe, his students didn't always give him the chance to be the teacher he could have been if he had cared."
Harry frowned at him. "What?" he asked.
"I'm saying we can't all be you, Potter," Malfoy groaned, impatient now. "Even when I try to do the best for my students, they're not always receptive. That's my reality."
"Maybe you have to change your approach, then," Harry insisted.
"You just won't understand it's not the same for you and me, will you?!" Malfoy snapped. "You couldn't last a day teaching my Potions class, as me."
" Wanna bet?" Harry shot back, eyes flashing.
Now, it was Malfoy's turn to frown in confusion. "Bet how?" he asked.
"I know you keep a stack of Polyjuice Potion in your stock," Harry shrugged. "We'll change roles and tomorrow, I'll teach your class and you teach mine."
"You want to teach Potions?" Malfoy asked, his voice flat. "Snape would turn in his grave. No, he'll probably come back to strangle me for letting it happen."
"I'll just teach something easy," he shrugged. "Something fun. Which years do you have tomorrow?"
" 'Fun'? " Malfoy repeated faintly. "If my students have too much fun, Potter, they can blow up the whole castle. Actually, Avery almost succeeded in doing exactly that just last week, with my supervision."
"It will be fine," Harry shrugged. "Seamus blew up stuff all the time when we were younger and we're still alive."
"I honestly don't know how we survived."
"Come on, Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes. "You can choose the lesson plan. I'll pick something easy for you, too -"
"I can do Defense, Potter!"
"And then we'll switch, and I can prove to you I can carry your class without raising my voice even once," he finished.
Malfoy studied him, his gaze calculating. Then he extended his hand for a handshake.
"You're on," he said. "And you're gonna drown."
"We'll see," Harry smirked, shaking Malfoy's hand.
"What do I get if I'm right?" Malfoy asked.
"Bragging rights?" Harry tried.
"Boring," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "How about you have to accompany me to that trip to Muggle London with the sixth years next month that McGonagall scheduled me in with Longbottom and Abbott?"
Harry groaned. "I was so glad to get out of that one," Harry whined. "You know I hate supervising school trips!"
"Well, bugger for you," Malfoy grinned. "And I hate being stuck between Longbottom and Abbott. I always feel like the third wheel. I swear those two are shagging."
Harry grimaced. He really didn't want to know.
"Fine," Harry sighed. "And if I win?"
Malfoy hummed and chewed his lip in thought. Harry hated that it looked so handsome on him.
"If you win, the Gryffindor Quidditch team can have the pitch back for the Saturday morning slot."
Harry grinned, delighted. This had been an ongoing conflict between them every term. This term, Malfoy had been faster to book the time slot for the Slytherin team and Harry's captain was still smarting because of that.
"You're so on," Harry grinned. "I'll meet you at your office tomorrow morning."
"Seven o'clock sharp, Potter," Malfoy warned. "I don't like waiting."
Of course, Harry was five minutes late, because he was never on time. Malfoy was visibly annoyed but refused to comment. Instead, he laid out the lesson plans he'd created for Harry the moment his butt hit the cushion of the chair.
"It's all repetition for them and even you should recognise most of it," Malfoy huffed. "It's foolproof. Don't explain, just ask questions and let them do the talking. In year 5 Hufflepuff, just ask Simpson when in doubt, she knows the answer. In the rest of the classes, you have Ravenclaws; you should be fine."
"Are you done worrying?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "Can we do this now?"
"I'm sorry for being responsible," Draco snorted. "At least one of us is taking their job seriously, you know."
"I'm taking my job very seriously!" Harry called.
"Sure," Draco shrugged. "Try explaining that to McGonagall when she catches us. Because I won't hesitate in telling her it was your idea." With a tilt of his head, he added: "To be fair, it will be fairly obvious without me saying anything at all. She was your teacher, too."
"Fuck you," Harry said, but he couldn't help but grin as Malfoys handed him his vial of Polyjuice Potion.
Hardly any time. Class is starting soon," Malfoy said breezily, reaching out his palm. "Hair, Potter, if you'd be so kind?"
They both plucked strands of hair from their heads and exchanged them. Harry watched as the potion with Malfoy's hair turned a clear, wispy silver while his own turned thick golden colour.
Malfoy made a toasting motion. "May our headmistress never find out," he said solemnly before downing the potion in one. Harry chuckled and followed suit.
Harry was used to his classes falling silent the moment he entered a room, eager to learn. Now, as Malfoy, all they seemed eager to do was ignore him for as long as possible.
Harry stood and waited but no one even glanced at him. He cleared his throat. No reaction.
"Good morning," he said.
The kids kept talking over him. He gaped incredulously. Had he been this bold in his lack of respect as a teenager?
"Good morning," he said, more loudly.
A few Hufflepuffs in the front row glanced at him, clearly confused. The rest of the class kept chatting. That was when Harry lost patience.
"SILENCE!" he bellowed.
Finally, the volume dropped and eyes turned to him. Harry felt disgusted with himself, knowing he'd lost their wager in the first two minutes of class. Merlin, he hated trips with students.
"Thanks for finally joining me," he said bitterly. "Now, if you'd please let me start class, that would be fantastic."
There was some murmuring and giggling in the back of the classroom. Harry pushed down on the urge to yell again.
Half an hour later, Harry had decided that Malfoy wasn't only a brilliant teacher - he was also a saint for not murdering each and every one of these brats.
Harry was unsure how Malfoy kept such a firm hand on a group of teenagers that clearly didn't want to be here. Mulloy kept trying to write his Transfigurations essay when Harry wasn't looking and when he took the parchment away, he somehow stole it back and continued. Kazeem outright refused every instruction Harry gave her, muttering "Death Eater" to her friend every time his back was turned, to the point where Harry became so ticked off he sent her to McGonagall with a note.
When Kaling finally threw a firecracker out of the Weasley production line into Kovalenko's cauldron, Harry was so done that he sent the class off early.
He lingered near his own classroom, buzzing with frustration until the first-year Gryffindors filed out, looking happy as they did after every one of his classes. Frowning, he pushed into the classroom, finding Malfoy storing away supplies, humming to himself.
"Potter," he grinned, once the last student had closed the door behind themselves. "Wanna change permanently? Teaching your class is such a blast. Such a game changer to have motivated, attentive students."
"I get it," Harry snapped. "You're a better teacher than I am. I can't do it. Now please, let's change back."
"You concede?" Malfoy asked, sounding delighted. "Did Potions class scare you that much, Potter?"
"You have no idea. Your students are devil spawns, Malfoy."
"They're the same students you teach, Potter," Malfoy pursed his lips. "And yet, when you're me, you can't handle them. I wonder why."
"Fine, maybe I have an advantage!" Harry called. "Maybe they pay more attention because they decided they liked me from the start! You're right! You win!"
"I always wondered what that would feel like," Malfoy sighed. "It's as good as I imagined."
"Please, Malfoy," Harry pleaded. "I can't take another lesson like this. Give me back my easy, mellow Defense class?"
Malfoy grinned and pulled out another vial; the antidote. He handed it to Harry with a flourish.
"Enjoy your attentive kids," he smirked, patting Harry's shoulder. "I'll go clean up the mess you made."
Harry felt glum as he left, his defeat cutting more deeply than he'd expected.
"Ugh, Malfoy is such a pain," Harry heard two of his Gryffindor girls groan later that evening. "Does he always have to give that much homework?"
"He just likes to see us suffer," the other girl responded. "You know what he did during the war. I don't know why McGonagall even lets him teach here."
Seeing red, Harry turned to them.
"That's Professor Malfoy for you," he snapped at them. "And not that either he or McGonagall owe you any explanation, but he atoned and apologised for everything that happened throughout the war. You don't get to judge him; you weren't there. You haven't lived through it. So keep your opinions to yourself and focus on studying."
The girls gaped at him, eyes wide and shocked.
"Yes, Professor Potter," one of them whispered.
Glaring, Harry just waved them off and they scrambled along, clearly in a hurry to get away. Harry took a deep breath as he watched them scurry off.
"Look at you," Neville said in his ear, making Harry jump. " Defending Malfoy. Dumbledore would be so proud of our growth."
"I'm not so sure," Harry frowned. "I don't like how the kids disrespect him. It's not okay."
"It's nothing else than what we did with Snape," Neville shrugged. "You can't change teenagers and their feeling of moral superiority, Harry. What we can do, though, is work as a team and remind them that their black-and-white-thinking isn't always the way to go."
Harry hummed in agreement. Neville just smiled.
"Today we're taking a break from our Patronuses," Harry announced to his fifth years the next day, making them groan.
"Why?" Kazeem whined. "I'm so close! I can feel it."
"Because I want to take a lesson or two to talk about the war," Harry explained. "I think it's important you talk to someone who was actually in the centre of it fighting."
With long-suffering looks and some muttering, Mulloy finally announced: "But Professor, we talk about the war all the time. We know all there is to know."
"I don't think you do," Harry insisted. "It's come to my attention that the way some of you view the events of the war - and the people involved in it - is very problematic. I think it's my duty as an educator who lived through that time to counteract that."
"But this isn't History of Magic," Kaling murmured, pouting.
Harry grinned. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll make this less boring than Binns."
"Potter," Malfoy said, cornering him later that day in the staff room. "What did you say to the fifth years?"
"What do you mean?" Harry said innocently.
"They were nice to me today," Malfoy shuddered, looking alarmed. "Is this your way of getting back at me for winning the bet? Are you pranking me now?"
"I'm not pranking you," Harry promised, biting down hard on a smile. "Why do you assume that it was me, anyway?"
"I'm intelligent, Potter," Malfoy stressed. "If there's chaos, you're always at its source."
"Now that's just rude," Harry pouted.
"Whatever you're doing," Malfoy frowned, pointing a threatening finger at him. "Stop it. You're messing with my fragile teacher-student equilibrium!"
Harry's smile spread freely as Malfoy turned his back on him.
Yeah, he wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.
When Harry knocked on Malfoy's office door a couple of days later, he was taken aback to see him sitting with a third-year Hufflepuff student.
"Sorry," Harry said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's fine, I think we're done," McCarthy smiled, getting to their feet. "Thanks, Professor. I think I can do the rest on my own."
"If not, you know where to find me," Malfoy nodded as she left. Harry raised an eyebrow at him and Malfoy shrugged with an exasperated sigh. "I don't know, okay?" he said. "Students come to me for help now. It's strange and slightly scary."
"You like it," Harry smirked.
"Slander," Malfoy excused, but he was grinning, and Harry liked it entirely too much. "Why are you here, Potter? Just to poke fun at me?"
"To let you know McGonagall wants to see us and Hannah about the trip next week," he explained. "Five o'clock."
"I have a detention at five o'clock," Malfoy sighed.
"I'm sure Hagrid can take over," Harry suggested.
"Hagrid goes too easy on them," he frowned, shaking his head. "I'll call Filch."
Harry rolled his eyes. "See you later then."
Malfoy just waved him off, but there was still a slight softness to the lines of his mouth, as if he really wanted to smile.
There was a reason Harry didn't like chaperoning school trips. The teenagers under their care seemed to be on a permanent sugar high. He felt more like a kindergarten teacher than a Hogwarts teacher. Not to mention that he had the gnawing fear that one of his students would run off and disappear into a black hole and he'd have to explain to the parents and school.
It didn't help that their trip this time went to Muggle London, which meant upholding the Statute of Secrecy when kids kept screaming about magic for all the world to hear. He really didn't want the Ministry to turn up and admonish them.
"Relax, Potter," Malfoy rolled his eyes as they got out of the tube at Waterloo station. It was an experience, seeing Draco Malfoy easily handle Muggle public transport while simultaneously ushering the students through and inserting their tickets when they struggled. Then again, this was his fourth such trip since he'd started teaching. "It's going to be fine. No evil overlords are lurking around the corner to snatch the kids."
One sixth year Slytherin snickered at his joke but fell silent when both Harry and Malfoy looked at him pointedly. He quickly scurried off to his friends.
"When are we going home again?" Harry sighed.
"Tomorrow," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Now come on, it's time to send the brats off for free time."
With a sigh, Harry hung back and let Malfoy and Hannah do the talking; mostly Malfoy, who, Harry had to admit,had the fine line between information giving and threatening down to a fine art.
Then, the students ran off into all directions, and Harry felt both relieved and terrified.
"Relax," Hannah laughed when he saw his face. "Nobody died yet on a trip to Muggle London."
"Would be just my luck," Harry grumbled.
"They have their wands, they're fine," Malfoy shrugged. "And I put a tracking charm on all of them, so if they're not back by dinner time, we can apparate them straight to McGonagall." Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?" Malfoy shrugged. "I'm not a newbie, Potter. There's a reason McGonagall always insists I go on these things."
"I'm beginning to see that," Harry nodded.
"Alright, so, I promised Neville to bring her some stuff so I'm heading out to the stores," Hannah announced. "You want to come?"
"Nah," Malfoy grimaced. "I'll just get a drink and enjoy the down time without kids."
"Sounds good. I'll join you," Harry nodded.
They ended up grabbing a beer - non-alcoholic, because they were on the job - and sitting on a bench at the riverside. For a while, they just drank in companionable silence until eventually, Malfoy spoke up.
"What did you say to the students, Potter?" he asked. "Really. I'm curious. Why are they so much less hostile towards me?"
Harry smiled to himself. "You won't get angry?"
"I'll try not to," Malfoy snorted. "You didn't sell them some sob-story about how I am this poor, misunderstood character, right?"
"No," Harry shrugged. "I just told them about the war. What it was really like. For me, you, Neville… I guess it helped them see that not everything is as black and white as they'd previously assumed."
Malfoy looked at him sideways, his expression thoughtful. Then, he said, his voice flat: "You told them about Malfoy Manor, didn't you?"
"Shut up," Harry muttered.
"They think I saved your life and now they're nice to me!"
"Well, it's not exactly a lie, is it?" Harry deadpanned.
"It's a stretch," Malfoy huffed. "I hardly broke you out."
"You could have easily thrown me to the wolves to save yourself. You didn't."
"That hardly makes a hero, Potter," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I know who I was. There's no need to erase the uncomfortable truth."
"But are you aware that who you were and who you are now differ quite a lot?" Harry challenged. "You deserve to be treated with respect for who you've become, Malfoy. And kids who didn't even live through the war shouldn't get to judge you for your choices."
Malfoy was staring at him quite intently now. Harry wishes he knew what the other man saw on his face.
"I didn't think it bothered you that much," Malfoy said, at last.
"Well, it does," Harry shrugged. "You're a brilliant teacher. You deserve better."
Malfoy smiled. "Why, thank you, Potter," he said. "I poke fun at you a lot, but you're actually not so bad yourself."
"Yeah, right," Harry snorted.
"I'm serious," Malfoy insisted. "It's fascinating how you can hold the attention and motivation of your students without much of a stretch of your authority. It's very unique. Sometimes I wished I knew how to keep my lot interested like you do."
"Well, like you said," Harry shrugged. "I have an advantage."
"It's not only that, I think," Malfoy shook his head. "Lockhart didn't keep us involved, did he?"
Harry smirked. "I didn't think being compared to Lockhart would ever make me happy," he chuckled.
"Well, there's lots of parallels. Lots of books with dubious content out there - though at least you didn't write yours - and lots of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Awards -"
"Please shut up."
Malfoy grinned but obeyed.
Harry had a new appreciation for the Hogwarts castle and its inherent mechanisms for keeping the boys out of the girls dormitories. As he had to throw out the third male student from a girl's bed throughout his midnight round, he was more than a little agitated.
Okay, he'd been a bit busy fighting a war back in sixth year but he'd kept out of Ginny's bed, at least.
He turned a corner and ran headfirst into Malfoy. "Sorry," he muttered as he took a step back - momentarily distracted by how fit Malfoy looked in his silk pyjamas - and clearing his throat.
"No problem," Malfoy said, only slightly ruffled. "I'm through with my rooms and I thoroughly shamed the kids from trying to sneak into each others rooms for another hour or two. How about you?"
"I might be scarred for life after what I think Kazeem and Mulloy might have been up to, but for now, the coast is clear."
Malfoy made a face. "All these sixteen year olds having a more active sex life than we do - or did at that age. Our generation sucks, Potter."
"Or it's just us?" Harry offered. "After all, if I had won the bet, Neville might be shacking up with Hannah right now."
"Please, Potter," Malfoy sighed. "There was no need for that mental image."
Harry couldn't help but smile.
"I know we should sleep, but I'm too wired," Malfoy sighed. "Wanna come to my room for a nightcap?"
"Sure," Harry nodded.
Malfoy's room was right next to Harry's and had the same layout. Still, his was much neater. Somehow, Harry had already managed to make a mess and he was sure Malfoy would have something to say about it if he knew.
As it was, though, he procured a warm bottle of butter beer - to Harry's questioning gaze, he just answered: "I come prepared, Potter," - and they sat on his bed, nursing their drinks.
"Look at us," Malfoy said, at last. "If our teenage selves could see us now."
Harry smiled. "Mine would say: 'What's Malfoy up to now?'"
"I take offense, Potter," Malfoy grinned.
"Well, it was my default," Harry shrugged. "I always thought you were up to something, even though apart from year six, you rarely were."
"I always knew you were obsessed with me," Malfoy said smugly.
"Well," Harry said, rather bravely. "I sort of was."
Malfoy blinked. A long silence stretched out between them. Just as Harry was starting to regret his boldness Malfoy said: "You know, pre-Hogwarts Draco would be pretty pleased if he could see us now. He always wanted to be your friend."
"Is this you blaming me again for turning down your friendship that first day at Hogwarts?" Harry smiled. "Because we've been through that. I refuse all blame."
"I'm just saying," Malfoy smirked. "We could have been friends all this time and you wouldn't have to creep after me like a failed Auror-turned-stalker."
"Right," Harry rolled his eyes.
"Right," Malfoy nodded. "And I wouldn't have had to annoy my housemates with my rants about you. It would have been a win-win."
"That sounds like a bit of an obsession on your end, too," Harry teased.
"Slander," Malfoy gasped. "Malfoy's don't obsess. Shhh."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. He was sitting so very close to Malfoy, he could feel the heat of his body against his side.
"Seeing those kids makes me think, though," Malfoy said finally. "Maybe we could have found a better outlet for our obsession."
"What, you think you should have snuck into Parkinson's bed?" Harry asked flatly.
"I'm gay, Potter," Malfoy snorted. "So no."
Harry licked his lips. "Who did you want to have a nightly fumble with instead? Zabini?"
"I'm talking about you, you moron," Malfoy scoffed. Maybe we should have snogged it out and be done with it!"
Harry blinked. "You think so?"
"Would have been better than what we did," Malfoy shrugged.
"You know," Harry said, gathering up all his courage. "We can still make up for lost time."
Malfoy froze. Harry wasn't sure he was breathing. Then, he turned, grey eyes meeting his, searching.
"You think so?" he asked, his voice low and raw.
Instead of answering, Harry leaned in to press their lips together.
Malfoy's lips tasted of butterbeer and they were slightly chapped from the London wind. He kissed Harry tentatively, like he was afraid any wrong move would chase him away, but all Harry wanted to do was hold onto him and never stop. He wanted to crawl into Malfoy's lap, run his fingers through his hair and lick into his mouth.
Instead, he pulled away, catching his gaze. Malfoy looked slightly dazed and it made Harry smile.
"Okay?" Harry checked.
Malfoy licked his lips. "I'll need more of that if you really want to make up for lost time," he pointed out. "We spent a long time not snogging, you know."
Harry smirked and leaned in to catch Malfoy's lips in another kiss.
Harry woke up to a fist hammering on the door the next morning. Harry groaned in protest and Malfoy's arms tightened around his bare waist.
"Malfoy! Harry!" Hannah called. "I can hear you in there! It's bad enough that I spent half the night separating the students, but now you, too?! Please, give me a break! Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago, get your arses down there."
Harry slowly blinked his eyes open. Behind him, Malfoy was chuckling tiredly.
"Fuck," he muttered. "You're still a bad influence, Potter."
"You didn't complain last night," Harry smirked.
Malfoy scoffed and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades before, quite regrettably, getting out of bed.
"Right," he said as he slipped into his pants. "Time to put our teacher faces back on."
"I don't have one," Harry shrugged. "I go as I am."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but it looked fond. "You're the worst. Why do I like you again?"
"Must be my cock."
"I dearly hope you at least have a teacher filter, or you'll be in so much trouble."
The students, as it turned out, soon realised that Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy were shagging. They were of a split opinion about it; some thought it was ever so cute, exciting, adorable or all the above; some thought it was gross because how dare teachers have a sex life.
"That's why you keep your stuff private," Neville said wisely. "They still don't know about me and Hannah."
"No, they don't care enough to realise about you and Hannah," Malfoy injected. "There's a difference between being careful and boring."
Neville pursed his lips but eventually relented with a shrug. "I'll take it," he said. "I'm a teacher. I embrace boring."
"So do I, actually," Malfoy sighed, glowering at Harry. "I'd like it back. I want to be a lame teacher again. Where do I sign up?"
"I think you need to break up with Harry first," Hannah smirked.
"Yeah, no," Harry shook his head, sneaking an arm around Malfoy's waist and kissing his temple. "Your request has been reviewed and denied."
With a chuckle, Malfoy relaxed against Harry's side and caught the tea cup to pour himself some tea.