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Draco sat in the middle of the forest, watching the sky change colour from star-speckled blue, nearly black, to a mesh of pink and orange and yellow. The sun reflected bright rays through the trees, light that warmed him as it touched his face. He smiled to himself; this was peaceful. Even though he hadn't slept, this was the first time in months that he'd felt so relaxed.
He stood up slowly, stretching his arms high above his head and letting out a soft moan. His back made a soft cracking noise, a sign that he wasn't as young as he'd been thinking himself to be. His thirty seven years were not yet beginning to show on his face, but he could feel it coming. While he wasn't excited about his glimmers of mortality, he was becoming more accustomed to the idea of aging, of getting old. He had made sure to accomplish great things in his life, though in a much different way than he could ever have imagined while growing up. He wasn't famous, or an influential politician, or Head Auror like he'd always dreamed of becoming, but he was happy.
Draco picked his robe up off of the ground, brushing twigs and dirt away before putting it on and shoving his leather composition book into the large, inside pocket. "Time to get back, then," he said to himself. He took a lingering glance around the forest before setting off in the direction of the castle.
He'd gotten nearly all the way out of the forest before he was stopped by the sound of a familiar voice calling to him from the distance. "Professor Malfoy!" he heard over and over. He stopped and looked around, trying to locate where the voice was coming from.
Then he saw him.
Harry Potter ran through the woods, dodging trees and hopping over logs and roots that had grown above the ground. Draco stifled his laughter; Harry looked like an energetic child bouncing around with a cheesy smile on his face and his arms waving carelessly and recklessly at his sides. When he reached Draco's side, he was out of breath, his hair disheveled, but still smiling.
"You're an absolute mess, Potter," Draco said, a friendly laugh in his tone. "What are you doing in the forest?"
"I could ask the same of you, couldn't I?" Harry replied. "I was visiting Hagrid on my way to the school, but I got distracted and decided to take a walk. I'm not sure why, but the Forbidden Forest is just really, I don't know, familiar to me."
"The Boy Who Lived would like to hang out in the place where he died several years ago…” Draco snarked.
Harry ignored the comment and continued speaking. “Hagrid told me that McGonagall’s retiring at the end of term. Have you heard about that?”
“The rumour made its way around to me, but I didn't know whether to believe it or not.”
“It’s true. Can you believe it?” Harry asked. He didn't wait for a reply before he continued to speak. “She’s picked her replacement already.”
“It has definitely got to be Longbottom,” Draco cut in. He smiled vacantly. “I’m sure it’s him. Never before has a Herbology professor had such an impact on the school. You know he’s inventing a new course with me? He and I were chatting about how related our two departments are, and suddenly he had planned out the curriculum for a course that requires information from Herbology and Potions to be used simultaneously. It’s really mind-blowing stuff.”
“I heard about that. It does sound pretty interesting,” Harry said. “But it’s not him. He wouldn’t take it if it was offered to him; everyone knows that. Word is she’s picking, well, you, Draco.”
“Me? That’s preposterous!” Draco cried. He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s one thing to take pity on a former Death Eater and let him teach some classes, but it’s entirely another to let him run the whole bloody school! I know my place, Potter, and I’m thankful for what I have. I like teaching. I like running the Potions department.”
“Sorry, mate, but that’s actually why I’m here,” Harry told him. “McGonagall offered me your position. She said it was available, and when I asked why she told me that you’d be ‘busy with other Hogwarts affairs’. I took that as her telling me to mind my own business.”
“You? The Potions professor? Isn't that a laugh and a half!”
“Excuse me, but I've been working with Slughorn for the past two years!” Harry snapped. He took a deep breath, realizing that Draco had been doing nothing more than teasing him. “I was only ever bad at Potions when Snape was around, anyway.”
“You’re still very sensitive, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, you’ll have to develop a modicum of sensitivity if you expect to do a decent job as Headmaster.”
“Potter, I really can’t believe McGongall would choose me.” Draco shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe. “Surely there are better options. Surely there’s someone who won’t have the Daily Prophet lurking around every bloody corner of the school, watching for dark magic and whatnot. The students… their parents, they’re all gonna flip!”
“Hagrid told me that she didn't come to the decision lightly. She thought about what people might say, that some might pull their children out and send them to another school, but she ultimately thought that you were the best choice,” Harry explained. “He said that McGonagall surveyed all the other professors, asking what they thought of you in charge. Not a single person had anything bad to say about you.”
“How do you always manage to get so much information from Hagrid?” Draco questioned, a suspicious look coming to his face.
“Tip for the future: never tell Hagrid anything you don’t want everyone else to know about,” Harry said with a grin. “He’s the worst at keeping secrets.”
“He never tells me anything.” Draco pouted.
Harry ignored Draco and continued talking. “He said that Neville told him about that course you two are creating, but he said it was all you. He gave you all the credit for. Even called you a genius.”
“That bloody tosser,” Draco cried, rolling his eyes. “One too many firewhiskies in him that night, I guess. Can’t keep anything straight with Longbottom after a few.”
“I’m sure, Draco,” Harry replied.
“Headmaster Malfoy,” Draco said to himself. “I rather like that, actually.”
“It suits you.”
Draco knew he had accomplished a lot while teaching at Hogwarts. He’d written textbooks, had articles published in international journals, traveled abroad to speak at conferences. He helped students discover their strengths and work through their weaknesses. He changed the way the world looked at him. He was happy; he loved his life. And now, knowing that there was so much more ahead of him, he knew he had definitely followed the right path for himself. He knew that he belonged at Hogwarts.