分卷阅读4（1 / 2）

There seemed to be an emphasis on the word everyone, but Harry decided it was imagined. Still, the word held weight.

He wasn’t honoring the life they had allowed him by losing theirs. He was wallowing. He knew he was wallowing. And the worst part of it all was that some part of his mind felt that he could justify it. He knew Sirius wouldn’t want him to wallow. His parents wouldn’t want him to, nor would Fred, nor would Tonks or Lupin. And shouldn’t that be enough? But then again, what would Draco Malfoy want? Would he like to see Harry sulking because of him? Perhaps he would smirk and say “Ah, Potter, I never knew you cared,” in that infuriating but so well practiced patronizing tone of his. And then, when Harry thought of moving on, he could only imagine the wounded look on Malfoy’s face, the one that he wanted you to think was pretend but was really more close to the truth than he cared to admit. And in a flat voice, which was always worse coming from Malfoy (his acidity was comforting), he would say “So soon, Potter? Careful, or people will think you’re happy about it.”

Harry was trying. He was trying to convince himself that Malfoy wouldn’t care at all. And it wasn’t so soon. It had nearly been four years. Everyone, even Malfoy’s own mother, seemed to be faring better than Harry.

“If you could tell me,” McGonagall interrupted his thought, “before the end of this term, I would appreciate it. Just so I can find a replacement should you refuse, or so you could start your studies should you accept. I believe there are still some lesson plans left in the classroom from previous teachers should you need reference, although I would beg you to refrain from using too many of Lockhart’s. I know Lupin left a few, as well, which I think I would encourage.”

Harry nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“I was also urged by Hagrid to remind you that he would be happy to see you again. Even offered to bake you a birthday cake this year should you be on the grounds,” McGonagall added, and with this there was a gleam of mischief in her eye.

It was half past one in the morning. Harry had fallen into a terrible sleep pattern, spending most of his time alone, which he found was easier to do when no one else was awake to bother him. Tonight, he felt like he would rather like to sleep, but it had become an impossibility. Hogwarts had always been more of a home to him than any other place he had lived, even now, having lived at Grimmauld Place for several years. But the age old phrase “you can never go home again” rang through his head at the prospect of returning. And in truth, he couldn’t. He would return this time as a teacher, not a student. Most of the people that made it home were gone, as well. Dumbledore would not be there, outside of his portrait. Neither would any of the Weasleys, or Hermione, or—his train of thought sputtered to a stop. Or Draco. He was mildly alarmed that Malfoy was included in the list of people that made the castle a home, as for most of his life he had regarded him with the same distaste as he had Dudley, but even more so, he was startled by the word itself. He had thought “or Draco.” Full stop. Period. He knew formality didn’t matter in his own mind, but he had never been Draco to Harry. Harry had never once even thought to refer to him by his first name. He wasn’t entirely sure he had ever even said it aloud on its own.

“Draco,” he whispered, barely a noise, yet all too loud in his quiet house. The word felt odd in his mouth. His chest tightened inexplicably and he fought the urge to cry. He shook his head, trying to clear the feeling.

He came to a decision. He could not be sat at home, alone, whispering a dead boy’s name in his kitchen. Surely, a few months more of this and he would be completely mad.

He jotted down a note and whistled for Bo?tes , who he heard ruffle his feathers in the other room and then came flying through the doorway.

He tied the note to Bo?tes’s leg, then stopped to scratch the top of his owl’s head.

“Take this to, McGonagall, would you? Maybe take a look in the owlery while you’re there. You’ll be spending quite a lot of time there I imagine,” he murmured, slipping Bo?tes a treat.

Maybe it was true. Maybe he could never go home, but hell, if he wasn’t going to try.

Chapter 3

“Did I tell you Mr. Potter will be returning to Hogwarts?” McGonagall asked casually, sipping her tea at her desk.

Draco choked on the mouthful of tea he had been swallowing.

“Excuse me?” he said, trying not to sound too shocked.

“I asked him to fill the Defense position,” McGonagall continued, seemingly oblivious to Draco’s shock.