Lazuli - Harry Potter Fan Fiction (Draco Malfoy)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"What about this one?" I hold up a leather bound book, the pages so old that they've yellowed and crinkled around the edges. Draco looks up from the pile he's surrounded in and shakes his head. "No, I remember seeing it as a kid. It's big, with leather font and bright purple lettering. It's older than that, too." I throw the book onto the mountain of books, and continue searching for the right one.

This morning, after Draco and I woke up, we came downstairs for breakfast, only to find his father at work at the Ministry and his mother in the local town, organizing arrangements for the grand ball that she was throwing on Christmas Eve. She'd left Draco a list of things to do, he'd wanted to give the list to Nelly but with the poor creature already overburdened with work, I'd insisted that we do it instead.

One of the items on this list was finding an old spellbook that had belonged to Lucius's great-great-grandmother. Apparently, it had a great number of useful spells for the ball, and after the disaster of last year (which Draco says was actually a success), she's leaving nothing to chance.

I thought it would be relatively simple, except neither Draco or Narcissa could remember the title or where it was in the huge expanse of the Malfoy library. That meant that Draco and I had spent the entire morning sorting through books, searching endlessly for the right now.

I blow a strand of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail away from my face and Draco chuckles lightly. We sort through books in silence for another ten minutes, when Draco lets out an anguished groan and falls back. "For god's sake, we've been at this for hours!" He shouts, punching the air in frustration. "This would be a lot easier if we could just use magic." He rolls onto his stomach and takes my hand, smiling cheekily at me. "Surely, one small 'accio' spell would go unnoticed?" He pleads, stroking my palm. I tug my hand away and wink. "Nope, we're doing this the proper way. Besides, I don't want to get thrown out of Hogwarts. I want to have a career."

Draco raises his perfect eyebrows and rolls onto his back again, folding his hands behind his head. "Oh? And what occupation do you have your heart set on then?" He lazily asks. I shrug my shoulders and sort a few books whilst talking. "Well, I'm not good enough at Quidditch to play professionally," He raises his head and tries to talk but I shake my head. "No, I'm not. And once I leave school, I'm not going to be much good at anything else. So it might sound strange, but I want to be a teacher. A potions professor." I tuck the strand of hair behind my ear and smile at my ambition. Ron wants to work for the Ministry, as an Auror, Fred and George want to run their joke shop, Ginny wants to play Quidditch, Charlie works with his dragons, Percy works as an assistant to the Minister of Magic and Bill's a Curse Breaker. I'm the only one of my family who want to be a teacher.

Potions is the only place (except for Quidditch) where I feel at home. The bubbling pots and strange ingredients relax me, whilst still making me feel immensely more powerful that I ever could with my wand. When I was in my third year, I was already brewing potions that the sixth years were taught, therefore making me somewhat Professor Snape's favourite student. He's openly declared that I would make a good potions teacher, having the right knowledge of the craft and the rare ability to control those around me without using any spells. He'd often offered me extra lessons, which I'd accepted gratefully, in the hope that it would show my dedication and possibly help me in the future.

Draco remains silent for a few moments, I wonder if he'll react the same way as my family did, telling me that there's no way I'd be able to teach potions, that nobody would hire a Slytherin above any different house. But finally, he slowly nods his head. "Yeah, I can imagine that. You'd be a great teacher. I wish we had ones that looked like you at Hogwarts now though..." he sits up and kisses me slowly, although I sense that someone is watching us and pull away.