Genre: Lotrps AU/Harry Potter future!fic crossover
Pairing: Domlijah, eventually
Summary: Dom becomes a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and finds himself strangely attracted to Elijah, one of the Gryffindor seventh-years.
Rating: PG for now
Warnings: Like I said, AU and crossover.
Disclaimer: This story is about as real as Michael Jackson's face. Harry Potter was written by JK Rowling, the boys and girls of the LOTR cast all belong to themselves, and I use their names and faces for the characters that are made up in my crazy head. I make no money off this.
Feedback: Makes me happy.
Author's notes: This story came to me while reading HP to my kids, and it's about the strangest thing I've ever written. Beta'd by the loverly avondster.
Chapter 2: In which a friendship is made, tea is consumed, and Billy plays Exposition Fairy.
A week after being appointed the youngest Professor at Hogwarts, Dom moved into his room at the castle. After all there were lessons to prepare, and term would start in two weeks.
Dom’s room was in one of the smaller towers, with one window looking out over the lake, the other over the forest and the groundkeeper’s cabin. It wasn’t large, but it was cosy enough.
He was just trying to hang a Manchester United poster over his bed, when someone softly knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” shouted Dom, trying to hold the poster up with one hand while fumbling for his wand with the other.
“Need any help with that?” said a voice from the doorway.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” said Dom, terrified at the mere possibility of anyone manhandling his precious poster in any way. “If I can just find my wand…”
He fumbled some more, until he felt the stranger press the wanted item into his hand. “You left it on the table.”
“Ta, mate.” Dom secured the poster with a deft flick of his wand, and turned to face his visitor.
Before him stood a short, slender man, no more than a few years older than he was, though the dark blond hair was already receding visibly. His eyes must be even greener than Professor Potter’s, and his face seemed to have been made for smiling, like he was doing now.
“I’d just like to welcome you to the team,” he said in a musical voice with a pleasant Scottish lilt, “even though you have degraded me to third to youngest of the teachers.” But his eyes were twinkling as he said it, making Dom like him immediately.
“Aw, I’m terribly sorry about that,” he replied in mock earnesty, and abruptly made himself age at least sixty years. “There. Does this make you feel better?” he croaked in an old man’s shaky voice.
His new collegue stood gaping for a moment before erupting in laughter. “Aye, well, you don’t have to exaggerate.”
Dom changed back, grinning cheekily. “Can’t ever seem to please, can I?” He extended his hand. “I’m Dom Monaghan. I’m here to teach Transfiguration, in case you couldn’t guess.”
The older man was still chuckling as he took Dom's hand. “Billy Boyd. I teach Charms. Insert any ‘charming’ puns you might have here, please, and leave it at that for the term, allright?”
Now Dom laughed, too. “You got it, mate.”
Billy looked around the room with polite interest, then back at Dom. “So, need any help here? I’m done unpacking, and I didn’t feel like starting on my lessons just yet.”
“I’m just about done,” said Dom. “But I do fancy a cuppa. Care to join me?”
Billy grinned. “You’re on. Why don’t you come downstairs, and we’ll have it in the Great Hall, while it’s still quiet.”
“Sure,” said Dom, holding the door open for him. “Age before beauty,” he said cheekily, and Billy laughed again.
Dom had the feeling he may just have found a himself a friend.
The Great Hall was more peaceful than Dom had ever seen it in his life. The only ones present beside Billy and himself were two or three House-Elves, who were cleaning the tables, doing repairwork, and poking up the fires. One of them came up and asked them if they’d like anything; five minutes later they both had a steaming mug of tea standing before them, as well as a basket of pastries, and Billy was filling him in on his new collegues.
“Well, when Professor Potter became Headmaster two years ago, he’s cleaned up the place a bit. Took on some new, younger staff members. I was one of them, and Astin. You’ll meet him soon enough. Our age, teaches Herbology. Nice enough bloke, bit paranoid about his plants sometimes though. My advice: keep away from the greenhouses if you know what’s good for you.” He grinned.
“I don’t think you know Serkis either. He teaches Care of Magical Creatures these days. The kids all love him. Mad as a hatter, but I suppose to want that job you’d have to be a bit off your rocker.”
He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. “Let’s see, who else? You’ll know most of the old staff: Hill, McKellen, Lee, Rhys-Davies… Harry still teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts, obviously. I think you were here just long enough to know Ms. Blanchett?”
Dom grinned. “Well, I dropped Divination after my fifth year, but yeah, I know her. If not from sight, from all the talk in the boys’ dormitories… like they’d never seen a woman before.”
Billy laughed. “Too right, though I can’t talk: I still drop whatever I’m holding when she comes by. She’s stiff competition as of last year, though. Sickness rates have skyrocketed ever since Madam Otto took over the hospital wing, particularly among the boys, strangely. They could spare themselves the trouble though, she’s taken. Her man does the flying lessons and Quidditch supervision. Speaking of which, d’you play?”
Dom shrugged, and lowered his eyes. “Sometimes. I was a Beater at the Institution Team for a year, but… not that committed, you know. Thought my studies were more important and all that.” He kept his eyes firmly on his mug of tea, though he could feel Billy’s eyes studying him.
After tea, Billy took Dom to see his new office. It was almost painfully tidy, even the waste-paper basket was clean, and all in all it had a very unused and impersonal look over it. Dom mentioned this to Billy, who shrugged.
“Don’t worry mate, you’ll make it your own soon enough. Your predecessor liked leaving things in order, but she took it a bit to the extreme, I must say. She was offered a position at the Institution, you’ve probably heard.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. Do they know yet who’ll get the position of Deputy Headmaster, now that she’s gone?”
Billy ducked his head slightly. “Well, Harry wanted to announce it at the feast, but… it’s me.”
“Really?” Dom clapped him on the shoulder enthusiastically, forgetting already that he had only met this man mere hours ago. “That’s great, man, congratulations!”
“Thanks,” said Billy, beaming. “I was quite surprised when he told me, too, since I’ve not been here that long. But he’s like that, Harry is. Sees things in people, you know?”
They exited the office and made their way back to the Entrance Hall, which was also deserted except for a tall, slender figure, busy oiling one of the hinges on the door.
“How are things, Orli?” shouted Billy.
The young man started, made an ungraceful pirouette and nearly dropped the can of oil. He then straightened up and waved at Billy and Dom, offering a shaky smile before continuing his work.
“Poor lad,” said Billy, shaking his head, as they climbed the marble staircase. “I’d be skittish too, if I were in his place.”
“Why?” asked Dom, looking over his shoulder at ‘Orli’, who dropped the oily rag he was holding when a spider scuttled by. “What happened to him?”
“To him, nothing,” said Billy grimly. “At least, not yet. His predecessor, however… Haven’t you heard of it? It was all over the Prophet. A few Slytherin seventh-years decided to play a little joke on old Fabbers just after Easter, and ended up nearly killing him. He was unable to continue his job, after, and young Orlando Bloom there was the only replacement caretaker that could be found on such short notice, and after it came into the press he became the only one available. The students responsible were expelled, of course, and right before their exams, too. The Malfoy family made quite a fuss of it, since their oldest daughter Lucretia was leading the gang. I heard they’ve sent dear Lucy off to Durmstrang to finish school there. Good riddance, too, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Dom vaguely recalled reading something about it: some nasty incident involving Bubotuber pus. He felt sorry for old Fabbers; he had quite liked the old man. He was glad the culprits had been expelled, too: he wouldn’t fancy teaching a lot like that.
The minute he thought that he wished he hadn’t; his stomach made an unpleasant lurch.
“So… the students,” he said, changing the subject. “Anything I should know?”
“Don’t turn your back on Slytherin seven,” said Billy darkly. “A viscious lot, those, especially Mortianna Malfoy. Seems determined to follow in her sister’s footsteps. Make sure Hufflepuff four doesn’t cheat: they’ve become quite inventive. And keep a close watch on Gryffindor six… sorry, seven. Bunch of troublemakers they are. Not a bad crew, mind, but tricky. The Eyes, especially.”
“The Eyes?” asked Dom, puzzled, as they arrived at his door.
Billy just grinned mysteriously, and winked. “You’ll know when you see. Trust me.”