His godfather looked worse than Harry had ever seen him, even newly escaped from Azkaban. He paced the room and mumbled to himself, and Harry watched, nervously concerned that Sirius was having some sort of breakdown.
Strange, Harry himself hadn't yet fallen that far.
Dumbledore was there, looking solemn, and, by Harry's count, the train would be leaving in just under an hour. He had to be on it, Draco was waiting. He had to be there. He had to ride home with Hermione and Ron. He had to.
"You're not going home," Sirius said. Harry went cold with terror.
"Sirius, we decided that it would be best for both you and Harry if he returned to his aunt and uncle's," Dumbledore replied, sounding very tired.
"I don't care what's best! I'm not letting him go!"
"You didn't find anything then? Nothing to help?" Harry asked softly.
"There's still time, Harry." Dumbledore looked sternly at Sirius. "And he cannot go with you."
"Why?" Harry whispered, though he knew. If he died in the care of a man convicted of murdering a street full of people and betraying his parents, they'd think Sirius killed him.
"It's just for the best that he go home. We will know where to find him when we've got this sorted out. There is still time. We will fix this." Dumbledore's eyes blazed, as if daring them to disagree.
Sirius spun towards Harry, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "You'll wait for us there? We will come for you Harry. Promise you'll stay there, where we can find you."
"I promise," Harry said, shaken at the fever in Sirius' eyes.
"He's got to go catch the train, Sirius," Dumbledore said gently.
Harry was crushed against Sirius' chest, trembling hands running through his hair, over his back. "We will fix it, we will."
Guilt suddenly struck him, and Harry wondered nervously why he felt like he owed Sirius something more than this. Owed him tears, panic attacks, pleas. "I... I don't want to die," he said, giving Sirius the opportunity he seemed to crave.
"You aren't going to die," Sirius swore.
"Alright," Harry whispered, surprised to find real tears in his eyes.
"I love you."
Surprised again. "You do?"
"Of course I do."
"Oh. I... I love you too."
He'd never said that before. To anyone. Ever. Fifteen years old and never said 'I love you'. Strange, very strange.
Dumbledore spoke to him, quiet promises that Harry didn't bother to listen to. He fidgeted and bounced on his toes and glanced worriedly at his watch and then he was brought down to the train.
***
Hermione swept her hair over her shoulder, glanced up, met Harry's eyes, and grinned. "Honestly," she drawled, voice heavy with restrained laughter. "You'd think he thought this train ride could last until the term starts again, the rate Ron's going."
I wish it could. He smiled. "Ron's always slow at chess," he said.
She snorted. "Slow at other things, as well."
Ron finally decided to acknowledge them. "I'll have you know that strategy is an important part of chess."
"Oh, is it?" Hermione snickered. She watched him as he precisely moved his bishop, and then quickly followed up with a random move of a pawn that cost him his knight. "Then why is it, Ron, dear, that I'm kicking your arse?"
"Because you're cheating!" he cried.
"Am I?" she replied, and she was smirking.
"You are. Harry, you saw her!"
"I didn't see a thing," Harry replied, unable to restrain a smile.
"It doesn't matter," he said sullenly. "The trolley's coming around, we'll buy some sweets."
They did, eating them and talking for the rest of the ride. Harry was aware of a dark little voice in the back of his head whispering about how this could very likely be the last time he ever saw them, and that they didn't even realize it. He couldn't tell them, of course, they'd panic. It was better this way. They didn't have to live this last month terrified of the day Harry was going to die. That was his burden to bear. Well, his and Draco's... Which made it more bearable, of course.
The train pulled into the station and they gathered up their things. As they were about to leave the compartment, Harry cleared his throat. "Guys?" he said, and his eyes were shining with tears, his voice tight.
Ron frowned. "C'mon, Harry, you're not gonna cry, are you?" he teased. "It's only for the summer. You always get so upset when we have to go home."
"And who wouldn't, with a family like his?" Hermione scolded Ron, dropping her things and hugging Harry tightly. "Don't worry, Harry," she soothed. "We'll see you soon, it'll be fine. I'll owl you at least once a week, and send your birthday presents by owl as well."
Harry blinked. "Send them early, okay?" he said suddenly.
She frowned. "Why?"
"I don't think I'll be... be around on my actual birthday and I'd like to see them before..."
"Where are you gonna be? Don't tell me those Muggles of yours are taking you on vacation!" Ron cried. "That's brilliant, Harry!"
"Umm, yeah..." It was awkward and terribly hard, and Harry just stared at them both helplessly. He knew what he wanted to say, and it would go something like, "I don't want to leave you, don't make me get off this train and walk away from you because everything's different and the whole world has changed and you guys don't even know it because I kept it from you because I was scared and I can't tell you now because I don't want you to be scared... Don't let me walk away from you."
But instead, he just forced a weak smile, and whispered, "I'll miss you both so much."
"We'll be together again soon," Hermione promised.
"Yeah. Mum's still dead set on you coming and spending the last of the summer with us." Ron was making his way out of the compartment, talking over his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" Hermione whispered to Harry, scanning his face worriedly.
"Yeah," he lied. "Fine. Let's just... let's go, alright?" He suddenly needed to see Draco so badly it hurt. The platform was crazy, and he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to find him.
He hugged both Hermione and Ron, who was quite amused by it, and then promised to write often. Hermione hurried off to her parents and Ron's mother came over and hugged him, kissed his forehead and made him promise to come for the end of summer. He mumbled something inaudible and pulled away, scanning the chaotic crowd on the platform.
He said his goodbyes, made easier because he was so worried about missing Draco, and then pushed his way into the crowd. He was shorter than most of his year and those older than him, so it was hard, trying to see. Eyes welling up with panicked tears, he'd almost given up when someone grabbed his arm from behind.
"You've got an owl, yeah?" It was Draco.
Relief almost made Harry's knees give out. "Yeah," he whispered shakily, as someone knocked into him from behind and sent him stumbling against Draco.
"Owl me. Every day." Draco looked almost fierce, his eyes narrowing and glaring at whomever had dared run into Harry.
His voice was choking up, and Harry nodded. "I will."
"I'll check the libraries at home, I'll find something."
"Yeah." He wanted more of this. Wanted to curl up against Draco's chest and close his eyes and wish this all away. Instead, he caught sight of his uncle making his way through the crowd. "Oh god," he whimpered, hand twisting in Draco's. "I can't do this." He turned away, as if to run, get away. Something that would put this off a little longer.
Draco grabbed his shoulder and whispered, "I will come for you, Harry. As soon as I can, a week at the most, I swear it."
Turning back slowly, eyes wide and terrified, Harry nodded slowly. "Right. Alright."
Draco studied his face worriedly for a long moment, and then mumbled, "Oh fuck this." He jerked Harry against him, ignoring all their classmates and their parents, Harry's uncle, ignoring everything, and focusing only on the fact that Harry was shaking and scared and he needed to comfort him.
He kissed him, a quick brush of lips and then another, an attempt to soothe more than anything, and Harry sobbed low in his throat and tilted his head upwards, closing his eyes. Unable to resist that, Draco kissed him deeply now, two hands cupping his face, fingers buried in his hair, his mouth pressing insistently against Harry's. Breathing heavily, Harry opened his mouth to the kiss and pressed closer, his hands slipping around Draco's waist. He whimpered as Draco's tongue slipped into his mouth, and everything fell away around them and they forgot everything, completely giving themselves up to the kiss and the underlying desperate fear beneath it.
"Apparently, Draco, becoming a delinquent wasn't the only way you've changed this year," Lucius drawled from nearby, and it was Harry who reacted to his voice by jerking away from Draco, his eyes widening.
Draco ignored his father. "I'll come for you," he whispered again, kissing the side of Harry's neck. His eyes met Lucius', and Harry whimpered a bit, pushing at Draco weakly. Draco didn't care.
Before Lucius could say another word, Harry was grabbed roughly from behind and torn away from Draco, straight against Uncle Vernon. "What's the meaning of this?" he gasped, his face already flushed to an angry red. He was holding Harry roughly by the back of his shirt, shaking him a little, and Harry only barely managed to keep his balance.
Draco looked like he wanted to throttle him, but Lucius' hand had come down hard on his shoulder, so he only stood there bristling and growling softly, his eyes on Harry's, furious.
Harry wondered idly if Lucius would speak. If he'd sneer at Harry's Muggle relative, if he'd curse him, if he'd kill Harry for daring to touch his son. Lucius flicked his cold eyes over Vernon, his lips twisting a bit in some morbid sort of amusement, but apparently Vernon was too far beneath his notice to warrant a comment. "Come along then, Draco, this will be dealt with like the rest of your transgressions," he said smoothly, turning away.
Draco shot one look at his father and then stepped towards Harry, his eyes flicking up to Vernon coldly. Vernon fell back, startled and probably afraid he was about to be cursed, and Draco's lips tilted in the same way his father's had. Morbid amusement.
Then, he gently touched Harry's chin and said quietly, "I'll be there. I promise." He kissed Harry softly and then turned to follow his father.
Harry's lower lip was trembling and he sniffled, turning to his uncle. "If you're going to shout at me," he said, swallowing heavily, "can you do it in the car? It's already so loud here."
Vernon looked severely traumatized. Perhaps, Harry thought quietly, he realized how close he'd come to being killed. Instead of shouting, he just nodded jerkily, and turned to lead the way.
He didn't speak the whole way home, and Harry was glad. He knew that he wouldn't escape punishment for that, for proving that he was weird in more ways than strictly magical ones. His uncle had raged multiple times against the very same sort of thing that Harry had just let himself be caught engaging in. But he couldn't find the strength to care.
Aunt Petunia's lips tightened sourly when he walked into the house, but she didn't say a word. Not until Uncle Vernon, who had been forcibly forgetting all the frightening things he'd seen at the platform (namely two pairs of eyes belonging to what he was sure had to be vampires or something unnatural), said, "Looks like the boy's been busy at school, Petunia."
"Oh?" she replied, running her eyes over him as though looking for dirt of some kind, like whatever Uncle Vernon was referring to would have left a mark.
It had, Harry decided. Just not the kind that she could ever see.
"Got himself a boyfriend."
"A what?"
Uncle Vernon was smirking. Dudley had overheard from the next room, and he was laughing, laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest thing of the year. "Can I go to my room now?" Harry asked dully, staring at the floor.
He didn't wait for an answer, only turned and made his way up the stairs. Aunt Petunia was still asking shrill questions, his uncle was snidely telling her everything he'd seen, and Dudley was still laughing, but Harry didn't care.
He didn't have the energy to care.
The first week passed at a crawl for Harry, who stayed in his room and forgot to eat most of the time. He became quite good and ignoring voices around him, because the only voices he heard were his aunt's as she swore that she would not have 'one of them' (one of whom, he did not ask, because with Aunt Petunia, it hardly mattered), living in her home, his uncle, who delighted in telling a lewd and filthy version of what he'd seen on the platform (neglecting to mention his terror at the sight of Lucius Malfoy), and Dudley, who enjoyed telling anyone who would listen about his cousin, who was queer'.
Really, it was better to be deaf than waste his time with sounds like those.
So he stayed in his room and he wrote letters, to Hermione, Ron, Sirius, and Draco, assuring them that everything was right as rain. There were too many letters for Hedwig to handle, so he sent her with Draco's and stored the other ones in his desk, waiting for her to return. He sent Sirius' letters with the owl his letters came with, and Hermione and Ron's he sent with Pig, who came in the middle of the week with a letter from Ron.
And other than that, he stared out the window and waited for the week to be over and for Draco to come for him.
The week came and went without even a letter, and the days after that passed more slowly.
It was strange, he decided. He'd wanted time to slow down before, when he was with Draco, so that it could last forever. It hadn't obliged and now, when he wanted more than anything to see Draco again, it wouldn't speed up. Days crawled by slower than any he could remember, but still, they passed, until he gave up watching out the window and fell back into his bed and cried and cried because Draco had forgotten. Draco wasn't coming at all. He hadn't even replied to a single one of Harry's letters.
Draco wasn't coming.