This was the first time that Harry Potter had boarded the Hogwarts Express alone. Just the feeling of hollowness was enough to make him drop the idea and leave. But where would he go? Not to the Dursleys. Not to Grimmauld Place. Not to the Burrow, or at least whilst they were grieving. Hogwarts was all that was left, and even though his heart broke at the sight of the empty platform, it was his only choice. Hermione had decided to take a break from the Wizarding World for a while, and Harry couldn't blame her. She had been dragged into all this, and her dreams of Hogwarts being the perfect place had quite literally blown up in her face. Ron had left, grieving for his brother. No matter how often Ron had tried to convince Harry that he would be fine, Harry knew him too well. He hadn't questioned the matter even once, as Fred had been as much a brother to him as he had to Ron, but had no intention on intruding on the family's grieving.
He'd seen death and trauma a thousand times worse than any boy of seventeen should have. He has seen family after friend struck down beside him with nothing he could do. There are nights where he goes to sleep murmuring their names, dreams of their faces, and wakes up shouting, trying to save them. Secretly, Harry blamed himself. Because of his birth, and the matter of being a walking target, all the people around him died, even though there should have only been one death - his own. If only he had given himself up earlier, so many lives would be saved. People would not have to look upon him without the memory of a loved one floating around as a spirit.
He pulled himself from his thoughts, knowing they'd do him no good, and boarded the train. Normally, there would be a huge bustling, with no spare carriages, but now it was hopelessly deserted. He took one of them, pulling out a book from a pouch on his trunk, as hoisted the trunk onto the compartment above his head. He'd taken to reading when his thoughts got too much, hoping that someone else's problems would drown his out. Often, it worked, relaxing him and showing him that, hey, life's not all bad.
A rap on the window of the door pulled Harry out of his daydream and drew his attention to a figure at the door. A very familiar blond boy stood there, looking both bored and slightly lost. For once, he was on his own, seeing as many of his goons had either been forced out of the Hogwarts, or had not returned due to the disgrace of their family name. But not this one, no. Draco stood, still tall and proud in his stance, but his obvious nerves displayed on his face.
xxx
Draco Malfoy had originally had no intention of coming back to Hogwarts for a seventh year. His father could have no say, being locked away in a dismal cell in Azkaban, but his mother had changed his mind. She'd told him that unless he went for one more year, the few qualifications he had would not get him a job because of his background. He knew it was true, and even the school did not hold the same happiness it held for others, he understood he had no other choice.
He'd made his own way to the station, going in a muggle taxi against his will, as it was his only choice. As he waited on Platform 9 3/4, he looked around, trying to spot a familiar face, but to no such luck. He felt lost without his two goons behind him, and his posse of Slytherins around him. He was still mourning Crabbe, even though it did not particularly affect him, Crabbe had been by his side, no matter how stupid he was. Goyle had not returned, saying that his family's disgrace would throw his attempt at reconciliation back in his face. Of course, he hadn't used such long words, but Draco was much better at eloquent speaking.
Very few people from his house had returned, very few people from Hogwarts had returned overall. He could see a scattering of people in his year, but had no idea of their names. They probably knew him, though, so why bother trying to make new friends with people who know what you've done?
Draco sighed, almost regretting his decision to return. But it was too late to go back now. He grabbed his trunk and boarded the scarlet coloured train and looked around for a carriage. Everywhere was empty, carriage after carriage containing only two people, or one, or no one. Draco had no intention of sitting alone, so he decided to see if one of his friends had already boarded and so he hadn't seen them. He walked up the aisle, looking through the carriages until he recognized a familiar face.
Harry Potter, his hair as messy as ever, his face scrunched up in concentration, reading some book. Draco hesitated, wondering if it would be a good idea to knock and see if he could sit with him. Strangely, Potter was alone, his usual company probably deciding the bad memories from the end of last year was too much to cope with. Not that Draco could blame them; he may have never seen eye to eye with them, but he understood that they had been through far too much to come back.
Before he could lose his nerve, he rapped his knuckles against the glass, catching Potter's attention. With a small nod from the other, opened the door and walked in, lifting his trunk onto the racks above him. They were silent, just staring at each other for a second. They'd both grown so much, and looked so different, but the situation was familiar. Draco stuck out his hand.
"My name is Draco Malfoy. I was an absolute twat to you. And I'd like to make up for that, if you'd allow me?"
A pause as Harry ran the words over in his head.
He grasped Draco's hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Draco. I'm Harry Potter."
xxx
Harry was surprised to say the least. He'd never pinned Draco as the apologizing type, but apparently he was wrong. He had a lot against Malfoy, all the bullying and unkind words, not to mention his link to Voldemort, but he knew it would be wrong to hold that grudge forever. Draco had been the bigger man, admitting he was wrong. For that, Harry was very impressed.
He knew that Draco had returned for a fresh start, and he wasn't going to deny him that. Had this been two years ago, Harry would have had no hesitation when turning him away and making his life hell, but Harry knew what he'd been through. Draco's father had manipulated the way the boy thought, making Harry out to be the villain, and Harry had done the same when thinking about Draco, so he had no right to stop Draco trying to reconcile with him.
They sat down on the seats, trying at the same time to look at each other but avoid eye contact. Harry couldn't deny that Draco had grown up very well. His clothes were well made, with obviously fine cloth, and perfect tailored to fit him. His shoulders had filled out from the scrawny child he had been, unlike Harry, who, no matter how had he tried, could never seem to lose his stick-like frame. He had the handsome Malfoy genes - high cheekbones, strong jaw. He'd let his hair grow out, not long enough to look messy, just enough to look elegant and mature. His eyes wandered almost restlessly, grey orbs flickering everywhere, trying to avoid Harry's face.
"So," Harry started, trying to make conversation, "how was your summer?"
He wanted to shove the words back in as soon as he said it. The summer had been good for no one, especially Draco. But Draco didn't lash out, he just looked down at his shoes.
"It was okay, I guess. I spent most of it with Aunt Andromeda, after my mother had spoken to her."
"Oh, okay. That's good. Did you meet Teddy?"
A small smile graced Draco's lips, and Harry felt relieved. Then he felt confused after he felt relieved.
"Yeah, he's cute. He's already able to change his hair colour," Draco gave a little chuckle. "He likes it blue most often. But it changes colour when he needs something. Like it goes dark brown when he needs the toilet."
Harry couldn't help but snort at that. Draco looked at him strangely, but laughed along. Soon the two of them were laughing together like old friends, and as they gasped for air, the trolley lady came around.
"Anything from the trolley for you boys?"
Harry looked at Draco, who was eyeing some of the delicacies hungrily. He remembered the same look on Ron's face at the start of their first year and decided to go all out once more.
"We'll have two of everything, please."
xxx
Draco was surprised, to say the least. He wasn't expecting Harry to clear the cart, or even have the mind to get some for both of them. He passed over a pouch of Galleons before Draco could react, and the trolley lady had loaded his arms with food, so he had no choice but to sit down. As the trolley passed along, Draco just sat and stared at Harry for a second.
"Why?" he said, otherwise unable to form an answer.
"Oh, you just looked a bit indecisive. So I chose for you."
"I didn't want anything."
"Try telling me that without lying."
Honestly, Draco couldn't. Food from the trolley was something he'd never tried, but had often wished he could. His father always told him he was above it. "It's for the people who can't be bothered to feed themselves at home. For those who don't care for their body. You're better than that."
But Draco looked at Harry, who had probably had something from the trolley every year. It wasn't as if he was in bad shape, or like he had no thought for how he looked. And besides, Draco was practically an adult now. His father had no right to dictate how he lived anymore. So when Harry opened the first packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and offered Draco one, he took it without hesitation. But, due to his lack of experience with the flavours, he spat it straight back out.
"What was it? Vomit? Earwax?" Harry said, visibly stifling his laughter.
"I have a horrid feeling it was dog shit. But I have no idea how I know that," Draco said as Harry started to ask. "It was so bad I doubt it could be anything else."
"Ha! The worst I've had is earwax," Harry said, mimicking throwing up. "It was that bad, I didn't touch the yellow beans for ages. But then I found that the other flavour was toffee, so I decided it was worth the risk."
Draco had no idea how to respond, so instead he just picked up a pumpkin pasty. He inspected it, making sure there was no chance of his mouth being bombarded with unwanted flavours, before tentatively taking a bite. If he was honest, Draco had never tasted any pastry so good. Maybe it was because he rarely had pastry, or these were somehow magical, or if just the situation he was in made them taste better than they should. He was going against every single one of his father's morals - talking to Harry Potter, eating food from the trolley, letting others pay, letting his guard down even a little bit. Draco was finally starting to relax; he wasn't sitting as rigidly as before, and was even laughing at some of Harry's random jokes. He wasn't sure why he felt so comfortable, after all the tension between the two that had been there for so long, but he knew the ice was breaking now, for better or for worse.
xxx
Harry had no idea what had come over him. Here he was, sitting with a sworn enemy, buying him food, and telling jokes as if they'd been friends for ever. Part of Harry wanted to believe that it was something to make himself feel better - filling the gap the battle had left until he could settle down firmly. But he knew this wasn't the case. Maybe it was the years of pent up tension finally breaking away, but Harry was beginning to realize there was more to Draco than the bitterness and ego he often displayed, and that maybe the war hadn't only stripped him of his father's ideals, but those characteristics, too.
Harry decided it was finally time to give Draco Malfoy a chance. Draco had been brought up to hate Harry, yet he could see none of that hatred in Draco's eyes now. Harry could see all the reason's Draco should dislike him - it was his fault that Draco's father was in Azkaban, his fault that the Malfoy name would have a constant cloud of fear associated with it, his fault that whatever life Draco had known would be torn up and thrown away. He thought about how he should have heeded Sirius' words with more caution than he had since he'd heard them: "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on." Harry could finally see the meaning behind the words now. Even after hearing them, Harry had still believed the world was a battlefield and there were two distinct sides, but now he could see that there were people who walked on middle ground, or people who were blindly following one side because it was all they knew.
"Are you okay? You're staring at me," Draco said, adjusting the scarf around his neck. Harry broke out of his thoughts, finding he was indeed staring intently at the blond.
"I-yeah, I'm fine," he cleared his throat. "Just thinking."
Draco made no action to ask him to elaborate, which Harry was grateful for. It would've been slightly awkward to explain that he was thinking about Draco so much. Draco just shrugged and went back to his own thoughts, and they both sat in silence for a while longer, before Draco got up and dusted himself off.
"We'll be reaching soon. We'd better get changed."
Harry nodded, following his example, and lowered his trunk. He couldn't help but glance back at Draco's lithe form gracefully bringing down his luggage with ease. Harry was quite a bit shorter than the other, so he stuck with looking inelegant as usual. He wondered whether he should offer to move to another carriage as they changed, or if Draco would offer first. He dropped his trunk onto the seat, opening it to reveal the hurried packing, with clothes practically falling out of it. He snatched up his robes, letting the lid fall closed as he turned around, his mouth falling open slightly in shock at the sight that greeted him.
Draco had already begun to change, turned respectfully away from Harry, probably assuming he was doing the same. His scarf and jacket were on the peg on the wall of the carriage, his shirt neatly folded on the seat next to his immaculately packed trunk. His pale back was rippling with lean muscles and scars, some small ones on his shoulders, and larger ones that spanned across his back. He pulled his shirt around his shoulders as Harry tried to remove the blush from his cheeks. It's not like you haven't seen a shirtless guy before, you dork! he argued with himself as he hurriedly turned back and began to quickly change himself, hoping he'd been done by the time Draco was. But the boys I've seen aren't usually this fit, he reasoned back, and his other side seemed to agree with him, before he remembered that this was Draco Malfoy that was in question, and he shook the flustered feeling from himself.
Harry waited until he heard some shuffling to confirm that Draco was done and putting his trunk back on the rack to do the same. He wanted to avoid anymore of those moments where he was caught staring at Draco in such a way. It was just embarrassing.
xxx
The train was drawing into Hogsmeade station, now. The lanterns lit up the platform, as they always did, and the students began to disembark. When Draco had initially seen the state of Platform 9 3/4, with barely a soul in sight, he hadn't quite remembered that some of them would have already boarded. Though the station wasn't as crowded as usual, the regular hustle and bustle was evident: the first years following Hagrid to the boats, the other years heading towards the carriages. They came down to the platform, leaving their trunks as usual. They could both see some familiar faces - Neville Longbottom was back, a few Hufflepuffs - Justin Finch-Fletchley, Draco remembered, and two others. There must have been some more, but Draco couldn't spot any Slytherins he particularly liked, only Theodore Nott and Astoria Greengrass, with her sister. He assumed most Slytherins wouldn't return because of the shame their families had faced after the war, and correctly so. Harry made no move to go and join any of the others in their year, though his company would've been more than welcomed, so Draco made no attempt either.
The two of them walked towards the carriages in silence, neither of them wanting to start any small talk in case they encountered an unwanted memory. As they drew closer, Draco's eyes widened at what he saw pulling the carriages. Large, winged, skeletal horses stood, harnessed to each carriage. Their beak like faces were black, with glowing eyes, and they stamped their hooves impatiently as they waited to fly. From the gasps he heard around him, he knew he was not the only one who could see them.
"What...what are they?" he asked Harry, his eyes fixed on the horses in wonder.
"They're thestrals. Only those who've witnessed death can see them, so I guess that's everyone now. Maybe not the first years, but everyone else can probably see them," he said, not looking too bothered by them.
"You've seen them before, haven't you? Since when?" Draco asked.
"Since...Cedric's death. When I came back in fifth year, I saw them for the first time," Harry said, closing the conversation.
"I'm sorry." The words had left Draco's mouth involuntarily, not realizing that 'sorry' was not a word known to be in Draco's dictionary.
Harry shrugged. "He's not the first death, and he wasn't the last one. But it's over. He gave his life for a good cause, and his death has aided our success, so at least it means something," he said, climbing into a carriage. Draco followed him on. They weren't joined by anyone, as there were enough carriages for everyone to take their own for each group of friends. Draco debated carrying on a new conversation, but had no idea how to start it. He had never been in a position to be nice to someone, but often had been the one on the receiving end of other's 'kind words'. Draco wasn't a compassionate person, he easily admitted that. He knew every single one of his flaws - he was proud, egotistical and arrogant. He thought too much of himself, and too little of everyone else. But after the train journey, Draco could see the flaws for what they were, rather than something he couldn't help, and he wanted to change that. He didn't wanted to carry on the Malfoy reputation as his father had left it, he wanted to fix the name, to restore it to the same position of respect it had been at, but this time with reason.
Harry saved him the trouble of starting a conversation by doing it himself.
"So, what subjects are you taking this year? We can only take three apparently," he said.
"Potions. Transfiguration. Charms. Simple, lots of doors open for even a small career. Yourself?"
"Same three, actually. I was planning on Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I think I'm qualified enough in that by now, don't you think?" Harry replied with a little laugh, causing Draco to smile without realizing, and then try to wipe it off.
"I believe you are," he said in the same tone. The carriage pulled to a stop by the gates a few minutes later, and they joined the clump of other students who were being registered by Flitwick at the front of the queue. As they reached him, he gave Harry a warm smile.
"Oh, he's back! Great to see you, Mr Potter. Your trunk will be in your dormitory, as usual. Off to the feast, now." Flitwick turned his gaze to Draco, and immediately, the temperature seemed to drop. "And Mr Malfoy. The same goes for you, too. Off you go." And that was it. He went back to the rest of the students, his cheery voice returning. Harry was a little ahead, not hearing the exchange between Draco and Flitwick.
Draco mentally shook himself, telling himself to get over it, it was just stereotypes, and that he'd face them for the rest of his life. He joined Harry, who was waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall.
Together they entered the room they'd seen thousands of times, but all both of them could see was the utter chaos that they'd experienced only months before. The staff had done well repairing it, but small cracks, missing bricks, scratches on the ground held the memories of each person who'd passed here. Harry headed instinctively towards the Gryffindor table, as Draco went to the Slytherin one.
"I'll...I'll catch you later, Draco."
"Yeah. Sure. Uh - sleep well, if I don't see you before that."
"You too."
But they both know that this was to be a sleepless night like many more to come, and that those little memories would not leave them in peace for a long time.