Harry groaned comfortably as he slumped at the table – no matter how many times he experienced the Hogwarts Welcoming Feast, it always managed to delight him with the sheer quantity (and quality) of food available. He thought briefly of the summers he had spent being borderline starved by the Dursleys, and his stomach gurgled happily as the food settled, Harry patting his tummy as he absently looked up to the ceiling above him. It was strange seeing brick rather than the night outside – a huge crack ran across the stone like a wound, the result of one of McGonagall's own spells that Snape had deflected away when they had fought shortly before the Potions Master had fled the castle. It was just one more thing that hadn't been fixed from the battle.
Harry turned back to the table and was in the middle of chatting with Susan Bones, who was sitting across from him, when McGonagall appeared at the end of the table. Harry looked around, startled – he'd barely even noticed the Hall emptying; only the Eighth years remained.
McGonagall smiled warmly at the thirteen students before her, her eyes softer than was usual for the stern Professor.
"I must say it is wonderful to see you all here. I know that this must be strange for you, but I – and your other Professors – are so glad to see you have returned. Now, because of the limitations of the House dormitories, you thirteen will be staying together – Professor Flitwick and I have arranged a new common room and dorms for you. If you will follow me," she gestured and the thirteen Eighth Years stood and followed her out of the Great Hall, murmuring amongst themselves.
"She doesn't mean we'll be sleeping in the same room, does she?" Ron asked quietly and Harry shrugged.
"Well obviously we'll be split by gender, but I think we will be rooming with the other houses, if that's what you're implying Ron," Hermione replied, slipping to walk in between her two friends. "And don't complain – the Headmistress has more important things to be worrying about than you being paranoid around the Slytherins."
"Easy for you to say!" Ron said, his voice rising a little in volume – Hermione nudged him gently with her elbow and he dropped his voice again as the group followed McGonagall onto the moving staircases – the Headmistress had paused and coughed pointedly, and the staircase had moved immediately back to where it was supposed to be; Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed, before he tuned back in to what Ron was saying.
"You don't have to worry about wannabe Death Eaters hexing you while you're asleep - you've only got Bullstrode to keep an eye on, and she can barely tie her own shoelaces!"
Hermione elbowed Ron again, and this time it was a sharp jabbing motion that made the ginger wince.
"That was unnecessarily cruel, Ron. Ginny's already told you – we have to stop this kind of thinking. You heard what the Sorting Hat said!"
"Precisely right, Ms Granger," a sharp voice interrupted the trio, and Harry realised with a flush of embarrassment that the group had stopped and had been listening to Ron and Hermione bicker.
The two brunette Slytherins were glaring at Ron in particular, and Millicent Bulstrode looked like she wanted to punch his nose in. Zabini had a hand on her shoulder, but he was sneering coldly at Ron in disgust. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked angry, but he wasn't glaring at the trio – instead he had stepped slightly away from his fellow Slytherins and was scowling at the ground. He must have felt Harry looking at him, because Malfoy's silver eyes snapped up and caught Harry's. The blonde sneered, his face twisting proudly before he turned to the Headmistress.
"Moving on from Weasley's inability to keep his mouth shut – what's the password, Headmistress. Some of us would like to go to bed."
McGonagall frowned at Malfoy, but Harry noticed she didn't chastise his jibe at Ron, which she no doubt thought was warranted after the redhead's outburst. She turned to gesture at the portrait behind her – it was of a young girl with honey blonde curls who was sitting on a swing, eating an apple. She waved cheerfully at them as McGonagall introduced her.
"This is the portrait of Patience DeMerde – she guards your new common room. The password, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall added looking sidelong at the blonde Slytherin, "Is Contendite sanabit."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and Hermione snorted delicately as the portrait of the young girl opened, and as the other Eighth years started through the door, Harry looked around quickly, not actually sure where they were – after a few seconds he realised they were on the fifth floor, not far from the Prefects Bathroom; around the corner was the corridor Fred and George had transfigured into a swamp in their prank crusade against Umbridge.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, pausing in the doorway and looking back at him, and he smiled and followed her through into their new dorm.
The layout of the room was what hit Harry first – it was an odd shape. At first look it seemed square, but he could see that it actually had a nook off to one side and the back wall was actually on an angle. The wallpaper was a light, warm brown that matched the wooden floors and the leather couches that sat in front of a roaring fire. The room was lit very well – there were candles placed strategically around the strangely shaped room so that every oddly angled corner was lit. The ceiling was high, and above the entranceway was a loft that appeared to be a miniature study and library area – Harry could already see Hermione edging over to the spiral staircase in the corner with interest, and the Ravenclaws weren't far behind her. Scattered through the room were comfortable looking chairs, and in the far corner there was a chess board. One wall was made up almost entirely of windows that, after a few seconds thinking, Harry reasoned must look out over the lake – below the windows was a long cushioned window seat, and it was here that the Gryffindors sat together.
The Slytherins had commandeered the couch, and Harry grinned as Anthony Goldstein threw himself down on the ground by the fire, settling out in a comfortable sprawl. The Ravenclaw caught Harry's eye and gave him a cheeky wink, clearly aware of Justin's pursed lips as he settled himself carefully in the chair nearest the fire, the Hufflepuff obviously not approving of Anthony's choice of seat. Harry wiped the grin from his face as McGonagall stood before them, her pronounced silence becoming louder as the group took their time getting settled.
"If you are all comfortable," she said dryly after a moment, and Harry had to stop himself smiling. He'd missed his old head of house – the woman could say more with one precisely raised eyebrow than most could with their mouths.
"Now, before I let you free for the evening, I am afraid we have a few things we need to cover. First and foremost – your schedules will be delivered tomorrow morning, but they will be different to what you are no doubt expecting. This is because your heads of houses and I have agreed that as your being here is somewhat... unconventional, you will have more responsibilities than the younger students. Because of the size of your year group, and because it has been difficult to organise your timetables, your class schedules are going to be very different than usual." Harry could see Hermione biting her lip nervously out of the corner of his eye and he patted her knee absently to reassure her, but the bookworm didn't even react, so focussed was she on McGonagall.
"You will all be attending your usual core classes, which include Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic. These Eighth Year classes will include information that you should have learnt last year, but they will also be adjusted for your more mature skill level. Another change we are implementing as of this year is that Muggle Studies is now compulsory from first year through to seventh, so you will all be attending that as your last core class, alongside your House mates in Seventh Year. I don't think I need to explain to you why we have made this decision." There was a heavy silence as she stared around the room. No one spoke, and after a pause, McGonagall moved on.
"As for your electives – Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures and the like – these are all still available, though you will only be able to choose one rather than two, and you will be placed into the Seventh year classes. I do not want to hear of any disruptions," She peered at them all sternly over her glasses, her thin mouth pursued. "You should remember that though we are very glad you are here, it is a privilege, not a right. I expect all of you to behave as the mature adults you have become."
Zabini snorted, and Ron glared across the room at the Slytherin, who made a rather rude gesture at the redhead behind McGonagall's back.
"This is why," the Headmistress continued, "after discussing it with your Heads of House, I have decided to entrust you all with a special project to be completed throughout this year. As you may have noticed, the castle is still in some state of disrepair. I will be assigning two of you each to a portion of the castle that needs fixing. You will be given two afternoons each week to work with your partner on your project, though I expect you to take initiative with this project. I warn you," she said sharply, cutting over the excited whispers that had risen from the students. "I will be assigning you projects that I think you will either benefit from, or will have particular success with. Chances are, you will be assigned with someone from another House. You will, if you excuse my bluntness, deal with it."
Hermione raised her hand and Ron sniggered, muttering to Harry behind her back 'Professor, Professor', in the same ridiculous voice he had used earlier in the evening. Harry smothered a grin as Hermione calmly pushed Ron off his seat as she spoke to McGonagall. Harry had to give the two Gryffindor women their credit – neither of them even flinched when Ron swore as he landed on his arse on the floor.
"Professor, you said we would be in pairs, but there are thirteen of us. Will someone be working alone?"
"Yes, Ms Granger, I actually have a particular task in mind for you to complete alone, if you don't mind working by yourself?" the Headmistress asked, and Harry had to stop himself rolling his eyes fondly as his friend agreed enthusiastically.
Hermione and McGonagall had what Ron called 'An Understanding' – the understanding being, Ron had once explained with a scholarly tone that Harry privately thought had made him sound rather like Percy, that they were both terrifying and brilliant, and so would get along splendidly and have tea and biscuits when each had a spare moment. Hermione had scolded him, but the two boys could tell that she had been secretly pleased (though they were never sure if that was because Ron called Hermione brilliant, or because he'd called her terrifying).
"Now," McGonagall was saying, "You may be Eighth Year, but you still should work hard to earn points for your Houses. Slytherins, your head of House remains Professor Slughorn. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, Professors Flitwick and Sprout. Gryffindors," she turned towards the window seat with a melancholy smile. "I am afraid that, as Headmistress, I am no longer able to be your head of House."
There was a fond cry of dismay, though the five Gryffindors had expected as much.
"Oh, settle yourselves," McGonagall scolded, though Harry could see there was a slight blush to her cheeks and her stern expression didn't quite manage to hide the pleased note in her voice. "From now on, Professor Sinistra will be acting as Head of Gryffindor House. You may address any House issues to her."
Anthony Goldstein, at this point, yawned quite loudly, apologising halfway through. Mafloy tiredly muttered "quite" from his spot at the far end of the couch.
"Not much more now, Mr Goldstein, though I apologise for keeping you up past your bedtime." McGonagall said with a sharp smile, and the other students snickered as Anthony spluttered in protest. The ex-Head of Gryffindor had a whip smart sense of humour, but those outside her House rarely got the opportunity to witness it.
"Last but not least – as I have said, your being here is a privilege, but the staff have agreed that due to your age and supposed maturity, you should be extended certain freedoms that the other students do not have access to. This includes the use of the Prefect Bathroom, which can be found just down the corridor, behind the fourth door to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered. The password is," and McGonagall paused with a disdainful turn of her lips, "bubbly-wubbly."
There were a few more snickers, and she continued on with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Yes, most amusing. The other, and I dare I say, far more interesting freedom is this: provided that you sign out by writing your destination and expected return time next to your name on the large scroll," she nodded towards a pinboard near the door that Harry hadn't seen coming in, "then you may visit Hogsmeade at any time after class hours."
There was a swell of chatter from the group as they discussed this wonderful new freedom, and McGonagall nodded a brisk farewell, adding over her should "Gentlemen, your two dorms are up the stairs and to the left, ladies your room is the same on the right. Have a good evening, Eighth Years – and for Godric's sake, try to be abed by a decent hour!" – but the students had barely heard her, as twelve of them chattered amongst themselves in their small groups about the school year to come. The thirteenth had slipped away unnoticed.
Harry was getting undressed for bed an hour later in the room he shared with Ron, Justin and Zabini when something jangled in his trouser pocket. He emptied the pocket out onto his bed, and stared at the silver coins there as he realised that Malfoy had disappeared up to his dorm almost as soon as McGonagall had left the common room.
'Maybe he was just tired', Harry thought as he placed the coins in a neat pile on his bedside table next to his glasses. But as he slid beneath the sheets of his four-poster bed, the heavy blankets settling soothingly over his shoulders, he couldn't help the feeling that Malfoy had made a hasty retreat, though exactly from what, Harry could not say. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that maybe the year ahead wouldn't be so bad - even with sharing boarding space with the other houses - if Malfoy kept his head down. After all, it wasn't like Harry had to interact with him at all.
Yes, Harry decided sleepily. He would give Malfoy his pile of change the next morning, and that would be the end of it. They could spend the rest of the year ignoring each other, for all Harry cared. Actually, Harry mused optimistically, maybe this year would be a quiet one, now that Voldemort was gone for good. Maybe he'd be able to get through his classes and do this project for McGonagall without something ridiculous or dramatic happening to him.
Maybe he'd finally be able to get on with his life.
Well, one can hope, Harry thought dreamily as he finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
In the room across the hall, behind powerful muffling and privacy charms, Draco Malfoy lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing for exactly the same thing.