Chapter Text
“Mother. For the last time. Stop packing my things, I’m not going!” Draco Malfoy looked apprehensively at his mother, who was elegantly bustling around, packing his school trunk.
“Draco, my darling, you’re already enrolled.” said Narcissa Malfoy, flourishing her wand at a pair of robes, which settled themselves on top of the contents of his trunk. “Besides, you don’t want to be stuck with your mother in house arrest, do you?”
She said this with a smile, though Draco could see the strain on her face, around her eyes. It had been hard on her, on both of them of course, as accustomed as they had been to the reputation of the Malfoy name and money. His father was still in Azkaban, so his absence was another thing out of place. And the trials for all of them had been, to say the least, not enjoyable.
He’d sat in that cold, chain-wrapped chair in front of the Wizengamot as they shifted and murmured to each other. And why would they not? He was the son of a Death Eater. He was a Death Eater. Draco kept his face expressionless, as was his talent. He knew so many of them would love to see him carted off with his father. Hell, he deserved it. Deserved worse.
“Draco?” His mother gazed at him with a worried expression. He had a feeling she knew what had gone through his head. He had never been able to hide anything from her, even as a boy.
“I’d much prefer being here with you than back at that place, Mother,” he replied. “It’s not like they want me there.”
“Darling, trust me. Besides, your friends will be there with you. It will be good for you to not be alone.”
“I’m fine being alone.” he muttered, fidgeting with his wand, fingers moving over the well-worn wood. It was true. He’d shut himself up in his bedroom most of the summer, or wandered the grounds by himself, which had worried his mother.
As for his friends, well, he knew he couldn’t count on them. Blaise, Pansy, he knew how they thought, how much their families were like his own. And he knew that they had most likely been told to cease contact with him, as his own father would have ordered him to do if one of them was in his current position. But Draco said nothing, letting his mother imagine a happy school year for him. It was the least he could do for her.
He knew his return to Hogwarts would not be pleasant. He knew he would be hated, and whispered about. But he was already used to that. Plenty of it had occurred this summer whenever he had needed to leave the house. It didn’t help that he had to have Aurors accompany him everywhere he went.
His mother sighed and levitated his school trunk, making her way down the drafty entrance hall of their manor. Draco trailed along behind her, casting a disdainful eye upon the neglected surroundings. With just himself and his mother and no house-elf, only the parts of the home that they lived in were kept in their former glory. The rest of the manor, like this hall, was dusty and dimly lit.
He heard the snake coming towards him. A whispering sound, as the powerful body coiled on the floor of the entry hall, scales sliding forward. Draco shrank back from the fangs, the staring eye of the serpent. Normally he liked snakes, as they were a mark of Slytherin. This snake, however, signified something else. Someone else.
“Come along, Draco,” called his mother, snapping him back to the present. He walked to her side and glimpsed the outside lawn, to the Aurors waiting under a gray sky to bring him to the school train. He felt a great dislike for them, for the shame of being walked to the train like a dog. But he was Draco Malfoy, ex Death Eater, and of course could not be trusted out of house arrest by himself. Narcissa set down his trunk and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you at Christmas, darling.”
“Yes, Mother.” he answered dutifully. Draco could only imagine what the Aurors thought of all this. The young man with blond hair and a dark suit saying goodbye to his mother, who was living in a shell of a home. He wondered if their eyes were drawn to his covered forearm, if they could see the memories flitting like ghosts behind his eyes. If they hated him, as he hated himself.
As he walked towards the Aurors over the damp grass, he felt the mask slide down. With his mother, he’s just Draco. Not a Death Eater, not hated, just a boy. With everyone else, he’s Draco Malfoy. The bully, the traitor. It had to be this way, for he knew the vulnerable side of him would be shredded if it was revealed. His father had taught him that.
Draco nodded to the Aurors and grasped the handle of his trunk. As the two wizards stood on either side of him in preparation to Apparate, they took his arms. He had to fight the urge to tear free from their grips. A second later he felt the gut-twisting sensation and just before he disappeared, looked to his mother standing in front of Malfoy Manor, a solitary figure swallowed by a greater shadow.
....
“Harry, dear, are you ready to leave?” Andromeda Tonks addressed the lone figure standing by the window, idly making smoke rings with his wand as he gazed at the waving grasses behind the house.
“Oh-yes,” he said, turning to face her. “I’ll be right down.” She smiled and left, and he heard her footsteps as she descended the stairs, then the happy gurgles of Teddy Lupin. Harry turned to his closed trunk, sitting on the neatly made bed, and lifted it down onto the wooden floor.
At the beginning of the summer he had been invited to stay with the Weasley’s. As much as he normally loved spending time at the Burrow, playing Quidditch with Ron and Ginny in the back field, and enjoying Molly Weasley’s cooking; Harry had known that he did not want to burden the grieving family, as much as they protested it would be welcome. He had thought it best to leave them be for the summer, although he still had sent letters to Ron.
He had been pondering getting his own place, since he would be graduating soon enough, but then he had gotten a second invitation- from the grandmother of his godson, Teddy Lupin.
Andromeda had welcomed him, not just because he was Harry Potter, but because he was godfather to Teddy and therefore she considered him family. The very first time he had seen her, when he had crash-landed in her garden with Hagrid, he had thought her to be Bellatrix and only a few seconds later he had seen that it was not her. Now he knew that Andromeda Tonks and her sister were very much different, and she had become something like an aunt to him in the three months he had stayed with her and the baby Teddy.
Those three months had been blessedly peaceful, but Harry had stayed up in his room, thinking on many things. Grieving, for one. He felt sometimes as if he would never be able to look back on the memories of the fallen without feeling as if the Whomping Willow had socked him in the stomach. They never left his thoughts.
“Harry, you’ll be late!” called Andromeda. Harry shook these thoughts from his head and brought down his school trunk, joining Andromeda downstairs. She’s holding Teddy, who’s hair was bright pink at the moment, and passed him over to Harry. He gave Teddy a hug and dropped a kiss onto his head then set him down on the sofa; where he looked up at Harry, waving his chubby fists as his hair changed from pink to silver. Harry smiled, mussing up Teddy’s hair gently.
“Alright Harry, now you go first and I’ll follow you with Teddy.”
Harry nodded and stood his trunk on its side. He paused for a second as his eye caught on a photo that Andromeda kept by the sofa, a shot of Tonks and Remus at their wedding. As they smile cheerfully in the photo, Harry looked away. It's painful to see them, alive and whole, in the photo, and to realize that they, like Fred, were gone. And he, Harry, was left.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. Like the Weasley’s, grief had plagued him all summer. Or, as Dumbledore would say, love. Harry smiled bittersweetly at this memory, before turning on the spot and Apparating.
He rematerialized at Platform 9 ¾, which was full of blueish steam from the train. Students and parents were everywhere, and he sidled on the brick wall trying to be inconspicuous, waiting for Andromeda, and looking for Ron and Hermione in the crowd.
With a small pop, Andromeda appeared, arms cradled around Teddy, who was crying from the Apparation. She gave Harry an exasperated look. “Well, now I know he doesn’t like Apparating.” Harry chuckled half-heartedly, mind still on Lupin and Tonks.
“Hey- Harry!” Hermione appeared out of the haze on the platform and wrapped Harry in a tight hug, which he returned.
“Hermione!” he replied. Seeing her lifted his spirits, and he smiled at her.
“Hello,” Hermione said to Andromeda, pushing back her hair. Teddy babbled and his hair began to change to the tawny brown color of Hermione’s, who smiled when she noticed.
Harry had owled Hermione over the summer as well, and knew that her summer had been more stressful than his. She had gone to Australia to restore her parent’s memories, and thankfully it had been a success.
“Ron’s got us a compartment on the train. Want to join him?”
“Yeah,” Harry turned and quickly said goodbye to Andromeda and Teddy. “Thanks for having me this summer.”
“It was lovely to have you, dearie.” Harry waved, then he and Hermione began threading their way through the throng towards the Hogwarts Express. A knot of anxiety began twisting in his stomach as people start to notice him.
“...see over there, that’s him…”
“...it’s Harry Potter…”
Eager faces crammed around Harry, and he felt stifled as he tried to get to the train. People were talking and shouting over each other, so many he couldn’t make out individual words at all. Hands scrabbled at his jacket, wanting to be near the Savior of the Wizarding World, as they had dubbed him. Another title. How he hated the titles.
“Excuse me,” he said, but no one listened, and the crowd pushed in at him from all directions, and he had to shut his eyes for a second.
Suddenly a hand grabbed him and unceremoniously dragged him onto the train, shutting the door behind him. Harry sagged against the door as Hermione let go of his arm. Harry sighed and let his breathing slow down.
“I should’ve Apparated right onto the train,” he said to Hermione wryly.
“That’s not a bad idea,” she replied lightly. “Harry,” she begins, eyes looking at him inquisitively, and he knows she’s noted what happened. “Do you get panic attacks?”
“Yes.” Harry set down his trunk and ran his fingers through his hair. “This summer it’s been happening a lot.”
“Well, if you need anything to help with them, come talk to me, ok? My mom had panic attacks, so I know which medicines help.” She mussed his hair affectionately.
“Thanks Hermione.”
….
Draco and the Aurors appeared with a crack just outside of Kings Cross Station, in a small copse of trees where the Muggles wouldn’t see. He irritably jerked free of the two wizards, and ignoring them, began walking toward the station, letting no hint of his dislike seep through his façade. That was a feat in itself, he thought, for he disliked everything right now. His two silent guards, who trailed after him, the fact that in a minute or so he would be surrounded by people who hated him, that he was going back to Hogwarts.
He shoved his way through the throngs of Muggles, letting his anger at all of this be his shield, and stepped through the barrier with no hesitation.
Once he’s onto Platform 9 ¾, he strode quickly to the train, giving no attention to those around him, even as they started to realize who was among them. Soon there was no one in front of him. No one wanted to be near a Malfoy. He sneered. Draco knew very well what was thought of him. He thought it himself.
He boarded the train at the very end and sat in the last compartment, locking the door and, for good measure, spelling the glass to be opaque. Draco’s resigned to a horrible term, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be bothered before he even got there.
Draco gazed out of the window. Catching sight of his reflection, he sighed. In many ways he still looked the same brash, bold boy- blond hair, though he had foregone the gel- pale and aloof. But he knew he’s changed from those days. The most obvious change lay on his arm. His Dark Mark. Or what remained of it.
Draco lay facedown on his pillow, the only movement the wind blowing in through his open window. It was nighttime, and once again, Draco couldn’t sleep. He clenched his jaw as his forearm throbbed. Every night, when he tried to sleep, his arm would light up with pain. By this point he had stopped trying to sleep, welcoming the pain. He deserved it. He hated himself, hated the Mark on his arm. He drew himself up, sitting on his bed, and glared at it. The skull and snake, twisting obscenely on his arm, jet black. As he looked at it, he remembered...things. Voices. Screaming. The sounds of the dying. Draco shut his eyes as he remembered letting Death Eaters into the castle, willingly allowing and aiding the destruction of his school. Putting his friends in danger. He remembered the tower.
He didn’t realize he was crying until a tear dropped onto the Mark. He opened his eyes, disgusted with himself. He was a traitor. Had helped murderers. And to top it all off, weak, crying on his bed in the middle of the night.
He hated what he had done. He hated that he hadn’t seen a way out of it. He hated Voldemort, and all of his followers. He hated his father. He hated the Mark on his arm. Draco screamed.
His mother burst into his room as he burnt the Mark off of his arm.
Draco laid his head against the cool glass of the window and pulled up his sleeve. No longer was there a Dark Mark upon his arm. Instead there was a large, ugly burn scar. He shook his head and covered it up again, resuming his gaze out the window and avoiding his reflection.
He recognized many of the faces out on the platform. For the most part they’re happy, smiling. A different breed than himself. As the smoke from the train drifted along the platform, he saw someone. Draco bolted upright. Was that-
No. He wilted down into his seat. It wasn’t Bellatrix. Couldn't possibly be Bellatrix, as this lady was with a baby. If Bellatrix had a baby, she’d probably cast some horrid spell on it.
Draco suddenly realized- his mother and Bellatrix had another sister. Andromeda? Yes, that was her name. He had never met her, of course. She married a Muggleborn, so naturally the rest of his family ceased contact with her. Then he saw another figure standing beside her.
Potter. Draco turned away from the window and rested his head on the seat. He had enough on his mind already without the darling of the Wizarding World intruding on his thoughts.
….
Hermione and Harry found Ron in one of the very last compartments on the train. The only other compartment nearby was opposite theirs, and looked to be empty, but Harry couldn’t see through the glass. They turned into the compartment and close the door. Harry put his trunk up on the rack quickly before greeting Ron.
“Hey mate,” exclaimed Ron as he clapped Harry on the back. Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and sat next to Ron, who looked the same as Harry remembered, Hermione did as well.
Harry grinned as he spotted a familiar wicker basket. “Hermione, is that what I think it is?”
She laughed. “Yes, it’s Crookshanks.” As she goes on talking the basket began to hiss and quake a little. “He had a good time in Australia, but his fur got even harder to manage than my hair.” Ron smiled and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.
“We love your hair, ‘Mione.” he said. “Especially when you’re in Potions and it puffs up, like the cat’s.” Hermione feigned outrage and punched him gently, and Harry laughed.
Harry had not realized how much he’d missed this. Sitting in this small compartment with his two best friends, all of the things that crowded his mind are forgotten for a while, and it’s like he’s eleven years old again, fresh-faced and eager for the future.
As the train started to move, they talk about Hogwarts.
“Professor McGonagall-”
“Headmistress McGonagall, Ron-”
“..said that we have to meet with our Head of House about our careers when we leave Hogwarts.”
“Honestly, I forgot about that,” Harry said, leaning on the armrest. “I haven’t really thought about it. But I don’t think I want to be an Auror anymore- I’ve had enough of that life.”
Hermione grinned, her eyes brightening. “I don’t think I want to do that either, but there are so many options! I mean, you could study something, like wandlore or Transfiguration, or you could be a shopkeeper or go abroad, or I could even take SPEW further, or-”
“Do you really want to do all that, Hermione?” asked Ron, a bemused expression on his face.
“Well no, but it’s all so interesting and the point is, Ronald-” she gave him a look that Harry called the you-need-to-be-studying-and-finish-your-homework-not-talk-about-Quidditch look, “-that you can do, well, anything you want!”
“I guess so,” Ron yawned and shook his red hair out of his eyes. “I might still try to be an Auror.”
“Go for it, mate,” encouraged Harry. Ron grinned a little self-consciously.
“I’ll try, at least. And if that doesn’t work out I can always help George with the joke shop.”
“Is he still going to run that, with-without Fred?” asked Hermione tentatively, and Harry felt the bright mood in the compartment sink a bit.
“I think so. He hasn’t said otherwise, and he still lives in the flat above the shop.” answered Ron. “We didn’t see him as much as usual this summer.”
Hermione clasped Ron’s hand between her own and the slightly haunted look left his eyes.
“Speaking of Ginny, Harry-”
“We aren’t together anymore,” Harry replied, having anticipated the question. “We owled a bit over the summer, and we both realized that we didn’t really like each other that
much anymore.”
“Yeah, she said about as much over the summer. Mum was a bit disappointed, but Ginny started seeing Dean again and brought him ‘round and Mum likes him too. Mostly because he let her fill up his plate as much as she wanted.” added Ron.
“And you’re ok with that, Harry? Her seeing Dean?” said Hermione.
“Yeah. At first I felt like I shouldn’t be ok with it, but we’re past each other. Just friends now. And Dean’s a great guy.” replied Harry honestly. Then, grinning, he gestured at their clasped hands. “Is it official now?”
“Yes,” said Hermione, her cheeks pinking a little.
“Well congrats.” Harry pulled out his wand and rained pink glitter on them.
Ron laughed and then coughed as he inhaled glitter. “What about you, mate? Looking for a special someone?”
“Not really, no. Although I’m not about to go trumpeting that, all the Prophet readers would mug me. I wish they’d remember I’m a person, not an idol.”
Ron snorted. “Still getting fan mail?” Harry nodded unenthusiastically as Hermione giggled.
“I remember that one you sent me, Harry.” she said. “What was it that she said? Oh yes-” Hermione pulled it out of her bag to Ron’s laughter and Harry’s spluttering- “I’m your biggest fan, I even have a tattoo of your name, so if you ever need a girlfriend, or a hookup, just know I’m here. Kisses, Julia.” They all snorted.
“Well mate, is one tattoo of your name enough?” Ron teased.
“That’s one too many, if you ask me.” And as the sky darkened and the train sped steadily towards Hogwarts, Harry felt truly happy for the first time in a while.