DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry hadn't wanted to return at first.

He had dreaded the stares and the whispers he knew would come his way. He shuddered at the thought of being the centre of the gossip again. And, if it wasn't for the fact that both Ron and Hermione were returning for their eighth year, he probably wouldn't have returned at all.

Thinking back over it now, he was glad he did. Of course, he still had to put up with the fact that almost everyone in the younger years worshipped him, and the fact that almost every girl in Hogwarts seemed to have a crush on him. But, strangely, these things weren't bothering him as much as he would have expected.

Things were much nicer in eighth year, despite the fact that they were all being piled with homework in preparation for their Newts. The people were nicer, for one thing. As the eighth years were together in every class, even sharing a tower, they had become closer, in fact, sometimes it seemed as though the four houses didn't even exist. It was now perfectly ordinary to see Parvati and Pansy deep in gossip, perfectly normal for Seamus to challenge Blaise to a game of chess. The war had been devastating, Harry reflected, but it had certainly helped to bring people together.

Although they had only been back for a few weeks, Harry had already fallen into a routine, which admittedly, consisted mostly of studying for Newts. However, on Saturdays', he would usually go out and fly his Firebolt, sometimes spending nearly the whole day flying around the grounds, feeling the wind whipping through his hair and forgetting about all his worries as he savoured the wonderful feeling of flying.

Harry was daydreaming about that now, staring into the flickering fire, his quill motionless. He was brought back to reality by Ron throwing a cushion in his face.

"Hi, mate," said Ron, grinning at his indignant face. "You looked like you were in a trance."

"I was thinking about flying tomorrow," said Harry, picking up the cushion and hurling it back at Ron, who ducked.

He noticed a few people glancing round with interest at these words. "Er, anyone else who wants to come is welcome," he said automatically.

There were gasps of excitement and the words, "Thanks Harry!" were echoed around the room.

Harry smiled uncomfortably, fixing his eyes on his Potions essay. He still didn't like being the centre of attention.

Xxx

In the end, every single one of the eighth years turned up to fly. Watching them laughing and joking together, taking turns flying the Firebolt, Harry found he didn't regret letting them use his broom in the slightest. However, he couldn't push away the feeling that something was missing.

"You all right mate?" came a casual voice from behind him.

"Fine," said Harry, quickly pinning a bright smile to his face and hoping that Ron didn't think he was regretting letting everyone share the Firebolt. "Great actually. It's good to see everyone enjoying themselves."

"Yeah," said Ron thoughtfully. "Weird though, isn't it? I mean, I didn't think I'd see the day when Slytherin's and Gryffindor's actually have friendly conversations with one another."

Harry smiled wryly. "Neither did I. In fact, I think I've exchanged at least a couple of friendly words with all of them by now."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "So you're not including the Ferret in that then?"

Harry nodded. "I am actually. He thanked me when I gave him his wand back. Well, mumbled. But, considering the fact that it's Malfoy, that's probably the nicest conversation we've ever had."

Ron sniggered. "That's true. I notice Malfoy isn't here today – probably thinks he's too good to spend any time with us."

Harry's head whipped round as he scanned the group of eighth years, who were standing a little way off. He watched as Pansy Parkinson flew rather unsteadily down to the ground, jumping off the broom and handing it to Lavender Brown. Harry strained his eyes, but nowhere could he see any white-blond hair amongst the group.

"No," he said slowly. "He's definitely not there."

"That's what I just said," said Ron, sounding rather puzzled. He began to make his way back over to the group. "Come on, let's head back over before they break the Firebolt."

Harry followed him, his brow creased. Malfoy loved flying – why hadn't he jumped at the chance of flying a Firebolt? Although, thought Harry dully, he probably already had a Firebolt back at home – he probably thought it was nothing special.

Harry pushed Draco to the back of his mind, slightly disconcerted that he cared about where his enemy was anyway. Well, ex-enemy. He certainly didn't like Draco, but he didn't truly hate him anymore.

The day passed quickly, far too quickly according to the eighth years. When lunch time came, Dean and Seamus returned to Hogwarts to bring some food back down to the Quidditch pitch for everyone. After they had finished eating, they went back to flying the Firebolt endlessly around the grounds. Harry knew it would be covered in multiple finger marks, possibly even scratches, but he didn't care. He was having fun, and everyone else was having fun. That was all that mattered.

The sky was beginning to darken by the time they decided to return to the castle. It was then that Harry caught sight of something behind a wall. Turning, he caught sight of it again. A flash of white-blond hair.

Exactly why Malfoy was out here, watching the group flying, and not joining in, left Harry bemused. Eventually he followed the others back up to the castle, deciding that Malfoy could do what he wanted. He didn't want to have anything to do with him, after all.

A/N: I know this is quite short, but I'm trying to kind of set the scene with this chapter. Hope it was okay anyway! I'll really appreciate any reviews! :)