"Harry!"
"Hermione!"
Hermione had grown in the last summer holidays; he was reaching about 5 foot ten, with a mop of curly dark hair and big brown eyes and freckles upon his nose. Harry had never been so relieved to see him; the holidays with her aunt and uncle had been hellish, and Hermione represented the magical life she had so sorely missed. She hadn't been able to cast a single spell since she left Hogwarts. She was pretty sure her spellcasting would be dreadful when he came back to start NEWTs, she thought gloomily, although since Hermione was muggle born, he hadn't been able to practice either. Although, Harry would bet her Firebolt that Hermione had spent about half of his summer with his long nose buried in a book; he could probably already recite half of the NEWT syllabus.
"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, as they picked up their bags and boarded the train.
"Oh, I think she's saying goodbye to her mum," Hermione replied. "She'll be up in a second. I think the family had some massive kind of revelation thing at the last second. Dean and Gin dating, I think."
"Ah," Harry said wisely. "Sounds like they're getting pretty serious, then?"
"Yeah," Hermione affirmed. He swung open a door to be greeted by Neville scrambling around on the floor. "Toad?"
"Yes," Neville replied. She slumped against the chair and stretched her legs out. "I guess one day I'll have to stop bringing him. I just lose him all the time. He obviously doesn't want to be with me."
"No, Neville," Harry said, as Hermione stood silently by the door, looking characteristically awkward. Harry dropped to her knees next to Neville. "He probably just enjoys the exercise. He'll come back – he always does."
"Thanks Harry," Neville beamed, as Harry gestured frantically to Hermione behind her back to shut the door, and then turned back to Neville with as much of a compassionate expression as she could manage, while Neville expanded on her frog problem. "I think it's a social thing. Maybe if I got another toad -"
Thankfully, Harry was soon spared from the horrifying vision by her other best friend.
"Hey, guys!" Ron beamed as she bounded into the room, followed by Luna, who was looking at a spot on the wall with an unexpected amount of interest. Unless you knew Luna. And then you probably were used to much weirder.
"Hey," Harry greeted her as she plopped haphazardly onto a seat, running a finger through her mess of knotted hair absent mindedly. "How did the whole Dean/Gin thing go?"
"Oh, it was awful," Ron began. "You know how much of a mummy's boy Gin is. When he said he was seeing someone in the year above, she went absolutely ballistic. Said a lot of things like 'cougars' and 'starting young' and 'cradle snatching'... Pretty sure she's not going to be invited to the family dinner any time soon. Of course, I ran out of my stack of extendable ears, so I could only hear the things she shouted."
"Yikes," Harry said, and Neville winced sympathetically. Luna was watching Ron intently.
"You must have put about half a stone on since I last saw you, Ron," he said, picking up his edition of The Quibbler. "You look great."
Ron seemed to be torn between bemusement, gratitude and anger, but decided to ignore Luna, who was now reading an article called 'The Horned Wrackspurt – a solution for knee pain in the wizarding world?'
"I wouldn't say that, Lovegood," A voice drawled from behind them.
"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry said dispiritedly. Malfoy being a stuck-up cunt on the train was a tradition, like the trolley lady but far more unpleasant. "Can't you find someone else to annoy?"
"Oh no, I save that pleasure for the chosen one," Malfoy replied, voice dripping in sarcasm, as she walked into the compartment. "I actually came with a message for you, Potty."
"I'm not interested," Harry muttered, looking briefly up at Malfoy. She was as irritating as ever, with her ruby rose smirk, mean grey eyes, curled hair, and skirt SO TIGHT Harry was sure it was against the regulations of Hogwarts. Screw that, it was probably against the law. How was the world meant to go round if you could see that much leg? They were nice legs, hairless and creamy coloured, and Harry wanted to hit them with a stinging hex more than anything. Perfection, in all areas, annoyed the wits out of her.
Malfoy rolled her eyes. "You seem to be a bit too interested in my legs. Sorry, Potter, you're not my type."
"You've got a bit too much vagina for me to be interested, Malfoy," Harry replied absentmindedly. "I was thinking about how much I would like to hex you, if you must know."
Malfoy grinned, a sly, devious grin and she cast her eyes around the room: at Neville, who had found Trevor, and was now scolding him; Hermione, elbow deep in Arithmancy in an Astronomical context; Ron, who was trying to untangle a particularly stubborn knot, while swearing profusely, and Luna, who was waving her wand while muttering quietly, eyes fixed on an article of The Quibbler. "You might bring me down if you all try at once. I doubt of this has any more magical power than a squib. Especially you, Longbottom. No more aurors in your family, huh?"
"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy," Harry retaliated, gritting her teeth. "Shame you can't say there'll be no more death eaters in yours."
"Oh, is that supposed to wound me?" Malfoy put her hand to her chest in mock hurt – and really, that top looked the size of a dishcloth, how did she get away with so openly flaunting the dress code? "You and I have different perceptions of honour, Potter."
"I'm glad you do," Hermione interjected, putting his book down and giving Malfoy a steely glance.
Malfoy always seemed to be more threatened by Hermione than anyone else: he ignored Ron, except when he was calling her a fat cow, and took delight in annoying Harry, but Harry knew Slytherins worked on a strict social hierarchy. Hermione, with his height, his deep gravelly voice, and his grades, occupied a niche spot that Malfoy couldn't quite pinpoint, although she was still happy to label him a loser.
"Get back to your Slytherins, Malfoy," Ron took over, as Harry sunk back beside Neville and comforted her – the dig about her parents had clearly hurt. "We don't need death eater scum in here."
Malfoy drew herself up to her full height – about 5 foot 8 – and with a last, calculating glance, she swept out of the room, just before the trolley lady arrived. The clamour for pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's every flavour beans, and Fizzing Whizabees began and soon Malfoy was forgotten.
"It's weird," Harry said, climbing out of the carriage later, full to the brim with chocolate frogs and pastries, "that we're in NEWT level now. I always thought of us as kids, you know? And now that we're nearly adults..."
"Ugh, don't think about that, mate," said Ron with feeling.
"I wonder how much harder the lessons will be?"
The duo glared at Hermione.
"Hermione, we've not even at school yet, don't make us think about lessons," Ron pleaded. "My brain will start hurting."
Harry seconded the opinion with vigour, and the trio (now containing a slightly grumpy Hermione) trudged slowly down towards the great hall, each of them being thoroughly sick of seeing the sorting. The first year, it was kind of cool, but after 5 years at Hogwarts...
Five years, Harry thought with wonder, staring around at the old, wizened oak trees that lined the path to the castle. They were turning golden and brown and there was already a few leaves littering the floor, crunching as she stepped on them. She felt a joyous feeling, like she was heading home; like home was Hogwarts and Hermione and Ron and laughing with chocolate frogs in their mouths on the train. Hermione and Ron were, predictably, bickering; always an amusing sight since there was nearly a foot difference in height between them, but Harry decided she couldn't be drawn away from this moment, not until they reached the shouting and general pandemonium that was the great hall feast.
Unfortunately, that moment came all too soon, and they walked in to a general chatter and the beautiful architecture of the great hall. They headed towards the Gryffindor table, squeezing themselves in amongst Seamus, Neville and Dean, with sounds of indignation from the table following. "Just because you're the golden girl doesn't mean you can show up late!" a voice Harry didn't recognise called, which drew a large amount of applause and general agreement.
Harry didn't even care. The feast was full of chicken, and turkey, and roast potatoes, and oh my gosh he had missed food from the hands of the house elves. Sure, it was bad they were slaves (Hermione had drilled that into him during the SPEW days), but man, could they cook.
"So, Dean, how are you and Gin doing?" Ron asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "I heard things are getting pretty serious."
Dean shrugged. "Well, we're in school at the end of the day, it's not like we're going to end up married – well, I suppose we might –" she looked vaguely perturbed at this - " but I just don't think it should be a big deal. My mum was fine with it."
"Ay, but she used to sleep around a lot when she was your age, didn't she, so it would make her a bit of a hypocrite if she objected," Seamus said, tactlessly as always, albeit fairly reasonably.
Dean elbowed her in the side. "I wish I'd never told you the cucumber pie story," she sighed, cutting particularly viciously into a portion of bean casserole. "Besides even if – if –" this if was punctuated by a pointed stare at Seamus –"she was sleeping around, this is totally not the same thing! It's not like I'm just trying to get him in the sack."
"Have you got him in the sack?" Ron asked, leaning forward across the table.
Hermione promptly choked on a boiled potato, so Neville thumped him heartily on the back, though not taking her attention away from Dean while he did so. Ignoring Hermione's spluttered 'thank you's, she added, "Come on, you must have done it by now. When Seamus went out with Jack Whiting she was fucking him within a week."
"It was big," Seamus shrugged, in what seemed to be an attempt at justification. Ron nodded sympathetically.
"We don't have that sort of relationship," Dean said. "I mean – he's fifteen – that's illegal anyway. It's just sort of – fun. I mean, I think it's good we can be like that, you don't want to spend being fifteen being all too serious about shit like that."
All eyes swivelled onto Harry.
"Are we not finished berating me on this topic?" Harry grumbled, adding butter to her potatoes.
Ron shook her head. "No."
"It was wet," Hermione mimicked.
"Yeah, like you've got so much experience," Harry shot back half-heartedly.
"Actually," Hermione lowered his voice, "you know Daphne Greengrass?"
"In Slytherin?" Ron asked, her eyes boggled.
"Yep," Hermione leaned back with a satisfied grin on his face.
"No way," Seamus said in awe.
"How did it happen?" Neville asked, his eyes wide.
"I was tutoring her for her Transfiguration NEWT," Hermione began, "And she really started opening up to me."
"To you?" Neville raised her eyebrows. "No offence, Herm, but you're not exactly the feelings type."
"I know," said Hermione in a deadpan voice. "It was fucking terrifying. But she told me a lot of useful information. Did you know when Blaise got high she streaked the Quidditch pitch naked and her mother had to buy the story out of The Prophet so it wouldn't get printed? Apparently she's minted because she stole all her husbands' money. Husbands in the plural, by the way."
"Herm, that's not that interesting," Harry interjected.
Hermione furrowed his brow. "Oh. Well, I think it is."
"You think the theory behind Elemental Abstract-Defined Transfiguration is interesting," Ron pointed out.
"Work is important, Ron," Hermione reprimanded. "It's what we're in school for."
"Unless you're Seamus, in which case you're here to be a whore," said Dean, receiving a kick and a reprimand in return.
"Well, I'm done eating," Ron said, exhaling slowly. "Herm? Harry? You guys coming?"
Harry gave one last wistful glance at the Sorbet before deciding she couldn't (well, shouldn't, if she was completely honest) have any more. Both she and Hermione clambered to their feet, deciding it would be best to go with Ron before the influx of over-eager first years checked into their dormitories. First years, Harry thought with an internal shudder. They got more whiny and annoying every year. Having someone near you gasp in awe about every little thing wore on your nerves, especially after half a decade. Wow, the staircases move. Big fucking deal.
Ron had evidently noticed the grumpy expression on her face, because she was looking at her curiously. Hermione however, as always, remained blissfully unaware; feelings had never been his strong point. The trio each brought something different to the group; Hermione was intelligent, dependable and unfazed, Ron was excitable, bubbly and inquisitive, and Harry - well, Harry wasn't really sure what she brought to the group, if she was completely honest. Harry had a tendency to be more up and down than the others - more volatile, more temperamental, more likely to explode. More unpredictable, she supposed. Hermione and Ron had set values in life, set goals; but Harry - well, thinking you could be murdered by the greatest dark wizard of all time kind of made you more prone to living in the moment. Shoving life into as little time as possible.
She was aware that her expression had probably turned more and more gloomy, so she squeezed Ron's hand tight, just as they all turned the corner and ran into Malfoy.
"I thought you said you didn't bat for the other team, Potter?"
"Just because you can't get a boyfriend doesn't mean you have to take it out from us, Malfoy," Harry replied.
It seemed she had hit a nerve, so Harry continued, feeling rather emboldened.
"If you had someone who wanted you, you wouldn't spend all this time berating us," she added. Looking behind her, she couldn't see her cronies, and she wasn't heading away from the great hall; she was coming from the opposite direction. "Didn't have enough friends to attend the feast with?"
Draco whipped out her wand, Harry following a fraction of a second later. They pointed their wands at each other, threatening glares in their eyes.
"Listen, Potty," Draco said scathingly. "People do want me. In a few months time, your pretty little head will explode with the knowledge of what I'm doing, and the ignorance you had now. And," she surveyed her target, who stood there in front of her, trembling, "I bet your parents wouldn't want you even if they were alive. So shut the fuck up about things you have no idea about."
Harry's blood boiled, and she shot a stinging hex right into Malfoy's face before Malfoy could cast a shield charm. Bellowing in pain, Draco shot curses blindly at Harry, and eventually they were shouting whatever curses they could think of while punching every inch of the other they could reach. Harry vaguely heard McGonogall's voice through the ringing in her ears, and as she turned to look up, one last punch from Malfoy made everything go black.