It was, Harry mused, rather disconcerting to begin your first day as a Hogwarts eighth-year in the back of a beat up white mini-bus.
Especially so, he thought on, when you were sharing it with three Slytherins, a Hufflepuff, four other Gryffindors and a rather horrified-looking Ravenclaw. Gone was the magic of the Hogwarts Express, shining red and belching steam – here they were, packed like sardines into a decidedly used smelling vehicle, forced to listen to Pansy Parkinson whining about the cold – it was September, Merlin help them - and the lack of refreshments, bar a carton of warm pumpkin juice and a treacle tart.
"Now now, Pansy," their driver said - a squib named Nancy, perfect for dealing with this Muggle side of things - trying to sound bright as she slowed the van and tossed a glance over her shoulder. She was rewarded with a pointed stare and an under-the-breath mutter about her blood status, which resulted in the brakes being slammed on so hard Hermione's head knocked into the back of Harry's. Harry doubted he would have minded so much, because it was always good to see a Slytherin taken down a peg, but this was the fourth time this had happened and he was beginning to fear for the damage being done to his skull.
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione mumbled, sounding pained as she rubbed at her brow. He smiled at her, sitting next to a sleeping Ron – at least some people could forget their worries.
"Pansy," Nancy had sucked in a deep breath and seemed to be preparing for another harsh reprimand. "We have discussed this. This year is all about fresh starts, new beginnings. Getting your results and moving on from all of the horror you've all been through-"
Yeah, right, Harry thought to himself. Horror like what? Offering up the person willing to die to save her skin?
"Nancy, all respect given-" Parkinson interrupted, but her seating partner raised his white-blond head from where it had been resting against the window and fixed her with a look.
"For God's sake, Pans, you're even driving me mad. Listen to what the lady has to say before I hex you."
"Well, thank you, Draco," Nancy said with a weak smile. "But I have to remind you, magic in the van is forbidden, and your disputes will have to be settled without its use."
"Jealous, are we?" Parkinson sneered, turning up her indelicate pug nose.
"Parkinson, shut the fuck up before we decide you're walkin' wherever we're goin'," Seamus said from Harry's left. Tensions had been running high all morning, and anger was rolling off of the Irishman in waves. Pansy carefully, quietly – and, Harry observed, wisely – shut her trap long enough for Nancy to continue.
"Again, thank you, Seamus, but perhaps some better vocabulary... Well. As I was saying, Pansy, this is a chance to move on. This is not a time for you to revert back to the prejudices that so many have fought to eradicate from our society. You are here to complete your education, so I suggest you get on with it and do grow up, child, for God's sake. And, for the record, I am perfectly unashamed of my inability to do magic. The only time it does annoy me is when I have to drive little snot-nosed brats like yourself around and put up with your crap. Now, not one more complaint for the rest of the journey or I may indeed take Seamus up on his suggestion."
The Gryffindors, Susan and Lisa laughed, and even Blaise Zabini, sitting at the back, cracked a grin.
"Bad luck, Pans," he called.
"Shut your trap, you duplicitous bastard!"
"MISS PARKINSON!" Nancy roared. Cowed, the students fell into silence, and Harry took to observing them once more. Ten, in total, and what a group they were. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Lavender – all fair and good, all friends, not a problem. Susan Bones, their sole Hufflepuff, he liked well enough – a member of Dumbledore's Army, a person he knew. Lisa Turpin, from Ravenclaw, he didn't know much about, but she was quiet and meek, tending to hide herself behind a sheet of pale blonde hair and avoid conversation. He doubted they would butt heads. But it was the Slytherins, he thought, that were making this so difficult. Pansy Parkinson, head bitch, Blaise Zabini – as Pansy had aptly called him, a duplicitous bastard – and, to top it all off, Draco sodding Malfoy. Had Harry known that he would be here, he might have rethought this whole eighth-year debacle, ethics or no ethics. He had wanted to complete an eighth-year, he really had – get back to the normality of school, see his friends, perhaps complete one year of schooling without Voldemort looming over his life. And not just that, but taking an eighth-year would have allowed him to go into Auror training because he was genuinely good enough, because he had the real talent and ability, because he'd taken the exams to prove it. He didn't want to be allowed into the program just because he was the Savior, the Boy-Who-Lived – he wanted to do it the fair and proper way. Hermione had practically glowed with pride when he'd told her his plan to join her for another year at school. Ron, of course, had only jumped on the band-wagon because Hermione and Harry were going, but then again, who could deny him the opportunity for peace and quiet and their company, especially knowing what the war had done to him – to everyone? When they had written to McGonnagall, asking about an eighth-year, they'd expected an enthusiastic response. And an enthusiastic response they received, but there was a catch. A very big catch...
"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger," McGonaggall grinned as they tumbled out of her fireplace in turn. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today – I believe we have much to discuss."
He'd nodded and smiled, confused none-the-less. A glance at Hermione and Ron told him they felt exactly the same way; they'd discussed it standing in the kitchen of The Burrow, and not one of them could come up with any idea what the big discussion was to be about.
Seeing as it was their wonderfully pragmatic and practical Headmistress, however, they could expect not to be kept waiting long, and took seats in front of her desk, Harry and Ron helping themselves to shortbread when offerered.
"Now, as I understand, all three of you are interested in undertaking an eighth year of study, yes?"
"Yes, headmistress," Hermione said, carefully plucked brows furrowing – she'd made the mistake of letting Ginny near her with a grooming charm the night before, and her eyebrows had only just survived being plucked into non-existence. But it did give her a more clean cut, patrician look, paired with the bun that she'd slicked her hair into at the nape of her neck. The picture of a studious Gryffindor, Harry thought with a smile, watching his best friend as she sat straighter. "The Ministry did approve the retaking of classes for students affected by the war, didn't they?"
"Oh, of course, this is the generation they most want to better," McGonaggall said, sitting heavily down in her own seat behind the desk, relieved to take the weight from her bad leg. "The generation they feel most sorrow for. And with Kingsley as Minister, well, it would have been impossible not to pass this movement. However, there is... a problem."
At that, Harry's ears pricked up – Ron's faced turned oddly hopeful, if only for a minute, and Hermione looked as if someone had just told her Crookshanks had been hit by the Knight Bus.
"What kind of a problem?" Harry piped up, leaning forward in his seat. McGonaggall had sighed, then, running a hand over her eyes.
"You see, Mr. Potter, Hogwarts was designed with a set number of students in mind. And with the magnitude of those wishing to return, almost your full year, there simply is not enough room to house them."
"Spare classrooms? Abandoned wings? Magical enlargements?" Hermione said desperately, one hand flying to her temple, where it twisted anxiously with one lock of hair.
"We could hardly house students in classrooms, Miss Granger, though I appreciate your determination, and your other suggestions are also worthy of note. What with the destruction during the war, however, much of the rebuilding work will have to continue in the beginning months of next year's first term. There will be new and old students returning, and I thought you three would most understand our wish to give them a normal year of schooling, without any more disturbance than necessary. I think you'll agree that an eighth-year running around with special study arrangements and such comes under that category, not to mention that it would put our faculty under extra strain."
Hermione visibly drooped, shoulders slumping, and Harry felt his heart sink. So much for his big plan for doing the right thing. To his, Hermione – and, he dared think, the Headmistress' – surprise, however, Ron suddenly spoke up.
"But there's an alternative, isn't there?"
"Of course, Mr Weasley," McGonaggall smiled, before drawing her wand and levitating a small, glass bowl – rather like a fishbowl, with an open space at the top – from the corner of the office on to her was filled with paper, tiny little pieces, all of which seemed to have writing on them. "Write your names onto a piece of paper and drop them in, and I shall report back with more news."
They had done so, and found themselves ushered out of the office soon after, with no more of an explanation than they had arrived with, and a great deal more to think about.
And that, Harry grumbled to himself, was why he'd ended up stuck in a stupid bloody van with this rag-tag bunch. McGonaggall's big idea for an eighth-year was certainly good, but it was hard to see that when you were stuck in a situation like this. All of the returning eighth-years had apparently undergone a similar meeting, placed their names in the bowl, and been drawn out completely by chance. This made for an uneven split of houses, as was clearly evident in their group, but it was most fair. Harry thanked his lucky stars that he'd ended up with a decent amount of Gryffindors, and especially Hermione and Ron, because surely this entire enterprise would have been hopeless without them. However, Fate clearly thought itself funny by placing Draco, Pansy and Blaise in what would otherwise have been a great group to spend a year almost alone with. Because instead of Hogwarts castle, each of the four groups was to spend their time in a house completely removed from their usual situation, visited by tutors instead of taking classes from their usual teachers. Harry knew, from observing the road signs and from general common sense, that they were somewhere in Yorkshire, but other than that he had pretty much no idea where they were. He had wondered for a while why they weren't apparating, but not everybody had passed the test, and there were too many to Side-Along, which meant that getting to whatever undisclosed location they were headed to would be a problem. As Nancy pulled up the van at the end of a long, winding road and hopped out of her seat, however, he realised he was about to find out just where they were going.
The others – including a mightily confused, just awake Ronald Weasley – began to gather their coats and rucksacks, and in Pansy's case a huge dragonhide handbag, before filing out and facing the bracing wind.
"Right!" Nancy said, hands on hips as her dirty blonde hair fluttered away from her face. "Are we all ready, then?"
Seamus gave her a salute, which made her smile, and the others murmured their assent as they looked around. They were parked on an immense flat of moor, with nothing to be observed but trees, grass and hills, as far as Harry's – admittedly myopic – eyes could see. There was the shadow of a village in the distance, but it was too hard to make anything else out. Please let it be filled with sane people, Harry prayed.
"Um, Nancy," Lavender piped up for the first time in hours, firmly holding her hair over one shoulder, hiding the scarring left on her neck by Greyback. "Don't mind me asking, but where are we?"
"North Yorkshire moors, lovely," Nancy said with a grin. "About four miles from Danby. Lovely town, if you ever get bored of a weekend you can take a march down there, have a look about. But don't expect anything big."
"Oh, fabulous," Pansy said with a huff, planting herself down on a nearby rock and folding her arms.
"Don't get too comfy, little miss, you've got a walk yet. Just as well we've stopped driving, isn't it, because now you can complain all you like." Nancy smirked, buttoning her coat up to the neck. "Right, c'mon! Best get going before it starts to get dark, you'll want to settle in. Follow me."
At that, Nancy shoved her hands into her pockets and set off, jerking her head for them to follow her. Sighing, Harry headed after her, Ron and Hermione after him, and the rest bringing up the rear.
"Bloody hell, this is weird, isn't it?" Ron said thoughtfully, Hermione's hand caught tight in his. Harry had had the entire summer to get used to that weirdness (it was still weird even if it had been inevitable), so he had to assume Ron was talking about their current situation.
"Yeah, just a bit. Do you reckon we're far?"
"I hope not," Ron grumbled. "I'm starving, and the sooner we get there, the sooner I can eat dinner and go to bed."
"Fat pig," Parkinson said snootily, charging on ahead. Nobody bothered to conceal their laughter when Susan drew her wand and cast a Stinging Hex at the back of Pansy's knees, sending her flying, but Nancy fixed them with a disappointed look and informed them that they had to stay focused if they wanted to get home in one piece.
They weren't far, in reality. Nancy led them over the crest of a hill and there, close enough by that Harry didn't feel any worse for it, was the place he guessed they'd stay. Down over another flat plain and through a doorway in the high yard wall, and they were finally there.
"So, this is it." Nancy said, oddly proud, flinging one arm wide.
"This." Zabini said, sounding defeated. Even Malfoy, who had barely spoken a word all afternoon, raised his eyebrows in horror. Harry was pleased to note that none of the others, not even Lavender, showed such snobbery.
"This?" Parkinson squawked. "That's it, take me back to Mummy, screw an eighth-year."
"Now now, Pansy, you haven't seen the inside or heard anything about it," Nancy said. "This is Domus Mauri."
At their blank faces, she rolled her eyes and shook her head, pushing her straggly hair away from her face.
"Honestly, all those years at Hogwarts and you don't recognise simple Latin? It means the house on the moors. As far as I know, your friends are stationed at Domus per Flumen – house by the river, in this case near the river Eden - the house of the mountains, Domus Montes up by the Cairngorms, and Domus Maris, house of the sea, which is way down by Penzance. You'll be given proper addresses for them, of course, in case you want to write, but this is all yours. Alright? I'll show you the inside."
Drawing a key from her jacket pocket, Nancy advanced, but Harry hung back a little to observe the house he'd be living in. It was of a decent size, with another gate in the wall on the other side of the yard that presumably led to a small garden. The house itself was in the shape of a U, upside-down and facing them, with two storeys and a good number of windows. Several of the others had had the same idea in observing their new home – almost all, in fact, which prompted their guide to stick her head out of one of the lower windows and cluck her tongue.
"Come on now, I've not got all day!"
The door to the right-hand wing of the building was flung roughly open, and the group scurried forward into a warm kitchen, low-ceilinged and slightly dark thanks to the almost-setting sun. There was an aga in one corner, black and shiny, a fridge (how Muggle, and how strange) a view from the window into – Harry had been right, there was a garden. It even had a vegetable patch and deckchairs.
"It's very idyllic," Lisa observed, nervously leaning over next to him to see. He smiled at her, because he had a feeling he was going to need all the friends he could get from now on. She gave him a tentative smile back, freckled nose wrinkling very slightly in a way that reminded Harry almost painfully of Ginny.
"Er, Nancy," he called, as she yanked hard on the handle of the door that would lead them to the rest of the house. "Are we allowed visitors?"
"Oh, I don't know Harry, you'll need to take that up with Minerva," she said as the door finally opened. "Ha! Finally. Right, this is the hallway..."
They were led through several rooms after that. The small hallway – more of a vestibule, really, with a tight, steep staircase leading to the upper floor. The vestibule had a door that led to the central part of the house, and in here would be where they did most of their learning, so there were four low tables and a blackboard on the far wall. Through another door and they were led to a large sitting room. This was probably Harry's favourite – there was a big, hearty fireplace, a comfortable looking sofa and three armchairs, a bench by the window that looked onto the yard, coat hooks, a sturdy bookshelf, and even a dusty, out-of-use piano in the corner, opposite another doorway that led outside. Surprisingly, Parkinson had looked half-pleased and played a couple of out-of-tune scales that had made Seamus tell her off for what probably wouldn't be the last time that day, never mind the rest of their stay. The next issue to be undertaken, of course, was the bedrooms – two on each side of the house, connected by a wide hallway that ran above their classroom.
"This is it all, then," Nancy said. "Your things have been delivered to your respective rooms, I've got a dormitory – well, if you can call it that anyway – list here. Draco, you're with Blaise, furthest room on the left wing. Hermione and Susan, next door to the boys and next to the bathroom on your other side. That'll be nice, first dibs on a bath, eh? Harry, Ron, Seamus, I'm sorry but you've been put in a three. But the bedroom's bigger, you're the nearest bedroom to us here on the right. And that leaves Pansy, Lavender and Lisa, next door to the lovely Gryffindors here. Any problems, anyone?"
Each of them shook their heads slowly. Well, at least their sleeping arrangements were decent, although Hermione looked less than pleased at being Malfoy and Zabini's next door neighbour, and Lavender looked like she was sucking a lemon at the prospect of sharing with Pansy.
"Good!" Nancy smiled brightly. "Well, I'd best be off if I want to be home any time before midnight. All the best to you, really. You deserve a good year. I'll leave the key downstairs on the kitchen table, along with the rules. Your first tutor arrives tomorrow morning, so try not to kill each other before then!" Nancy laughed, before straightening her clothing and pottering downstairs. "Bye now!"
"If only she knew how true her words were," Zabini sighed dramatically when she was gone, one hand splayed across his breast-bone. "I for one fear poison-by-Gryffindor, a la poor King Hamlet."
"Oh, shut up," Susan piped up annoyedly, red hair shimmering as she tossed her head. Another burst of Ginny-longing erupted in Harry's chest and he frowned, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "We're here to make the best of it, aren't we? Come on, Hermione, we'll go and see to our things. You brought Crookshanks, didn't you?"
The two girls marched off together along the hall, and the spell was broken – Malfoy and Zabini slouched off after them, and Harry, Seamus and Ron hurried towards their own quarters. Shoving through the door, they found three iron bedsteads, each with their trunks piled at the end. Seamus had the bed against the far wall, Ron the middle, and Harry the bed nearest. He instantly threw himself down upon it, sighing as he kicked off his shoes. It was surprisingly comfortable, and Merlin only knew that it had been a long day. Ignoring a shriek of "Circe, what the fuck is that, Lisa? Is that a rat?" from Parkinson next door, Harry shut his eyes and buried his face in the slightly musty smelling pillow, wishing for sleep.
"Well, here we are," Seamus began, putting paid to that notion. "Any bets on the first argument?"
"Never mind arguments, when the hell's dinner?" Ron said mournfully. "Nancy didn't mention anything about that – oh, Merlin, do you think we'll have to cook for ourselves?"
"Ron, is all you think about your stomach?" A female voice sighed from the door. Cracking an eyelid, Harry observed Hermione, standing in bare feet with Crookshanks in one arm and the list of rules in the other. "Yes, it says here we have to cook for ourselves, but a house-elf will arrive once a week for laundry and general house-keeping, and to stock the fridge and cupboards. Well, that's not so bad," she said, even as her boyfriend flung himself backwards in a state of abject misery. "I've had a look, they've got beef in the fridge, I reckon I can rustle up a decent stew. Come on, we'll go downstairs and make the best."
Another shriek rang out from next door and all four shared an alarmed look before deciding it was best not to ask. Ron followed Hermione out, placing his hands on her waist and earning himself an amused chuckle, but Seamus stayed, hovering by the doorway.
"You coming, Harry?" he asked, holding onto the frame, poised to move.
"In a bit, I want to do something first." He said, eyeing Ron's new owl in the cage at the foot of the bed. "You go on, I'll be down soon."
After his last companion had left, Harry rifled through his trunk to find parchment and a quill and settled down on the floor to write.
Dear Ginny,
Well, I've arrived. We're in some sort of farmhouse near Danby, out on the moors in Yorkshire – hardly a thing for miles, it's nothing like Hogwarts. We're probably the worst group out of all the eighth-years – it's Ron, Hermione, me, and Seamus and Lavender, then the dreaded Slytherin trio - Malfoy, Zabini and Parkinson - and Susan Bones and Lisa Turpin. You'll probably try and tell me it's not that bad, but you're not house-sharing with Malfoy.
He paused. Perhaps that was a little bit negative.
I'm sorry if I sound a bit bitter, Gin. It's just been a long day and I'm missing you already. I asked our co-ordinator if we were allowed any visitors but she says I'll need to ask McGonaggall about that. But hopefully you'll be allowed to come down here of a weekend, all going well.
Jesus, Gin, this is going to be hard.
Sorry. I'd best go now, this'll probably make you want to throw yourself in with the Giant Squid. I know you were hoping we'd be able to talk about things properly, but we can still do that sometime soon. Maybe. Actually, you could ask McGonaggall, couldn't you?
Well, Hermione's attempting stew, so I'd better be off downstairs to face the music. Feels like being thrown to the dogs – I'll be lucky if I escape with my life if Pansy Parkinson has anything to do with it.
Write back,
Harry
He debated briefly whether to put kisses, but it was Ginny he was writing to; she was remarkably unfrivolous, which was one of the things he best liked about her. She didn't need frills and flowers, and would most likely be pleased Harry had thought of her at all. So he swiftly tied the note to Ron's owl's leg – it didn't have a name yet, poor girl – and sent it off out of one of the two windows, over the trees in the garden. He watched it until it vanished from sight and sighed, turning back to the open doorway and heading out into the corridor – oh.
Malfoy was standing right in front of him, dressed down from earlier in a thin black jumper and black trousers. He didn't have any shoes on, only grey socks, and it sat badly with Harry – he'd only ever seen Malfoy with no composure once, and that had ended badly to say the least.
"Are you going to stand there staring all day, Scarhead, or am I going to have to push you down the stairs?" Malfoy sneered, thin upper lip curling. Scowling and refusing to give Malfoy an answer, Harry turned and thundered down the staircase.
Well, their situation might be different, but it seemed some things would always stay the same.
A/N: So, hello. This is my newest work, and don't worry, it's going to be multi-chaptered (and there WILL be eventual HP/DM, so don't fret.) I know you don't get much character info in this but it's just the introductory chapter, so I didn't want to make it too long. Sorry for the over-descriptiveness, I promise that'll change. And this is my first slash fic for any fandom, so if it sucks then I'm totally sorry. Some general warnings, however: This fanfiction will eventually deal with depression, a hell of a lot of angst, suicide attempts (specifically involving drowning) and probably a few unpleasant things, but there'll hopefully be a big old bunch of love and friendship in all eventualities. I have no idea how long this will be, or how often it'll be updated, but please bear with me, I promise I'll try my best. :)
(ALSO other pairings to watch out for: eventual BZ/GW, RW/HG and eventual LB/SF. If any of them are a squick, maybe give this a miss. I'm not saying they'll be at the forefront or anything and a few will take a while to develop but yeah, they'll be in there.)
Ciao for now!
Cherry