Thanks for the reviews, everyone! :) I think I have a general idea of where I want to take this now, so I can assure you there will be more chapters to follow. Also, I apologize for the ending to this chapter. It was either end it there or make the chapter super long. Anyways, enjoy!

John winced as he jarred his shoulder against the wall in the small hallway of the train. It was practically empty at this point in time. John had arrived late to Platform 9 ¾ to try and avoid all the hustle and bustle. He'd guessed there would be less people, however he had been wrong. Because the train had not left the platform yet, all of the parents were still waiting on the platform. He'd had to shove his way through with all his things, apologizing every time he ran into someone. Which had happened quite a few times. His limp caused him to bump shoulders with those around him and bumping shoulders only meant pain for John. And so it was that he now found himself dragging his luggage to the back of the train where he and Sherlock always sat. He didn't bother to stop and say hello to his housemates. They would only want to ask questions about what had happened to him and where he'd been all summer. He wasn't ready for that discussion with anyone. He wasn't even sure if he was ready to talk to Sherlock about it.

The train lurched into motion while John was still struggling with getting his luggage down the long hallway. He stumbled and then cussed loudly as he jarred his shoulder yet again. It was then that he saw Sherlock's head pop out the door of one of the nearby compartments. "John!" he called, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"What, recognized my swearing?" John teased back, a smile spreading across his face as well. It felt foreign to him. When had been the last time he'd truly smiled? Sherlock took two long steps forward before wrapping John in a gentle hug. John noted that he was careful not to touch his shoulder. John dropped his luggage that was in his left hand and gave Sherlock a quick hug in return. "Hello, Sherlock." He greeted properly.

Sherlock was still grinning slightly as he pulled away, bending down to pick up John's dropped luggage. "I was worried you wouldn't show." He said. Sherlock's tone was teasing, but John had a feeling he was being serious. John carried his other luggage easily now that he had two hands. He switched his owl cage to his left and carried his only remaining bag with his right.

"You know I couldn't bear to be anywhere else." John said, the smile still lingering on his face. Sherlock slid the compartment door open and brought John's luggage in, tucking it under the seat by his. John sat his on the seat across from where Sherlock was sitting and sighed with relief as he plopped down into it. His mum had been worried he wasn't ready to go back to school. John had insisted he was, but he honestly wasn't sure. Although the pain had lessened, he was still exhausted and physically weak. He lifted the cover on his owl cage and quietly apologized to Gladstone for the rough journey. The bird simply ruffled his feathers and looked slightly offended before John smoothed the cover back over the cage. Sherlock slid the door shut and paused there, staring down at the ground. John could feel the sudden shift in the air. "Sherlock?" he asked quietly.

Sherlock took in a deep breath and then pushed it out. He began to pace in the small space of the compartment, his robes flying about him. His Prefect badge flashed and John wondered, yet again, how Sherlock had managed to become a Prefect and he hadn't. His hand made a wild motion and something tumbled off Sherlock's lips that sounded something like, "Wjasdflz." but John was too busy thinking to catch it. "Hm?" he questioned, this time his attention on what Sherlock was saying.

Sherlock paused in front of John and placed his hands on his hips. His eyes were focused somewhere else, though. He was worrying at his lower lip. "Um, there's a lot of things I need to say." He started. He cleared his throat, scrubbed at his chin, and then placed his hand back on his hip. It was obvious he was extremely nervous. John had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"We wrote to each other." John said, arms crossing over his chest. His shoulders hunched in a defensive posture. "Do we really need to talk about it in person?"

Sherlock huffed and seemed to deflate, but before he could answer the door to their compartment slid open. The boys looked over to see Mary Morstan. "Uh, hi." She greeted, she looked between the two and seemed to realize she'd just interrupted a very important conversation. "Sorry, but Sherlock, they need you in the Prefect's meeting. They can't start 'till everyone's there." She then turned her attention to John and flashed him a warm smile. "Hello, John."

John felt his face flush. "Hi." He answered, flushing more when his voice cracked. Mary seemed to contain a giggle and then looked back to Sherlock. "You coming?"

Sherlock nodded and left the room in a flurry of robes without another word. Mary's brow knitted in concern. "He okay?" she asked.

John watched Sherlock go and then shook his head. "No. Not really." He answered, a grimace coming to his face. His gaze fixed itself on the wall as memories began to assault him.

"Right." Mary said quietly, dipping her head. "See you later, John." She closed the door quietly and headed down to follow Sherlock to the meeting.

John sighed and leaned his head back against his seat. His eyes drifted shut automatically. He'd been hoping things would just return to normal between him and Sherlock. After he'd read Sherlock's letters he'd immediately written Sherlock another one. He'd apologized over and over again. He couldn't count how many times the word 'sorry' had been in his letter. He apologized for giving up. He apologized for being careless. He blamed himself for the whole ordeal and tried to convince Sherlock that none of the fault was his. That what had happened to John was his fault and his fault alone. Well, his and the Death Eaters around them. Sherlock had of course tried to deny it and blame it all on himself, but eventually they had gone back to the banter that they usually held. John had hoped that would be the end of it and that it wouldn't be brought up again unless absolutely necessary, but it was quickly becoming obvious that it wasn't. He heaved another sigh. He should have known better.

John tried not to think about it too much. He focused on the gentle rocking of the train instead. He soon found himself nodding off. It wasn't hard for him to find sleep these days. The difficult part was staying asleep…

Sherlock knew the moment it happened. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the noise. He froze for a moment, looking around to make sure he'd actually heard it and he simply wasn't hearing an echo of his memories. But then the noise echoed through the hall again and he saw the looks of confusion on the other's faces.

He bolted to his feet and tore out of the door, roughly shoving anyone who was in his way. "JOHN!" he yelled. He hurdled over the trolley lady's cart of snacks and continued his sprint down the long hallway. John's screams were getting louder and he could see a group of students starting to form at the end of the train. The group parted when they saw him coming, giving him access to the room. He banged against the wall with the speed of his run before he managed to stop and enter the room. John was standing, his wand held out. (His chest was heaving and sweat was pouring down his face. He was standing straight, not favoring his right leg as he had been. No hunch in his shoulders. There was no tremor evident in his hand. Tears were brimming in his eyes. His eyes were unfocused, as if seeing straight through the walls around him.) He had a student cornered in the compartment who appeared to have a sprained (potentially broken) wrist. He was huddled in the corner, holding his wrist protectively to his chest. "STOP IT. JUST STOP IT." John yelled. Besides his heavy breathing the Gryffindor stood completely still. His wand was leveled at the boy's chest and did not waver from its position.

Sherlock held his hands up in a placating gesture before he moved forward. He could hear some yelling and shuffling in the hallways as the other Prefects made their way down the hall to assess the situation for themselves. "John." He said, his voice low and even. "John, can you hear me?"

"Obviously he can hear you." The boy in the corner snarled. Sherlock had to resist the urge to groan. Anderson.

"Anderson, don't speak out loud. You lower the IQ of the entire school population." Sherlock then turned his full attention to John who was still heaving. (His breath was coming too quickly. He was going to pass out soon if he didn't act quickly.) "John, you're still dreaming." He said, his voice louder this time. He carefully reached a hand out to touch John's shoulder. The boy flinched and then turned so fast even Sherlock had a hard time processing it. He had just enough time to duck the punch that should have hit him square in the jaw. "John." Sherlock begged, putting his hands back up. "John, please listen to me. You're still dreaming. You're safe, John. You're safe on the Hogwarts Express. No one is going to hurt you. I promise." He saw Anderson get up and stumble from the compartment while John was distracted. John's wand slowly lowered and he blinked dazedly a few times. Sherlock reached out and took John's shoulders, gently guiding him to sit. (Breathing slowing, pupils returning to normal size.) Someone touched Sherlock's shoulder and he saw Mary standing there with a glass of water.

John blinked once more and suddenly his brow knitted in confusion. "Sherlock?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse. He looked around to see Mary there and then the large group of students that had gathered outside the compartment. His gaze turned down to his hands and he looked appalled at the sight of his wand in his hand. "Oh my god." He breathed, eyes widening in panic. "I-I fell asleep, I didn't…" His gaze flickered over to the students at the doorway. All eyes were on him. Sherlock saw his gaze and went to the door. "What are you all looking at?!" He roared before slamming it shut. It was a miracle the door didn't break.

"It's okay, John." Mary said quietly. She sat beside him and then offered him the glass of water. John's tremor had returned and he almost spilled the water before he managed to gulp some of it down. Sherlock was still standing by the door looking shaken. John handed the water back to Mary before he could spill it and Mary placed it out of harm's way. She placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed soothing circles across his back. She knew it was an intimate motion, but also knew that John needed the comfort more.

Sherlock then came to stand in front of John, crouching so he was on eye level with him. His all-seeing gaze swept over the now trembling Gryffindor, making sure his vitals were returning to normal. (Blood pressure, heart rate, breathing rate…) John swallowed thickly, fighting back tears, but did meet Sherlock's gaze. "Are you alright?" Sherlock asked. He reached his hand out as if to touch John's shoulder, but then he brought it back to himself.

John nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He assured, his voice shaking. He was obviously not okay, but Sherlock wasn't going to press the matter. He began his nervous pacing once more, hand running through his thick curls. Mary sat in silence, continuing her gentle massage across John's back.

A small choked noise escaped John's lips and he clapped a hand over his mouth. " 'm sorry." He said through his hand. He closed his eyes, willing the tears not to come. Sherlock froze in his pacing and turned his back to John as he felt tears of his own prick at his eyes. 'I did this to him. He wouldn't be going through this if it weren't for me.' He thought as he released a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

It was then that Mary realized she was missing something. She'd heard about John's injury at the Battle of Hogwarts last year. It seemed like everyone knew about it. Especially with the circumstances surrounding his injury. But there was something else to it. There had to be. Something had happened between these two friends and it was obvious they weren't about to sort it out. "It's okay." Mary said quietly, turning her gaze from Sherlock's back to John. "You can cry. It's alright." Another sob soon escaped John. Mary wrapped him in a hug, pulling John so that his head was buried in her chest and effectively shielded from anyone who may come in to the compartment. John wrapped a trembling arm around Mary's middle.