A/N: this chapter contains a TRIGGER WARNING for brief, undetailed mentions of torture. if anyone needs me to mark it off in the text in some way so they feel safe reading please let me know and i'll see what i can do to mark it off.
also, i promise more smut next chapter ahdksfdja apparently we had to get all the post war trauma out this chapter!
Harry woke in a haze of confusion to someone shaking him. The first thought his brain supplied was That isn't Andromeda and the second was This isn't my bed. It took him a moment of haziness to realize that it was his bed, or his bed at Hogwarts at any rate, and the person shaking him awake definitely wasn't Andromeda. It was Pansy.
"What are you doing in here?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth. It was slightly more aggressive than he intended but, well – the sun wasn't even up.
"You were having a nightmare," she explained evenly, as though that explained everything. She stepped back to sit on Blaise's bed – which, Harry noticed, was empty, and looked at him expectantly.
"I sleep better with the baby around," Harry responded without really thinking. He was still trying to make sense of what was going on. He had become an early riser in the Days After, mostly thanks to Teddy's sleep schedule and Andromeda's insistence to be up at the crack of dawn with the kettle boiling, but this seemed excessive.
"I'm going to pretend that made any sense," Pansy responded. "Blaise has gone off to the kitchens. We're supposed to meet him there in about…" she trailed off to glance at her wrist, as if she was wearing a watch. She wasn't. "Now, but you're bloody hard to wake up."
"Sorry?" Harry responded. "Why is Blaise in the kitchens now?"
Pansy muttered something under her breath that definitely included the phrases bloody Gryffindors and how do they get through life alive. When she finally looked up at him, she sighed dramatically.
"Zacharias Smith is itching to find a reason to get us sent home and we don't particularly want to give him one. Your goodie two shoes Gryffindor pals don't seem to want to lend us a hand, either," Harry felt as if he were a small child being spoken sternly to for misbehaving. "So we are going to leave before anyone else is up and have a cozy breakfast with the house elves."
She sighed. "I didn't particularly want to bring you, but Blaise seems to be of the belief that Draco would murder us if anything happens to you. So I suppose we have to make sure you're not dumb enough to do anything stupid, now."
"Erm…" Harry was mostly at a loss for words.
"What are you waiting for? We need to go." Pansy spoke as if he were particularly daft. Given the time of morning, he probably was.
"Right. Could you, um, leave while I get ready?"
Pansy gave him a long-suffering look. "I will be outside your door for five minutes, then I'm coming back in and dragging you out, whether you like it or not."
She stormed across the room, but shut the door behind her with a soft click. Harry made a mental note to avoid ever making Pansy Parkinson angry at him. After a deep breath, he got out of bed and grabbed some clothes for the day.
Harry couldn't actually tell what time it was, but they had found, once they had made it to their room the night before, that it had enchanted windows. They seemed to be similar to the ceiling of the Great Hall, showing with at least some accuracy the weather and time of day outside. Judging by the windows, the sun was just now peaking above the horizon.
They didn't have to wear uniforms yet, since they were the only students in the school, so Harry pulled on a soft sweater and some jeans. He ran a quick hand through his hair before giving up on attempting to neaten it altogether. He was pulling a quill and some parchment out of his trunk, with half his mind set on writing Andromeda a letter over breakfast, just as Pansy stepped back in.
"Good, you're decent," she said sardonically. "My eyes are saved, to be scarred another day."
"Thanks," he rolled his eyes. Tucking the parchment and quill into his pocket, he allowed her to lead him into the Common Room and into the corridor, the entryway grinding closed behind them.
"That has got to be the least subtle way to enter or exit anywhere, ever," Pansy sighed. Harry smirked at her, but didn't say anything. His mind was still reeling.
How had it happened that he had been taken under the wing of a group of Slytherins that everyone hated? Why was it that everyone hated them so much? Hating Draco, he understood, maybe. Harry hadn't been at Hogwarts the previous year – hadn't seen what had happened, although he had heard stories about Hogwarts under the Carrow's rule. Students had been forced to hurt and punish other students – until eventually some had taken up residence in the Room of Requirement.
But there was no place for the Slytherins to take refuge. It was hurt or be hurt, and knowing them now he knew that they would choose to hurt – most people would, really. He knew, too, that there were students from every house that had participated. To place the blame on the Slytherins alone felt…irresponsible, almost. Especially for a war that was so brutal because of a madman's ability to pit children against children.
The people who chose to do the hurting, Harry reflected, did not have sleepless nights. They were haunted, just as haunted as the rest of them. Perhaps in the Days Before, he wouldn't have understood, would have thought himself better for the choices he made. Except that he hadn't made choices, not really. People had made choices for him – Dumbledore, Voldemort, the prophecy.
When he died, he had seen the tortured part of Voldemort's soul die along with him, heard Dumbledore tell him that it was past saving, watched the pain it exhibited. Nobody at Hogwarts was past saving, but they all had tortured souls, now. In the Days After, with Andromeda's help, Harry was able to find that tortured part of his soul. He couldn't heal it – was unsure if it would ever be healed, but he felt it contract whenever he thought of those who died, whenever he heard a loud noise, whenever someone raised their wand at him. Andromeda had said being aware of it was half the battle of healing it, but Harry didn't think it could be healed – not really.
"Who's your professor for the year?" Pansy asked him, breaking Harry away from his thoughts. The previous day at lunch, Professor McGonagall had asked them to each think at length about where they wanted their future to head, and choose a professor to help guide them. She had explained that they would experience everything from one-on-one mentoring to helping with classes, to extra, more advanced studying. They hadn't been given much time – they were required to have a foot of parchment written on which professor they'd like to work with and why to be handed in to McGonagall at dinner. At breakfast today, they were to find out what professor they had been assigned and to meet with them at some point throughout the day.
"Bins and McGonagall, if she approves," Harry said after a moment's pause.
"Two, and neither of them defence professors? You continue to surprise me, Potter." He saw her glance at him out of the corner of her eye. "Binns could very well be horrid. Don't come complaining to me when you regret your choice."
Harry grinned a little bit. "I'm not taking defence," he said. He watched her mouth form into an 'o' of shock.
"I always pegged you for becoming an auror," Pansy responded evenly.
Harry shrugged. "I thought that's what I wanted," he said. And it was, too. In the Days Before, that had been his goal. But now he had lived through a war, and more fighting was the last thing that he had wanted.
He and Andromeda had spoken at length about it over the summer before he had sent an owl to McGonagall with his requests for classes. After deliberation and much conversation with Andromeda, McGonagall, Ron, and Hermione, he had decided to take Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Potions, and work outside of class with some professors to take his OWLs in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Muggle Studies, which had shocked Ron.
"What do you want, then?" Pansy asked, no longer hiding her curiosity. They had reached the kitchens, and he paused to tickle the pear on the portrait before responding.
"I'd like to open a school," he said finally. Pansy raised her eyebrows, which he took as permission to continue. "My godfather left me his old house – I'd like to convert it into some sort of primary school that would take in purebloods, halfbloods, and muggleborns before Hogwarts. They'd learn core subjects from muggle schools, but they'd also learn magical basics – history and culture. That way they're exposed to all ways of living, I suppose," he finished, somewhat lamely.
He looked up to find Draco and Blaise sitting at a small table, looking at him in astonishment. A house elf appeared beside the table, snapping into existence two more chairs and place settings, before bustling away as quickly as it had appeared.
"You never told me that," Draco said finally, breaking the silence.
"I didn't want to," Harry responded, sliding into the chair next to him. "Not until I knew I could make it happen." He began to serve himself some food – if there was one thing he had missed about the castle, it had to have been Hogwarts food. "What professor did you request?" he added, directing his question at Pansy.
"Whoever the new defence professor is, I suppose," she said with a sigh. As far as anyone knew, the post had yet to be filled. At the very least, they hadn't been introduced to any new professors, yet. At Harry's inquiring look, she added, "I'd like to be an Auror Potter, what of it?"
"Nothing," he said evenly, although privately he was shocked. Shocked, mostly, to think that he had spent seven years in classes with the group of people before him and had not an inkling of what any of them were interested in. "What about you, Zabini?"
"Arithmancy," he said dully, "although I don't really care." He took a sip of what must have been coffee – hadn't touched a bite of breakfast, Harry noticed.
"Maybe you'll get to help Potter catch up," Draco drawled from beside him.
Blaise mock shuddered. "The arithmancy OWL of the Boy Who Lived resting on my shoulders? That's too much responsibility."
The other two laughed. In what seemed like unspoken agreement, they all pushed their chairs back. It would be breakfast time soon in the Great Hall and they had to make an appearance – to collect their official professor assignments and meeting times, at any rate.
They weren't as early as they had thought. When they arrived in the Great Hall – which housed just a small table that the professors and students sat around together, most of their year was already there. Neville tried to smile at Harry as they walked in, but Harry tactfully ignored him and followed Blaise to seats at the opposite end to everyone else.
As they sat, Harry looked up to see Neville had abandoned his seat to make his say over to them. He pulled up a seat beside Harry and perched himself gingerly upon it, looking around furtively as if worried he'd be seen. Harry gave a glance around the room, but mostly people were talking amongst themselves. The only ones wo were looking were Dean and Seamus, which Harry expected, and Zacharias Smith. Harry saw out of the corner of his eye all three Slytherin's lean in closely towards Neville and Harry.
"Can I talk to you, mate?" Neville said. He had leaned in and dropped his voice, presumably so the other three couldn't hear him. This, Harry thought, was honestly a bit paranoid.
"What is it?" Harry asked. Neville made a vague gesture at Draco, Blaise and Pansy, but Harry shook his head. "They stay."
Neville sighed. "Look, I just wanted to say that I'll do my best to keep Smith off you in the common room, but I can't promise anything. He's angry."
"Thanks," Harry said, albeit begrudgingly. He had always liked Neville, generally, but it seemed a deliberate slight that he was offering Harry help after having already stood around to watch Zacharias and his friends pull wands on him. And it didn't escape Harry's notice that while Neville clearly thought Harry was deserving of help, the thought did not extend to the people around him.
"The thing is," Neville continued, "Things will stay this way unless you…well, show your house loyalties, if you know what I mean."
Harry sighed inwardly. "We don't have houses this year." He was being deliberately stubborn. He knew what Neville meant, of course. Knew he didn't mean it in bad faith, not exactly. They were all scared and scarred in their own ways.
"Harry, come on," Neville said imploringly. "You weren't here last year, with the Carrows. And I don't blame you," he added, putting his hands up in a placating gesture, "but others don't all see it that way. They feel that you, Ron, and Hermione – and even Dean, to some extent – spent the year out of the thick of things and left them to suffer here on their own. You had your stuff to do, we wouldn't have won the war without you, Harry. But being here brings up horrid memories, so not everyone is able to see it that way. But if you'd just talk to them, spend some more time with us, they wouldn't be so focused on being out to get you. They'd listen to you, if you explained."
Harry could see, now, the leader Neville had become in the past year – the leader he had needed to become. Harry had thought his heart had been broken before now; broken to never be mended, that he could not possibly feel it break any more than it had, but it did. It broke a little more for Neville and the DA and all the children that had been left to their own devices at Hogwarts under the rule of Alecto and Amycus Carrow.
"Nev," he began, trying to come up with the words to say – trying to come up with a way to fix it, a way to apologize for not being the saviour they had needed. But he was interrupted.
"That's bullshit, Longbottom." It was Pansy, voice firm but body trembling. Blaise was gripping her hand, looking grim. Harry didn't look away from her, but he could feel Draco slide himself closer, press a knee to Harry's leg. It was comforting in its own way.
"Don't act like you were the only ones who suffered," Pansy continued angrily. "Don't act like you're so righteous. What happened last year, Longbottom? I'll tell you. You and your cronies painted some stupid graffiti, acted like it was the most rebellious thing in the world. Then Corner got hurt and what happened? You goddamn disappeared."
Harry was transfixed on the two of them. Neville had gone ghostly white, Pansy was flushed and shaking.
"And even when you were around, who was there to bind the wounds of the first year Slytherins? You think the Carrows didn't hurt us? They didn't care about blood status, they cared about torturing children. The teachers stopped turning you lot in for breaking rules, but guess what? There was no one to stop the Carrows finding us doing wrong – or making things up, at any rate. Ours was the only Common Room they could get into, or had you forgotten?
"You think we wanted to hurt people? They threatened to kill our families, make us kill each other. Maybe you'd have let your family die for the greater good or whatever noble shite you believe that makes you think you're better than us, but you're not any better. You left by yourselves; you stayed home, you disappeared, you didn't take a single first year or Slytherin with you.
"Don't act like you don't have blood on your hands because you wouldn't use some unforgivables, you bastard. You have the blood on your hands of every person who was hurt after you left and didn't take anyone with you, of every Slytherin child who was hurt from the first day the Carrows showed up, and don't you ever fucking forget it."
You were a child. You are a child. You are allowed to grieve and you are allowed to change.
What Harry wouldn't have given, in that moment, for someone he loved to be here to make sense of this for him. Sirius, Lupin, even Andromeda.
"Is there a problem, here?" Harry looked up to see McGonagall standing over them. Draco removed his knee from Harry's leg, and he felt the absence like a slap to the face.
Neville looked like he was going to be sick, but was the first to speak up. "No problems, Headmistress. I was just going."
Under her watchful eye, he stood up and walked slowly back to where Dean and Seamus were sitting. He moved slowly, but his shoulders were straight, and he didn't look back.
Harry took a moment to glance worriedly at Pansy, but her face was blank. Blaise was looking at her with something like awe in his expression. Draco was, if possible, even paler than normal. Harry couldn't help but remember being taken to the Manor during their year on the run. Draco had been there, not at school. No doubt Pansy's words had hurt him.
McGonagall gave them all a terse smile. "I have your papers here. I realize you had an early breakfast," she continued, ignoring their shocked looks, "so I think early papers are in order." She passed a piece of parchment to each of them. "Potter, I will see you in an hour, and you right after, Mr Malfoy. Ms Parkinson, I've arranged a floo call with your Professor since he will not be arriving at Hogwarts until the first day of term. All the students who chose Defence will be meeting outside my office three hours from now, when I am done speaking with Mr Malfoy. If you'd like to go first, I recommend you arrive with him."
Pansy looked shocked. Harry couldn't tell if it was because McGonagall had just confirmed that there was indeed a Defence professor hired for the fall term, or because she had just been offered a method of avoiding the rest of those in their year by the Headmistress herself. To her credit, though, Pansy merely nodded in acknowledgement.
"Mr Zabini, you'll be meeting with Professor Vector in an hour. Don't be late." At Blaise's nod of understanding, she swept away from them.
"I need to go…" Pansy spoke, but trailed off slowly. "Not be here," she finally said with a sigh. "Maybe a walk on the grounds will do it. Are you lot coming?"
"I have to go send a letter to Andromeda," Harry responded. "But I'll see you after my meeting with McGonagall."
"I'll go with him," Draco said, almost too quickly. "None of us should be going anywhere alone," he added.
Harry saw Zabini raise an eyebrow and exchange a look with Pansy, but he nodded. "Guess that leaves me and Pans. To the grounds it is." He winked at Draco, and Harry tried to pretend he hadn't seen.
They stood together and parted ways at the door to the Great Hall, Pansy and Blaise heading outside and Draco and Harry turning left towards the Owlrey.
They were silent as they walked, Harry mulling over Pansy's words. She was right to be hurt, he knew, and brave to admit it. He couldn't help but feel guilt, too. If he had been here… he doubted he would have spared thoughts for the Slytherins. Doubted he would have been any better than Neville when it came to saving the first years, those outside the DA. Would have seen graffiti and throwing insults at the Carrows as the ultimate rebellion.
But those were the Days Before, and this was now. He had changed, in the Days After. He hoped that the others, Neville, Dean, and Seamus, would be able to change, too. Hoped that they all would do better.
"It wouldn't matter, you know," Draco said finally, as they mounted the stairs to the owlrey. Harry shot him a questioning look.
"I know what you're thinking – that you would have done the same as Neville. I'm saying it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered, that year. The war might have been won, but we all lost. You'd care now; I'd care now. That's what's important."
They had stopped walking. Draco's eyes were on him, serious and bright. He didn't know, really, who Draco was trying to convince – Harry, or himself.
But then Draco was kissing him, gently, tenderly on the steps, and maybe, Harry thought, maybe it didn't matter what they were Before. Maybe it only mattered that they were better now.