Harry didn't know when he first noticed it; the hum. In the immediate aftermath of the final battle Harry had only felt numb, a bone-aching weariness that wasn't quite relief. Then there was the mourning period that followed; a blur of black clothing and grief in Harry's memory; funeral after funeral. And so it must have been over a month before Harry realised that the tingling feeling, that he had thought was just exhaustion, hadn't gone away; was stronger in fact.
It had taken longer for him to work out what the humming was. And in the meantime it got stronger, varying its pulsing pattern in different situations; different people, different places.
It was magic, he realised in the end. He could sense the magic around him, feel it in the air. The sensation heightened when he visited places infused with greater magic; when he went to the ministry for the trials, for example, and when he was around powerful wizards, like Snape.
Harry could feel her now, Hogwarts. It was stronger in the castle than anywhere else he had been, worse even than the Ministry. The sensation was intense but gentle somehow. Like Hogwarts was reaching out with its magic to touch his own. It was almost comforting, Harry thought, but he was still somewhat unsettled by this new development.
His own magic had changed too, Harry knew, not just his perception of it. He was more powerful now. Like all this time something had been restraining his magic, a dam on a river, and now the dam was gone and Harry could feel the full, raging force of his magic rushing through his veins, pulsing at his fingertips.
It had taken a while to get used to; weeks spent holed up in his Grimmauld Place bedroom practicing, desperately trying to restrain his magic to an acceptable level. He'd managed it eventually, though with a fair few scatter cushions sacrificed in the process.
Still, it was an effort. Every day. Every spell. He had to remain aware, consciously reining in his magic. Harry had found that exhaustion worked well as a strategy. Every couple of days he would ascend to Grimmauld's spacious attic room, warded and silenced to outsiders, where he would spend a few hours letting go, practicing spells without holding back.
And it had given Ron and Hermione some time to spend together. They didn't question how Harry spent his time alone as long as they knew he was still in the house; as long as they knew he was still safe. Only Kreacher knew how Harry spent his time; picked him up off the floor when he had overdone it and apparated him to his bed.
It was a routine Harry intended to continue at Hogwarts. Now an early riser, at 5am on Monday morning, Harry had taken himself to the Room of Requirement looking for somewhere safe he could go to train. The Room had not disappointed. In fact, it had far exceeded his expectations. The adaptable room was large and split into two main sections. Two thirds of the room was a dueling arena, bare but for the old dueling dummy that had once been used by the DA. The smaller section was filled with what looked like muggle gym equipment; a treadmill, weight machines, even a punching bag. Upon closer inspection, the treadmill, Harry discovered, ran on the Room's magic and a few spoken commands started, stopped and altered the machine's speed. In the corner there was a shower; fresh, fluffy towels awaiting his use. It was fantastic, Harry decided, and he used the room to its full advantage that morning.
It was a good thing he had done so too, given the duel he'd had to have with Malfoy in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He'd controlled his magic well, Harry believed, and still managed to put on a good show, drawing out the fight and looking as though he put in as much effort as Draco. It wasn't easy though. Harry had been mentally exhausted by the time it was over. Which perhaps was part of the reason his conversation with Snape had gone so disastrously.
It was Saturday now and Harry was spread out comfortably on his bed, reading a book on wards which Kreacher had brought for him from the Black library at Grimmauld Place. Harry was enjoying the quiet, a moment of solitude after a week surrounded by people.
His peace was disturbed, however, when he heard raised voices from the communal living area. From inside his room the voices were indecipherable, but Harry pulled himself up and towards his door, opening it to hear what drama was occurring outside.
"Why don't you piss off back to Azkaban, Malfoy?"
And then another voice, equally angry. "You're as guilty as your bastard father!"
Harry recognized the voices now as belonging to the Ravenclaw boys, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, and having guessed by now what was going on, Harry made his way quickly down the corridor.
When he got to the scene, things weren't as bad as Harry had feared. Draco had managed to stay calm and looked as though he would very much like to leave the situation, rather than stay for a duel. Boot and Corner stood blocking his exit, both red-faced and looking for a fight.
"What's going on?" Harry drew their attention to his arrival. Other 8th years were in the room, watching the drama unfold, but staying out of it. Ron and Hermione entered through the portrait hole in the same moment, smiles freezing on their faces when they sensed the tension in the room.
Harry heard a mumbled, "Nothing," from Draco, his eyes downcast, blond fringe hanging over his face.
"Terry?" Harry prompted.
"He shouldn't be here, Harry." Boot jerked his head in Draco's direction. "There's no place for Death Eaters at Hogwarts anymore."
"He's not a Death Eater." Harry replied emphatically.
"He's got the mark." Corner scowled.
"A scar." Harry countered. "A scar of war that he had no more choice in getting than I did in getting the scar on my forehead." He felt the eyes in the room travel to his forehead where the partially hair-covered scar remained prominent, though inactive.
He continued, "Draco Malfoy had no choice over what family he was born in to. During the war, he risked his life and that of his family and lied to save my life. That is why Draco is innocent. That's what I told the Wizengamot and it's what I'll tell anyone else who wants to know."
Harry took a glance at Draco who was now looking back at him, confusion and intrigue at war in his expression.
"I'm the reason Malfoy is here at Hogwarts and not in Azkaban. If you've got a problem with that, you can take it up with me. You leave Malfoy alone, got it?"
There were nods from all around the room, not just Boot and Corner who muttered a disgruntled, "Fine," and moved out of Draco's way to go and flop onto the sofa.
Draco didn't acknowledge him, keeping his head down as he stepped around Harry towards his room.
Harry stood still as the room around him unfroze. Then Ron and Hermione were with him.
"You alright, mate? What was all that about?"
Harry nodded. "Nothing. Just old grudges that's all. Wanna go work in the library?"
Hermione beamed. "Great idea, just let me grab my stuff."
She bounced away happily as Ron groaned and turned an incredulous eye on his friend.
"Really, Harry? You're encouraging the monster within. You know that right?"
Harry grinned, and when Hermione's voice drifted back to them, "I heard that Ronald!" The horrified look on his best mate's face had Harry doubled over in laughter.
"Shut up, Harry." Ron whined, shoving his shoulder, and, if possible, Harry laughed harder.
On Sunday morning, Harry, Ron ad Hermione decided to enjoy a late breakfast in the Great Hall. As they filled up on pancakes and maple syrup, Harry and Ron planned a morning of flying.
"I heard they're bringing out a new Cleansweep to challenge the Firebolt." Ron chatted with pancake stuffed in his cheeks.
"Fantastic!" Harry replied. "We'll have to get some when they come out. If they're faster than the Firebolt I'll have to practice my Wronski Feint."
"Harry," Hermione frowned disapprovingly. "That move is so dangerous!"
"How do you even know what that move is?" Ron asked disbelievingly.
"I read about it." Hermione said defensively.
"Relax, Hermione. I've done the Wornski Feint before." Harry reassured. "Besides, what's life without a little danger?" He gave a mischievous grin.
Hermione's rebuttal was cut off by the arrival of owl post. A rolled up Daily Prophet dropped onto Hermione's plate and sent a fork catapulting across the table.
"Eurgh, why do you still get that rag, Hermione?" Harry asked in disgust.
"Better to know what the enemy is up to." Hermione shrugged as she shook the pancake crumbs off of her paper and unrolled it. "Shit." She breathed.
The quiet expletive grabbed Harry and Ron's attention.
"What is it?" Harry asked seriously.
"Death Eaters Destroying Diagon." Ron read over Hermione's shoulder.
"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "What's happened?"
"It says that a small group of wizards, wearing Death Eater masks and robes, rampaged through Diagon Alley yesterday afternoon." Hermione read. "They cast violent charms at innocent shoppers and caused Galleons worth of damage to local shops to local shops. Eye witnesses reported seeing the Dark Mark in the sky above the famous shopping district." Hermione skimmed to the end of the article. "There were no fatalities."
Harry felt sick. Being back at school for over a week, he'd almost forgotten that it wasn't over; that they were still out there. Still dangerous."
The mood in the Great Hall had changed as the other students read their own copies of the Prophet; the news quickly spreading among the student body. Harry looked up as Charlie descended from the staff table and headed straight for them.
The older Weasley was somber as he approached. "You guys alright?" He inquired, caringly.
The three of them nodded. There wasn't much to say.
Charlie nodded back. "Ron, I think we should go floo-call home."
Ron nodded and got up from the table. He kissed Hermione on the cheek before addressing them both. "I'll see you later in the dorm, alright?"
"'Course." Harry agreed.
"Give my love to your mum." Hermione squeezed his arm gently.
The Weasley boys left, picking up Ginny from further down the table as they went.
"Come on," Harry said to Hermione. "Let's head up."
Back at the dorm, the pair of them went to Hermione's room.
"Smiths?" Hermione asked, heading straight over to her large record collection.
"Yeah." Harry laid flat on Hermione's bed.
Soon the room was full of the mournful sound of The Smiths coming from Hermione's magical record player.
Having started the music, Hermione came and laid down on the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Harry. They stayed like that for half an hour, never talking but occasionally humming the tune or singing the lyrics.
"You okay if I leave you for a bit?" Harry asked eventually.
He felt Hermione nod next to him. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
Harry slowly sat up and swung his feet off the side of the bed.
"You'll stay here, yeah?" Harry had warded their rooms himself and it was the only place he'd feel safe leaving her alone.
"Mmhmm." Hermione hummed the affirmative, feeling relaxed. "I've got a book on the devolving rights of sentient transbeings that I've been meaning to read."
"Well that sounds riveting." Harry teased, dodging the cushion that was thrown his way in retaliation.
Hermione smiled fondly at him as he opened the door. "Be safe."
"I always am." Harry replied and shut the door behind him quietly.
Harry stopped at his own room on the way out, grabbing his broom and a flying cloak. He needed to fly. Needed to feel the wind rushing around him as he hurtled through the air, forgetting the troubles of the world on the ground. He needed to feel weightless.
He headed out, taking every shortcut he knew through the castle. Harry was almost at the entrance doors when the Headmistess' voice stopped him.
"Harry," She said coming closer. "I hoped I might catch you at some point today. I expect you've seen the news?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Awful news." The Scottish witch tutted. "Thank Godric no one was killed."
"Yeah." Harry agreed needlessly.
"Would you like to discuss it, Harry?" McGonagall asked kindly, pityingly. "We could go and have some tea in my office."
"Er, I was actually going to, um, meet some people down at the Quidditch pitch." He lied, gesturing lamely to the broom in his other hand.
"Oh, well, I'll let you go then. We'll have tea another time." The headmistress suggested. "You're welcome whenever you wish, Harry."
"Er, yeah, sure." Harry agreed vaguely and watched McGonagall turn away before he headed out of the castle and down to the pitch.
Harry stepped over his broom and took off in one swift movement. He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he was in the air. Flying was freeing and he allowed the rushing wind to push all thoughts of forcible magic and Death Eaters and Headmistress' offices from his head.
He flew fast and high, taking in big lung-fulls of chilled air. Pulling his broom into familiar tricks, Harry twisted and dived until he could feel the ache in his muscles. Pushing himself further, Harry fell into a Wronski Feint, plunging his body straight towards the magically-kept grass. He left it longer than he ever had to pull on his handle and stop the descent. He felt his toes brush against the ground as he came out of the fall. He felt amazing.
Rising high again, Harry slowed his broom to a gentle gliding pace; taking time to feel his heart pounding in his ears.
He caught a flash of orange far below and saw Ginny mounting her own broom. Not coming as high as Harry, she got close enough for him to see her gesturing and then turned her broom towards the stands. Harry followed, landing skillfully on the railing before hopping down and dismounting.
He joined Ginny on one of the benches, sitting with his shoulder brushing hers and staring out on to the pitch.
"You alright?" He asked finally.
"Yeah." Ginny spoke softly as she watched the swallows fly around the pitch. "We spoke to Bill. George is fine. Mum's a bit freaked out though."
Harry nodded.
"You alright?" Ginny returned.
Harry nodded again. "Just can't believe this is still happening. All I want is for it all to be over so I can move on with my life, you know?"
"Yeah, I get that."
A comfortable silence returned. From their seats, high above the ground, Harry could see Hagrid at the stables. The gentle half-giant led a stumbling unicorn foal around the large pen; back on its hooves for the first time since it broke a leg.
This time, Ginny broke the silence.
"I know you're not ready for anything yet," she spoke calmly, still looking onto the pitch. "I know it's too soon to be thinking about 'us', but –" Harry looked down at her then, her expression nervous for the first time in a long while. "But would you just hold me?"
Her confession surprised him, but he agreed immediately, placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close as she leaned into his chest. Comfortable there, the pair breathed synchronously, rising and falling together in a steady rhythm.
"I love you, Harry." He heard her whisper beneath his chin.
"I love you too, Gin."
AN: Don't get too excited, unfortunately I can't update this frequently most of the time. However, today I found out that the school I teach at is being inspected tomorrow so I'll be needing some of your lovely reviews to keep my spirits up this week! Thank you so much to everyone who has already followed, favourited and reviewed this story, your opinions, good and bad, mean the world. All the best x