Harry was dropped off at the Station, a full half-day early. Uncle Vernon had to work, after all, so "It wasn't on your convenience, but his."
Harry didn't mind. He could peoplewatch, and that was far more fun than a last round of chores - watch the old lady tottering around, and the young boy too boisterious to stay put. At home, everything was spotless from the start.
Then, Harry had a marvelous idea. He could run bags. All he had to do was find the ritchy folk. And there were tons at the station. He was well-dressed enough (finally, finally with clothes that fit), that he could ask, "Need some help?" Unlike the people around Privett Drive, these hadn't been poisoned against him. He made pounds that day! By the time he'd actually made it to the platform, he had easily enough to get himself some decent, properly fit clothes. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have to "mend" Dudley's clothes - she always managed to get at least one bloodspot on Harry's clothes, and always claimed (in a conspiratorial tone when neither her son nor husband were around) that it was "for good luck."
It had been a long and busy summer. Harry was looking forward to seeing Hermione again. His pockets were full of pence and shillings, and he stepped onto the platform.
That turned out to be a mistake.
All the Hogwarts students (particularly the oldest of them) had gotten used to Harry by now. He was, to be sure, famous, but he was also, really, rather boring. Nobody wanted his autograph.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said for parents. Harry wanted to hide, to go back to being Dudley Dursley (even the Twins hadn't met him, surely he could...). Harry briefly entertained a mad desire to pretend to be pretending to be Harry Potter, again. "It's just magic marker" he'd said...
Not this time.
This time, Harry smiled bravely, and endured. Handshakes, some old biddie even pinched his cheek. Every person pressing close to him, making him want to flee. It was horrid, it made him jumpy - he was surprised he hadn't hexed anyone yet.
There was Lucius Malfoy and his wife, smiling like ice statues - but, oh god, they were approaching him. "Mister Potter, how lovely to see you!" Narcissa Malfoy said, her cold manner transforming a sweet greeting into the sound of velvet muffling steel. Draco Malfoy trotted behind them, making a face at Potter - well, at least someone's not a fan.
"Another autograph?" Harry spat back with some asperity.
"Hardly," Lucius Malfoy said coldly. Draco opened his eyes at Potter's temerity - missed the sarcasm, did we?
"I wonder if you'd like to join us for our annual get together over Christmas?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, her proper smile icy.
"I wouldn't want to disturb your guests." Harry Potter said coldly.
And then, with the timing of any library mouse, Hermione showed up. By which, she ran up to Harry Potter and engulfed him in a hug.
"Ow, Hermione," Harry said, unafraid to let the Malfoys see his friend. They would not move, except politically, except if hard pressed.
Harry Potter looked at Lucius Malfoy, gave a small bow, "As I was saying, I think my political views would be unpalatable to most of your guests."
Narcissa Malfoy opened her mouth, as if she was going to say something important.
"If you will excuse me, I think we have a train to catch," Harry said, ignoring Narcissa's abortive attempts to salvage the situation.
[a/n: Mistake, Potter. Narcissa is not going to let this drop that easily. Leave a review?]