Life after the Tom Riddle affair eventually goes back to almost-normal, or to a near-approximation of how it was before the war, but it takes a while. Facing Hagrid and the Weasleys back at Shell Cottage the morning after the breakout is one of the most uncomfortable situations Harry's ever found himself in. His friends are relieved to see him, of course, but once the initial hugs are exchanged they look at him differently, some with confusion, some with wariness almost, like they're seeing him for the first time. Arthur is quieter than usual and only mentions that Harry'll probably not get into too much trouble with the law given his war hero status. Hagrid, Mrs Weasley and Fleur can't quite come to terms with the idea that Harry was helping Tom out of his own free will and insist, despite his protests, that he was under Tom's spell the whole time. "He must have cast it when they were alone together in the Gryffindor common room. This is just like when poor Ginny got possessed by his diary," Mrs Weasley laments loudly, and Fleur and Hagrid express their agreement with fervent death threats against Tom.
There's another round of explaining himself when Ron and Hermione return from their trip to Australia (cut short by two weeks once they heard Harry had been abducted, but thankfully still successful - Hermione's parents turn up at Shell Cottage with their daughter, looking very dazed) that afternoon. Hermione does not hesitate to tell Harry she thinks he's an idiot for almost getting himself killed and his trust was misplaced even if Tom did save his life because Tom was clearly prepared to let Harry die, but at least she's somewhat sympathetic to his cause. Ron, on the other hand, joins the Fleur-Molly Weasley-Hagrid camp immediately and starts speculating on how Tom could have managed to get Harry under his spell. It makes Harry a little bitter to think that his friends would refuse to take him seriously lest they risk shattering their black and white view of the world - it makes him feel, not for the first time in his life, that he has no one he can talk to. Then he catches himself indulging his own bitterness, and remembers the people he's feeling bitter towards are the ones who've been with him through thick and thin, whom he loves more than anything in the world and who were the reason he even had a shot against Voldemort, and he wonders if maybe Ron and Mrs Weasley and Hagrid are right, and the past two surreal nights in the attic have in fact changed him, though in ways more subtle than possession by a Horcrux or an Imperius curse would.
Its strange beginning aside, the summer is otherwise unremarkable. Harry manages to sell Grimmauld Place to the Malfoys, his strategy being to show up for tea uninvited one day and casually suggest stripping the Blacks' ancestral home of magic and putting it on the Muggle real estate market, which makes the blood drain from all three Malfoys' faces and elicits a stiff concession from Narcissa Malfoy that she might be interested in acquiring the mansion. Harry'd take Kreacher with him rather than leave him in the care (or the neglect) of the Malfoys, but the elf is much too attached to the house, and so Harry moves into the new apartment he buys with the money alone. Not that he spends very much time by himself- his friends are often over, and almost every weekend is spent at the Burrow, at first helping the Weasleys to spruce up the place and erase every trace of the unwelcome guests (now safely locked away in Azkaban, all but one), and then just hanging out and playing cards and quidditch and listening to the radio and sucking on popsicles like they used to on lazy summer days before the war. Voldemort is almost never brought up and Tom Riddle even less so (though in everyone's mind but Harry's the separation between the two isn't very clear), but it doesn't keep Harry from brooding over the latter when he's alone. He dwells on the kiss often, more often than he should, he knows (more often than Tom has ever thought about it, says a niggling voice in his head) but he can't help himself. Part of him wants to tell Hermione everything - if anyone can help him figure his life out she can - but he doesn't know how to bring it up with her, and also there's another part of him that doesn't want to be told that he was being played, that the most intense kiss he's ever had (there, he's admitted it) was, like the most intense throat-slashing he's ever had, just another of Tom Riddle's decoys, designed to confuse him into breaking Tom out of the Burrow. He doesn't want to hear it, even if it is the truth of the matter.
September rolls around, and Harry passes through metal and onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. There're first day of school butterflies fluttering about in his stomach like he's a first year again - The year (year and a half if you count the summers) they've spent away from school feels like an eternity, and it's making him nervous. It took him a while to decide whether to return. As Ron pointed out, his inheritances from his parents and from Sirius mean he could never work a day in his life if he wanted to, so fuck the NEWTS. Unfortunately Hermione (the newly crowned head girl) overheard the conversation, and her fury was enough to make Harry forget about dropping out and Ron forget about being a bad influence. So he's here now, amid milling crowds and clouds of smoke issuing from the Hogwarts express, with butterflies in his stomach.
Harry quickly realizes people are staring at him. Those who know him stop to chat, and some of those who don't know him stop anyway and thank him for ending the war. A girl even asks him to sign her book (the misunderstanding that results from Ron mishearing this is a source of embarrassment for all parties), but most people just stare. It's the staring without saying hi that Harry finds most discomfiting, and he boards the train as quickly as possible and barricades himself in the last cabin with Ron and Hermione, who drop their bags off and leave for prefect duties.
It isn't too long before the door slides open.
"Oh," say Harry and Malfoy at the same time, startled. Somehow the absence of Malfoy's usual cadre makes him look more diminutive, both thinner and shorter than Harry remembers. It occurs to Harry that most of the Slytherins from their batch must have taken the NEWTS and graduated, explaining why Malfoy is alone for once.
"You can sit if you like," Harry says, gesturing at the empty seat across him. "I'll be by myself for the most part." He has to suppress a smile when Malfoy's eyes nearly pop out of his head.
"Yeah sure, whatever," Malfoy mutters ungraciously, and swings his two suitcases and broom onto the luggage rack before coming over to join Harry. He does his best to avoid eye contact, which isn't hard because he's grown his fringe over his eyes, and Harry wonders how he can see anything through it.
"How's Grimmauld Place?" Harry asks before the silence becomes self-enforcing.
"Fine," says Malfoy automatically, then when Harry raises an eyebrow, he says, "Shit. It's a shithole."
Harry laughs, and Malfoy smirks a little, a ghost of the smirk Harry remembers well from earlier days.
"It wasn't always that way," Malfoy says. "Mother says the aesthetics never were to her taste, but it was more welcoming when she was young."
Harry wonders if the young Narcissa got along with the young Sirius. Probably not; She probably thought he was insane and he probably thought she had a stick up her butt. It's a weird sort of glimpse into Sirius' childhood, from a perspective Harry's never considered before.
"Was she over often?" he asks.
"Oh yeah, she was a real tomboy when she was young - don't raise your eyebrows at me, Potter. She'd ask my grandmother to let her sleep over on weekends so she could play with her cousins. Your godfather too," Malfoy adds hesitantly, watching Harry for a reaction. Harry smiles.
The Hogwarts Express gives a loud whistle and the doors slam shut. Soon they're chugging along, faster and faster down the tracks. Harry and Malfoy lean back in their seats and watch the hills and pastures of the English countryside blend into a green blur through the window. This time the silence isn't awkward, and Harry finds he doesn't regret his decision to invite Malfoy to sit with him.
"Chess?" asks Malfoy after a while.
"Sure, but I'm rubbish," says Harry, which makes Malfoy laugh as he accios his chess set from his suitcase.
"You really are rubbish," Malfoy observes half an hour later as he takes Harry's queen. "I thought I wasn't that great but you're just terrible at strategy. How did you win a war against the greatest dark lord of all time again?"
"You thought you weren't that great?" Harry retorts.
"Only at chess," Malfoy says, and the familiar smirk makes a return.
The cabin door slides open again then, and Harry looks up. "Oh is the trolley here already?" Malfoy asks, turning around.
It's Ron, gaping at them from the doorway. He collects himself quickly, though, and remarks, gesturing at the chessboard where Harry's hand hovers above his knight, "Bad move, mate." Then he adds, gesturing at Malfoy, "Worse move."
Malfoy gets up and shoves past Ron, stalking off without so much as a backwards glance.
"Simmer down drama queen, I didn't mean it," calls Ron after the retreating blond, and Harry buries his head in his hands.
Hogwarts is not the same with Minerva McGonagall as headmistress. Harry loves her, but he misses Dumbledore's cryptic and meandering and oftentimes ridiculous postprandial speeches. McGonagall just cuts to the chase, making announcements in quick succession. Hermione is the new head girl, Michael Corner is the new head boy, everyone is to obey them, the Carrows have been replaced by two new hires - Frank Moss, a nondescript man whose most distinctive features are his balding head and mournful eyes, is the new professor of Muggle Studies, and the new Defence against the Dark Arts professor has unfortunately been taken ill but classes tomorrow have not been cancelled (here a loud groan from all four house tables). McGonagall goes on- there's a new caretaker to add to the list of hires, Mr Filch regrets to say he's unable to return to Hogwarts following the tragic death of Mrs Norris during the war… McGonagall's words are drowned out by the sudden burst of cheering, and no one pays much attention when the new Caretaker stands up at the teachers' table. Harry doesn't catch his name - Ali? Ellie? Elliot?- but he notices the man is not bad looking, especially for a Filch-substitute, with dark shaggy hair that seems to have been chopped off at the ends "Silence!" snaps McGonagall. The chatter finally subsides. "Prefects, lead the way to the dormitories," McGonagall orders curtly, and that's the end of Harry's first day of school.