A/N: Hi! I'm back! I know it's been a while, and I'm really sorry, but without further ado, I'd like you to read the story! I'll explain more at the end.

Kiss With A Fist

-3-

You gave a kick, I gave a slap

"No more dreaming of the dead

As if death itself was undone

No more calling like a crow for a boy,

For a body in the garden."

-Blinding ~ Florence and the Machine

Harry looked out the window on the Hogwarts Express. The rain that drizzled down was reflective of his brooding mood, the same one he had been in after the final battle. He had watched so many people die, and he had seen their faces drain of life. He had watched families grieve and curse, not his name, but Voldemort. Tom Riddle. The man he had killed. Yes, Harry was still viewed as their savior, but he couldn't believe it himself, couldn't help but let their praise tear him apart inside. He had destroyed families, lost every parental figure he had known and even those he hadn't, and it was all Voldemort's fault. No, Riddle's fault. He reminded himself that even in the end Voldemort had been a mortal just like every other victim of their silly war. As the life had faded from Tom's eyes, Harry had watched, seeing pain and fear in them. That was when Harry accepted the burden of the casualties. He blamed himself for the loss of every soul in the war, even those which were to be taken by the dementors from the accused death eaters. With this guilt he had shouldered, he had distanced himself from everyone around him. He noticed it slowly happening, and he noticed it even more now.
Harry watched out the window as the train streaked through the countryside. Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny were discussing something avidly. He couldn't bring himself to be in the conversation, it was just one more thing he had to bother putting effort into. His friends had seemed to notice the change in him, though, and despite efforts to keep him in the flow of things; he still managed to push them all away. Luna sat in her corner, reading the Quibbler, somehow managing to focus on it in the chaos that was their train compartment. Hermione and Neville both had gone back to finish their studies- Hermione loved the experience of school and Neville needed the NEWTs results for Herbology to continue in his planned career. Ron had gone back with Hermione; they had become almost completely inseparable after the Final Battle. Harry had gone back with them for something to do, although he doubted he would actually pay attention much throughout the year.

In other locations along the train, you could find a few of the old seventh years coming back and among all occupants, it was clear where friends had died. Dennis Creevey had become less upbeat, although he had become an avid photographer, something small he did to remind himself of his older brother. The group of girls that had enjoyed the presence of Lavender had lost not only Ms. Brown, but also both of the Patil twins, their parents having pulled them out of school to remain at home. Even Goyle had looked even more lost and confused than usual after Crabbe died, following Draco in a daze.

Draco, on the other hand, was almost even more excited about this year than usual. His father would no longer be pushing him into Dark Arts; he found he didn't like it after being confronted with the issue of having to kill Dumbledore. Actually, his father was put into Azkaban, which wasn't precisely a good or bad thing. It just was. For his mother, it was rougher, simply because she was suddenly alone at the manor. It was a good thing that she had many other wives of Death Eaters that she would spend time with, even now that the Malfoy name had been sullied by the trial. It was also good for his attempts at a love life. Draco had realized that he wouldn't be ready to live up to the family name and produce more heirs after he had caught himself staring at males, not females, at the Yule Ball fourth year. Noting that he was gay was not something Lucius would have approved of, and something Narcissa still didn't quite agree with, but it did wonders for his already impeccable taste in fashion.

When the train arrived at the Hogsmeade station, prefects ushered the children off and into the waiting care of Hagrid, who would take them into the school via the lake. Many repairs had been done over the summer, wards had been replaced, and although the castle was not back to its former state, it was in much better repair than many had thought after the battle. As the first years sailed across the lake, the upperclassmen rode in on the "self-drawn" carriages. Many gasps could be heard as people saw the thestrals that were actually pulling the covered carriages. Many people stared in wonder while others cringed in fright. Harry, though, stared at the ground. He watched as the water poured into it from the unrelenting sky. And he thought about worms. He remembered watching them come out of the ground in torrents to escape the water pouring into their homes when Aunt Petunia locked him out. He watched as they drowned slowly, above ground and not in puddles. He wondered if they died easy that way, if it hurt. Maybe he could try it. Maybe it would work. He would welcome death, it had been warm and comfortable, not in the way that a fire and a mug of hot chocolate could be on a cold winter's day, but in the way that he imagined a mother's hug could be, the way that he felt when Sirius had hugged him at Grimmauld Place after the Order meeting.

It was a call from Hermione that snapped him out of his thoughts. She and the others were staring at him from inside their carriage. He climbed in and shut the door behind himself, hoping that was what they expected of him. Hermione gave him a small smile and cast a quick drying and warming charm on the occupants of the carriage. The rest of the ride was spent in silence as they approached the grounds that were heavily bloodied only four months before. Each of the occupants mourned their losses privately, giving Harry a real opportunity to blend in with his dulled attitudes and numb mind. Hermione cast an impervious charm on their robes, protecting them from the rain as they made their way into the castle. They made their way inside, saying goodbye to Luna as she parted from them to make her way to the Ravenclaw table. The rest made themselves comfortable at the Gryffindor table, sparking up conversations with others that they had lost contact with in the months after the Battle. Harry remained silent.

Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table. His "friends" had seemed to have taken less of a liking to him, now that his father had gotten off with only a sentence in Azkaban. Draco seemed to be oblivious to the glares sent in his direction, or the whispered conversations around him that mentioned his name. He still had an ally in Goyle, though, and Blaise and Pansy didn't seem to mind being around him either. Flanked by them, he didn't bother to hide his stares at one Harry Potter. He seemed to be the only one at that table who wasn't smiling, wasn't trying to forget. Even from where he was sitting, he couldn't see any fire in those eyes, no flash of light to show Draco that Harry was still there, still fighting. Draco frowned slightly, he would have to get Potter to show some semblance of recognition that he was in the present before propositioning a friendship between the two of them yet again. With the way things were looking, though, he was finding that it might be harder than he thought. Not even the weaselette was able to hold his attention for long. He would turn to her as she tried talking to him, give a slight nod or shake of his head, and resume staring at his plate and eating in a mechanical manner.

Professor McGonagall had been named Headmistress of Hogwarts and gave a more coherent speech than Dumbledore had given in the six years he had remembered. As soon as they were dismissed, Harry had gotten up and slumped out of the Great Hall, feet trudging in a manner that was the complete opposite of what Potter had displayed in his years at Hogwarts. A week had managed to pass in much the same way. No real reaction, no real emotion, could be seen from Potter. Even his closest friends were unable to get anything out of him except a few, brief responses and it was very seldom that they were words. It was only after Potter had been accidentally knocked into at dinner by a wildly gesturing Seamus Finnigan only to fall to the ground and get back up, no emotion visible on his face, did Draco decide what to do.

The next day in class, he began treating Harry in the same manner he had done for many years of his life. He made quick snipes, insults that should drive Harry crazy.
"Hey, scarhead! How's that mutt of yours doing? You know, the one from fifth year on the platform? Haven't seen it in a while."
"Potter! Have a nice holiday with mum and dad? Oh, that's right. Don't have any, do you?"
"Oi, Potter! See you've given up quidditch! Finally realize you're not a match for me?"
"Hey, Potter! Where's your little girlfriend to defend you now?"
"Potter. Still can't manage to brew a potion properly? How pathetic. How'd you get into this class in the first place?"
"Look at Potter now. He couldn't even transfigure a feather into a quill!"

Harry, however, did not react. His friend would be quick to jump to his defense, pushing Harry away from Malfoy and glaring at him or coming up with some ridiculous prank to get back at Draco, or at least get him into trouble. No matter how hard Draco tried, though, he just couldn't get anything out of Harry. Instead of just being nonchalant about it, as he tried in the first place, he couldn't help but be consumed by his attempts to get a rise out of Harry, soon ignoring the other "eighth years" who were around him in favour of figuring out something that would get Harry to react. He could be found brooding outside of class: in the library, in the great hall, even wandering the grounds. Sometimes, he could even be found to be brooding in class, usually those without Harry in them, quickly covering up the fact that he wasn't paying attention whenever the teachers tried to call on him or giving him a detention. Blaise and Pansy had saved him from punishments a great many times, and in return he seemed to only ignore them further.

It was only a week later when it seemed that Draco would be finally giving up. None of his attempts seemed to be getting through to Harry, only infuriating Granger and the Weasleys and even Longbottom, Thomas, and Finnigan, which was amusing, but not what he had wanted. Draco glared at Harry from across the Hall at dinner on the Friday night a week after returning. Harry seemed to be pushing his food around his plate listlessly whilst the other Gryffindors laughed and chatted amicably over him, not really noticing he was there anymore. The stares that he had received at the beginning of the year had died down along with the whispers and excited chatter that some of the first years had begun, all of them excited to know that they'd be going to school with the one and only Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived to Save us all. Upon seeing him, however, many found themselves to be disappointed, and it was clear to Draco why that had happened. Harry just would not react to anything he said, anything he did.

Harry decided that he didn't want any more to eat, nor did his body physically need anything else to keep him functioning properly and shoved his plate away from him. Hermione wouldn't be able to mother him into eating anymore, as he had eaten the majority of the food that was on his plate. He stood up slowly, slipping his legs out from the benches and heading out the doors to the Great Hall almost unnoticed. He had not stayed for any announcements from McGonagall or any of the other professors, but he wasn't worried. If it was anything too important, he would be told by Ron or would hear it from the other boys in his dorm in the worst-case scenario. However, his sudden absence was noted by Draco, having gotten called into another conversation while Harry exited the hall. Draco decided that he would have to chase Harry, make his insults personal, in order to garner the right results.

Draco all but jumped out of his seat and stalked out of the Great Hall, muttering excuses for his sudden departure that fell on ears of people who didn't really care. He hurried after Harry in a manner that would be considered unbefitting of a Malfoy had anyone seen and only slowed when he was a short distance behind the other boy. He straightened his clothes and fussed with his hair before coughing lightly. Harry only seemed to not hear anything and continued up the stairs to the next platform, waiting on the next upward staircase to move into place. Draco scowled. He coughed again, finding himself ignored once more. Glaring at Harry's back, he snapped out, "Potter!"

Harry whirled around. Having been trapped in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed anyone behind him, let alone anyone trying to get his attention. He glanced over Malfoy's appearance, barely noting that the boy looked a little more disheveled than usual and the pounding in his head was beginning again, something that hadn't really happened in a long while, at least not since May. "What do you want, Malfoy?" His voice sounded flat, even to his own ears, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Draco faltered for a moment. It wasn't as if he could really explain to Harry why he had followed the boy out, he wasn't entirely sure in the first place, but he had done it anyways and now when confronted with the question, he didn't know what to say. Before he realized he was speaking, though, words tumbled from his mouth. "No one insults a Malfoy and gets away with it, especially not precious Potter. And don't say that you haven't insulted me, ignoring me counts as an insult as well." He sneered at the dark-haired boy who simply stared back in return. Malfoy waited a moment until he realized that he'd be getting no response from Potter after all. He scowled again at Harry before speaking again. "What, suddenly I'm not worth a response from you? The precious savior of the wizarding world can't be bothered to say anything to his rival of eight years? Am I not famous enough for you? Because I can assure you that although I'm not as widely feared as the dark lord, I am still a well-known name." Silence. "Fine then, Potter, since you can't be bothered to speak to me, perhaps you'll duel with me? I'm sure we can find a nice classroom that will do if you don't want to get caught performing magic in the halls." More silence. Draco was becoming enraged. It took most of his self-restraint to keep from shouting at Potter right there where anyone could see. "What? Can't even be bothered to duel me without an audience? Oh, I know, it's the fact that you won't have anyone to save this time, no one else to protect like you 'protected' Justin, the idiot Hufflepuff, in second year. Or is it because you don't have another threat looming over your stupid mudblood friend and the blood traitors?" Draco smirked, thinking for sure he could get something from Potter this time.

Again, Draco was met with silence. Draco's eyes narrowed as he scowled once more and threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Fuck, Potter, you're not even worth it anymore!" He exclaimed, turning and beginning to storm away down the set of stairs and towards the dungeons. It was then that he finally got the goal he was so desperately trying to achieve. In a small voice, Harry managed to choke out a response. "I know."

A/N: Hello again. I can't apologise enough for my absence. I've been so busy with everything. April was crazy with Chamber Trip, then repacking and Spring break in England. When I came back in May, I was super busy prepping for concerts and finals, all of which reared their ugly heads in June. After finals was graduation things (although I did not graduate, I was still highly involved) and then immediately after that was surgery, putting me out of commission for a week. I started class again at the college shortly after that, and marching band season has begun once more, making me busy all the time. I'm sorry again, but the chapter is here now, and I hope you like it! The next chapter is already well underway, and should be out shortly. (I hope!)