Harry fiddled with a loose string on his school robe, growing even more annoyed when he pulled on it and instead of snapping it just got longer. He looked up and took in his disheveled reflection. Great. His damn hair still wouldn't lay flat.
He let out a frustrated sigh, turning away from the mirror and tucking his wand into his sleeve.
Today was the beginning of a new year at Hogwarts. Everyone was excited to go back, ready to see each other after the end of the war and start their lives over. Professor McGonagall had taken over as Headmaster, stepping into the empty position in the wake of Snape's death and leading the reconstruction of the school.
At least that whole disaster was over. The war, he means.
Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts had pretty much been canceled. And it wasn't just for him, Ron, and Hermione because they had been busy chasing after Horcruxes all year. If any of his graduating class of witches and wizards wants to do something with their lives, they have to go back to finish off the school year.
The 'eighth year' everyone was calling it.
It was silly really. He was the Chosen One, the 'Hero of the Wizarding World!' Practically everyone worshiped the ground that he walked on. Why the hell did he have to go back to school? He would much prefer he go straight to the auror training academy with Ron and get on with life.
Harry glanced at the clock on his bedside table-a magical piece that would bash him upside the head if he took too long to get out of bed in the morning- and decided it was probably time for him to leave for the train.
He figured Ron and Hermione would meet him at the station as they hadn't really discussed it. In fact, the trio hadn't really discussed anything recently. The two lovebirds had been busy over the summer, apparently taking advantage of every second they had together. They had both taken the time off to heal and enjoy the freedoms of not being wanted by dozens of Death Eaters at every turn.
Which was understandable. And he was happy for them. Truely! Hermione had even introduced Ron to her parents, spending hours at their house helping them through the long and strenuous process of regaining their memories.
But he couldn't help but miss his best friends. And after everything he had lost in the war, he felt more alone than ever.
Grabbing his trunk, he apporated to the station with a crack.
He walked past the exasperated looking station masterand couldn't help but smile to himself. How that man could still deny the existence of Platform 9¾ despite the hoards of kids asking him every year was beyond Harry.
He let an awestruck set of young boys and their parents ahead of him before bracing himself for the shift in reality that would happen as he ran through the red bricks.
He senses where enthralled with the familiar bustling aura of the station. The air was warm, filled with the laughter of schoolmates and the sniffling of first-year mothers. Greetings and farewells clashed together, creating an atmosphere of noise that hadn't been so relaxed since before the war.
It was enough to chase away the lonely feeling that had begun to set in his heart.
He boarded the train and began searching for Ron and Hermione, greeting a few familiar faces as he passed their quickly filling compartments. He had gone through nearly half of the train with little luck when he heard a gaggle of young girls gasp. He whipped his head around, and inwardly cringed at their starstruck and almost hungry gazes. An older boy pushed past them and Harry used it as cover to duck into the nearest train compartment and quickly shut the door. He would have to find Hermione and Ron later.
Without really looking to see who else was in the room, he slid his trunk into the overhead compartment and began to settle in for the ride when he heard an all too familiar voice.
"Well if it isn't the famous Harry Potter."
Of course Harry had picked the one compartment of the whole train with Malfoy in it. Yet… he found that he didn't have it in him to be terribly mad about it.
He had to contain a small smile as he turned around.
Draco had had no intention of going back to Hogwarts after the war. But when it became apparent that he would'nt be able to pursue a future without it…
Well it was safe to say he would take going to that school as a student over as a groundskeeper.
The last of his hair was combed neatly into place, the blonde deeming his reflection in the mirror satisfactory before moving on to finish buttoning up his white undershirt.
The morning light shone through his window, dim against the dull blues of his lofty bedroom. He finished the undershirt and moved on to the tie, picking up the Slitherin green tie from the table next to him.
When he had first seen it that morning, Draco had wanted to leave it behind in favor of his own tie. Why would he give his classmates something else to ridicule him over?
But after some thought he realized they didn't need another reason to ridicule him. Having Malfoy blood was reason enough.
He began on his tie, looping the fabric through with the same methodical rhythm as he had thousands of times before when his left sleeve dipped to reveal a sliver of black imprinted on his skin.
Slowly Draco pulled back the sleeve, revealing the mark on his forearm.
He ran his hand over it slowly. It was terrible, really. Every time he caught even a glimpse of the thing he was reminded of the too long list of mistakes he had made. Sometimes when the list built up the tattoo would itch, causing him to scratch and scratch at it like a rash that just wouldn't go away.
Not wanting to look at it anymore he pulled the sleeve back down and fastened the button before the rash could return.
Draco dusted off his school robe from where a house elf had laid them over the foot of his bed, brand new and freshly pressed. Just as they were every year.
He picked it up and shrugged it on, grabbing his wand from where it rested under his pillow and sliding it carefully up his sleeve.
He went downstairs, knowing his mother would be furious if he left her without saying goodbye. It was short, with him giving only a small kiss on her forehead and receiving a soft, loving hand on his cheek in return before they pulled away from each other.
She watched as Draco picked up his trunk and apparated to Platform 9¾.
Being back at the station, Draco felt small amongst the crowd. It was strange. He used to strut around this platform, chest puffed as he tormented anyone and everyone with his posse trailing a step behind.
Now, though his posture remained straight, his eyes were lowered as he pressed his left arm into his side. He took swift steps to get to the train, tucking into one of the less desirable compartments with only one sliver of a window hoping no one would bother him.
He was just settling in for a long, lonely ride when the sliding door opened and closed just as fast, drawing his eyes. Of course. Just another thing to make this bloody day worse.
"Well if it isn't the famous Harry Potter."
Potter shook his head lightly before turning around, an unreadable expression on his face as they made eye contact. Before Draco could bite his tongue, he felt a smart remark leaving his lips.
"I would have thought the Savior of the Wizarding World would have gotten his own first class compartment built for him," he said with a sneer curling his lip as a force of habit.
"I should've done, just to get away from the likes of you," Potter retorted, a well-practiced glare rising to mirror Draco's own.
The train blew its whistle, giving everyone a warning before it set into motion and pulled out from the station.
"I'm sure they'll be happy to fetch you a nice English breakfast. Perhaps even a massage if you sign a photograph for one of those second-years."
Potter's nose wrinkles and he glances at the door before making up his mind and plopping down on the seat opposite to his own.
Draco knows he should shut up now. But, this interaction was the most familiar one he'd had in months. A year, nearly.
"You're right," Draco said. "Who needs the second-years anyways when you have your perfect little Granger and her sweetheart Weasel. Where are they anyways? Off snogging in the storage cart?."
Potter's eyes flare, bright green cutting into Draco.
"Where are your friends?" he retorted, effectively shutting down the conversation.
Low blow, Draco thought to himself, good mood quickly evaporating. He should have shut his mouth when he had the chance.
Draco turned into the side of the compartment mumbling a quiet "whatever" and looking out the small window.
As the train stretched over the hills Draco realized he was truly alone.
Pansy had sent him a letter describing her plans to go to a foreign exchange school somewhere in eastern Asia where the pressures on former Death Eaters were less extreme. Gregory had decided not to return, instead choosing an internship at some office job. Blaise, of course, had never taken the Mark and probably didn't want anything to do with Draco.
And Crabbe… losing Vincent had been painful. No one ever talked about it, which made it even harder. Draco doesn't think he would ever forget that night with the Fiendfyre.
Honestly, Draco didn't know how he was going to make it through the school year. He closed his eyes, shifting slightly so that he could rest his head lightly against the cool glass.
Throughout the ride, he heard Potter get up and come back several times, letting in the noise from the rest of the train with him. Between the giggling girls and joyous slaps on the back, Draco felt like he was going to lose it.
He opened his eyes, glancing over at Potter who was making an effort to seem like he wasn't looking at him. They made brief yet awkward eye contact that was broken immediately by Potter.
Draco let his eyes linger for a moment over Potter's body. He looked different than when he had last seen him- less boyish. He had lost the rest of his baby fat, making his jawline more defined. And where his robes used to sag in places, they now fit snugly over newly chiseled arms. Yet despite all the changes, Draco noticed that his hair was still the same unruly mess that it had always been.
Potter must have felt his gaze because he looked over, raising an eyebrow.
Draco turned away, red tinting the tips of his ears as he rested his head against the window again. As they finally pulled into the station, Draco quickly grabbed his trunk to try and beat the rush of students getting off, but the swarm of Potter-prasiers trying to get a glimpse of the Savior made that a difficult task.
Potter ended up getting out just ahead of Draco, uncomfortably accepting handshakes and smiling politely back to some of the younger students.
All of whom were sending glares Draco's way that could rival that of a Cruciatus curse.
Draco followed the crowd to the carriages taking a mild step back when he saw the horrifying horse-like creatures pulling them. He glanced around, noticing a few others looking at them as well. Where had they come from?
They were truly an ugly sight- tall, dark, and foreboding.
A few carriages away, Potter had pulled himself up into a seat, barely even looking at the creatures as he settled in.
Draco took a breath, settling himself before finding an empty carriage of his own and waiting for the trip across school grounds to begin.