Content warning for food.
Robes: check Sweaters: check Trousers: check Ties and hat: check
Draco mentally checked off one set of items and turned to the next. His textbooks were all there. His brewing equipment, sans cauldron, could fit next to the literature, the gloves as well if he crammed them in tight enough. Dropped subjects or not, the Hogwarts shopping list seemed to grow every year, or at least Draco didn't remember his first time going home being so tedious…
King's Cross was crammed, but his father's platinum hair and green robes stood out across the crowd. No sooner had Draco dragged his suitcase off the train when his parents spotted him and strode—not walked or hurried, but strode—towards him. His mother picked up his luggage while his father's hand on his shoulder guided Draco to the exit. Later, at home, after presenting his grades and enduring his father's lectures about being outdone by mudbloods, his mother presented him with his coming home gift: a brand-new broom.
Yeah. None of that anymore.
Had he thought just a month ago that the time until their last day would stretch unbearably long, now it had snuck up on them and left him feeling like they had been left with barely any time. Where had the past four weeks gone? He had spent most of the year looking forward to this day, but now that it had arrived, he wished he had more time.
Whatever. Packing first, regrets later. He considered what remained of his chocolate stock and decided to leave it. There was simply no room in the suitcase. Briefly and out of habit considering just leaving it to be cleaned up by the house elves, he instead vanished it with a wave of his wand.
Next: personal belongings, of which there weren't many. He hadn't brought a broom with him this year, and most of his personal effects hadn't survived the war… he stuffed the photos of his parents into the suitcase, a little rougher than necessary. His family signet ring and his pocket watch, both gifts for his 17th birthday, followed suit, and Draco slammed the suitcase shut before he could change his mind and throw either of them away.
Oh yes, the ring. A family tradition, to signify that he was a full member now, an adult Malfoy. His father's own had been passed down from Draco's grandfather Abraxas; for his son, Lucius had commissioned a new one when Draco had entered Hogwarts.
Our name is a responsibility. It opens doors, Draco, it carries weight wherever we go, but only if you are strong enough to carry it. We bear it with pride, and in due time, so will you.
Of course, by the time he had turned seventeen, his father's words had rung hollow. Any standing their family might have had with the Dark Lord had been lost, and Draco's birthday had been a brief and somber affair, with a wandless Lucius barely present while his mother had presented Draco with his presents.
Draco didn't see himself sealing any letters with the Malfoy coat of arms any time soon.
Still, unpleasant memories aside, his suitcase was packed, and after checking under the bed and behind his nightstand, Draco was satisfied that he hadn't forgotten anything.
'Tempus.'
Half past eleven. That still left more time than he would have liked until the feast and their departure after that, time to ponder the decision he had been putting off for the past month, and alone with his feeling, in this dreary, empty dormitory full of memories, was the last place Draco wanted to be right now.
Meanwhile, across the castle, Harry was plagued by similar thoughts—albeit a lot less pessimistic—while packing his own suitcase. Unlike Draco, Hogwarts meant something positive to him: his home, found family, his passions, from Quidditch to—actually, mostly Quidditch.
The thought of never coming back was something he couldn't get used to. Oh, not never—class reunions, Hogsmeade visits, courtesy calls, the possibilities were there. But as a student… he would only grow up once.
And then there was another matter. A year ago, he would have entertained the thought of one day seeing children of his own attend Hogwarts, but now? Regardless of what would become of Draco and him (us, he thought giddily, it's 'us' now), something he had always assumed would happen, eventually—
It was only when he heard the door to the dormitories open that Harry realised he had been zoning out for a solid minute, folded underwear hanging from his hands, halfway to the suitcase. He hastily stowed it away, straightening just in time to recognise the visitor as Hermione.
'Harry', she greeted. 'How's it coming?'
'Eh, fine. I'll be done before the feast starts. You're already packed?'
She nodded. 'Can you spare a minute?'
He put down the next stack of clothes he had just picked up. 'Sure. What's the emergency?'
'You'll see.' When he hesitated, she added, 'trust me on this. Please.'
He did. 'Lead the way.'
After descending the stairs and leaving the common room through the portrait hole, she led him past a row of classrooms and down some stairs to a landing from which one of the castle's large balcony oversaw the grounds. In the distance, Harry could see the lake glisten, and up here, by the handguard, familiar red hair…
Harry tensed. 'Ron.'
Ron nodded wordlessly and sought Hermione's eyes.
'Ron here has something he'd like to tell you', she announced. 'Right, Ron?'
She squeezed his hand when he didn't reply right away. 'How about I give you two a moment?'´
Ron started pacing up and down, insistently avoiding Harry's gaze. Harry leaned against the wall and waited.
Ron's footsteps filled the silence. Back and forth. Inside, Hermione's disappeared around the corner.
'I don't know where to start', Ron eventually admitted. It was the first words Harry had heard him speak in almost two months.
'Why am I here, Ron?'
Ron squeezed his eyes shut. 'Because I… I don't want to part like this. Not after all we—' He swallowed hard. 'I owe you an apology. It's the least.'
He gathered his thoughts for a moment. Harry didn't interrupt.
'I hurt you', Ron eventually managed to say. 'That's the one thing I never meant to happen. I—what happened, what I did… when you… when I hit you, I thought…'
He composed himself. 'What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have done… any of that, really. And I'm sorry. Really, truly sorry.'
Harry sized him up. 'What changed your mind?'
'I wanted to hurt Malfoy', Ron admitted. 'I don't know how far I would have gone, but that… seeing you hit, that scared some sense into me. That, and Hermione chewed me out. And I suppose having two months to think on it didn't hurt either.'
Harry nodded. 'So?'
For the first time, Ron sought his eyes. 'I understand if this is it. I messed up, big. I'm not asking for you to take me back or anything. I just… I don't think I could sleep until I told you. And… I thought maybe it'd help. To know that I'm sorry. I just… I didn't want to go without clearing the air, you know?'
'Okay', Harry nodded. 'So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or…?'
Ron paled. 'Malfoy.'
'Malfoy', Harry confirmed. Apology, good and well, but compared to what Ron had done to Malfoy, his accidentally hexing Harry was the lesser crime.
Ron's eyes traced the patter of the roof shingles. 'I have no excuse.'
Harry untensed slightly. 'Good. I wouldn't have accepted one.'
'Will you accept an explanation?'
'I will.'
Ron took a deep breath. 'I suppose it all started when you got him off the hook with the court. I couldn't understand it, at all. I knew he'd saved our lives, but as far as I was concerned, he had gotten us into it in the first place. I thought he would have deserved Azkaban, and I wasn't the only one. To see him back here, where Fred died, Lupin and all the others… I felt mocked, you know? Every time I saw him in the hall or in class, it was like he spat on their graves.
'I'm not gonna tell you whose idea it was, but well there were others, and I suppose we figured we were gonna make him pay for it. "Tuition", one of the others called it.' He grimaced. 'We… we psyched each other up, we got this idea in our heads that we were serving justice… in hindsight, I—no, no excuses.
'It felt good', he admitted, eyes firmly turned down. 'It was an outlet, I could pretend I was avenging Fred and the others, I felt like I was the only one seeing Malfoy for what he was… Merlin, it's gross, but that's what it was. We were bullying him and that's too kind a word.'
'And then I caught wind of it', Harry theorised. 'And you…'
'You two started getting along', Ron corrected. 'That was what really ticked me off. I couldn't believe… I was sure he was playing dirty. Like imperio-ing Madam Rosmerta. No way would you look at him voluntarily. Hermione didn't think there was any foul play, it was driving me mad how she could be so dense, and so… I decided to do something.'
Harry sought his eyes and Ron looked away.
'I wasn't going to kill him', he weakly said. 'But it doesn't really make a difference, does it? It was wrong, I know that now. I shouldn't have. I should have trusted you to make your own decisions, I should have trusted Hermione's judgement, I shouldn't… I shouldn't have taken everything out on him.'
'No. You shouldn't have.'
Silence.
'So, what now?'
Ron flinched. 'I know I said I wasn't going to ask you, but…'
Harry shook his head. 'I'm not the one whose forgiveness you should want.'
Ron sighed. 'I know. But you…'
Harry searched his face for insincerity and found none. He held out his hand. 'You mean all this?'
Ron gripped it. 'I do.'
They shook hands.
'Did Hermione, uh, tell you…'
Ron grimaced. 'Yeah. She did.'
'You're gonna have to live with that, you know. I don't know next week or next year, but… right now, it's us. He's gonna be around. We're a package deal, as far as I'm concerned.'
'I'm never gonna like him', Ron admitted. 'I think he's a right bastard, and what he did… but if that's what it takes, then yeah. If you can love him, I can tolerate him. I'll be civil. That's all I can give you.'
'Good enough for me', Harry conceded. 'But all that you've told me, you should really tell him.'
'I—I can't promise. But I'll try.'
Harry nodded. Fair enough. Draco's peace of mind wasn't his job.
'Are we good?', Ron quietly asked.
'We are', Harry confirmed. 'It's going to take time to get back to where we were, but there's no reason we can't.'
He thought he saw Ron blink away a tear. 'Thank you.'
Harry opened his arms, and after some hesitation, Ron let himself be embraced.
'Come on, let's go', Harry eventually mumbled. 'Or they're gonna start the feast without us.'
With the additional eigth years, the Great Hall was the fullest Harry had ever seen it. The only thing missing from how Harry had always imagined his graduation was Albus Dumbledore, and as Professor McGonagall took her seat under the headmaster's portrait, Harry was sure he wasn't the only one sorely feeling his mentor's loss.
'Another year is over', Professor McGonagall opened once the chatting had settled down. 'For some of you, it is the last year in this castle, others among you have taken their first steps towards being members of our magical society. All of you have worked hard this year towards your goals, and it hasn't been an easy year.
'We have rebuilt', she stated. 'Many of us have grieved in these very halls, and just a year ago, we have fought hard and lost dearly. This year, we have honoured the memories of our dead and strived to build a better future for their children and siblings. And thanks to the dedicated work of our volunteers, many of which now sit in this hall, we have been able to once again turn Hogwarts into the stronghold of knowledge and education it was before. For that, I thank you all.'
A loud cheer arose and Harry applauded with the others. Across the hall, at the Slytherin table, he could see Draco do the same, albeit a little hesitantly, and Harry could imagine all too well his feeling of not belonging.
'But more than that', Professor McGonagall continued once the applause had quieted, 'this year, we have practised unity. Over these tables, we have broken bread with former enemies, we have shared classrooms with those willing to take the hand we have offered them in friendship, and I hope for many of you, old wounds have begun to heal. This time was not without difficulty, and some who sat here a year ago have left us, but to move on, peace and compassion must be our companions, and I believe I speak for all my colleagues, present and absent friends alike, if I encourage you all to seek out healing, wherever you ways may take you after today.'
This time, Harry was sure he could see Draco wince, and the applause of the student body was considerably more restrained.
'Before we proceed to the feast, a few administrative matters', she announced, and heads perked up all around the table as she continued, 'first ofall, the Quidditch cup.'
Harry had missed the season's last match while he had been comatose, but of course his housemates had caught him up on the results when he had rejoined them, and so McGonagall's next words were no surprise.
'This year's results: Gryffindor against Slytherin, 290 to 70. Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, 260 to 110. Gryffindor–Hufflepuff, 40 and 260'—a loud jeering and complaining arose at the Gryffindor table at that—'Hufflepuff against Slytherin, 240 to 130, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, 310 over 200, and last, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, 190 to 230.
'Arithmetics dictate, therefore, that the winner of this year's Quidditch Cup is Ravenclaw, with a combined 800 points', she announced. 'Congratulations to all of you. If the Ravenclaw captain will please step forward to accept the trophy for her team? Ms Charlotte Aangstrom, please?'
The hall was filled with applause, some half-hearted, as the cup was handed out. Once done, Professor McGonagall moved on to announce the winner of the House Cup, and then, finally…
'And now, before we leave: bon appétit! As my predecessor would have said: "dig in". Thank you.'
The Hogwarts express looked just like it did the first time Harry had left, eight years ago. Down the platform, he could see Hagrid guiding first-years into train cars ("don' push! there's room for ye all!"), and in the other direction, Harry spotted Ginny and two of her Quidditch team mates, deep in discussion as they climbed aboard. Near the end of the platform, Dean was helping Seamus lift his suitcases into the carriage
It was hard to believe this was gonna be their last time leaving.
Next to him, Draco was pacing up and down like a caged animal. His suitcase—solo, a single, neat package—paled in comparison to Harry's assorted luggage, Draco's seeming barely large enough to fit all of his belongings inside.
'You're gonna walk a hole into the pavement', Harry mumbled.
'What about it?' Draco whispered back. 'Let a man be stressed in peace.'
'People are staring.'
'Let them.'
But he ceased his pacing and resigned himself to staring at the train as if it had wronged him somehow.
'What's the matter?' Harry asked.
'Nothing.'
'Right.'
Draco sighed. 'I don't know what to do. We'll get to London, and then what? I'll go home, to my big, empty house, and do what? Do I just sit around forever? Do I floo my great-aunt on the continent and move in until my mother is out of Azkaban? Do I try and… I just don't know.'
Harry wished he could hug Draco, but with the amount of people around them, he knew Draco would rather not.
'What do you want?' he asked back instead. 'Forget about your mother, about the press, just for a minute. What do you want?'
'I don't know!' Draco repeated, and when a few heads turned, he quietly whispered, 'I don't know.'
His face was almost pleading when he turned to Harry. 'I've had a year to think about this and it's not gotten any easier. And now', he lowered his voice, 'now you and me, us… I don't know where to turn, I—fuck, just—give me a sign, Harry.'
His expression was almost pleading. 'Anything, just… I can't decide this. I don't want to go, but the thought of staying and rotting away at the estate is worse… what do I do?'
'Stay', Harry whispered back. 'With me. Come back to London with me; I've got a house and it's just as empty. Spend the holidays and think it over.'
'Really?'
'I mean this', Harry promised. 'You don't have to be alone. I'm not asking you to move in with me or anything, just… give you some time to clear your head. See where we go from there. A sabbatical.'
'Thank you', Draco whispered. 'I'd like that.'
'Harry!' From behind them, Hermione appeared, Ron in tow. She hugged Harry and nodded a curt 'Draco'.
'Harry', Ron greeted. He did his best to look anywhere but Draco as he stiffly added, 'Malfoy'.
'What took you two so long?', Harry asked while the quartet dragged their luggage towards the train.
'Crookshanks escaped', Hermione explained. 'It took us half an hour to lure him out from under the couch.' As if to confirm, the ginger cat in her transport box bared his teeth at them, and Ron—sporting a few fresh scrapes, Harry noted—instinctively took a step back, accidentally putting himself next to Draco. Harry suppressed a giggle as his friend hurried to move to his side instead.
They heaved their suitcases (and pet cages, and in Ron's case, broom) onto the train and—following an extensive search up and down the train—managed to find what had to be the last empty compartment on the entire Hogwarts Express. After some deliberation, Harry and Draco sat down on one side and Hermione and Ron on the other, with Ron opposite Harry and Hermione opposite Draco. It was going to be a long journey, Harry thought, whenever he caught Ron trying not to stare at Draco or noticed Draco shuffling nervously in his seat.
An hour into the ride, the Honeydukes trolley stopped, and after stocking up on enough sweets to give a mountain troll diabetes, the tension eased a little. Another hour later, Hermione had engaged Draco in a conversation about the latest potionmaking developments while Harry and Ron discussed the Chudley Cannons' Quidditch season.
'No way can they beat Puddlemere', Harry protested. 'Have you seen their chasers? They'll scrub the pitch with the Cannons.'
'Forget the chasers, look at the seekers', Ron argued. 'Since Bond's taken over from Wright, he's caught the snitch in record time every other match. Puddlemere doesn't stand a chance. Where did those chocolate frogs disappear to?'
'Over there', Harry motioned. 'But Puddlemere have Turner, and she's won the Wronski Award two years in a row. Bond is a rookie, even if talented. There's no way.'
'Bond fractured his wrist last week', Draco interjected from next to them. 'It was in Pitch Dispatches. He's not gonna be fit in time, and their reserve doesn't stand a chance. Harry's right.'
'Of course you'd say that', Ron spat, immediately appearing a little embarrassed at his tone slipping into bitterness.
'And what's that to mean?', Draco shot back.
'Enough!' Hermione stopped them. 'Both of you. Behave or take this outside.'
For a moment, the tension in the air seemed palpable, before Ron jerked his head towards the door, Draco accepting with a nod and both men getting up.
'Whoa, whoa', Harry protested, jumping up himself. 'You're not going anywhere. Sit do—'
'Harry', Hermione put a hand on his arm. 'Let them. They need to sort this out.
'And you', she turned to Ron. 'Peaceful and civil, is that clear? That goes for you, too, Malfoy.'
Draco sheepishly held up his hands in surrender, and Ron grimly nodded. The two left the compartment, and Harry tensely sat down.
'It'll be fine', Hermione assured him. 'Ron can behave, and they need to let this… this feud go. You don't want them at each other's throats forever, do you?'
'No, I suppose not.'
Outside, Newcastle whooshed past while Harry shifted nervously in his seat. For all of Ron's assurances to the contrary, he half expected them to push each other off the train, or something similarly horrible. After fifteen minutes, he started asking Hermione about magical law, and her explanation distracted him while they passed Durham, and when Darlington's lights came up ahead, he had eaten through half of his candy.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the door to their compartment slid open again. Despite Harry's worst fears, neither Draco nor Ron seemed to be bloodied or otherwise injured, and the tension between them seemed gone completely. Taking his seat next to Harry, Draco subtly squeezed Harry's hand. We're okay, he seemed to say.
'Juice, anyone?' Harry broke the silence first.
'Please' and 'you know it', Draco and Ron piped up at the same time, and Harry could see their eyes meet as they realised it.
I don't have to like you, they seemed to say, but I can live with it.
That was good enough for Harry.
A/N: This is, in effect, it. The next chapter will be up in a week, again, but that's the epilogue, so this is, if you will, the last "proper" chapter of the fic.
And what a journey it's been. Seven years, a graduation, a job, a disability, and a gender ago. It's hard to believe this is finally finished.
As always, and especially now that the story is coming to a final close next week, I appreciate each and every comment I get. Praise, criticism, whether it's a long review or a two-word "loved this", comments are amazing and motivation become letters. As usual, concrit is expressly permitted and encouraged.
Expect "Epilogue" on 31 July 2023!
