Chapter 1: He's got me nervous
Notes:
Hi! I wrote this in the span of a month while pretending to work. It is all written before posting the first chapter, but I will still spread it out so I can reread and change things if needed. I will include any caution/trigger warnings at the start of chapters and put a more in depth description at the end.
Yes, 'He Keeps Me Up' is based of the Nickelback song, just so happened to come on when I needed a name. The chapters are named off lines of the song (Some may repeat) but they aren't completely tied to what happens.
I've not had anyone else read through this but I have read through it many, many times. Mistakes are still going to be there, if you notice one please just leave a comment and I will rectify it. Same with any warnings/tags you feel may have been missed.
I prefer to write in shorter chapters, the first one being the shortest of all of them. The Final wordcount should be around 110,000. I am also Dyslexic but read a hell of a lot. So words might not come out correctly when writing but all the punctuation and grammar should be correct. (There will also be a shit tonne of swearing because Harry is 18, and that's what 18 year olds do)
I'll be posting the chapters every Wednesday and Saturday, the release date for the next chapter will be in the notes at the end.
Anyway, Enjoy :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry James Potter had been labelled a hero, he didn't feel like one. He did what had to be done. That's what he kept telling people. What he told the press. 'Anyone would have done the same', he'd say. Over and over again.
He, like many of his friends, had a two hour sit down meeting with someone from the ministry about what they could and couldn't say to the media. The truth about the horcruxes, what Dumbledore had done, how the ministry tried to shut him down when he first told them about Voldemort. Harry was a hero for stepping up rather than a child that had been forced into a war.
After the war he had helped rebuild some of Hogwarts as the Press wasn't permitted on school grounds. He hadn't stopped. He hadn't stopped fighting for 18 years. He didn't want to. Because how was Harry Potter supposed to be happy if he wasn't helping others?
It felt odd. Like he had spent his whole life revising for a test and it was done. He passed. Now what? Get a fluffy job in the ministry? Was he a good enough seeker to try professional? Any achievement he would make, would be because he was Harry Potter not because of his skill. People adored him, but they didn't know him. They didn't know anything, especially considering most things in the prophet weren't even true.
McGonagall had announced to the previous 7th years that they could retake the year and form a temporary 8th year. She had told them it was to make sure they're exams got done and they could get the jobs they wanted, the truth was clear though. A lot of the students didn't have anywhere to go anymore. They needed familiarity before figuring out life. Some had denied, not wanting to return to where the war took place. A fair few had agreed, and Harry was so thankful.
He'd get a normal school year. Studying in the library after being dragged there by Hermione. Sitting in the great hall and laughing with Ron. Stupid board games in the common room. Getting caught out past curfew. Being late to a class. Stupid crushes on girls that he'll never ask out. Playing quidditch. Doing homework.
Being a student and not a soldier.
He couldn't wait.
"You broke up with her?!" Ron screeched. Harry had told him the news about three minutes ago and the man was still going, "You broke up with my baby sister, why? You two were perfect, and I'd just gotten over the fact that it's my sister and now you-"
"Ron," Harry interrupted, rubbing under his glasses and thoroughly regretting being the one to tell him this. Should've let Ginny do it. "It was mutual, you can ask her. The war- it changes people. It changed us. We agreed it wasn't right." He continued in a much calmer manner.
It was true, the war did change them. But 'mutuality' wasn't quite right. She'd technically dumped him, but he hadn't fought it. He didn't want a girlfriend now. He'd spent the whole summer dealing with so much and to then come home and have to deal with someone else was too much. Though, he'd never say that outloud. Ginny needed to focus on herself and, truthfully, so did he.
"Oh." Was all Ron could muster out. He sat down next to Harry on his bed. He'd been living at 12 Grimmauld Place, no one dared enter it except those of the order. The Weasleys had stayed for a little while but eventually went home. Ron and Hermione would often come over but it still remained Harry's house. He'd built up a routine with Andy, her insisting to stay and look after Teddy when Harry couldn't. Teddy's laughter was the only thing to make the house feel less empty. "Sorry Mate. Shouldn't have shouted really." Ron admitted, nudging Harry's arm with his own.
"Don't worry about it, means she can live her life how she wants." He said, smiling to his mate. "And I'm sure we'll have enough on our plate this year anyway."
"Anyway," Ron started, swiftly changing the conversation, "did you hear who's coming back to Hogwarts this year?" Harry raised a brow at the ginger boy, shaking his head slightly. "Malfoy."
Malfoy.
He knew that. He'd tried not to think about it too much.
So he was coming back, who cares?
Harry. Of course he did. He spoke at the trial, struggling to keep the boy out of Azkaban. It didn't go well. The Malfoy heir had been sentenced to a few months in Azkaban, being allowed to return to Hogwarts to complete his final year and then a review of his time again in July of the following year. He had also had a wand ban placed on him for his time at Hogwarts. Whilst Harry had not been told the full extent, he had been told it was limited to what was on the school syllabus.
However, this information was kept from the public. Harry only knew as he was discussing the returning 8th years with the new headteacher. He also decided not to tell anyone, worried it would get into the wrong hands and Malfoy would be defenceless to those around him. He was sure his friends wouldn't do anything, but he couldn't live with himself if he told someone and that sent Malfoy back to Azkaban, or St Mungos.
It didn't matter if Malfoy was coming back to the school, he wasn't Harry's problem. He was going to focus on passing his exams and not the blonde that's been torturing him the last few months. Last few years.
But, of course, Harry could say this all he wanted. Sitting in the small train carriage, with the blind pulled firmly shut, a silencing charm placed on the compartment. Trying to ignore the small flashes of light from cameras on the platform. Of course it wasn't going to be an easy year. He was the Hero.
He could hear younger students in the hallway giggling and knocking on the door, desperate to meet the chosen one. He wanted it to stop, he was just a kid. 7 years of his life were spent fighting someone only to then spend the rest of his life fighting for privacy. It wasn't fair.
Hermione was good at charms, but the noise from the platform and corridor was still heard. He thought he went deaf in one ear, when sudden silence dropped outside the door. The blinds were closed, he couldn't see what was going on. Maybe a prefect had told them to bugger off.
But through that small gap, just between the window and where the curtain actually hung, he spotted it. The shine of the hair. Blonde enough to reflect light, and clearly blonde enough to not need introduction. He continued down the carriage, not stopping at Harry's compartment. But the small crowd outside had to disperse, and he was at least thankful for that.
A few moments later the train began to pull away. Once out of the station, they pulled the blind back up and allowed the natural light in. Harry sat in the corner, head against the wall and eyes on the distance. In front of him sat Ron, with an arm around his girlfriend. He was happy for them, but so annoyed it took 7 years of bickering to realise. Next to Harry sat Neville, discussing plants with the blonde girl next to him. Luna and Neville had been hanging out a lot more as of late, but they had stuff in common other than the war so it was nice to eavesdrop on their conversations. Even if Harry had no idea what half of those plants and animals were.
Dean and Seamus sat in the furthest corner from Harry, talking with Ron and Hermione, and both having their feet up on the seat opposite. It was relatively cramped, but to Harry it felt normal. He was loving these moments they were having, when they all just acted like normal 18 year olds.
He didn't talk to them very much, but they were all used to Harry now so didn't force him into conversation. He liked listening to them, meaning he was still a part of it all without having to think of responses. While Dean and Seamus began talking about the 8th year uniform, Harry's eyes drifted to the horizon. Watching the colours blend together, the green waves of hills, the rolling white clouds, the deepening blue of the sky as time grew on.
Scotland was beautiful. There was a small patch of fog drifting around near some wood land, hugging the deep trees. It almost glistened as grey met green. A blending of colours, suited together perfectly.
They all agreed it was time to change into uniform, not that many of them liked them. Granted, McGonagall had lessened the rules on their uniforms. As long as you had a white shirt, tie and black or grey trousers or skirt, she wasn't going to hold much against them. Robes weren't important other than the welcoming feast and exams. But the major difference was the colour. Or lack thereof. The ties were solid black, and the robes were the same. No house. They were just 8th year students. It looked smart, sleek, other than when Ron was wearing it. It was like the boy was incapable of tucking a shirt in.
In the small toilet, Harry had decided for the first day he'd wear it correctly, where it ended up the rest of the year wasn't his issue right now. He looked in the dingy mirror and straightened his glasses up. Ran his hand through his hair and breathed in deep. He was going back, it would be okay. No one was praying for his downfall, no one was hiding behind corners to kill him. If he could come back to life he could attend school.
He pulled the door open and met a Slytherin's eyes.
"Zabini." He stated, sticking to his guns of a clean slate. No one at Hogwarts wanted the war, they were kids.
"Potter," He breathed, clearly tense. They switched places as the other still needed to change. Harry was about to turn after a curt nod but a clearing of the throat caught his attention. "I wanted to speak to you actually, if you've got a moment?" Where would I go? We're on a moving train.
"Of course," He answered, turning his head to make sure the corridor was at least semi empty. All students appeared to be excited for the new year and had returned to their compartments.
"I wanted to apologise," he started, "well, we all do actually. I'm not going to pretend that nothing has happened, and we understand you lot don't like us but if we could-" The boy was stressed, which wasn't something Harry had seen from him before.
"Mate, it's okay. We've all changed in the last few months. Whatever happened I'm not going to hold against you, or Parkinson or," and there it was, that familiar hitch in his throat, "Malfoy, or any Slytherin. I can't say the same for everyone, but with me at the very least we're good, yeah?" He knew it was going to be a struggle. This conversation was going to happen at some point, which is why he vowed to himself to restart. He didn't want to be tied to this war anymore, so if a clean slate was how it had to happen then so be it.
The other boy visibly relaxed, nodding with a smile to Harry before ducking into the toilet. It wasn't much. He didn't know what he felt, whether he truly forgave people or not. But it was the nicer thing to do. Zabini was neutral from what he could remember. There was no trial for him, there wasn't much speculation on him being a death eater in training. But he was friends with them, and a Slytherin, so it wasn't going to be easy for him.
He wandered back up the hallway towards his carriage, smirking at Hermione trying to sort out Ron's uniform before they arrived. He sat back in his seat and told Ron about what had just happened, to which the small compartment went silent. Brilliant.
"You forgave him?" Dean asked, not necessarily angry but clearly not happy about it.
"Not so much as forgiveness," Why do I tell people things? "More of a fresh start. We could all use it, and they wouldn't have come back if they didn't want it too. I'm not saying you have to be friends with them, but don't go out of your way to be rude to them, yeah?"
They all murmured some agreement and returned to their conversations. It was a start. It wasn't a complete lie either. He just didn't want to deal with a year of bitching from every side.
It wasn't long before they were pulling up at Hogwarts, letting most people get off first in hopes that they wouldn't be bombarded with students.
They chattered all the way to the grand hall, noticing the table that sat at the back of the room. No banners hung over the top however, it looked the same as the other four tables in the room. Eighth year, no house. They sat down at one end of the table, smiling to Luna as she wandered over to her own house. She did stick out next to them, the Ravenclaw blue stark against their black.
The conversations continued as they waited for the first years to arrive. But Harry wasn't a part of them, no, his eyes trained to the other end of the table.
The blonde hair again.
He didn't gel it this time, no longer slicked back. It had grown slightly longer too, probably not having had a haircut since 7th year. And as Malfoy turned his head it was like the air was hit out of his lungs. Like a muffling charm was placed around him. Like time stopped.
Grey eyes meeting green.
He looked tired, no, drained. Exhausted. Near death. He came out of Azkaban yesterday. Why didn't Harry remember? He couldn't see his mother as she had been sent to their home in France, unable to return while he continued his education. His father was permanently in Azkaban as he was clearly in control when choosing to join the dark lord.
His whole family was trapped, and he was the only one let out. And his eyes, they said it all. He wasn't talking, Blaise and Parkinson seemed to be talking but not with him. He was pretending not to look like he used to. It was probably only fifteen seconds but Harry felt every emotion a person could. Mostly guilt.
He should have done more, kept him with his mother, kept him out of Azkaban. Let him have freedom. He wanted to apologise, speak to the boy and maybe even speak to the ministry. Help him.
But then doors opened, and in come the first years. Malfoy's eyes tore away and stared down at the table. And Harry was left realising one thing.
He'd never have a normal year at Hogwarts.
Notes:
Thanks for reading!
Next Chapter: 15/04/2023
(Posting the first two off the bat cause why not)
(Also, I'm from England, so the date will be DD/MM/YY cause that's correct)