grin.

Molly huffs, wipes at her eyes again, before waving a ladle in his direction. “Well,e on, then, Harry, you’re just in time for lunch.”

Over the table, after Ge tells him through a mouthful of food at how bad Ron is at gambling, Harry tells Molly that Draco liked her blueberry pie, enough to eat it at dinner and request it for breakfast again the next day.

Molly dabs at her eyes with her apron again. And again. And again. Until Arthur just laughs, pulls her in for a hug, and lets her cry on his shoulder.

Augustes to a close, and the uing school year has everyone busy, so much that the invitations for whatever functions have stopped. He thinks that that’s why Narcissa has stopped asking him toe to the Manor, though she has told him that he’s wee anytime he wants to.

Harry doesn’t manage to anymore, though, because Hermione’s back and he’s been spending a lot of his time in the Burrow again, doing last minute house repairs and last minute shopping in Diagon Alley. They do it under Glamours, of course, and Harry wonders if Draco’s well enough to walk around Diagon Alley, too.

He knows that Molly and Narcissa keep in constant correspondence, however, and Molly doesn’t mention anything out of the ordinary, and so Harry doesn’t ask.

September 1 is just around the corner.

Platform 9 ? is full and close to bursting by the time Harry pushes his cart through the wall. It is as Kingsley warned him:mon folk and paparazzi alike are going to be fighting tooth and nail to get a glimpse of him.

He pulls his hat down further to cover his eyes, even though he’s confident his dirty blond hair and pudgy cheeks won’t attract any camera shutter. He’s not even wearing his glasses, and only Hermione’s small hand on his back is keeping him from pushing his cart down the train track.

Ron, also under a Glamour, had already boarded ahead of them, as planned. People will be expecting them toe together in a group of three, Hermione had explained. Any group of three students will automatically be a target of scrutiny, no matter how good their Glamours were.

There were reporters shouting “There!” and pointing to various directions, but never the correct one. Harry resolutely ignores the vendors selling pins and balloons with his face plastered on them. It isn’t even a flattering picture of him.

“Look, it’s Draco Malfoy!”

Harry immediately looks up, searching, even though everything’s blurred. He looks for where one person is pointing and where other people are looking, and he squints, willing his vision to focus, and realizes that they’re looking at him.

And then, another person says, “Naw, that’s not Malfoy. Malfoy’s a thin lad. Do yer job properly, why don’t ya?”

From behind him, Harry hears someone mutter. “Good. I don’t really want to see Death Eater scum today.”

Harry almost turns around in anger, but Hermione tightens her grip on the sweater on his back.

“Zach,” Hermione’s voice, altered into a high-pitched squeak, sounds from beside him, and she turns green eyes to him, a smile plastered on her thick lips. “I reckon we should hurry it up, don’t you? We don’t want to miss the train.”

Harry grumbles, but allows her to lead him away.

As soon as they enter thepartment where Ron’s waiting for them, they collapse on the bench and immediately take off their Glamours. They sigh loudly as they sag on their seats.

“It’s crazy,” Ginny says in disbelief, peeling one edge of the closed curtain away from the window to peek at the mess of people outside.

“They’re bonkers, that’s what they are.” Ron shakes his head, a stricken look on his face. “They were selling Ginger Quills! ‘Show your love for Ron Weasley’ and all that shite! Ginger Quills!”

Brushing her hair away from her face, Hermione says seriously, “Their nibs are actually reallyfortable to use.”

Ron turns his horrified expression her way. “You bought a Ginger Quill?”

Hermione smiles, her eyes twinkling. “I passed by a shop selling them in Diagon Alley. Show your love for Ron Weasley and all that shite.”

And Ginny bursts into laughter and Harry laughs along with her as Ron’s face turns as red as his hair, and it’s definitely new, this dynamic among them.

He and Ginny hade to an understanding that they weren’t ready for a relationship, with both of them still mourning all they’ve lost. Ron and Hermione had bravely taken on the challenge, and Harry had been cautious at first, thinking that it was one more thing that had to change. But at the end of the day, he loves his friends, is immensely proud of them and their relationship, and—lately—have been thinking that maybe it won’t be so different between all of them after all.

The Hogwarts Express this year is, as predicted, sparsely upied.

“Parents wouldn’t really want to bring their children back, after everything that’s happened last year with the Carrows,” Ginny says quietly, frowning at her hands on her lap as she recalls the things that happened last school year. As the train’s horn sounds and it lurches into a start, she looks at Harry with a worried expression. “And, I overheard some people talking in Diagon Alley. Word’s gotten around that Malfoy’s alsoing back.”

Harry’s lips press together thinly. He can imagine it, mothers whispering to each other, convincing each other not to send their sons and daughters to Hogwarts because of an ex- Death Eater. He can’t really blame them, but it still sours his mood.

“It’s just us and Malfoy then,” Ron says, frowning. “Goyle and Nott’s still in Azkaban. They’re doing six months, right?”

Hermione nods. “Malfoy’s sentence was reduced only because of Harry’s petition.”

“Do you reckon they’ll take NEWTs this year?” Ron asks.

Harry remembers Draco and what he was like when he first came out of Azkaban. He had only spent three months there. Three months too long. He doesn’t know what will happen to Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott after those 6 months. “I don’t think so.”

“Harry.” Hermione turns to him, face serious. “I think you should look for Malfoy.”

Harry blinks at her in surprise. He had planned to, but didn’t expect Hermione to suggest it. Over the past week, he had shared to his friends about his time in the Manor and Draco’s condition. Ron hadn’t been too happy talking about it, but with his best friend and his girlfriend (even his own mother!) so invested in it, he soon started asking his own questions. In time, they’ve managed to have conversations about Draco without anybody mentioning what an utter git he was.

“Well, I did plan to,” Harry says.

Hermione shakes her head. “Now. I’m worried. You heard those people talking back at the station. I wouldn’t put it pass the students to bring some of their hostility here.”

Harry frowns, shaking his head in disbelief even as he moves to stand up. “Students wouldn’t…” He trails off, but there is already a gnawing dread in his stomach.

“I’m with her, mate,” Ron says carefully.

“Me, too,” Ginny says, head shaking. Her eyes are shining, and it’s obvious she’s fighting the tears back. “Last year, Harry, Hogwarts wasn’t even a school anymore. People were allowed to do certain…things.”

Hermione reaches over to hold her hand.

Harry looks at her, tries not to think about worst case scenarios. Swallowing thickly, he nods and turns to leave the room.

“Do you want someone to go with you?” Hermione asks softly, but it’s no surprise to everyone when Harry shakes his head.

“No, I think he’d be morefortable with less people.” He looks behind his shoulder and offers an assuring grin. “Next time?”

Hermione smiles. “Next time.”

Heads peek frompartment windows and students whisper as he passes, but Harry’s thankful that nobody attacks him and demands for an autograph. He thinks that maybe his three months out of the public eye have done wonders for his image: Golden Boy’s not really interested in rubbing elbows, just wants to live in peace, try again next year.

Thepartments really are free for all, but everyone knew that Slytherins usually upied the ones at the back end of the train. Here, it’s the same: students look at him in curiosity, but there is a sense of caution in the air, as if they’re wondering what Harry Potter’s doing in the den of snakes.

As he goes further, he passes by more and morepartments that are empty. It’s quieter. The noise of people talking and chattering fades in the distance, and the decrease in the student population this year is more obvious here.

He’s almost worried, thinking that maybe Draco decided not to return to Hogwarts after all, but there, after five rows of emptypartments, Harry sees it.

Draco Malfoy inside, leaning back on his seat with one arm propped on the window sill, eyes gazing out into the bright scenery on the other side of the glass. He’s present, Harry knows this immediately. He sees this in the alertness in Draco’s eyes and in the tension in his shoulders.

He relaxes, assured that Draco’s safe and that he’sing back to Hogwarts after all. He knocks on the door, but that’s the only courtesy he’s willing to offer because he slides the door open immediately after anyway.

Draco jumps in shock, and he turns his head—

Harry’s assurance is short-lived as he sees the purpling bruise on Draco’s temple.

“What happened to your face?”

Draco relaxes back in his seat once he sees that it’s just Harry. He frowns at the question. “I tripped.”

Harry closes the door harder than he intended to and glares at him. “Don’t lie,” he says, lips thinning as he turns to look back at the bruise.

Draco matches his glare with his own. “I’m not lying.”

“There’s a fucking bruise on your face, Malfoy.”

“I know. I can feel it.”

“What happened?”

“I told you, I tripped.”

“Malfoy—”

Draco’s body jerks forward in his seat and his fist slams down on the window sill. “It’s a fucking Trip Jinx, Potter! What did you expect?! Ex-Death Eateres back to Hogwarts and gets a standing ovation from the student body?!”

Harry is stunned at the sudden outburst, and it does a lot for him to pull the lever down on his temper.

Draco clicks his tongue, irritated at himself for losing control, and turns his head away. He sags back in his seat.

Slowly, Harry sits down across from him. He stares at the bruise. “Who was it?”

“Don’t bother your pretty little head over it,” Draco scoffs, waving a condescending hand. “It’s unbing of the Saviour of the Wizarding World to be so concerned over me that you’d threaten an innocent civilian.”

“I’m not going to threaten them,” Harry says in defence. “Just…talk to them.”

Draco looks at him, an exasperated expression on his face. “In a threatening way?”

“In a gentle way.”

Draco sighs tiredly, one hand rubbing at his other temple. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“No. We’re not in the Manor anymore. You don’t have to keep any more favours for my mother. You’ve done your part.”

“I’m not doing this for your mother.”

“Then what are you doing it for? Because you want to be friends with me?” Draco laughs, harsh and derisive, and Ha

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