Chapter Text
Harry stopped for a moment after stepping through the barrier and let his eyes adjust to the scene around him. He was on Platform 9 ¾ , it was September 1st and the scarlet Hogwarts Express was standing proud along the station, waiting to take him and his classmates to school. He was jostled to the side as Ginny and Molly made their way onto the platform behind him and he followed after them, Ron, and Hermione as they searched for an empty compartment. Harry couldn’t believe how normal everything looked. There were parents crying as they bid their children farewell, kids comparing chocolate frog cards, people gawking at his very existence and no danger in sight, but Harry couldn’t fight the niggling anxiety in his chest. He forced himself to focus on his friends and his might-as-well-be family as they stopped towards the back of the train.
“Thanks so much for this summer,” Harry said, hugging Molly and Arthur in turn, thinking he could never thank them enough for taking him in and caring for him like their own children.
“Of course, Harry! Anything you need,” Molly said, “I trust you’ll be returning to the Burrow for Christmas with Ron and Hermione?”
“That’s the plan,” Harry gave her one last smile and boarded the train. He peeked left and right into the compartments as he went, looking for the one his friends occupied. A couple of doors along, he looked into a compartment that appeared to be empty. On second glance, however, he noticed with a jolt his school nemesis Draco Malfoy was sitting by the window, occupied by what looked like a NEWT textbook. He stood for a second too long however, as Malfoy turned and looked up at whoever was hovering by his compartment door. When he saw it was Harry, a faint look of surprise tinted his features. Harry could see Malfoy’s concerted effort not to scowl, and instead watched as he nodded, barely noticeably, and returned to his book. Harry barely had a moment to register the encounter, or to realise that all he’d done was gape, when Neville’s head appeared out of a compartment slightly further up.
“Harry, in here!”
Harry grinned as wide as he could manage - which wasn’t very - and made his way along the small aisle.
Inside the compartment, Harry was happy to note that their group had remained small. Only Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville were lounging across from each other on the soft red seats.
“It’s weird to be going back isn’t it?” Neville said, even as he watched the platform disappear, “wonder how all the logistics are going to work with all of us returning.”
“Well,” said Hermione, hands rested on the ever-present book in her lap. Harry absently wondered if it was her copy of Hogwarts: A History. “I’m not sure how many actually will be returning. I imagine we might just combine classes with the seventh years.”
“We’re adults now, ‘Mione,” mused Ron, “do you reckon we’ll get special privileges ‘n stuff? Hogsmeade whenever we want?”
“We would’ve been adults in our seventh year, too, though-” Hermione began.
“But they weren’t expecting we’d have fought a war then,” Harry said, sounding bitter even to his own ears, “surely they can’t treat us the same as if we hadn’t. Especially since it’s our choice to be returning.”
“You might be right,” Hermione said slowly, looking at Harry like she so often did these days - like he was volatile, “I just don’t know… there’s no precedent.”
The conversation died into stilted silence, and Harry sat slightly stiffly, still feeling uneasy about the whole day. He fought the urge to bring his legs up onto the chair and curl into the foetal position, and instead thought about the boy two compartments down. Seeing Malfoy was a surprise. At the Burrow, they’d all speculated about who might be returning, but Harry had found it hard to believe the Slytherin prince would’ve swallowed his pride enough to. Then again, Harry had seen him at his trial, seen how broken he had been, how much he’d acted out of fear during the war. He had a strong desire to go sit across from Malfoy. Not to talk, just to look out the window while Malfoy read his book, and not have to listen to Neville and Ginny’s quiet conversation about why she and Harry broke up, or Hermione and Ron’s sickly sweet giggles and soft kisses.
He resisted, and rested his head against the pane of glass that looked into the narrow corridor, wishing he could block out the world.
Harry must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew was Hermione shaking his shoulder and telling him they’d arrived. Blearily looking around, he fixed his glasses and noticed a number of people had joined them while he’d been asleep. Luna was mouthing something silently out the window, illuminated gold in the fading sun, and Dean was patting Seamus’ wayward hair down to no avail. Harry wondered if anyone had joined Malfoy in his compartment.