Chapter Text
The day had been stifling, even with how gloomy and cloudy it was outside. No breeze had found its way through Privet Drive, no matter how much Harry’d wished for one. But with nightfall came a torrent of rainwater and stormy weather, and even the miserable wailing of the wind couldn’t shake Harry’s relief at the heat’s respite. He laid on his back on his small bed, trying to make time go faster by reciting spells in his head.
Downstairs, Harry could hear the television humming out the theme song to one of Dudley’s favorite shows. The Dursleys had been as unpleasant as ever this summer, but they left Harry alone for the most part. They’d never been particularly fond of his presence, but now they shied away from him, clearly fearful. It almost made Harry smile. And it almost made him sick. However vile the Dursleys were, there was something disturbing about feeling unsafe in your own home. It made Harry think of another vile person whom the Order claimed had become the base house for Voldemort. And Draco Malfoy was stuck there because of his parents, not because of his own choices.
Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. Malfoy wasn’t his problem anymore. It was Voldemort he had to worry about now. After the death of his godfather, Harry wasn’t willing to lose anyone else to the machinations of Tom Riddle. He couldn’t wait out the summer like this again, just sitting for months while Voldemort was out there. He needed to act.
But what could he do? He was barely sixteen, he had no access to the wizarding world’s news, and Dumbledore had made him promise to stay put with his horrible aunt and uncle. If he couldn’t trust Dumbledore’s judgement, who could he trust?
With a sigh, Harry sat up and slumped off his mattress, opting for the chair by his window instead. He’d sent Hedwig out with letters to Ron and Hermione the previous day, and she had yet to return. His friends were both staying at the Burrow, a fact that Harry tried desperately hard not to be too jealous about. Why did they get to be there together, but Harry was forced to hide out with the muggles who hated his guts?
The stars were hidden behind dark clouds, and between the whipping winds and the torrential downfall, Harry was hard-pressed to see anything even resembling a snow owl in the sky. The storm just made him feel more pent up. What he’d give to take his Firebolt out for a ride, even in this weather.
“Boy!” Uncle Vernon hollered from downstairs, and Harry groaned.
“What?” he shouted back, not interested in getting up just to endure his uncle’s accusations or admonishments or whatever it was that warranted him speaking to Harry at all.
“Get down here!” Uncle Vernon insisted, voice as bristly as his triple-chin.
“What is it?” Harry yelled, starting to rise grudgingly from his seat. He could hear his uncle’s furious huff from here.
“There is a strange boy here to see you,” Vernon growled out, emphasizing ‘strange’ in the way he did to avoid the word ‘magic’ or ‘wizard’. The Dursleys seemed to think not acknowledging the wizarding world would make it go away, though Harry thought their lives would be less stressful if they just accepted it.
A wizard? To see Harry? It must be Ron! Somehow, he’d gotten permission to retrieve Harry, or he’d come without permission like that summer before second year — either way, Harry was going to the Burrow!
Glancing around, Harry popped open his mostly packed trunk and tossed in a couple textbooks he’d been leafing through, and his favorite quill and ink, before snapping it closed again and setting it beside his bunk. He hardly unpacked while staying at number four, Privet Drive, and so there wasn’t much to prepare. Presumably, Ron would come up and help him carry everything, since neither of them could use magic yet, so Harry left it all there and bounded down out of his room and down the stairs, eager to see his best mate again.
Before he could reach the bottom step however, Vernon Dursley was there blocking his path, his lumpy face set in its usual grimace.
“I don’t want any funny business, you hear?” he warned, glowering as threateningly as he was able.
“What sort of funny business?” Harry asked innocently, plucking his wand from his back pocket and twirling it between his fingers. “Magic?”
Uncle Vernon’s face turned the color of puce. “Don’t say that word!” he hissed furiously. “Don’t you dare! Not in my house!”
Harry stopped with the aimless twirling and gripped the handle, pointing it in his uncle’s ugly mug. “I think I’ll say what I want. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The fear that flashed across his uncle’s face was priceless, his eyes twitching and mouth trembling like a buffoon. Even if it made something in Harry’s gut twist to semi-threaten muggles with magic, he knew it was the only way to keep his uncle from treating him too poorly.
“Are you leaving then?” he spat out, fury and terror warring across his features as he stepped back and out of the way.
“I hope so,” Harry said, and with that he pushed past his uncle and slid his wand back into his pocket. Behind him, he could hear the huffing of his uncle as he returned to the living room. He couldn’t be bothered by his extended family however, not when Ron was at the door waiting to take him back to the wizarding world, hopefully for good.
When he reached the door — Vernon had closed it on their visitor, forcing him to wait out in the rain — Harry swung it open, his mouth forming an apology and a greeting at once, but all sound vanished from his throat as he took in the person standing before him.
“Potter,” the boy said, soaked to the bone from the storm, his silvery blonde hair plastered to his forehead unevenly.
Harry blanched. “Malfoy?”