Chapter Text
Something was wrong. Where are they? He scanned the train platform again, his stomach squeezing in on itself and his lips turned down into a frown. While the smoke from the train hadn’t cleared all the way up yet, it had dispersed enough for him to see everyone waiting at the train station.
Mrs. Weasley was standing in front of her children and hugging Ginny tight. Ron and the twins were talking, but they were too far away for Harry to hear them. Around them were other parents and their children. Further to the right were Hermione and her parents. More students he vaguely knew beyond their house placements, and their parents, whom he didn’t know at all. He glimpsed Draco Malfoy leaving through the gateway with his mother. Beyond that, he could see Lee Jordan and Dean Thomas laughing, their parents doing the same.
His heartbeat sped up. More students. More parents.
But none of them were his family.
“Your parents still aren’t here,” Ron asked.
Harry shook his head, scanning the platform yet again. Not once in the five years that he’d been attending the magical boarding school had his family ever failed to retrieve him from Platform Nine and Three Quarters. They were always there before he was, waving wildly with all the other parents as the train pulled into the station. So where were they now? “They’re probably just running late.” His parents were fine. They had to be fine. But if they were fine, why wasn’t one of them here picking him up? They couldn’t have forgotten about him, right? Even if it had slipped their minds, they spoke with other witches and wizards. James talked to Ron’s father whenever they worked on the same days. Sirius and Remus would have heard it come up at the Ministry from one of their coworkers with kids. At some point one in one of their conversations. He was positive he’d written to his parents about his return date and time, and his father had responded that night, telling him how excited they were to have him coming back for the summer.
“They’ve never been late before.”
Harry shot his best friend a dark look, the red head shrinking back. No, they hadn’t. Someone had always been waiting for him, often right next to Ron’s mother. Last year, all four of them had been waiting on the platform. His father and Sirius had wanted to hear all about the Triwizard tournament, even though Harry had only watched from the stands. Remus and his mother had wanted to know how his classes and grades had gone, and if the tournament had caused any major disruptions to his learning. It had a little, but Harry didn’t tell them that. All five of them had left the train station and walked to one of the many Diagon Alley entrances so they could have dinner at one of Harry’s favorite restaurants, The Coven’s Glamour. After that, they’d gone for ice cream and spent the entire evening together simply enjoying each other’s company. And while Harry hadn’t expected that to happen again, he had expected someone to be there to make sure he got home safe.
It’s fine. They’re okay. You’re okay. Someone will show up. Because the alternative meant he’d either somehow been disowned by his family without being informed or they’d actually forgotten about the one child they’d ever been in charge of. Someone is coming. They just got caught up at work. That was the most likely scenario. Something had come up for both his parents and godparents and… And what? That somehow all four of them, despite Remus working in a different department from his dad’s and Sirius’ and his mother working in a completely different building at St. Mungo’s, ‘something’ had happened that had prevented all four of them from coming to get him? If something that big had happened, they’d have been warned on the train, and parents would be ushering their children off the platform and taking them home immediately to avoid any kind of trouble. Given all the smiles and laughter around him, that couldn’t be the case.
“Harry dear?” Harry glanced over at Ron’s mother. She was smiling at him in a way that clearly said she felt bad for him. “We’ll get you home. I’m sure something just came up.”
What could be more important than remembering to get your son from the train station? Or at the very least, to make plans with someone else, like Mrs. Weasley, who they knew would already be coming to get her own children, to pick him up? “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”
Hermione stopped beside Harry.
“Molly,” Hermione’s mother said. “If you don’t mind, we wanted to talk about this summer?”
“Oh?” Mrs. Weasley looked at Hermione’s parents, then back at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Oh, alright. Just we really do need to be going…”
“Just a quick word,” Hermione’s father said.
“I’m coming.” The three adults walked a short distance away and began talking.
“We’re leaving after my parents finish talking with Mrs. Weasley. They wanted to know when would be a good time to get together this summer. I think they’re hoping to have another BBQ,” Hermione said.
“If I get home by then,” Harry muttered.
“Huh?” Hermione gave a look around the emptying train platform, frowning. “Your parents aren’t here yet?”
“They forgot about him,” Ron snickered.
“Ron!”
The redhead went silent.
Seemingly satisfied, Hermione turned back to Harry. “I’m sure…” She bit her lower lip, no doubt coming to the same conclusion Harry already had. Unless something bad had happened and his parents had no way of getting ahold of anyone, someone should have been here to get him.
“Yeah.”
“Hermione, we’re leaving,” her father called out.
“Oh, but!” She looked from Harry to her father.
“It’s fine. I’m going to go home with Ron and his family.” Because what other choice did he actually have?
“Right…” She pulled both of them into a hug. “Let me know what’s going on.”
“I will. Thanks Hermione.”
“I expect letters from both of you over the summer,” she said, glaring at Ron.
“I wrote last year!”
“Yes, three times and two of them literally read ‘I’m bored. What are you guys up to?”
“That’s still writing! And I was bored!”
Hermione let out a frustrated breath.
“What?!”
“Harry, I’m sure everything is alright.”
He smiled, feeling slightly better. “Yeah.”
She gave Harry another hug. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will.”
“Good. I’ll see both of you soon.” She released Harry and left with her parents a moment later.
What if they show up after I leave? He gave one last slow look over the lingering people on the platform. There were a few first year Ravenclaw girls and their parents standing around them talking. A Slytherin and Hufflepuff, the Hufflepuff looked about a year older, were standing by themselves, sharing chocolate frogs. Harry was pretty sure they were related. A witch came up to them a moment later and grabbed both of their hands.
Harry looked away.
“Alright everyone! We’ve got quite a long ride ahead of us. Let’s get going!” Mrs. Weasley started towards the exit, Ginny, Fred and George right behind her.
“Come on,” Ron nudged him. “You heard Hermione. Everything’s fine. And she’s always right.”
“Yeah…”
“Your dad probably pulled some kind of prank that got him, and your mum stuck somewhere.”
While that had, in fact, happened twice, Harry didn’t think that was the case. On both occasions, when his father had somehow managed to get himself and his mother locked inside their own house, they’d still been able to contact others. “Yeah. It’s happened before.” He offered Ron a smile they both knew was fake and started for the exit together.
Harry followed Ron through the barrier, where they had no choice but to dodge and maneuver their ways through hundreds, possibly thousands, of Muggles. No easy feat when you were pushing your school trunk around. Children screamed; a train whistle blew somewhere further into the train station and the crowd had the nerve to grow. They pushed and jostled Harry from both sides, leaving him with nowhere to go. He lost sight of all the Weasley’s except for Ron, who was, luckily for Harry, stuck with him in the middle of the station.
Ron turned to Harry and said something, but the mingled sounds of the adults and all the other station noises made it impossible for Harry to hear a single word of it.
“We should wait until the crowd thins out!”
Ron gave him a blank look and shrugged.
This sucks. How had the rest of the Weasley family gotten through this mess? Without warning, Ron pushed his trolley forward. People began yelling and jumping out of the way. Seriously?! Harry knew if he didn’t join the redhead, he’d be waiting inside the train station until everyone had made it onto their trains or his family finally remembered him. Scowling, he ran after his friend.
Curses sprang up around them as they ran, Muggles jumped out of the way and Harry swore he heard someone scream ‘May a dragon devour your heirs!’ from someone. A man dressed in a security uniform tried to get to them, but the crowd that had trapped Ron and Harry in a second ago was now keeping them safe. The entrance came into view, and Harry grinned.
“NO RUNNING!” An older woman raised her purse and smacked Ron across the back of the head with it.
Ron brought one of his hands up, rubbing the back of his head, the other still pushing his luggage trolley. “OW!”
“LEARN SOME MANNERS!” She huffed and headed further into the train station while Ron and Harry pushed out of the exit.
“That woman was out of her mind!”
Harry gave a brief nod. Crazy or not, that woman was also probably on her way to escort security to their location. “Come on.” He spotted the bright red hair of the Weasley clan and let out a breath. “There.” Mrs. Weasley was standing in front of a nondescript gray car without a single model identifying feature on it. Ministry car. Meaning the car was charmed to look like the blandest vehicle in the world on the outside to avoid drawing any sort of attention. The inside wouldn’t be much better, but it would grow to comfortably accommodate any amount of people and luggage that ended up inside. Usually, these cars were reserved for transporting wizarding families that required a certain amount of privacy. So why were they using one?
“There you two are! What were you doing?!” She turned her full attention to Ron. “Ronald!” The red head jumped. “Get your trunk into the boot already! And Harry’s too!” She went to the front of the car and started talking to the driver.
Ron’s eyes went wide. “Why am I in charge of your trunk?”
“No idea.”
“We’d still be in there if I hadn’t noticed that break in the crowd,” he grumbled, pushing the trolley up to the boot of the car.
Harry opened his mouth and closed it, sighing. They definitely would have still been in the station surrounded by strangers, if not for Ron. On the other hand, they wouldn’t have security looking for them either. We need to leave before that old lady gets back.
Between the two of them, they got their trunks shoved into the boot and joined the rest of the Weasley family inside the car. It was, as Harry had thought, a very shoddy looking interior that had to be at least ten years old and had seen plenty of young children with candy and who knew what else. Harry was pretty sure the only reason the carpet remained attached to the floor was thanks to a sticking charm. The seats were comfortable enough, though, and there was more than enough room for them to stretch their legs out without kicking anyone.
I hope they do show up after I’m gone. Then his family could panic about his whereabouts until they realized he’d probably gone home with one of his friends.
“So how did the rest of your year go,” Molly asked after she’d done a headcount and shut the car door.
All the Weasley children started talking at once, bombarding the poor woman with their stories. She smiled, nodding here and there as they went.
“And then Malfoy said I was a Muggle loving freak,” Ron shouted.
“That wasn’t very nice of him,” Mrs. Weasley said.
Ginny held up a necklace with a small Quidditch broom on it. “It broke on the train! I tried to fix it, but the spell wouldn’t work!”
“I’m sure your father can fix it.”
“And then Fred—”
“No, it was you,” Fred laughed.
“Oh right, it was me! I slipped into the office and got my paper back!”
Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Well, I’m glad you got it back, and I didn’t get an owl about it.”
Harry had to give Mrs. Weasley credit. He didn’t know how Mrs. Weasley could juggle all the conversations going on at once, but she was. How was it she could keep tabs on the four children, not to mention her other three, and give them her full attention and yet his parents couldn’t even remember their one?
“Harry dear?”
Harry looked up from his feet. “Yeah?”
She smiled at him. “How was the rest of your school year?”
“Oh… It was great, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for asking….”
(X)
“Would you like to stay for lunch before going home,” Mrs. Weasley asked.
Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and Ron were standing in the Weasley living room next to their fireplace. Thank Merlin. If he’d had to spend another ten minutes in the car with Mrs. Weasley going on about how much his parents loved him and something had to have come up and if it hadn’t, she’d be giving them a talking to like they were one of her children. And while Mrs. Weasley was a tad older than both his parents, he didn’t think they’d take too kindly to being told off by her. Even if they deserved it.
Harry gave a small shake of his head. “No thanks. I need to make sure everything’s okay.” He doubted he could eat anything until he knew what was going on, anyway.
“I’m sure everything is fine.” She threw her arms around Harry and pulled him into a tight hug. “But if something is wrong, you can always stay with us.”
He returned the hug. “Thanks Mrs. Weasley.”
“Of course, dear. Well. Let’s get you home. I honestly can’t imagine Lily forgetting about today. And your father was going on and on to Arthur just yesterday about all the plans he had for you this summer.” She sighed and released him. “But things do come up.” She grabbed a small pouch from the top of the fireplace. “Dear, if something has happened, you come straight back, understand?”
“Yes, Mrs. Weasley.”
She frowned. “Maybe I should come with, just to make sure.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure.” He didn’t need Mrs. Weasley to come with and scream at his family if something wasn’t wrong. He wanted that pleasure for himself. “I promise, if anything looks eh, off. I’ll come straight back.”
Mrs. Weasley sighed again, her shoulders drooping. “I’d feel much better if I went with you.”
“Mum,” Ron groaned. “Just let Harry go home. He said he’d come back if something was wrong.”
“Do not start with me Ron Weasley. If you want to groan about something, you can go outside and start tending to the garden.”
Ron’s mouth fell open, his eyes jumping back and forth between Mrs. Weasley and Harry. “R, right.” When his mother wasn’t looking, he mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’ to Harry.
“Mrs. Weasley, really. I’ll be fine. If something’s wrong, Sirius or Remus will be there waiting for me.” If that were true though, they’d have been at Platform nine and three quarters waiting for him there.
“Oh, alright.” She held the pouch out to him. “But you’re to come back immediately, if anything is wrong.”
“Got it.” He grabbed a small amount of the Floo powder with one hand, his trunk with the other, and stepped into their fireplace. “Thanks Mrs. Weasley.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You know you’re always welcome here.”
“Yeah.” He gave her a smile before throwing the powder down harder than he’d intended. The powder flew up around him as he said clearly, “Potter’s Cottage!” His lungs filled with the Floo Powder and when he stumbled out of his fireplace into his living room, he was not only dizzy but coughing horribly. He let go of his trunk and staggered towards the nearest overstuffed armchair and held onto it with one hand, the other hitting his chest, trying to dislodge everything he’d accidentally inhaled.
A quick look of the living room, from what he could see of it anyway, with the tears in his eyes, showed no signs of a disturbance. He knew he should check the rest of the house, but what was the point when he could barely see or breathe? He sat down in the chair he’d been clinging to and took his glasses off so he could wipe his eyes. His lungs settled down after a moment and he put his glasses back on. The living room was spotless, as usual. Photos they’d taken throughout the years remained in place on the fireplace mantel, others on the side tables by the couch and on the wall. The carpet actually looked like it’d just been vacuumed, only now there was a clear trail from Harry’s shoes from the fireplace to the chair.
He stood up and headed for the main hall just outside of the living room. Four large suitcases were standing next to the front door.
“Harry!” Harry jumped and looked towards the staircase directly across from the living room entrance. “What are you doing here!?” His father appeared at the top of the staircase, his eyes wide and like someone had hit him with a curse. “That’s…” He glanced down at his watch, his face falling as he turned his head towards the upstairs bedrooms. “Lily! We forgot Harry!”
So they did forget. And yet, while Harry was indeed pissed that his parents had forgotten their only child at a train station kilometers away from home, he was relieved that they were okay. The closer they’d gotten to The Burrow, the more his stomach had twisted itself up over all the “What ifs” playing through his mind. What if something had happened to them on their way to pick Harry up? What if one of his parents were sick, or dead, and no one had wanted to tell him until he’d returned home? What if, what if, what if….? Stop it, they’re okay.
“Harry!” His mother’s voice sounded panicked and suddenly he could hear her running towards them from the master bedroom. “We need to go…!” She’d stopped in her tracks behind James as her eyes fell on Harry standing at the bottom of the steps. “How did you get home?”
“Mrs. Weasley was nice enough to take me to The Burrow and let me use some Floo Powder.” He didn’t bother to keep the edge out of his voice.
“Right, Molly told us earlier to remember,” James said, letting out a laugh. “And we still forgot.”
Lily sighed, moving past her husband and walking fast towards Harry. She threw her arms around him tightly, tighter even than Mrs. Weasley had managed. “I’m so glad you’re alright and I’m so sorry we weren’t there to pick you up.”
How was Harry supposed to stay angry after that? He’d returned the hug, his eyes threatening to water again for just a second. “So where are you going…?”
“What? Oh, all of us are going,” Lily said, releasing her son. “Make sure you go pack some things. Summer things.”
“Okay…?” Harry watched his mother go back up the stairs, jump up them really, and vanish down the hall once more. His father was still grinning down at him.
“Your mother won the prestigious ‘Superiority in the Healing Arts Award!” He gave a flourish of his hands and froze in a dramatic pose. As Harry started up the stairs, his father broke into another fit of laughter. “It really is a big honor.”
“I know,” Harry said. And he did know. He’d heard his mother speak of the award from time to time, usually based on the candidates that were nominated and what she thought of them. Harry and his father would just nod, because their knowledge of healers was limited to what tidbits they remembered from Lily’s previous conversations, which tended not to be a lot. Harry just wasn’t that interested in healing. Thankfully others were, because he’d be in awful shape from all the crashes, attacks, and curses thrown at him during Quidditch matches if no one practiced the art. If not for Madam Pomfrey alone, he’d probably be paralyzed. “So, where are we going?”
“Castle Combe,” James said. “So, make sure to pack your ‘rich’ robes.”
Harry blanched. Wiltshire? And not just Wiltshire, Castle Combe? “Not the whole vacation,” Harry said, desperation creeping into his voice. Wiltshire was where all the “self-appointed important” wizards and witches lived. Where people like Draco Malfoy and all the snobs whose main purpose in life was to suck up to the Malfoys lived. James didn’t have to deal with much thanks to his old wizarding bloodline, but Lily and Harry often got snide remarks and looks of disgust from the magical community there.
“No way. After your mother receives her reward, we’re going to Switzerland.”
A second wave of relief flooded Harry’s body. He wouldn’t be spending weeks in Wiltshire, which is what the suitcases by the door suggested. Nope, they were going to Switzerland. A place he’d never been but could in no way be worse than Castle Combe. “Okay.”
“Great! Why don’t you go pack some stuff while your mother and I finish up?”
Harry nodded. He finished climbing the steps and walked with his father down the hall until he came to his bedroom door. He went in, smiling at how fresh his room smelt. No matter how long he was gone, he always came home to a welcoming room. Grinning, he dropped onto his bed and let his eyes close as he inhaled deeply. The scent of summer air and trees from their backyard washed over him.
His family was okay. And his mother had finally won a healing award. He was going to get to spend his summer in Switzerland. Maybe Sirius and Remus will join us? That’d make his summer perfect. With the smile never leaving his face, he climbed off his bed and went to his closet. Inside was full of both wizarding and Muggle clothing. What do you even wear in Switzerland? Was it cold there in the summer? Deciding it didn’t really matter, he pulled out a few light robes, a set of dress robes, and some Muggle clothing. From his wardrobe, he removed some undergarments and two pairs of swimsuits. Just to be safe, he grabbed a few Quidditch books, one on Defense, and because he knew his mother would expect it of him, not that he was going to actually read it, a book on Potions. He made a face at the Potion’s book before dropping his clothes on top of it. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t pack any books, but his mother would disapprove if there wasn’t at least one in his suitcase, and he would not get stuck reading a Potions book.
Right, he needed his suitcase. He pulled his wand out of his pants pocket and aimed it at his closet door. “Accio suitcase!” His suitcase shot out of his closet and landed at his feet. It took him half a minute to shove everything into the bag and close it up.
He stepped out into the hall. “I’m done packing!”
Harry blinked as his father appeared from nowhere, shoving a sandwich into his hand, and taking his suitcase from him as he ran down the stairs and outside. His mother ran past him the other way back into her bedroom, saying something about perfume.
Right. He headed down the steps, taking a bite of his sandwich. Immediately, his eyes began watering as enough salt to dry his entire mouth out assaulted his tastebuds. “Ugh!” He spit the food out, gagging. He separated the two pieces of toast, glaring at the brown spread slathered over what he thought might be butter underneath. Marmite. And not even regular Marmite. Whoever had made it had grabbed the Marmite XO. What’s wrong with them? His parents knew he wasn’t a fan of Marmite.
Sighing, he grabbed the half chewed up piece of sandwich off the floor and threw it and what was left of what he had into the rubbish bin in the kitchen. Maybe he could find something edible to eat while his parents ran around the house. The first three cabinets he opened were empty, probably because they were going to be in Switzerland for a while. Please let there be something edible in here. He opened the fourth door, grinning as a box of Jaffa Cakes revealed themselves. Not his first choice, but way better than the sandwich he’d just thrown away.
“Harry!” Harry jumped, holding the box to his chest. His father stood in the kitchen doorway, his head shaking. “Come on! We need to go.” His eyes homed in on the box in Harry’s hand. Give me one of those before your mother sees us with them.” Harry opened the box quickly and handed one to his father. “Thanks. Now come on.” He stepped out of the kitchen and into the main hall, Harry chasing after him.
“Is the award ceremony tonight?”
“No, but it’s going to take us a few hours to drive there.”
“…Drive there?”
“Yeah. Come help me finish putting all our luggage into the car.”
(X)
Why couldn’t we just use Floo Powder to get to Wiltshire? They’d done it before in the past. If not that, even though Harry despised it, why not Appearate? It would have been uncomfortable, but it beat sitting in a car for three hours with only fields and sky to look at.
I forgot to tell Ron and Hermione what happened. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was somewhat glad to be confined in the car. At least stuck in the backseat watching the nondescript scenery pass by, he didn’t have to try to come up with some kind of explanation. How did you explain to your two best friends that your parents had conveniently forgotten you over an award? Harry, their only child. The star Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team who’d broken numerous Seeker records at the school. Sure, he’d probably done badly on some of his O.W.L.S. and he wasn’t the best at schoolwork, but his Defense abilities were good.
Though Professor McGonagall had warned him at the beginning of the school year that Defense alone wouldn’t be enough for him to be accepted into the Auror training program at the Ministry. He had asked Hermione for help, so he didn’t think he’d flat out failed anything, but that didn’t mean his grades would be high enough either.
No sense in worrying about it now. He’d get his grades later on in the summer and that was that. Either his parents would be pleased, he hoped they would be, or his mother was going to be very disappointed, even if she wouldn’t openly admit it. Harry knew the exact face his mother would make too and that the only way he’d fix it would be to try harder, maybe find some way to retake the O.W.L.S. for that class and show her he could do it. If not, they’d spend months communicating as little as possible, neither of them sure what to say to each other. At least his father wouldn’t be a problem. He was much more understanding about Harry’s grades. He and Sirius had told Harry if not for Remus, neither of them would have passed any classes, and they’d barely scraped by on their own O.W.L.S. but he wasn’t allowed to tell his mother that.
Harry stared up at the ceiling of the car. He was going to be so sore, was already sore, from sitting all day. First, the long ride from Hogwarts to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, then the long ride to the Burrow, and now a three-hour car ride to Wiltshire, which again he didn’t understand why they weren’t just Appearating there and then back to Godric’s Hollow to get their luggage and then again to Switzerland. As he thought about it, however, he realized his mother was probably nervous about Appearating to Switzerland since only his father had ever been there. Were they actually going to get on a plane?
We could still use Floo Powder for Castle Combe, he thought bitterly. Ron’s family definitely would have.
“So, how did your exams go,” Lily asked. They were the first words that had been spoken in the car. Harry had noticed the looks from his parents and was glad to see they both looked ashamed. Good. They needed to feel bad for having forgotten about him like they had. Still, he had gotten home, and they were okay. What good would holding a grudge do him?
“They were hard,” Harry said, opting to tell the truth. There was no point in lying. His parents would see his grades and even if he hid them, they’d get suspicious if certain books weren’t on his school supply list come August. “I studied with Hermione a lot, but I don’t know if it was enough.”
His mother looked pleased when she turned around. “Did you use the study guides I sent you?”
“We did,” Harry said. “Thank you for that. Hermione used them to make mock tests.”
“You sent Harry your old O.W.L.S. guides,” James asked with a groan.
Lily glared at her husband. “They were his O.W.L.S. James. Those tests can set him on the right or wrong path for a good life.”
“Yeah, sure. As long as he doesn’t flunk anything, between Sirius and me, he’s as good as got a job in the Auror’s office.”
Lily gave a small huff. “I want him to have options.”
“He told me he wanted to be an Auror, didn’t you Harry?” He could see his father’s eyes in the rearview mirror begging him to agree with him and in fact, he had asked his father and Sirius before the start of his fifth year about getting into the Auror office. His father and Sirius did so much good, even if the job could be boring at times, and he wanted to join them.
“I did,” Harry said, hoping that disapproving look he knew all too well didn’t grace his mother’s features. “I want to help people — “
“Healer’s help people!”
“I want to help them like Dad and Sirius does…”
His mother snorted and looked away from the two males in the car, her eyes now focused on the rolling fields outside the passenger window. He saw his father give a quick shake of his head and roll his eyes in the mirror again and the silence returned to the car, only this time with an awkwardness to it.
Harry turned to look out his own window, glaring himself now. How dare his mother get angry for his desire to be an Auror? She knew he didn’t want to be a healer. He didn’t even like going into St. Mungo’s to visit her during her lunches, let alone get a job at the place.
I should have just stayed at the Burrow. His parents could have gone to their still celebration ceremony, and he could have stayed with Ron or gone to his godparents’ house. At some point, his parents might have remembered they had a son that they’d supposedly accidentally forgotten about. He frowned, stealing a glance at his parents. James was focused on the road and his mother was still staring out her window. Maybe they don’t…? His heart skipped a beat. No, there was no way his parents didn’t love him. They were always sending him care packages fill with loving letters, snacks, and, from his father, hidden prank items. Would parents who didn’t care for their child bother with such pretenses?
He gave a small shake of his head. No, he was just angry at being left at the train station. His parents loved him. They’d just been so excited about the healing award that they’d lost track of time. His parents were probably feeling guilty for having ditched him and when his mother had tried to get a conversation going in an attempt to get them speaking again, Harry had ruined it.
(X)
“Are you actually willing to risk our only son’s life!?”
Harry jerked his head up, blinking.
“Of course not! But he told us back in August that he didn’t want to be a healer!”
“People can change their mind!”
“Well, obviously Harry hasn’t!”
“So I’m supposed to go through every day of my life, worrying that both my husband and my son might not come home!?”
Harry had no idea when this fight had started, but it had obliviously been going on for some time. His mother’s face and neck were red, and James was gripping the steering wheel tight enough to break it. I must have fallen asleep.
“Lily, your job is just as dangerous! You could easily get dragged into a war just as easily as I could! At least as an Auror, Harry would learn to defend himself!”
Lily let out a harsh laugh that made Harry wince. “Of course! The only way he could possibly survive would be to fight! What good is fighting going to do him if he’s too wounded to lift his wand?! Then what!?”
“If he learns to fight well enough—”
“YOU’VE BEEN WOUNDED PLENTY OF TIMES!”
“AND YOU ALMOST DIED FROM A PLAGUE TWICE!”
Harry stared at his parents. “What?” When had his mother contracted a plague? “Mum—”
Both of his parents’ heads jerked to him, their eyes wide, faces pale enough to mimic a corpse. The words Harry wanted to say died in his throat.
“You said you put up a silencing charm,” Lily screamed. Her wand came up and suddenly Harry could hear nothing. He saw his mother hit James on the arm, tears streaking her face from time to time as she did. James kept his hands on the wheel of the car, refusing to look at Lily, but given his expression and how fast his mouth was moving, anyone could tell they were having a full-blown shouting match.
Harry sank into the seat, his heart and stomach joining him. His mother’s hands flew into the air, gesturing quickly and James snatched her wrist, stopping her in mid-movement. Lily tore her arm away and turned her back to him completely. In the window’s reflection, he could see his mother crying harder now.
Is this my fault? What if his parents got a divorce, all because Harry wanted to be an Auror? They wouldn’t really do that, would they? But hadn’t some of his peers’ parents divorced for less? He dropped his head. He should have stayed with Ron until Sirius could pick him up.
When Harry finally dared to lift his gaze from his feet, he could see the small, quaint buildings of Castle Combe coming into view. Unlike most places in England, Castle Combe had kept their Cotswold stone rather than upgrading to more modern-day materials. The village looked like something from medieval times and if Harry wasn’t so used to living among such structures, he’d probably have found the place as charming as most Muggles did.
They passed more old-fashioned looking buildings. Most of them had signs in their windows or hanging from their doorways proclaiming names or services. Within a few minutes of entering the town, James pulled into a parking spot in front of a hotel. The outside looked like all the other buildings, and Harry let out a breath. At least they wouldn’t be staying at the Manor House this time, with all the ‘noble’ witches and wizards.
James turned the car off and turned to Lily just as she bolted out of the car and ran into the hotel.
“Well then,” James sighed. Harry jumped at the sudden sound. “Harry—”
“It’s fine. You and mum are just worried about my future.”
James turned around completely in the car seat, giving Harry a long look. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’m going to take a walk.” He undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.
His dad looked like he was going to tell him no, but after studying Harry again, he nodded. “Right,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Be back by dark.”
“Okay.” Harry had been in Wiltshire enough to know the general area. That they were staying at ‘The Black Cat’s Inn’ which was nestled within the town itself vs. the Manor House, about ten minutes away, made his life that much easier.
He started down the long, winding sidewalk, staying to the right. If he remembered correctly, there was a wizarding pub not too far away. Sure enough, placed between a bakery and a bookstore was the tavern he remembered from a previous visit, ‘The Toad’s Pond.’ He pushed the door open, looking inside to make sure it was the right place. While the tavern was old looking, with the same stone and wood as the outside used for the inside, that was how the entire village was, not just the wizarding part. Amongst the tables, however, he could see a few witches and wizards wearing robes. He entered and went straight for the first open table. He sat down and a pretty witch with chestnut brown hair wearing a black set of robes placed a menu in front of him.
“Anything to drink?”
“Butterbeer please.” After his day, he could use five or ten of them as a pick me up.
“Cold or warm?”
“Warm.”
“Got it.” She winked at him and walked off, leaving Harry alone with the menu. He examined the items not entirely hungry, but after his crummy day, he didn’t want to be anywhere near a confined room, let alone one with his parents in it. Besides, he needed food. All he’d had to eat was some bacon and toast for breakfast and the Jaffa Cakes before they’d left home.
“Why Harry, I believe I just saw you a few hours prior?”
There was no mistaking the voice. Harry knew immediately who it was before even looking up. Why was he having so much bad luck today? Thank Merlin, there was no way the O.W.L.S.’ could have been graded already. He didn’t think he could handle any more raised voices, especially if he was the cause of them.
“You did,” Harry said quietly, looking up from his menu. Dumbledore was standing next to his table, still wearing the same long flowing grey robes he’d had on that morning and smiling his usual smile.
“I heard your mother was nominated for the Superiority in the Healing Arts Award. Not a surprise in the least. Lily has always shown a wonderful amount of intelligence. You must be so proud of her.”
Right, only mum and dad know she’s won. He felt like the headmaster knew he wasn’t happy. He took a seat across from Harry without asking, giving him a look over. Of course. Harry had the joy of not only seeing Dumbledore at school, but sometimes at home or The Burrow. Ron and he both agreed they had some of the worst luck, because both their parents were friends with the headmaster. He didn’t show up a lot, but when he did, they were both expected to act like proper gentlemen, something Harry hated to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. His usual manner was somewhat quiet compared to others, but to be told he had to behave just made him want to act out. Sirius had told him that was his father’s blood in him.
“And what will you be eating on this fine evening?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said, laying the menu down on the table. Dumbledore was still examining him with his sparkling blue eyes. Many of the students believed Dumbledore was a Legilimens. The headmaster seemed to know exactly what was going through anyone’s mind just by looking at them. He hoped that wasn’t the case. Dumbledore didn’t need to know that his parents were fighting about him, possibly had been for a while now.
“That won’t do.” The headmaster lifted the menu and looked it over. “I would recommend the Chocolate Trifle cake.”
“For dinner,” Harry asked.
“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore said, winking at him.
The server returned and set Harry’s Butterbeer on the table. “So, what will you be having?”
“Umm…” While he did kind of deserve the Chocolate Trifle cake after all he’d been put through that day, he could see his mother’s face in his mind, just daring him to have his dessert before a real dinner. “Cornish Pasties and a side of chips,” he said, handing her the menu. “And the Chocolate Trifle cake for dessert,” he added, a grin finding its way to his face.
“Will you be joining him, sir?” She was looking at Dumbledore now and seemed to be trying to figure out where she knew the older wizard from.
“Alas, I’m merely chatting with a friend,” he said, dramatics leaking into his voice. “I’m simply passing the time until I must meet with someone. I will, however, take a glass of lemonade?”
“Sure.” A floating quill wrote their orders on a pad of levitating paper. She held the paper out for them to see. “Is this right?”
“Yes,” Dumbledore said.
“I’ll bring your drinks out while you wait.” She vanished into the kitchen, the pen and paper flying after her. “Who are you waiting for?” Harry asked. The second he’d said it, he knew he shouldn’t have. He let his horror show on his face and then shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Dumbledore chuckled and Harry wished he could just leave, but with all the delicious smelling food passing him by, his appetite had come back.
“It’s quite alright Harry. It’s not like I’m holding a secret meeting with the Ministry of Magic.” He laughed again, the tension in Harry fading. “I’m waiting for my son.”
“The one who studies abroad?” Harry had heard Hermione speak often of Tom, usually going on about how brilliant Dumbledore’s son was. While Hermione didn’t know him personally, she often pointed out many of his “accomplishments” that were marked in books, or the Daily Prophet. The discoveries were often related to magical creatures. Harry had never met Tom either, despite all the times Dumbledore had joined Ron or his own family for dinners or holidays. Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d never even seen a picture of Tom, but he imagined the man must be about James’ age, maybe a little younger. “How is he doing?”
“Splendid,” Dumbledore said, smiling brightly. “His input helped a group of healers create a new healing cream. It heals faster and is much stronger than what we have in our cabinets at home right now.” The headmaster looked so proud of his son. Maybe if Harry applied himself and listened to Hermione more, his parents would look at him that way too. And maybe they wouldn’t need to fight over where his future was headed.
“Do you think being an Auror is a bad job?”
The smile slipped off Dumbledore’s face, his eyes now serious. “No. I would say that an Auror’s job is very difficult at times and a much needed job in our community. Without Auror’s our community would fall apart. There would be no one to catch the rather dark wizards or witches that sometimes appear and believe me, Harry, that is the last thing we need.” He studied Harry a moment longer. “Why?”
“I want to be an Auror,” Harry said. It was well known amongst his professors what his intentions were. The only one that had sneered at him was Snape, and his mother had set that straight before his bullying had even started. He’d complained about the Potion’s teacher before many times, but his mother had actually stepped in at the beginning of his fifth year saying his studies were too important from that point onward. Snape had retreated, but glared at Harry every chance he got, no doubt hoping he’d accidentally poison himself.
“Yes, I’ve seen all the career paths the fifth years are attempting.”
“I don’t think my mum wants me to.”
“Hmm….” The waitress placed Harry’s food in front of him just as Dumbledore pulled out his pocket watch. He seemed surprised at the time and stood up. “I apologize Harry; my son should be arriving any moment and he’ll be most displeased if I’m not there to meet him.” He took out a few galleons from his pocket and handed them to the witch. “Please keep the change. Next time, I’ll make sure I know the time before ordering something.” He hurried out the door without a single look back. The witch shrugged, taking the lemonade back, and left Harry alone.
At least Dumbledore remembered his son at the last minute. Had his parents really forgotten him? Maybe they’d been fighting so much over Harry’s future they’d “forgotten” him, hoping he’d go somewhere else for the summer. He knew both of his parents loved him, but perhaps his lack of intelligence and abilities were putting a strain on their relationship. It was too late to study more or do better. He could try harder for the N.E.W.T.S., if he could take those courses, but he already felt like he’d failed. He’d let both of his parents down, worried more about Quidditch than his future, and now they were trying to find some way to fix it.
The Cornish pasties no longer looked appetizing. He nibbled on one all the same, knowing he’d regret it later if he didn’t and picked at some of his chips. The witch brought out his piece of cake when it was apparent he wasn’t going to eat any more of his actual dinner, but even that didn’t seem worth the effort of eating.
“Can I take this with me?” he asked. The witch nodded and pulled her wand out. She taped the cake, a box wrapping around it.
“It’ll stay fresh in there,” she said.
“Thanks.” Harry paid her and got up. “Is the bookstore one of ours,” Harry asked her.
“No, but there’s one farther down the street that way. It’s the last shop on the street,” she said, pointing to her left. “Not a big selection, but not bad.”
Harry thanked her again and left the tavern. It was cooling off as the sun got lower, but he wasn’t ready to go back to the hotel. Instead, he started down the street in the direction the witch had pointed in. If he started now, maybe he could get better grades.
Better grades doesn’t really solve my problem though, he realized. He wanted to be an Auror, was pretty sure he would get the job and getting perfect grades wouldn’t make him lose his mind and choose a different career path. What he needed was for his mother to change her mind. His father was quite content with him becoming an Auror. Sirius had been thrilled to hear it, but his mother. What did she want him to do, anyway? Study to be a healer? That was the last thing on his mind. He hated Potions’ class and didn’t want to spend his days making sure people got their medication or trying to fix their ailments. What he wanted was to track down dark witches and wizards and to go after people who made things unsafe for the rest of the wizarding community. He wanted to make a difference and, with his dueling abilities and understanding of Defense, why shouldn’t he?
Someone’s shoulder shoved against Harry from behind, the Gryffindor stumbling forward. He managed to keep the box in his hand just as he jolted his head around to glare at the offender.
“Potter.”
Harry’s body relaxed. “Malfoy,” he said, watching the Slytherin.
“Why are you in my town?”
“Healers awards,” Harry said.
Draco Malfoy was not his favorite person, but far from his most hated one. When Hermione and Ron weren’t around, Draco was almost tolerable. A shame he couldn’t be all the time. Whenever Harry had asked Draco to pretend to be sociable at school, he’d flat out refuse. When they ran into each other alone in Diagon Alley or at some event their parents dragged them too, they were often the only ones who’d tolerate each other.
“Right, we always get unwanted company during this time.” He scrunched his face up as if he’d inhaled a horrible scent. “Your mother is up for some kind of award, right?”
“Yeah.” Harry allowed himself to relax farther, and the two started down the sidewalk. It seemed, for now, Draco would be an ally instead of a bully. Harry never understood why Draco was okay with him, but not Ron. Ron may be poor, but he was more of a pureblood than Harry was ever going to be. I guess money makes up for my Mudblood, he thought, rolling his eyes.
“Where are you headed? The only thing this way is the bookstore.”
“That’s where I was going.”
“You, read?” He gave a quick laugh, his face falling when he saw the look on Harry’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“My family is fighting about me.”
Draco raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you kidding me? Your parents?”
Harry gave a halfhearted shrug. He should be talking about this with Sirius, or Ron, or Hermione, but not Draco. Draco was much more an acquaintance than a friend. But maybe that was why it was easier to tell him. “I told mum I wanted to be an Auror, and she wasn’t too happy about it.”
“You don’t actually have to work.”
“No, but what else would I do?” The thought of not working had never occurred to him. He was in school to learn. He had to pass tests. Both of his parents had jobs. Despite their small fortune hidden away in Gringotts, they lived in a normal sized home. There were no servants or house-elves. Harry had always been told finding a good job was important. “Maybe we are poor.”
Draco laughed again, this time for real.
“What?”
“You’re not poor,” Draco said when he’d gotten control of himself. “My father doesn’t allow me to interact with poor people.”
“Or half-bloods, but here you are, still talking to me.”
“More like a quarter,” Draco said, no longer looking at Harry.
Harry grimaced. “You’ve actually had this conversation with your dad, haven’t you?” Harry knew he shouldn’t be surprised and yet he was. That Draco had had to convince his father that the Potter family was still pure enough, still rich enough, for him to interact with him, was just too much. “I take it intelligence doesn’t count for anything?”
“If it did, do you think I’d be stuck with Crabbe and Goyle?” he spat, his face turning red.
Harry shook his head. To think Draco’s father was more worried about the purity of blood and money rather than someone’s intelligence. What was the point of being ‘friends’ with someone you had to draw pictures and show diagrams to for them to get even the smallest understanding of what someone was talking about? Sure, that meant Draco had goons, but not friends. Unless that was what his father was aiming for. If Draco didn’t have friends he could rely on, all he had was his family.
“Your father’s a manipulative arsehole,” Harry muttered.
Draco snorted. “Who do you think taught me?”
“You wouldn’t need to be if you’d just talk with Ron and Hermione.”
“My father made it clear if I said anything to them beyond insults, he’d disown me,” he said, shrugging. They’d had this conversation before. Harry wasn’t sure he believed Draco’s father would go that far, but that his father had even made those threats showed how much he hated those “types” of people.
“It’s our lives, isn’t it? Why should our parents always have a say in it?”
“Because we live in their homes,” Draco offered.
“So all I have to do is get my own place?”
It sounded so easy, but it wasn’t. Even if he moved out, it still wouldn’t stop his parents from fighting and it definitely wouldn’t make his mother accept his wish to become an Auror.
“It’s just a few months,” Draco said. They crossed a stone bridge, a beautiful river running beneath it. Harry couldn’t help himself. He looked over the edge and watched the dark blue water rushing by. A family of ducks rode the current. Wildflowers dotted both sides, red and yellow ones. For the first time since he’d arrived, he allowed himself to just stop and enjoy the view.
“My parents fight all the time, but it’s never about me.” Draco leaned his back against a nearby brick wall and folded his arms across his chest.
“I guess I’m lucky I’m what they’re bickering about.”
“Yeah.”
They remained where they were for some time, Draco eventually joining Harry on the bridge and watching the water with him. How could the two of them come from such different backgrounds and have such similar problems? Until now, Harry had believed his parents would be happy with anything he chose to do with his life, as long as it meant he was happy. His father seemed to have that mindset, while his mother seemed to want better. Why though? They had all seemed happy enough until this point. His mother hadn’t seemed disappointed or sad when he’d mentioned wanting to be an Auror before his fifth year began. Why did Harry suddenly need to become a healer, of all things? Was it because of the award? Did she somehow think her winning the award meant he needed to follow in her footsteps?
“I wish they’d stop. It would take a miracle for me to pass even a few of the healer classes, and I have no interest in healing.” He sighed and slid the box towards Draco. “I don’t really feel like eating this.”
“I don’t take leftovers,” Draco scoffed, sliding the box back to Harry.
“I didn’t touch it. I ordered it from ‘The Frog’s pond’ and the witch boxed it up immediately. It’s Chocolate trifle."
Draco seemed to consider this and pulled the box back. “You’re sure you don’t want it? They have pretty good cake.”
“I did, but not anymore.” He shook his head. He could just make out the bookstore at the end of the sidewalk. “What are some other jobs that’d be considered ‘respectable’?”
“Ministry worker.”
Harry made a face. “An Auror is a Ministry worker.”
“The paper pushing kind.”
“I don’t want to push paper.” Though his father often complained about having to write plenty of reports on all the things he’d done while going after people.
“Then don’t be.” Draco opened the box and grabbed a plastic fork that had been placed inside. “You’ll be of age soon. It won’t matter what your mum thinks.”
“Does that mean you’ll talk to Ron and Hermione our seventh year?” Draco gave a small grunt and shoved a piece of cake into his mouth. “Exactly.” Even if they were of age, they would both be trying to keep their parents happy. What Harry really needed was to talk with Sirius. His godfather would know what to do. He would know how to get his mother to accept his career choice. If he didn’t, maybe Remus could persuade her. He glanced at Draco. At least Harry had others supporting him, a family he could rely on. Draco only had himself and the rules laid out before him by his parents. “Do you think you’ll do stuff your dad disapproves of once you’ve moved out?”
“Probably. I already do.” He motioned to the cake with the fork he was holding. “This isn’t exactly high quality food.”
Harry nodded. He broke off a piece of the cake’s corner and popped it into his mouth. High quality or not, it was pretty good.
“I thought you weren’t eating any.”
“I feel a little better now.”
He let Draco finish the cake off and they started for the bookstore. Harry had a completely different goal in mind now, however. They went in, cold air rushing at them. The bookstore was small, with only thirteen or so standing shelves with books crammed into them. Most of the shelves set into the wall also had books, as well as a small section of tea. A single wooden table filled with various snacks stood across from the register where a thin, older wizard wearing dark blue robes stood. “Mr. Malfoy, welcome!” He looked strained and kept glancing around the doorway as if expecting the door to blow up behind them.
“I’m alone,” Draco said. The older wizard let out a breath and slouched onto the register stand.
“Really,” Harry asked in disbelief.
“My father terrorizes everyone. So, what are you looking for, anyway?”
“Parchment, ink, a quill.”
Draco led him to a small section in the back of the store. There wasn’t much to choose from, but the few items laid out looked decent enough to write a few letters. He removed a black quill, some ink, and a pack of parchment paper.
“You’re in the way,” a voice said, clearly annoyed and brimming with arrogance.
Harry turned from the shelf, preparing to glare, maybe tell the person off, and walk away from the wizard who just couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself, only to fail miserably, his breath catching in his throat. The wizard was taller than him by a few inches, with thick black hair falling just past his ears, beautiful red eyes, and the most amazing cheekbones Harry had ever laid his eyes on. He was wearing black robes that fit so perfectly, Harry was sure they’d been made for the teen and him alone. The wizard couldn’t be much older than Draco or him, but his aura demanded respect and his eyes, while most definitely judging Harry of not being worthy of stepping on should he need someone to use as a stepping stool to reach the top shelf, held undeniable intelligence that sent a shiver down Harry’s back.
Something else flashed in the teen’s eyes for merely a second before his annoyance returned.
My family will just fight more if I get into it with some famous wizard and witch’s son. This guy had to be the son of some healer, no doubt in town for the awards ceremony. The way he held himself, the way he talked, it was obvious he was used to getting his way and thinking he was better than others. It reminded him of Draco’s attitude on steroids.
If only he could get away with a little magic. Or even a physical attack. Sirius had shown him a few Muggle fight moves just in case he ever needed them. So far, he hadn’t, but he’d wanted to try them out, and this teen, with his beautiful face and arrogant attitude, was the perfect test dummy.
“Well?” The teen raised an eyebrow, his growing impatience clear. It made Harry want to stay put longer, to see how long it would take until he lashed out and gave Harry a legitimate excuse to fight him.
You know you can’t… Mentally scowling; he held the items he’d just grabbed before the teen had made his appearance to his chest and started for the register.
“Commoner,” the teen sneered behind his back.
Harry almost lost it at that. How could anyone be such an arse!? Weren’t bookstores supposed to be neutral grounds? Don’t entice him. With exceptional control, he kept walking towards the front counter, Draco following beside him.
“You aren’t going to say anything?” Draco asked quietly.
“And start a fight?” He couldn’t see the teen anymore, so just glared at the general direction he’d been headed in. “Do you know him?” He placed the items in front of the old wizard. The man wrapped the items up and Harry paid. They both exchanged thank yous and Harry took his items.
“No.”
“Too bad.” If Draco had known the jerk, he could plot with Sirius to get back at him for being such an arse long after they had left Castle Combe. But mum… He smirked. “You think he’s here for the healing awards?”
Draco shrugged. “I guess? I’ve never seen him around, but I don’t waste all my time at Castle Combe either.” He pushed the door open and held it for Harry. Harry gave the Slytherin a look and stepped out into the darkening sky. “His robes were custom made and expensive looking. They’re probably from France.”
Harry blinked. He’d known the robes looked good on the guy, but he hadn’t been staring at his clothes that hard. “His face was better,” Harry muttered. “Too bad his attitude wasn’t.”
Draco laughed. “I told you I wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the other privileged children.”
That was an understatement. Harry had known and been forced to talk to people worse than Draco. Most of them were children of his mother’s coworkers. All of them acted like they had royal blood in their veins and were next in line for the throne. Some of them had good looks, which may or not be from appearance altering charms, expensive clothes and private tutors, and it killed him a little every time he had to endure any sort of time with them. Most of them were fast tracked to becoming healers or official ministry workers at the top levels, which only made it worse. They knew they would eventually be the ones running the wizarding society. And yet somehow, that guy had been worse.
“… You seem more agitated than usual.”
“Huh?” Was he? True, he was annoyed with the teen, to the point of wanting to beat him with the pack of parchment paper he’d been holding or grab the nearest book to do the job. He tried to recall ever being so frustrated with someone when all they’d done was say a few words and couldn’t. Draco was right. The teen had managed to get under his skin without trying. Given how his day had been going though, maybe that was to be expected. “I guess so.” Hopefully he would only run into the arsehole tomorrow after his mother had won the top award at F.A.I.R.Y. If he ran into him before that, alone… “Tell me you’ll be at the awards ceremony tomorrow.”
“Of course, I’ll be there. I’m my father’s show dog, aren’t I?” He snorted. “If I wasn’t for that candy from those Weasley twins of yours, I’d still be stuck in that banquet at the Manor House.”
Harry had to do a double take. “You? You bought something from Fred and George?”
“I saw them testing it on some kid. It looked like it worked. Even if it didn’t work as expected, as long as I got sick, I could use them to free up some of my summer.”
“Unbelievable.”
Draco shrugged. “It worked. I almost threw up on a guest my father was talking to. Every healer’s head turned to me after I puked, so my father had no choice but to send me home to rest.” He smirked.
“Wait, there’s a banquet going on for all the healers in town?”
“Yeah.”
They stepped onto the stone bridge.
James had to have known about the banquet, and yet he’d still let Harry run off. Thanks dad. With as frustrated and confused as he was with everything that’d gone on, his father had decided letting him run off was better for his mental health than making him sit through a long dinner amongst people he wanted nothing to do with.
“I guess we should head back.” The sky was getting dark, and he’d told his father he’d be back by then. That was the least he could do now that he knew he’d been spared an even worse evening. That and he didn’t quite trust himself not to shove the teen into the river below if he tried to walk past them. Just go back to the hotel and write Sirius. Maybe if he explained everything to his godfather he would retrieve Harry from this mess. Then, between him and Remus, they could find out how to calm Lily down. “Hey Draco?” He grabbed Draco’s shoulder just as he was about to leave, the Slytherin freezing on the spot and giving him a questionable look.
“…Yeah…?”
“Thanks.”
“…For what?”
“For listening?”
“Potter—”
“No, really. I was having a really bad day and thanks to you, it’s not so bad anymore. So, thanks.”
Draco pulled back. “What if my dad saw you?”
Harry snickered. Right. Draco’s shoulder was reserved for his father’s hand. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Do you ever?”
“When you’re around? No.”
Draco scowled at him and stomped away. Harry watched him from in front of the inn, snickering. When he couldn’t see the Slytherin anyone, he entered the hotel. The first thing he noticed was the ruby red runner on top of a royal blue carpet. The runner trailed across the main hall and two hallways and up the staircase leading to the second-floor rooms. A check in station made of light wood had a bored-looking man standing behind it to his left while the rest of the main lobby had burgundy overstuffed chairs placed around wooden tables, a few near a fireplace, and one or two near large ceiling to floor windows looking out at a forest.
Harry approached the check-in desk. “My parents checked in a little while ago. The last name is Potter.”
The man nodded quickly. “Your father said you’d be coming a little later. Here you go, sir.” He handed Harry a small key with the numbers 115 etched into it. “You’ll be taking the right hall. Your room is on the outside, facing the forest.”
Harry smiled at him. “Thanks.” Following the directions the man had given him, he found the room without issue. Thank dad, tell mum sorry, but you’re not changing your mind. He let out a breath and unlocked the door. If not for the suitcases next to the bed, he’d have never known his parents had ever entered the room. He shut the door and locked it. The room was nice, with two beds with bedside tables on each other, a sliding glass door leading onto the grounds, and a bathroom directly across from the bed. On either side of the bathroom door were two long sets of drawers with mirrors on top.
His parents’ suitcases were next to the first bed. He dropped his items onto the second set of drawers and walked over to the bed closer to the sliding glass door and plopped onto it, stretching out and sighed. Well. He’d survived his day and so had everyone around him that’d pissed him off. That had to count for something, right? He glanced at the digital clock in between the two beds. It read eight o’clock. His parents were probably still at the banquet, which might be a good thing. He could write his letter to Sirius in peace and set it off before they returned.
He was kind of tired, though, and while the bed wasn’t the most comfortable one he’d ever slept in, it wasn’t the worse. Letter first. With a sigh, he forced himself back up and grabbed his parcel.
‘Commoner.’ The teen’s face and words flashed through his mind, making his entire body shake. Scowling, he threw the items onto his bed and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself. Don’t kill the arsehole. Just take a shower, calm down, and write the letter to Sirius.
(TBC)