Chapter Text
Ugh.
She bristled as yet another person, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere very important, knocked her back a step as they pushed past her, not even breaking their stride as they rushed toward wherever they were going. She sighed in frustration and gazed over the bustling crowds of travelers incredulously.
Muggle travel.
This was a far cry from the enchanted carriages pulled by winged horses that she’d become accustomed to over the years.
She shook the thought from her head.
If I look back I am lost.
She took a deep breath, set her jaw, and continued pushing the cart full of her belongings through the busy station. Drogon paced in his cage, hissing at anyone who passed too close and gnawing on the side bars anxiously. The black cat had always hated being in enclosed spaces.
She scanned the overhead signs leading her to her destination.
Platform 6
Platform 7
Platform 8
Platform 9…
She halted the cart before she got to the sign that read Platform 10 . She furrowed her brow and reached in her pocket to pull out the letter she had received from her great-uncle just two weeks prior. She scanned it briefly, skipping to the directions at the end…
“P.s.
Kings Cross Station
Platform 9 ¾
September 1st, 10 am sharp.”
She looked back up at the platform markers.
9 .
10 .
That was it.
She studied the note again more carefully, as if reading it for the hundredth time would somehow make it reveal more information. The sparse instructions seemed to stare back at her incredulously, as if mocking the ridiculous scenario she was in.
She huffed humorlessly and pushed the cart over by the wall to get out of the way of the foot traffic.
She chided herself internally.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She should’ve known better. A letter from a great-uncle whom she had never met? Offering her sanctuary in her hour of need? How daft could she be? The ruse was even complete with nonsensical directions to a nonexistent location.
She leaned back against the cool brick wall, letting her head fall back with a soft thud as she squeezed her eyes closed. She bit her lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, as she always did when she was trying not to cry. She’d been doing it often these past few months. After everything that happened at Beauxbatons, she was all too eager to believe that someone was giving her a second chance.
You’d think I’d know better by now. She thought to herself as she willed the lump in her throat away.
A sudden tap on her shoulder had her just about jumping out of her skin.
She opened her eyes to a pretty young woman about her same age, with a halo of curly brown hair, looking rather shy and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She let out a breath and gave an understanding smile. “That’s alright. I should pay better attention.”
The girl smiled back at her “Would you mind terribly moving your cart? It's blocking the entrance.”
“Of course” she responded compulsively, pushing her cart further along the wall. Then it struck her. She turned back around to ask her, “The entr-“
But the girl was now swiftly pushing her cart directly toward the wall. Daenerys opened her mouth to shout and try and stop her before she collided with it, but before she’d hardly made a noise, the cart and the girl seemed to melt into the wall and disappear just as they should have made impact. She blinked a few times in shock. She whipped around to look at all the people passing by who must’ve seen.
No one had even paused. It was as if the girl had never been there at all. The travelers simply continued on their way to wherever it was they were going, completely absorbed in their own worlds.
She shook her head and chuckled under her breath. Nothing amazed her more than how determined muggles seemed to be to ignore the most obvious magical occurrences.
She looked back at the segment of wall that the girl had disappeared through and walked over to it. She reached out to feel the bricks, half expecting her hand to pass through them. They were solid under her touch.
She shook her head. It was either magic or she was losing her mind. The odds were 50/50 these days.
She walked back to her cart and sighed, coming to a decision.
Here goes nothing.
She drew her cart back just as the girl had done, took a deep breath, and pushed forward swiftly toward the wall. She closed her eyes and braced for impact, but it never came. She merely felt a strong gust of wind, which prompted her to slow her cart. She halted and opened her eyes, finding herself in a different place entirely. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and it came out as a puff of steam in the crisp morning air. She couldn’t help but be impressed by the scene in front of her.
Sunlight streamed down in solid rays through the ceiling windows of the steel-arched, tunnel-like depot, illuminating the clouds of steam that floated through the air and around the passengers on the platform she now found herself standing on. Groups of students and families with young children bustled around her heading toward their shared destination.
A massive steam locomotive with lacquered panels of deep crimson and accents of gold and black was stationed just a few yards down the track. It was beautiful in a Dickensian sort of way. The whole place felt out of it’s time, as so many places in the wizarding world did, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit more at ease in the magical atmosphere.
In the moment she almost allowed herself to forget her troubles,
but her luck wouldn’t allow that for long.
A large group of students walked by, and one of them spotted her. The girl immediately grabbed her friend by the arm and leaned in to whisper urgently. The whispers spread through the group, each of them turning to throw a disgusted, fearful, or leering glance over their shoulder. She knew what they were saying.
“...Murderer...”
“...Incest...”
“...Mad King’s Daughter...”
The reality of her current situation came flooding back in.
There would be no hiding from it.
Ever since Baelish wrote that article it was as if the whole wizarding world knew who she was. ‘The Mad King’s daughter suspect in brother’s murder” the daily prophet headline had read. Littlefinger must be so proud that his little moniker had stuck. The reporter so loved to come up with them.
She’d never been a stranger to ogling crowds, her unmistakable Veela-blooded features often drew attention, but that was different. That was curiosity, even occasionally wariness.
Now she was openly hated.
She ignored the stares and started down the platform toward the train, replaying Lady Olenna’s advice in her head.
You are a dragon. Be a dragon .
She would not let these people break her. Many, much more powerful and cruel, had tried.
The crowds seemed to part like the Red Sea as soon as they saw her. She tried not to look at their faces, keeping her gaze lowered, but a little girl who was too young to be a student, walked right into her line of sight. To dany’s surprise, the girl smiled up at her. She couldn’t help but smile back, thankful for the connection. But just as swiftly as her lips had quirked upward, the girl's mother looked over horrified, gasped, scooped her up, and hurried away.
Dany felt the all too familiar sting of rejection creeping up her throat, but she wouldn’t allow it to overtake her.
Be a dragon .
She simply lifted her chin up and walked briskly past the leering patrons toward one of the trains many entrances.
The attendant by the opening was already loading another student’s bags, so she queued up and waited, busying herself with checking on Drogon, who only briefly ceased hissing at every passerby he saw to purr at her attentions. The attendant returned from loading the previous student’s last bag on board, cheerily hopped down from the car and greeted her.
“Hello miss! May I..” A flash of recognition passed over his face, causing him to stutter and his smile to waver ever so slightly. “may I assist you?”
She internally commended the man for his commitment to professionalism, and tried to smile back, but found it felt like more of a grimace.
“Yes, thank you.” She grabbed Drogon’s cage to spare the poor man from his wrath, allowing him to manage the rest.
The two cases in hand, he nodded toward the entrance. “This way, miss.” He told her, stepping aboard the train car.
She stepped on behind him and was immediately greeted with the sounds of laughter and animated conversation. As she turned the corner and followed him down the corridor, she couldn’t help but peer into the compartments from which the noise radiated.
One was filled with giggling girls whispering secrets, another with rowdy boys throwing joke hexes at each other. One contained what seemed to be siblings, arguing over who’s turn it was to have the window seat. She felt the sting creeping up again and looked away, resolving to keep her eyes forward.
Finally the attendant halted and stepped aside so she could enter an empty compartment on the right. “Here we are,”
She nodded to the man in thanks and stepped inside. She was surprised how cavernous the compartment felt. The ones they had passed had all seemed so small when filled with lively students.
The attendant swiftly brought in her bags and lifted them onto the overhead shelves. He reached toward Drogon’s cage, but a loud hiss had him quickly rethinking that move. Normally she would’ve chuckled at such an exchange, but today she couldn’t find the humour.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss?” he asked politely, but clearly hoping to be dismissed.
“No, that will be all. Thank you”
She handed him a generous tip, but didn’t wait to hear his thanks, quickly sliding the compartment door shut behind him. She sunk into the seat next to the cage and watched through the window until the attendant was out of sight.
No sooner had he disappeared, did her walls finally give way.
The tears that had been threatening her all morning finally began to fall. She sobbed briefly into her hand, allowing herself a moment of weakness; allowing the pain, guilt, shame, and self-pity to overwhelm her.
But Dany had never been good at vulnerability, even with herself, and this time was no different. Not even a minute later she was forcing herself to breathe deeply and get it together.
Be a dragon.
She wiped her tears on the back of her hand and decided she’d make a quick trip to the washroom to get herself back in order before more students boarded. God forbid anyone join her compartment, she could not give them even more to gossip about.
She slid the door open and peaked down the corridor. With no one in sight but a conductor headed in the opposite direction, she decided the coast was clear enough and stepped out into the hallway, turning back to gently close it.
She’d hardly even turned to take a step down the hall when she collided with a wall of wool sweater and muscle. The collision knocked her off balance, but strong hands shot out to steady her.
She quickly regained her bearings, but was immediately taken aback by the sight in front of her.
“Shite, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” His northern lilt was as disarming as his appearance.
The boy, well, man really, in front of her was handsome, to state the obvious.
His raven curls falling to just below his jawline, standing out against his pale skin which strangely suited him. He was well built too. Not too tall, but a full head above her, and his muscular frame was evident under the thin sweater. He had a ghost of a beard growing in, as if he’d forgotten to shave for too long, and it gave him a slightly rugged, devil-may-care appearance.
It was his eyes that really struck her. Once she’d met them with her own, she couldn’t look away. They were a gorgeous dark chocolate brown, yet it wasn't their color that drew her in. It was something behind them that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something in his gaze that raised a hundred questions within her and kept her frozen in place
She suddenly realized how long she’d been staring, remembered the tear stains on her face, and snapped out of her thoughts.
She stepped out of his grasp and looked away, embarrased.
“My fault,” she muttered politely and slipped past him down the hallway, hurrying to the door marked with the word lavatory.
She was glad to find it unoccupied and quickly closed herself inside, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to forget the awkward interaction that just transpired.
Be a dragon.
She willed the thoughts away and opened her eyes, turning to look into the small mirror on the wall.
For a moment, she honestly didn’t recognize the person who stared back at her. The dark circles seemed permanently etched into her face now, the familiar tear stains only emphasizing them. Her pale skin no longer suited her, instead making her appear sickly and morose, her pale hair adding to the effect.
The worst, was the profound emptiness of the gaze that stared back at her. She had to look away.
She turned on the faucet at the small sink and splashed cold water on her face, her mind wandering to the strange encounter she’d just had.
Not so long ago, and yet in another lifetime, it would’ve gone so differently. At Beauxbatons flirting had been a sport and she was a star player. She would’ve exploited such a meet-cute with a handsome stranger, would’ve used the moment like a snare and made him her prey, batted her eyelashes and had him wrapped him around her finger, his head spinning by the time she walked away.
She grabbed a soft towel from a nearby hook and patted her face dry, opening her eyes again and sighing at her still unfamiliar reflection.
Two things she knew for sure:
1. She was a long way from Beauxbatons
and
2. she was even further from the person she had been back then.