Chapter Text
The Hogwarts Express rumbled beneath Harry as it roared to life, its wheels clattering against the tracks, carrying them toward a new chapter. He couldn’t help but feel the same jitters he had all those years ago on his first ride. There was a sense of childish excitement buried beneath everything he’d been through, though it felt wrong now. After everything, coming back to Hogwarts felt... indulgent, almost. He didn’t even know if it was the right decision. A part of him felt like he owed it to himself and to everyone else to return—even if he didn’t make it through the year and decided to call it quits. Which, if he were being honest, he’d been tempted to do earlier this morning when Hermione rattled on about the NEWT exams for the hundredth time. She didn’t seem to understand he wasn’t planning to take any tests. That had been the main condition for both him and Ron coming back.
Harry peered through the compartment doors, scanning the train for Ron, who had promised to save them seats. He did his best to ignore the whispers and stares—it wasn’t anything new. Finally spotting the familiar red hair, Harry pulled the compartment door open and closed it quickly, ignoring the groans of a group of younger girls nearby.
He was just about to complain to Ron that this might’ve been one of their worst ideas, when he noticed the weird smile on his friend’s face.
“What?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes as he sat across from Ron.
"Merlin’s beard!" Ron exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly with excitement. "You're Harry Potter!"
Harry couldn’t help but laugh, and Ron joined in, the shared memory spreading warmth through his chest. What would he have done without these two? They had also been by his side, no matter what had happened. Even after the war, it was like they knew, the knew he would run and that he didn't need them to follow, this time.
Harry had worked with McGonagall after the war, helping restore the castle, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming guilt that still lingered. It had drained him more than hunting Horcruxes, attending all those funerals, knowing that people like Fred, Remus, Tonks, and Lavender had died because of him.
Harry had run—literally. He spent weeks driving aimlessly, staying in random inns, not knowing where he was going or what he was doing. It had only taken three words from her, written in a simple letter, to pull him back.
Come back soon.
And like the fool he was, he had come running.
Life had moved slowly after that. He kept himself busy with the castle repairs until things started to feel somewhat normal again. Everyone, especially the Weasleys, reminded him that they couldn’t live in misery forever. McGonagall had confided in him about the Head Boy and Girl decisions a month before term began.
"Draco, Ron, and Flynn," she had told him one evening while they sat in silence in her office, him poring over an old copy of Hogwarts: A History. His confusion must’ve shown on his face because she elaborated, "For Head Boy."
"Draco?" Harry had asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
"He's returning this year," she’d said matter-of-factly. "He wrote to me, saying he’s ashamed of his actions and wants to make amends. Dumbledore would’ve wanted to give him this chance." She had continued as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. "Surprisingly, he turned down any leadership roles."
"Er, Professor, I might be coming back, too," Harry had said hesitantly, thinking maybe she had forgotten.
"You don’t suppose I’d consider you for Head Boy?" she had mused, peering over her spectacles. "That would be rather presumptuous."
"Of course not! I just thought it might be confidential and I know you know- I mean of course your headmistress but I just meant that maybe it might have slipped your mind that I was coming back and that's why you told me" Harry had stammered, flustered by her teasing, but she had just chuckled, clearly amused by his reaction.
"I'm just joking, Potter" She tuts, " Of course I remember you returning, it's not everday I get conditions placed" she narrowed her eyes, of course hermione had told her about them not wanting to take NEWTS and having the ability to drop the school year half way if they like, "But then again, I suppose saving the wizarding world gives you two that much leniance"
He rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly, and they return back to silence. Her marking through a few parchments and him reading, though his mind wasn't on binding spells but instead, who head boy was. Almost as if she knew,
"And I was already thinking, it should be Weasley" She says, reading the question in his eyes. "But I suppose you knew that. Then again, If I even hear murmers that you told him before he was supposed to know, I don't care if you're the boy who lived, I will make sure you're not no more"
Harry grinned at the threat, and the prospect of his two best mates being Heads. They deserved this. More than anyone.
A few moments later, Hermione swung into the compartment bringing Harry away from his thoughts, looking slightly frazzled. Harry grinned as he watched her struggle to keep her hair in its bun, her robe askew.
"There she is," Harry said, teasing. "Our Head Girl."
"Oh, shut up," Hermione blushed, but there was pride in her smile as she sat next to Ron. Almost immediately, both she and Ron turned an even deeper shade of red, and it didn’t take long for Harry to catch on.
"Head students huh?" Harry teased again, but Ron quickly raised his hands in protest, stammering about how it was clearly some mistake that McGonagall would fix soon.
"Oh, come off it," Harry chuckled. "You two are perfect for the job."
"It was supposed to be you," Ron muttered weakly.
"That’s not true."
Harry ignores his further protests,"Head Boy and Head Girl, huh?" Harry grinned wider, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Quite the power couple."
At this, both Hermione and Ron mumbled in unison, their voices awkwardly overlapping, “We’re not a couple!” Their cheeks were flushed, and Ron’s ears turned pink as he avoided eye contact. The flustered denial only made Harry chuckle more.
Ron stood up suddenly, his face still red. “I—I should probably change into my robes,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Hermione frowned slightly. “But we still have plenty of time…”
“Yeah, well, I’m Head Boy now,” Ron said quickly, his voice tight. “Gotta set a good example, don’t I?” Without waiting for a response, he left the compartment in a hurry, his robes bundled in his arms.
As the door slid shut, Harry exchanged a look with Hermione, both of them stifling a laugh.
"So," Hermione drawled, and Harry instantly knew where this was going. He had seen that look in her eyes enough times to recognize it—she was about to bring up Ginny.
The mere mention of her name sent a wave of emotion crashing through him. He missed her. He missed everything about her—her fiery red hair that seemed to burn brighter in the sunlight, her infectious laugh that could light up even his darkest moments, the way she hugged him like she never wanted to let go, and her lips... those soft, warm lips that always seemed to taste like home.
Since returning, the hole she left in his heart had only grown larger, the void gnawing at him every day. No matter how much he tried to bury the feelings, they surfaced, especially when he was alone.
It all came rushing back—the day they talked after he returned. He had been running for so long, and it took every ounce of courage to face her again. That conversation was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to endure.
They sat on an old, weathered bench outside the Burrow. The sky was overcast, the kind of heavy, gray clouds that hung so low you could feel the pressure in your chest. It was fitting, he thought, for the weight of the words they were about to exchange.
Ginny had been the first to break the silence, her voice tight, almost trembling. “You left,” she said, her words barely louder than the wind. But they hit him like a curse.
“I had to,” Harry replied, his voice thick with guilt. He couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I couldn’t... I couldn’t let you be part of that.”
Her eyes blazed with fury as she turned to him. “That wasn’t your choice to make, Harry!” Her voice shook now, anger and pain spilling out in equal measure. “You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle! You don’t get to just... walk away and leave me behind.”
“I was trying to protect you!” Harry snapped back, his own voice rising. He was frustrated, hurting, and it was all too much. “I couldn’t let you be another person I lost! Do you know what it would’ve done to me if something happened to you? I had to keep you safe. I couldn’t risk it, Ginny. I couldn’t—”
She cut him off sharply, standing now, her fists clenched. “I was tortured, Harry. Tortured at Hogwarts because I stood up to them. Because I fought back!” Her voice broke with the weight of her memories, the horrors she had endured. “I would have been tortured anyway. My family’s the biggest bunch of blood traitors there is. They would have come for me, no matter what.”
Harry stood too, fists balled at his sides, his heart pounding. “But we both know it was worse for you because you dated me,” he bit back. His voice was raw now, filled with frustration and guilt. “They went after you harder because you were with me. That’s why I ended it, Ginny. Don’t you see? I couldn’t watch them—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to fight back the surge of emotion. “I couldn’t let them hurt you because of me.”
“You think that makes it better?” she retorted, her voice rising in anger and hurt. “That you left me to deal with it all alone? I could have fought alongside you, but instead, I had to fight without you! And you think I was safe? Harry, I was never safe!” Her voice broke, the fury giving way to exhaustion. “None of us were.”
They both stood there, breathing hard, their emotions tangled in the air between them. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat as he looked at her, truly looked at her. She was as strong as ever, but there was something fragile about her now, something he hadn’t seen before. The war had scarred them both, but she had fought battles he hadn’t even been there to see.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you being another person I lost, Ginny,” Harry said, his voice finally soft, almost pleading.
“And I couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving me behind again,” she replied, her voice heavy with the weight of it all. “But... maybe we weren’t meant to be together. Not now, at least.”
Her words struck him like a blow to the chest, but he couldn’t argue. She was right. The war had torn them apart in ways they couldn’t fix right now. Their scars ran too deep, their wounds too raw.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and unbearable. They were out of tears, out of screams, out of fight. She walked back into the warmth of the burrow, leaving him out in the cold pouring rain.
It was over, and it was for the better.
Harry could feel Hermione’s eyes boring into him after the long silence that had stretched between them. He didn't need to say anything for her to know that the conversation had shifted into uncomfortable territory. He rubbed his temples, sighing heavily.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled, looking out the window, watching the blurry countryside rush past.
“Harry—” Hermione began, her voice gentle but insistent.
“I mean it, Hermione,” he said more firmly, cutting her off before she could get started. “There’s nothing to say.”
But of course, that wouldn’t stop her.
“There’s plenty to say. You can’t just—”
“Hermione,” Harry groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “For the love of Merlin, drop it.”
She crossed her arms, her brows knitting together in that classic Hermione way that told him she was about to launch into a full-on lecture. “You can’t keep avoiding this, Harry. You’re allowed to talk about how you feel, you know.”
Harry let out a dry laugh. “Talk about how I feel? Yeah, because that’s always worked out so well for me.”
Hermione huffed, leaning forward, her eyes serious but soft. “I’m not saying it’ll fix everything, but bottling it up like you always do? That’s not helping anyone. Least of all you.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she added, “And don’t give me that whole ‘I’m fine, everything’s fine’ routine. We’ve all seen how that plays out.”
“Look,” Harry began, exasperated, “I’ve got nothing to say that’s going to change anything. Ginny and I... we’re done. She made that clear.”
Hermione tilted her head slightly, her lips pressed together. “It’s not about changing things, Harry. It’s about acknowledging it. You loved her.”
“Yeah,” Harry muttered, his gaze hardening as he stared at the seat in front of him. “And look where that got us.”
Hermione sighed, her voice softening. “She loved you too, you know. It wasn’t just about the war or Voldemort. You two... you had something real.”
Harry ran his hands through his hair, a familiar knot of frustration tightening in his chest. “I’m not talking about this,” he repeated, though now his voice sounded more resigned than anything else.
Hermione leaned back in her seat, clearly choosing her next words carefully. “You know,” she started, trying a lighter approach, “for someone who’s faced off with Dark Lords and lived to tell the tale, you’re surprisingly hopeless when it comes to talking about your feelings.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, ‘talk about your feelings’ isn’t exactly a spell they teach at Hogwarts.”
Hermione cracked a small smile. “Maybe it should be. Would save everyone a lot of trouble.”
“Brilliant,” Harry said dryly, “next year they can add ‘Emotional Vulnerability 101’ right after Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, and Harry felt a bit of the tension ease from the air.
But before Hermione could launch into her next round of gentle prodding, the compartment door slid open with a soft squeak. Harry looked up, and his stomach flipped when he saw Ginny standing there, her bright red hair a stark contrast against the dark corridor behind her. Her eyes flickered to Harry for the briefest second, but they quickly moved to Hermione.
“Hermione, have you seen Dean? He said he’d be in this carriage somewhere,” Ginny asked, her voice calm but tinged with impatience. There was an underlying tension, like she was purposely avoiding something—no, someone.
Hermione straightened up, glancing quickly between Harry and Ginny before responding, “Uh, no, haven’t seen him yet, but I think I saw Seamus down by the next compartment. Maybe check there?”
Ginny nodded, still avoiding Harry’s gaze. “Thanks,” she mumbled, before giving a quick, barely-there smile and disappearing down the hallway again.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the compartment was filled with the deafening sound of silence. Harry stared at the spot where Ginny had been standing, his heart hammering in his chest.
Hermione gave him a sidelong glance. “You still don’t want to talk about it?”
Harry let out a long, shaky breath and shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Not a chance.”
-
"We'll see you later," Hermione promised, with Ron standing behind her. "We have to guide the first years onto the boats."
"Right," Harry responded, his voice tight. He watched them walk away, both looking a little sorry to leave him. His gaze drifted around the platform until it landed on a familiar face—Luna, standing nearby with that dreamy smile of hers. Grateful for a distraction, Harry felt a grin tug at his lips.
"Luna, hey," he greeted.
"Hi, Harry," she said brightly, surprising him with a side hug. He would have chuckled at her unfiltered warmth if it weren’t for the flash of red hair that appeared beside her a moment later.
Ginny.
She stood there, looking as radiant as ever. Her vibrant red hair caught the last light of the setting sun, and Harry felt his chest tighten. Up close, he realized just how much he missed her—her infectious laugh, the warmth of her hugs, the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. It stirred something deep inside him, a longing that he quickly shoved aside, blaming it on nostalgia. The Hogwarts Express, the familiar faces, the sense that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.
But then the memories flooded in—screams, tears, unbearable loss.The missing seat at the table in the weasley household, teddy's cries, and the absence of friends he grew up with.He clenched his jaw, realizing that no matter how much he wanted it, nothing could ever be the same.
When they stopped, Harry purposefully sat on the opposite side of Ginny, not trusting himself to sit any closer. His mind raced with the contradictions of his emotions, trying to push down what he felt.
Thankfully, Luna and Neville filled the silence with their conversation, Luna rambling about something involving "heliopaths" and "wrackspurts." Harry wasn’t really listening, his thoughts scattered as they reached Hogwarts. The towering castle loomed over them, its familiar walls bathed in the twilight. Stepping out of the carriage, Harry felt a rush of nostalgia.
The Great Hall was just as grand as he remembered. The enchanted ceiling reflected the night sky, speckled with stars that twinkled down as if trying to offer comfort. The long tables stretched out before him, filled with students new and old, their chatter echoing off the stone walls. Harry’s heart tugged at the sight of the Sorting Hat being placed on the stool at the front of the room, the memories of his own first year flooding back.
But alongside the nostalgia came a dull ache—a reminder of everything they had lost. The empty seats at the staff table where familiar faces should have been, the black banners still hanging in remembrance of the fallen. The scars of the war were etched into every stone, every corner of the castle. Harry felt them as deeply as the others.
As they settled at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione finally rejoined them after helping the first years. Ron dropped into the seat next to Harry with a groan. "Well, that was a bloody nightmare. They kept asking where Hagrid was—think they thought he was gonna be their guide again."
Hermione laughed softly. "You handled it well, though. They’re all terrified of you now."
"Oh, brilliant," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes. "Just what I need."
"I still can’t believe you’re Head Boy," Hermione teased, nudging Ron gently. "You’ll have to set an example now."
Ron snorted. "Oh yeah, I’m sure everyone’s going to be looking up to me for guidance. Watch out, Hogwarts, Ron Weasley is in charge."
Hermione smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You’re better at it than you think, Ron. You’ve always been a good leader, even if you don’t realize it."
Ron blinked, clearly caught off guard by the compliment. He scratched the back of his neck, his ears turning pink. "Well, uh, thanks, Hermione. I guess… you’re pretty brilliant yourself."
Hermione blushed deeper, fiddling with the corner of her napkin. "Well, I try."
Harry watched the exchange with a smile, just then, Ginny slid into the seat beside Harry, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she sat down. His heart gave an involuntary lurch at her nearness, but he forced himself to play it cool.
"Hey, Ginny," he greeted, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Hey," she replied with a small smile, reaching for the pumpkin juice."Have any of you seen Dean? I’ve been looking for him since we got off the train."
Harry’s stomach did a weird flip at the mention of Dean’s name, but he forced himself to remain casual. Thankfully, Hermione asked, "Why are you looking for him?"
"Seamus gave me a letter to pass on to Dean," Ginny explained. "Seamus's starting the school year a bit later—some special circumstances or something, so Seamus trusted me to deliver it."
Harry felt an odd mixture of relief and something else he couldn’t quite name. Ginny was just passing on a letter, nothing more. It was perfectly innocent. Still, the thought of her seeking out Dean had unsettled him for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.
Ron, sensing the shift in conversation, piped up. "Bet Seamus's been off doing something adventurous, i heard he lived with his uncle in romania over the summer. Lucky git."
Hermione shot him a look. "Adventurous or not, I’m sure he’s eager to get back. Hogwarts always pulls you back in."
Ron grinned. "Yeah, nothing like the thrill of returning to a magical castle where everything can try to kill you."
Ginny laughed softly, and Harry felt the tension in his chest ease slightly at the sound. They fell into comfortable conversation after that, joking about old times and talking about the coming year. Harry tried to focus on the lighthearted banter, but his mind kept wandering. He glanced at Ginny, sitting so close to him, her laugh still the same, her presence so familiar.
But then he caught himself. Unlike Ron and Hermione, who had shared one kiss and could still fall back into their friendship, he and Ginny had an entire relationship behind them. They had loved each other, and now… he wasn’t sure what they were. Would they fall back into that love, or was it something left behind in the past? That uncertainty crept into his thoughts again, but he pushed it aside, reminding himself there was time to figure things out.
As dinner wound down, Harry found himself lost in thought once more. He glanced around at his friends—Hermione and Ron still exchanging shy smiles, Ginny sitting next to him, her presence comforting yet complicated. He wondered how the year would unfold. Would it be filled with the same laughter, the same closeness, or would the remnants of the war hang over them like a dark cloud.
As he looked at his friends, though, he felt a sense of peace. Whatever happened, they were in this together. And somehow, that was enough.