Chapter Text
Walking into King’s Cross Station felt different this year. As always, steam from the train engine caressed Harry’s face, and children tearfully parted from their mothers, lugging too large trunks as always. The only difference lay in Harry. He stood steadfast, alert, at the entrance of platform 9 ¾.
“Harry… Since Ron and I are prefects we have to sit in the front of the train and plan the first-years arrangements…” Hermione’s face was pinched, as if reluctant to give the news Harry was already well aware of.
Harry forced a smile, “Yeah, don’t worry about me, you guys are the ones having to deal with all the extra work.” The words were forced, and poorly concealed Harry’s jealousy at their new prestigious positions. Ron clapped him on the shoulder - “We will be back before you know it.”
Seeing Hermione and Ron with shiny badges on their cloaks, being ushered into a fancier compartment with new responsibilities, Harry couldn’t help but feel some strange ache in his chest. What is wrong with me? Ron and Hermione would be happy for me! Despite the unwelcome feelings sprouting, Harry had a job to do. At least now I can reach a few objectives while they are occupied.
“Alright then, let’s find a train car and settle in?” Neville dragged his trunk up towards Harry’s. The trunk was in disarray, the great lump being held together precariously by a weak reparo charm.
“Yeah… You know Neville, I saw Luna sitting towards the back of the train, why don’t you join her and I’ll be there in a bit?”
Frowning, Neville began dragging his trunk away, “Alright, good to see you again.”
Finally, Harry could relax. Tucking behind a pillar, Harry draped the invisibility cloak around his shoulders. Under the peaceful shimmer of his cloak, Harry could almost feel a semblance of peace or something adjacent to safety. Nobody could see him or mess with him here - he could wait for his target peacefully.
God, what is taking him so long? Harry leaned against the brick wall impatiently, and then, finally, two Malfoys burst through the entry wall. Narcissa clutched her son’s shoulder, who winced as she spun him around. Leaning into Draco’s space, his mother seemed to reprimand him, or give him some order. Harry weaved out of the way of a family, and stood close to the pair.
“Draco, we cannot disappoint him again.” Narcissa stroked a pale strand of hair behind his ear.
“Yes mother.” Draco looked into his mother’s face, determination in his eyes.
See, there is something here. What is this family up to now?
Planting a kiss on his forehead, Narcissa left Draco standing on the platform alone. Harry inched closer to Draco, not wanting to get hit by a passing child’s luggage in his invisibility.
To their right, a child, definitely a first-year, was soaking the collar of their robe in tears. Their parents hugged her, encouraging the girl to board the train and make new friends.
“Mom, what if I don’t get sorted into Gryffindor? Are you really not going to be mad?” Harry grinned, it was a Gryffindor family, just like the Weasleys. The child’s father gathered her into his arms.
“We could never be disappointed in you!” Heart clenching, Harry screwed his eyes shut. This is what his life could have been like. Two parents who gave love and affection freely. Her parents stepped back through the wall, leaving their daughter with a kiss. She crouched on the floor, crying earnestly now. If Harry wasn’t already in his cloak, he would have comforted her. That’s alright, she will realize soon what joy awaits her in Hogwarts.
As Harry mulled over what house she might place into, Malfoy moved. He took a few steps towards the girl, a menacing grin on his face.
NO! Harry launched himself at Malfoy, yanking him away harshly from the child. He pulled Malfoy sharply into an alcove, hidden from view. I cannot let him torment this child.
“Incarcerous!” Harry whisper-screamed, and heavy ropes shot towards Malfoy, binding his arms and legs, leaving him tied tight and leaning heavily on the alcove’s wall.
“What the FUCK?!” Malfoy struggled against his restraints, and just as he reared up to scream, Harry leaned into his space, clamping a hand over his mouth to silence him. Biting the mystery man’s hand, Malfoy shouted for help, but his voice was masked by a long, loud whistle from the train.
HOLY SHIT. The train was departing.
Staring into Malfoy’s eyes in shock and dismay, Harry realized his error. In stopping Malfoy’s attack on an innocent child, he had missed the train to Hogwarts. Taking advantage of his distracted attacker, Malfoy used both bound hands to fish out his wand and cast emancipare, causing the snake-like ropes to drop to the floor, inanimate.
Whipping his head back towards Malfoy, it was too late. Malfoy stood, rage in his expression, holding the invisibility cloak in his hand.
Petrificus Totalis!
Harry attempted to pull his own wand, to retaliate, but Malfoy’s spell took hold of his muscles, locking them into an uncomfortable prison. He was utterly frozen, a marble statue at his nemesis’ mercy. The platform was empty save for them, and his eyes, the one part of his body he had faculty over, closed slowly in defeat.
“I ought to kill for what you’ve done to us. Putting my father in prison.” Malfoy spat, the fury building to an inferno inside them both. “You cannot possibly understand what you have done. How is the precious savior going to get to Hogwarts now?” Mirroring Harry’s previous attack, Malfoy leaned him against the wall and crowded towards him, and Harry’s heart leapt into his throat.
Harry screwed his eyes shut tighter, feeling Malfoy’s breath on his lips, and waited for the inevitable pain. Reaching his hand in Harry’s hair, Malfoy twisted, causing Harry’s eyes to fall open in shock. His eyes were hard, fury etched on his features. For a moment, he looked just like his father.
“Scarhead, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!” His hand moved to Harry’s jaw, hand clenching not quite hard enough to hurt. Harry’s muscles jumped under his touch, anxious to escape but unable to.
“Maybe I should leave you here like this to starve to death,” Piercing gray eyes met Harry’s, and he saw something in them he didn’t expect. Fear.
Harry moved his eyes frantically, trying to communicate something. Anything.
Grazing his wand against Harry’s lips, Malfoy granted him access to speak again. Panting, Harry worked his jaw, unused to the feeling of immobility.
“Malfoy, release me.” Harry knew he wasn’t in a position to make demands, but old habits die hard.
The fear dropped from Malfoy’s expression, replaced with a smirk. It was almost playful.
“Why should I? First-year Draco would be ecstatic, having the great Harry Potter totally at his mercy.” A flush creeped up Harry’s neck at that, embarrassment coloring his features. Harry shook his mind free from the almost inappropriate implication of Malfoy’s statement, racing to find a justification.
“How will you get to Hogwarts without me? Who will help you? Are you seriously going to go crawling back to your mother and tell her that Potter distracted you and you forgot to board the train?” Finally, Harry felt some minute amount of control back.
“What? You didn’t distract me, you accosted me!” Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry’s neck.
“Fine, admit to you mother that you lost miserably in a fight against me and missed the train. Same scenario.” Malfoy frowned in displeasure, forehead creasing.
“I did NOT lose miserably in a fight against you!” Malfoy rounded on Harry.
“Ok, then tell her you lost respectably in a fight,” Despite being immobilized, and trapped between Malfoy and a brick wall, the corners of Harry’s mouth curled upwards.
A sound resembling a growl escaped Malfoy. “This cannot be happening. We need to get to Hogwarts now!”
Harry was beginning to enjoy this now. “Brilliant observation, have you considered a future in divination?” Provoking Malfoy in such a prone position wasn’t Harry’s brightest idea, but he was enjoying this too thoroughly to stop. Malfoy slumped against the wall next to Harry, increasing the distance between their bodies. Finally, Harry’s chest loosened.
“Why don’t you release me and we can find a solution together?” With more space, Harry began to carefully consider how he would escape this predicament.
“You are so much more tolerable when petrified, Potter,” Malfoy rested his chin in his hand and gazed up at Harry, the beginnings of defeat creeping in.
“Take a picture Malfoy, it’ll last longer,” Harry scoffed, realizing Malfoy had been staring at him for an uncomfortably long time.
Making a disgusted noise, Malfoy plucked the wand out of Harry’s robe. “I’ll release you if you never speak of this again, and make a good excuse with me as to why I missed the train.”
Feeling rushed back into Harry’s limbs and he shook out his arms and rolled his neck.
“Alright, if you agree to admit that you started this little duel in the first place,”
“Potter, you are the one who tied me to a wall, for what? Revenge?”
“I wasn’t about to let you murder that child! You were going to take her out just because her parents are Gryffindors!”
Malfoy snarled, “I was offering my assistance!”
“Right, because you are so well known for your acts of kindness,” Harry raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
“No, because I was taught manners by my mother, you know, because I actually have one!” Malfoy was panting now, standing, with his fists clenched. “Not that matters anymore Potter, we missed the train, because of YOU.”
“Yes, we have established that I am indeed a hopeless orphan, and that we are stranded here. Now what are we going to do about it?”
“We? There is no we.”
“Oh? So you’re going to figure this out all on your own, then Malfoy?”
Malfoy opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it, jaw tightening. He glanced at the empty platform, as though hoping a solution might suddenly appear out of thin air.
Harry smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
Malfoy scowled. “Oh, shut up… Alright, Potter. What’s your plan?”
Harry tapped his chin in mock thought. “Hmm. We could walk to school. We’d probably make it by Christmas.”
“I’m stuck traveling with the literal embodiment of bad decisions.” Malfoy groaned. “…We could floo to Hogwarts?”
At this, Harry genuinely laughed. “Ah yes, because I have tons of floo powder in my pockets, and can magically create a fireplace at will.’”
Malfoy exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Knight Bus.”
Harry grinned wolfishly. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Malfoy voluntarily stepped onto something so common.”
Malfoy bristled. “Do not remind me.” Then all of a sudden his back straightened, and a look of despair crossed his face. “Never mind. No Knight Bus. We need another option.”
Harry frowned, watching Malfoy’s sudden shift in demeanor. “What do you mean, ‘no Knight Bus’? That was your idea, Malfoy.”
Malfoy looked like he had just swallowed a lemon. “Forget it, Potter. We’ll figure something else out.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Oh no, absolutely not. Now I have to know.” He crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What, afraid of public transport? Worried you might catch commoner?”
Malfoy scowled but didn’t respond. He scanned the platform, as if debating whether to just make a run for it.
Then, in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper, he muttered, “The last time I took the Knight Bus, I was—” He stopped himself, visibly cringing.
Harry’s grin widened. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
Malfoy groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine,” he spat. “I took it once. Years ago. And I got violently ill.”
Harry blinked. Then his lips twitched. Then he exploded into laughter.
“Oh, this is fantastic,” Harry gasped between wheezes. “The great Draco Malfoy, wizarding royalty, vomiting all over the Knight Bus! Oh, Merlin, I wish I had seen that!”
“Bugger off, that’s not important now!” Malfoy desperately wanted to change the subject.
Harry barely managed to reign in his peals of laughter, and began to remember just how close to Hogwarts the other students must be.
“We could go out and find a fireplace,” Harry’s voice was calm and quiet now, sobered by the reality that everyone he trusted was racing through the countryside on a train and he was alone. Well, alone with Malfoy.
Malfoy adjusted his robe, straightening it out and dusting it off. So posh. “Yes, that should do. I know a place.”
“You know a place, do you? Why do I feel I should be frightened?” Malfoy simply grabbed his trunk and stalked off, not checking if Harry was following him.
“Are you coming or not?” Malfoy sneered, still not turning around to look at Harry. Gathering his items, he grabbed Hedwig’s cage a little too quickly, so she squaked in indignance. Running through the 9 ¾ bricks, they were in muggle London again.
“Alright, the spot is just a 20 minute walk,” Malfoy kept a punishing pace, moving rapidly through the flowing crowd. Breaking into a light jog, Harry matched his pace finally.
“My god, a Malfoy is walking through muggle London. Call the Daily Prophet!” More seriously, Harry added, “But actually, where are we going?”
“Don’t you trust me Potter?” For a second there, it almost felt like Malfoy had grown a sense of humor.
. . .
After trudging up and down seemingly random streets for a good thirty minutes, Harry was beginning to doubt the faith he put into Draco. But it wasn’t exactly as though he had a choice. Harry’s wand was snugly in Draco’s robe, which Harry needed to acquire before abandoning his travel partner.
The pair arrived in front of a random second-hand bookstore. “It’s the nearest wizard establishment, it’s actually a bar inside.” Draco folded his body in half abruptly, shaking his hair and shoving his hands through it like a madman.
“Are you messing up your hair? On purpose?” Harry was astounded, never having seen Draco without his signature slicked back look.
“Just know that doing this physically hurts me. It is important for one to look their best, but I don’t want to stick out in the bar.” Malfoy drawled, shrinking his luggage down into toy versions and shoving them in his pocket.
Harry reached for his wand, and rolled his eyes. It was still in Malfoy’s pocket. Pulling his wand back out, Malfoy transformed his school robes into a smart pair of black slacks and a white button up, doing the same for Harry. The fabric was surprisingly soft, and it was a foreign feeling, having such fancy, nice-fitting clothing.
“This is your idea of clothing one wears at a bar?” Harry examined the strangely formal outfit Malfoy chose for the two of them. “This is mad, we are literally matching.” Malfoy released what was an attempt at laughter but emerged more as a hacking cough. With another charm, Harry was wearing an itchy green jumper. Of course I’m in Slytherin colors.
“You look good in green,” Malfoy turned before Harry could address or respond to the strange half-compliment, and strolled through the doors.
Walking over the threshold, the store transformed into a rowdy pub. It was dank and dark, and had Harry alert. People milled about, chatting, flirting. It was overwhelming - Harry hadn’t frequented chaotic fun environments as a child. Stomach twisting at the tightly pressed together strangers, he desperately sought out Malfoy, the one familiar thing in this scenario. Harry never imagined seeing Malfoy could bring such a sense of relief, but seeing that platinum blonde prat felt like a drink of cold water on a hot day. He was walking not more than half a pace behind Malfoy, anxious not to lose him in the crowd.
“I’ve never been to a bar,” Harry whispered over Malfoy’s shoulder, who looked back at him and smirked.
“Parkinson and I started going this summer, it’s good fun.”
Harry wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—the fact that Malfoy seemed perfectly at home in a dingy underground wizarding pub or the fact that he’d admitted to going to pubs with Pansy Parkinson like it was a perfectly normal summer pastime.
“That’s good fun for you?” Harry muttered, eyeing the dimly lit space. The place reeked of stale butterbeer, burning pipe tobacco, and something vaguely mossy. He supposed with a few drinks in him, perhaps Harry could find the fun in a bar too. With his friends, obviously. Not Malfoy.
Malfoy didn’t respond, already weaving through the crowd like he belonged there. He walked with the easy arrogance of someone who knew he wouldn’t be questioned. Harry, on the other hand, felt like a blinking neon sign that screamed Does Not Belong Here. Again, Harry felt a strange need to be closer to Malfoy, his beacon of safety, so he crowded towards him, this time nearly face-planting between the blonde’s shoulder blades. Malfoy turned, gripping Harry’s forearm to steady him, and Harry began to flush despite himself.
Turning once more, Malfoy headed to the bartender. He was stocky and short, with a hardened expression and scarred hands.
“Ah, the little Malfoy. What’ll you have, a mojito again?” Harry bit back a laugh. Of course Malfoy would hide the fact that he enjoyed fruity drinks. Nothing wrong with that, Harry supposed, but it was an enjoyable contrast to his usual joyless attitude.
“No, we just need to use the floo,” Malfoy’s posture was one Harry had never seen before - relaxed, open. Merlin’s beard, how many times has Malfoy visited this place?
“Little Malfoy, just like his father, always making demands!” The wizard chuckled humorlessly, sneering cruelly. “Why don’t you do me a favor first, and I’ll consider letting you use the floo.”
“What favor?” Harry tried to push in front of Malfoy to address the man himself, but Malfoy stepped sideways, blocking his path. Turning slightly, Harry saw a warning in Malfoy’s eyes. Let me handle this. Having no recourse and not being familiar with this environment, Harry stepped back, allowing someone else to handle the difficult part for once.
“Alright, yes, I’ll do it.” Malfoy seemed to know what was happening here, so Harry followed him. I mean, Malfoy got us this far and we haven’t died yet… And it was nice for Harry - not having to be the brave one for just this one day.
. . .
Malfoy led them to a door at the back of the bar, which then led into a dimly lit and dusty hallway. If the bar had been foreign and unwelcoming, this area of the building was downright hostile. The stench of firewhiskey and wood rot attacked Harry, but Malfoy pushed on undeterred. Malfoy wasn’t as much of a delicate prince as Harry had supposed. Behind another door was what remained of a bedroom - a broken sofa, turned over chairs, torn books, and in the center, a frumpy, unshaven man. What the hell are we supposed to do with this man? What is the favor? Is Malfoy secretly a prostitute? Why would he bring me here if he was?
The man seemed to be on some substance, his pupils blown wide and his frame trembling.
He bared his teeth, startling the pair. “I don’t owe you shit!” He spun, rounding on the Malfoy, but pausing when his gaze landed on Harry. Recognition lit up in his face at once.
“Well, if it isn’t the boy who lived. Quite brave of you to bring him to see me, no disguise, no backup. Nobody would even know you two were gone,” The man took a teetering step closer to Harry, who resisted the urge to flinch, and reached for his wand, only to find it still absent. Malfoy stepped in front of Harry once more, leaned down to the man’s height, and snapped his fingers in front of the man’s face, regaining his attention. Drawing back to his full height, Malfoy frowned.
“Sit down, and cooperate. You stole lots of good potions from this establishment, so you are going to tell me who the leader of your little operation is. Or we can do this the hard way.” Malfoy expertly brought the topic of conversation back to the filthy man’s debt.
Now Harry was thoroughly confused, did he somehow fall into a universe where Malfoy was the muscle for this random bar? I guess you can use potions to get high instead of drugs?
“Try me. I could fetch a pretty penny selling your sweet savior to the Dark Lord,” The man leered over Malfoy’s shoulder at Harry who lurched forward in the urge to sock the man in the jaw.
Harry’s fingers twitched. He needed his wand.
Malfoy, standing just in front of him, tilted his head ever so slightly. The tiniest movement.
Harry understood it immediately. Let me handle this.
“You barge in here, a mere child, and demand that I rat out my entire operation? How about this, blondie. I’ll let you live, if you give me Potter.”
Malfoy went eerily still.
A chill ran up Harry’s back, fear beginning to set in at Malfoy’s lack of response to the proposition.
Then, Malfoy began to laugh. It was more of a cackle, but it stunned the man and Harry. Shaking his head in amusement, Malfoy met the man’s gaze again.
The temperature in the room dropped.
“Oh, that’s adorable,” Malfoy ran an errant hand through his now messy hair. “You seriously believe I would let you live long enough to turn Harry in?” He just called me Harry.
His eyes were steely, challenging, demanding. The itch to run finally eased from Harry’s chest.
Harry watched, stunned, as Malfoy let his high-brow, carefully trained arrogance take over. His smirk was lazy and knowing, as if the man in front of him wasn’t even worth fighting. He tilted his head slightly, as if observing a particularly stupid creature.
“Let me spell it out for you,” Stooping to the man’s height, Malfoy raised an eyebrow condescendingly. “You are nothing.”
Being on the opposite side of Malfoy’s ire was an entirely different experience. Seeing Malfoy size up and intimidate the man was impressive - almost exciting.
The man backed up, whipping his wand out, but Malfoy was quicker, grabbing his and whispering something that left the man on his knees. Sitting on the less destroyed half of the sofa, Malfoy leaned back, staring intently at the man in front of him. Several minutes passed, with the man twitching every once in a while, and a glazed look passed over both of them. Abruptly Malfoy shot to his feet, casting a binding spell on the man.
Grabbing Harry’s wrist, Malfoy dragged the stunned boy back into the corridor. He exhaled a long, exhausted breath, and leaned heavily against the wall. He shot Harry a weak smile.
“Got the information we needed,” Pushing off the wall, he began pulling Harry back into the bar. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, and Malfoy turned to face him.
“You are a legilimens.” Harry glanced down. Malfoy was still holding his wrist.
“I learned from my father,” Malfoy followed Harry’s eyes, and quickly dropped his hand.
“I’ve never met anyone who could do that,” Malfoy looked shyly down at the ground and adjusted his collared shirt.
“Really? Thanks. I always thought it a rather cruel ability to have.” He met Harry’s eyes again. “It was after all, the reason I got caught out lying every time as a child,” He huffed, then tilted his head back towards the bar. Harry felt his heart melting - but steeled himself. Don’t fall for it. He’s a Death Eater. He’s hiding something.
They trotted back to the bartender, who handed them a bag of floo powder after Draco wrote something on a napkin and slid it over. Draco turned back to Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder to steer him through the crowd towards the fireplace. Harry instinctively reached for Draco’s hand, as they grabbed the floo powder.
“HOGWARTS!” They threw the powder down simultaneously, and jumped into the fire. Nausea pulled at Harry’s stomach, he screwed his eyes shut, and waited.
. . .
They emerged, not in a common room, or a classroom, or anywhere expected. But in a dilapidated, destroyed living room. Coughing violently, Draco fell to his knees in front of the fireplace. Harry crouched next to him, concern etched into his features.
“This isn’t Hogwarts,”
“No kidding, Malfoy,”
Harry pushed himself to his feet, eyes sweeping the room. The place was in ruins. Sunlight streamed into the room from gaping holes in what should have been the roof. Broken furniture lay strewn across the floor, the wallpaper was peeling in strips, and a thick layer of dust coated everything. The air smelled of mildew and rotting wood.
A shattered mirror hung on the far wall, its jagged edges reflecting their warped images.
Harry’s gut twisted. “Where are we?”
Malfoy stood, dusting off his trousers with sharp, quick movements. “How the hell should I know? I said Hogwarts. You heard me!”
“Brilliant. Just Brilliant.” Harry took off his glasses and scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to expel the remnants of nausea from the floo.
Harry took Draco’s arm, pulling him to his feet. Seeing the screwed up, pained expression on his face, Harry dragged a stool over for him to sit on. It was missing a leg, but still worked.
“It’ll be fine,” Harry said, now trying to reassure the other after seeing the pain and worry on his face. “It’ll be like camping. We just have to go outside and figure out where we are,”
“Potter, what in Circe’s name is camping?” Now Draco just looked defeated. His hair was loose for once, falling into his eyes. He looks good like this, Harry mused. Sweeter.
“It’s when you sleep outside for fun,”
“That sounds like a punishment, why would anybody do that willingly?”
Harry laughed, his smile instantly brightening Draco’s moody demeanor. All that magic use must have tired Draco out. He was hunched over, slightly smiling, but his eyes betrayed him. He was clearly exhausted.
“Draco, I’m going to scope out the area and see if I can locate us. But I’ll need my wand,” This has been fun and all, but I can’t trust Draco still. Wait a minute. I’ve started calling him Draco.
Draco exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples like Harry’s very existence was giving him a migraine. “You’re not going alone.”
Harry crossed his arms. “No, you are clearly exhausted. You rest. Give me my wand.”
Draco scoffed. “So you can hex me and leave me here? Absolutely not.”
Harry threw his hands up. “Malfoy, we are stuck in the middle of nowhere, and you think I’m going to waste time hexing you?”
Draco gave him a careful look. “I mean… historically speaking? Yes.”
Harry groaned. “God, Malfoy. You practically saved both of us back there. I am not going to kill you or something.”
Draco actually smiled at that. “So you admit, my legilimens was impressive.”
“Yes Draco. You are very smart and so pretty, now will you give me my wand and let me scout the area?” Harry stood defiantly, his hand stuck out to Draco expectantly.
Draco stuttered at his response, “Uh-um- yeah here.” He shoved a wand into Harry’s hand who turned it over and gave it back to him.
“That’s your wand. I need mine.” Now Draco was fully blushing, the true impact of Harry calling him smart and pretty, even if only in jest, taking full effect.
He shoved the other wand into Harry’s hand, refusing to meet his playful gaze.
“Don’t get lost!” Draco shouted after Harry, who turned and gave him a reassuring thumbs up, before running out the door.