Chapter Text
Harry ran a hand through his messy hair nervously. His plastic keychain swung gently, the key having been hastily jammed into the lock on the door that stood between Harry and his future. Taking a deep breath to calm his jittery nerves, he picked up his trunk and pushed through the door into his new room. He had braced himself to find his roommate already moved in; someone who would greet him with absolutely no idea who he really was. Though one side was made up, bedcovers and all, there was no one in the room, much to Harry’s disappointment. He really just wanted to get the awkward introduction thing over with. Sighing, he dragged his trunk over to the empty side of the room. Not for the first time in his long journey from the gates of the Hall to his room, Harry cursed himself for insisting on bringing a trunk of all things. He should have just listened to Hermione and bought a Muggle suitcase. Without magic, trunks were the most inconvenient things!
Sinking into his unmade bed, kicking his trunk under it, Harry wondered how this was going to play out– three years of Muggle University and then what? It’s not as though the Wizarding World would simply forget about him because he wasn’t around. Shacklebolt had very clearly hinted that there would be a place in the Auror Programme whenever he felt fit to return. Could he do it? Could he really be Muggle for that long? Could he really be away from the magic that hummed throughout the Wizarding Society? He wasn’t even in the same country as his friends anymore! Merlin, what was he doing?
Groaning, Harry got up and gingerly locked (with both the key, and his wand for good measure) the door and closed the blinds. Wand in hand, Harry began unpacking, his stuff flying around the room and slotting into place: Clothes neatly folded in the cupboard, his books to the desk, and the sheets neatly wrapped around his mattress. Noting the posters on his roommate’s side, Harry wished he could put up some of his favourite Quidditch players– or maybe some talking portraits. As it were, Hermione got muggle pictures printed on shiny photo-paper for Harry of his parents, Sirius, Remus, and Teddy. Harry only put up the picture of Teddy, in an elegant frame that highly contrasted the goofy face his Godchild was making, upon his desk. The others were too painful to look at right then– a reminder of everything he’d left behind.
“Yo! Open the door, man!” Came a loud voice, accompanied by pounding against the charmed door. Harry quickly stashed away his wand in the drawer of his desk, then crossed over to the door. He whispered “alohomora” while turning the key to unlock the door. He was hit in the chest with a calloused fist.
Making a strangled noise, Harry backed up quickly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry dude.” The boy said casually, giving Harry a half smile. “I’m Ed, by the way.” He stuck his hand out.
“Harry.” Harry replied, shaking Ed’s hand firmly. So this was his roommate–
“Where’s your roomie, d’you know?” Ed asked, glancing around the room.
“Uh, no clue, I’m afraid. I only just got here.” Harry replied, slightly deflated.
“Oh, okay then.” Ed didn’t make to leave, so Harry left the door open and went back to his desk, arranging what was already neat.
“What’s that accent? Bri’ish are we? Pip, pip Cheerio!” Ed joked good-naturedly, flashing Harry a brilliant grin.
Smiling Harry replied, “Go Yankees?”
Ed let out a barking laugh, doubling over.
“You’re a funny one, Gov’ner!” He managed, he voice wheezy from his laughing.
“Er…” Harry grimaced, trying to think of something to say.
“Yo, ED!” Another voice came floating down hall, saving Harry from trying to come up with something Muggle to talk about.
“Max, that you?” Ed called out.
“Hey, Brian’s got FIFA all set up, you coming or not?” Max, presumably, said, poking his head into the room. He nodded casually in acknowledgement of Harry.
“Coming. Catch you later, good sir!” Ed said, howling as he walked out of Harry’s room.
“Sorry about him. He’s been at it,” Max gesticulated smoking “for a while now.”
Harry simply nodded, having no clue why a cigarette would explain any of Ed’s hysteric behaviour.
“You play?” Max asked, one arm on Ed’s shoulder, the other on the door.
Harry shook his head no. Shrugging, Max turned to guide Ed towards wherever they were playing FIFA. Confused, lonely, and homesick, Harry flopped onto his bed thinking over the months that had lead up to his moving here, to Pomona College, California.
It had been Ron’s idea to look for a college in the States. “Anything you fuck up, mate, you can just pass off as British! They won’t know the difference!” Ron had loudly proclaimed, admittedly a few drinks in, and then proceeded to burst into laughter. Hermione and Harry had just stared at him, contemplating the viability of this idea. Ron had been the most supportive of everyone, really. He helped Harry with his applications, packing and even watched a couple of Muggle films about University life. Hermione had helped too, of course. Essentially re-writing his application forms and re-packing his trunk, and giving him real advice about what to expect (“There will not be parties every night Harry!” and “That’s called a vending machine, for Merlin’s sake!” and “That’s not… turn off this disgusting video! Shame on the two of you! I can assure you, it won’t be like this.”). Yet somehow Ron’s support had meant more, probably because he was pants at it. He hadn’t even blamed Harry when he and Ginny had broken up a few months ago.
Ginny. Harry sighed, missing her– the familiarity of her. He new she’d love it here– the green grass and bright sunshine. The freckles along her nose and shoulders, and thighs; her flaming red hair that was silk to touch; her brilliant, radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat; all these memories welled up inside him, and for a moment he couldn’t remember why they had broken up.
Should he really have come all the way to America?
Yes, he had to.
The nightmares, the fights, the coldness and frustration with which they spoke to each other the few months before they called it quits– Harry recalled it all in a flash. Everyone on the British Iles and most of Europe knew him. The paparazzi had been relentless. The owls, the offers to take on various positions at the ministry, the nightmares; he needed to get away from all of it. America had always been… aloof during The War. Harry hadn’t even known there was a significant population of Magic on this side. He had thought that the Muggles that hd founded the States had eradicated such traces in the 15th century; apparently not all of it.
The laughter in the corridor brought Harry back to his present feeling of loneliness. As the voices neared, he thought he recognised one particularly snobbish and derisive laugh.
Great, he thought bitterly, I’m so homesick that I’m imagining Malfoy of all people.
When that familiar blonde head rounded the corner into the room, and slate grey eyes met vivid green, Harry fell off his bed.
“Potter?” Draco Malfoy asked incredulous, gaping in a way that was very un-sophisticated of him.
Harry only groaned in response.