Chapter Text
Harry woke up with a sweaty face and a pounding heart. He grabbed the glass of water from his bedside table and gulped it down.
It had been four months since the wizarding war had ended, four months since Voldemort was defeated by Harry Potter. Yet the nightmares never stopped.
The Boy Who Lived. Twice. The Chosen One. The Master of Death. God knew how many more ridiculous titles they were going to throw at him.
The Ministry had gone completely ballistic with the number of articles they were publishing about Harry and the war. Harry Potter this… Harry Potter that… It was driving him mad. He was dragged into meeting after meeting, forced to recount the months he spent hidden away in a tent, or asked to explain mysteries even he didn’t fully understand. Every day he returned to Grimmauld Place worn out, his body heavy with exhaustion. The only relief came from Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, who at least allowed Harry to keep certain things private. Still, even Kingsley pushed; if Harry didn’t want to talk to reporters one day, he’d be expected to spill it all sooner or later.
Pathetic. That was what his life had become.
After the war, Harry couldn’t bring himself to live at the Burrow. Ron and the others begged him to stay, but how could he when there were eight of them instead of nine?
He couldn’t have saved Fred, not logically, not realistically. But the guilt sat inside him like a stone. People saw Harry as a savior, but what about the ones he failed? Fred Weasley. Lavender Brown. Colin Creevey. Remus and Tonks…Teddy would grow up without his parents, just like Harry had. It was all happening again.
He told himself he needed to grieve, to move on. But four months had passed in a blur of funerals, rebuilding, and ministry obligations, and he still felt stuck. He remembered Fred’s funeral most vividly: the sorrow etched into every face, Ginny shaking as she sobbed into his chest.
They broke up three weeks ago. It was mutual, both of them knowing this wasn’t the time for love. Not when the air was still so heavy with grief. But moving forward wasn’t easy for Harry. Not for the boy who destroyed horcruxes, defeated the Dark Lord, and was hailed as the savior of the wizarding world.
Now he drifted like a ghost through Grimmauld Place, meals left half-eaten, nights sleepless, and days measured only in summons from the Ministry.
When the Hogwarts letter arrived, Harry wasn’t surprised. A part of him had been expecting it. All seventh-years who had missed their final year were invited to return, though attendance wasn’t mandatory. The thought of going back made his stomach twist. Hogwarts was both scar and sanctuary.
Returning meant walking past the once blood-stained corridors, where screams still seemed to echo. It meant stepping into the Great Hall, where Bellatrix Lestrange had ended countless innocent lives. It meant climbing the Astronomy Tower, where Dumbledore had fallen.
But it also meant home. It meant the Gryffindor common room’s warm fire, wizard’s chess matches with Ron, and flying on his Firebolt until the wind cleared his head.
✩₊˚.⋆☾
Harry got out of bed and padded down the stairs, where his cat was waiting at the bottom step. He had bought the animal hoping it might keep him company in this empty house. People brought regret and guilt; perhaps a pet could bring comfort.Hedwig’s death had been so sudden, gone in an instant, like a flash of white in the dark. One of his first true friends, lost in the blink of an eye.
This cat, with its sleek black coat, was different. He had named it Sirius, after the only man who had ever felt like a father to him. The cat purred softly, blinking up at him as if it understood.
“Sirius,” Harry murmured.
He scooped the cat into his arms effortlessly, burying his face in its fur.
“This life’s pathetic, isn’t it?” he murmured into the softness. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Merlin, I almost sounded like Draco there.”
His words hung in the air. Harry froze, blinking as if only just realizing what he’d said.
Draco.
The last time he’d seen him was at the trial. The memory pressed in sharp and unbidden: Harry standing there, speaking on Draco’s behalf.
“Draco Malfoy acted under extreme duress. He was forced to align with Voldemort, yes, but he never truly wanted to. He made choices to survive, as anyone would. He also risked himself in small ways that weren’t known…ways that saved others. Punishing him for that would be unjust.” He remembered saying.
He remembered the way Draco sat there in the middle of the courtroom, head ducked, unlike how he usually was. The way he didn’t even look up when Harry returned his wand, the wand he used to defeat Voldemort, and just gave him a shaky nod.
Harry wasn’t sure if he hated Draco. They were somewhat rivals; they did quarrel between classes in the corridors, but those were the times when nothing was actually wrong. Times Voldemort wasn’t part of, and Draco wasn’t involved in.
Harry set Sirius down and sank into one of the chairs, eyes flicking to the clock: 7:30 a.m. About three and a half hours until the Hogwarts Express left London. That should be enough time to pack and get ready for the Burrow, assuming Harry moved at his usual, sloth-like pace.
✩₊˚.⋆☾
The comforting smell of freshly baked bread and a faint layer of dust greeted him as he stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing slightly while pushing his bangs out of his eyes.
After being a busy teenager who had literally saved the world, Harry had never paid much attention to his hair. Usually, a quick brush was enough. But after weeks of lying in bed doing almost nothing, he found himself scrutinizing it. His curls weren’t just unruly; they had a pattern, a texture that deserved care. Hermione had taught him all the proper routines to prevent damage, and for once, he actually followed them. And he actually liked it. He even thought he looked better than he had at fourteen.
“Harry!”
The voice was warm and familiar, and before he could respond, Hermione enveloped him in a huge hug.
Harry laughed, hugging her back and burying his face in the long, soft mane of thick, curly brown hair. He noticed that Hermione had been taking care of her curls too,they were now clean and define, and he smiled at the small changes time had brought to them both.
“I missed you!” Hermione mumbled into his shoulder.
“Me too,” Harry replied.
“Mate!”
Before he could pull away from Hermione, a familiar figure with fiery red hair yanked him out of the hug and squeezed the air right out of him.
“R-Ron…” Harry gasped, coughing and laughing at the same time.
The rest of the Weasleys arrived at the place after hearing all the commotion. As he hugged each and every one of them, he spent a little longer with Mrs. Weasley.
He closed his eyes and took in her scent. The first mother figure that he had in his life. She gave him the life of a normal teenage boy, with food to eat, a place to sleep, and a mother's true love. It hurt him that the one thing she was missing now, Fred, Harry wasn’t able to return to her in any sort of way. That itself made him tear up, and he sniffled a little. Mrs. Weasley broke the hug and looked at Harry, holding his face. If she noticed Harry’s teary eyes, she didn’t mention it.
“How’s everything?” How’s it without Fred?
“Everything’s fine, my dear. Oh, you dear boy,” she said, brushing back a stray curl from his forehead. “I suppose I should put up with you showing up an hour before the Hogwarts Express leaves! Honestly, why didn’t you come a few days earlier, hmm? You know I would have made you a splendid breakfast!”
How could she still smile like that? How could she still love him after everything, even after he had saved everyone but her son? Harry pursed his lips and shrugged, unable to answer.
“It’s quite alright, dear. Now, come along,” she said, stepping back but keeping her hands on his shoulders. “I’m very sorry I couldn’t give you a proper meal before school, but it’s time to get going. The four of you can make your way to the station yourselves, yes?”
Harry nodded.
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stood beside him, luggage packed and ready to leave. Sirius blinked up at them curiously; it was the first time Harry was introducing them to his cat.
“All right then,” Mrs. Weasley said, giving them a small shake, as if to dispel lingering worries. “Be good, work hard, and try not to get yourselves into trouble. I mean it.”
Her glare landed on Ron and Ginny, who were both wearing cheeky smiles. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Harry; he smiled back, a small spark of warmth passing between them.
Harry’s eyes drifted to the other Weasleys, lingering on George. He seemed to have lost his usual easy grin, though he forced a small one for Harry’s sake.
The weight of the guilt lay hidden in Harry’s chest. Hermione, Ron, and the Weasleys all assumed that Harry was over it, just like how all of them pretended like they were over it as well. Because the smile hid it all. Harry just had to smile, and it was all gone.
But George Weasley’s smile couldn’t hide the fact that Fred Weasley was gone.
✩₊˚.⋆☾
“You never told us you got a cat, Harry!” Hermione said excitedly as she picked Sirius up and sat him on her lap.
“Yeah, at least she’s less ugly than Crookshanks,” Ron spat, although he kept a fond gaze on Hermione. ”Where is he anyways?”
“I left him at Mom and Dad’s,” she said.
The train lurched forward, and the trio settled into their seats. Hermione stroked Sirius absently for a moment, then tilted her head.“So…what did you name him?”
Harry hesitated slightly, a small ache tugging at his chest. “Sirius,” he said quietly.
The three of them exchanged a glance, the air heavy for a heartbeat, before Harry broke eye contact and turned toward the window.
Memories stirred as the train rattled on. Hogwarts. He was actually going back,back to the only place that had ever felt like home. He let his forehead rest lightly against the cool glass, watching the countryside slip past, while
Ron and Hermione whispered and laughed beside him.
Harry tried not to notice how close they were sitting. Over the past four months, they’d finally sorted out their feelings, and now they were together, properly. He was happy for them; of course he was. Over the moon, even.
But the weight of his own breakup with Ginny sat like a stone in his chest, and the happiness didn’t last long.
The train plunged into a tunnel, and Harry’s reflection stared back at him in the black glass. That was when he saw it.
That familiar platinum blond hair.
The figure passed the compartment in a blur, but Harry would’ve known that hair anywhere. Draco. Black suit, pale as ever. The flash of him was gone before Harry could think.
“Did you guys see that?” Harry murmured, eyes still fixed on the window.
“See what? I can’t even see you in this dark,” Ron chuckled.
The train burst back into daylight, and the reflection dissolved into fields and sky. Harry swallowed hard. Why did he want to see Draco?
Almost before he could stop himself, he got to his feet. “Going to the loo,” he muttered, and slipped out into the corridor.
Everywhere he went, eyes followed him. Whispers hummed just at the edge of his hearing. Should’ve worn the cloak, he thought grimly, keeping his head down until he reached the tiny bathroom at the end of the carriage.
Just as Harry reached for the handle, the door swung open from the inside.
And there he was.
Draco.
His hair, so blonde that it was almost white, was now a little longer, and it wasn’t the usual slick back. It appeared messy, but not the actual messy, the nice kind of messy. It seemed wavy. Harry had never seen it like that before.
Draco was so pale, telling the difference between his hair and his skin would be difficult. Harry knew his own skin was quite tan, a dashing light brown. But standing beside Draco would make him look even darker.
He was slightly shorter than Harry, close enough that his hair would have brushed against Harry’s lips if they stood any nearer.
This time, Draco’s head wasn’t ducked. For the briefest moment, those sharp grey eyes met Harry’s green.Then, just as quickly, Draco’s chin dropped.
Harry realized too late that he was staring. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What could he even say?
The silence stretched. They must have looked ridiculous, just frozen there, because someone behind Harry cleared their throat pointedly.Harry jumped, spinning around.
“Seamus!” Harry blurted, relief and surprise tangling in his voice.
“Harry, mate!” Seamus clapped him on the shoulder so hard he nearly toppled into the bathroom door. “Haven’t seen you since the battle; you’re looking well! And your hair looks fantastic, by the way.”
Harry coughed out a laugh, rubbing the spot where Seamus had hit him. “Well enough,” he said. The compliment did make his heart race a little.
Seamus grinned, already launching into chatter. “Dean’s here too, a couple compartments down. You should come by later; we’ve got a proper reunion going. Merlin, I still can’t believe we’re actually going back to school after all that…”
Harry nodded along, smiling faintly, but his mind wasn’t on Seamus’ words. He turned his head back toward the bathroom.
But Draco was gone.
Harry’s chest tightened unexpectedly. He told himself it didn’t matter, but his eyes still flicked down the corridor, searching, as Seamus went on about Quidditch teams and who’d already boarded.
“Harry? You listening?” Seamus asked with a laugh.
“Yeah, of course,” Harry said quickly, forcing himself to focus.
He shouldn’t be thinking too much of it. Draco’s trial was over. Which meant Draco was out of his life. Draco didn’t need him anymore, and Harry certainly didn’t need Draco. He never had.
So why did his heart sink, seeing those tired, red-rimmed eyes that had met his for just a second?
✩₊˚.⋆☾
There were only about 50 to 70 Eighth years in total, most of them from Gryffindor.
There weren’t many Eighth Year Slytherins, only three of them, in fact: Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy. They seemed to know that no one really wanted them back, so whenever all the Eighth Years were gathered, they always stood furthest away, hovering at the back.
After the feast in the Great Hall, the new headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall, personally led the Eighth Years to their new common room, created especially for them.
“First of all, I would like to thank all of you for returning,” she began, her voice carrying with its usual calm authority. “I know many of you have faced unfortunate, even unbearable, incidents in this place. We all have. It takes more than courage to step foot back here.”
Her eyes lingered, just briefly, on Harry.
“You will be given rooms within your houses. Ravenclaws on this side, Hufflepuffs on that side.” She gestured to two staircases, and students from each house hurried away. Soon, only the Gryffindors and Slytherins remained.
“Since there are so few Slytherins returning, we have decided to combine your two houses together,” she announced, her tone calm, even as several students exchanged nervous glances.
Harry’s brow furrowed. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? With only three Slytherins, they’d probably just be put together in one dorm…Or Pansy might get placed separately. That seemed logical enough.
“Each dorm consists of two people,” McGonagall continued. “I will first read out the Gryffindors who are not paired with Slytherins.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. Paired with Slytherins? His eyes darted around, and he saw the same flicker of alarm and confusion on everyone else’s faces.
One by one, names were read out until only three Gryffindors remained: Ron, Harry, and a girl whose name Harry couldn’t quite remember. Across from them stood the three Slytherins.
“Blaise Zabini and Ronald Weasley,” McGonagall announced.
Ron went scarlet.
The tension in his shoulders snapped like a bowstring. He huffed, turned on his heel, and stormed up the staircase without so much as glancing at Blaise. His footsteps thudded angrily against the stone.
That left only Harry and Draco.
Harry’s heart began to pound in his chest, faster and faster, as the inevitable dawned on him.
Professor McGonagall looked over the remaining pairs. “I believe you all know who your dorm mates are. Goodnight.”
She exited the common room, and Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He was sharing a dorm room with Draco Malfoy for one whole year.
It dawned on him how it didn’t even bother him. If fifteen-year-old Harry Potter had heard this, he would have practically begged McGonagall to let him change dorm mates immediately. But Harry already knew what her answer would have been, and he agreed on it. They weren’t stupid teenagers anymore. They had gone through a war and were now adults. There was no point crying over a room allocation.
Still, when Harry turned around, Draco was gone.
Of course. How did he always manage to slip away so quickly and quietly?
By the time Harry finally reached their dorm, Draco was nowhere to be seen. The faint sound of running water suggested he was in the bathroom.
The dorm wasn’t of any green or red. It was simple black and white sheets. The beds were standing side by side, not completely pushed together; there was still a narrow space in between, and on each of the two sides there were identical study tables, a wide window letting in the night, and a bathroom each.
Running a hand through his messy curls, Harry sighed. For some reason he really didn’t want to start any arguments with Draco that year. He just wanted Draco to feel comfortable enough to stay in the same room as him. He washed his face, then changed into his sweatpants, tugging off his shirt and tossing it into the open trunk at the foot of his bed. His skin prickled faintly in the cool air.
Just then Draco stepped out of the bathroom.
Wearing a loose, full-sleeved white button-up and sweatpants, Draco was drying his wet hair with a towel. He hadn’t realized Harry was there yet. Harry continued looking at him, and that was when the sleeve slipped down slightly.
The Dark Mark.
The original rich, shiny black mark now looked red and blotchy. There was skin peeling around Draco’s forearm, like he had been scratching on it constantly.It seemed a little faded, but it was definitely there.
Draco finally dropped his arms from his head and immediately froze at the sight of a shirtless Harry Potter staring straight at him.
For the briefest moment, Harry watched Draco’s sharp grey eyes flicker, meeting his own, dropping to his bare chest, then snapping back up with alarming speed. A rush of color crept into Draco’s pale cheeks. It didn’t stay there long either, as without a word, he tossed the towel onto the nearest chair, turned away, and quickly got on his bed. With a small flick of his hand, the curtains fell down completely, swallowing the bed and hiding Draco.
Wandless magic.
Harry blinked, heat rushing unbidden to his cheeks. Watching Draco get flustered because of him made his own chest tighten and his face burn even hotter.
He stared at the closed curtains for a long moment, as if they might give him answers, before finally lying back on his bed. With a sigh, he pulled off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand, his eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.
He didn’t want this year to be difficult. Merlin knew he’d had enough of difficult. He wanted one normal year,being The Harry Potter didn’t always provide him the best years, every year he went through something dramatic. For once, he just wanted to spend one whole year of normal classes, and having fun with his friends.
Harry’s thoughts drifted: classes, professors, friends, and the shape of a whole year ahead. And then, inevitably, back to Draco.
Draco, who hadn’t spoken a single word to him.Draco, who could slip away faster than Harry could blink.Draco, who carried the weight of the Dark Mark like a scar that would never fully fade.
If they lived like strangers all year, Harry thought grimly, he’d lose his mind. He just hoped that Draco would break out of that shell sooner or later.
With that, exhaustion tugged him under. He drifted off to sleep, leaving his bed curtains open.
He never liked them closed anyway.