Smile
‘It’ll be alright.’
Draco very much doubted that. They were walking down the platform of nine and three-quarters, Draco scooped between Pansy and Blaise.
He fought back a strong urge to hit himself because what was he thinking when he decided to return. When he kissed his Mother goodbye she had advised him to keep his head down, but chin up. That, he can do. He insisted on going to King’s Cross with Pansy and Blaise and asked her to stay home, which she reluctantly agreed.
The ambience of the place was not joyous and turbulent nor grim and dead, it was something entirely different. It was tranquil. It was not an eerie silence, but the kind of silence you experience when words are heard without being spoken, feelings are felt without being expressed, emotions are seen without being revealed.
Many in the mass had remnants of war over their faces, both in face and heart. They were not rejoicing with triumph as he expected, there were grateful, small, sad smiles; eyes at the brink of tears. The smiles being shared carried faint sombreness, the effects of war legibly written in air. There was understanding among everyone around the station.
People stood close to each other, huddled at some distance. None were found running or laughing or shouting. People moved in soft footfalls. Some students were found hugging and kissing their parents, some engaged in muffled conversations with their friend’s parents, some students were standing by themselves with longingness and some began to board the train.
Draco felt like he’d been hit in the gut, shame and guilt filling him. The number of students he’d crucioed, so he could be safe made him feel horrible and vile. The part he played in destroying beautiful families and ruining their lives, told him he deserved Azkaban.
People around silenced and trailed off their sentences as they caught sight of him. He was nervous something was about to happen. He heard whispers of Death Eater trash, Filthy scum. Sneers and scowls from both parents and students were thrown in his direction which Pansy gladly returned them. It made him feel weak being protected, he wanted to point out that he can take care of himself.
A sudden loud noise stalled them killing the silence, his hands swiftly went for his wand, a Portego ready to roll out of tongue. They turned around to see a group of reporters jolting towards the platform. Which was none other than The Golden Trio, who were hounded. Everyone on the platform sprinted to greet The Saviour, who was trying to move past them.
Weasley and Granger were walking with entwined hands. They both looked the same,— Weasley in his ridiculous jumper and Granger with a book; bickering, smitten. He also spotted the Weaslette, but her hand was not entwined with Potter; that piqued something in him. Potter has changed.
For one, he was wearing clothes that actually fit him, a black leather jacket over white t-shirt paired with black trousers and half tied white trainers which made him look... hot. He must have worked out in the past days, his biceps were quite muscular. Sure Potter had gained some weight, but nonetheless he looked scrawny. Evidently, an attempt was made to tame the mop which had failed terribly. Potter carried himself with sort of grace and smoothness rather than with clumsiness as usual.
Everything changed with the exception of those obnoxious(charming) round wire frames and the bottles green eyes glimmering like the glossiest, richest, emerald stones made by fine craftsmanship. The expression on his face was something he quite didn’t know how to put it. It was neither bright and happy nor dull and grim.
‘Ouch!’ he yowled suddenly, stumbling as a sudden bolt of pain shot through his shins before he could begin to walk. Strong arms clutched around his shoulders from falling, Blaise’s, he knew once his mind registered what had happened. He knew what it was, a stinging hex.
‘Draco! What happened? Are you fine?’ Pansy shrieked and Blaise’s hand tightened around him. He was worried it would gather attention, but thank Merlin and Morgana people didn’t even flinch or shoot an eye. It disturbed him to be ignored but some part was happy about it. He glanced around to find who it was, but was unsuccessful.
‘Just sprained my ankle’, he lied and wandlessly numbed his pain. He didn’t want to lie, but that felt necessary for he was sure if he told them the truth they would rage. Pansy gave him a stern look and Blaise raised an eyebrow in question clearly stating they didn’t believe him. He loved his friends, he really did, but at the same time he didn’t want to make a scene before even stepping into the train. He sighed.
‘Come on, the train's about to leave.’ He began to walk not waiting for an answer or for a question, he made it to the train without further hexes.
A sudden push, he tripped, hitting his face on the train windows. ‘Death Eater scum’, a Ravenclaw girl snarled, strode past them. Immediately his hand went to grip Pansy and Blaise to stop them from moving, he shook his head.
‘Draco! Let go! She can’t treat you like that!’ Pansy hissed, trying to make herself free.
‘She’s right Draco. You can’t let them treat you like that.’ Blaise said calmly, unlike Pansy.
‘You’re a moron!’ She bellowed, fury red in her eyes.
He sighed. ‘We’ll go and find a compartment’, he said, tugging them. He paused when he passed Potter’s compartment. Potter was sitting by the window, Weasley and Granger curled up next to him; opposite, Longbottom was by the window staring at the platform, Weaslette was in an animated conversation with Lovegood.
The same compartment, years ago, he entered with a hand for friendship and was returned with “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” It took him years to get over the rejection which he eventually did. But still, a pang of jealousy rose in him; what it would be to be Potter’s friend, to be a part of his little group. He was not ungrateful for his friends, it’s just… it would’ve been nice to be Potter’s friend.
For a split-second, Potter met his gaze, the green ones studied him. He thought he was in a dream, Potter smiled. His gaze froze over the smile because it was not a smirk, not a it’s-my-time smile, it was a sincere welcoming smile, and he began to talk with Longbottom. A flush crept upon his neck and ear tips tinged pink. None in the compartment seemed to have noticed the silent conversation. He forced himself to move, his eyes never leaving Potter, with a smile.
They found a compartment almost at the end of the train. Draco and Blaise took the windows much to Pansy’s annoyance. She glared at them and let her head fall on Blaise’s lap. They look good together, he had always thought Pansy and Blaise would do well together as a couple.
‘You good there?’ Blaise asked, who must have noticed his change of expression.
‘Yes’, he returned promptly, but the smile on face still. His friends crystally knew he was hiding something, but didn’t voice it out.
The entire ride he talked randomly, answering and quipping at necessary places. To Draco it felt like just minutes when they reached Hogesmade, but it was hours. He could vaguely see the castle through the window, it had been rebuilt, some places were yet to be done. The Astronomy tower needed some more work to do, but more or less it was to its former glory.
The castle towers were hidden behind the soft grey evening clouds; amidst the small, scattered shining stars, the castle beamed. It looked… heavenly, a sight that even the strongest obliviation could not obliviate. He took a moment to savor it.
He saw grey, scrawny horse-like creatures pulling the carts. His heart began to race fast like it was going to fall out any moment. Thestrals. He was able to see thestrals. It was not supposed to be much of a shock because after sharing home with The Dark Lord, of course, he could see thestrals. The thing was, he didn’t know whose death it was. He turned around to see his friends, Pansy nodded with a haunted face and Blaise nodded with a shrug. Ah! Blaise had been seeing them from a young age.
The three of them took a thestral, he saw Potter taking one with Weasley, Granger and the Weaslette. It hurt him somewhere, he turned immediately and the cart pulled.
***
“It's beautiful, isn't it? I'll never forget the first time I walked through those doors. It will be nice to do it again as a free man.”
Harry stood gaping at the massive doors. He knew what Sirius meant back then, but now he understood what it was. It really was nice to walk through those doors as a free man, not much responsibility, no need to walk towards death, no running for life, no more drama; a good, peaceful year. The sole responsibility on his shoulders at present was to complete his N.E.W.Ts and he was sure there won’t be an addition.
The castle was bloody beautiful. He always knew it was beautiful, but now it was a different beautiful. It was nothing like the last time he’d seen it, —broken walls, shattered windows, blood spilled floor— it was striking.
Harry didn’t realise he was gaping like a fish until Ron clapped him in his shoulder, Hermione gave a smile which he returned. ‘Well come on, mate’, Ron said. Harry nodded.
It was nostalgic if he’s honest. Just like his first year, where everything seemed new and questioning. He can never forget the first time he’d walked through them. He’d wasted hours thinking it was a wrong decision to come back to Hogwarts, but no, he needed this. He didn’t realise he needed it so much until he took a foot to move. It was comfort and home.
He was hit by strong wards, new, but strong nonetheless. Ah! The old wards must’ve been destroyed during the battle. He could sense the strong magic of the professors.
The ceiling was charmed like a fairy tale night. Thousands of candles swaying slowly, flame flickering on and off, the rich dark blue clouds reflecting the lights emitted from the candle, the four long house tables half-filled with students with goblets and plates, the house ghosts shining misty silver. It really was bloody beautiful. They took a seat at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione opposite to him. The first years walked the same way as he walked,— gaping like a fish— he smiled.
At the high table Professor McGonagall took the Headmistress chair, there was Slughorn, Flitwick, Sprout, Hagrid, Hooch and two more people he didn’t recognise. One was a pale skin, short, lean woman, her black hair a high tight bun, square glasses, grape colour robes with silver buttons and a gracious smile. The other woman was quite muscular, maybe two or three inches taller than him, slightly tanned, some scars in her neck and face. She was in brisk red coloured robes, sandy blonde hair in a ponytail. He turned to his friends asking whether they knew who they were. Ron shrugged and Hermione shook her head and eyed him to listen.
The sorting hat sung on unity, friendship; a song really needed after a war. It was Professor McGonagall who placed the hat on the first years. Once the sorting ended she climbed to the Owl Podium for a moment, he thought her eyes were tearing up, but she cleared her throat and began to speak.
‘Welcome!’ her thick Scottish accent not marred by anything. ‘Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Now let the feast begin.’
Piles of food and pumpkin juice filled the plates and goblets. He grinned at Ron and they began to devour the food, Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.
‘Bloody Brilliant!’ Ron exclaimed, as always the elves had outdone the food.
The desserts appeared once the main course was over. Treacle Tart! Harry’s mind was pleased to no extent because there was treacle tart! It’s not like he hadn’t eaten it in the past days, but Hogwarts’ treacle tart was the best as per him. He nearly filled his plate with it, smiling.
As the feast got over Professor McGonagall rose to the podium once again. ‘The Defence Against Dark Arts post will be handled by Professor Redwood’, she said motioning towards the sandy blonde woman. ‘And Professor Nora will be handling Astronomy.
‘Now just a few more words, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.’ Her eyes for a moment caught Harry’s.
‘I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
‘Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.
‘Now as for the eighth year students, you will follow me.’
Follow her? But where? He saw the same confusion on Ron and Hermione. All the eighth year students rose to their feet.
***
‘You eighth years, will be sharing the same common room. Dorms will be shared with different house students. You will find your schedule and dorm mates there.’ She pointed to the wall where two lists hung. ‘Welcome back’, she said smiling, a small clipped smile, her voice softening from the authoritative tone. With that she walked out.
Salazar’s saggy balls! He really should’ve expected this. Why in Salazar’s name should all eighth years be put together? He honestly didn’t want to share a common room, especially not with the Golden Trio. God! He can no longer even spend time in the common room without whispers and looks.
People walked to the list and murmurs softly began. He, Pansy and Blaise didn’t move to look for it, he thought it would be better to see after everyone has moved. He saw Potter and Weasley, grinning and jumping— of course, they must be together. He wanted a distraction to avoid staring at Potter and that’s how he took a look around.
The room was painted in soft grey colour and Hogwarts emblem painted in one wall. There were lilac colour love seats and settees by the fire. The room was cosy and welcoming, not cold like the Slytherin common room.
Once he completed the journey, he began to see who had returned. Not many actually. He saw Finnigan and Thomas,— standing unnecessarily close— Abbott, the Patil twins. That’s it? Only twelve? He didn’t understand why many didn’t return. And to make matters worse, no boys, other than Blaise and the Gryffindorks. He was hecking sure it surely will be with a Gryffindork. Great! Just Great! He groaned internally. He heard Potter and Weasley racing to the boys’ dorms and many dispersed.
He began to walk anxiously because fuck he knew it was with a Gryffindork, but what if it’s Potter or Weasley. Longbottom, maybe he could manage, Finnigan or Thomas would be no issues.
What the fuck? The moment his eyes found his name he wanted to jump out of the windows and run. Why is it always Saint Potter? He, by Merlin’s name, didn’t want to share a dorm with Potter and Weasley. He wanted to live and live peacefully. Amen to that! He’s going to die either due to humiliation or he’s going to be killed in sleep.
He turned to Blaise, who was at least not loathing like he did. ‘Longbottom, Finnigan and Thomas’, he said coldly. Of course, the remaining three. Salazar’s bollocks, is there a way to change dorms? He really can live with them, definitely not peacefully, but he can live.
He then looked at Pansy who had a sullen look and the same loathing as he had. ‘Granger and Patil’, she clicked her tongue. That is far far far better than him.
‘Potter and Weasley’, he gritted out. Pansy snickered and Blaise was biting his lip, trying to control his laughter.
‘Do go on. Continue your laughter. Don’t let me stop you.’ They doubled over laughing, Pansy’s eyes almost tearing up. He very badly wanted to strangle them and hang them upside down. He glared at them, because he didn’t have enemies outside, he had been with them all years.
‘Sorry. Sorry’, Blaise said, still laughing.
‘Someone’s never going to have a peaceful crush wank again’, Pansy muttered.
‘Pansy! Shut it!’ he shrieked. They began laughing even more, clutching their stomachs. Ha! Very funny! He was happy everyone had decided to retire for the day and that left them alone.
‘Oh Draco! It’ll be okay’, Pansy said, which earned daggers. They were nearly shaking with laughter, hands on their knees, holding each other for balance.
‘Right. Right’, she said, her ears and cheeks flushed with laughter. She was trying real hard not to laugh again. ‘Enough of that. Poor Draco. We’ll go to bed now. Okay?’ He turned to storm out of the room when Pansy yelled, ‘We need details. Goodnight.’ Killing them is never going to be a crime.
His hands barely touched the knob, he heard a fight going on inside.
‘—mine’, he heard Weasley.
‘No, mine!’ Potter squealed.
‘Bloody hell yours. I claim it!’
‘Like I’d leave you!’
‘Yeah, fight me Harry.’
‘You’re in hopes I won’t do it.’ Potter said. Remind me again, why am I here? He thought. He didn’t know whether to get in now or after the fight subdued.
‘I’m your best friend Ron.’ Potter’s voice was hurt which did something in his heart. And that was why he turned the knob and opened the door just by crack which Potter and Weasley didn’t notice. They were on the verge of catching each other’s collar and he didn’t know what they were fighting for so early.
He pushed open the door full, Potter and Weasley stunned for a second and continuing their bickering. Draco walked to the green curtain bed, sat in the corner, watching them argue.
‘Ron! I came first, so I get to decide.’
‘You never mentioned it before we took off.’
‘But now I’ve said it!’ They were just speaking up and down, not giving a mind he’s there. What really is their problem! Five minutes and still they haven’t shut up, he wanted to hit them with a Langlock.
‘You in that bed Ron and I near the window.’ Potter grinned and Weasley scowled, making Potter grin wider ear to ear. Are they really mental! What is there in a bed near WINDOW? Potter jumped to his bed, Weasley groaned, throwing his hands up.
Draco did his night toilette, changed his pyjamas and locked his curtains. He didn’t know if he should put up a silencing charm or not, but decided to. When he drifted to sleep he didn’t hear their sound anymore.