Chapter 1
Eighth year was not off to a great start. Harry had barely just entered the compartment that he would be sharing with his best friends, Ron and Hermione, when he caught a flash of red outside and almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to duck out of sight.
He wasn’t very proud of the fact that he was hiding from his girlfriend, Ginny, especially when he was all too aware that he was only making things worse by putting off what he had already decided to do, but that didn’t mean that he was prepared to get things over and done with right that moment. He’d been hoping for a little more time to pluck up the courage, which was ridiculous considering just last year he’d defeated Lord Voldemort, and as a result won the wizarding war.
No matter how many dark wizards he’d bested, however, Harry was still just a teenage boy, having just turned eighteen. This meant that a conversation with his girlfriend about feelings was still something that he found to be just a little intimidating.
"Is she gone?" Harry asked, peeking out from behind Hermione.
"She's gone." Hermione sighed, turning a page of her book. "You really need to stop hiding from Ginny, you know."
"It's just that I don't want to hurt her." Harry said.
"Harry, you're hurting her more by avoiding her." Hermione pointed out.
“But-”
Harry was cut off from his protests by the door slamming open as Ginny stuck her head inside and promptly made her way inside when she spotted Harry. Hermione took one look around the compartment and dragged Ron away, closing the door softly behind her to give the unhappy couple some privacy.
"Harry, I've been trying to get a moment with you for I don't know how long." Ginny began. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but bloody hell, you didn’t have to make it so difficult for me to find you.”
Harry sucked in a breath and wiped his palms on his jeans, realising upon coming face to face with his distressed girlfriend what a horrible boyfriend he’d been. He had been using the excuse that he needed space to figure things out, but in hindsight, mentioning to Ginny that he needed some time would have been a much more decent approach than beginning to avoid her one day without any explanation whatsoever.
"I'm sorry.” Harry began. “I shouldn’t have-”
“No, I’m really sorry to interrupt, Harry, but I have to tell you something and I’m afraid that if I don’t do it now I won’t ever.”
Harry nodded in bewilderment.
“I love you, Harry, and I always will. But I think you and I both know that this relationship isn’t working. You’ve been distant ever since the war ended, and I’m not blaming you for that, because you went through so much, but I think it would be best if we broke up.”
Wow. Harry felt awful. It must have shown on his face as Ginny quickly continued.
“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, it wasn’t very nice of you to start ignoring me all of a sudden, but I get it. I really do. After you survive an entire war, it’s difficult to go back to a relationship that started back in school and pretend everything is normal, isn’t it? Things change.”
“I’m sorry.”
It was a pathetic response to the profound speech that Ginny had given him, but she seemed to understand. She smiled and offered him her hand.
“Friends?” She sounded uncertain for the first time since she began speaking.
“Friends.” Harry agreed, and took her hand in his own to shake. Her soft hand felt warm in his, and despite his certainty that their relationship simply wasn’t meant to be, he couldn’t help but feel sad to leave something so comforting and familiar behind.
Just as quickly as it started, the handshake ended, and the pair exchanged one last smile before Ginny got up and left the compartment.
Ron and Hermione returned soon after, and taking one look at Harry, they seemed to understand that he didn’t want them to make a fuss over the breakup. The three slid into their natural routines in a way that only people that had spent their entire lives together could. Harry stared out the window as he listened absentmindedly to Hermione and Ron bicker over something. It had turned dark out, which was a clear indicator that they were almost there. It felt almost surreal, to be back in the Hogwarts Express, in a compartment with Ron and Hermione, on their way to school. A lump formed in his throat when he thought of Hogwarts, where the war had taken place.
It was difficult to put into words how he felt about the school that he was returning to for one final year. On one hand, it was the place that had been his home, the one place that he felt accepted and loved, the place that he fought so hard to protect. At the same time, it was the place where countless people that he had known and loved died. Harry didn’t know if he was happy to be back or if he wanted to throw up.
To be completely honest, he reckoned it was a little bit of both.
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If he’d had mixed feelings about returning before, Harry now thoroughly regretted his decision to come back for his final year of education two weeks into the school year. Everything in Hogwarts reminded him of the people he'd lost.
The older students who had taken part in the war were noticeably wary, and the younger ones were either in awe or absolutely terrified to be there.
To make matters worse for Harry, no matter where he went, he attracted attention. People didn’t swarm him, especially with his old Gryffindor friends around to glare at whoever tried to approach him in excitement, but he could feel the stares wherever he went. He thought he would have gotten used to it by now, but it was difficult to deal with because he had grown more irritable after the war and found it hard to keep a hold on his temper.
It probably didn’t help that Harry was getting little to no sleep. If he thought he had it bad while he lived at Grimmauld Place, it was nothing compared to the nightly terrors that plagued him at Hogwarts.
Eventually, Harry went to seek out Madam Pomfrey for help, urged by a clearly concerned Hermione.
He certainly wasn’t expecting to find Malfoy there. A lot of the Slytherins hadn’t bothered to return to Hogwarts at all, and since he hadn’t caught a glimpse of that platinum blonde hair that he would recognize anywhere, Harry had simply assumed that Malfoy was one of the many that chose not to stay. In fact, he’d been bitterly wishing he’d taken a page out of Malfoy’s book, so it definitely came as a shock to stumble across the boy in the middle of the night in the hospital wing, of all places.
It took a moment for Harry to realise that Malfoy had pus-filled welts all over his back that were only just visible from the moonlight that streamed through the windows of the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was spreading some yellow paste on Malfoy's bare back.
"Uhm..." Harry cleared his throat, unsure of whether he should just go back to bed. After all, sleep deprivation seemed an insignificant problem in comparison to the obvious pain that Malfoy was in.
"What can I do for you, dear?" Madam Pomfrey asked, not looking up from tending to Malfoy. Harry jumped a little, but quickly regained composure as he reminded himself what he was here for. Thankfully, Malfoy’s face was turned away from him so he couldn’t possibly know that it was Harry standing there, seeing him in such a vulnerable state.
"Can I get something to help me sleep?" Harry asked quietly.
"Yes, dear, hold on. Could you do this for me while I find what you need? Just spread it gently on the welts." Madam Pomfrey handed Harry the little pot of medicine and bustled off to a medicine cabinet in the back room. Harry stood there for a moment, the tiny pot that smelled very strongly of herbs he didn’t recognise cradled in his hands. He knew that Malfoy would throw a fit if he realised Harry was the one helping him.
"Well hurry up, Potter."
How did he know it was Harry? And wasn’t he angry that Harry had seen him in this way?
Harry gingerly took a seat next to Malfoy, and was able to see the back of his neck glistening with beads of sweat, an indication of the pain that he was in. Harry glanced down at Malfoy’s back and decided this was no time for petty rivalries that were a thing of the past now.
"What happened?" Harry could help himself from asking as he started applying the paste. For a moment, Malfoy didn’t reply, and Harry wondered if he’d misjudged their relationship. But then Malfoy released a slow breath that Harry hadn’t noticed he’d been holding.
"You make a lot of enemies when you're the one who jeopardised the safety of the school." Malfoy replied bitterly.
Harry hadn't thought about that. He really hadn’t had the opportunity to really take notice, but he vaguely remembered the few Slytherins that had returned keeping to themselves and rarely making appearances in common areas that weren’t for lessons. It seemed that the Slytherin house as a whole were paying for the damage that Death Eaters had done, and from what Harry could see in front of him, Malfoy appeared to be getting the worst of it.
"Does this type of thing happen often?" Harry asked, wincing as he applied the paste on a particularly angry looking welt.
"Every day." Malfoy sighed.
"Merlin, Malfoy, how are you still alive?" Harry breathed.
"My amazing optimism, obviously."
At least he was feeling better enough to be sarcastic.
"I'm serious, Malfoy."
"Oh, so am I. It's not like I have welts spelling 'murderer' on my back."
Harry squinted in the dim light of the infirmary to find out he was right. Harry felt sick.
"You don't deserve all this. You didn't kill anyone, not really." Harry said quietly.
"And how would you know that, Potter? I'm the big bad Death Eater, remember? I could be plotting to murder you right now."
Harry was about to respond when Madam Pomfrey came back with his medicine and he had to head back. He glanced back at Malfoy who had gone very quiet.
Harry had thought that the two had mostly moved past their differences. Despite there being some tension from years of unresolved conflict, they had both been through things much bigger than them merely a year ago, and it was silly to hold grudges. They’d even just managed to have a civil conversation, but it reminded Harry that it was even sillier to assume that they could brush their past under a rug and pretend to be something that resembled friends.
He recalled Ginny’s words on the train earlier.
After a war, you couldn’t just go back to how it used to be and pretend everything was fine. Things changed.
But some things, apparently, never did.
Draco Malfoy refusing to accept Harry’s attempt to console him proved that they were never friends and would probably never be friends. It was the only constant in his life, and funnily enough, it was the first thing in Hogwarts that offered him any kind of sincere comfort.