Coming Home

The rest of their stay goes by in a blur, and Draco finds himself being able to relax more and more as he warms up to the family environment of the Weasley house. He plays games when invited, goes on walks when asked, and finds himself engaging more and more in conversation as the family directs questions or comments his way.

Ginny stays to herself for the majority of the time, refusing to make eye contact with Draco or Harry, but Draco understands, not letting her behavior affect his good mood.

“And that should be all of it.” Harry says, standing up from zipping his bag and clapping his hands together.

Draco smiles at him, looping the strap of his own back over his shoulder as he stands up.
“Ready to go then?” He asks, crossing the room in three large strides and setting his hand on Harry’s upper arm.

Harry nods, smiling back at Draco before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against his cheek before they walk out of the bedroom, heading towards the front door. The entirety of the Weasley family stands near the door, smiling at the boys as they approach.

They all tell each other goodbye, embracing as they do, and to Draco’s surprise, he’s included in this. He moves with an arm awkwardly extended as he goes from person to person, hugging them as Harry does before him.

“We did so enjoy your company.” Molly whispers to him at the end of the line, holding him close for just a moment longer. “I’m very glad Harry has you.”
Draco smiles at her genuinely as he steps back, squeezing her shoulder with his hand once as he bows his head.

Harry smiles as he loops an arm around Draco’s waist, and the pair make their way back towards the train station.
“Well?” Harry asks as they walk. “You survived a weekend at the Weasley’s, what did you think?”

Draco laughs lowly, shaking his head.
“I think they are much better people than I’d ever given them credit for.” He says softly. “I think most people are better people than I’ve given them credit for.”

Harry’s thumb runs along Draco’s side reassuringly as they continue walking.
“That’s not entirely your fault, you know.” Harry answers. “You were raised to be that way, raised to look down on those who weren’t raised like you.”

Draco nods, swallowing hard.

“I don’t think you’re that way anymore.” Harry continues. “I think you’re just—you’re Draco. You are sweet and kind and helpful. You worry about others, and you just want things to be… better.”
Draco risks a sideways glance at Harry as they approach the station. Harry just smiles a soft smile in return, not dropping his arm from Draco’s body, even as more people begin to fill the street around them.

Draco just nuzzles closer as they step into the station, watching as Harry’s smile only widens. They present their tickets and find their seats, still sitting as close as they can, Harry’s arm never leaving Draco’s body.

The train surges towards Hogsmeade, and the boys slip into easy conversation as the train chugs along on the rails. A large covering of clouds blocks out the sun as they ride through the countryside, and Harry feels his chest tighten from the sudden darkness.

His breath hitches in his throat as he remembers the icy fingers of the Dementors, the cold emptiness of their breath on his skin, the hollow sorrow in the air as they descend.

Draco notices as a shiver runs down Harry’s spine, his hand suddenly clenching against Draco’s side as his face pales slightly. He stands, reaching for his bag and unzipping it before pulling a grey jumper out and sitting back beside Harry.

“Cold?” He asks, causing Harry to blink rapidly, turning his head to look at Draco. “Here, put this on.”
Draco helps Harry’s arms through his grey and dark green Quidditch jumper, running his fingertips along Harry’s cheek gently as he finishes buttoning the front of it.

Harry smiles, the cold seeming to dissipate instantly from the room, the warmth from Draco’s jumper and hand against his skin suddenly enough to reassure Harry that they are safe. Harry looks down at the Slytherin crest on his chest, running his finger along the careful stitching beneath it. Malfoy.

“Sorry, I know it isn’t really cool to wear another house’s stuff.” Draco says with a laugh.

Harry shakes his head, leaning over to rest it on Draco’s shoulder.
“I think it’s cool.” He says lowly, swearing he can feel Draco’s smile as he presses his lips to Harry’s forehead.

Harry runs his fingers over the fabric, feeling the soft knitted green and grey threads as he smiles to himself.
“Although, I never figured I’d be wearing Slytherin clothing.” Harry says with a low chuckle.

Draco laughs too, nodding his head.
“Never figured I’d see you wearing it.” He says, looping his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “But green might be your color.”

Harry laughs again, melting into Draco’s side, feeling the soft circles from Draco’s thumb on his upper arm.
“To be honest,” Draco says softly, “it’s the only piece of Hogwarts I kept.”

Harry sits up slightly, turning to look at him.
“Why’s that?” He asks, just as softly.

Draco exhales slightly, shifting in the seat.
“I didn’t want to remember any of it.” He says in a low tone. “None of it. Nothing good or bad.”

Harry nods, understanding exactly what he means.
“But as I was throwing things away after we moved, I pulled this sweater out.” He continues, his fingers trailing along the sleeve again. “And I thought about Quidditch, I thought about the first time I’d played, the first time you’d caught that bloody Snitch.”

Draco laughs, only causing Harry to laugh too.
“And for some reason, those were the memories I was okay with keeping.” Draco adds quietly.

Harry smiles, nuzzling back against Draco’s chest. Draco pulls him closer, smiling too as he buries his nose in Harry’s soft, brown hair.

The train eventually pulls into the station, and this time, neither boy dares to reach for the other’s hand as they leave, that unspoken heaviness around the school seeming to drive a small wedge between them as they walk down the familiar path away from the town. Something about telling everyone else about it just hasn’t felt… right yet, though neither one of them dares to admit it.

The pair stops at the tent first, dropping off their bags before they venture into the school. They hear the sounds of repairs as they walk into the building, the crashing of stone mixed with the uttering of spells echoing down the corridors as they walk.

Draco watches Harry walk, admiring the way he looks so at ease in the school, so at home. They walk towards the Great Hall, following the smell of dinner being cooked as they do. As they turn the corner, Draco realizes that Harry is still wearing his jumper.

“Harry?” Draco starts, calling for his attention to ask if he wants to take it off before they see anyone.

Harry turns, his eyes locking on Draco’s face with a smile. A loud crack sounds in the hallway around them, causing both of them to look up. A massive stone falls as they look up, neither boy having enough time to react as it plummets.

Harry watches in horror as it strikes Draco, a cloud of dust and debris swirling up around the rubble.
“Draco!” He calls rushing towards the rocks where Draco had been standing seconds before. “Draco!”

Harry falls to his knees, reaching for rocks and beginning to pull them away. He searches frantically, looking for any sign of Draco’s white-blonde hair, any scrap of his clothing, anything at all that tells him he’s still alive.

Hands clap onto Harry’s shoulders, pulling him away from the rubble as people pour into the hallway. He doesn’t hear them talking as they flood in, everyone pulling at the rocks in search of Draco.

“Harry.” A deep voice says, squeezing at his shoulders as they pull him to his feet, holding his body up against their own. “Harry, breathe.”
His head spins to face the voice, looking into Hagrid’s eyes.

“He’ll be alright.” Hagrid says, holding Harry tightly as Professor McGonagall raises the heaviest rock with a wave of her wand, finally revealing Draco’s limp form beneath.

Harry’s knees buckle as Madam Pomfrey instructs the people around them on how to move Draco to a safer location, Hagrid keeps him upright, holding him close as he murmurs words that fall on deaf ears to Harry.

Hagrid helps Harry to follow behind Draco’s form as it begins to float, several of his peers holding him up with a spell, moving agonizingly slowly as they transport him to the medical wing. Harry doesn’t feel Hagrid’s hands on his body, he doesn’t feel his feet on the ground as he walks.

All he hears is the sound of his own heart, beating wildly in his ears, drowning out anything else as he tries to remind himself to breathe.
They set Draco down on a bed, and Hagrid leads Harry to Draco’s side.

Draco’s eyes don’t open as Madam Pomfrey begins to look him over. Harry tries to ignore Draco’s too-pale skin.

He tries to ignore the way that some of his limbs bend in unnatural ways, twisting in angles that aren’t quite right. He tries to ignore the blood leaking from the cuts and scratches, leaking from Draco’s nose.

He tries most of all to ignore the way that Draco’s chest rises and falls, too irregularly, too infrequently.

Harry reaches for Draco, running a finger along his cheekbone gently.

“He’ll be alright.” Madam Pomfrey says, though her voice waivers slightly. “Wait outside, okay Harry?”
He hears the words, but they don’t register.

“Harry, we’re going to go.” Hagrid says quietly. “He’ll be alright.”

Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to Draco’s cheek softly, not caring who sees.
“Come back to me.” He whispers to Draco as a tear slips from Harry’s own eyes onto Draco’s pale skin.

He lets Hagrid lead him away as Madam Pomfrey pulls the curtains shut.