•Harry•
It was the last day of summer vacation, an awfully good summer vacation at that. He had yet to spot Ron and Hermione walking down the paved street of Diagon Alley, despite their promises of meeting before the school start. He couldn't help but feel slightly deceived, even though he would see them on the train.
After eating a hearty breakfast at the leaky cauldron, he made his way to Quality Quidditch supplies to say his goodbyes to the Firebolt. The Firebolt that he had been looking at longingly ever since he first caught a glimpse of it. Still, he already had a decent broom, and the money he inherited from his parents was supposed to last at least four more years.
As he walked down the cobbled road, he spotted two familiar heads under one of Fortesque's ice-cream parlour. One flaming red, one very curly brown.
"Harry!" The, if possible, frecklier than usual Ron yelled. The chocolate ice-cream in his mouth now rolling down his chin.
"Ron, don't talk with food in your mouth." Hermione, even tanner than usual, said in an exasperated tone. She pinched her brow bone to show annoyance, but the corner of her mouth curled into a small but amused smile.
He had missed his friends, but hearing them talk about their trips abroad made him feel like they were in separate rooms. Him hearing them talk through a slightly ajar door. To them, staying in Diagon Alley over the summer would be far from exciting.
They talked about France and Egypt, him nodding and laughing at random intervals as if programmed. They started walking, still conversing. Harry barely participated, looking at street signs and the ground as he walked.
"Harry, did you really blow up your Aunt?" A question from Ron that derailed his train of thought.
"Huh? Oh yeah, didn't mean to though." He said in an awkward fashion, scratching his neck sheepishly. "Just sorta lost control."
His face felt warm and tense with shame, but he relaxed slightly as Ron doubled over laughing.
"It's not funny Ron. She could've gotten seriously injured, and either way Harry would've gotten in lots of trouble." Hermione scolded Ron, responsible as always. "I'm still surprised that the ministry let you off scot-free, Harry. Anyone else would've been expelled."
"Me too, I was sure they would arrest me." Ron laughed harder.
The three friends continued walking, laughing and talking about their summers. Ron showing his new wand, and Hermione her large bag of new books. Harry felt at home again between the shoulders of his two best friends.
Back at the leaky cauldron, he was greeted warmly by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. As he and Mr. Weasley discussed Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, Ron and Hermione squabbled in the background.
"I can't believe you bought that orange monster Hermione! After it tried to rip the hair out of my head and eat Scabbers!" Ron yelled, grasping his pet rat closely to his chest. "He's already ill! That cat's gonna be the end of him."
Hermione rolled her eyes at that, stroking the large orange fluffball in her arms.
"Don't be ridiculous Ron! Crookshanks was just scared, besides-"
Harry tuned them out.
***
After talking to all of the Weasleys and a wonderful dinner, Harry made his way up the stairs to his room. Full and content.
Two angry voices, familiar ones, interrupted his peace. He stopped to listen.
"...has to know Molly! A madman's trying to kill him for Merlin's sake!"
"Arthur he's thirteen! Telling Harry would terrify him, do you want him to be miserable?!"
"Of course not! But you and Fudge are treating him like a child, he needs to know that he's in danger." Mr. Weasley replied apprehensively. "Sirius Black is an extremely dangerous wizard, I can't imagine what could've happened if the Night bus didn't pick Harry up."
"He will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts. Do you really think it's a good idea to send him to school with that over his head?" Mrs. Weasley said, voice laced with worry. "Besides, no-ones sure that Black is actually after Harry."
"Molly, I've already told you-"
Harry had heard enough, and made his way up the rest of the stairs. He was curious about Black, but too tired to listen to people talking about him dying behind his back. Even though he wasn't scared, he felt a strange weight suddenly upon him. Admittedly, the thing he was worried about the most was that no-one would let him out of their sight now.
After all, he was Harry Potter. The boy who lived. The hero, who in reality was just an ordinary thirteen-year-old. This was the most painful of all, knowing that he wasn't famous for being him, he was famous for being lucky enough to survive. And now someone was trying to kill him, yet again. Never a moment of true calm.
Even more tired now, Harry got into bed and fell into a timeless sleep. Despite knowing full well that a maniac was trying to kill him.
•Draco•
"Draco, hurry up and get in the car. I have a very important meeting after dropping you off that I cannot miss. Understood?" His father sat in the front passenger seat, next to the driver. Draco's mother in the passenger seat behind him.
He did as he was told, sitting close, but not next to his mother. Draco's beautiful eagle-owl, Ulysses, sat in her cage between them. Giant orange eyes staring at him, the fierce ones of a bird of prey. Yet the warmest things in that car.
The drive to the station was mostly silent. The only sounds within the car were Ulysses' soft hooting, and the driver's leather gloves creaking quietly as he moved his hands against the steering wheel. The family car, a black, sleek one, was similar to those of the ministry. Except more expensive and shinier, something his father boasted about often.
Draco looked out the window, zoning out, careful not to lean on a particularly nasty bruise located on his right arm. He had made another mistake the morning before, spilling pumpkin juice on the silk table cloth. His cheek still stung as well, red and tender.
The station was full of muggles, and he could see the disdain in his fathers eyes. He looked down, not wanting to meet the eyes filled with such hatred. They made their way to the wall between platform 9 and 10, passing through it unnoticed.
Platform 9¾ was completely packed, more so than the muggle platforms. Shoulders and arms brushed against his own more often than he had hoped, making him inhale sharply in pain.
Before he saw Pansy or Blaise, even before Crabbe and Goyle whose large frames stuck out like a sore thumb, he saw Potter. He was talking to a man with balding, but still obviously red hair. Arthur Weasley, he presumed. It was difficult to tell from a distance.
"Behave this year Draco, and make sure to improve those grades of yours." His father suddenly said, in a low voice. He gripped Draco's shoulder in a seemingly affectionate way, that felt like it could break bone. "Or are you too stupid? You lost first place to a mudblood, after all."
"I will work harder, father." Draco said, looking anywhere but his father's eyes. Shivering from a sudden chill.
He stepped onto the red and black steam engine, bidding farewell to his parents, and glad to be gone from that house.
(AN)
I AM SO TERRIBLY SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING
SCHOOL HAS BEEN FIGURATIVELY KICKING MY ASS 😭
I WILL TRY TO UPDATE MORE REGULARLY, AS I HAVE MUCH PLANNED FOR THIS FANFIC!
(If only I had this kind of motivation to do my schoolwork...)
Thanks for reading, and putting up with my bs
/Alex
YOU ARE READING
Icicle Fingers (Drarry)
Fanfiction⚠️TW! Will contain topics and scenes of: Abuse/child abuse, self-harm, self-loathing, disordered eating, suicidal thoughts, swearing, violence, homophobia and internalised homophobia, quite extreme insults exchanged by Draco and Harry⚠️ Draco's life...
