The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

19. With A Little Help From My Friends

The rest of the train journey passed surprisingly quickly after that. Mostly because Harry kept randomly bursting into laughter every time Goose looked at Draco. Which, unfortunately for Draco, happened often. At one point Goose climbed into Sloane's lap, peeked around her shoulder toward Draco, and chirped—

"Daddy angry."

Harry nearly choked to death on a Chocolate Frog. Draco threatened murder at least four separate times. Eventually though, the chaos settled into something calmer.

Warm. Comfortable.

Outside the compartment windows the Scottish countryside rolled endlessly past beneath darkening skies while the Hogwarts Express thundered steadily northward toward the castle.

Inside, conversations drifted naturally between them.

Sloane and Hermione quickly disappeared into discussions about classes, timetables, coursework expectations, and how exactly they were supposed to fit their new responsibilities around their NEWT schedules.

Hermione already had parchment spread across the table. Of course she did. "You realise," she said while scribbling notes furiously, "that if we organise tutoring blocks efficiently, we can probably create rotating schedules rather than fixed sessions."

Harry stared at her blankly. "We've had these jobs for less than an hour."

"Yes, and preparation is important."

"You're terrifying."

Hermione ignored him completely. "We'll also need sign-up sheets," she continued thoughtfully. "And subject categories. Oh — and perhaps private revision groups before exams."

Sloane leaned over curiously. "You've already planned half the year, haven't you?"

"Not yet," Hermione admitted. "But I have ideas."

"That sentence alone frightens me," Draco muttered from across the compartment.

Truthfully though, the more Harry thought about the arrangement, the more he realised he genuinely loved the idea. Private tower. Private bedrooms. Smaller common spaces. Less noise. Less staring. Less people. He hadn't realised how exhausted he'd become from constantly existing around crowds until now.

The Gryffindor common room had always been chaotic, but after the war it felt different somehow. Louder. Smaller. Everyone constantly watching him without meaning to. Watching to make sure Harry Potter was alright. Watching to see if he'd wake screaming again. Watching to see if he looked sad. Sometimes he physically couldn't breathe in there anymore.

And trying to study had become nearly impossible. Half the time he and Hermione ended up escaping to the library just to find a seat somewhere quiet enough to think.

Which would have been fine—

If not for Madam Pince.

Harry swore the woman could hear breathing too loudly from three floors away.

"You know," he muttered thoughtfully while stealing another sweet from the giant bag Sloane bought, "not having to patrol corridors at night is actually brilliant."

Hermione nodded immediately. "That alone makes these positions better than Prefect duties."

"No wandering around freezing corridors at midnight," Harry continued happily. "No trying to catch first years snogging behind suits of armour."

Draco looked horrified. "Was that actually part of the job?"

"You'd be amazed how many people try to kiss in terrible locations," Hermione sighed.