A Dance of Dragons and Angels

"Bloody madness," Ron whispered, watching the moving mass of students that milled around the Hogwarts platform.

It seemed even busier than usual - which honestly wasn't even that strange considering the school had not seven but eight years this time around - but maybe it was just Harry's interpretation. There obviously weren't as much students as there could have been. The price of lives that the war has costed was looming over them all as a painful memory.

Harry grinned lightly at his best friends, putting his hands away in the pockets of his jeans. A bonus of being an eighth year's was that they were allowed to wear normal Muggle clothing if they liked and he was terribly grateful for it. He'd be willing to wear just about anything instead of those dreadful long school robes with no easy accessible and supporting pockets.

"You're telling me." The comment was paired with a slightly raised eyebrow. He'd thought that, once the war was over and Voldemort was dead, he'd finally be able to get some rest and quiet, but now his life was busier than ever, everyone vying for his attention in one way or another. In the past months he had ended up running from adoring fans more times than he could count on his hands.

It was insane, the amount of people that wanted him to sign something or have him say something or wanted him to support their cause, just because of who he was and what he'd done. And then there was the Ministry of Magic, which was sending him letters and people and gifts all the time, just to get him to work for them. At first, they had wanted him to become Minister of Magic and when he had declined - because bloody hell, he was 18 for Merlin's sake - they had wanted him to join the Aurors. He could even be Head Auror if he wanted to.

As if that even was a normal, rational thing to do when you were still dealing with everything that happened just months ago and hadn't even finished school. No thank you.

No one truly seemed to understand that maybe, just maybe, after spending the first eleven years of his life being tormented by the Dursleys and the next seven fighting against the most powerful and evil wizard of all times, he just wanted some rest and a normal life now. Well, not no one, but merely just the majority of the Wizarding World.

Because saying that no one understood was a little harsh. Hermione and Ron did, Ginny too. Which probably was the reason she wasn't too upset when he had told her he didn't want to pick up their relationship where they had left it off because he needed some space to find out who he was without that pressure of the entire world on his shoulders.

Well, that, and the fact that he had realised he was gay.

"Come on, boys," Hermione said with a smile. "Let's catch a carriage before they all leave." To everyone's surprise, Hermione was the one that had relaxed most after the war. She hadn't changed, not at all, but she'd gotten calmer about stressful situations and had even left the occasional condescending tone behind her.

It was a miracle.

They hurried to a carriage, Harry ducking his head down in an attempt not to be seen. It was of no use of course, everyone had had their eyes on him from the second he'd exited the train, and they all watched him as he nearly ran to a carriage, whispering softly among themselves. They were nearly there when a loud voice suddenly called, "Hey, Harry!"

He braced himself for another round of awe and autographs, but luckily, it was only Neville, walking towards them with a bright smile.

Looking at how they had been in first year, Neville was the one who had changed the most, and in the best way possible too. If anything, he'd gone from total nerd and idiot to a brave, heroic and, Harry had to admit, quite a handsome lad. He still was Neville, of course, forgetful and awkward, but a lot of girls were whispering about him with giggles and red cheeks. Not that Neville ever noticed.