I Understand

The Last Train There

Harry Potter was tired to say the least. This was the last train ride to Hogwarts he might ever be on, and he really didn't know how he was supposed to feel. So he just felt tired. It seemed like the only real thing he could feel currently anyway.

He was sitting next to Ron Weasley, who was listening to Hermione Granger ramble on and on about how going back to Hogwarts to finish schooling was a good idea. Harry wasn't really paying any attention, he had heard it all before.

"Don't you think so Harry?" Hermione turned to him.

"Er..." What was she talking about? "Yeah." He gave halfheartedly, hopefully she wouldn't notice he had tuned out a few minuets after they had left the station.

"Really mate? I'da thought you'd be against all the returning eighth years sharing dorms and classes. I mean wouldn't it be better to go to our own dorms? Try to do something normal?" Ron said a little shocked that Harry hadn't sided with him.

On this, Harry actually did think they should be a all together. Unity. Hadn't everyone lost people during the war? And everyone returning would have known each other for 7 years, they had lost friends together. Why not be there for each other? They could all understand what they had gone through because they did it together. Or at least that's what the muggle counselor had said.

Over the summer, Hermione has gone to talk to this old muggle women, who thankfully knew about the wizarding world. Then, when she said it was helping her, she encouraged the boys to do the same. She drug Harry and Ron to 5 meetings, and neither were too happy about it.

But eventually, Harry decided to talk. Well her more like got mad and yelled something along the lines of 'I deserve the pain but no one else should have to go through this, this is all my fault' and she finally got him to talk about it. And it did make him feel better, because now he knew what to say to people that had lost someone because of him. But he still felt it was his fault, he knew it was.

"Honestly, Ronald, it will be good to have us all in one place. Besides the normal dormitories are already going to be full since they have twice as many first years coming." Hermione said brushing her hair off of her shoulder.

This reminded Harry of the first time he was on this train. How nervous yet happy he felt riding to somewhere where the Dursleys could not get him. He was still nervous, but not happy. Harry hadn't been truly happy for quiet sometime. But he really didn't care anymore. He didn't care about much nowadays, only keeping himself alive until he can somehow pay back all the lives he had taken. All the people, the brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, everyone.

"Harry?" Hermione shook him out of his thoughts, "Harry, I said you should get your robes on, we'll be there in 10 minuets." She looked at him slightly concerned, Over the summer he tended to zone out, and she had hoped that the school would help him focus more, but she was still worried as any best friends should be. Thankfully she didn't mention it.

"Oh, yeah." Harry stood up and reached for his trunk. He silently got dressed and sat for the last few minuets of the last train ride to Hogwarts he would probably ever be on. He had already promised himself not to go to the Borrow for Christmas, too many memories.

~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy was nervous. But not for the reason most people would think. He was nervous because he would be seeing people again. He had spent the entire summer locked up in Malfoy Manor because he didn't want to see or talk to people. He was definitely worried about the stares and the immense about of bullying he was going to get, but he deserved it. He was nervous about having to talk, and worried he'd be hexed repeatedly.

There was a difference. A big one. At least that's how he saw it.

The only reason he was even going back was his mother. After his father was sentenced to life in Azkaban, he was all she had left, and he had shut her off. Thankfully he and is mother had gotten off with few reprimands. Many of the young Death Eaters had. But he still didn't talk to her, he kept her in the dark about what he was feeling. Not completely, but enough to make her see that her son would never be the same. As if she even knew her son at all.

The worst part about worrying and nervousness was the anxiety it stemmed from. Draco had suffered anxiety since 4th year, when Voldemort had truly returned. He just never mentioned it. Never talked about the sleepless nights, the nail biting, the ever present pit in his stomach. He didn't want to seem weak, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's are not weak.

He had coping mechanisms that helped to keep it from getting too bad, but during the last year, it had driven him over the ledge. Or at least the first ledge, one were he could almost climb up to where he had been before. It almost seemed to tease him... So close yet so far.

Draco sat alone, he had locked the small compartment and made it seem as if is was packed with trunks and bags. He really didn't want to be near anyone.

He had put on his robes as the train had left the station, and sat quietly looking out the window. He had never really looked at the view. It was peaceful, surreal, and green. And this was the second to last time he'd see it. Assuming he survived to see it on the way back.

He almost took out a sketch book and drew it, but decided that it was much more beautiful in real life.

One of the ways her had kept his anxiety at bay was drawing, and he was okay at it, though he never showed anyone. It would pose too many questions, and he hated questions.

'How are you?' was the worst.

He heard shuffling out in the hallway, and waited for most of the people to exit the train, then he undid his charms and walked out alone. He hadn't looked for his 'friends', he din't want them near him. They'd be the ones to ask questions.

This was the last time he'd step off this train onto the grounds. He had already decided he wouldn't go home for Christmas, it was always lonely now that no one visited. Not that those who visited before had been welcomed guests. Or guests at all.

It's now or never he thought tiredly, and he laughed humorlessly. He followed the sea of student to the carriages, and already got death glares. His right hand instinctively touched his left forearm, it was going to be a long year. The thestrals were as beautiful as he heard a Ravenclaw say a few years ago. Dark and thin, looking like death.

It was going to be a very long year.

Hopefully, he could survive it.