An Epic Love Story

1. Train to Hogwarts

Harry was sitting by himself in a compartment on the train back to Hogwarts.  He and the others had been contacted by Professor Mcgonagall, who wanted to know if they were interested in continuing their education.  Harry had of course, jumped at the chance.  Anything new that he could learn he would.  And he wasted no time in giving his answer.  He also learned from his head of house, that everyone who had survived the war, had also said that they would all return.  For this he was happy.  They were children that had been caught up in a war, that they never asked for.  And going back to some sort of normal was needed.

He knew that his friends, Ron and Hermoine were somewhere, probably snogging.  He was happy for them, but felt like a third wheel most of the time.  So when they disappeared to snog, he was grateful, even if it meant being alone.  He was used to it.  He had been alone most of the time after the war.  Everyone mourning those they had lost.  And if truth be told, he was all right with being left alone.  His whole life, from the age of eleven, he had been stared at, gossiped about, made fun of, adored and even hated.  So being alone was a welcome change.

He had cried almost every night.  Waking up in cold sweats, screaming out god knows what, he could never go back to sleep even if he tried.  He tried to stay busy during the day, so that when night time came, he would be exhausted.  He had been asked by the ministry to join in a few missions, and he had done so with a passion.  But thinking about it made his blood boil.  He also started a form of muggle martial arts, called Taekwondo, and was quite good at it.  He took to playing the guitar, and running every morning.  He had joined a gym, and was pleased with the results.  He was bigger, stronger, burlier, and had a lot more confidence than the boy who had left the battlefield almost a year ago.  Tanned, muscular, a small silver lip ring, an earring of a lightning bolt, and a tattoo running down his left side, stopping just under his ear, he wondered how the others had changed, and if they had even changed at all.

His thoughts turned to his friends.  Neville, the snake slayer.  The prophecy from Trelawney about the one being born at the end of July to vanquish the dark lord hadn't been heard by Voldemort.  And so no one else knew that the prophecy could have meant Neville, who was a pureblood.  Why then did he go after Harry, who was a halfblood.  Because Voldemort himself was a halfblood.  Bloody idiot, thought Harry.  At least it was over, and no one would have to know. 

Luna, his very special friend.  He was crazy about her.  She had a calmness about her, that could diffuse any situation.  Even when the other children would steal her stuff and hide them from her, she never got angry.  She just smiled, knowing that her stuff would show up sooner rather than later.  Dean and Seamus, two of his best friends.  Although in fifth year, Seamus had been an utter prick.  But he had apologized, and all was ok again.  He knew they were in a relationship, both being gay.  And he commended them for it.  He thought they were very brave.

Colin Creevy, who hadn't exactly been one of his best friends, but he had fought in the war.  He had also died in the war.  In his sixth year, when he had snuck into Hogwarts.  His belief in Harry was overwhelming.  Harry felt a sudden sadness, as he remembered the blond haired boy with his camera, always asking for an autograph.  Harry hating fame, had always refused.  But he had gone to his funeral, and had placed a photograph of himself with his signature on the tombstone as a parting gift.  It would be the only autograph that Harry would ever give.

Fred.  His death was the hardest.  Such a funny, fantastic, amazing human being, how could death have claimed him.  He had had a bright future ahead of him, but life was unfair, was it not? Harry was used to life giving him blows.  He just wished it would stop.  He wanted normal, and was prepared to stay out of trouble just to get it.  He knew that it wasn't his fault, but that didn't mean that he didn't blame himself.  Even if no one else did.  Guilt was such a terrible burden to bear, and because Voldemort was dead, who else was there to carry it.  Harry knew he had to.

Hearing his door opening, and having his thoughts interrupted, he turned so see his enemy standing in the doorway.  "Potter!", snarled Draco Malfoy.  Together with his cronies, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. 

"Malfoy", he snared back. 

"All by your lonesome self are you?", he sneered. 

"Shove off Malfoy', he growled. 

"Oooh, not very friendly are you?  Typical halfblood manners", he said back to Harry. 

Harry stood up, and glared at the boy standing in front of him.  Fury building, he looked straight into his eyes.  He thought he saw a flicker of sorrow, but dismissed it immediately.  Malfoy's couldn't feel sorrow.  They weren't capable of any feelings, not that he was aware of anyway.

Having had the last word, Draco smirked and left the compartment with his friends.  Harry sat back down, trying his best to calm down.  Why the stupid prat always felt the need to goad him, he would never know.  If this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of the year, he knew he was going to hate it.  Draco bloody Malfoy, coming back to Hogwarts to torment him.  He sighed and went back to his thoughts.  And they drifted to the Slytherin.

He knew that Draco had the dark mark.  He also knew that Draco had never wanted it.  He had been forced into it, to save his mother's life.  With that, he knew that Draco had it in him to be brave, but why in the hell would he choose to be an asshole?  A spoiled git that spewed hate and prejudice wherever he went?  These questions begged for answers.  But Harry wasn't going to waste his time looking for them.  Malfoy wasn't his problem.

Resting his head against the window, he closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.  It was filled with dreams about the war and the rubble, and the mayhem that had encased Hogwarts after the battle.  He saw how Voldemort had fallen, how he had gone to Dumbledore's office after the battle.  That was when the scene changed, and he saw his headmaster shaking a finger at him, yelling that everything was his fault.  Why didn't he do it sooner?  You stupid boy Harry!  He cried out that he was sorry.  So very very sorry.

"HARRY!" He woke up with a start, and looked into the eyes of his friend Hermoine.  She was shaking him, asking if he was all right.  He nodded yes, he was fine, just a bad dream, that's all.  And Merlin knows, he has those every day, so nothing funny there, right?  She sat back down next to Ron, having both come back when Harry had been asleep.  He must have been shouting in his dream for Hermoine to look shook up like she did.  "You sure you're all right Harry.  You were screaming", she asked softly.

Harry nodded again.  He didn't want to tell anyone about his dreams or his nightmares, because then they would laugh.  He was sure of it.  Ron looked worried, but smiled at Harry when he nodded.  Hermoine always being the worry wart of the three did not believe him, and would ask Harry again when they were alone.  When the train whistled, they knew that were at the station.  Thank Merlin, he needed fresh air, thought Harry.

He loved his friends dearly, but sometimes being alone, and away from them was a lifeline.  Like he welcomed it every opportunity he got.  Stepping onto the platform, he saw the familiar shape of Hagrid yelling for the first years to follow him.  Grabbing his trunk, he ran to Hagrid, and gave him a hug. 

He was glad to be back. 

He was happy, if only for a moment. 

He was home.