Hermione tells him that Paris was fantastic. That it always is. Harry is content to lean against her and just listen. He feels a foreign sense of contentment begin to settle beneath his skin and finds himself tentatively looking forward to Hogwarts. It's an odd thought, considering how bleak he's been feeling about everything.

"I'm serious Harry, you really would have loved that book shop,' Hermione says before diving into an animated description of it. Harry is too busy trying to Dodge Hermione's wild hair to register anything beyond 'it's really charming' and 'the guy that helped me was so nice." Harry thinks that if Hermione is telling him about the staff and not the books that guy must have been extremely nice.

He imagines what it would be like having this conversation in the Gryffindor common room, how Lavender would and Parvati would badger Hermione for details about the book shop guy and Ron would wrinkle his nose. He's excited for all his friends to be in the one place again. He feels so emotionally wrung out that he physically aches but there's tentative feeling of hope bubbling in his stomach.

Unfortunately, Malfoy comes down and effectively breaks the peaceful spell that he had settled into. He seems off balance, walking with a kind of un-even purpose. Like he starts walking, forgets where he's going, then remembers and speeds up because he's frustrated at himself for forgetting where he was going.

When he sees Harry and Hermione on the couch he strops abruptly, face twisting into an ugly sneer. "How cosy, tell me Potter how desperate does one need to be to go from a badger to a mudblood." He remarks.

Despite the unpleasant wording Harry instantly know who Malfoy is referring to. The reminder of Cedric makes Harry's brain stick for a couple of seconds. After spending so much time avoiding the thought of him it was like last night opened the floodgates.

Once he manages to push away thoughts of shaggy hair and warm smiles Harry finds the presence of mind to concentrate on Malfoy. He looks hollowed out, dishevelled hair, purple ringed eyes. Harry's reminded of the way he felt 2 weeks in to his stay at the Dursleys. How the horrors of the Triwizard tournament had been heavy on his mind. How it felt like he was wasting away in Dudley's second bedroom. Malfoy looks like somebody who has spent far too long alone with his own misery.

Malfoy reminds Harry of an over blown balloon. Taunt and stiff, stretched too far, like all Harry would need to do was exhale and Malfoy might burst. Harry's always been a glutton for chaos and thinks two years ago he would've done a lot more that exhale. Instead, he leans his head back on Hermione's shoulder and closes his eyes.

"Do you take pride in your ability to diminish people. Does it honestly bring you joy? Or has your family brainwashed you so much that you think you think people are so small you can sum them up in a single hateful word." Harry's eyes fly open, of the two of them Hermione's usually the level headed one, clearly the worlds turned upside down.

Despite Harry's prediction Malfoy doesn't burst, if anything he seems to tense more.

"Don't you talk about my family." Malfoy snaps. Harry winces at that, it's probably too early in the morning for Hermione to be trying to change Malfoy's entire world, especially considering it's probably a bit of a raw nerve right now.

"Yes, because your family is so-'

Malfoy balls up his fists and leaves the room, evidently finished with his conversation.

Harry spends a little while watching his retreating figure. He has a bizarre urge to chase after him, put his hand on his shoulder. It takes a while for him to drag his gaze back to Hermione.

Harry could comment but he doesn't. When Hermione gets like this, intense, scary, it means that what she's talking about is important. He doesn't really know what to do about it. Maybe this is what Hermione meant, about the wanting to help but not knowing how.

Next down the stairs is Ron and for a second Harry is worried that he's going to be difficult about Hermione and Harry.

He knows it's hard for Ron sometimes, that going through life with so little whilst everybody had so much made him possessive. He tries not to begrudge Ron too much when he lets insecurity get the best of him, Harry has been prone to do that to, but he just wishes that things could be easier.

He wishes that everyone hadn't been hurt so much, that there weren't so many raw nerves. That it was enough to just love each other and know that other people loved us without letting all these hurt feelings get in the way.

Maybe, it's not as bad as all that, Ron just smiles when he sees them and comes to sit down with Harry. "You look like you're feeling better mate," he says laying a hand on Harry's foot.

There's still a lot between them that they need to talk about, but Harry thinks just for this morning at least they can enjoy each other's company without touching the cavern between them.

"Yeah Ron, I'm feeling okay. How are you?"

Ron smiles again, "Glad to see you. It's been really weird not having you around." Ron curls into the space next to Harry so Harry is squished between him and Hermione. "We wanted to write to you but Dumbledore," Hermione must give Ron a look because his eyes go wide, and he abruptly stops talking. Harry's grateful that they're not pursuing this subject. They will need to. It will be painful. Right now, he's just glad to be with them. Plus, he finds Ron's face kind of comical so instead of being angry he laughs, bright and clear.

They all grin.

"So, what's it been like sharing a house with Malfoy?" Harry asks, he doesn't really know what response he expects. Something about Malfoy now seems, unpredictable.

Ron snort "Which one, because honestly Malfoy isn't half as bad as his mother."

Harry kind of forgot that Narcissa was here too. The last time he saw he was, in an interesting frame of mind, he was telling her husband died so he doesn't know much about her or what to expect from her.

"How so?" Harry asks.

Ron shrugs, "the women's madder than mum. She's all 'you need to fix the house up, you need to get your priorities straight' except she talks like she's not human. She rips into Sirius like there's no tomorrow, honestly I think everyone in this house is scared of her."

Hermione snorts. "Narcissa isn't that bad its Sirius that's always provoking her. I don't think this house has been very good for Sirius. This house isn't a very good place for anyone really. I think everything feels very, stagnant and nobody is sure how to help it. It doesn't help that the ministry is refusing to believe that there's a threat and Voldemort hasn't done anything and well, we've done an awful lot of nothing this summer."

Harry can relate to the frustration of nothing getting done. He kind of really wants to meet Narcissa now. He wonders what she's like, if a woman who married Lucius and produced Malfoy could be anything but unbearable. She'd seemed, fierce when he met her, which doesn't really fit with the picture that's been created in his head from meeting her family and knowing her history.

Hermione grins a little, "I think Molly really likes Narcissa, but she's conflicted because, obvious reasons, I think the feeling is mutual. It's made for some rather, unique interactions."

Ron grumbles a little at this, something along the lines of 'why would anybody like her," but harry has learnt not to put much stock in Ron's knee jerk reactions, he very rarely hates people for sustained periods of time. Take Hermione for instance. Although Malfoy was a bit of an exception, but he might be an exception more than a rule. He just makes it really easy to dislike him.

The day slips by in a sleep addled haze. The collective warmth that Ron and Hermione generate either side of harry have a soporific effect and harry drifts in and out in a pleasant doze. When Harry is at the Dursleys this is what he misses more than anything. There isn't anywhere in the world where harry feels as safe and warm as he doesn't amongst his friends.

Sometimes Parvati complains about needing to share a bed with her sister when she travels with her sister. Harry feels sad that he doesn't get that closeness. He can imagine that the novelty of closeness might wear off, Ron would probably snore, and Hermione seems like the restless type, but at the moment it's new and exciting and Harry never wants to give it up.

Harry is vaguely aware of Hermione pulling a book out, a soft thrum in the air tell Harry she's using a levitating charm to hover the book in front of her face. Harry thinks she's doing this, so she doesn't disturb him, he feels touched but he also feels too heavy to do anything other than grin faintly.

At some point Ron leaves to get food. Harry only knows because of the sudden absence of heat but he can fill in the food thing for himself. Ron's predictable. Harry likes that.

Harry wakes up later than he ever has before. He tries to fight the instinct to get up. He's so tired, but there's so much noise in the house it's too much for him. Harry never feels safe when he can hear other people in other rooms. Not only is the noise just irritating he feels like he's missing out on something important. He tries to convince himself it doesn't matter that Mrs Weasley is up and yelling about something, that he doesn't need to address the fact that Sirius and Narcissa are going at each other in the room next door

Harry tries very hard to sit still but when he hears something break in the next room the harsh clattering sound has him snapping awake. He winces so violently that Hermione's book falls out of the air and somehow her hair ends up in his face.

After Harry manages to untangle himself Hermione and they spend a few minutes just blinking at each other as the volume of adults yelling builds and keeps building.

Harry just woke up and he already has a head ache.

After spending a bit more time paralysed by inaction, Hermione eventually unfolds herself from the couch and Harry follows her into the kitchen. There Mrs Weasley is moving so fast she could be a niffler. She's oscillating between casting various cleaning spells and yelling at Fred and George, the apparent culprits of the teacup smashing.

Harry doesn't like yelling. You probably wouldn't know, considering how much he does it, but when lots of people yell it makes him feel jittery and on edge. Really any kind of raised voice grates on his nerves. It's like the sound is a tangible force that's locking him in and the louder it is the harder it pushes against him.

There are a lot of people in the kitchen and a lot of them are yelling. It makes Harry want to spin on his heal and run the other way.

He wonders if hiding behind Hermione is more or less cowardly.

Over Hermione's shoulder, He notices that there are a few order members hanging around the table and figures it must be around lunch time. He scans over the bubbly gum pink hair of Nymphodora Tonks and the weary face of Professor, deliberately skips over the disdainful glower of Professor Snape, before his eyes rest of the unusual image of Sirius and Narcissa Malfoy locked into a somewhat stilted conversation.

He makes his way over to where they're chatting, wincing as Mrs Weasley's yelling increases in volume.

As he gets closer to the end of the of the table, he notices that Tracey is also participating in the conversation, looking a lot less put out than the rest of them. Much to his amusement, Malfoy is seated next to Narcissa, looking like a scolded puppy.

He takes an open spot next to Sirius, trying to be inconspicuous but going by Malfoy's glare, failing miserably. Sirius breaks his conversation with Narcissa to turn to Harry, "I would say good morning, but I think it's a little late for that."

Harry wrinkles his nose at this. He doesn't like waking up late, especially not when there are other people in the house, it makes him feel overexposed.

Tracey laughs, "You should annoy Harry more Sirius, he's cute when he's annoyed."

Harry ducks his head at this, face heating. "am not."

"Eloqeunt as ever, potter." Malfoy sneers.

Petulantly, Harry sneers right back at him.

Malfoy looks as if he's going to say something else but Narcissa arch's her eyebrow pointedly and he settles for narrowing his eyes disdainfully.

"Ugh, I take it back Sirius that sneer was ghastly under no circumstances should encourage it."

Harry would appreciate it if Tracey could refrain from embarrassing in front of- well really embarrassing ever.

Narcissa runs her eyes over Harry with an inscrutable impression. "I would like to thank you, Mr Potter, for what you did for my family. We have done little to curry your favour, and yet you still took it upon yourself to protect us. For that, we are in your debt."

Narcissa speaks with and odd stiffness to her voice, like she's saying something she doesn't want to but also as if she would never say anything she didn't want to. Malfoy's expression has gone stony, as if he's swallowed something very sour but is too polite to let in show on his face.

Harry ducks his head awkwardly. He thinks he should say something but 'you're welcome' seems a bit insensitive. He looks to Sirius for answers, but he seems equally as uncomfortable as Harry.

Suddenly, Harry's struck with the memory of green light against Lucius' skin, and Narcissa Malfoy's blurry face. "I-I I'm sorry I couldn't have done more." Harry clenches his fist against as a sharp ache blooms in his chest. "Thank you, for returning me to the castle, that was, you could've, other people might not have been so decent."

Narcissa raises an eyebrow at this and Harry desperately tamps down the urge to flee.

She turns to Sirius and says, "He isn't at all what I was expecting," before excusing herself and leaving with no elaboration.

Malfoy trails after her like a lost puppy.

The end of the Summer passes in a blur

Mrs Weasley fills their days with false cheer and menial tasks. Harry fills his nights catching up on as much as possible, even if some of it hurts to hear.

Apparently, the prophet has been less than kind to harry. Hermione informs him that they've been likening him to a lunatic and a pathological liar.

Ron Hermione and he spent a night laying on a carpet of daily prophet's combing through articles before chucking them into the fire. It was strangely cathartic but it erase what had been written.

He had dreams of second year. Of being 12 years old and wandering the halls of Hogwarts. The halls hadn't been filled with people, but there had been loud chattering echoes through through-out the castle. Accusations of being the Slytherin's heir materialised on his skin before sinking beneath it. He saw a murderous version of himself wandering around in people's heads.

There was a constant sense of foreboding resting beneath his skin, some mornings it felt so intense he thought he might choke on it. It was only the company of his friends and Tracey's visits that kept him going.

However, Mrs Weasley's chores become arduous and as her fervour increases, Tracey's visits dwindle. Harry doesn't blame her, Mrs Weasley has been driving Harry a little mad. Although when he realises school is only in two days and he hasn't seen her for a week, he realises that he misses her desperately. The unhelpful part of his brain whispers that he misses her updates of Blaise, more than that he misses Blaise himself.

He goes to write him a hundred times, but it always feels weird. He's halted by thoughts of 'I'm going to see him soon," 'we haven't been apart more than a week." It's like an itch that he's not supposed to scratch but wants to desperately. Harry thinks the level of dependency he's developed is a bit a sickening.

His days are often punctuated with stilted interactions with Malfoy. It's odd because they'll see each other in the hallway, on the stairs, at dinner and there would be a pause where there would once be insults. Neither of them really knows what to with each other. Sometimes, Harry sees his stupid blonde hair and almost insults him on impulse, but then he'll start walking his new odd walk, or he'll be scolded by his mother, or he'll look at Harry will forget what he was going to say.

He doesn't know what to do with this demure version of Malfoy. It's like seeing someone with a haircut, a new outfit and a tan, he's still obviously Malfoy but his brain keeps sticking on the differences.

It doesn't matter much, soon they'll be at Hogwarts and they'll be sitting at their house tables on opposite sides of the great hall.

The day before school starts he receives a message from Blaise, just checking in, he holds it to his chest for an embarrassingly long time.