Chapter Text
“Ron! Wake up!”
Ron squinted against the light hitting his eyes and jerked back. Hermione stood over him with fearful wide eyes while Harry and Ginny peered at him from the other side of his bed. They all looked gravely concerned.
Ron drew the covers closer to his body as the tingle of shivers made him shake. He looked down to see his shirt and the bed beneath him soaked with his own sweat.
“Are you all right, mate?” Harry asked.
Ron tried to find his voice, but it was nowhere to be found. He could tell he had been screaming; the strain of it still ached in his throat.
“What happened?” he finally managed to say.
Ginny shook her head, leaning closer to inspect her brother. “You were screaming for help.”
Hermione tenderly placed her hand on Ron’s forehead. "You almost knocked Harry out when he went to wake you up.”
Ron fell back on the mattress, trying to remember. But there were no images, no memories of what had come before waking up, only a slowly dissipating dread he couldn’t describe or place. Something terrifying had held tightly him in his sleep, but it was gone now, and all that remained was soaked sheets and his embarrassment at being discovered in such a state.
“Blimey, I must’ve looked mental. Sorry, mate,” Ron said to Harry.
Harry gave him a small smile. “S’all right. We’re just glad you’re awake now. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”
Ron shook his head. “No. And from the sounds of it, I don’t think I want to …”
They all gave him small smiles, but their eyes still held concern.
“Is everything all right up there?” Ron's mum bellowed from below.
“Yes, Mum, everything is fine,” Ginny called back.
“Good, then tell Ron it’s time to get his bum out of bed and get washed up for breakfast. You kids are going to be late, and that’s no way to start off a new school year!”
Ron rolled his eyes, “We’re of age now, and she’s calling us ‘kids’?”
“That’s never going to change, Ron. She still fusses at George about combing his hair,” Ginny said with resignation, turning to leave the room.
Hermione smiled down at him and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead. “You better do what she says.”
Harry smirked. “You've got about ten minutes.”
Ron nodded, watching them as they left.
“Bugger,” he grumbled, rising up from his sticky trundle to head off to the shower.
After breakfast, they all Floo’d to Diagon. There weren’t many books to purchase, but they all got new robes, courtesy of the Minister. They each were also rewarded with medals; Ron, Harry, and Hermione got Order of Merlin, First Class, which came with a nice cash reward—five hundred Galleons to be exact. His mother and father had forced Ron to put most of it away in savings, but he got to keep enough to buy himself a new broom for Quidditch, and new books— not the used fare he was accustomed to.
They gathered on Platform 9 ¾ with their classmates. They had done this every year except for last year, but this year the Slytherins and their parents were all standing very close to each other. A strange silence hovered over the Slytherins as they avoided making eye contact with their classmates, who cast wary looks in their direction. Everyone else seemed to be going about business as usual.
Almost all of Ron’s class, especially those in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw had returned, even those that had attended Hogwarts the previous year. It was decided that the curriculum and testing was invalid, disqualifying anyone who attended last year from passing their N.E.W.T. While students were given the option to make up the work at home, and come in for a sit in exam at the end of the year, most had decided to return.
Ron was happy to see Seamus, Dean, Hannah, Neville, had decided to come back and he, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna all congregated to greet each other and catch up, while the younger students wandered around reacquainting with old friends.
“I’m so glad you agreed to come back, Ron! For a moment there, I didn’t think you would,” Hermione said with a smile, squeezing his hand as they waited for the conductor to make the formal announcement about loading.
“Eh, yeah,” Ron said with a small smile. It was still surreal that Hermione was his girlfriend and he was returning to Platform 9 ¾ with her holding his hand. “I wouldn’t miss this year for anything. This is going to be our best year ever.”
“Yeah? And why’s that?” Harry asked.
“Think about it, Harry,” Ron said. “We’re war heroes, we’re of age, the oldest kids in the school. We can do anything we bloody well want. We’ll rule the school.”
Harry shook his head and sighed. “Ron, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. It’s going to be different. And there’s lots of mess to be tidied up.”
Hermione nodded in agreement. “Yes, on top of preparing for the N.E.W.T.s, we’re practically rebuilding the castle. I still can’t believe McGonagall appointed me to head up the Restoration project. It’s going to be a lot of work!”
Ron grinned at her. “You didn’t have to accept the position, you know … you could have easily been Head Girl this year.”
Hermione sighed. “I know, but … this seems more important, doesn’t it?”
Ron nodded. “Yeah, it does. And who else would be better for the job?”
Hermione blushed. “Yes, well, it won’t be easy. There’s more than just a castle to mend; there are a lot of memories at Hogwarts … and I’m sure people are still shaken up about everything that occurred there.”
Ginny nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. Last year, Hogwarts was a terrible place to be. I don’t suspect anyone will forget what happened there any time soon.”
Ron felt a flash of annoyance at Ginny’s remark. In fact, the whole conversation was taking a sombre turn that he disliked. All everyone talked about lately was the war and the dead. How was anyone supposed to get over it all when they kept bringing up bad stuff like that? Were they all supposed to remain in a perpetual state of grief? Sure, he and Ginny had both just lost a brother, but life went on! Ron wanted to spend this year trying to have a little fun after the hell they had just been through.
“What’s that supposed to mean, Gin?” he asked with irritation in his voice. "Just because last year was bad doesn’t mean this year will be too.”
Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand. “Ron, Ginny just means that for many students, this is going to be a difficult year. It may take some people years to get over what happened.”
“Yeah, well, not me,” Ron insisted. “I’m tired of crying and griping about what happened. Besides, Fred wouldn’t want us to spend the year moping about. He’d tell us get on with life and have some bloody fun!”
Hermione, Ginny and Harry exchanged uncomfortable glances, but Ron wasn’t going to stick around for this pity party. He quickly turned around to step onto the Hogwarts train with the three of them on his heels.
As he walked down the aisles, students greeted him with unusual enthusiasm and admiration. Ron puffed out his chest as he walked on, heading to the front. The way some of the students were staring up at him made him feel like a real leader. When they finally came to an empty car, Ron put his bags over the seat and sat down, joined by the other three. Soon the rest of the gang arrived: Luna, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. It felt good to be surrounded by friends who understood everything without having to talk about it. Everyone seemed to be excited about starting a new year and moving forward, and for the first time he could remember, Ron felt genuinely confident and comfortable in his skin.
They ordered loads of candy from the candy cart and drank plenty of pop as they laughed and speculated about who would be teaching Defence of the Dark Arts, Potions, and how their dormitory assignments would be arranged. Stuffed with food, Ron had to excuse himself for relief.
But there was someone in the front car’s loo. Ron could hardly hold it, so he quickly made his way down to the other end of the train towards the shabbier loo near the back where hardly anyone ever sat. Except for social outcasts.
However, before reaching that car, he had to pass through the Slytherin section. As Ron passed through, he looked around as nonchalantly as he could, but hardly anyone was looking back or talking. In fact, the entire Slytherin car was eerily silent, and there were many more empty seats than usual. Ron scanned the faces and noticed that Blaise Zabini was not present, nor was Pansy Parkinson. He had heard rumours that they may have transferred to other wizarding schools since their families had relocated after the war. Tracey Davis and Millicent Bustrode were sitting together, quiet and subdued, giving Ron cursory glances as he passed.
Finally, he reached the loser car where the usual suspects sat. The creepy Ravenclaw Shannon Buckley, who always kept his hands in his pockets like he was secretly wanking or something, Hufflepuff Chris Tellus, who held no shame in picking his boogers and wiping them on the nearest objects, and a small waif of a Gryffindor girl named Priscilla Moxley, who wasn’t particularly strange, just very socially awkward. Ron felt sorry for her; she sort of reminded him of Luna before they had all got to know her. He made brief eye contact with her, giving her a small smile and kept moving towards the back.
His mouth dropped open in surprise as the person in the next booth became apparent. Gregory Goyle’s large frame was slumped against the seat; he looked to be brooding with a frown on his face as he stared out the window. Ron felt a small twinge of irritation that the boy had received a full pardon because of his father’s so-called coercion. It was a pitiful excuse, one that Ron still didn’t think Goyle deserved. Slowly, the other boy's eyes met Ron’s and then returned to staring out the window as if he could care less. Thankful the bigger Slytherin didn’t seem interested in exchanging unpleasantries, Ron kept moving until he reached the last car.
He froze as his eyes laid on white blond hair— no longer slicked back but long, falling to just above the shoulder, some of it covering stone grey eyes. The pale, pointy-faced Ferret who, more than anyone else, Ron had wished to be sent to Azkaban, was staring out the train window as well. Malfoy quickly turned to look at Ron, his jaw set and his body stiff as if waiting for insult.
The invitation was so delicious. Ron had so much to say to the Ferret.
‘Hiya Malfoy. Boy aren’t you lucky Azkaban doesn’t have a kiddie detention center?’
Or maybe, 'Who did you come back to kill this year, Malfoy?’
Oh, that was a good one. Ron was about to deliver it with perfect calm coolness when laughter burst through the car door behind him.
“There he is! Told you!”
Ron turned to see Nott and two seventh years he recognised as Taylor and Harper coming up from behind him.
“What are doing in here, Malfoy? Hiding?” Nott asked.
“Can’t really blame you,” Harper chimed in. “We’re surprised you had the nerve to come back.”
Ron walked past Malfoy's seat as if moving towards the loo, but moved very slowly so he could hear the exchange. He glanced behind him to see Malfoy slowly turn his face towards his Slytherin housemates. The boy’s face was tight, his lips drawn into a thin line.
“What do you want, Nott? “
“I just came back here to see if it was true … if Draco Malfoy was really sitting in the loser section where he belongs.”
“Piss off,” Malfoy spat.
Nott withdrew his wand and moved forward. Ron turned around fully to observe.
Malfoy didn’t flinch at the sudden movement; in fact, he sat up straighter, pulling out his own wand and aiming it in front of himself defensively.
But Harper held Nott back, giving Malfoy a nasty smirk. “You’re in for a lonely year. We’ve all been waiting for you to take a fall, and now that you have, don’t expect anyone to help you up,” he said, twiddling his wand through his fingers.
Malfoy slid out of the booth, standing up in front of them. Ron felt glued to what was unfolding in front of him; he was suddenly grateful the other loo had been full. That was, until Malfoy turned around and glared at him.
“What are you looking at, Weasley?” Malfoy spat.
“Not much. Not much at all,” Ron sneered, rolling his eyes and shutting himself in the loo.
His nerves were tense, and he realised he too had physically been prepared for a duel or confrontation of some sort. Why, he didn’t know. Something about seeing Malfoy’s face again, that smug look—of all of his evil shenanigans and cowardice— made Ron want to smack the git. He almost wished Malfoy’s housemates would do it for him.
As he began to do his business, Ron closed his eyes, trying to shake off his annoyance with the Ferret and the past when something slammed into the door, hard. He jumped, finishing up, with his ear pressed against the door.
“Sod off, Nott!”
“Your entire family is a disgrace to pure-bloods,” Ron heard Nott say, “with your mother saving Potter’s life, and your father ratting out everyone who remained loyal so he could save his own arse.”
“And don’t forget, Potter testified that Malfoy here lied for him and his friends,” said Taylor.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. You really are a snake,” Nott said. “Aren’t you, Malfoy?”
The door shook again.
“Aren’t you?” Nott demanded.
There was no reply, just tense silence. Ron flinched as something hard struck the door, like someone’s head, and then he heard a pained groaned.
“Your dad is the reason my father received the Kiss, and I’m going to make sure you pay for that, Malfoy. All. Year. Long.”
Ron froze as a missed hex hit the door and then a cling that suggested another one had hit the train window. Ron moved closer to the door to press his ear against it, but jumped back as something slammed against the surface. He stood there in shock as the heavy thud of a body being pushed back against the door repeated again and again. There was a loud smacking sound of skin colliding with skin.
There was laughter and then another loud thump and a pained groan.
“And that’s just the start of things. Better get used to it,” Ron heard Nott say.
“Or he can always just run back home to mummy,” he heard Harper say.
There was more sniggering. Ron listened as their footsteps retreated.
Malfoy groaned again, and there was a creak as the body resting against the door pulled away. Slow shuffling dwindled into silence, leaving Ron staring in disbelief at the bathroom door.
The smug smirk he had always hated so much had finally been removed from the Ferret’s face. Draco Malfoy was no longer respected in his own House; he was a loser—less than a loser. He’d been beaten up by three Slytherins.
Ron’s heart swelled with vindication, and he could not contain the smile growing on his face.