Scared Potter? (Sequel - a Drarry Fanfiction)

Chapter 9 - Midsummer madness

Harry was happy to leave only a few minutes after Malfoy had entered the three broomsticks. Everyone was eyeballing him. People were laughing, gossiping, pointing out the obvious. His friends seemed a little shocked that he'd lost a fist fight with Draco Malfoy - even though Harry never agreed on it ever happening - yet they were supportive as always. Once Harry asked if they could leave, they all packed up and left, all agreeing on celebrating the rest of the evening in the Gryffindor common room until it would be time for them to go to bed.

The following weeks went fast - easy even - and Harry's bruises had mend in no time. He decided to take his mind of his mistakes (and dreams) by studying extra hard for his OWL's. Once the first week of June arrived, they started off with the Charms exam on Monday. Harry did pretty good, to his thought. He'd certainly been a lot better than Malfoy. It was hard, exhausting and scary, but of course the first exam was promised to be nerve wrecking. It was a whole new experience. The others were a lot less depleting, although still rather hard. Tuesday was followed by Transfiguration, Wednesday Herbology, Thursday Defence Against The Dark Arts (nailed that for sure) and Friday Ancient Runes (boring and possibly bad). They had a short two days of rest - only to be filled by more studying - before part two of hell began. They weren't done yet. There were another seven exams to be taken - orally, on paper and practice. Ron and Harry claimed this had to be the hardest year of them all - even though they had another two years coming.

The next week was followed by Potions on Monday, Care Of Magical Creatures on Tuesday, Astronomy on Wednesday, Divination on Wednesday (yay), Arithmancy on Wednesday (is it still Wednesday?), History Of Magic on Thursday (oh okay). Muggle studies was left on Friday.

They all survived, though some of them barely.

Summer.

Harry was bound to spend one last summer at the Drusley's (at least) before he could sneak off elsewhere. As soon as he would turn eighteen he'd make sure to find a place of his own. He couldn't stay here. Not much longer - although it had become more bearable over the years. The Dursley's were terrified of him and it was a huge advantage. Besides, this year Dudley went off to Spain with a couple of friends for at least two weeks, giving Harry some air (considering Vernon and Petunia went away for a weekend as well, visiting friends in the high lands). Harry took this opportunity to lay on the couch in his joggers, showered by muggle (and non muggle) food while he watched stupid shows about celebrities and vulgar cartoons missing PG warnings. Ron had tried using a phone again, shouting in the mic (again), and possibly caused damage to Harry's ears. He was happy to hear he'd been left alone for some days and told him he and his family were having a blast in Romania. If it wasn't for them being away, Harry would've spend most of his summer at their house for sure. Luckily, this time, staying at Privet Drive wasn't a total bust.

Hermione called too. She was having a great time in France and told him she missed him very much. They talked about Ron, brought up memories, and couldn't wait for school to start again (even though they'd just finished their year). They laughed together while Harry went through different channels on the television, explaining what he saw, and wondered if French television was any different. It was strange, talking on the phone like this, making him almost feel like a normal teenager.

"But you are a teenager," Hermione had said, chuckling at his words.

"Well, yeah. But- You get it, don't you?"

Harry wondered if he would ever go to France.

*

It was close to August now (closer to his birthday). Dudley was about to return from his holiday and Petunia wouldn't shut up about how much she'd missed her son. Harry obviously didn't. He hoped he would've stayed another month or two - if just until Harry could leave this place again. Now he was no longer distracted by muggle television and endless talks on the phone with Hermione, he was bound to lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling - going through what happened to him in March, over and over again. He brushed his index finger along his forehead, down to the bridge of his nose, to eventually rest it on his top lip. He kissed it, closing his eyes before he drew his finger down to his bottom lip - inhaling sharply before he turned to his side. Malfoy.

He hadn't been on his mind even since he'd gotten here. Why, now he had the time, did his mind decide to trail off to him? He bit hit lower lip now, firmly, and got up. He swung his legs around the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the floor with a bang, and hissed once he remembered the Dursley's were home again. Vernon didn't like it when he made noise. In fact, he didn't like Harry in general.

Once he managed to get permission to use the Dursley's phone after dinner, he called Hermione once more with a low voice. They hadn't spoken for a while, so Hermione figured they'd come home.

"Is it bearable?"

"Yeah, yeah. How is-"

Vernon growled, startling Harry for a second, until he realized he'd been choking on an after-dinner biscuit.

"-How's France?"

"Brilliant, still. We are going home soon, though. Mom and dad want to join me when I go to London. I still have a few things I have to buy at Diagon Alley. Besides, Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"Cool," Harry tried to sound interested. "Hey, do you happen to know where-"

He was cut off.

"Will I see you there, the weekend before?"

"Huh," Harry muttered as he clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could pull off a nail. "Yeah yeah. Of course. He, Hermione. Do you-" he grabbed the phone to hold it closer to his mouth and ear, "do you happen to know where the Malfoy Manor is located?"

"Wiltshire. I remember reading about it in the Daily Prophet. Why though?"

Shit.

"Eh," Harry stammered, realising he was bleeding too. "No reason. I thought I read something about the estate in the History of Magic, sixths year's. Must have been mistaken."

Hermione spoke, probably suspicious of his answer, yet Harry couldn't hear it over Dudley bursting in the room. Petunia shrieked with Joy while Vernon clapped his clumpy hands together. "My boy!"

Harry clenched his jaw, clutching the phone before he realised he had to cut off. He didn't feel like listening to his bullshit stories (and probable whining about his flight).

"Fuck, I've got to go, Hermione. Talk to you soon, okay?"

He didn't wait for Hermione to answer. He simply threw the horn and grabbed a glass of soda before he tried to sneak back upstairs.

Wiltshire. Good to know.

It was a day before he'd promised to meet up at the Weasleys house - two days before his birthday. Devon was about a four hour drive with the train from East London. It would've been polite to be brought by car, but Vernon would never suggest and Arthur's car was still vibing with the forgotten creatures in the Forbidden Forest. Arthur suggested apparation, since he had a licence, but considering his last experience (just a week ago, with Professor Dumbledore asking him to win over Slughorn's heart) he decided he'd pass. Fred and George suggested they could pick him up with their broom - switching along the way - yet Harry knew his balls wouldn't be able to survive such a dreadful trip either. Besides, a broom wouldn't nearly go as fast as a muggle train. Not with the weather rapidly changing. It was English weather after all.

Funnily enough Harry was already sitting in the train. With his luggage already being send to Devon, he was holding just a backpack on his lap as he drove along the galloping hills of west-England. He was in the train to Swindon, a fifty minute ride before he'd hop onto a bus, another fifty-five minute drive and a few minutes walk before he'd arrive at a long gravel road leading to a big, hauntingly beautiful manor.

This was it. Wiltshire. Malfoy Manor.