Uniform

Harry tapped his quill on his parchment, drawing a blank on what he should write for his opening sentence. Writing essays was never his forte, especially not when the assignment came from Snape. Hermione was able to write a three-foot-long essay in less than two hours, but unluckily for Harry, he never got that gift. Although, if you made him choose, he would take the skill of flying over being able to write an essay any day. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he leaned back against the headboard of his bed, absently chewing on the end of his quill. Suddenly, he heard the dormitory door swing open, and a loud, boisterous voice echoed within the four stone walls.

"I can't believe they let him back in! Don't they realise he's a filthy little traitor?" Harry looked up from the unwritten essay in his lap, and his quill gracefully fell to the side. He recognized the voice as Ron's, and because of the pitter-patter of footsteps, he knew there had to be at least two other boys with him.

"Ron, I think McGonagall knows what she's doing. He's a prat, but maybe he isn't as bad as you once thought." That was Dean, Harry deciphered, and he could guess that the last boy was Seamus. Sure enough, the boy's thick Irish accent soon resonated through the room.

"Bollocks! Malfoy's a langer, and he can't change that easily! Who knows what kind of banjaxed pranks the git is going to pull!"

Harry's eyes widened and his whole body froze. Malfoy. He was back? It couldn't be possible! There was no way that Malfoy was back at Hogwarts; it just wasn't plausible. Harry tried to rack his brain for the last thing he had heard of the boy, but he came up with nothing. Harry never doubted Malfoy was alive, he just had never really thought of what Malfoy had been doing all this time. Now his impulses drove him to come apart. He wanted to open the hangings around his bed and drill the boys for more information, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than just to be alone. Thinking of Malfoy made him angrier than he cared to be, and his whole body felt frozen from shock. Why would McGonagall ever let him back to Hogwarts? It was already well into November, their seventh year had already started, and Malfoy had no bloody right to come back. Harry knew that people could change, but he doubted that Malfoy could do anything of the sort.

Harry sighed in frustration and then realised that he had tuned out of the other boys' conversation long enough for them to have changed the subject. They were now talking about Hogsmeade, and it was evident that Malfoy was clearly not on their minds any longer.
For Harry, he could only think of the blond-haired git and the memory that plagued him more than any other. Closing his eyes, a flashback from the end of sixth year flooded the gates of his mind, and he found that he was clutching the bed sheets so tightly that his knuckles were white. Malfoy ruined everything. He had betrayed everyone at Hogwarts, practically killed Dumbledore, and led Death Eaters into Hogsmeade. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had always believed in a way that Malfoy might've strayed from his father's footsteps, but obviously, that hadn't been the case. Malfoy had become just like his father, and Harry didn't see any reason why he should be let back into Hogwarts.

Laughter from outside broke through his thoughts, and the next second, Harry found himself getting up from his bed and yanking his curtain hangings open. Ron turned around, his smile faltering a bit once he saw Harry.

"Hey mate," Ron said softly, his conversation with Seamus and Dean going on hold. The other two boys looked nervously over at Harry, the realisation that Harry had been there the entire time dawning on them. Harry glanced over, forcing his own smile.

"Hi," he said, grabbing his sweatshirt and hastily pulling it over his head. He knew that it was getting close to curfew, but he needed to go see the Headmistress as soon as possible. Bending over, he reached underneath his bed to grab his trainers and quickly slipped them onto his feet when he found them, not even bothering to tie the laces.

"Harry, where are you going?" asked Dean. As Harry looked up at the three boys sitting on Ron's bed, he shrugged.

"Out." His reply was swift and to the point, and before any one of them could stop him, he stepped out of the dormitory. He knew they wanted to stop him from doing something irrational, but he knew that he was the only one with the courage to do something real about Malfoy's return. They would all talk about how it was crap, but he would be the one to act upon it.
He stuck his hands into his pockets as he stormed down the hallway, walking down the same familiar path to the Headmistress' office. After saying the password, he didn't even fully wait for the staircase to reveal itself before he hopped on the stairs. Just before he opened the door, he heard a clamor of voices and paused. His hand was resting upon the wooden door, but he did not yet push. Leaning in more closely to the door, he tried to make out what the people inside were saying.

"You would be well advised to hold your tongue!" The loud voice was obviously McGonagall's, but Harry still had no idea who was with her. He could hear someone walking around inside the room, but as hard as he tried to listen, he couldn't distinguish the other voices. He pressed his ear right up against the door, hoping that maybe one of the people inside would begin to speak a little louder. What he wasn't counting on was the door swinging open from the weight of his body and finding himself under the intense stare of five people. Looking around the room, he saw Headmistress McGonagall standing behind her desk next to Remus Lupin. In front of them, Severus Snape and Kingsley Shaklebolt. A couple feet in front of him was Alastor Moody, who seemed to be the least surprised out of all of them. There was a thick silence in the room, and as Harry straightened himself out, he turned and looked at McGonagall.

"Headmistress, I'm sorry, but I was hoping that I could speak with you," he said quickly, trying not to turn and look at anyone else in the room. The older woman sighed and crossed her arms.
"Very well, Mister Potter, but it would do you well to wait." She raised her eyebrow and Harry found himself fidgeting.

"Yes, I know, but see, erm, the matter at hand is very urgent. And I must request that I speak with you soon." Everyone in the room paused, and glances were exchanged. It was then that Harry noticed the chair in front of McGonagall's desk was swaying back and forth, and it was chuckling?

"Oh, Potter, you have gotten even more eloquent." The long drawl sent shivers up Harry's spine, and he knew who was sitting in the chair.

"Malfoy." Harry snarled, his voice full of bitter hostility. Unconsciously, his hands curled up into fists, and his breaths were reduced to angry pants. Slowly, the chair spun around and Harry held his breath. The first glimpse he saw was of white-blond hair, and he felt as if the wind had gotten knocked out of him. Malfoy looked so different. He didn't think that anyone could look so old while only being seventeen, but the war did horrible things to one's youth.

"Ever observant, as well." Malfoy wasn't glaring at him, merely staring, as if he was amused. His legs were crossed, and he was dressed up in a lavish robe. It looked a bit too small for him, and it then dawned on Harry that Malfoy must've grown. Harry didn't want Malfoy to be taller than him, since he knew that the git would hold that over his head. Harry then realised that he was upset about something juvenile when he should've been demanding the blond boy's expulsion. It felt like an eternity before someone spoke, and Harry continued to glare at Malfoy.

"Harry, would you please wait outside for a moment? This shouldn't take much longer." Remus suggested softly, staring at Harry with care. Turning his head, Harry looked at Remus, and saw the other man's pleading smile. Sighing heavily, he slowly turned on his heel and retreated out of the room without another word.

As he stood outside, he let his finger idly trace back and forth across the cold stone wall. Thoughts raced through his head, but he tried not to let his thoughts get to him. He knew that he'd only get angry and now wasn't the time-- especially since the only thing for him to take his frustration out on was the hard wall in front of him, and he knew he'd regret it later.

However, he couldn't rid the nagging feeling of curiosity. He wanted to know why Malfoy was back all of a sudden. Harry hated being left in the dark, and this time was no exception. Leaning his forehead against the cold wall, he inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. His anger started to rise when he imagined Malfoy sitting in the other room, mocking him. Just as he was about to lose it, he heard a noise from inside of the room. Stranding up straight, he let his hand fall away from the wall and into his pocket. Sure enough, the door swung open a minute later, causing Harry to take a cautious step back.

"-Tomorrow night, Mr. Malfoy." Headmistress McGonagall's swift and graceful voice came from inside of the room. Unconsciously, Harry bit his bottom lip, waiting for Malfoy to walk out. The first person to exit the room was Snape, followed quickly by Malfoy, then by Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shaklebolt. Harry's gaze was glued to the young boy near the front of the line, his eyes narrowed. When Malfoy turned around, Harry's expression darkened, but the other only grinned.

"See you around, Potter," the blond called out, earning a mumbled reprove from Snape. Harry tensed by the wall, watching now as everyone filed out into the hallway, going towards the front of the school. Then, at the last second, Malfoy and Snape took a right turn, down toward the area of the Slytherin dungeons.

"Harry, you may come in now." The voice startled him, and as he turned around, flushing, he saw Remus standing in the doorway.

"Er, yeah, of course," he mumbled before taking a step up the stairs and walking into the Headmistress' office. Immediately, he sat down in the chair in front of McGonagall's desk, not wanting to waste any time. Looking across her desk, Harry noted that there were dozens of papers stacked, and yet it still looked impeccably neat.

"Mr. Potter, to what do I owe this visit?" she asked, her tone conveying that she had no time to beat around the bush. Harry knew that she was busy, so he cleared his throat and tried to make sense of the words in his head.

"What is Malfoy doing back at Hogwarts?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it. It made him seem like he had a one track mind, even though that was most obviously the case. He hadn't exactly put it that way in his head, and even though it certainly wasn't as diplomatic as he wanted it to be, he was thankful that it was just straight and to the point.

"Potter, obviously I cannot divulge to you the manner of why and how Malfoy has returned; you must be aware of this," she replied while Remus leaned against a bookshelf, "However, I can tell you that he will be watched for the remainder of the year, though not for the reasons you might think." She said this with a sense of finality to her voice, staring seriously at Harry.

"Malfoy isn't supposed to be here! You should know that better than anyone! He k- killed Dumbledore!" Harry yelled, trying his best to push his emotions away from the surface. McGonagall's eyes widened at the mention of Dumbledore, as if she hadn't thought Harry would bring that topic up.

"Mr. Potter, you of all people should be aware that that is not the case," she chastised, leaning forward ever so slightly. Harry hunched in his chair, his face solemn. He knew that Malfoy hadn't directly killed Dumbledore, but in his mind he had done enough to help him die.

"You cannot hold Malfoy directly responsible for Dumbledore's death, and you know that we've realised that Dumbledore knew of the Unbreakable Vow Severus had to make with Narcissa Malfoy." Harry shook his head, even as McGonagall stated the one thing Harry refused to accept.

"Why on earth would Dumbledore beg to be killed? He wouldn't do that!" The scream came out of Harry's mouth with pure emotion and passion that had been bottled up for months. Not once had he mourned, and both Remus and McGonagall were fully aware of this fact. There was an eerie silence quickly filling the room, in which Harry didn't notice how Remus was now standing beside him, both of his hands resting on Harry's shoulders.

"Harry, he knew Severus had to do what he did. It was the only way that Voldemort would not suspect his true loyalties." Remus' cool voice came from behind him, and Harry gave a little startled jump as he realised this. Not wanting to be pitied, Harry quickly stood up, walking away from the both of them.

"I don't believe that! I CAN'T believe that!" he yelled, his eyes blazing with fury and a small amount of ignorance. He felt fidgety, and he couldn't stand still. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he found that Remus had stayed by the chair, knowing when to back off.

"Potter, control yourself immediately!" the Headmistress said firmly, bracing her hands upon her desk. "Severus has proved enough for you, the rest of the Wizarding world, and then some. His loyalties are not to be questioned, just like young Malfoy's." Harry slumped against the wall, feeling drained, and the aching in his chest that could only mean the tears would start soon. Without another word, he turned on his heel and ran out of the room, not stopping until he reached the exit to the grounds. Leaning against the doorframe, he tried to catch his breath, the tears not yet escaping his eyes.

Slowly, he began to walk along the grounds, not caring that it was now well past curfew. Filch could catch him for all he cared. Filch could lock him up with those shackles on the wall, and finally complete his greatest maniacal desire. Chuckling darkly, Harry strayed to the side and ended up walking along the bank of the lake.

His feet kicked at the pebbles, until finally, he stopped walking. Lifting his head, Harry saw that he had walked for a good fifteen minutes, and he was halfway across the lake. Looking across the shimmering surface of water, he spotted one window that still had its light on. He couldn't see the figure inside, but from the location of the window, he'd guess it was a professor's room. Almost none of the other rooms were illuminated, but Harry knew that there were certain rooms you couldn't see from outside. Like all the rooms in the dungeons, he thought solemnly to himself, knowing that Malfoy wouldn't be in bed at this time. He followed Malfoy enough last year to find out certain things about the boy; certain things like how he wasn't able to sleep before at least midnight. Harry used to view these little pieces of knowledge as beneficial facts that might help him foil whatever Malfoy's plans had been, but now he found them unsettling. The last thing he wanted to know were these little things about Malfoy, since everything about the boy made his stomach lurch unpleasantly.

Wide awake, Harry knew there was no chance of his sleeping if he returned to bed just yet. It always took him just a bit longer to fall asleep than everyone else, and he usually woke up just a bit before all of his other dorm mates. Exhaling quietly as he fell back onto the slightly damp grass, he sat down, crossing his legs. He didn't doubt that Ron was wondering where he was, but he also knew that Ron wouldn't risk going out and looking for him. Harry was glad that his best mate understood that he occasionally needed some time alone, even if it meant that Harry had to stay up late to do it. Hermione, on the other hand, was not so understanding. Harry knew she meant well, but if she knew that he was out here, Harry wouldn't be surprised if she came outside and looked for him herself. He knew she cared, but at times he just wanted to tell her to bugger off, that he needed to be alone. They could only help so much.

Lying on his back, Harry began to gaze up at the night sky. The stars were bright, much brighter than usual. Harry wondered if this change was caused by the glistening tears in his eyes, or if tonight was special for some unknown reason. Resting his hands beneath his head, Harry slowly felt himself relax. Lying out under the stars seemed to help him alleviate all of the tension that built up over the past couple of hours. His breathing returned to normal, and all thoughts of Malfoy slowly drifted away. The burning feeling in the pit of his stomach calmed, leaving him with a certain short-lived sense of peace. At the same time, his eyes began to flutter shut, leaving him to stare at the back of his eyelids. As he took away his sense of sight, he felt his ears compensate; he could hear every rustle in the grass and every wash of the water upon the bank. He hardly noticed when he began to slip out of awareness and he fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming of bright and glossy stars.