The white snowy owl preened her feathers, making rustling noises whilst sitting on his shoulder. Her pure white and speckled grey feather contrasted sharply with his unkempt ebony locks.
Harry Potter continued to study the dark night sky from the small window of the shabby room with peeling wallpaper where he had spent his last seventeen summers. But this will be my last. Ever. He thought contemplatively. To say he'd be happy to be leaving the Dursley's would be like saying the ocean got occasionally damp. Happy didn't even begin to cover how he would feel.
And that will be tomorrow! He pushed himself up from the lumpy bed, dislodging Hedwig from his shoulder, with a slightly insulted squawk she flew to where her cage was standing before fixing Harry with a disapproving glare and burying her head indignantly beneath her wing, settling into silence. Harry stole silently across the usually squeaky floorboards to the other side of the room where his dented trunk lay.
After a little digging around he found the essential store of confectionary and broke off some of Honeydukes best, munching on it thoughtfully. He was glad he'd caved to packing all the extra food at Ron and Hermione's insistence; he didn't know how he would have survived on the occasional lettuce leaf Aunt Petunia had graced him with. The summer itself hadn't been too bad; he could deal with people acting as though he didn't exist. At least he wasn't being permanently punished for no apparent reason. Harry just thanked god that Dudley was away this summer at some Smelting's summer school camp. Apparently he'd sat on one of his teachers and consequently they had had to be committed (although Harry wasn't entirely certain, as Uncle Vernon was quite tight-lipped about it. Though he seemed to be angrier about the fact I was the same height as him reflected Harry). So the school decided that to prevent further loss of the teaching body, Dudley should take a summer course of strict disciplined exercise. Harry would've paid decent galleons to be able to watch that.
It was indeed true that Harry had grown substantially over the summer. Not as tall as Ron though he thought ruefully. However he was still a good 5ft 11 and had maintained the slim seeker build but had filled out across his shoulders which added a thoughtful presence to his height. All in all he decided that he liked 17 a lot more than 16, growing out of the halting awkwardness that was a product of growing tall, fast, would take some time though.
And tomorrow he would be going to the Burrow for the last two weeks before school began. And he would never, ever, have to set foot in 4, Privet Drive again. Picket fences and all. Harry sighed in relief at the prospect. It would be strange though, after this he would have to… grow up. Make his own way. His own living. He shook his head in an attempt to extricate himself from these thoughts, he'd build and hopefully cross those bridges when he came to them.
Harry sighed and turned around, catching sight of himself in the mirror. Bottle-green eyes stared back at him from behind thin wire frames. He had slightly bushy eyebrows that were shaped in such a way that they made him always appear as though deep in thought, whereas his hair belied this by looking like he spent his spare time being pulled through hedges and asking haystacks for style tips.
And of course he thought sardonically you can't forget my 'claim to fame' Harry grimaced at his reflection before reaching up and pushing wayward hair away from his forehead. There it was, standing out starkly against his pale skin, his lightning-bolt shaped scar, which had so far shaped his life as well. The one thing that stood between him and the much dreamt of state of normalcy that other teenagers enjoyed. Harry grunted to himself, before turning to see Hedwig roosting peacefully and deciding to get some sleep himself.
Lest Mrs Weasley start ranting over how thin and pale I look he thought fondly. Harry clambered awkwardly onto the knobbly bedstead, wriggling to dislodge the various bruise-causing lumps. Though at least I'm not as scrawny as Malfoy, he reflected wryly Mrs Weasley would have a fit if she ever met him. He grinned before drifting into a deep and fitful sleep.
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The object of his amusement was in fact lying in a very grandiose room not as far away as Harry would've thought. But he was presently contemplating the ceiling, wondering why sleep eluded him once again. Draco's thoughts turned to the impending end of the holidays and the inconvenience of having to return to Hogwarts. But only for one more year he thought consolingly. After that he'd be his own man, a free man. These thoughts unintentionally mirrored Harry's earlier ones.
No more Crabbe and Goyle, He thought happily, no more Father breathing down my neck he smiled and no more Saint-perfect-bleeding-Potter! Came his last vehement thought.
Now, if only the year would get underway, the sooner it would be finished, then sooner he'd be out of this dump and on his way too… well wherever he wanted to be on his way to! Then he would never have to answer to another human being again, not his parents (if you could even call them parents), not his friends (who, if it was possible, were even less friendly than his parents) and certainly NEVER the 'Dark Lord' in all his overrated glory. Certainly he was too much for any girl to handle, maybe even any woman Draco grinned smugly to himself. With the last thought of finality he turned over and fell into further contemplation of his bedside cabinet. Then, without warning, sleep crept up and took him rapidly into a dreamless bliss.
Little did he know how wrong he would be proved to be.
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A/N: This is my first story, so please tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. And occasionally random names and creations.