I usually write fanfiction for myself. I thought I would try posting one for a change.
This is a 'Missing Moment' from HBP, after the funeral.
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The Platform
It hadn’t really occurred to him before—not until the train began to slow, the hills outside the window giving way to the grey sprawl of London. About half an hour from King’s Cross, Harry finally turned to Ron.
“You should leave first,” he said quietly. “Tell your family to go on ahead too—quietly.”
Ron looked up from the game of Exploding Snap he’d been half-heartedly playing with himself.
“What?” he said, frowning.
Harry didn’t answer straight away. He could feel Hermione’s gaze on him; she’d put down her book, watching him with that familiar mix of worry and impatience.
“You should both get off the train before me,” Harry said, more firmly this time.
“Why?” Ron demanded, his tone edged with suspicion.
“Because most of the wizarding world knows I’m close to your family,” said Harry. “If anything happens—if people are watching—it’ll be better if you all go first. Or better yet…” He hesitated. “Pretend you don’t know me. Tell everyone to ignore me.”
He half-expected Hermione to tell him he was being ridiculous, to roll her eyes the way she always did when he was brooding. But she didn’t. She just pressed her lips together and said nothing—which told him she agreed, even if she hated to admit it.
“If that’s what you think is best,” Ron said at last, his voice low but steady, “then that’s what we’ll do.”
Harry nodded once, feeling the tightness in his chest ease just a little. He leaned back against the worn seat and stared out at the city drawing nearer. Beside him, Ron and Hermione exchanged one of their silent looks—the kind that spoke louder than words—but he knew they’d do as he asked. They always did.
“Just know neither Hermione nor I are happy about it,” Ron muttered after a while.
Harry gave a faint smile but didn’t reply. They lapsed into silence, the rhythmic clatter of the train filling the carriage.When at last the brakes squealed and the train began to slow, the three of them moved quickly. They had only moments before the corridor would be packed with students.
“We’ll come get you soon, Harry,” Hermione said softly. She stood on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before reaching for her trunk.
“They won’t like this,” Ron said grimly, meaning his family.Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he pulled Ron into a brief, awkward hug.
“Go,” he said. “Now. It’ll be better this way.”
With one last look at him, Ron and Hermione slipped from the compartment. Through the window, Harry watched them join the Weasleys on the platform, speaking quietly to Mr. Weasley, who nodded once. Ginny had joined them, her eyes flicking uncertainly toward the train.
Harry stayed where he was for a long moment, feeling the familiar ache rise in his throat. He felt like an outsider—a ghost watching his old life carry on without him. So close, yet untouchable. Squaring his shoulders, he stood, grabbed his trunk, and stepped into the corridor. As he passed the Weasleys and Hermione, he could feel their eyes on him—but he didn’t look back. He walked straight for the barrier.