Christmas Special 2011
Part 3
In the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the clock is striking the hour. Eleven year old Draco tears away from his reminiscing of Christmases past; his mouth watering and stomach growling over thoughts of deserts and exotic foods. Quickly he gathers his belongings, eager to escape double potions class with the Gryffindors, and heads to lunch.
"Watch it, Weasley!" Malfoy yells, the read-head knocking him over in the hall.
To Draco's chagrin, the entire contents of his book bag spill onto the floor. Textbooks, vials, and polished things toss about in the chaos of shuffling feet. Conflicted, Ron stands there awkwardly, not knowing if he should help or apologize. Crabbe and Goyle, the mindless oafs, bumble about trying to collect their leader's belongings.
About to use every one of the numerous curses he had learned on the insufferable red-head, Draco stops only when he spies one of his books in the hands of his sworn rival.
"Potter." Malfoy glares and sticks his hand out commandingly.
After a second look at the cover, Harry gives him the book back. The blonde's face is red and flustered. A tense moment of eye-contact transpires between them.
"Crabbe… Goyle…" The blonde beckons his lackeys to follow as he storms off out of sight.
Baffled by the uncharacteristic retreat, Harry and Ron pause for consideration – staring in the direction to which their foes had fled.
"What was that about?" Ron asks.
Shaking his head, Harry replies. "No idea."
"Did I miss something?" Hermione says as she emerged from the potions classroom, still fumbling with her bag.
Ron shrugs. "No clue, but I'm starving."
After a look of exasperation from Hermione, they all head off toward the dining hall. Harry, however, stops almost immediately in his tracks when something white catches his eye. The curious Gryffindor picks up the strip of white cloth from the floor and holds it between his fingers.
'Is it… a bookmark?' The green-eyed wizard considers.
"Harry, alright there mate?" Ron calls back to him; noticing him lag behind.
"Y-yeah." He replies, clutching the object in his fist. "I just remembered something."
"Is it about, you know…" Hermione whispers. "Flammel?"
"No, it's nothing like that." Harry reassures her. "There's just something I have to do."
The raven-haired wizard runs off ahead, leaving Hermione and Ron puzzled. Once in the grand entrance way, Harry pauses, opening his hand to examine the delicate bookmark once more. 'It has to be from Malfoy's book,' he ponders, 'but what to do with it?' The wizard could just imagine the blonde's reaction if he tried to return it to him in person. Those thoughts make him groan aloud at the certain grief he would suffer from one of the Slytherin's verbal assaults. But despite that cost, Harry can not deny his intuition which tells him that there must be something important about that scrap of fabric to Draco. Malfoy, after all, has never acted so uncharacteristically before about anything.
"Guess there's no other way." Harry sighs. Set in his resolve, the cold winter air greets the boy as he opens one of the front doors of Hogwarts castle to brave the snow storm.
Twenty minutes later, the contemplative Gryffindor finally joins his friends at lunch, looking almost frostbitten and tired. His frosty state draws the attention of the great hall for a moment before everyone's interest wanes. Harry took a seat next to his friends, trying to mask a small smile.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione's kitten-like voice snags his attention.
"Oh, nothing." Harry assures her. In between bites, however, the young wizard steals glances over at the Slytherin tables all through lunch. From what he can tell, Malfoy is in a right foul mood. The raven-haired boy wonders thoughtfully if it had anything to do with their run-in earlier.
Ron lets go of his spoon with a clack; the pewter soup bowl now empty. A satisfied grin spreads across his face. Harry seals his gaze away from Draco towards Ron, just in time to notice a flurry of owls steaming into the hall. A few carry large parcels, dropping them wearily before flying away. No doubt, Harry realizes, some of them are Christmas gifts.
Spying a familiar tawny owl, he follows it with his gaze. The animal lands gracefully in front of Draco. Curious, the blonde unties the twine that binds a small package to the bird's leg. Free of its burden, the owl flaps its white wings and flies away.
Neglecting the conversations of his table, the Gryffindor covertly watches Malfoy unwrap the parcel. A faint hint of white is visible before Draco quickly tucks the ribbon away into his breast pocket. Wide-eyed, he picks from the wrappings a folded bit of parchment. Almost as quickly as he read it, the Slytherin closes it in his hands and looks around warily. His grey eyes seem to strike Harry as they fix themselves upon him. The blonde's face is glowing a shade of bright red that he didn't think possible.
"What's that about, Harry?" Ron asked, seeing Malfoy's glaring. At that, the green-eyed boy turns to his friend nonchalantly and shrugs. Hermione is standing, books and belongings gathered in her bag already.
She considers her friends before rallying them. "Ready?"
"Yep." Harry acknowledges, glad to shift focus.
The trio picks up their belongings and shoves off, leaving the hall. Charms class awaits them.
That night, Draco Malfoy paces his dormitory alone. A crumpled piece of parchment is squeezed tightly in his fist. He glances suspiciously over at his bed where the white strip of cloth lay bare against his quilt. Teeth grinding, Draco walks over to it and sits beside it, taking it into his lap.
The parchment in his clenched hand is soft from crumpling it. The young Slytherin unfurls it. Hair prickles on Draco's arms as he considers the untidy scrawl of the message. It is a plain and simple note:
'Happy Christmas, Malfoy.'
Emotions waver around within him. Although it is unsigned, Draco has no doubt that his rival was the one who returned his most treasured possession.
"Potter!" Malfoy grumbles, balling up the note again and hopping off the bed.
Bookmark gently in hand, he grabs his mother's old book and lays the cloth ceremoniously between its pages. Draco pauses. Letting the open book down easy onto his bed, he takes another look at the parchment. Minutes tick by. Face twisting in an expression unknown to even him, the blonde smoothes the wrinkled paper against his chest. Draco, unsure of his actions and shaking slightly, tucks it into the crease of the pages where the bookmark lays.
Too afraid to think, unsure what his acceptance of Harry's gesture would mean, he closes the weathered tome and tucks it away safely in his trunk. Images of that Christmas long ago fill his mind. His mother, the book, and… the rabbit… Draco pales.
Biting his lip, the blonde sniffs emotionally, scolding his self for such sentimentality. Salty tears sting the fortresses of his eyes. He misses his mother most.
'Home for Christmas.' He tells himself, hopefully.
The thought seems to lighten his mood. Draco traipses over to his bed and jumps into it, gruffly. Eyes closed, he swims through those thoughts and memories.
'Potters and rabbits…' He groans to himself.
The blonde rolls over onto his side. His grey eyes shine dimly in the lamplight. A faint spark of gratitude flickers inside. 'Happy Christmas… Potter.'
- The End -
Koiame: Sorry for taking so long to finish the Christmas special. I have not used the computer most of this chapter was on in many months. I hope that this was worth the wait. I changed the name of the story to something a little more creative. Hope you don't mind. Thank you for reading!
