After the last Potions class before the Christmas holiday, Draco waited yet again for everyone else to leave the room. Snape gave him a mild glare, and sank down at his desk. Draco grinned and sat down on top of a desk in front of Snape.
"What is it now?" snapped the Potions Master, sounding exasperated. Draco cocked his head to the side, doing his best to look innocent. Snape, if anything, seemed more irritated.
"Well, there's something rather odd about Professor Quirrell, isn't there?" asked Draco, and saw Snape's eyes narrow, and his lips twisted into a slightly malicious scowl, and his glare was now rather piercing, and Draco knew he'd guessed right.
"You claimed previously that you had no interest in such dangerous things," said Snape, his voice silky smooth and deadly. It made Draco shiver.
"I don't."
"If that is true," answered Snape, "then why do you insist on continuing to meddle?" Draco shrugged.
"I am not," sniffed Draco haughtily, slightly offended by the fact that Snape thought he would lie about this. Snape's expression twisted yet again, and now instead of threatening, he merely projected that same pure hate.
"Potter," he spat, and Draco blinked in surprise. What could Potter possibly have done to make Snape hate him so much?
"Er, yes," answered Draco slowly, somewhat put off by Snape's display of hatred. The professor seemed to realize this because he tried to school his expression and managed to look simply angry. "Anyhow, did we guess right about Quirrell?"
"Why are you helping him if you're so eager to stay out of it?" Draco frowned. That was a good question—one he couldn't actually answer. Why had he continued to help Potter try to figure this out?
"He asked me for my help," Draco answered finally; Snape looked surprised at that, and then he began to laugh. It was a rather disconcerting sound, awkward and hoarse, as though he had not done it for some time.
"I had my doubts," said Snape when he had stopped laughing, "when the Sorting Hat placed you in Hufflepuff, but I now see that its judgment was entirely correct." Draco frowned in confusion—Snape said that as though he was supposed to feel insulted, but then again, he was being told that he was a good Hufflepuff, so why would he?
"Talking to Slytherins is very... tiresome," said Draco, and Snape smirked, his amusement still plain. "Is Quirrell really trying to 'get past' the cerberus? I still don't know what's 'past' the cerberus, really, but I think Potter might at least suspect." Snape was frowning again at that.
"I neither confirm nor deny anything," said Snape in his usual lofty, bored tones.
"That'll be a yes, then."
"Out, Mr. Malfoy. And no more meddling." Draco just grinned at the Potions Master.
"Happy Christmas, Professor."
"Mum and Dad are really excited that you're coming to stay with us. They were always a little disappointed that they could only have one child—me, obviously—so they love it when I bring friends home," Cedric was telling Draco as the first-year packed his trunk. Cedric was sitting on Draco's bed, his own trunk already packed and waiting in the fourth-to-seventh year boys' room. "Besides, they're really excited to meet you in particular."
"Why?" asked Draco idly.
"Because, like I told you after you were sorted, my dad's met your dad a few times at the Ministry, and because I've talked about you so much in my letters to them." Draco looked up at that, his brow furrowed.
"You have?"
"Of course," Cedric answered. "You're my friend." Draco smiled, feeling very pleased. "They were really impressed when I told them about how you got everyone here to respect you, and they're really happy that you're friends with Neville. Did I mention that my dad also knows Neville's grandmother?"
"No, you didn't." Draco frowned. "Cedric, Neville never talks about his parents. Are they dead? Is that why he has to live with his grandmother?" Cedric's normally happy expression fell away to be replaced by a troubled frown of his own.
"They aren't dead," he said slowly, "but in the war against You-Know-Who, really bad things happened to them, and... well, they're in St. Mungo's, and they aren't ever going to get better." Seeing that the subject was seriously bothering his friend, Draco nodded and changed topics.
"What does your family usually do on Christmas?"
"Well, it all starts on Christmas Eve, of course," Cedric began, his eyes lighting up. "We go caroling that night with some of our other family members, and sometimes our friends' families, and then we all go back to the house and have hot chocolate—my mum makes the best hot chocolate there is—and then we wake up early the next morning to open presents, and we have a big breakfast, and then we invite everybody over again for dinner that night. It's nothing that special, but it's nice, getting to see everybody like that."
"That sounds... nice." And it did, too. Draco hadn't ever minded spending Christmas day home alone—he liked being by himself a lot, and it made Christmas dinner with his parents that much more special.
"Now you'll get to see just how nice for yourself," Cedric told him happily, and Draco's lips twitched up into a smile. He shut his trunk. "Done packing?"
"Yes. I'm ready."
But then Draco was stopped by Potter and Granger in the Great Hall, just as he and Cedric were about to leave for Hogsmeade, and the Hogwarts Express.
"That thing you've been helping me with," said Harry significantly, glancing at Cedric, "well, Hermione and I were thinking, and we have a good lead on who's hiding something, but we can't figure out who he is. We just have a name."
"And you want to ask if I know anything about it," said Draco, rather resigned to the fact that he was going to be pulled into their adventures despite himself. Potter nodded eagerly. "Fine, then."
Granger glanced at Cedric, who looked highly amused by all of this, and then leaned in close to Draco, whispering into his ear, "Nicholas Flamel." Draco rolled his eyes.
"Of course I know him," he said. "Everyone knows him. He's one of the most famous alchemists there is."
"An alchemist?" repeated Granger, looking thoughtful, and then her eyes went wide. She turned to Potter, grabbing his arm urgently. "Harry, of course! Nicholas Flamel made the only known Philosopher's Stone!" Draco felt his heart skip a beat.
"That is what the beast is guarding?" exclaimed Draco. "You mean that one of the most sought-after magical objects in the entire world is in this school?" Cedric put a hand on Draco's shoulder, looking rather concerned after Draco's outburst. Granger and Potter only spared him a glance, looking at each other with a combination of excitement and dread.
"I did see Hagrid get the package out of the vault, and it was definitely small enough to have been a stone," said Potter thoughtfully.
"No," said Draco, mostly to himself and Cedric as the two Gryffindors had stopped listening to him, "no. The bloody Philosopher's bloody Stone is not here with a bunch of students just begging for any low-life criminal off the street to come for it! What is Dumbledore thinking?" Cedric cleared his throat loudly.
"Well, we need to get on the train," he said to Potter and Granger, "so I guess this is good-bye."
"Oh, I'm going home too," said Granger. "Perhaps we could go down together?"
"Sure," agreed Cedric happily, and Draco felt his stomach lurch.
Justin Finch-Fletchley was one thing, but Hermione Jane Granger was quite another.
Thankfully, Granger didn't sit with them, instead choosing to go with several of her housemates that were also going home for the holidays. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as she left them in their own compartment. Cedric, being taller, stowed their trunks away for them, and then sat and fixed Draco with an intently curious, piercing stare.
"What?" asked Draco, shifting. Cedric gave him a half-smile.
"You don't do innocent very well," said his friend. "What was all that back there with Potter and Hermione?" Draco cringed a little at her first name; she and Cedric had apparently gotten on well during the trip down to Hogsmeade.
"Er, what are you talking about?" asked Draco, and Cedric laughed.
"Really, Draco?" he said, shaking his head. "Why would you think that the Philosopher's Stone is inside Hogwarts?"
"I don't know why they think that it's the Philosopher's Stone," said Draco quickly, "but there is something in the school that needs a rather large amount of protection. They apparently think that it's the Stone."
"How could you possibly know that?" asked Cedric, and Draco sighed heavily before launching into the whole story about the troll and the jinx and what they'd made of it, his own conversations with Snape, their suspicions about Quirrell, and what, exactly, lay behind the locked door of the third-floor corridor on the right hand side. When he'd finished, Cedric sat there looking a little shocked.
"I don't know whether to laugh or... well, I really just don't know," he said. "You realize this all seems really incredible, right? I mean, one of our professors trying to kill Harry Potter?"
"I know," answered Draco, "but I always had a feeling that something wasn't quite right with Professor Quirrell." Cedric did laugh at that.
"Of course something isn't right with him," he answered. "He was scared out of his wits and never quite got them all back, the poor man." Draco laughed, too. "Let's just forget about it for now, okay? Let the professors and Headmaster Dumbledore worry about all of it. You're going to have to learn the songs we sing when we go caroling, after all."
Amos and Paulette Diggory were very nice people, and Draco frowned at the thought. It wasn't that their being nice was bad, exactly, so much as it was... disconcerting. Everyone around him lately seemed nice and cheerful and happy when Draco was used to hearing about how irritated his parents were by having to prepare for yet another Christmas Ball. The Diggorys just greeted their son with hugs and kisses and then smiled widely at Draco as he shook their hands, nodding politely to each of them.
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," said Draco evenly to Cedric's mother, and she blinked in surprise, and then laughed—it sounded not too very different from Cedric's, he thought. Cedric had his father's smile, though.
"Just call me Mrs. Diggory, dear," she told him, and he nodded. "Have you ever done Side-Along Apparition before?" Draco nodded, and decided not to mention that the first time he had, he'd thrown up on his father's newest pair of Italian loafers. Lucius had been irritated, but unsurprised, and a few cleaning charms later, he had forgotten the incident enough to indulge in an ice cream cone with his son. Draco's lips twitched at the memory of his father's tongue darting out to lick the melting ice cream, managing to keep his hands miraculously clean even as Draco made quite a mess of his face and hands.
He shook himself out of the memory and took hold of the offered arm, holding on firmly as King's Cross station twisted and fell away, and a new place came into view. They were standing just outside the front gate of a tall, somewhat skinny, yet solid-looking brick house covered in fluffy white snow, white smoke curling out of the tall chimney.
"Welcome to the Diggory's, Draco."
The inside of the house was nothing like Draco had ever seen before. Instead of antiques hundreds of years old lining immaculate shelves and bookcases, the rooms seemed to be filled by pictures of a large, happy family, waving to the camera or having snowball fights or pushing each other into ponds. The rooms weren't exactly cluttered, but Draco was mildly overwhelmed by what looked to him like a melange of furnishings of different colors and sizes rather than ornate heirlooms positioned with absolute perfection.
The bedroom he would be occupying was a bit calmer, obviously a guest room. It was a calming blue with a minimum of furniture, only a wardrobe, a rather comfortable looking armchair, a large bed, and a desk. Draco felt better already, knowing that he was also next to Cedric.
"You put your stuff away yet?" asked Cedric eagerly, barging into the room. Draco rolled his eyes at his friend's eagerness, but nodded. "Great! First order of business is always the same."
"And what is that?" Cedric's smile grew decidedly wicked.
"A snowball fight. On broomsticks."
December twenty-fourth. The first-floor East dining room had been decorated with garlands and wreaths in the house elves' attempts to make their Masters cheerful. Lucius Malfoy ate silently, his eyes straight ahead, for the most part—he couldn't stand looking at Narcissa, knowing what he'd see. No doubt she blamed him for Draco's unwillingness to come home, as she probably should; he and Draco hadn't spoken since he met with the Headmaster the second day of school.
Narcissa put her fork down with more force than strictly necessary, scraped her chair back loudly over their ancient dark wooden floors, and took her napkin from her lap and threw it on the table next to her plate. Lucius finally looked at her, and saw her lips drawn tightly together as she was blinking rapidly, tears in her eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I'm going to retire," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Please... please inform the Notts that I won't be able to attend their Christmas celebration tomorrow. I'm... I'm not feeling well."
"Narcissa," he said, and now she was refusing to look at him. She stood, and so did he, mirroring her actions and tossing his napkin onto the table. He reached out and caught her hand, tightening his hold when she tried to pull away. "Narcissa." She looked at him, and instead of blame or anger, all he saw was sadness.
"I want my son back, Lucius," she said, her voice trembling slightly. Lucius took a deep breath. "We've lost him, haven't we? What... what did we do wrong?"
And Lucius answered honestly. "I don't know."
A soft pop signaled the entrance of a house elf. "Dobby is sorry to interrupt Masters, but you is having a Firecall."
"From whom?" asked Lucius, his eyes never moving from his wife's.
"He is saying his name is Amos Diggory, sir. He is saying he wants to talk about Master Draco."
Draco had never been one of those children who laid awake on Christmas Eve, unable to sleep for anticipation of the coming morning, but now, as he lay in the bed which served as his at the Diggory house, he found that he couldn't sleep at all. He sat up, giving up for the moment, and went to the armchair by the window, looking out over the shadowy silhouette of forested hills that served as the backyard of this house. He sighed, and then jumped slightly when his door creaked open.
"Draco?" whispered Cedric. "You awake?"
"Yes." Cedric entered the room fully, shutting the door behind him and climbing onto Draco's bed, crossing his legs.
"I never can sleep on Christmas Eve," he said. "I'm too wired from caroling—that's what makes me really believe that it's Christmas tomorrow. Kind of silly, I know, but when the adults start throwing snow like kids..." Draco smirked; at the end of caroling, Mrs. Diggory had taken a handful of snow and shoved it unceremoniously down the back of her husband's sweater, who promptly retaliated by throwing his own small pile of snow at her. Cedric's aunts, uncles, and grown cousins had joined in soon after. "Did you like it?"
Draco paused. "I think so. It was somewhat..."
"Overwhelming?" Draco nodded, and then realized that Cedric wouldn't be able to see that in the dim light.
"Yes."
"Makes sense," said his friend agreeably. "I mean, it sounds like you don't usually make a big deal out of Christmas, so our non-stop cheer must be a little much for you."
"A bit."
"Well," said Cedric, and the teasing tone in his voice told Draco that he was about to make some sort of joke, "don't worry. Christmas will be over tomorrow, and then we'll just have New Year's to think about." There was a longer pause this time.
"You don't really celebrate New Year's like you do Christmas, do you?" asked Draco, and Cedric laughed.
"You have a week before you find that out." Draco scowled, and even though Cedric couldn't see him, he had a feeling that the older boy knew what he was doing. "I'm going back to bed. Maybe I'll actually sleep now. You should try to sleep, too."
"Yeah. Goodnight."
"Goodnight." Despite his agreement, Draco didn't even bother to get back into bed.
The next morning, Draco's door was again opened by Cedric. The older boy gave a breathy laugh, trying to be quiet, as he saw Draco curled in on himself, asleep in the armchair where he'd last left him. He crept over to the boy, and then reached out and touched his shoulder gently. Draco's reaction was instantaneous—his eyes flew open, and he jerked slightly. Cedric laughed.
"You really are a light sleeper, aren't you?" his voice was filled with cheerful humor, and Draco blinked, his tiredness returning as he calmed.
"What time is it?"
"Six."
"In the morning?" asked Draco incredulously. Cedric laughed.
"Of course," he said.
"It's too early in the morning for you to be so bloody happy then."
"How could I not be happy," said Cedric, his smile only widening at his friend's comment, "when we have people waiting for us downstairs so we can open our presents?" Draco just groaned and tried to curl back up, but Cedric wasn't having it. With a grin, he shrugged. "Alright. Have it your way." With that, he reached out and picked Draco up, throwing him over his shoulder. Draco cried out in surprise, and Cedric only continued to laugh.
"Put me down!"
"When we get downstairs, maybe," answered Cedric smugly. Draco wasn't weak, but he was definitely far smaller than Cedric, and so even though he struggled, Cedric had no trouble in keeping his hold on him. They finally reached the sitting room where the Christmas tree had been erected, and presents put beneath and around it over the past few days. The adults' conversations stopped as they took in the sight of Draco slung casually over Cedric's shoulder.
"Sleeping Beauty wouldn't get up," teased Cedric.
"Put. Me. Down." Cedric laughed again, and then finally obeyed, tossing Draco down onto a plush armchair much like the one he'd slept in. Draco crossed his arms over his chest, leveling his best glare at Cedric. "Never again." The adults looked a little surprised, but Cedric was used to the young Malfoy glaring at people, himself included, and just laughed again and reached down to pick up a package, chucking it at Draco, who caught it reflexively.
"That's for you," he said. "We sort before we open." Draco nodded, and Cedric continued with the present sorting, distributing presents to each person in the room.
Draco, for the first time in his life that he could remember, had other people to open presents with, and he found that watching them provided him almost as much entertainment for him as opening his own presents did. He saw the sweaters, books, Quidditch jerseys, and gag gifts Cedric got from his relatives, and realized that his own present opening had slowed as he watched his friend.
Despite his lagging pace, Draco managed to get nearly all of his presents opened by the time breakfast was going to be prepared; Mrs. Diggory was, apparently, going to have them take their gifts to their rooms while she cooked. His parents had sent his presents to the Diggory's; it was the usual assortment of presents, much like what Cedric had received, although where Cedric received new sweaters, Draco received new dress robe sets, and the books Draco got were often on history or political science—those were from Lucius, no doubt.
Draco picked up a rather plainly wrapped gift, and frowned at the tag, which read "To D. L. Malfoy, From S. S." He thought he might know who S. S. was, but why would his professor send him a gift? Ripping off the paper, Draco saw an old, leather-bound book with a faded cover, on which he could barely make out the Hogwarts crest. He opened it, and tucked just inside was a handwritten note on a bit of parchment.
Your fascination with your house's namesake did not escape my attention, and after you have read this book, perhaps you should share it with your parents. It might ease their feelings on the subject of your placement.
This book originally belonged to Hogwarts, but the Headmaster assured me that he shares my belief that it will serve a better purpose in your hands.
-S. Snape
Draco looked down at the inscription and felt his eyebrows rise involuntarily. The book's title read "The Slytherin-Hufflepuff Legacy: The Birth of Modern Healing Magic."
"What's that?" asked Cedric, trying to peer over Draco to read it.
"A book about healing magic," he answered casually, and Cedric made a "hmm"ing noise. Draco closed the book and purposefully put it beneath a few of his other presents. Cedric thrust one last gift onto his lap. "That's from me."
"Oh," said Draco. "Yours is-"
"I've got it right here," answered Cedric, brandishing the package Draco had asked Susan Bones how to wrap, complete with a curled, fluffy bow on the top. "Together?" Draco nodded.
Cedric's gift to Draco was a set of biographies, and Draco smiled slightly to himself when he saw who the books were about: the Slytherins Helga Hufflepuff had taken on as students when Salazar left the school. Draco glanced up at Cedric to see how he liked his gift. Draco had gotten his friend a thick compilation of winning Quidditch strategies from 1357 to the present, and inside he had scrawled a personal message: Because we all know you're going to become Captain next year. Cedric grinned at him.
"Thanks," they said simultaneously, and several of the adults chuckled.
As planned, Draco and Cedric made trips up to their respective bedrooms to clear away their gifts. When they had finished, Draco was very tempted to begin reading Snape's book, but just then Mrs. Diggory called that breakfast was ready. With some regret, Draco hid it in the bottom of his trunk, carefully covered by sweaters and old homework assignments. He wasn't sure why he was being so careful to keep the book a secret, but every instinct he had said that it was a good idea.
After breakfast, he and Cedric had yet another snowball fight on their broomsticks—broomsticks which frustrated the both of them to no end, with charms placed on them to limit height and speed—and then, when they were finally brought back inside by Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, they both showered and changed, and then retreated to their rooms for a while.
Finally Draco got the chance to begin reading, and he settled himself into the armchair, the book on his lap.
He didn't move until Cedric came to fetch him for dinner.
"Five more minutes, Cedric," said Draco desperately, and Cedric laughed at him.
"You do enough reading as it is," said his older friend, rolling his eyes. "Come on, we have a surprise for you." Draco raised one eyebrow at his friend and closed his book, returning it to his trunk. He followed Cedric down the stairs, and stopped halfway. Standing in the sitting room talking to Cedric's parents was his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks.
She saw him staring and waved. "'Lo, Draco!"
"Hello," he answered, still feeling rather surprised.
"Well, come down here, let me see you!" Draco obeyed, and as soon as he reached the bottom of the staircase, Tonks grabbed him and pulled him into a hug.
The Diggory's fireplace, complete with Floo connections, chose that moment to roar into life, and then out stepped Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.
By New Year's Eve, the Christmas decorations had been cleared away from Malfoy Manor. Personally, Draco liked it better when the banisters of the large, winding staircases were wrapped with garlands, and even the portraits of his extended family members seemed far more cheerful when it was Christmastime at the Manor.
As it was, even without the decorations, the historic Gothic structure was imposing, and whenever someone visited for the first time, the amazed reactions always made Draco look around at the home he'd become accustomed to with new eyes.
"Merlin, Draco," breathed Cedric, eyes wide, "no wonder you weren't wide-eyed like the other first-years at Hogwarts. This place is incredible."
"I would be very happy to give you all a tour," said Narcissa, making an effort to smile at the group, which consisted of Cedric, his parents, and Nymphadora Tonks. Draco knew that his mother would rather that her niece not be present, but she didn't have a choice—Tonks had been sitting at the table with all of them on Christmas day when Draco had subtly convinced his parents to invite the Diggorys over to the Manor for New Year's to repay them for having played host to Draco.
Draco had gone home to Malfoy Manor after the Christmas meal. He admitted to himself, if no one else, that he had been so ecstatic to see his parents come through the Floo that his eyes had watered, although he hadn't let himself cry. Amos Diggory quickly jumped in to explain to Draco that he had made a Firecall to Draco's parents, inviting them for Christmas dinner, and they had accepted. The meal had been rather awkward, as Lucius and Narcissa were not used to dining so casually, or speaking so casually, or doing anything as casually as the Diggorys did, and the Diggorys were not used to playing host to any members of the old aristocracy. Draco was very glad that Tonks was there, in the end, because when the long, uncomfortable silences grew to be too much for everyone at the table, she used her abilities as a Metamorphagus to make herself appear to be Professor Dumbledore.
"Alas," she'd said, and Draco and Cedric had promptly choked on their food, trying not to laugh, "Christmas is not a time for awkwardness between family and friends!" She'd then turned back into herself, and grinned at everyone. "Maybe Draco and Cedric should tell us about the first Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match?" The two boys had exchanged glances, but that was all it took. They spent the rest of the meal comfortably chatting about Quidditch, with Cedric and Draco's respective mothers occasionally interjecting to voice their concerns about their sons' safety, and their fathers and Tonks speaking up to give Quidditch statistics on the professional teams.
Draco hadn't known that his father followed Quidditch so closely, but he was very, very grateful that he had.
After dinner, the Diggorys had somehow managed for Draco to be alone with his parents in the sitting room. They had stood there just as awkwardly as they had spoken to each other at dinner before Tonks intervened, and Draco took a deep breath, and broke the silence.
"I'm glad to see you both," he said, and seeing his mother break into a smile and his father's eyes soften—which was practically a hug from his father—he decided to add, "I've missed you." Narcissa had hugged him, then, and Lucius had squeezed his shoulder, which was more physical demonstration than his father almost ever showed.
"This gathering presented an opportunity to stop this foolishness," said Lucius. Draco gave him a questioning look, and his father elaborated. "We... your mother and I were... surprised by your house placement, but we've let it stand between us long enough. I realize that you're upset that I couldn't manage to change your house-"
"No!" protested Draco, genuinely surprised by that. "That isn't it at all." Lucius frowned at him, and raised one eyebrow in inquiry, much as Draco tended to do. "I thought you were upset that I wasn't placed in Slytherin." And there it was. His father's eyes flashed, the grey going stormy for a moment before clearing again. Draco knew that he was right, and felt his heart sink.
"We were just surprised, Draco," said his mother calmly, glancing at his father, who nodded stonily. "We thought that you might be unhappy, were you not in Slytherin."
"I like Hufflepuff," he assured them quickly, and tried not to notice his father's grimace. "And I've made other friends who aren't in Slytherin."
"Cedric Diggory seems... he's a fine young man," Lucius said, although his voice was strained. Draco smiled at his father. Lucius and Narcissa weren't about to change overnight, but this, at least, was a start.
Maybe now they could write each other about a bit more than the Manor's weather charms.
"Your house is seriously incredible," said Cedric. They were sitting at the edge of the West first-floor ballroom, watching Cedric's parents and Tonks interacting rather awkwardly with the rich, pureblood couples traditionally invited to the Manor for New Year's Eve.
"Thanks," answered Draco.
"And now I get why you're an arrogant prat," Cedric told him, but just as the first time he'd said it, his voice was filled with teasing humor. Draco butted him with his shoulder, and the two shared a smile.
Across the room, Draco saw Professor Snape standing next to the Zabinis, holding a glass of champagne. Seeing Draco looking at him, he raised his glass to the boy and gave him a thin-lipped smile just as the clock struck midnight.
