Hello all! I know my update schedule is generally every two weeks, but I couldn't leave you all waiting too long at such an important point in the story (this is basically code for: 'I did this instead of homework and got away with it').

Thanks very much to those of you who left feedback in various forms on the last chapter. It's incredibly useful in gauging where to go with the story, especially now that we're in the thick of it! Please continue to let me know your thoughts.

And thanks of course to the rest of you for reading, leaving some love in the form of follows/faves, and all the rest!

~ Anna =)

Disclaimer: I don't own Draco Malfoy, but maybe I'll get him for Christmas…

"Heidi? Oh my god!"

Hermione grabbed me by the arm and helped me up from the Burrow floor. My legs had become tangled in the wispy train of my dress robes, leading to a less than successful Floo-in.

"Have you been crying?" she asked, grabbing my suitcase from me in an effort to help.

"Long story," I muttered, just as Harry and Ron appeared in the doorway.

"Heidi!" said Ron, ushering me in. He clearly hadn't noticed my demeanour. "You're just in time; Dad's tipsy off a bottle of Armenian wine some bloke at the Ministry gave him. He's been trying to sing muggle Christmas songs for the past hour. Hang on, why do you look like you've been crying?"

"Long story," I repeated.

"What did Malfoy do this time?" asked Harry suspiciously.

Kiss me on the mouth.

"Oh, you know," I muttered, trying to sound unperturbed. "A little of this, a little of that."

Ron poured me a glass of water.

"D'you want to go upstairs? I'll tell Mum you're here and then I'll come up with the rest of you," he suggested.

I nodded, and allowed Hermione and Harry to lead the way up a flight of crooked wooden stairs into what was presumably Percy's bedroom. The walls had been decorated with red and green holiday lights that seemed to get their glow from pixie dust inside the glass. It was so warm, so comfortable, that all the horrible things I had endured over the evening seemed to throw themselves from me in the form of tiny, quiet sobs.

Harry and Hermione exchanged concerned glances. Hermione reached out to pat my back. I stiffened involuntarily, the memory of Malfoy still fresh, and she dropped her hand.

"So what exactly happened?" asked Ron as he came in carrying a plate of biscuits. "Mum's sent these up for you by the way."

I declined the treats, leading Harry to adopt a look of panic.

"My parents were having … issues, and I became recently aware of them. I told my father to stop doing what he was doing, and ended up humiliating myself in the ballroom. Suffice to say, I can't go back there for a while," I explained. "There was some extremely loud, public screaming from my end. I wouldn't be surprised if you hear all about it at school."

"Well if we do hear about it, we'll give the no-good gossip a good punch on your behalf," said Ron happily, and Hermione to my surprise did not object to this.

"Thanks, Ron," I said with a smile.

"Were the Slytherins there when it happened?" asked Harry.

I nodded.

"Did they say anything?" he asked.

"Not really, shockingly enough. But I'm sure they're all talking about it now. Although…"

"Although?" nudged Hermione.

"Parkinson was weird tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if all those hair charms were behind it, but she sort of … extended a truce. Told me not to worry about rumours from the Slytherin end of things."

Every single one of them raised their eyebrows so high I was afraid they'd take off from their faces.

"I know," I said. "Bloody bizarre lately, the lot of them."

I rubbed my mouth absentmindedly, remembering the feel of him. What if he hadn't pulled away? Would I even be here? Or would I be on my bed, quite content to be beside him … on him … under him…

No. It was stupid, what I was picturing. It was an illusion. What was missing was the real Malfoy: the Malfoy who called me a bitch, the Malfoy who pushed me and hexed me and mocked me.

Though it was precisely that Malfoy that I myself hadn't seen around for a while.

"I wonder why Parkinson did that," mused Hermione, bringing me back to reality.

"Probably because my actions somehow aligned with her corrupt moral standards. Which, by the way, is terrifying."

The three of them nodded in agreement. Just then, a loud bang sounded from downstairs, and Mrs. Weasley's voice shouted after Fred and George.

"Those'll be the indoor fireworks," muttered Ron with a grin. "They've improved them somewhat from last year. Wanna go see?"

I hesitated, and Hermione caught on to my reluctance.

"We'll be down in a bit, you two," she said. I nodded in agreement.

Harry and Ron shrugged and set off downstairs, leaving Hermione and I alone.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Hermione told me after a thick silence had cloaked the room. "They really shouldn't—"

"I got kissed."

"Oh! Well that's … was it nice?"

Yes.

"No. It was stupid."

"Was it Pucey again?" asked Hermione, looking crestfallen on my behalf.

"No, it was …" I paused. "Nott."

"Nott? Theodore Nott?"

I nodded.

"How did it happen?" she asked, flummoxed.

"I was upset about everything that happened in the ballroom, so he came upstairs and … anyway, he regretted it immediately after and now I don't know how I'll show my face at school anymore. He was really angry at himself for doing it. He'll probably say something."

Hermione frowned.

"So some boy helped himself to a kiss and now you have to be the one too embarrassed to go to school? That's rubbish. You didn't do anything wrong. Just because he gave in to something completely normal and hurt his pride doesn't mean it's your fault at all, and I dare him to come up to you and say it is, because I'll make sure to hex his mouth off!"

I hadn't seen her so fired up in a long time. It was Hermione Granger circa the S.P.E.W era all over again.

"You know he's probably just afraid of what Malfoy would say," she huffed, arms crossed. "Typical boys. Always too little too late."

"I don't think he's afraid of Malfoy," I muttered. "I think it was an accident, to be honest. I don't think he meant it to be me. It's just been too long since he snogged Pansy, so he got the urge out any way he could."

"Pansy?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, they broke up or something."

"Don't you mean Tracey?"

I felt the heat drain from my face.

"Er … same thing?"

Hermione nodded.

"Yeah, I get it. The whole house is always sort of dating each other, isn't it? How those Slytherins keep track of it is beyond me."

"No idea," I admitted, picking blue nail polish off my nails.

Hermione sighed in frustration.

"There's no way he did it by accident, Heidi, believe me. He likes you, the git. But it doesn't matter. He's behaved abhorrently and until he apologizes I implore you to have nothing to do with him."

I raised my eyebrow.

"Are you saying you support me having something to do with him as long as he apologizes? His dad's a Death Eater, Hermione."

She snorted.

"Good thing we didn't tell the boys then, or they'd be trying to track him down with a Beater bat for each kneecap. But I think it's more nuanced than that. I mean, his father's a Death Eater but I don't think I've ever heard him praise the ideology come to think of it. He's not stupid, either. He's in the Potions program with Katie Bell and she says he's been a great partner. And I guess you could say he's cute," she admitted with an unmistakeable blush.

"Really? Nott?" I asked, forgetting momentarily that I was supposed to pretend I was attracted to him.

"If you're into the whole dark hair, sad smile thing," she clarified.

I nodded with what I could feel was a strained smile. Apparently I was more into the blond hair, rude smirk thing. The experts it would take to diagnose me … I couldn't even fathom.

"Anyway, I'll let you get to bed. You look absolutely exhausted, and you'll want to be up decently early tomorrow to open your presents."

"My presents?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Of course! It's Christmas. You don't think we'd leave you without any presents, do you?"

I shot my arms out and wrapped her in a hug that sounded like it squeezed the life out of her. I don't think I could have verbally communicated how much I loved her just then. How much I loved every single one of them, for making me feel at home at this most upsetting time.

D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D

"Good morning, dear!" beamed Mrs. Weasley as I made my way down the stairs. "The kids are just in the garden playing some Quidditch, waiting for the girls to wake up. Are you hungry?"

I nodded, feeling shy as she led me over to the table.

"Coffee or pumpkin juice, dear?"

"Pumpkin juice, please," I said. She sent a glass over, and a heaping plate of eggs, sausage and toast along with it.

"I'm glad you were able to make it out to us," she said as she took a seat across from me. "It's been a while since the last time."

She was giving me an unmistakably sympathetic smile and I wondered briefly if my ballroom adventures had somehow made it into a gossip magazine.

"I'm glad to be here," I said.

"Ron and Ginny speak very highly of you. Especially with what happened last year at the Ministry." She pushed some ketchup towards me. "Nymphadora praises you every chance she gets, of course. It was a big thing you did. You're too young to understand it, perhaps, but it was a very big thing."

I could feel my face get hot.

"Everybody did a big thing that night, Mrs. Weasley."

She smiled.

"Of course, dear. But for some, the decision was perhaps a bit more intuitive. Say, have you met Andromeda Tonks yet?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, you'd love her. You have a lot in common, I think. Next time we have her over I'll make sure Ronald asks you too."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," I said, feeling a bit more at ease as I chewed my toast.

"Of course, dear," she said, patting my hand warmly, before getting up to tend to a pile of dishes. Just then, Hermione and Ginny emerged into the kitchen.

"How was your sleep, Heidi?" asked Ginny as she poured herself juice. "Fred and George were setting off those fireworks all night long. I could have killed them."

"I slept through it," I admitted. "I must have been really tired."

"Well I hope you're better rested now because I'm planning on pummelling those two at Quidditch in about ten minutes and I'll need your help," she said darkly. I grinned.

"After everybody opens presents, I hope," said Mrs. Weasley as she pecked a rushed Mr. Weasley on the cheek.

"Molly, I'm so sorry but I'm needed at work."

"Work? Arthur, it's Christmas! Surely it can wait!"

He shook his head.

"A tip came through about Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov's whereabouts. I've got to go in."

I froze, growing vaguely aware that bits of scrambled egg were sliding off my fork. Lucius Malfoy's whereabouts? Lucius Malfoy didn't have whereabouts — Lucius Malfoy was basically dead.

"What does that have to do with counterfeit objects, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "Can't the Aurors handle it?"

"Molly, come on. We're working double time to keep this out of the papers, but that doesn't mean the threat isn't there. If anything, we need to catch them faster."

"Um … excuse me, Mr. Weasley, but Lucius Malfoy got the Kiss a month and a half ago."

Mr. Weasley turned to me in shock.

"What ever makes you say that?"

I swallowed nervously.

"Well, I … I was there."

All heads turned to me, eyes wide.

"I went with Malfoy to visit him. Dumbledore allowed it," I added, hoping that his permission made any of this less controversial.

"You what?" asked Hermione, face so blanched that her faint littering of freckles stood out double the usual amount.

"You couldn't have seen him get the Kiss, Heidi," Mr. Weasley said, finally seeming to regain his composure. "Lucius Malfoy has been at large for at least that long."

"No, I was there," I said in a panic. "I spoke to him and everything!"

"But did you actually see it happen?" he asked.

My heart was pounding frantically as I tried to remember everything I could about that day.

"No," I concluded weakly. "I — I blacked out some time after we spoke. I don't remember leaving."

"Clever bastard," said Mr. Weasley. "Tried to establish an alibi. And through a teenage girl, no less!"

I shook my head desperately.

"That doesn't make sense. Malfoy told me not to tell. Wouldn't he have wanted me to if his father was trying to establish an alibi?"

"I don't know," admitted Mr. Weasley. "I never know with that family."

"Alright then, Arthur. The sooner you go the sooner you'll be back."

Seemingly determined to save the festivities, Mrs. Weasley ushered the three of us that remained to the Christmas tree. I caught Hermione's eye and mouthed 'later', making her relax somewhat. Just then, Ron, Harry and the twins came through the door, covered in snow. They dropped their brooms by the door and joined us.

"Ron and Harry ought to know about this," Hermione muttered as she grabbed a present from under the tree and passed it to me. I couldn't argue with that, no matter how much Malfoy would have wanted me to. I nodded as I opened the Healer-themed stationary set she'd bought me and promised we would all go upstairs when the moment was right.

One winter scarf, twelve boxes of sweets and a pair of Quidditch gloves later, my mood was considerably lighter, along with everybody else's. I had almost forgotten that anything existed outside of this warmth-filled house.

"Heidi this is gorgeous!" exclaimed Hermione as she opened the box holding the charm bracelet I'd gotten her. "Just wait until you see what the boys got you!"

As if on cue, Harry and Ron approached me with a badly-wrapped, broom-shaped object. I looked at them with a raised eyebrow, suspecting yet another ploy to replace my old, broken broom, whose twin I would be ordering once Auntie Coraline's Christmas money came through.

"We gave it some thought," said Harry. "The thing is, Heidi, we realized we could probably put you on a twig and you'd make it work. So we hope you like this particular twig."

My jaw dropped as I ripped the packaging open.

"You got me another Cleansweep!"

Ron laughed.

"Better, mate: we got yours fixed! Turns out it looked worse than it was after the match against the Slytherins. Just a clean break, was all. Bloke at the shop said it took him three minutes to repair."

"You guys!" I squealed as I engulfed them both in a hug.

"I think someone's at the door," said George as he wrapped green and red tinsel around his shoulders.

"I'll get it," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's probably Tonks and Remus with the Yule log for tonight."

After what seemed like only a second, she appeared back in the room and called me over.

"It's for you, Heidi, dear."

Standing at the door, dressed in a burgundy fur cloak and jewel-encrusted cloche hat, was my snow-covered mother.

"Mum!" I exclaimed at the unseemly vision before me.

"Could we talk?"

I nodded mutely, before leading her inside.

"So this is The Burrow," she mumbled, smiling thinly at everybody in the living room. She followed me up the stairs to Percy's room, nearly bumping her head off the ceiling.

"How did you know I'd be here?" I asked, knowing that I hadn't actually told her where I was running away since it would defeat the purpose.

"Draco told me."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Of course Draco told her.

"You have humiliated me quite effectively this time around. If the entire community didn't have its nose in my marriage, they certainly do after the lecture you read out to that disgusting woman at our party. You acted completely inappropriately, you have embarrassed both myself and your father, and …"

I realized with horror that her eyes were welling with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Mum," I said as she wiped her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. "I'm so, so—"

"I love you so much, my darling girl. You are always so fiercely on my side. Sometimes I don't know what I've done as a mother to deserve it."

"Mum, come on…"

"I know I frustrate you, darling. And I don't always understand you. Maybe when you have children of your own you will relate to this a little better." She paused to dab at her running mascara. "Please come home. I can't bear the holidays without you."

I hesitated.

"I don't think that's the best idea. If she's there at the New Year's ball I might just claw into her," I said with a half-smile.

My mother gave a wet laugh.

"There won't be one this year. I'd like to keep it smaller; just you, Blaise and Draco."

My throat went dry.

"Hang on, what about Dad?"

She shook her head slightly.

"He's at your Nonna's for a little while. We agreed that was for the best." My mother grabbed my hands. "Please say you'll come home tonight."

"I — I'll go talk to everyone downstairs," I said, helplessly moved by her uncharacteristic begging.

"I'll pack up your things."

I came back downstairs to a notably quieter room. Everybody was looking on in curiosity to see what was going on.

"I … I might need to go home. I wasn't expecting—"

Mrs. Weasley nodded voraciously.

"Of course you must, dear! Your mother's come all this way. She must have walked all the way over Stoatshead Hill by the looks of her."

"Wait, Heidi, shouldn't we have that talk?" said Hermione, tilting her head slightly at Harry and Ron.

I shook my head apologetically.

"Later."

It was always later.

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It didn't take Malfoy long after everybody else had gone to bed to appear in my doorway. Good. I was feeling particularly tetchy that night and wanted nothing more than to unleash. The upside of this was that the anxiety of facing the boy who kissed me had been eliminated. This wasn't the boy who kissed me — this was the Death Eater who lied.

"Your father's alive and well. Don't know if you knew that," I said coldly as I unpacked various fuzzy jumpers and put them back in my wardrobe.

He took a deep breath.

"I did."

I mustered all the goodwill on the planet to prevent myself from punching him square in the jaw at that moment.

"Of course you did," I said spitefully. "I probably don't actually want to know the answer to this, but am I an accomplice to something?"

"We didn't break him out of Azkaban if that's what you're thinking, Zabini."

"Oh, well that would be insane, right? And Merlin knows we haven't engaged in any insanity this year, so I'm sure we're in the clear," I retorted.

"Zabini…"

"I know you used me. I know I was there just to establish an alibi," I said, secretly unsure of that very fact until he looked away uncomfortably. "Except for the fact that you told me not to tell. So either you're really stupid, or you're five steps ahead of me in some bizarre mind game again."

"I am extremely stupid," he lied.

Something in me snapped. I grabbed the nearest object — which happened to be the holiday edition of Witch Weekly — and smacked him with it.

"Why would you make me keep a secret like that! It was literally making me sick, you foul git! If you wanted it out anyway then why would you … hang on … no, you're not that devious…"

"Zabini, let's be honest: there's only one way to get you screaming something from the rooftops, and it's by telling you to keep it to yourself."

I narrowed my eyes, dropping the magazine.

"Looks like you were wrong about me then, Malfoy, because I didn't tell a soul what I saw until yesterday."

His face softened somewhat, and I almost felt sorry for the red welt that was rapidly spreading across part of it.

"I know you didn't. I'm a little touched, I have to admit," he said.

"Yeah, well don't get too touched because I might still kill you!"

No longer able to bring myself to attack him, I took to pulling on my own hair in frustration.

"I spent so much time worrying about you! Wondering how you were getting on! Wondering if you were grieving! And you were fucking with me all this time! My god, I could strangle you!"

He took a step towards me and, before I could react, took both of my hands and brought them around his neck, holding them firmly in place.

"Please do."

"Malfoy don't be stupid," I snapped. I could feel his quickened pulse underneath my palms. He was within reach again. I already knew the taste of him … would it really be so earth-shattering if I leaned in for a little more?

The image of Hermione, indignant on my behalf, flashed across my face. I threw his hands off me, and with them went the butterflies.

"When I said that I would help you and that I was there for you, you realize that that hinged on you being honest with me, right? I mean you aren't that oblivious, correct?"

Malfoy looked down at me and licked his lips impatiently.

"I need my father, Zabini. I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone, you bloody idiot! When will you realize? But to support the release of a murderer—"

"Don't," he warned lowly, "refer to my father—"

"I will refer to anybody that tries to murder me as a murderer!"

"Then you better lose the use of my surname and start calling me one instead!" Malfoy snarled.

"You? No, you're just a liar."

"I NEEDED MY FUCKING FAMILY BACK—"

"Liar."

"How dare—"

"Dirty liar," I said with what I hoped was a patronizing smile.

"You want honesty from me, Zabini? That's what you want?"

"Yes."

"At all costs?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll never lie to you again."

I snorted.

"Dirty, filthy liar."

Malfoy smiled wickedly, knowing as well as I did that I was about to get what I bargained for. He put a hand over his heart.

"Cross my heart and hope to die, Zabini, I'll tell the truth about anything you want to know. Ask away. Anything."

I faltered for a minute, before the words came out of my mouth all at once.

"Why did you kiss me?"