It was almost Christmas, and Draco had the strange feeling that the celebration was not going to be a happy one. Last year he had been stressed and alone, convinced he would not live long enough to become an adult. But now, even if he was not alone and alive, the situation was worse. Potter had no parents; Hermione's had forgotten her and his thought he was dead.

He felt Hermione stir against him and replaced the blanket he had thrown above her. After the Weasel had left them, she had (not so secretly) cried herself to sleep for an entire week, before accepting the dreamless potion he had offered. Still, she seemed to think that he too would disappear and stayed with him more often than before. He had seen how Potter had tried (and failed) to comfort her, and even if he knew the situation was not an easy one for her, he felt happy to know that he was the one that could make her relax enough to fall asleep.

Potter too had been affected by his best friend's betrayal, but he had tried not to show it. The only thing Draco had found to make him feel a bit better had been to send Kreacher to find a bottle of Fire-whisky that they had drunk together, after Hermione had gone to sleep of course.

It had been a strange evening.

Two weeks earlier

"He may be your best friend Potter, but he clearly fucked up."

"Can't believe he did that either. We've been friends for years, for Merlin's sake."

Potter apparently was not accustomed to drink, and he had been less and less coherent as the evening had progressed. For their sake, he hoped no Death Eater would come.

"And fuck, Hermione…" Draco had continued, thinking of the heartbroken face she now always seemed to have. "The girl loves him and he leaves her like that."

That sentence had led to the strangest moment of the night. Potter had stopped drinking and looked at him, directly in the eyes, a quizzical look on his face.

"Does she really, Malfoy?"

He had not known what to answer. Of course, she loved him. Even if it was the stupidest thing in the world. Had Potter not observed her for the last five years, and especially last year?

Potter had – warily – stood up and, after finishing his drink, had decided it was time for him to leave.

"One last thing, Malfoy. You make her cry like that, you're a dead ferret."

And with that, he had left.

"Malfoy?"

Potter had appeared on the frame of the library's door. He looked at Hermione sleeping but said nothing about the fact that she was against him, and redirected his glaze on the blond.

"Do you think you can wake her? I'd like to tell both of you something."

Draco nodded and gently shook Hermione after Potter had left them.

"Hermione? Hermione love, wake up."

Shit , he thought, panicking, what have I just said?

Hermione was still sleeping soundly, however, and it took him five minutes to fully wake her, this time without him saying something he did not want to. When she finally was awake, she smiled sweetly at him, and he felt something funny in his stomach. Like, butterflies maybe? What on earth was happening to him right now?

"Potter wants to talk to us," he said, trying to keep his voice normal. "He's waiting in the living room."

Both of them left the library and found the Chosen One on a sofa, a piece of tart that Kreacher had just cooked in the hand.

"Right, sit down. Did you sleep well, 'Mione?"

"Yeah," she replied, and Draco saw her blushing slightly.

"I've had an idea. About what to do next," he began.

"Really? What is it Harry?"

"Well, you remember what Dodge said about Bathilda Bagshot?"

"The author of A History of Magic ? Yes, he said she was friends with Dumbledore and lived in Godric's Hollow."

"Precisely. Which made me think. What if he had left her some indications?"

Potter certainly seemed proud of himself, but Draco was not sure about his reasoning.

"Are you sure, Harry? I mean, this really is unlikely, you know that?"

"Yes," he sighted, "I know. But Hermione, that's not the only reason. Godric's Hollow is also the place where it all began. I've always wanted to visit and… and I think this is what I need right now."

He saw Hermione's face and knew what she had decided.

"Alright, we're going to see if it's possible. But we have to plan. And to find some muggles to impersonate. There's no way we will go as ourselves."

"Of course," said Potter happily. "I'm counting on you to help us there!"

"Maybe we should take the cloak too," said Draco. "I mean, people are looking for you, and they…" he stopped, looking at Hermione. "They expect three people."

Her face saddened a bit, but she only nodded.

"You're right. And in case of an attack, this will be a considerable advantage."

"Do you really think somebody is going to attack us?" asked Potter.

"Harry, Godric's Hollow is one of the places I would go looking for you if I was him . Of course, I expect something to happen. But maybe I'm just paranoid and everything will be fine."

"Yeah you'll see, it will only be a small trip."

Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance, thinking the same thing. Something could happen even during a small trip, and they knew it.

"Kreacher will cook a nice dinner for tonight, Masters and Miss."

For days now, the elf had tried to cheer them up and had decided that a nice Christmas dinner would do the trick. Maybe he was right, thought Hermione. They had had nothing to celebrate recently, and she hoped that a nice meal would help her forget their present life.

Not that she was complaining too much, of course. Still, being without her parents hurt a lot, especially today, and she was still deeply moved by Ron's betrayal. How could he do that to us? To me? she thought, again and again.

She knew he had a low self-esteem, and she knew that he felt Draco's presence as a personal challenge to the life he had lived until recently with his friends. But she still could not accept that he had left them based on his own fears. Neither Harry or her had wanted that. He was their friend, for God's sake! Their best friend, on top of that. The man she loved !

Could she still love him, though?

Could she love a man who would abandon her and his best friend during such a critical moment of their existence? What would happen if she got pregnant, and he decided he did not want children now? What if she had a better career than him? What if…

She took her head in her hands and inhaled slowly.

Questions had been piling up in her head for weeks now, and she still had no defined answer. The loving side of her wanted him to come back, to forgive him and to finally declare her love for him. But the rational side was telling her that it was not a good idea, and that she would be disappointed again, hurt again, and not for the last time.

She remembered during the summer, when she had wondered about her boy's reactions. She knew something would go wrong. She should have seen it coming.

Still, it hurt deeply, to lose the man she thought would one day be hers forever.

Yet, she felt better than the first week after he had left. She felt like something inside her had begun to heal, and sometimes she had this feeling of warms surrounding her, making her smile involuntary.

She was not alone, no. Harry had been there for her, and she knew he too had been a victim of Ron's departure.

And there was Draco, too.

It seemed that he had decided to be her own guardian angel. He never said anything, never judged her, but he was never far from her now. She had begun falling asleep next to him when they were reading together (she did not want to drink too much Dreamless potion, and her nights were not restful at all now) and she would always wake up with a warm blanket on her shoulders and Draco slightly massaging her arm, or her hand.

He was still there, she always thought, he had not abandoned her. And deep done, she knew he would never.

Again, she felt this warmth spread through her body, and this time she understood what caused it.

Carefully hidden by Potter's cloak, Draco made sure that he was erasing the trace of his passage. After a nice dinner, they had finally left their rainy hiding place for Godric's Hollow, where they had discovered the first snow they had seen in almost a year. It had made him happy, the snow. Winter had always been his favorite time of the year, partly because of the white duvet that covered everything and transformed the land.

In front of him, Potter and Hermione were slowly advancing. They made their way to the center of the village, and Draco could not stop himself from wondering which had been the Potters' house. He shivered, but the cold was not the only reason. He understood Potter's need to come back there, but it made him uneasy. The Dark Lord had been there, too, and had killed two innocents. Somewhere, he knew, he was still doing it.

The village was nice and reminded him a lot of Hogsmeade with his small cottages decorated with colored like. They passed several shops, a post office, a pub, and a little church from where people emerged. They seemed happy, he thought, as several of them were laughing loudly, sometimes with a drink when they had already reached the pub. He suddenly felt alone and hurried to grab Hermione's hand before squeezing it. She smiled absently, returning the favor cautiously.

"People are celebrating Christmas," noted Hermione. "We never went to the church when I was little. My parents were not believers."

"My family was," said Potter, shrugging. "But they never took me with them. I think I would not have liked it, however. At least I was free to go to sleep when they left, my cousin would always complain that it was too late to be up, even on Christmas Eve."

Hermione smiled at him.

"Yeah, he's right."

"Have I told you he left a cup of tea in front of my room before they left? I thought it was a trap, as I tripped over it, but it seems that he had wanted to be nice for once. Even told me I had saved his soul before he left."

"That is true, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I think it might have changed something in him. Maybe one day I'll try to reach for him. Once this is over. Even after everything that happened, it would be pleasant if we could consider each other as a family."

Draco was listening, trying to grab some pieces of the boy's life. From what Hermione had told him, his childhood had not been nice at all. He remembered feeling bad when she had told him that he had basically been abused, living like Dobby once had.

"Harry look!"

Hermione was pointing at a memorial, which was displaying a small family he recognized instantly: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms. Snow lay upon all their heads, like fluffy white caps. The boy had no scar.

He saw Potter approach, and Hermione slowly came near him, hugging him tightly. What could he be feeling, Draco wondered? Grief? Pain?

He observed the family for a long time. The man, the woman, and the baby. What would his life have been, he wondered, if the Dark Lord had not killed his parents? What would Longbottom's life have been? How would the world be, if Voldemort had never existed? Would he have befriended Potter, on that first day at Hogwarts? Or Hermione?

"C'mon," said Potter, finally turning away from the memorial. Hermione went with him, her arm around his waist, and Draco followed them to the entrance of a graveyard.

"Look at this, it's an Abbott, could be some long-lost relation of Hannah's!" said Potter, looking at the first grave he saw.

"Keep your voice down," Hermione begged him.

As they moved off through the snow, Potter and Hermione split and Draco immediately draw near her. They had been exploring for less than five minutes when Hermione called.

"Harry, here!"

"Don't call him that, 'Mione!" he whispered urgently.

"Oh my God, you're right. What an idiot…" she answered quietly.

"Is it…?" asked her friend.

"No, but look!"

Both boys stooped down and looked at the grave. The words Kendra Dumbledore were written, as well as a short way below her dates of birth and death, and Her Daughter Ariana. There was also a quotation:

Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

They stayed silent for a moment, and Draco wondered if it was Dumbledore who had chosen the words on the tombstone. What did it mean? Even after his death, the man knew how to confuse him.

Glancing at the names again, he wondered if the rumors spread by Rita Skeeter had been true. He had seen the articles in the Prophet, both from Elia's Dodge and the woman, and he had to admit that what she said made him wonder about the youth of the man. It was hard to imagine him innocent, without that long white beard Draco had always seen him wear.

"Are you sure he never mentioned …?" Hermione began.

"No," said Potter curtly, then, "let's keep looking," and he turned away.

They parted once again, and Draco left Hermione looking for the tomb, trying to watch their surroundings in case somebody was observing them. He saw no one, but the strange feeling that they were not alone did not leave him.

"Here!" cried Hermione again a few moments later from out of the darkness. "Oh no, sorry! I thought it said your name."

She was rubbing at a crumbling, mossy stone, gazing down at it, a little frown on her face.

"Look," she said quietly in Draco's direction. "I think it's the mark in the book!"

"The mark?" he whispered.

"Yes, look here."

"Hermione, that's the Deathly Hallows sign" he stated.

"The sign?"

"Yes. It represents the three magical objects created by Death. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, the Invisibility Cloak."

He frowned, taking the fabric of Potter's cloak between his fingers. What if…

"'Mione, I think I've…"

"They're here."

Potter's voice was sharp and clear but it missed something, as if he had forgotten how to really speak. By his tone however, they understood that he had found his mother and father. They moved toward him and saw him in front of one headstone, made of white marble. The inscriptions seem to shine in the dark, and Draco read the names engraved.

JAMES POTTER & LILY POTTER

Born 27 March 1960 – Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981 – Died 31 October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death

Potter and Hermione were now talking quietly, and he decided to leave them alone for a moment. Suddenly, he saw it. Something behind the bushes had moved, and he felt his breath stop for a few seconds. Was someone hidden, observing them? As a precaution, he decided to create an invisible protection charm around them and quietly shook Hermione's shoulder.

"We should go. I think we're not alone."

"Not alone? What do you mean?"

"I think I saw something move."

"Are you sure?" asked Potter quietly. "We look like Muggles."

"Muggles who've just been laying flowers on your parents' grave! Potter, I'm sure there's someone over there!"

He saw the boy flinch but he stood up and put his hand in his coat where Draco knew he had hidden his wand.

"Let's go, then. I assume you've put some protective wards around us?"

"Right. Stop talking to me now."

The had reached the first grave they had seen when Potter sharply looked in the bushes.

"Must be nothing," whispered Potter, a muffliato preventing anyone except them to hear what he had just said. "An enemy would have attacked us already."

Draco was not so sure. Maybe the enemy wanted to be certain it was them.

"We should try to find Bathilda's house," said Hermione. "Which way do you think we should go?"

But Potter had stopped moving, and was staring at the end of a row of houses. Malfoy looked in the same direction and saw it.

"Do you think this is…"

"Yes," told Potter Hermione, "this is it."

They had found his home.

After making sure that they were alone, Hermione and Potter had explored the house for a bit. They had found a sign that explained why the house had remained untouched, and Potter had seemed pretty happy to see that people had written all around it.

Draco suddenly heard something and sharply turned in this direction. Potter must have heard it too, because he turned around suddenly, startling Hermione behind him.

A figure was slowly making its way in their direction, and they stopped talking. After a few minutes, Draco had the conviction that it was a woman, an old one judging by the way she was walking. She stopped, only a few meters from the house, gazing directly at them.

"Do you think it might be Bathilda?" asked Potter.

Draco moved near him and whispered directly in his ear.

"She sees the house, and she sees us. She is magical. But Potter, I'm not sure about this."

The boy nodded, but still went to meet the old woman. WHAT THE FUCK , though Draco, stupid Gryffindor is going to have himself killed. He quietly made his way toward the two figures, making sure that Hermione followed.

"Bathilda?" asked Potter.

The woman nodded and made a sign for them to follow. Cursing under his breath, Draco renewed the protective wards around them and kept up with the small trio, making sure that he was still invisible. The old woman led them through the village for ten long minutes before finally stopping in front of a decrepit house.

Can it really be her? he wondered as he stepped into a small entry that smelled worse than Kreacher's room at Grimmauld's Place.

He felt weird, around the woman, and something seemed to be off. Worse, his Mark began scratching as soon as he entered the house.

It was only when he heard a hiss he knew too well that he understood.

"Potter," he murmured after the woman had left the room, trying not to shake the idiot boy that had led them here. "Potter it's the fucking snake ."

"What do you mean the snake?" he asked. "Did you not just hear her talking?"

"It was a hiss, Harry," whispered Hermione, her voice on edge. "Let's just go now I think I…"

But before they could act Potter clutched his scar, and Draco saw it happening. The woman had come back faster than she should have been able to, and panic seized him as he saw the old body collapsing and the great snake pouring from the place where her neck had been.

"Oh my God," screamed Hermione, trying to steady her wand between her shaky hands. "Oh my God it's going to attack us."

Potter seemed to be paralyzed and stared blankly at the snake, who was rapidly moving towards him. Grasping Hermione's hand, Draco shot a repulsive hex in the direction of the snake who had been on the verge of wrapping himself around Potter and quickly summoned the Boy-Who-Lived to him before making them all disappear.