Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world are the inestimable creation of J.K.
Rowling. I am a trespasser, playing for my amusement (and hopefully yours).
Harry felt much more focused after his talk with the headmaster. He went down to the kitchens and talked to Dobby, who brought him six bottles of butterbeer, all packed in holly boughs in a basket, without question, which Harry found rather embarrassing. Harry had decided that if he was to try to make friends with Malfoy, a generous amount of butterbeer and chocolate was probably the best first step.
He went to Honeydukes in mid-afternoon, guessing they would close early on Christmas eve. When he arrived, the shop was dark , with snow falling outside the grey windows. Harry picked out Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Wizzbees, and Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans first, then an assortment of other sweets. He left money on the counter, and was back at Gryffindor Tower an hour before dinner. Nervously, he packed the sweets around the butterbeer.
"Well, there," he said out loud, to the empty room. "If it's the Ravenclaw girl, she should be impressed, and if it's Malfoy, he should at least try some before challenging me to a duel." He frowned at Ron's perfectly made bed. "Maybe I should leave a note, so they know where to look for my body."
Dinner was a quiet affair. They were still sitting at the small house tables. Harry knew from experience that those were likely to be gone at Christmas dinner. The Ravenclaw girl looked unconcerned as she chatted with her friends. Malfoy looked pale and left early, without Crabbe and Goyle, who stayed for thirds on pudding.
When the Ravenclaw girl left, Harry left. He went upstairs and ditched his robe. He put on grey slacks, his one pair that actually fit, and a black turtleneck, so he looked as little the Gryffindor as possible, then picked up his cloak and the basket of treats. Once in the corridor, he covered himself and the basket with the cloak, and he headed down to the first floor girls' bathroom.
Harry walked quietly along the dark tunnel, the way lit only by the dim light of his wand. In sight of the Chamber entrance, he extinguished even that, and crept forward in the faint light that bled out from the torchlit center of the hall.
Halfway down the hall, he could see that his correspondent was indeed Draco Malfoy. Under Harry's last words, Draco was writing
Draco sat back. Harry watched him mutter something to his wand, probably canceling the Scribere spell, then sigh. He looked pensively down the hall toward the statue of Salazar Slytherin.
Harry came within a few feet of Malfoy and put down the basket. He stepped back. This, he knew, made the basket seem to appear from nothing. Malfoy goggled at it.
Harry pulled off his cloak. Although he would have enjoyed seeing Malfoy's expression, he deliberately looked away from Malfoy's face, though keeping his wand hand in sight, to give the Slytherin time to recover.
"I know you're not me," he said. "I was just wondering if I could seal the door, that's all. You need to be a Parselmouth to open it."
He looked back at Malfoy, who was regarding him with his usual sneer.
"Honestly," Harry continued with a smile. "You're the absolute prince of Slytherin, and can't even talk to snakes." He took a butterbeer from the basket and offered it to Malfoy. "Want one?"
After several seconds in which Malfoy did not move, Harry shrugged, opened the bottle, and took a drink from it himself.
"I was afraid it was you," he offered. "We're a fine pair, aren't we? Happy Christmas, Malfoy. Take some of it."
"You have an invisibility cloak," Malfoy said finally, taking and opening a bottle of butterbeer as if he hardly noticed it. His voice was accusing. Harry grinned.
"Well, you knew that! You saw my head in Hogsmeade, right? Would have got me in major trouble if Lupin hadn't intervened for me. Snape's a git, but a clever one. He'd nicked me, all right."
"You put mud in my hair."
"I protect my friends." Harry tried to sound calm, but he kept a close eye on Malfoy's wand hand. "You're nasty to Ron, I'm nasty to you. Nothing personal." Harry tossed a Chocolate Frog at Malfoy, who caught it reflexively.
"So, where's Ron now?" Malfoy asked, smirking slightly. He opened the Chocolate Frog and pinned it expertly. Harry looked down, but mostly to hide a smile.
"At home, with his girlfriend."
"Mudblood Granger."
"That's right." Harry looked up. "Watch your mouth, Malfoy. He may not be my constant companion anymore, but I still love her. And don't try to turn that into anything scandalous, either."
"As you wish, my host," said Malfoy, imbuing the words with utter disinterest. Harry sat down on his rug.
"You're welcome," he said. Malfoy shot him a glare. "How did you find it, anyway?" Harry asked. "I know I left the door open, but...."
Malfoy grinned. "There was the ghost in the Prefects' bathroom - some awful wingeing girl."
"Moaning Myrtle."
"Her. She likes watching me naked."
"You let her?!" Harry exclaimed.
"Well, it's not like she can touch me, or anything. I enjoy torturing people like that."
"Oh."
"So she came in all pleased, saying a boy had been awful to her, and she frightened him off, and he'd done something he shouldn't have done."
"She didn't say it was me, though?"
"Oh no. She wouldn't even say where. So I cast Umbram Jubo on her -"
"What's that?"
"A spell to control ghosts."
"Teach me it?" Harry said eagerly.
Malfoy smiled. "Maybe later, Potter," he drawled. "If I decide you can be trusted. Actually, it just enables you to give one command to a ghost."
"So you asked her...?"
"Where the boy had done the bad thing." Malfoy leaned back. "I was half expecting a dead body, the way she'd been carrying on, and instead there was just this hole where a sink should have been." He frowned at his butterbeer. Pointing his wand at it, he said, "Cale." A wisp of steam rose from the neck.
"What was that?" Harry asked.
"What?"
"That spell? You heated it."
"Don't you know that?" Malfoy asked, frowning.
"Malfoy! You know I was raised by Muggles. I don't know a thing I didn't learn at Hogwarts."
"I'll show you," said Malfoy. He took Harry's bottle of butterbeer. "Watch the wand movement. That's important." His wand wavered up the bottle in an flickering motion. "Cale!" He handed the bottle back to Harry. It was a beautifully warm as if he'd just received it from Madame Rosemerta.
"Brilliant!" said Harry.
Malfoy looked arrogantly pleased. "I told you I could help you," he retorted. "It's taken you six years to believe me?"
"That wasn't what you offered to help me with," Harry countered.
"Not exactly, but it was implied."
"I just heard someone who talked about my new friend the way my aunt and uncle talk about me and my parents."
"What?" Malfoy said. He sounded confused.
"'The wrong sort,'" said Harry bitterly, "'people like that.' They mean wizards and witches. I didn't care what you meant."
"Oh." Malfoy drank some of the butterbeer. After a few seconds, he added, almost sulkily, "I meant to be friendly, actually."
"Yeah," said Harry. "Well for friendly, I'd rather have someone who'd explain Quidditch, and the cards in Chocolate Frogs, and what the houses of Hogwarts are. I can choose my friends myself."
Malfoy stretched back, ignoring the comment. "Where'd you get the goods?" he asked, taking a Fizzing Whizbee.
"The butterbeer's from the kitchens," Harry confessed. "And the sweets from Honeydukes. I know a secret passage into Hogsmeade."
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Show me."
"Maybe later." Harry looked archly at Malfoy. "If I decide you can be trusted."
Malfoy smirked, but it didn't look so unfriendly, now. Of course, that was partly because he was now floating several inches above the grey stones.
Later in the evening, Harry noticed Malfoy had opened a third butterbeer, which meant there was only one left. He took it and held it out in his left hand, then cast Cale on it.
Malfoy looked over at the light steam.
"There you go. Good thing you weren't brought up in a proper wizarding family - you'd be beating me at classes." He shivered slightly. "And wouldn't that have Father in a rage."
Harry leaned back against the wall, and wondered if there was a way to heat that, as well. Malfoy had been alternating between friendly and cool all evening; he didn't think it was a good time to press for details on Malfoy's relationship with his father. He looked at the butterbeer instead.
"I suppose at a certain point, you get too tiddly to do the right bit of waver?" he speculated.
Malfoy shrugged. "At which point, you probably don't care that it's lukewarm."
"Mm." Harry looked speculatively at Malfoy. "So...?"
"What?"
"Are we going to try being friends?"
Malfoy was silent for so long that Harry was afraid the boy was going to attack him. He brought his right arm casually up across his knees, so he could get his wand back out in a hurry.
"It hardly seems advisable," Malfoy said diffidently. "My house would despise me for it, and your house would despise you, and my father would have fits." He frowned for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Unless, of course, I persuaded him it was all an elaborate plot...." Malfoy began to look rather dreamy.
"Er... maybe I'll just spend the holidays figuring out the last semester of potions, then," Harry said quickly.
"Well, no, we could do things together - I mean, during holidays. We'd need to be discreet, of course, but Crabbe and Goyle are hardly a challenge to avoid." Malfoy smiled lazily. "Perhaps it would be fun."