Time Period: About 7 years after school. Harry is about 24 & flashbacks of his 7th year at Hogwarts.
Spoilers: Hopefully you've read all the books and book five. But it doesn't matter to much. If characters are dead... it's because it's implied that they died in the passing time period. ;D Did that make sense? I hope so. :x
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Hogwarts
7th Year
(December 25th Xmas)
No one noticed his absence that night.
The sun rose, as it always did, and the snow beneath the bench glistened. Harry woke with a groan and a stiff neck.
At the same time, quite a few levels below, dim white light, almost non-existent, shone into steely eyes through the small windows of a Slytherin chamber.
It was 9:05am on Christmas morning.
Harry, shaking the sleep from his head, stood from the warm spot on the bench and walked over to the balcony. The grounds were sheeted with a nights worth of howling winds and blowing snow.
The glare from the snow penetrated every part of the room, shining out the lights along the ceiling and making the walls glow with white. He watched, smiling oddly, as the sun made it's way up the skyline.
Draco pulled his green duvet up around his arms, his white pillow fluffy under his head.
He couldn't get warm.
There was something about the dungeons that chilled you. The greenish fire, though it was fire, seemed to give off no warmth and definitely didn't give any comfort to him.
Looking around his room, he found it a mess. His shirt from the night before had been tossed down on the grim carpet at his bedside.
Harry stared from the balcony, the sun now almost mid-sky. It had to be well past breakfast and lunch was closely approaching.
He wondered, in the back of his mind, if Draco had made it back to his dormitories that night.
Remembering the first time he'd tried getting back, he sighed. Only it wasn't likely Draco cared to remember where the mysterious room was, as Harry had.
Draco had circled for at least an hour, searching for a way down to the dungeons. He'd found the same door three times before finding something that sparked a familiar feeling.
And now Draco Malfoy was alone in his prefect chambers, hearing no sound from the common room that was just outside his doors.
He convinced himself to get up from his covers, his white blonde hair now ungeled and hanging in his blue eyes. Bringing his palm to his eyes, he held them there, rubbing the sleep away.
Now, standing in front of a mirror, he only wore his silk pair of dragon boxers. He'd been far to tired at 1:00am to bother finding anything in his trunk.
The floor froze his toes as they touched the stone. A cold draft wipped through the room.
Draco searched for his robes and, finding them at the foot of his bed, he slipped it over his cold, pale, shoulders.
The common room was empty. He wasn't surprised, he'd suspected it would be. Any wrappings from Christmas had already been cleared.
Six Slytherins had been left for holidays, he suspected they were all out drinking hot cocoa and skating on the now-frozen lake.
Draco was alone.
The clock above the fireplace in the Gryffindor tower ticked away the seconds, the bell started chiming.
On the 10th chime Harry walked into the room, finding no one there.
He was alone too.
Changing his garments, and catching a long needed shower, Harry headed to the owlery to find Hedwig. He'd missed this mornings post at breakfast and, if anything had come for him, she would still have it with her.
Clambering up the stairwells to the west tower, Harry saw no one. Passing a window, he spotted staff and students making mischief in nearby snowdrifts.
If Hermione or Ron had stayed for holidays, he'd have spent the morning with them doing what most every student was at this time of day.
But, instead, he was indoors and seeking company from his pet owl.
Hedwig cooed with appreciation and curiosity as Harry appeared.
She had a letter from Ron...
Harry,
Hope everything is doing alright there.
Everything's been going smooth here,
though mum's still upset Percy
didn't bother to send a greeting.
I don't think anyone really misses
him, though.
Hope your gifts found you well.
'Mione had me slip them into
your trunk before we left for the
train. If you haven't found them,
look under your jumper from last
Christmas. Fred and George sent me
something to give you before break,
it's with your presents. Shouldn't
be hard to tell which, though.
There's a picture on it of those
two, a promotion for the shop.
Mum sends her love. See you
when the train's in.
Ron
Harry has sent his own gifts with Hedwig and a school owl on Monday, having not thought to give them their presents beforehand. He only wished he could be with them at the burrow for Christmas.
For the first time since dinner the night before, Harry felt a sudden pang of emptiness. He had been alone all day, not seeing anyone, so he shrugged it off as loneliness and nothing else.
"Just you and me, eh Hedwig?"
He ran his fingertip along her feathered top and down her beak. She nipped at him, questioning for a treat. Harry came through, plucking one from his pants
pocket.
Hedwig nibbled at the treat, happily nudging his palm for more when it was gone.
Patting her on the head gingerly, Harry said his goodbyes and made his way down to the great hall for lunch.
Draco, now clean, stood in front of his mirror and gelled his hair back slowly. Smirking at his own reflection, he pulled a crisp black robe cloak over his black shirt and pants. His prefect badge looked back at him, the only thing standing out on his clothing.
Just the way he liked it.
Harry sat at his house table, he was the only on in the hall. He wasn't bothered by the awkward silence because, soon, he knew students would come trampeling in, snow in their hair and their clothes wet with cold.
Draco was outside the door to the halls, but he stopped himself from going any further when he noticed someone sitting at the Gryffindor table.
There he was, alone. Harry Potter. Again, for the 4th time in the last 2 months, he would be alone with Potter.
But, luckily, he had stopped in time. He hadn't been seen. Draco turned to his right and walked off, as if he'd had every intention to do so in the first place.
Slowly students poured into the Great Hall, Hufflepuffs first and then a few Gryffindors. Most of Slytherin came late, the Ravenclaws not far before.
Draco Malfoy was the last in the hall, looking irritate yet still smug as he came in the door.
The Slytherin table was in an uproar, louder than they'd been the entire week. And, in turn, the Gryffindors were quiet.
Draco looked across his table at the three sixth. "What's everyone talking about?".
Blaise Zabini gave him a look, "You should have seen it! Gryffindor tried to whip us in a little game of quidditch." With a whoop from the surrounding Slytherins, there was some high-fiving and loud laughs as if it was the funniest thing to happen all break.
"Yea," Montague tried to stop himself from laughing, "the bloody idiots! A second year, a fourth year, two fifth years, and a sixth year flying on those rusty old Comets they keep in the pitch shed! And they thought they could beat us! Tried to play with two chasers, one keeper, a beater and a seeker. Silliest thing I've ever seen."
Again, more laughs.
"You should have seen the look on that fifth year when the bludger came at him! Hit him square in the jaw! Almost broke his broom clean in half if I'd aimed a little lower."
Draco laughed now, for the first time, at the thought of seeing something stupid Gryffindor flying off his broom.
"Got in big trouble with McGonagall though, that Colin Creevey. Took it on himself to jump Montague when his brother got hit. Nasty little kid, i'nt he?"
Staring across the hall at the Slytherin, Harry took a sip of his warm cinnamon juice. He took notice that neither Dennis nor Colin had made it to lunch.
Harry didn't think he'd feel at all bad if either of them had been sent to the infirmary with a bloody nose or a broken arm. He had to keep himself from grinning outright at the image of Dennis slamming into the snow on the pitch. But, as always, he kept it to himself as he poked a spoon in the stew that had appeared in front of him.
No one at the table spoke when Colin appeared, minus his annoying counterpart, and made his way to a seat far from Harry.
Lunch was soon over, but Harry didn't bothering leaving the hall.
He felt as if a trance had come over him, staring at nothing in particular, and thinking about nothing specific, when McGonagall appeared behind him.
"Mr. Potter," she scowled, as if she'd caught Harry doing something he shouldn't.
"Professor," he greeted her curtly, annoyed.
"I take it your holidays are going well?"
She looked over the top of her glasses, as if to say 'you're holidays better be going well', and waited for his answer.
Not knowing the right thing to respond with, he shrugged it off with a simple, "It's going, Professor".
"I see... Mr. Potter, you weren't at breakfast this morning. Can you tell me why?"
"Overslept," came his quick reply, hoping she hadn't noticed his absence from the tower the night before.
If she found out he'd been out the entire night he'd surely be put on around-the-clock watch.
Who was he trying to kid, he didn't know. They already had him on watch; he knew it but refused to acknowledge it. But if they knew about last night, and nights before that, he was sure they would be on him like a hawk, watching him all the time.
McGonagall nodded her head in understanding, "Very well... I'll be seeing you at dinner then, I assume?"
He wanted to tell her not to assume anything from him, but she didn't need a response from him as she walked away. He watched until the tails of her cloak were out of view before going back to his state of numbness. He was almost alone again.
Almost.
A group of three Hufflepuffs were whispering at their table opposite Harry, still sipping at their steaming goblets.
There was one other person in the hall, however, aside from them.
Draco sat, his fingers wrapped around his own goblet of cinnamon juice, as if he was attempting to warm himself from an unknown draft.
He stared into the distance...
Draco was writing slowly on a piece of parchment, concentrating, when he felt an odd presence, as if someone was standing directly above him. He looked around the room, out of instinct...
Green eyes leveled with his blue and, only for a split second, it was as if two strangers were passing in the street and acknowledging one another.
The look broke, someone had looked away, and the second dissolved.
Harry felt a pang of frustration, Draco felt as if something was off, by neither really thought on why they felt the way they did.
Harry, having been the one to look away, gathered himself and stood from the empty table.
But, reaching the oak doors to the entrance hall, he was blocked.
Draco, standing three inches above Harry at 6'1", had an odd look on his face. Well, 'odd' by Malfoy standards, anyways. For once he looked down on the raven haired Potter with no contempt in his features.
Giving a suspicious look at Draco, Harry went to tell him to move. But Draco practically shoved the scroll he'd been writting on at Harry, walking off into the entrance hall and towards the dungeons.
Harry stood, bewildered, as he unfolded the crumpled piece he'd had thrown at him.
You don't know what it is.
... and that was all it said.
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Oh, and a DUVET is a blanket like thing... in Britain (so I'm told) they have these things they use... you can change the covers on them and such and the heaviness of the duvet is measure in TOGS so I couldn't help using the world instead of blanket. :d