Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the OC.
All of the darkness that he felt inside...his hatred towards every living thing and those of darker worlds...seemed to dissolve, when he looked into those bright green eyes.
It was mid-afternoon on a sunny September day, and a seventh year Slytherin student, Draco Malfoy, was heading to his last class of the day: Potions. His Head of House, Professor Severus Snape, was the teacher of this class. With his greasy black hair, sallow complexion, and a temper like a lion, it was no wonder that most students chose other classes as their favourite above Potions. Draco, on the other hand, had always admired the Professor's teachings; with his eye set on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Snape found most students to be quite a waste of time, except for Draco and most Slytherin students. Not wanting to be given another detention for being tardy, Draco took a seat next to his bodyguard-like friends, Crabbe and Goyle.
"Silence, or the whole class will be given lines!" Professor Snape hissed, closing a tatty black briefcase. He stood up, taller and more menacing in his billowing black robes, and walked slowly to the front of his desk.
"You all know, I presume, that your N.E.W.Ts exams are growing steadily nearer," he talked, his voice as oily as his skin. "The exam will be given to one person at a time, and I do hope all of you are prepared." At this, his lip curled, as he stared at Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor seventh year who was terribly forgetful and clumsy. "You will also know," he continued, "that the preparation for the exams is independent, until I say further. As for the dream trio," he added, walking over to a nearby group occupied by Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, "I think it best if I split you up immediately."
Draco smirked. He loved to see his rival of seven years, Harry Potter, being tormented by Snape. He himself had tried to make Harry's life (along with Weasley and Granger's) as miserable and humiliating as possible throughout the years, though many of his plans backfired. Harry looked over at him, a similar smirk on his face.
"Professor, sir," he said quietly, "don't you think it unfair not to split up Malfoy's group?"
"That," said Snape, his lip curling, "is a decision that will be up to me."
"Ha," muttered Malfoy, his pearly white teeth glittering through a small smile. He loved to get his way: he always had, and as Snape passed his, Crabbe's, and Goyle's cauldrons, he smiled at them.
"Now," said Snape, again at the front of the class, "I want you all to work on the Visible potion. This potion gives light to any persons or objects that have been struck with an Invisibility spell. MISS GRANGER, PUT YOUR HAND DOWN!" Snape shouted, as Hermione's hand shot into the air. Bushy brown hair surrounding her face, Hermione had been the smartest person in her year, and was probably about to tell the fuming Professor that she already knew how to conjure the potion.
"I would expect a know-it-all to have no questions," said Snape, his voice now a deadly quiet. "Ten points from Gryffindor, for a question not worthy of answering."
Draco, along with many of the Slytherins, was shaking with silent laughter. Malfoy's slicked platinum blonde hair was shaking silently, as well as his hands that he had to cup over his mouth. Hermione, looking as though about to cry, slowly put her hand down, and opened her book, as well as Harry and Ron, who had moved to separate ends of the stingy dungeon classroom.
"I want to hear no talking, as this is an independent assignment," ordered Snape, moving around his desk and sitting down behind it. "Page 356 of Advanced Potion Making will give you exact instructions. Begin."
But before they could begin, the door to the dungeon opened, and a tall, hooded figure stood in the doorway. Snape, looking venomous, brought his eyes up from the attendance list.
"May I help you?" he hissed, staring at the hooded figure.
"Is this Professor Snape's potion class?" asked the figure, holding up a piece of parchment. It was clearly a girl; her voice was breathy and high.
"Yes, and who may you be?" he asked, looking agitated at this disturbance.
"Beaux Markowitz, sir. I'm the new seventh year in Slytherin." She put the piece of parchment back into her robes, and brought both of her hands up to her hooded face.
Draco gasped, along with many others, when she pulled her hood away. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had beautiful light brown hair, pulled back into two French braids that snaked down to her lower back. Her skin was porcelain white, like the color of a small china doll. Her lips were blood red, but what made Draco shudder and gasp yet again were her eyes. Her eyes, round and glittering, were the brightest green he had ever seen: greener, if possible, than famous, stupid Harry Potter's. And then, as she walked toward Professor Snape's desk, Malfoy got the most odd feeling. All of the darkness that he felt inside...his hatred towards every living thing and those of darker worlds...seemed to dissolve, when he looked into those bright green eyes.
She again took the parchment out of her robes, and handed it over to Snape. He read it quickly, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it aside.
"Very well, Miss Markowitz, take a seat next to those three boys," Snape ordered, waving his hand carelessly in Draco's direction as he began again with the attendance list. Beaux's head turned towards his group, and she walked over, her steps barely echoing on the hard stone floor.
Draco, who had been staring at her for quite some time, put his eyes down back to his book, which wasn't even open yet. He opened it up, though his hands were sweaty for some reason, and began reading. It wasn't until she sat down opposite him that he looked up, as if for the first time.
"Hello," she whispered, smiling widely. Her teeth seemed to fill her whole mouth, big and pearly, exactly like Draco's.
"Hey," said Draco, trying to act casual as he reached for the bat's wing ingredient. Instead of being casual, however, he bumped his cauldron with his arm, and steaming water slopped over the edges. He looked up; apparently, neither Beaux nor Snape had noticed.
"What's your name?" she asked, handing him the bat's wing over his cauldron.
"Draco Malfoy," he muttered, his face turning slightly pink with embarrassment. He had no idea why he felt this way, and as he looked up at her again, he couldn't help stare into her eyes, which were like two identical glittering green diamonds. "Oh, and this is Crabbe, and...er...Goyle," he said, gesturing to the two bulging bodies on either side of him, though he confused their names with one another.
"Erm...what are we supposed to be doing? Professor Snape didn't give me any directions," she said quietly, looking around at the teacher, not noticing the few stares still looking at her. Draco looked around as well; he noticed Harry Potter watching her, as well as Ron Weasley, whose jaw had dropped open. He sniggered in their direction, and then looked back at Beaux, who was yet again staring at him, her smile wider than before.
"Uh, we're supposed to be conjuring, the, um, Invisibility...no, the Visible Potion," he said, stuttering. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, but she didn't seem to care. She opened up a black sack, embroidered with a small white snake, and took out the Advanced Potion Making book, though it was slightly shabby. She looked over the cauldrons at Draco's book, and he turned it around so she could see the number of the page.
"Thanks," she whispered, opening up to the page. She began adding the ingredients to her potion, but not before Neville Longbottom had yet again done something stupid enough to his potion, which was emitting green and orange sparks. While Snape muttered "idiot boy" and went to fix Neville's potion, Draco seized the chance to talk.
"So, where did you transfer from?" he asked her, now cutting up gecko's tail, though quite unevenly.
"Well, I was at Camilla's Private Witch School for two years, before switching to Baxton's School of Witchcraft, and then I came here," she said, stirring the contents in her cauldron, which had turned an electric blue.
"So you went to Private schools for just witches?" he asked, sounding envious: he had asked his parents thousands of times if he could transfer to a private wizardry school, but they had refused. At the moment, however, Draco did not want to go anywhere except deeper into those green eyes.
"Yes, but it was terrible. I hated it, so my grandparents transferred me here, where I could make friends with more students. Camilla's and Baxton's schools were quite small, only allowing about one hundred girls to be accepted, so here there is more of an opportunity for me," she told him, saying this all very fast; she was now ladling the contents from her cauldron into a small beaker, and setting it aside. Draco had only just begun adding his contents.
"You seem pretty girl...I, I mean, pretty good at Potion making," he said, turning an even darker shade of pink: Beaux, on the other hand, had at that exact moment moved her chair closer to the table, so he prayed that she had not heard him say "pretty girl."
"Well, my grandmother was the Professor of Potions at Camilla's, so I had extra training, but yes, you could say I'm okay at it," she said, smiling. "So, what's Hogwarts like? I heard Harry Potter goes here," she said, looking around the dungeon.
"Oh yea, he goes here," muttered Draco, his spirits falling: she seemed more interested in hearing about stupid, famous Potter than himself. "He's in Gryffindor, my year." He pointed him out for her, and she smiled at Harry, who was until that point gawking at her. Draco didn't see why; he had been going out with Ravenclaw Prefect Cho Chang since the end of last year, although she had graduated from Hogwarts. When Harry saw Draco pointing him out to Beaux, he put his eyes down, but not before sniggering at Draco first. He sniggered back. "We don't get along at all," he added, as they both turned back to their cauldrons.
"Oh?" she asked, turning back towards him, her eyebrows raised. "Is there a rivalry between you two? Or is it a whole different house reason?"
"Well, Slytherin and Gryffindor have never really gotten along, so I guess you could say that, but we've been rivals since our first year here," he answered, stirring his potion carelessly.
"Oh, that's a shame," Beaux said, her smile turning into a small frown. "I hope I can still make friends with them, though. The other Gryffindors, I mean. There's not a really big difference between everybody. I mean, I'm a pure-blood, and I know that's a big concern here, but that's nothing to be boastful about."
Draco looked down. He had always teased Hermione Granger for being a Mudblood, or a person of Muggle parentage, but he could understand now that it wasn't truly that big of a difference.
"But, I'm still wondering, what is Hogwarts like?" Beaux asked, putting her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands, looking at Draco with interest.
"Well, Dumbledore is the Headmaster, I've never really liked him, and there are four houses: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. You can earn house points and lose house points, and the house with the most points at the end of the year is rewarded the house cup. There's also Quidditch..."he began, but he was interrupted by Beaux.
"Quidditch?!" she said, a little too loud, causing a few heads to turn. "I love Quidditch! I was the Seeker for Camilla's school: we played other schools once a month. We only lost one game the whole time I was there, and that was because I was hit in the stomach with a bludger right before I was about to catch the Snitch, but the Seeker from Armalee's Witchcraft caught it."
"I'm the seeker for Slytherin," Draco said proudly, his chest swelling with pride. This was good: they both had an interest in Quidditch.
"Really? Excellent! I bet you're really good!" she whispered, moving her chair closer to the table. Crabbe and Goyle looked at her: apparently it looked as though they had never seen a girl before. But Draco wasn't paying attention to them: Beaux had just complimented him on something: he smiled at her, his heart thudding.
What is happening to me? he thought to himself, scooping some of his potion out of his cauldron and into a beaker. Why am I feeling this way?
At that precise moment, the bell for end of class rang, and Snape spat at the class, "Bring all potions up to my desk for checking. You will have your grades by tomorrow." He stared pitifully at Neville Longbottom, who looked as though he were about to be sick; his potion had turned an unnatural shade of green.
Beaux stood up, along with the rest of the class. Draco, not paying attention, accidentally tripped over his robes standing up, stumbling forward a little bit. Beaux smiled, giggling slightly. He looked at her, his neat, slicked back hair in his face. He had to make up for his foolishness.
"I'll take that up for you," he told her, motioning towards her beaker.
"Oh. Thank you," she said, handing it to him gently. His hand brushed hers; her hands were soft and smooth, and he wanted to hold them in his own. But he realized that he was still holding her hands with the beaker, and grabbed the beaker quickly away from her, along with his own.
As he walked out of the dungeon with Crabbe and Goyle five minutes later, he heard her voice.
"Draco! Hold on!" Beaux shouted through the crowded corridor, pushing past a bunch of second years. He turned around, surprised that he had forgotten about her that quickly. He didn't how he had forgotten her, with her striking green eyes. He stopped, and waited, having people pass around them.
"I don't know where the Slytherin common room is," she told him, pushing her braids around to her back.
"Could you show me?"
"Yea, sure, it's right down here," he said, and they walked down the corridor together, Crabbe on Draco's left and Goyle on Beaux's right.
It had been three months since Beaux had come to Hogwarts, and Draco still couldn't figure out why he felt the way he did about her. Indeed, she was the sweetest and kindest girl in the entire school not to mention probably the prettiest (in Draco's opinion), courteous to all her fellow students, though Draco thought this a bit strange. "Still," he said to Crabbe and Goyle one day in the Slytherin common room, "she's trying to make an effort to make friends, though she doesn't need to try very hard, does she?"
Why do I even bother with these goofs? He wondered pointlessly, as Crabbe and Goyle nodded slowly and stupidly, their small beady eyes blank.
"Well, I'm going up to the grounds for some Quidditch practice. Erm...why don't you two just stay here, and you won't get locked in the equipment closet again?" Draco muttered, grabbing his broom and leaving his two friends sitting in the common room and not waiting for an answer. They always listened to what he said, for he was the smartest of them, obviously.
When he came up onto the grounds, Draco was surprised to see it already occupied; it was quite early in the morning, not more than seven thirty, yet a small dot was flying (quite gracefully) around the Quidditch pitch. He had to give the person flying credit; it looked as though they had been doing it for years. They sped quickly around the gold hoops, and Draco caught a glimpse of gold.
"Whoever it is has Seeker skills," he whispered to himself, watching impressively as the person caught the Snitch easily between their fingers. They swooped once around the golden goal posts, and landed swiftly on the ground. Eager to see who it was, and realizing they were wearing Slytherin robes, Draco hurried towards the pitch.
"You there!" he shouted, as the person put away the Snitch into the Quidditch box. "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh!" they cried, and Draco was very surprised to recognize the voice. The startled student had let go of the box in surprise, and it had landed painfully on her right hand. Draco, his heart pumping and his stomach doing flip-flops, ran to the girl's side. He lifted the hood of her robes off her head, and locks of light brown curls fell to her knees. She looked up, with her bright green eyes, and smiled.
"Draco! You startled me!" Beaux said, her voice barely covering up the pain in which her hand was in.
"I...I didn't know anyone else was up, and, well, I wanted to get in some flying, because I haven't done it for so long, and well...you aren't going to tell on me, are you?" she looked at him, her eyes watering with pain.
"What? No, of course not, Beaux!" he said, slightly surprised. "I was just coming down here myself to practice; we have a game next Friday against Gryffindor. Are you okay?" he asked, looking at her hand; her porcelain white skin had become bruised around her fingers, and was starting to swell.
"Oh, it's nothing, I just need some ice," she said, looking embarrassed. Draco made a grab for her hand, out of instinct and emotion, and touched her softly. She winced, and he pulled back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." he started, the words becoming mixed around his tongue. He didn't know why he had grabbed her hand. Maybe to comfort her?
"No...it's all right, you're just trying...trying to help," she said, smiling at him. Her teeth gleamed in the early morning light, and Draco's heart did a somersault.
"Er...okay," he said, and he pulled Beaux to her feet with her left hand, taking out his wand.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, looking at Draco curiously.
"I'm going to try something," he said, looking into her eyes, but looking back down at his robes; could he be any more obvious that he cared about her?
"Alright," she said, handing him her right hand, which had slowly swollen and was purple and blue.
"Immendo!" Draco muttered, pointing his wand at her hand, and instantly, in a flash of bright blue light, the bruises faded and the swelling disappeared. Beaux gave a gasp of surprise.
"When did you learn that?" she asked admiringly, looking at her hand as though she couldn't quite believe it.
"I learned it in third year, after an accident with a Hippogriff," he said, blushing.
"That would've been useful to me last year in Baxton's, because I broke my leg in Quidditch against Mistress Ristella's Witchery School."
"Ouch!" Draco said, as he and Beaux walked back up to the school; he had completely forgot about practicing.
"Yea," she said, laughing a little. "Clumsy me fell off my broom in order to miss a Bludger coming at my head. Needless to say, that was the last game of the year, and even though I somehow landed on the Snitch, which counts as catching, we won."
"Excellent," Draco said, smiling. He was impressed; if it had been him, he would've probably been rolling around in pain.
"So, um, are you going home for holidays?" Beaux asked, opening Hogwart's front doors that lead to the Great Hall.
"Are you?" he asked, holding the door for her.
"Well, my grandparents are leaving for Ireland to see the Quidditch World Cup, and I wanted to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, I heard it's beautiful here when it snows," she said, as they walked to the Slytherin table for breakfast. "What are you doing?"
"Erm..." Draco stuttered, trying to find a lie that he could tell Beaux in order to stay for the holidays that would sound impressive about his parents.
"My father is going on a business trip for the Ministry, and mother is, um, going with him," he said, gathering a plateful of food.
"So...are you staying here?" Beaux asked, grabbing a rather small plate of eggs and sausage with a cup of tea. Draco nodded his head, so as not to spray food all over Beaux, and swallowed. They sat in silence for a while, eating their food, when Hermione Granger walked up to them. Draco looked up, a sneer on his face.
"Are you confused, Granger?" he asked her, gritting through his teeth. "The Gryffindor table is over there," and he pointed back at the last table on the right, where Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were eating.
"No, I'm not," she said in the same bossy I'm-right-about-everything voice. "I wanted to speak to Beaux."
Mandy looked up; she seemed to have been trying to keep out of the conversation, so as not to start a row.
"Yes, Hermione?" she asked, looking at Draco with a stare; he knew this stare quite well: it meant "please don't say anything mean to her around me," because Beaux didn't like speaking about other people rudely as Draco did.
"Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend? It's the last before holidays, and I wanted to see if you would want to get some last-minute Christmas shopping done with me," she said quickly, as Harry and Ron had turned around, gaping, at Hermione. They had no problem with Beaux; she had been very nice to both of them, and everybody, in fact. But the vision of Hermione in such close contact with Draco and the Slytherins without a riot going on seemed nothing short of a miracle.
"Oh, well, sure Hermione, I had no idea about the visit to Hogsmeade!" she said, smiling a beautiful smile in which Draco could not ignore; even while eating, she somehow seemed to keep her teeth perfectly white. His heart sank; he had wanted to ask Beaux to come with him to Hogsmeade, so as to maybe propose a date. Beaux seemed to have noticed the disappointment on Draco's face, because she asked, "is there something wrong, Draco?"
Hermione sneered at him, a great loathing in her eyes. She looked back at Beaux, and said "I'll see you at The Three Broomsticks around one then?"
"Sure, Hermione, one it is," Beaux said brightly, not taking her eyes off Draco, who was determinedly looking down into his oatmeal.
"Well, 'bye then," she said, and walked back off to the Gryffindor table.
"Draco? What's wrong?" Beaux asked him again, putting her hand on his. He jumped a little; her hand was warm and smooth.
"I just...well, I wanted to know if...if you wanted to come to Hogsmeade with me," he stuttered, still not looking at Beaux. "But you already have plans..."
"No!" she said, so loud that half the hall quieted and looked at her. She took Draco's chin, and brought it up gently with her finger, so that he was staring into her eyes, which were full of excitement.
"'No' what?" he said pulling his hand away from hers.
"I mean, no, I don't have plans after I go shopping with Hermione," she said, smiling at him. "I'll just tell her I made plans with someone else to meet at the Boar's Head, and...well...would you like to meet me there at four?"
The bell rang for first class, and Draco and Beaux got up, the Slytherins and other students walking around them.
"Erm...okay," he said, and smiled a goofy smile.
"Excellent!" she said, grabbed her snake-embroidered backpack, which Draco hadn't noticed she was carrying. She started to walk ahead of him, but Draco had suddenly forgot...
"Hey, Beaux!" he yelled, and she turned around, her locks flipping around to her back.
"Yeah?" she said, coming back to him, getting pushed by some of the students going to their classes.
"I...I forgot what class we have," he said, laughing a little.
"We have Charms right now," she told him, and they walked out of the hall together, laughing.
The afternoon at Hogsmeade had everybody in a Christmas mood; great green fur oak trees towered over the stores; snow was falling gently outside of The Three Broomsticks, where Hermione and Beaux were emerging, carrying a dozen bags between them. They laughed and giggled merrily, and waved back inside the pub, where Harry and Ron were waiting for Neville and Seamus Finnigan.
"I had such a fun time, Beaux!" Hermione said, gasping after laughing so hard. "I just know that Ron will love the Readers Guide to Creating Your Own Joke shop book you got for him! It seems he wants to follow in Fred and George's footsteps, they became Joke shop owners in their last year at Hogwarts, too."
"You think that's okay?" Beaux asked her, taking out the book and looking through the pages.
"Oh, most definitely," Hermione said, brushing some of her hair out of her eyes.
"And what about Harry's?" she asked, pulling out a gold glittering Snitch that resembled the actual one used in Quidditch. She tapped it gently and it floated above their heads, its miniscule wings flapping silently in the snow.
"Excellent choice!" Hermione told her, as she tapped the Snitch again and it fell back into the bag. "He's very much into Quidditch."
"Well, I've got to go meet Draco at the Boar's Head, and I think that's a little ways from here, so I'll see you back at Hogwarts!" Beaux called, trampling the glittering snow on the ground.
"Alright! Happy Christmas, Beaux!" Hermione called to her, and hurried into The Three Broomsticks as the snow started to drift down harder.
Beaux found the Boars' Head partly hidden behind Zonko's Joke shop and a small candy store, and opened the musty door. A bell clanged softly overhead, and the few people that were in the pub looked at her. Draco, sitting with his back to the door, turned around, and stood up, smiling. He had doubted whether Beaux would keep her promise, though she didn't seem the type to lie.
"Hi," Draco said, not being able to think of anything at the moment.
"Hullo," she said, her hair damp from the melting snow in her hair. Her eyes, greener than ever, were alive with excitement and sit down, I ordered some butterbeer for us," Draco said, and he took a few of her bags, which
he was surprised were quite heavy. "How in Merlin's name did you manage to carry all these?" he asked her as they sat down in a stingy old booth.
"I put a charm on them, to make them lighter, but it only works with the one who cast it," she told him, sipping some of her butterbeer. "So, how has your day been?"
"Alright, I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulders; it was quite all right at the moment, because he was practically alone with Beaux.
"I bought you something," she said to him after a few moments of silence, and searched through a small paper bag and took out a gift wrapped in foil. "I know it's not much, but it's not your real Christmas present; it's just sort of a thank you gift, for making me feel at home at Hogwarts and showing me around."
Draco took the gift and unwrapped it; with a small clink, an orb the size of his fist fell out, and rolled a few inches along the scrubby table.
"What is it?" he asked her curiously, picking it up and surveying it.
"It's a Future-Seeker," she told him, taking the orb from his hands. "It turns red when you have a test coming up, blue when a Quidditch Game is nearing, green when there is trouble ahead, and orange when there is peril. It's similar to a Muggle jewellery called 'mood rings,' though I think this is much more direct for your future. I think there were a few more different future colours, but I'll get them down for you later."
"Wow!" Draco said, grabbing the orb from her hands again and turning it in his hand; it glowed blue, and vibrated slightly. "Brilliant!"
"I knew you would like it, you seem like the type of person who is interested in that stuff," she said, smiling at him and taking another sip of butterbeer; Draco's cup lay aside, untouched and forgotten.
"Yea, I guess you're right!" he told her, but felt a pang of guilt; he hadn't bought anything for Beaux, and knew at once that, from the look in her eyes, she didn't care much.
"Would you like to get going? I think we're supposed to be at Hogwarts by five," Beaux said uncertainly, checking a small silver bracelet-watch on her hand.
"Sure, here," he said, and pocketed the Future-Seeker. He took some of her bags again, though not complaining about the weight. He opened the door for her, and they walked out into the snow, shivering slightly against the cold.
"It's so beautiful," she said as they walked along, and Draco thought she must mean the snow. He looked at her, the snow falling into her hair like small glittering jewels.
"You're very beautiful," he said quietly, and she looked at him for a moment, then blushed a deep pink.
"Thank you, Draco," she said, sounding quite embarrassed at the compliment. She smiled at him as they sat on a bench, which had been bewitched to repel all the snow.
"You've made my stay at Hogwarts really welcoming, you know," she told him, looking at him through her bright green eyes, snow glistening on her lashes.
"No problem," he said, and they looked away from each other. Beaux sighed heavily out of exhaustion, and Draco could wait no longer; he wanted to kiss her, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. But at that moment, she turned, and their lips met. They were both surprised, Beaux at being kissed, and Draco at her turning, but neither resisted. They sat there on the bench, snow falling around them, Beaux's lips warm on Draco's. She put a gloved hand up to his face, and when they finally pulled away, she smiled at him. Draco looked back, the snow falling in his eyes. It was now or never. He gathered her hands in his, and held them softly.
"Beaux," he said, and she looked at him still, "I...I love you."
A single tear ran down Beaux's face; not out of sadness, but out of happiness; she had been waiting for those words for a long time.
"I love you too, Draco," she whispered softly, and she pulled him back into another kiss, her hands wrapped around his neck. It was, indeed in both of their views, the best Christmas present anyone could ever want.
It was the Christmas day, and Harry saw Draco walking in with Beaux by his side; he felt a twinge of jealousy; he and Cho had broken up a month ago that day because she felt they had "grown apart." Ron, who had been playing Harry in a chess match, noticed him staring unblinkingly at Beaux, turned to him.
"Mate, why don't you just go over there and ask her to Christmas dinner tonight? I'm sure she would tell off Malfoy for arguing with you," he said to him, looking over as Beaux, whose hair was braided and pulled into two buns, was obviously laughing at something Malfoy had just said.
"I dunno, Ron," Harry said uncertainly. "Do you think Malfoy and her are... you know?"
"Nah, can't be," he said through a mouthful of treacle tart. "I mean, Malfoy and Beaux? Talk about a weird match."
"Yea, I guess you're right," Harry said, nodding in a half confident way. He was going to gather up his courage and ask Beaux after breakfast.
"Good," Ron said, his King knocking over Harry's bishop. "Now we both win."
A short while later, Harry saw Beaux leaving, though Draco stayed behind. He whispered to Ron "I'm going," and walked out of the Great Hall after Beaux. He called out to her along the corridor, and she turned, startled at being called.
"Oh, hullo Harry," she said brightly, smiling a gorgeous smile. Harry thought it should be made illegal to smile so often.
"I wanted to know, if you, er...wanted to meet me for Christmas Dinner," he mumbled to her, taking a step closer to her. She stood where she was, though her smile faded a bit.
"Oh, um, I would love to..." she started, and Harry seized his chance; now that he had an answer, he pulled her hands into his and kissed her, their lips locking together. Beaux, however, shoved him back, a bit more forcefully than thought.
"What?" Harry asked, surprised. He thought he had done the right thing; Beaux had been so sweet to him the past months, and he was just returning the favor in a different way.
"You...you didn't let me finish," she said, a bit loud and harsh. "I was going to say 'I'd love to, but I'm currently courting Draco."
Harry felt as though his heart had plummeted down through his body and into the stone floor; he should've known that Draco would make a move; he had always seemed so smitten around her.
"Oh," Harry said, feeling quite filled with embarrassment and stupidity. "I'm sorry...I didn't..."
"There was no way you could've known, Harry," she told him, her eyes misty with tears. "Draco and I have tried to keep it quiet."
"But why?" he asked angrily, more to himself than to Beaux.
"Well, this is why," she said, touching his arm gently. "I knew that some people would disagree about us
going together, but, Harry, Draco is so sweet and kind, if you just got to know him..."
"Beaux, it's not that simple!" he told her, turning from her, and she jumped at his tone of voice. "We've been enemies for seven years, I can't just erase that!"
"I know," she said to him softly, and he turned around; she was crying, and she looked at him, her eyes a deep green now from her tears. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Harry, and I know that it must be hard for you to understand, but..."
But what she was about to tell him, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a loud, angry sneering voice called from behind him.
"What are you doing to her, Potter?" Malfoy shouted scathingly, running to Beaux's side.
"I was just talking to her, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth, his fists in tight balls. "Last time I checked, talking to her wasn't illegal."
"I saw you kiss her, Potter!" Draco yelled at her, walking in front of Beaux and taking out his wand from inside his robes. "I saw you! You can't deny it!" Harry took out his wand as well; if they were going to battle over Beaux, then it was something worth fighting for. But before either could do so much as wave their wands, Beaux had stepped in between them, her own wand raised in the air.
"Enough!" she told them sternly, tears still falling silently down her cheeks. "I will not be duelled over like some trophy!"
"We weren't..." Draco started, but he looked into Beaux's eyes, and put his wand down. "I'm sorry, I didn't think...why the bloody hell was he kissing you?!" he asked her accusingly, turning on her and leaving Harry to glare at his back.
"I didn't ask, Draco, it was just a misunderstanding," she told him, a new wave of tears coming down.
"Please, don't fight over this, over me. I'm not worth it."
"You're worth everything to me, Beaux," Draco whispered to her, wiping away some of her tears gently with his hand. He turned on Harry, whose wand was still out and ready.
"C'mon, then," she said, before he could utter a word, and grabbed his arm gently. She looked at Harry, and shook her head, telling him with her eyes to put away his wand before anyone got hurt. He understood her that time, and followed what she told him.
"All right," Draco told her, still glaring at Harry, who was in some sort of shock and anger position; his mouth was opened in surprise, but his eyes were cold and full of loathing, and his fists were still tightly balled up. Over Draco's head on her tiptoes, Beaux caught Harry's eye, and mouthed "Thank you," to him.
"I'll see you later, Beaux," Harry said to her, nodding curtly. He turned and walked, rather fast, back to the Great Hall.
"Let's go, please," Beaux said to Draco again when they were alone, but he turned on her again.
"He kissed you, Beaux," he said to her, and she noticed tears in his eyes, though he still sounded angry, but hurt.
"I didn't kiss him back, Draco! I would never do that to you! I love you," she told him, pulling him in and kissing him. He didn't pull back; but he wondered whether she had wiped off the kiss from Potter.
After a few moments, she pulled back, looked at him, and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she rested her head on his shoulders. They stood there, alone, in the middle of the corridor for a while. Then Draco turned her around, so that she was facing him yet again. He took a breath.
"I know that you love me, and I love you, Beaux, and I know that I can trust you," he said, though with great effort, because he did not like the idea of her being so close to Harry now. "I just don't want to lose you. You're the only person who has truly ever cared for me, my parents included, and I don't want to lose what we have."
"Nor do I," she whispered, and hugged him again. "Let's just go back to the common room, it's surely empty. We can talk more there."
"I agree," he said to her, pulling up her chin with her finger and kissing her lightly on her red lips. "I can show you what I have gotten you for Christmas."
"Oh, Draco! I told you not to buy me anything!" Beaux said, sounding embarrassed. "I have you, that's the greatest gift I could ever want."
"That may be true, but you gave me something, and I must give you something in return, though I truly mean it from the bottom of my heart," he said to her, and she smiled. He smiled back, and they walked down the corridor together, ignoring Peeves the Poltergeist, who was singing a very inappropriate version of "Jingle Bells."
Harry slumped into a seat next to Ron in the Great Hall, his face very red, his hands shaking.
"Harry?" Ron said slowly. "Are you...?"
"No, I'm not okay, Ron!" he said through clenched teeth. "God, why did I kiss her?!" He slammed his fists down onto the table, upsetting Ron's chessboard.
"Take it easy, Harry!" Ron said, lowering his voice. "What do you mean, you kissed her? What's so bad about that?"
"Because," said Harry, shaking harder still, "Malfoy and Beaux are dating apparently, and they've been trying to keep it quiet. And I kissed her right in front of him; we almost duelled."
"Blimey," muttered Ron, "you're quite lucky there weren't any teachers around."
"I know," said Harry, breathing in deeply to calm his anger. "I dunno what made me do it. Kiss her, I mean. I just thought it was the right thing to do. But it wasn't. And now, she probably hates me."
"I'm sure she doesn't hate you, mate," Ron said, patting Harry cautiously on the back. "She was probably just surprised and confused that you kissed her, that's all. Just give her some time, and go apologize when her slime ball boyfriend isn't around."
"But she seems so happy around him, Ron," Harry mumbled, looking at his thumbs. "What could she see in him that she can't see in me?"
"Can't help you out there, I haven't a clue," Ron said, picking up a chicken leg from his plate. "Maybe she's smitten over him because he's nice to her, I dunno. She doesn't really seem the type to be in it for the money. You know how Malfoy is always boasting about how rich his family is all the time."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said calmly. "Some Christmas, heh?"
"Hey, now, c'mon, Harry!" said Ron, in a voice he clearly thought was a happy one. "It's Christmas! Enjoy it before Hermione comes back and nags us about N.E.W.Ts!"
Harry laughed at this, though half-heartedly. "Well, I guess I could apologize to Beaux tonight, but I don't have any idea how I'll go about doing that."
"Just say sorry, that's all you really can say," Ron mumbled, shoving a rice cake into his mouth.
"Guess you're right," Harry told him, breathing in again. He picked up his goblet, and said "cheers."
"Cheers, mate!" said Ron, and they laughed, drinking their Pumpkin Juice merrily.
"Oh, Draco!" Beaux squealed, letting the wrapping fall to the ground. Draco was sitting down in the
Slytherin Common Room, watching Beaux unwrap the first gift he had bought her. She had let her hair down, which had a wavy look to it. She pulled the gift out of the box, and out flowed a beautiful, glowing dress, the color of the sky. It was fringed with lace around the bodice and neckline, and the straps had been sewn with lace as well.
"Do you like it?" Draco asked her uncertainly, standing up and looking at her.
"It's gorgeous!" she said to him, turning the dress around in her hands. "Where did you buy this?"
"My mother made it," he told her, walking around and standing behind her. "I told her about us."
"You did?" Beaux looked at him, her smile fading a bit. "And your father?"
"Indeed," he said hesitantly. "I wrote to them two weeks ago, writing about you."
"But we didn't have a relationship!" she said, a bit surprised.
"Well, I told them how beautiful you were, and what an amazing person you are," he said to her, helping her fold the dress. "My mother, unlike my father, got the gist, and made you this dress for Christmas. She told me to tell you she says hello."
"And...what about your father?" she asked him, replacing the dress back inside the box. "Did he seem...happy?"
"Oh, er, yes," Draco told her, shuffling his feet. His father, Lucius, worked for the Ministry of Magic, and
had a short temper and a horrible outlook on Muggle-borns. "He seemed, in the letter they wrote to me, very pleased that I had found someone as 'wonderful' as I wrote."
Beaux blushed at this. "Draco, I'm not wonderful. There's nothing spectacular about me."
"But there is!" he said to her, taking her hands and sitting back down with her on the leather couch. "You're an amazing person, a shocking great Seeker, and a personality like no one I have ever met."
She blushed even more deeply at this. "Well, you aren't so bad yourself," she told him, smiling. She looked down at the box again, her hands shaking slightly. Draco noticed this.
"What's wrong, Beaux?" he asked her, taking her hand in his. She was icy cold, and this startled him.
"I was just thinking...about, well, you know, what happened," she told him, and it took him a moment to realize that she was talking about Harry. Her words came out a little slurred, as if she had a slight cold.
"Oh," he said, anger and sadness building up inside of him again. "Beaux, I told you that I can trust you, and I believe that you can. Be trusted, I mean."
"But I just feel guilty, like I hurt you so much," she said to him, and he looked at her face. Her eyes were starting to water, and a single tear fell onto her cheek. He turned her to face him.
"Beaux, I'll admit that you did hurt me, but now, that feeling's gone; I know you didn't mean the kiss; I just got upset when I saw Potter. I saw him move towards you, and I just felt so angry. It was nothing like I had felt before. Like I wanted to kill him, more than I usually do."
"Oh, Draco," she cried, bursting into tears and crying into Draco's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I was surprised! I don't want to ever hurt you again! I love you! I'm so sorry!"
Draco felt the anger receding inside him. He hugged Beaux tightly, calming her by saying "I know, it's alright, you didn't mean it." They sat there for at least ten minutes, Beaux's cries becoming less. Some fifth years had come into the Common Room, but they didn't interrupt Draco; many students had respect towards him and Beaux. After a while, Mandy pulled away from him, and wiped her face with her hands. She looked straight into his eyes, now all red and bloodshot from crying.
"Draco," she said, "I love you, so much. Sometimes, I don't think that I deserve you, that there could be someone else better than me..."
"But there will never be anyone as good as you!" Draco said to her, playing with her hair. "Never. That's why," he said, reaching inside his pocket, "I have another gift for you."
She looked at him curiously. "What kind of gift?" she asked him.
"It's rather small, but I think you'll like it," he said to her, pulling out a small black box, a minute silver rose on the top. He looked at her, knowing exactly what to do. She was smiling, still unaware of what he was about to do. "Beaux, I want you to have this."
She took the box from him slowly, and lifted the lid of the box. She gasped, and looked up at him. Inside, surrounded by velvet, was a single ring, three small diamonds glittering beautifully up at her.
"Do you know what it is?" Draco asked her, moving close towards Beaux. Her hand was shaking, and he took it in his own yet again.
"A...a promise ring," she whispered, taking it out of the box carefully and gently.
"May I?" Draco asked her, gesturing to let him put the ring on her finger. She nodded silently. As he did this, he explained, "The first diamond on the left is for the past we've had together, the middle, for the present, and the last," he said, looking into her eyes and moving still closer to her, "is for the future." And he kissed her, more passionately then he had ever done before. The ring had been his own idea; his mother knew of it, but had said nothing to his father. Beaux put her hand up to his face, the ring cold on his skin. When they pulled away, he said, "That is how much I care about you. I promise that I will always be there for you, Beaux, no matter what happens between us."
"Draco," she said to him, breathy and quiet like the first time he had met her. "How did you ever afford this?"
"I inherited it," he told her, "from my mother, Narcissa. It had been given to her by my father when they were our age, and she said that one day, maybe sometime near, I would find a young woman's finger to place that ring on."
"It's...it's...Draco, I feel uncomfortable wearing it," she told him, looking at her hand and moving the ring around her finger. "I can't accept it."
"But you can accept it, Beaux," he told her, taking her hand and readjusting the ring for her. "You're the one I love, and that will never change."
"I hope it never does," she said, hugging him. He pulled her back for a moment, and said "My parents will want to meet you in the near future, I suppose. As in very soon."
"I have no problem with that, Draco, as long as you are ready, too," she said to him, smiling. His heart melted.
"No problem at all," he said, smiling back at her. "I have a question, though."
"Yes?" she asked him curiously.
"Will you wear that dress tonight at Christmas dinner?" he asked her, because it was the first time he had mentioned it at all.
"Of course," she said, picking up the box and opening it yet again to look at the dress. "Tell your mother that she is an excellent seamstress."
"I will, don't worry," he said, smiling even wider.
"Do you think they'll...like me?" she asked him, her smile wavering.
"If they don't like you, then there must be something wrong with the both of them," he told you. "You haven't a single flaw in you."
"Actually," she said, putting the box down. "There is one flaw."
"What is that?" Draco asked her, surprised.
"My parents," she told him quietly fumbling with the arm of her robes.
"What about them?" he asked, growing curious.
"Do you remember, a few weeks ago, that I told you I lived with my grandparents?" she asked him, saying it very fast.
"Yes," he said immediately, though hardly remembering she had mentioned it at all.
"Did you ever wonder why I lived with them?"
"No, now that you say it, why?"
"My parents," she said, so quiet that Draco had to lean in to hear her, "were murdered by Voldemort seventeen years ago."
Draco felt his stomach drop. He had no idea that her parents had been murdered. To make matters worse, his father had once been a known death-eater, followers of the infamous Lord Voldemort. Albus Dumbledore and over one hundred Aurors had destroyed the Dark Lord the previous year.
"Beaux," he said, his voice choky, "why didn't you tell me this sooner?"
"Because I didn't know how you would handle it," she told him, not looking him in the eyes. "Not a lot of people respond to Voldemort's name very well, and I didn't know how to come about telling you."
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know," he told her, putting his arm around her shoulders.
"I'm fine, now," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "I was just a baby when they were killed; no more than a couple of months. The only thing that was found after the murder was this," she told him, holding up her snake backpack, which had been lying on the floor next to her feet. "It was my mother's. It had been hers when she was young." She turned it onto it's top, and on the bottom, barely recognizable from age, were the initials, F. M.
"What was your mother's name?" Draco asked her hesitantly; he didn't know how emotional she was on the subject.
"Fey," she told him. "Short for Faythe. My father had once called her that, at least, that's what I thought."
Draco thought about something. It was said that Voldemort had only killed Muggle-borns and half bloods. He had never heard of the Dark Lord killing two purebloods. He told Beaux this.
"It didn't matter to him!" she told him, anger in her voice. She wasn't angry with Draco; she was angry with Voldemort. "He knew my parents, personally. They had once been friends. But that was before he had turned from Tom Riddle, his original name, to Lord Voldemort."
"Oh my God," Draco breathed, and he realized that his hands were in tight fists. It was almost like he could feel Beaux's pain and anger.
"But," she said, "I just wanted to tell you that. I don't know if your parents would want to meet them, having it be they never will. Not in this lifetime, anyway."
"I'll write to them, don't worry," Draco reassured her. "Everything will be fine."
"Good," she said, looking back down at the ring. "And tell your mother I said thank you for the ring. It's very beautiful."
"I shall," he said to her, picking up the box holding the dress. He figured that they were done on the subject of her parents. "So, erm, dinner starts at six; would you like me to wait for you?"
"That would be nice," she said, taking out the dress again and holding it up to herself and smiling. "I can't wait."
Draco smiled. After hearing about Beaux's parents, and seeing her with the dress, so happy and content, he knew that he would never love anybody as much as her.
...TBC...