Chapter 4

When Hermione and Ron got back from Hogsmeade, Harry immediately told them about the rumors he'd overheard. To Harry's chagrin, their reactions weren't what he was expecting. Ron nearly fell on the ground with laughter, while Hermione held him up, grinning about the entire thing. It wasn't until Harry started marching off to his dorm that they tried to control themselves and promised to be serious.

The three of them were up late into the night brainstorming schemes to save Harry's reputation. Harry couldn't wait to implement the plan that they eventually settled on, but the Christmas holidays were too close.

But Harry could wait patiently. It wasn't like he'd have anyone to worry about over Christmas.

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"Are you sure you don't want to come to the Burrow with us? It's not too late to change your mind you know."

"Yes Ron, I'm sure. Thanks for the invite, but I just want to be alone this year." Harry shrugged.

"Ron, stop pestering him! Goodbye Harry, see you after the holidays!"

"Bye Ginny… have fun!"

"You know you can floo if you need anything mate." Ron was being dragged forcefully to the train by his sister, but he endeavored on. "Like, if you get lonely or anything… I mean, I don't think anyone else is staying at Hogwarts for the holidays."

Harry nodded. "I know. I was hoping for that. I'll floo if anything happens. Now go!" He pushed Ron, who reluctantly turned away.

"Bye Harry," Hermione said from behind him. Harry turned around and hugged her.

"Have fun!" he admonished with a smile and a hug. "It's not every day that you spend the holidays with your boyfriend's family."

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink. "Please don't say it that way… it sounds so… grown up. I'm not sure I'm ready to be grown up."

"That makes two of us, 'Mione."

"Break it up you two!" Ron called back to them affectionately. Hermione giggled and Harry let her go.

"I'll see you guys after the holidays," Harry smiled. Hermione nodded, turned, and walked over to the train. Before boarding, she turned and waved. Harry waved back at her, and continued to do so even as the train started moving and took off toward the horizon. When he could no longer see the train in the distance, he put his arm down, gathered his winter cloak closer to himself, and began the trek back to school.

After the exhilarating walk from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, Harry went straight to the Gryffindor dormitories to revel in the silence. Most people would be sad to be alone during the holidays, but Harry was an exception. After the Dursley's… and sharing a room with the boys in his year… peace was something that Harry didn't see very often. And he intended on spending every moment he had catching up on his lounging. Some might call him lazy (Hermione came to Harry's mind), but considering the sort of life he'd known since Hogwarts and Voldemort, and even before with his 'family,' Harry really couldn't find any fault with a little harmless lounging.

Once inside the common room, Harry stopped, listened, looked around, and smiled. Alone at last. He spent all afternoon just sitting on the couch in front of the fire in the common room. It was warm, he was cozy, and life at that moment was great. For just a second in time he had no expectations, nothing to live up to, no worries in the world. And it felt lovely.

When dinnertime rolled around, Harry was still dozing in the common room, and didn't make it down to the Great Hall. It didn't matter in his mind at all, though. As far as he knew, he would be alone in the student's section. He hadn't heard of anyone else signing up to stay over the holidays.

What Harry wanted this break was some alone time. There hadn't been a time that he'd been able to remember where he'd been alone to relax for more than a day or two. There were those rare times when the Dursleys went on vacation and couldn't get Mrs. Figg to watch after him, but they never trusted him to not burn down the house for more than two days.

Harry's dreams were peaceful, almost too peaceful. He dreamed of whiteness. Unbroken, pure unadulterated whiteness, like an empty canvas waiting for paint. It was rather disconcerting for him to be dreaming of such utter nothing, and he woke with a start.

"That was kind of weird," he muttered, stretching his cramped limbs. Ever since Voldemort had been defeated, Harry's dreams had gone back to normal, but he'd never had one quite like that before.

His stomach rumbled loudly, and Harry laughed. He was not one to skip meals usually, and when he did his body made it known. He took the hint and got up from the couch where he'd ended up sleeping, searching out a clock. It read 6:45. Perfect, Harry had just enough time to take a quick shower before breakfast would be served.

Shortly after seven, Harry arrived at the Great Hall and made his way directly over to the Gryffindor table, where there was a table setting for one. As soon as he sat down food appeared, and he began dishing himself up some of the tasty breakfast fare. Harry was content, planning on having a nice, leisurely breakfast and then perhaps going for a walk around Hogwarts grounds. He'd noticed through a window that it had snowed the night before, creating a new, fresh blanketing over the previously trampled snow.

"Well, well, I didn't know you were capable of functioning this early in the morning, Potter." A horribly familiar drawling voice sounded from behind Harry, and the dark-haired boy was afraid to turn around and acknowledge it, hoping that it was just a figment of his imagination. "Imagine, if you could do this every day instead of just on holidays, your grades could have been better."

"Malfoy," Harry groaned in defeat, "what are you doing here?" The fork Harry was holding dropped to the table and his hands went to cover his eyes.

"Well I saw you sitting there alone, and I figured I'd come to keep you company. You should be grateful to me."

"No, Malfoy. What are you doing at Hogwarts? Don't you have a mansion to be at and Christmas parties to attend?" The irritation seeped clearly through Harry's words.

"Yes, well, I was tired of having to attend all those parties, and since its seventh year, I thought I'd stay and get some extra studying in. Besides, I don't have a whole lot to return to… What's your excuse? Why aren't you with Weasley?"

"Because, Malfoy," Harry chanced a look behind him through his fingers, "I wanted to be alone." Pushing his plate away from himself, Harry got up from the table, finding that his appetite had been ruined by Malfoy's arrival. "Now if you'll excuse me," Harry inclined his head in an imitation of politeness as he began walking away from the table and out of the Great Hall, leaving a dumbfounded Draco Malfoy behind.

The trek to Gryffindor Tower was relatively short, seeing how Harry wanted to get out of the castle as soon as possible. He couldn't believe that he wouldn't be alone this Christmas after all.

'Well, we'll only see each other at mealtimes, if I can manage to keep myself to the Tower,' he thought resignedly.

Harry grabbed his winter cloak, gloves and broom from his dormitory and started for the door, but stopped mid-stride. A small, playful smile appeared on his face, and he donned his winter clothing and threw the window of the dorm open. Climbing up onto the windowsill, he clutched his broom tightly in one hand. He took a deep breath, and launched himself into a broom-less dive from the tower window.

The wind pushing against his face was absolutely exhilarating, and Harry drew out the sensation, holding off as long as possible on pulling his broom in front of him and mounting it midair. He most certainly did not have a death wish, and so he kept tabs on the ground.

About fifteen feet from the ground, Harry mounted his broom and rode it the rest of the way down, decelerating quickly. He pulled up and dismounted, slinging the Firebolt over his shoulder and starting off toward the lake.

The snow made a soft, almost wispy noise as he trod carefully through it, and the grey clouds overhead held the promise of more to come. The air around him was crisp and silent, and the absolute stillness was tangible. Harry smiled at the peacefulness, but it was a sad smile.

He approached the usually gently lapping water of the lake to find it had been frozen over. The ice didn't look very thick, and this was confirmed as Harry ventured a foot out and was met by the sound of cracking. Harry set his broom gently down, and pulled his wand out to charm a dry place to sit. The task accomplished, he settled himself down and tucked his knees under his chin.

Harry stared out past the frozen lake. He stared past the scenery, seeing it but not really seeing it. After a few minutes, his vision began swimming in front of him, and a teardrop fell from his eye. For these two weeks, he was going to bask in the solitude, but he was also giving himself time to grieve. His emotions had been bottling themselves up since the end of Harry's fifth year, and the combined pressure of events demanded release.

Sirius' death was horribly depressing, and Harry had spent two days in his bedroom with no food or light before deciding that him brooding wouldn't bring his godfather back. So Harry pushed it to the back of his mind, as something to deal with later. He'd made a conscious effort to try and act as he always had, but he was aware that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes a lot of the time. No one had brought it up, but he'd noticed Hermione shooting him worried looks when she thought he wasn't looking.

That always brought a genuine smile to Harry's face; he was grateful that he had such caring friends. Of course, they could get a bit annoying with the prying they did, but he understood that they were concerned for him, so he didn't hold it against them. And they usually knew when to stop.

They were who he fought for in the war. He knew that under the weight of the hopes of the entire wizarding world alone he would have been crushed. But with his two best friends in his mind, and only them, he had gone out and done what he'd had to. He saved the world for them.

So many had been sacrificed in the process, though. Hagrid, for instance. Voldemort had taken great pleasure in torturing the half-giant in front of Harry. It had been a way to draw him out, because Voldemort knew that he'd never leave a friend to face a fate like that. He'd been right, but it had cost him his life. Voldemort died there, next to the fallen body of Hagrid.

Silent sobs wracked his body as Harry shed a tear for each and every person who had to suffer throughout Voldemort's reign of terror. So caught up in his grief was he, that he didn't notice the footsteps approaching him from behind.

The clouds opened themselves up, and Harry found himself being gently covered in snowflakes, but he didn't care, nor did he care that his tears were almost freezing on his cheeks. All he cared about was releasing some of the pent up emotions he'd held on to, so that he could move on.

"Well if it isn't an ice statue with the likeness of Harry Potter," Draco Malfoy's voice cut through some of Harry's grief and awoke the familiar irritation in him. He, however, chose to ignore the blond boy and instead refocused on the lake's shining surface.

"Cat got your tongue, Potter?" Malfoy moved to stand next to Harry and crossed his arms over his chest. Harry looked up at him with pain-filled eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it before turning back.

This lack of response obviously confused Malfoy, who stood there with his mouth hanging slightly open and staring at Harry's tear-streaked face. Harry glanced up when he felt Malfoy's gaze on him, and they silently regarded each other. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally broke the silence that had settled around them.

"That ring, it looks better on you than it does on me." His voice was thick from crying. Malfoy's eyes looked startled for a moment before his features settled into a smirk.

"Of course it does. My hands are nicer."

Harry rolled his eyes while simultaneously sniffling and wiping his face off with his sleeve.

"I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual." With a swift movement, Malfoy leaned over and shoved Harry into the snow next to where he was sitting. Laughter acompanied his leisurely retreat back to the castle, as Harry lay there in the cold, not bothering to right himself. His grief was suddenly forgotten.

"You're so dead, Malfoy."

After-chapter noteage: Well… I'm a little late. Please accept my humble apologies! I just got dragged down by this chapter for some reason. This actually wasn't what I intended, there was more, but I figured that the private war between Harry and Draco could wait for one chapter. I will get that written as soon as possible, but it may not be posted until I return from my trip to Chicago.

I was wondering if anyone was interested in my writing this from Draco's point of view after I finish the story? I've been writing it in my head as I write Harry's side of it, and I think that it would be fairly enlightening. But I'm not going to bother if there's no interest.

Anyway, please enjoy!!! And thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you to all my wonderful reviewers!! I can't believe that I've gotten this many… it's almost surreal, but in a good way! And many thanks to Hannah, my beta, who waited patiently for me.

Next chapter: With the entire castle to themselves, Harry and Draco find ways to occupy themselves that don't include studying…