They had the dining room to themselves for lunch, since Father was locked up in his study, working on something, and Mother had already eaten. The house-elves brought them soup and hot chocolate, both of which were wonderfully warm after the cold outside.
Draco was sulking, only mildly annoyed with Harry for beating him back to the house but determined to take advantage of the opportunity for revenge.
"Draco…." Harry said for the fourth time, exasperation beginning to creep into his voice.
Draco just glared at him mutely.
"You know, this really isn't fair. It's not like I won by all that much."
Firmly suppressing a smile, Draco took another sip of his hot chocolate.
Harry sighed in frustration. "You are such a sore loser."
Draco decided to ignore that, because explaining that he wasn't a sore loser, merely one who took advantage of every situation including losing, wouldn't make Harry particularly inclined to sympathize with him, which would defeat the purpose of sulking in the first place.
"Do you have to make everything so difficult?"
Of course, Draco thought, though outwardly he continued to ignore Harry. Otherwise losing wouldn't be half as much fun.
"Actually, I should be the one pissed at you, after the way you forced me to go skating," Harry pointed out.
"But you had fun," Draco reminded him. "And it's not like you could go through your entire life without ever learning to skate."
"Yes I could," Harry snapped. "I've made it quite nicely so far, haven't I?"
"But your life isn't anywhere near over yet – at least I hope not. You don't have some fatal disease you haven't mentioned, do you?"
"What do you think?"
Draco shrugged. "Just checking. And you just learned to skate, so you can't really argue that you've gotten this far without learning."
"But I made it up until this morning. And it wasn't like I was going to die if I didn't learn."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that? Maybe, if I hadn't taught you to skate, we would have snuck off to Knockturn Alley and met Sirius Black and both have gotten killed."
"Right," Harry said, sounding unconvinced but not particularly interested in arguing.
"And speaking of Knockturn Alley, we still need to get you some decent robes." Draco stood up. "You finished eating?" Harry glanced down at his half-eaten soup, which Draco took to be a 'yes.' He grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the room.
They found Mother in the drawing room, talking with the housekeeper, Mrs. Jones (a ghost and the only servant who wasn't a house-elf), presumably arranging Christmas dinner. The two women looked up when Draco and Harry entered.
"Yes, Draco?"
"Harry and I want to go to Diagon Alley," he said bluntly. "To buy Christmas presents."
Mother frowned. "You know I don't like you going off on your own."
"We wouldn't be alone," Draco said quickly. "Crabbe and Goyle would be there. And Pansy, and Theodore…."
"But no adults."
"Pansy's sister, Violet, could take us," Draco suggested.
Mother shook her head. "An adult, Draco. A mature, responsible adult."
"Violet is 18. She is an adult."
Mother looked as if she was going to say no, but Mrs. Jones said, "You know, it's not as if you wouldn't know if they were in trouble." She gestured towards Mother's signet ring. It was enchanted to alert her, not only of meals and guests, but also if Draco was in danger, and could locate him if necessary. She hesitated for another moment, then sighed. "All right. But don't go off on your own."
Draco grinned. "Thanks."
!-!-!
Pansy's house was another mansion, larger than Malfoy Manor, and somewhat less dark and foreboding. Even the forests and snow-covered grounds seemed somehow brighter and more open than those at Malfoy Manor. Perhaps it was that there was no wall surrounding the Parkinson land, just a dry moat, or perhaps it was that it was built to be wider instead of higher – only two stories high, but sprawling freely over the land with additions built on the ground level instead of as a new story. The gray stones of the walls themselves seemed several shades lighter than those at Malfoy Manor.
Parkinson Manor was actually quite close to Malfoy Manor, well within walking distance. Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom lived in the village near Malfoy Manor, had met Harry and Draco before they left. Tracey and Theodore apparently lived significantly farther away, somewhere in northern England, and they had Flooed to Pansy's house earlier.
Harry and Draco made their way up the path to Pansy's front door, with Crabbe and Goyle looming behind them in their usual bodyguard position – except that that protection seemed to have been extended to Harry as well as Draco. They were greeted at the door by a butler – a tall, human man in simple, black robes. He showed them to the drawing room, a spacious room furnished with several chairs. Pale, wintry light poured in through the windows, and flowers, presumably kept alive and in bloom through some spell or other, added color and warmth to the otherwise chilly room.
Before they had even had a chance to sit down, Pansy entered, closely followed by Tracey, Theodore, and another witch who could only be Pansy's sister, Violet. She was taller than any of them, except perhaps Crabbe or Goyle, and she had Pansy's same straight, dark brown hair; her flat nose and wide, dark eyes; her tall, slender body; and, of course, the same proud confidence that made up for her lack of beauty – at least, when she wasn't sneering.
Tracey, on the other hand, was a short witch with sharp, pale features and blonde hair to rival Draco's.
"So," Violet said in a tone that indicated that she wasn't exactly thrilled to be in charge of seven 13-year-olds. "Let's go."
!-!-!
They Flooed to Diagon Ally, and this time Harry managed to get to the right fireplace, which was a relief. Somehow, he didn't think Draco's friends would be half as understanding of the effects of his Muggle upbringing as the Weasleys had been. The first place they went was to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, to buy Harry new robes. The moment Draco mentioned it, Tracey and Pansy lit up with excitement, while Theodore just rolled his eyes.
Once in the store, Pansy and Tracey set about finding him robes with enthusiasm, ignoring any and all suggestions from Madam Malkin herself, though they let Violet help occasionally, while Draco stood back and watched with amusement and Theodore choked back what was either a gag or laughter. There was a wider variety of styles in Wizarding robes than Harry would ever have dreamed possible: elaborate, floor-length robes that trailed out behind you and had sleeves so long they touched the floor, simple work-type robes like the ones he wore at Hogwarts, one-piece robes, robes meant to be worn over a Muggle-style shirt and pants, elaborate costumes involving six or seven layers of robes, robes with hoods, under-robes, over-robes – each coming in an equally wide variety of patterns and colors. And Pansy and Tracey seemed intent on having him try on every last one.
"Oh, this is lovely," Tracey said, holding up a long, flowing, dark green robe with gold Celtic knots embroidered along the hem. Pansy nodded her agreement, and Tracey handed it to Harry, who cooperatively went to change behind one of the screens set up at the back of the store for that purpose. He would have much preferred an actual changing room, like the ones in the Muggle stores Aunt Petunia used to buy Dudley's clothes at. He was constantly afraid that the screen would fall over or something, despite Pansy's reassurances that the spell holding it upright was strong enough that Crabbe and Goyle could charge at it, head on, and it wouldn't budge.
A few minutes later, he reemerged, feeling utterly ridiculous in the draping, green cloth. Pansy made a show of studying him thoughtfully before giving a decisive nod of approval.
"You look all right," Draco said judicially. "Definitely an improvement over that horrid Muggle getup you usually wear."
"What's wrong with my Muggle clothes?"
Draco stared at him in dismay. "The 'Muggle' part, for starters."
"I feel ridiculous," Harry informed him.
"Why? You actually look decent, for once. It's the Muggle clothes that look ridiculous."
"They do not," Harry protested.
Draco sighed, shaking his head. "I think all that time with those wretched Muggles of yours has scarred you permanently."
"I look stupid."
"You look wonderful," Draco said firmly.
"I feel stupid."
"Maybe that's because you are," Draco said sweetly.
"Hey!"
"Of course he's stupid," Theodore muttered. "He's a Gryffindor, isn't he?"
Harry glared at him. "Gryffindors are brave, not stupid."
"Close enough."
"Except the Mudblood," Draco pointed out. "She's hardly stupid."
"Draco!"
"Hmm?"
"She has a name, you know," Harry snapped irritably.
"Most people do," Draco agreed.
Harry continued to glare at Draco until the Slytherin sighed. "Granger then."
"I suppose 'Hermione' would be too much to ask for."
"Do I insist that you call Crabbe and Goyle by their first names?"
"You don't even call Crabbe and Goyle by their first names."
"That's beside the point."
"What do you think of this?" Tracey asked, holding up a black robe, embroidered with giant, green snakes.
"We haven't even decided if I'm getting this one yet," Harry protested.
"Of course you are," Draco said.
"But—"
"Don't you like the robes?" Madam Malkin asked timidly.
"Not really," Harry said.
"Of course he does," Draco said, ignoring Harry.
"I look like an idiot."
"That's hardly unusual."
"Draco…."
"Would you like a mirror?" Madam Malkin offered helpfully.
"Not especially," Harry muttered.
"Of course he would." Draco smiled sweetly at Harry.
Madam Malkin quickly summoned the mirror and positioned it in front of Harry, looking glad to be doing something useful. She stood back, giving Harry an expectant glance. Harry reluctantly looked at himself, dreading what he might find. A tall, elegant young wizard stared back at him from beneath an uneven black fringe. He didn't look like Harry Potter, the Muggle-raised Hogwarts student who was probably going to fail potions this year; he looked like Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the hero of the wizarding world who had as a mere infant defeated Voldemort, a wizard so terrible that even now—twelve years later—none dared speak his name. He looked like a character from a legend, or from one of the TV shows Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had forbidden Dudley to watch (though he usually managed to watch them without getting caught anyways).
"See, you look handsome," Pansy said from behind him, grinning as Draco gave her a fiercely possessive look.
"I look … different," Harry said.
"Do you like it?" Tracey asked.
"Not really," Harry said. Well, maybe…. But I don't look like me. I look like a … wizard….
"Are you going to buy it?" Madam Malkin asked.
No.
"Of course," Draco said, as if the mere suggestion that he might not was offensive.
Harry glared at him, but Draco just grinned and kissed him. Harry felt his cheeks flame as Madam Malkin blanched.
Theodore rolled his eyes. "This is what I get for hanging around with a bunch of girls and faggots," he muttered in disgust.
Crabbe and Goyle were shifting uncomfortable, carefully looking away from Harry and Draco. Harry felt his blush deepen, but Draco was grinning. He turned to Madam Malkin, handing her a handful of galleons.
As she scurried to pack their other purchases in bags, Harry moved towards the screen at the back of the store, eager to get back into his own clothes, but Draco caught his hand.
"Come on, you look nice like this."
Harry sighed and watched with a sinking heart as his Hogwarts robes were stuffed into bags along with everything else.
A/N: Yes, chapter 20 is finally up (my Christmas present to ya'll?). And yes, it took me forever. Sorry about that. ::sweatdrop:: I'll try to update again sooner. (Key word: "try")
Stars-n-moons91: Thanks, I'll see if I can work something like that in.Lizzy: More snogging will come later, of course. XD
LightElf 99/AJ James: Thanks for the suggestion.
Kashiaga: Then I think I can guess. ;)
Ranvier and Number seven: Thanks.
And to Orange, thank you so much for betaing. :D