Chapter Eight

Sunlight filled the boys' dormitories like an all-consuming fog. Today would not be a day for happiness. Not now that Tamora would have to spend her entire Christmas break with Malfoy. All that he had thought his Christmas would be was now scattered to the winds. Tamora wouldn't be there to celebrate with them. She would be spending the most warm and festive holiday of the entire year with the family that seemed to embody the exact opposite. He would have to mail her several times just to see if she was all right, and even then he would have to send Hedwig back and forth from the Burrow to the Malfoy Manor to deliver gifts (Pigwidgeon was far too small to carry the type of gifts he was going to send, except the occasional bag of Every Flavor Beans).

Harry dressed quickly, throwing on his Gryffindor scarf. He had to see Tamora before she left for the Malfoys'. Ron was already awake, surprisingly enough, and he was already gone. He looked for Hermione in the common room, only to find that she, too was missing. The dormitories were entirely empty. Maybe they were all wishing their friends a Merry Christmas down in the entrance hall.

Once he was out of the portrait hole, he ran down the grand staircase. When he was about to round the corner to the second floor staircase, he ran straight through Sir Nicholas.

"In some sort of a rush, Harry?" Nearly-Headless Nick asked.

"Yeah. I have to say goodbye to Tamora before she leaves."

"Oh, Tamora Black. I've seen her around here quite often late at night. That cat facade never fooled me, not for one minute."

"Nick," said Harry, "did you see a black dog running around last night?"

He stopped to think, stroking his chin inquisitively. His head nearly flopped on its fleshy hinge but he readjusted it and answered clearly. "I can't say that I did. But there was a man around when Peeves threw a candlestick at Argus Filch. A sort of ruffian with black hair."

Harry hid his excitement and thanked Nick, walking down the grand staircase to the first, then the ground floor. When he was in the entrance hall, the usually full hall was barren. Every Christmas it was packed to the rafters with friends wishing eachother a happy holiday, boyfriends and girlfriends saying goodbye for the Christmas break, and every so often, mistletoe. But today... nothing. Then, from the Great Hall doors appeared Ron.

"Harry, didn't you get the message last night from Dumbledore?"

"Yeah. I can't believe he trusts Narcissa to keep Tamora safe."

"No, no," Ron said, "the ice skating on the lake."

How did the wizards discover ice skating? "Ice skating's for Muggles...isn't it?"

"It's been getting more and more popular. I s'pose Muggles have finally invented something useful."

"So, where are we getting ice skates from?" Harry inquired, "Do they sell them in the wizarding world yet?"

"Yeah, they sell them at Hogsmeade, so Hagrid bought loads, almost double what we really need for all the students and teachers, and he's lending them to us. Dumbledore's declared a school holiday." How had Harry missed all of this in the half hour or less he had been gone? When he finally had gotten outside, the blinding white of the snow assaulted his eyes. The ground was covered with snow, and the lake with people.

The first people he noticed were Angelina and Lee enchanting eachothers' skates to fly while they were attatched to their feet. Then, he saw Cho, who had learned easily and now glided on the ice with incredible ease and grace. Then Parvati, slipping and falling, never getting a chance to rise from the ice. Lavender and Justin were having a race with Pansy while Luna spun in a circle on the front point of her right skate, defying all gravity. How they had learned so quickly was either due to their experience with balance on brooms, or a charm on the skates to make it impossible to fall. Even McGonagall skated by wearing red and gold earmuffs, Dumbledore wearing a royal purple.

Harry could see below the thick layer of ice that the squid still floated underneath the water, unaffected by the freezing cold. Its large eye darted menacingly from student to student as they skated above him. And then... Tamora was skating backwards past Harry with a wave. Malfoy sped up from behind Tamora and leapfrogged over her with a yell of "DUCK!" Once he was on the ice in front of her, he called out, "I knew I'd get to be on top of you at least once this year!"

"Just you wait, Draco. Next time you jump over me you'll lose a leg! Harry! Got your skates? It's quite simple, I don't know why the Muggles fall so much. I think Parvati's turning into a Muggle by the way she skates, or rather, doesn't skate. Neville's been beating them all at the races- even Pansy. So where have you been?"

"Sleeping. I didn't even know about this. How did you find out?"

"Oh. Dumbledore told me before he went into this odd sort of office and brought back Snivellus for me." It was a conspiracy. Had he been the only one who went uninformed? He had just finished lacing up his skates when Malfoy turned sharply, shredding some ice to powder in Harry's face. "Oh sorry, Potter, I meant to grate the ice thin so you'd fall through. I wonder, it is possible for Harry Potter to drown, or does he walk right over the water like some sort of god?" Malfoy and the few intelligent friends he had laughed cruelly as Harry wiped the freezing cold water from his face.

"Draco, leave Harry alone," said Tamora, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Why? He was so prepared to duel before, weren't you, Potter? Talk about your parents and you throw a tantrum."

"Oh, and when I mention Lucius you try to slam me against the wall and kill me. You're a hypocrite of sorts, aren't you?"

"This isn't your fight, Tamora," said Harry. "But now that we are on the subject of you, I thought you'd made Malfoy much more docile than this. Had him fetching the paper at the end of last week, didn't you?"

This was the insult to end all insults. Malfoy- docile? He wouldn't have it. "At least I'm not under the spell of someone who doesn't give a fig about me."

"Oh you're not are you? Tamora's had you hooked since the Sorting. But then again, you did make quite a disgusting display of kissing Cho under the mistletoe yesterday morning."

Harry could instantly see the look of revulsion and sadness on Tamora's face.

Draco must have noticed it, too, because he lashed out immediately. "That's just a jealous lie because you want Cho."

"You know what, Draco? I believe it. Because Harry wouldn't lie about it, he cares. He has a heart. Come on, Harry."

"A heart is nothing without the power to act on whatever it feels," hissed Pansy. "You're just too proud to admit that you're jealous of all the attention Draco gets."

"Hardly," Tamora, feeling quite ready to pounce on Pansy and let her fury be known. "If he wants to come off as an untrusted, conceited liar then it would suit him to fall in love with you, Pansy, not me." Her words cut deeper than anything he had ever heard.

"Shove off, Potter," Draco warned. Pansy laughed behind him, only to have it thrown in her face. "You too, Pansy. All of you. I need to talk with someone."

"Tamora–" Harry began.

"I'll talk. Harry, please. Just go."

Once they had all gone back to ice skating, Draco spoke. "I'm not going to beg you to go anywhere and talk, because I know talking always makes it worse when it comes us."

"Us?"

"You know what I mean," he snarled, "the only reason I wanted them to go away is because Slytherin has Quidditch practice. We have to report to the Quidditch pitch immediately."

"What if I do want to talk about us?" she whispered dangerously. He gave her a look of skepticism and let her speak. "What has been going on for the past day-and-a-half?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He had noticed it too. They were getting along...

"The hell you don't, Draco. I suppose we just seem to work together better when there's a challenge. We're almost... friendly. It was sickening."

"I suppose there was something, if you say so."

"Don't be stupid. I know when you're acting."

"All right there was something. An odd something."

She scrunched her nose. "I sort of enjoyed that."

"Yeah...The question is, why?" Draco paused for a moment, then seemed to have his own thoughts. "Well, we do have a lot in common. Our fathers are dead to the world... mass murders, whether we witnessed the victims or the killers..."

"–Loneliness," said Tamora softly, "Want for love never received."

"Yes. But what does that have to do with ruining Trelawney's day?"

"Absolutely nothing. Those were our reasons for falling involuntarily into love."

Draco seemed to be in a state of intense confusion. "...Wh–" It defied words.

Tamora sighed. "Oh don't think of it like that. I was joking."

"Oh, right. 'Course you were." Draco forced a smile and seemed completely put off. He dispelled all of his thoughts and focused on the Quidditch practice. "We're not going to go through an entire game today. Just some passing and all that..."

"They don't like me, do they?" Tamora finally blurted out. Draco stopped walking and looked over at her. "Well they don't. I would even say they loathe me. The team, I mean."

"Well what would you say if someone could fill in for you and perform even better in your position that you do?"

"I would say 'fantastic!' and let them have mine. I can always play in another."

Draco laughed, "They wish it was that...simple. They're used to being good at only one thing, one position, all year. You're one of the only people, if not the only, who can alternate that easily. Their positions are threatened."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully, "that's why Slytherin's always so vengeful. The other houses are better at most things."

He grumbled to himself and walked onto the field.

"But- there's noone here..." Tamora said, summoning the crate of practice Quidditch balls.

"Yes I know." Draco opened the crate and took out one of dozens of golf balls. "Private practice today."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want you, Tamora, to tell me, Draco, how to get the Snitch, like this here in my hand but with wings, at the upcoming game. Potter's got some type of strategy, and I want to know what it is. We can't lose this or Gryffindor automatically wins the Quidditch Cup."

"Oh! You want help."

"NO," he corrected, "I want to know how."

"Just admit that you want help and I will give you said strategy." Tamora smiled mischievously, hanging her arm on his shoulder and standing on her toes. She whispered in his ear to beat him at his own game. "Oh, poor, poor Tamora.. Draco doesn't want me anymore." She ran her tongue up the ridge of his ear sadistically.

He shuddered and pushed her off. "Just help me and be done with it!"

"Do you see how annoying your little tricks can be now?"

"Mount your broom."

"I left it in the common r- oh." Both of their brooms were set out in the snow. "Well aren't you too caring for your own good."

"I'm only doing this for me," he said arrogantly, "not you. Slytherin needs a win."

"And that's why you chose to ask me for help over the Warrington, ah, now I understand. Wasn't he the one who they begged to be Seeker but he chose Chaser instead? Of course, it's no use to ask the expert instead of me..." Her criticizing tone reminded him of himself all too much.

"When I was in the common room earlier," he began, picking at a random twig on his broom, "I heard a girl screaming. Screaming in her sleep. Know anyone with nightmares? Because from what I've been told..." He placed the handle of her Firebolt in her open hand. "...you caused quite a disruption last night. Everyone was complaining this morning... that Tamora Black was crying, whimpering in her sleep."

Tamora's eyes wandered to the ground and she muttered, "Who did you hear that from? Pansy?"

"All of the Slytherin girls. Why do you?"

"Why do I what?"

"Scream and cry in your sleep."

She shifted from foot to foot nervously, picking up her broom. "I have nightmares."

"Ordinary nightmares don't make you scream in your sleep. What's in these nightmares, then?" Draco actually looked a bit concerned among the strong traits of malice his face had permanently taken on. "...Tamora?"

Tamora mounted her Firebolt and pushed off hard from the ground, soaring over the wall in a loop, then stayed near the astronomy towers. She muttered to herself, staring down as the little dot picked up the little mahogany broom and began to rise into the air.

Malfoy met her at the astronomy tower. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. But I wanted to know what made you so afraid."

"So you could throw it in my face when you're angry again? I think not."

"Tamora just–"

"Why did you bring me out here?! And why were you and Remus missing at the feast last night?"

Honesty surely wasn't going to be the best policy. What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, your guardian that you love more than life showed me every memory he had of you.' He might as well tell her how his father had treated him every day of his life. Both were an impossibility. "I don't know where he was. I was with Professor Snape preparing potion ingredients–"

"Oh please, Draco. For one day of your life, be honest."

"Teach me." He held the golf ball out. "We've only got an hour or two before everyone leaves for winter break."

Tamora took out her wand and summoned the Muggle volleyball that had been painted red. "Quaffle. We learn how to play Chaser first. It'll improve every position to learn them first."

"We've only got two hours," stated Malfoy. "Two hours, to learn this?"

"Then you'll have to catch on to this faster, won't you? This is a standard pass." She threw the Quaffle at him fiercely, and it flew past his head.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"You didn't catch it. Try again." She summoned the 'Quaffle' and tossed it to him. "Are you ready this time?"

"Yes."

Tamora hovered before the hoops opposite him when he threw the ball as hard as she could. It careened with such speed towards her that when she caught it, it nearly knocked her through the left side hoop. "Excellent," she coughed, the sudden jolt had knocked the wind out of her. "Now you catch. I don't want to be killed, thank you very much."

Draco was extremely smug now that he had proved himself. The game was about to begin.

"Last time I'm asking. Are you ready?"

He nodded determinately and took his place. At that nod, she attempted to pelt him with the Quaffle. He caught it in one hand, locking his thumb in one of the indents on the side. "ANYTHING ELSE?" he yelled across the field.

"Be proud for now. We're onto Beater practice."

He wanted to ask tell her what he'd seen in the pensieve, he wanted to let her know that she wasn't alone. But that was impossible. She'd be angry with him, and Lupin. She'd hate him... more than usual. But what did he care?

"Tamora, I know."

She stopped in the process of summoning two clubs from the crate on the ground. "You know what?"

"...Everything."

"What do you mean, everything?"

There was a low hum of frenzied speech below them, and Tamora titled her head. "What in hell is... Look!" Reporters swarmed below them on the Quidditch field, as well as a large group of students still on their ice skates. A few of the reporters were holding up their newspapers and yelling for them to come down. They descended slowly, stopping just before the reporters could surround them.

"Tamora Black?" one of them called to her. "And Draco Malfoy?" Tamora nodded.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and became curt. "Yes. What? We're in the middle of a Quidditch practice if you don't mind. Clear off."All of a sudden, the low hum increased to a roar.

"Tamora! What do you know of your mother's connection to the Malfoy family? What has caused the recent threats?"

"Do you mean to retaliate?"

"...Recent threats?" She stared at them without a clue as to what they were asking. They continued to badger her with questions, but finally she noticed what they held in their hands. Copies of the Quibbler, and a few tabloids (that she'd never heard of) hung from their hands; in the other hand, a camera. The first headline either of them noticed was "MALFOY MAKES DEADLY PROMISE". Draco tore a copy from one of the reporter's hands and read it with Tamora.

In the latest news on Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban prison,

he has sent his first message to the Ministry of Magic. In an envelope

sealed with the Malfoy crest, he left this shocking statement. Quote:

The Dark Lord sends his message to Hogwarts. The Boy Who Lived

will this year die. Three bloodlines will finally meet their end.

The Cambrics will perish with Tamora Black.

End quote.

Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius, has refused to answer our questions,

and has yet to reply the inquiries of her son Draco's involvement in the

Death Eaters. It has been rumored that he was inducted to their clan,

and now the question on the lips of all reporters is:

What will Black's reply be to these threats- promises, rather, to put an

end to her life?

-Quibbler reporter Kriston Mandrille

Tamora stood back and reread it. The reporters were growing more impatient by the minute. She saw Harry trying to sneak past the reporters with no luck, but he must have read the article by the look in his eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy!" a voice shouted over the others, "Have you indeed joined the Death Eaters? What is your stance in the fight against the Dark Lord? Is it entirely true that he has returned?!"

Malfoy took a step away from them, but they had already closed in, their questions lashing out at the both of them. Each demand struck a blow, and Tamora finally raised her voice above the cries.

"I have no answer for any of you! You can leave now, because you have wasted your time asking either of us questions!" They did not cease. There was no end to the questioning. In fact, the queries only grew...

"Miss Black- does the anger at your father's death force you to join with You-Know-Who? What will you do now that Lucius Malfoy seeks to kill you?"

"Mr. Malfoy, have you received any letters of instruction from your father?"

"Miss Black, in your opinion, where will He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named next strike? Do you believe that Lucius Malfoy will succeed in his attempts to find Mr. Potter and yourself?"

"Mr—"

"—Miss Black,"

"Will he attack at Hogwarts–"

"—Do you question the school's safety?"

Finally after at least a score of these incessant interrogations, Malfoy could see that Tamora was becoming bothered. They even dared to reach out and grab her shoulder and bring her in so that she could hear the question. Finally it had reached the point where there wasn't a beginning or an end to the sentences they heard. Draco pushed her behind him and held out his wand.

"You'll leave now. Or I'll kill you all. Whichever suits you." All had begun to write what he had said, but put down their quills when they realized his wand was drawn.

Harry stared from the crowd. What was Malfoy up to? He'd get himself expelled...

Tamora glanced timidly at the back of his head. "Draco what are you–"

"I am ashamed of what our wizarding society has become," Dumbledore bellowed, commanding their attention. The crowd of reporters parted automatically for him to pass through. "Badgering students to answer such questions? And I had assumed the newspapers could stoop no lower than publishing a threat upon Miss Black's life. I am indeed appalled by your behavior. Leave the grounds of this school and publish nothing you have heard from my students, or the Ministry will be the first to suffer my wrath. That you can quote if you like. I wish for your readers to hear something accurate, for a change."

The moment his talking had ceased, the silence still lingered, and every last reporter left, upon their brooms or through portkeys. Malfoy picked up one a portkey that was left behind and threw it against the side of the school.

"Mr. Malfoy... Tamora," said Dumbledore, "it is time that you leave."

"Headmaster," Tamora inquired, "how were they allowed through the barrier? I thought this school was well-guarded."

"The school is well-guarded, that is true," he answered, "but against only those who seek to harm. Dark witches, and warlocks. Their intent was not to harm, though they do tend to pester. Whomsoever can sell their newspapers... in this case, it was Mr. Malfoy and yourself. With your pictures upon the front page... Well, that's of no importance now. They may print my name..."

"Thank you," she smiled up at him. "I'll get my trunk then?" He nodded slowly and left his penetrating gaze upon Malfoy. "You'll be fine."

"Yes." She walked towards Draco with caution, trying to see his face. He was crouched low to the ground with a hand to his temple.

"...Draco?"

"You're a Cambric. The bloody Muggle-lovers..."

"Yes, my mother is Rosaline Cambric," she said with a hint of anger. "Muggle-lovers? We saved innocent lives."

"Innocent lives or not, they're Muggles, Tamora. Don't you see the fault in that?"

Tamora stooped down to meet his eyes. He refused to look at her, twiddling with a blade of grass between his finger and thumb. His face showed disappointment... lacked all happiness. It was as though he was lost in thought, but still present in the conversation. Tamora's gaze was enough to force him to meet her eyes. Finally she spoke. "Saving another life doesn't make my family traitors, Draco. Only to those who are devoid of their consciences. Their morals. Their compassion."

"That's why Sirius was erased from the Black family tree. Not because he ran away. Because he married a Cambric."

"Only half true." She sat on the grass beside him, though he still avoided any contact with her. "But what is this really? Oh... Lucius. He must have told you all about the Cambrics and how treacherous they were. Lies."

"I bet Sirius lied. Told you we're not a good sort of people to be around. But my father never lied. Not to me."

"Death eaters don't follow the path of righteousness or truth. Who knows how long he's been at the side of Voldemort?"

Draco flinched and rubbed his arm with a groan. Tamora tried to lift his sleeve.

"It's n-nothing, Tamora. Get off. Quidditch injury– GET OFF."

Tamora pulled his sleeve up to his elbow, her breath stole from her lungs. She recoiled, taking a few moments to find her voice. "...Oh, Draco. How could you?" The Dark Mark lay tattooed on his forearm in a deep hellish black. "I thought that the rumors were formed by... But I never thought... Why, Draco?"

"As if I had a choice," he snarled. "As if I was allowed to stop after the years of training and preparation to become one of Them. And why not? Why can't I have my share of the prize?"

"What prize could come from killing?! I thought you knew better than to say something so stupid as that."

"What if it isn't stupid? What if I want to be one of them? What will you do?- leave and cry and never want to talk to me again? Perish the thought."

"I thought I knew you, Draco Malfoy. I thought you were better than what everyone saw. For a moment, I even thought you actually..."

"Actually what? Loved you?" He laughed harshly with cold, serpentine eyes. His breath floated in the frigid air. "I suppose you thought wrong then, didn't you?" As she walked in the opposite direction with her broom across the field, he yelled after her. "Love the chase. It's the same with every girl. You were right, Tamora. Congratulate yourself, and your noble family. So noble they got themselves killed for a bunch of stupid Muggles." He almost choked on the words. Why was he doing this?

After only a few moments, he picked up his broom, banished the crate of practice equipment, and ran across the field to where she still trudged through the deepening snow. "You have to come to the barrier with me."

"I'll take my broom, thank you."

"With your trunk and that bloody parrot? I'd like to see you try."

"And you will. I'm not spending another moment with you."

Malfoy smiled in spite of her temper. "You don't have any choice. You have to spend the entire break in my home."

"Why can't I sleep outside? It's colder in your company than a night in the snow."

"Oh, honestly–"

"—And why do you seem to care?"

"I don't have a choice either. If I don't keep you safe, Dumbledore will have my head. Not that he would. He never kills. He's got morals."

"Why's it so awful that he'd have your head? The Death Eaters already have your soul. Or didn't you ever have one to begin with?"

"I see. You love Muggles too."

"No, but I love my family. And if they saw fit to take in Muggles, then the Muggles they took in were also decent people. And if they were decent people, then I see nothing wrong with saving them."

"You're not really a Slytherin then. Do you know what it means to be a Slytherin? To qualify for our house?"

"Of course I do! Tojurs Pour. Always Pure. The Black family tradition. I'm tired of tradition, Draco. My father knew that it was ludicrous. That's why he left and lived with James. And how did you know about Sirius being erased from the Black family tree?"

"I told you. Lupin showed me everything. Your father's, mother's, and your past. Everything he knew."

"Remus would never betray me. He would never give you such private things."

"It wasn't a gift," Malfoy snarled, "and I didn't threaten him, not that it would do much good to get a... him, angry. I gave him a memory. My worst. You think that I'm that brash?"

"Yes."

"Well you're right." He made to pin her to the wall, but she swung her broom around and whacked his nose with the handle.

"Can't you be more original?" she sighed, hearing a yell pierce the air.

"You bloody wh–" He held his nose and forced the words into his mind again, choking on a bit of blood dripping inside his nose. The blood also seeped through his fingers onto the path, leaving a trail behind him.

"Say it. I dare you." Tamora followed Draco through the long stone archway to the entrance hall doors. "...Are you...all right?"

"No- ya brode my bloo'y nose, woman," he could barely talk through the blood, and it pained him besides.

"Oh, keep playing the injuries to your advantage. Get girls that way, don't you?"

"Shuddup."

"What's that?"

"SHUT UP! –Ouch-...bloody woman..."

She lead him up to the hospital wing straight into the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was just folding back the newly-cleaned sheet on the last bed when Malfoy and his bloody nose stepped through the door.

"No no no- over there. Getting all that blood on my fresh sheets... never in my life...Get a basin, will you, Tamora?" Tamora handed her a metal basin which Madam Pomfrey placed on his lap. "I'll get something to stop the bleeding..."

"Why do you always have to get me injured?" he said thickly, holding gauze to the bridge of his nose. "You're lucky I even talk to you after that. Cambrics. The Muggle-lovers. I bet whoever killed them had some fun with it."

Tamora raised her broomstick to ram it through his head when Madam Pomfrey ripped it out of her hands. "Not in here. If you want to kill him, you can't have a witness, and the school can't be held responsible. Poison his egg nog."

"Stop giving her ideas!"

"I don't like you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm dressing your wounds because I'm paid to."

"He's a Death Eater! Finish him off, Madam Pomfrey. You must have some poison that can kill something as repulsive as this one."

Madam Pomfrey gasped. "...What did you say?"

"I said he's a—" With one good swipe of the Firebolt, Madam Pomfrey and Tamora were both out cold on the floor.

"Women." He left Madam Pomfrey sliding off of the bed and slumped Tamora over his shoulder. He whispered a foreign incantation and held his wand to Madam Pomfrey's ear. Immediately she snapped into place on the bed. "What was I saying? Oh yes. Tamora get a basin- What happened?!"

"She was trying to get up and tripped over her broomstick. She'll be all right. Fix my nose now."

"Oh yes. Not severe, Mr. Malfoy. Barely a hairline fracture. Lean in here please. Sanguias Iccare." The blood immediately stopped flowing from his nose. "You're lucky I didn't reverse it. You'd have more than filled that basin."

Draco looked up at her in surprise, readjusting Tamora on his shoulder. "...You'd do that?"

"No. Can't. But if you really are a Death Eater, and I know you are because Tamora wouldn't lie, then I can turn you in. You can't go to Azkaban until you're seventeen, but they'll put you at the top of the list."

"What do I care?"

Madam Pomfrey glanced at him while she picked up the basin. "You don't care that you'll spend your life having happy memories sucked out of your mind?"

"It wouldn't affect me. Dementors are easy to get past. My father did."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Malfoy. But heed my words- if you put that girl in harm's way, you'll not only have to deal with expulsion, you'll deal with something much worse."

He laughed. "You?"

"No. Professor Lupin. Remus doesn't need the moon to lose control and kill you. He simply has to hate you." Madam Pomfrey gave him a towel for the blood caked onto his shirt. "Go on now, Draco."

Draco carried Tamora away in silence, her head hanging over his back. "Remus Lupin. He can't even save himself from his curse. Please. One good silver bullet will get him."

When he arrived in the entrance hall, Harry was waiting by the dungeon door.

"What do you want, Potter?"

Harry took one look at Tamora and reached for his wand. "What did you do to Tamora?"

"Relax, Scar-head. She fell and knocked herself out."

"I don't believe you," he accused. "You did something to her."

"Yeah," Malfoy sneered. "And what if I did? What if I knocked her unconscious? What then? What if I hurt her? What if I raped her? What if I killed her? Would it be Saint Potter to the rescue as usual?"

Harry's voice had no evidence of anger. "You can't win this with words, Malfoy. You wouldn't hurt her and I know that. I'm not a fool."

"Aren't you?"

Harry walked to the large double doors that lead to the grounds. "Dumbledore's sent the Hogwarts Express since so many are going home this Christmas. Apparently their parents are afraid that the school isn't safe with your father so close."

The doors swung open.

"And her luggage is–"

"In my pocket," Harry answered, the doors closing slowly behind him.

Nearly an hour passed before Tamora woke. Harry was sitting across from her, opening a Chocolate Frog. Ron was sleeping next to him, leaning against his trunk. Hermione was sitting beside Tamora. Harry glanced over at Tamora.

"Malfoy did something. I don't know what, but you were knocked out cold when I saw you. Is he really a Death Eater?"

Tamora thought on this and decided to lie. "I...don't know." The compartment doors were wide open, and the murmurs from surrounding compartments made a low buzzing sound. She could hear clearly the wheels of the food cart about ten compartments back. "Do you want any food? The cart will be here soon."

Harry threw her a bag of Every Flavor Beans and shook his head. "We've already bought food. Help yourself."

"Where is the great lummox now?"

Ron groaned with his eyes closed. "Don't know. He can't be far... You should really tell Dumbledore to make sure someone sits near him on the train. Maybe a dementor or two..."

"I thought you were sleeping, Ron," Harry said.

"No," he answered bitterly, "I don't want to look at her for the entire trip home."

Tamora rolled her eyes. "Can't you call it a truce already?"

"Never!" they both yelled. They simultaneously made for the door to the compartment, but found that they couldn't run in opposite directions if they were both blocking the door. Ron opened the compartment door. "Ladies first."

"Go ahead then."

Ron glared at her and walked away. Hermione considered going back into the compartment, mumbled something about the bathroom, and walked the other way past compartment doors.

Harry heard something different in Tamora's voice, something sad when she sighed. "Thought he actually loved me for a moment there. Isn't that... Isn't it funny? People can surprise you sometimes..." Her voice trailed off and she forced a smile. Fake happiness, Harry thought. She's furious with him. How can she be smiling? "Harry, you were right. He's a ba–"

A paper airplane sailed into the open compartment door and landed on the seat. Tamora picked it up, and automatically it began to unfold. There were two words scribbled inside. "I do." Then, the parchment folded itself into an origami flower. Tamora smiled lightly, then hung her head outside of the compartment. In the compartment directly behind her, the door was wide open. Malfoy sat with his arms folded in the seat nearest the door, legs propped up on the seat across. With an odd smile locked into place, he nodded cooly. Tamora scowled at him and popped her head back inside.

"Bloody Slytherin... cheeky... evil..." The rest of her words were barely audible, but still quite interesting. Harry saw her doodle something onto a piece of paper, then fold the paper a few ways. She then unfolded it and folded it into an airplane, and whispered, "Malfoy, Draco. Kamikaze." The paper airplane soared when she released it, zipping out of the compartment. Not two seconds later, there was a yell from the compartment behind them. Harry craned his neck to see that the plane had crashed itself straight into Malfoy's forehead. Then, in his lap, it unfolded and showed a picture. A person, labeled "You", was shown falling to his death in several different ways, first death being another doodle (labeled "Me") pushing him off of the astronomy tower.

Malfoy's compartment door closed with a slam.

"Who'd you learn to do that from?" Harry laughed.

"Draco."

"...You talk to him still?"

"No. Just a few times before. It gets boring in Flying class. Everyone's so slow."

Not five seconds after she had spoken, Malfoy stalked into the compartment and sat down rigidly next to Tamora.

"Go back to your compartment or I'll send you something less pleasant."

"What do I do to deserve this... this..."

"Shit?"

"Yes!"

"Added bonus. Still love me?"

Nothing deters a Malfoy, he thought. "Yes."

"How about a hex? Still love me?"

"NO...YES... I don't... Fine I'll go back, you sodding... Argh."

Harry applauded. "He didn't even finish a sentence."

"Thank you, thank you. All you have to do is become female, Harry. Any girl who's better than him at Quidditch can shut him up. I'll be back. Trying to get those two back in the same enclosed area together... this may take some work..."

Harry fell asleep for an hour or two, placid and dreamless. It was the first time in many years. Then... A violent, blood-curdling scream. It wasn't his mother... It wasn't her voice. He caught a flash of blonde hair, then a sinister laugh. That laugh he did recognize, however. That was the laugh of a Death Eater. That was the laugh of a Malfoy. Lucius. Another flash. A black cloak this time. And another. Blood. A body steeped in blood. Then a flash of silver hair. Fangs. Something was feeding. Someone was in agony. The scream died on the lips of a woman in the dark. He could hear the fanged creature suckling on someone's neck. Eyes, glowing in the blackness of the void. Amber eyes he knew well.

Harry yelped and forced himself into consciousness. Who was killing? Why was Malfoy there... and who was screaming? He rubbed his eyes, as if to wipe the images from before his eyes. But they were there... Finally he could feel his legs again. When he gained his awareness, Harry saw the compartment was empty. "Where are...?" Hermione walked in.

"Hello Harry. He went to see her off before she leaves for the Malfoy manor." By voice inflection alone he knew that Ron was saying goodbye to Tamora. Harry leapt from his seat, heading for the nearest exit. He had to say goodbye before she left for the worst Christmas of her life. Harry barreled down the iron stairs. One, two, three he counted. Now he was there. And so was she.

"Tamora!" Harry called. She turned around and waved. He caught her in mid-sentence, locking his arms around her.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "If Malfoy bothers you in the least I'll come kill him."

"You won't have to," she answered, "I can kill him myself, thank you."

Harry stepped back and nodded.

"I don't want you over there for Christmas," Ron said with a disappointed exhale. "It's not right, Dumbledore sending you over to his cold mansion with all those dark arts."

"It's better than your hubble, Weasel," Malfoy hissed from behind them. Ron met his gaze with a threatening glare. "Dumbledore must be afraid that Tamora won't be fed living on your father's salary. Going to sleep on their kitchen table, Potter? Or don't they have separate rooms for sleeping and eating? Like animals, I'd say." He smiled to see Ron's fist clench.

"Oh shut your mouth before I erase it from your face," Tamora growled in annoyance. "Harry I just wanted to thank you for bringing my luggage. Have you seen my broom?"

"No, Tamora. I... I didn't know you had it." Harry felt a bit of guilt. He'd left her broom... Draco opened his palm to reveal a tiny broomstick with even tinier gold letters glinting on the handle. It was a Firebolt, no doubt.

"...Thank you," she grumbled, snatching it from his hand.

He smiled wickedly at her, not letting her eyes away from his.

Tamora tilted her head. "Wipe that smile off of your face, won't you? Doesn't it hurt that fracture in your nose at all?" Harry now smiled, finally noticing that Tamora must have broken his nose. A piece of gauze was taped to the bridge, and the skin around the bandage was a bit black and blue

"Think you're witty, do you?" Malfoy sneered, swaggering up to her.

"I like to think so, yes."

"Oh, and that bloody werewolf of yours gave me a message."

Tamora nodded. "Go ahead. Tell me then."

"He can't be here to see you off. Probably shedding somewhere... beast of burden..."

"What he said. Without comments from the village idiot, thank you."

He broke his gaze only a moment. "He won't be here to see you off. Got something to do. He'll send you a letter and a Christmas gift. Oh. And this was from me."

Tamora gave him her hand, letting him give her a small silver medallion with a black leather chain. It was Remus' amulet. Her eyes widened. "He's not using it?! But he'll be in pain. Oh god... You saw him this morning. What happened to him? Where was he? Draco, tell me where he is!"

"Wish I could." There was fake remorse in his voice. But did anyone really expect remorse from him? "I swore I wouldn't tell. Have a Merry Christmas in the poor house, Potter. Maybe you can buy their family some decent clothes." He stalked away. "Come along, Tamora."

Harry felt Tamora embrace him. "I promise I'll be careful around this one. Besides, he's a coward. He knows when I say I'll kill him, it's true."

"Oh enough of the lovey-dovey codswallop. Let's go. Or would you like to marry your 'brother' before you leave?"

Tamora answered with her head still on Harry's shoulder. "Shut up, you miserable git. I'll be there in a moment... Goodbye, Harry. I promise that I'll hurt him for you."

"...Thanks, Tamora." That was possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. Harry watched Tamora walk through the barrier, and smiled. "This Christmas might not be the end of the world after all."

A/N: Hm... I love Slytherin. So evil. So hot. Coming up next: Christmas at the Weasleys'', Christmas dinner at the Malfoy manor, Songfic chapter, and quite an interesting gift...

Reviews.

Lady Rumbottom- Yes, I know. Keep them apart. As if I'd let them stop arguing. I think you know me better than that. Bwahaha.

Oh, and check out my fanart on ! My name is 'sparrows angel'. There's some from "The Fine Line Between Love and Insanity" there, too.