"That book," I start off, "It's an old book that my mother used to read to me as a child during Christmas." I stop for a second. Why am I telling him all of this? Do I like him that much?
I look over at him, and sure enough, I think, "I really do like him that much."
"It's "A Christmas Carol". It's one of my favorite books."
He looks at me with a bit of shock on his face. What was he thinking?
"That's what you've been so defensive about? I thought maybe you were studying the dark arts or something." a smile appears on his face and he laughs!
"There are other reasons behind it, Potter." I say his name with venom in my voice.
He stops smiling, and says, "Then tell me."
"Why should I? You might just laugh again." I say as I cross my arms.
I feel a warm hand on my arm, and look at Potter.
"Please tell me. I didn't mean to laugh. It was just something I never really expected."
"Okay. I'll tell you. My mother used to read it to me because, well. . ." I trail off, thinking of how I should explain this.
"Let me tell you first that my mother isn't what she appears to be. She just seems to be stuck up and all snobby in public because that's how a Malfoy is supposed to act. When she's just with me, she's very kind." I stop as I start to remember things from when I was a child.
How she would be kind and hold me in her lap by a crackling fire, and times when we were at father's business functions, and just how she would hardly even acknowledge that I was there. It was almost like a double life to her.
"During Christmas, my father was usually out for business. So, mother kind of started a Christmas tradition that was just for us two. She would read as I sat on the floor in front of her, and she wouldn't stop until she finished the book. She kind of thought my father as Scrooge. All bitter and nasty. Not letting anyone in. She thought, even hoped, that maybe something would happen to my father that he would change his life around. But nothing of the sort happened." I finish my story and look over at Potter.
He looks a bit stunned. Did I tell him too much?
Wow. . .what Malfoy just told me, it must have taken a lot of nerve. I never expected anything like that to come from a Malfoy. I never expected him to be in possession of a muggle book, hell, I didn't expect his mother to have read that muggle book to him!
Now that I've heard about his past, I can't really think of him as a Malfoy. Malfoys are pompous, aristocratic, arrogant-, okay, I think I'll stop myself right there. He's not any of those things. He's still an aristocrat, but other than that, I find him to be. . .misunderstood.
"Malfoy?" I say nervous.
"Yes?" He says, looking at me with those gray, silverish eyes. I think that might be my new favorite color.
Am I really going to ask this question?
"I can't call you Malfoy anymore," I start to say before I actually make up my mind, "After what you told me, you're no longer a Malfoy in my eyes." I stop. He looks at me in bewilderment, I can only imagine what he's thinking I'm about to ask.
"I can't see you as Malfoy. I can only see you as Draco." I stop again, and take a deep breath, "I guess what I'm asking is, can I call you Draco? Malfoy just doesn't seem right anymore."
He stays silent. What happened? Did I cross a line?
"No." He says out of the blue. I'm stunned. I didn't think it was too big to call him Draco.
"Well, if you want it that way. . ." I trail off, disappointed that I can't call him what I think he should be called.
Now he does something more that I didn't expect once again.
He gently takes my face into his hand, and now looks at me with a warm smile.
"You can only call me Draco if I can call you Harry." Then from no where, he places his lips on mine, and gently kisses me. I kiss back in return, never wanting this moment to end.
I pull away from Harry's gentle kiss, not really wanting to let go. But you do need to breath, it's common sense, really.
"You didn't need a plant this time." Harry said jokingly. I chuckle at it, and smile at him afterward.
"You really need to smile more, you know." Harry says out of nowhere. He quickly slaps his hand on his mouth, and is blushing a deep red. "Looks like he didn't mean to say that." I smirk at the thought.
"Don't get red about it. I'll smile a bit more, if that's what you want." He's still red, but now his hand is down and he smiles himself.
But as quickly as that smile appeared, it disappeared just as fast. He just seems to go into deep thought in one second flat.
"Harry, what's wrong? You look saggy again." He smiles and shakes his head at my weird word. Doesn't it make sense to say "saggy" when someone is down?
"It's just, it's just. . ." he trails off, doing that second flat thinking again.
"How will we act toward each other after break is over?"
"I suppose how we're acting now." I say with a nod.
"But what about Gryffindor's and Slytherin's rivalry with one another? How will they all act? I mean, they've come to expect me and you duking it out."
I completely forgot. How will everyone react? I quickly clear it from my mind and say, "Does it matter what everyone thinks? I don't care, neither should you."
He looks down, a sad expression on his face. He looks at me, with those troubled eyes, and quietly says, "I don't know if I care what they think. I really don't anymore," He stops for a second and takes a look back at the ground, "I'm more worried about what Ron and Hermione will think."
So that's how it is. I can understand. I worry what my friends, or what I think of as my friends, think of the things I do.
"I understand. I don't want to, but I do." I stop now. Just wanting to be silent for a while. I think Harry thinks the same. He stays silent.
We just watch the snow fall slowly to the ground. Each flake gliding down, a flash of sparkle coming from them every once in a while from the castle lights.
I sigh, and now reach slowly out to Harry, taking him into my arms. He then lays his head right under my chin, trying to get more close.
"Harry, I want to be with you. Even if it's just for a little while." I stop for a second, not sure if I want to say this, "You make the decision. If you want to stay how we are now, that'd be great. If you want to go back to our old, fighting ways, then let it be."
He looks up at me, a look of shock on his face.
"Draco, I don't know if I want to make that choice." He says only above a whisper, "I don't know if it'll be right or wrong, and I don't want to be wrong."
I smile a sad smile down at him. And now, I give his cheek a gentle kiss.
"Whatever the decision, it will be right."
. . . . .
