"I've been starting to feel more myself the past couple weeks," Kiara hears Scorpius's voice say at the table next to her in the library.

She has not seen him since over a month ago at the Quidditch match, and his familiar voice startles her from her studying. Scorpius is only a couple feet away, sitting with the girl who mocked Kiara's accent—Emmalee. She glances sidelong at them, mildly perplexed by their lack of self-awareness in such a quiet area.

"Go on, Cory," Emmalee says.

Can't they tell everyone is listening? she thinks. Or do they just like it this way?

"I know I may have seemed different. Distant, even. For a while. Truthfully, Emma, I had some . . . things on my mind. These days, it's been feeling as though . . ." Kiara, though appearing busy, listens intently. But then Emmalee rest her chin in her hand, looking bored. Scorpius leans forward, now saying, "Well, anyway. I'm sorry that I've been acting weird. Maybe I could talk to you about some—"

"I forgive you, Scorpy," Emmalee interrupts. "It's just, I've been distant, too."

"Have you been?"

"You haven't seemed as committed to your responsibility as a Seeker. You should be doing more to train, but . . . you've been late to all your practices. Albie always asks me where you are when he's headed out to the field! Cory, I only want to date famous Quidditch players. I just can't be with you until I see that you know anything about commitment. I would hate to see your potential wasted, Scorpy. You could be famous! It's like you don't even care."

Kiara swears she sees something like hurt flash across Scorpius's eyes; it appears as a sheen of water that evaporates in a blink, reflecting white with light then disappearing in an instant.

"I will be famous, Emma. My grandfather took me to a witch that sees the future by reading the constellations. And she said so herself! They're even more clear than crystal balls, because they see what fate itself has written in the stars."

"Hm," Kiara replies vaguely to herself. She does so because Scorpius's statement surprises her—just because magic exists, doesn't mean a witch or wizard would act so irrationally. But it's loud enough for the pair beside her to turn.

Scorpius raises his brows when he sees it's her, and his lips turn into a fine line. When he purses them together, Kiara sees a faintly dark scar going down his upper lip.

"Do you have something to say?" Emmalee snarls at her.

"Yes, I do. I would not be so sure about the constellation reading," she continues, deciding to carry on as though they are all discussing something friendly over a pitcher of butterbeer. "I think many who study them would agree that the constellations we have made from otherwise unrelated stars do not tell stories about our futures here in this galaxy, on this Earth. They are representations of the past—not the future. To think otherwise . . . It is just silly."

Scorpius says nothing, only watching her. It's only when Emmalee jabs him in the ribs and laughs that he looks away from Kiara and rolls his eyes. He turns his body away and whispers something to Emmalee, who then smirks as if she knows everything.

"Never pin your dreams on the stars, Scorpius," Kiara says. "They do not fall for you."

"Don't you just love the Christmas spirit, Cory?" Emmalee asks, tugging on his arm and forcing him to look at all the lights and wreaths that have been hung around the dungeons.

"Not especially."

"You're doing it again," Emmalee complains. "You have to agree with me. Otherwise it's embarrassing. I'm heading back to the dorms." She leaves without even a kiss on his cheek.

Scorpius picks up the pace of his walking. He doesn't want to think about her unreciprocated feelings. At the same time, as much as he'd like to spend time with her, it can be so . . . draining. Not in a bad way, he tells himself. Just a bit cumbersome. He hasn't dared to share any of his thoughts or feelings with her yet—he's scared of what she may say or do in return, especially when they aren't exclusive.

So he keeps it to himself: Christmas time doesn't bring around the best of memories.

Every Christmas before Scorpius came to Hogwarts, his grandfather Lucius would tour him around a Muggles' downtown area while his father and mother were spending the morning alone. Lucius would walk along the alleys with homeless, starving people. Teenagers who'd been kicked out of the house; men and their dogs freezing slowly; abused, childless mothers . . . and one year, an elderly couple that had been evicted from their home. All the while, Lucius would narrate. They were the Losers, the Loveless, and the Loners.

'Scorpius,' he would explain. 'You know I love you very much. You make your grandfather so proud. You will not end up like these loser, loveless loners, because you are a Malfoy. And Malfoys will do anything to come out on top. Do you understand?'

The second Christmas spent doing this, when Scorpius was only eight, he began to cry for these people. He felt deeply that they were hurting, and had no one to turn to. This feeling felt familiar to him, though he couldn't understand it. . . . Not when he would get to go home and be greeted by staff, a hot feast, and a warm bed. The frustration of his contradictory thinking only made him cry harder. When he was caught with tears upon his cheeks, he was struck across the face with the back of Lucius's hand. His cheek was red for hours. He's never cried since that day, almost ten years ago. The three Christmases leading up to Hogwarts, Lucius held his head high and strutted his wealth down these alleys—all Scorpius wanted to do was hide.

Instead, Lucius would hold a firm grip upon Scorpius's shoulders and walk at a slow pace, commenting loudly on all the presents he'd gotten his only spoiled grandson. Scorpius would stare at his feet, knowing that the homeless around him could hear. His body was always cloaked in expensive wool for the winter, while everyone else shivered in rags.

Scorpius has never been able to confide in his father or mother with the truth of what Lucius does and says. There was a time, before he left for Hogwarts, that he could hint at it in the right moments. Maybe after his parents had a good day each. But his mother would only gasp, and his father would kneel down beside him and explain in a soft, patronizing voice that Lucius's father was heartless, and his father before him, and his, too. And any way that Lucius treats him today is much better than he ever could expect or ask for from his father. All his father can see is all the fathers that came before.

Without realizing, he had made it clear to Scorpius that his pain is infinitesimal. Scorpius learned to bury it inside.

When Scorpius finally came to Hogwarts he decided to spend every holiday at the school. He only returns home during the summer breaks because he has to. In addition, his grandfather and parents often leave him alone in the large mansion for weeks at a time.

There are moments when his parents support him—but they only ever do so quietly.

Lucius had discovered that Scorpius takes after his mother when it comes to creating when he returned for summer break after his third year. He was unpacking a hand-knit cream scarf by a close friend—Rose Granger-Weasley—from his suitcase, when Lucius walked by and happened to see the contents. Because he cares only for art if it has a heavy price tag and is hanging in his front entrance, this news dissatisfied him. He had hit Scorpius across the mouth, and then burned all of his work right there in the suitcase. The act had split Scorpius's lip from his grandfather's old wedding ring when he was only thirteen. Scorpius barely remembers his grandmother, Narcissa, who died when he was young. Often times he will justify the way his grandfather treats him by reminding himself how lonely the man must be without his wife.

The scarf, that he was determined to take good care of, was ruined because of his bleeding nose.

In private, after his father had used magic to fix up Scorpius's face as best he could, he had then collected the ashes of his son's journals and put them in a sealed jar. 'Take this back to school with you,' his father had said. 'Keep it with you. And some day, you will realize that this has made you stronger.'

Scorpius does keep the jar of ashes in his trunk at the foot of his bed. But when he had returned to Hogwarts for his fourth year, he was different. He never responded to any of the owls, and stuck only with his Slytherin companions. Everyone else became an enemy, or a nuisance.

Everyone was too frightened or fed-up with him to ask about the strange scar on his upper lip.

There was another time when his father saw him signing his artwork with 'Hyperion'. He had scowled at first, but didn't say a word. After that day, his father never introduced him as Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy again. He had decided to rescind Scorpius's middle name, for his privacy. It took his mother a little longer to get used to that change, as Hyperion had been her father's name—a father who had encouraged her natural talent as an artist.

Scorpius's father has always walked the line. While not being supportive or understanding, he also never attempted to make things more difficult for his son. And though he's certain his mother wishes she could have, she never said a word either. This is why, even estranged from his family, Scorpius never shares his work with anyone.

He fears that someone may sneer or punish him. He fears he will find out he doesn't actually have any talent in the one thing that brings him joy. And he fears he will be disowned by his family.

When he looks back up from his feet, he realizes he's meandered back to the tower where he first met Kiara and her snake. He leans against the sill of the wide window and watches his hot breath freeze in the night. The tower clock alerts Scorpius that it's half past eleven, and he steps back from the edge.

-o-o-o-

Kiara strokes Basil's head, leaving him an especially large mouse in his cage. Basil will never hurt anyone, but the other Ravenclaw girls in her dorm still get a good scare when they find her snake coiled up beneath their covers and hissing when cold feet touch him. (Kiara has tried dozens of times to explain to Basil that he can not sleep anywhere he wants, but it's been of no use.) Then she leaves for dinner.

"Kiara, good evening. Are you staying at Hogwarts this year for Christmas holidays?" Headmistress McGonagall holds a clipboard in one hand and a quill in the other, looking up from the top of her spectacles and awaiting an answer. Kiara had almost ran into the woman the moment she left the common room, as though the Headmistress was expecting her.

"I am not. I will be going home."

"Please remember to get your travel plans secured. Now go enjoy your meal. I heard a rumor that they're already serving eggnog."

With that, the Headmistress catches the eye of another student and rushes off to ask if they'll be staying as well. Kiara had peeked at the Headmistress's list and saw that not a single sixth-year Ravenclaw will be left alone at Hogwarts—everyone is going home, including her friend, Callie.

She reaches the Great Hall and immediately looks up, gazing at the stars. It's while she frames the Scorpius constellation in her view that someone shoves into her, nearly upsetting the both of them. Because she doesn't scare easily, Kiara only turns quietly and steps back to regain her balance.

"Well done," a sarcastic, but lovely voice intones blankly. "I'm sorry, dear brother, but who were you just calling klutzy?"

The figure that had run into her laughs heartily, and Kiara's eyes take in a familiar handsome boy with dark green eyes. Kiara could never forget his name—Albus—because years ago he and his father had shown her kindness when she was most vulnerable.

But she can tell he doesn't recognize her. She's not sure how that makes her feel.

"I apologize," he says casually to Kiara, before turning to one of the girls he's with. She knows all their names, though she feigns confusion. "Still you, Lily. Klutz."

The other girl, whom Kiara recognizes as Rose (she sneaks into her common room—often late at night—with a seventh-year boy who's captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team), says, "No one is as clumsy as you, Lily. Not until they've done something worse than trip and break all of the glass beakers in Potions."

Albus holds out his hand to her, to shake. After a hesitant moment, Kiara takes his pinky within her grasp. She wonders if this makes him remember her. He raises his eyebrows. When she was twelve she held his pinky finger just like this, as they walked through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"Really, I'm sorry about that. Forgive my humor. I suppose I was distracted, laughing at my hilarious sister." The girl named Lily rolls her eyes at this. "My name's Albus Potter—"

"Albus, I'm sure she knows who you are."

"I do," Kiara agrees, finally letting him go. He drops his hand slowly back to his side, eyeing her with an expression she hopes is curiosity.

Ignoring Lily, he continues with, "This is my little sister Lily, and my cousin Rose Granger-Weasley. And please, you are . . . ?"

"You're seriously going to act like you don't know?" Lily intervenes, smiling devilishly. "It's Kiara LeClerc."

"What—"

"Did you forget you tell me everything? Kiara's the girl with perfect marks in Astronomy. Better than you! As if you'd forget the name. . . . I mean, you were fuming for—"

"Ha-ha!" Albus interrupts nervously, while covering Lily's mouth—and half her small face—with his hand. "You are Kiara LeClerc, then? Anyway, my sister," he tries to explain, looking at Kiara with bright eyes. "She's such a comedian, huh?"

There's a muffled response from Lily, her eyes fuming with mock anger. Kiara guesses she's just licked Albus's hand, as he yelps and pulls back before laughing and wiping his palm on his trousers.

"You should come sit with us, if you haven't eaten, yet," Rose offers. "We're meeting Hugo, and the others, at the usual table."

"I would love to, but I am a Ravenclaw," Kiara states timidly.

"I'm Gryffindor," Rose says. "Lily, too. Albus is Slytherin. And Hugo's Hufflepuff. It would never stop us from sitting together."

"Yeah," Lily adds. "Come join the family. We're all completely normal."

-o-o-o-

"Hufflepuffs are usually so nice and amiable, and people who will do anything for you. But then you haven't met Hugo, here. Very competitive. We used to do treasure hunts when we were younger, and Hugo would always win."

"I'm not competitive. I'm just a particularly good finder," Hugo comments.

"Slytherins are the worst people at Hogwarts. Generally speaking, that much is true," Lily continues on. "Full of stupid jocks with nothing better to do than pick on other students."

Albus coughs.

"Oh, except Albie, of course. Did you know that Albie asked to be in Slytherin, since the Sorting Hat was debating between all four Houses for him? Oh, my god, we were all so angry at him. For a long time, too. He belongs in Gryffindor!"

"No, Ravenclaw," Rose insists. "His fat head's brimming with useless information."

"But Albus is so kind," Hugo adds. "He's a Hufflepuff if ever I met one."

"Regardless," Rose says. "Eventually we had to forgive him. His daddy made us make up."

Kiara glances at Albus's red face. "All four Houses?"

"Yup, he's a special one." Rose raps her knuckles on her cousin's head, and he smacks her hand away. "Brave, cunning, amiable, and smart, all wrapped into one ugly git."

"Thanks."

Lily shrugs. "It was his destiny to be Slytherin, anyway. His middle name is—"

"Severus," Albus cuts in. Rose raises an eyebrow at him and he nudges her. "Gosh, I'm sorry, Kiara. I forgot how embarrassing my family is."

Kiara politely swallows her food. "Severus. Who is Severus?"

"Severus Snape," Hugo explains. "He was the old professor of Potions, and he hated Harry Potter. That's Albus's dad. You have Muggle parents, right? Do you know who Harry Potter is?"

Kiara shakes her head. She had met a 'Harry Potter' in Diagon Alley years ago, but she has a feeling that isn't what Hugo is talking about.

"Well, you've heard of Voldemort, of course. That's what Potter's famous for. There was this love triangle, but only one man can win a woman's heart. Unless you're that Slytherin girl, Emmalee. She's a—"

"Hugo," Albus warns.

"So you know the story," Hugo carries on. "When a wizard loves a witch very much they—" He lowers his voice so much that Kiara has to strain her ears to hear. "—have a son who defies Voldemort's kill curse. That son was Harry Potter."

"Not where I thought you were going with that."

"I thought my dad told you you don't have to whisper his name anymore? Voldemort, Baldy-mort, Moldy Voldy-mort!" fifth-year Lily cries out, attracting attention from a handful of first-years who'd been told by sixth-year Ravenclaws that saying Voldemort's name three times in a mirror will curse you. Kiara never bought into that. But then again, she never grew up with the haunting stories of He-Who-Would-Not-Be-Named-Back-Then.

Across from Kiara, Albus smiles. "It's true," he says. "He was bald."

"Anyway," Lily continues. "Severus Snape is a hero. As is Albus Dumbledore. So our Albie is triple the special boy, being a Potter, as well. But he's so weird. He collects Muggle things. You should see all of the things he's hoarded—"

"Hoarded," Albus repeats hollowly. His family has done a proper job of humiliating the modest Albus, who hides his pink face behind his hand and focuses on his food.

Rose furrows her brows. "Hey," she interjects. "Come on. Grandpa collects Muggle things, too."

"Sure, but grandpa collects cool Muggle things, like that car he told us about! Albie has silly things, like DVDs, and a broken 'Walking-man', and some weird books written by Muggles."

"Walkman," Kiara offers. "They are obsolete, even for Muggles."

"Are they?" Albus asks. "That's fascinating."

"Albus becoming a Slytherin created ripples," Rose says, after having been quiet for some time. "Things have been changing with the dynamic of the Houses. Except the rest of the Slytherins. If Albus is one step forward, that horrible Cory Malfoy is two steps back. Everyone pretty much hates his guts."

Lily shakes her head. "Albie and I don't hate him."

"Well, you should."

"You're rather passionate about your feelings toward Cory." Before Rose can stop her, she adds, "Rose had this massive crush on Cory for years."

"Oh?" Albus sounds interested, as though this is the first he's heard of Rose having liked an ever-so-hated Slytherin.

"You couldn't tell because you're completely oblivious to everything, Albie," Lily accuses. "You think everyone's just friends with everyone else, like you live in a fairytale. Rose was an absolute mess when Cory came back after third-year and—."

"Enough!" Rose gasps, her ears bright red; she wears tiny silver hoops with little charms, and Kiara watches them sway. "K-Kiara, why did you start a year late?"

Kiara blinks. She was enjoying being part of such lively conversation, in a manner that she never has been before. Then, slowly coming up with an answer, she says, "I am Muggle-born, as you know. My family was skeptical. Headmistress McGonagall wrote a note of explanation, when I got another letter at twelve years old. My family really wanted me to stay nearby, and go to Beauxbatons. But I . . . wanted to learn English faster," she finishes, even if it's not the entire truth.

"You sound like Albus," Hugo says.

She glances at Albus. "I love the pursuit of knowledge. When I got here, I was sorted into Ravenclaw immediately and spent one week with the first-years. I advanced faster, I think, so they moved me up with students of my age."

"I remember you now," Albus says. He wiggles his pinky slyly, as though they now share a secret.

Hugo says, "I'm glad you came here. Hogwarts has the best Quidditch teams for our league. Though I've always wanted to play against Durmstrang's teams, just to prove it." He's a sixth-year like her. They have Herbology together but have never properly spoken until now. Kiara smiles at him, before taking a small sip of eggnog.

-o-o-o-

Scorpius, without his drawing pad, walks aimlessly through the school with his cat, Jamie Button. It's ten minutes to curfew, but he goes in the opposite direction of his House. His thoughts, as usual, are elsewhere.

Before he knows it he reaches the grand Entrance Hall. Something tells him to stay put, and he's glad he does. A moment later the huge doors are thrown open and a flurry of snow dashes in and settles on the freezing floor. The flames of candles crackle noisily from the wind.

Jamie Button mews indifferently, before jumping up into Scorpius's arms and burrowing into his robes for warmth.

From outside comes none other than Professor Longbottom. He can tell, because Professor Longbottom is the only professor who almost never wears his robes—he claims during class that the billowing fabric becomes too much of a hassle while tending plants. The professor walks backward, wand raised as he uses the Mobiliarbus spell to float a twenty-five foot pine tree into the Hall. Scorpius considers running away before the professor sees him. But at the last second before he can turn, he's seen.

"Mr. Malfoy. Isn't it a little late for you to be here?"

"It is," he admits. "May I help you?"

"I suppose that's better than having to give you detention," Professor Longbottom sighs.

Scorpius raises his wand, recites the spell, and the burden cuts in half. Together they float the tree upright and screw it into its gargantuan stand with magic. Neither of them say a word. Scorpius knows he is far from Professor Longbottom's favorite student; and in turn, Professor Longbottom surely knows that Scorpius isn't a fan of his, either. The pair stand awkwardly in the cold, Scorpius still cradling the small Jamie Button.

He moves to leave, but Professor Longbottom says, "I heard you're staying here for the holidays."

"I am."

"For the seventh year in a row."

Scorpius says nothing in return. He didn't know that professors would talk amongst themselves about the students, just how the students talk about their professors.

"I personally know you're not focusing on any studies," the professor says drily, with something that almost looks like a smile. "Is everything OK?"

"Yeah."

"Well. Since you are one of the few students staying here for Christmas that will get to enjoy it, why don't you help me decorate the tree."

To Scorpius's surprise, Professor Longbottom takes the time to show him how to put a whole box of ornaments up all at once with a spell and make it look flawless. In just a few minutes all the boxes lined up along the wall are emptied. There are ornaments made of glass, tinsel, rope, candy, garland, lights, and beautiful flowers from the professor's personal greenhouse. When an ornament falls from Scorpius's magic and shatters, he freezes, expecting to be scolded. But the professor laughs, waves his wand, and the mess disappears.

"All right. Now put the star up."

"Me?"

"Certainly."

Scorpius whispers the Levitation spell under his breath. He works extra carefully to place the star at the top of the massive tree. It lights up the moment Scorpius succeeds, and it makes him feel as though he himself is glowing. Professor Longbottom enchants the ceiling to drop snowflakes that melt before hitting the ground. Then he escorts Scorpius and the sleepy Jamie Button back to Slytherin's common room.

The professor nudges Mrs. Norris out of their way with his foot and a scowl. Mrs. Norris hisses, which prompts Jamie Button to hiss back.

"That nosy creature," Professor Longbottom says. "Always eavesdrops on my classes, just waiting for me to do something wrong. My, it sure is cold down here in the dungeons." He looks around, as though it's his first time. "Not much natural light . . ." he carries on.

"Professor Longbottom," Scorpius interrupts, standing in front of the entrance to his House.

"Yes, Scorpius?"

"I'm sorry that it seems like I don't enjoy your class. I do. Very much so."

Then he opens the door and disappears inside, before the professor can utter a word.