A/N: Thank you to BrightWatcher and Louise Spinster Black for reviewing (see, I told you reviews remind me to update on time), and thanks to those who favourited or subscribed.
Enjoy Chapter Nine!
Chapter Nine: A Wish on Christmas
It was a delightful change to have the Gryffindor common room all to themselves. During the term, it was boisterous and crowded at the best of times (Gryffindors tended to be a rather rowdy lot), but as only Harry, the Weasleys, and three other Gryffindors were staying at school over the Christmas break, it was pleasantly spacious and peaceful. Ron revelled in being able to snag the best armchair by the fire without being opposed, and Harry enjoyed the greater degree of privacy in the dormitory, though he found himself missing the elegant holiday decorations of Malfoy Manor. The duo fully intended to fulfil their promise to Hermione to continue looking for Flamel in the library, but they decided that they could also afford to take a bit of a break and enjoy their holiday.
A few days after everyone had gone home for the break, Harry climbed up to the Owlery to visit Hedwig.
"Hey, girl, how are you?" he inquired, letting her nibble his finger. He eyed the empty perch next to her. "Artemis hasn't visited, huh?"
Hedwig hooted in confirmation, and Harry sighed. Draco had been quite disappointed when he heard that Harry intended to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, instead of returning to Malfoy Manor for a few short weeks where they wouldn't have to pretend. Harry had pointed out that Ron would have no one to talk to if he went home, and Draco — the sensitive prat — seemed to take it as a personal affront that Harry preferred to spend his Christmas with 'the red-headed weasels'. He hadn't heard from Draco since.
In truth, Harry had been considering staying anyway, in order to take advantage of a mostly empty school to sneak into the Restricted Section of the library, like Hermione suggested. When Ron told him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit his brother Charlie, Harry had seen it as an excellent second reason to stay and had immediately made his decision.
As he fed Hedwig some treats he'd brought from the breakfast table, Harry decided that he'd start seriously trying to sneak into the Restricted Section. He was enjoying spending more time with Ron, but Draco's silence was making him guilty, and he imagined that he would have less to feel guilty about if he actually made an attempt at furthering his investigation.
If nothing else, it would justify his spurning a glorious, now-rare chance of hanging out with Draco as proper friends and brothers.
There was a definite chill in the air when Lucius Apparated in Spinner's End, and it wasn't merely from the autumn cold. Lucius strolled up the street towards the muddy river, coming to a stop a few feet away from where Severus was standing by the water bank. He was content to wait and say nothing — over the years the two men had become so well acquainted with one another that words were not necessary. Severus knew full well that the mere fact that Lucius was here was proof of his sympathy for the younger man.
"She married him," Severus said resentfully. "After all these years — everything I was to her — she married Potter." He spat the name out in disgust.
"Were you expecting anything else?" Lucius asked blandly. "From what I hear, they were practically joined at the hip throughout your seventh year."
"She hated him." Severus's voice had a note of recriminating confusion. "How could she marry him?"
"She didn't hate him," Lucius corrected. "She was annoyed and indignant on your behalf, and didn't want anything to do with him until he grew out of his insufferable childish habits, but she never hated him like you did."
Severus was silent, unwilling to concede that Lucius was right.
"It could have been different," he said bitterly. "I could have —"
"What? Claimed her?" Lucius scoffed, though not unkindly. "You lost your chance with Lily long before you slipped and called her a Mudblood."
Severus visibly tensed at the reminder of the incident in his fifth year, the point where everything had unravelled in the worst possible way — and all due to his own stupid fault.
"I still had a chance," he insisted. "Until our fifth year, we were still friends."
"Severus, you lost Lily the moment you began seriously studying the Dark Arts. The two of you simply didn't know it until circumstances forced you to see it."
Draco was angry. It was six o'clock on Christmas Eve, and it was snowing outside Malfoy Manor — the perfect white Christmas — but he was unable to fully enjoy the delectable scents coming from the kitchen…because he was angry.
Draco scowled at the rectangular parcel wrapped in silver paper that rested on the floor of his open closet. It was meant to be Harry's gift — they would have exchanged presents tonight, as per Malfoy tradition — but Harry wasn't here, was he?
Draco didn't want to admit — not even to himself — that he wasn't just angry, he was also hurt. He'd been looking forward to the Christmas holiday all term, counting down the days when he could retreat to the sanctuary of his family home and stop pretending to be a Death Eater's son, and be friends with Harry again. Four years of living together had inevitably forged a strong bond between the boys, and although he'd initially thought he'd be able to manage it without trouble, it was proving difficult for Draco to adapt to showing blatant animosity to Harry whenever they interacted at Hogwarts.
Draco was also aware that while their charade necessitated his playing an insufferable, malicious twat, Harry didn't have to put on an act at all — he was free to be his bold, likeable self, and naturally this drew friends to him like flies to honey. Now he had elected to spend Christmas with one of these new friends — stupid Weasel, Draco sniffed to himself — instead of Draco.
The young Malfoy sighed, admitting privately to himself that he was jealous — but he wasn't dumb enough to say anything to his parents. That would only earn him a lecture about maturity and the need for secrecy. They hadn't even thought anything of Harry staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, though it had come as a surprise.
"You'll have Easter break, and the summer holidays," Lucius had reminded Draco.
Narcissa had said, "I think it's nice that Harry's found a good friend."
Lucius had bemoaned the fact that the friend Harry wanted to spend time with was a Weasley, but otherwise nothing was said about Harry's decision.
A knock on his door caused Draco to rouse himself from his self-pity. He swung his closet doors closed.
"Come in."
The dark head of Adrian Pucey poked past the door. The one good thing about Harry not being here was that Draco was allowed to invite over any Slytherin friends he had. Pucey was the only one who qualified.
"What are you doing up here?" the older boy demanded.
"Nothing," Draco said. "What's up?"
"You still haven't taken me on a tour of this place yet," Pucey reminded him.
Draco checked his watch. "Dinner will be served in an hour."
"That's not enough time?"
Draco smirked. "Pucey, you saw how large the Manor was from outside, right?"
Pucey grinned. "Point taken."
"But I suppose I could show you around the main areas," Draco considered. "We'll see if we have time for a more detailed tour later."
"Cool. Let's go, then."
Something flashed in Severus's black eyes. "Lily was never as judgmental as —" He stopped at the sight of Lucius's knowing expression. "What?" he demanded.
"Shall I explain what I mean?"
Severus gestured irritably with one hand. "By all means."
Lucius exhaled. "Severus, you know as well as I that Light and Dark magic are not mutually exclusive. Lily is an exceptional witch, but her perception is biased. She is too Light to be able to accept the Dark Arts in any form — she inherently distrusts Dark magic, no matter the caster's intention — she would never have coupled with someone who uses it as much as you do."
Severus scowled. "And of course, Potter shares this view completely."
"Yes, he does," Lucius agreed dryly.
"I will not love another, Lucius," Severus confessed after a pause. "No woman would ever match up to Lily."
Lucius sighed. "I was afraid that would be the case."
Severus bristled. "Do not judge me."
"I will not. But don't pine for her, Severus. You are better than that."
Severus merely grunted.
At length Lucius spoke again. "I have a proposition for you."
"Is it the same proposition you offered me in my sixth year?"
Lucius frowned. "It's worth considering. You are a talented wizard, Severus — your mastery of the Dark Arts is nothing short of impressive. And you are young — you can take this opportunity to do something worthwhile with your life."
"Lily joined the Order, you know," said Severus casually. "I'd be fighting against her."
"This is war," Lucius said simply. "People choose sides. The two of us…we've always had different opinions from Lily. We all must stand up for what we believe in — but that doesn't mean we'd be fighting Lily directly. The Dark Lord is reasonable — he understands that many of us in his service have friends or relatives on the other side. Lily has chosen her side, Severus — she's married Potter — you have nothing to lose."
"No, I suppose I don't."
Lucius remained silent, allowing the younger man to make up his mind for himself. The Dark Lord desired followers who would serve him willingly.
But Severus would do it, Lucius was sure. Though he was a half-blood, he had always held to traditional blood purity — and he had complained more than once about the sorry state of the Ministry. Severus had a desire to prove himself, to accomplish something — and the Dark Lord's platform was ideal for this.
"Very well," Severus said finally. "I will take the Dark Mark."
"This is the ballroom." Draco made a grand gesture at the enormous, high-ceilinged room in the north wing. The floor was made of expensive wood, giving way to equally luxurious panelled walls, all polished to a shine. Elegant chandeliers dangled from strategic points, and dark silver drapes hid the large windows along the wall.
In its heyday, the Malfoy ballroom had been the site of many high-society events which countless illustrious guests — wealthy purebloods, powerful politicians, heirs of royalty — had attended. Now, however, this area was only opened and aired twice a year — it was kept in pristine condition by the house elves, of course, but it was otherwise mostly neglected. No parties had been hosted here in almost half a decade.
"Shame that such a nice room doesn't get used," Pucey commented.
Pucey was technically a half-blood — all wizards who had traceable Muggle heritage within three generations were officially classified such — but he was what some wizards called a new-blood — not a pureblood, but with more magical heritage than the average half-blood. His mother came from a pureblood family, but his grandmother on his father's side had been Muggleborn. New-bloods with sufficient magical heritage were considered capable of producing pureblood offspring, as most wizards agreed that an individual whose four grandparents were all magical and non-Muggleborn could be considered a pureblood. Even pureblood supremacists would deign to fraternise with new-bloods — they were considered the next best match for a marriage if a true pureblood could not be found.
As such, Pucey's family would likely have been one of those invited to the Malfoys' annual Christmas ball, during the years in which it was still held.
"My mother used to speak of the balls that used to be held here," said Pucey. "She said she used to come every year." He glanced at Draco. "D'you know why your family stopped having parties?" The Malfoys had stopped hosting social events of any kind in 1987 —the same year (though Pucey didn't know it) Harry had come to live with them.
Draco shrugged. "I suppose because Father and Mother decided they wanted a more private life."
"I see," commented Pucey.
He went back to admiring the ballroom, while Draco sighed, remembering once again how everything had changed once Harry arrived. He hadn't quite turned life at the manor upside down, but he'd certainly made his impact.
Draco missed him.
Harry was woken on Christmas Day by Ron yelling across the room that there were presents waiting for them, just before he bounded down the stairs. Harry hurriedly slapped his glasses on (his eyesight wasn't horrendous, thanks to Narcissa's intervention, and he could still see without them, but he was definitely short-sighted) and jumped out of bed.
Presents for everyone in Gryffindor Tower were delivered by owl, as were all other packages, and then the Hogwarts house elves would arrange them neatly under the four-foot tall Christmas tree in one corner of the common room, ready for eager students on Christmas Day. Ron was already on his hands and knees pulling wrapped parcels out by the time Harry came down.
"Here's one for you," Ron said, tossing Harry a small, longish box wrapped in brown paper. "It's from Hagrid," he added — rather unnecessarily, as Harry could quite easily read the large, messy scrawl across the top of the parcel. "And this is mine from…ooh, Hermione!" Ron looked pleased. "Didn't really expect anything from her…did she get you a present too, Harry?"
"Shove over so I can look," said Harry, dropping to his knees beside Ron.
While the redhead tore open Hermione's neat wrapping, Harry rummaged through the various packages and located his own gift from Hermione, right next to five large, lumpy parcels in bright orange paper.
"Hey, Ron," he said as he pulled out two of the orange parcels and slid one to his friend, "why is your mum giving me Christmas presents?"
Ron went a bit pink. "Oh, um…remember how you said you didn't expect any presents?"
"Yeah." Harry had sent along his presents to Malfoy Manor already, but he knew Lucius and Narcissa would wait until he got home to give him his presents instead of risking sending them to Hogwarts — and he hadn't expected gifts from anyone else, except maybe Draco — but given how upset Draco was with him at the moment…
"Well, I sort of mentioned that to my mum…and she was determined that you should have something for Christmas, so…yeah," Ron finished, gesturing at the parcel in Harry's hands.
Harry smiled. "Tell your mum thanks," he said, before he tore open the orange wrapper. Inside was a box of homemade fudge cushioned by a thick, hand-knitted, emerald green sweater.
"Oh, no," Ron groaned as he ripped the paper on his own parcel. "She made you a Weasley jumper. She makes all of us one every year, and mine's always maroon." He held up this year's sweater to show Harry.
"That's really nice of her," said Harry as he moved on to opening Hagrid's gift, which turned out to be a roughly cut wooden flute that sounded sort of like an owl when it was blown. Hermione had gifted him with a large box of Chocolate Frogs.
Ron had assembled all his presents around him and opened all of them by now, and was sucking happily on a piece of his mother's fudge. Harry, meanwhile, hoping optimistically that perhaps Draco had gotten over his disappointment and sent his present after all, dove back under the tree to browse through the remaining parcels.
It was at this moment that Fred and George came bouncing into the common room, wearing identical ear-splitting grins.
"Merry Christmas!" they chorused together. They ducked under the tree in unison and withdrew their own orange parcels. Fred also grabbed the fifth and final package and flung it at Percy's head when the older Weasley entered the room, knocking his glasses askew.
"Percy! Just in time! We're all going to wear our jumpers from Mum to breakfast — look, even Harry's got one."
"I hate maroon," Ron moaned as the twins pulled on their blue jumpers.
"Come on, Ron, get it on," urged George. "They're lovely and warm." His sweater was sporting a large yellow 'F', while Fred's proudly displayed a 'G'.
"You've got your letters mixed up," Ron muttered as he and Harry shrugged on their jumpers.
"What are you talking about?" asked George. "The letters are perfect! We're called Gred and Forge, aren't we?"
Ron rolled his eyes and then pointed at Percy, who had unwrapped his parcel but still had his chocolate brown jumper hanging over his arm.
"If I have to wear mine, Percy has to wear his," he insisted.
"Yes, he does," Fred agreed. "Go on, Perce, put it on!"
"Or we'll do it for you," George added.
"I don't want —" was all Percy managed before the twins descended on him and forced the jumper over his head.
"You're not sitting with the Prefects today," George informed him once he and Fred had got Percy safely in his jumper. "Christmas is a time for family."
Percy glared at them both. "I'm going to wash," he said stiffly, before marching out of the room.
"We'll wait for you at the breakfast table!" Fred called after him. "And if you're not still wearing your jumper we will force it over you in front of everyone!"
George was looking under the Christmas tree again. "Harry, is that yours?" he asked, pointing at the sole remaining parcel under the branches.
Harry pulled out the soft, midnight blue package and weighed it in his hands. It was very light. His name was written in narrow, loopy writing on a small card stuck to the paper.
"Well, go on, open it," urged Ron.
Harry did. Something thin, fluid, and silver-grey slithered out of the wrapper and settled on the floor by his feet. The three Weasleys watched in awe as he picked it up and held it out.
"No way," Fred whispered reverently. "George, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
"I believe I am, Fred."
"Bloody hell," Ron gasped. He yelped as George whacked him on the arm.
"Language, little brother," the twin scolded.
Harry himself was staring at the large piece of cloth in amazement. "Is this what I think it is?"
"Put it on and let's see," Fred encouraged.
Harry threw the cloth over his shoulders. Though the Weasleys were expecting what happened, they startled even more.
"Blimey, Fred, it is!" exclaimed George.
"I don't believe it," his twin said incredulously.
"That is so cool!" Ron gushed.
Harry looked down at himself and was delighted to find that he couldn't see his body. He dashed to the mirror and saw only a floating head.
"It's an Invisibility Cloak!" he crowed. "This is amazing!"
"You got that right," Fred agreed. "They're really rare, and really valuable."
"Who would spend so much on me?" Harry wondered, turning to observe his image in the mirror from different directions. No matter the angle, there was absolutely nothing to be seen of the parts of his body covered by the cloak. The quality of the garment was very high indeed — it surely must have cost a fortune. If it weren't for the unfamiliar writing on the name card, Harry would have thought it was Lucius and Narcissa's Christmas gift to him.
"Look, it came with a note," said George, bending down to scoop the thin parchment off the floor. Harry took it and read it eagerly, out loud for the benefit of his friends.
"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very Merry Christmas to you." Harry looked up, his eyes suddenly misting as he sank his fingers into the soft folds of the cloak. "This was my dad's?" he said quietly.
The three Weasleys respectfully averted their gazes while Harry pulled the cloak tighter around him and sniffed it, as if he could smell his father's scent on it. He couldn't, but he still felt closer to James Potter than he ever had before.
"Who wrote the note, Harry?" Ron asked.
Harry dropped his eyes back to the parchment. "There's no signature."
"Odd," Fred remarked. "Why wouldn't they want you to know who they are?"
No one could answer that.
The next time Lucius and Severus met in Spinner's End, it was a bitterly cold Christmas Day, around two years after their previous conversation here. Once again, it was Lucius who had come here in sympathy for his old friend, but this time the Malfoy scion was himself grieving. And once again, there was nothing but silence between the two until Severus spoke.
"No sign of him?" His voice was flat, dull — it sounded as though he couldn't care less about getting a response.
Lucius answered anyway. "None. The others are scattering, fleeing from the Ministry — the clever ones, that is. Some, like Bella, are too stubborn to realise that the Dark Lord has been defeated — the stupidly loyal fools would rather brave Azkaban than plead the Imperius."
"Is that what you're doing?" Severus still did not sound the slightest bit interested. "You're claiming you were Imperiused?"
"It will keep me out of Azkaban," Lucius said curtly. He had sensed the judgement in the other man's lacklustre voice.
"And yet we both know it is not true."
Lucius scowled, but his intended retort died on his lips and he sighed instead. "I know," he admitted in a low voice. "The Ministry will believe me, but I know that it was by my own choice that I followed that madman." His expression became bleak. "I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life."
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Severus snapped. "Your sin is nothing compared to mine."
At that Lucius finally lost his patience. "Severus, you are not the only one who has a right to mourn Lily," he snapped. "She was my friend too."
"Friend," Severus scoffed. "Somehow I do not recall you ever using that term while she was alive."
"Another of my many regrets, it would seem."
Snape's face twisted into a sneer, but he still refused to look at Lucius. He did not want to talk about the other man's regrets. "Why did you come here, Lucius?"
For the first time, a sliver of pain crossed Lucius's face. "Because a memory will not leave me alone."
Harry snuck into the Restricted Section in the library that very night. Use it well, the note had said. He had no idea who gave him his father's Cloak, but somehow he felt that they would approve of what he was doing. Armed with a lamp, he made his way through shelves of books, trying to ignore the prickly feeling on the back of his neck.
Where on earth do I start? he wondered, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume of books. His eyes fell on a black and silver tome in one of the lower shelves, and he set his lantern on the floor so he could carefully pry the book free.
The instant he opened it, the book let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream, causing Harry to jump almost out of skin. His sudden movement dropped the shrieking book to the floor, where it knocked over his lamp and snapped shut. The shrieking stopped when the book closed, but Harry's relief was short-lived — there were footsteps coming down the next aisle. Panicking, Harry fled, clutching the Cloak more tightly around him as he narrowly avoided Filch's outstretched arm.
Why is Filch always around when I break curfew? he thought frantically as he raced through the school. Does he never sleep?
Harry stopped just next to a suit of armour and suddenly realised that he had no idea where he was. He nearly yelled when he heard adults speaking somewhere nearby, but he clapped a hand over his mouth in time. When he recognised Snape's low, smooth voice, he couldn't restrain his curiosity. He inched closer, following the sound of the voices, and soon came across Snape and Quirrell having a hushed, but heated argument.
"I told you that if you continued with your plans I would put a stop to them," Snape growled.
To Harry's surprise, the normally timid DADA professor did not shrink from the menace in Snape's words and actually stood his ground.
"Severus, I am tired of being threatened by you." Harry was shocked to hear actual anger in Quirrell's tone, even more than at the lack of a stutter.
Severus raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you get a say in the matter."
"I can decide not to be cowed."
"Well, look who grew a spine," Snape sneered.
"I will do what I please," snapped Quirrell. "If you don't like it, stop me if you can. Or are you going to run along to Dumbledore and tell him I'm not being good?"
Snape looked ready to unleash a biting retort, but at that moment Filch came running up to them, holding a broken lamp.
"Professors, I found this in the Restricted Section. It's still hot. That means there's a student out of bed."
A familiar ire flashed across Snape's face. He and Quirrell exchanged a surprisingly knowing glance before they both took off down the corridor. Harry, however, didn't stick around to find out where they were going. Snape's eyes had peered directly at Harry, and though he obviously couldn't see him, Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Snape knew he was there and had quickly made his escape through a side door.
The room he had entered was one he had never seen before. It looked like it might have been a classroom once, but it was obvious that it hadn't been used in a while. The desks and chairs were all pushed to one side and there was a thick layer of dust on the floor. The large, ceiling-high mirror propped up against one wall, however, was only lightly coated with dust caught between the ornate carvings in the gilt frame. The glass itself was fairly clean, and certainly clear enough for Harry to see two people he had only ever seen in photographs before. Startled, Harry whipped around, as if expecting to see them standing behind him, though he knew they weren't. He turned back to the mirror, hardly daring to believe.
"Mum? Dad?"
The figures in the mirror smiled at him. Lily Potter's dark red hair contrasted beautifully with her bright green eyes — eyes that were exactly the same shape and colour as Harry's own, as he'd been told many times — and one of her hands rested on Harry's reflection's shoulder. James Potter stood next to his wife, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other clasped around his son's other shoulder. Harry easily identified the unruly black hair that Lucius had told him was a Potter trademark.
Harry knew enough of the arcane to know that what he was seeing weren't really his parents, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He spent a long time standing in front of the mirror, drinking in the sight of his parents, wishing with all his heart that they could be real and not just ghostly reflections in a glass.
In Lucius's final year at Hogwarts, Lily took it upon herself to make sure the proud Slytherin would never forget that Christmas. Since she had saved him from the cockatrice the previous year, the blond prefect had warmed up ever so slightly to her, and despite the difference in age, they both found themselves spending a fair amount of time together through their mutual association with Severus. Lucius would never in a million years admit it, but Lily knew he had (very) grudgingly come to accept her as an acquaintance.
Lily was aware, of course, of Lucius's flirtation with the Dark Arts and his not-so-vague intention to join the Death Eaters after graduation. Frankly, she was surprised that she was able to get along with Lucius at all, given how Dark the other Gryffindors said he was — but Lucius Malfoy did have his good qualities, however hidden; and it was for this reason that Lily still held hope that if she was a good enough 'acquaintance' (the word 'friend' would never cross Lucius Malfoy's lips with regard to her) Lucius might reconsider his Dark path. She was the antithesis of everything Lucius claimed to stand for, and if he was willing to overlook his inherent prejudice of Muggleborns on her behalf, maybe he might eventually decide he didn't want to be a Death Eater after all.
It was a long shot, but Lily was determined to believe the good until circumstances forced her to do otherwise.
Thus, the day before the winter holidays, Lily cornered Lucius in an empty classroom and locked the door.
"Evans, what are you doing?" Lucius questioned warily, eyeing her like he suspected she was about to attack him.
"I didn't think you'd want anyone to see and ruin your reputation," Lily replied.
"See what?" Lucius demanded.
"Here."
She thrust something squarish at him. Lucius looked down and saw that it was a framed photograph of himself, Severus, and Lily. They were moving, of course, as it was a wizard photo. Lily was the only one smiling in the picture, her face bright and pretty. Severus was more dour, but somewhat acquiescent, obligingly sitting still; Lucius was the one attempting to edge out of the frame but never quite managing it. It was the one and only picture of the three of them together, snapped by Professor Slughorn when he caught them sharing a table in the library. Lucius had protested having his photograph taken, of course — but Slughorn had insisted, chattering happily about House unity and how such a moment needed to be documented. Slughorn had offered each of them a copy of the photograph, but only Lily took him up on it — and Lucius had ensured that the original met a thorough and irreversible end when Slughorn tried to pin it on the Slytherin noticeboard.
Lucius frowned at Lily. "Why are you giving me this?"
"It's customary to give people presents at Christmas," quipped Lily.
Lucius stared incredulously at her. "This is a Christmas present?"
"A little slow, aren't you?" Lily teased.
"Evans, I don't want this." Lucius held it out to her, but she refused to take it back.
"Then throw it away," she said, "but it's yours."
Lucius's brow knitted further as he attempted to discern the third-year's motive for such a bizarre gesture. "Why?" he asked again.
"Just in case." Lily was already unlocking the door, ready to leave.
"Just in case what?" Lucius demanded. Merlin, Gryffindors were irritating! No wonder Salazar had argued with Godric Gryffindor.
Lily smiled softly, but a little sadly, at him. "Just in case you decide one day that spending time with a Muggleborn Gryffindor isn't something you need to hide."
When Lucius returned from Spinner's End that first Christmas after Lily Potter's death, he rummaged through the drawer where he kept old Hogwarts mementos he didn't want to get rid of, and unearthed the photograph a red-haired girl had given him eight years ago. He had long since discarded the frame, but for some reason he had never thrown away the picture itself. The magic in it had worn off by now (the developing solution Slughorn had treated it with had not been particularly strong), so the three subjects were frozen as in a Muggle photograph. Lucius's photo self had stopped moving at the point where he was closest to the other two, so it looked as though he had actually posed for the picture. Lily's smile, on the other hand, was more radiant than he remembered — or perhaps that was a product of his guilt.
When Lily had first given him this, Lucius's first instinct had been to give it back or throw it away — and then, when he didn't throw it away, he had made sure to hide it where no one would ever see it. Looking at the picture now, however, all Lucius could do was wish that he had not wasted so many years denying that Lily was his friend, because now it was too late.
Draco lay awake in his bed, wondering for the umpteenth time why he wasn't asleep yet. He'd had a pleasantly tiring Christmas Day with Lucius and Narcissa (Pucey had Floo'd home in the morning to spend the day with his own family); by all rights he should have peacefully drifted off to sleep without too much difficulty. Yet here he was, at the ungodly hour of two in the morning, still staring at his ceiling.
Tired of lying down doing nothing, Draco sat up, thinking that pacing a few rounds around his room might make him drowsy enough to sleep. As he bent down to retrieve his bedroom slippers from under his bed, the slightly ajar door of his cupboard caught his attention — he had forgotten to close it after he changed into his pyjamas. He slid his feet into his slippers and padded over to his cupboard, and his eyes fell on the silver parcel with Harry's name on the tag.
Draco sighed. Hedwig had delivered Harry's gifts a few days ago, and Lucius and Narcissa had opened theirs last night. Draco's present, however, was still resting, untouched, on his desk — he'd had a fit of pique and decided not to unwrap it. Today, though, he felt less aggrieved, and since he couldn't sleep, he picked up the parcel and tore off the wrapper. He popped the lid on the cardboard box and pulled out a curious-looking cube with all six sides in a different colour and nine square tiles on each side. Draco stared at the object in confusion; he had never seen such a contraption before, and it occurred to him that Harry had probably given him a Muggle toy.
Before he could feel offended, Draco noticed the note taped to the bottom of the box that had held the cube. He pried it loose and held it towards the window to read it by the moonlight.
Draco, this is a Rubik's Cube. It's a Muggle thing, but I think you'll like it. It's a puzzle — the sides can move. The aim is to mix up the colours, then solve the cube to get all the sides the same colour again. Muggles actually have competitions to see who can do it fastest. It's a great way to keep yourself occupied when you're bored. Merry Christmas, Draco. — Always your friend, Harry.
Draco frowned at the Rubik's Cube, then experimentally twisted one section. The panel glided effortlessly, switching the entire bottom row to a different colour. Intrigued, Draco turned another panel the other way, and was gratified to see the colours mix up even more. After a few more twists and turns, the coloured tiles were well and truly scrambled, and Draco couldn't figure out how to return the cube to its original state. Muggles, he admitted, could be rather ingenious.
After five minutes of trying unsuccessfully to solve the Rubik's Cube, Draco felt his eyes drooping shut. He set the cube down on his desk and went over to Artemis's perch, ruffling the bird's feathers to wake him up. The owl awoke with a soft hoot and gazed reproachfully at his owner.
"Sorry, boy," Draco apologised. "You up for a trip to Hogwarts?"
Artemis blinked slowly, but nodded once. Draco crossed the room and pulled Harry's present out of the cupboard. He attached the flattish parcel to Artemis's leg and let the owl out the window. Once Artemis was out of sight, Draco returned to his bed and snuggled under the covers, finally falling asleep.
A/N: I really like the flashbacks in this chapter, so do let me know if you liked them too. More details about Lucius and Lily's relationship will be revealed in later flashbacks, but for now at least you can see how her influence might have altered his path. Isn't it interesting how one person's friendship can change someone's future?