The holidays had been very strange. Most of Hogwarts was empty, there were no classes, and no activities to pass the time. Katherina felt like she was going to lose her mind, so she began addressing letters to the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, asking that he placed a piano somewhere. At least that would give her something to do.
Every day until Christmas, she received threatening letters from the Avery family. They blamed her for their hell, as every single activity in which they were involved was suffering a raise in taxes and penalties, and inspections were frequent, unannounced, and extremely rigorous. They were losing money fast.
On Christmas morning, she was greeted by a red screaming letter. Instead of listening to it, Katherina had set it on fire casting Incendio as soon as the owl had delivered it. She then went into the Great Hall for breakfast, although her appetite had been ruined by the letter. Much to her surprise, there was a piano there, shining in all of its dark glory, absolutely gorgeous, with golden details framing its shape.
Katherina went around it, amazed by the fact that it was real... She opened the protective lid and stared at the contrasting keys. Hesitantly, she sat down. Her fingers pressed a few keys before she looked around. It was too early for most other students of the unfortunate few to be up. The hall was empty. Encouraged by the sight, she took a deep breath and began to play.
It went softly at first, as she got accustomed to the feeling of the bench supporting her, and of the cold and smooth keys under her fingers. Her feelings began to pour. It was one year since her parents had died. It was two weeks since Slytherins had lost their trust in her... two weeks since the Avery family had made her into their number one enemy. Her three roommates had not answered her letters and she was too scared to write to Malfoy.
It was Christmas and she was alone, or so she thought, orphaned, the target of hatred and blame, abandoned by those she considered part of her circle. They didn't even bother to write back! And as much as she tried to avoid it, she missed that arrogant bastard! She missed the distraction he provided with his insults, she missed fighting with him over silly things to keep her mind preoccupied, to keep her from thinking too much. Bloody hell, she had too much time to think!
Suddenly, Katherina heard someone stumbling over one of the wooden benches. She stopped abruptly, looking over her shoulder to see that she had a full audience. Even Dumbledore was there, and McGonagall, Harry too, and Ron. She recognized a few faces from their common classes, two Hufflepufs and a pair of Ravenclaw twins, as well as some other muggle-born poor students who either had nowhere to go or couldn't afford to leave. Flitwick began clapping and the students soon joined him, followed by Dumbledore.
Katherina would have disappeared that very moment if she would have had the necessary knowledge. She felt her blood warming her face and her eyes became blurry with tears, but she'd be damned if she ever let those flow in public! She blinked them away and swallowed her feelings.
"I-I didn't know...!"
Ron raised his hand with a goofy smile plastered on his freckled face. "I stumbled. I'm sorry, it was me," he laughed. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
"Play some more," Flitwick said as he made his way through the long, empty tables. "You're certainly gifted! Perhaps we should include her in the Orchestra, what do you think?" he looked at Dumbledore.
"Wonderful idea," the headmaster agreed with a generous smile.
"I knew it was the right decision to install the piano here!" Flitwick stated, full of enthusiasm. "The best acquisition of this year, if I say so myself!"
Katherina nodded slowly, still a bit skeptical. "...We have an orchestra?"
"But of course! It's a shame you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw. I'm absolutely certain I would have noticed your talent sooner. How would you like to study music in parallel to your other classes?"
"That would be nice, but I hope I will have enough time for both-!"
"Not to worry!" Flitwick reassured her. "Schedules like this one can prove very flexible."
Having found something to do, the rest of her holiday passed much easier. She was still very much lonely and heartbroken, but at least for the most part of the day, Katherina could play the piano and study music. She didn't need more than a few minutes to remember how to read the notes and Professor Flitwick's enthusiasm and optimism helped her feel that she was making progress. His demeanor and the way he praised her achievements and encouraged her when she came short made all the difference. Yet, at night, when she was alone, her thoughts made their way back to haunt her.
Draco was in a somewhat similar situation. He didn't care to reply to most letters he received, so the communication wasn't there. Pansy Parkinson wrote to him every single day, but he threw her letters into the fire, unopened. He found her annoying, constantly trying to get his attention like a puppy wagging its tail. Cabble's letters gave him a headache - who taught that one to write, a mountain troll? Goyle wasn't far behind in his incompetence. The events they related were awfully boring as well. Who cares who attended their Christmas party and what type of pudding did their mothers make? How did it have anything to do with him?
A gifted healer had been by his side during the first week after arriving home, but he hadn't been pardoned from joining the rest of the family over for every darn meal of the day. The stiff chairs made his back hurt even worse during the first days, but he had to attend. He also had no word in denying the implicit invitation to the Christmas celebration. The only good thing about it? He received a new wand.
His father did make himself clear that he expected him to be in the first place this upcoming semester. Draco tried to ignore the speech, nodding in agreement, and promising he will work harder. It wasn't like he had a choice, anyway, and just like that... the joy of a new, powerful wand had drowned.
That wasn't his only gift, though. His mother, who knew about the hobby he had been keeping a secret from the rest of the family, gave him an exquisite sketchbook. It looked like a journal with thick, luxurious hardcovers wrapped in leather, with his initials carved into the front, along with the Slytherin badge. In front of people, he pretended like it was just another notebook, thanked his mother in passing, then waited for the perfect moment to go back into his room.
Draco ran his fingers over it several times. It had a magnetic extension of the back cover which wrapped over the front, sealing it shut. It had two hidden pockets, about twenty perforated sheets in the back which he could tear out easily and perfectly, and blank pages in a warm off-white shade. He was anxious to try it out. The paper felt wonderful, thick but not excessively, luxurious, not too shiny, not too matte. He was more excited about this than anything else he had gotten.
The boy threw his other gifts on his bed in a hurry - clothes, shoes, jewelry, accessories, his first cologne. He tried his new wand at making his enchanted brushes and paints grow back to size. When he didn't use them, he could cast Reducio and fit them nicely behind the grandiose portrait of himself and his parents that he had hanging on his wall. The frame formed a tiny shelf between the wall and the actual painting.
He tried a few simple sketches at first. No matter how many times he drew and erased the lines, the paper did not lose its finish. It felt as good as new! He tried to use ink in blue, black, green, and even red, amazed by how beautiful the lines remained - no smudging, no bleeding. He took out his paints with a heavy heart. Usually, he couldn't use those in a notebook, but to his complete astonishment, they did wonderfully! He could even use watercolor and it didn't bleed through! Ah... well, if he insisted too much with the water, it eventually wet the paper too much, but if he allowed the layers to dry first, there was no chance for accidents. Draco was in awe.
Excited, he sketched and painted late into the night almost every day. He tried his hand and memory at recreating illustrations from his spell books, plants from Herbology, and animals like snakes and cats. He spent more and more time working on their features, especially around the eyes, and for some reason, he preferred to make them green. Even if he did plan to do something else, like blue, or yellow, or brown, he would always end up with green.
He remembered the first time he saw her green eyes, cold and uninterested in the opening ceremony, with an air of superiority and undeniable intelligence... It made him want to hold his chin a little higher and his back a little straighter, to puff his chest and straighten his shirt, to check the symmetry of his tie and the luster of his shoes. He remembered her green eyes looking at him with concern if only for a moment. Why would she stay beside him all night in the hospital wing?
Katherina wondered the same during the times when she remembered the incident. She would then quickly push it out of her conscious mind - she was done trying to find answers. This question had no answer, and therefore, no purpose for existence. It was irrelevant.
A few days after the New Year, she asked Hagrid to take her out. She wanted to do some shopping and prepare for the new semester. She wanted shirts with posh, vintage sleeves and collars, skirts which made her waist look small and went over her knees, and equestrian pants for their flying classes. There was no way she was going to mount a broom while wearing a skirt, no matter how many other girls did it. The mere thought of an accident made her blood rise to her face in shame. She bought herself a black evening dress for when Flitwick wanted her to play in the Orchestra and a few bows and clips for her hair. She figured she was no longer a little child running around with her hair all over the place, but a witch studying at the best magic school in the world - might as well start taking herself seriously.
"I'll be with you in a minute, ay?" Hagrid said as she stopped in front of a library famous for its stationary selection.
"Right. I'll be here," she said as she walked inside. Hagrid was carrying most of her stuff, but she didn't let him carry it all.
Katherina made her way between shelves of notebooks of all types and sizes, softcover and hardcover, engraved or barely with any print at all. She picked up a few for herself, hardcover but simple, finely lined, carrying that very specific scent of books. She buried her face into one of them when she thought no one was looking and took a deep breath. Lovely!
When she opened her eyes, she noticed a familiar face staring at her from the other end of the corridor. He too had an armful of supplies, notebooks, a few quills, ink in different colors, pencils. She met his gray eyes and they both stood in silence, Katherina slowly lowering the open notebook.
"Cesarius," he eventually said.
"Malfoy..." She took half a step towards him, but stopped herself and turned back to the shelf of stationary. "What a coincidence."
He realized they were supposed to be cold to each other - they had more fights than he cared to count, but it still took him by surprise. That thought was uncomfortable and unexplainable, and dangerous to have when his father was merely a few meters away.
"I didn't realize they allowed muggle-borns here." He pretended to be studying the opposite shelf.
"I didn't realize they allowed arrogant pricks here. I suppose you're feeling better?"
"Then I will suppose you're still going to stick your nose in Malfoy business?"
"Not really," the girl answered him. "Professor Flitwick took me into his Orchestra. He said I have exceptional talent. I'm certain you can imagine how far it will take me, given that I am already used to working my way to the highest standards of excellence."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "What made you assume I was interested in this?"
"Alright, allow me to translate it for you. I found something better to do than to explain to you what it means to be a decent human being."
The boy made a face and turned to leave. "Whatever you say, muggle-born."
"I'm still going to score higher than you, pure-blood."
"In your dreams!" Draco yelled over his shoulder as he took what he wanted to buy to the counter. His father was waiting for him.
"I thought she was your friend...?" he asked, half-interested in the exchange.
Draco looked back and saw her making her way over to the quills and inks. "I don't make friends with muggle-borns."
