Hello peoples, Christmas Break, so I have a bit more time to write than normal, thus the quick update. Hope none of you mind ;) I love it when you guys review with ideas about silly things to include! This was meant to be a funny story.

Guilty Pleasures: Lol, I'd love to throw that in….perhaps not for a little while though. I've got plans but never fear, dear reader. LOVE WILL PREVAIL!

Jasull: I love long reviews! I'm glad you like my story XD And I am considering having Sherlock join Voldie, it all depends on (a combination of) where my muses lead me, and what the peoples say in the reviews (HINT HINT).

Fangirl of Mass Destruction: I swear, everytime I see your username I giggle. I just love it. Anyway…no they're not. Not for a little while. I mean, OBVIOUSLY I've got nothing against Johnlock, but I'm not wanting for a couple of little kids to strike up a serious relationship quite yet.

Tamha: Wow, that is a super awesome idea…I kinda wish I'd thought of it. Darn…I've got plans for Colin, and he's not who you think he is. But gods of netherworlds that's an awesome idea…maybe another story. GLAD YOU LIKE IT!

Ciel. Michaelis: YES YES HE ISSSSS

The Insane M: Voila

(…Santa Baby…I want reviews and really that's not…a lot…been an angel all year Santa Baby…review and favorite me tonight…:))

Lucius gingerly picked up the book that his heir had left in his room when he went back to Hogwarts at the start of the second semester. He sat down on Draco's bed and opened the cover to the first page, taking in the pictures and little notes saying things like "He's pretending to be frigid again" or "We really need to put a leash on him". As Lucius had noted on Christmas morning, each picture predominately featured Harry Potter.

The boy was, admittedly, remarkably good looking despite his small size. According to his dear friend Severus, the child was also increadiby smart and powerful for any age. Add that to the fact that this was, in fact, the Boy-Who-Lived and the person with the most public favor at the moment (not to meantion hideously rich, nearly as much as the Malfoy's themselves) and Lucius had to admit his son could have chosen a worse person to be obsessed with.

Heirs would not be an issue, thanks to the fertility potion that had been invented fifty years ago, and rumor had it that children born of two wizards or two witches were more powerful than their counterparts. Lucius sighed massaging his temples. It could be a beneficial match; Draco would be safe in the coming war, protected by Dumbledore. As much as Lucius believed in what the Dark Lord stood for when he'd first joined the Knights of Walpurgis as a young man (still believed), he could not deny that his Lord had gone insane shortly thereafter. Lucius had no idea what happened. But suddenly their more nobler (and political) goals were buried under "DIE MUGGLE SCUM". And if their Lord had somehow survived and was coming back…well it had been over a decade…who knew how much his Lord's sanity had deteriorated since then.

While Lucius himself would never align himself with the Light (he was already marked), his son had a choice. And looking at this strange gift, as well as the fact that Draco had hardly shut up about Potter all break, it wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that his son was infatuated with the Potter Heir. Even though Lucius would have preferred someone of purer blood, it wasn't a terrible match.

Now all he had to do is convince Dumbledore, and his son would be safe from Lucius' old master.

****1047*****

Percy loved his family, more than anything. He worshiped Bill, who had achieved a high position in the banking section of the Ministry as a professional ward breaker. He was proud of Charlie, who tamed dragons for a living. He was fond of the twins, who even Percy had to admit were brilliantly creative. He was proactive of Ginny, who would always be his baby sister, and he wished he could bundle up Ronnie and hide him away to keep him safe and sound.

And then there was Sherlock. Percy counted him as family now, too, though he had no idea how to feel about the strange young man. Sherlock obviously loved "his John" very much, as was evident in the way that Sherlock harshly tore apart anyone who dared speak anything negative about Ron, in the way Sherlock looked at him, heck even just the way Sherlock only ever referred to him as "my John". Sherlock was a genius. Sherlock was powerful.

Sherlock was a social retard.

This worried Percy. Sherlock would often offend people, and Percy got the feeling Sherlock never even knew he was doing it. Sherlock would call everyone by their first names (or what he thought he remembered their first names were) whether or not someone gave them the permission to do so. Sherlock spoke to everyone, except Ron, like they were idiots (which, in comparison to him, they were. But still). Sherlock sometimes put his feet up on the table during meals. He rarely bothered to shake peoples' hands when they were offered. And he seemed to have no idea there was any difference between Purebloods and Muggleborns, or Dark and Light families.

That last one was the most worrying. True, little Draco Malfoy seemed just as brilliant as Sherlock, and just a genuine about his care for his few friends. But he was still a Malfoy. They were about as Dark as you could get. Not to mention the old Weasley-Malfoy feud that had been going on so long no one had any idea what it was about anymore. Just that it was the sole reason the Malfoy's could only have one child per generation, and why the Weasley's were destitute with no political power despite being just as old a name.

He didn't think little Draco would ever hurt the adopted Weasley, but there was no question in Percy's mind that his father, Lucius Malfoy, was an evil Death Eater. Which was why he about had a heart attack when:

"By the way, brother, my father has allowed me to invite you to the Manor this summer."

"I'll come if my John's invited."

"Of course."

Percy froze midstep on the way to Potion's class, dropping all his books and papers on the floor. He spun around to see the little gaggle of firsties turn the corner, oblivious to his horror. No. No no no no no nononononoBOTH OF HIS BABY BROTHER's WERE INVITED TO THE MALFOY'S MANOR? His mother would probably jump on the chance to mend the relationships between the families, just so that they wouldn't be so cast away from the upper circle of purebloods. And his dear father thought the best of everyone, and was always insisting "Thing's will work out for the good, they always do".

But there was NO WAY that trip would ever end well. Percy scrambled to collect his books and his nerves as he frantically ran to the Potions class, barely managing to not be late. He was so worried about Sherlock and Ronnie that he botched his rejuvenation potion, causing Snape to snap at him and take five points from Gryffindor. He about cried in relief when Potions was over and it was time for lunch. Running to dump his things in his dorm. He realized luck was on his side when he found Sherlock sitting by himself in the common room as Percy was on his way back down to head to the Great Hall.

The tiny boy was muttering to himself as he poured through a large tome that Percy recognized as the one the Malfoy boy had given him a little while ago. Percy softly approached him and sat down next to him on the couch. "Sherlock?" he said gently. The boy's head snapped up, eyes piercing but in the way that Percy had come to know meant Sherlock was "deducing him", not that he was angry. His hair was more mussed than usual for some reason.

"You're worried about something" it wasn't a question. Percy was about to speak when his adopted brother suddenly gasped and clutched as his sleeve. "Is it John? Is he okay?" Percy had to smile, as he patted the hand twisted in his robes.

"Yes, I'm worried," Percy said. "But about you, not Ronnie." Sherlock relaxed a bit and sat down, curious. "I understand that you are a bit new to the wizarding world, and I wanted to make sure you understood something." Sherlock stayed quiet, but he now had one eyebrow raised. "It's about the Malfoys."

"I'm aware of the feud," Sherlock cut in. "I'm rather curious about that. My brother told me that it's because your great-great-great-great-great grandmother refused to marry his great-great-great-great-great grandfather, then publicly humiliated him. But John said it's because Mycroft's great-great-great grandfather set fire to your families' townhouse, then publicly humiliated the Weasley head, accusing him of infidelity with the Malfoy Lady. The twins said that the Weasley's ancestors outed the Malfoy's as creatures descended from harpies and trolls and—"

"No one really remembers, Sherlock," Percy cut in. "But that not…um…you see, Draco's father worked for-for…You-Know-Who. I'm worried that when you and John go to Draco's house, Lord Malfoy will see it as an opportunity to hurt you. I know that you and Draco are close…but you're on opposite sides of the war. I'm not saying that you can't be friends…I think it's great that you're mending bridges. Just be careful. I don't want to lose a brother." With that, Percy stood and ruffled Sherlock's unruly hair before walking out of the common room. Once on the other side of the Fat Lady, Percy hung his head in his hands.

***1047***

John was only slightly concerned when Sherlock didn't show up for lunch. It wouldn't be the first time his best friend had skipped a meal (much to John's ire), but that didn't mean John had to put up with it anymore. So, John quickly gobbled down a sandwich, then made up a plate to take up to Sherlock. He found his friend sitting on their shared bed, his hands clasped under his chin in his "thinking position". John smiled fondly at him, putting the plate on one side of Sherlock, and sitting down on the other.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Sherlock seemed to come back to himself, and blinked owlishly at John. Then at the plate. "I missed lunch."

"I know, wanker," John rolled his eyes. "So eat."

*****1047******

Mycroft was surprised to see his brother sitting alone on a rock near the Black Lake upon looking out a window near the Charms classroom. Excusing himself from Blaise and his other fellow Slytherins, Mycroft leisurely made his way down the flights of stairs and out the doors to cross the grassy lawn. Sherlock didn't look up, despite obviously hearing his approach. Mycroft didn't climb up onto the rock with his brother, deciding to instead lean against it.

"What do you know about the war, Mycroft?" came Sherlock's voice, surprisingly vulnerable sounding.

"Not much," Mycroft admitted grudgingly. "Every account is so biased and garbled it's hard to discern what's fact and what's fabricated. Some say the Dark Lord was a mad man, obsessed with world domination and the extermination of everyone not of pureblood."

"But you don't believe that. And frankly neither do I. From what you tell me of your father, I can't see him going to war for an insane man."

"He did."

"I know, but that can't be all there is to it."

"No," Mycroft agreed, putting up a privacy shield before sliding down to sit on the slightly damp grass, staring out at the Black Lake's rippling waters. "My father told me that Voldemort used to be a great man with a great mind and powerful magic. He was fighting for the protection of our culture, against the people that were slowly destroying it to pacify that Muggleborns coming in. He was fighting for the right to perform any and all magic, and against the people who succeeded in making everything but light magic illegal. All elemental magicks, Dark magicks, blood and soul magicks are all but erased. He fought for creatures' rights—"

"Creature rights?"

Mycroft nodded. "Werewolves and vampires are treated like criminals. Centaurs and merpeople are considered animals. Dragons are raised like sheep and slaughtered for the entertainment of the wealthy and bored. Hippogriffs and Griffins have been hunted nearly to extinction. Basilisks are extinct. Anything not wizard is considered evil."

"What was his official stance on Muggleborns. With how you feel about Gremione, I can't see you hating them."

"I don't actually know the 'official stance', but I do know that originally my father was told that Voldemort just wanted to stop marriages between Muggleborns and Purebloods to preserve the old lines, and amalgamate Muggleborns more fully into our world more fully to preserve our culture. To leave the muggle world where it is: out of ours."

"It's a pity he changed; I quite agree."

***1047****

John's concern for his friend grew throughout the day. In the second half of the lessons, Sherlock was oddly subdued, as though something was bothering him. In DADA class, Sherlock spent the entire class with his eyes focused, narrowed on Professor Quirrell. During dinner, he didn't eat anything either. John put down his goblet and reached for Sherlock's hand, absurdly relieved when Sherlock squeezed back.

That night, they lay side by side rather than tangled up like they usually are, and John tried not to take it personally. Had he done something to Sherlock? Was Sherlock upset about something he'd done or said? He heart jumped into his throat when Sherlock put up a silencing privacy bubble around their bed and closed the curtains shut. "John?" Sherlock asked. "Did you know that the Light side of the war are against creature rights?" John was struck dumb. "And that they're trying to eradicate wizarding culture?"

"No," John said softly. "I didn't"

"I have a theory."

"I'd like to hear it."

Sherlock inched closer, intertwining their hands. "Voldemort is French for 'flight of death'. It's possible that he chose this name…due to his fear of death. Tell me, John. What would a man, who was more powerful than anyone around him, do if he were afraid of dying?"

"Make himself immortal. Or try to." Sherlock nodded.

"John, I don't wish to tell you how I know just yet…but I know that Voldemort has at least, but undoubtedly more than, two different containers for his soul at the moment."

"He divided up his soul?" John turn his head to look at Sherlock. "How?"

"I'm not sure, but I am aware that he doesn't have a body at the moment. And that he's after the Philosopher Stone. From there, one can presume that Voldemort is able to create a new body for himself using the stone. But…but perhaps Voldemort divided up his soul too many times? One can only imagine what doing that kind of damage to your very center would do to your mind. It seems to me that at one point his goals were noble ones."
"So, in his quest for immortality he went insane. Is that basically what you're telling me?" John asked, laying his head on Sherlock's boney shoulder, feeling the other boy nod in confirmation. "Sherlock…you're not thinking about…fixing him, are you?" Sherlock said nothing.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"You're my best friend."

"I'm fond of you, too."

"I'm not going to abandon you just because you're not a supporter of the Light's politics. I wouldn't leave you if you decided to do something as suicidal as attempting to heal Voldemort's mind. Hell, Sherlock. I wouldn't leave you if you one day decided to replace him and become a Dark Lord yourself. I lost you already. Twice. If I had to go through that again, I'd probably go crazy and become a Dark Lord myself."

Sherlock suddenly sat up and caught John by the sides of his face. John felt a pair of lips pressed against his forehead. John swallowed down the lump in his throat, only wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist. "All you'd have to do is ask me not to, and I wouldn't seek him out." Sherlock whispered.

"So you're actually going to do it?" John asked, pushing down his fear. "What…try and find those soul pieces you were talking about? And so what? Put them back together?"

"…if you'll come with me."

John tightened his grip. "Always"

"Could be dangerous."

"I already agreed, no need to try and convince me anymore."

****1047*****

The next day, Hedwig dropped a note on Sherlock's plate during lunch that had the words "It's hatching" written on it in Hagrid's messy scrawl. Sherlock's face lit up and he practically shoved the note into John's face. "Francis! It's today, John!"

John grinned at him, shoving one last piece of ham into his mouth, then standing up from the table. They and Greg met up with Mycroft at the Slytherin table, Sherlock only having to raise an eyebrow at him to prompt Mycroft into standing and following them out. The four of them raced down the hill, with Sherlock in the lead. Sherlock needed only knock once on the wooden door of Hagrid's hut before the big friendly giant tore it open and ushered them all inside.

On the table was Francis' egg. It had a large crack in the side, and it was wobbling ever so slighting every now and then. "It star'ed 'roun ten minutes 'go. Then the li'l tyke began mak'n noises, he did."

"Noises?" asked Greg. Hagrid grinned, putting a finger to his lips before bending close to the table, tilting his ear towards the egg. The children all copied his movements. Sure enough, there was the sound of high pitched coos and faint scratching. The egg rocked again, and John watched Sherlock stare at the egg with wonder-filled eyes.

Another crack appeared, then another. When the tip of a snout peeked out from a tiny hole in the shell, Sherlock gasped and clutched John's hand tightly. Only a few seconds later, and it split wide open, revealing a slimy little black winged lizard, which was staring straight at Sherlock. Francis cooed and spat out a fire ball. Sherlock reached out without any fear and stroked the tiny thing's scaly hide. "Hullo Francis…aren't you lovely."

"He's a beaut 'e is!" Hagrid crowed, causing the tiny dragon to whip it's head around in surprise to stare at the towering man.

"That's your Uncle Hagrid," Sherlock told the dragon. "He's of the good sort." Francis sneezed, lighting Hagrid's beard on fire. The giant just patted out the flame, then used one large sausage-like finger to stroke Francis' spine.

"Mr. Hagrid?" Malfoy spoke up. "You know that baby dragons are incredibly prone to life-threatening illness in the first year and a half, don't you?" This offhanded comment made Hagrid and Sherlock both freeze. "I'd like to offer my help to prevent Francis from getting sick. It'd be a shame…he's so pretty." Hagrid smiled down at him.

"I knew Sherlock woul'n prick a bad friend," Hagrid said fondly. "Yer nothin' like yer da', you kno' tha'? How ya goin do that, now?"

"Well," said Malfoy. "I have a friend in Romania, he raises them. I already asked, and he'd be willing to come and pick him up for you to take him to a dragon preserve. Once Francis is old enough to be on his own, about eighteen months or so, he promised to bring him back. I offered to pay him a substantial amount upon Francis' return, so I know he'll follow through."

Hagrid seemed speechless. It took a full minute for him to answer. "Tha' be mighty good of ye, Malfoy."

Sherlock was sulking. "Can I at least say good bye?"

Hagrid turned an affectionate eye to where Francis was nuzzling Sherlock's palm. "'course, ye can,"

Which was how they ended up outside in the Forbidden Forest past midnight the following Tuesday. Hagrid and Fang stood watch while Sherlock and the three other children sat gathered around the little brass crate that held Francis. Sherlock was pretending not to sniffle as he tenderly stroked Francis' wings. John was amazed that this was the same man that enjoyed dissecting human bodies. Then again…dragons were much more interesting that humans.

Ten minutes after they started waiting, three riders on broomsticks flew into the clearing. Charlie Weasley was among them. "Hey there, Ronnie!" Charlie greeted his little brother. "And Sherlock, too! Good to see you again!" Ron greeted his brother, but Sherlock just rubbed Francis' rapidly growing horns. "Hey there, Sherlock," Charlie said softly. "He'll be safe with us" one of Charlie's companions voiced his agreement while the other just nodded. "And if it'll make you feel better, why don't the four of you come visit us in the summer, huh?"

"Really?" asked Sherlock suspiciously.

"Certainly," replied Charlie.

With a sigh, Sherlock agreed. "Goodbye, Francis. I'll see you soon."

Francis roared unhappily, butting up against the side of his cage nearest to Sherlock. Charlie looked between the two of them with a happy look on his face. "Would you like to help out with the dragons when you visit? You've got quite a way with them."

Sherlock smiled slightly, though obviously still a bit sad that Francis would be leaving for Romania. But soon the three men were off again, this time with a crate suspended between their three brooms. Mycroft patted Sherlock's back, and was about to say something when a frantic whinny echoed through the forest.

Hagrid gripped the crossbow he'd brought with him, and Fang whimpered, hiding behind his master. "What was that?" Gremione demanded.

"Unicorn," Hagrid said, looking worried. "Somethin's been attacking them."

"And yet you let us rendezvous in the forest anyway?" Mycroft asked incredulously while Sherlock asked "Attacking unicorns?" at the exact same time and took off running towards the sound of the noise.

"Sherlock!" John screamed, running after him. The Forest was dense and hard to navigate through, but somehow he didn't lose sight of Sherlock. Finally, he managed to catch hold of the other boys' shoulder. Sherlock was standing rigid. "Sherlock?" John looked around him, and it's only thanks to his soldier training that he didn't faint. There, was a man in a cloak drinking from the neck of a still breathing unicorn.

Sherlock drew his wand and threw a "Depulso!" at the creature and it was thrown backwards. "Confringo!" but the creature dove away from the blasting curse and with a crack apparated away. "Damn!" Sherlock cursed. "We must be passed the Hogwarts wardline!"

"What was that thing?" John demanded, trying to reign in his pounding heart. Sherlock ignored him as he softly approached the wounded unicorn.

"There, there," Sherlock said. "I'm so sorry…oh…what did it do to you…" John watched in disbelief as Sherlock muttered healing incantations over the unicorn's neck. "Tergeo. Lleweb. Guerissau maxima. Mitaychara."

It was around this point that Hagrid tromped into the clearing with Greg and Mycroft by his side…though Fang was nowhere to be seen. "Oh Merl'n," Hagrid groaned as Greg tried not to retch at the horrible sight. But soon, Sherlock had mended the wounds. Yet the creature was still very weak.

"I can't just leave it here!" Sherlock insisted when Hagrid tried to tell the boy that there wasn't anything more they were able to do; that no one at Hogwarts had the know-how to heal a unicorn.

"We shall tend to her," said a low voice. Hagrid raised his bow towards the centaur that had stepped into the clearing. "My brethren shall forgive you trespassing into our territory, as you have done this Forrest a great favor. Therefore, we shall allow you to leave. However, should you come back, they may not be so forgiving." Sherlock rose slowly to his feet.

"You'll help her?" the centaur nodded.

"I shall." Sherlock took one last look at the magnificent unicorn, and stroked her long neck. Then he and the rest of them somberly left the Forrest. Hagrid walked them back to the castle, then bid them goodnight.

****1047****

Sherlock had decided that he had to act, now. It was a Saturday, the older kids were at Hogsmeade, the younger were mostly holed up in their dorms. Several of the teachers had left for one of the pubs in Hogsmeade as well. It was the best time for it. Those who weren't enjoying the warm day, were somewhere studying for the exams that were coming up in a month's time. As soon as John was done eating lunch, Sherlock grabbed hold of his hand (quietly relishing the fact that in this life he could do so whenever he wanted, and John wouldn't grow upset at him) and dragged his best friend to the nearest boy's bathroom.

"Sherlock," John sighed. "Why do I need to be in here, too?" Sherlock ignored him, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his pocket, and throwing it over the both of them. "What are we doing?"

"I'm getting the stone," Sherlock whispered to him. "Will you come?"

"Of course."

*************************************104************************************

MERRY CHRISTMASSS

And Hanukah and Kwanza and Winter Solstice and any other day I forgot to mention!

Sorry it was a bit shorter, hope you don't mind. Have a happy…..day!