Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do own the amazing cookies that my ex-roommate brought up with her to give us. It makes me and my stomach happy.

Thanks to:

Gremlin: Yes, definitely kudos to Bill for handling Harry, he can be rather emo at sometimes, but we still love him
Natalie: Checked everyday to see if it was updated? I guess you really must like it. Thanks for the review!
QuinkyDink: Pride and Prejudiced is an amazing romance story by Austen, but I completely understand if you're romanced out, and your in luck because there are no pairings in this story, but maybe if I write a sequel….lol, getting ahead of myself
Catherine: Thank you very much for the review, I'm glad you are liking the story
Mask: Pegasus gone emo? Lol
NMS: Where do I get the inspiration? Ummm, to be frank, I just pull it from my head. And the message isn't really all that poetic, sry. But thanks a lot for the review!

As always, thanks to my Beta. I sincerely believe she is the best beta in the world.

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Chapter 14

Rule number twelve: Always maintain reputations, unless you can afford to lose them.

Draco supposed that working with Hagrid could have been worse. The second day had nearly been unbearable, because Hagrid was being so nice, and because Draco was determined the make the giant hate him again, but he figured that since Hagrid was so large, his heart was oversized as well.

Hagrid also had him work with the thestrals, and since Draco had thestrals at home and took care of them all the time, the Professor was obviously impressed that he did so well and so Draco's scathing remarks didn't have quite the effect he was hoping for. The fourth day was when Draco gave up trying to be mean. He had gotten a migraine the last time trying to get the half-giant mad and it wasn't as if he would actually come into contact with the Professor anytime after the detentions so he could afford to cut loose a little.

"D'you know 'ow to train thestrals?" asked Hagrid on Christmas Eve. "Fer shows, that is?"

"Rode a few in competitions," said Draco, wiping the sweat from his forehead and taking a break from mucking out the stalls. "Why?"

"I've been wonderin' if you would like ter 'elp me get Orion ready ta compete fer a show in the summer," said Hagrid, looking a little worried that Draco might find his offer offensive.

Draco frowned slightly. "It'd take longer than just the remainder of break," he said.

"I was hopin' you'd come down on weekends, mebbe," said Hagrid, now shifting on his feet. When Draco didn't answer right away, Hagrid pulled off his cap and began twisting it nervously in his large, rough hands.

Draco noted with surprise that Hagrid was afraid he was going to say 'no'.

"Course, you don' haft to," said Hagrid hastily. "Yer prob'ly busy an' all with school and…,"

The half-giant continued rambling, but Draco tuned him out, his brain whirling through all of the possibilities. He liked thestrals, and loved riding in competitions. He had won quite a few medals since he'd been riding since he was so young, and training was the most challenging and so he found that the most fun part. Had it been anyone else, Draco would have said 'yes' in an instant, but Hagrid was Hagrid and there were reputations to be upheld.

Rule number twelve: Always maintain reputations, unless you can afford to lose them.

"-an' I understand completely if-," Hagrid continued, but Draco cut him off.

"Yes," he said, already figuring out a way where he could help Hagrid without it looking like he was helping the giant.

Hagrid look surprised. "What?" he asked.

"I said 'Yes'," said Draco. "Saturdays, after lunch. Is that agreeable?"

"Yah," said Hagrid, still looking surprised.

"Good," said Draco. "Now, do you want me to clean out the rest of the stables as well?"

"Nah," said Hagrid, shaking his head. "It's Christmas Eve, go 'ave fun. I'll finish up."

Draco nodded and relinquished the shovel and then headed back to the castle for a warm shower. Once he had finished and was dressed in clean clothes, he set out to have 'fun', which in his case meant that he curled up by the fireplace (which he did only when no one else was looking –the curling up that is) with a book from the library, Past Pleasure and Pain: The Psychological Potions.

It was one of the new books about advances made in Potions and Draco had been looking forward to its release ever since it had been mentioned in the paper. It was, of course, written by Hadrian Anwir, who had written two other books in the Potions series, and was on the top of the non-fiction book selling lists for the third time. Hadrian Anwir was, of course, none other than Professor Severus Snape. Draco knew because he had glimpsed the original manuscript on Snape's desk and recognized it for what it was. He figured he was one of the few who knew and the only one who didn't know on purpose.

It was funny, he reflected, as he took a break to sneak to the kitchens to get a mug of hot chocolate, how easily Snape could undermine the Dark Lord. In the book, 'Anwir' made breakthroughs on the very torture potions Snape created for the Dark Lord, and while Voldemort tried time and time again to stop the man who was ruining his work, he never once suspected the man who was creating the torture potions in the first place.

Draco went to bed late that night, staying up to finish the chapter on 'Countering the Delirium Drought' before finally turning in and not once did he feel excitement about the impending holiday morning.

He woke early in the morning, not because he was eager to open presents, but because he simply didn't sleep a lot. After getting dressed and reading half a chapter in the book, he slowly made his way upstairs for breakfast and upon arriving there, tried not to groan. There was a large tree in the great hall with presents underneath and a huge, buffet style Christmas breakfast was set upon a large table.

Dumbledore was already there along with McGonagall and the two Ravenclaw girls who were laughing and sharing stories with the older witch. Flitwick was there as well, as was Professor Sprout, both of whom had come back from wherever it was they had been.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" said Dumbledore coming over, his blue eyes twinkling much more than usual. He was wearing red robes with a green wizard's hat with a large bell at the end that tinkled as merrily as his smile. Draco nearly retreated a step as Dumbledore came closer and ushered him over to the table.

"Here we all are for a small, impromptu Christmas party," said the Headmaster, still beaming and Draco reluctantly sat next to the younger Ravenclaw girl who looked at him with wide hazel eyes and moved closer to her sister. "After breakfast, you will find that all of the incoming Christmas packages have been placed under the tree and we shall open them after the meal," said Dumbledore, sitting next to McGonagall who was directly across the table from Draco.

Draco tried to look anywhere but the stern Gryffindor witch, though it was hard not to, and the elder Ravenclaw kept up a lively dialogue with the Transfiguration Professor, which meant that Draco felt very much like an outsider. He nearly resorted to fiddling with his food, which was staying on his plate rather than making its way to his mouth as he could hardly ever eat when he kept getting scrutinized by McGonagall or Sprout or etc.

After the meal, the party gathered around the tree to open gifts. As Draco had ordered his new broom a few nights ago, it wouldn't be in for a few more days at least and so he stood a little ways apart from the group and merely watched. It seemed that the two Ravenclaw girls were quite well off, but their mother and father had gone to Spain to help their grandmother who was ill, and so they had been left at school. That, however, meant that their loving parents had tried to make up for it by showering every conceivable gift on the two sisters. What was even more revolting was that the girls weren't in the least bit spoilt or vain because of it, but approached each gift with a child-like eagerness and humility.

Completely disgusted with the display of laughter and happiness, Draco left as soon as no one was looking and found himself wandering outside in the snow wearing only his black pants, black sweater, and black shoes. He didn't really mind; he would just go in before he got too cold.

There was a shout from the direction of Hagrid's hut that carried over the still snow and Draco picked up his pace to round the greenhouses to see Hagrid running towards the castle with a grin on his face. Intrigued, Draco headed for Hagrid's hut to see what had put the half-giant in such a good mood. He could see nothing amiss from the front, but there was a suspicious noise coming from behind back. Draco rounded the hut then stopped.

There was a large pen there, holding an animal tied to a stake that Draco knew only too well. It was Buckbeak, the hippogriff that Draco had nearly gotten executed in third year. Granted, Draco never meant for it to go that far.

He had attended the DADA class that morning and the professor, Lupin, had told the class that he was hoping to get a Boggart sometime that week for them to practice on. Draco knew he couldn't, as his deepest fear gave away his secret. He had been scheming of several ways to get out of practicing on the Boggart, when Hagrid introduced Buckbeak and gave him the perfect opportunity. He provoked the animal, got a slice on the arm, and the next week when Lupin procured a Boggart, he had been unable to face it.

The plan had gone to hell when Lucius found out and nearly had Buckbeak executed, but as Lucius was now an escaped convict, Buckbeak had been pardoned. There was a sign hanging from the pen that read 'To the world's best gamekeeper, Dumbledore'. The Headmaster must have given Hagrid his pet back for Christmas.

Draco stared at the animal, and Buckbeak stared right back, a flinty glimpse of recognition in the steely eyes. Throwing logic to the wind, Draco climbed over the fence and approached the animal in slow, deliberate moves. Once he was only a few feet away from the half-bird, half-lion creature, he swept into a dignified bow that came from years of etiquette practice.

Buckbeak growled low in his throat, and Draco knew from five different sources that the growl meant he should run as fast as he could away from the animal, but he stayed.

The minutes dragged into eternity, and then the animal shifted, and bowed as well. Draco let go of the breath he had been subconsciously holding and slowly straightened and reached out a hand to pet the feathers on the head. To his surprise, Buckbeak met his hand with a jerk of his head, obviously starved for attention.

Draco smirked slightly at the animal, then began stroking its head, even more surprised when Buckbeak started to purr, and lean further into his touch.

"You just like the attention, don't you?" Draco asked the creature, his voice much softer than normal so the creature stepped forward in response. "Yes, I can see you fighting for the limelight," Draco continued, feeling his lips twitch upwards when the beast playfully nipped at his fingers. Draco had a funny feeling that the animal knew exactly what he was saying.

Buckbeak took another step closer and lightly nudged Draco in the chest when Draco didn't return to his petting. Draco actually smiled this time and stroked the animal's thick neck, feeling the powerful muscles beneath the fur and feathers.

"Spoilt," said Draco. "That's what you are." And he swore the animal huffed in agreement before laying its massive head on Draco's shoulder and purring again as Draco stretched to pet the fur on its chest. He didn't really mind as he was getting a little chilly and Buckbeak was extremely warm. He sighed and continued stroking, feeling the repeated motions calm him as well.

He wasn't aware that anyone was coming until there was an enraged shout behind him.

"Malfoy get 'way from 'im!"

It was Hagrid's voice and Draco whirled around to see the enraged giant pound towards him.

"I won' let you execute 'im again!" the large man roared. Buckbeak snorted at the interruption and rubbed his head lightly on Draco's shoulder. "Ge' out!"

"I'm not going to execute him again," said Draco, a slight sneer coming into his voice at the paradoxical statement Hagrid just presented, but he gave Buckbeak one last pat and started to move away. Buckbeak head-butted his shoulder from behind, upset at his departure, and Draco gave him a reproving glance and started towards the fence again. This time the nudge sent Draco sprawling face-first in the snow.

He rolled over and glared at the creature who was most obviously laughing at him with great 'wuffs' of air escaping his beak.

"Think that was funny?" asked Draco, getting to his feet and brushing the snow off of him. Buckbeak huffed again and ducked his head down for Draco to pet again. Draco smirked at that, stroked his neck, and Buckbeak began crooning lightly. This time when he walked back to Hagrid, Buckbeak walked with him, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.

Hagrid looked surprised, but delighted at the same time. Draco would have thought the half-giant would be a man who would want him no where near the animal he had nearly killed, but Hagrid seemed quite forgiving.

"'e likes you," he said to Draco.

"He just likes the attention," said Draco, but he still felt a flush of pleasure at the half-giant's words.

"Why aren' you up at the castle openin' presents?" asked Hagrid curiously.

Draco shrugged. 'I have none to open," he said simply.

Hagrid seemed flabbergast. "No presents?" he asked, so Draco amended his statement.

"I'm getting a new broom, but it just isn't in yet," he said, leaving out the fact that he was paying for it. Hagrid seemed much appeased and Draco didn't feel guilty at all for lying. It really wasn't a big deal that everyone was making it out to be, and he had received a present from Bill. The necklace was still around his neck; he hadn't taken it off yet.

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Christmas was loud, messy, and full of laughter, just what everyone needed. They were woken up at four thirty in the morning by Fred and George who would never be too old to jump furiously on their siblings beds until said siblings were up, or at least somewhat functional and standing. To prevent them from returning to the safety of their beds, the twins sprinkled the mattresses with their new product 'Bed-Wetter's Bane' which made the sheets turn yellow and wet whenever they were touched.

Bill merely shook his head and went downstairs to join Charlie for a cup of coffee, leaving his younger brothers and sister to the antics of Fred and George.

"How long d'you spose it'll take for them to rouse Mum and Dad?" asked Bill, sitting down at the table and watching in disgust as his oldest-younger brother shrugged, looking far too awake for four in the morning.

"I'll give them half an hour," said Charlie, not bother to hide his grin. "You've gone soft at the school," he said. "What happened to, 'We had to stay up all night to crack the code because we needed moonlight and then the first rays of dawn to trigger the rune. After that we had to manually dig through a solid brick wall all the while dodging curses from the enchanted sphinxes and warding off giant vampire bats'?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Bill, "you've had your share of completely unbelievable stories as well. 'I took a running jump, and leapt onto the dragon's back, holding on for dear life as he swooped and swerved trying to shake me off, or burn me alive, but then I pulled out my wand, holding onto the wings with one arm, and managed to subdue the beast', if I remember correctly."

Charlie shrugged. "It's true," he said. They exchanged looks and burst into laughter.

Mr. Weasley was finally roused at five, and then he had to Floo over to the Burrow and bring all of the presents back to Order headquarters. As tradition held that no one could go downstairs until everything was set up (except for Bill and Charlie who no longer lived at home) and as the beds were inaccessible due to the Bed-Wetting Powder, everyone was dressed by the time they thudded down the stairs.

The opening of the presents was more organized then the waking. To amuse themselves while Mrs. Weasley cooked breakfast, the stockings filled with little knick-knacks were opened. Harry had one as well, as he was practically adopted into the Weasley family. Most of them received 'series' gifts, that is all the same of one thing, but in different colors, so while Bill received a small quill set in blue, Charlie received one in orange, and so on and so forth.

While Bill remembered a childhood where there were only a few gifts for each person, and only one gift that was actually worthwhile (as opposed to a new set of boots), Mr. Weasley had recently been named the Head of Muggle Liaisons as the others had stepped down due to threats by Death Eaters in the Ministry. Arthur had then been named as head by Fudge, who knew that he would not respond to threats, and while that meant spending Christmas in the safe house, it also meant quite a larger salary, and it was evident in the number of gifts this year.

Once the stockings had been demolished, and a few candy canes been eaten, they were all called in for the Christmas breakfast, which was always the same, but never seemed to grow old. It proved to be an especially lively breakfast, the climax being when Fred and George slipped Percy a bit of who-knows-what into his drink which made steam pour out of his ears while it screeched to the tune of 'I'm a Little Teapot'. Ginny laughed so hard she nearly choked; Ron did choke and had to have his back pounded by Harry.

Mrs. Weasley tried to scold them all, but she could never yell at them on Christmas and so the twins were told that age-old saying from parents across the globe 'Funny once, naughty twice'.

After the breakfast dishes had been cleared, they all sat around the tree with mugs of butterbeer while Ginny, who was the youngest, got the task of distributing the presents one at a time. Everyone would watch as the present was opened, 'ooohhh' over it, and a hug would be given to the appropriate person, and the cycle would start again. The content feeling in the room had nothing to do with the butterbeer they were drinking, and the warmth was not entirely because of the Weasley sweaters they all opened and put on at the same time.

"Here, Bill," said Ginny, handing him a rectangular present that was most obviously store-wrapped as it was not completely covered in wrapping paper bows or strangled in ribbon, as most all of the home-wrapped presents were, rather it was in a pleasant light green paper that had a pleasant shine to it and was on the thicker side. A silver bow was perched on the center and there was a name tag with his name on it, but with no sender.

"Is it from Fleeuuurrrr?" trilled Fred and George together.

"Doesn't say," said Bill, frowning and checking the package over.

"Well, open it," said Charlie. "Maybe it's on the inside."

"Maybe it's from a secret admirer," teased Ron, who was now no longer mad at him as Bill had consented to play a game of chess with his younger brother and had been thoroughly trounced.

"Or perhaps Bill is taking advantage of the fact that his girlfriend lives in France," said Ginny, grinning at him slyly.

"Only you would think of that, Ms. I've-had-four-boyfriends-this-year-alone," said Bill, teasing her back.

"Three," said Ginny, tossing her hair back haughtily. "Ryan doesn't count because it was only a pity date."

"Three?" asked Ron, starting to get a little angry. "You've had three boyfriends this year?"

Yes, Ron was a slight bit over-protective. Ginny slipped a glance at Harry, though Bill was the only one who noticed. Looked like his little sister hadn't quite got over her childhood crush.

"Yes," she said. "His girlfriend dumped him and he had reservations, so I went with him. Honestly, Ron, it's not like he tried to snog me or anything."

Ron looked about to faint at the mention of his baby sister snogging someone, so Bill tore open the paper. The family leaned in as he pulled out a set of books tied together by a gold rope. They weren't large books, and were rather slim, but they had gorgeous antique covers of wood and gold overlay, and the pages were thick parchment with beautiful Ancient Rune script. It was by far one of the most beautiful presents Bill had ever received and he couldn't wait to start translating them.

"What are they?" asked Ron.

"Ancient wizarding tales," said Bill, flipping slowly through the pages. "These two are different forms of the Gaelic dialect, this one is Egyptian, this one I believe is an African script, and I haven't seen this one before." As he turned the next page a small square of parchment fell out. Bill picked it up, reading the message, and breaking into a large grin. The paper simply read 'Thanks' in a perfect calligraphy that could only be from one person.

"What?" asked the family.

"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

Bill hesitated, before replying. "Oh, just a colleague of mine."

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Well, it's shorter, but you try writing a Christmas scene when it's not Christmas. It can get down right depressing.

Please review or the pigeons will get you….if you don't think that's scary, watch Hitchcock's movie 'The Birds', lol.