Hello all. I'm updating because I am at my friend's house and she, unlike me, is not suffering ye Olde Terrible Internette Crisis. So I, following the paths of logic, am using this opportunity to post my last uploaded chapter. After this, though, all bets are off, so thanks for reviewing and enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Bit of Holiday Fun

Lily and James greeted the two boys as they arrived at the house in a carriage bearing some utterly silly French crest that Harry had always supposed indicated the Malfoy family somehow. Harry considered himself lucky that his parents had chosen to settle down at Godric's Hollow, a village mostly filled with wizards where few questions would be asked, even when one arrived home at Christmas in a wonky looking carriage.

His parents nearly rolled their eyes as Harry and Malfoy clambered out, loaded down with their school trunks, but managed to hold it in until the carriage had rolled past the house.

"Welcome home, love, and you, Draco dear," Lily said warmly. "Your uncles are setting up fort inside, and there's cocoa and gingerbread in the kitchen."

Harry smiled at her, grateful as she ushered them in from the dull, dark blue night. If Lucius Malfoy didn't refuse to link his Floo network to any homes that didn't meet his standards, the two boys would have made it well before nightfall. But as it was, they were now both thoroughly chilled and eager to come in.

The house was warm, and indeed, his uncles really had set up a fort using the furniture and were now duking it out between bites of gingerbread (Sirius enthusiastically, Lupin somewhat more reluctant).

As he and Malfoy sat down to the steaming cocoa, the fair haired boy commented, "What's with you?"

Harry tried not to meet his eyes and asked, "How do you mean?"

"You've been weird ever since we got back to the Manor. Now I know waking up in a pit—"

"Quiet!" Harry chided, glancing at his family through the kitchen doorway.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Your parents and your uncles are shooting pillows at each other. I really think it's safe to talk. Anyways, I admit last night was weird, but not in comparison to all those other times—"

"I'm fine," Harry interrupted again, dipping a cookie in his cocoa. "I just don't like seeing you drunk," he put forth in a relieved stroke of quick thinking.

This had exactly the effect he intended. Malfoy tightened up, pulling his mug closer to him and ducking his head. "I know, I was a real wanker, I just don't like my house."

Harry felt a jab of shame, and shyly stroked his friend's arm. It was unfair to make him withdraw simply to avoid explaining Tom's bizarre visit. "It's fine, Draco. I understand. This place has its downs, too."

Malfoy recoiled at the touch slightly, but made no mention of Harry using his first name. He took another sip and laughed bitterly. "Whatever downs this place has, your mum's cooking probably isn't on that list."

Harry shook his head. "No, that one's on the 'why I come home for the summer' list."

Malfoy groaned softly and pressed the warm mug to his temple. "If it helps, I definitely feel the penance. It's coming in loud and clear in my skull."

Harry sighed and had no idea what to say next, but luckily his family had ceased their pillow war and joined the two boys in the kitchen.

"…as much a tiger in the sack as she is at playing forts, Prongs?" Sirius was asking Harry's father as the strolled in.

Lily let out a reluctant laugh and hit him on the arm while Harry nearly spit cocoa all over himself. "Shhhh! I can't abide you, Sirius Black," she said roguishly.

Sirius grinned. "No. Neither can the office, judging from the measly bonus they've given me for the holiday."

"What would you ever do without the sustenance of the House of Potter?" Lupin asked in a quiet, mocking tone.

"I'll never know. Potters have been feeding me since I was twelve."

"And I'm sure it's made them as happy as it made you," Lily said sardonically.

"Oh, it has, believe you me," James sputtered through a mouthful of gingerbread.

Harry rose and saw Malfoy follow him. Once his relatives started bantering there was usually no end to it. His mother saw him leave and called out, "Harry! You just arrived. Won't you sit with us awhile?"

Harry turned and shook his head. "Tired, mum."

"Oh, let him!" Sirius cried. "He's a fifteen year old boy, they wear out like fake wands."

Lupin gave a quiet chuckle. "Not how I remember it …" His voice trailed off as Harry and Malfoy made their way upstairs.

Harry couldn't sleep. Malfoy lay on Harry's bed—"poofter as always," Malfoy had remarked sleepily when Harry had played the gentleman and chosen to sleep on the floor. He curled up there now on the soft rug, listening to Malfoy's breathing. It wasn't the deep breath of sleep just yet, but even and tranquil enough to calm Harry's whirling mind. He still hadn't opened the package nestled in his pocket. Not here, Harry thought. Not in my parents' home.

An hour, or more, later, it seemed that Malfoy had finally dropped off to sleep, still clutching his empty mug. Harry saw it as it rolled out of Malfoy's slowly uncurling alabaster hand, saw it as it hit the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces a split second before he heard the crash it made. Pieces of white, glittering in the moonlight coming from the window, lay next to Harry's eye.

"Wassat?" he heard Malfoy groan. "Wassat sound—argh!"

The fair haired boy had stepped on a sharp piece of the mug. In his weird, midnight state of mind, Harry replayed the vision of Malfoy's hand uncurling as though he'd died, of the mug dropping down again and again.

Then he sank back to earth and sprang out of his makeshift bed, helping the sleepy other to collect the fragments.

"M'sorry," Malfoy yawned.

"It's alright," Harry said hoarsely. "We've got plenty of these."

They carried the fragments downstairs. Harry considered going to his parents to see if it could be fixed by magic, but the house seemed too dark and too silent for him to dare disturb it. They set the shards on the kitchen table and began bandaging Malfoy's bleeding foot.

"Thanks," Malfoy grunted. "Am I ever going to get any sleep in this place?"

"It's fine. The house is quiet, there shouldn't be any more disturbances as long as you don't haul any more of my mum's crockery into bed with you."

Malfoy smirked. "All right. Nice, quiet sleep it is—"

At that moment, inevitably, a thump came at the door. It was immediately followed by a hiss of a "shhh" and Harry leapt off the kitchen chair. Glancing at Malfoy, he approached the front door warily as it slowly opened in the dark of the hallway. Harry pulled his wand out of his pajama pocket.

Sirius's head poked out from behind the door and took a quick look into the gloom of the hall. "It's safe," he said to whoever was behind him. Harry watched in somewhat resigned fascination as his father and Uncle Lupin emerged from outside.

The three men shut the door quietly, not noticing the two boys in the kitchen until they'd already come in and were about to sit at the table. Sirius was chuckling softly, and Harry took this as an augury of some dangerous sort of prank.

"And where have you three been?" Harry asked coolly.

His father whirled around. "Harry!" he whispered loudly. "What in Merlin's name are you doing down here? In the dark?"

Harry shrugged. "Malfoy cut his foot," he said, pointing to the boy still seated at the table. "We didn't want to wake anyone up with light. And you?"

James' eyes flickered apprehensively, but Sirius egged him to tell Harry, and so, sheepishly, he did. "We, er, we were out for a…bit of holiday fun."

Sirius obviously couldn't take it anymore and burst out, "We stuck your mum's knickers on the statue of Godric Gryffindor in the village square," he said with a wicked grin.

Harry let loose a laugh as Malfoy chuckled behind him. A dangerous prank, indeed. His mother would let hell loose come morning. Meanwhile, Lupin frowned disapprovingly at Sirius.

"Oh, go on and frown like you weren't there with us the whole time!" Sirius said gleefully. "Great old hypocrite, Moony."

Lupin, Sirius, and Harry then sat down at the table while James bustled about making tea as quietly as possible. Harry grinned sympathetically at Lupin. "They get you in trouble often then, Uncle Moony?"

Lupin sighed. "Oh, more often than you think. Potters have been feeding a Black since he was twelve, and certain friends have been getting a Lupin in trouble for just as long."

Sirius snorted. "Not at wandpoint or anything, Remus. Really, you act as if we've been holding you hostage since first year."

Lupin laughed. "Do you remember that one time in fourth year? McGonagall and the ferrets?"

Sirius recoiled in shock and grinned. "Why, Moony, old chum!" he replied, running a hand through his hair delightedly. "I'd plumb forgot till now! You were raving mad at us for weeks after that episode…"

Harry perked up a little, ready for a good story. "What happened?"

"Well," Sirius leaned in conspiratorially, "the four of us—me, your dad, Lupin, and Peter—back before he became a treacherous sod, of course—"

"Sirius," Lupin warned in a hard tone.

"Sorry, Moony. Ahem, yes…the four of us, we merry old lads, were planning to celebrate Gryffindor winning at Quidditch by a little harmless fun in the Entrance Hall—"

"What he means," interrupted Lupin, "is that him and your dad got their hands on some fireworks through Mundungus Fletcher, and were planning to 'harmlessly' set them off in the hall."

"Ahhh, Mundungus Fletcher. The worst influence I ever met," Sirius sighed in mock happiness, wiping an imaginary tear off his face. "Back to the story…we'd gotten a good deal of the sparklers in the air, and you know how huge that hall is—we still had plenty of room. That's when Pete rushes in, the great filthy rat—sorry, Remus—and pips out that Snivellus was about to come in."

Harry grinned slightly. He loved stories that his godfather told him about Snape, the pathetic old slimeball.

Sirius continued. "So we tell old Moony, this here's your chance to get back at Snivellus for all the times he's wronged you—"

"But what Padfoot really meant, of course, was that this was my chance to get back at Snape for the time he'd told on him and James for talking in class the day before—" Lupin explained before interruption.

"Yes, yes, be quiet, Moony, and let me tell the story," Sirius grumbled. "So we finally convince Moony, just this once, to walk on the wild side, and give him…The Beaut."

"The Beaut?" Harry asked.

"Oh, she was a thing of glory, my young grasshopper. One of the most impressive firecracker launchers I've ever seen. Like something out of those old Muggle movies, but flashier. Mundungus only asked for twenty Galleons for—sorry, sorry, Moony, I'll get on. Anyway, we give Moony the Beaut, and he aims for the door waiting for Snivellus to slime his way in."

"The whole time, he's shaking like a Muggleborn in Slytherin House," James snickered from his place at the teakettle.

"Quite," Sirius agreed. "So anyways, Moony's standing there trembling, eyes closed, waiting for his cue, and the door opens and Prongs calls out 'now'!"

"And who strolls in the door but McGonagall, carrying a huge covered cage and telling Snape behind her how kind it was to hold the door open for her," Lupin commented dryly.

By now Sirius was cackling, face streaked with tears of mirth. "And—and—and then Moony fires off a volley of fireworks that shoot straight at McGonagall, and the cage bursts open and this huge stream of blimey ferrets comes pouring out—"

"—And all the while, fireworks are booming and Snivellus is diving behind a table and McGonagall's hair catches fire—" James adds feverishly.

"—And there I am, standing with the launcher and gaping like a fish," Lupin finished off, laughing in spite of himself. "I didn't forgive your dad and Sirius and Peter for weeks."

By then, Harry and Malfoy were both reduced to tears, heads lolling on the tabletop. "Wh-why'd McGonagall have a box of ferrets of all things!" Malfoy asked after he'd somewhat composed himself.

"She'd carried them in from the grounds for the Transfiguration class to turn into towels, if I remember right," Lupin said thoughtfully.

"D'you know, I think some of those ferrets are still scurrying around that hall," Sirius put in.

Harry smirked at Malfoy. "Maybe your dad found one and decided he rather needed a son," he jabbed.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Potter, I assure you that I am very much a real boy, not a transfigured ferret."

"Oh, I reckon that's the story your dad told you, Ferret Boy."

James laughed and took the kettle off the stove, pouring everyone a cup. He and Sirius gabbed on about the scrapes they'd been in at school while Malfoy listened attentively. Harry's mind strayed until he noticed Lupin watching him with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Something wrong, Uncle Moony?" Harry asked.

Lupin smiled. "No. I just wanted you to know, Harry, that we may have had our fun and games at Hogwarts, but you mustn't take it for granted that you'll get out of everything un-scraped. I know what it's like, being at school, being fifteen. You'd do anything for your friends," he said with a glance at Malfoy. "As I did. But your dad and Sirius, they were only rambunctious. Not dangerous—for the most part," he added, his eyes flickering to Sirius this time.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I had a total blind spot when I was your age. I couldn't count the amount of times I should have told them 'no' on one hand if I had a hundred fingers. Loyalty is admirable, Harry, but you must never let that sort of thing cloud your judgment."

Harry looked closely at Lupin. "Is this because he's a Malfoy?" he asked in a hard tone.

Lupin smiled again and shook his head. "No, Harry. I don't mean with Malfoy. I mean at all times. D'you understand? Your parents worry about you, you know. They say you're distant, that you talk to your friend more than to them nowadays even when you're home—"

"Yes," Harry whispered fiercely. "That's because—"

Lupin laughed. "Because you're fifteen. I know, remember? Don't worry about it. Just make sure you stay out of trouble. Sirius is your godfather, and he should be the one telling you this…" Lupin paused, looking at Sirius as he regaled James and Malfoy with the tale of his first night running away from home. "But somehow, I doubt he'd be able to." The tawny-haired man smiled ruefully.

Harry simply looked down into his cup, slightly shaken by his uncle's words, and said, "Yes. I'll remember that, don't worry."

After they'd all drunk their fill of tea, James put everything away and whispered, "Now run up to bed before your mum comes down and catches us—"

"Don't bother," Lily's tired voice came from the doorway as she strode in and plunked down in a chair. "Tea, please, James. Couldn't sleep," she said as a way of explanation.

As Harry and Malfoy trooped up the stairs to desperately attempt some sleep, Malfoy commented, "She took it pretty well."

Harry snorted. "Just wait till she sees the village square."

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