Author's Notes: Things are moving along…this chapter is pretty heavy.

Oh, yeah, the events in this chapter do not reflect either the author, or the beta, promoting underage alcohol abuse. I am poor, you won't get anything if you sue. Haha!

Much love to Fool4Sasuke33 for her awesome beta skills!

It's rather amazing that a person could focus on any one thing in the midst of the insanity that was the Great Hall during feeding time. The four long tables were completely packed with students as lunch was served this bitterly cold December afternoon. Despite the noise, and Hermione's hand on his leg as she sat beside him, and the really tasty shepherd's pie, something made Ron look up. He noticed Madame Pomfrey, who was rarely, if ever, seen outside the hospital wing, walk up to Draco Malfoy.

In the spirit of détente, Draco had taken to sitting with his back to the wall, so that he could face the Gryffindor table. Today, Ron happened to be seated on the side of the table opposite the Slytherins. He looked on as the medi-witch approached Draco, handed him a piece of paper, patted him lightly on the shoulder, and walked away.

"Something's wrong," the words were out of his mouth without him even realizing that he was speaking.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione looked up from her notes.

"I dunno, but something's wrong," he stared at Draco, who met his eye briefly before getting up from the table and leaving the room. Hermione's eyes followed to where Ron was looking. "We should follow him."

"Ginny," Hermione called softly to her friend, interrupting her discussion with Parvati. Upon meeting the younger girl's eyes, Hermione jerked her head in the direction Draco was walking. The red-head nodded once and gathered her things. Before Ron could turn around to tell Harry where they were all going, the two girls were off.

"What's all this, then?" asked Harry, suddenly appearing, books in hand, at Ron's shoulder. Apparently he refuses to be left behind today.

"Something's wrong with Draco," Ron answered, standing and looking at his friend.

"Only one thing? That's seems a grossly low exaggeration."

"Yes, well, the girls are going after him…"

"So we had better go after the girls," Harry interrupted, already walking toward the door.

For some masochistic reason, Draco had chosen to go outside by the lake, despite the freezing cold. Ron and Harry caught up to Ginny and Hermione before they reached him completely. Hermione valiantly led the charge, approaching him slowly while the other three held back a bit.

"Draco?" Hermione asked softly when she was within arm's reach of him. He wouldn't turn around. The seconds ticked by slowly.

"My mother is dead." He finally turned his tear-streaked face toward her. Hermione felt her face scrunch up. Not being able to stand the sight of sympathetic tears, he turned around once more and plopped down on the ground. Hermione sat beside him, entwining her arms with his as she cuddled up against him, and laid her head on his shoulder. Ginny pushed past Harry and sat at Draco's other side, mirroring Hermione's position and holding his hand.

"What happened?" Ron asked after he had seated himself behind Hermione, hands rubbing her back.

"I'm not exactly sure," Draco croaked before coughing to clear his throat, "this note simply said that her body was found at our villa in the Loire Valley."

"Had she been hit with a spell?" asked Hermione softly.

"I don't know. But I would assume yes, since she was in good health," Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "she had been there for awhile."

"Oh Draco," Ginny whispered, turning her face to wipe her tears on his shoulder.

"Why are you all out here with me?" he asked quietly, not really wanting to hear the answer, not really wanting to remind them that they were, or maybe only "used to be," enemies, not really wanting to admit that he was holding onto Hermione and Ginny a little too tightly, not really ready to accept the fact that he needed them right now.

"We're here because we are your friends," Hermione said as Ginny squeezed his hand, "and this is what friends do for each other when bad things happen."

"But aren't you happy that another Deatheater is dead?" he asked.

"Well, was she?" countered Ron.

"She hadn't been marked or initiated, but she knew what was going on. That's bad enough."

"She's still your mother," Ginny replied, "that could be any of our mothers."

At this, Harry felt his heart twist inside his chest. Yes, it could be any of their mothers. Couldn't be his, could it? Of course not, his mother had been dead for years. He looked at the ground and kicked a rock. Oh, yes, let's all faun all over Draco. Poor, sad, sod. Mum killed, blah blah blah…

His train of thought left him cold. For Christ sake, the guy had just found out that his mother had been killed! Wasn't Harry supposed to be one of the good guys? Didn't Draco, nasty bugger that he was, deserve some sort of condolence at this time?

Feeling totally disgusted with himself, Harry hugged his robes to his body, in a vain effort to warm up. The robes weren't capable of protecting him from the cold that was within. He probably would have turned on his heel and left the four of them there, comforting each other. He should. He didn't deserve to be with good people if he was going to be such a total asshole.

He would have left, if Ginny's movement hadn't caught his notice. She turned sad eyes up to look at him. For a moment they just stared at each other over a sea of pain and frustration. Then Ginny did something miraculous. Using her free hand, she reached for him.

Whimpering a little to himself, Harry stumbled forward and took her hand. He sat behind her right side, folding his legs around her and placing his forehead on her shoulder. Ginny put her head atop his and squeezed his hand.

"I can't believe everyone went home for Christmas but us," Ginny said as she lugged her trunk up the stairs to the Head suite.

"Well, it does make sense, Ministry being realistic or not. Most people can smell what's in the wind. They know that war is coming; of course they want their families together now," replied Hermione, who, with wand in one hand, was helping Ginny push the trunk, and was carrying snacks up the stairs with the other.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Harry, who had made it up first, turned to help Ginny and Hermione with their burdens. He carried Ginny's trunk and dropped it in front of the couch. Ron and Draco immediately put their feet up on it.

"Thanks so much for all your help, darling," Hermione said dryly, walking over to her boyfriend.

"You, Ginny, and Harry had everything covered. Besides, Malfoy and I are in the midst of killing Monstro. It's an epic battle, and we can't exactly pause it," Ron finally turned to look at Hermione, "ooh, did you bring me up any of those crisps from the kitchens?"

Ignoring his question just as deftly as he and her roommate ignored the dirty looks the other three were giving them, Hermione walked into her bedroom to grab some knitting. The idea to have a two week long sleep over party in the Head suite had come about gradually. Some of the people there had several invitations to choose from, others had none. The bleeding hearts in Hermione and Ginny's chests refused to allow Draco to spend his first Christmas after his mother's death alone. Hermione's decision to stay resulted in Ron's decision to stay, which resulted in Harry's, seeing as he hadn't spent a Christmas without Ron since he had began Hogwarts.

The two weeks were to be filled with movie marathons (at Ginny's insistence), video game tournaments (at Draco's insistence), copious amounts of nutritionally vacant food (at Ron's insistence), and homework (at Hermione's insistence). One of the reasons why they were allowed to have the little party was because Hermione had assured McGonagal that they would have all of their assigned homework done before Christmas Day. The other four might be willing to catch the wrath of the headmistress, but Hermione's wrath was another story. Thankfully, even though Christmas was still two days away, they had all completed most of their assignments.

Harry, meanwhile, was just happy to have three of the dearest people in the world to him with him for the holiday. He would deal with Draco.

"So what's on the agenda for tonight, Hermione?" asked Ginny, laying on her stomach on the floor and flipping through the latest issue of Witch Weekly.

"Movie marathon. We will be watching that most important of all movie trilogies: Star Wars," she didn't look up from her yarn, "and we're watching the good ones, too, not that Jar-Jar/Padamame, Panda Bear crap."

Harry chuckled, "I never would have pegged you for a sci-fi fan, 'Moine."

"Why is that?" she asked, looking up at him and smiling.

"Dunno, I guess I just figured you would only watch foreign movies with subtitles or period pieces that win at movie festivals in France."

"Well, we can watch Farewell, My Concubine, or Maria Full of Grace if you really want to."

"No, no, that's ok."

Hermione just smiled. "That's what I thought."

Draco hit himself in the face with the whiskey bottle because he wasn't paying attention. Harry started to giggled uncontrollably only to be shushed by Ron.

"Will you two keep it down?" Ron asked with petulance in his voice and a glance towards the closed bedroom door, "any louder and you are liable to wake the girls."

The boys were huddled on the floor in front of the couch, each holding a bottle of some sort of alcohol. Draco had chosen the firewhiskey, Harry the scotch, and Ron the blood vodka.

"God love Remus," Harry blubbered, "he gives the most loovely gifts." The boys all chuckled as softly as their drunken states would allow. Christmas morning had dawned bright and cheerful, albeit a bit cold, as the five teenagers sat around the same tree in the common area of the Head suite to open presents. Overall, Harry had had a shocking day. Not only had Remus gifted him with three, count'em: THREE, bottles of alcohol (to "use at his discretion" the card said) but his friends had given him a very special gift.

"It's a wizard camera," Ron had said, thinking Harry was confused when he simply stared at the box.

"I can see that, Ron," he looked up at his friend, "this is too much of a gift."

"Well, technically, it's from all of us," replied Ginny.

"We know how much you love looking at the photos from your parents' album. We just thought that maybe it was time for you to start making some memories of your own," said Hermione as she cuddled up next to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

"There are several albums and some extra film, as well." Harry picked his head up quickly to stare at the person who had last spoken. Draco regarded him blankly from across the room where he was unwrapping some of his presents.

"We all chipped in, you know, since cameras can be a bit dear," Ginny whispered. Draco Malfoy had bought him a Christmas present? It was disturbing.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, all during their feast, while watching The Godfather, while playing Guitar Hero, Harry sat and tried to suss out the just bizarre turn the day had taken.

Plus, he rather felt like a douche bag, as he hadn't purchased anything for Malfoy.

Hence, the blond's inclusion in the drunken antics of that evening.

Hermione had looked none too pleased when she saw Lupin's gift. Harry even heard her muttering something about Remus doing his Christmas shopping during a full moon. But she had turned a blind eye to what she had to know must be going on. She and Ginny had retired to her bedroom for some "girl time." The boys, meanwhile, had gathered before the fireplace to enjoy Harry's Christmas spoils.

The alcohol had loosened them up pretty well, and for the first time in a long time, the three of them actually looked relaxed. For a few precious moments, they could forget the world outside and be rule-breaking teenagers, just like everyone else their age.

"Ok, Ron, pony up, what's Granger like in the sack?" asked Draco, poking Ron's leg with his foot. He was so sauced he actually laughed at the blush-filled rage on Ron's face. Harry laughed so hard he spit scotch all over himself and the carpet.

"You are lucky I see two of you right now, or I'd be kicking your ass," replied Ron, trying very determinedly to remember a spell to clean up the expectorated scotch.

"That's alright. I didn't really want to know anyway."

"Me neither," Harry replied.

"But we have to talk about something," Draco whined, "what's the good of being honest drunks if we're not baring our souls?"

"Oh God, he's a philosophical drunk," Ron rolled his eyes, which apparently required him to roll his whole head, which threw him off balance, which resulted in him falling backward.

"Oy! That's alcohol abuse," Harry said to his discombobulated friend.

"Well, at least I didn't spit all over the place, like someone."

"Well, then don't make me laugh when I'm drinking."

"I can't help it if I am just naturally humorous."

"If you two don't stop flirting, I think I am going to get nauseous," Draco complained, throwing back the whiskey bottle again, but getting it directly to his mouth this time.

"What?" asked Harry, wondering if he should be outraged.

"Oh, pay no attention to him. He's just jealous because nobody's flirting with him," Ron said. Draco choked.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I've gotten laid more in the past three years than either of you will in your entire lives put together, probably," cried an offended Draco.

"Yes," asked Ron, "but were all your conquests girls?"

Draco just stared at him in shock. "Do people really say that about me?" Ron and Harry just laughed at him.

"No, but you are entirely too easy to tease."

"Because just because I'm friends with a poof, doesn't mean I am one."

Okay, now things are getting interesting.

"Really, a poof you say?" asked Harry, trying to be casual, and failing miserably, "and who is this poof that you are on somewhat, but not totally, intimate terms with?"

"Blaise." Ron cursed.

"Haha," laughed Harry, "that's five galleons you owe me, Ron!"

"Wait, what?" Draco was confused and not happy about it.

"Nothing," said Ron, with a nasty look at Harry's triumphant expression, "we just have this bet on who in Slytherin is gay."

"Did you bet on me?"

"No, no, of course not, calm down."

"We were more interested in if you were going to kill us or not," Harry said, looking Draco square in the eye.

"Well, despite my protests, I wasn't allowed to kill you," Draco returned the stare, "you know he wants that pleasure for himself. And I really didn't see the point in killing anybody else. Well, Hermione, sometimes, but that's more out of aggravation than actual hatred."

"Amen to that," said Ron, smiling as he took another sip.

"But Dumbledore…"

"Was totally not my idea," Draco interrupted, "and as you saw first-hand, I couldn't do it anyway. I often wonder what would have happened if Snape had been just a few seconds longer." The three of them looked at the ground.

"Oh Christ. It's Christmas for God's sake, why don't we get on to a topic that's got some cheer to it?" grumbled Ron, desperate for a change in topic, "tell us about your love life, Harry."

"Me?" Was Harry blushing?

"Yeah, why him?" asked Draco, looking slightly offended once again.

"Because I don't want to hear anything about you and my sister," Ron growled, "oh Lord, and I don't to hear anything from you about my sister either, Potter."

"Ginny's certainly social, isn't she?" Draco said, with a sly glance at Ron.

"Shut it," Ron glared at him.

"There's not much to tell," Harry started talking, knowing that in his present condition he would never be able to break up a fight between the two of them and knowing that said fight would seriously damage his present living environment, "she approached me and I took her up on her offer."

"This is the Lovegoode bird we're talking about here, right?"

"Yeah."

"So am I to ascertain that you are unsatisfied with your arrangement?" asked Ron, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Honestly…yeah, I kinda am," Harry cradled his bottle, "I guess I just expected more."

"More what?" asked Draco.

"More something; how should I know?"

"Well, you said yourself, you don't love her," reasoned Ron.

"Oh Hell, Mr. Hearts and Flowers himself," Draco rolled his eyes.

"Ignore him," Ron continued, shooting Draco a dirty look, which he snorted at, "you aren't as connected to her as you could be, should be." Harry just looked at him.

"Can you trust her?" this came from Draco in a rigidly serious voice.

"What kind of question is that?" now Harry was getting offended.

"Answer the question. Can you trust her?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Draco, why are you harping on this?" asked Ron, knitting his eyebrows.

"Well, it seems to me that none of this makes a whole lot of sense," he sat up, "granted, I don't know all the dirty details, but this whole thing seems way out of character for her, from what little about her I know."

"So someone sent her," reasoned Ron.

"Either that or she could be under the Imperius."

"I dunno, she acts much like she did before," countered Ron, "she never did anything that made any sense."

"Yes it did," Harry replied quietly, "she was completely off her head, but when you looked at things from her perspective, they made sense."

"Well, does this situation make sense, from her perspective?" asked Draco. Harry just sat there. "Growing up with Lucius I learned many things, and one of those things was to use anything available to your advantage. This present situation you find yourself in with this girl is a perfect example. They couldn't get ahold of Ginny, knowing your feelings for her, so they send the next best thing at you, someone you don't love, yet someone who will wrap you in a gossamer blanket of ecstasy, possibly even conceiving your child. My, what a weapon THAT would be."

"He's got a point, Harry," Ron said quietly.

"I know he does," Harry agreed shortly, "I should break it off with her."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, 'enemies closer'," Draco counseled, tapping the side of his nose as he did, "if she has been turned, you can use your proximity to keep an eye on her. If you turn her out, they'll find out and who knows what they'll stoop to next."

"That's a good point," Ron agreed, "I would still keep a very close eye on her, regardless. Maybe we can even get Hermione to…"

"To what?! Get Hermione to do what?!?!" Harry cried.

"Figure out some charm or something that we can use to get surveillance on her."

"No! I'm tired of this. Can't I have this? Just one thing?"

"No, you can't," Draco said quietly.

"Now is the time to be cautious, Harry," Ron said, "even if it does go against your nature. We need to be careful. You have a right to want to feel selfish, but it's more than just your life on the line here."

"It always is," Harry sulked.

"Oh, bugger this, you want to go cry in the corner, here's a hankie to dry your tears," Draco said, throwing a napkin at Harry, "the war isn't just about you. We're all suffering here. My mother's been killed, Ron and Ginny live with the fact that their entire family is going to go out and fight as soon as the real fun starts, Hermione will never get to go to college and reach her potential. I could give you hundreds of other examples. Life sucks right now. Get over it. It doesn't just suck for you, it sucks for us all. But we have to make the best of it. Hell, until about five minutes ago this was the best Christmas I have ever had in my whole bloody, debauched life! So stop ruining it with your brooding."

"Shit," Ron said, chuckling to himself, "this is the best Christmas you've ever had?"

Even Harry laughed. "That is just sad."

The rest of the evening was filled with more lighthearted banter, including an impromptu poker game that ended badly. None of the three of them knew exactly what the rules were and they were all so drunk they couldn't remember the rules they made as they went along.

Hermione found them all passed out on the floor the next morning, TV stuck on the blue screen as the movie they had been trying to watch had ended hours ago. She and Ginny decided to make the most of their hangovers, and spoke to them with magically amplified voices all day.