Chapter 10: Christmas Crises
Physical development, alongside social development, is one of the areas of growth most pronounced in juveniles. In the pre-adult phase, foxlet gliders will often exhibit a pronounced tendency towards playfulness, both solitary and alongside others. This not only develops gross and fine motor skills but promotes the growth of social competency. One area in particular that is encouraged by bond-parents – often in sidelong flight from middling treetop heights – is the coordination of soaring mechanisms, the development of balance and the strength of limbs to appropriately achieve gliding. Such a step in physical development cannot truly be attempted to a significant degree until the juvenile demonstrates an approach to maturity, but is one of the key areas of exploration for young foxlet gliders.
Draco was yawning before he was even fully awake. Yawning with arms rising automatically overhead in a stretch as they always did as he first woke. The curtained-off enclosure of his bed was utterly silent, dark but for the faintest touch of greyness seeping in from some unseen source, and deliciously warm. Draco could have stayed in bed forever.
Except that it was Christmas. No one in their right mind would spend Christmas in bed.
It wouldn't be the same that year, Draco knew. He wouldn't wake to his mother and father calmly sipping their morning tea in the parlour, to the smell of waffles and pancakes and bacon and eggs, to falling upon the piles of presents afforded him by family and friends. He wouldn't be seeing any of those friends that Christmas either, not even Blaise who had gone home to visit his mother for the holidays. That fact actually saddened Draco a little.
But it was better than last year. Last year's Christmas had passed entirely unnoticed. Draco hadn't even realised it was Christmas day until the evening when his mother had finally approached him in privacy for the first time that day and offered him a small boxed gift. It held a ring, one that had been passed down through the Malfoy family for generations and that his father couldn't give him that day because he couldn't slip away from the Dark Lord and his Death Eater's notice for long enough to do so. That ring was a priceless heirloom and not only for its antiquity; it had a sea of protective charms linked to it, new charms added with each re-gifting, and would serve to offer just a little more defence than a witch or wizard was otherwise capable of maintaining for themselves.
Draco had given the ring back to his father the day he went to Azkaban. It was the only thing of his owned that Lucius Malfoy had been allowed to bring with into imprisonment, and only allowed after a rigorous study for traps and escaping charms.
No, today wouldn't be like most of the Christmases that Draco had enjoyed in his life, but it would certainly be better than that of the previous year. Besides, he might not be seeing his mother but it wasn't like he would be alone. Not really. Not with two specific constant companions who would most definitely be spending the day at his side. Draco found he wasn't even really disgruntled by that fact.
At the thought, he pushed himself into sitting and swept the curtains aside on his bed. Drawing himself from the warmth, he padded around to his trunk and began his usual morning routine of pulling towel and casual wear from within. It might be Christmas but anyone with any sense of propriety would ensure they changed from their pyjamas before facing even their friends and family. As he did so, Draco couldn't help but glance across the room.
It was largely empty. There were only three eighth year boys remaining over the Christmas holidays with only an additional two girls. Longbottom's bed was still closeted with curtains drawn, whereas Harry's…
Harry's was empty. It looked so dark and still, so abandoned, that Draco half wondered if he'd slept in his bed the previous night at all. He shook his head. Harry had a strange tendency of waking ridiculously early. Draco had never once that entire year awoken before him, and he didn't consider himself an especially lazy person, even if he did like his sleep-ins on occasion. Staring for perhaps a moment longer than was necessary, Draco shook his head and made his silent way to the adjoining showers.
Harry. Harry Potter. Draco had thought more than a little about him over the past few days. More so since the holidays had begun and they'd spent almost exclusive time together with only the addition of Lavender, Ginny or Longbottom for accompaniment. Megan Jones, the only other eighth year remaining at the school, spent the majority of her time with Professor Jones, reportedly accompanied by her fifth year younger sister if Ginny's verbalised observations were anything to go by.
Draco didn't care about Jones. About any of the Jones', for that matter. He didn't really care what Ginny had to say, or that she and Lavender appeared to simply drift into his and Harry's vicinity more often than not, as though magnetically drawn. Draco hardly spared a second thought for either of the girls, because the majority of his thought processes was consumed by Harry and Pipsqueak. Mostly Harry, Draco acknowledged with a mental wince. Mostly Harry because horrifyingly, astoundingly, unfathomably, Draco had realised that somewhere along the way he had come to fancy him.
Draco Malfoy fancied Harry Potter. Merlin, Draco's father would have a heart attack if he knew.
Draco didn't know how it had happened. He didn't even know when it had happened. At what point in their antagonistic relationship had something in his head flipped a switch and decided that no, Draco did not in fact dislike Harry but rather found him more than a little attractive, and amusing, and smarter than he'd expected, and nowhere near as annoying – though admittedly he was still annoying. The prat.
When had that happened?
Draco didn't know exactly, but after his revelation over a week ago he could hardly deny the truth of the matter. He fancied Harry, and the more he thought about it the more he realised it to be true. Each aspect that he had thought had merely annoyed him hadn't invoked annoyance so much as undue attentiveness. Draco liked his smile, even more when that smile was sparingly turned upon him. He liked the messy flop of his hair that incessantly draped across his forehead and half obscured his eyes, the casualness of his dress, the equal casualness in which he held himself as though he didn't truly care what other's thought of his appearance in the slightest. He liked the way that Harry pursed his lips and frowned slightly when he was being particularly thoughtful, or how he spoke to Pipsqueak as though she could understand his every word. Harry had a sarcasm and wit that Draco had never considered him capable of possessing to such a degree and he liked that too, just as much as he realised he sorely liked it when they argued.
Draco had always loved arguing, loved fighting, even, and especially liked doing so with Harry because he gave as good as he got and never backed down. That love took on a whole new meaning when Draco reconsidered his circumstances from an alternative perspective. Unfortunately, even in knowing that, Draco had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
Malfoys got what they wanted. That was the way of the world. They always got what they wanted, whether by demand, request or underhanded means. Draco was the same as all of his predecessors. Did that make him spoilt? Perhaps, but he knew he was entitled because he wanted. In fact, the few things that Draco hadn't really obtained that he wanted had basically bottled down to… Harry.
Harry hadn't taken his offer of friendship when he'd demanded – no, offered it in first year.
Harry hadn't let him ridicule him to soothe his stung pride without retaliating to an equal degree.
He didn't cave before a challenge, approaching every spontaneous duel head on, every verbal fight as though he was entirely invested in it. He didn't simply 'give in' and though Draco had grumbled and hissed for that fact, at the time he'd known it had satisfied him. There was nothing quite like a good, solid fight to put one to sleep at night. Draco had found himself seeking Harry out on multiple occasions just to vent when he found himself frustrated about something.
Frustrated. Merlin, that term certainly assumed entirely different connotations now.
Draco pondered his dilemma in the shower for longer than he perhaps should have. Not that he didn't always take long showers, but this one was exceptionally so. When he stepped out, began dressing himself before the mirror, he paused for a moment and studied himself in the unfogged surface – because of course it was unfogged. How cheap would Hogwarts have to be not to get Demisting mirrors?
Draco knew he was attractive. He knew it in an objective way as much as he did with a touch of pride and arrogance. He'd always been confident in his body, but as he looked at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but frown. For regardless of how fine a specimen he might consider himself, he didn't know if Harry found him attractive. He didn't know if Harry had even considered the possibility of fancying boys, which was a somewhat depressing thought. He knew that Muggles were backwards in their approach to such relationships, but surely Harry wouldn't be averse to trying, would he?
Draco didn't much like the thought of Harry dating anyone else, and such consideration had found him glaring at Ginny Weasley at several instances over the past few days. He couldn't help himself. His only saving grace was that they weren't dating at the moment. Thank Merlin, for otherwise Draco feared he might have to kill the girl and that might anger some people a little bit. Harry most notably.
Shaking his head, Draco drew his attention from his reflection and dressed himself. It wasn't like he could do anything about his physical appearance, or at least nothing more than what he already had. If he was going to attract Harry's attention then it would have to be through verbal and emotional means. The thought made Draco slightly nauseous to consider; he'd never been on the end of trying to deliberately attract the attention of someone else before, but that was certainly where he sat now.
It was hard. It was very hard. Draco had to try and be nice, not as objectionable and even attempt cordiality with Harry's friends in his efforts. It was so hard; thank Salazar that the worst of them had left for the Christmas holidays. Draco didn't realise how often he addressed Harry with sarcasm and jibing criticisms, complimenting only in subtle and backhanded ways. How did anyone talk to someone else when they weren't speaking as such?
With a heavy sigh, Draco schooled his features, set his shoulders and strode from the showers. It was a struggle at times interacting with Harry – or at least it had been for the first day or two after his realisation in which Draco knew Harry had been confused and sceptical of his behaviour – but he was getting better. He would make Harry notice him in a decidedly different way to how he did now. He would, regardless of how utterly, pathetically foolish such a sentiment might seem.
Rivals? Enemies? They may have been once. Draco almost wished that they still were, for it would certainly make things easier. Sometimes the only way to overcome a flurry of attraction was to battle it out. It would be such a relief just to relieve some of his frustrations with a good, fierce duel.
Draco stopped only briefly to drop off his towel beside his bed before leaving the dormitory to descend towards the common room. It nearly eight in the morning, he'd checked, but the eighth year tower was largely quiet. Or at least it was until Draco stepped out into the openness of the common room.
"See, now, if you touch it like – yeah, like that, then it will run away. It gets harder the faster you manage to catch it, see. I can put it on a flying mode if we end up going outside into the edges of the forest if you'd like and you can practice your gliding. Sort of cool, hm?"
Draco stopped at the top of the steps and peered over the bannister. Below him, alongside the towering Christmas tree with a modest collection of presents beneath, Harry sat cross-legged beside Pipsqueak who – no, not beside Pipsqueak, for one moment the foxlet was spilling from in his lap, the next springing across the room in pursuit of some unseeable object with a series of excited yips. When she made a dive for one of the couches, actually jamming her head beneath with a surprised grunt, Harry let out a burst of laughter. Draco couldn't help but stare just a little at him when he laughed like that, even if his smile wasn't for him. There was certainly more than one reason, more than just being the Saviour of the Wizarding world, that drew to Harry the attention of those around him. Even dressed in an oversized shirt and pyjamas bottoms he somehow managed to draw the eye.
Rising onto hands and knees, Harry crawled across the room to where Pipsqueak squirmed and yipped in an attempt to dislodge her head. Shoulders still shaking with laughter, Harry wrapped both hands around her torso and, with a tug, popped her loose. "You silly idiot, watch where you're going next time." Then he paused glanced to his side as though distracted by something, before turning back to Pipsqueak. "Look! There it is. Go get it!"
Pipsqueak didn't need telling twice. With another chorus of yips, a wriggle and a wag of her tails, she sprung from Harry's lap and dove after whatever he gestured after. Harry fell backwards against the couch, chortling as he watched her with the hand wrapped in the golden bracelet held aloft, golden chain extending to follow Pipsqueak's scampering.
"What have you got her doing now?" Draco sighed with false exasperation, descending the steps.
Harry glanced over his shoulder and just for a moment his grin rested upon Draco. Had Draco been feeling any real disgruntlement it would have been alleviated by that smile. "Her Christmas present," Harry explained, gesturing towards where Pipsqueak leapt over a couch and tumbled over the other side with a jangle of her chain. She'd grown noticeably bigger, even just in the past week. Her paws seemed too big, her limbs to long and lanky for her to properly coordinate herself. Every trip and stumble sent her face planting, only to spring to her feet seconds later with an enthusiastic "yip" to dive after –
"Is that a mouse?" Draco asked, lowering himself onto the couch beside where Harry leaned. He turned raised eyebrows down upon him. "You've captured a helpless rodent and loosed it in the common room for Pipsqueak's amusement?"
Contrary to the effect Draco had anticipated eliciting with his scolding, Harry smirked up at him, completely unfazed. He shook his head. "That's uncharacteristically nice of you, Draco, to be worried about a mouse. But no, of course I haven't. I just transfigured a wind-up toy to make it more life-like and added a couple of charms to it."
Draco blinked. "'A couple of charms'?"
Harry rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back towards Pipsqueak's scampering chasings. "You don't have to sound so sceptical of my abilities. I can do charms, you know."
"Can you? It wasn't Granger who helped you out with it all?"
"Hermione," Harry corrected. "And no. Well, not really. Only for one."
"I knew it."
"Hey, no need to be such a git. What does it matter if I got some help?"
Draco's reply was overridden by the sound of another voice calling down into the room from on high. "Was it you who came up with the idea, then? Hermione gave me a little transfigured bird-toy to give to Kitsune for Christmas too."
Glancing over his shoulder, Draco watched as Lavender descended to stairs adjacent those to the boys dorm. Kitsune – yes, he could actually remember the white fluff ball's name now – followed alongside her, sliding down the polished bannister with remarkable balance. She was bigger than Pipsqueak, nearly as large as a shepherd dog though of a leaner build, and neither Lavender nor Hermione had been able to pick her up for some time.
Harry heaved himself from his seat on the floor and plopped into the chair beside Draco carelessly enough that he actually slid into him slightly. Draco wasn't complaining. "My idea, but Hermione came up with the logistics and spells and all that."
"I knew it."
"Shut up, Draco."
Lavender gave a small smile as she followed Kitsune down the steps. Kitsune, who appeared to have trained her sole attention upon Pipsqueak and her leaping and bounding chase like a hawk watching a rabbit. That in itself was different to how she had been of late; the foxlet was with increasing evidence missing Hermione, a fact that Draco knew had Harry, Lavender and Ginny increasingly worried. Apparently not today, however, which was something of a relief.
Lavender herself smiled more these days, too, or so Draco had noticed. Usually such smiles were directed towards Kitsune, but even so. Draco was surprised to find that he actually quite liked that fact. A quiet, subdued, downtrodden Lavender Brown was not the same as he remembered. Not in the slightest. That made it wrong. "I should give Kitsune hers too, maybe. Then they can play together."
"Hermione did end up making her a bird then, did she?" Harry asked. "I wasn't sure if she was going to."
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you make yours a bird?" Draco asked with teasing accusation. At least, he hoped it came off as teasing. Oftentimes Draco knew his 'teasing' sounded unintentionally baiting. "That would make a lot more sense for a gliding animal."
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco once more. "For you information, the mouse can fly."
"What kind of mouse flies?"
"One that I've made. I just figured that if it was a mouse then it could probably run faster."
Draco stared at Harry. He knew Harry wasn't particularly skilled at Transfiguration, so it was a surprise to consider that he'd managed something so relatively complex. "You did?"
"You know, it's quite insulting that you show so little faith in my magical ability."
"I'm just a realist."
"Is that what you call being an arsehole these days?"
"Shut up, Potter."
Harry grinned in reply. It was a grin just for Draco this time. Draco found that any slight he might have felt over the criticism was immediately lost.
He was distracted, however, when Lavender pulled out a little wrapped box from beneath the tree and offered it to Kitsune. Kitsune at her side stared at it for a moment before squatting back on her haunches and actually taking the box in her front paws in a remarkably human gesture before tearing apart the wrapping paper and box itself in a way that was definitely not human. A canary sprung free a moment later, and within seconds Kitsune had lost herself to the chase just as Pipsqueak had. The jingling of golden chains as they criss-crossed one another with the foxlet's passage filled the air.
"How long have you been down here this morning?" Draco asked Harry, who appeared wholly distracted by Pipsqueak's tumbling roll across the floor in pursuit of her mouse toy. He didn't even seem to register that Draco had spoken until Draco prodded him.
"Hm? What?"
"Did you actually even go to bed last night?"
Harry glanced towards Draco before his attention was drawn once more in a smile towards Pipsqueak. "Um… no. No, I was just down here."
Draco blinked. "What?"
"Did you know the house elves actually deliver all of the presents by hand and group them by name under the tree?" Harry said, rising to his feet and making his way towards said garishly overdecorated tree. "You should send a note of apology to them, you know, Draco. You have a shitload of presents under here."
Draco stared after him as Harry crouched down before the tree to begin riffling through the parcels beneath. He was still caught upon his previous words. Harry didn't actually go to be last night? Not at all? What was that all about? He had to physically shake his head to rid it of the thought; he'd address that later. "You mean you've been down here all morning and haven't opened your presents yet."
Harry spared a glance over his shoulder to Draco, raising an eyebrow. "Well, sorry if I was a little distracted."
"You were playing with Pipsqueak all morning, were you?"
"No," Harry muttered a little sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder as he turned back to the presents. "We weren't playing all morning." Then, without another word, he grabbed what appeared to be a random package and lobbed it over his shoulder towards Draco.
They fell to present-opening then, Draco, Harry and Lavender sitting in a loose circle and each making their way through their respective piles as Pipsqueak and Kitsune nearly choked them each several times with the dragging lengths of their leashes. Draco had to protest to Harry's suggestion that he had 'so many presents' because, really, it wasn't that many. Harry didn't really have that much less than he did.
He got several presents from his mother – a new cloak, several books, a sack-full of spending money for his next trip to Hogsmeade – as well as those from his friends, from Blaise – the bastard thought he was so funny for including a pack of cards with his present – and Pansy, from Greg too and Daphne who he hadn't seen for months but still evidently remembered him enough so send him a box of Swarovski-studded chocolates. Of course Daphne would go expensive and the expense wasn't detracted from in the slightest by the fact that her father owned a share in the company. How little Muggles suspected, consuming the truffles that were manufactured primarily through magic.
Draco set about picking at the chocolates as he flicked through on of the books his mother had sent him, fiddling idly with the Black Family signet that he'd received alongside it that rested comfortably upon his thumb. Longbottom had joined them at some stage that Draco barely noticed, and Megan Jones had passed through on her way to see her aunt, but Draco largely ignored both of them. He ignored the whole room, really, in favour of flicking through Potions of the Lunar Cycle. Only to have his attention diverted when a hard, heavy package collided into his shoulder and nearly knock him from his seat.
Righting himself, Draco scowled towards Harry who was perched in an armchair opposite him, grinning as he rested his chin upon one raised knee. He scowled only for a moment, however, because Draco couldn't maintain it at the sight of him like that. He was wearing one of what Draco knew as being an annual 'Weasley' jumper, green with an ornate golden H stitched across the chest. Shapelessly appalling as it was it only served to accentuate the greenness of Harry's eyes as he smirked across the room at Draco, clear and faintly sparkling even behind his glasses and the overlong fringe. Draco didn't see himself as one to stare longingly into anyone's eyes – he couldn't even think what colour Blaise's eyes were and he'd even dated him in fifth year – but he noticed it on Harry. How could he not notice?
Draco was gay. Very gay, he'd realised. He'd suspected after dating Pansy in third year, had known almost certainly after they'd gone to the Yule Ball together in fourth year and had any suspicions erased when he'd dated Blaise for such a short period of time that it was almost laughable. Draco knew he was gay, had accepted it easily enough, and he noticed.
He noticed Harry in a way that he hadn't really let himself nor even wanted to before. He noticed the curve of his jaw, the shadow of his cheekbones, the straightness of his nose. He was aware of the width of his shoulders, not overly broad but certainly distinctly different to a girl's and tapering down to his narrow waist that Draco could see even through the knitted jumper. He could admire his easy slouch in his seat, the extension of one leg before him with slacks rolled halfway up his calf to expose thin legs and the curve of muscle as his wriggled his toes to prod at Pipsqueak sprawled across the floor before him. Draco couldn't help but notice the soft smile that didn't carry the faintest trace of dislike when directed towards Draco anymore. Harry was doing that more often these days and Draco found he might have fancied that, too.
Draco saw all of it just as he felt his scowl fall from his face, just as he was aware of the warmth that settled into his stomach that should not have arisen when Harry just threw a – a what? A present at him? Deliberately dropping his gaze from Harry, he raised an eyebrow at the rectangular package. "What is this?"
"It's a present."
"No shit, Potter," Draco drawled, hooding his eyes. "I meant why did you throw it at me? I'm sure that whoever gifted it to you would be most distressed that you were so disregarding of their thoughtfulness."
"No, they're not, because it's not a present for me, but from me," Harry explained slowly, patronisingly. "For you."
Draco stared at him. Then he turned back to the present. Then he stared at Harry once more. Harry blinked at him expectantly, his amused smirk still on his face. "You got me a present?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because I'm such a nice person, is why," Harry grinned, dropping his knee when Pipsqueak rolled back to her feet and attempted to clamber onto his lap. She was really getting too big for it, but Harry didn't object. "How about instead of questioning everything you just open it."
Draco stared for a moment longer, detachedly aware that both Lavender and Longbottom were watching him silently. Then, clearing his throat, he deliberately picked up the present and tentatively unwrapped it. Only to find himself staring blankly at the book revealed.
"Potter."
"Harry. But yes?"
"I hate you."
Harry burst out laughing, his head actually rocking onto the back of the couch in merriment. "Come on, you have to admit it's kind of hilarious."
In the face of Harry's amusement, Draco couldn't maintain his disgruntlement. Not in the slightest. It was a struggle to impress a dissatisfied expression upon his face when he held up the book before him. "Top Ten Things Every New Dad Needs To Know? Really? You're a born comedian."
"I thought so."
Across the room, Longbottom laughed. "What's that, because of Pipsqueak, then?"
Draco turned a scowl upon Longbottom. He couldn't direct one to Harry but he certainly could to the other boy. "Shut up, Longbottom. No one asked for your contribution."
Longbottom only chuckled, sharing a smile with Lavender. It was Harry who objected, picking up a ball of wrapping paper and lobbing it at him. Draco ducked the projectile. "Will you stop throwing things at me."
"Be nice," Harry chided, though he still smirked.
"I don't have to be nice to Longbottom –"
"To Neville."
" – if I… what?"
"Neville. Call him Neville."
Draco managed a scowl at Harry this time. "Why would I do that? I don't have to."
"Because I asked you to," Harry replied and, stupid as he is rebuttal was, Draco couldn't deny its accuracy. Harry might not even be aware of it, but Draco found himself more and more inclined to do just what Harry asked these days.
Scowling even more fiercely as Longbottom's chuckles returned with bodily shakes, Draco directed a glare towards him. "Shut up, Neville,'" he grumbled, before picking up the wrapping paper projectile and pegging it at him.
Neville looked momentarily stunned, though for being hit by the wrapping paper or for Draco's use of his name was unclear. Only for a moment, though, before he grabbed another ball of paper and tossed it right back.
Within moments, a fight ensued. Between shouts of amusement, yips and yaps from Pipsqueak and Kitsune respectively, and the grunts and laughs as they all tumbled over couches to avoid tossed projectiles, the common room became mayhem. Surprisingly, Draco found he enjoyed himself. With Neville, with Lavender. With Harry. He never would have considered himself inclined to participate in an alternative version of a snowball fight in the eighth year common room, but there it was. And he actually enjoyed himself.
It might not have been a traditional Christmas morning, not for Draco. But as far as differences went, this one wasn't all that bad.
"I'm not going down. What do you take me for?"
Harry paused in the act of stepping through the doorway of the eighth year tower and glanced over his shoulder. Draco was still seated in the couch he'd positioned himself in for the past hour, surrounded by an admirable pile of presents and balls of wrapping paper from their spontaneous battle. His head was bowed over a book that he perused as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.
Frowning, Harry waved Neville and Lavender onwards from where they'd paused just beyond in the corridor to spare him quizzical glances. The both shrugged and continued their departure as he turned back to Draco. "Why not? It's tradition. Everyone who stays at Hogwarts over Christmas comes down for breakfast together. Well, it's more a tradition to have dinner together, but everyone tends to go down at about the same time for breakfast too. You have to come."
"No, actually, I don't," Draco replied in a bored monotone, apparently hardly attending to Harry's words. "And I doubt anyone would want me to come down either."
Harry bit back a sigh. Oh. So that was what it was all about. The whole people-hate-me-and-are-glaring-at-me-behind-my-back suspicion that Draco seemed convinced of. Harry shook his head to himself. Draco was an odd one when it came to such situations. He pretended to be aloof and superior, to object to the company of others on basic principle and to disdain their attention even should they offer it to him in a friendly manner, but Harry had come to the realisation over the past months that it was more than that. That Draco was worried about what other people thought of him, and that from his perspective, he considered that what they thought was less than favourable.
Harry couldn't deny that at first the majority of the students at Hogwarts had regarded Draco warily. He could hardly blame them for that; Draco had been a Death Eater, if reluctantly so, and his father had been sent to Azkaban, convicted as one, his mother locked under house arrest for similar, lesser charges. Only months after the war, the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts had been cautious around anyone even resembling a Death Eater, regardless of whether they'd had their charges cleared or not.
So yes, at first Harry would admit that they had stared. They stared warily, nervously, and a little suspiciously. But that suspicion had faded into curiosity, even into surprise the longer Draco demonstrated that he wasn't in fact evil. More than that, his bonding to Pipsqueak and the subsequent acceptance of his place as a fellow bond-parent beside Harry seemed to have changed the student body's collective opinion further. Draco wasn't as cold, as hard-hearted, or even as mean as he pretended to be. How could he be when he had a foxlet glider snuggling into him adoringly?
But apparently Draco still suspected that he was hated. That he was feared. He felt the curious eyes upon him and misinterpreted them, and now he was digging his heels in and denying himself the chance to enjoy one of the best breakfasts Hogwarts had to offer because he was a stubborn, objectionable idiot.
Glancing down at Pipsqueak where she sat on her haunches at his side, staring up at him attentively with her ears faintly twitching, Harry tilted his head towards Draco. "Go and tell your dad that he's being stupid and to move his arse, would you?"
"I'm not being stupid. I'm the only reasonable one," Draco replied, not even looking up from his book to reply.
Harry shook his head, rolling his eyes once more. With another tilt of his head, he urged Pipsqueak towards Draco once more. "Go on," he said softly. "He's more likely to listen to you than me." Pipsqueak wagged her tails and rose to her feet, trotting across the room obligingly. Harry flicked at the bracelet to extend it in a way that ensured he didn't have to follow her – a way that he still hadn't shared with Draco, much to his wordless disgruntlement.
"I can hear you, you know," Draco muttered. "You're not as subtle as you think you are." He didn't raise his gaze from his book until Pipsqueak stopped at his side. Then he actually turned towards the foxlet with a raised eyebrow and hooded gaze. Harry wasn't deceived in the slightest; Draco was a closet sap when it came to Pipsqueak. "What?"
Pipsqueak's mouth opened slightly in the way it did that made her seem as though she were grinning. Harry smiled, folding his arms and leaning against the edge of the doorway. He knew Draco was helpless against Pipsqueak's smile.
Not that he didn't try to resist a little longer. Though he closed his book, Draco still shook his head. "I'm not going down. You're wasting your time."
Pipsqueak gave a small "yip", squatted back on her haunches and flapped her ears in a series of twitches. Then she extended a paw forwards so her patagium spread and stretched like a wing, prodding gently at Draco's knee. Her second "yip" sounded like a question, the impression only enhanced when she cocked her head to the side.
Draco heaved a sigh and slumped back in his seat slightly, briefly closing his eyes. "I'd much rather remain up here, actually. Besides, I've eaten enough chocolate to sustain me for years."
"Wow, such a balanced breakfast you've had there, Draco," Harry called across the room.
"Pipsqueak, go and tell Potter to shut the hell up and mind his own business." Pipsqueak cheeped in something that sounded like a laugh.
Harry smiled in turn. "Come on, Draco. You shouldn't sit up here by yourself. It's Christmas."
Draco turned a frown towards him. "Why do you even care?"
Harry paused thoughtfully for a moment. Why did he care? He honestly didn't know. When he thought about it, he and Draco weren't really friends. Not really. Draco still had a biting comment or a sarcastic remark to offer in reply to every word that Harry spoke to him. He was still as much of a git as he had always been – or, well, not quite as much of a git. He was different, not exactly nicer, but just… different. And he didn't actually appear to dislike Harry quite as much as he used to.
Even less so in recent days, Harry had noticed. He wasn't entirely oblivious; Draco had changed for some reason, just enough to be noticeable. He seemed frequently pensive, lost in thought and almost inward-facing. Harry had caught him watching him with a slight frown on multiple occasions. He didn't know why, as the frown didn't appear to be objectionable, or aversive, or angry, or even mildly disgruntled. He just frowned thoughtfully. That, and Harry had noticed that sometimes, strangely enough, when they were exchanging jibes that became sharper and sharper – not in a cruel way but in such an exchange that if Harry had shared it with anyone else he would have felt sure they hated him – Draco had deliberately cut himself off. He stoppered his own words and replied with something noticeably less biting than Harry knew he could manage. It was strange.
No, Harry and Draco weren't friends. Maybe they would never be friends but merely co-bond-parents. But for some reason, Harry didn't object to Draco's company. He even found it if not comforting exactly then at least comfortable. Draco was an arse, but not as much as Harry had always considered him. Most importantly, he no longer objected to the fact that, for Pipsqueak's sake, Harry impressed his presence upon him. That was something, at least.
Besides, Harry quite liked the company, even if it was in casual banter or near-arguments most of the time. In many ways it was even easier than being around Ron and Hermione. Especially Ron and Hermione together/
Quite aside from that, however, Harry didn't like the idea of Draco spending Christmas alone. It just felt wrong, not the least because Harry had spent more Christmases than he liked to consider alone himself and didn't want to consider anyone else having to endure such solitude. He'd never really realised how much he'd longed to share Christmas with someone until he'd done so. Now he could never look back.
In a way that, for whatever reason, always seemed to make Draco twitch slightly, Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess maybe I just wanted to spend Christmas with you. I don't know."
He hadn't meant the words to be anything profound. They weren't. They just slipped off Harry's tongue with the casualness of his shrug. But for whatever reason it appeared to have some sort of triggering effect on Draco. He regarded Harry for a moment frowning in that thoughtful and not-angry way that he had been doing of late. Then, quite suddenly, with a pause only to stroke a hand across Pipsqueak's head, he nodded decisively and rose to his feet. "Alright. Whatever."
Harry grinned, and continued to do so even when Draco appeared to deliberately avert his gaze from the sight.
They trekked down to the tower together, Pipsqueak along between them with a jangle of her chain. The Great Hall when they entered was as radiant as ever with its twelve Christmas trees and the accompanying fairies dotting them, the tufts of mistletoe and holly wedged in every corner of the ceiling and around every wall sconce, and the gentle yet untouchable fall of snowflakes from overhead. It was even more so than usual for the platters strewn across the length of the Ravenclaw table; just the one table, and even that was hardly needed to seat every student and professor. Harry doubted there were more than a score or two of students remaining at the school over the break.
Said students briefly raised their gazes from their plates and conversations at their entrance, general cries of "Merry Christmas!" ringing unanimously down the length of the room. Harry felt Draco tense slightly at his side but chose to ignore the fact and made his way down the length of the table towards where Ginny, Lavender and Neville sat. Draco followed silently.
"Merry Christmas, Ginny," he said with a smile, to which Ginny returned just as brightly.
"You too, Harry. Love the jumper, by the way."
"Same to you," Harry replied, nodding at the blue-knitted sweater sporting a white G that she wore. "Cheers for traditions, yeah?"
"One that should have died a long time ago," Ginny nodded, but her smile was more affectionate then exasperated for her mother's persistence.
Seating himself beside her, Harry spared only a moment to ensure that Pipsqueak was comfortable – she'd taken up residence on Draco's lap, overflowing as she was, and sat up on her haunches to regard the spread before her with hungry eyes. Draco didn't object in the slightest, and actually set about piling up a plate that had far too much meat upon it to be intended for himself. Harry fell to dishing out his own breakfast.
"You going down to see Tod today, yeah?" Harry asked Ginny as he took a bite of syrup-drenched pancake.
Ginny nodded, replying through her own mouthful. "'Course. He doesn't need to see me quite so much nowadays – he's usually fine if I go down just for a couple of hours each day – but I want to go anyway sometime."
"You're heading over to see your Mum and Dad today, then?"
Ginny nodded, paused, then shook her head. "More like they're coming to see me. I think McGonagall said it would be alright if they joined us for the feast tonight."
Harry raised his eyebrows in delighted surprise. "Oh, they're are coming?"
"Apparently."
"It'll be great to see them. I've got to thank your mum for the sweater and your dad for his screwdriver set."
"His what?"
Harry glanced towards Draco at his comment. He'd paused in the act of spearing a piece of sausage to turn a frowning gaze upon him. "A screwdriver set."
"Meaning?"
"It's a Muggle thing. Sort of like a tool kit for, I dunno, manually fixing appliances and screwing stuff together."
"And you use this sort of thing?" Draco asked slowly, clearly faintly incredulous at the thought of any kind of non-magical labour.
Harry shook his head. "Not really. But it's the thought that counts. Besides, it's kind of seen more as a joke present than anything. What did your dad get you, Ginny?"
"An eclectic kettle," Ginny said.
"You mean an electric kettle?"
"Yeah, that. Dad heard that I've taken to drinking coffee in the mornings."
Harry nodded. He supposed the gift was at least thought out, then. He turned back to Draco. "Yeah. Stuff like that."
Draco stared for a moment longer before shaking his head. Surprisingly, when he replied it wasn't with an insult quite so scathing. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that? Who doesn't give their friends a toolkit for a Christmas present?"
Harry smirked before turning back towards Ginny. "Do you mind if I come along when you go to meet them at Hogsmeade?"
Ginny smiled. "Of course. So long as you bring Pipsqueak along. It'd be nice to introduce them to a foxlet that wasn't, you know…"
"Yeah, sure," Harry hastened to assure her. The momentary slip in her smile suggested the thought of a Berserk Tod that arose on the tip of Ginny's tongue still distressed her a little. He glanced towards Draco. "We're going to Hogsmeade to meet Mr and Mrs Weasley. You're coming."
Draco paused mid bite once more, glancing towards Harry and so missed the delicate snatching of his sausage piece from his fork by an dextrously subtle Pips. "Why?"
"Because Pipsqueak's coming with me."
"So why should I have to come."
"Because I'm asking you really, really nicely."
Draco blinked at Harry for a moment, before slowly raising an eyebrow. "I'm waiting."
"For what?" Harry asked, folding another slice of pancake into his mouth.
"For this really, really nice request."
"I just gave it to you."
Draco stared for a moment longer before rolling his eyes. "Whatever."
Harry grinned.
They finished up their breakfast with promptness, Harry and Ginny chatting between themselves and drawing Neville and Lavender into their conversation. Draco remained largely silent, though he no longer appeared as uncomfortably tense as he had been.
Their meal finished when a thought occurred to Harry. "Hey, how about we go out for a game of quidditch? Just us lot – Neville, you can join us, can't you? Lavender, I didn't think you'd want to, but –"
Lavender raised a hand to stall him, shaking her head. "No need to apologise. I don't really like flying. I'll just stay down on the ground and watch or whatever. Maybe take Kitsune for a walk."
"If you want to fly, Kitsune would probably be more than happy to oblige you," Ginny suggested. "It might even be good for her."
As one, all eyes, including Neville's turned towards Kitsune seated on the bench at Lavender's side. Harry felt a moment of concern rise within him once more that he struggled to smother. Kitsune had been happy that morning, but then she was happy most mornings. At least until she seemed to recall that Hermione wasn't around and then would become upset. The past few nights she'd been crying in yaps in the common room before Lavender, face crinkled with worry, took her up to the girls dormitory.
Now, Kitsune had fallen into subdued quietness. She hadn't eaten any of the breakfast that Harry had noticed Lavender offered to her, and her ears drooped sadly. Harry knew that Hermione needed to go and see her parents, that she needed to go for Australia, but he couldn't help but hope that she'd return soon.
Draco was the one to snap them from their communal concern. "What do you mean, she'll be happy to oblige?" He asked, and to Harry's ears the question sounded a little forced, as though he was deliberately attempting to distract them all from their concern. Strange; Harry wouldn't have thought him one to do such a thing.
Ginny shook herself from her own sombre staring and turned towards him. The smile she plastered upon her face rapidly settled into naturalness. "Oh, didn't you know that Harry's taken Pipsqueak flying before?"
Harry winced slightly – he didn't know why but felt suddenly as though he'd done something worthy of reprimand – and cringed as he beheld Draco's hooded regard. "What's this?"
Harry shrugged, only to find that Draco snapped out a hand to his shoulder, pressing the gesture into stillness. He didn't know why he did so but Draco didn't comment on the fact. "She's a glider. She likes flying."
"You took her on a broom?"
"Only briefly," Harry said slowly. He had to wonder that it sounded almost as though Draco were an overprotective mother worrying for her child. That Dad book really was ridiculously accurate. "She wanted to fly herself."
"And you let her?"
"It's good for them, Draco," Ginny cut in, frowning reprovingly. "Tod glides around his den all the time. That's why we installed the ropes."
Draco ignored her, eyes trained upon Harry. His hand still rested upon his shoulder, apparently forgotten. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"
Harry made to shrug but the weight of Draco's hand and the subsequent squeeze of his fingers stilled the motion. "I don't know. I didn't really think about it. Why? Do you want to join us?"
Draco opened his mouth in what was evidently a protest before he paused. His expression became considering as he frowned. "I might."
"Well, just do it now, then," Ginny sighed in evident exasperation. She rose to her feet. "Jeez, Draco, get that stick out of your arse. Come on. We'll show you." Without another word she set off at a trot from the Great Hall. Harry rose to his feet, urging Draco to his own, and followed after her. Pipsqueak, as though understanding what arose on the horizon, pranced between them enthusiastically.
They descended to the quidditch pitch through the snow, pausing only to outfit themselves each with a Warming Charm. Harry regretted in that instant not bringing anything thicker than his new jumper with him, but the charm would suffice for an hour or two. He afforded the same to Pipsqueak in the same second that Draco did, given that, even thickly insulated by fur as she was, she was particularly vulnerable to the cold. It seemed to do the trick for, when warmed, she sprung forwards and leapt through the snow with such jubilation that it was impossible not to smile at her antics. Harry extended the chain of the bracelet-collar link accordingly.
"Will you get off your fucking hippogriff and tell me how you do that?" Draco asked Harry, scowling at the sight of Pipsqueak tumbling down a snow heap a good thirty paces away. His scowl that only lasted for a moment, however, before he too was wearing something very near a smile. Draco Malfoy, genuinely smiling? Harry could only marvel.
He marvelled even as he grinned and shook his head. "Nope. Not a chance. You've got to work it out for yourself."
"Oh, like you did?" Draco asked, falling into step beside Harry as he made his way after Ginny, Neville and Lavender down towards the pitch. "Hermione probably told you how to do it."
"She didn't, actually," Harry corrected, smiling smugly.
"She did too."
"No, she didn't. In this case I'm being entirely truthful." For once he was. Not that it was any profound skill on his part that had discovered the Extendible Charm that worked on the bracelet. It was likely an inbuilt feature from McGonagall than an actual charm itself. Harry had simply been fiddling with the contraption and viola, it grew like one of those retractable dog leashes he'd seen Aunt Marge use on occasion. Not that he would admit the role chance had in his actions to Draco, however. Never.
Draco himself seemed to actually accept his words, if with more than a little incredulity. He muttered something unintelligible beneath his breath but otherwise gave no further protest.
When they reached the pitch, Lavender had already begun a slow circuit of the grounds with Kitsune, the foxlet practically clinging to her leg in what Harry suspected was more for proximity to a bond-parent than for warmth. Ginny had disappeared into the broom shed, returning moments later juggling four said brooms and a quaffle between her arms that Neville hastily offered her a hand with.
"How we going to go about this, then?" She asked, already slinging a leg over her broom.
Harry, bending down to heave Pipsqueak beneath his arm – she was definitely getting too heavy for such lifts – slung his own leg over the borrowed broom. "What do you think? What combination? You and me against Draco and Neville? Or –"
"I protest to that," Draco cut in, and Harry was startled to see an expression of actual dislike flicker across his features when he glanced towards Ginny. He hadn't seen such aversion from Draco for months, not to anyone. What was that all about? "I believe that would be an unfair advantage."
"For who, exactly?" Harry asked.
Surprisingly, Ginny agreed with a nod. "No, I think so too. It would hardly make sense. I'm the only chaser, so I should be with the least experienced person. And, no offence, Neville, but that's you."
Neville shrugged obligingly. "None taken."
"So me and Draco against you too, then?" Harry asked, sparing a glance towards Draco to discern if he would protest. The expression of dislike had vanished entirely from his face to be replaced by one of mild consideration as though his disgruntlement had never been. "That suits you?"
Draco nodded. "Fine by me."
"Alright then. Let's play."
As one, they all kicked off the ground into the air, Neville perhaps a little wobbly but steadying himself quickly enough. Harry took off high as he always did, with Pipsqueak in tow. The foxlet yipped excitedly, wriggling not enough to dislodge herself from her balance on the broom but with evident enthusiasm nonetheless. Her ears twirled and flicked like spinning tops, mouth falling open in a grin. She loved flying, loved it almost as much if not more than Harry did, he would fathom. The sheer joy that seemed to radiate from her when Harry rose into the air made his own experience even better.
Harry arced high, revelling in the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair, biting at his cheeks despite the Warming Charm that settled upon his skin. There was something so freeing, so calming, about leaving his cares and worries at ground level and abandoning them to flight. Harry had spent countless hours over the previous summer break escaping to the skies for just that release. Now he didn't need it quite so much, but it was still joyful. Still appreciated.
Wonderful.
Turning in a small circle, Harry drew to a halt mid-air. He glanced down towards Pipsqueak as she grinned up at him. "What do you think? Ready to go?" Pipsqueak only gave another particularly pronounced wriggle that Harry took to be a yes. "Alright then. Get ready."
Then he let her go and dove.
It took barely a moment for Pipsqueak to spread her limbs and fall into riding the winds. With a shrill "Eeeeee-yip!" she chased after Harry as he sped across the pitch, leading her by the extending chain. The constant yipping that followed sounded almost like gleeful laughter.
Harry barely caught a glimpse of Draco as he soared past him. His expression looked just on this side of recovering from momentary terror in a protectiveness that Harry had never seen before. "It's fine, Draco! She's fine!" He called as they passed, Pipsqueak adding her own yips of reassurance to his own.
"Potter, if you kill my foxlet, I'll murder you in your sleep!" Draco called after him.
Harry only grinned, not bothering to reply. Draco's foxlet? Not hardly. Still, the words themselves flooded warmth through Harry's chest.
Instead, he pulled up before Ginny briefly, Pipsqueak arcing around him with crooning trills and swishes of her tails that appeared to act like a rudder of sorts. "Well? You ready to play?"
Ginny grinned with wide smile of her own. "You bet. I'm ready to whip your arse into shape. Show you how quidditch is really played."
"Bring it on," Harry taunted, before turning his broom skyward once more, snatching Pipsqueak onto his broom as he passed, and rising to the sounds of her cries of renewed delight to plummet once more.
They played a hard game of quidditch. It was short but fierce nonetheless. Harry, Draco and Ginny were both unnecessarily competitive people, more so even than Harry found himself these days, so that even the less competitive Neville was urged into enthusiastic battle alongside them. The quaffle launched between Ginny into Neville's fumbling hands, only to soar back again to be intercepted by Draco, who passed it to Harry as they shot back towards the opposite end of the pitch with Pipsqueak in tow. Only for Ginny to intercept it again herself, snatching it from mid-air and spinning back in the other direction.'
Back and forth, up and down, rolling and twisting to avoid their opponents, they played. Harry found himself grinning so much that his cheeks began to hurt. He and Draco were surprisingly good together. Draco was a good flier, great even. Harry could admit that now he didn't dislike him so much. He had a different kind of grace to that which Ginny demonstrated, almost appearing to dance around the pitch while everyone else ran on their metaphorical feet. It was sort of enthralling to watch.
Pipsqueak joined in the game. She seemed to find it great fun, and actually catching the quaffle about ten minutes into it to a shriek of delightful yips. They all burst out laughing as she tumbled to the ground, even Harry as he sped after her to catch her before he hit the ground. Draco reprimanded him with a scolding of, "See? You wondered why I was concerned?" but it was through a his own smile. An actual smile, not even slightly marred by a smirk. He looked good smiling. Harry realised he'd never actually seen him truly smile before. That only enhanced Harry's own good-humour.
No one was keeping score. No one really cared, despite their competitiveness. Or at least, that was what Harry thought until Ginny scored a goal about half an hour into playing and Draco cried out, "Come on, Potter, that puts them one up on us!"
Harry only shook his head, diving beneath Pipsqueak once more in their cyclical scoop-and-rise to draw her into the air for another downward glide. Maintaining the foxlet's airborne status might have impinged upon Harry's ability to play to his fullest but he wouldn't exchange it for the world.
He drew to a momentary stop high above the pitch, panting slightly and turned his gaze down to Pipsqueak. She too was panting, her breaths puffing in white clouds before her, but her dark eyes seemed to glow with excitement and enthusiasm with only the barest hint of tiredness that would suggest she was reaching the limits of her stamina. Their recent hours of practice when Harry had taken them down by the pitch at nights or early in the morning when he couldn't sleep appeared to be paying off.
"Want to go again?" He asked, to which Pipsqueak yipped her agreement.
Harry turned his attention downwards, towards his friends as they wove in between one another. He made to release her once, but paused. Paused and felt a frown settle upon his brow as his attention turned towards two figures down by the frozen Black Lake. His confusion rapidly grew into foreboding.
Oh no, Harry thought, before, without another moment's thought, he banked his broom and turned it downwards into a dive towards the lake. Pipsqueak gave an indignant "yip" that faded into worried chirping, likely a result of Harry's own fear rising within him. Her yips of concern called across the quidditch pitch, a reflection of those that sounded in Harry's own head. He pelted down towards Lavender and Kitsune with single-minded focus.
Not again.