The Centaur's Shrine

Chapter 9 - Christmas Eve

Grimauld Place,

In the morning before Christmas, Harry and Draco decided to test the recipes Snape had given them, and to do so without arousing their friends' suspicions, more the surprise for them. A 'No Entrance' sign was placed on the door of the little potion laboratory and they reviewed the instructions.

"Which one do you want to do?" asked Harry.

"I better attempt the hangover potion. It's the more complicated of the two," replied Draco. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I am better at this than you," he added with an expression a touch condescending.

"Fine by me." Competition wasn't his thing, certainly not concerning potions.

They set about brewing the stuff. Harry needed some standard liquor for a base, so he asked Dobby who promptly returned with an enormous bottle of old scotch. He poured a good measure into a cauldron, and let it simmer with the prepared ingredients. The result would be mixed with the straight stuff. Whiskey fumes soon perfumed the air, and they were probably inhaling some of it, despite the aspiration spell that had been cast over the workbench. Certainly they both felt very relaxed.

"You know," said Draco thoughtfully, "there's something I wanted to tell you the other day."

"Yes?"

He struggled to find the right words. Harry noticed that he wasn't looking at him, but kept his eyes on the mixture he was stirring mechanically. This was very unusual for the normally self assured Draco.

"If Tom Riddle had gotten himself a friend, then Voldemort probably wouldn't have existed," he finally said.

Harry was surprised, but the remark made him think back about Tom Marvolo Riddle, the heir of Slytherin, and by association, about what he knew of his ancestor. Salazar Slytherin had been close to being a Dark Wizard himself, but the Founders had also been four friends. Hogwarts had been a group effort.

"Salazar and Godric?"

"Yes," said Draco softly, turning his eyes toward him.

They looked at each other, Draco was clearly embarrassed, but he didn't flinch.

"Draco and Harry?"

The other boy remained silent. He showed a nervous smile and nodded briefly.

"I'm your friend," continued Harry gently. "Do you have a special reason for thinking you need one badly?"

"I - I don't know." His gaze drifted to the side. He remembered what had almost happened with Montague. "I was thinking about how easy it was to ... lose one's self in ambition - and power." He looked back sharply. "Ginny might not stop me. She'd stay at my side, but I feel that ... you'd tell me if I went too far."

Harry thought about it carefully. He understood Draco's vulnerability as a brilliant and powerful Slytherin. He had talent and ambition, and he'd been trained by some of the best wizards, living and dead. Harry didn't think that his friend would return to being the nasty git he'd once been, but he could become something much more dangerous. There was always that fascination for dark and dangerous magic. The eternal curse of their House.

It was evident to him that he would do all he could to try to keep his friend from losing himself to the Dark Arts, but it was more complicated than that.

"I would, but would you listen?"

Sudden understanding flashed in Draco's eyes. That was the crux all right. It would only work if the respect and affection flowed both ways. If Draco stopped looking up to Harry, then Harry would be powerless to convince him. It was easy enough to be friends. It was much harder to be an esteemed friend. They both felt this, but it was another thing to say it out loud, even in private.

Harry looked at the young man, remembering the training they had done together.

"I'd hate to have to fight you one day," he finally said.

"I'd hate it as well." The trademark smirk was back on Draco's face. He still showed it on occasions, but stripped of the old arrogance, it had become an endearing feature.

Harry flashed his dazzling smile. There was not much more to say.

"I guess we'll just have to keep on our toes."

- - -

It was late afternoon when they emerged to find the others finishing the decorations in the main room. A big tree had been set up in a corner, and it was already adorned with multicolor bubbles and golden threads. Scores of animated magical creatures were chasing each other between the branches, colored candles orbited in spirals around the trunk and several wrapped packages were already stored under the lower branches.

The two boys went to fetch their own presents from their rooms, and then they set up a low table with six sitting cushions around it, and the best Black family crystal they could find on it. Draco bought out the sealed bottle of improved Firewhiskey and placed it at the center.

"What's that for?" asked Ron.

"It's a little after dinner surprise."

In due course they lowered the lights and proceeded to eat the magnificent dinner Dobby and Winky had prepared. It had been served with a generous amount of Butterbeer so when they retired to the living room, they were all somewhat in their cups. Not really drunk, but certainly comfortable.

"We'll leave the presents for tomorrow, but we've prepared something to top off the evening," said Harry, leading them toward the low table.

They sat down. He reached out to get the bottle and almost knocked it over.

"Hey! Careful with that!" cried Draco. "There's only one of it."

"Bloody cushion's too low and deep," grumbled Harry.

He managed to break the seal properly, under Draco's watchful glare and the others' evident curiosity, and pulled the cork.

"What is this?" asked Hermione with a frown.

"Er, it's a drink," replied Harry seriously.

"I can see that! What kind of drink is it? Not something too strong I hope. We've already drank a lot already. I don't know if it's very reasonable to take any more."

"Relax Hermione," answered Ron, "It's Christmas, and we're not going anywhere. Is this something you found in the house?" he added with an eager expression.

Harry was carefully measuring portions into the six glasses. One drop fell on the table and a puff of smoke appeared immediately.

"What is this stuff?" asked Hermione again. "I won't touch any of it until you tell me exactly what's in that bottle."

Harry and Draco looked at each other and shrugged.

"Er, you remember the night Remus went out with professor Snape?" Ron's eyebrows shot up and Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Well we asked him for the recipe."

"And he turned it into extra homework for us," added Draco, chuckling.

Ginny took her glass and sniffed it carefully.

"Remus did say it was one of the best drinks he ever had, but that the coming down was pretty bad."

"Er, we've also got the recipe for the hangover antidote," said Draco. He produced several small vials.

"So you brewed this all by yourself?" asked Luna. She was amused.

"Yep. It took us all day," announced Harry proudly.

"And did you by any chance test it?" asked Hermione, still not convinced.

"Hermione, there's only one way to test it," said Ron reaching for his glass.

"I think the proper answer is 'spoken like a true Gryffondor'," replied Draco, grinning.

Ron's hand stopped before touching it. He suddenly seemed less sure.

"Er, you mean I go first?" he asked demurely.

Everybody smiled and looked at him with expectation. He gulped and raised his glass.

"Well, here goes."

He closed his eyes, and took a little sip, with everyone watching him carefully. He grimaced at the fiery taste. Nothing bad seemed to happen to him until after a second, when the full effect kicked in. He changed color, and opened his mouth as a real flame shot out.

"Gosh, it's burning me!" he rasped. His voice had gone down at least two full octaves.

"Yes, but does it taste good?" asked Harry, whose lips were twitching.

"Yeah," he replied in his new very deep, strange voice. "It's not bad." He grinned. "Your turn now."

There was no way out. They had to try it themselves. In a synchronized gesture they brought the glasses to their mouths and drank.

Draco had taken a large swallow, and his eyes were bulging. He managed to shot out flames out of both nostrils in addition to his mouth, and his hand was clenched tightly around the base of his glass.

"Whoa!"

"Eeech," said Hermione. "Eeeech!" She had made the mistake of holding the flame inside, before exploding in a fit of coughing. Harry went to help her and clap her back. She was bright red, black smoke was coming out of her, and two long tears ran down her face.

Luna was trying deep breathing exercises to control the burning. Judging by her expression, it didn't work very well. Ginny was the one who looked the most comfortable. She grinned at Draco and giggled.

"Hey, that was pretty good. Congratulation you - hips! - guys."

Harry exchanged a grin with Draco. He felt like his mouth, esophagus and stomach were on fire, but there was also the start of a pleasant buzz in his head. They continued to take more sips, and after the first shock, the burning became less intense. Maybe the nerve endings were giving up.

After the first glass Luna was humming an indistinct tune, and Ginny was giggling uncontrollably. Hermione held out her tumbler to Harry for a refill.

"Profess... - hips! - Snape did say - hips! - was homework?" she tried to say. "- hips! - there an essay to write too?"

"Yes, two feet's worth."

Harry held the bottle and fought with new laws of physics, as the room skewed around him when he tried to pour some liquid into her glass. It was as if the thing was actually alive and trying to aim for her forearm instead. Hermione stabilized it with her other hand and helped him fill the glass. He managed to fill his own and passed the bottle on to Ron.

After their second glass they were definitely feeling it. Hermione had decided that she was going to start on the essay, while she could still analyze the experience at first hand.

"I'll help you," said Draco solemnly. His voice had taken on a definite slur and his movements were slow and very deliberate. "After all I'm the ... best student in potions."

Ginny emptied the bottle into her glass and Harry's, and then she proposed a game of Quiddich using the bottle and the cork.

Hermione held her quill firmly and steadied herself with her other hand.

"We'll start - hips! - the title."

"It's Improved Fire Whiskey." He described succinctly how it had been prepared, and she wrote everything down obediently. Her neat and precise script was curiously unaffected by the liquor.

Harry and Ginny moved to the center of the room. A confused discussion began on whether to use bottle and cork as Quaffle and Snitch, or as bat and Bludger.

"Your writing is very beautiful," said Draco in admiration.

"Thank you." She lost focus for a moment, as she struggled to remember what she was doing. "What - hips! - next?"

He looked at her and blinked.

"Effects!" he said finally. "We should be writing about the effects of the potion."

She wrote down Effects of the potion, followed by a semi-colon, and then she sat straighter and tried to think clearly. It was very hard and somewhere in her mind a little voice was screaming in frustration.

She wrote: Increasing difficulties in mental processes. She remembered another thing and wrote underneath: Alcohol is a dangerous substance and should not be abused.

She'd read that somewhere. It seemed very abstract, and she tried to make sense of it. Absent mindedly, she reached out and took another sip of the drink. The taste was really very good, and the question didn't seem very important anyway.

Harry and Ginny's play had degenerated into a chaotic game of tag, where each would attempt to touch the other with the cork. Luna and Ron were singing together. Luna's voice was beautiful and Ron's new baritone was not bad. It was really a shame they couldn't decide on singing the same song. Draco was on his knees next to Hermione and balancing himself from side to side. He stumbled and knocked against her.

"Sorry 'bout that."

As he struggled to right himself his face brushed against her shoulder.

"There's another effect you can write down," he mumbled.

"What - hips! - it?"

He showed a bright charming smile.

"Makes little girls smell nice!"

She didn't react and wrote: The potion makes little girls smell nice.

"Any - hips! - else?" She looked at him. He was very close and his pale hair sparkled in the candle lights. Harry and Ginny had ended in a giggling heap among the presents under the Christmas tree.

"Maybe they taste nice too?" he said, looking at her, with a questioning expression. His eyes didn't quite focus.

She supposed it could be possible. Evidently all of their senses were affected.

"How can you - hips! - be sure?"

"We could experiment," he said gravely. Moving his hand and vaguely pointing at the paper. "It might be important for the essay."

He was probably right. Certainly, they needed to get all the facts right. She took another sip and so did he.

"All right. Let's try - hips!"

He approached his lips tentatively toward her neck and gave quick flicker with his tongue. She giggled and pushed him away.

"You're tickling." She realized that she was getting distracted and made a conscious effort to concentrate. "What does - hips! - taste like?" she asked seriously.

He smiled happily. "Tastes nice too."

She wrote down: Little girls' neck taste nice. She frowned it didn't seem to be enough for a proper essay.

"Nothing else?"

Draco dutifully endeavored to 'taste' her hand, then her cheek. He stopped and stood back with a serious expression on his face.

"Want to try something else," he said, frowning, "but need ask permission first."

She looked back, confused. Why would he need permission to research the facts for their essay?

"No - hips! - problem." She took the quill and got ready to write the result down.

He moved his face closer to hers and kissed her gently on the lips. She dropped the quill, and opened her mouth slightly.

"Little boys taste nice too," she said after a moment.

"Better write it down."

- - -

At midnight the clock started to sound the twelve chimes.

"Hey!" Harry tried to stand up with Ginny half asleep in his lap. "Hips! - time to wish each other a merrhips! - Christmas!" He looked around to search for his friends.

They crawled toward the center of the room. Harry was barely able to stand on his knees. Ginny was giggling at his feet. He helped her up, and she buried her head against his waist. The others joined them and they finally locked arms together and mumbled the season's greetings before falling down in an untidy heap.

- - -

Hermione woke up and her first reaction was: Good God! I've got the flu. Her head was pounding, she felt nauseous and confused, and her tongue seemed to be stuck to her palate. She opened her eyes and saw that she was entangled with other bodies. Her right leg was numb, Ron was weighting on it, and her head was in Harry's lap. The others were lying about, still unconscious.

Memories of the previous night came back to her, at least what happened at the beginning. There was a blank after she'd started the potion essay with Draco.

What a stupid idea that was! Damn you Harry!

She shook her head angrily, and immediately stopped when her headache flared in blazing pain. She disengaged herself from Ron and massaged her leg to get the circulation moving.

Water. I've got to drink some water.

She could see the dinner table in the other room, but it was empty and spotless. The elves must have cleaned up during the night. She winced at the thought that they must have seen them lying on the floor like drunks. Looking around she took in the low table. Six little vials were on it, next to a sheet of paper, an inkwell and a quill.

Of course. The antidote.

She moved carefully toward the table and took one the potions. I hope it works. She felt so bad that she didn't think anything worse could happen. She gulped the content and her head cleared immediately. It was such a pleasant feeling that she almost felt grateful toward the two boys. Her eyes fell upon the paper. She recognized her own script, but she couldn't remember what she had written. She took it and started reading.

'Improved Firewhiskey' indeed.

She continued, skipping quickly over the actual brewing instructions. Behind her she could hear someone else waking up. When she got to the analysis of the effects of the potion, a look of horror came over her face. Blushing furiously, she pressed the letter against her chest.

"Mione," groaned Harry in a pitiful voice. "Please give it to me."

She turned around, clutching the paper against her.

"What? Why do you want this?" she said, panic all over her face.

"Not that," he replied. "On the table."

Oh!

She took another vial and brought it to him. His hands were shaking a little but he managed to open it and drink down the content.

"Ah." The relief on his face was comical to watch. "Thanks a million, Mione." He closed his eyes and laid back on the floor. She took the occasion to slip the essay inside a pocket. He looked up and smiled at her. "Don't make that face. We're not going to do that every night."

We certainly aren't.

"But it was fun wasn't it?" he added.

She swallowed. "Er, yeah, I guess it was." Please don't let him ask about the essay.

"Are you all right?"

She tried to look casual. "Yes, sure. A little queasy maybe."

He chuckled and gestured toward the tree and the presents.

"Merry Christmas."

She smiled.

"Merry Christmas to you too."

Christmas Eve Ch9 - 1