Draco Malfoy and the Last Year

Level 2.8: The Music Box

"So, what's it like having an affair with Professor Snape?" asked Pansy over breakfast.

Draco spat out the gulp of milk he had just taken. Most of it hit the glass, but there was still quite a bit of splatter. Everyone who had been gaping at Pansy turned to stare at him.

"You're not having an affair with Professor Snape, are you Draco?" Daphne asked with a wicked grin.

"That's disgusting, Greengrass, on several levels," he said as he tried to wipe up the mess.

Pansy had pulled her hands back in time, but some of it had still landed in her eggs. She eyed them with disgust, briefly distracted, and then drew herself up again. "So, Pea, how disgusting is it?"

Persephone hardly looked flustered at all. "What are you talking about?" she said in tone that mirrored Pansy's.

"The affair you're having with Professor Snape," Pansy said. "Or are you going to deny it?"

"Of course, she's going to deny it," Draco retorted. "No one's having an affair with Snape."

"You know it would explain a few things," Daphne said thoughtfully. "He's been in an awfully good mood."

"That doesn't mean he's having an affair," Draco hissed at her.

Daphne ignored him. "Tell me how you did it, Sephi. I've been trying to get his attention for years."

"I didn't do anything," Persephone protested. "Why would you say a thing like that?"

"I have proof," Pansy said.

"You can't have proof, because we haven't done anything."

Pansy raised her eyebrow. "So it's we now?"

"You're crossing a line, Pansy," Draco said warningly.

"I'm not crossing any lines. She has."

"I have not!"

"Do you think we're all stupid?" Pansy said. "Everyone knows you've been spending a lot of time alone in Snape's office."

"That's none of your business," Persephone snapped. "But if you must know, I'm taking remedial Potions!"

"Remedial Potions?" Pansy repeated, looking completely unconvinced. "In an advanced class?"

"I got in over my head," Persephone said with a slight tremble in her voice.

"Well, that's for certain."

"Pansy, are you really sure about this?" Indigo asked. "It's just. This is Persephone. She's not..."

"She's not really the seducing type," Alice said.

Crabbe came to his Potion Master's defense. "And Professor Snape isn't like that. I mean, he took points from Daphne for wearing her skirt too short."

"Ah, but that means he noticed," Daphne said. She smiled suggestively, but then drew her lips into a pout. "Still, I was rather hoping he'd give me detention."

"Daphne, you do know you come off sounding like a slut don't you?" Pansy said coolly.

"I'm not a slut," Daphne said sharply. Draco had never understood why Daphne was so averse to that particular term, when everything else she did and said seemed to point to that conclusion, but he knew it would put her into an extremely bad mood for the rest of the day if not the rest of the week.

Pansy knew this better than anyone, and generally avoided it, unless she really wanted to put Daphne in her place. Which meant she wanted to build into her proof uninterrupted. "No, of course you're not," Pansy said soothingly, as though she had forgotten the word's effect. "Pea's our resident slut, isn't she?"

Persephone stared back at Pansy, stunned by her audacity. Her hands were trembling slightly, and Draco sensed she might start crying in a minute.

"Pansy, can I talk to you for a moment?" Draco asked through barely unclenched teeth and stood.

"Of course, Draco," Pansy said in an overly polite way. She followed him out into the entrance hall.

Draco led her to a deserted hall and the same broom closet where he had taken Persephone. Pansy eyed the broom closet warily but was intrigued enough that she obeyed Draco's hurried summons to step inside. She stood with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised. She was giving off a distinct air of impenetrable resolve.

Draco took a deep breath and tried to sound as calm and rational as he could. "Pansy, do you understand how serious this is? This goes way past normal gossip. You're accusing Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House, of having an affair with an underage student. Do you understand what could happen?"

"Sure," Pansy said. "The little tramp would get kicked out of school, and he could lose his position."

"I don't mean to them," Draco said. "I mean to you."

"Me?"

"You make those sort of accusations, and the school administration will not dismiss it as simple gossip. Snape's likely to bring you up on charges of slander. You're of age now, so you'll get the full weight of the law."

"The law?!" Pansy echoed incredulously. "I haven't done anything wrong! They have!"

"Come on, Pansy," Draco said with a derisive snort. "You don't honestly believe Persephone and Professor Snape-"

"But I have proof!" Pansy whined.

"What proof?" Draco said. "A student visiting a teacher's office is hardly proof of an affair. Persephone explained-"

"There's also the letters!"

Draco paused. "What letters?"

"All those letters from 'Oliver'. Professor Snape's been writing them," she announced triumphantly. "I knew the handwriting seemed familiar, but I didn't recognize it until Snape handed back our proposals yesterday. I know where Persephone keeps them. I can prove it's the same writing."

Draco leaned back against the door, ensuring that Pansy would not leave the room until he had managed to guarantee her silence.

"Draco, can't you understand what kind of girl she is?" Pansy said with a trace of compassion. "I know it doesn't make any sense that she would take Snape over you," (Draco looked up sharply.) "but that just shows there's something wrong with her, not you. It doesn't make any sense for you to keep defending her when she's completely unfaithful."

Draco was tempted to laugh but decided to try a different tactic. "Pansy, you have it all wrong."

"Draco, I understand that you want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but this isn't-"

"No, Pansy, you really, really have it all wrong." He gave her a gentle smile but let her see the weariness in his eyes. "I know exactly what Persephone has been doing in Snape's office."

Pansy hesitated. "You do?"

"Yes, and you're completely right about her not taking Remedial Potions."

Pansy looked more confused than before but was somewhat mollified. "Are you saying, you knew all along?"

Draco nodded somberly. "Did Persephone tell you what killed her parents?"

Pansy shook her head. "She refused to talk about it."

Draco paused for dramatic effect. "Pansy, have you ever read Hogwarts: Rules and Regulations?"

"No."

"Well, I have and-"

"You've read Hogwarts: Rules and Regulations?!"

"Yes," he said as if there was nothing unusual about this.

Pansy goggled at him. "Draco, it has to be a thousand pages long."

"One thousand and fifty-seven, but we're getting off topic. According to Hogwarts: Rule and Regulations, one of the lesser known duties of the Head of House is to act as counsel to students who have been through severely traumatic experiences."

"So?"

Draco hesitated. "Can I trust you, Pansy?"

She visibly softened. "Of course you can trust me, Draco. What is it?"

"The reason I missed the train this year, the real reason..." Pansy stepped in closer. "I was bringing Persephone to school. We could have let some one from the Ministry fetch her, but it seemed rather cold considering what she had been through."

"What do you mean?" Pansy asked.

Draco pinched the sides of his nose near his tear ducts and blinked a few times. Pansy knew he did not cry in front of people. "There's a group of muggles in Canada who've started up the witch hunts again. You know how Persephone sticks out. They surrounded her home...it's not like in the old days where they tie you to a stake and a simple Flame Freezing Charm will get you out of trouble. They've got nasty weapons now, the Muggles, guns and bombs and stuff. Persephone is too young to Apparate and the Muggles blew up their fireplace so the Floo was cut off. Her parents tried to fight them off, but they weren't prepared, didn't know enough hexes. The Aurors got there too late. She watched her parents die first, and the Muggles got her next, left her bleeding and close to death. One of the Aurors found her and got her to the Healers on time, but it was too late for the rest of the family. Then the Muggles went and burned her home to the ground. Mother didn't want me to go fetch her. She was afraid of the witch hunters, but I had too, Pansy. I couldn't leave her there."

Pansy looked absolutely horrified, which had been the whole idea.

"Anyway," Draco said grimly. "That's what she's being doing in Snape's office. He's sort of been talking her through it."

Pansy was horrified, but not easily convinced. "But she seems so happy."

"Denial," Draco said expertly. "She's really rather screwed up. You should have seen her on the way back, completely unstable. Laughing hysterically one minute, sobbing violently the next. Snape's supposed to be teaching her some coping techniques. I think she spends most of her time in there sobbing. It's sort of her safe place. She's not a public griever."

Pansy still looked uncertain. "But...the letters."

"It's one of the techniques," Draco said. "Gives her a safe little fantasy world to act out in. The illusion of still being connected to someone from home. I don't know, maybe Snape's enjoying writing them a bit more than he should. But she enjoys them so much, I'd hate to tell him to stop. She's so fragile right now."

"Fragile?" Pansy said, with her eyebrows raised.

"Surely, you've noticed she's a little off," Draco said.

"Well, yes, but-"

"I mean yes, she acts happy, but it's a little too happy you know. Rather manic. Kind of bounces between being hyper focused and easily distracted. She keeps herself wrapped up in as many clubs and activities as she can so she won't have to think about what happened. But well, you saw how she freaked out in the common room."

"Should she really be in school if she's that messed up?" Pansy asked.

"I don't know," Draco sighed. "She can't focus on her school work. Her grades are atrocious, but Professor Snape thinks it's important that she stays busy.

"He can't watch her all the time, so I've been trying to help, but it's just too much for me sometimes." He gazed into Pansy's brown eyes, willing his own to become watery with unshed tears. He slumped against the doorframe so that he was looking up at her. "I mean my work load has been so overwhelming this year, and doing hers too...I know I've been snapping at everyone. I don't mean to. I'm just under all this pressure. And I've worked so hard, and I know father's disappointed that I didn't make Head Boy. I really just want him to be proud of me." By the last sentence he was whimpering.

"Oh Draco, I know he is," Pansy assured him.

"And I know you all hate me, now too," Draco added miserably. "I've just been so distracted."

"Oh, no, Draco, everyone still loves you very much," Pansy soothed. "We're just worried. We didn't know what was going on with you, but when everyone understands."

"No!" Draco cried sharply and stood up. "No, Pansy, this has to stay between you and me. I really shouldn't have told you, but I had to talk to somebody."

"But-" Pansy began.

Draco took her jaw in his hand and stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important."

Pansy placed her own hand over his. "But, Draco..."

She trailed off as he closed the distance between them even more. He gently touched his forehead to hers. "Please, love," he said. "For me?"

He could feel Pansy melt. Her soft breath grazed his chin as she murmured, "Alright, for you."

"You didn't really think I was dating Persephone, did you?" he asked with mild amusement.

"You're not?"

"No, she's more like a little sister. Just someone who needs protection." Draco ran his fingertips down Pansy's neck, and she closed her eyes. "How could I even think about dating another girl with someone like you around?"

****************

They returned to the Slytherin table a few minutes later. Pansy with a satisfied expression, and Draco feeling rather defeated and disgusted with himself. The other Slytherins stopped their conversation as they approached. "I'm sorry, Persephone," Pansy said as she sat back down. "I saw something and jumped to conclusions. It seems I was wrong, and I hope you'll accept my apology."

Persephone gave Draco a quick, anxious glance. "Of course," she said. "We all make mistakes." Pansy smiled at her, and Persephone gave her a tight smile in return.

Daphne looked rather disappointed. "What was it you saw?" she asked Pansy.

"Never mind," Pansy said, casting her own quick glance at Draco. Draco allowed himself a small smile to show that he appreciated her silence.

****************

"What did you say to her?" Persephone whispered later, when they had wedged themselves into a remote corner of the library. Draco was sure the question had been burning behind her lips since breakfast.

"I told her you'd been through a traumatic experience, and Snape's talking you through it."

"Oh," Persephone said, looking as though she had expected something more elaborate. "Well, I suppose that's true." Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Well, I have been through a traumatic experience, haven't I?"

"And all you do in his office is talk?"

"All we do is talk," Persephone said with a light scowl.

Draco looked back at her uncertainly. "You're telling me that you spend hours, alone, behind closed doors, and all you do is talk."

"Yes." Persephone opened her textbook, as though she had lost interest in the conversation. "What did you think we did?"

"I was trying not to think about it," Draco said, his voice still very low. "But I figured you were snogging or something."

"Sno-" Persephone looked at Draco incredulously. "I've never kissed Severus," she whispered.

He was inclined to believe her, but only because he knew how awkwardly she lied. It filled him simultaneously with relief and disappointment. He did not like thinking he had put on that performance for Pansy for nothing. "Never?" repeated Draco. "Not even when you--well, he--was young. Not even on the cheek?" Persephone shook her head as though the thought had never occurred to her. "Why not?"

"We were just friends," she said, turning her face away to pull a quill out of her bag, though he caught the pink on her cheeks. "And it would awkward now. I don't know if he likes me that way, anyway." Draco gave her a completely unconvinced look that made her blush even more. "Even if he does, it's not that simple to kiss someone."

"Sure it is. You just pucker your lips and kiss, one step process really." Draco studied the uncertainty in her expression and smirked. "Are you trying to tell me you've never kissed anyone?"

"No...I mean I've kissed Mama and Papa," she said. "But it's not the same as kissing a boy."

"You kissed me," Draco pointed out.

"That was different," she insisted. "It was on the cheek, and I wasn't worried about whether or not you liked it."

Draco laughed. "I really don't think it's an issue of whether he'd like it. He's clearly taken with you."

Persephone played with her quill. "But how do you know that for sure?"

"Way he looks at you," Draco said, which was a bit of an over simplification. Severus Snape was not given to lovelorn staring. He could mask his face in layers and did so to the point it was habit. He gave nothing away with his eyes, but there had been a few times when Draco had seen him meet Persephone in the hall and watched the small smile creep across his Potion Master's face. It was a smile devoid of irony or malice and seemed alien to Snape's features, yet it softened them for a brief moment as though the man might melt away and show the boy underneath. "Besides, he waited for you, didn't he?"

Persephone's quill had become still, and she looked very thoughtful.

Draco pointed a finger at her warningly. "That does not mean you shouldn't be careful. Pansy wasn't making idle threats. She recognized Oliver's handwriting, which means it's only a matter of time before someone else does. You have to tell him to stop sending you letters."

"There's nothing bad in the letters," Persephone protested.

"It will still look bad," Draco said. "You don't want Snape to lose his job do you?" Persephone shook her head. "Then be a good girl and make an effort to stay on Pansy's good side."

"I'm not worried about Pansy," said Persephone huffily.

"You should be," Draco said. "I've watched her destroy girls before. Ask one of the Hufflepuffs about Violet Edger if you don't believe me."

Persephone frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know Violet Edger."

"You wouldn't. She didn't come back after Christmas break last year."

****************

Draco did his best to be attentive to Pansy over the next few days. He sat a little closer to her than usual in Potions class. He invited her to join his study sessions with Persephone. The two girls acted as though the incident had been pushed out of their minds, which did not completely stop rumors from floating, but it slowed them considerably.

Daphne was still in a foul mood, but Draco thought the more at odds she was with Pansy the better.

Draco had mixed feelings about whether he actually liked sharing the study sessions with Pansy. It was nice to have someone else to keep Persephone on task, and Pansy did have a sharp eye for problems with his Potions proposal. Still, he felt as though he had to guard his conversations even more than before, which meant he did very little talking about the things he actually wanted to discuss. Pansy on the other hand had no reservations about speaking her mind and subjected them to her opinion on all manner of things.

"Pansy, why don't you come to the Forum?" said Persephone. "You've got so much to contribute."

Pansy shrugged eloquently. "I'm sorry, Persephone, I just think your Forum is too abstract. Everything you discuss is so distant and not really material to a student's daily life. I think it would be more practical if you discussed local issues, things more relevant to life at Hogwarts."

Draco buried himself more deeply in his charms text.

"Well, what sort of things?" Persephone asked sounding genuinely interested.

"I don't know," Pansy said airily. "Perhaps you could work on a new school song. The one we have now is dreadful."

"Oh! That's a splendid idea!" Persephone said with such enthusiasm that Pansy looked surprised and Madam Pince shushed them. "No, I really like it," she continued in a whisper. "I wanted the forum to have a really broad range from the beginning. It'll be good to discuss a school issue, and I think a lot of people will be really interested."

"Everyone could submit lyrics," Pansy said eagerly. "And we could vote on the best ones."

"That's perfect," Persephone agreed. "Will you come to the meeting, then? It's your idea after all."

Pansy hesitated. "Well, alright then. I'll come."

Persephone looked at Draco hopefully as well, but he excused himself from the meeting for Quidditch practice. The first Slytherin game of the season was that coming weekend.

Draco had met the new Ravenclaw seeker, Xavier Ekin, in the hall two days before match. Draco had at least two heads height on the boy, which did not seem to intimidate Ekin in the least. "Looking forward to the match Saturday. You ought to be a challenge," he said in very friendly way. Draco snorted dismissively in response, which did nothing to dampen Ekin's bright grin. Draco could not help thinking about how light he looked. He's built like a seeker.

Draco could not help but be heartened however when the Slytherin girls came to cheer on their last practice. He managed to catch the snitch in five minutes on his first try.

When Saturday rolled around, the crowd gathered around the pitch in the cool air, chanting and clapping and booing in turn. Draco could not help the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile.

A breathless Pansy ran up to him just outside the changing rooms. "Draco, Draco! Take this," she said, handing him a white silk handkerchief. "For luck," she said, blushing a bit.

He grinned at her. "Bit old fashion isn't it?"

Her face fell. "You think it's stupid," she said, reaching for the handkerchief.

"No," Draco said, whipping it out of her reach. "I'll wear it. For luck." He tucked the fabric into his uniform. Pansy beamed at him and ran back to the stands.

"Let's move out," Weatherby shouted. The Slytherin team followed him to the pitch where they mounted their brooms and circled once in formation. The Ravenclaws entered next and made their easy way to the starting marks. Except for Ekin, who shot into the air in a sharp high loop that made some in the crowd gasp and started the Ravenclaws chanting his name. Draco glared at the upstart who was riding a Firebolt and wearing an eager smile.

Draco scanned the crowd. He spotted Hermione who was cheering and talking excitedly to Weasley about something. Draco could not make out whom she was cheering for, but he could guess. Then his eyes found Pansy, who was also cheering and helping to hold up a banner with his name on it.

"Hey, Malfoy, pay attention," Enid called from beside him. Draco spared her an annoyed glance before he turned his eyes on Madam Hooch.

"Wait for the Quaffle," Hooch warned the anxious looking Ekin, before releasing the Snitch. Draco followed the tiny golden ball with his eyes, until it was completely out of view. The Quaffle jumped into the air, and Ekin shot off so quickly Draco was certain he had already spotted the Snitch. Draco flattened himself to his broom and followed Ekin through every whip and turn, hoping to get a hint of gold. But, however much he strained his eyes, he could not see it. It took him a full minute to realize there was nothing to see. Ekin was just flying randomly in hopes of coming across the Snitch.

With a surge of disgust, Draco broke off his chase and slowed his broom. His eyes were dried out from the constant wind of fast flight, and he blinked in an attempt to moisten them again.

"And Chesann Blampied scores the second goal for the Slytherin team!" Dennis Creevey announced. His high voice sounding even more excited than usual. Draco blinked a little more rapidly. Second goal? They were only a minute into the game. The Slytherins supporters began chanting Chesann's name. "Slytherins in possession of the Quaffle. Malfoy appears to be taking a break."

Draco shot a nasty look in Creevey's direction, before urging his broom forward once again. It soon became evident that he would not be catching the Snitch in five minutes this time. The golden ball was being coy.

Ekin did not seem to mind the absence of the Snitch. He was whizzing and juking around the field so fast that Draco thought he might miss the Snitch if it flew right in front of him.

This was just as well. By ten minutes in, the score stood eighty to zero in the Slytherins' favor. The Ravenclaws seemed to have abandoned all attempts to score and were focusing all their efforts on running interference against the Slytherin Chasers. This did slow Chesann and her cousins down a bit but not enough to keep them from scoring three more goals.

Draco thought he heard someone mutter his name and turned to look at Captain Weatherby, who had the lonely job of guarding the Slytherin goal. Without moving his head, Weatherby flicked his eyes twice to a place behind Draco. It took him half a second to get the message, but he turned and shot in the direction Jonathan had indicated. He spotted the Snitch a moment before Ekin, but Ekin was closer. The Ravenclaw seeker jerked in a tight turn that inspired a collective gasp from the crowd. Draco pushed his Timebender to its maximum speed, but it was too late. He was still a couple meters away when Ekin's hand closed around the Snitch.

Draco felt a sharp soundless moan rise up in his chest, and Dennis Creevey confirmed what he had just seen. "And Xavier Ekin catches the Snitch! One hundred and twenty points to one hundred and fifty! Ravenclaw wins!" There was a loud cheer at this sudden reversal, but the world suddenly became very quiet for Draco. He set down and was vaguely aware of his teammates dropping to the ground around him. The Ravenclaws had hoisted Ekin up on their shoulders.

The Slytherins were quiet at first, each chewing on their own disappointment. Draco walked off the pitch and heard footsteps run to catch up with him. "Rotten luck," Jonathan said, putting his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Bloody Snitch nearly flew up his nose. Good effort though." In a different voice he said, "Really dull game on my end! Did you see Chess score? Twelve goals in under twenty minutes! The other Keeper didn't know what had hit him!" He gave Draco's shoulder a last pat and fell back to spread words of cheer to the rest of the team. "It's only thirty points. They got lucky. We'll get the Snitch next time and make it up. You all were bloody fantastic! Hufflepuff won't stand a chance!"

Draco walked a little faster and collapsed onto the bench near the changing rooms. The other players flashed him sympathetic grins as they passed. Chesann had clearly been cheered up by Jonathan's praise, though Draco knew what she was thinking...just a few more goals and they could have been ahead....or if Draco had just caught the Snitch...

Pansy and the seventh year girls descended on the bench. "Nasty luck," Millicent said bolsteringly. She had her face painted green with silver S's on her cheeks.

Pansy put a hand on Draco's back consolingly. Draco had an urge to chuck his broom, but he feared he might damage the Timebender so he just jerked it angrily in the air. "It couldn't have been helped," Pansy said. "He was sitting right on top of it."

"We didn't lose by much," Alice said in bland sort of tone, as though this was the best anyone could say about the matter.

"Chesann was fantastic though, wasn't she?!" squealed Indigo.

"Where's Gregory?" Millicent asked. "I want to congratulate him."

Daphne made a face, which, thankfully, Millicent did not see. Draco made a half-hearted gesture towards the changing rooms. Millicent left to call him out, and the other girls stood around awkwardly for a moment until Pansy waved them away. Draco remembered Pansy's handkerchief. He pulled it out and handed it back to her. "Apparently, I needed more than luck."

Pansy looked sadly at her handkerchief, before tucking it away. "Don't get down on yourself, Draco. You'll make it up next game." Draco appreciated everyone's optimism, but he could not share it.

****************

He tried to resign later, but Jonathan feigned deafness until Draco gave up on that too. He sunk into his favorite spot on the leather couch and listened to the girls discuss lyrics for the new school song.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, our home away from home," Indigo sang, her singing voice as light and airy as her speaking voice. "I'd really like to continue this, but how to finish the song?"

The other girls laughed. Daphne pointed her wand at her dictation quill to make some adjustment. Pansy shrugged helplessly at Indigo's inquiring glance.

"I'm ruddy horrid at lyrics," Alice confessed. "I can hardly write a clear essay. If I had to do it in rhyme, I think my head would explode."

"It doesn't have to be in rhyme, does it?" asked Indigo.

"No," Pansy said. "But it should have some rhythm at least. It ought be catchy."

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts you uniforms are drab," Daphne sang with flourishing hand guestures. "Your halls are cold and drafty, and the meals are kind of bad. Your lessons uninspiring, the homework's quite a pain, but we might have gone to Durmstrang, so we ought not to complain." The girls howled even more loudly this time, and Draco could not help chuckling.

"Please be serious, Daphne," Pansy said, getting her giggles under control. "Draco, why don't you come up with something? You're clever with lyrics."

"I don't think so," he said, but the girls pleaded so he sighed and gave it a halfhearted try. He waved his hand like a lazy conductor but did not try to sing. "Oh, Hallowed Halls of Hogwarts." Alice and Daphne giggled.

"What does 'hallowed' mean anyway?" Pansy asked.

Draco put a finger to his lip in a thoughtful gesture. "You know, I haven't any idea, but I thought it sounded good."

"It's got some nice assonance," said Daphne.

"But shouldn't it mean something?" Indigo said. "Particularly in a something short like a song. Shouldn't every word have meaning?"

Draco shrugged.

****************

Persephone who was so encouraging in every other area hardly seemed to think losing a Quidditch match was worth her bother. "Well, it's just Quidditch," she said on the subject. "I think it's silly Jonathan won't let you leave the team, if that's what you want."

"Thanks," Draco said sarcastically.

"So how are things going with Granger?" asked Persephone.

"Lousy," said Draco. "I've tried being civil, but she's still not talking to me because you won't talk to Harry."

"Oh, I've given up," Persephone said. "He doesn't need me. And what have we really got to connect us anyway? Blood? That's not what makes a family. I don't think he really needs to know about me. It would just confuse him at this point."

"Glad to know I've been wasting my time," Draco muttered hotly.

"It's not a waste," Persephone insisted. "I don't know, maybe I will tell him eventually. I just don't want you to be waiting on me. If you want to get through to Granger, it may be time to take a slightly more active approach. Try to understand the things she cares about. Maybe that will help you talk to her."

"Books and House Elves?" Draco said. "How's that supposed to help?"

Persephone shrugged. "I've got to get to class." She took off in the direction of another corridor but stopped a few steps off and turned back around. "Oh, and Professor Snape wants you to come by his office when you have a moment."

"What for?" Draco asked, but Persephone just shrugged again.

****************

Professor Snape was grading papers at his desk when Draco knocked on his office door. "Come in."

"You asked for me, sir?" Draco said, entering cautiously. Snape looked up and the corners of his mouth twitched briefly into what might have been a smile. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Draco left the office door cracked open and took a seat, wondering if Snape was planning to interrogate him again.

Snape flicked his wand lazily and the door shut with a light but deafening clap. "The Americans are starting a Wizarding college, and I've been asked to recommend someone for their Potions program. Tuition will be provided, and there might be an assistant position to the professor that would cover living expenses. Do you think you would be interested?"

"You'd recommend me?" said Draco.

"You're third in class rank, and you have exemplary marks in Potions," said Professor Snape. "Besides it would be out of the country, and I thought that might interest you."

Draco understood what Snape was offering. A chance to escape and still keep up appearances. For a long minute, he considered taking it. But, it would mean another year like this one. Another year of guarding his words, making excuses to his parents, and spending every minute in dread. A new school probably would not provide all the old protections that Hogwarts did.

The alternative was to choose a life on the run, try to hide himself in a sea of Muggles or some forgotten forest. It was not an appealing life, but he thought he might have more of a chance running than sitting in a potions lab waiting for the Dark Lord to decide he was too much of a liability.

"No," Draco said, getting to his feet. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'm going to travel after I leave Hogwarts."

Snape considered Draco for a moment and then stood as well. "There are other options," he said carefully.

Draco had a feeling he knew what Snape was going to propose and shook his head. "Not for me," he said and slipped out of Snape's office before he could object.

****************

Draco sat down to breakfast between Crabbe and Blaise, still mystified as to what magic had called Zabini back from his self imposed exile and far too hungry to care. He made a large pile of eggs on his plate and hedged them with bread and bacon.

"Not hungry are you?" Pansy asked innocently.

"Ravenous," Draco said around his mouthful of eggs.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full," Indigo said. Draco and Pansy both looked at her. "Well, you shouldn't," she said in a smaller voice. "You could choke."

Draco could not think of anything to say to that so he turned back to his plate and chewed. Blaise smirked, and Pansy turned back to her own plate.

"I saw that Persephone's staying for Christmas," said Daphne.

"Really?" Pansy said. "I thought you might invite her to the manor, Draco."

"Oh, Draco's staying too," Daphne answered for him. "At least I saw your name on the list when I signed up?" She cast him a curious glance from beneath her brown crinkles.

Pansy scowled. "You're staying for Christmas?" Draco stuffed some bread into his mouth and nodded. "But your poor mother. That will leave her all alone," Pansy said disapprovingly though Draco doubted that was what really concerned her.

Draco shook his head. He finished chewing and swallowed before he spoke. "She won't be alone. She'll be visiting relatives or have relatives visiting or something like that."

Pansy's scowl did not relax, but she turned it on Daphne. "Why are you staying?"

"Don't want to go home," Daphne said as though there was nothing more to the matter, and considering Daphne, there may not have been.

"I'm looking forward to Christmas," Indigo said. "We're going to Lisbon."

"Ireland again," Alice groaned.

"Why are you staying?" Crabbe asked Draco, his brows furrowed to mirror Pansy's.

"I wanted to work on that project for Advanced Potions," Draco said.

"That's absurd," Pansy said. "The labs will be closed."

"Professor Snape will be here," Draco said. "I'll get him to let me in."

Pansy's scowl shifted into a thoughtful frown. "Maybe I should stay too," she said slowly.

"Oh, no, Pansy, you can't," Daphne said seriously. "Rose would be heartbroken."

Pansy looked torn, but Draco knew Daphne had used the one argument that would not fail to sway her.

"It'll be boring stuck here," Draco said helpfully. "I'll spend all my time in the lab or reading in my room."

"You sure you don't want us to stay with you?" Crabbe asked, looking anxious. Goyle was watching Draco intently past Crabbe's shoulder.

"No," Draco said lightly. "Go home, enjoy your holiday." For a moment, Draco thought Crabbe was going to say something else, but he didn't. Draco took another stab at his breakfast. "Out of curiosity, how do you get into the kitchens?" he asked as casually as he could.

"You just tickle the pear," said Goyle.

"There's a painting of a bowl of fruit just down the stairs from the entry hall," Crabbe clarified. "You want us to show you?"

"No," said Draco. "I think I can figure it out." Crabbe looked a little disappointed. "Don't want to go now anyway," Draco added.

Pansy was still interrogating Daphne. "Surely you're not planning to spend the entire holiday doing Potions?"

"What a horrid thought," said Daphne taking the scone for which Zabini had been reaching. "Lots of lounging and vapid girl talk, I hope. Someone's got to keep Persephone company while Draco turns into a swot."

"I'm not a swot," Draco protested.

Daphne brushed her hair away from her face. "Spending the holidays doing homework? Swotty McSwottswott."

Draco was about to retort, when a change came over Pansy's face. Her uncertain frown had melted into a cool expression aimed just past Draco's shoulder. He only had time to be curious when a familiar voice barked his name.

"Malfoy!"

Draco looked longingly at his half eaten breakfast, let out a brief sigh, and turned around. "Potter?"

"What were you doing at my house?" Harry demanded.

Draco just stared at Harry for a moment. He did not dare look at anyone else. He considered denying it, but Potter was certainly not going to play along. Why did he have or do this here, with everyone watching? "Looking for you, obviously," Draco said evenly. He felt the surprise and curiosity radiating from the other Slytherins but tried not to think about it.

"I wasn't there," said Harry with an air of challenge.

"And thus my brilliant plans were foiled," Draco drawled. He was so tired of this.

Potter looked like he wanted to hit him but was resisting. "Why were you looking for me?"

Draco smirked. Because I found your supposedly dead aunt in a painting in my attic. This would be hard enough to explain without the audience. On the far side of the room, Weasley and Granger, along with a handful of other Gryffindors, had stood for a better view, and heads were turning and the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Tell me anyway," Potter said stiffly. He seemed oblivious to all eyes.

Was this the purported Gryffindor bravery shining through? Draco wondered. Reckless, stupid, irritating lack of discretion. How freeing it must be to speak so openly. It would be a relief to just have the story out, but he had promised Persephone.

Draco shrugged and flicked his eyes about the Great Hall trying to remind Potter that they were being watched. "It doesn't matter anymore. You weren't there. I left." Please, let's talk about this later, corner me in some abandon hall or something.

"You weren't alone," Harry said.

Or just continue to press the issue now in full public view. I don't mind really. Not that he could blame Harry. This mess was mostly Persephone's fault. What had he promised her exactly? Draco ran his finger along his bottom lip. He could not remember. He just had this vague sense that he was supposed to keep her secrets, but he had not actually promised not to tell.

He was so tired of this. If Potter wanted everything out in the open, why not put everything out in the open. "No, I had your aunt for company," Draco said at last. He smirked a bit as he pictured Potter looking at him confused and dumbfounded.

This was not what happened however.

Harry had grabbed Draco by the collar and yanked him up so that he was half dangling over his seat, before Draco realized he was moving. "If you hurt her..." Potter began. He trailed off unable to think of an appropriate threat or unwilling to voice it. Draco was bewildered. Had Persephone told Potter what had happened? Surely not, she had not even come to breakfast, and if she had, why was Potter so angry at him.

Then, realization dawned. Harry Potter was talking about his other aunt. The one who clearly did not like him and wanted nothing to do with wizards. "Are you worried about those Muggles?" Draco asked. Potter's scowl deepened, maybe he thought he had just given some secret away. "Relax, Potter, I didn't touch them."

"You put a spell on Aunt Petunia," Potter hissed quietly.

"No, I didn't," Draco said softly, fixing his eyes on Harry's, willing him to see that he was being honest.

Potter seemed uncertain. He released Draco's collar and shoved him back into his seat. He brought his face close to Draco's and breathed so quietly Draco would have had to strain to hear if he was not already hyperaware of the moment. "If I hear differently. If you or your friends enter my house again, you're dead. Understand?"

It is not an uncommon thing for boys to threaten to kill each other. In most cases, it's a friendly exchange or a flippant one. Potter, however, did not look friendly or flippant. It was...enlightening, for lack of better term, to think Potter was capable of such dark ideas and to see him so protective of the Muggle family he claimed to despise.

The voice of Professor McGonagall cut into the sudden silence. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Professor," said Draco, his eyes flicked to her only momentarily before returning to Potter's. "Just a little misunderstanding." Harry broke away from Draco's gaze.

"Go back to your seat, Potter," McGonagall ordered. Potter shot Draco one last look before he turned away. McGonagall lingered a while longer. Draco had a feeling she was trying to decide if she should give detention or dock points. After all, the boys had not really been fighting. There had been no yelling or blows exchanged. She settled for giving Draco a warning glance before stalking back to the teachers' table. Draco would rather that she had stayed a bit longer. Anything to delay that awful moment when he would have to face his classmates.

But there was no delaying, and his breakfast was getting cold.

"You went to Potter's house?" echoed Millicent incredulously.

"Why?" Pansy asked. Curiosity was burning in the eyes of everyone around them.

"I can't tell," Draco said simply and stubbornly went back to eating his breakfast.

"Was...was it something for Him?" Pansy asked breathily. Draco did not have to ask who "Him" was.

Daphne took a sudden interest in the sugar bowl further down the table past Millicent, but everyone else was watching Draco intently. "If it was," Draco said slowly and softly. "I couldn't tell you, now could I?"

The other seventh years did not ask any more questions, but they all looked at him differently after that.

****************

Draco cleaned out his trunk that evening for a couple of reasons. The first being that it needed it, and the second because he had a tendency to be a bit snappy when he was cleaning. His dorm mates had learned to avoid him when he was on one of his binges, and he did not want Crabbe and Goyle to ask him about what happened at breakfast. As he was repacking his underwear, his hand fell across an unopened envelope. He stared at it for a minute, unsure why it was there, before he remembered he had never opened the letter his mother had sent him after The Quibbler article.

He had not heard from his mother since Halloween. Draco sat back on the stone floor and opened the letter.

Before he read, he knew the note was unusual. His mother's handwriting was generally graceful and pristine, the envy of any calligrapher. This letter was still in his mother's hand, but it did not have its usual grace. The words were slanted and slightly uneven, as though she had written it very quickly. The ink blotted in some spots as though the pen had not been held far enough off the paper between letters.

~

Dearest Draco,

Naturally I don't believe the rubbish printed on page 17 of this magazine. However, you should keep in mind that this is the sort of thing that can happen when you do not watch your actions and how they appear.

Also, my darling, I heard that there was a new girl at school with you. I don't know if you are familiar with the term Silver Child, but I know you are familiar with Veela. A Silver Child looks more normal, but I went to school with one. They have the ability to persuade which uses a magic beyond normal girlish charms. I am not saying you are necessarily in danger, but please be careful my beloved Draco. Do not trust too easily. Make sure every thought is your own.

It would ease my mind greatly, if you could write and tell me why you missed your train.

~N.M.

~

Draco reread the letter. Obviously she meant Persephone when she spoke of a Silver Child, but Persephone could not affect minds. Could she? He read the second paragraph over again. Unanswered questions and half-formed and forgotten suspicions returned in full force to the forefront of his mind. How many times in the past months had he gotten the feeling that something was not right and then pushed it aside? Make sure every thought is your own.

He got to his feet clasping the letter and hurried down to the common room. Persephone was sitting on the leather couch with Laurel and Chesann across from her and what might have been Arithmancy notes spread out on the coffee table between them. Chesann nudged Persephone, and she twisted around to look at him.

"Is this true?" Draco demanded, thrusting the letter at her. "Have you been messing with my head?"

Persephone's smile died as she took the letter from him and read it over. She looked up at Draco and then at the two sixth year girls. "Chess, do you think we could finish this later?" Persephone said. Laurel seemed inclined to linger, but Chesann gathered up their notes and dragged her off.

"This was why mother was so worried about me leaving the Quidditch team, because you don't like Quidditch," Draco said, his voice still felt hot.

"But you didn't leave," said Persephone.

"But I thought about it," Draco countered. "Was that because of you?" He had gotten used to her silver hair and eyes, but they struck him as strange and unnatural now.

"I can't affect minds," Persephone said, but there was something in her voice that left Draco unconvinced.

Draco leaned over the back couch, digging his fingers into the leather, and said in a low voice. "You made me bring you here."

"I didn't make you do anything," Persephone protested, making a clear effort to keep her voice down. "That was your idea."

"Was it?"

"Yes!"

Draco narrowed his eyes, still unconvinced. "Why is it the more time I spend with you, listening to you, the more I want you around? The more I trust you? The more I tell you things I shouldn't?"

"Isn't that how friendships normally go?" she asked. Her silver eyes searched his face.

There was a ring of truth to this that cooled him, but... "It's not just me. I've watched you do it to other people. They relax around you, say things they wouldn't normally. It's unnatural." He realized he had managed to cut her with the last word. The objection that had been forming on her lips died. She pressed them together, and her silver eyes began to glimmer with unshed tears.

He straightened up, annoyed with her and himself. This was exactly what his mother wanted of course, to divide them. He snorted in a bemused sort of way. If one person was not trying to control him, it was another. "I'm so tired of this. Forget it," he said. He swung his legs over the back of the couch and flopped down onto its familiar contours. "I don't care if you are messing with my head. You're not the reason I left."

Persephone watched him uncertainly, but Draco kept his eyes on the ceiling. It was a beautiful ceiling, translucent green stone that formed a shallow dome. The Slytherin common room was under the lake though not deeply so, and faint light patterns danced across the ceiling as the water overhead rippled and churned. There were protections upon protections to keep the ceiling from collapsing and flooding the common room, but Draco pictured it doing just that. The water would fall as hard and heavy as the stones it had broken away at first, then it would fill the space and all would be calm and cold.

It had been tempting to blame Persephone and to think there was a way back to the home he had left behind. But he had to face the truth. He had chosen to leave their world, and he could not trust his parents anymore. They were Voldemort's. He let out a bitter laugh. "You know, I honestly thought she was worried about me for a moment."

"Maybe she is," Persephone said softly. "Maybe she believes it. When I was younger, someone wrote a stupid article about me and suggested that I had lots of friends because I was charmed by that song spell. Like I couldn't make friends on my own. Like Lucius had nothing to do with it. Maybe Narci believed it. She always sent me to ask the teachers for favors. Maybe she thought I was messing with Lucius's head, and now I've gone for yours."

Draco looked at her. "Why did you tell me that?"

"I didn't want someone else to tell you."

"How does it go?" Draco asked.

"How does what go?"

"The song spell."

Persephone looked as though she would rather do anything in the world than sing it, but he stared at her steadily. She screwed her face as though about to eat something a troll with unwashed hands had prepared and spoke rather than sang the words. "Silver child with hair quite wild, radiant and splendid, a clever girl, a charming girl, a girl that's well befriended."

He studied her, his mind clinking together all the arguments and evidence. "And this was the charm powerful enough to turn your hair and eyes that way?"

"Yes," said Persephone defensively. "But that doesn't mean I have any special powers of influence."

Draco smiled indulgently at her. "You're delusional. But let us take comfort in our delusions."

She frowned at him. "What does that mean?"

"You believe what you want," Draco said. "And I'll pretend my mother really worries about me."

"I'm sure she does," Persephone said, and her face was sympathetic again.

They sat in silence for at least half an hour after that. Persephone attempted to study her Arithmancy notes, and Draco stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to fall. "I wasn't an only child by choice, you know," he said to the ceiling. Persephone looked up from her notes. "Mother and Father tried to have another child for years. Mother had at least three miscarriages after I was born. One of them got eight months along before it died." Draco had been seven at the time. He remembered finding his mother sitting by the empty cradle pale as a ghost in her ivory dressing grown. She had seemed so sad and distant that it frightened him. That image of her was burned white upon his mind and shaded all his thoughts when they turned to her.

"Poor Narci," Persephone murmured.

"You pity her?" Draco said, taking his eyes off the ceiling. "After what she did to you?"

"I know it sounds strange," Persephone said. "But I feel like I owe her an apology. I tend to come off as flirting even when I don't mean too sometimes. Maybe she thought I was trying to steal Lucius away, and I should have told her that I wasn't. I feel like it's my fault for causing confusion. If I hadn't given her any reasons to feel jealous, maybe she wouldn't have done what she did."

"Maybe," Draco said. "But she's still the one who did it. You're not the one who needs to apologize."

Persephone sniffed and bit her lip. Her eyes suddenly shimmering with unshed tears. "I want to go back and do it over so badly. I want us to be friends again, but we can't go back can we?"

"No," Draco agreed. "We can't go back."

****************

Time stubbornly refused to reverse or even pause. Draco found himself in the middle of exams. He did well enough in the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, except that he still could not manage a corporeal patronus. He felt a sense of satisfaction when he managed to conjure a tea set as nice as Goyle's and not missing pieces like Potter's. Charms went smoothly, which was almost disappointing because Charms exams often had the most entertaining disasters.

The Potions exam was mostly written. Draco's quill hand was cramping by the end of it. Professor Snape had paced the classroom for much of it, prowling for anyone unwise enough to cheat on his exam.

"Time's up," Snape announced. Draco's aching hand did a relieved dance, which made Pansy smirk. "Turn in your exam papers and your final proposals." Snape took a seat at his desk and watched as the students file up to drop off their parchments. Draco was one of the first in line right behind Hermione. The press of students had brought him with a couple of inches from her. He was tempted to accidentally bump into her, but he didn't. Hermione dropped her parchment and sharply whipped away from the desk, and the opportunity was gone. He went back to his seat to retrieve his book bag.

"And I would like you to see me in my office after class, Ms. Granger," Snape said as though he had forgotten to mention it earlier.

"No!" Hermione protested in a startled tone.

Draco looked at her along with everyone else in the room.

"What did you say?" Snape asked, looking nearly as confused as the rest of them.

"No," Hermione repeated, firmly this time. "I'm not staying after class."

Snape considered her for a moment, while Hermione stared defiantly back at him. Draco tried to figure out what he had missed.

"Very well, then," said Snape. "Mr. Longbottom, you will stay."

Neville went a little paler, but Draco was not worried about Neville. He watched Hermione as she stormed out with Potter on her heels.

"What was that all about in Potions?" he tried asking her before the Astronomy exam.

"Nothing to do with you, Malfoy," she said snappily. It was still more than she had said to him in weeks.

****************

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Pansy asked when they were saying goodbye in the front hall.

"No," Draco said, tucking her scarf into a more effective position. "Rose would never forgive me if I kept you. Go home and have a lovely Christmas. I'll see you again soon enough." Pansy gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek and Daphne a pointed look. Persephone was across the hall exchanging goodbye hugs with some of the sixth year girls.

"Bye, Draco. Bye, Draco." Crabbe and Goyle grunted as they passed.

"Bye," Draco said. "Bye," he repeated to Pansy and dropped his hands from her shoulders. She gave him a sad smile and followed the other students out the great doors.

When the last trickle of students had finished flowing out of the entry hall, the great doors shut with a loud clank and Draco found himself alone in the entry hall with Daphne. She threw her arms around his shoulders in a mock seductive pose. "So do you want to have that scandalous affair that Pany's so worried about?"

"Not really," Draco said dully.

Daphne let out a loud peel of laughter and patted Draco's shoulder. "How about a late breakfast?"

"Sure," he said and followed her into the Great Hall. There were perhaps thirty other students staying for Christmas, but only five Slytherins. The Deys were leaving as they entered and Persephone was nowhere in sight, so Draco had a quiet meal with Daphne. They parted ways afterwards.

Draco kept to himself as much as he could for the next couple days, hiding out in his dorm room and the Potions lab. He did manage to get a fair bit of reading done, but he had never felt that the holidays were an appropriate time for productivity. On the third day, he felt restless and took a long walk through the empty corridors. The red and green hung around the castle made him ache for home to the point of being physically painful.

There were still remnants of the Yule Ball decorations littering the castle. A few of the suits of armor still sang carols when they passed, though McGonagall had improved them so they no longer forgot the words. Draco had never paid much attention to the lyrics before, but he was in such a state that "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" nearly drove him to tears. Comfort and joy seemed like such distant things.

Draco was not sure what he thought about God or death or religion in general. The immediate complications of life demanded too much of his attention. He had a vague sense that he believed in God, but he wasn't sure he liked the fellow.

He paused when he heard approaching footsteps. Hermione rounded the corner. Her steps faltered for a very brief moment when she saw him. He moved to one side to let her pass, and she did so, following their normal routine by avoiding looking at him. Draco did not look away this time though. He watched her openly while she stared determinedly at the wall. She was not wearing her school robes, but still had her S.P.E.W. badge fixed to her red jumper. Draco opened his mouth as she passed but could not think of anything to say until he was staring at the back of her head. He felt silly calling after her, so he let the "Happy Christmas" die on his lips.

"Spew," he murmured to himself when she was out of sight and headed for the kitchens.

****************

Draco had never been in the Hogwarts kitchens before. He had always sent Crabbe or Goyle down when he wanted something. They seemed so eager to go. The kitchens were roughly the size of the Great Hall, complete with the four long tables, and there was no corner in the room that did not contain a busy house-elf.

One of the little creatures scampered up to him. "Does the young master require something?"

Draco had always been taught that the proper way to speak to a house-elf was to address the air at eye level of where a wizard should be and only look at the creature if necessary. "Not at the moment, I just want to have a look around," he said. At the far end of the kitchen was a great fireplace with a roaring fire. Pots and skillets hung inside it on hooks and racks or just hovered unaided above the flames. Shiny pots hung around the walls glistening in the firelight.

Draco forced himself to look at the little elf, who was still watching him patiently. He was dressed in a white tea towel with the Hogwarts crest embroidered on it. The other house-elves were wearing the same uniform, and Draco thought it looked much better than the dirty rags the house-elves at home had worn. Another house-elf scurried up to him with a tray of strawberry tarts, and Draco took one. It was not simply their uniforms that set these house-elves apart from the ones at the Malfoy Manor. It was their attitude. They looked very eager and happy as though they had the best jobs in the world. There was none of the crouching and trembling Draco was used too. No hint of underlying resentment.

He took a bite out of his strawberry tart and sat down on the floor so that he was closer to eye level with the elves. "Can I ask you something?" he addressed first elf.

"Of course, sir," the elf squeaked.

"Do you know Hermione Granger?" he asked.

The two house-elves exchanged disapproving frowns. "We know of her, sir," the first elf said.

"Could you tell me about her?" Draco asked.

"Well...she is being a witch, sir," the second elf began. Draco almost laughed, because it was pretty obvious to him the elf was having difficultly describing her without saying anything critical. "And we are thinking this is her last year at Hogwarts, sir," said the first elf a little more brightly.

"I know that," Draco said. "I was wondering if you could tell me--"

"DON'T YOU BE TELLING HIM A THING ABOUT HERMIONE GRANGER!" A new voice screamed. Draco looked up to see the oddest assortment of colors coming at him in a house-elf sized blur. "HE IS A VERY BAD BOY, HE IS! WICKED BOY!" Draco scrambled back to avoid the knobby arms flying at him. A crowd of house-elves had gather to restrain the belligerent one.

"Hermione Granger is a good girl!" the angry elf continued as he struggled in the others grasps. "And you is not to be telling him anything about her! He is a bad dark wizard, he is!"

"You is not be saying such things, Dobby," the first elf told him sternly. "You is to be behaving, or we is to be telling the headmaster he should not let you be visiting anymore."

"Dobby?" Draco repeated, trying to recognize the elf underneath his odd assortment of hats and scarves. "I remember you. You used to belong to my father."

"Dobby is belonging to no one now!" the elf shouted proudly. "Dobby is a free elf!" Some of the other elves shuddered as though he had just said something dirty.

"I remember," Draco said. "But what are you doing here?"

"Dobby has come to visit Harry Potter," the elf said fiercely. "Harry Potter is a friend to Dobby, and so is Miss Hermione Granger. And I is not letting you hurt her!"

"I'm not trying to hurt her!" Draco protested.

Dobby had stopped struggling so hard against the other elves and narrowed his large green eyes suspiciously at Draco. "Dobby is not trusting you. Dobby remembers his old masters plots. Dobby knows his old masters served the dark lord. Dobby thinks the young master is just as wicked as his father. The Malfoys are bad dark wizards."

The other house-elves looked horrified by what Dobby had said, and some of them were starting to give Draco suspicious glances of their own. "You should not be saying such things, Dobby," the first elf said again, but he was also eyeing Draco uncertainly.

Draco felt stung. He wanted to defend his family name, but he was uncertain how. His father was proud of being a dark wizard after all. "What did I ever do to you?" he said instead.

"You pulled Dobby's ears til they was red and sore," the house-elf supplied.

Draco searched his memory for when this particular incident had occurred. "I was three!"

"And when you is seven, you is kicking Dobby," the elf continued. "And when you is eleven you is throwing things at him."

Draco could not remember the particular instances, but he knew there was a good chance the elf was speaking the truth. "I'm sorry," he said, not really feeling sorry, but he thought it might shut the elf up.

"You is what?" Dobby said, clearly startled. The other elves let go of him, but Dobby did not move.

"I said I'm sorry," Draco repeated. "I'm sorry I kicked you, and I'm sorry I pulled your ears."

Dobby just blinked at him a few times, then he narrowed his eyes. "You is never being sorry before."

"Well, I am now," Draco said irritably.

"Dobby is still not trusting you," the elf said.

"Fine," Draco said. "I didn't ask you to."

"Why is you here?" the elf was calm now, but still very suspicious. "Why is you asking about Hermione Granger?"

"I wanted," Draco began. "I wanted to know what you, what the house-elves, thought about sp-, about S.P.E.W."

There was a collective groan and shudder from the elves at these words. "We is not wanting paying!" one of them protested loudly.

"We is not wanting freeing!" came another.

"Well, what do you want?" Draco asked. It was an odd conversation. The house-elves were not used to expressing their own desires, and it took quite a bit of prodding and careful questions to get anything out of them. Dobby continued to glower at Draco throughout, so he avoided the topic of Hermione Granger.

****************

It was nearly dinnertime when Draco emerged from the kitchens, and he headed up to the Great Hall. Daphne and Persephone were sitting on either side of Victoria Dey, and Draco took a seat cross from them next to Thomas.

"Where have you been?" Daphne demanded. Not waiting for an answer she continued. "Don't go running off tomorrow night. You're expected in the common room at eight."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"We're having a recital," Persephone said brightly, her arm was draped over Victoria's shoulder.

"Lovely," Draco said as the food appeared. He took something hot and meaty off the nearest platter and passed it to Victoria who did likewise. He glanced across the room at the Gryffindor table. They looked tired and out of sorts. Hermione cast a dark look in the Slytherins' direction as she spooned a mound of potatoes onto her plate. "Lovely," Draco murmured again as he turned back to the table. Maybe he would try talking to her after Christmas.

"Victoria is going to dance for us," said Daphne, clearly looking for a reaction from him.

And she got one. "Dance?" Draco repeated. He looked at Victoria.

"Ballet," Thomas supplied. Victoria avoided Draco's eyes and looked at her brother instead.

"Victoria's does her own choreography," Persephone said. "You'll come won't you, Draco?"

Draco nodded.

****************

Draco spent most of the next day in the common room playing wizards chess with Thomas so he could not be accused of running away. The girls were enjoying themselves. At least Persephone and Daphne were clearly enjoying themselves. Draco doubted that Victoria could giggle if she wanted to, but she put up no resistance to the other girls fussing. Draco was sure if Victoria did not want to dance, she was capable of making that very clear.

When Thomas got up to put the board away, Persephone collapsed dramatically into his empty seat as though the preparations had worn her out.

"Is that what you meant when you said Victoria doesn't want to be a witch?" Draco asked. "She wants to be a ballerina."

Persephone smiled and nodded. "I caught her looking at pictures of them in the library, in the Muggle Studies section. She's taught herself quite a bit. She finally told me she had seen a tour group of them while her family was still living in Africa, and she's been reading everything she could about them since."

"I'm sure her father approves."

Persephone frowned. "I'm sure he wouldn't. You do understand this is still a secret recital," she said in a lower voice. "It took a lot of coaxing for Victoria to agree to show anyone, so don't go telling all your mates about it. I promised her you wouldn't."

"Tell them that the school dueling champion who strikes fear into the hearts of fifth years secretly aspires to be a ballerina? No one would believe me if I did," said Draco.

Persephone gave him an admonishing look. "Good, because I think she's rather nervous," she said. "And I really want her to feel special tonight. She deserves to have a special night, so I don't want you making fun of her."

"I wouldn't dare," Draco said truthfully, a bit annoyed that Persephone seemed to think he might.

After dinner, they cleared out a wide area before the fireplace and arranged some chairs and one of the couches for the small audience. If Victoria was nervous, she dealt with her nervousness by wrapping herself in an aura of indifference. She came down the stairs carrying a large carved wooden music box and wearing a white leotard and white tights. Daphne had loaned her the white leotard, and Persephone had transfigured it to fit Victoria's smaller frame.

Victoria set the music box down on a shelf and opened it in a ceremonial fashion. The music was pretty but haunting. The notes were too far in range to have been produced by purely mechanical means. Without looking at anyone in her audience, she struck a formal pose in the center of the open area before the fire and began to dance.

When they were eight, Pansy and Daphne had gone through a short-lived phase where they wanted to be ballerinas and had subjected Draco and their mothers to a recital. About half way through, they had collapsed over one another in a fit of giggles. This recital was nothing like that one. There was nothing uncertain or haphazard in Victoria's movements, and no one felt like giggling. Pansy and Daphne had spent most of their time watching and prompting their audience for approving nods and claps. Victoria seemed entirely absorbed in her dancing as though nothing else in the world existed but her body, the stone floor, and the music box.

Draco had been to the Russian ballet with his mother, and Victoria was not nearly that good. Still, she was graceful and there was a precision to her movements that told him this was well-rehearsed dance. He doubted the image of her lithe little body even darker against her white leotards dancing to the music box with the large flickering fire behind her would ever leave his mind. There was something immensely tragic to her dancing that seeped into his bones. He had an image of her practicing in secret in her dorm room to the same little tune on the music box. He knew that she would never be a true ballerina. She had the talent and the drive. But his mother had told him that most professional ballerinas started their lessons when they were three or five and studied for years under the strictest masters. Even if she might be able to catch up now, by the time Victoria was seventeen and free to pursue lessons she would be hopelessly behind.

As she rolled her torso to the music with her arms in a great circle, he pictured her as grown woman, still hiding away in her room to practice her secret dance to the music box. She was the sort of stubborn sufferer who would do just that kind of thing. An Anderson style heroine with her bittersweet fairy tale dance. There was something very tragic about even the most successful ballerina in Draco's mind. He recalled the way his mother spoke of them. Ballerinas were like fairies, lovely to look at but really of no consequence in the grand scheme of things.

He had abandoned his own pipe dreams of being a professional seeker, because his father had seemed to feel much the same way about them. Quidditch was very important while one was at school, but to treat it as anything more than a pastime as an adult was pure folly.

Victoria turned sharply on her toes and came out of the turn with one arm and leg outstretched. The music box fell silent, and Daphne and Persephone whistled and applauded loudly. Draco and Thomas clapped with more reserved. Victoria walked back over to the music box and closed it. Persephone and Daphne both hugged her and went into such a babble that Draco felt he was not required to do much more than give her a smile. Victoria did not smile, but Draco thought she looked less tense than usual.

****************

"Wake up, Draco! It's Christmas!"

Draco woke with a start and waved his arms to ward off the two blurry weights that had jumped on his bed. One blur resolved itself into something silvery. The other was sort of stripy. Daphne seemed to have been unable to decide what color to make her hair that morning and had a bit of each shade streaked through.

"Are you planning to stay in bed all day?" Daphne asked as she slid onto the covers beside him.

Draco sat up and retreated towards his pillow, pulling the blankets with him. "That was the general plan, yes."

"You can't sleep through Christmas," Persephone said.

"What are you doing in here anyway? You're not supposed to be in the boys dorm," Draco groused. "Get out before I give you both detention."

"With Snape?" Daphne said hopefully.

"With Filch," Draco said coolly.

"You're no fun," Daphne pouted and hopped off the bed. "I'm going downstairs."

Persephone just pulled her knees up onto the covers. "I'm not letting you stay in bed all day and mope. Victoria and Thomas are already down in the common room. Now get dressed."

"Look, Persephone, today's going to be depressing enough without watching everyone else open presents," said Draco. "I'd really rather go back to sleep and wake up tomorrow."

"You've got presents," Persephone said quietly. "Besides since we can't spend today with our families, I thought it might be nice to spend it with each other." The sad, distant look she had was worse than tears.

Draco sighed and sat up in bed. "I've got presents, huh?" he said. "Fine, I'll be down in a minute."

Persephone's face lit up with a smile, and she skipped out of the room. Slytherin girls really ought to come with warnings, Draco thought as he got dressed.

Daphne was already stretched out on the couch when Draco got downstairs, holding up a very expensive looking white sweater. She pulled it on over her other clothes, admiring the subtle contrast between the white of her sweater and the white of her leggings. "Look who's decided to be friendly," she said in acknowledgement of Draco, before reaching for another box in the pile gathered on one end of the couch. "And this is from Sergio. I met him in Venice last--oh, look how sweet." She held up a small silver heart shaped locket with what was probably a real diamond set in to the front. "Mm, and he sent a picture, look. Isn't he yummy?" She handed Persephone a photograph of a very good-looking and clearly Italian wizard at least ten years older than Daphne.

"Isn't he a little young for you?" Draco asked as he sunk down in an armchair.

Daphne stuck her tongue out at him. She finished fastening the delicate silver chain around her neck and adjusted the pendant before taking another box. Persephone was holding a very thick book lovingly in her lap. Draco felt a little bad that he had not got her anything for Christmas, but then he had not got anyone anything. "Who's that from?" he asked, indicating the book.

"Oliver," Daphne answered for her with a small dramatic sigh. "Looks like he's a swot too. A book for Christmas."

"Oh, but I love it!" Persephone said hugging the book to her chest.

"You're all swots," Daphne said in a despairing tone and tossed a wadded ball of wrapping paper over Persephone's head. Draco noticed that neither of the Dey children had any boxes piled next to them. He rummaged under the tree to see if they had missed something.

"Persephone, you've got quite a pile under here."

"Do I?" She sounded surprised.

"Yeah, come look." Draco was distracted by a large, flat box with his name on it. "I've got one from my mother."

"You sound surprised," said Daphne. "Is she still that mad at you?"

"I guess we'll find out," Draco said, giving Persephone a meaningful glance.

"Well, open it," she encouraged him.

Draco felt everyone's eyes on him, so he unwrapped the package and opened it. "Dress robes?"

"Oo, let me see!" Daphne twisted on the couch for a better look, and Draco held up the box containing the silver robes so that she could have better look. "Look at those lines, magnifique! Those have to be Archipelo."

"What's Archipelo?" Victoria asked.

"Designer," Daphne supplied. "He usually weaves some nice enchantments into the fabric."

"Do you think they could be cursed?" Draco asked Persephone in an undertone, using the box to shield his lip movements.

"I don't think so," Persephone said, taking the robes gingerly with her fingers. She frowned thoughtfully as she examined them. "If anything, I think they have extra protections on them."

"That's a little strange," Draco said, taking the robes back to look them over.

"That's going to be a perfect color on you," Daphne said, still cooing over the robes.

"You open something," Draco told Persephone, wanting to take the attention off himself.

"Well, I don't--oh mon! Are these all for me?!"

Draco could not help thinking about the protections on the robes. He touched the smooth fabric, unable to sense the magic as Persephone had, but trusted her assessment. Any relief he might have felt that his mother was trying to protect him was over shadowed by the thought that she seemed to believe he needed extra protections.

"This one's for you," Persephone said handing him another box. She seemed to be distressed rather than delighted by her own pile. "I didn't get anyone anything. I feel horrible."

"You didn't have an opportunity," Draco said, though he knew exactly how she felt. It seemed his friends had not written him off their Christmas lists yet, and he knew they would be disappointed not to have gotten anything in return.

"I just don't have any money," Persephone whimpered. "What am I going to do?"

"Don't worry about it, Sephi," Daphne assured her. "Everyone will understand. Ah! These are from Antoine. He didn't send me a picture, but I've got one of him up in my room."

"I'd like to see it," Persephone said, finally choosing a box from her pile to unwrap and handing a second one to Victoria.

Daphne finished putting her new diamond earrings in her holes. Draco remembered her ears had been unadorned when he came in, as though she had been expecting the gift. She raised her wand lazily. "Accio picture," she said and a few second later it fluttered into the room.

"You've reached new heights in lethargy," Draco said.

Daphne decided to take it as compliment. "Just think of it as being efficient." She stretched luxuriously and sent the photograph to Persephone. "I'm not sure which one I like better, but no one said I have to choose." She laughed and made a show of how her earrings and pendant complimented one another. "It's almost like they got together and coordinated." Draco smirked. He suspected that Daphne had done the coordinating.

"He's very good looking," Persephone said, indicating the photograph.

"He's all right," Daphne said. "Do you have any pictures of Oliver?" Persephone shook her head, and Daphne pouted. "I want to see him. He's not ugly, is he?"

Persephone gave her a patient look. "No, he's just camera shy."

"Well, tell him to get over it," Daphne groused. "I want to know what he looks like."

Draco let out an amused snort. "Didn't you get anything, Victoria?" he asked to cover himself. He noticed she had handed the box she had unwrapped back to Persephone.

"Our father doesn't believe in Christmas," said Victoria.

"You know, Victoria. I'm starting not to like your father very much," said Draco. Victoria did not say anything, but she raised her eyebrows at him. Thomas looked at the ground. Draco wondered if he perhaps he should not have said anything, but he had never hated a man so much without having met him.

"From my uncle," Daphne said flatly, holding up a thin gold bracelet banded with small pearls. "I'm mad at him. I didn't go home for Christmas, because he was going to be there." She gave the bracelet a contemptuous look, as though her uncle's attempt to buy back her affections bored her. "You said you didn't get anything, Victoria? Here." She tossed the bracelet to Victoria as though glad to be rid of it. Draco was used to Daphne's casual generosity, but Victoria was taken off guard by it. She picked up the bracelet gently, the white pearls and bright gold contrasting against her dark skin. She looked at it and Daphne as though she had never seen something so strange.

"You can have this, Thomas," Draco said, pushing the box of sweets Crabbe had given him towards the younger Dey.

Persephone managed to bestow a few gifts from her own pile on each of them as well. They made a breakfast of the various sweets they had received. Afterwards, Daphne went about writing thank you letters to Sergio and Antoine, and Draco let Thomas set up the model Quidditch pitch Goyle had given him. Victoria seemed transfixed by the small pile of gifts she had acquired. Persephone put on her coat and disappeared from the common room. Draco found her through a window later and watched her transfigure piles of snow into ornaments.

She came back, her arms laden with crystal ornaments. "It's not much," she moaned. "But it's all I could think of." She gave one to each of them, a dragon for Draco and a ballerina ornament for Victoria.

"They're very pretty," Draco told her. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"You gave me the best present ever already!" Persephone said, giving him a hug. "You're exempt for life." Draco did his best to ignore the intrigued look Daphne was giving them.

They went to lunch together when the time came. Draco still felt rather melancholy, but the rest of them seemed to be in Christmas spirits. He suspected even Victoria was happy. Though neither she nor Thomas was smiling, Victoria was not exuding her usual dark aura, and Thomas was walking with a lighter step.

He sat next to Thomas at the table. A few people from the other houses wished Persephone a Happy Christmas, and she returned the sentiments enthusiastically. Now that she had her ornaments to give as thank you gifts, she was waxing on the generosity and other wonderful qualities of her gift givers. Draco turned to look with the others as Persephone and Ginny Weasley shouted Happy Christmas to each other. Ginny had come in with Potter and Hermione and her brother. The wunderkinder were all wearing Weasley sweaters. Hermione's was sporting an "HG" and Potter's an "HB" in interlocking letters.

Daphne seemed to be following his thoughts. "HB? Do you think mother Weasley has forgotten how to spell?" she asked snidely.

"It's for Head Boy," Persephone said, her attention focused on her new book.

"How do you know?" Draco asked. He figured she was right, but it was more fun thinking Mrs. Weasley had blundered.

Persephone shrugged. "Just a guess."

Draco was trying to remember if he had ever seen a Weasley sweater on Hermione before and wondering why it made him a bit irritable to see one now, when she turned suddenly and started walking towards them.

"Mudblood approaching," Daphne murmured. Persephone looked up and beamed at Hermione. Hermione was smiling pleasantly enough, but Draco had watched her long enough to tell that the smile was forced.

Hermione glanced at the thick book in Persephone's hand. "New book?"

"Oh yes, it's my Christmas present from Oliver!" Persephone said brightly. "David Copperfield."

"Charles Dickens?" Hermione said, sounding intrigued.

Persephone nodded vigorously. "He's my favorite, and I've never read this one."

"So you like Muggle literature?" Hermione asked cocking an eyebrow. Persephone nodded. "That's nice. Ever read Lolita?"

Draco had never heard of Lolita, but it seemed to hold some significance for Persephone. Her smile vanished. "No, I haven't."

Daphne tossed her party colored hair. "I have," she said, giving Hermione her own false smile. "Nabokov has an incredible way with the language, don't you think?"

The triumph left Hermione's face. She gave Daphne a disgusted look and walked away.

"What was that all about?" Draco asked. Persephone did not answer him. Hermione had clearly upset her. She sat still for a few minutes, thinking hard about something, then got to her feet.

"Excuse me," Persephone said before standing and walking out of the Great Hall. Daphne had been watching her and now Draco with her lips parted and something clearly on her mind as well. Draco ignored her and forced a conversation with Thomas.

****************

He did not see Persephone until much later that evening. He was beginning to really worry about her, when she walked into the common room and came straight to him. "I told him," she announced simply.

"Oh," Draco said. "Good."

She gave him a small smile. "Well, I think I'm going to bed now, goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said. "And Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."