Transition

The end of the term drew closer. Outside the castle walls snow fell lightly, but the cold did not stop the students from taking walks on the open grounds. Harry Potter was in one such group, dressed in deep blue, holding a glass of iced pumpkin juice and giving a toast to his teammates. Although he secretly felt guilty at the impromptu celebration, the Gryffindor team certainly deserved to celebrate their victory for thrashing the Slytherins.

Ron, their captain, stood up as soon as Harry sat and made his own speech. “So, we have several more matches to go, and hopefully my foresight and my ability in … tactics,” he glanced slyly at Harry, “will lead us to getting our hands on the Cup!”

The group settled down and began talking about the upcoming matches and the trip to Hogsmeade just before their Christmas holidays started. Harry leaned back against the tree trunk and watched as small snowflakes descended on everything about them. He particularly loved the way the tall ancient trees of the forest looked during the winter, for their forbidding exterior was softened by the whiteness of the snowflakes.

A girl was walking slowly towards them and Harry identified the witch as Hermione. She smiled winsomely at him as he raised his glass at her. “I’ve just received a letter from my parents; they say I can stay here for the holidays,” she informed him as soon as she was within talking distance.

“You could come back to The Burrow with me, you know. You too, Harry,” Ron said wistfully, looking first at his girlfriend before turning his gaze to the emerald-eyed Gryffindor Seeker.

Harry managed a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It’s all right. I can’t go back – Snape forced me to stay.”

“What?” several of his friends exclaimed at once.

“Because of your peer-tutoring?” Ginny said, aghast.

“Well … I hope that’s the reason,” Harry said nervously. “And I’m doubly glad that Hermione is staying in Hogwarts as well.”

“Break-time is almost over; we should go back,” Hermione suggested.

Harry lagged behind the others to enjoy the view and the trek back to the castle. He was preoccupied with watching two owls in flight when he heard Hermione clearing her throat discreetly. He looked down at her with some surprise.

The girl smiled and then looked at him knowingly. “I hope you’re not staying back for Malfoy,” she said quietly.

Harry should know that he shouldn’t be taken aback by Hermione’s shrewdness and her observant nature, but still couldn’t help the feeling as though someone had punched him in the stomach.

“Uh … no,” he answered timidly.

“Good. I just hope that you know why you have made your choices,” the witch said cryptically. “But Harry, if Ron ever comes to know…” her voice trailed off and fear showed on her face but she shook it off. “If Ron knows … you might lose him.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, stunned by her words. Hermione merely looked at him and he found the strength to drag his feet one by one, to carry him across the courtyard.

“So … take caution, Harry. If you and he decide you still want to be together, after graduation, just keep it silent for a few years until Ron and the rest of his siblings have healed their hearts, and their hatred for the Malfoys has turned into petty grudges,” she advised him, looking at him peculiarly.

“I don’t think they are capable of dismissing their hatred as ‘petty grudges’, Hermione,” Harry said softly. He remembered how Fred and George mourned for their girlfriends – Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet – both whom had been killed, together with their family members.

“But Draco wasn’t part of it all,” Hermione said with some heat. “And what he did to us was nothing more than sheer arrogance and the need to be recognized.” Her words made him remember Snape’s experience with his father and his friends. Harry nodded in understanding.

“Hermione, I don’t want to be rude or anything,” he said with a small frown, “but are you all right?” She gave him a strange look. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“What?” she demanded crossly. “What do you mean I don’t sound like myself?”

“Well … you seem to … project mysticism just now.”

Hermione’s expression became thoughtful. “This is the second time today someone has said odd things about me,” she informed him wryly. Harry tilted his head inquisitively to one side. “Well, Trelawney came down and told me that it is disturbing that I am exuding tremendous waves of energy. Well, I was huffing when I came down the stairs.”

Harry shrugged his incomprehension but a thought drifted in his mind. Maybe Hermione was damaged in some ways during the war, like Ginny.

Harry woke early on Christmas morning. Out of the five boys who shared the dormitory, only he had stayed behind. Feeling refreshed after his brief hot shower and dressing up in clean clothes, he looked around for Hedwig. A fond smile curved his lips as he watched his owl snooze on her perch by the window. Then he noticed a small note on his table, weighted down by the cerulean candle he had bought during Halloween. He picked the small slip and read it quickly. It was from Snape.

He scratched his chin and wondered what the wizard wanted from him. He shrugged and went out of the silent dormitory. Hermione was not in the common room when he went down; there was only a bleary-eyed second year wizard who was opening his present.

He looked under the Christmas tree and found six parcels addressed to him. He grinned when he saw a huge brown parcel with a red ribbon. He was sure that they were from the Weasleys. He gathered the boxes and was about to head upstairs when he heard a girl’s voice telling him to wait. It was Hermione, who had just entered the common room. The witch smiled at him and he greeted her cheerfully. She was carrying a basket of scones and cakes, with a thermos flask tucked in the crook of her arm and a small gift-wrapped box in her other hand. She placed the latter on top of Harry’s tower of presents and he muttered an embarrassed ‘thank you’.

She helped him open the door to his dormitory and went in first. Harry stepped in and nearly lost his balance. He gave a small cry of alarm when he felt something dash in between his feet. “Crookshanks!” he admonished the half-Kneazle weakly. The cat just meowed adorably before jumping up on Ron’s empty bed and making himself comfortable.

Harry placed his presents carefully on his own bed and went to his drawer to retrieve the present he wanted to give to the bushy-haired witch. He motioned at her to open the gift. It was a friendship band – Bluestone had taught Harry how to make it when he and Starkmind visited the young wizard in his uncle’s home. Harry had chosen threads with the colors black, eye-glaring indigo, midnight blue, and white to make Hermione’s. He had given Ron and Ginny the same thing, but with colors that suited their personalities.

“Why, Harry! How on earth did you find time to do it – without me knowing?” she exclaimed and asked him to help her tie it around her left wrist.

Harry laughed. “Actually, this was already finished by the time I reached Hogwarts,” he told her as he helped her tie the ends of the friendship band. “Bluestone – Professor Starkmind’s husband – had a book with him that he brought along when he visited me during the summer holidays. He started feeling bored and snitched some of Aunt Petunia’s thread to show me how to make one.”

“Thank you,” Hermione thanked him, “both for the present and helping me put it on. You can open my present now if you like … I seriously ran out of ideas what to get you,” she added apologetically.

It was a medium-sized bottle of Dzilirk, a wizard-origin cologne that Harry had been unable to find in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. And it was relatively expensive. “Hermione…”

“Don’t give me that look, Harry. It was affordable, at least to me,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. The raven-haired Gryffindor placed the cologne back into its box and went on to open the huge parcel from the Weasleys. “So what did you get from Ronniekins?”

“A bra.” Hermione had answered so succinctly that he thought his best friend really did give her one. “Just joking – he gave me a necklace.” She giggled. “He probably pestered Bill for advice.”

“Oh?” Harry looked up and smiled when he saw the necklace that she was wearing. “Actually, he consulted me, Bill and Fred,” he said as he pulled a dark blue jumper with a black-lettered ‘H’ knitted out of the huge box. Then he took out a black, dragon-scaled jacket, given by the Weasley twins.

“Damn – are they trying to get Charlie to kill me?” he swore, but grinned anyway. His friend was having her breakfast as she watched him pull out the items from the Weasley box with amusement. Ginny gave him a pair of leather gloves, which matched with the dragon-scaled jacket. He also received a dark grey cloak from Arthur Weasley and a pair of silver-framed glasses from Charlie. He tried them on and looked at his reflection in the mirror. There was a slight bluish tint on the glasses, and he had the feeling that they also acted as sunglasses.

He chatted with Hermione and asked what she planned to do during the holidays. “Besides studying,” he added.

“Read the books that my parents gave me,” she replied with a mischievous look.

“What kind of books?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “History?”

“Geography and story books,” she answered, pressing a scone into his right hand.

“Story books?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s the author? Or authors?” he asked curiously. The Dursleys’ had not much love for books, but the Squib Arabella Figg certainly had a shelf full of them.

“As if you have ever visited a library,” Hermione said dryly.

“I’ve read a few books by Muggle authors,” he replied as he ate. “David Eddings was one of them.”

“Really?” Hermione looked skeptical.

“I like his characters Belgarath and Silk.” He sighed at her stunned expression and picked a bluish silver box. He licked his suddenly dry lips. His friend appeared to have recovered from her shock, because she asked:

“That’s from him, isn’t it?”

Harry stared at the palm-sized box and nodded tightly.

Draco turned in his sleep and smacked his knuckles against something hard as he moved. He grunted in pain and sat up groggily to find out what he had hit. He swore softly, eyeing the stack of gaudily wrapped presents irritably. An austere black jewelry case caught his attention immediately and he reached for it, wondering about the sender.

Is it from him? The silver-eyed Slytherin hesitantly lifted the lid and picked up the small note.

He felt even more irritated when his heartbeat quickened and realized that he was holding his breath. It’s just a goddamned present! There aren’t any reasons why I should feel excited! His owl gave a sudden hoot as if in contempt, and Draco looked up at Shadow suspiciously. He could not do anything about his eagle owl or the slight trembling of his fingers as he lifted another cover to reveal the treasure.

He felt as though he was struck by lightning when he saw the ring. A small tag met his gaze and he gulped. He had thought it was a silver ring but it turned out to be white-gold. I ought to be charitable. He can afford to buy me a white-gold ring. He picked the ring from its stand and examined it with detachment. The ring was rather simple; it had two intertwined snakes with heads curled around a shining steel-grey hematite gem.

I’ve seen this ring somewhere…. Then he recalled the day he went shopping for his things in Diagon Alley. A jewelry shop had just opened and several teenagers had been giving out flyers. So Harry must have gone in and was given a business card. I saw this ring on one of the top shelves. He smiled. I hope he doesn’t mind that his gift had been ordered from the same shop. He breathed in sharply when he saw the engravings in the interior side of the ring.

He did not know how else to react, so he simply stared at the small engraved words until his eyes crossed. He blinked, and in a rush his face turned bright pink. He did not expect Harry to say anything – he was the last person wanting to take advantage of the wizard’s love – but seeing that the Gryffindor had returned the sentiment became quite overwhelming suddenly.

The lean and blonde Slytherin drew his knees up, placed his forehead against them, holding Harry’s gift tightly in one hand. His heart was beating rapidly and he was trembling rather violently. Thoughts raced in his already confused mind. Before his anxiety could get any further, he deliberately blanked his mind and thought about Harry’s reassuring presence instead. That managed to calm him, and he lifted his head.

A smile slowly formed on his face as he watched the gleaming ring in his palm and slowly slid it on his index finger. His grin grew wider, and he sprang out of bed, yelling triumphantly at the top of his lungs.

Both Harry and Hermione admired the white-gold ring with a blue indicolite gem that Draco had sent, with a small note wishing Harry a merry Christmas. Then the witch snatched it out of his fingers to peer at the engravings found on the inner side of the ring.

“With love, Draco,” Hermione recited impishly. Her face looked strained, not because she was disgusted, but because she was terribly amused. She handed it back to him before collapsing on the bed into hearty laughter.

Harry did not have to look into the mirror to see that he was blushing; his face felt terribly hot. “Is that too incredibly mushy?” he asked in a strangled voice and slipped the ring on his forefinger. His friend stopped laughing altogether.

“With love, Harry?” she piped up and he nodded silently. “Dear god.” She started laughing again.

The raven-haired wizard sighed and checked his watch. It was already half past eight and he reckoned that it was time he met with Professor Snape. He quickly put all his gifts inside the spare trunk under his bed. “I’ve got to go meet Snape.”

“Be careful. Don’t get into trouble. I’ll probably be down in the common room until it’s time for lunch.”

“Right. I’ll see you then.”

He was slightly nervous as he made his way down. What does he want anyway? The memories of his dances with the Potions Master and the kiss they exchanged after their last dance certainly did not help to calm him. The Entrance Hall was deserted and when he finally reached the dungeons, he wished he had worn a jacket or gloves. It was freezing and he let out puffs of misty crystals after each breath.

He bumped into Pansy Parkinson at a turn. She looked at him, startled. “What are you doing here?” she asked him warily.

“Snape sent a message that he wanted to see me,” Harry replied, wishing that his teeth would stop chattering.

“Oh. You’re going to his office then?” Pansy said after giving him a thoughtful look. “He’s in his personal quarters right now. I doubt his office is warm enough.”

Probably because I took my time getting down here.

“Follow me, Potty. Half of the Slytherins don’t know where his quarters are, so I don’t expect you should know.”

He followed the Slytherin witch without any protest and kept mum about the fact that he did know where Snape spent some of his time. Of course, that information was illegally gained so he thought it was better if he just acted the simpleton to Slytherin secrets. They came to the false dungeon door and the witch knocked twice before entering.

Snape was seated on a comfortable leather chair, reading and sipping a cup of coffee. Parkinson made a soft noise and the professor looked at them from under a pair of scowling eyebrows. The Slytherin prefect exited and Snape beckoned him to sit.

“You wanted to see me. Why?”

Snape took his time answering his question by downing his beverage and placing the book he had been perusing on the coffee table. Coal-black eyes paused at the new ring on Harry’s finger before coming up to appraise the Gryffindor’s face.

“What, exactly, is your relationship with Malfoy?” Snape asked carefully.

Harry gripped the arms of his chair tightly. Merlin … he can’t be jealous, right? “I beg your pardon, sir?” he responded, stalling.

“Are you still student and mentor or are you lovers now?” the older wizard snapped, looking at him impatiently.

Color drained from Harry’s face. “Both,” he replied, squirming in his seat. Snape gave him a hard look.

“Did he know who I was? During the Halloween night?”

Harry was surprised at the Potions Master’s query. “No,” Harry replied slowly. “I don’t think he had any idea who you were. He actually wanted to dance with you, but you left before he could catch you.”

“Ah.” The wizard tapped his finger on his lower lip in contemplation. “Is he … hurt? That I kissed you?”

Now I get it. “No….” Probably because he got to do more than just kiss me.

“Good.” The wizard nodded. “But the two of you must concentrate during those tutoring sessions. I don’t want Draco wasting my money, and I don’t want the two of you to waste your time fooling around. Be assured that I would conduct the sessions myself if I found the two of you were shirking your responsibilities. Is that understood?”

Harry nodded.

“Good.”

Taking it as the dismissal it was, Harry quickly walked out of Snape’s territory.