Blood and Choice

2 -- Relatives

The next day was Saturday, and Harry, still tired, slept until Ron hit him in the face with a pillow.

"Oi! Do you want breakfast or not?"

Harry glared. "Since I'm awake," he said pointedly.

"I'll wait five minutes," Ron stated, uncowed.

"Right." Sighing, Harry got up and pulled on trousers and a shirt. He shook his hair out, ran his fingers through it, and stepped into shoes. "Just let me stop by the loo -- I'll meet you in the common room."

They sat down at the Gryffindor table, joining Hermione, just as the owls were arriving. A score of birds, maybe more, descended from the opened windows and soared down over the tables. A telltale flash of red caught Harry's eye, and he winced as he recognized the owl carrying it.

"Is that Malfoy's?"

Harry nodded at Ron's question, but by then his reply was unnecessary -- the owl had swooped down and dropped the Howler in Draco's lap. As soon as it touched him, a flash of silver shot out of the envelope, surrounding it and Draco in a shimmering bubble. Harry surged to his feet, but Ron yanked him down again.

"Privacy charm, Harry. He'll be okay." Ron reached for the marmalade and began to spread some on his toast. "Though I don't see the point of a Howler, then, if he's the only one who's going to hear it."

Watching Draco's face, Harry could understand. The red missive had unrolled and was quivering indignantly before Draco, who had frozen with dread. He would be humiliated, even if people only saw.

"Hell."

"What?" Ron frowned at Harry for a moment, and then his face cleared. "Oh -- you think it's about you? Or, um, Halloween?"

Harry reddened. "Thursday night -- some of the Slytherins decided we must be, er, together."

Hermione looked up. "Just because you were both out?"

"Because he doesn't do that."

Ron snorted. "Can't see that that means anything --

"Other than that you're a bad influence," Dean interjected. He laughed. "And that's a strange thing to say about you and him."

"Malfoy has the nerve when he's with Harry, more like," Ron objected.

Harry didn't care, really. He shrugged miserably. "But we were friends again, and now he'll be upset by it."

Draco had grown whiter and whiter in his bubble, and when it finally flared and popped, he sank back into his seat. Olivia leaned forward and called something to him. Harry couldn't hear it across the room, but several people near them laughed, and Draco got unsteadily to his feet. Harry started to get up also. This time it was Hermione who pulled him down.

"I need to talk to him!"

"Harry," she whispered urgently. "If people think you're involved, that will only make it worse."

"Right," Dean agreed. "Talk to him privately later."

"When half the school isn't watching."

After the others went back up to the tower, Harry loitered around the Entrance Hall, wondering where to search for Draco. He might have retreated to his dormitory, but that seemed unlikely if he was avoiding his housemates. The library provided security against louder taunts, but nothing against private ones. In Draco's position, Harry thought he would go outside. Before he could decide, another group of students emerged from the Great Hall. When footsteps approached him, rather than passing through the room, Harry turned. Olivia stood there, looking almost as upset as she had on Halloween.

"What?" he snapped, wincing as he heard his own tone. "Sorry."

Olivia took a visible breath. "Look," she said, "I don't expect kissing a few times to mean anything exclusive, but if you're seeing Draco, I am not covering for you."

"I am not seeing Draco!"

"He was out almost all night, and he hadn't been drinking."

"We did some very exhausting magic, okay? We both passed out on the floor, and we got in trouble for it. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't sexual; it just took a whole lot of energy."

She appeared to be considering this. "What kind of magic?" she pressed.

Glancing around and seeing only other students, Harry stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I got hold of a Kerner Dark Detector."

Frowning, she stepped back. "How would you set off a Dark Detector? Were you casting Dark curses at the walls?"

"I set it off just by existing," Harry explained. "Voldemort's curse is sort of a bond -- you remember Halloween -- but if I try, I can filter out parts of it. Draco has to do more, I think, but he didn't actually cast anything." He frowned over her shoulder at her housemates. "Ask any of the sixth years who take Defense with us what we were like using one in the lesson. They all saw, and they can tell you I nearly fell over afterwards."

"I'll do that." Olivia sighed. "Harry, I just-- I will not look like a fool. Even if it just appears that you're courting him, it's still a problem for me."

"I'll get him home by lights out from now on, okay?"

"But you'll still be alone with him."

"What does that matter? I'm alone with a lot of people!"

"But now everyone's watching."

"Too bad. You can't choose my friends. I didn't even let Hermione do that!"

She sighed. "All right. I'll wait and see. For now ... don't expect me to sit with you for a while."

"Fine." Inwardly, Harry resolved to avoid the library. He wasn't going to show up just so she could show she was snubbing him. "Enjoy your weekend."

Annoyance made up his mind for him, and he turned and opened the door. A warning blast of cold air greeted him, but he didn't want to turn back and look ridiculous, so he stepped out into the oblique sunlight of the chilly December day. As soon as the door closed behind him, he cast a warming charm, but the gusting wind kept it from being fully effective. He would walk down to the pitch, he decided, and if Draco wasn't there, he would go back inside.

He was less than halfway there when he saw a figure coming towards him. Draco, he decided, and he moved into the lee of a rhododendron to wait.

"Merlin, Potter," Draco said, when he was in conversational range. "Shouldn't you at least wear a cloak to loiter in this weather? Winter robes? A hat?"

"I was just looking for you," Harry admitted, falling into step beside him. "Anyway, I had a fight with Olivia, and outside was the best exit."

"You too, then? Did you at least convince her we're not having a torrid affair?"

"I think so, but she says it doesn't matter if we still look like we are." Harry gestured vaguely around them. "Which I don't think we do, honestly."

"I don't think so either." Draco smirked. "Although we did dance at the ball, didn't we? My housemates, of course, are quite adept at seeing secret messages -- including some that are not actually there."

Harry had to smile. "It was quite the dance, I'm told. Honestly, though, if I was out till three with Ron, it would just be my housemates asking how many points I lost this time. Which is really all they're doing." An exception occurred to him. "Although I found out some people had wondered if I was cheating on Hermione, back when I was visiting my dad in secret."

Draco sniggered. "It could be worse. I decided you were involved with him after all, when I found you in his rooms that morning."

"You did?" Harry felt his eyes widen.

"Well, honestly! What else would I think? He wasn't even dressed, and you didn't deny that you'd spent the night." Draco shrugged. "So I was quite as surprised as everyone else by his later announcement," he said loftily.

They had reached the doors. With his hand at the latch, Harry hesitated. "Want to come down to my room?" he said. "We could talk there -- about the Howler, or whatever."

"And that wouldn't cause comment!"

"Not if no one saw us."

Draco laughed. "Sorry, Gryffindor -- I'm not risking it." He shot Harry a challenging look. "You can walk with me, though, if you were planning to go down to the dungeons."

Harry hadn't been, but he nodded. "Okay."

There was no one in the Entrance Hall when they came in. Still, Draco kept his voice low. "Someone -- I suspect Pansy -- wrote Mother and told her that I was out 'all night' with you, and possibly other things. The Howler wasn't terribly specific, just a lot of general 'a disgrace to the family and to your ancestors' and that sort of thing." He raised his nose haughtily. "There was a reference to Halloween, which could have been about dancing with you -- or worse yet, with a Mu-- ggleborn witch ... but I suspect it was rather about not taking the Dark Lord's Mark."

"She's angry at you about that?"

"That's been clear ever since," Draco answered soberly.

"Ah."

They were walking down the stairs, now, leaving the pale light that filtered through the Entrance Hall windows for the flickering torchlight of the dungeons. Harry trailed his hand along the stone ridge that served as a handrail. "Are you staying at school for Christmas, then?"

Draco huffed in response. "Why does everyone ask me that? Of course not! I'm going home. If anything, this makes it more important. I need to show her that I'm rational and respectful and not abandoning my family."

"But ... would she try to make you? I mean, Him?"

"My mother loves me, Harry. She has never let me go without anything I desired, and I am certain she would not subject me to the displeasure of the Dark Lord."

When Harry got to Professor Snape's apartments, his father wasn't there. He considered writing a letter to Draco's mother, explaining what had happened, but every time he tried to put it down in words, he looked at the result and decided he would only make things worse. After a few attempts, he left the rooms and went back up to Gryffindor.

The common room, as often on winter weekends, was crowded. He spotted Ron and Hermione sitting near the chess boards, although Ron wasn't playing anyone at the moment. Instead, their heads were close together and they were talking. Quickly, he walked over.

"Hi."

"Harry!" Hermione shifted over.

"We were hoping you'd show up," Ron said.

They looked uncomfortable for a moment. "McGonagall just put up the sign-up sheet for the holidays...." Hermione tried.

"And we were thinking--"

"We'll stay if you want us to, Harry, but we were wondering if you'd, perhaps, like...." Her eyes dropped to her clasped hands. "Well, since you have family, now...."

"Oh." Harry caught the drift. "Um, if you want."

Hermione's lip was red from the press of her teeth. "It's just ... last year ... my parents realized how long it had been...."

"You won't be going to the Burrow, then?" Harry thought that shouldn't make him feel better, but it did, somehow.

"No, just ... home."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense. You've stayed with me a lot." He looked at Ron. "Both of you," he said sincerely.

"Are you sure, mate?" Ron asked. "I can't imagine Snape will be much fun."

Harry shrugged. "I'll have to work on it. It will be okay. It's not like we'll be the only people here."

"Mum said you should visit for a day, at least, sometime Christmas week. She'll settle that with him, I reckon."

Nodding, Harry thought how odd that was. No one settled things for him. He'd have to make sure his father knew what he wanted. "I suppose." His friends still looked worried. Sighing, he sat down. "You're making things difficult for me, you know. Now I have to finish my Christmas shopping before you pack."

Hermione giggled. Ron relaxed. Harry bumped him with his shoulder. "No problem."

"Potter," Draco said quietly, as he sauntered past at the end of Potions on Monday morning, "hang back."

Harry slowed in packing his Potions supplies and considered the request. Draco had avoided sitting with him that lesson, and Harry suspected that another letter he had received from home that morning might be involved. It hadn't been a Howler, but Draco had withdrawn just as much while reading it. Now, Harry wasn't sure whether Draco was warning him off or planned to speak with him alone.

Deciding to accommodate him, Harry lingered, smiling nervously at his father's eye roll. He left the room a few seconds after the last of the other students, and trailed a distance behind them. Draco had vanished. Harry was relieved when he emerged from an alcove just as the group in front of him disappeared around a corner.

"Thanks," Draco said. Now that they were alone, he looked miserable, rather than haughty.

"No problem." They began to walk, slowly, up to their next lesson. "What's wrong? This morning's letter?"

With a quick sneer, Draco nodded. "Right. Mother wants me to break off with you."

"Does she think--" Harry started, but Draco cut him off.

"That doesn't matter. That I'm seen with you is enough. After her Howler, I explained my opinion of the benefits of the matter, and she does not agree. She said to come home prepared to serve our lord, or not to come home."

"Oh." Harry bit his lip. "I'm sorry. I just wanted--"

"It's not your fault."

Draco's pace quickened. His face, despite the effort of the stairs, was white. Harry nodded grimly. "You thought she wouldn't."

"She has never made me do anything that I didn't want to do!"

"Did you like dress robes as a child?" Harry asked pointedly.

Draco snorted. "I had a governess to make me dress."

"But appealing to your mum didn't help."

"No," Draco admitted. "And she treats it about like that," he said gloomily. "As a matter of propriety. I'm not to associate with Professor Snape more than necessary, either, although with him, she does understand that complete avoidance is impossible." They had reached the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was already closed, which meant a reprimand at best when they entered. Draco opened his mouth as if to say something more, but then shut it again.

"We better go in," Harry said quietly

Draco nodded.

Harry paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Sit together, or separately?"

"Oh, we may as well sit together," Draco answered bitterly. "It will hardly matter."

"Oh?"

"I'm not taking the Dark Mark, Harry. I saw Professor Snape at that meeting! She's lost all leverage about you, if that's what it will take, so what choice I might have made is immaterial."

Draco was trembling. Harry stepped back from the door and put a hand on his arm, but Draco shook it off. "Not now. Is that ... that invitation still open? Your room?"

"Of course."

"Instead of lunch, then."

**********

The fourth year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw lesson had been a near-disaster, and cleaning up after it could not be safely delayed. By the time Severus had recovered the last hippogriff scale, he had decided to eat lunch in his rooms. It would save the walk upstairs and back, and he wouldn't be arriving when everyone else was already seated. He was surprised, as he closed the classroom door behind him, to hear footsteps hurrying down the stairs. He turned and faced them, folding his arms over his chest.

He had expected an upper-year Slytherin, and when Remus rounded the corner, they stared at each other in surprise.

"Well," Severus said, recovering. "May I presume that you are looking for me?"

"Yes," Remus admitted. "Just ... a concern, Severus, and when I glanced into the Great Hall and didn't see you there, I decided to check down here, in case you were being reclusive."

Shrugging, Severus unfolded his arms. "Careless students," he said dismissively. "By the time the classroom was safe again, my rooms seemed like a better option." He inclined his head to the side, indicating the hallway. "If you have something to say, walk with me. I have limited time."

Nodding, Remus fell in beside him. It felt curiously comfortable to have him there.

"Is it Harry?" Severus asked.

Remus sighed. "Harry and Draco."

Severus grimaced. "You are not still objecting to their association?"

"No. In fact, I gave Harry advice about making up with him. This morning, however, they were late to my lesson and whispered throughout it. They generally do some of that, but it's usually remarks they find witty -- about the lesson, from what I can catch. This time, they were distracted -- and distressed. I kept them after to inquire, but Draco told me that nothing I did could matter, and then Harry got protective and told me to back off."

"I see. And you wish me to talk to him?"

"Actually, I want you to talk to Draco. Either of us could talk to Harry, I believe, if Draco were not there. I'm not objecting to the impertinence, Severus -- it was in private, by then, and not meant in offense. Rather, I am concerned that something may be seriously wrong, and Draco seems to be the one directly affected." Remus lifted his shoulders in a tight shrug. "And he trusts you far more than he does me."

"As he should," Severus replied smugly. "Very well. I will talk to Draco." He had been planning to do that in any case; he had seen the Malfoy owl deliver a letter that morning, and Draco had been cool and sarcastic in his morning lesson.

They had arrived at the door. Severus hesitated, unsure whether to speak his password within the werewolf's hearing. He remembered, suddenly, what the password meant.

"Aconitum," he said, with a sly glance at Remus, who -- predictably -- twitched.

"An interesting choice," he said neutrally.

"It was Harry's," Severus answered with satisfaction. "You had displeased him, as I recall, pushing where you were not welcome." As he set a hand on the door, he looked directly at Remus. "I will, of course, change it now."

Remus, his expression more bitter than Severus expected, took a step back. "Of course."

Weapons of vengeance had a habit of twisting in their course, Severus thought. He had given himself no pleasure by piercing Remus with that tidbit, and it was hardly fair to Harry to display his private moment of temper to someone with whom he had not been angry in many weeks. As he was wondering if he might recover the situation, the door gave under his hand, and he heard the sound of running water, and then a voice -- questioning, but too faint to discern words. Remus cocked his head, perhaps able to catch more.

"Harry?" Severus mouthed at him.

Remus leaned close. "And Draco," he whispered back.

Severus nodded. "Come with me," he said softly, and that was his rescue. Remus, trusted, entered, and Severus knew that matter of the password had moved back into memory.

"-- Not going to be able to avoid it, am I?" Draco was saying gloomily. There was a soft clink of china. "Thanks."

"I suppose not," Harry answered. "Do you want to come back here this evening?"

Severus stepped into the doorway. "Did I say you could bring other students into my rooms, Harry?"

Draco twitched, spilling milk froth onto the kitchen table. It was only on seeing it that Severus recognized the scent of cardamom in the air. Draco set down his mug and came quickly to his feet. "I'm sorry, si--"

"Sit down," Harry snapped at him before turning his glare on Severus. "I don't see why I can't. You never said --"

"I have student papers in the sitting room."

"I know that! That's why we're in the kitchen."

"Not so you could make him milk?"

Harry sat back with a huff. "Afterwards, we were going to go into my room."

Draco, who was still standing, looked at him questioningly. "Sir?"

Severus flicked a hand towards him. "Sit down." He looked back at Remus. "And you -- are you staying or going?"

"I don't mean to intrude, and I'm certain that Draco--"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said harshly.

"Draco wanted to talk to you, Dad," Harry said, with a touch of reproach in his tone.

"Yes?" Severus looked questioningly at Draco. "News from home?"

Draco's face drew in as if he had bit a lime. "Yes. Mother insists that I join the Dark Lord's service. I am not welcome at home if I do not."

Remus drew a breath in, but Severus snorted and sat down. He refused to give this threat more power by treating it with undue dignity. "Absurd," he said, as Draco finally sank back down to his chair. "Narcissa would not disown you for any behavior."

"That's what I had thought, but --"

"Most likely," Severus said, speaking over him until he fell silent, "she, as I, believes it would be inadvisable for you to return. Somewhat less likely, but also possible, she may be bluffing to influence you. In either case, the appropriate response is to stay at school."

Draco straightened to a brittle propriety in his seat. "Of course it is," he said coldly.

"Draco...." Harry laid a hand on Draco's arm, as readily as if they were alone and unwatched. "It's not so bad."

"It's horrible!" Draco retorted, pulling out from under the touch and jumping to his feet again. "I have to stay here, as if I didn't have a family and a home, or as if I were too much trouble to keep there, and it will be loud, and messy, and alienating, and you'll think it's lovely, because you don't know any better!"

He swallowed hard. His cheeks were bright pink when he looked at Severus. "May I go, sir?"

"Please do," Severus said frostily.

"Severus," Remus began in dismay, but as Draco left the room in two steps, Harry caught at the werewolf's sleeve.

"No," he said, obviously recognizing that Remus had been about to pursue the boy. The door to the hallway shut with a clunk, and Harry breathed out in relief. "He needs to be alone," he explained to Remus.

"He's distraught!"

"Right! And he hates to be seen like that. I'll talk to him later."

Severus nodded confirmation. "Yes. I had not realized I was interrupting a counseling session, Harry."

"Well, you didn't bother to ask, did you?"

"Don't expect an apology," Severus sneered. "Your room only, next time, if I am not here." He hesitated. "And none of your female friends."

Harry smirked. "You're a strange one to think it matters," he said pointedly, his gaze flicking, ever so briefly, to Remus.

"I think it matters to you," Severus retorted. "And in any case, I insist upon the appearance of propriety. You may have Draco here, and other male friends that are close to you -- one at a time-- if you walk directly through the public rooms and to your own, and stay there until your friend's departure or my return. You may have female companions here only if I am present, and in that case you will not go to your room."

Harry, apparently satisfied, nodded. "Fair enough."

"And I do not want this to be a daily occurrence."

"Yes, sir."

Feeling the relief of an argument settled, Severus turned to Remus. "Will you join us for lunch?" he asked.

Remus looked satisfyingly startled. "Er, thank you, but--" He glanced past Severus, perhaps to some reaction of Harry's. "Yes, of course," he said. "I'd be delighted to."

After Severus had called down to the kitchen for lunch, they settled uncomfortably around the table. At least, Severus was uncomfortable, and he could tell from Harry's fidgeting that he was as well. Remus looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, which Severus knew meant nothing.

"So," Harry said finally, incapable, as usual, of maintaining silence. "What are we going to do for Christmas, Dad?"

"Do?" Severus found himself at a loss. What did that mean? Was Harry wondering about presents?

Remus smiled mildly as bowls of soup appeared. "Severus is not inclined towards celebrations, Harry," he said gently. "I expect you should continue to keep Christmas with your Gryffindor friends."

Oh. Severus thought he had preferred being perplexed. The feeling deepened as he saw Harry quickly hide his disappointment.

"Can't," Harry replied with something like cheer. "Ron and Hermione thought they should go home this year, to give me some family time, and I can't tell them no. They've stayed with me most years."

"Ah," Remus said sympathetically. "Well, that's unfortunate, but I'm sure that you--"

"Lupin!" Severus snapped.

"Yes?" Remus said mildly.

"I am present. I believe I can say myself what I would or would not be willing to do for a holiday with my son."

"Yes, of course," Remus murmured, and Severus was uncertain if he had prevailed or been manipulated. Remus was such a Gryffindor that it was easy to forget how well he turned things to his own ends.

"So," he said, seizing control of the conversation, "what did you have in mind?"

"I was just curious," Harry said, speaking too quickly for his casual tone to work. "I mean, do we eat with the others, or down here? Do you do stockings? Do you-- I mean, I expect you don't have your own tree...."

"Certainly not!" Severus exclaimed. "Having the things all over the Great Hall is certainly enou--" He caught himself. Had Harry wanted a tree? With a quick wave, he gestured back to the sitting room. "You may, of course, decorate as you see fit, as long as nothing gets in my way."

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Thank you."

"I --" Severus suspected that he was handling this badly. Remus had retreated into eating his soup with a steady dip, raise, sip motion that looked like he was under the Imperius curse. The appearance of a platter of sandwiches didn't even make him twitch. "We will have breakfast together," Severus continued more firmly. "You may open presents after that." He wondered what sort of a pile that would be.

Harry nodded. "All right." He looked pointedly at the clock and scooped up a sandwich. "I'd better go. I need boots and a cloak before Care of Magical Creatures. Ginny said it was cold."

Severus let his eyes close for a moment as he listened to the door to the hallway shut again. Only when Remus cleared his throat did it occur to him how vulnerable that made him. He opened them into a glare.

"Yes, Lupin?" he demanded.

Remus shrugged. "Nothing. Well, I felt rather in the way, actually. I suspect this will be a difficult adjustment for both of you."

Severus wanted to retort that he and Harry had settled their issues, but in the last few minutes they had encountered two that he had not previously considered.

"I doubt he would have been more comfortable without you here." Severus wondered if he should loosen the restrictions on visitors for times school wasn't in session. Harry had treated the place as his home, and wasn't that what he had wanted? Why had he immediately responded as if it were an intrusion?

Remus lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Still. Holidays present problems for even established families--"

"Holidays?" Severus stared at him. "I was more concerned about the matter of visitors."

"Ah." To his dismay, Remus appeared startled. "Well, they are similar conflicts, I expect. You will need to find a way to balance your need for sanctuary against his need to connect to others."

Severus raised a hand to his forehead. "Must you put everything in terms of grand symbolism?"

"Symbolism?" Remus queried incredulously. "Severus. You come here to hide from the world, including Dumbledore's seasonal decorations. Harry wants to be a part of that world -- to help his friends and to participate in its celebrations. That is not symbolism; that is a genuine conflict in what each of you most need from a home."

Severus stiffened. He wanted to assert that he did not need anything, but that would doubtless draw more drivel from the werewolf.

"And you, Lupin?" he asked.

Remus picked up his spoon. "It has been a very long time since I had a home," he said calmly.

Severus hated his blandness. He knew well how to be that non-committal; how dare Remus cast it as inoffensive.

"Did you not live with Black?" he accused. "For more than a year, if I recall."

Remus shrugged. "It was his home," he said. "I was a charity case."

"He loved you." The words burned his throat like acid, but Remus did not rush to help him, just hunched his shoulders.

"I was never sure," he said. "It wasn't--" Eyes closed, Remus turned away. "You don't know what he was like when you weren't his enemy."

This was a new way to hate Black. Severus felt unbalanced by it. After a moment's thought, he cleared his throat. "You were more than a friend, even in school," he said flatly. "I doubt Black would have been so desperate to drive me away from you if you did not mean a great deal to him."

For a long moment, Remus looked at him in silence. The clock in the sitting room chimed a warning for lesson time.

"Then why did you let him win?"

Severus couldn't think what to say. Remus stood. "I have to go," he said shortly. "There are a lot of stairs between here and the Defense classroom."

He was out of the room before Severus could find his voice.

**********

Draco stayed hidden for the next several days. Harry didn't so much as see him in the Great Hall. At their Friday potions lesson, however, each student was allowed to leave as soon as their finished potion was evaluated, and Professor Snape, perhaps deliberately, inspected Harry's before looking at Draco's. Harry waited for Draco to be dismissed, and they left the room together.

"So," Harry said.

"So," Draco replied. He shrugged. "I've written to Mother and told her I'm staying. I keep hoping that she'll relent and say to come home, but I'm trying not to expect it."

"If my father thinks she'll make up with you --"

Draco waved that off with suspicious alacrity. "Of course she will! Still, I don't want to stay here."

"You did our second year."

"But that was exciting! And Father asked me to keep him updated, so I was sacrificing my holiday for a reason. I felt important to him--" Draco looked away.

"It's not bad here," Harry objected. "You know it's not. The Great Hall is beautiful, and there's a wonderful Christmas dinner with turkey and chipolatas and gravy and everything, and we have brilliant crackers. "

Draco didn't meet his eyes.

"At home, we always have bouillabaisse," he said, "followed by port-glazed venison medallions, and potatoes au gratin, with the slices arranged in a golden spiral, and then a salad of curly greens with pheasant confit and figs...." Draco stopped speaking. Harry braced himself to reply.

"There's nothing wrong with--"

"Of course there isn't!" Draco interrupted. "It's a perfectly fine dinner, here. But it's not my Christmas dinner, don't you understand? It's someone else's."

"Ah." Harry nodded. "I don't have anything to compare to. I mean, nothing I cared about."

"Exactly," Draco said, nodding. They had come to the first floor, and he led Harry down a corridor towards a tall arched window. "I expressed it badly, I know, but that's what I meant the other day. It's not that you lack taste; it's that your experience is limited."

"I knew what you meant," Harry said. "Severus--"

"Severus?" Draco repeated incredulously, pulling himself up onto the broad seat in the window embrasure.

Harry felt himself blush. "That's what I was calling him at the time. Early on, he commented on my low expectations." He shrugged. "So tell me about Christmas at Malfoy Manor. Unless there's anything truly disgusting, like House Elf beheadings, or something."

Draco made a face. "We're not barbarians, Potter."

"Sirius's family did it," Harry answered. "So your mother's might have too. They mounted the heads in the stairway."

"That's revolting."

"So tell me about Christmas."

Draco's expression softened as he looked out at the grounds. A light snow was falling, and the sky was flat grey. "On Midwinter Day," he said, "we have a grand ball. That's the start of Yule, really. The big tree goes up that morning, and it's decorated all in white and gold, and some of the guests leave presents under it. Enchanted icicles hang from the balcony, and musicians play in the gallery. The house elves serve champagne and trays of treats, from truffled shavings of beef to petits fours, and everyone wears the most extravagant clothes, and we stay up until dawn.

"After that, everything is a whirl of sweets and light and secrets. On Christmas Eve, we eat in the conservatory, so we can watch the snow falling past the candles in the trees outside --"

"Oh, come on! How often does it snow on Christmas Eve?"

Draco looked at him as if he were abnormally slow. "Always," he said, "at the manor. If it is not snowing naturally, my father uses a weather spell, at least for that side of the building."

Harry shook his head. "Okay. I suppose that's no worse than enchanted snow in the Great Hall."

"Worse?"

"More extravagant. No offense. Go on."

"My mother plays the harpsichord, and we sing, and we go to bed just after midnight. In the morning, we wear our best robes from last year, and I have a stocking full of exotic candies and little ornaments, and then we open presents. After that and before dinner, we Floo-call some of Father's relatives...." Draco stopped. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"All right," Harry acquiesced. In the distance, he could see people on the stairs. "How long do we have until Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Fifteen minutes, I think," Draco answered. "The second years probably haven't left yet." He looked outside at the pale sky. "Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

"Of course," Harry said. "I'm supposed to have someone with me, though. Want to walk in with me?"

Draco looked curiously at him. "You're not walking in with Olivia?"

"I hadn't planned on it." Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't even know if she would."

"Have you broke off with her, then?" Draco asked. "Already?"

"No, but I probably should." Harry set his shoulders back. "I plan to, except I rather want to get her a Christmas present first."

Draco hrumphed. "That's an odd order of things."

"Well, I like her. I want to show I'd like to be friends, and I thought that might help."

"But she doesn't suit you as a girlfriend?"

"I don't suit her as a boyfriend, more like. She wants me to change my behavior to make her look good."

"Ah. And you have enough trouble controlling your behavior so no one gets killed."

Harry tensed. "More or less," he muttered.

"I didn't mean it as an offense. That is the issue, though. You are impetuous, by nature; the stakes must be quite high for you to consistently amend your conduct or rein in your tongue."

"Yeah, okay." Harry agreed, with a rueful smile. "Even if I want to, and in this case, I don't."

"What does she want?" Draco asked seriously. "I mean, is this 'wear nicer clothes' or 'don't walk with Hermione in Hogsmeade'?"

Laughing slightly, Harry looked down. "Don't be alone with you," he said.

For a moment, Draco was silent. Then he sniffed. "You're quite right. That's entirely unreasonable."

Glancing up, Harry smiled. "I thought you'd understand."

"Do you have a successor in mind?"

Harry shrugged. "Zoë, maybe. But not until next term."

"Wise. Olivia will be offended if she is immediately replaced."

Ron and Hermione were willing enough to meet with Harry at The Three Broomsticks and walk back with him from there. Harry couldn't tell if they would be going in together or not, and couldn't bring himself to ask. He knew Hermione had broken up with Lydia a few days earlier, because she had cried on his shoulder afterwards. Ron said that didn't make any sense, but Harry thought it might.

In the morning, he started off down the carriage road with Draco. The day was unseasonably mild, and they chatted as they walked.

"Do you have much shopping to do, Harry?" Draco asked.

"A little. There's Olivia, as I explained, and I want to get my father a stocking -- I doubt he has one -- and some little things to put in it. I already have his real present, though, and one for Remus, and one for Hermione. I've left Ron till the last minute, though." He didn't mention that he didn't have what he wanted for Draco yet, either. "What about you?"

His shoulders sagging forward, Draco sighed. "I don't know. I'm not sure whom I'm to buy for."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well, Mother for example. I already have a present for her ... but she's threatening to cut me off. Do I send it to her anyway? Do I send her something pointed, like a framed photo of us together and a treatise on the importance of family? Do I pretend I don't care?

"And then there's my father. If I send him something, will he actually get it? What could I send that won't be confiscated or stolen? Is there any point in sending gifts to prison?"

Harry thought about that. "Hm. I see what you mean. I don't know what it's like; Sirius never wanted to talk about it."

"I visited once over the summer. They don't have any furniture, except a bed cut into the wall and a shallow trunk with no lid for an extra blanket, which mother already provided."

Harry made a face. "I'd go mad even without Dementors."

"Yes. Exactly."

"But he's written to you, so he must be allowed writing materials--"

"Under supervision, I believe."

"Ah. But Fudge gave Sirius his newspaper, so they must be allowed things to read."

"So, a book, you think?"

Harry nodded. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to continue. This wasn't about Lucius, he told himself. It was about Draco. "And a photograph. It would be a rude present for your mother, but I expect your father would like to know you still care."

Draco nodded quietly. "But I can't visit if Mother won't take me, and I don't know that he'd ever receive it."

Harry sighed. "Look, give the present to me, okay? I'll send it to Tonks -- no, Kingsley Shacklebolt, because it won't be personal for him -- and ask him to make sure your father gets it."

Draco stopped walking. "You ... You hate my father. Why would you do that for him?"

"I wouldn't do that for him," Harry retorted snappishly. He met Draco's eyes. "But I'll do it for you."

On the main street in Hogsmeade, they walked slowly, looking at the window displays while they tried to decide where to go. Draco paused in front of a display of formal robes, looking up wistfully at one in a sedate paisley brocade.

"Want to go in?" Harry asked.

Draco frowned slightly. "I don't know." He sighed. "Mother.... She always bought new dress robes for Christmas -- for me and Father both -- and we would wear them for the first time on New Year's Eve, for whatever party we attended. I'm used to looking in December, not buying."

"Maybe she will anyway?" Harry tried.

"If she does, she'll just be guessing what I'd like. We haven't shopped together since August."

Harry opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, and then shut it again. Clearly, there was some language of hints that Draco and his mother shared. "Well, let's go in anyway," he said decisively. "I want to look at winter cloaks."

"Hm." Turning away from the window display, Draco ran his fingers lightly down the edge of Harry's cloak. "This one is a bit threadbare -- and short on you, as well."

Harry snorted. "Have you noticed that I've grown since last winter?"

"Just a tad," Draco said dryly, tilting his head significantly. Harry's eyes widened. At some point, he had apparently become taller than Draco. He wondered if that had happened during the weeks Draco hadn't been speaking to him, or if he just hadn't noticed it earlier. It wasn't as obvious when Draco wasn't standing so close.

Harry tried on a few cloaks, including a pinstriped one with convenient arm slits that Draco said was far too stodgy for him. His favorite was a burgundy wool cloak with black trim, but he demurred on buying it, claiming he couldn't really make up his mind. In reality, he was far more interested in watching what Draco looked at, and what his hands drifted over. The brocade robes from the window -- largely a rich, dark blue, but woven with black, light blue, and silver -- seemed to remain his favorite. They would, Harry decided, suit him.

Empty-handed, they went on to the shop where Harry had bought Olivia the scarf, and here, Harry asked Draco's advice.

"I want to get her something that's not too much of a girlfriend gift," he explained, "so definitely not a ring, but it shouldn't be cheap, because I want..." He paused, unsure how to explain.

"You want to convey that you value her," Draco said simply.

"Yes, exactly."

"I would say no jewelry at all, then," Draco said promptly. "You should get her some sort of tool -- she might like a drafting set with stabilization charms, since she enjoys Runes, or a knife shows trust, while being a traditional gift of separation. Wrap it sheathed, of course, to emphasize the former."

"Oh, there are some gorgeous knives next door."

Draco nodded. "Or you might consider something used for correspondence."

Harry considered this. "To say that I want to stay in touch?"

"Precisely."

"I'm sure she has plenty of quills, though. Even a nice one--"

"Look." Draco handed Harry a short, thick rod of carved wood. It was very light, and inlaid at both ends with something that shimmered. The design looked vaguely familiar, and after frowning at it for a moment, Harry decided that he had seen ones like it borne in with the morning post. After that, it took him only a few seconds to find where it twisted apart.

"Do you put notes in it?" he asked, holding the open ends of the two halves out to Draco. Draco rolled his eyes.

"The post rod? Perhaps, if it's especially wet or rainy. They're as often used to convey little gifts, or for a phial or two of potion. And, of course, they can be spelled shut, or sealed with wax."

"Couldn't someone just open it with a severing spell, though? Or a saw?"

"Of course, but they provide good protection against little children prying, or against housemates who wouldn't want their intrusion to show. It's not a war device, Harry -- just a specialized sort of envelope."

Blushing, Harry nodded. "Sorry. I take some things more seriously than I ought to, I suppose." He looked over the display of post rods. The designs ranged from simple encircling grooves to intricate inlays. After comparing several, he found one that was wrapped around with a greenish spiral of inlaid abalone that had a snake's head at one end and a mother-of-pearl rose at the other. "This one," he said, and at Draco's agreement, bought it.

After that, there was shopping for Severus, and for other people on his list, followed by light lunch where they had eaten with Minister Fudge. Draco, in a desire to avoid the press of students at the pub, had sent an owl that morning for a noon reservation. Harry was afraid that the place would be huffy about them having less than a full dinner, but they seemed honored to have his business, and he and Draco were not the only shoppers having a quick meal of soup and bread. It was just enough time to relax and rest their feet before braving the crowd at Honeydukes. There they chanced to encounter Ron and Hermione, and Draco said his goodbyes and departed quickly.

"Eager to dump you, isn't he?"

"Ron!" Hermione slapped Ron's arm, and got back an unrepentant grin in return. As they headed out into the cold, Harry shrugged.

"Maybe he hasn't bought my present yet," he said. "Speaking of which, I have a few places I still need to go...."

"Because you haven't bought his either?" Hermione asked pointedly.

"I wanted to see how he reacted to a few things." That sounded far more deliberate than it had been, but made Hermione's smile soften.

"How thoughtful of you," she exclaimed.

"Honestly, mate, will you stop behaving?" Ron scolded. "You're making life hard on the rest of us, you know."

Harry laughed.

"What?"

"I can't say it's something I'm accused of all that much."

"Snape!" came a shout. "Hey, Snape!"

Hermione's brows came together. Harry turned and looked.

"There," Zacharias Smith said loudly. "I told you he'd answer."

"Did you want something?" Harry called back. Zacharias was on the other side of the street, which meant everyone short of the pub could hear them. Unfortunately, most of them seemed to be paying attention.

"Just showing Ernie, here, that you'd answer."

Harry felt a flush of anger. Why did Zacharias always need to stir up trouble? For that matter, why should it be trouble? "Well, you obviously weren't talking to my father," he retorted. "You'd be in detention for the rest of the year."

There was some scattered laughter at that, and Harry turned back to his friends. "Let's go," he said.

Despite the incident, they had a pleasant afternoon. In the early dark, they ducked into the Three Broomsticks to warm up before the hike to the castle. There, they met up with Dean and Ginny, who had had the same idea, and the five of them walked back together. Harry listened to Ron and Ginny talk about Christmas at the Burrow and wished he knew what his own would be like.