Blood and Choice

4 -- Christmas

On Christmas Eve, Harry hung a stocking by the fire at home, but he didn't make a fuss over it, and as he had expected, it was the only one. In the privacy of his room, he prepared the one he had bought in Hogsmeade, adding two licorice snakes, a small tin of jasmine tea, an ebony post rod set with birch, and -- on the top -- a safely under-ripe persimmon. During the night, he crept out of his room and hung it from the mantel, while steadfastly ignoring the odd bulges in his own.

Harry lay in bed, afraid that he would never get to sleep between worrying if he had done too much or too little, but he must have, because when next he opened his eyes, the muted light of a winter morning had filled his room.

He got up, dressed, and went outside. Severus wasn't in the kitchen, so he went through to the bathroom. Coming out of there, he saw Severus sitting in his armchair, reading the paper, and had to wonder if he had been there all along.

"Happy Christmas!" he said hopefully.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Severus answered. He still didn't look quite comfortable with the idea. Harry held out a hand to him.

"Get up! Let's do stockings."

"Before breakfast?"

"Of course!"

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Greedy," he said haughtily.

"I am not!" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I just know the proper order of things. Stockings first, then breakfast."

Severus sighed and put down the Daily Prophet. "And I am expected to watch, I suppose?" he asked, rising.

"No. You're expected to look at your stocking."

"Harry, I don't have a--" Severus stopped, staring, as he apparently noticed the second stocking for the first time.

"Of course you do; don't be silly," Harry said, in the most matter-of-fact manner he could manage, turning to the mantel to hide his grin. "Why wouldn't you?" He took his own bright stocking down and, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, set it on his lap. Severus was still staring at the unexpected stocking as if it might bite. Slowly, he stepped forward, reached out a hand, and touched the green velvet.

"For me?"

Harry grinned and then rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not like I'd get two," he said. "Come on."

With a strange strained expression on his face, Severus joined him on the floor. His knees seemed to come up farther than they should. While Harry overturned his stocking and dumped it onto the floor, Severus reached carefully into his. Harry looked up from a pile of peppermint sticks and chocolate frogs (and one mysterious, green, walnut-sized orb on a silk cord) to find Severus holding the persimmon and eyeing it suspiciously.

"I think fruit is traditional," Harry said. Severus gave him an odd look and reached into the stocking again, this time pulling out the tin of tea. He opened it and sniffed.

"Jasmine."

"It seemed like something you might like." Harry shrugged. "If not, you can give it to someone else."

"No, I do like it, upon occasion." Severus cleared his throat. "Your mother liked it very much."

"Oh."

"It is ... appropriate," Severus said and reached into the stocking again. He pulled out the wrapped post rod, but one of the licorice snakes caught around his wrist. "Licorice?"

"It was the only sweet I could really imagine you liking. Well, that or maybe something spicy, like ginger chews, but licorice at least tastes rather like absinthe smells."

Severus snorted. "An interesting way to choose."

Embarrassed, Harry pointed suspiciously at the green orb. It practically vibrated with magical energy. "Do I need my wand for this?"

"No. That's part of the point. Open it."

Harry examined the orb. It didn't have any visible seams or joints. A number of things opened at a tap of a wand, but his father had said this didn't need one. Experimentally, he held it from two sides and pulled, and it popped open like a locket.

Inside, it looked like a compass, but the glowing needle didn't seem to be tracking anything. It wobbled and spun as Harry twisted the bottom. He peered at the markings. "Home?"

"Take it out in the corridor and try it."

Harry raced outside. The stone floor was cold under his stocking feet, but to his delight, the needle pointed straight at the door to Severus's and his rooms. "It works!" he proclaimed, coming back in. "Thank you."

His father smirked. "I have no doubt, considering your propensity for trouble, that you will have use for it," he said.

**********

In retrospect, Severus didn't know why he had expected Harry to have mounds of presents. There were enough to last a while, certainly, but only because he opened each with the slow care of someone who treasured a gift. Over half were from Weasleys, and the one from his housemate Thomas was homemade, so the overall value of the lot was low -- not at all what he had expected. Severus found himself wishing he had given into his first impulse and wrapped the books he had given Harry by pairs, rather than all together. Harry would have enjoyed unwrapping them, and he would not have had to explain as much -- these two were my favorite stories when I was an infant, and these two were my favorites when I started school at Hogwarts, and these were my favorites when I was your age.

It was at least not his only present for Harry, although the second hardly counted, as it was something Harry needed. Considering his response to Molly Weasley's jumper, however, that was unlikely to be a problem.

In fact, Harry gave a little wordless exclamation of delight when he opened the box.

"That cloak!" he said, pulling it out and letting the thick wool fold over his hands. "Did you just guess, or did Draco tell you?"

Severus smirked. "I asked Miss Granger if she knew what you would like for a winter cloak, and when she told me you had been clothes-shopping with Draco, I did, indeed, ask him."

"Hm. Well, I know what he's not getting me, then."

Severus stiffened. Harry had left his second present for last, which he had thought intentional. Perhaps he had mistaken some of the wrapping for more? "You do not appear to have anything from young Malfoy," he pointed out.

"Well, not here! We've agreed to exchange gifts tomorrow, remember?"

"Before the dinner? I had known you were meeting, but I don't believe you mentioned presents."

"Oh, maybe not. I did to him." Harry sighed. "At least it will force him to emerge from Slytherin."

"He is unhappy."

"Yes, but staying in his dormitory won't make him any happier! It's not like Greg stayed, even."

**********

The next morning, Draco met Harry two hours after breakfast, as he had promised, and Harry led him upstairs to the rooms he and Remus had decorated. Draco looked politely pleased as they entered the first room.

"Very nice."

Harry looked round at the dark wood paneling and sedate swags of holly and juniper. "It's a bit quiet for my tastes," he admitted, "but I want my father to feel comfortable. Come on."

"There's another room?" Draco asked, as Harry led him across to the inner door.

His hand on the latch, Harry smiled back over his shoulder. "Right. Close your eyes for a moment."

Sighing, Draco complied. "I hope you appreciate the exceptional trust that I am demonstrating," he said.

"Deeply." Grinning, Harry opened the door, and then cast an incantation to activate the window, and another to light the fire. "All set. You can look now."

Draco opened his eyes. An expression of surprise flickered across his face and was gone. "It's lovely, Harry."

"Good," Harry shut the door behind them and put up mild privacy wards. "Because this one's for you, not Dad. Remus helped. Oh, and Dobby."

Draco shot him an incredulous look, but didn't comment on Harry mentioning the assistance of a house elf. Instead, he went over to the tree, and reached out to touch an icicle, letting his fingers run down the crystal length. "Beautiful." His gaze fell down to the two presents under the tree, and with a sigh, he sank to the white carpet, pulled a few small objects from his pocket, and tapped them with his wand. They expanded to three presents wrapped in red and green, which Draco placed under the tree.

"There," he said. He looked at Harry. "This feels odd. There should be more. Not, I mean--" He stopped, his face turning pink, and Harry shrugged and sat down near him.

"Let's not worry about them, then. Cocoa should be arriving soon."

As if on cue, a tray appeared on the low table. Harry went up to his knees to pour hot cocoa into the mugs and top them with whipped cream from a bowl. He handed one to Draco, and sat back again. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

"You said that yesterday," Draco countered, but mildly. He looked again at the tree and the presents, and then set his mug down to lean forward on one hand and reach for something that was poking out of the loose cotton snow under the tree. "What's-- Oh!" Pulling out a chocolate frog, he looked back at Harry. "Sweets?"

"With just the two of us, presents won't take long," Harry explained, "so I hid some little things."

With a predatory grin, Draco dove in to rummage through the soft fluff.

"Hey!" objected Harry, joining him. They scrabbled through it, snagging sweets and trinkets.

"Bubble soap!" Draco exclaimed, sitting back. Harry immediately stopped his search as well. "Is it your potion?"

"No," Harry said. "It has pictures, like you said. Show me? I haven't tried it yet."

"Oh!" Draco exclaimed, obviously charmed, and immediately turned pink. "I haven't seen this in years. I hope it isn't too terribly childish."

Harry watched as Draco, biting his lip from inside, opened the top and drew out the enclosed wand. He wondered if wizards had another name for those. Draco's eyes closed for a moment, like a child making a wish, but he opened them to blow the bubble, getting it to about the size of a snitch. Inside, candles twinkled on a green wreath.

"That's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, laughing despite himself. Draco had given in to childish delight, and beamed at his second bubble, in which a ribbon-festooned reindeer pranced and leaped. "Let me try!"

Harry's first bubble held a giant snowflake that morphed like a kaleidoscope image through elaborate six-sided shapes, and his second an old-fashioned and solemnly benevolent Father Christmas dressed in blue and green, who raised his hand in saintly blessing. He blew a third one, full of colorful wrapped presents, before Draco demanded the wand back. Harry handed it over and dove back into the snow under the tree.

"There are more," he said. "One's just winter, and one is birds, I think."

"Do you have knights and dragons?" Draco asked eagerly.

Harry thought for a moment. He had given Remus far more money than necessary, and Remus, possibly to make a point, or maybe just to make up for Harry having missed out on a wizarding upbringing, had brought back a large assortment of the soap phials rather than returning with change. He thought he could remember a Saint George sort of figure on one. "Maybe," he said. "Let's look."

They tore through the fluff, ignoring anything that wasn't bubble soap, and eventually had eight of them lined up on the table: Yule I, Yule II, Winter Joys, Beautiful Birds, Wildlife of Great Britain, Orchids, and two Knights and Dragons. The last title, Harry noticed, had "Game Quality!" in bold red letters on the label.

"Game quality?" he asked.

"Right! That's what makes this one exciting. Here." Draco held out one of the phials to Harry. "Take one."

Bemused, Harry took the phial. Slowly, he opened it. With questioning glances at Draco, he blew a bubble. Inside it, a Hungarian Horntail roared and lashed its tail. "Great dragon," he said, "but--"

Draco lifted the other phial, as if that were sufficient answer. "Watch," he said, and, moving back a little, he blew a bubble of his own. It floated out, filled with a swirling red ribbon of Chinese Fireball, and Draco used his breath to direct it towards Harry's bubble. When the two met, rather than popping, they joined, and the two dragons entered instantly into battle. After a few seconds, the Horntail's greater bulk overcame the Fireball's agility, and the Fireball went limp. Red flowed into the Horntail's mouth, and then the Horntail grew to almost twice its original size and roared in triumph.

"Your round!" Draco said cheerfully. "Let's go again."

They played for a long time. Knights versus knights and knights versus dragons were similar to dragons versus dragons, except that when knights won, they got more impressive armor and longer swords rather than growing bigger. When Draco called a halt, their cocoa was cold and they had to warm it with charms. Harry overheated his. He sipped on it cautiously, watching Draco's delight fade as he gazed at the tree.

"That was fun," Harry said cautiously. "You must have loved those as a kid."

With a wry smile, Draco looked away. "Yes," he said. "If you're quick, you can play with them by yourself. Though when I was very little, Mother would play too." He swallowed. Harry set down his hot chocolate.

"Are you going to open your presents or not?" he teased. He selected the box with the robes, which was large and flat, and held it out to Draco. He wasn't still sure it had been a good idea, but if it was going to depress Draco more, he should get it out of the way.

"I've been saving them," Draco admitted, but he was already reaching for the present. He smiled for a moment at the mingled gold and silver ribbon before sliding it over one corner and starting in on the paper.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, when he took the lid off. "Those robes! Thank you, Harry!" Jumping up, he held the robes in front of him. "It doesn't look like they'll even need fitting charms!"

Harry laughed. "Remember the duels last day of Defense, and how I lost one with a dud spell?"

"Yes?" Draco prompted.

"I was actually getting your measurements to send back to the shop. They sent them up to the castle after they were sized."

Draco stared, his mouth open. "But--" he managed.

"What? They said they do it for lots of customers."

"But everyone in the lesson saw you lose!"

Harry shrugged. "I said it was an experiment. Besides, I'm not going to win all the time."

"But that's -- for me?" Draco was clearly more impressed by Harry's sacrifice of status than by the expensive gift. "That's-- Thank you."

His face pink, he turned away, ostensibly to extract a present from under the tree. "Here," he said, handing the shimmering green and gold box to Harry. "This is the real one. Of the other two, one is frivolous, and the other is almost a joke. Would you like this first or last?"

Harry studied the box. It was a cube, less than a foot to the side. "The real one, I think," he said. "I'm not used to getting more than one present from anyone. It was odd enough from my father."

"But you have two for me. Not to mention the...." Draco set down the bow and waved his hand at the bubbles and the space under the tree.

"But I'm sure you usually get more," Harry answered. "I'm making up for more than one person." To his dismay, Draco almost cringed. Nervously, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He should cut it soon, he thought absently. "Draco ... I wish I could give you time with your family and a grand party, but I can't."

Draco looked wistfully at the window with its false snow. "You're managing quite a lot of things. I didn't think I'd ever say it wasn't the same, alone."

"I'm here," Harry said plaintively. "You're not alone."

"You don't understand--" Draco broke off the sentence and looked back. Harry smiled wryly at him. Draco turned pink.

"I think I do," Harry said mildly. "Not all of it, but a lot." He picked up the box that Draco had set down and turned it over in his hands. "What you don't understand is that when you don't have family, you need to make one. Why do you think my dad is so tolerant of Ron and Hermione? He understands that they were my family -- are still family."

"And do you think you're 'family', Harry?" Draco said scornfully.

"I could be," Harry answered, undissuaded. "If you want."

For just a moment, Draco looked utterly flummoxed. His bewilderment vanished quickly behind a light sneer. "Must I consider Hermione's relationship with Weasley to be incestuous, then?"

"Don't be a prat!"

"What? If they are family to you, they must be to each other."

"Chosen family, Draco. You know it's not the same. After all, when people marry, that's a kind of chosen family too, right?"

"Ah." Draco was looking more comfortable now. "That isn't so bad, then."

Belatedly, Harry wondered about his example. Did Draco want not to be considered a brother? Or was he afraid of being considered a brother to a Weasley? Or was it really that he didn't understand? Harry shrugged the thought away. "So," he said, "what's in this?" Calling up his curiosity, he began to hunt for the seam.

"Open it and see," Draco said teasingly.

Opening the present didn't help. What Harry saw looked like a large crystal ball with a pentagonal brass base. He rotated it back and forth, looking at it for some clue as to its function.

"Um, you know I'm pants at Divination, right?" he tried finally. Draco snorted.

"Yes, but this is to help you with another subject. Look at the bottom of the base."

Holding one hand over the ball, Harry started to invert the object. It turned out his caution was unnecessary; the two objects remained stuck together. He saw Draco smirk, and forced himself to hold it more casually, by just the ball. The bottom of the base had a short inscription:

A compact dramatized history of the Wizarding World -- what YOU need to know!

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco.

"I know you didn't like History of Magic," Draco said quickly. "This is much easier. Give it the name of an event, and it will show a summary -- with moving pictures and some text -- or you can browse an era. Look." Righting the ball, he tapped it with his wand. "The Treaty of Tibbleford!"

In a moment, they were watching a stretch of windy moor. Two groups of four wizards -- or rather, Harry realized, as he adjusted to the clothing of the period, one of three wizards and one witch, all dressed in blue, and one of two wizards and two witches, dressed in green -- walked towards each other across the bending grass. They met with cold nods, and a tiny old witch in white robes stepped into view and cast the binding charms for the speaking of terms. To the side of the figures, a small scroll unfurled, explaining that the treaty had not only established Devon and Cornwall as part of England, but had bound the Chief Warlock -- basically, the government -- to the maintenance of several large-scale unplottable charms to protect land reserves from Muggle encroachment.

"This is great!" Harry exclaimed.

"Sometimes you need to try a few times to get the name that it knows," Draco said. "And the explanations are rather simplistic, of course."

"Yeah, but I think they'll make the events easier to remember," Harry countered, already wondering if the depictions of the people involved were accurate. Somehow, seeing women had made it seem more real, which was kind of odd, now that he thought about it. "I certainly wasn't getting anything out of the class."

"The class doesn't matter," Draco said. "Even the N.E.W.T. doesn't, really. You should know these things primarily to know them -- to know what they affect now. Anyway...." He snagged another present and handed it to Harry. "This one next, because it isn't to improve you in any way."

Harry glanced back at the remaining two presents and decided he could do two in a row. Eagerly, he opened the second box.

It was more crystal balls. Well, the six balls inside looked more like regular Christmas ornaments, but made of clear glass filled with swirling fog. "Um?" he asked.

"You fill them," Draco explained. "It's sort of like taking a picture, but the image is three-dimensional, and inside. I probably should have given them to you before Yule, because you probably had things to remember, but I was too busy sulking to think of that."

"I'll remember anyway," Harry assured him. It would have been nice, but Draco looked uncomfortably contrite already. "I think they sound wonderful. What's the incantation?"

"Exhibeo," Draco said. "With a tap to the hanger."

"Exhibeo," Harry repeated. He grinned. "I love magic." Draco had an odd smile on his face -- not his usual smirk, or his schooled pleasure, but something fragile and warm. Impulsively, Harry tapped the ornament. "Exhibeo!" Under the glass, the fog swirled to capture the two of them, the scattered paper and ribbons, the tree decked in white and gold, and the table of mugs and phials.

"Harry!" Draco laughed. "You can only use them once. I should have warned you."

"But I want this one," Harry said earnestly. "You have a different smile when someone likes something you gave them than when you like something you got."

Draco's brow furrowed. "I don't give things often."

"That may be it," Harry said. "Anyway, open your other one from me, now."

This was a smaller gift, but more personal. It was a phial of Harry's bubble soap, and an edition of A Methodology of Intuition: The Science and Art of Potions Development. Harry had read parts of his father's copy, and thought Draco would enjoy it -- the subject, the prose, and the nod to his talent. Indeed, he seemed genuinely pleased.

"Does this mean you'll assist me?" he said, looking up from the introduction. "It recommends working with someone, for safety and accuracy."

"I might," Harry replied, with a smile that said more.

Draco's last gift to him was actually two gifts. When Harry opened the box, the first thing he saw was a stiff card -- rather like a calling card -- which said Be good. Beneath that was a book -- a stiff leather volume tooled in gold and embossed with the title The Perfect Gentleman. Draco smirked. "A wizard's guide to etiquette and deportment," he said, "since I promised Minister Fudge that I would civilize you."

Harry lifted the book out and opened it. Draco had marked a few pages with thin copper points. One was on personal grooming, one on respectful behavior, and -- just as Harry was starting to get offended -- one on attention to one's partner for a social event, next to which Draco had written in the margin "...unless you urgently need to rescue someone from a demented Dark Lord."

"Does it have anything about writing in other people's books?"

"Oh, probably. But I knew you won't mind." Draco smirked. "Look in the box again. You missed something."

With some trepidation, Harry peered back in the box. In among the tissue paper, he saw another card.

Or don't get caught

With an amused huff of breath, he lifted that out and discovered that it had completely concealed another present.

"A pocket watch?" Harry picked up the chain. The watch spun beneath it.

"It's special," Draco said, with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Open it up."

Harry opened the watch. It looked perfectly normal.

"Now depress the stem three times in a row."

Once Harry did that, the watch face folded, flipped, and came back displaying numbers from one to thirty-six.

"Thirty-six what?" he wondered aloud.

"Yards," Draco said. "That's where you set the alarm. When someone gets that close to you, it will ring an alarm. If you attune the alarm to yourself, no one else can hear it."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. He laughed. "That's much more my thing than the book."

"I'd already bought the History orb when I saw this, or it probably would have been your main present. So I decided that I ought to make it funny, somehow. Feel free to tell people it was just an etiquette book."

They had just started a new round of Knights and Dragons when a knock sounded at the door.

"Harry?" Remus called. "Your father will be here at any minute. Do you want to summon Dobby, or should I?"

They looked at each other over battling knights.

"Hide the evidence!" Draco stage-whispered. Quickly, they popped the bubble, sending the knights exploding into droplets of color, and then shoved the capped phials back under the snow. In only a few seconds, they were standing at the door, doing their best to look serious.

"Did I ... interrupt something?" Remus asked, eyebrows lifted.

"It was all entirely dignified," Draco returned, tilting his nose in the air, and Harry burst out laughing.

The elves had apparently been waiting for Harry. The moment he entered the dinning room, a platter of canapés and four glasses of wine appeared on the sideboard. Draco's eyes widened. He reached for one with a red olive balanced on an icing-like spiral peak and took an experimental nibble of it.

"This is just like one at home!"

Harry shrugged. "Dobby remembered it, I suppose."

"Dobby," Draco repeated. He frowned at the new treat he had picked up. "Is that the elf you stole from my father?"

"I didn't steal him! I freed him!"

Draco indicated the canapés with a wave of his hand. "He doesn't seem to have gone far."

"Dumbledore gave him a job at Hogwarts," Harry said, exasperated. Remus cleared his throat.

"Harry does not often ask Dobby for favors, Draco." His mouth twitched. "Although he certainly seemed pleased to be called."

"He's really Harry's then," Draco argued, but then let out a breath and relaxed. "Not that it matters. He has remembered quite well, Harry. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry said awkwardly, deciding to let the matter go. He examined the wine. Two glasses had half the volume of the others, so he took one of those. The liquid inside was nearly clear, with a slightly greenish tint, and had a light, dry taste that hit the middle of his tongue with a sharp sort of sourness.

"How is it?" Remus asked, with a touch of amusement. He reached for one of the fuller glasses.

Harry grimaced. "I think Dad would classify it as 'perhaps insufficiently accessible' for my tastes."

Draco snorted. Remus clamped his mouth shut, swallowed, and coughed. "Don't do that to me!"

"What? I just answered your question."

A sound at the door interrupted any reply Remus might have made. Harry turned to see his father standing in the entrance. His clothes were fresh, and his hair clean and brushed, but his expression was dour, and he stood uncomfortably straight.

"Come in!" Remus called merrily. "We were just starting on appetizers. There's some tasty sage cheese and sour cherry."

"Oh, is that what that is?" Draco asked, looking at the pale froth-green mound topped with a red hemisphere.

"Yes," Remus answered with satisfaction. "And I must say that the elves managed quite well from a description."

His heels clacking sharply on the wooden floor and then suddenly muffled as he crossed the carpet, Severus came over to join them. He took a glass of wine first, tasted it, and looked in surprise at Harry's glass.

"You like this?"

"Not especially," Harry answered, and his father's expression tightened again.

"Yet you have drank half of it."

"Nah. There were smaller servings for me and Draco. I've barely touched it."

"Ah." Severus lifted his chin. "Good. I should hate to think I had such a faulty perception of your tastes."

Remus's mouth twitched.

When the soups were served, the bouillabaisse wasn't quite what Harry had expected. He'd known it was a fish soup, but it came disassembled, with the tureen holding only broth, and pieces of fish, shellfish, and vegetables arranged on a separate platter. Draco scooped what looked like a spiced mayonnaise onto a slice of bread before ladling broth over it.

"Here," he said to Harry, showing him the bowl. "You start with bread and roille, then add the broth, and then select your seafood."

Harry tried not to grimace. "I was planning on having the mushroom soup," he answered politely. The rich, creamy stew that Remus was ladling out smelled far tastier than fish.

Draco sniffed. "Suit yourself," he replied haughtily, and took up the silver tongs. Delicately, he plucked a mussel from the platter and set it his in his broth.

"What about you, Severus?" Remus prompted, as he passed the ladle for the mushroom soup to Harry and reached for the bread. "Bouillabaisse or ciorba de ciuperci?"

Severus snorted. "You clearly speak neither language, Remus."

"Nor do you."

"True, but I can at least say bouillabaisse without my tongue stumbling, and I would just call the other mushroom soup." For a moment, he studied his options. "As I am not at Malfoy Manor," he declared finally, "and have no need to impress, I believe I will have a little of both. Bippy!" he called.

"Here, Master Professor!"

"Another bowl, please."

With a bow, the house elf vanished with a pop, and an extra bowl appeared on Severus's plate.

"Hungry?" Remus asked blandly.

"As I worked through breakfast studying your samples, yes."

"I hadn't realized," Remus responded. "Is there some urgency?"

"The results will be more attuned to you the sooner it is done." Severus turned sharply to Remus, making his hair swing in an even sheet. Harry liked that. "What differences did you observe?"

Remus hesitated, and Severus sent an exasperated look heavenward. "Allow me to remind you that I require accuracy, not compliments. Like potions themselves, potions analysis is of little use if sprinkled with sugar."

With an embarrassed smile, Remus nodded. "Well, then. I think the level of pain was about the same--"

Severus frowned. "Unexpected."

"However," Remus continued pointedly, "compressed into less time. I was able to help Harry with all this--" he gestured around them -- "a full twelve hours after what I expected to be my limit, but after that point, was too ill even to read. Yesterday, I had cramps and spasms all morning, but now I feel almost back to normal. Personally, I consider this a substantial improvement, as it will lessen the impact that the curse has on the rest of my life, but others might find it worse. If I were not employed, for example...." He let the sentence trail off. Severus nodded thoughtfully. Harry glanced at Draco and found he was looking rather nervously at the man to his side. Remus appeared not to notice, which Harry suspected meant nothing.

Discussion turned to potions experimentation in general, and of the types of tests that could be performed with a bodily substance from a subject. Harry got the impression that his father's tests had been performed not only with hair and fur, but with blood, however the specific reagents went discreetly unmentioned. At this level, Draco was able to participate and gradually began to relax, although he still looked at Harry every time a familiar favorite arrived. By the time the dinner dishes vanished and were replaced by dessert plates and half-sized glasses of golden wine, everyone was conversing naturally. Harry suspected they were all slightly drunk, as each course had come with its own wine, with smaller portions for him and Draco. Two of the wines he hadn't liked enough to more than taste, but he still found himself laughing giddily at things that were probably not all that funny. Fortunately, he also felt singularly unembarrassed. Even his father looked mellow, and had actually smiled slightly as Remus told stories of tramping through Eastern Europe. Satisfied, Harry took a sip of the new wine, which was deliciously sweet. As he put it down, a stunning tiered dish of petits fours appeared in the center of the table.

"Gorgeous!" Remus exclaimed spontaneously.

"And tasty," Draco said smugly. "Oh, there are extra almond ones! And he left off those horrible stuffed dates!"

Following Draco's example, Harry selected several of the little cakes for his plate, with Draco occasionally adding others while he chattered brightly about the best features of this or that one. Before Harry could actually try any, however, someone knocked at the door.

They all froze, Draco and Remus with cakes halfway to their mouths. Harry cleared his throat. "Yes?" he called.

The door opened just enough for someone to poke her head in. Harry recognized the girl as one of the younger Ravenclaw prefects.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said. "Professor Dumbledore sent me to fetch Draco Malfoy. He has a visitor in the headmaster's office."

Harry looked at Draco, whose face had gone white except for two pink ovals high on his cheeks. With an anxious glance at his father, Harry stood. The world tipped unaccountably, but he managed to catch his balance, he hoped without anyone noticing. Belatedly, Draco stood also.

"I'll go with you," Harry said, getting a puzzled look in return.

"Both of you," Severus commanded. "Look at me."

Harry did. He had a glimpse of his father's wand, and then silver spell light came flying at him. Trust froze him in its path.

"Ow," Draco complained. Harry blinked. Everything seemed remarkably precise, and he realized the slight insulation of the wine had gone.

"Oh," he said. He hadn't realized he had been that affected.

"A necessary precaution," Severus said. "Depending on who the visitor is, you may well need your wits about you. Harry, I expect you to stay with him. We will await your return."

When Harry and Draco stepped into the headmaster's office, Narcissa Malfoy was turning towards the opening door, a warm smile on her face. As she saw Harry, that vanished momentarily, but she quickly had it back in place. She held out her arms.

"Draco, darling!" she exclaimed, taking both his hands and kissing his cheek. Harry saw the tension leave Draco's shoulders as he returned the light kiss.

"Mother," he murmured, so quietly that Harry could hardly hear.

"Happy Christmas, Draco! I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. The season has been quite mad!"

Draco tensed again. Harry couldn't see his face, but he saw his shoulders twitch up. He appreciated his father's Sobering charm. Without it, he likely would have been berating Draco's mother for being shallow and self-centered, and he was almost certain that wouldn't help anyone. He forced himself to stay quiet.

Narcissa turned to Harry, her expression becoming much colder. "You may leave now," she said imperiously.

Shaking his head, Harry walked over to a chair by the wall and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't think so, Mrs. Malfoy," he said politely. "I promised my father that I'd look after Draco." He waved a hand. "Go ahead and talk. Cast a privacy spell if you want. Just know that I'm not leaving until Draco comes with me."

Narcissa turned to her son. "Do they have you under guard all the time, Draco?"

"Of course not, Mother," Draco snapped. "We're friends, as I informed you." He sent Harry an anxious look. "He's just looking after me," he said, a little too fiercely.

"How terrible!"

"Mother, be reasonable."

"Reasonable? That graceless mongrel won't allow you a private visit with your own mother, and you ask me to be reasonable?"

"You did threaten to turn me over to the Dark Lord, if you will recall!"

"Darling!" Narcissa protested. "Only to warn you off."

So Dad was right about that, Harry thought. For Draco's sake, he supposed that was a good thing.

"But you couldn't let me know earlier?" Draco asked sulkily.

"I promise you, Draco, this is absolutely the soonest I could manage." She smiled brightly. "Our lord chose Malfoy Manor to host his festivities this year, can you imagine? It's been terribly exciting!"

"I imagine so," Draco sneered. "Have you had it fumigated?"

"Draco, really!"

"I saw Professor Snape being tortured, mother."

For a moment there was silence. Lines of tension drew across the beauty of Narcissa's face. Looking closer, Harry could detect the shimmer of a glamour under her eyes. He wondered if she was having trouble sleeping.

"So you understand," she whispered, "that I could not displease him by refusing."

Draco sighed. After a moment, he reached out and took her hand. Harry watched, astounded at how Draco seemed defeated by the contact. Shouldn't he want to support her?

"My dear son," she said, squeezing it. "Please believe that I'm doing the best that I can for us."

"And if he loses, Mother?"

Showing she had not forgotten Harry, she looked at him significantly for a moment before giving Draco an almost mischievous little smile. "Then you must see what you can do for us. Does his friendship extend that far?"

Harry straightened up from the chair back. "It could," he said bluntly. "But don't claim that you can do as well. I might be able to get you mercy from our side, if you're not actively involved, but Lord Tom has no mercy."

His audacity knocked the breath out of her. For a moment, she stared at him, one hand splayed under her collarbone. "Tom?" she asked incredulously.

"Why should I use his made-up name? I'm not playing those games."

With a little sniff of amusement, Draco settled in a chair, crossing his legs neatly under his robes. "No, you're playing other games." He waved nonchalantly at Harry. "Mother," he said, "meet Harry the Ruthless. He took me rather by surprise when we first began to bargain."

She nodded approvingly. "So you did bargain."

"To some extent," Draco answered blandly. "Was that what you came to ask me, Mother?"

"Don't be silly!" she returned, with a polite little laugh. Harry thought it sounded as brittle as ice. "I came to wish the joy of my life a joyous Yule, and to bring him presents." With a twitch of her wand she summoned a little tower of wrapped gifts from the corner. "Here, darling."

There were six presents in all, starting with a jade dragon that prowled up and down a tower of some red stone, and ending with a perfectly resplendent set of dress robes in black and gold. Harry found it rather dizzying, and although Draco exclaimed delightedly over everything, Harry thought it had the same fake edge as Narcissa's cheer. At the end of it all, Narcissa took Draco's hand.

"Are you sure you won't come home with me?" she coaxed. "If you come to him yourself, perhaps--"

"No, Mother." Draco took a step back. Harry stood, flexing his wrist against his wand. "Say I was under guard, if you wish. You had no chance to talk to me alone."

Sighing, Narcissa nodded. "You're probably right, darling. Oh!" She reached into a pocket of her outer robes. "I nearly forgot! Your father wrote to you, but he expected you to be at the Manor, of course." She held out an envelope to him. No longer caring about appearances, Harry drew his wand and cast two quick detection spells on it -- one for portkeys, and a less effective one for unshielded curses. It responded to neither. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"Do restrain your guard dog," she said to Draco.

"Actually," Draco answered, taking the letter, "I appreciate his protection. Now, I do believe you should go, Mother. You wouldn't want to be missed."

"Oh, no fear of that, darling. Everyone is out for some event, except for your Aunt Lucretia, who is too sedated to notice a stampede of hippogriffs."

After Draco and his mother had said their farewells, Harry and Draco split up the presents for carrying, and they walked back to dinner.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, as they approached the staircase.

"Perfectly fine," Draco returned, in brittle tones that conveyed he was anything but. "It was already clear to me that she would be unable to help."

Harry didn't know what to say. He doubted Draco really had believed that before. They walked in silence the rest of the way, and Severus and Remus fell silent as they entered.

"Hi," Harry said awkwardly, as he put down the presents by the door. He took his seat.

"A late visit from Father Christmas?" Remus suggested gaily.

Draco waved dismissively at the pile. "My mother, actually."

Remus tensed and shot Severus a look. Severus ignored him.

"I see. She has some reason for her tardiness, I hope?"

With a moue of disgust, Draco flicked his hand at the window. "The Dark Lord is borrowing the manor for the holiday."

"I see. How fortunate you did not return home."

"Yes," Draco snapped. "You told me so. I concede. Is that sufficient?"

"Quite," Severus answered blandly. He drew his wand and reached out to the petits fours tower, which Harry now noticed was wavering as if it was behind a sheet of water, and he tapped the ring at the peak of it. The shimmering vanished. "Shall we resume our dinner?"

They had cakes and more wine, and Severus and Draco had little cups of coffee. When Draco nudged his empty cup away and stood, Harry expected him to say goodnight. Instead, he motioned to the presents from his mother.

"Would you care for a game of Changes, Harry? I've only just learned myself, and it's Transfiguration-based, so we shouldn't be too mismatched."

Harry glanced over at his father. "Do you mind, Dad?"

"Not at all," Severus answered, with a slight smile. "You know your way home, after all."

Harry grinned and touched the hard spot under his collar where his father's gift rested. "Yeah," he said.

Draco picked up the game from among the other presents, and Harry followed him back into the inner room. To his surprise, Draco put the box down on the table unopened, and moved to stand by the tree, with his back to Harry.

"Draco?"

"I need to read the letter," Draco said. "I didn't want to in front of them, but ... will you stay?"

"Of course," Harry said. He Summoned the chairs out, setting them in arm's reach of each other. "Here. Sit down."

Draco sat, his knees tight together and his shoulders in, and drew out the envelope. Harry sat in the other chair, where he could be close, but not intruding.

Draco unfolded the letter. His eyes moved quickly over it and then closed. Harry watched his face and shoulders and general posture all soften with relief. His throat moved in a swallow, and he looked at the letter again.

He read it at least twice, Harry thought, and then parts of it repeatedly. When he was finished, he looked over at Harry.

"About that Fealty spell...."

"What? Draco, I was messed up, I was panicked--"

"No, listen. I was angry about the coercion--"

"I know!"

"Let me finish, will you?"

Harry let out a long breath. "Sorry. Go on."

"However," Draco continued, "at this point, I would be willing to pledge my obedience for the duration of the war."

"What?"

"I'm not going to say I won't argue," Draco continued, his head arrogantly high, "because I will, and if I think you're doing something wrong, I will certainly make that clear, but if it comes down to you giving an order, I will obey."

He fell silent. For a few moments, Harry just stared at him.

"Well?" Draco demanded.

"I don't know what to say."

"Do you accept?" Draco demanded. "Do you want an oath?"

"Merlin no! The oath, I mean."

"Oh, come off it! It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and let out a shaky breath. He could still feel a shadow of the effect, sometimes -- of the dizzying pleasure of having Draco at his feet.

"No," he said plainly, opening them. "I want you as an ally. I want to have changed your mind. If I have, your fealty doesn't matter. I'd rather you were free to think for yourself, because you're actually clever and you see things that I don't."

Draco's relief was quickly followed by a frown. "I still mean it," he said obstinately. "I'm with you."

"With is fine." Harry pushed a hand through his hair and felt it fall back into place. "What on earth did your father say?"

Draco sat back sullenly, which Harry found a relief.

"Nothing of import, really," Draco answered. "He thanked me for the present. He hopes that it indicates a return of respect for the traditions of my lineage -- that's code for 'join the Dark Lord and subjugate Muggles', by the way -- and that your influence over me is waning. He's got it all wrong, of course."

"But why should that make you want to...."

"Because you're right," Draco spat. "Voldemort will never help him, not even to have a valuable servant back, and he will never help my mother, no matter how charming a hostess she is. But you will help me ... even if it involves making my father happy, which isn't something you particularly want to do. I will not be in the place where Professor Snape was, and I do not want to watch my mother accepting her own destruction with perfect grace. I need you to win."

Nodding, Harry let out a relieved breath.

"Well, there! I don't need vows from you, then, do I?" Desperate for a distraction, he looked over at the tree. From this angle, he could just see a triangle shape pointing out from the snow. In a second, he was on the floor and pulling out a cinnamon star.

"Here," he said, handing it back to Draco. Draco took it, touching his fingers for a second in the transfer. Harry wasn't sure this was any less awkward.

Draco sat back, still holding the star. "About my mother...."

"Yes?"

"I think I still need family," Draco confessed.

"I'd still like to be that."

"Good. Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

Harry woke the next morning feeling oddly at peace. The diffuse light of an overcast winter day was coming in the window, but his bed was warm. From the kitchen, he heard the sound of a teakettle whistling, and then the clink of china. His father had still been out when Harry went to sleep, but he was clearly around now. Harry stretched and got out of bed, hopping a little on the chilly floor. By the time he was dressed and out, his father was in the sitting room, drinking his tea.

"Hi," Harry said, joining him. He wanted breakfast soon, but for now, he wanted family. There was another cup and saucer available, so he poured himself a cup of tea and reached for the sugar. "You came in late," he prompted.

"Hmph," Severus said. He looked at the fire, which was crackling merrily. "I suppose I did. You stayed out late yourself, then?"

"I suppose." Harry shrugged. "Changes is fun. I was in bed by midnight, though." He didn't say that Severus hadn't been home by then.

"Ah." Severus studied his teacup. "Harry ... If I were to enter into a relationship...."

"With my second-favorite adult in the world?" Harry suggested.

"Let us say there is someone else."

"Oh." Harry suspected that was just academic, but he still felt a twist of fear. Perhaps there really was someone else -- his father could be very secretive, after all -- and he had only revealed it when Remus grew more direct in his advances. Remus would be crushed. Pushing the thought aside, Harry did his best to answer the question.

"Well, it would depend," he said.

"On whether you liked the person yourself?" Severus said acidly.

"On how I thought they'd treat you. Really, Dad. I want you to be happy."

"And you think I would endure someone who treated me badly?"

Harry almost choked on his tea. He put it down. "Is that a trick question?" he asked pointedly. "I mean, it would hardly be the first time, would it?"

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Touché, Harry. However, I like to think I have matured enough to learn from my mistakes."

"Well, good, but you can see that I'd keep an eye on it."

Severus snorted. "I suppose you would."

Harry waited, but no further information appeared to be forthcoming. "So" he asked, "is there really someone else, or did you mean Remus after all?"

Severus stared at the pine boughs which were curled around the candles. "I'm not certain what I mean," he said. "That is, I mean Remus, but I'm not yet certain what I intend."

"Oh. Well, did you--"

"Do not pry."

Harry sat frozen by the tone. After a moment, he shook it off. His father was still looking at the pine needles, and had obviously not intended his sharpness as hostility.

"Okay," Harry said. "I ... Just know I'm okay either way."

Still not looking at him, Severus nodded. "This branch is dripping sap."

Harry regrouped and looked at the branch indicated, as if it was just as important as what relationship his father had with his earlier mentor. "Should I take it down?"

"As I recall, my mother left such things up until Twelfth Night."

Harry's heart clenched at the bland tone. He had known his father didn't decorate for Christmas, but he hadn't thought about what sort of memories he might be awakening.

"I didn't mean-- Have you been thinking about her all week?"

Severus sighed. "From time to time. I have not done all of this..." Severus gestured to the pine and to the fireplace. "since."

"Sorry. I'll--"

"Harry." Severus looked at him finally. "The memories have not all been unpleasant."

"But it was difficult for you."

"Not unbearably so. It was past time that I let myself remember." Severus gave him a slight smile. "I admit that I expect I will enjoy it more next year."

"Oh." Harry relaxed into a smile. It was only at the relief flooding through him that he realized that he had been afraid Severus would pack him off to the Weasleys next year. "Well, good." He hesitated. "Have you ever thought of ... well, finding her?"

Severus stiffened. "No," he said. He let out his breath in a short huff that sounded almost amused. "If I saw her, I shudder to think what I might say."

"But before -- you said you weren't angry."

Severus looked away, focusing on the flame of the largest red candle as if he was using it for Far-Seeing. "I understand her decision," he said slowly. "For her, I believe it was the best option. Were she before me, however, I doubt my thoughts would remain so deliberate."

Unsure of what to say, Harry reached over and rested a hand on his father's arm. Severus looked down at it for a moment, bemused, and then cautiously laid his free hand over it for a fleeting second.

"And then there is you," he said, his voice low. "The longer I have you, the more it astounds me that she let him hurt me. I can't imagine allowing--" He turned his head away, looking at the fire. Harry swallowed and schooled his voice to the most casual tone he could manage.

"Well, we're protective, you and I."

Severus looked at him in such surprise that it was almost funny.

"Even if you have strange ways of showing it, sometimes."

Severus huffed. "I have a longer term view than most of what constitutes effective protection."

"Like your traps?"

"Exactly." Severus raised his eyebrows. "And you did improve. I didn't get you with the last one."

Harry laughed. "Only because of something Ron said, probably."

"What was that?"

"Oh, I said I'd been walking down a little-used staircase, and he said, 'Well, there's your mistake!'"

Severus snorted. "So you took this as advice, did you?"

"Yes." Harry shrugged awkwardly. "Seamus said it wasn't sporting, but I was just so tired of it...."

Severus inclined his head. "You should have given up on little-used routes much earlier. There are times when quitting is the best strategy."

Harry laughed. "Took you long enough to try it!"

Severus frowned. "Ambushes? Oh -- quitting as a strategy." For a moment, he looked like he would protest, but his mouth closed as he looked as the mantel. The bead of sap, Harry saw, had extended slightly, like a growing icicle. The hanging drop caught the golden glow of the flames below so that it gleamed like amber. Severus studied the display as if it were an ill-made potion, and Harry wondered if he would change his mind about leaving it up.

"Accio nest!" Severus commanded.

The door to his bedroom opened by a few inches, and a little disk of dried grass flew out. Severus caught it gently, cradling it in the palm of his hand for a moment before turning it over, wordlessly showing Harry the bottom of it, which was of bent twiglike material -- perhaps from heather, or some woody shrub. The grass was much finer and looked almost fluffy. Harry thought the nest must be from a tiny bird. He wondered if it was good for potions ingredients.

Severus stood and was at the mantel in two steps. He studied it for a few seconds longer and then placed the nest to the right, nestled in a dip where two branches met.

"There," he said, rejoining Harry on the sofa. "There should always be a nest, when you bring in greens at home."