The Christmas Owl

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The Christmas Owl

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Christmas at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry left much to be desired by the student that chose, or had to, stay at the school for the holiday break. Activities for those that remained were rarely planned, as most students opted to go home, and, while teachers did lessen the homework for the break, this also left the rare student who wished for a distraction very little to work with. Too cold for Quidditch and no work to be completed.

This, however, was not a problem that most seventh year students faced, as those who weren't going home had found a friend to go home with. Most students had avoided the problem of the long break, and were, actually, looking forward to it with enthusiasm. In fact, it seemed that every Gryffindor, even the early years, was looking forward to it. Every Gryffindor except Harry Potter, unfortunately. Harry never went 'home' to the Dursleys, and usually Ron stayed at school with him. This year, though, Ronald Weasley was going home, leaving the green-eyed boy to fend for himself. Oh, sure, the red-head had offered his home to Harry, and Molly Weasley, Ron's mother, had also pressed the issue, but he still declined, uncomfortable with the family after the defeat of Lord Voldemort, and with good reason, considering the Weasley family's losses. After the death of Sirius, Harry had become more withdrawn, until only Ron and Ron's bushy-haired girlfriend, Hermione, had dared to talk to him unless absolutely necessary. Hermione had also asked Harry to join them for the holidays, as she was staying with the Weasleys as well, but hadn't pressed the issue after he had declined.

And that was how Harry came to be sitting at the edge of the lake, covered in snow, alone on Christmas Eve. He had played solitaire, sulked, played pyramids, sulked, moped, sulked, and generally thought on his life.

Ron and Hermione had gotten together. That was a plus.

Sirius. Dead. Minus.

Lupin. Dead. Minus.

Cedric. Dead. Minus.

Malfoy Sr. in Azkaban. Plus.

Dark Lord. Dead. Plus.

Percy. Dead. Minus.

Fudge. Dead. Iffy.

On top of all that, his parents were still dead, so unless he found a suitable place to live, or a place to stay until he found a place to live on his own, he would be forced to go back to the Dursleys. A big negative there.

True, he could stay with Ron until he found a guardian who would sign on a lease or sale of a house or apartment, but that would feel too much like using his...were they still best friends?

Truthfully, Ron was more like his only friend.

That was barely scratching the surface, and still the minuses greatly outweighed the pluses in the equation of his life. That's how he thought of it, as well: 'the equation of Pathetic Potter's life.' Yes, he had thrown in one of Malfoy's offhand nicknames for The Boy Who Lived.

An owl landed nearby, and Harry eyed it uneasily when he saw it was not Hedwig. Not that he was expecting her. Hedwig had seen him through the Final Battle with the Evil Lord Voldemort, but in the process of helping him had done irreversible damage to her left wing. The featherless appendage was now covered in a tough, scab-like skin that always appeared to be melted and dirty. It was also very sensitive.

This owl was an eagle owl, a rare bird indeed. In fact, there was only one that he knew of and it belonged to...

Draco Malfoy had helped Harry in the Final Battle as well, throwing the desperate teen his wand back while Hedwig distracted the Death Eaters. That was where she had injured her wing. Draco had probably saved her life and his, and for that reason and that reason alone Harry took the envelope that was in the owl's beak when it hooted impatiently.

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Harry,

While I am deeply sorry for what my father has done to you, and what he has done to your friends, I cannot hope that you will ever forgive me for blindly following him and hurting you, both emotionally, socially, and physically.

I would like to spend my whole like making it up to you, but that, I'm afraid, is impossible. I don't think that I could live with seeing the pain that I caused you every day, or even every week. It hurts enough as it is, a constant spell that keeps me in pain.

I have to tell you something, Harry, so please don't disregard this letter. Please, don't put it down until you finish reading. I beg of you, please.

I can't say this to your face, as I've tried for the past week, and for that I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but I doubt that such a crime can be overlooked, even by you. I would like to admit why I began to believe my father, why I acted as I did. I was jealous. Jealous of Weasley and Granger, and of all the friends that you seemed to amass without trying, but especially Ron and Hermione.

You accepted them, and declined me. That hurt. A lot. I thought that I was better than they were, certainly better off, and I liked you. I wanted...craved your friendship. When I didn't receive it, I assumed that my father was right, and forced myself to hate you.

You wouldn't let that happen, though. You got under my skin, Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, and wormed your way into my life. I know it doesn't help, nor will it win your friendship or forgiveness, but I hope that you would accept Skye, the owl who delivered this letter to you. He has been patient and kind with this, so treat him well, please. Yes, before you ask, he is mine, but I doubt very much that I will need him after tonight. Think of him as a Christmas gift.

Goodluck, Boy Who Lived.

Goodbye.

Draco Malfoy.

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Harry paused. Most of the letter was pretty self-explanatory, on the surface at least, but the hidden messages in nearly every line were so repetitive, and yet still so confusing. He knew what the last lines meant though; Harry had considered it a few times himself.

Harry gave Skye an owl treat before he rose. Draco Malfoy seriously thought that he was going to commit suicide that night, and Harry had no idea what he was going to do about it. Harry walked away from the lake as Skye left, still not happy, but no longer sulking.

~FIN~

~OWARI~

~THE END~