Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 27: Happy Christmas, Draco

The black steam billowing in great clouds from the smokestack of the Hogwarts Express mingled with the spinning snowfall as Harry, Hermione and Lupin stood together at a bustling Hogsmeade Station. Ron, Ginny and Lavender Brown, who had been invited to spend Christmas holidays with the Weasleys, were currently in the process of hauling their trolleys over to the baggage handlers who looked slightly overwhelmed with the luggage of over two hundred Hogwarts students, currently milling about and boarding the train in a mass of barely controlled madness. Although there were still noticeably less students this year, the workers managed to seem grumpy, despite the lesser work load.

Ron neared the three after leaving his luggage with a handler, breathing on his cold chapped hands and smirking at a shivering Hermione who was nearly wrapped invisible with Harry in his heavy black, winter robes. All he could see of her was a cold pink nose, a pair of large brown eyes, and a mop of corkscrew curls that Harry was having a hard time keeping the wind from blowing into his mouth.

"And here I thought 'Mione cared enough to see us off," deadpanned Ron as he glanced round Harry and Lupin. Ginny and Lavender trotted up beside him having dispensed of their loads as well. "Nice of her not to show, wasn't it?"

Ginny saw a pair of large brown eyes narrow at her brother from under Harry's chin and smiled. Lupin laughed and Harry chuckled, giving a slight 'oomph' as Hermione jabbed him in the ribs.

"Ron, you know I'm here you great prat," came Hermione's muffled voice. "Now come here you two so we can send you off proper."

Ron and Ginny neared and Hermione untangled herself from Harry and his robes long enough for the both of them and Lupin to hug the two goodbye, and bid Lavender a good holiday.

Hermione held Ginny close for a few moments and whispered in her ear. "Please try to have a happy Christmas Gin. You'll be with your wonderful family…all those other redheads that love you so much! Try thinking on that."

Ginny pulled back from her and gave a sad smile before answering her just as quietly. "And what would you say if the situation were reversed and it was Harry who'd broken with you?"

Hermione paused and tucked a strand of Ginny's thick red hair back behind her winter hat. "I'd tell me to sod off."

Ginny gave a half-hearted attempt at a grin and hugged Hermione again. "I know you're trying to help. Just knowing you're there to talk to is enough."

"You can owl me anytime while you and Ron are away, you know that."

Ginny nodded. "I know."

The shrill whistle from behind the six and the conductor's bellow of "All aboard!" told them the Express was moments away from beginning its journey.

Ron took Lavender's hand and nodded to Ginny, who seemed now to be staring morosely past him at something nearer the train.

"Well mates, Professor Lupin," said Ron backing towards the train and deciding in Lavender's presence to keep Harry's fathers' identity a secret. "I guess we'll be off. See you after holidays. Christmas won't be the same without you, Harry. Mum's already had a solid cry and we've not even got there yet without you."

Harry grinned fondly and called after him. "Give her a peck for me, mate! I'll most likely see her at graduation, I expect."

"Right!" called Ron with a grin as he ushered Ginny and Lavender ahead of him onto the train and hopped the first step toward the doorway. The attendant was motioning him inside a bit agitatedly as the train had already begun its first sluggish pull down the tracks. "See you soon! Give Padfoot a good thump from me! Bye 'Mione, wherever you've got to!"

Hermione knew he was referring to the fact that she was once again swimming in Harry's cloak with him, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She'd seen where Ginny had been looking a bit earlier as Ron had been saying his goodbyes; seen the tall, blonde-headed form of Draco Malfoy slumped dejectedly, peering unhappily back at her from the entrance of the train, his hands shoved into his pockets, breath billowing out in front of him smoky white in the cold. She'd also seen him turn away quickly and head through the entrance, most likely to find a compartment to hide in by himself; headed home for the holidays as well.

Hermione had seen Lavender follow her gaze and give her a quick searching glance, but she was sure Harry and Ron hadn't noticed anything. Men could be so oblivious sometimes.

She hoped for Ginny's sake that some sort of naturalness could be worked out between them soon, pushing down her own underlying feeling of relief that Ginny was no longer with the Slytherin. Hermione knew she had no right to judge the 'book' by its cover, and yet the thought still nagged her mind that the farther away from Draco and his father Ginny stayed, the safer she was.

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Sirius swept long dark hair from his face and bending forward at his kitchen table, put quill to parchment with a shaky hand. After a few moments of staring at the words 'Dear Harry and…' he lowered the quill once again, letting his fatigue reddened eyes close and his head drop wearily into one hand.

He'd experienced such a hailstorm of emotions during the past month that he'd almost not been able to think straight. Not long after the meeting with James and Harry he'd disconnected them from his floo network, needing time to sort things out in his own mind before hearing from them again. He'd wept countless nights over the loss of Remus Lupin, lain awake tossing and turning over the thought that he'd had James with him the entire time and not known it, and had grown angrier and angrier at his so-called best friend for having kept him in the dark for the past sixteen years.

Oh it'd been easy enough to reason out why James had done what he had; Harry's safety, and even Sirius' own welfare had probably been the biggest, most obvious factors, with the preservation of James' own life coming in almost last on his list if Sirius knew him at all. But still, the thought that his best friend, more of a brother if the truth be told, had lied to him over and over again for so many years; not to mention the fact that he'd let him believe that another close friend who had died was still alive, kept him tossing and turning on wave after wave of confusion for countless hours.

He'd begun dreaming again of the night Lily and James were murdered. A time he'd finally been able to hide away into the back recesses of his mind after so many years, had snuck back up into his consciousness as quickly and certainly as a thief, stealing his thoughts again; bringing back feelings of emptiness and pain, and most of all, overwhelming guilt. Well he remembered the nights he'd spent in Azkaban having the same awful dreams over and over; visions of their deaths and baby Harry alone in his crib all night long, watching over the dead bodies lying before him, ran through his head like some mental horror film. The regret had eaten his joy away more than the dementors could have ever done.

He'd been away the night Voldemort had struck. Lupin and he had been taking turns staying with James, Lily and Harry those final days, because of the looming threat they had been sensing. Had it been his night with the Potters, perhaps he would be the one now lying in the ground. Perhaps Remus' life could've been spared, maybe even Lily's. Maybe he would've been a stronger opponent for Voldemort than Remus had been. Remus had always been the smarter one in school, that much was true, but Sirius had always had the upper hand at duelling. What might've changed that night?

And Harry…gods that boy had already been through enough despair to last two lifetimes. He'd lost his parents, lost any type of loving family and support he could've come to know, and then been thrust into the hell and abuse that defined the Dursley household. He'd never known love, respect, or kindness until he'd come to Hogwarts and met the few that cared for him, and even then he wasn't granted reprieve. Because then he was made to endure constant threats on his life from Voldemort and constant pressure to be some sort of saviour to some of the wizarding world, while at the same time having to fear ridicule, unbelief, and slander from others. How might Harry's life have turned out differently if Sirius had been around to take care of him instead of in Azkaban? Molly Weasley had inadvertently brought that fact to his attention during a row two years ago and he'd not forgot it since.

And yet of all the guilt and pain that weighed on him like some cement block hung round his neck, he was sure none of it compared to the agony James must feel; for Remus, Lily, and for Harry. And the continuing heartbreak he must be going through having to try to build a relationship with a son he barely knew, and who barely knew him.

In that moment of clarity, Sirius decided that he owed it to himself, his friendship with James, the memory of Remus Lupin, and most of all Harry, to try.

With a steadier hand than before, Sirius dipped the nib of his quill into the clay inkpot next to him and began to scratch out his reply.

And with that, Sirius walked to his hearth, and flooed his letter straight to Dumbledore's office, where the headmaster got it straightaway, with a twinkle in his eye that said he felt something was finally going to be put right.

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Draco Malfoy sat stoically in the very back of his father's immaculately shined limousine and peered with dull grey eyes through the blowing snow as the driver turned down number 66 Hawthorn Way, where loomed at the end, the museum-like estate of Malfoy Manor.

A cold, rigid looking mansion towered smooth cream and grey, taller than all others down the stately area, surrounded by very even, very formal gardens, and a tall ominous looking black wrought iron gate with the Malfoy crest imperiously set above it. Lucius had designed it that way. Lofty and unyielding with almost cruelly straight lines; the house was his father put to stone design. Draco cringed inwardly as the chauffeur drove them through the gates that magically swung open.

Much like Harry Potter, although Draco would never admit it, he loathed having to come back to his 'home' during holidays and summers. Though most of the time he was given free reign of the place, what with his father out taking care of god knew what, and his mother most likely off at one of her esteemed 'rich witch' social functions, he found himself almost always starved for company. There were times when he would've taken Crabbe and Goyle's unintelligent blather over the emptiness and quiet.

Narcissa had hired servants, but they'd been trained to be silent and have little to no personality about them while going about their chores. It was more like having a house full of zombies than people. He'd grown up with most of them, but could count the conversations he'd had with them over his seventeen years on his two hands, barring his nanny. But she'd been cold and impersonal, and at times even cruel.

Yet, Draco reminisced with a shudder, he would've taken her cruelty any day over his father's. With his permanent sneer, and general disdain for anything Draco tried to accomplish outside of his own express orders, he was the epitome of everything cold, distant, and hard. Well could he remember the beatings he'd gotten from his father for making low marks in school, disobeying him indirectly, or failing to complete some task to his exact liking. He'd learned not to cry out at an early age; it only served to fuel his father's rage even more. After all, a real wizard took his punishment and learned from it, he didn't run off to squeal like a young witch, did he?

He exited the car and walked toward the great solid wood door without a backward glance at the driver. He fixed his facial expression by instinct before he even put his hand to the knob…aloof, in control, and tough as steel. Lucius Malfoy would take no less.

Draco strode into the massive foyer and was quickly relieved, if only for a moment, that no one was there waiting for him. A round polished mahogany table always laden with fresh flowers as per Narcissa, no matter the season, stood regally in the centre of a large marble floor. An intricate winding staircase loomed directly behind, and to the left, the archway that led to an impeccable dining room with white carpet, and two large crystal chandeliers hanging over an incredibly long mahogany dinner table laden with silver ornamentals; a table that more often than not, he usually sat at alone. The corners of Draco's mouth held a slight frown. Such opulence, all for nothing. It wasn't as if his parents were often there. The house and all of its rooms and riches were merely status symbols. This is how the Malfoy's were expected to live. And yet, the house, with all of the worldly comforts one could possibly ever hope to have, had a depressing, forlorn feel about it. It seemed whenever Draco came home he could almost hear the place mourning, echoing its lack of warmth.

"Draco."

A smooth, glacial voice sounded from behind him, and Malfoy stiffened inwardly as if his heart had just been frozen. He fixed his face and turned to greet the impeccably dressed wizard, hatred coursing through his veins like ice water.

"Hello father."

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

Hermione, with her nose currently stuck in the folds of a thick book, could almost feel Harry continuing to pace across the room. It was December 24^th, Christmas Eve, and the castle was deserted save them, the Headmaster, and the few professors who'd chosen to stay behind.

She and Harry were currently standing in Dumbledore's office, which he'd kindly offered to abandon to them as Sirius was now due to arrive. He'd felt Black might feel more comfortable if only Harry and Hermione were there to greet him initially. Harry'd been inclined to agree, and he and Hermione now stood waiting for the great whoosh that would signal his godfather's arrival.

Hermione glanced up from the volume she'd snagged from one of Dumbledore's large bookcases and gave a small sigh. Harry was pretending to scan the books as well, but was giving himself away by fidgeting and pacing. He was currently chewing the nails on his right hand to nubs, something he rarely did, and Hermione felt he was trying to keep his mouth occupied rather than voice his fears.

"Harry…"

"Mmm, what?" said Harry quickly, whirling to face Hermione and quickly glancing past her at Dumbledore's hearth. No Sirius yet…

Hermione smiled tenderly at him and put her book down, walking over and reaching her hands up to his face. She turned his gaze to hers.

"He'll be fine love," said Hermione softly.

Harry frowned. "I know that..I know…" But he said it a bit too earnest to be taken seriously.

"Do you?" She smiled.

Harry relaxed beneath her touch and sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment. She knew him too well. "I just want him to feel part of us, you know? I want him to be happy. For him to get his best friend back… I just want everything to be all right." He turned his head to kiss one of her palms.

"I know," she whispered, pulling him into a hug which he sagged into gratefully. She buried her face in his chest, taking in his scent, and Harry dropped a kiss on her hair, lingering there; the scent of honeyed berries blanketing him in comfort once again.

A whoosh of greyish debris suddenly littered the hearth, and Harry quickly turned Hermione around to face the fireplace with him, though still holding her tightly against his chest.

A decidedly soot-covered Sirius, dressed in a long, slightly ragged black cloak an a pair of black Muggle trousers ducked out from the hearth, shaking grey and black ash from his clothes and mane of shaggy hair much as Padfoot would've done.

"That could do with a good 'scourgifying'," said Sirius with a thumb jabbing behind him at the floo. He favoured Harry and Hermione with a small but warm smile. "Hullo you lot."

Hermione felt Harry grinning behind her and decided to step out of his embrace to encourage him to move forward.

Sirius and Harry met each other mid-stride in a warm handshake and quick hug.

"I'm so glad you decided to come," said Harry, beaming. "Wouldn't have been Christmas without you."

Sirius paused, a bit of sentiment stealing across his face at Harry's warmth. When he next spoke his voice was a bit gruff with emotion. "W…well, couldn't stand being holed up in the old Black estate over holidays, you know."

"I can well imagine," Harry nodded in understanding. "Have your trunk with you, then?"

"Shrunk it," said Sirius, patting his cloak pocket, which sounded a bit with the clanking together of objects. "Got some other things as well," he added with a wink.

He turned his gaze toward Hermione who was smiling with unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.

"And you," he smiled, pulling her into a warm embrace. "You seem to have gotten more beautiful every time I clap eyes on you."

Harry faked a scowl and placed hands on his hips. "Putting the moves on my girl?"

Hermione managed a choked laugh, while Sirius grinned like a fool. "Best keep a close eye on this one, Harry. Some bloke'll come round and steal her right from under you, ugly thing that you are."

"Won't be you, will it?" replied Harry without missing a beat. "Ugly and old."

Both began to laugh and Hermione scoffed as she headed toward the spiral staircase that was now leading downward toward the ugly gargoyles guarding the office's entrance.

"C'mon let's get, then. Couple of idiot nits, the both of you."

Sirius grin stretched wider as he and Harry followed her down the staircase and out of the office, toward the head boy and girls dorms.

"So much like you're mum its downright scary," whispered Sirius to Harry as they trudged dutifully behind her. "Even scolds like her."

"I can hear you, you know," said Hermione from ahead with a hint of humour in her voice.

They'd decided, before Sirius had got there, to wait on taking him to see James, and as Harry watched Sirius visibly relax having realised they were leading him to their common room, he decided he, Hermione and James had made the right decision. There would be plenty of time over the week he would be there for Sirius and James to reacquaint themselves, and Harry'd thought it best for Sirius to get as comfortable as possible with the idea first. The others had agreed, and had decided to give Sirius the option of staying in Harry's room for the week while he bunked with Hermione, or taking Gryffindor tower.

Hermione was least surprised with Sirius decision as he scanned their quarters with approving grunts. He'd probably love staying in a place with others. Being in Gryffindor tower all by himself would most likely remind him too much of the loneliness of the Black Estate. He'd come here to escape that, Hermione knew.

"I'd like to stay here I think, Harry. If it won't be too much of an inconvenience for you two."

Harry looked a bit surprised but agreed. "No, not at all. I'll just bunk with 'Mione."

Sirius gave him an odd look, and Harry quickly realised how the situation must sound to him. He immediately began to stutter.

"W..well I…that is, it's not how it sounds…You see…we've been sleeping together…I mean…NO! That's not what I meant…" Harry shifted from one leg to the other, gesturing with hands that suddenly felt like comical rubbery things. Hermione had turned a deep shade of magenta.

Sirius tried hard to keep from laughing and held up a hand. "Harry! What you two do or don't is none of my concern! You're of age now, aren't you? I don't presume anything, you know…"

"As well you shouldn't!" said Harry with conviction. "We…we're not…"

"Absolutely not!" squeaked Hermione vigorously, flushing a deep scarlet. "We're not…not yet…"

"Really you two. It's none of my business. I think nothing of any of it, all right?" said Sirius firmly. "Maybe I should stay in Gryffindor tower. I don't mind."

Harry and Hermione, sharing quick looks of deepest embarrassment, shook their heads.

"No," said Harry. "I'd like you here with us. Really, I would."

Sirius looked thoughtful. "We'll decide it later." He turned toward the large, decorated fir tree Dobby had set in the corner of their common room for them near the blazing hearth, and smiled easily. "Well, you've even got a tree, have you? Got some things for it, then."

And as Sirius fished in his pocket and pulled out a handful of tiny wrapped boxes, the tension and embarrassment in the room dissipated. He began righting the gifts to their original sizes with an engorgement charm and placing them gleefully under the tree, his face shining like that of a child's on Christmas morning.

Harry frowned at him as he and Hermione sat on the couch in front of the fire. "Hang on… how've you been able to shop for Christmas? You haven't been out and around, have you!?"

Hermione gasped, clearly upset. "Oh Sirius how could you!? It isn't safe! I can't believe after all the times you've nearly been spotted before… and you can't buy gifts in your animagus form, can you!? What did you do, then!?"

Sirius waved a hand at them. "Settle down, you two. I haven't been anywhere, unfortunately. I sent my list to Dumbledore, and he sent Snivellus out to Hogsmeade to do my shopping for me. I'm sure he appreciated the opportunity to help me out…" Sirius ended with a wicked chuckle.

"Oh…" Hermione let out a relieved sigh and relaxed against Harry, who was now chuckling along with his godfather.

"Sure he did, just like he would a good hex on his privates…" Harry grinned. "Has to help out dad as well with his wolfsbane potions. He's well pissed with that…" But Harry had suddenly noticed Sirius posture stiffen and realised what he'd done.

Sirius turned from his task a bit pale and moved to sit in the plush arm chair next to the couch near them with a shaky sigh, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Harry mentally berated himself. How could he've slipped like that!? Gods, after what Sirius had already been through just getting up the nerve to come here…

"Sirius…I'm sorry. It's not as if you're not choked enough without my banging on about…well…"

"No Harry," said Sirius quickly. "You've got every right to mention your own father. It's just something I've got to get used to, is all. It's just…hearing him mentioned… in a state of being alive, and moving and talking and breathing and… just being… It's a bit like being punched hard in the gut; takes the wind out of me. Don't know how else to explain it."

Harry grimaced. That was perfectly describing it in his book. "No need to explain. I understand perfectly. Still going through it a bit myself, you know."

Sirius nodded and then shook his head at himself, leaning forward on his knees to stare at the floor. "And now I should apologise to you. I'm sorry, Harry. Have to remind myself sometimes that this didn't happen only to me. Probably harder on you than it could ever be on me, I reckon."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, feeling slightly uneasy and at a loss for words. "I…I don't know."

An awkward silence followed before Hermione finally spoke up quietly. "Well…now you both know you can help each other, don't you?"

Sirius, staring into the flames, smiled with an ironic upcurving of his lips. "You have a smart witch there, Harry. She's one I'd keep round, I think."

Harry saw Hermione blush from the corner of his eye and pulled her onto his lap between his thighs, giving her a kiss on the temple and smoothing her curls back from her face affectionately. She sighed blissfully and snuggled back against him, burying her face in the soft crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms round her and held her close; one hand resting on the back of her head with the other on her hip. He felt her plant a soft kiss on his nape and melted into contentment, closing his eyes.

"Yeah…think I will," he said softly, not sure later whether he'd said it out loud or not.

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Draco immediately recognised the once-over his father was giving him; sizing him up from his stance to his demeanour to his body language in a matter of only seconds. His cold grey eyes, always scrutinising him from above an uplifted, aristocratic nose and stern chin, swept every inch of him, shaking him from the inside, though Draco never gave any indication of it. Any sign of weakness would be punishable, so Draco had learned early, no matter what state he felt himself in, to always exude confidence and a cold detachment.

Satisfied for now, Lucius addressed his son. "Back for the holidays, are we?"

"I am," replied Draco stiffly.

"Good," said Lucius stonily with the subtle raise of one silvery eyebrow. "I trust you've been excelling in your studies, what with N.E.W.T.s coming round. I expect nothing below an E in any of your classes. We wouldn't want the embarrassment of presenting the dark lord with a half-witted apprentice, now would we?"

Draco's stomach felt suddenly as if it'd shrivelled down to nothing but a hard, cold lump of fear. He showed none of it and raised his chin haughtily.

" 'Course not, father."

Lucius paused for effect before accepting his son's response. "Udolphus has taken your things, then?"

Draco nodded, knowing full well the driver/butler would have already unloaded the boot of the limo and placed his trunk in his room.

Lucius inclined his head coolly at his son. "Your mother is currently off on one of her long socialite functions I gather, from what Eleanor tells me. So for the next week, it'll be just you and I round the house. I expect we'll be seeing a bit of one another."

Draco's stiff posture wavered for a moment and his gaze shot up to meet his father's. He'd fully expected his mother not to be there. She never was. But he'd hoped his father would be away as well for most of the time, on some business venture, or some Death Eaters meeting. Anything to keep him away long enough so that Draco wouldn't have to see him.

At the same time this thought hit him, Draco found himself mentally picturing his mother's latest 'social endeavour'. He wondered who it was this time. Perhaps Berkeley Wilson, the filthy rich owner of Wilson's Wizarding Travel Company; he'd seen them getting cosy on more than one occasion during one of the Malfoy's famed parties. Or maybe she'd chosen to take up with Nott's father again; Theodore had said his mother was out of town.

It was almost amusing the lengths Lucius and Narcissa went to avoiding the issue of their own infidelity. Although it'd been going on for as long as Draco could remember, they never acknowledged it openly. Such was the life of the rich, beneficial, and socially dominant marriage. Stray all you like, but stay together for the power.

But shit, did Lucius have to be here, now? Draco actually wanted to be alone after what'd happened with Ginny… She'd been the first genuine person he'd ever really experienced…

Lucius studied his son through narrow, suspicious eyes. "Is there a problem, Draco?"

Draco's heart stuttered in its beating for a moment, and he mentally raged at himself. Don't show him anything, idiot! You want him suspicious!? Keep your cool!

"No father, of course not," lied Draco evenly. "I just assumed you'd be away on business. It's so rare these days we're able to spend any time together."

Funny it never crossed Lucius mind to doubt his son ever had anything but an awesome respect for him, Draco thought as his father continued.

"Under the circumstances I would not normally be here at all," said Lucius with a sneer. "If I were seen outside of this house, I'd be arrested for the attacks done at Hogwarts some months ago. Dumbledore suspects me." He smiled icily, a deadly glitter in his grey gaze. "He's right to do so. I did attack Filch, Pot…(he paused and cleared his throat..no need for Draco to know too much)…Lupin and the Granger mudblood. But all with good reason."

Draco blinked at him. "Why?"

"It is enough for you to know it was necessary," answered Lucius with a voice of steel. "The dark lord has need of me now more than ever. He'll soon have the Potter boy on his knees, begging for mercy, his friends broken before him on the ground. And after, with me as his chief advisor and right hand, the whole of the world, wizard and Muggle alike, will feel the crush of his fist as he rules supreme."

Draco stared at Lucius, a death-like chill creeping up his spine. It was just then, when the elder Malfoy had made a fist to further purvey his point, that Draco had noticed the large, golden hand. The sound of those fingers closing tightly around the palm had sounded like the swift snap of a bone, such was the power in his grip.

Lucius followed his son's gaze and smiled coldly. "It won't be long before you'll understand first hand what it is to be in his illustrious service."

Draco lifted his head as if he felt honoured by this, but his insides roiled with loathing. No way in hell is You-know-who getting his damn talons sunk in me…

"And now," said Lucius, "There are a few things that have been brought to my attention as of late…"

Draco's stomach lurched. Oh my god…he knows…

"Follow me into the livingroom," continued Lucius quietly. "We'll be more comfortable there."

Draco's lungs suddenly squeezed uncomfortably in his chest, and he followed his father toward the livingroom as if he were being led toward the gallows. Did he know?… Had one of his housemates said something to their father?…One of Lucius' Death Eater associates?…

If this was the case, Malfoy knew he was in for a long night…if he survived it.

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Soft moonlight filtered through the half-moon window above the closed crimson drapes in Hermione's room, bathing she and Harry in the dim glow as they lay facing each other. They had stayed awake talking with Sirius for the better part of two hours since he'd finished setting himself up in Harry's room, and they'd finally decided when midnight had rolled round to drag themselves to bed and finish catching up in the morning.

Harry continued to stroke Hermione's face, so close under the warm blankets, his arms and legs tangled with hers, whispering his commitment to her as the quiet and dark often effected him to. His intense green gaze burned into hers, lips only inches away, mumbling nonsensical, affectionate things. Both kept stealing kisses from the other that quickly turned into full blown snogging. These moments away from everyone else were theirs to take advantage of. It became harder and harder each time to sleep them away.

"You were good with Sirius tonight," Harry whispered to Hermione as his eyes raked her face.

"I was?" answered Hermione as she stroked his cheek, a bit of stubble roughening it. "I didn't do anything but talk to him…"

Harry smiled at her. "You helped put him at ease. You have a way of warming people 'Mione, though I'm not surprised you don't know it."

Hermione scooted closer to him and whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "Oh, I do? So which was it that first warmed you and Ron to me? Was it while I constantly tried to prove what a know-it-all I am? Or maybe it's been all the times I've nagged you two on your studies. I know…it's my bossiness, isn't it? I always knew that would get you..."

Harry smirked at her and tucked her hair behind the soft shell of her ear. "That's not all you're about. And you don't think Ron and I recognise that's your way of caring for us? No matter how much it irks us at the time…"

Hermione pinched him playfully on the arm. "And you'd never get anything done if I didn't, would you? I swear what with N.E.W.T.s being right round the corner it's more important than ever we study extra hard! 'Specially on the subjects you need for Auror. For example, I was thinking you could do with bringing your Potions grade up a bit, and…"

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed, slapping his hand over her mouth and laughing as she mumbled beneath it. "I never meant to get you started…what'd I have to do to shut you up?"

But he immediately noticed the twinkle in Hermione's eyes and brought his hand away to see that she was smiling. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I was hoping you'd think of a way to stop me going on," she smiled coyly. "There's one sure way I can think of…One you're really good at…"

Harry favoured her with a sexy, lopsided grin that made her heart lurch. He wrapped his legs more tightly with hers, pressing her body flush against his. They had already exchanged their warmer pyjamas for cooler ones when the snogging had gotten them too heated, so Hermione now wore a pair of his boxer shorts and an oversized tee shirt, while Harry wore only a pair of flannel pants. His hand began moving gently up and down the left side of her body and he followed her dropped gaze, watching as the blush crept over her face. He immediately felt the fire beginning to build between them once again. And Merlin how he welcomed it…

"What would that be?" he murmured with a smouldering gaze, his lips inches from her own. He moved as if to kiss her, and then let his lips brush hers to move almost idly to her neck, moving up toward her ear. When he began sucking on the lobe, tongue dipping in and his hand sliding under her shirt to the curve of her waist and down toward her hip, Hermione felt familiar desire zing from her chest outward like an electrical current.

"I…I think you've hit on it," said Hermione breathlessly tangling her hands in his hair as his fingers swept the soft swell of the side of her breast. She decided that turnabout was fair play, so she brought her hand to his chest, tracing the firm lines there and bringing her palm downward to slide carelessly over the lowest part of his abdomen. She felt him groan against her ear and he pulled back, his expression carnal and his voice low.

"Merlin, Hermione. Don't do that…it isn't fair."

Hermione eyed him innocently. "Mmm? What isn't fair?"

She brought her hand to above his knee and swept it slowly upward toward his inner thigh, stopping just below his groin, smiling in wonder at the quick response his lower half was giving her.

Harry growled almost dangerously. "You're really asking for it…"

"I don't remember asking for anything," she whispered seductively, watching Harry try to shift himself comfortable. "I'm rather enjoying the giving part…"

Her hand moved to his other thigh and gave it the same treatment, massaging the hard muscles there; at the same time her lips moved to his own and gave him a lust-filled kiss. A moment later and Harry was on top of her, her arms pinned above her head, and the result of her handiwork pressed firmly in-between her thighs.

"It's your fault, you know," Harry's low voice whispered against her cheek as he felt her breathing increase. "You give me no choice… I have to torture you now."

"W..well do what you have to…oh...ohmygod," Hermione breathed out as one of Harry's hands slid slowly down her stomach and back up between the valley of her breasts. He moved downward, lifting her shirt to just cover the tops of her naked breasts and kissed below them, drawing his tongue along the underside of each one. Hermione gasped.

"I…I think you're being…quite a bit meaner to me than I was t..to you," she panted quietly as his lips moved downward. She felt him smile against her navel, dipping his tongue in for a slow swirl and continuing downward, his hands gliding lazily down the sides of her waist and down to her hips, holding them firm. Damn you, Harry Potter, but pleasedon'tstop…

He spread her legs slowly and moved down toward the end of the bed, kissing her ankles and taking his time moving upward, sliding his hands, mouth and tongue over her smooth calves, her thighs… He felt her quivering and a fierce hunger welled up inside him, shooting straight downward. Take it easy Harry, it isn't time…take it easy…

He wanted to taste her so badly it was palpable, but he kept himself in check. I love her…I want to wait…she wants to wait… but he grinned to himself. No harm in a little foreplay though… His tongue laved its way upward, his mouth stopping every now and then to suck on a particularly soft area, his fingers resting on the top inside of her thighs, thumbs moving in tiny circles so near...

Hermione's body was shaking with desire, fire burning downward with every stroke his tongue and Quidditch roughened fingers made against her; his soft, wild black hair tickling the insides of her legs…oh Merlin, would it never come fast enough, they'd waited so long…

"H..Harry…"

He finally slowed his torture to pull himself up between her legs, his hands on her hips and his chin resting on her lower abdomen. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You like?" His voice was low and sultry, rumbling in a bare chest that was currently settled between her legs, vibrating against… And Hermione shuddered out a breath.

She nodded. "And p..perhaps you should stop…before 'I like' too much."

Harry's eyes darkened to jade and he moved back up to lay next to her, pressing himself firmly between her thighs. He felt her tremble and drive a bit against him. Lust shot through him like a cannonball.

"I want you so badly," he moaned through gritted teeth, his hands pulling her completely flush against him. "But I also want to wait for you."

She nodded her agreement, unable to speak at the moment, and Harry pulled her over to lay on top of him, carefully avoiding his painful erection. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair softly, his last thoughts before finally drifting off being what a lucky wizard he was.

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

Draco perched motionless across from his father on the edge of an expensive suede chair and stared into the fire roaring in the hearth. Although on the outside he appeared cool and indifferent, on the inside he was falling apart. What did Lucius know? If he knew of his relationship with Ginny…Great Salazar, what would the bastard do…

"I've received some disturbing reports as of late," sneered Lucius quietly. "About you, curiously. And from the most unlikely of sources…"

His fathers snide voice infuriated him, yet Draco dealt him his most unaffected gaze. "About?"

"It seems you've been seen consorting with one of the more…undesirable... sorts at school," continued Lucius in the same poisonously quiet voice. "Have you any idea of whom I am speaking?"

Malfoy set his jaw and answered flippantly. "Not a clue." You arrogant son of a bitch…

Lucius surveyed him coldly. "Be careful, Draco."

Keep it in…just keep it in…reign it, you idiot… "Of course, father."

"Since it seems you're at a loss, I'll spell it out for you," continued Lucius with a hard sarcasm in his voice. "It appears young Theodore Nott has seen you on several occasions consorting with…a Weasley." The name rolled so disdainfully off his tongue it was almost as if he'd vomited it up. "I trust with that sort of rumour, you can imagine the damage and embarrassment that could be inflicted upon the family name…"

Draco studied his father as if all of this was news to him.

Lucius eyed him with a gaze of steel and leaned forward, his voice seething with anger. "I won't have the name Malfoy tarnished by poor Muggle-loving filth such as Arthur Weasley or his church-mouse daughter. We are bred for much higher association, do you understand Draco?"

Draco felt his breath coming harder and shorter and fought the urge to jump from the chair and pound his fist into his father's face. Outwardly, he was as still as a stone.

"Father," he spoke quietly. "I think Theodore misunderstood what he saw…"

"There should have been nothing for him to misunderstand!" Lucius barked out suddenly, his cold grey eyes flashing and his cool demeanour forgotten. "You think it has no bearing on the rest of the family what you do at your school!? Do you think inviting the little Weasley whore to social functions with you, be it a ball or anything else is acceptable!? Don't for one moment assume I'll allow such lowering of standards by you, Draco. Or must I remind you the lesson you were taught some years ago…"

He needed no reminding. His father had caught him playing with a boy of lesser social standing a few streets over. Draco had been viciously caned and sent to his room for three days with nothing but water to sustain him.

Being as he knew his father, Draco thought a way out, although he loathed himself for it. But what might Lucius do not only to himself, but Ginny if given the chance? There was only one thing for it… His stomach roiled sickly. Gods how he detested Lucius Malfoy…

"She's a good lay, father," smirked Malfoy smoothly. "I gather you'll find I'm not the only Slytherin who knows it." It's a lie...I never touched her; not in that way...she's worth more than that…She's worth a thousand of you…and me for that matter…

Lucius looked as taken aback as he ever allowed himself to appear. He stared at his son maliciously, willing him to crack, to waver in his story, but Draco sat relaxed, as indifferent and cold as the lie on his face. On the inside, he determined himself not to vomit.

Lucius continued his gaze for some moments before an insinuating sneer finally etched its way onto his face. He sat back and surveyed his son with a little more respect.

"I see," he drawled out quietly.

For a few agonising minutes, Lucius steepled his fingers in front of him, gold on flesh, and scrutinised Draco as casually if he were some mildly interesting new development. Finally he leaned forward, his heartless eyes gleaming with something terrible.

"Well," said Lucius quietly. "This being your last year at school, and coming of age, I believe some…changes..are in order."

Again fear zinged through Draco at the subtle implication his father's words held, but he kept his face coolly impassive.

"Changes, father?"

Malfoy merely inclined his head at his son. "Whore or not, I forbid you to consort with the young Weasley witch ever again. Find someone more your equal, no matter what your intentions are. Understood?"

Malfoy hesitated. "Of course, father."

"It's time you're prepared for life after Hogwarts, Draco. This Christmas is sure to be one you'll not soon forget."

Something in the way his father had spoken made Draco instantly uneasy. But he held Lucius cruel gaze with one of his own, wishing like everything he had someone to talk to, someone to help him escape this mess…

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

The next couple of days with Sirius passed in a blur of preparations. Neither Harry nor Hermione had gone Christmas shopping as of yet, and as there was no way Sirius could be seen in Hogsmeade, whether in Snuffles' form or not, they left him chatting with Dumbledore, knowing that in two days time, Christmas day, he would need to be ready to face James.

Curiously, Hogsmeade was bustling with activity, so much more so than Diagon Alley had done previously in the year. Since Hogsmeade was much nearer to Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest, and consequently the Kavan Forest where Voldemort had last been seen, Harry and Hermione found it odd the amount of business the town was receiving. However, they chalked it up to the fact that nothing had been seen or heard from the dark lord or any of his followers for some months now.

At twilight, the town resembled something out of a Christmas card. The sky twinkled merrily with only a few stars owing to heavy greyish-white clouds threatening more winter weather. Snow lined curbs and sidewalks in white heaps, where it had been magically blown to either side to ease foot traffic. Multi-coloured and white lights draped windows, and the jolly tinkle of bells sounded with every open door. The air smelled of homemade bread and candy wafting enticingly from shops. Witches and wizards bustled past balancing loads of packages, dressed in their heaviest wool robes, mittens and scarves; cheerful greetings and conversations making their breath swirl out misty white. A thin wizard named Caligulus grinned overjoyed to all passers-by; his coffee cart teemed with business this time of year, the words Caligulus' Coffee Carriage magically lighted up in bright red and green over the awning.

With the last of his presents bought, Harry left Zonko's Joke Shop laden with a fresh batch of dungbombs, hiccup sweets and nose-biting teacups for Ron, who would have a field day opening all of them when he returned from the Burrow. After this last shop, he was left wondering how Fred and George were doing with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley when he saw Hermione exiting Honeydukes with a large box. He hoisted up all the bags he was carrying and crossed the road to meet her.

"Got everything, then?" he said over the noise of the crowd near them.

Hermione tugged her scarf higher up her nose. "No. I still need to get to Gladrags for the sweater I ordered Mum, and to Scrivenshafts to get a new quill for Ginny. Oh! And I wanted to go by the post office to owl a card to mum and dad. They were so disappointed when I told them I was staying at Hogwarts over holiday. I want to at least wish them Happy Christmas. Were you already done?"

"Yep," said Harry tiredly. "Been everywhere but the Three Broomsticks. I was hoping we'd go there next for a butterbeer, and then back to Hogwarts. Don't want Sirius waiting too long for us."

Hermione smiled at him. "Just a bit longer and then we'll go."

Gladrags and Scrivenshafts were done very quickly, and not for the first time, Harry was immensely thankful Hermione was not one of those witches who took forever perusing each and every item. They were in and out very fast, and found themselves nearing the post office within fifteen minutes time.

The building sat at the very end of the long row of businesses that marked the main drag of Hogsmeade. The outside was painted a dark blue, hard to see in the ever darkening twilight, and the words "Wizard Post" were emblazoned with magically lighted white paint above the doorway. A notice board loaded with fliers and notes that waved and snapped in the slight breeze, greeted their eyes before entering.

Harry merely glanced at it as he prepared to lead the way inside, but Hermione caught his arm suddenly with a gasp and pointed to a particularly large notice that seemed to have been hung there for a while owing to its weather-beaten state. Next to another "Wanted" flier bearing Sirius' face, (which was no shock to them), a young wizards face stared happily back, frozen in time. It had apparently been Muggle photocopied as the image did not move, and Hermione swiped away a tear as the image of Dennis Creevey, apparently done at Hogwarts since he was wearing his Gryffindor robes, smiled down at them. The words underneath had apparently been scrawled with a trembling hand.

"Have you seen this boy? Dennis Alvador Creevey, fifteen years old. Disappeared August 21^st near Quality Quidditch Supplies, Diagon Alley, London, England.

Reward for any information leading to his location. Anonymous tips accepted, no questions asked. Contact Auror Headquarters, Ministry of Magic, or Pembert and Alva Creevey, parents…"

An address and telephone number followed.

"Great Merlin," breathed Hermione, her face ashen with shame. "I'd almost forgotten about poor Dennis. Hardly ever see Colin for a reminder…"

Harry nodded, feeling just as sad and ashamed. "Ron says he keeps to himself mostly. Said he's come out a bit more lately, but he's still not like he used to be. He stays all quiet and drawn up into himself. Can't blame him."

Hermione nodded her agreement and resolved with herself to have a talk with Colin when he returned from holiday.

She and Harry moved indoors and quickly found a spot in a long, noisy queue of witches and wizards burdened down with packages to send and letters to deliver. Behind a cluttered counter, where an overweight, harried looking postmaster and his fidgety assistant stood receiving packages and scrolls, a large set of shelves stood, each one painted a different colour and holding cages with different sized owls. When each package or scroll was weighed and checked for it's destination, an appropriate owl was chosen and sent, along with its delivery, to the back with another post wizard to be set on its journey. When most of the crowd had thinned, Harry and Hermione finally neared a cluttered counter with a large sign reading "PRICE AND SWIFTNESS OF DELIVERY DETERMINED BY COLOUR-CODED OWL FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE."

The postmaster did not look up at them as he shuffled through incoming mail.

"Destination?" he asked in a thick Cockney accent.

"Number twenty one, Hyde Street, Winchester, Hampshire," said Hermione. "I've written the address on the…"

"Type a' deliv'ry?"

"…envelope," finished Hermione a bit annoyed.

He finally glanced up at them and caught sight of Harry over Hermione's head, his eyes quickly settling on the lightning bolt shaped scar above his right eyebrow. Harry frowned and quickly ruffled his bangs to cover it.

Inwardly, Harry cringed. "Well…yeah."

The postmaster's frown deepened and bent down with a grunt to rummage beneath the counter, mumbling audibly. "Well I'll be buggered…Dunno 'ow they knew you'd be comin'. Sixth sense, I reckon…"

He re-emerged red-faced some moments later with a small rolled up parchment magically sealed. "Came fer ya earlier t'day," said the man bewildered, as he handed the small note to an equally befuddled Harry. Hermione looked on with interest.

"Ain' no return addy," continued the wizard. "Jus' th' name 'Arry Potter' on its outside. Guess they reckoned we'd know ya when we seen ya. I mean, everyone does, don' they?"

Harry eyed the roll and answered irritatedly. "I suppose…"

He pocketed the note intending to open it later, and noted the postmaster and assistant rock back on their heels with looks of disappointment.

"Well, bang it up 'ere young miss," said the fat wizard. Hermione passed him the card and he bobbed it up and down in his hand for a moment. " 'Course it don' weigh much. 'Ere Smitty…"

He handed it to his assistant who immediately turned to choose a large ash-coloured owl.

"No, you ruddy nit!" scowled the postmaster at Smitty. "A card don' take no Gian' Grey, them's fer packages an' th' like! Jus' sen' one a' them lit'le Scop owls, it'll do!"

The assistant blushed deeply and reached higher up for one of the smaller owls, attaching the letter securely to its tiny leg and taking it round to the back.

"Tha'll be five sickles," said the postmaster, turning back toward Harry and Hermione.

Harry reached into his pouch to pay the man, and he and Hermione left, headed outside into the now darker night toward the Three Broomsticks.

They sat toward the least crowded part of the dimly lighted pub, echoing with the noise of bottles clinking and witches and wizards talking and laughing. They chose a small, secluded booth away from most of the other patrons, and over mugs of steaming hot butterbeer, Harry pulled out the small parchment and tried to open it. Whatever ward had been used to close the scroll was extremely powerful as he soon found out, and it took Hermione remembering a seal breaking charm to finally reveal its contents.

She pulled out her wand and pointed it.

"Dilorico!"

The note instantly unsealed and even unfurled itself to lay flat in Harry's hand. Hermione scooted closer to him to read the few words inside.

"In two days time you shall receive the first."

Harry frowned and turned the note over as if looking for another part. "What the bloody hell…"

"Do you recognise the handwriting?" asked Hermione, grimacing.

Harry shook his head, his thoughts immediately turning black. Who else would be so cryptic? Voldemort loved playing games…could this be a sign something dark was about to rear it's ugly head again? Without even realising it he snaked an arm round Hermione and pulled her closer to him, a look of apprehension creasing his face.

Hermione's heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. "Harry, what is it?"

"I dunno," said Harry quietly, kissing the top of her head. "But I think we should get back to the castle now."

Hermione nodded at him and let him take her hand, leading her out into the cold December evening, where snow had begun to come swirling down once again.

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

Dear Ginny,

Draco Malfoy watched the black owl take off into the dark night until it was unrecognisable against the sky, his heart grown even heavier than it'd done when he'd been downstairs with his father.

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

The next two days passed too quickly for Sirius as the time to face James drew nearer.

Christmas dawned grey, snowy and cold, and Harry and Hermione awoke to find him already awake, dressed and seated in front of the common room fire, his face drawn tight with nerves. Harry decided not to embarrass him by asking him how he felt, but rather followed Hermione's approach of cheerfulness.

"Morning Sirius," yawned Hermione, plopping down on the couch beside him as Harry made his way into the bathroom for a shower.

Sirius glanced over with a small smile at the sight of Hermione, whose hair was in low pigtails. "Morning."

For a few moments they were content to listen to the crackling of the logs in the fire and the muffled spattering of the shower until Sirius finally spoke up quietly.

"So, what'd you think of him?"

Hermione turned to look at him. "Of James? He seems very kind...and patient. He's a great teacher. I can tell he loves Harry very much."

"He asked you to call him James?" said Sirius, another small smile smoothing some of the lines from his face. "Always said he'd never allow anyone to call him 'mister' or 'sir'. Sounded too old; too much like his father."

Hermione nodded. "I feel he's trying his best to make Harry comfortable round him. Maybe he knew if I called him by his first name rather than Mr. Potter it might sound less awkward. At least that's what I've thought, anyway."

"You might well be right," said Sirius thoughtfully. He paused for a few moments, trying his best to think how to phrase his next question.

"So, how do he and Harry…get on together?"

Hermione eyed him for a moment. "You don't want to ask Harry these things?"

"I just don't want him feeling more uncomfortable than he already is," said Sirius. "I don't want him thinking he has to explain himself to me. I just want to know…I want to know if things are getting better between them."

Hermione paused for a few moments to think through how Harry and his father's relationship seemed to be progressing. "Well, it's certainly less strained than before. They're able to talk about things now, important things. But by no means is Harry over everything yet. I'm not sure he'll ever be."

Sirius grunted in understanding and sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound coming from the popping logs and the sound of Harry whistling some nameless tune as he shut off the shower.

Very unexpectedly, Hermione suddenly placed a hand on his arm and spoke quietly. "And Sirius…If you're wondering if James is somehow going to replace you in Harry's life…he isn't. Harry relies on you and feels the same about you as before his father reappeared. You can feel secure in that."

She gave him a small understanding smile before jumping up as Harry emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and tousled and a fresh pair of jeans on. Hermione pretended to ogle him like a randy tart before passing him to take her turn for the shower. Harry grinned at her and rounded the couch to sit near Sirius.

"Alright?" he asked cheerfully.

Sirius smiled at his godson and nodded, more light-hearted than he had been in days. "That girlfriend of yours is a keeper, Harry. Smart as they come, isn't she?"

Harry gave him an odd sort of smile but agreed.

The castle seemed oddly empty and echoing without the sounds of hundreds of students tromping its halls, talking with each other, and hundreds of cups, forks, and spoons clattering around plates and bowls in the Great Hall. The ghosts and portraits kept the place from being completely soundless. Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron were seen chatting amiably around hallways, the Fat Friar was making gloomy noises over the missing Hufflepuff students and sulking that the Grey Lady continued to haunt the castle in silence, choosing not to speak to anyone. Peeves continued to reek havoc on any and every being who passed near him.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was a quiet affair. Harry, Hermione and Sirius joined Dumbledore, McGonnagol, Snape and James at one long table set in the middle of the huge room as the others had been cleared away for the holidays.

Sirius greeted them all in turn, even James, though it was a bit uncomfortable and forced. However, James seemed to take it in stride and greeted him back serenely, hoping that his own calm exterior would help Sirius feel more at ease. By the time the food had apparated to the middle of the table, a great pile of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hot tea and pumpkin juice, his efforts seemed to be working.

True, Sirius had not yet had to face him one on one, but James was hopeful that once they did, having already shared breakfast together might make it a bit better.

While they ate, Snape passed looks of deep dislike from Sirius to James and stayed morosely to himself, something which helped to bond the two friends together a bit more as they frequently shared observant glances about it between them. Dumbledore talked mostly about the Ministry and how they were still refusing to believe reports that Voldemort had returned. McGonnagol interjected her opinion on the whereabouts of the missing Dementors, stating somewhat unnecessarily that she was sure they'd gone to join Voldemort's ranks.

Lupin spoke up every now and then when he could, while at the same time filling Sirius in on the dark happenings at Hogwarts since the beginning of the new school term. For proving his point, he lifted up one long sleeve of his robes to show Sirius the long, angry, red scar that he now bore on his left forearm.

Sirius seemed eager to help in defending the school, although with Dumbledore's strong objections and reminders that he was still at large, some of the wind seemed to be taken from his sails. But Harry knew when time for the final war reached his godfather's ears there would be no stopping him from leaving Grimmauld Place and joining in the fight.

Time after breakfast until that evening was spent with Harry, Hermione and Sirius wrapping packages and getting things ready for James arrival to their common room. Hermione set out the load of food Dobby had made especially for them on a blanket in front of the hearth. Sirius was getting noticeably more tense as time drew nearer for James to arrive, and he ended up having to rewrap some of the packages as he was paying little attention to what he was doing .

A sharp rap on the portrait door around seven, followed by Sir Cadogen's tiny muffled voice, ("Halt! Who goes there!? You trespass on private lands, knave! Remove thyself or be forced forthwith!"), alerted them to the fact that James had finally arrived.

Hermione opened the portrait door, admonishing Cadogen and receiving James in with a kiss on the cheek. As he entered, smiling first at the Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the corner, Harry couldn't help but notice how nervous he looked as well. He and James greeted each other with a handshake and after placing his presents under the tree, James joined the other three in front of the hearth and loaded his plate.

After a long dinner, during which Hermione and Harry kept the conversation flowing as smoothly as possible, Hermione handed out the presents, making sure to add bossily that each was to be opened one at the time so everyone could see what the other had gotten.

Sirius had gotten Harry a very nice broom servicing kit, (Bernard's Complete Broom Servicing Kit: Official kit of the Salisbury Slayers) complete with twig trimmers, a splinter sander, and handle polish.

Hermione had gotten him a book, So you want to be an Auror?: A Wizard's Guide to Making the Grade by Eamon Merriweather, which when he'd opened it and faked extreme surprise, she'd scowled at him.

James had found him a book as well, but it worked more as an interactive teaching hologram. When opened, A Guide to Advanced Fencing by Englehard Parry, showed two translucent characters suddenly popping from its pages and standing in attack position. Harry only needed to touch the written fencing move he wished to see with his wand, and the characters acted it out for him.

"Thought you'd advanced far enough to use this in your spare time," added James with a smile as Harry thanked him.

But while Sirius gave the fencing book a once over, checking out different moves with a touch of his wand, Hermione looking on, James slipped a small box with a card attached into Harry's hand. Harry looked at him quizzically, but James merely gave him a small nod and mouthed to him to pocket it and open it later.

Harry'd gotten Hermione a beautiful silver bracelet at the new jewellery shop in Hogsmeade, Bernadette's Bangles and Bobs. He'd made sure to set a deep blue star charm on it to similarly match the necklace he'd given her last year, and had enchanted it as well, but with a spell that would act as a mood ring for her, and tell her Harry's mood when she wore it and thought specifically of him. As she threw her arms round his neck, Sirius gave Harry a thumbs up behind her back. Harry grinned.

Both James and Sirius had given her books, as neither of them could think of anything more perfectly suited, and she of course, loved them.

James opened his presents as well, one from Harry and one from Hermione, and found, to his immense relief, that Sirius had decided not to get him anything the same as he had done. The situation was awkward enough, and both had apparently thought far enough ahead to consider how hard it might be to open a gift from the other.

Sirius appeared equally relieved to have not received anything from James as he opened one of his two gifts, the largest of them all. It was a Muggle television, charmed somewhat illegally by Arthur Weasley earlier in the year to display every local channel it could get, and when turned to channel "0" to sound with the WWN. The gift was from both Harry and Hermione for him to take back to Grimmauld place so that he could stay aware of the goings on in the Muggle and wizarding world, and also to entertain him when he was bored out of his skull. Sirius was immensely grateful.

However, as he opened his second gift and realised what it was, he was left speechless. Harry and Hermione had sat up all night a few weeks ago compiling as many old photos as they could find in the school of the Marauders and placing them carefully in an album. They had, of course, "scourgified" Peter Pettigrew from every picture making them a bit different than they had been originally, but Harry was sure Sirius didn't mind.

The book had the desired effect. Harry saw James strain his neck far enough to see what Sirius was holding, and saw his eyes widen and begin to water. The image of a young Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and mischievously grinning James Potter, who had just picked up a struggling, scowling Lily Evans in his arms, yelled and waved silently at the camera. Lily finally succeeded in the next picture to punch James in the chest hard enough for him to drop her. While James wheezed and the others laughed, Lily smoothed her robes and hair and stood grinning and waving as well.

James saw Sirius beginning to grin at the image and sat on the couch near him. "Remember that day, mate? Lily wouldn't speak to me for two days. Said I'd embarrassed her."

"You were doing that all the time, weren't you?" said Sirius flipping the page and grinning at a picture Lupin had taken of he and James giving a low fly-by over his head during a Quidditch match.

It had gotten late already, and Harry turned to Hermione who stood staring at the two with tears in her eyes. He winked covertly to her and she nodded.

"We'll be right back," he said grabbing hold of Hermione's hand. "Just need to get something from the room." James gave him a small wave to let him know they'd heard him, his eyes still keenly focussed on the album.

Harry led Hermione to her room and shut the door, both knowing full well they weren't planning to re-emerge until morning. He smiled and hugged Hermione to him in the dimly moonlit room, his own tears threatening to spill out over his cheeks. Sirius and James had just been given a way to finally open up to each other, although a bit underhandedly. He just hoped they would take advantage of it.

Much later in the evening, when Hermione had fallen asleep on Harry's chest, he found himself still unable to sleep, thinking about the two most important men in his life out in the common room. He'd heard no yelling, no raising of voices, but perhaps that had more to do with the thick oak doors his and Hermione's rooms were furnished with rather than the actual conversation. He'd just been thinking to himself what a pleasant, uneventful holiday it'd been when he heard the tap of something hard against the glass of Hermione's window behind him.

Instantly, Harry shoved his glasses back onto his face, grabbing onto Hermione with one arm and his wand with the other and pressing both of them as flat onto the bed as possible.

But as he turned to peer at the window from between the thick parted scarlet canopy, he saw only a grey barn owl perched on the sill, its feathers puffed up from the cold, and a small scroll tied to its leg.

"Harry," whispered Hermione sleepily as he made to rise from the bed. "What is it?"

Harry replied quietly, pulling the thick quilt back over her shoulders. "Nothing love, just a post owl. I'll be back."

Hermione nodded, a small frown creasing her face at the thought of a post owl delivery this late, but she'd fallen back to sleep before the thought could fully register in her head.

Harry padded toward the window and opened it slowly, his wand still clutched in his hand. He untied the note and watched as the owl flapped its way back out into the night. Again, the note was powerfully sealed. Remembering the spell Hermione had used before, Harry pointed his wand at it, keeping near the window to use the moonlight for illumination.

"Dilorico."

The note unfurled instantly, and words began to form in an eerie red blazing scrawl, one that reminded him too well of the note he'd received last year concerning Hermione's abduction. His heartbeat quickened and he gripped his wand tighter, glancing over to make sure she was still safe in her bed.

"Harry, you were warned..." the first words etched themselves. And as the rest began to form, Harry felt himself grow shaky with all of the repressed fear and anxiety he'd been saving up, knowing that eventually, something else was to happen.

"The time draws near to meet our fates.

The winds of change draw nigh.

No time, no hope its much too late.

The first are marked to die..."

Snowflakes fell gently on top of the precisely manicured lawn outside, the moonlight against the dark making them gleam as if sprinkled with glitter. But as Draco Malfoy sat sprawled in an expensive easy chair in front of a large domed window, his eyes dully following their journey toward the ground, he could find no beauty in it. His fathers house marred all that touched it. Nothing on these grounds could ever be considered a thing of beauty.

"Master Malfoy," said a cowed voice from behind him, sounding a bit strange as if from lack of use.

Draco sat up slowly and turned to see Marietta, the cook, eyeing him nervously as she wrung her hands.

"Dinner is served…b..but, your father wishes you to meet him in his study for a moment. He says he has your Christmas present." Marietta gave him a hopeful smile as if she'd just informed Draco of his father trying to make a nice gesture, but he couldn't bring himself to be fooled.

He nodded to her and she scurried away toward the kitchen to bring everything out to the table.

Malfoy headed down the long marble hallway, somehow reminded of a death-row wizard taking his final stroll toward the room where he was to be dispensed of. But Lucius wasn't about to kill him…yet. He had too much for Draco to accomplish first, of that he was sure. Sorry you won't get the pleasure you trumped up pile of shit…

He entered his father's study with his hands plunged deep into his robes. Lucius sat stiffly in a large leather chair facing the lit fireplace, a look of deep satisfaction smoothing the usual harsh lines in his face. Draco scanned the room and saw no wrapped boxes; nothing out of the ordinary. He began to immediately grow wary and took an involuntary step backward.

"Be seated, Draco," said Lucius quietly, gesturing at an identical chair near him.

Draco sat himself down slowly, perched on the edge of the seat as if prepared for instant flight if needed. "Marietta said you had something for me."

"Indeed I do," said Lucius, the hint of malevolent satisfaction making chills creep up and down Draco's spine. He was just thinking to himself that he should've listened to his instinct and escaped this dungeon last night when, with a wave of Lucius' wand, the door behind him slammed shut and locked with a frighteningly secure click.

Malfoy turned his wide gaze from the door toward his father and gripped the arms of the chair so hard his fingernails broke the soft leather.

"Father," his voice sounded cold even to him. "What's this about?"

"I told you last night some changes were in order," said Lucius softly with a small smile. A hot log in the hearth gave a particularly loud crack and Draco fought the urge to jump at the sudden noise.

"When I'd heard of your…dealings…with the Weasley witch from Nott, I knew my decision was the correct one," continued Lucius. "I believe Dumbledore thinks he can draw some sort of…misguided good…from you, thus your inclusion into the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Therefore, you could be one of the essential elements in his undoing, and consequently in reinforcing the dark lord's new movement. Therefore, we can't have you influenced by any of the bleeding-heart idiots at school who don't understand where the true power lies."

Draco tensed. "Father, I told you…She meant nothing to me…just another whore…"

Lucius stood. The look of intense determination in his father's eyes was what did it for Draco. Lucius wasn't hearing him. Whatever he'd decided to do, he wasn't going to turn from it, no matter what his son said.

There was no time for more thought or planning. In an instant Draco's fingers had curled round his wand and he'd whipped it out toward his father.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The spell hit him directly in the chest.

Draco did not wait to watch the results, he whirled toward the door and bellowed "Alohomora!" The door clicked open, but the second his hand reached the knob something hit him from behind.

"Immobulus!"

Draco bashed into the door and fell with a limp thud to the hardwood floor, his eyes squinted hard shut against the pain shooting through his head. He eyes were the only thing still able to move.

Lucius Malfoy calmly strode over to his son and dragged him back up onto his chair.

"Ah Draco," he sneered, only a bit out of breath and holding his wand steadily on him. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't prepare myself for just such an eventuality? Shield charms are easy to conjure. I'd hoped you'd decided to continue in the ways of our lord, but unfortunately, as you've now made it quite clear, you've already been tainted by Dumbledore and those who believe in him. You've given me no choice but to force loyalty upon you, I'm afraid. And I'd so hoped we could do this the easy way. Ah well, such is life..."

Although his face was frozen, on the inside, Draco was screaming. Bastard! Son of a bitch! Oh god, he's going to do it…oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod…

Lucius bent down and carefully, calmly rolled up the left sleeve of Draco's robe, watching his sons eyes narrow hatefully as he spied his golden hand.

"After I'm done I must return to our master," he said almost conversationally. "He's expecting me. Udolphus will take you back to King's Cross when it comes time for your return to school."

Oh god…ohmygod don't let this happen to me…

"By way of explanation," continued Lucius as he straightened up once again and towered over his son's prone form. "From now on, you will feel the master's draw. When he calls, the mark will burn, as I'm sure you've already seen. Of course, you won't be expected to give response until after you've done with school, at which time you will immediately join in his service. With this mark, the dark lord has access to your feelings and emotions. If he is focussing on you at the time, he will sense any feelings of betrayal, and mark my words Draco, you will be found and dealt with accordingly."

Son of a bitch…you great son of a bitch…I hope you rot in hell…

Lucius raised his wand, ironically held by the huge golden hand. Draco determined not to show fear in his eyes.

"Be cheered son," said Lucius, smiling coldly. "Receiving the mark is a great honour. Morsmordre!"

Immediately after, Lucius disapparated with a loud crack.

And as the mark burned his skin, etching even down into his muscle the brand of Voldemort, silent screams echoed through Draco's head, who now felt as if his soul had been branded as well. Unclean…unclean…

Some half an hour later, when a shaking, white-faced Marietta had finally been allowed to remove the curse and help him to the table, Draco sat completely alone at the end of it, surrounded by row upon row of Christmas dishes. They steamed hot, all of his favourites, but his mouth was too dry to eat. Even if he'd been able to force any of it down, Draco wasn't sure it would stay there. The long opulent table screamed of emptiness as he stared down it, wondering what it might be like to have others there with him. But even if he could at this moment, he would turn them away. He was tainted. Dirty. He was now, truly a Malfoy.

"Happy Christmas Draco," he whispered to no one at all.

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