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“This is the happiest Christmas I’ve ever had,” I declared cheerfully, stuffing my plate with all kinds of sweets, from Treacle Tart to Pumpkin Pasties to a huge piece of Yule Log Cake. And it was the happiest Christmas ever, really. ‘Cause for the first time in eighteen years I didn’t have to worry about Voldemort, or the Triwizard Tournament, or the Dursleys… for the first time, I was free. And that was the best feeling ever. Nothing could have spoiled that evening.
“You’re right, mate,” replied Ron, his plate even fuller than mine. “Even though it will never be the same, y’know, without Fred.” He lowered his eyes, and I suddenly felt incredibly stupid for thinking everything was okay, ‘cause it really wasn’t. Hermione reached across the table to take Ron’s hand and squeeze it gently. She smiled at him reassuringly, as if words weren’t necessary between them. Something twisted in my chest. Something that dangerously felt like loneliness. Maybe there was something missing from my life after all, something that would’ve made me happier, that would’ve made my life complete, and that scared me more than anything I’d ever faced.
Watching Ron and Hermione together made me feel happy for them, but also slightly jealous, because I knew I didn’t have someone to love and take care of. Things with Ginny hadn’t worked out, and that had been a surprise for me as much as it had been for everybody else. I was happy with her, but the feelings I had for her resembled more affection than love. I didn’t know what being in love really felt like, but I was certain it was more than simple affection. Surely it was supposed to make you burn with passion, to turn your life upside down. And it definitely wasn’t like that with Ginny. So we had decided it was better for the both of us to go separate ways. At first I loved the sense of freedom, but now wondered if I’d ever find what I was looking for.
“I heard Malfoy’s spending Christmas in the Hospital Wing. Apparently someone hexed him after class two days ago.” Hermione’s voice reminded me I was still in the Great Hall.
“Who cares?” said Ron, helping himself to even more Treacle Tart.
“Ron!” cried Hermione reproachfully. “As much as we’re not Malfoy’s biggest fans, hexing him is not the right thing to do. After all, he’s changed so much since last year; and besides, no one should be alone at Christmas. I can only imagine what it must be like, being all alone, without any friends…”
Her words hit me like a bludger. Here I was, internally complaining about being lonely, when there was someone who had it way worse than me. After the events on the Astronomy Tower, my feelings for Malfoy had turned from hate to something else: pity, then acceptance, then concern. I was concerned for him, and I didn’t even know why. He’d done nothing but make my life a living hell – except when he actually saved my life – I admitted grudgingly. Still, I couldn’t understand why I cared whether he’d been hexed or had to spend Christmas alone in the Hospital Wing.
Ron’s voice brought me back once again to the cheerfulness and warmth of the Great Hall. “We’re going back to the tower, you comin’? We could play Chess or Exploding Snaps. We could even try out the new stuff George has sent me…”
“Actually, you two go on,” I cut him off. “There’s something I have to do first.” Ron just shrugged, but Hermione frowned. She then gave me a meaningful, pointed look, as if she knew exactly what I was about to do.
Once I was alone at the Gryffindor table – except for a few first-years – I started filling my pockets until they were bursting with sweets. Then I left the Great Hall, heart almost as heavy as my pockets. I had no idea why I was doing this. Was it pity? Was it an attempt to start over? Or was it simply the need to take care of someone? Maybe – I realised while I climbed the marble staircase towards the Hospital Wing – it was the three of them combined.
Once I reached my destination, I knocked twice, and almost immediately the doors opened, revealing a very surprised Madam Pomfrey. “Mr Potter, what a surprise. Merry Christmas, dear. How may I help you?”
“Erm, Merry Christmas. Everything’s fine with me. I’m actually here to see Draco Malfoy,” I confessed, feeling utterly stupid the moment those words left my mouth.
Madam Pomfrey raised her brows. “You’re the first person who’s asked to see him.”
“I figured. Since it’s Christmas Eve, I thought he might appreciate some company.”
She smiled. “That’s very kind of you, dear. In fact, he’s been quite miserable these past few days. But I have to disappoint you: he’s asleep right now, and won’t wake up for several hours. You see, I gave him a sleeping potion. He said the pain was too strong.” Her voice was serious as she said that.
I didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. I wanted to see Malfoy – talk to him, even more – but I had the feeling that, while my feelings for him had changed after the war, his were still very much the same.
Since we’d come back to Hogwarts, I’d tried several times to talk to Malfoy, to tell him I forgave him for everything he’d done in the past, but he’d always managed to avoid me every single time. I knew this was my chance to make things right, to end this stupid rivalry once and for all. Hermione’s words ringed once again in my ears: no one should be alone at Christmas. She was right. Maybe I couldn’t convince Malfoy to talk to me, but I could at least make sure his Christmas wasn’t so miserable.
I looked up hopefully at Madam Pomfrey. “Can I leave something for him, then? I brought some sweets from the feast.”
“Of course you can,” she replied, “just leave them on the bedside table. Once Draco wakes up, I’ll tell him you left them.”
Panic suddenly seized me. “Actually, I’d prefer you didn’t tell him it was me. It’s better if he doesn’t know.”
Madam Pomfrey eyed me curiously. “Are you sure? That’s probably the nicest thing someone’s done for him this term.”
I lowered my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, thank you. I gotta go. Merry Christmas again.” Then I stormed out of the room, without waiting for her reply.
All the courage I had gathered up had suddenly disappeared, and I felt guilty about what I’d done. What if that made things worse? Well, I couldn’t turn back now, so I let my feet guide me to the Gryffindor tower, where there were games of Wizard Chess and Exploding Snaps to distract me.
Long after everybody else had gone to bed, I still lingered in the common room, sprawled on the sofa in front of the fire, staring at the ceiling. I knew sleep wouldn’t come, not without seeing Malfoy’s reaction when he’d wake up and find out someone had brought him something to eat first.
Suddenly, an idea began to form in my mind; it was foolish, of course, and I should have known better than to stalk Malfoy again, considering how things had turned out the last time I’d done that, but… I simply couldn’t go to sleep not knowing if I’d managed to make Malfoy even a little bit happier. I jumped from the sofa, and tiptoed up the stairs to retrieve my invisibility cloak, tucked safely in my trunk.
Thankfully, Ron was already snoring, so I wouldn’t have to give an explanation as to where I was going this late at night. Once I was out of the portrait hole, I draped the cloak over myself and, as quietly as possible, made my way to the Hospital Wing once again. Right outside the doors, I whispered Alohomora and waited for some telltale sign that Madam Pomfrey was still around. But it was late, and apparently even she had gone to sleep. I slipped inside and softly closed the door behind me. My eyes scanned the room and at last landed on the only occupied bed.
Malfoy was still asleep, his blond hair sprawled on the pillow. He looked peaceful, but somehow also troubled, as if even sleep couldn’t give him any rest from his pain. Pain which, I suspected, wasn’t entirely physical. Perhaps, by taking a sleeping potion he had tried to escape his loneliness. Perhaps it was easier this way. My heart clenched painfully at the thought. I knew too well the feeling of wanting to sleep so as not to feel anything else.
Resigned to the fact I had to wait for Malfoy to wake up, I took a seat on one of the nearby chairs. I waited and waited, until I started to wonder if he’d ever wake up. Then the clock chimed, telling me it was half past Midnight, and I almost jumped at the sound. But Malfoy was still asleep, his breath even and his body curled up under the sheets.
I realised I had dozed off when a small noise abruptly woke me up. The noise of someone coughing. It was quiet, but it echoed like a phoenix cry in the deserted Hospital Wing. I opened my eyes just in time to see Malfoy rub his own, as if willing to brush the sleepiness away. That was when one thing struck me: he didn’t look dangerous, nor unpleasant. In fact, he looked lonely, almost innocent, and very, very sad.
However, his sad expression was replaced by surprise and excitement when his gaze fell on the pile of sweets I’d left on his bedside table. It was the first time I saw him smile, I mean truly smile – not a smirk or a hateful grin, but a proper smile – and I couldn’t help but smile back at him, even though he couldn’t see me.
“But who left these for me?” Malfoy whispered to himself. Then, probably deciding it wasn’t poisoned, he unwrapped a Chocolate Frog and ate it, smile still plastered on his face.
Something warm stirred in my chest and I realised that, even if he’d never know it was me who’d left the sweets, at least I had made him happy; at least his Christmas was not completely miserable now. I knew I probably had no right to be there, watching him from a dark corner, but for some unknown reason I couldn’t move a muscle. I was somewhat enchanted by Malfoy’s happiness at having received something unexpected. Right now, it looked as if he’d never hexed or tortured anyone, as if he’d never survived a war.
Right now, he just looked like a normal eighteen year-old boy enjoying his Christmas presents. And he was beautiful.
Scared by my own thoughts and what they might mean, I hastily got up, not noticing the invisibility cloak was tangled between my ankles. So, instead of quietly sneaking out of the room, I tumbled down and fell on the floor, just a few feet away from Malfoy’s bed, the cloak slowly slipping off of me. I closed my eyes and sighed, waiting for some hateful remark. I could feel sharp, grey eyes scanning the room and finally landing on me.
“Potter, what the hell are you doing here?” Malfoy’s voice was irritated but also surprised.
I forced myself to look at him before replying: “I was just…”
He cut me off. “Stalking me, obviously. And what’s new? You really have nothing else to do at almost one in the morning on Christmas night?” He eyed me suspiciously.
“I wasn’t stalking you! I just wanted to.,.” I trailed off, because I honestly didn’t know what it was I wanted.
“Talk to me? Hex me? Choke me in my sleep? What exactly did you want to do?” Malfoy supplied in an icy tone.
“Fine. I wanted to talk. You’ve been avoiding me since term started, and I can’t figure out why.”
“I thought it was perfectly clear. And anyways, you could’ve found a better moment, don’t you think?”
I felt my cheeks burn. He was probably right. Then I said the stupidest thing I could’ve said. “I just wanted to wish you Merry Christmas. I came earlier to talk to you, but you were asleep, so…”
Malfoy’s eyes widened, realisation dawning on him. “It was you. You left all these sweets.” He let go of the Chocolate Frog clutched in his hands, almost as if it could bite him.
I scrambled to my feet, legs trembling. “I-I just thought you’d appreciate the gesture. After all, nobody should be alone at Christmas,” I repeated Hermione’s words, feeling more and more stupid by the second.
“I don’t need your pity, Potter,” Malfoy spat.
“I didn’t do that out of pity!” My temper was rising now. It had been a very, very bad idea.
“Why’d you do that, then?”
“I don’t even know, okay? I wanted to fix this, I supposed,” I answered truthfully, looking at my trainers. “I wanted to tell you I forgive you, and it doesn’t matter what happened in the past. I wanted you to know I believe we could start again. But since you clearly still hate me, I’m leaving. Enjoy the sweets, they’re not poisoned.” I spoke the last sentence in a reproachful tone, then I grabbed the cloak and headed to the door. My hand was almost on the handle, when Malfoy’s voice made me stop.
“Wait.” It was almost a whisper, but it seemed to fill the empty, moonlit room.
I turned around, once again meeting his eyes. They were bright and silvery in the moonlight. “What?”
“Please, don’t leave.”
I gasped. In seven years, Draco Malfoy had never had a kind or polite word for me, nor for anyone else for the matter. Curiosity took the best of me, and I walked back towards his bed, stopping right beside it.
“I know you’ve been trying to talk to me since we got back,” he said softly.
“Then why avoid me?”
He looked at me, and his eyes were full of shame, pain, even panic. “What do you think? You’re the saviour of the Wizarding World, adored and revered by everyone, while I’m just the disgraced son of a disgraced Death Eater. Everybody hates me, in case you haven’t noticed. And the worst part is that I built all of this myself. What else can I expect, when I’ve treated people like scum for years?”
He averted his eyes, focusing on his hands, which were twisting the sheets in a tight grip. Silence hung heavily between us. I knew what I’d just heard was something rare and precious. Because Draco Malfoy never admitted he was wrong. And he certainly didn’t do that in front of me.
I walked closer to his bed. “So you just supposed I wouldn’t want anything to do with you.”
“And I was right, wasn’t I?” His voice was shaking.
“I think you probably know the answer already. Someone that doesn’t want anything to do with you doesn’t bring you sweets, and certainly doesn’t come to talk to you in the middle of the night.”
Malfoy gasped, and his grip on the bedsheets tightened. He looked up again, evidently struggling to find the right words. “So you don’t… you don’t hate me?”
Was that hope I sensed in his words? Again that warmth in my chest. It frightened me and comforted me at the same time.
My voice was low and shaky when I replied. “No, I don’t. I haven’t for a long time, actually. I thought you knew. Why else would have I saved your life?”
Surprisingly, Malfoy half-smiled. “I thought you were just trying to be a hero. But thanks, anyways. I owe you my life.”
“And I owe you mine. You saved me as well, when you didn’t identify me in your house. I would’ve died.”
Malfoy chuckled bitterly. “It’s not the same thing.”
“It is. You risked your own life as well, just like I did to save yours. So, I would say we’re linked by something more than hatred.” I didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into; all I knew was I was walking on a tightrope, desperately trying not to fall.
Malfoy’s eyes glittered as he said: “Linked?”
“Y-yeah. You cannot deny we have lots in common, despite our differences.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And here goes your hero complex again. We’re completely different. You never bullied people for their blood status, or sold fake stories to the Prophet, or,” he paused, pulling his sleeve up, “had this tattooed on your skin,” he finished, venom in his voice.
I looked down, and my eyes fell on the Dark Mark, ink black against Malfoy’s porcelain-white skin. I swallowed.
“Not so similar now, are we?” I didn’t reply. “As I thought. Thank you for the sweets, but I’d prefer to be left alone now.” He shoved his sleeve down, almost violently, and my heart clenched at the sight.
“I meant it. What I said earlier. I do really think we could start over.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Why are you so stubborn? And what use could it be to you, befriending a Death Eater?” His tone was challenging.
“You’re not a Death Eater,” I replied softly.
“I was, though.”
“I think, deep in your heart, you never were.”
His lips trembled, but when he spoke his voice was firm. “It doesn’t matter. No one believes me anyway.”
“I do, and I don’t care what other people think. I thought you at least knew that about me.”
Malfoy smiled sadly. “I suppose I do.”
“You toughened me up, you know.”
“Did I?” he smirked.
“Well, I had to survive, one way or another.”
Malfoy lowered his eyes. “That’s the nicest thing someone has ever done for me. I owe you a favour.”
I grinned. There was one thing I wanted to ask him, after all. “Last time you offered me your hand, I didn’t shake it. Maybe I’m ready to do it now.”
For a minute or so he didn’t say anything, and I thought I had finally fallen from the tightrope. Then Malfoy held out his hand and smiled. “I’m Draco.”
I smiled back, then shook his hand. “Harry.”
The warmth in my chest spread to the rest of my body, and I finally realised what this moment meant. Right now we were just Harry and Draco, without our last names, without our painful past. And I also realised I wanted to see Malfoy’s smile – Draco’s smile – again. Could friendship make you feel so happy? It was confusing; I’d never felt anything like that with Ron or Hermione.
“Do you want one?” Draco asked, handing me a treacle tart. “I know these are your favourites.”
I accepted it, sitting on the edge of his bed. “How do you know?”
I saw him flush, despite the almost-total darkness. “I guess you’re not the only stalker here.”
I laughed. “Who knew we could get along so well?” I said, more to myself than to him.
“Well, I tried to get along with you. In my own, twisted way, that is,” he admitted.
“Definitely twisted.”
Draco bit his lip, and for some reason I found that attractive.
I stopped eating. What did that mean? I felt something powerful, stronger than what I’d felt for Cho, or Ginny, or anybody else.
And suddenly I knew what it was, and it scared me to the bone. I needed to get out of there, before I could ruin everything I’d just built.
“You okay? Is there something wrong?” Draco’s voice seemed so distant now, but so close at the same time.
I forced myself to stay calm. “Yeah, I just… I think I’d better go now. Madam Pomfrey could wake up any minute, and you need to rest.”
He rolled his eyes. “I slept more these last three days than my whole life. Besides, it’s nice to talk to someone for a change. I haven’t done that in months.”
Affection surged through me, and I fought the impulse to hug him. This game was getting dangerous, and I really needed to get out before it was too late. “We can talk tomorrow. I really can’t stay now.” I forced my mouth to speak those words, even if I wanted to stay with all my heart.
“Okay, then.” Draco couldn’t conceal the disappointment in his voice, and I felt guilty.
“Try to rest, I’ll be back tomorrow.” I got up, heart racing and legs heavy, as if they didn’t want me to move at all. But it was something else that stopped me from running away.
“Harry?”
My name on Draco’s lips felt like a silky touch on an open wound. It felt intimate. It felt right.
Draco took a sharp breath. “There’s one last thing I want to do before you go. And if I don’t take up the courage now I won’t be able to do it ever again.”
I swallowed. “What?”
“Come here.”
I scooted closer to him.
“Close your eyes” he whispered. I did. And then I felt his soft hand brush the hair out of my face. I shivered, but I didn’t now if it was out of fear or anticipation. Or possibly both.
Draco’s breath caressed my cheek, and my body froze completely. I was too scared of breaking the spell if I moved a single muscle. Then at last I felt Draco’s lips press gently on mine. And suddenly I couldn’t breathe, ‘cause I finally understood.
This was what I was looking for. Someone to take care of. Someone to love. Someone that made me feel alive. I deepened the kiss, hoping it was enough to let Draco know how I felt, how much I cared about him. I held him tight, like I was holding the whole world in my arms, and it felt so right. So right I wanted to cry.
Draco broke the kiss, just to whisper in my ear: “Merry Christmas, Harry.”
I grinned, thinking that it truly was the happiest Christmas ever. “Merry Christmas, Draco.”