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December at Hogwarts was covered by a thick blanket of snow, and the castle looked like a gingerbread house dusted with icing sugar. The Black Lake had frozen into a huge mirror with a grey blue sheen, and the bitter air stung the lungs with every breath. Yet inside the castle, the warmth was the complete opposite of the outside, and the corridors were filled with the scent of cinnamon, roast chestnuts, and fir trees.
Holly and mistletoe were hung around the castle. Hagrid dragged cut fir trees inside as decorations, Professor Flitwick enchanted them to twinkle like stars, and the suits of armour were fitted with slightly ridiculous Christmas hats. But the festive atmosphere among the students was far less lively than in previous years.
Perhaps it was the weather, but this year's final exams seemed to arrive especially early, scheduled for the morning of Christmas Day itself.
A thick, last minute anxiety hung over the students. The common rooms and library were packed with students clutching thick books and muttering under their breath, with parchment, ink, and revision notes scattered everywhere, as if they were trying to make up for a whole term of wasted time in the last few days.
However, there were always exceptions.
In the Slytherin dormitory, the fire crackled in the hearth, driving away the chill that seeped up from the depths of the Black Lake.
Draco Malfoy lounged comfortably in a luxurious armchair near the fireplace. On the small table in front of him was a pile of beautifully wrapped sweets and snacks, all Christmas gifts that had been sent to Harry Potter in the hospital wing.
Draco was clearly not interested in revision. His pleasure lay in disturbing Harry and passing judgment on the gifts sent to him.
"Look how many tributes the Saviour has received from his admirers."
He unhurriedly opened a beautifully wrapped Chocolate Frog box, picked up the enclosed card, and read it aloud in his characteristic drawling, sharp tone.
"To Harry, Happy Christmas, you're the best! Love, Colin Creevey... Merlin, another little admirer blinded by your Saviour title."
"...Happy Christmas, from Dean Thomas... Hmph, completely unimaginative."
"Tsk. Happy Christmas, Neville Longbottom," Draco read from a note attached to a Chocolate Frog box in that same drawling tone, then tossed the box back onto the pile. "Cliché."
He picked up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and flipped it over. "Hope you get well soon, Seamus Finnigan."
Like a fussy critic, he unwrapped and commented on each gift and message.
Not far away, at another table covered with The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, Magical Theory, and a thick stack of parchment, Harry was buried under a mountain of revision materials, his quill scratching rapidly across the parchment.
Harry wore a look of helpless indulgence. He did not seem to mind Draco touching his gifts. He rubbed his aching temples and shot back in a sharp tone that imitated Draco but was far less convincing, "What about you? What do Malfoys give each other for Christmas? Galleons?"
Draco was momentarily stumped, then replied irritably, "We give taste, Potter. Not everyone likes to treat sweets like treasure."
"If you could spare half your enthusiasm for judging gifts to help your poor roommate finish his Potions essay, Draco," Harry's eyes were full of study weary exhaustion, "maybe he wouldn't have to worry about failing Professor Snape's class. Honestly, can't you show me a little 'love'?"
Under the pressure of the end of term exams, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all suffering. Hermione Granger seemed to have been struck by some great shock and had practically taken up residence in the library, rarely seen. Ron Weasley sighed at his textbooks every day. Even Harry himself felt enormous pressure.
Only Draco Malfoy was completely at ease. His predicted report card was almost all "O"s, which stood in sharp contrast to his usual carefree manner.
Hearing Harry's words, Draco felt strangely pleased.
The shadow of being comprehensively crushed by Hermione Granger in academics in his previous life was far too deep. Every end of term he had been consumed by anxiety, reviewing over and over, so that now, when he saw those questions, the answers practically leapt into his mind automatically.
"Self discipline, Potter. Self discipline gives you freedom."
Draco said this with an air of importance, then casually picked out a yellow green Bertie Bott's bean that looked like it might taste of bogey from an opened box.
He leaned over and perched on the edge of the table beside Harry, then without ceremony shoved it into Harry's slightly open mouth, just as Harry was about to argue back.
"Dear Saviour, why can't that 'foresight' of yours pop up during exams to help you? Like showing you the answers directly?"
Harry, caught off guard, chewed instinctively. A strange expression crossed his face, then he swallowed and said calmly, "Thanks. It was melon."
The smirk on Draco's face, waiting for a joke, collapsed instantly. He gave a disgruntled huff.
Harry looked at his sulking expression and smiled, then became serious, continuing to write on the parchment. "Honestly, Draco, about that 'foresight'... I still can't control it. It seems... it only appears when my emotions are especially strong."
He paused, his quill stopping, as if remembering. "When we were going through the obstacles protecting the Philosopher's Stone, it flashed a few times and helped me find the way faster, or avoid danger... And at the end, facing Quirrell... and Voldemort, it was also what let me see... some things, and survive."
At the name "Voldemort," Draco's expression stiffened almost imperceptibly, and his hand tightened on the sweet box.
Harry noticed the change keenly and immediately steered the topic to something lighter. He scratched his messy black hair, his tone self deprecating. "And it really is useless during exams.
What I 'see' is only a result, not the process or the answer. For example, I might 'see' myself in the exam hall, scratching my head and unable to write a single word."
Finally Harry concluded, his tone firm. "So in the end, I still have to rely on my own revision."
Draco gave a dismissive "tsk" and sat back in the sofa, turning his attention to a brightly coloured parcel among the gifts.
It was a gift box wrapped in pale pink paper, tied with a crooked bow. When he opened it, inside was a note on matching pink paper, the handwriting childish and forceful, as if the writer had used every ounce of effort.
Draco glanced at it carelessly, then raised a pale blond eyebrow, a flicker of amusement passing through his grey eyes as he read on with interest.
His chattering, sharp tongued mouth suddenly fell uncharacteristically silent.
The unusual silence made Harry, buried in his books, feel a little strange. He looked up in confusion and met Draco's gaze, which held a mixture of teasing and some indescribable expression.
"Wow, Potter." Draco tossed a pink wool hat with a slightly crooked red heart knitted on top straight at Harry's face. "You have an admirer."
The hat flopped softly over Harry's head, blocking his view. He fumbled to pull it off, looked at the glaring pink and the heart, and his face turned crimson with embarrassment. "What... what is this!"
Draco watched his discomfort and let out an unapologetic laugh, though there seemed to be something else in it.
He stood up and brushed off non existent biscuit crumbs. "Enjoy your 'affection,' Saviour. I won't disturb your studying."
"Where are you going?" Harry asked instinctively, still holding the brightly coloured hat.
"Potions classroom." Draco waved without looking back. "Someone has to do something useful."
Draco did not need to revise. When there were no classes, the Potions classroom was practically his private laboratory, and Professor Snape turned a blind eye to it.
He had been using his free time there to secretly research potions related to blood curses and possible treatments. Astoria's pale face and the image of Scorpius losing his mother at a young age were the driving force behind his continued research.
Today was Christmas Eve. The castle was a little livelier than usual. The students staying for the holidays gathered in the Great Hall for a dinner richer than usual, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of roast turkey and Christmas pudding. But Draco only ate a few hurried bites and returned to the dungeons.
The Potions classroom in the dungeons was even colder and damper than the common room, and the air was permanently filled with the complex smells of dried or soaking ingredients.
Draco lit the cauldron in the corner. The ghostly blue flame burned quietly, illuminating his focused, slightly pale profile.
He carefully handled the Moonleaf leaves he had brought back from his adventure in the Forbidden Forest, trying to extract the special component that might fight the blood curse.
A translucent, pearly liquid bubbled in the cauldron. Draco stirred carefully, but his mind kept returning to that crooked pink wool hat with the clumsy heart, and Harry's embarrassed expression at the time.
It was Christmas Eve, Draco thought. But Potter did not seem to need an extra gift. The gifts he had received were already piled into a small mountain.
Although the Philosopher's Stone incident had temporarily ended, it was like a wake up call, shattering Draco's fantasy of staying on the sidelines.
Voldemort had truly returned, in the first year, and so close to Harry. He could no longer treat this "Saviour training plan" with a half hearted attitude.
That fellow would certainly continue to cause trouble next term, facing unknown dangers...
An idea gradually became clear. He put down the stirring rod, walked to the storage cupboard, and from a locked drawer at the very back took out a small bottle wrapped in black velvet. Inside was a potion like liquid gold, flowing with a mysterious lustre in the dim light.
The next day, Christmas morning.
Draco was woken by the soft footsteps of busy house elves and the faint sounds of gifts being piled up.
Under the silver sparkling Christmas tree in the dormitory, gifts were stacked in several small mounds.
Harry was already sitting on the sofa in front of the low table, wearing a brand new, hand knitted dark blue sweater with a large, slightly crooked letter "H" on the chest. He was stroking the soft wool, a look of pure, childlike delight on his face, something Draco rarely saw.
Hearing footsteps, Harry looked up and saw Draco leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed, watching him.
"Mrs Weasley made it," Harry explained voluntarily, his voice cheerful.
Draco's gaze slid to another elegantly wrapped, slender dark green gift box beside Harry. The corner of his mouth curved into a familiar, teasing smile. "And this one? Don't tell me it's from your 'loyal admirer,' gloves and a scarf to match that stunning pink hat?"
Harry ignored the teasing. He picked up the dark green gift box and stood, holding it out to Draco with both hands, his expression serious. "Happy Christmas, Draco."
Draco raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by the formal gift.
He took the box. It was heavy. He undid the silver ribbon and dark green wrapping paper to reveal a long black velvet box. Inside lay an elegantly shaped quill, its black shaft subtly veined with flowing silver.
It was clearly an expensive gift.
Draco was genuinely surprised. He remembered Harry as being laughably frugal.
Harry's tone softened slightly, tinged with nostalgia. "I bought it with the money my parents left me. In my vault at Gringotts... there are still plenty of Galleons." He seemed to be explaining that he could afford it.
Draco ran his fingers over the cool shaft. "Not bad. Better than that pink hat, at least."
He put the quill back in the box, then took from his dressing gown pocket a small square box the size of a palm, made of black dragon hide, and handed it to Harry. "For you."
"What is..." Harry took it curiously and opened it. Inside, on soft black velvet, was a small, exquisite teardrop shaped glass bottle, crystal clear, containing a thick, bright liquid like liquid gold that refracted a fascinating light in the firelight.
"Felix Felicis," Draco said flatly, as if mentioning a glass of pumpkin juice. "I brewed it. Small dose. The effect should only last an hour or two. Use it when it really matters. Don't waste it."
"You made it yourself?"
Harry's face lit up with delight. He carefully took out the bottle and immediately found a thin, sturdy silver chain, threaded it through the small loop at the neck, and put it around his neck, tucking the little bottle of golden liquid carefully inside Mrs Weasley's sweater, close to his skin.
Draco seemed very pleased with Harry's reaction. The corner of his mouth curved into a very faint, almost smug smile.
After breakfast, the two walked through the courtyard toward the exam hall, their feet crunching on the thick snow. The cold air was invigorating. They had not gone far when they met Hermione and Ron, coming together from the direction of the library.
Hermione had finally emerged from the library. There were dark circles under her eyes, but she was energetic, still arguing with Ron about the exact wand movement for a spell.
"Hey, Harry!" Ron waved happily when he saw him, running over with uneven steps, his eyes landing on the sweater. "My mum's sweater! It fits you really well! The hat Ginny made, you got it, right? Why aren't you wearing it?"
Harry's smile gained a barely noticeable awkward edge. He thought of the pink heart hat with its wild stitches and bright colours that was really rather difficult to wear out. "Er... I got it. It's very... warm. I left it in the dormitory," he said vaguely.
Just then, Ron's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a thin silver chain peeking out from the edge of Harry's sweater collar. "Huh? What's this?" he asked curiously.
Harry's smile returned. He pulled out the silver chain, and the delicate teardrop shaped glass bottle of golden liquid glinted faintly in the winter sunlight.
"Hey!" Ron's face fell instantly, his expression shifting from curiosity to suspicion. He stared at the little bottle, clearly an ornament, and his voice rose an octave. "My sister hand knitted you a hat and you don't wear it, but you wear this mysterious thing... That's a necklace, right? Which girl gave it to you? Is she as cute as Ginny?"
The more Ron thought about it, the more likely it seemed, and the more agitated he became.
"Ron, calm down. It's not..."
"What is it then? Tell me!"
Draco, who had been standing nearby with his arms crossed, watching Ron's fussing, could not help snorting. He cut off Ron's increasingly ridiculous guesses. "I gave it to him."
"You gave... you... you gave it to him?" Ron's voice died as if he had been choked. He turned to Draco, opened his mouth, then closed it, looking rather awkward. All his earlier accusatory fire went out. "I... I thought..."
Hermione, arriving a step later, widened her eyes in surprise. She leaned closer and examined the bottle on Harry's chest, especially the flowing golden liquid inside. "Is that Felix Felicis? That stuff is ridiculously expensive on the market..."
"I brewed it myself," Draco interrupted, his tone still flat, as if commenting on the weather. "Just got lucky. Succeeded on the first try."
Draco did not want to linger on the topic and walked toward the exam hall first. "Come on. Professor Binns won't postpone the exam just because it's Christmas."
The exams arrived in a suffocating silence broken only by the rustle of parchment, and ended in a mixture of relief, wails, and scattered cheers.
When the bell for the last History of Magic exam rang, the students poured out of the exam hall like birds released from a cage, cheering.
For Draco, the questions on the papers were like old friends, the answers rising clearly in his mind. He answered everything calmly and even had time to observe those around him.
Harry was frowning, trying to remember. Hermione wrote at flying speed but occasionally paused. Ron wore a look of pious devotion, as if praying to Merlin.
At the end of term House Cup feast, the Great Hall was decorated with silver and green ribbons and banners, glittering brightly.
Under the huge Hogwarts banner, the serpent emblem of Slytherin stood out.
When Dumbledore announced that Slytherin had won the House Cup for the seventh year in a row, thanks to their Quidditch Cup victory and overall excellent academic performance, the Slytherin table erupted with deafening cheers, clinking cups and plates, and excited whistles.
"Well done, Draco!" Pansy shouted from his right, her face glowing with shared pride. "You're top of the year! You've brought so much honour to the house!"
"And Potter's Quidditch match!" another older Slytherin boy added, raising his pumpkin juice to Harry. "A victory snatched right out of Gryffindor's hands. Brilliant!"
Draco felt little stir inside. That kind of collective pride felt distant to his forty year old soul.
What mattered more to him was the solid first place on his report card, finally beating Hermione Granger, which gave him a deep sense of satisfaction, as if a long held frustration from his previous life had been released.
Harry, the former Gryffindor, was also laughing happily, discussing something with the classmates beside him, his green eyes shining with pure light, seeming to blend into the Slytherin celebration.
Watching Harry's cloudless smile, Draco's own lips curved into a very faint arc without his noticing.
Halfway through the feast, when the atmosphere was at its peak, Theodore Nott walked over silently. He lightly tapped Pansy on the shoulder, who was happily discussing a new hairstyle with a girl opposite, and said something in a low voice.
Pansy pouted but reluctantly moved aside. Theodore sat down naturally in the empty seat, right next to Draco.
"Draco," Theodore said, his voice not loud but very clear. "I just received an owl from my father. He and Uncle Malfoy have arranged it. Our two families have an important gathering tonight. Uncle Lucius has arranged a carriage. It's waiting at the castle gates. We're to leave as soon as the feast ends. No need to wait for tomorrow's train."
He paused, a familiar questioning look in his grey eyes. "So, after the holidays begin, we'll probably follow the usual tradition and go to Knockturn Alley first? I remember you were very interested in that new batch of rare ingredients at Borgin and Burkes."
This kind of close connection and prearranged schedule between pure blood families was familiar to Draco and not something he could easily refuse. He nodded, tacitly accepting the arrangement. "Understood."
Only then did Theodore seem to notice Harry's presence. He turned to him, a flawless but distant polite smile on his face. "Potter. How do you plan to spend the holidays? Going back to your... Muggle relatives?"
He placed an extremely slight, meaningful pause on the words "Muggle relatives," as if weighing the term.
Harry put down his spoon and met Theodore's gaze. His expression was calm, his green eyes showing no awkwardness, like a clear lake.
"Yes, Nott. Back to my relatives." His voice was steady, revealing no emotion. "Although Uncle Dursley is... allergic to the subject of magic. But at least," he paused, his gaze meeting Theodore's grey eyes calmly, "...I won't be required to recite, in front of a group of people who only care about my surname and blood purity, which of the 'Sacred Twenty Eight' my family has married into over the last three generations."
Theodore's grey eyes narrowed slightly. He gave a cold, faint smile. "Indeed. To each their own."
With that, Theodore seemed to find staying further pointless. He looked back at Draco. "I'll wait outside, Draco. Don't keep the carriage waiting too long." Then he left the Great Hall.
Harry hesitated, then turned his head, his green eyes full of hope as he looked at Draco. "Draco... will you write to me over the holidays?"
Draco glanced sideways at Harry.
It was the look one might give a familiar little animal waiting eagerly to be fed.
"Maybe. If I have time."
Draco heard himself say it.
Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Harry's face broke into a smile.
It made Draco pause for a moment. The smile was extraordinarily bright, full of pure, undisguised joy.
Just like the smile he had worn that morning when he received Mrs Weasley's sweater, warm and real, as if a simple thing could make him completely content.
"Great!" Harry's tone became light. "Then... see you next term, Draco."
Walking out of the warm, noisy Great Hall, they stepped into the cold stone corridor of Hogwarts castle. The icy air was refreshing.
Outside the castle, an ornate black carriage drawn by Thestrals waited silently in the snow, making no sound except the faint crunch of hooves on ice.
Before climbing into the carriage, Draco looked back at the brightly lit castle. The enormous building stood silent under the winter stars.
A term full of trolls, the Philosopher's Stone, a terrifying night in the Forbidden Forest, and countless unexpected chaos and subtle changes had finally ended.
In his first year of rebirth, he had successfully, or perhaps luckily, steered history back onto its general track, keeping the Saviour alive and preserving the Malfoy family's temporary peace.
The carriage swayed gently and began to move, carrying him toward a holiday that was both familiar and somehow different, and toward the unknown chapters of the second year hidden in the mist.