Chapter Text
Harry Potter bounded down the steps of the old Great Hall, making his way down the stone staircase toward the outer courtyard in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Hogwarts Express just as it was pulling away from Hogsmeade and carrying away the majority of his classmates—including Hermione—with it.
Although he was not among the majority heading home to their families, Harry felt content—no, happy—to be stuck at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday. He would have plenty of time to thoroughly explore the castle, catch up on his reading list, and generally mess around. And best of all, the Weasley boys were staying too, which meant there would be no shortage of entertainment and frivolity.
“Nonsense,” Hermione would call it with an eye roll and a thinly veiled grin.
And most relieving of all…he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas with the Dursleys.
Harry grinned and let out a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the frigid air beneath the courtyard colonnade, his shoes crunchy on the freshly fallen snow.
Just as this pleasant thought washed over him, Harry noticed someone else standing nearby—and his good mood instantly vanished without a trace.
Long, loose pale hair. Skin so fair it nearly looked sickly. And eyes so vivid green that it seemed to mute every other color around her. With her pressed, high quality robes and expensive green plaid luggage at her feet, there was no mistaking her.
Draconia Malfoy.
The only word he could truly find to describe her? Brat.
Harry bit his lip to keep a hiss of irritation from escaping as he quickly turned away, determined to avoid the insufferably haughty girl.
“Potter?!”
Her sharp voice stopped him in his tracks, much to his chagrin. He hadn’t even managed to turn around before she continued, her voice dripping with contempt. “What are you doing here? Have you missed the train?”
A heavy silence settled between them as Harry debated simply walking away without acknowledging her. But the prospect of hearing her shrill protests crawled beneath his skin. With a reluctant sign, he ignored all his instincts to run and instead turned to face her, avoiding her green eyes. He silently thanked his lucky stars that they were alone under the arched stone colonnade.
He raised his head and their eyes met.
Harry finally let down his guard. “What do you care, Malfoy? Worry about getting yourself home first. Or did you not notice that you missed the train, too?”
“Hmm!” Draconia scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Ridiculous. First of all, I don’t care about you. At all. I was merely surprised to see you still here when nearly everyone else had gone. And second, I am waiting for my private carriage back to my family home.”
She waved a hand dismissively in his direction before lifting it to brush her shoulder-length hair behind her ear.
Home…
Harry’s gaze drifted toward Hogsmeade and the distant black-and-red train waiting at the station, preparing for its long journey. Soon, it would carry all those kids to their homes, where they would be welcomed by parents eager to see them again.
Home.
What an odd concept sometimes.
Suddenly, the desire to pick a fight with Draconia —or even continue talking with her—vanished into the thin, cold air.
“In that case, Happy Christmas,” he replied, as unfeeling and cold as the air around them.
He turned to leave her behind.
“Wait!”
Harry stopped.
“You didn’t answer me,” she insisted, her green eyes fixed fiercely on him. “Aren’t you going home?”
“I have no home to go to.” Harry’s words came out with a hint of bitterness. He turned his gaze to the old parapets and gargoyles overlooking the courtyard. As he looked upon the weathered stone walls of the castle, his bitterness slowly faded. “Hogwarts is my home,” he amended his earlier statement, a swell of contentment rising in him again. “Besides, Ron and his brothers are here. Why would I want to leave?”
“Of course,” she replied with an eye roll. “Those Weasleys talked you into it, didn’t they?” She sneered and shook her head. “While I shall be at home with my family, you will be here, surrounded by ghosts and crusty old books.” She laughed as though the thought amused her.
But for the briefest of moments, something darker flickered across her eyes.
Harry found himself gazing at her, unable to imagine her sitting around a Christmas tree surrounded by the warmth of a family—opening presents, eating trifle and mince pies, and singing ancient sacred hymns.
The idea was so ludicrous—so painfully unlikely—that he felt a twinge of sorrow for her.
After all, he knew that kind of loneliness for himself.
He, too, had never spent a Christmas with a family that chose to love him.
And though he doubted it was possible, some small part of Harry hoped he was wrong about her family.
“Happy Christmas, then,” Harry repeated quietly, turning away from her once more.
“Enjoy being alone, Potter!”
“You, too, Draconia,” he whispered, though he hoped she hadn’t heard him.
A strange and bothersome ache of pity began to stir within his chest.
Why did she make him feel like this?
Harry shook his head, as though he could physically shake off the strange thoughts that she’d provoked in him. He quickened his pace and continued down the colonnade, eager to leave Draconia Malfoy behind.
He only wished he could as easily leave behind the feelings she’d stirred in him.
As she stood beneath the colonnade, listening to Harry's footsteps fade into the distance, Draconia felt her cheeks grow hot. The blush spread all the way to the tips of her ears, and her heart beat furiously inside her chest.
Had he really just called her by her first name?
And why did that make her so nervous?
She clenched a tight fist to her chest, determined to forget him.