Misplaced Priorities

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"How are you feeling today, Potter?" McGonagall smiled at him. Harry shrugged, nibbling a white chocolate chip cookie from a plate on the Headmistress' desk.

"Fine."

"And are you keeping up with your studies?" Asked McGonagall.

"I guess."

"Even Potions?"

"I think I'm doing alright."

"That's good to hear," McGonagall nodded. "And what about Mr Malfoy, I have received the notes from your latest tutoring session and am pleased to see you two have gotten past your differences."

"You can say that," Harry laughed under his breath. "He's still his snarky self."

"Either way, it's good to see that you're acting your age. Now, I don't want to keep Professor Laxtings waiting. Off you go," McGonagall shoos him from her office with a soft, motherly smile.

Harry leaves with his bag over his shoulder and hands in his pockets. It was the first day of December and the air was icy. His footsteps echoed loudly in the stone corridors as everyone else in the school had already arrived at their first class for the day. He made his way to the Transfiguration wing and knocked quietly on the wooden door of the classroom.

The door creaked open and Ernie Macmillan's face popped into view.

"Professor, he's here!" He shouted, opening the door further for Harry to enter.

"Thank you for showing up Mr Potter," the Professor smiled at him as he took his seat next to Ron. "I'm sure Miss Granger will update you on what you've missed."

The class resumed in conversation as small groups of students hunched around desks writing hastily on pieces of parchment.

"We've been testing each other on stuff from as far back as first year," said Ron. "It makes me kinda wish I had paid more attention, anything from third year and before I have no memory of!"

Hermione laughed. "Well, whose fault is that?"

"I can't wait for Christmas," Ron groaned. "Just so I don't have to think about conjuring spells or healing potions or sleeping curses for even just a little while."

"Ronald Weasley, don't you think for a second you're skipping out on studying just because you're at home," said Hermione, prodding her boyfriend with her wand. "You too Harry."

Harry frowned. Returning to the Weasley's for Christmas was obviously a given but he had just never thought about it. At the beginning of the year, he could not wait for Christmas break but now, he felt like the scars left by the war had begun to heal, just a little.

"Maybe if studying is the agenda, we should stay here, utilise the library," Harry suggested. Ron and Hermione both looked at him like he had just suggested that they bring Voldemort back from the dead.

"What makes you say that?" Ron frowned. "You're joking right?"

"Even I think a break would be good for us," Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you want to go?"

"I don't know," said Harry. He looked down at his lap. He did know, a little. Malfoy would be here all alone, not wanting to return to his manor home where he would be stripped of his wand and forced to sit around all day with no contact to the outside world. Those were the terms of his house arrest. He knew Malfoy would not cope with being alone, as much as he didn't want to admit. Harry had a feeling that what Draco had told him was just the tip of the iceberg. He wasn't sure when he decided to care so much for Malfoy, the boy who decided it was his job to make Harry's life miserable since they were twelve. Harry decided not to think too much into it.

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