Chérie, parchments and quills

Chapter Thirteen - The winds of remaining corruption

The Great Hall was already decorated for the Christmas holidays, students excited about going home for the festive season while they enjoyed breakfast. It was Saturday December the eighteenth, a week until Christmas, and the train would be leaving Hogsmeade in a few hours to take most of the students home.

Whilst he had come to enjoy the muggle tradition, Draco would never understand it completely. He had a theory, as did many wizards although there was no proof on the matter, that this Jesus person was actually a wizard born to a muggle mother. It would explain the 'miracles' the man was worshiped for. Nothing was written to prove this idea however, except what muggles called 'the bible' which was apparently written by Jesus's and his father's muggle disciples. Of course, there were too many wizards, either half-bloods or muggle-borns, that held what Draco would call a muggle religion. It was for this reason that the ministry left it alone, let wizards believe what they did and join in with the festivities. At least, over the years, wizards had developed their own traditions, much like atheists who stuck to a story about Santa for the children – another wizard perhaps, that wasn't careful who witness his magic. Still, the idea that it was a time for family was a wonderful notion after all, except... Draco's mother was still in France and his father was locked up in Azkaban.

He was alone this year, but it was something of a comfort to know that Harry would be staying at Hogwarts likewise. He would have company, and he had Padfoot to talk with. He still hadn't asked Padfoot to meet with him, and although he wanted to, he was still afraid. Would Padfoot even agree to the meeting?

"Mr Malfoy?" Minerva called to him across the table. He turned to look at her with a small warm smile. "Have you seen Mr Potter this morning?"

He couldn't help but feel his smile grow; Harry still had a habit of skipping meals – much to Minerva's displeasure, and for a moment, Draco wondered when that habit had actually started.

"Why would I be aware of Mr Potter's whereabouts?" Draco asked.

"Oh, come off it now Mr Malfoy, we all know you and Harry have been spending quite a substantial amount of time together lately. I may be getting old but I'm not yet senile. I just asked if you had seen him this morning, a simple yes or no would have sufficed."

"No." Draco answered. "I have not seen the golden boy this morning. Perhaps he overslept." Draco doubted that: although Harry liked to stay in bed, he was usually awake at the crack of dawn. He had been looking out for him that morning, watching the Great Hall doors and hoping that he would appear for breakfast.

"Perhaps." Minerva didn't sound like she believed that either. "Go knock on his door for me. Remind him that as head of Gryffindor house, he will be accompanying the students to the train with the other head of houses, and that I wish to see him when he returns."

"Why not send Mr Longbottom?" Draco asked, looking down the table at the herbology teacher and head of Hufflepuff House. Neville Longbottom looked up upon hearing his name, but Minerva answered Draco's question before Neville could speak.

"Mr Longbottom will be heading down to Hufflepuff house shortly, to make sure the students are ready to leave on time." Minerva's her stern face was softened slightly by the mirth she tried valiantly to hide.

As if on cue, Neville downed the last of his coffee, nodded to the headmistress, and then excused himself from the table to do just as Minerva had said he would. Draco knew it was hopeless arguing with Minerva; the witch sometimes had uncanny observational skills – perhaps it was the cat in her. He didn't want anyone getting false ideas that he and Harry were anything more than friends however, so he refused to seem eager about his offered excuse to visit Harry this morning. He couldn't deny to himself that any excuse to see Potter was a welcomed one.