unaccountably irritable. He put one hand firmly on her waist, and slid the other up under her dress, along her outer thigh, and found the rolled-up parchment tucked neatly into the top of her stocking. He pulled it free, and held it up in front of her. 'Got it.'
She looked irritable. 'How did you know…?'
'You?re a woman, and therefore predictable.'
'Oh!' Rhysenn emitted a very girly squeak of annoyance, and got up off Dracos chest. She stood over him, hands on her hips, a position which would have afforded him a good view up her skirt had he craned his head. He decided to be gentlemanly, and didn?t. Instead, he stood up, brushing the snow off his cloak as he did. When he looked up, he found himself staring squarely into her eyes. There was nothing girly about her gaze — it was sharp, cold, calculating, ageless. He wondered again how old she was, something she had never been willing to tell him. 'You?re horrible.'
'Don?t,' said Draco, standing up, and brushing the snow from his sleeves with the parchment, 'pretend like you care what I do.'
Rhysenn grinned then, showing sharp white teeth. 'You?re right. I don?t.'
She darted forward then, and pressed her lips to his cheek; it was like the brush of hot ash against his skin. He shivered. 'Merry Christmas,' she said. 'I?ll see you again before your birthday.'
'I don?t doubt it. My birthday is in July.'
'Thats what you think,' she said, and disappeared. Draco glared at the spot from which she had vanished. He had told her before that it was impossible to Apparate on and off Hogwarts grounds, but she didn?t appear to care.
He looked down gloomily at the letter in his hand. He had become used to the look of these missives from his father. Fine vellum parchment, neatly rolled, tied with a black ribbon and stamped with a deaths head seal. His father couldn?t stamp it with the seal of the Malfoys, after all — that seal ring glittered now on Dracos left hand, against the fine black leather of his winter gloves. With a gloomy sigh, he prepared himself to open it, when the sound of crackling ice made him glance up in alarm, his gaze searching the half-lit glade. And lighting upon Harry, sprawled a little ways away from him, face-down in the snow.
'Lo, Potter.' The voice emanating from above Harrys head was liquid with amusement. 'Making snow angels, are we, or just very, very tired?'
'Shut up, Malfoy.' Harry rolled over onto his back. He was looking up at Draco now, who seemed a black silhouette against the sapphire-blue evening sky. White ice crystals were caught in his silvery hair, and his gray eyes matched the color of the iced-over lake. 'I fell over.'
'That much,' said Draco, 'is evident.' He held out a slender hand, gloved in sueded black leather. 'Get up, then.'
'I don?t want to,' said Harry, mutinously.
'You?ll freeze,' Draco pointed out.
'So what?'
'Right,' said Draco. 'Excellent point.' With that, he flopped down in the snow next to Harry. Harry craned his neck to look at Draco with a feeling of great irritation. Why couldn?t Draco simply leave him alone, wasn?t it clear that he wanted to be miserable on his own?
'You?ll ruin your fancy gloves,' he said.
'Got six more like them at home,' said Draco equably. 'Now whats up with you? You look like someone set you up on a date with Snape.'
Harry laughed bitterly.
'Ah, the bitter laugh,' noted Draco. 'That means girl trouble.'
He spoke lightly. His voice was careful and even. Harry lifted his head and propped his chin on his hand, his eyes scanning Dracos expression, which was noncommittal. Even after all this time, the subject of Hermione was not one that was entirely comfortable between them. Draco was careful and respectful and reticent on the topic. This in itself was enough for Harry to know that whatever issues Draco had harbored in regards to Hermione, he still harbored them. Harry suspected that this was what lay behind Dracos estrangement from Ginny, but there was no way to be sure. Whatever it was, Blaise apparently didn?t mind it, or had convinced herself that it didn?t matter.
'Yeah,' Harry heard himself say, with some surprise. 'You could say that.'
Dracos eyebrows went up, but he didn?t say anything.
'We had a fight,' Harry added.
Draco stayed silent.
'Hermione and I,' Harry clarified.
'Right, well I didn?t think you meant Hedwig.'
Harry grinned despite himself. This seemed to solidify some resolve of Dracos. He stood up, and held out a hand to Harry again. 'Get up,' he said. 'We?re going for a walk.'
This time, Harry took the proffered hand. 'Where to?' he asked as he got to his feet.
'Hogsmeade.'
' Hogsmeade?' Harry tried to pull his hand out of Dracos, but Draco was now yanking him determinedly towards the Forbidden Forest. 'Why?'
'We?re going to get drunk.'
'But — the Three Broomsticks only has butterbeer. I'm not a house-elf!'
'Just shut up, Potter, and trust me.'
The sun swept down behind the mountains that framed Hogsmeade, lighting the picture-pretty little village with a rose-quartz glow. Snow was heaped and piled like icing sugar on the roofs of the houses, which were strung with magical Christmas lights, flashing emerald and garnet through the snow-spangled air. Smoke curled up in plumes from the chimneys below, tracing the darkening sky with faint dark markings like streaks of watercolor.
'Pretty,' said Draco, pausing on the path that led into the village. The ornate gold You are now entering Hogsmeade sign that marked the village outskirts was wreathed, like the rest of the town, in dancing red-and- green lights. Draco stared at it. 'No danger of forgetting its nearly Christmas in this place.'
'Christmas,' echoed Harry. His tone was hollow. He might as well have been talking about some ghastly recent tragedy. 'I haven?t bought any gifts for anyone yet.'
Draco looked sideways at him. 'Do I take this to mean I will not be getting the model train set I asked for?'
'And the wedding,' Harry continued gloomily. 'Thats coming up at New Years and I haven?t gotten them anything, either.'
Draco blinked snow from his eyelashes. 'Have you heard from Sirius?'
Harry shook his head. 'Not much. I think hes busy with preparations.'
'Any word on the bagpipe situation?'
A very faint smile touched the corner of Harrys mouth. 'I think thats still a stalemate.'
'Not for long, if I know my mother,' said Draco, but he could tell Harry had stopped listening. He was staring off towards the town, his green eyes dark and remote. The weather suited him — the white snowy backdrop made his black hair and red cloak stand out dramatically, and the cold flushed his pale skin with a healthy glow. But his mouth was set in a tense unhappy line that spoiled what would have been an otherwise attractive picture. 'Oh, bear up, Potter,' said Draco. 'You look like your owl just died.'
'Hermione hates me,' said Harry. His hands were working nervously at his belt. Not at the actual material, but at a circular reddish ornament, too small to be a bracelet, that was looped on like an extra buckle. Draco had noticed it before but had never asked Harry what it was. Whatever it was, he was very attached to it — Draco could not remember seeing him without it since September.
