Fic: What do you get for the boy who has everything? (Part 1 of 5)
Some Christmassy H/D fluffiness, full of clichéd plot devices. Part 2 tomorrow *smirks*.
Written especially for february_sea and snottygrrl, two of the best people in the whole world.
What do you get for the boy who has everything?
Standing, Minerva McGonagall tapped her wand against the side of her glass. The sound rang out over the Great Hall and slowly the hubbub settled into silence as the Hogwarts’ students turned towards their Headmistress.
She cleared her throat. “I trust you have all enjoyed your Christmas Eve luncheon?” There was a murmur of ascent from around the Hall because it had, indeed, been an excellent meal. “For those of you are aren’t spending Christmas here, Portkeys have been set up to take you to locations your parents have agreed to.” She paused for a moment as a wave of excitement ran through the Hall. “The Portkeys are set to take you at 3pm, so please be in the Entrance Hall in plenty of time. They will return you all next Saturday in time for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. For those staying, your Heads of House will be arranging activities over the coming week.” She waved her wand and a small envelope appeared on the table in front of each student. “Don’t touch!” Hands that had snaked forward pulled quickly back.
“It has been decided to resurrect an old Hogwarts tradition known as ‘Secret Partners’. Those of you who have read Hogwarts: A History will know that students haven’t taken part in this tradition for nearly one hundred years. In each of the envelopes is the name of one student chosen by the Sorting Hat. This person will be your New Year’s Secret Partner and instead of making a resolution of yourself, you will make one for the student who’s name you have been given. During the month of January you will also carry out small Tasks of Friendship for this person; these can be as simple as sending your partner a message of support or perhaps helping them with their studies, it is entirely up to you. In order to help foster House unity, the name will be of someone from a different house to your own.”
The excitement changed to groans of disapproval. Mutters spread across the Hall and fingers flicked at the envelopes as if they could magick them away.
Minerva tapped her wand on the glass again. She knew the students would rebel against this, but she was determined to use the exercise to help bring the students closer together. It was what Albus would have wanted. “You will each make a gift for your New Year’s Partner and these gifts will be exchanged at the feast next Saturday. Until then the identities of your partner are to remain a secret.”
---
“I don’t believe I’m got Morag McDougal!”
“Ron!” Hermione folded her arms and glared at the redhead. “You’re not supposed to tell anyone the name you got. That’s why it’s called Secret Partners.” She tucked her own square of parchment carefully into her pocket because it would turn into a label to put onto the gift on New Year’s Eve. “I think it’s a nice idea after everything that’s happened.”
“I don’t see why I should make a gift for someone I don’t even like. Plus I have no idea what to get for a girl. And then I have to be nice to her for a whole month after that.” Ron huffed as he glared over Harry’s shoulder at the piece of parchment in his hand. “Who did you get?” He grabbed for the parchment.
“Ron!” Hermione squealed as Harry pulled the parchment out of Ron’s reach. “What part of secret don’t you get?”
Harry was already screwing the parchment into a little ball when he looked up at his best friend. “Hermione’s right ... it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Spoil sport. I’m going to find out eventually aren’t I, so why not tell me now?”
“Because I’m not going to.” Harry glared at Ron, making it clear this conversation had ended.
The trio left the Great Hall, heading back to the Gryffindor common room. Harry was remaining at Hogwarts but both Ron and Hermione were going home; Ron to the Burrow and Hermione to her parents. The Grangers would then be joining the Weasleys for Christmas tea the next day and Harry was planning to Apparate to the Burrow during the afternoon.
“You know you can still come home with me, mate,” Ron glanced at Harry as they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Mum keeps going on at me to make you come.”
Harry shrugged. “No, it’s okay. I’ve already agreed with Professor McGonagall to help out here. But I’ll be over in time for tea.” Then he leaned in to whisper in Ron’s ear. “Besides, you’ll want time with Hermione.” He wiggled his eyebrows knowingly and smirked as Ron started to colour a nice shade of red. The two had become engaged on Hermione’s 19th birthday back in September in a big party, which had seen the Muggle Grangers having to learn how to deal with the Wizarding Weasleys, and vice versa. The end of the war had brought a clash of cultures between Muggles (who had been dragged into the war by Voldemort) and Wizards, but the two groups were now learning to live with each other; much to the dismay of people like the Dursleys (and no doubt some of the pure-blood wizarding families as well).
Giving the password (banana bread), the trio climbed through the portrait hole and into the busy common room. Harry watched with bemused amusement as people rushed around trying to finish their packing and once everyone had left he was plunged into an unnatural silence as he realised just how few people in Gryffindor were actually staying for Christmas.
Clutching a copy of the book Hermione had given him as an early Christmas present and a box of Chocolate Frogs from Ron, he sprawled on the sofa in front of the common room fire and stared at the flames. He’d been made a prefect when he’d returned to Hogwarts for his delayed seventh year and would have to go on patrol in an hour, but until then, he could work his way through the chocolate while pretending to read.
There were a couple of third years playing Tiddlywinks on the other side of the room, but Harry knew they wouldn’t disturb him. People still held him in awe despite the fact that it had been ten months since he’d found the final Horcrux and Voldemort had dropped dead of a heart attack.
He pulled the crumpled envelope from his trouser pocket and once again stared at the piece of parchment inside it. He’d hoped rather stupidly that the name on it would have somehow magically changed since he’d screwed it up and shoved it in his pocket two hours earlier. But it hadn’t changed and the name written in iridescent ink twinkled back at him.
Draco Malfoy
He rubbed absently at the letters as if that might make them change, but all it did was to make a little shower of twinkling stars radiate from the surface. The stars hung in the air in front of him for a few seconds before popping like little bubbles.
Draco Malfoy!
With a heavy sigh Harry stared back at the flames.
Why, out of all the students at Hogwarts, did it have to be Draco Malfoy?
After Professor Dumbledore’s funeral, Harry had returned briefly to number twelve, Grimmauld Place with Ron, Hermione and other members of the Order. All of them had been surprised when Remus had found Malfoy’s comatose and battered body in the attic. They’d all thought at first that he was dead, but Molly’s quick work seemed to have made the difference. It turned out that the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place had failed when Professor Dumbledore died and was no longer the Secret Keeper. Then, because Malfoy was a Black on his mother’s side, he’d been able to get through the wards and somehow locate the old family home.
Harry’s first reaction had been to toss the Slytherin out with the rubbish and let him take his chances with Voldemort, but they’d found that Malfoy had been carrying several crystal phials containing Dumbledore’s memories which were, in effect, the Headmaster’s last will and testament. At first Harry hadn’t believed them, but they had been validated as being the Professor. They vindicated Snape’s actions on the Astronomy Tower and charged the Order with protecting Malfoy if he chose not to follow his father and become one of Voldemort’s followers.
Of course, that still didn’t mean Harry trusted Malfoy (or Snape for that matter) and he still wasn’t sure, over a year later, whether Malfoy had helped the Order before he believed in what he was doing or because he feared them less than he feared Voldemort. But Malfoy had been with Harry’s group when they’d gone after the last Horcrux and had even protected Harry when Lucius had tried to stop them.
Harry shifted slightly on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the cushions. He’d become pretty obsessed with Malfoy during his sixth year but he’d never considered his actions were anything more than a need to find out just what Malfoy was up to. Then he’d found Malfoy crying in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and that had touched something inside he didn’t really want to think about because Malfoy was, well, Malfoy.
Then everything had changed the night people had celebrated Voldemort’s death. He had been drinking (rather a lot as it turned out) and had gone out onto a balcony to get some fresh air. The alcohol had gone straight to his head in the fresh air and he’d almost passed out; he would have pitched forward over the balustrade if someone hadn’t grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. They ended up in a tangle on the ground and Harry had stupidly kissed his rescuer, albeit rather clumsily considering just how drunk they both were. Fortunately the only people present had been himself and Malfoy, but that didn’t make him feel any more comfortable about what had happened.
Neither had ever mentioned the incident in the months that followed, but Harry had thought about it more times than he considered healthy. The kiss may have been clumsy but he’d enjoyed it much more than the ones he’d shared with Cho or those with Ginny. It could have been the alcohol, but then he’d had drunken kisses with Ginny and they had never made his stomach flip the way the one with Malfoy had. Occasionally he would glance surreptitiously at Malfoy and wonder if the Slytherin ever thought about it as well. Then he would wonder what it might be like to kiss Malfoy when they were both sober.
It wasn’t, he reminded himself that he liked Malfoy or anything like that, he was just, well, curious.
And now he was supposed to be Malfoy’s Secret Partner and make him a gift of some sort.
What, he wondered, was the ideal gift for a one-time nemesis who you think you might fancy and whom you’d once ended up in a drunken snog with?
What do you get a Malfoy when Malfoys already have everything?
---
TBC - Part 2
27th December 2005
Written especially for february_sea and snottygrrl, two of the best people in the whole world.
What do you get for the boy who has everything?
Standing, Minerva McGonagall tapped her wand against the side of her glass. The sound rang out over the Great Hall and slowly the hubbub settled into silence as the Hogwarts’ students turned towards their Headmistress.
She cleared her throat. “I trust you have all enjoyed your Christmas Eve luncheon?” There was a murmur of ascent from around the Hall because it had, indeed, been an excellent meal. “For those of you are aren’t spending Christmas here, Portkeys have been set up to take you to locations your parents have agreed to.” She paused for a moment as a wave of excitement ran through the Hall. “The Portkeys are set to take you at 3pm, so please be in the Entrance Hall in plenty of time. They will return you all next Saturday in time for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. For those staying, your Heads of House will be arranging activities over the coming week.” She waved her wand and a small envelope appeared on the table in front of each student. “Don’t touch!” Hands that had snaked forward pulled quickly back.
“It has been decided to resurrect an old Hogwarts tradition known as ‘Secret Partners’. Those of you who have read Hogwarts: A History will know that students haven’t taken part in this tradition for nearly one hundred years. In each of the envelopes is the name of one student chosen by the Sorting Hat. This person will be your New Year’s Secret Partner and instead of making a resolution of yourself, you will make one for the student who’s name you have been given. During the month of January you will also carry out small Tasks of Friendship for this person; these can be as simple as sending your partner a message of support or perhaps helping them with their studies, it is entirely up to you. In order to help foster House unity, the name will be of someone from a different house to your own.”
The excitement changed to groans of disapproval. Mutters spread across the Hall and fingers flicked at the envelopes as if they could magick them away.
Minerva tapped her wand on the glass again. She knew the students would rebel against this, but she was determined to use the exercise to help bring the students closer together. It was what Albus would have wanted. “You will each make a gift for your New Year’s Partner and these gifts will be exchanged at the feast next Saturday. Until then the identities of your partner are to remain a secret.”
---
“I don’t believe I’m got Morag McDougal!”
“Ron!” Hermione folded her arms and glared at the redhead. “You’re not supposed to tell anyone the name you got. That’s why it’s called Secret Partners.” She tucked her own square of parchment carefully into her pocket because it would turn into a label to put onto the gift on New Year’s Eve. “I think it’s a nice idea after everything that’s happened.”
“I don’t see why I should make a gift for someone I don’t even like. Plus I have no idea what to get for a girl. And then I have to be nice to her for a whole month after that.” Ron huffed as he glared over Harry’s shoulder at the piece of parchment in his hand. “Who did you get?” He grabbed for the parchment.
“Ron!” Hermione squealed as Harry pulled the parchment out of Ron’s reach. “What part of secret don’t you get?”
Harry was already screwing the parchment into a little ball when he looked up at his best friend. “Hermione’s right ... it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Spoil sport. I’m going to find out eventually aren’t I, so why not tell me now?”
“Because I’m not going to.” Harry glared at Ron, making it clear this conversation had ended.
The trio left the Great Hall, heading back to the Gryffindor common room. Harry was remaining at Hogwarts but both Ron and Hermione were going home; Ron to the Burrow and Hermione to her parents. The Grangers would then be joining the Weasleys for Christmas tea the next day and Harry was planning to Apparate to the Burrow during the afternoon.
“You know you can still come home with me, mate,” Ron glanced at Harry as they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Mum keeps going on at me to make you come.”
Harry shrugged. “No, it’s okay. I’ve already agreed with Professor McGonagall to help out here. But I’ll be over in time for tea.” Then he leaned in to whisper in Ron’s ear. “Besides, you’ll want time with Hermione.” He wiggled his eyebrows knowingly and smirked as Ron started to colour a nice shade of red. The two had become engaged on Hermione’s 19th birthday back in September in a big party, which had seen the Muggle Grangers having to learn how to deal with the Wizarding Weasleys, and vice versa. The end of the war had brought a clash of cultures between Muggles (who had been dragged into the war by Voldemort) and Wizards, but the two groups were now learning to live with each other; much to the dismay of people like the Dursleys (and no doubt some of the pure-blood wizarding families as well).
Giving the password (banana bread), the trio climbed through the portrait hole and into the busy common room. Harry watched with bemused amusement as people rushed around trying to finish their packing and once everyone had left he was plunged into an unnatural silence as he realised just how few people in Gryffindor were actually staying for Christmas.
Clutching a copy of the book Hermione had given him as an early Christmas present and a box of Chocolate Frogs from Ron, he sprawled on the sofa in front of the common room fire and stared at the flames. He’d been made a prefect when he’d returned to Hogwarts for his delayed seventh year and would have to go on patrol in an hour, but until then, he could work his way through the chocolate while pretending to read.
There were a couple of third years playing Tiddlywinks on the other side of the room, but Harry knew they wouldn’t disturb him. People still held him in awe despite the fact that it had been ten months since he’d found the final Horcrux and Voldemort had dropped dead of a heart attack.
He pulled the crumpled envelope from his trouser pocket and once again stared at the piece of parchment inside it. He’d hoped rather stupidly that the name on it would have somehow magically changed since he’d screwed it up and shoved it in his pocket two hours earlier. But it hadn’t changed and the name written in iridescent ink twinkled back at him.
Draco Malfoy
He rubbed absently at the letters as if that might make them change, but all it did was to make a little shower of twinkling stars radiate from the surface. The stars hung in the air in front of him for a few seconds before popping like little bubbles.
Draco Malfoy!
With a heavy sigh Harry stared back at the flames.
Why, out of all the students at Hogwarts, did it have to be Draco Malfoy?
After Professor Dumbledore’s funeral, Harry had returned briefly to number twelve, Grimmauld Place with Ron, Hermione and other members of the Order. All of them had been surprised when Remus had found Malfoy’s comatose and battered body in the attic. They’d all thought at first that he was dead, but Molly’s quick work seemed to have made the difference. It turned out that the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place had failed when Professor Dumbledore died and was no longer the Secret Keeper. Then, because Malfoy was a Black on his mother’s side, he’d been able to get through the wards and somehow locate the old family home.
Harry’s first reaction had been to toss the Slytherin out with the rubbish and let him take his chances with Voldemort, but they’d found that Malfoy had been carrying several crystal phials containing Dumbledore’s memories which were, in effect, the Headmaster’s last will and testament. At first Harry hadn’t believed them, but they had been validated as being the Professor. They vindicated Snape’s actions on the Astronomy Tower and charged the Order with protecting Malfoy if he chose not to follow his father and become one of Voldemort’s followers.
Of course, that still didn’t mean Harry trusted Malfoy (or Snape for that matter) and he still wasn’t sure, over a year later, whether Malfoy had helped the Order before he believed in what he was doing or because he feared them less than he feared Voldemort. But Malfoy had been with Harry’s group when they’d gone after the last Horcrux and had even protected Harry when Lucius had tried to stop them.
Harry shifted slightly on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the cushions. He’d become pretty obsessed with Malfoy during his sixth year but he’d never considered his actions were anything more than a need to find out just what Malfoy was up to. Then he’d found Malfoy crying in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and that had touched something inside he didn’t really want to think about because Malfoy was, well, Malfoy.
Then everything had changed the night people had celebrated Voldemort’s death. He had been drinking (rather a lot as it turned out) and had gone out onto a balcony to get some fresh air. The alcohol had gone straight to his head in the fresh air and he’d almost passed out; he would have pitched forward over the balustrade if someone hadn’t grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. They ended up in a tangle on the ground and Harry had stupidly kissed his rescuer, albeit rather clumsily considering just how drunk they both were. Fortunately the only people present had been himself and Malfoy, but that didn’t make him feel any more comfortable about what had happened.
Neither had ever mentioned the incident in the months that followed, but Harry had thought about it more times than he considered healthy. The kiss may have been clumsy but he’d enjoyed it much more than the ones he’d shared with Cho or those with Ginny. It could have been the alcohol, but then he’d had drunken kisses with Ginny and they had never made his stomach flip the way the one with Malfoy had. Occasionally he would glance surreptitiously at Malfoy and wonder if the Slytherin ever thought about it as well. Then he would wonder what it might be like to kiss Malfoy when they were both sober.
It wasn’t, he reminded himself that he liked Malfoy or anything like that, he was just, well, curious.
And now he was supposed to be Malfoy’s Secret Partner and make him a gift of some sort.
What, he wondered, was the ideal gift for a one-time nemesis who you think you might fancy and whom you’d once ended up in a drunken snog with?
What do you get a Malfoy when Malfoys already have everything?
---
TBC - Part 2
27th December 2005