"It's hard when the people who are supposed to love you the most... don't," Harry softly answered, feeling Draco's pain as he never had before. He should have realized sooner that Christmas, being such a family time, would bring it out. Draco was probably wishing everything could be different, wishing he could be home... and knowing that things had changed forever and he'd never go home again.
"Yeah, I suppose you would know," Draco murmured. "I wonder if everybody's messed up inside, or if it's just us."
"I think most people have problems," Harry admitted, glancing toward Snape. The man didn't appear to be listening; he had a book open by then, but Harry didn't count that for much. "Take Neville, for instance, with his parents where they are." Normally Harry wouldn't have mentioned that, but thanks to Death Eater gossip, Draco knew already. "Or Ron--"
"Oh please, what problems has the Weasel got, except for a stunning lack of brains?"
Harry supposed Ron probably deserved that. His comments about Snape truly had been brainless. "He's got five older brothers and one younger sister," Harry retorted. "He's lost in a crowd at home. And with me for a best friend, he's sort of overshadowed all the time at school, too."
"Best friend?" Draco scathed. "My, we are forgiving. No offense, Potter, but I can tell you're going to be an idiot and still want him for a friend. Well, mark my words, all right? He won't even bother sending you a present, that's how little he wants a half-Slytherin Harry Potter for a friend."
"Presents can't get through to us anyway," Harry retorted.
"Assuming he could even afford to buy anything," Draco sneered.
"That's just plain mean, judging people for things they can't help."
"Maybe it's better than not judging them for things they can help, Harry. If you ask me, after what he said about Severus, you ought to never speak to him again!"
"Well, I'm none too happy with him, but never is a bit much, don't you think?"
"Not if you're going to give Severus the respect due him as your father," Draco sternly replied. "But enough of that. I'm not going to let a Weasley ruin my Christmas.... So, we've done the candle... Severus," he called. "Maybe we should let Harry here do one of his Christmas traditions, too." Turning, Draco looked at Harry expectantly. "Well?"
Dumbfounded, Harry questioned, "You want to do a Muggle tradition?"
"No, but I want Christmas to seem like Christmas to you." Draco shrugged. "So, what sorts of Muggle things did your family do?"
"Um..." Harry actually had to think about that. It had been years and years since he'd celebrated the season with the Dursleys, and even back then, he hadn't really done much celebrating. He hadn't been included. "Oh, well there's this deal where you go around singing carols to all your neighbors. Christmas songs," he clarified. "I never went... actually, the Dursleys weren't so big on going caroling, but I used to hear the groups strolling past singing."
"All right then," Draco nodded. "Sing us one of these carols."
Harry blushed. "I don't sing. And I don't know the words very well, and--"
"Oh, come on. You can defeat a Norwegian Ridgeback with your eyes closed, practically, but you can't sing us a single song?"
"It was a Hungarian Horntail!"
Draco smirked. "So I wasn't such a big fan of yours back then. From now on, I'll pay attention to your mighty exploits. Hmm, maybe I'll write a tell-all book. The Time I Lived with the Boy Who Lived..."
"That sounds a bit salacious," Snape put in, pulling a chair over to join them by the window. "How about... Down in the Dungeons with Harry Potter?"
"Stop it," Harry laughed. "I don't want a book about me. It's awful enough reading about myself in the Prophet."
"Oh yes, getting all that attention must be just dreadful," Draco sneered. Then he seemed to calm. "I'll forgo my million-Galleon book deal if you sing me one of those Christmas songs."
"Professor," Harry protested. Fat lot of good that did him.
"I'd like to hear one," Snape merely replied. "If you would?"
"Oh, fine," Harry muttered. "I don't know the words so well. So don't say I didn't warn you." He thought for a moment, then came out with one, his voice wavering on an uncertain, off-key tune,
"It came upon a midnight clear,
that glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
to touch their harps of gold.
Something, some-omething, something-ing,
From heaven's all gracious King.
Something, some-omething, something-ing,
To hear the angels sing."
When the room fell silent, Draco glanced at Snape and then back at Harry. "What does that even mean?"
"I have no idea," Harry admitted, feeling a hot blush suffuse his face. "I told you I didn't know all the words!"
"But the words that were left didn't make any sense either!" Draco retorted. "Not that I expect Muggles to make sense, I suppose. So that's all right. How about another one, Harry? There must be one you know better than that."
"No way," Harry announced. "I've been humiliated enough for one evening."
Draco's smile sparkled with malicious delight. "Humiliation would be Harry Potter: Up Close and Personal..."
That time, Harry scoffed. "Oh, I think I could write just as many embarrassing things about you."
"Ah, but nobody wants to read about me," Draco argued.
"They'll read anything I write, won't they?" Harry argued right back. "Anything by Harry Potter'll fly right off the shelves. So don't tempt me, Malfoy."
"He is sort of Slytherin," Draco complained to Snape.
"The Sorting Hat does know what it's about." Drawing his wand, Snape summoned forth three drinking vessels that looked a bit like Uncle Vernon's imposing brandy snifter... except that these were made of engraved bronze. They were half-filled already with mulled wine fragrant with clove and cinnamon. Harry cupped his hands around the goblet and savored the warmth.
After they'd drunk their wine, Harry and Draco each hung a sock from the mantel. A real sock. Harry thought they looked a bit silly; he was used to bright red fuzzy Christmas stockings. Large ones that could accommodate some pretty serious presents. Of course, Harry'd never had such a stocking, but since Dudley had had three all to himself, the Dursley mantle had looked quite festive indeed.
Perhaps even garish, Harry allowed.
Whereas this mantle looked... homey and comfortable, like the cottage itself.
"Well, then, off to bed with you both," Snape announced as he set out mince pies and a miniature wine glass filled with sherry.
Draco laughed. "We aren't children, Severus. We know you're the one going to be eating the tidbits left out for Father Christmas."
Snape's brow furrowed with what looked like genuine puzzlement. "You don't believe in Father Christmas?"
"Well, I don't," Draco lightly scathed. "I can't speak for the Muggle-raised among us."
Harry supposed he could have taken offense, but actually he thought it was pretty funny. "Hey, the way I was raised, I barely believe in Christmas at all," he informed them.
"But he's quite real," Snape insisted. Harry studied his dark eyes for a twinkle, but didn't find one.