all the wrong choices // drarry

listen

For the remainder of the month, Harry avoided Malfoy as much as possible. Ron and Hermione helped him where they could, taking it in turns to pair up with Harry in lessons instead of with each other to eliminate the risk of Harry having to work with Malfoy again; backing Harry up with an alibi when Malfoy enquired his whereabouts. For many weeks, Harry was successful in managing to avoid talking to Malfoy for longer than five minutes. The few occasions where they had spoken had been limited to discussing classwork and ignoring Malfoy's insistent attempts to ask why Harry was ignoring him. Harry couldn't see why Malfoy was so bothered about it; surely this made things a lot easier for Malfoy, as he now did not have to feign friendship with Harry?

The weather grew colder and harsher as November turned into December. The Hogwarts grounds were coated in a thick blanket of snow and glistening icicles clung to the exterior of the castle. As the eighth-years walked from class to class, they watched the Christmas decorations being put up all around the halls of the castle. A spectacular tree had been brought into the eighth-year common room, and the students decided to make a day out of dressing it with the baubles and other assorted decorations that had been left under the tree in two large boxes.

Everyone held their breaths while Dean tried to levitate Seamus up to the top of the tree in order to perfectly place the glowing star, and laughed when he failed miserably and Seamus crashed onto the pile of cushions supplied by Hannah Abbott. Harry was thoroughly enjoying his afternoon with his friends, but he couldn't help noticing that Malfoy was absent.

It had been just over four weeks since he had learned the truth about the night of Hermione's birthday party, and admittedly, Harry was feeling a lot less angry towards Malfoy, and felt that he would be a lot better at stomaching his fury so that he could talk with Malfoy for longer than five minutes. He had actually been hoping that Malfoy would approach him while he had been decorating the tree. But Malfoy wasn't even sitting out and watching, at least overseeing the season's excitement. Harry's heart sank a little, to his surprise, and he put down the tinsel he had been trying to untangle.

He looked around and saw that Pansy, Blaise and Theo Nott were all chatting animatedly while they levitated baubles onto the tree. After checking to make sure that nobody was watching him, Harry tiptoed across the common room and darted down the corridor leading to many of the eighth-year dormitories, including his own.

He lifted his hand, stopping just before his knuckles came into contact with the wood. It occurred to him that, if Malfoy really was in there, they would talk. Harry would most likely have to listen to Malfoy's explanation as to why he had pretended to make amends with Harry... He took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles on the door.

There was no reply. Harry knocked again; still no answer. He pushed open the door slowly and took a few tentative steps into the room. What little light left outside dimly illuminated Pansy and Malfoy's beds. Something on Malfoy's bedside cabinet caught his eye, and Harry toed through some of the mess on the floor. He bent down and picked up what looked like a polaroid. Moving over to the window and squinting at it, Harry realised it was one of the photos that Luna had taken of them on their last Hogsmeade trip. Harry stared down at the photo, watching himself laughing and walking alongside Malfoy through the snow. He looked happier than he had felt in weeks, and, Harry noticed, so did Malfoy. Since he had fallen out with him, Harry had tried not to look at Malfoy in passing or in classes, but when had, he had seen that Malfoy looked as depressed as Harry felt. But in Luna's photo, they were both grinning from ear to ear and laughing without a care in the world. The tip of Malfoy's nose was pink from the cold, as were his cheeks, and there was snow in Harry's hair.

"What are you doing?" came a quiet voice from behind him. Harry turned, the photo still in his hand, and found himself face-to-face with Malfoy. He was carrying a stack of books; he had obviously been in the library.