Not Just Our Story

Chapter 15: Tell Me About the Chamber

December 25, 1992

Draco Malfoy

The double attack on Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick lit the whole school with panic, and everyone fought for seats on the Hogwarts Express. Even Pansy and Nott had to go home. I, however, registered to stay over the holidays, curious on what it's like to stay in Hogwarts at Christmas while the Chamber of Secrets is open.

At Christmas dinner, the Great Hall looked magnificent. Other than frost-covered Christmas trees, thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossed the ceiling as enchanted snow fell from above. Dumbledore led us all in a few of his favorite carols. The gamekeeper sang louder and louder with each goblet of eggnog he drank.

Everyone at the Gryffindor table had been laughing at one of the Weasleys whose prefect badge was bewitched to read "Pinhead".

"What are you all sniggering at?" he yelled.

Potter looked perfectly lovable with her hair tied up in pigtails by white and red polka-dot scrunchies. She was wearing a cute hand-knitted white sweater as she respectfully held back a chuckle. Personally, though, I thought she'd look better in her sweater from last year: emerald green.

As I was thinking about this, her luxuriant eyes happily roamed around the hall until they found mine. I realized too late that I was vaguely smiling at her. I instantly snapped back to the moment and remarked, "Nice sweater, Potter! Where did you get that, from someone's nursery?"

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she helped herself to some Christmas pudding. I stared at her, hardly noticing that I was starting to admire her again. She still carried an aura of delightful innocence, and her cheeks were soft and pink like a baby's, and I had the irrepressible urge to squish them. 

After dinner, Crabbe and Goyle stayed behind, pigging out what's left of the desserts. The Gryffindors went up to the seventh floor while I started to leave the Great Hall.

"Draco, can we talk?"

I blushed. That voice better not be hers. I pulled on a straight face as I turned to look at her. I wish I hadn't. I noticed her lips were soft and pink, and her eyes were big, bright, and green. I stared at her and idiotically said, "Why is it that every time it snows, you come out looking sunny and cute?"

...

"I---I mean snow! F-falling from the ceiling---you look---no, not cute---no, no---"

Goyle spoke through a mouthful of cake. "I think he meant you look fetching, Potter."

"Shut---" never mind. I already said that too many times. "Go back to your cake, Goyle!"

"Don't be hard on him," Potter said. "It's actually nice to hear a compliment from both of you."

"Actually, if you hear Draco talk in the dormitory, you would've---" Crabbe hastily went back to gorging on pudding when he received daggers from my eyes.

"All right, Potter, what is it you want to talk about?"

"If you don't mind me asking..." she started. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Heir of Slytherin, would you?"

I was taken aback. "What? You think I know more about him than you do?"

"Well, you are in Slytherin, and since you're the only one I could trust with this question, I just had to ask," she said.

I blinked when she said that I was the only one she could trust with it. My insides did a sort of jig and I felt like dancing. But---no, I cannot risk humiliating myself again, so I nonchalantly answered her.