Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Twelve

Rule number ten: Be prepared to fight in all forms of combat.

Snow fell in late October, like a Halloween prank, and then vanished for the rest of November. The Quidditch stadium was rebuilt and Gryffindor and Slytherin had their re-match. Gryffindor was better prepared for Slytherin's Chasers this time around, and although it was a contested match, Gryffindor came out the winner. It was disappointing but inevitable. Potter was the better Seeker.

November ended and the snow returned, as if summoned by the change of calendar. Tensions in Slytherin remained high, building as they neared the first of the debates, scheduled for the week before Christmas break. There were no further attacks on Blaise, but Draco heard slurs and insults being directed at him and those that joined him on the window seats. Blaise bore the bullying with admirable equanimity, but he had little choice in the matter. There were simply not enough supporters of equality in Slytherin to stand a chance against the larger group. Draco took to doing his homework in the common room in his sofa by the fireplace, even though he preferred his room or the library. He knew no one would dare start a war in his presence without his approval. Warrington chafed and paced and glared at him, but he couldn't exactly accuse Draco of interfering.

But Draco was just one person. He wasn't always going to be around to play referee. Although…

Draco pursed his lips one Wednesday night, early-December, and studied the room. It was divided again, and it was always worst on Wednesdays, right after the Debate Classes met. It was unfortunate that the Neutral Party didn't get to meet; they were only allowed to attend the Equality or Superiority meetings. They were effectively silenced, as if their position of neutrality was somehow abhorrent. As if their own worth was lessened because they wouldn't pick a side. There was something to be done here, but Draco didn't know what. Nor did he care to dwell on it. Those thoughts created too much turmoil. He preferred Ancient Runes.

He and Bill were still in the early stages of their work, but there were a few promising algorithms. Draco impatiently waited through Thursday class, and once the rest of the students had left, he was up and moving towards the board. Bill pulled out the chalkboard and they picked up where they had left off.

Draco had gotten rather comfortable with Bill. He'd begun looking forward to these short hours where he could drop his façade and become the undecided child genius he was. And he was beginning to like Bill as well, something that unnerved him, because he found himself relaxing more around him. Consequentially, he talked more. He supposed it was because Bill never pried, and he seemed to genuinely want to know about Draco's life, not just gather intel. In return, Bill was incredibly open with him.

"So, does your mother know that you're so smart?" Bill asked, as he flipped through a book on Persian wizarding history.

Draco paused for a moment. Narcissa wasn't as bad to talk about as Lucius, because he cared little for her, but she wove a complex pattern in his life. She was tied into some of his worst memories. And why did Bill want to know?

Draco narrowed his eyes at the professor.

Bill, used to his general distrust of the world, simply shrugged. "It just seems like a hard thing to hide from a mother."

"My mother is a lot of things," Draco said. "Attentive to me is not one of them."

"But surely she noticed it when you were young," said Bill. "I mean, my mother taught me everything when I was young – how to read, how to tie my shoes, how to clean the house." Bill paused, considering. "It got a little smothering after a while. Thankfully she had other kids to distract her. Now she only bugs me about my hair. I will not go near her when she has a pair of scissors in her hands for fear she'll just grab and chop away."

Draco smirked at that mental picture.

"So, your mother didn't notice," said Bill, and Draco felt his mouth moving before he had consciously decided to speak.

"The first time I saw my mother was when I was five," he said. "I was shown pictures of her, and occasionally glimpsed her leaving the house, but she was never a part of my life. Grand-mere said that when I was born, she refused to hold me or feed me. She handed me to Lucius, and that was that. She went on with her life and ignored my very existence."

Bill stared at him, eyes wide and slightly horrified. Draco felt oddly embarrassed and was quick to add in some context.

"You have to understand that my parents' marriage is… complicated. It was marriage of two old houses, advantageous for both sides, but with little else to recommend it. Narcissa was beautiful and charming and intelligent, the most pursued of her cohort. Lucius was the wealthiest of her suitors and had the best lineage. She picked him knowing that he could provide a certain lifestyle. All that would be required was she would birth him an heir, preferably male, and that she would be discrete when she took lovers. She failed at the second, but with the marriage alliance…," Draco trailed off and shrugged. "No one will say anything. No one dares to say anything."

Bill sat back in his chair and was silent for a minute, letting all that information digest. "Merlin. That's messed up."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, well, at the very least it gives me a reason to be prat. Bad home life and all that." He said it flippantly, hoping to distill some of the concern on Bill's face, but the red-haired man just looked even more worried.

"How bad is it?"

Draco shook his head. "Narcissa isn't around a lot, and when she is, she's usually too drunk or high on pleasure potions to be a bother. And Lucius doesn't let her have parties at home anymore, not since…." He stopped that train of thought from going any further and shifted topics. "Lucius raised me. He tries to be home, but he's got businesses to attend. And the Ministry to run from."

Bill smiled at his wry tone. "My mom was always home. She used to be a medi-witch, but when she had kids, she and my dad agreed she'd stay home to raise us. With seven of us, she was kept pretty busy, but she always seemed available. Perhaps too available at times. She could be scared of letting us go off on our own. When I went home for break in my first year, she cried the entire time and almost didn't let me go back." He chuckled a little at the memory.

Draco considered the picture he'd painted: a loving, traditional, busy family. "It sounds strange, but not terrible."

Bill grinned. "What about Lucius then? How hard was it to keep from him?"

That was the harder question. Bill hadn't asked a lot about Lucius, although he had taken to letting Draco know when he saw Lucius and that his health appeared good. Draco was grateful for the information, but now Bill was asking to know more about him. He wanted a glimpse into something that Draco didn't fully understand himself. Draco had avoided analyzation of his relationship with his father, half in fear of what he'd discover and half because it opened a door into longing and loneliness, and it was just easier to push it aside. It was easy to avoid talking about Lucius with other people. Draco did it by talking about Lucius too much – bragging about things that Lucius had bought him, or expounding on his position of power, or threatening to tattle to his father if he was ever treated unfairly. It made everyone assume the relationship was good. They didn't pry any deeper and Draco left them to their assumptions.

But now Bill was asking, and he wasn't sure what to say. Worse than that, he didn't know what the answer was, and that leant itself into a panic that he didn't have the emotional vocabulary to communicate. His fingers sped through his piano exercise, 1 to 2-4-3-5, faster and faster, as he tried to find some way of ending the conversation or changing the subject.

The silence grew and became strained. Draco could feel the urge to bolt becoming stronger – but wouldn't that be ridiculous? He couldn't just run out of the room. He locked his muscles in place. They tightened to the point of trembling, but he didn't realize it until Bill lay a hand on his shoulder. Draco's immediate impulse was to flinch away, but Bill followed the motion, his hand still gentle, somehow calming.

"Hey, easy. You don't have to answer. You can tell me to shove off if you want. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

Draco kept his gaze firmly away from Bill's, but he couldn't say what he was staring at. Bill tapped his shoulder lightly and he looked up automatically.

Bill's eyes were soft, kind. "Do you want me to change the subject?"

Draco was faintly aware that Bill was pulling some mind-healer bullshit with him. He was giving Draco a way to end the conversation, but he still had to admit that he didn't want to talk about it. It was a way for him to take responsibility for his emotions without having to face them in that moment. Draco would have wondered if Bill was reading up on mind-healing, but his brain wasn't thinking that clearly.

Draco looked away and jerked his head in a nod.

"I don't know what that means," said Bill. "You have to say it. What do you want me to do?"

He should have known he wouldn't get away with a non-verbal answer. He swallowed hard. "Change the subject."

To his credit, Bill didn't say 'Wasn't that easy?' or anything condescending like that. Instead, he changed the subject. "Are you looking forward to the holidays?"

Draco felt the tension in his body start to recede. "Not really. I'm staying here. Narcissa is off who knows where, and Lucius is most likely out of the country."

"You don't celebrate Christmas?"

"We did when we were still in France, but that's because my father's relatives were there. When we moved here after my grand-mère died, it was just us and…," Draco shrugged. "Lucius was away on business more often, and Narcissa prefers to travel. I typically get access to the vaults to buy myself what I want. I bought myself a Firebolt for my birthday this year."

Bill's eyebrows furrowed, like he thought something was wrong with their arrangement. "How long did you live in France?"

"Until I was eight."

"Was it hard learning another language?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Bill laughed. "Yeah, I guess that was stupid question."

"I picked up English too quickly," Draco admitted. "Even in France, I'd overheard people speak English – some of Narcissa's family when they visited, and different business partners of Lucius. I was supposed to be formally instructed when I was five, but a year before that, we had some English relatives staying over for a few months. I started speaking English back to them after – oh, four weeks or so. Everyone thought it was incredible, and then Father noticed, and… it was a lot of attention. But it wasn't just attention, it was expectation. It felt heavy, the way they all watched me, and would start quizzing me, and suddenly I couldn't play on my own anymore, or spend time in my rooms, everyone wanted to hear me speak English."

Draco twirled the piece of chalk he was holding through his fingers. "I was used to being alone. I preferred it really, so I made a couple of mistakes in translating and played stupid when they started quizzing me. After a few days, they lost interest in me. And that was how I learned to pretend to be average."

There was a moment of silence after he stopped talking. Draco was growing accustomed to these silences. Bill took his time processing what Draco said. Sometimes his reactions made Draco realize how decidedly abnormal his life was. Sometimes they made Bill sad, which then made Draco defensive and angry. Who was Bill to decide that something in his life was tragic?

Sometimes, like this, Bill just nodded when he was done thinking. "You ever get so over tired that your brain just flits between language?"

"Far too often," Draco admitted. "English to French is the worst, but I went through a Latin phase when I was ten and it was hard to switch back."

"You should have seen me after my first long-term dig," Bill said, already laughing at the memory. "We were working twelve-hour shifts and translating on the fly. I tried sending a letter home to Mum, because she was pressuring me to keep in touch, but I accidentally wrote it in runes. She was so concerned that I was kidnapped or trying to send her a coded message, that she overnighted a pecking owl back to my supervisor, asking what had happened. He came into my tent that morning, owl still dive-bombing him, and forced me to Apparate to the nearest town to Floo-call her."

Bill shook his head and chuckled again. Draco smirked, though it was softer than usual, and might even be taken as a smile. They continued working in companionable silence until the hour was up.

The first Superiority vs. Equality debate came on the Wednesday evening before break. The students filed into the Great Hall and Draco could tell that the majority of students didn't want to be there. The younger students weren't allowed to take part in the debate, and they jostled for seats closest to their friends. The Neutral Party members were given seats in the front and instructed to take notes. Draco pulled out his Transfiguration's essay to finish. The members of the Equality and Superiority groups took their positions and proceeded to yell at each other for an hour and half. Behind him, the younger students muttered to each other, some out of boredom, others out of interest. As the debate went on and devolved into outright insults, some of the first years began to cry.

The mood in the castle on Thursday was noticeably grim, which was a shame because it was the last two days before the holiday. That usually meant easy classes. The holiday cheer returned on Friday and the general excitement meant the professors had a hard time reining in their classes. The more experienced professors hadn't planned any sort of lecture, and some let the classes out early. Stevick did the opposite. He forced the NEWT DADA students to listen to a particularly dry lecture about ancient rituals, and when the students responded with sighs, whispers, and notes passed under the desks, he ended the lecture in favor of a pop quiz.

And Stevick wasn't playing it easy with the quiz. Draco glanced through the questions and swore. It was so difficult and so specific, even getting an E would be unusual. Draco would have to settle for an A, which meant he'd have to re-do his entire grading trajectory. He swore again, and his wasn't the only oath that muttered through the room.

Stevick called the quizzes to him with ten minutes left of class. When some of the students started getting up, sure that class was dismissed, he called them back and then sent the quizzes out in random order.

"You will grade each other's quizzes," he said. "I will not be bringing work with me over break."

There was some groaning. Some of the students glanced around, trying to spot who had their page. Draco had received Nott's quiz and took some pleasure in marking it. Nott wasn't a bad student, but he wasn't one to remember the small details. The students kept groaning as Stevick read out the answers, and it was apparent that the majority of students would be failing. Some students tried to argue their answers, but Stevick was having none of it. Other students, who were watching the clock, begged their friends to quiet down so they weren't held over. Stevick called out the last two answers as time wore down and then yanked the quizzes back with a flick of his wand, right as the bell rang. The class waited for Stevick to pass them back, but he simply packed them away in his briefcase.

"Find your grading partner for your grade," he said, and exited the room ahead of the students.

"Bloody git!" someone swore.

"Who had my quiz?" Dean Thomas shouted out.

"Who had mine?" Nott parried back.

"Who cares?" Pansy asked, exiting the room with about half of the other students, too eager to leave to care about a grade.

"It was a Poor, Nott," Draco called out. "Who had mine?"

"Hermione did," Dean said smugly. "Looks like a lot of corrections on your page, Malfoy."

Draco swore and grabbed his bag. The Golden Trio had already exited the room, and the halls were pressed tight with students caught in the thrill of being done for the semester. Draco spotted the trio further up the hall, excitedly babbling about Christmas plans.

"Granger!" Draco called.

Draco saw her head turn and her eyes flickered to his face. She turned back and her pace picked up.

"Un-bloody-believable," Draco muttered. He pushed through a throng of students. Normally he commanded a little more respect than this, but the students were too caught up in their babble and excitement to care about school hierarchy. "Granger!"

She was still avoiding him. Now Potter and Weasley were as well. They put on a burst of speed. It was immature and childish, and Draco shoved by a link of Hufflepuffs and ran to catch up with them.

"Hey, Mudblood!" he spat, frustration staining his voice.

That got their attention – and the attention of the students around them. The Golden Trio stopped and whirled around. The other students fell silent and drew back, watching the interaction.

"What did you call me?" Hermione demanded, voice sharp with fury.

Draco curled his lip. "You heard me."

Weasley stepped forward. "What the hell do you want, Malfoy?"

"Nothing you could afford," Draco snapped. "I'm talking to Granger."

"You're talking to us," Potter said, stepping up as well.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Really, Potty, it's not as if I'm going to portkey her to the Dark Lord. She graded my quiz. I want to know my mark."

"Like I'd actually tell you after you just insulted me?" Hermione demanded, hands on her hips. "Go to hell."

"For fuck's sake, just give me my grade."

"No," Hermione said. She turned on her heel, ready to leave.

Draco needed that grade. He reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she screamed at the contact – obviously interrupting it to be something worse. Harry and Ron reacted instantly.

Harry grabbed Draco's arm and wrenched it away. Draco hadn't been expecting the scream, or the attack. He stumbled back a step and Harry took advantage, shoving him back against the wall. Draco's head hit the stone, just enough to sting.

He saw Ron's fist coming at him and he ducked. Ron's knuckles smashed into stone. He let out a cry of pain. Draco drove his own fist into Ron's unprotected stomach and the Gryffindor staggered back. Harry launched himself at Draco, and there was no way to defend against that. Draco went toppling, Harry on top of him. Students screamed and tried to get out of the way. Harry landed a hit on his face, hard enough to hurt but not to do any damage. He pulled back again and Draco bucked up, toppling him to the side. He clambered after him, shoving him against the stone, face first. Draco grabbed Harry's arm and yanked it behind his back. Harry let out a shout of pain.

"Don't move," Draco ordered, "or I'll snap your arm in half."

He didn't notice Ron had recovered until a fist punched him square in the mouth. Draco fell back off of Harry and scrambled to his feet.

The hall was becoming more crowded as students pressed in close, forming a ring around them. Some called for them to stop, but even more were yelling them on. A chant rose up. 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'

Ron came at him again, not bothering to keep his center of gravity low. Draco spotted the opening. In dueling, the first thing he'd been taught was unarmed defense.

Rule number ten: Be prepared to fight in all forms of combat.

Draco stepped into Ron's attack. He grabbed his arm under his elbow and drove his shoulder into the other boy's gut. From there, a simple twist of his torso and a shove upwards sent Ron tumbling over his body. Harry swung at him with a right cross. Draco stepped back, retreating from Harry's blows, until he spotted a gap and darted in with an upper cut. It clipped Harry's chin. Instead of falling back, Harry ducked his head and ran in, swinging wildly. His fist smashed into Draco's mouth. Draco grunted, blocked the follow-up, and punched Harry straight into the nose. The boy-hero yelped and staggered back, but he didn't go down. And Ron had already jumped to his feet. He was swinging again.

Draco pulled out his wand.

Strong arms caught him up before he could get off a spell. Ron's fist, which had been aimed at his head, hit the others' shoulder instead, and then McGonagall's voice cut through the crowd.

"That is enough!"

Everyone froze. Draco pulled back from the arms to see none other than Bill Weasley standing beside him, rubbing his shoulder where his brother had just punched him.

"Everyone will return to their rooms without further delay!" McGonagall ordered.

The other students were quick to obey. The professor rounded on Draco and the Golden Trio, her mouth set in a line. "You lot, follow me!"

She turned and strode down the hall. The Golden Trio followed.

"You alright, Draco?" Bill asked.

Draco let out a breath and reached up to brush his hair out of his face. It was getting a little too long. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He followed McGonagall and the Golden Trio into an empty classroom and was relieved when Bill followed. He didn't think that he'd make out that well against the other four Gryffindors. Not that Bill wasn't a Gryffindor. Draco just trusted him to be fair.

Bill closed the door behind them and McGonagall launched into a strident tirade about appropriate behavior for school. Draco glanced at the others, not fully listening. Ron was turning even redder that usual under her lecture, Harry seemed to shrink in on himself. Hermione looked uncomfortable. Even Bill was looking a little abashed. Draco wondered how many times he'd gotten lectured by McGonagall. He couldn't see Bill getting into too much trouble – but he could see younger-Bill getting into scrapes on account of someone else.

"I am entirely disappointed at this display!" McGonagall announced as she began to wind down. "And two of you are Prefects at that! Shame on you. Fifty points from Slytherin and a hundred from Gryffindor."

"A hundred points!" Ron objected.

"Fifty for everyone who was brawling," McGonagall said. "And count it lucky I don't take your badges. Now, will someone please explain what had you three fighting like first years?"

"Malfoy attacked Hermione," Ron accused.

McGonagall was quick to turn on him, her eyes already incriminating. "Is that so, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco sneered and leaned back against the wall. "As if I'd dirty my hands by doing so."

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall's voice was appalled.

Draco felt his sneer grow. Really, she was too easy to offend. He felt a strange urge to say even more, to wind her up even further. He took a step forward.

"Draco," said Bill. His voice was calm, steadying. It cut through Draco's impulse to say something worse – just to see what chaos he could create. Draco looked over to him. Bill's expression was stern, but also gentle. "How about you tell us what happened."

Draco shrugged and leaned back, like he wasn't just about to dig his own grave with more insults. "Granger graded my Dark Arts quiz. She left without telling me, so I caught up to her in the hall. Insults were exchanged, then Potter and Weasley attacked me."

"You hurt Hermione!" Ron accused.

"She was walking away," said Draco. "I reached out to stop her. That was it."

Bill and McGonagall turned to Hermione, who winced. "He didn't hurt me. I was startled, so I screamed."

Draco arched an eyebrow and turned to McGonagall, wondering what she'd say now. She harrumphed a little. "Potter, Weasley, two weeks of detention when you get back. Malfoy, you will have to go home over break."

Draco crossed his arms. "Can't."

Her mouth pinched. "What do you mean, 'can't'."

"Mother is traveling. And you can't really release into my father's care, now can you? Seeing as he's on the run from the Ministry." He shrugged a shoulder. "You can't send me home unsupervised. I'm still a minor."

"Apparently you can't stay here unsupervised without drawing your wand on your classmates," said McGonagall.

"Yes, well most people do have a desire to avoid grievous bodily harm."

McGonagall frowned. "Are you sure your mother cannot be contacted?"

"Quite," said Draco shortly, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand.

"Decided that they can't stand you either, Malfoy?" asked Ron.

Draco stiffened.

"Ron, shut it," Bill said, interjecting. His brow was furrowed in thought. "Okay, Draco, since you can't go home, but because you do need some sort of supervision, you'll have your detention over break with Hagrid. He could always use the extra help. You'll join him after lunches during the week."

What? Detention with Hagrid? Was Bill serious?

"Hermione, could you please tell Draco his grade?"

"A," said Hermione.

Draco barely registered it, still staring at Bill, uncomprehending.

"Good," said Bill. "Now you are all dismissed."

Draco watched the Golden Trio escape from the classroom. Draco stayed behind, catching the way that McGonagall nodded approvingly to Bill as she left. The door swung shut behind her.

Bill turned to Draco. "What was that?" He gestured to the room at large, indicating the argument and Draco's sneering performance.

"What was that?" Draco retorted, gesturing back to Bill. "I can't be 'unsupervised'? I'm a bloody genius! You think I can't be alone for two weeks? I've spent entire summers home alone."

"You drew your wand," Bill said.

"They started it!" Draco protested, and once the words were out of his mouth, he heard how childish they sounded.

Bill raised his eyebrows, clearly hearing it himself. "You were going to escalate it. You know the punishment is completely fair, don't even try to blame me."

Draco felt his outrage deflate. He dropped back against the wall and crossed his arms. "I suppose." The words were hard to get out. He glared over at Bill. "But Hagrid? Really?"

"What's wrong with Hagrid?"

"He's an imbecile. He's lumbering and unrefined and…," Draco tried to find the words to express his distaste of the professor.

"Is it because he's a half-giant?" Bill asked.

"What?" Draco felt a little affronted. "No. It's just… I was probably smarter than him when I was two years old, and having him be a professor when I'm smarter than him is ridiculous!"

"Draco," Bill said, a note of humor in his voice, "you're smarter than every teacher here."

Draco blinked. "Well… yes."

"You're smarter than me. Do you dislike me?"

"I want to." The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said. They were far more honest than he was intending. He froze and glanced over at Bill. The professor looked a little startled. Draco hastily changed the subject. "You're an expert in your field. I'm smarter than you, but you can still teach me things."

"And Hagrid isn't an expert in his field?"

Draco tapped his fingers together. "Well, I suppose he is."

"You don't like the care-taking fields," Bill surmised. "You prefer more intellectual pursuits to tasks that will get your hands dirty." He laughed. "You're a snob, Draco."

There was nothing condemning about his laugh. Draco felt his own lips quirk up. "I admit it."

"As a genius, you must understand the benefits of tutelage under an expert, even if it isn't your choice of subject. No field of study is completely isolated. Care of Magical Creatures has plenty of crossover information, like potions, herbology, and healing. I know that Hagrid can come off as slow, but you should try to look a little deeper. You'd learn a lot."

Draco sighed. Bill had a point. "Fine."

Bill changed the topic. "What were you doing with McGonagall?"

Draco shrugged. "She's fun to rile up."

"At what cost? Were you trying to get a month of detention?"

"Snape would've got me out of it."

Bill shook his head. "Well, I was actually looking for you, before your little tussle in the hall."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What for?"

Bill pulled a box out of his school bag and tossed it to him. Draco caught the box and stared at it. The box was wrapped in green paper with faintly embossed Christmas trees. A red ribbon wrapped around the middle.

Draco frowned down at it. "You bought me a Christmas present?"

"You needed a real gift. Not one you paid for yourself."

Draco looked up, startled at the gesture.

"In fact," Bill said, "I seriously doubt that you'd be able to buy that particular present at all. It's not really in the shops. Well, Happy Christmas."

He turned to leave, pulling open the door before Draco could find anything else to say. For some reason, 'thank you' was getting stuck in his throat, so he blurted out, "You're not going to tell me to wait until Christmas to open it?"

Bill turned. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting Draco's and Draco wondered what he was seeing. Was he seeing gratitude? Was he seeing confusion? Was he picking up on the stirring of unease underneath it all?

Bill grinned. "No. It takes away all the fun."

He winked and left, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the room, staring after him, the present clutched in his hands.

OoOoO

Bill trekked through the snow to Hagrid's hut that evening. He had a hundred things on his to-do list, including packing so he could actually make it on the train tomorrow morning, but this was important. He knocked on the door.

"Com'on in!"

Hagrid's deep voice carried through the door. Bill stepped into the caretaker's house. He'd always liked Hagrid's hut – not that he'd want it for himself, rustic wasn't really his style – but it was always warm, welcoming, and comfortably cluttered. It reminded Bill a little of the Burrow, although with more rough edges. He joined Hagrid at his table. The half-giant had just finished his meal. A large bowl had been pushed aside, scraped clean. Stew, by the smell of it.

"Got more, if yeh'd like," Hagrid said, gesturing to an enormous pot held over the flame. By the look of it, Hagrid would be eating stew for the week.

"No, thanks," Bill said. "I already ate, and I'm afraid I can't stay long. I've got grades to log and tests to file before the end of tonight. And somehow, I've lost an entire stack of homework assignments for my seventh years. And I've still got to pack."

"End o' semester is always busy," Hagrid agreed. "What's got yeh droppin' by then?"

Bill sat forward. "To be honest, I owe you an apology."

Hagrid regarded him curiously. "But yeh haven' done nothin'."

"It's pre-emptive," Bill said. "I gave Draco Malfoy detention with you over break."

It took a moment for Hagrid to process the news. Bill could see the emotions cross his face, confusion, then understanding, and then distaste.

"Wha'd he do this time?"

"He fought with Ron and Harry, but they started the tussle, so it's not all on him."

Hagrid's mouth twisted. "I don't wan' any Malfoys fer the holidays."

"He can't go home. His mother's traveling and his father… well, for obvious reasons we can't send him to Lucius. But I was thinking you might be good for him."

"Good fer 'im?"

"Maybe you could show him some kindness over the break?"

"Kindness?" Hagrid erupted, voice booming in the small hut. "After what 'e did ter poor Buckbuck?"

Shit, that was right. Bill vaguely remembered the story about Ron's third year. Honestly, he'd heard it fourth-hand and he wasn't sure all of it could be true. Time-travel? Really? But part of the story had been rescuing a hippogriff after Lucius Malfoy had called for its execution. The story had included something about Draco deliberately provoking the animal, but again, Bill wasn't sure how much of that was entirely accurate.

"I won' ever forgive 'im fer that," Hagrid announced. "Not ter mention, his behavior. He's always mean, always laughin' at the smaller students, and the Muggleborns, and pickin' fights and bullyin'. An' in class, he's awful, even ter the other professors. No respect in 'im. Not fer anyone."

Bill scrubbed a hand over his face as Hagrid continued to list his complaints. He knew there was a way to smooth things over. Hagrid had a soft spot for misunderstood creatures, and his heart bled for any animal that had been abandoned. And didn't Draco fit that description? But Bill would have to break Draco's confidence to change Hagrid's opinion of the boy. Could he do that? Was it right?

"'He's jus' like his father, lemme tell yeh," Hagrid continued. "Why, jus' last year-,"

"His mother doesn't want him," Bill blurted out.

It made Hagrid pause mid-rant. "What'd yeh say?"

Bill carefully picked his words, trying to find a way to make Hagrid understand without completely exposing Draco's secrets. "He can't go home for Christmas because his mother isn't there. She's not celebrating with him. Not even when she's the only parent available."

There, that was all true without getting too detailed. But it wasn't going to be enough. Hagrid still looked angry. He folded his arms and frowned at Bill.

"I've been tutoring him in Ancient Runes," Bill said. "We've… talked a few times. And from what I understand, he doesn't have a good relationship with her. That is… she's been absent for a lot of his life."

He watched Hagrid's expression, for any signs of softening, but whatever Draco had done to Hagrid, he'd turned the professor hard against him.

"He's buying his own Christmas gifts," Bill tried.

Hagrid blinked, just once. Bill took it as a sign of softening and elaborated. "He buys his own gifts because his parents don't bother going shopping for him. They just pay him back afterwards. He bought his own birthday gift over the summer, and he's doing it again for Christmas. And now his mother isn't even spending the holiday with him. I understand that he's not a nice kid, but… you know that if animals are neglected or treated poorly, they become aggressive, even vicious."

"There's a big diff'rence 'tween people an' animals, Bill," Hagrid said slowly. "Animals dunno right from wrong."

"Draco's still learning. And it's not as if he's had the best example."

Hagrid narrowed his eyes at him. "Why'd yeh stick 'im with me?"

"Because you're the only one that might be gentle with him. McGonagall would be too stern and Dumbledore… well, Draco wouldn't trust him. But I think you could look past all that bluster, after all, you've got a soft spot for animals that have a bad reputation. Maybe you could show him that. Teach him how to care for something other than himself."

"Las' time he cared fer an animal, he near got 'im executed."

Bill sighed. "Hagrid, if you don't find something at all redeemable about him, I will do all of your grade for the rest of the year."

Hagrid paused. "Yer serious 'bout him."

"Absolutely."

Hagrid huffed a breath out of his nose. "Well, alrigh' then."

"Thank you," Bill said. He got up to leave, but paused. "Just… what I told you about him, that's in confidence. It's probably best not to tell him I said anything."

Hagrid nodded. "I won' say nothin'."

"I appreciate it."

Bill left Hagrid's hut, feeling a little better about the whole thing. Now he just had to find those homework pages. He had a funny feeling a certain poltergeist might have been involved.

OoOoO

Author's Note: So – this chapter is late for two reasons.

One: This chapter fought me. Like – every word was a battle. I don't know why. It wasn't a particularly difficult chapter. It just didn't want to be written/edited.

Two: I was distracted with a last hurrah of querying for an original novel. Now, I've had no luck with querying this past year, but I thought I'd give it one last shot. I'm not largely hopeful, but if there's nothing over the next few months, I will foray into the complex world of self-publishing. I have mixed feelings about this (mostly terror). But if I do, I expect all of you to read it, lol.

But let's go ahead and talk about this chapter. We have a fun time-skip here. I'm a bit proud of it because usually time-skips cause me much agony, but this one (right in the first two paragraphs) wrote itself. It was the only part of the chapter that did not give me grief. I added a bit more about Draco's thoughts on Slytherin politics. I want to explore more of that this time around, so I'm starting to set the stage for that. I also moved the POV-shift. Originally, I had Bill's POV picking up right at the end of the fight, but it just felt awkward, so I kept Draco's POV through the whole things, which feels more natural.

I added in a section with Bill and Hagrid – originally I had drafted a section with Bill and Dumbledore, sort of as a recap for Bill's spying things, but it didn't seem a good fit. And I think that information might be better served in an Order meeting, if I can fit that into the next few chapters. So instead, we've got Bill meeting Hagrid. I think that this is pretty in character for Bill – he wants to help Draco get a few more supports, and he also wants to warn/prepare Hagrid for it as well. This helps Hagrid's characterization in the next chapters as well because, without Bill's intervention, Hagrid would probably be colder with Draco. He's a nice guy, but I think he's still holding onto a grudge.

So – let me know what you think!