Draco blinked, getting his bearings, after the he and Astoria arrived via the special Ministry Portkey that Headmaster Flitwick had arranged. As his eyes focused, he saw Lily Potter and Bethany Dokes staring up at a tapestry of tutu-wearing trolls. The two girls began to laugh and spin on their toes with her hands forming a crescent over their heads. Draco turned to his left to find the Potters and the Dokes chatting with the four boys. Draco and Astoria joined the other parents.

As the Malfoys exchanged greetings with the others, Neville Longbottom wearing his teacher’s robes, walked down the hallway. “Well, it seems that five students are not going home for the holidays. So for your protection and the students’ protection you will have to stay here,” Neville said pointing to the blank wall.

Isaac Dokes spoke up, “We are to camp in a cold, breezy hallway?”

“No, Isaac. He means we will be staying in the Room of Requirement,” said Draco, who could hear the hollowness of his own comment. Draco found his legs taking him away from the place he knew the door to be and toward a familiar spot on the wall next to the tapestry.

Draco’s comment had not helped Isaac. So Longbottom continued the explanation, “The room is a magical place that takes the size, shape and form of whatever the user requires. It once became a hideout for dozens of students. The room can provide everything you need except for food. Luckily, we have the best staff of House-elves in Britain.”

Rebekka turned and, with a voice full of almost a regal authority which Draco had never heard from her, said, “No! Islanders are the children of slavery; we do not abide servitude in any form. Do what you want, but no slave will serve my family.”

Draco saw Neville give a little bow toward the tall woman, “As you wish. I meant no disrespect.”

Rebekka nodded in acceptance of the teacher’s apology.

“I happen to know that all of the Hogwarts House-elves were offered their freedom after Voldemort’s defeat. Only a handful of them took their freedom, but ever year on Albus Dumbledore’s birthday they are all offered the opportunity to take clothes,” Harry Potter explained.

Astoria chimed in, “Perhaps we could have some freed elves bring us food up from the kitchen’s pantry so we that could prepare our own meals.”

Professor Longbottom nodded in agreement to Astoria’s comment. Rebekka smiled at Astoria and said, “I think we can live with that.”

As the Potters and Dokes gathered around Professor Longbottom with requests for what their lodgings should be like, Astoria walked over to Draco who was seated on the floor, back against the stone wall with his knees raised. As she bent down, her long black hair fell from her shoulders and she asked, “Draco? What’s wrong?” He gave no response. She smiled invitingly and she reached down to touch his forehead with the palm of her hand. “Come. We must describe our home for the holidays.”

“You go ahead. Where-ever you and Scorpius are is home enough for me. Well, not the manor, any place but the manor,” Draco answered, not looking up at her.

As Draco watched his wife join the women and girls who were bombarding Longbottom with their requests, the boys chased each other up and down the hallway. James tripped his younger brother, Draco realized that Harry Potter was watching him. Not wanting Potter to consider him weak, Draco stood up, adjusted his vest and tie, and walked toward the pack of women.

Harry intercepted him about half way to his target. “Are you okay, Draco?” asked Harry.

“Why wouldn’t I be!” he answered too forcibly. Potter pulled his head in like a tortoise. Draco realized his err and added, “Sorry. It’s just that Crabbe died in there. I half-expected to be greeted by his ghost. I can almost smell the smoke. Silly, huh?”

“No. My dreams were haunted by the images of the dead for months after the battle,” Harry admitted.

“Did you know that his father died in the battle too? He got stepped on by a giant or something. When Vincent’s mother heard the news, she went mad. She stayed with us at the manor until she…” Draco let the tragic story end there.

“At the manor?” Harry repeated letting Draco talk.

“She was my father’s cousin. All pure-bloods are cousins…Weasley and I, for instance,” said Draco now focusing on Potter’s face. “Funny, I can talk with you about this, but not with Astoria.”

Harry shrugged and answered, “We are like old soldiers from the same war. Only we can truly understand what the other one went through.” Draco found his head bobbing in tacit agreement.

As the two men turned to join the harried Longbottom, Draco said, “Your boy, Albus, flies almost as well as his mother did. However, your older son is not a Seeker. He doesn’t have your focus. I’d say he’s a Chaser also.”

“I agree, but you try telling James that. Now, Scorpius has the talent and the focus to be either. He might need a year or two of seasoning. Although, I think the Jones girl will be the Seeker for as long as she wants to. Do you think Flitwick will let Gryffindor have two teams?” Harry asked Draco, as a hallway appeared in the stone wall across from the tapestry. In the new hallway were three wooden doors.

Astoria walked over to him holding an old fashioned looking skeleton key. She handed it to Draco. Outside of the opening day of the shop, he had not seen her look so relaxed and relieved. She seemed more beautiful than he had seen her in years. The change in his wife caused an involuntary swallow. He was suddenly nervous about not ruining this holiday for her.

Draco walked to the farthest right of the three doors, inserted the key and turned it. The door’s lock clicked and with a turn of the handle it slowly began to open. Draco reached into his pocket to get his wand so he could move the trunks, when he heard Astoria clear her throat. He stopped and turned over toward her. She was looking at him like he had forgotten something.

Draco’s mind raced. The number on the key had matched the door, so he was not in trouble about that. The key was still in the lock, but that wouldn’t merit a throat clear. What have I done wrong this time? He looked back at her with his please give me a clue look. Astoria sighed and lifted up her cloak like she was beginning a folk dance. Surely, she didn’t want to dance? They hadn’t danced since their tenth anniversary. Oh no! She really can’t expect me to do that? Not here! Not in front of these people! He shook his head toward her and mouthed, “No.”

Draco saw her lips purse and her eyes narrow. “Please, no!” he almost begged. From her reaction to this comment, he had one chance to get this right. Stealing a glimpse to the side, he saw Rebekka holding court with Longbottom and the Potters. Maybe he could pull this off without being seen.

Draco walked up to Astoria, made a sweeping motion with his arms across his waist as he bowed deeply and said, “Milady.” Hoping his back would not act up, he reached down to pick his wife up into his arms and headed toward the threshold. The way she caressed his neck with her arms meant he had gotten the hint in time.

Suddenly, he heard running footsteps and high pitched giggling. The pair of girls had seen them and was gawking at them. Maintaining as much of his Malfoy dignity as possible, he stepped through the doorway and as the door closed he heard Harry Potter say, “Don’t even think about it.”

The room that he walked into was not Malfoy Manor nor was it Astoria’s childhood home. The room was bright and airy filled with pine wood scents and had a modern, Muggle feel. Draco let his wife down to the floor and turned around, appraising his wife’s choice.

“It’s a house just north of Tinworth. It was featured in a ‘Witch Weekly’ article last month,” she probed Draco. Draco felt a smile spread across his face. He reached over and kissed her on the cheek.

Christmas morning was unlike any Christmas Draco had ever experienced. Astoria’s shocked smile at the necklace he had brought her and Scorpius’ excited opening of his own broom was worth all of the scheming he had put in to figuring out how to pay for them. Astoria’s gift to him was a silken robe, which he knew had been a gift she had gotten for her father before his death last summer. The robe fit well enough and was appreciated, along with a special I.O.U. he found from her in the pocket.

Just as he was considering when he should take advantage of the I.O.U., the door resounded with the pounding of the knocker. Scorpius opened and in entered the Potter brothers and Jimber Dokes with their presents to compare to his. The unfamiliar noise of yelling, running boys filled the air; the room was in anarchy. Draco looked at the mayhem and thought, “This is not how Malfoys observe Christmas. Christmas is a time of dignity and quiet reflection. Christmas is for feasting and family not this.”

At eleven o’clock, the Malfoys shut and locked their door. With Scorpius in the lead, the family walked next door to the Potter’s room. Scorpius did not wait to knock on the door; he just entered. His parents stopped at the threshold and knocked on the door frame to announce their presence.

“Come in,” said Ginny Potter, who was standing at a counter with Rebekka Dokes.

“Happy Christmas to all,” Draco and Astoria said to the two women who were preparing food for lunch on a counter top of a bright, rustic country kitchen.

“Happy Christmas,” Ginny replied. “The men are hiding from work in the living room,” she added, motioning toward the adjacent room. Draco stepped through the doorway while Astoria stayed with the other two women to do whatever witches do when no men are present.

On a table in front of the large couch, Isaac and Bethany were being showed a new doll house by an excited Lily Potter. Isaac noticed Draco and welcomed him with, “Happy holidays, Draco.”

Draco, who had learned from Rebekka that Islanders did not celebrate Christmas per se, answered, “Happy holidays, Isaac. Happy Christmas, Harry Potter.”

Harry, who had just taken in a swallow of coffee, waved in response to Draco’s greeting.

After about fifteen minutes of small talk with Isaac and Harry Potter, Draco began to focus on the floor where Scorpius and Albus were playing chess. Scorpius, who had easily dispatched Jimber, was now well on his way to defeating the uncertain Albus, when, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a young woman with her arms full of brightly wrapped packages walk into the room. He watched as the girl walked around the couch, approaching Scorpius from behind and taking the longest way possible to the Christmas tree. Just as she walked past Scorpius, she purposely tilted the stack to the left, causing two small boxes to fall next to him. “Oops! Sorry,” said Rose Weasley.

Scorpius flinched as the boxes bounced next to the board. Draco saw his son roll on his side, mouth open, as if he was going to admonish the owner of the packages. When he saw who it was, Draco saw a smile spread across his son’s face at the sight of the girl. Scorpius quickly scrambled to his feet and he grabbed the two presents saying, “You dropped these?”

“Oh, thank you. Could you help me get these over to the tree, Scorpius?” she asked. Scorpius escorted the girl to the Christmas tree in the corner. As they arrived at the tree, Rose laid the presents in her arms under the tree. She turned to face Scorpius and asked, “Having a happy Christmas?”

“Yeah, so far anyway,” he shyly said, as he handed the first present to Rose.

Rose accepted the present and looked Scorpius in the face. “The other day in the common room, I really didn’t mean to yell at you like that. It’s just that-” she began, but then Albus stood up and spoke in a loud falsetto to the room at large.

“Oh, Scorpius, you are so strong and handsome. Thank you for picking up those presents I practically threw at you.”

Jimber struck a pose with flexed arms showing off his muscles, and said, “No problem, Rose. We all know how irresistible I am.”

Rose glared at Albus, looked back in mortification at Scorpius, and then yelled, “Albus, you’re ruining everything.” And she ran past Scorpius and out of the room into the kitchen.

Scorpius turned toward his laughing friends and took the box he was about to give Rose and chucked it at Albus. Albus ducked and Scorpius followed the throw by tackling him. Jimber and James joined the scrum and soon loud yelling filled the room.

Draco thought, “All this mayhem, it is not how civilized people observe Christmas!” Draco blinked and suddenly realized that if Rose Weasley was here then, most likely, so were her parents. Draco stood and walked into the kitchen to find the adults looking out of the door and into the school corridor. Draco walked up to Hermione and said, “Granger, I need to talk with you directly.”

Ronald Weasley, color rising in his face, said, “Did your son do that? Rose mentioned his name as she ran by.”

Annoyed Draco answered, bristling, just to shut him up, “She wanted a private little talk with Scorpius and the other boys made fun of her.”

Weasley stepped in between Draco and his wife. “I’ve just about had enough of you Malfoys.”

“Ron,” said Hermione, as someone stepped next to Draco.

“Mr. Weasley, how nice it is to see you again. My, that is a lovely shirt, was it a Christmas present?” asked Astoria touching him on the chest.

Ron, confused Astoria’s very forward actions, answered, “Actually, it was a birthday present. Hermione gave it to me.” Remembering his manners, Ron added, “Mrs. Malfoy, have you ever met my wife Hermione Weasley?”

“Of course, your wife and I were both members of the Slug Club. She, of course, was the star and I was just an afterthought,” Astoria, practically fawning over Ron, said, taking him fully by the arm and leading him toward the living room. “And your daughter Rose, she’s such a beauty. I can see why Scorpius is a bit taken with her. He is always mentioning her in his letters. However, we mustn’t worry. After all, how many girls marry the boy they had a crush on at her age?” And with that Astoria had escorted Ron out of the kitchen and away from a possible fight with her husband.

“Slughorn once said that with her way with people and my talents we could run the entire ministry,” Hermione said as she watched the pair disappear.

“Granger, I need to speak to you outside please,” repeated Draco, in a softer tone than before.

“Are you willing to take my word?” deflected Draco. He liked tweaking Weasley through his wife.

“Yes, your word as the loving father of a Gryffindor student,” she replied, both testing and trapping him.

Draco was completely undone by the way she had worded her argument. “Mrs. Weasley, when Slughorn had you and my wife running the ministry, did he ever say which of you was going to be the Prime Minister?”

An enigmatic smile appeared on Hermione’s face as she walked out of the door and headed toward the tapestry, where her daughter stood being consoled by Bethany Dokes and Lily Potter, who were patting her on the back.

After about five minutes, Hermione returned to Draco, who was waiting outside of the Potter’s door. “Mrs. Weasley, I know that you are a lawyer, and that the law, like medicine, has different specialties. Rebekka is worried that she and her family will be forced to leave Britain and return to face trial on the Island. I need to know what will happen and what could prevent such an occurrence, if possible. Of course, if this is not your area of expertise, I understand. And if that is so, could you provide me with the card of a barrister who could help?”

Hermione looked into Draco’s eyes, searching for something. Her look reminded him of the look Astoria gave him whenever he promised to move out of the manor. After a few seconds, she asked him, “Why do you care?”