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seven


As much as I adore Christmas, the one thing I dread every festive season is the annual Ministry Christmas party. A bunch of Ministry co-workers show up, usually at some fancy hotel, and use the party as an escapist excuse to get drunk and forget the weight of their jobs. And, of course, they drag their kids along with them. There are Ministry workers that avidly avoid the party - it might be somewhat tolerable if Ron and Ginny were here - but my parents, particularly my dad, who works in the Department of Security, see it as a Christmas ritual. I usually hang out with Susan Bones, a timid Hufflepuff girl whose aunt is a Ministry worker. This year, however, I have been to my greatest dismay informed by her aunt, Amelia Bones, that Susan is in bed with the flu. I wish I were in bed with the flu right now.

So when I first arrive, I have no idea how I'll possibly get through the night. I stand, lonely in the corner of the massive room, which has been lavishly and over-exaggeratedly decked with wreaths and Christmas trees and tinsel. The lights are nauseatingly bright and the air is stuffy. The music is loud, too loud. It's like when Hermione brought me to a muggle concert and we stood too close to the speaker. Except here there is no speaker, and nowhere to get away from the chatter and overly loud classical music.

But two hours, and multiple vividly coloured drinks later, the room is prettier and I am dangerously dizzy. "Last one," I tell the guy at the refreshments table, whose name I've forgotten but I have befriended. He's a lanky guy, not far over eighteen, and is probably only letting me stay because I am his only source of entertainment in an otherwise dull party, but he lets me have the adult punch so I don't mind.

"That looks alarmingly bright," says a voice behind me.

I turn. Malfoy slouches behind me with his hands in his pockets. He's clearly grumpy, but in his fancy shirt, I'll admit it - he looks extremely handsome.

"Malfoy," I say happily. "Fancy seeing you here. Are you following me?"

Under the garish, twinkly Christmas lights, I swear I see the corners of Draco's mouth turn up. "Don't worry Belly, I'm not that into you."

I turn to the punch guy with a meaningful look on my face. "You hear that? He's into me."

When I turn back, Draco is looking down at my cup, sceptical. I jerk it back. "Just joking. Anyway, nice to see you. Happy Christmas. Having a good holiday? Me too. Well, it's alright I suppose." I sigh. "You want to go up to the roof? I've been told there's a great view. Stephen here-"

"It's Stefan-"

"-Knows all the secrets of this place." I wink at the punch guy. "But he says I'm not allowed go up alone because it's too high. Care to be my plus one?"

"Not particularly," Draco replies casually. He turns to the table and inspects the empty trays in disdain. His eyes flicker over to my cup again. "Where are your parents?"

"Why?" I ask, moving closer. I lean into him. "Are you trying to get me in trouble? Where'd your weird, overly-niceness go?" He doesn't reply. "Fine," I say, whipping away and starting towards the nearest door. "I'll go to the roof myself."

As I am halfway up the only staircase I can find – it must lead to the roof – footsteps sound behind me. "Ah, Malfoy," I say delightedly. He stands a few steps below me, and I notice his black suit and tie for the first time. He looks very handsome. "My knight in shining armour," I say sarcastically. "Come to help me not to die?"

"No," Draco says stiffly. "I just wanted to go up myself." But as I move forward to the door, his eyes are on me, and curiosity betrays his lazy gaze.

I push open the heavy door and for a brief moment, I am stone cold sober. The roof of the hotel overlooks the entire city of London, and I am dazzled by lights upon lights, from streetlights to billboards to Christmas decorations, illuminating the dark city. Music drifts up through the cold air towards us from faint carols being sung at a church nearby. The people on the street below us are ants, the buildings straight ahead are silhouettes. And when I look up, there is a canopy of stars protecting us from whatever lies above it.

I have never actually been to London before, and I tell Draco this. Encouraged by his astonished reaction, I go on;

"Only to King's Cross, for the Hogwarts Express. And well, here, but I've never actually been around London, if you know what I mean."

I sit down on the brick wall behind us and tell him about the trips I have been on, to different places around England, as well as several holidays to Ireland, to Galway and Donegal and Achill Island. How my father is Irish, so it suits us better to go there anyway, and how happy it makes him to be back in his home country and to see all his Irish family again.

Draco tells me all about all his own trips, to Tokyo and Stockholm and Moscow. Their family have so many connections that he has been to many faraway places, but what amazes me is how passionate he is about it; how much the different cultures fascinate him. I have never heard him talk about things that make him happy before, and he, I suppose, is astounding.

"It makes you feel small," he says slowly, as if carefully picking his words. "There's a whole world out there that we haven't even seen, full of people just as complicated as us. It makes you realise how egotistic we are."

"You, egotistic?" I say slyly, and he glares at me. "Never!" I laugh out loud and he relaxes a little. "I think that's our own fault," I say. "We're getting too used to amazing things. Like, you can buy your own star, right? But now so many people have their own star, that it's not special anymore. And there's no way to make getting someone a star special, or individual, because they're all just stars. It's not amazing anymore."

"So I could get you a star and you wouldn't even be grateful?"

I roll my eyes. "I mean, I would, but I would know that a million other people also have stars. And as I would never see it, it wouldn't actually be unique."

"You have very high standards." He smiles playfully. "I do wonder why you're single."

I hit his shoulder and he pouts. "We should all have high standards," I say, but he doesn't look convinced. "At least I don't have this ridiculous vision of love that everyone else does. You should hear the girls in the dorms, they would sacrifice limbs to live in the story of Blue Lagoon."

"What ridiculous vision of love?"

"Oh, you don't know?" I turn to him, and he looks puzzled. "I'll fill you in", I say decidedly. "Let me tell you just how messed up this world is. You find all these stories – thousands upon thousands of them – of this perfect, goody-two-shoes girl. And her love interest is conveniently the polar opposite – he's this rude, badass guy, who hates everyone, but it just so happens that he falls head over heels for her, and she's the only person that he'll listen to, and bla bla bla. So realistic, you know?" I kick up my leg to inspect my heel, and swing it back down. "And that's all that girls want these days! They want attention, they want someone to fall head over heels for them, even if that person is arrogant and conceited and condescending. Like, have they no respect for themselves?"

He leans forward, eyes sparkling. "Yeah, what's all the hype about arrogant guys?"

"I know, right?" I burst out, nearly spilling my drink in excitement. "Bad guys deserve bad girls, and good guys deserve good girls. We shouldn't all like the bad guys, that's boring."

Draco rests his arms on his legs and stares out at the city, where the night lights flicker on and off with eternal energy. "You really think it's that simple?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think it's so black and white?" he asks. "Do you think that's what we all are, either good or bad?" He sighs. "I don't think black or white exists. I think there's a little bit of both in everything. Infinite truths and reasons and meanings, you know?"

I watch him in fascination. His breath forms tiny clouds in the December air as he speaks, and his cheeks are rosy from the cold. Synthetic lights catch between his fair eyelashes, and he is truly and perfectly white, and I think, he's right; surely a person this angelic cannot be all bad.

He turns to me, awaiting my response and I blink. "Uh – yeah. Yes. That was deep."

"Yeah." He pauses. "Um. We should get you back. Wouldn't want your parents to worry or anything."

I nod and hop down, stumbling as I do so. He puts his hand on my back to steady me and I force a rude scoff. "I can help myself, Malfoy."

The sound of his last name seems to call us both to our senses. He snaps away his hand and we walk down the stairway in an awkward silence, the unexpectedly long conversation ringing in our ears.

My mother pounces on me the moment we re-enter the ballroom. "Where have you been? Isobel, I've been so worried-"

I shake her off, embarrassedly. "I'm fine, Mum, stop it. I'm sorry." Cringing under my mother's embrace, I glance at the spot where Draco was, but he has disappeared into the crowd.

-

When I awake the next morning, to the sweet sound of Christmas carols drifting around with the chilly Christmas breeze, I notice a small brown package at the end of my bed. I unwrap it curiously - my first Christmas present of the year - and out falls a delicate, silver necklace.

A small star pendant dangles at the end of the necklace. When I look closer to admire it, I notice its tiny engravings: I.Y. - my initials.

My own star.

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