Malfoy! You actually gave me this?!

On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Ron.

He opened his eyes groggily and saw a red head poking around his bed curtains.

"Harry, merry Christmas! Get up, it's time to open presents!"

"Let me sleep a little longer..."

"Fred and George said if you don't wake up, they'll open yours for you."

Well, that reason certainly worked better than calling him to breakfast.

Harry felt around for his glasses and sat up.

A thin layer of frost edged the windowpanes, and everything outside was white, but the dormitory was warm.

The other beds were neatly made. Only Ron's already had a little ring of discarded wrapping paper piled around it.

There were quite a few packages at the foot of both their beds.

Harry first picked up the large, soft parcel and untied the string. A dark green jumper fell into his hands.

Underneath were a large bag of homemade fudge and a card in neat handwriting.

[Merry Christmas, Harry.]

[Ron said you would be staying at school with him. I hope this keeps you a little warmer. If the sleeves are a little long, just roll them up.]

[You can share the sweets with the others, but remember to save some for yourself.]

[-Mrs. Weasley.]

He had barely finished reading the last line when a hand reached for the bag of sweets.

Harry looked up at Ron.

"Where are yours?"

"Haven't opened them yet."

Ron answered with perfect confidence, unwrapping a piece and popping it into his mouth as he spoke.

Harry looked at him, then at the card, and suddenly felt that Mrs. Weasley's final reminder had been very necessary indeed.

Smiling, he put the sweets between them, unfolded the jumper, and tried it on.

It fitted very well. The cuffs fell at his wrists, and the shoulders weren't baggy either.

As Harry looked down to straighten the hem, Ron said casually, "Mum wrote to ask roughly what size you wore. I told her you were a bit shorter than me, with narrower shoulders."

Harry's hands paused briefly.

So she had specifically asked.

He stroked the soft cuff, gently smoothed the crease in the card, and tucked it into the notebook beside his bed.

I'll have to write her a proper thank-you letter.

Beside him, Ron finally unwrapped his own jumper.

The familiar maroon.

He stared at it for a while and sighed.

"I knew it."

For all his grumbling, he still obediently pulled the jumper on.

Watching him tug at the hem while continuing to reach into the bag of sweets, Harry couldn't help laughing.

When Ron opened Harry's present, he saw the spine first, and his expression immediately turned hesitant.

"Harry, it's Christmas."

"I know."

"Don't tell me you think we ought to write a few extra essays over the holidays?"

Harry gestured for him to look at the cover.

Ron turned the book over. The moment his gaze landed on "Wizard's Chess Endgame Collection," his eyes lit up.

"Oh, this!"

He eagerly opened it. The pieces on the page were moving around the board, and a white knight raised his weapon, seemingly already tired of waiting.

Ron studied it for a moment, slowly tracing the squares with his finger. His rather casual posture straightened as well.

Then he suddenly closed the book and quietly shifted it closer to himself.

Harry looked at him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Ron put the book away as though nothing had happened. "You'll find out when we play."

Harry: "..."

He had only just given him the present, and this fellow was already thinking about how to use it to beat him.

Ron's gift to him was a pair of warm, nonslip gloves.

Harry put them on and flexed his fingers a few times. They were warm inside, but not as bulky as he had imagined.

"I asked the shopkeeper," Ron said. "He said you could still get a good grip on a broomstick in them. They should come in handy for your winter training."

"They're just right. Thanks."

Harry tried holding his wand too, then put the gloves beside the jumper.

Before long, a clear flute note rang out through the dormitory.

The wooden flute Hagrid had sent was hand-carved. Its edges had been sanded smooth, though the carved patterns were rather uneven.

Harry tried blowing into it a couple of times, and Ron immediately leaned over, wanting a turn too.

But before he could take the flute, he spotted the particularly handsome gift box at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, and there's this." Ron picked it up, his tone becoming a little more solemn. "From Malfoy."

Harry put down the wooden flute and looked at the ribbon-tied box.

He still remembered the rather mysterious smile on Draco's face when she had handed over this present.

As for what was inside, he genuinely didn't know.

Ron turned the box around.

The wrapping paper was beautiful, the ribbon neatly tied, and it had some weight to it. He looked down at it for a while, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

After all, all he had given her was some sweets he had casually tossed in.

He hadn't expected Malfoy to put real effort into a return gift.

"Actually, sometimes she's not that hard to get along with."

Ron spoke very quietly, as though merely discussing it with himself.

Harry was just about to answer when Ron lowered his head and carefully untied the ribbon.

He opened the lid. Inside was a layer of tissue paper.

Beneath the tissue paper was another layer of soft cloth.

Ron grew increasingly cautious. He even pushed aside several sheets of wrapping paper to clear a clean space before reaching out to lift the final piece of cloth.

A potato lay quietly inside.

It was yellowish-brown, washed perfectly clean, and even had a little bow tied around its middle.

The dormitory suddenly fell silent.

Ron looked at the potato, then at Harry, seemingly very much hoping his friend could find something in it that he had missed.

Harry was stunned too.

He looked down at it once, then again, before the corners of his mouth slowly began to misbehave.

"There's... a card beside it."

Ron pulled out the card.

[Merry Christmas, Weasley.]

[In view of the impressive mashed potatoes inside your head, I believe you might be able to have a conversation with it.]

[-Draco Malfoy.]

Harry's shoulders began to shake gently.

No wonder she had smiled so mysteriously that day.

All that elaborate wrapping, just to give him a potato?!

Ron looked at him expressionlessly. After a long while, he took a deep breath.

"If you want to laugh, laugh."

Harry finally couldn't hold it in any longer.

He braced himself against the edge of the bed and laughed aloud, his glasses even slipping down a little.

Ron looked down at the potato with its bow, then at the card, and finally said through gritted teeth:

"Malfoy! How dare you give me this?!"

Unfortunately, Miss Malfoy clearly couldn't hear him at that moment.

Harry finally recovered and reached up to straighten his glasses, only for his gaze to stop at one corner of the box.

"Wait, I think there's something else."

A little bit of colourful sweet wrapper showed beneath the cloth.

He lifted the corner. Underneath lay a small bag of sweets, its opening neatly tied.

Ron's gaze followed, and then he noticed another line on the back of the card.

[Don't eat the potato, Weasley.]

Ron stared at the sentence, and some of the indignation he had just mustered suddenly deflated.

He took out the sweets and put them beside him, muttering, "Who'd eat a raw potato as well?"

Watching him put away the sweets and then pick up the potato to inspect it, Harry couldn't stop the corners of his mouth rising again.

"At least she really did put some effort into it."

"Yes." Ron looked at the little bow. "She even dressed it up."

Just then, footsteps sounded at the door.

Fred and George had come to call them down to breakfast. Hearing the laughter, they pushed the door open.

"What's so funny?"

Fred had barely finished asking when his gaze fell on the gift box.

He paused, walked a few steps closer, and studied the potato intently.

"Ron, has Mum finally sent you a little brother? Oh, I'm going to be jealous!"

George leaned over to look too.

"He looks very quiet."

"And he isn't fussy about the colour of his jumpers."

Ron held the card up in front of them.

"Malfoy sent this!"

After reading it, the twins exchanged a glance, their expressions immediately growing even more serious.

"When did our family start exchanging farm produce with the Malfoy family?"

"We could send a carrot back next year."

"Or a cabbage."

Ron rolled his eyes and put the potato on the windowsill, but didn't argue any further.

He went straight to the little table, found a quill, and pulled over a blank sheet of parchment.

George watched him and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you going to do?"

"Write a thank-you letter."

Fred had been about to say something else, but then looked down and saw the first sentence.

"Malfoy, your self-portrait is very lifelike."

Harry burst out laughing again.

The twins looked at the parchment, then at their younger brother holding the quill, and finally patted his shoulder with great satisfaction.

"Very good."

"Now that's one of ours."

At last, Ron looked a little pleased with himself too and dipped the nib in ink again.

But before he could think of the second sentence, Fred reminded him that breakfast would go cold if they didn't head down.

He had to put down the quill for the moment, weigh down the unfinished letter, and follow them out.

On the windowsill, the potato still wore its lovely bow.

In the winter morning light, it looked quite respectable.

Beneath the Christmas tree at Malfoy Manor, discarded wrapping paper had piled up too.

The fire burned warmly in the fireplace, and golden lamps hung from the branches, making the presents beneath the tree gleam.

Draco sat on the thick rug, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders, holding the new flying protective gear she had just unwrapped.

"It's the set I looked at before!"

She turned a wrist guard over, examined it carefully, and immediately looked up at her father.

Lucius sat down beside her, took the wrist guard, and put it on for her. Then he supported her wrist and adjusted the strap to the right position.

"Try it. Is it tight?"

Draco moved a few times, her eyes already lighting up.

"Just right."

Sitting nearby, Narcissa smiled at her husband.

"Your father asked the shopkeeper several times to make sure of the size."

Lucius's fingers paused slightly. Then, quite naturally, he straightened the edges for his daughter.

"Just a quick check."

Draco looked at her father, then at her mother, and finally could not help laughing.

What Narcissa had sent was a set of spell-practice equipment.

Several small target plates lay in the box, capable of recording where spells landed, and far more precise than the set she had used before.

The girl placed the two gifts together and liked them however she looked at them.

She set down the box, first hugged her father's arm, then stood up and hugged her mother.

"Thank you, Dad. And thank you too, Mum!"

Lucius gently patted her back, while Narcissa tidied her somewhat tousled hair.

"Merry Christmas, darling."

Draco sat down again, still wanting to try out the protective gear, but her mother's gaze fell on the little table beside them. A Snow Globe sat there.

"What about this? You haven't shown it to us yet."

The girl's movements paused slightly.

"It's nothing, just an ordinary Christmas present."

Though she said that, when she handed it over, she first steadied the base, waiting until her mother had a firm hold before slowly letting go.

Narcissa touched it lightly, and the Star Lantern at the top of the tree lit up.

Golden light spread along the branches, and fine snow rose from the forest, drifting around the silver bells and up into the clear space above.

"Are these your friends?"

Draco immediately leaned a little closer.

"This is Granger, and beside her is Weasley. The one wearing a hat is Pip, the House-elf we met in the Winter Garden."

As Narcissa listened, the corners of her lips curved up too.

She looked at the little black-haired figure beside them and asked softly, "And this one with glasses is that Harry?"

Draco gave a soft huff.

"He made it himself and insisted on giving it to me. Of course he had to put himself in it too."

Lucius looked over from the side, studying the delicate little figures, then the slowly rising snow.

Narcissa turned the Snow Globe back toward her daughter and said with a smile, "It's a very thoughtful gift."

The girl looked down at it without arguing, merely reaching out to take it back and gently setting the base down securely.

Watching her careful movements, her mother casually asked, "Have you sent out all your gifts for your friends in return?"

"I gave them to Potter to pass on." Draco nodded. "Granger will definitely find hers useful."

At this point, her gaze shifted away from the Snow Globe, and she suddenly had a little trouble keeping the corners of her mouth down.

"As for Weasley..."

Narcissa glanced at her. She knew her own daughter's smile only too well.

"It seems you've prepared a surprise for him?"

Draco immediately sat up straight, even her tone becoming particularly solemn.

"Yes, it's... a very nutritious gift."