A Gift of Truth

Olivia Middleton's POV

As we're walking upstairs to my room, Draco's hand never leaves mine. The silence is comfortable, until I hear faint whispering—soft voices from the portraits lining the wall. I can't make out everything, but a few words catch my attention. "Is it her?" "Yes, it is." "She doesn't know it yet, does she?"

"Draco," I whisper, glancing at the frames, "what are they whispering about?" He shrugs, brushing it off like it's nothing. "I don't know. Always whispering some shit. Blabbing crazy old oaks."

We walk right past my door.

"Where are we going? That was my room," I say, pointing over my shoulder. "Just a surprise, darling," he says casually, leading me into his room instead. "In your bedroom?" I ask, hesitant. That damn smirk curls onto his lips. "No, darling. Not yet."

I roll my eyes, fully aware of what he's implying. He tosses his dark green Slytherin sweater at me and it hits me right in the face. I laugh, pulling it off. "Hey! That was uncalled for."

"Quickly, put it on," he says, pulling one over his own head. Then he hands me gloves and socks like he's been planning this all day. "Draco, where are we going dressed like this?" I ask while tugging on the socks.

But before I'm even fully ready, he grabs my hand and leads me up another flight of stairs. We reach the second floor and he pushes open a heavy black door. A gust of cold air hits me as we step onto a small balcony.

My breath catches.

The sky is stunning—blanketed in stars with just the softest sliver of the moon visible. It's even better than the view from the Astronomy Tower. It's freezing out here, but the cold barely registers. I place my hands on the railing and Draco steps behind me, slipping his arms between mine and resting them beside mine on the stone.

He's so close I can feel his breath near my ear. Goosebumps break across my skin.

"So," he whispers, resting his head gently on my shoulder and placing the softest kiss there, "what do you think, darling?" I can't speak. It's all too beautiful. Too intimate. I turn to him, hands on his chest. "Draco, I have no words. It's absolutely breath—" But he cuts me off with a kiss.

It's gentle. Unhurried. Like he's kissing me to stop time. Like, for once, the weight of everything in our lives doesn't matter. My stomach flips—butterflies? No. No, I can't fall for him. He's nice now, but he's also been a world-class, unbearable bully.

He pulls back, cupping my face in his hands. Our foreheads press together and I lose myself in those stormy grey-blue eyes. He smiles—a real smile. Warm. Gorgeous. I smile back without thinking.

"Draco," I whisper, "as much as I'd love to stay here, I'm freezing. And the only thing I cannot stand is the cold." He chuckles and pulls his hands away, holding mine instead. "Alright, let's get you to your room."

We make our way downstairs. In my room, I peel off the extra layers, and he does the same. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I curl up beside him, legs folded, elbows on my knees, face resting in my palms.

"Can I ask you a question?" I say softly. He looks at me and mirrors my position. Nods. I giggle. "Why are you being so nice—and what was with that kiss?" He smirks. "Technically, that's two questions." He stands and strolls to the bookshelf, avoiding my gaze. Classic.

"Well then, can I ask you two questions?" I tease, walking to the window, staring out at the sky again. "Now that's three," he says, and suddenly he's behind me again, hands on my waist. "Draco!" I laugh, spinning around. Our faces are so close. One breath and we'd be kissing again.

He sighs and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around his neck.

"Well, to answer your first question," he murmurs into my hair, "you've already been through the pain of three lifetimes. You don't deserve that. And you deserve someone being nice to you. I'm not that guy—I don't do nice. But around you... I feel at peace. Like nothing else matters. Like you're worth everything."

He pulls back, cupping my cheeks. "And the second question? I've been wanting to do that since summer. But if you don't want me to, I'll stop." Before I can say anything, there's a knock on the door. "Yes?" I call.

Mrs. Malfoy's voice comes through, sounding suspiciously amused. "Ah, I knew I'd find you here, Draco. Can I have a word with you?" He sighs. "Alright, I'll be out in two." She leaves, giggling under her breath. He rolls his eyes.

"I'll let you sleep now," he says, walking with me to the door. He leans against the frame, eyes half-lidded, lips pouting dramatically. "A goodnight kiss for the Slytherin Prince?"

I laugh and press a kiss to his cheek, close enough that our lips almost touch. "You fucking tease," he mutters. "Goodnight, Draco," I say quickly, slipping inside and shutting the door before I lose my nerve.

I pick out a book from the shelf and settle into my bed, flipping through the pages as the night deepens. Hours pass without me even realizing. It's peaceful. Until I hear it—soft, delicate notes drifting through the air. A piano.

I pause, the book forgotten on my lap. The melody is faint, but unmistakable. Someone's playing, and playing beautifully.

Curious, I slip out of my room. The hallways are dim and shadowed, not much help in guiding me toward the sound. I pull out my wand and whisper, "Lumos." The soft glow lights the way as I follow the music, barefoot and careful.

It's coming from the second floor. The last room at the end of the hall. The door is already ajar.

I step closer, quietly, and peek inside.

There, in the center of the room, is a grand piano. And at it—Draco. His back is to me, posture elegant, fingers dancing over the keys with absolute grace. The music flows effortlessly, flawless and raw. So different from the Draco I know. No mask, no sharp edges. Just... him.

https://youtu.be/Z3bNAvaQihA

I don't make a sound. I just watch. Admire.

Without turning fully, he says, "So, are you planning to keep creepily staring at me, or are you going to come and play?"

I smirk. "Oh, don't mind me. Just admiring the view." I throw his words from the bathtub right back at him and walk over, sliding onto the bench beside him. I lean my head on his shoulder, and he keeps playing, not missing a note.

When he finishes, I clap softly. "I didn't know you played piano." He shrugs, resting one hand on my thigh. "Yeah. No one does. Just my mother. And now you."

"It was flawless, Draco. You play so beautifully." I don't ask why his father doesn't know. Something tells me not to. I don't want to break the quiet warmth of this moment. He leans over and kisses my cheek, gentle. "Why, thank you, darling."

"Do you wanna have a go?" he asks.

I grin. "Well... since it's almost Christmas."

I stretch my fingers, press the keys, and start playing the cheerful tune of Jingle Bells. His hand finds my waist as I play, the other resting casually on his thigh.

https://youtu.be/bJfPDdVxNps

When I finish, we hear applause from behind us. I twist around.

Mrs. Malfoy stands in the doorway, smiling. "Well, I came up here thinking Draco was playing, and I was right—but I didn't expect to see you playing, Olivia. Bravo! Do you sing as well?" Draco and I both stand. Before I can answer, he jumps in. "Yes, Mother. The voice of an angel. No—no, the voice of The Goddess of Music herself."

I laugh, trying to stop him before he gets carried away. "Oh, please, Draco. I don't sing that well."

"Do so."

"Don't."

"Do so."

"Don't."

Mrs. Malfoy chuckles and raises her hands. "Alright, alright. I'll be the judge of that. Sing for me someday, Olivia?"

"Sure, Mrs. Malfoy," I say with a smile. "Now," she says, ushering us out, "both of you—off to bed." Draco and I exchange a look as she playfully pushes us into the hallway. It feels like the most normal moment we've had in a long time. And somehow, that makes it magical.

The next morning, I wake up before the sun has even risen. The world is quiet, still wrapped in sleep, but I like it that way. I stretch on the floor, one leg forward, the other back, breathing into the motion when I hear a knock on my door.

"Come in."

It's Draco.

"Good morning, Draco," I say without pausing my stretch. He eyes me with mild surprise as he walks in and sits on the bed. "I didn't know you exercised."

"I d—"

"But good," he cuts in, standing back up. "You're awake. I want to show you something. Freshen up and meet me downstairs in twenty." He's halfway out the door when he adds, "And only twenty. Don't fall asleep in the tub this time."

"Where are we going?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. He grins, that maddening smirk. "Another surprise, darling."

Twenty minutes later, I'm bundled in thick clothes for the cold, hair still damp from the quickest shower of my life. Mrs. Malfoy is clearly still asleep, the house silent as I creep downstairs. Draco is already by the door, hands in his pockets, looking too awake for this hour.

"Come on, hurry up. We don't want to miss it." He grabs my hand and pulls me outside into the chilly morning. "Miss what? Where are we even going?" I ask as he tugs me toward the east side of the manor. "You'll see," he says, grinning again like a man with secrets.

Merlin, what is this boy gonna do to me? I think.

"I'm not going to murder you," he chuckles. "Did I say that out loud?" He just nods.

We walk for a while. Snow crunches under our boots, the trail gradually getting steeper. My legs start to ache a little.

"Oh my god, how long is it? We've been walking for hours," I whine, stomping a little for effect. "Hours?" he scoffs. "It's been fifteen minutes. Do you actually exercise, lazyhead?"

"Alright, alright, let me at least tie my shoe," I say, crouching down. My laces are perfectly fine, but he doesn't notice—or pretends not to.

As soon as his back is turned, I scoop up a handful of snow, mold it quickly, and hurl it. Just as the snowball leaves my hand, he turns—and it smacks him right in the face. I'm already laughing and running for my life.

"You—" he shouts, grabbing snow of his own. But I'm ahead of him, darting behind a thick tree. I press my back to the bark and cover my mouth to stop myself from giggling.

Then it gets quiet. Too quiet.

He's not calling my name anymore. No footsteps. Nothing.

I narrow my eyes. "Draco?" I whisper.

Silence.

He's messing with me. Of course he is. But that doesn't stop the uneasy feeling in my chest. I peek out—

And he jumps right in front of me. "Found you!"

I scream, trip, and instinctively grab onto his jacket. We both fall, him landing right on top of me.

"That's cheating! You scared me—I thought something happened to you!"

He just smirks. "That's what you get, darling." He gets up and offers me a hand.

We walk again, this time slower. The sun is just beginning to color the horizon when he stops and turns to me. "Close your eyes."

I frown. "Draco..."

"Trust me."

I do.

I close my eyes, and he guides me a few more steps. Then, we stop.

"Open them."

I do. We're standing at the edge of a cliff. "You're going to push me off this cliff, aren't you?" I deadpan. "No, love." He nods upward. "Look." I look—and forget how to breathe.

The sky is blazing gold and rose, the sun cresting over snow-covered trees, casting soft light over everything. It's the most beautiful sunrise I've ever seen.

Draco steps behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Olivia."

"Merry Christmas, Draco," I whisper, still staring at the sky.

He moves to stand beside me. I feel his eyes on me. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I ask. "Breathtaking," he says, still looking at me. "The sunrise, Draco."

"Yeah," he murmurs. "That too."

We sit near the cliff for what feels like hours, talking about nothing and everything—Quidditch, Potions, flying. And then, of course, the dreaded topic. "So..." he says, leaning back against a tree, my head resting on his chest. "Do you like anyone?"

"Maybe," I say, my voice small. Maybe I do. Maybe it's him. "Who is it?" he presses. "Diggory? Rafael? Potter? Half the school's in love with you—including girls."

"Stalker much?" I laugh. "And no. Not any of them. I'm not into girls. And I'm not telling you—unless you tell me how you recognized me at the bar." He groans, dragging his hands down his face. "You're not gonna let that go, are you?"

I shake my head, smiling.

He sighs. "Fine. It was your smile. You have the most beautiful smile at Hogwarts. I could recognize it from miles away. But to be sure... I checked for the ring." My breath catches. That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.

"Now," he says, leaning forward, "which boy has your heart?"

"Not so easily," I say, springing to my feet and dashing off.

"Hey! That's not fair!" he shouts, laughing as he runs after me.

We run all the way back to Malfoy Manor, laughing, slipping, and chasing each other through snow and sunlight. By the time we make it inside, we're both breathless and red-faced from the cold and the sprint.

"Ah, there you two are!" Mrs. Malfoy calls out from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. "Come on, breakfast's ready."

Draco and I strip off our coats and gloves quickly, leaving a trail of melting snow behind us as we settle at the same dining table as last night. The table is set like something out of a dream—stacks of golden pancakes, crispy bacon, bowls of strawberries and bananas, whipped cream, honey, maple syrup, chocolate chips, and even chocolate syrup. A pot of tea steams gently in the center.

"As always, Mrs. Malfoy, this is amazing," I say, already stuffing a bite into my mouth. "And thank you for remembering I like chocolate." "Table manners, darling," Draco chides, cutting into his pancakes with absurd elegance.

"Geez, okay, daddy," I mumble around a mouthful, trying to mock him as some kind of old man. Except instead of rolling his eyes, he freezes—actually freezes—and stares at me like I've just whispered a secret spell. Wide-eyed. Almost... turned on?

I blink. Nope. Not gonna unpack that. I go back to devouring my breakfast before I combust under the weight of that look.

Afterward, I help Mrs. Malfoy clear the table and rinse the plates, still feeling Draco's eyes occasionally drift toward me. I pretend not to notice. "Alright," Mrs. Malfoy says, clapping her hands together with a little bounce. "Now it's time for presents."

My eyes light up. I race upstairs to grab the gifts I brought for them, heart pounding not from the run this time—but from the bubbling excitement that maybe, just maybe, this Christmas might be one I'll actually remember forever.

When I come down, I can't help but smile at the sight of all the gifts piled under the Christmas tree. It's almost overwhelming. We all settle down, and the gift opening begins.

Harry got me a few cozy new sweaters, and I can already tell that Ron's treats are going to disappear faster than anyone can blink—he'll probably eat them before I can even get a bite. Hermione got me a Muggle novel that I'm definitely going to devour as soon as I can, and Cedric gave me a beautiful bracelet that I can't wait to wear. The twins gave me a coat, and Chris gave me a photo frame with a picture of us, me laughing as he spins me around. It's one of my favorites.

But then it's Draco's turn. He hands me a long, red velvet-covered box. When I open it, my breath catches. Inside is the most beautiful gold necklace I've ever seen, with a tiny 'M' pendant. "Draco," I say, my voice almost breathless, "this is absolutely lovely. I'll never take it off. Thank you."

I reach for his gift next. "You know, you didn't have to get me anything, darling," he says, but I see the way Mrs. Malfoy's eyes light up at our exchange, like she's trying not to show her excitement.

"Well, then why did you get me anything?" I tease, pulling a silver necklace from my bag. This one has a much larger 'M' pendant, and I think it would look perfect on him.

Draco's eyes flicker to the necklace, and there's a soft smile on his lips that makes my heart flutter a little. Then I hand Mrs. Malfoy her gift—a huge box with a dark green, off-shoulder dress inside. I can already picture her in it, looking absolutely stunning.

"Oh, sweetheart, you didn't have to get me anything," she says, looking touched. "Why not?" I smile. "You're family." She grins and adds, "Thank you so much, I'll be sure to wear this at your wedding. Ah, how nice would a groom's mother look in this?"

"Mother!" Draco protests, his cheeks going redder than I've ever seen. For the first time, I can see it clearly—he likes me. I can't help but smile at the thought. "Olivia, dear, can I talk to you for a moment?" Mrs. Malfoy says, standing up from her chair.

"Of course," I reply, and follow her upstairs to her room. She opens her cupboard and pulls out a long wooden box, handing it to me with a soft smile.

"I knew your mother," she says gently, her voice a little wistful. "You look just like her. She was my best friend, but after I met Draco's father, we grew apart. I didn't know she was pregnant. I would've much preferred that she left you with me, but at the time, my family wasn't ready. She did what she thought was best."

I stay quiet, letting her speak. She continues, "I know you don't want to know much about her, and I won't tell you all of it, but she used to wear this all the time. I know you're just like her. The powers you have, they come from her. And don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

She opens the box, revealing a beautiful necklace with a magical pendant. It almost feels like a piece of my past being returned to me. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," I whisper, overwhelmed, and quickly fasten it around my neck. The pendant feels warm against my skin. "It's beautiful."

"Oh, and dear," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Can I ask something from you?"

"Of course, anything," I reply, meeting her gaze.

"Take care of Draco. He might act all tough, might tease you and your friends, but he's just scared of getting too close. He's afraid of getting hurt, or hurting someone unintentionally," she says, her voice tinged with sadness.

"Don't worry," I say with a reassuring smile. "He's in good hands."

She pulls me into a hug, and I feel the warmth and kindness she exudes, like the embrace of a mother I never had. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Merry Christmas, Olivia."