"What's this?"

"It's Boxing Day." Draco sneers at him as if the answer should be obvious. "The rich give presents to the poor."

Harry nods once, staring at the silver wrapping paper. "That doesn't explain why you're giving this to me. After all, Malfoy, I would venture to say I've got a fortune just as sizeable as yours."

"Well, you do have to make up for your deficiencies in other areas somehow." Draco gives the box another shove closer. "Open it."

"And what deficiencies are those, Malfoy?"

"You're starting to sound like your stupid friend, Weasel, Potter." Draco sighs and gives the box another shove until it's nearly in Harry's lap. "Open it."

"It's obviously not my flying, since I routinely beat you at that. My marks are just as good as yours."

"Just open the sodding gift!"

Harry bit back a smile at Draco's shout. The paper rustled beneath his fingers as he lifted the top off the box. Inside, a silver Rememberall flashed. "What's this?"

"A memory, Potter." Draco smiled and walked away. "Of me."