In Denial

Something was not right. Draco blinked blearily at his sitting room and tried to place the feeling of wrongness. There was his chair...his coffee table...his couch...his old jumper...hang on. That was definitely not his jumper! He would sooner kill himself than own a shabby thing like that. The seconds ticked by as Draco continued to blink at the foreign intruder, his sleepy mind trying to make sense of this sudden, unexpected, trashing of his home. The memory of Blaise flooing to tell him he had found Draco a new flat mate floated gradually into his consciousness. Right. So the rag must be his, this mystery flat mate's. Figured Blaise would find him someone trashy, the boy had absolutely no taste.

Draco collapsed onto the couch beside the jumper. It was much too early in the morning; all of the thinking had sapped his small amount of energy. He picked warily at the grey material next to him, slightly afraid that its shabbiness might be catching. The thing gave no clue as to its owner. Draco hoped he was good looking. Although, really, that might not be the best thing, seeing as the whole reason he had needed a new flat mate was that his last boyfriend had moved out. It had been a bad break-up, there had been tears (definitely not Draco's), shouting of hurtful words, and throwing things (that was all Draco). He was still emotionally raw, he could not be thinking of fancying his new flat mate.

Something on the jumper's tag caught his eye. The dork had written his initials on the tag. Maybe he wouldn't have to worry about fancying the bloke after all. He squinted to decipher the messy handwriting. Was that an A? No, an H. H P. Horror gripped Draco as the jumper became suddenly, terrifyingly familiar.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, NO!!!

It couldn't be.

It just couldn't.

Harry Potter!!!!!

Draco was going to wring the life out of Blaise with his own two hands, regardless of the questionable legality of that action. Just because he'd shacked up with that Mudblood, Granger, he thought everyone should be slumming it with the Gryffindors. He realized that it was childish to still be thinking in the terms of their old Hogwarts' Houses. And really it was unfair to discriminate over a thing like that, especially now that they were all technically on the same side. But Gryffindor was such an appropriate categorization for the goody-goodies it produced, since he had spent years packing scorn and loathing into the word. Besides, Potter was a bloody git no matter what house he had been in.

Bloody Gryffindor.

"Helloooo! Is anybody there?" It was with relief that Draco recognized the oily tones of his former head of house. For one horrible moment he had thought it was the voice of his newly acquired housemate. There was absolutely no way he could possibly deal with Harry before he'd had his morning coffee.

What was Snape doing calling this early, though? Seven years of school should have taught him to never disturb Draco before noon. It must be something serious. At least it had better be, Draco thought, dragging himself to the end of the couch in order to talk to Snape's head bobbing in the fireplace.

"What?" Draco asked, trying to put as much annoyance into the four-letter word as possible.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?" Snape said. Draco began to be alarmed. This was not the Snape he knew. In all their long acquaintance Draco had never once heard the man use the word "beautiful" and his hair looked suspiciously brushed. "I saw the cutest little cardinal outside of my window while I was eating my muffin, and I just had to floo and tell you!"

"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Draco asked, getting off the couch to kneel on the hearth. He was now seriously worried, Snape had said "cute." Draco was a little surprised the world hadn't ended; he looked out the window to make sure there weren't any pigs flying by.

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Snape twittered. "I've never felt more right in my life! I'm in love!"

"WHAT?!" Draco quickly checked his heart to make sure it had not stopped beating. Snape had just said the thing that had topped Draco's list of things he would never see happen. That was it. Hell had officially frozen over.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Snape asked. Luckily he did not seem to be expecting an answer, as Draco was unsure if he would ever be able to talk again. He was just surprised the shock hadn't killed him. "Well, I must run! Have a lovely day! I know I will!" And with a hearty wave and a pop, Snape was gone.

Once he had regained control of his limbs, Draco rushed to the kitchen and drank an entire pot of coffee. The world was a scary place. He would block his fireplace and never leave his flat again. He would stay inside forever with his pot of coffee and never have to deal with terrifying things, like Snape being in love.

The door to the spare bedroom opened and a dishevelled Harry Potter shuffled across the drawing room to the bathroom in a pair of pyjama pants. Harry had a very attractive rear.

Now pigs really must be flying. Draco Malfoy had just checked out Harry Potter's arse! Even his flat wasn't safe. It would be best if Draco just killed himself now, before he had to endure any more terrors. Too bad he was much too pretty to kill--he poured himself another pot of coffee instead.

* * *

The days had turned into weeks and still Harry was living with Draco. How he had let this happen, Draco wasn't sure. That first day he had been full of righteous anger and had Apparated immediately over to Blaise's house to give him a piece of his mind.

"HARRY BLOODY POTTER IS LIVING IN MY FLAT!"

"And your point is...?" Blaise had asked easily, lounging on his couch and apparently unafraid of the towering pillar of blond rage in front of him. Draco had attempted to calm himself down. Blaise was always so annoyingly calm.

"Why is the plague of my Hogwarts years living in my spare bedroom, Blaise?"

"You told me to find a warm body to fill the room that Theo had left empty," Blaise explained patiently. "I believe your exact words were, 'Find me a piece of eye candy that I won't have to worry about getting attached to, to help me with my healing process.' You were very insistent. Then Mione told me that Harry needed a place, and I thought, here's just what Malfoy ordered! Harry's not a bad looking bloke, in a messy sort of way, and I figured you wouldn't be in any danger of getting attached to him, judging from your history."

"I really don't think that's quite enough reason to shack me up with my former enemy."

"Look at it this way, you both work at the Daily Prophet, you could walk to work together." It was true. Draco had been working as a columnist, and sometimes food critique, at the Daily Prophet for five years now. After defeating Voldemort a few years ago, Harry had signed on as well, as a sports writer.

Draco had wondered if Blaise seriously thought he would see walking to work with Harry as a benefit. "Potter is the bane of my existence at work. I cringe every time I'm forced to walk past his office. Do you honestly think that I want to prolong my contact with him by walking to work together?"

"Now that's not completely true, and you know it. You said the two of you were managing to tolerate each other quite nicely at work," Blaise had reprimanded him.

"Tolerate, maybe. Not like. Just because we don't spend all of our time trying to poison each other's coffee, doesn't mean we're chummy."

"Come on, Draco. Quit being such a baby. Give it a chance, think of it as my Christmas gift. Besides, Hermione thinks you all would be cute together."

"Ah ha! So that's the real reason is it? You are whipped beyond all recognition, my--former--friend. I cannot believe you would assist your girlfriend in trying to hook me up with her pathetic little friend."

Blaise had at least had the grace to look ashamed. "It's really not so bad. And it's my Christmas present to Mione, if you screw this up I'll have to go buy her a book that she will have already read."

Draco had been about to make a scathing comment about Hermione, when the devil herself had entered the room.

"Oh Draco! How good to see you!" she had said, throwing her arms around him. And Draco had melted. He had really become very fond of Hermione in the years that she and Blaise had been dating, although he hated to admit it. It was just pathetic to be whipped by someone else's girlfriend.

Nevertheless, Draco had Apparated back to his flat with every intention of kicking Harry out immediately, but somehow he had never quite gotten around to it. Now it was almost Christmas, and Draco was worried he was going to have to buy Harry a Christmas present. How had his life gotten so screwed up? Theo dumped him, and then suddenly he was thinking of Potter as 'Harry' and wondering about getting him a Christmas present, and listening every morning to a chirpy Snape gush about his mysterious new love.

"Did I hear the dulcet tones of my ex-Potions professor in here?" Harry asked, towling off his wet hair from his shower.

"Who else would have the nerve to sound so cheerful at 10 am?" Draco replied, from his place on the floor. He pulled himself up onto the couch and took a large gulp of coffee; he had been forced to start earlier, in order to get himself through these daily chats with Snape.

"You know, it's positively unnerving hearing him so happy," Harry said, flopping down on the other end of the couch. "Look, I actually have chill bumps," he said, holding out his arm for proof.

"And he still won't tell me who it is!" Draco whined.

"You don't have any idea? I think it's McGonagall, I always suspected they had a thing."

"Not a chance. My bet's on Dumbledore." Draco should not have been discussing Snape's love-life with Harry Potter, but there seemed to be no fixing his messed up life now, so Draco figured he might as well resign himself to it.

"Speaking of people in love, have you gotten anything for Blaise and Hermione yet?" Harry asked.

"No, but I was thinking of getting some slinky lingerie for Hermione. I figure she has enough books, and that way I only have to buy one thing, since that's a present for Blaise as well."

Harry laughed. "Wish I'd thought of that! I got Hermione a book she asked me for. It's the next in the romance series she's been reading on the sly."

"Hermione that slut!" Draco mock-gasped. "I never would have guessed! Perhaps she'll appreciate my present even more than I thought!"

"I can't decide what to get Blaise, though," Harry said.

"If we go shopping together then maybe I can help you," Draco suggested, dismayed that this seemed like such a natural suggestion. Now he was shopping with Harry!

"Yeah, thanks, that sounds great! Are you doing anything today?"

"No, I'm free...as soon as I finish off my pot of coffee."

"Splendid! That will give me just enough time to get ready!" Harry hopped up--the boy had far too much energy in the morning--and disappeared into his room.

A short time later, they were strolling down the streets of Diagon Alley. They were having a difficult time finding a woman's lingerie store, as neither man had had a reason to look for one before. The sun was shining directly in Draco's eyes and he doubted that he would be able to see the store even if they did pass it.

"Hang on," Harry said, putting his hand on Draco's arm to stop him. "Virginia's Secret is a lingerie store! How stupid of me! Come on, Ginny's shop is back this way."

They turned around and Draco was grateful for the respite from the glare of the sun. As they walked, he looked down at the ground. Their shadows stretched out in front of them, and Draco was appalled to see that they appeared to be holding hands. He quickly crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't let his shadow go getting ideas about hooking up with Harry, he may have resigned himself to this friendish relationship they had developed, but he most certainly did not fancy Harry.

* * *

Neither Draco nor Harry could find a date for the office Christmas party. Luckily, Blaise was out of town for the night, so they both took Hermione. It was not an embarrassingly sad thing to be taking the same girl since she was their friend's girlfriend, and they were both gay anyway. Or at least that was what Draco kept telling himself. The situation was embarrassing enough already. He had never been unable to find a date before. Malfoys were not turned down, as a rule. Obviously, the majority of London was unaware of this rule. All of his usual standbys had been busy. He had been desperate enough to grab random guys on the street and threaten to curse them if they did not go with him, when he finally accepted Harry's offer to share Hermione. As much as it irked him to accept a favour from Harry, it had been necessary. Malfoy's may have to get turned down once in a while, but they absolutely never, under any circumstances, went to a party without a date.

The party was held on the main floor of the Daily Prophet. They were the only wizarding newspaper in all of London--no doubt rolling in Galleons--but they were too cheap to rent a proper hall for their Christmas party. It was a disgrace. And if Draco did not enjoy getting paid to make snide comments about whatever he pleased so much, he would have quit on the spot. Instead, he wondered if they would actually let him bash the office Christmas party in his next column. They were pretty lenient with him, but this might be pushing it a little too far.

But then again, maybe not, as he was accosted by a simpering Rita Skeeter the moment he stepped foot in the door.

"Oh Draco! How lovely that you could make it! You look smashing dear, simply smashing! And who have you got with you here?" Rita looked around Draco to Harry and Hermione. The dewy smile dropped abruptly from her face. "Oh. Yes. How splendid. Wonderful of you to come. Now if you'll excuse us..." she tried to drag Draco off to the punch bowl, but he resisted.

"I'm sorry, Rita, but I really must stay with my date," he told her, with his most sincere fake smile. "Hermione," he added quickly, seeing Rita eye Harry with raised eyebrows.

"Well, I'll see you later, I'm sure." She flapped her eyelashes at him, obviously trying for coyness, before flouncing off to flirt with Ned from copying.

Draco reflected that he probably could have gotten Rita to come with him. She had been disgustingly infatuated with him since his first day on the job. Telling her he was gay had done nothing to abate her lust. Not that Draco could blame her. But it was probably just as well that he was going with Hermione. After ten minutes in Rita's company he began to get an insane urge to scratch out his eyes with toothpicks. And her garish purple robes would have clashed horribly with the festively red and green tie he had decided to wear with his dress robes. Hermione, at least, had had the sense to dress in red.

He tolerated Rita simply because, as assistant editor, she was technically his boss, and it was largely due to her influence that he was able to write whatever he pleased. Harry was lucky she wasn't the sports editor; she had never forgiven him for that whole not giving her a story thing, back in their fourth year. Draco shook his head. Why was he thinking about something as dull as Harry when the tackily decorated festivities of his office awaited him? There was fattening food to be consumed and colleagues he didn't like to be talked to! He had no time to waste on thoughts of Harry. Just to prove it, he excused himself and went to mingle.

* * *

"And she said, 'Well, that certainly doesn't look like a fish to me!'" Walter paused in his thrilling narrative to laugh hardily at himself, and wipe tears of mirth from his eyes. "I mean, can you believe it? A fish!"

"Mm-hmm, fascinating," Draco murmured, searching frantically for a way out. He should have known better than to choose a comic writer to mingle with. They always found themselves frightfully funny, as if every word out of their mouth was a comic jewel. And they never, ever stopped talking. Maybe it had something to do with being confined to four small panels a week, in which to express themselves.

"So then I said to her, 'That's not a fish! That's my shoe!'"

Draco caught site of Harry and Hermione slumped together in a corner, looking sick with boredom.

"You know, Walt, I really hate to leave, but I'm afraid it's time for me to go."

"All right then, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Okay--"

"You silly sod!" Walter cut him off, clapping him heartily on the back. "We don't work tomorrow! It's Christmas eve!" Walter doubled over with laughter.

"Of course, Merry Christmas."

Grabbing a tree shaped Christmas cookie off the table next to him, Draco dove into the crowd. He pushed his way over to Harry and Hermione, narrowly avoiding the red claws of Rita.

"Are you all ready to go?" he asked, when he finally made it to them.

"Yes!" they chorused, hopping eagerly to their feet.

"Can we floo back straight from here?" Harry asked eagerly. "I need to see something that isn't painted red and green immediately or I might kill someone!"

"By all means," Draco said, smirking. "We would all hate for you to have to go all Boy-Who-Lived on someone's arse."

"Very funny, Draco. Get me out of here." Harry grabbed Hermione and Draco's arms and dragged them to the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he threw it into the fire and pulled them in with him. "Harry and Draco's flat."

Draco experienced an odd sensation hearing it called that, probably anger, but before he could figure it out he was being swirled into the maze of fireplaces, and the feeling, whatever it was, was gone by the time the three of them were spit out in a heap on the drawing room floor.

"That was absolutely miserable," Hermione said, picking herself up and dusting the soot off of her dress. "I cannot believe you boys talked me into that! I've never been so bored in my entire life!"

"I am racked with guilt, my fair lady! How may we ever make it up to you? And for the record, it was all this pillocks fault," Draco said, casting a dirty look at Harry.

"Hey! You're the one that insisted it was social-suicide if we didn't go!" Harry protested, indignantly.

"Pfft, a mere detail."

"Boys! No fighting! Now, the only way I can ever possibly forgive you, is if you open up that new bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey I gave you for Christmas."

"Your wish is my command," Draco promised, bowing with a flourish.

Draco went to fetch the whiskey, and then the three of them sat on the couch and proceeded to get thoroughly pissed. They were probably about halfway through the bottle when someone suggested they play poker. A few shots later and it had become strip poker. How they all managed to lose, Draco had no idea, but when Blaise Apparated in to pick up Hermione, they were all completely naked, squashed together on the couch that had seemed to shrink as they drank. Draco was sure they had not had to sit quite so close together at the beginning of the bottle. Blaise stared at them in open-mouthed horror. He had appeared right in the middle of their rousing rendition of "Santa, Baby." Draco could see how it could look a bit odd, from Blaise's point of view--the three of them sitting naked together, with their arms around each other, carolling. It had all seemed perfectly normal until a sober and clothed person turned up.

"Well, this is awkward," Draco said, by way of an icebreaker.

"Yes, that is one word to describe it," Blaise said, he seemed to have regained his composure. "I'll have you know, if the two of you weren't total fruits, you would be dead right now," he informed them.

"Oh we know," Harry said, nodding. "We know, we know, we know..." he sang to himself. Harry obviously could not handle his liquor. Although, from the looks of things, neither could Draco.

Draco got up, trying to appear collected and clothed. "I think it's time for Hermione and Blaise to leave, and then what do you say we never mention this again. Ever."

"Not a chance," Blaise smirked. "I will make it my sole purpose in life, from this day forward, to never let you live this down. Ever."

"You are evil," Draco informed him.

"And you are naked. I believe I win. Come on Hermione, get your dress, it's time to go." Nodding somewhat dazedly, Hermione gathered up her dress and began to step into it, when Blaise stopped her. "No need for that, sweet. If you're going to go around getting drunk and naked with other men, I should at least get to take advantage of you. Merry Christmas, boys, is it alright if we use your fireplace, I don't think Mione's in any condition to Apparate tonight." Draco and Harry nodded their consent, words still being a bit tricky, at this point. Wrapping his arm around the still nude Hermione, Blaise stepped into the fireplace.

"So, should we go tango in the snow now?" Harry asked. For some reason this seemed like a perfectly reasonable activity to Draco. What else would you do after being caught naked and drunk with your best friends girlfriend besides go tango in the snow with your former arch-enemy?

"Yes, I would say so," Draco agreed. There was a slight possibility that the alcohol was doing strange things to his brain. They should probably not be having this conversation.

In a few minutes they were dressed and standing out in the snow in front of their flat.

"Do you know how to tango?" Harry asked him.

"I know how to waltz."

"Well, the form is similar, only you're closer," Harry told him. "Here, you be the girl."

"Okay." Draco giggled. He put one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other in Harry's hand. "I'm the girl," he said, and they both giggled. They were probably much more drunk than they should be.

Harry put his free hand on Draco's waist and pulled their bodies close. "Now step back with your left foot," Harry said into his ear. Draco could feel his hot breath on his neck, and for some strange reason it sent a shiver up his spine. "Oops! I mean your right!" Harry said, laughing like he had just told a joke to rival one of Walt's. They moved up and down the lawn, practicing their strides. Both boys were too drunk for anything more complicated. Although Draco was feeling much more sober pressed against Harry's firm chest, or perhaps not, since he was enjoying it.

"Dip me, Harry, please?" Draco begged. Yes, he was most certainly still very much drunk.

"All right," Harry agreed, chuckling. "Stand back and take my hand." Draco did as he was told, and Harry expertly spun him in and dipped him backwards. "Now put your leg up and arch your back, it doesn't work if you're stiff as a board," Harry instructed. Draco surrendered himself to the move, feeling a rush that was probably just the blood flowing to his head. Then Harry pulled him back up to his chest. Harry's arms were still wrapped around him, and Draco did not tell him to let go.

Their bodies were flush against each other, they were both panting heavily (why, Draco didn't know, it hadn't been very physically exerting). They were hot, the air was cold, and the moonlight gave everything an unearthly silver glow. The kiss seemed like the natural thing to do. Harry's warm lips on his own were unexpectedly intoxicating in a way the whiskey could never hope to be. They sent a warm tingle throughout Draco's body, and Draco wondered why they had never done this before. Here they had been living together for an entire month; think of all the kissing opportunities they had wasted!

Then Draco quit thinking and forgot himself entirely in Harry's mouth, losing himself in the feel of Harry's lips.

* * *

Christmas Eve dawned bright and early, as days are wont to do. Draco lay on his back, squinting out at the rising sun and wondering why he was awake to see it. His answer came drifting in his bedroom dorm in the form of Snape's reedy voice.

"Draco? Draaaaco?" Snape called. This whole being in love business was making the git absolutely insufferable. Draco tried to sit up but was almost knocked out by the blinding pain in his head; he had drunk far too much last night. He grabbed his wand and performed a quick Soberus charm, then rolled out of bed, shoved his feet into his slippers, and stalked into the drawing room. This was just ridiculous.

"What do you want?" He asked Snape's happily bobbing head, petulantly.

"You are coming to my party tonight, aren't you? There'll be a bell quartet," Snape said in his most enticing voice, which was really not very enticing.

"Yes, I told you so yesterday. Sheesh! Don't you ever sleep anymore?"

"You don't need sleep, my dear boy, when you're in love!"

"Well, I'm in love, and I certainly still need my sleep!" Draco clapped a hand over his mouth. What had possessed him to say that? That evil whiskey must still have a hold over him. Fortunately, Snape was so wrapped up in his own little affair that he didn't seem to notice.

"Wonderful! See you then!"

Still shaken from his accidental declaration, Draco made his way back to his room, intending to go back to sleep and forget that this unpleasant little experience ever happened. When he opened the door, he found a sleepy eyed Harry sitting up in his bed, looking at him. Forgetting everything might prove a bit more difficult than he had thought.

"Good morning," Harry said, smiling sweetly at him. Suddenly forgetting did not seem quite so important. Harry looked older without his glasses, and he was dead sexy without his shirt.

"That was Snape, wanting to make sure we were coming tonight," Draco told Harry, trying not to reveal the direction his thoughts had been tending.

"He's such a git, but really kind of cute," Harry said, grinning. "Are those bunny slippers you're wearing?"

Draco looked down at his feet and his fuzzy bunny slippers looked back up at him. "Yes, but they're blue, so they're still manly and tough," he told Harry. Harry snickered. "Oh be quiet, Mr. Flannel Knickers."

Harry stopped laughing to pout at him. "I get cold, I can't help it. I'm delicate. Now are you going to get your tough manly self over here and warm me up or not?"

Draco considered for a moment doing the right thing and running from the room screaming that Harry had drugged him last night...but only for a moment.

* * *

They arrived at Snape's party that night hand in hand. Hermione squealed with excitement when she saw them.

"Oh, I just knew you all would be cute together!" she cried, flinging her arms around them and squeezing them tightly. "Did it happen last night after I left? Why did I let Blaise take me home! I wish I'd been there to see!"

"Hermione, I had no idea you were such a voyeur!" Draco exclaimed, laughing as he hugged her back.

Blaise came up then and pried his girlfriend off of them. "It's about time you two hooked up," he said, grinning broadly. "Don't worry, you can thank me later," he whispered into Draco's ear.

Snape's party, to everyone's surprise, turned out to be amazingly fun--much better than the Daily Prophet's, at any rate...despite the fact that Draco almost died from shock. Snape had accosted them right after Hermione and Blaise, and had pulled them excitedly over to meet his love.

"Here he is!" Snape announced proudly, putting his arm around a blushing Ron Weasley.

"RON?" Harry looked shell-shocked. Draco couldn't blame him; he had to check to make sure his own jaw was still attached after it fell open.

"This is the love of my life, are you surprised?" Snape asked, beaming.

"A little," Draco squeaked, still not able to get over his shock. Snape had always hated Weasley! But then, he had always hated Harry. There must have been something weird in the air in those musty Hogwarts dungeons.

Still, it took several cups of snowcream (a delightful muggle treat of snow, vanilla and sugar, that Hermione had brought) for Draco to regain his ability to speak at a normal pitch. After the whole Snape incident, though, the night passed very merrily. He, Harry, Blaise and Hermione played Exploding Snap for hours. The game was much more fun than Draco remembered. Of course that may have been due to the fact that the eggnog they were all consuming liberal amounts of had been heavily spiked--and the fact that Harry had his arm around Draco's shoulders.

When it was almost midnight, Snape called everyone over to the stage on the far side of the room. The bell quartet began to play "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," and on the second verse, Snape pulled the string on the giant cracker sitting in the middle of the stage. It exploded in a burst of smoke and confetti. Then the smoke cleared to reveal McGonagall, clad only in a black leather bikini, doing a pole dance to the end of the song.

"I'm blind! I'm blind!" Draco wailed.

"Oh, stop that!" Harry admonished, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. "You know, she's actually got quite a nice body for her age."

"If you leave me for McGonagall, Potter, I swear I'll kill myself. And I'll take you down with me."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want that. Alas! Minerva, my love! We can never be together!" Harry cried dramatically to the stage.

"What is it with you Gryffindors and this professor complex?" Draco asked.

Harry smirked, now where had he learned that? "I think you might be able to make me forget my mad passion, if you try hard enough," he said, pointing at the ceiling. Draco looked up to see that hundreds of sprigs of mistletoe had materialized over the crowd.

"I guess I'll have to do my best," he said, and pulled Harry into a passionate kiss. Hermione, who had been standing next to him, broke away from her own snog with Blaise to applaud.

Harry dipped him backwards. Draco had always known Harry liked attention...not that he was complaining. Harry broke off the kiss to smile fondly down at Draco.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," he said, as the clock chimed midnight.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Draco said. Then he pulled him in for another kiss.