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Epilogue - Midwinter

All the fear has left me now

I'm not frightened any more

It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh

It's my mouth that pushes out this breath

And if I shed a tear I won't cage it

I won't fear love.

~Sarah McLachlan, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

***

Draco sighed and rolled over in bed, cracking open an eye to glance at the clock. Almost seven in the morning, far too early to be even thinking about getting up, especially in the holidays. He groaned and flung himself petulantly onto his back. Winter, he hated winter. It took a while for the chill to get a grip on the Slytherin dungeons, but once it did it was relentless despite what Snape insisted were perfectly adequate warming spells. It was too cold to work properly, and too cold to fly - unless you were Harry Potter, he thought grumpily. Harry had dragged him out of the castle yesterday for a walk around the lake, of all things ridiculous, seemingly completely oblivious to the foot of snow on the grounds. Their progress had got halted rather abruptly as soon as they had been out of sight of the school; Draco had backed Harry up against a tree and slid a teasing hand into the front of his trousers beneath his coat, and things had got rather... heated after that.

Draco smiled in memory, stretching luxuriously beneath the thick green-velvet comforter. He knew that his position here was precarious, that outside the haven that was Hogwarts his father had to be planning something, that Potter's friends were suspicious and the few Slytherins who remained confused - but somehow, when he was with Harry, none of it mattered. Not even the chill of the season; Harry could be very... warm... when he wanted to be. He had a rather interesting imagination, too, and seemed to have retained that annoying knack he had for making Draco lose control of himself.

The first time... the first time had been that first day of the holidays, only a few short days before. The Hogwarts Express had finally left and Draco rather suspected that Harry had been trying to distract him from the biting realisation that he had burned his last bridge beyond repair. As a distraction, it had proved more than effective.

They had been clumsy, both unsure and inexperienced, not quite knowing where to touch or how. But as limbs tangled together and gasps turned into moans, shyness had been consumed by the aching flames of desire. Palms and fingers and lips and teeth and tongues, they had begun to learn each other's responses, learn where touch translated into need, desire, completion. Looking back, it seemed the whole week since had been nothing but a maze of kisses and caresses and sensation.

Draco groaned. These were not thoughts to be having when Harry was a whole castle away, up in his own bedroom in Gryffindor Tower. Later, he told his aching body firmly. They would be together most of the day doing Potions research, and Draco was sure he could manage to drag Harry off into some forgotten corner of the library at some point. After all, he was owed something on his eighteenth birthday, and he doubted he'd get much from his parents this year.

The one blessing to this current situation - apart from Harry, of course - was that the nightmares were gone. Truly gone; even when he slept alone now he dreamed nothing unpleasant. After the first week of dreamless nights, Draco had actually made the effort to find Granger and thank her for finding the charm Harry had used. She had been... surprised. Not quite as much of a bossy know-it-all as he had expected, although if looks could have killed Weasley would be facing the Wizengamot on a murder charge. Draco doubted the two of them would ever learn to like each other; he had vowed to himself to at least attempt to tolerate the ginger pillock for Harry's sake, but it was an effort sometimes. Granger... who knew? She hadn't hit him again, at least, and for a moment after he had thanked her she had actually looked at him like he was human. It made him itchy with wondering what she knew, but he couldn't ask.

Eighteen. Draco frowned. It felt absolutely no different from seventeen. He was exactly the same person as he had been yesterday - although perhaps not quite the same Draco Malfoy who had turned seventeen last Midwinter. Gained some, lost some. Well, lost quite a lot, but he wasn't going to think about that yet, it was still too raw. Think about Harry instead, then, and what they would do today. His birthday.

***

Draco got his first surprise when he wandered up to the Great Hall at about nine for breakfast. Harry wasn't there; there were only a pair of first-years at the Gryffindor table, and for a moment Draco felt an entirely senseless pang. Then he scowled at himself and climbed into his familiar place. None of the Slytherins in his year had stayed for the holidays, and only one of the sixth years; Draco had no doubt that when his housemates returned to school in January they would be under orders to watch him - at the very least. That was one of the things that he was simply going to have to deal with when and if it happened.

Looking down at his plate, Draco got another surprise. In the very centre of the simple white porcelain was a folded square of parchment bearing his name. He had a moment of clenching fear before he recognised Harry's handwriting and mentally smacked himself around the head. He picked the parchment up, looking at it thoughtfully, and then stuffed it into the pocket of his robe. Breakfast first, and Potter could just damn well wait.

Ten minutes later, cursing himself roundly, he was back in his room unfolding the note with some trepidation and blinking at the single neat line of writing.

Meet me on the pitch.

Draco stared. Harry wanted to go flying? With him? When there was a foot of snow outside and it was colder than Snape's bedroom? What the hell was this about?

For all of thirty seconds, he considered saying the hell with it and not going. But as always, the lure of seeing Harry was greater even than the desire to stay warm, and Draco grumbled his way into an extra jumper and his old black fur cloak and stomped his way out to the Quidditch pitch.

To his surprise, when he got there, Harry wasn't flying but simply sitting on the bench outside the changing rooms bundled in what looked like every warm garment he owned. In the back of his mind, Draco made a note to drag the idiot to Diagon Alley sometime this holiday and make him buy a proper winter cloak.

"This had better be good," he accused as Harry rose to meet him. Harry laughed and came forward, taking Draco's face between his gloved hands and giving him a very... thorough kiss. Thorough enough to leave him gasping and flushed with more than the cold.

"Happy birthday," Harry whispered, and kissed him again, and Draco gave up and let go of his irritation and wound his arms around the idiot anyway. Then Harry was stepping back and grinning at him again in that way that made Draco unaccountably nervous.

"What?" He blinked as Harry scooped up a broomstick - his broomstick - from the ground and tossed it to him, only reflex bringing his hands up to actually catch the thing. "Potter, what the hell is this?"

Harry smirked at him and pulled something out of the pocket of his jeans - a small box, wrapped in bright silver ribbon. Draco's eyes narrowed. "Your birthday present," Harry informed him laughingly. "If you want it, you have to catch me." And with that he swung his leg over his own Firebolt and soared off into the sky.

Draco was off the ground and after him before he had time to really register the challenge, the feel of his stomach dropping through his shoes as he followed Harry into a dive utterly exhilarating. He forgot his parents, forgot Voldemort and Dumbledore and magical war, forgot it all and threw himself into the chase.

It was over too soon, his fingers snagged into Harry's cloak at the bottom of a dive, but Draco was laughing as they tumbled off their broomsticks into a tangled heap in the snow, laughing for the first time in what felt like years, and Harry was laughing with him. "Present," Draco demanded when he had got his breath, and Harry's eyes changed. Sitting up, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out the little box, passing it across the scant distance that separated them. For a moment he looked like he wanted to speak, there was something strange and uncertain in his eyes, but then it vanished and he flopped back down on his back in the snow.

Draco looked at the little box in his palm, and then at Harry, and bit his lip. Slowly, he pulled the ribbon free, then hesitated a moment before lifting off the lid. He recognised it immediately: a thin, flat ribbon of silvery metal set with a single clear stone that seemed to catch the thin wintry light in odd ways. "A protection charm?"

Harry nodded, not looking at him, and reached out to touch the stone gently with one fingertip. "It's keyed to you. So that you don't have to worry about leaving the school - if there's danger, you'll have warning, and a certain level of protection." His voice was very soft. Draco looked up at him.

"You made this yourself." It wasn't a question, and Harry nodded, that strange something back in his eyes. Draco looked at him for a long moment, then stuck out his right wrist, pulling back his glove. Hesitantly, Harry picked the charm out of the box and laid it against the bare skin, and Draco gasped as the thin metal seemed to flow around his wrist, the ends knitting together like a bracelet. The stone flared brightly for a moment, then settled into a steady, muted pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.

"It's warm," Draco murmured, staring at it for a moment. "Thank you, Harry." He looked up through eyes that seemed oddly blurred to find Harry gazing at him oddly. He reached out without thinking and let the other boy pull him down into a comfortable embrace.

"You're not going to cry again, are you?" Harry asked worriedly, trying to peer at his face. Draco took the opportunity that presented itself and kissed him softly. He could feel the magic in the charmed band on his wrist, feel Harry's magic. Part of Harry... protecting him.

"Of course not," Draco scoffed when they came up for air. "I'm just saying thank-you for the present." His eyes flicked involuntarily down to the band on his wrist, and he couldn't restrain a smile. When he looked up, Harry was wearing that little grin again, and Draco squawked as he was suddenly tackled and rolled onto his back I the snow. "Harry! It's cold and... mmmf!" This kiss was less gentle and more passionate, and Draco decided rather quickly that he could live with lying in the snow if he had Harry on top of him.

Apparently, Harry had decided that he was going to be a tease today; he pulled away far too quickly and propped himself up on his elbows, grinning down at Draco shamelessly. "So, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?"

Draco glowered and crossed his arms defiantly. "Why do I suspect you have plans?"

"Well..." Harry leaned down and kissed him again, far too briefly, and then smirked openly at him. "I was thinking we could go to lunch... and then back to my room so I can give you your other birthday present..."

"Oh?" Draco purred, arching an eyebrow. "Sounds like an interesting plan, even if a pathetic Gryffindor came up with it... what exactly were you planning on giving me?"

Harry's smile became faintly predatory, and he leaned down to lick a slow path along the side of Draco's throat, pressing their hips together in a way that made Draco start and gasp and clutch at him as his body reacted to the teasing. He bit lightly at Draco's ear, laughing breathily, then whispered "Me..." in that husky, throaty voice that seemed reserved for calling Draco's name.

Draco's eyes snapped open and he found himself staring at that damned, teasing, smirking grin again. He very nearly growled, but...

"You mean...?"

"Mmm..." Harry leaned down and kissed him again, and Draco thought he might die when an ungloved hand worked its way beneath the layers of clothing and found bare skin.

"Harry," he protested - not a little desperately, because there was such a thing as too far to stop and he had learned exactly where that boundary lay over the last five days - "it's cold and it's snowing and someone could see!"

Harry blinked at him amusedly then rolled off him, staring up at the sky. Draco was immediately sorry because quite apart from it being a lot colder without the heat of that contact, the snow was now falling on him too.

Harry was staring up at the flakes dancing through the sky, wearing that strange look again. Draco wondered if it meant he was happy, but wasn't sure he really wanted to ask. There was still too much to think about, too much outside themselves, outside the refuge of Hogwarts, and it couldn't be avoided indefinitely. Still...

"I hate the snow," he groused, flopping over onto his stomach and beginning to lever himself upright.

"Let's get inside then." Harry had somehow got onto his feet first, and he extended a hand to pull Draco up. Draco didn't let go of it immediately, just turned and began the trek back to the castle with their gloved fingers still mated together.

"It must be lunchtime by now," he muttered to himself, and heard the bright, cheerful, and above all annoying sound of Harry's laughter again.

"Patience is a virtue," Harry mocked him, and just for a moment there were warm, red-gloved fingers brushing across Draco's cheek before the Gryffindor boy strode ahead towards the steps.

"Besides, it's Midwinter," Harry tossed back over his shoulder, laughing as he stamped snow off his boots in the doorway.

"Longest night of the year," Draco murmured to himself, a rare, genuine smile settling itself on his face.