Holiday Truce

Holiday Truce

Harry stopped outside of the Three Broomsticks, staying just below the overhang. Not that he minded the snow. The thick flakes had made a habit out of sticking to his hair in clumps and would soak his head anytime he went inside long enough for them to melt. Most of Hogsmeade was covered in white, the outline of the shops made blurry by the thick snowfall.

It was hard to believe that this was his last Christmas at Hogwarts. None of Harry's previous years at school had been normal ones. Someone was always trying to kill him or overthrow Dumbldore or steal some forbidden object. Or, as it was the case on more than one occasion, take over the world. But so far, his seventh year was looking up; with Voldemort defeated and all of his known supporters either dead or imprisoned, Harry had very little to worry about. In fact, this year his grades were higher than ever, and he had improved his flying abilities enormously with all the free time he suddenly had.

Harry was, for the first time since he could remember, really happy. It was a bizarre feeling.

Harry watched, amused, as Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be having a one-on-one wrestling match in the middle of the snowy street. Not surprisingly, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Harry had seen very little of Malfoy since his father was killed by Aurors the previous year. It seemed the Slytherin had taken to hiding in his House, rarely attending meals and only half-heartedly showing up for class. The only thing Harry had spotted him doing with enthusiasm was flying. And it had little to do with actual Quidditch; the sport was still one of their favorite things to do, but it was the actual flight that thrilled them.

It seemed that Draco, like him, found release in the air.

Draco. Harry had been mentally referring to him as 'Draco' rather than his surname ever since he noticed how Lucius' death seemed to have affected his son. He was trying to see the Slytherin as Draco, not just another Malfoy. And to his surprise, he'd noticed a lot of things he had overlooked their previous years.

Harry had no way to confirm any of his suspicions, however, seeing as Draco had done a splendid job of avoiding him all year. The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin wasn't scheduled until spring, and now that Draco had gone on to Advanced Potions and Arithmancy, the two had very little reason to see one another. Harry had been very surprised to realize how big an impact the sudden quiet had on him; outside of Malfoy, it seemed no one was willing to pick on him and to make his life a living hell. Harry almost missed the attention. Draco had been one of the only people to expect him to fail, to not to live up to his expectations.

Of course, there was always Snape, but that man was miserable to everyone.

Well, except Draco.

Birds of a feather, Harry.

"Romantic, isn't it?" said a silky voice.

Harry nearly fell off the porch.

"Malfoy!" he said stupidly, staring at the blonde that had appeared beside him.

"Full marks for remembering my name," said the Slytherin, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black cloak.

"How could I forget?" answered Harry. He was dimly aware of the scorn in his voice.

"Don't you sometimes wish you could?"

Harry was startled.

"Yes, I do," he said finally. "But then what friendly memories of this place would I have without you, Malfoy?"

Draco laughed. It was devoid of all the malice and mockery Harry was used to. He found it a rather comforting noise.

"We would have been good friends, Potter."

"Maybe," said Harry, grinning. "Very possible if you hadn't been such a prat."

Draco was still watching Crabbe and Goyle, but Harry was sure he saw the boy smile in return.

What the hell.

"We still could be," said Harry.

This time, Draco did look at him.

Harry, for the first time in months, felt extremely uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why. Draco didn't look angry.

After what seemed like ages but only lasted a couple of seconds, Draco looked away.

"It's a little late for treaties, isn't it, Potter?"

"It's never too late for anything, Draco."

"On a first name basis now, are we?" Draco asked, smirking sideways at him.

"Is it that big of a deal?"

Draco shrugged. "Dunno. First names are supposed to be reserved for those you're comfortable with."

"You don't make me uncomfortable."

"I used to."

Harry found himself at a loss for words. He didn't feel like they'd made any progress, excepting that this was the only civil conversation he could ever remember having with his nemesis.

"Are you allowed to hate your friends?" Draco asked suddenly.

"I don't think so."

"Hmm," Draco seemed to be considering something. "What about extreme dislike?"

"Friends are supposed to be people you like."

"Really?" Draco actually managed to look surprised. "Damn."

"What?"

"I guess I've never had any real friends then."

Harry was shocked. "What about Crabbe and Goy-"

"You really think I enjoy their company?" Draco rolled his eyes. "I've had more intelligent conversations with walls."

"What about Pansy or the rest of your housemates? There has to be someone."

Draco looked thoughtful.

"Okay. There is someone," he finally admitted.

"Who?"

Draco looked hesitant, then shrugged. "Professor Snape."

Harry was about to ask Draco how he could have possibly come to like such a person enough to consider them a friend before he remembered who he was talking to. Draco looked slightly amused, as if he expected some sort of retort.

"I had no idea," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't need your pity," he said sharply.

"How about just my friendship?"

Draco went quiet again.

"It's not like I'm asking you to marry me," Harry added quickly.

"But if you were, I'd be about as likely to say yes as I would now."

"Draco..."

Draco smiled again but made no effort to disguise it. "Do you have to make a conscious effort to call me that or does it come to you automatically?"

Harry blinked. "Not that much effort."

Draco's smiled widened a little. "Alright."

Harry blinked again. "What?"

"I said alright. We can be friends."

"Well, gee," Harry said, trying to sound indignant, "thanks for permission."

"No problem," Draco smirked at him. "Oh, and Potter..."

"Yes?"

And then Draco did the most unexpected thing Harry could imagine by kissing him.

Draco. Malfoy?

Kissing him?

On the lips!

Harry nearly fell over when he felt Draco's tongue graze his lips.

Pulling back, Draco smiled at him, seemingly amused. Harry felt his head being tipped upward by a hand on his chin, and his eyes locked on precisely what had prompted Draco's sudden absurd action.

Mistletoe was hanging from the roof of the porch.

Harry blinked as several snowflakes fell onto his eyes, and then looked down again at Draco, who was smiling again.

"Merry Christmas, Harry."