Nine Days Till Christmas

DAY ONE: December 16th

Step 1: Ask him.

Great Hall, 12:37 PM

Draco spluttered and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. "Excuse me, Potter?"

Thank goodness the Great Hall was at its noisiest during lunch, because this was not going as well as Harry had hoped. He took a deep breath and smiled at the Slytherin sitting in front of him. "I just asked you if you would like to--"

Draco snorted, an odd smile twisting his lips. "I heard you, believe me. And my answer is no."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Draco glanced around and ducked closer, folding his arms in front of him over the table top. "No, Potter. And... for Heaven's sake, did you have to pick this place to ask me this?"

Harry looked around as well and then frowned at Draco. "Oh, come on. I waited until your housemates left. And it's not that big a deal. You needn't look as if I just asked you to jump in front of a train at King's Cross."

Draco smirked at him and sat back, taking a long swig of his pumpkin juice. "Look, Potter--"

"What the hell is with you calling me 'Potter' again?" Harry fought the deepening frown on his face. His stomach was beginning to hurt. He reached out and grabbed Draco's sleeve, gripping the fabric tightly. "You were the one who suggested referring to each other by our given names, remember?"

Draco looked at Harry's hand holding his sleeve and a flush began to work its way up from his collar. He cleared his throat and set his mug down, flicking his eyes about nervously. "Look, Harry. It's not that I don't like hanging out with you. You're rather a fun person, as weird as that is. And you make a good Potions partner. God, listen to me, I can't believe I'm actually saying this about you. But I'm not a... pouf."

Harry let go of his sleeve abruptly. "Draco, I was only--"

Draco stood quickly, smoothing the front of his blue button-down shirt with one hand. He smirked down at Harry, pity flickering in his eyes. "Not sure why you'd even think that-- I don't swing that way. Sorry if you do, but it's not really my problem, is it? Let's just let this go, shall we?" With a brief smile, Draco walked away, shaking his head. Harry watched as he signaled to Blaise Zabini and the two of them left the Great Hall.

Harry's stomach knotted and heaved all in one smooth snide moment. The amused laughter behind Draco's words stung in his ears and he looked around hurriedly, hoping no one had overheard their exchange. Odd. Draco had been doing the same thing, but for an entirely different reason. Luckily, everyone was yammering away, the carefree sense of approaching Christmas holidays putting a merry edge that was usually absent on the conversation. His stomach jumped again as Draco's expression reappeared in his mind: he'd looked as if he were eyeing an interesting insect. Pity, and amusement.

With a jerk, Harry stood and began to walk. He heard Hermione call him as he passed near where she and Ron were sitting, but he kept going until he was outside the hall, up the stairs, and safely inside the Common Room. He went up to his dormitory and sat on his bed. His high spirits had evaporated, and all he could see was Draco's shaking head as he walked away.

Harry sighed and dropped his head into his hands. Step one had failed. Miserably.

* * *

Step 2: Wonder if listening to friends would not have been such a bad idea

Gryffindor Common Room, two hours prior

"Harry... I don't know if this is such a good idea."

Harry looked at Hermione incredulously. "Hermione! You were the one who was only just saying how silly it was to be pining after him in silence! Now I tell you I'm going to do something about it and you change your tune completely?"

Hermione sighed and wrung her hands. "Of course I'm not changing my tune, Harry! I just... I'm wondering if perhaps you may be moving a bit too fast. I mean, let's just say that you are wrong about it all. Maybe you should give it more time."

Harry scoffed. "What, and wait for some deus ex machina to come along? Hope he gets stoned and confesses to me out of the blue? Pray some radical mistake in Potions reveals to him how he feels about me? Oh, I know. A Quidditch accident wherein I get hurt and he suddenly realizes how bad it would be to lose me without confessing his true feelings. Trust me Hermione, that doesn't happen in real life."

Ron stood up and paced around the room, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "But Harry... and let's pretend I don't have a problem with the git and wouldn't in fact like to see him flummoxed beyond all belief... what if he says no? What if Hermione's right and he doesn't really... like you like that?"

Harry watched his friend, trying to quell the reservations bubbling up at Ron's words. "Look, Ron, I know you don't like him. And I don't ask you to. He was a right arse-hole to you for six years. But even you can't say that he hasn't changed. He's been cordial to us, and friendly... certainly friendly to me. And it's not like I'm asking him to marry me or anything. Just to... go out. Give it a shot. I don't think I'm too far off base here. At the Three Broomsticks last weekend, he was absolutely cheerful, and he kept laughing and touching my arm--"

"Harry, he was trying to help you wipe up the Butterbeer you spilled."

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. "Hermione, I just don't want to hide my feelings anymore! I like him. Is that so weird? I can't sleep very well anymore because it's been bugging me, and I just... need to get it out. I'm not going to jump all over him. He wouldn't go for that. And he'd want me to be discreet anyway. I have a whole plan, trust me."

Hermione rose and, pushing her hair behind her ears, came over to stand next to him. She placed her hand on his arm. "I know, Harry. It's just... you've only just come out to us this past summer. And we've been your friends forever, and you simply don't know if Mal-- Draco likes boys at all. I don't... Harry, we don't want you to get hurt."

Ron was looking at him from over by the window of the Common Room, a frown marring his features. Harry patted Hermione's hand. "Listen, I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I would rather just... know, at this point. I think of him as a friend now. I think there's a chance it could be more. And I'm going to go nuts unless I do something about it."

His friends looked at each other for a long moment. Harry could see Hermione pleading silently with Ron. Ron glared at her and then shook his head. "Fine. Fine, ask him. God knows you've had a crush on him forever."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, Ron. It's only been a month."

Ron rolled his eyes back at her before turning to Harry. His mouth was set in a grim line, and he raised a pointed finger to jab at Harry's chest. "Just get this straight, Harry. I don't care how deeply you're in love with him or whatever; he hurts you, I'm going to hex his hazy grey eyes right out of his face."

* * *

Step 3: Plotting the counterattack

Gryffindor Common Room, 2:52 PM

"Bloody hell, I'm going to hex his hazy grey eyes right out of his face!"

Hermione frowned. "Ron, calm down! Stop pacing and waving your wand around like that, you're likely to transfigure yourself into a newt or something."

Ron jabbed his wand in Harry's direction where he was curled up next to Hermione on the couch. "See? I told you he wasn't worth it! And didn't I say he'd do this to you? Didn't I? Bloody sniping prat, always has to think about himself. Stupid wanking Slytherin arse-hole--"

A jet of red light shot from Ron's wand and toppled a vase of daisies on one of the Common Room tables, narrowly missing Harry's head in the process. Hermione gasped and fumbled for her own wand. "Accio wand!" Ron's wand jerked from his fingertips and sailed across the room, landing in her open palm.

"Hey!" Ron started forward. "Give that back! I have an appointment to keep with a certain finicky stuck-up brat--"

"Ronald! Shut up!" Hermione glared at him. "Think about Harry, please!"

Ron subsided, blinking, and just stood there for a moment clenching his fists. Then he heaved a great sigh and came over, settling onto the couch on the other side of his best mate. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry smiled at him half-heartedly. Hermione looked down at her hands.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. We had no idea he'd act like that."

"I did," Ron muttered darkly. Hermione shot him a look before focusing on Harry again.

"But I think the best thing to do is just... tell him to forget about it. You said you wanted to keep him as a friend. I don't think he wants anything different. What he said doesn't sound to me like he hates you or anything so silly. I think maybe he just..." She cast about for words.

"Doesn't like blokes?" Harry offered. She stared at him, startled, and then lowered her eyes.

"Well..."

Harry heaved a sigh of his own and sat up, tucking his knees beneath his chin. "I don't think he's straight. I mean... I've never seen him with a guy but then, I haven't seen him with a girl either lately."

"What are you talking about?" Ron demanded. "He's bloody well known for how smooth he is in bed--"

Harry shook his head. "No, that's just talk. He told me. Rather likes it, really, letting people think he's so... you know."

"Wait, wait." Hermione stopped him. "Harry, when did he tell you this?"

"Over Halloween. You know, that party, when Hagrid practically bought out Honeydukes and Dumbledore gave the seventh years Friday off. We were sitting there against the far wall in the corner of the Great Hall drinking Butterbeers and he was fuming about how Lavender Brown is always hanging all over him. And of course I thought that was hilarious, considering his rep, but he just leaned over and whispered that it was all a farce, but if I told anyone he'd bloody well make sure my next potion exploded in my face. I've never seen him so happy as he was that night. His eyes were sparkling, more like crystals than ice. And he has a dimple, did you know? In his left cheek. I think that was the night I--"

Harry stopped short. He shut his mouth and hugged his knees closer, staring over the tops of them at the wall. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and just rubbed his back. Ron eyed him sadly.

"Well... Harry, I think that Hermione's right. It's obvious that he doesn't feel the same way. I think if you just tell him you still want to be friends though--"

Harry shook his head and stood up abruptly. "No. I'm not giving up. There are too many inconsistencies. I just need to alter my plans a bit."

"What?" Hermione stood with him, peering at him. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

"It would be too hard to explain it all, but I just know this isn't it. Little things, Hermione. Little things he does, things he says... I don't know exactly why I think this but... I think he likes me. And I just need to... approach it from a different angle. That's all."

"Harry--"

But Harry was pacing the room much as Ron had been. His face was excited now, the previous sadness having disappeared. "Look, he doesn't hate me. Maybe I just need to make him think about me in a different light."

"I think you... already did," Ron muttered, frowning. But Harry only smiled at him. He'd found his second wind.

"New plan. Just needs a few changes. Tomorrow I'm stepping it up. And by Christmas... well, it's only seven days until he leaves for holiday."

"But what if he won't talk to you, Harry?" Hermione blurted, and then slapped a hand over her mouth, looking chagrined. Harry didn't notice.

"Hmph. If he could use my shoulder for a pillow during that Halloween party, he can certainly talk to me now." He smiled winningly at them both and marched out of the Common Room up to the boy's dormitory. Hermione blinked and then glanced at Ron.

"What he just said, Ron, you don't think that he's--"

"Look, for all I know, the ferret was drunk that night. I can think of a couple people who were." Hermione turned beet red and Ron grinned at her. Then he looked after Harry and scowled worriedly. "Don't you dare get his hopes up. I'm not believing a thing until I see it."