Nine Days Till Christmas

DAY TWO

Step 4: Rephrasing the question

Charms hallway, 11:30 AM

Harry waited until Draco's charms class had just ended and the seventh years began filing out. Draco did not exit until after almost everyone else, still tucking his shoulder bag flap shut in what Harry considered to be very un-Slytherin-like-concern-in-front-of-others. He fell into step just behind the other young man with a wide smile pasted onto his face. He didn't know if he could handle another royal brush-off from his tentatively friendly schoolmate, but he figured if he could just start talking first, maybe he stood a chance of getting the boy to listen to him.

As luck would have it, he did manage to speak first. As luck would not have it, Draco gave an exasperated growl at the exact same moment and stopped dead in the hallway, jerking at the clasp of his shoulder bag. Harry plowed right into him, knocking the Slytherin off balance. Draco gave an undignified squeak His bag slipped from his shoulder and he stumbled forward a few steps, whirling to see what had hit him. His face split into what Harry was sure was a smile before Draco blinked and nervousness flooded his features. He glanced around, but the hallway was fast emptying for lunch.

"Harr- Potter. What the hell are you doing?"

Harry bent and picked up the fallen book bag, holding it out to Draco. "I-- um... Have a good Charms class?"

Draco took the bag from him slowly and resettled it over his shoulder. He looked like he couldn't decide how to look. His face kept struggling to situate itself into its normal blankness. Harry plowed on. Speaking. Yes, step four required much in the way of that if step five were ever going to occur.

"Draco, I just wanted to tell you I may have been a bit... forward yesterday."

Draco smirked. "Understatement, Potter. But I forgive you. Your Gryffindorish tendencies must have taken over. You really should be more careful with those."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, that must be it. Listen, Draco, I just... wanted to try this again. What I really meant to say."

Draco crossed his arms, the smile tugging at his lips making him look much more at ease. He turned and jerked his head for Harry to follow him. "Well, come on then, I'm bloody starving. If you think you can manage before the Great Hall, then by all means, illuminate me as to your real intentions."

Harry fell into step beside him, shoving his hands into his robe pockets. "Alright, so... perhaps my question was a little too sudden. I mean, we've only really been friends for a few months."

Draco nodded. "Have to say though, it never would have occurred to me before last summer that I'd ever call you my friend."

Last summer Voldemort had been defeated. Harry did not like to remember it, and usually snapped at anyone who brought it up but... Draco had been right there. He'd seen everything Harry had seen, all the bodies, the flying spells. He'd even been hit with several and Harry's attempts to extricate the woven magic from the Slytherin's body right there in the middle of the battlefield were images and sounds that still jerked him awake at night, gasping and scrabbling for his wand. Draco knew about the battle. Harry had thought that if there was anyone besides Hermione and Ron whom he would have allowed to talk about it in front of him, it would be Draco. But there was something Harry knew about that Draco didn't. Draco could not possibly have felt what Harry did when he raised his wand in front of Voldemort and--

Harry shook the thought away with a jerk, feeling his skin going clammy. Draco frowned at him quizzically. "What?"

Harry gave him a watery grin. "It is rather funny, isn't it? I mean, you and I, friends."

Draco graced him with a small quirk of his lip. He continued to walk without answering. Harry licked his lips. This part would be delicate, but if he could manage it...

"I was just thinking that I'd like to know you better, that's all."

Draco halted mid-step and looked at him mutely. Harry watched his eyes rove the hallway again. When they didn't find anyone, they settled back on him. "Harry, I told you yesterday, I don't--"

"Calm down, don't jump to conclusions." Harry sighed, only half-faking the exasperation. "I understand what you said. I was just thinking that... I want us to hang out a little more, and it came out wrong yesterday."

It twinged to say that, to lie like that. Harry'd thought he had it planned out perfectly, but he hadn't counted on the Draco-factor. It seemed he never did. He watched Draco plaintively, looking for some sign of the pity from the day before, the look that made knots in his stomach just thinking about it. Draco looked back warily. His grey eyes, the ones Ron wanted to hex from his head, searched him and Harry found himself thinking that he would undoubtedly have to kill Ron should his friend ever attempt such a horrible endeavor.

Finally Draco let out a breath. "Well... what did you have in mind then, Potter?"

"First off, stop calling me 'Potter'. You've already abused that privilege quite enough over the last twenty-four hours."

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth but Harry beat him to it. "Second, I don't want a date or anything. I just want to hang out more. Talk. Do things. Friend-things," he added hurriedly, seeing a weird glint in Draco's eyes.

"Like go to Hogsmeade?"

Harry smiled, relieved. "Yeah, that's an option."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Have a drink in the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yeah." Well, it seemed Draco was not going to be as argumentative as he'd thought.

"Isn't that kind of like 'a date or anything'?" Draco said sarcastically.

Okay, backing up. Harry sighed, feeling his stomach begin that familiar ache. "Jeez, Draco, not if you don't want it to be."

Draco smirked. "I already said I--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it! Look, we only have a few days before everyone leaves for hols. I just want you to try hanging out with me until then. See how it goes. I'll even buy your food at Hogsmeade if we go. And if you're not into it, then... I won't bug you about it anymore."

Draco eyed him, his blond hair falling over his forehead. He seemed about to say something, even opened his mouth slightly, and then changed his mind. He tossed his head, flicking his hair out of his eyes, and smirked again assuredly. "This better not be some sort of timed attempt to get me to like you like that. Because it won't work. I don't like boys."

Yes, you do keep saying that, Harry thought. He smiled back winningly, trying to force down the guilty feelings surfacing at Draco's most accurate guess of what he was up to. "Just eight days, Draco. Give me eight days."

Draco pursed his lips and considered. Harry could see him bending, knew his moods well enough to recognize the initial signs. The blond boy sighed through his nose and curled his lip. "Fine. We'll get more friendly. But I swear Harry, if you try to put a different spin on this to your little friends--"

"Oh, for god sakes, Malfoy. I'm not a bloody Slytherin, am I?"

Draco laughed, clearly no longer nervous in the slightest. "That's what I'm counting on, Harry." He turned and continued walking, still chuckling, with Harry grinning to himself behind him.

* * *

Step 5: Snagging a potions partner

Potions classroom, 2:15 PM

Harry had been looking forward to the possibility of partnering with Draco for Potions class. Well, okay, maybe "looking forward to" was not entirely correct. Actually, his stomach was jumping like crazy, full of frogs and butterflies, and frogs eating butterflies, and...

To put it quite simply, the idea of popping back up to the dorm room for a nice long hide-under-the-covers nap was looking mighty appealing.

It wasn't that he was having second thoughts. Oh, no. Draco was definitely still at the top of Harry's list. It was just that... somewhere in that morning's conversation of half-truths and rewordings, Harry had reset the boundaries of their relationship. Draco had come along willingly for the most part, but the part the Slytherin could not possibly see was that Harry had nosed himself into something of a corner.

He had what he wanted: Draco was going to give him over a week. A week of being with him, of hanging out, of learning more about him... Only there was a price, and that was that Harry could not just... say what he wanted to say anymore. Everything had to be thought through, analyzed, reconsidered, or Draco might see it as a direct come-on and bolt. After all, Harry had promised just friendship. And now the very idea of what a slip-up could mean was driving him nuts.

And to top it all off, Snape was in bastard mode that day.

"I do not enjoy repeating myself," Professor Snape said, a snarly undercurrent to his bland words, "but it seems as though half of you have conveniently forgotten the fact that you have a Potions project due before you depart for the holidays. Now, as much as I would relish the opportunity to keep you in this very classroom for the week you have away from school, I have other more important things to attend to. Writing your final exams, for instance. Therefore, you will partner up immediately if your already decided project" - he glared beadily at the quiet students in front of him - "calls for it, and make some headway in what I am certain will be a huge disappointment to everyone involved."

Harry gulped and glanced over at Draco. The Slytherin sat with his hands carefully folded over his pristinely situated notebook, looking serene as a sphinx. Harry's project - and yes, for once it had been previously decided upon - did not require a partner. Not that he could not have used one. The thing was, he really wanted a chance to get Snape where it hurt, and that meant, now that the war was over, proving that he could excel in Potions just as well as the Slytherins. And that meant he had to do this alone. The idea had been rather appealing earlier in the term; Harry had been so determined to wipe that knowing smirk off Snape's face that he had actually pounced on researching the different complex mixtures he could manage to find ingredients for back when the Professor had first given the assignment sometime in late October. But now... Harry was faced with a week left and barely anything to show for his trouble.

He was half tempted to ask Draco to help him. But what was he on about? Draco probably had his project completed already, had most likely mixed several back-up potions of varying components and affects just waiting for Snape to test and praise and gloat over to anyone who would liste--

"Potter! You don't have to stare at me like that. Just say whatever you are using my appearance to contemplate already."

Harry jerked and refocused his eyes. Draco was scowling at him impatiently from over the top of his cauldron. Harry blinked and sat up, pulling his textbook toward him absently. He flipped a few pages in before remembering that what he was looking for was not in that book.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Draco peered at him searchingly, and his eyes widened.

"Oh for-- you want me to partner with you, don't you? In the spirit of our new friendliness? Bloody hell..."

Harry flushed and shook his head, reaching down to obtain his bag of ingredients from his pack. At least he could be truthful in this instance. "Well, I'd considered asking. But... I don't want you to feel too weird about everything. You set the pace. I only just threw this whole thing at you a few hours ago. I'm quite all right working alone."

Draco stared at him, then nodded jerkily and turned back to his own workspace. Harry sighed, cast a quick spell to ignite flames under his cauldron, and began dumping base ingredients in. He'd measured carefully while still in his defeat-Snape fervor. Measured over and over actually, in his dorm room, until Neville had gone into hysterics about the test he was certain was scheduled for the next class session. He would have just enough time to simmer these ingredients before class ended. That is... providing he could add them in the correct order. He got his notes out of his pack and spread them before him, reading as he smoothed the slightly crinkled page. He'd copied them directly from a book on reserve in the library.

Feverfew, cut into small strips. To be supplemented with finely diced mugwort stalk and boiled for exactly one minute three seconds in spring water from the Andes mountain range. Immediately add powdered Snoffula grass in small steady pinches, taking care to lower the heat gradually. Allow to simmer for one hour. Remove from heat immediately and let sit for one day in cool dry place.

Harry popped the feverfew in the pot and began dicing his mugwort stalk before remembering that his small flask of Andes spring water still sat stoppered in front of him. With a hiss, he jerked the cork free and dumped it in. The liquid sizzled on the hot surface of the cauldron, but the feverfew did not look burned at least. He went back to the mugwort, and added it without mishap.

He set his watch.

It was about then that Snape came gliding up to peer over his shoulder. Harry tensed, trying to keep his mind on the rapidly ticking second-hand. He waited breathlessly as Snape read his sheet of directions, preparing himself for the taunt that he just knew was coming. But the man read.... read again... glanced into his cauldron, then down at Harry... and snorted. And walked away, shaking his head, eyebrow cocked derisively. Harry's mouth dropped. What? he wanted to shout. What is it? Did I measure wrong? Or are you just being a prat as usual? Dammit, say something, don't just make a sound and not tell me exactly how you think I will fail this time!

His watch went off.

With a gasp, Harry smacked at the button, trying to get the beeping to stop, while at the same time pulling the vial of powdered Snoffula toward him. He picked out several clumps with shaky fingers and began to drop them in. The broth in the cauldron bubbled alarmingly and Harry froze, afraid of the weird hissing pops his potion was exuding. His fingers dangled over the cauldron, unwilling to release the pinch of Snoffula they held.

"Oh, budge over, Potter, you've no way with cauldrons."

Harry jerked his head up to see Draco leaning over him. How long he had been there reading the directions, Harry could not tell. He watched dumbly as Draco took the vial from his fingers and tapped the back of his hand at the same moment, causing him to release the Snoffula. The Slytherin sat down smoothly beside him, and Harry only just remembered to move over in time. Draco said nothing, just began sprinkling the vial's contents into the bubbling cauldron. The frothing went down, getting more and more sleepy until all of a sudden the surface of the mixture quieted and turned a pale glittering blue color. Harry held his wand out unsteadily and coaxed the flames down slowly until they barely fluttered at the base of the cauldron. He looked up to find Draco watching him.

"Well, well. So you do have a knack for this after all."

Harry frowned. He arranged the remainder of his ingredients back in his book bag to give his hands something to do. Before he could reach his direction sheet, Draco snapped it out from under his fingers and began perusing it. Harry watched nervously. The Slytherin's forehead furrowed. He glanced up at Harry and then back down at the sheet several times. Harry fidgeted.

Finally he couldn't take it any more. "What?"

Draco eyed him for a long moment. Then he set the sheet down and pointed one long finger at it. "Where in Salazar's name did you get Andes spring water? I've been searching for that for two bloody months."

Harry barely hid his grin as Draco rose and went back to his own table. He watched the blond boy settle into his seat and begin poring over a set of notes.

Well. For a first day... not bad. Not bad at all.

* * *

Step 6: Quality time

Gryffindor Common Room, 4:26 PM

Harry was in the middle of a rather engrossing chapter (if he did say so himself) on the intricacies of Transfiguring oneself into an eight armed coat-rack when Ginny Weasley walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. "Harry? Harry, sorry to interrupt but, there's someone at the portrait hole for you."

Harry lifted his head. "What? Who?"

Ginny looked a bit perplexed. "It's Malfoy. Don't know what he wants, but he's asking for you. And he's got his broom with him."

Harry frowned, confused, and shut his book, setting it on the couch beside him. "Thanks, Gin."

She nodded and walked away, still looking puzzled. He rose and approached the half-open portrait hole thinking that perhaps this was some sort of elaborate Weasley-esque prank - god, he hoped Ginny was not nearly as keen on this as her twin brothers, two trickster Weasleys were quite enough, thank you - but when he shoved the portrait open the rest of his way, he could see it was no joke.

Draco stood there, his black traveling cloak nestled around him, blond hair wisping from beneath a dark knit cap. He had on white dragon-hide gloves, his Slytherin scarf looped loosely around his neck, and he was indeed leaning his tall thin frame on the newest version of the Firebolt. The Slytherin cocked a dark eyebrow at Harry.

"Well?"

Harry blinked. "Wha--?"

Draco sighed exasperatedly and looked ceiling-ward. "Look, you want to spend time being more friendly, the least you could do is get your arse out to the Quidditch pitch and throw a ball around for me. I've a match against Ravenclaw just after hols, you know, and I don't intend to lose."

Harry nodded jerkily, still trying to process what he was hearing. "Um... okay, sure, let me get my stuff..."

Draco's voice followed him as he went quickly toward the dorms. "Well, hurry up, Potter! I haven't got all night."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Harry was wrapped snugly in his woolen overcoat, gloved, hatted, booted, and striding through the frosted grass on the pitch with Draco. The Slytherin took something out of a pocket in his voluminous robes - a small red rubber ball - and slung one long leg over his broom. As soon as Harry had done the same, they took off, taking several laps around the field in silence. Harry watched as Draco dipped and swerved, feinting and feeling out his broom, swishing so low to the grass his robe hem came away icy, soaring high enough into the sky to be a dark shadow against the failing twilight. Harry had never really watched Draco fly before, and he was mesmerized.

It also sent a dull reminder of an ache through his gut. Harry didn't have him yet, and there was the likelihood that he would never have him.

He shook himself, took a few dips of his own, wheeled about, and spiraled down only to pull up again a yard from the pitch. He soared up, tipped backward and free-fell for several feet before righting himself.

Draco had stopped toward the middle of the pitch and was watching him. Harry turned his broom and flew over, working out a question in his mind, but Draco wordlessly tossed him the ball and swooped out to signal he was ready. Harry pulled back and launched the small projectile lightly, giving Draco more time to warm up. The Slytherin caught the toss and returned it to Harry with an easy sweep of his arm.

"Bloody hell, this feels good," the other boy said with a sigh. Harry blinked in surprise and then registered the words. He could not stop a grin from stealing over his face.

"Oh, yeah, I know. I couldn't believe it when they cancelled Quidditch last year. It's been so long since I actually flew for fun."

Draco caught his next throw and passed back. "Well, can't say I blame them, what with the state of the world and all. But I damn well missed this."

Harry nodded. "Me too." He tossed the ball lightly in one hand. "You ready for more?"

Draco smirked at him in the fading light. "Oh, come off it. Do you really need to ask?"

Harry laughed and threw the ball harder. Draco went after it with practiced ease and came back.

"So, the new Ravenclaw seeker," he said.

"What about her?"

"She have any weaknesses I should be aware of?"

Harry thought for a minute, raising his hand automatically to catch Draco's throw. Gryffindor had had their game against Ravenclaw two weeks before. "Well, actually..." He felt his face turning red and was glad of the darkness. "She kept... goggling at me. Winking and batting her eyelashes."

Draco swooped away from him. Harry could not see his face, but he heard his voice float over the air. "Did she now?"

"Yeah. It was very... unnerving, to say the least." He threw the ball hard, watched Draco spin and zoom after it, leaning low over his broom. He reached out one white-gloved hand and caught the ball just as its arc began to drop, then turned his broom effortlessly and glided back, tossing the ball to Harry again. "Very interesting. But not something I need to worry about, seeing as I'm not The Boy Who Lived."

Harry snorted, catching the ball and bouncing it off the back of his hand before grabbing it again. "Don't count on it. She's probably just as hot for you."

Draco laughed. "Is she?"

Harry grinned. "Lord, she's a bloody fourth year. Of course she has a thing for you! Just like every other fourth year."

Draco's teeth gleamed white as he flew closer. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. "And every fifth year. And every sixth year."

"Oh, your head's not too big, that's for sure. And don't you dare say seventh year," he retorted, pointing a gloved finger at the other Seeker. "I know for a fact that Ron does not like you."

"Oh, I think I could have figured that out on my own, thank you."

Harry smirked and wheeled back, faking to the right and throwing the ball to the left with all his might. Draco shouted at him testily and flipped his broom hard, changing directions with astonishing grace. He shot after the ball. Harry shielded his eyes and squinted, but he could not understand how Draco could possibly spot the tiny rubber ball in the darkening sky. He saw Draco's white glove reach out again, snag something, and then pull in tight to his black-cloaked body. The Slytherin turned his broom in a wide lazy arc and swooped back, his green and white scarf fluttering behind. He pulled up alongside him and Harry could see the red flush of exertion on his cheeks.

"Alright, let's see how you do, you snide Gryffindor git."

Harry barely had time to readjust his seat on his broom before Draco pulled his arm back gracefully and powered the ball somewhere in the direction of the goalposts. Harry's instincts kicked in and he took off after it, judging the arc in plenty of time to snatch it from the air. He brought it back to Draco with a cheeky grin. "You were saying?"

Draco made a sound resembling a snarl and launched the ball once more. Harry barely paid attention to where it was headed, eyes fixed on the little dark spot against the lowering sky. He was nearly to it, his hand stretched out, fingers grasping, when he suddenly became aware of something directly in front of him. He looked up in time to see the hoop of one of the goalposts not four feet away from his face.

"Harry!"

The shout behind him had only just registered when he hauled left on his broom, hard. He just barely cleared the hoop, one foot nicking the cold metal. He instinctively shoved the front end of his broom down, angling around the hoop, and suddenly spotted the ball falling quickly in front of him. He dropped fast and swiped it from the air just before both he and it hit the ground, pulling up just in time.

It wasn't until he was headed back to Draco that the shaking started. He'd barely cleared that hoop. He'd almost run headlong into the bloody thing! Harry clutched the ball tightly in one fist and tried to still his body, coming to a hovering stop alongside the Slytherin. He turned his head away and tried to collect himself, sure that his face was even whiter than Draco's,

A hand grabbed his coat.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't think..."

Harry turned to him, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, really. I didn't hit it."

Draco's face was paler than usual. He frowned at Harry suddenly. "I thought you'd fallen. You went down so quickly--"

This time Harry's grin was real. He held the ball up in front of Draco's eyes with two fingers. The Slytherin looked at it blankly for a moment. Then his mouth fell open. He snapped it shut quickly, raising a hand to whip off his hat. He scruffed his fingers through his hair, looking everywhere but at Harry. "Bloody fucking hell..."

Harry laughed at the infuriated look on Draco's face. "Oh, come on. You didn't expect me to let it drop, did you?"

Draco growled and snatched the ball from him. "Fine! Fine, fine, just... oh, go do something useful, you wanking git, like getting the ball back!"

He threw the ball hard across the field, well away from the goalposts this time. Harry gave him a long look before whipping after it. Looking back under his arm, he was surprised to see a half-smile on Draco's face.

When it got too dark to see anything, they alighted on the ground and headed back to the castle. Draco pulled his cloak off and slung it over his left shoulder as they walked. His breath ghosted white in the chill winter air, small puffs hovering about his lips before fading away. Harry unbuttoned his own coat, sneaking glances at the boy walking beside him.

Draco's face was a pale pinkish flush of warmth rising from the edge of his still-looped scarf. The black cap was pulled low over his head so that only the bottoms of his ears stuck out, but there were soft white-blond hairs drifting against his neck from under the material. Harry felt himself smiling and looked away.

When they scuffed the ice from their boots and entered the front atrium, it was empty but deliciously warm and golden colored, the torches twinkling brightly along the walls. Harry gave a relieved sigh and stretched his arms over his head, arching his back and closing his eyes at the warmth infusing him. "Dinner, then?"

When he opened his eyes again, they met Draco's and he realized the other boy had been scrutinizing him. The Slytherin smiled briefly and shook his head. "I've got an essay to write for Charms."

Harry nodded, watched as the Slytherin walked toward the hallway leading to the dungeons. Draco pulled off his hat and readjusted his scarf as he went. Harry started across the atrium, heading for the Great Hall. When he was almost to the doorway, the blond's voice drew him back.

"Nice flying tonight, Potter."

Harry grinned, and then frowned suddenly. "Hey--"

Draco gave a long-suffering sigh and turned, going through the doorway. "Harry. Harry, yes, I know..."

His voice faded and Harry was left alone, his hand on the giant brass handle of the Great Hall door.