Nine Days Till Christmas

DAY THREE: December 18^th

Step 7: Functioning together in a public setting

Gryffindor boys' dormitory, 9:55 AM

Harry had awoken that morning slightly sore around the forearms and lower back, but sedately happy. Flying had felt glorious. Just marvelous. And the best part was, he knew it had as much to do with his flying company as with the feel of the biting wind across his face and the solid weight of the rubber ball in his hand. He'd hardly expected Draco to come by and practically drag him from his dormitory for a little mid-air bonding time. His Transfiguration reading had suffered for it: Harry still had three chapters to go before Monday. He'd planned ahead at the beginning of the week, much to Hermione's joy, and had scheduled himself a chapter a night over the weekend so that he would have time to work on his Potions project. And now he would have to do two chapters tonight before bed.

But when he weighed it against flying on his Firebolt, tossing the ball back and forth with Draco... just being able to watch the Slytherin fly... Well, there was really no contest. Studies would have to wait a bit.

And besides. He couldn't do anything to the potion for a day anyway. It was just as well he... get some flying practice in.

He'd made it down to breakfast in high spirits, but then things had taken a nosedive deeper than the ones he had been warming up with the night before.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend.

That wasn't the problem.

He could ask Draco to go with him with a little more confidence than he had expected to have the day before.

And that wasn't the problem.

Draco'd said he had a Charms essay to write.

Problem. In a nutshell.

Harry couldn't figure out how he felt about this, really. It had struck him last night as the perfect way to part, knowing Draco was only being pulled away by homework. The thought had been soothing, like a warm flood of hot chocolate over his tongue, and he had gone to sleep with the sweet taste of that knowledge on his lips. But in the light of morning, watching Draco lazily eating his breakfast at the Slytherin table, hearing the laughter the boy's comments raised from his housemates, Harry's mouth took on a familiar bitter taste.

It was a weekend. Draco could write that essay any time over the next two days. Harry's brain tried to remind him that he himself had been plotting to - oh horror of horrors - get a head start on his own homework last night, that it was Draco who had asked him to come fly with him. But... Harry frowned.

What if it had just been an excuse? Maybe Draco had grown tired of his company, or worse, suspicious.

Harry had waited until Draco stood to leave the hall, waving goodbye to Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, who were wrapped in warm cloaks and had clearly come to breakfast with the intention of heading to Hogsmeade directly after. Draco had no such warm clothing on; just black trousers and a pale green shirt that set his hair glowing gold. The Slytherin walked through the doors and Harry stood and followed, still crunching on a piece of toast. He'd have to catch Draco before he reached the dungeons.

As it turned out, that was not difficult. Draco had paused in the atrium and was looking up at the stained glass windows beaming scatters of colored light over the floor. His face looked oddly calm, hued in reds and blues, and Harry found he did not want to disturb the moment. He waited again until Draco sighed and began to walk before going after him, careful to keep his own steps nonchalant.

"Draco, wait."

The Slytherin turned and this time Harry definitely pinpointed a brief smile before the usual bored expression took over. "P-- Harry."

Harry smiled back and gestured toward the staircase. "Get your essay finished?"

An indefinable shadow crossed Draco's features. His eyes narrowed. "Actually, I fell asleep halfway through. Flying took more out of me than I expected."

"Well..." Harry hedged, suddenly very uncertain. He'd expected to be angry. To feel... annoyed at the very least. But he didn't. He only felt a lump in his throat. His once innocent-sounding question struggled past it and came out a little strangled. "Going to Hogsmeade in a bit. You want to take a... breather?"

The Slytherin only looked at him.

Why the hell had Draco asked him to go flying if he didn't want to be around him? Harry had been absolutely willing to let the incident in Potions be it for the day, but no, Draco had pushed it, and then pulled back, and now Harry was left in a worse position than before. And he'd already asked, and now Draco was going to know he was trying too hard, because he'd already known the night before... though for the life of him, Harry did not remember pressing any sort of closeness on the pitch. He waited, fidgeting slightly.

Draco's expression wavered. Narrowed eyes widened, then narrowed again, his mouth opened and then his lips pursed closed. He seemed to be deciding whether to be annoyed... or... or something else. Not happy. Relieved? Harry thought that might be it. And then Draco shrugged suddenly.

"Alright. Essay's nearly finished anyway."

Harry blinked. "Oh-- okay." He stood there for a moment and Draco looked at him oddly.

"If I'm not mistaken, it's rather cold out, Harry. Might want a jacket?" Draco turned and walked toward the dungeons. "Meet you here then."

So. Harry was in high spirits again. Glorious, those. He still couldn't quite put his finger on what Draco's reaction had been initially, but the answer was the same in any case. Harry had his coat on. Was tying up his boots. Putting a hat on his head. His housemates were doing the same and they were nearly ready to go, and Harry couldn't have been smiling more widely.

But there was still a problem. It was nagging him in an annoyingly familiar voice, tugging at him, pacing about, bringing up things he hadn't considered in nearly twenty four hours.

Harry'd had no idea problems came with red hair and an inordinate amount of freckles.

"Bloody hell, no, Harry! No. No way. No how. No can do. No fucking way am I going to spend one of my two days a week away from that git romping around Hogsmeade with him!"

Harry smiled sweetly at him. "Ron, you could always drop a class, you know."

Ron's schedule had been the topic of much grousing for the first half of the school year. The redhead lost no time launching into his usual tirade now. "Care of Magical Creatures with Malfoy. Then Transfiguration with Malfoy! Then Astronomy with... hmmm, let me think... oh yeah, Malfoy! And then, just when you think it's going to stop raining... Charms. With. Malfoy. Followed by a side of Potions with Malfoy. Is it too much to ask that I get a Hogsmeade weekend free, to myself, to spend with my two closest friends in the world, glorious and cold and fresh, without having my Butterbeer and Honeydukes chocolate turned to Slytherin-flavoured ash in my poor tortured mouth?"

Harry patted his friend on the back and grabbed his scarf from his bedside table. "Nice try, Percy. Now let's go. Hermione's waiting outside."

After much griping and kavetching, Ron finally managed to bundle himself up suitably and follow Harry from Gryffindor Tower. They made it down to the entrance with barely more than a sullen hmph from Ron, and Harry was starting to feel rather optimistic about the whole endeavor. But then, of course...

"Potter. Is this some sort of joke?"

Ron turned to glare scathingly at the Slytherin. "My thoughts exactly, ferret."

Draco sneered and crossed his arms. "Temper, temper, Weasel. Wouldn't want you to mess that perfectly atrocious red head with any gray. Where's your holiday spirit?"

Ron nearly spit. "Left it up in my room where you couldn't mangle it!"

Harry let out an exasperated sigh and stepped between them. "Come off it, you two! Can't you just get along for one day?"

He looked at each of them and gulped. The way they were glaring at each other... He'd be lucky to make it as far as the main gate in one piece. He almost wished he had not agreed to spend the day with Ron, the probable consequences seemed so staggering.

Luckily for the state of Hogsmeade that day, it only took the sight of Hermione's bright eyes and beautifully wind-flushed cheeks to turn Ron's mind away from the glories of tormenting Draco. Harry's dorm-mate looped his arm through his girlfriend's and began to walk. Harry slowed up, let the distance between them grow enough to render his friends' chatter a mere murmur, and looked sideways at Draco. The Slytherin had donned a deep forest green woolen coat with silvery buttons. The hem ended just above his knees, revealing thick hide trousers and expensive-looking boots. He had his scarf draped loosely over his shoulders, his hat from the night before tugged down past his ears again. Harry glanced at his own threadbare brown fleece and sighed, felt his face heating up again.

They walked all the way to Hogsmeade in silence. Draco looked awfully comfortable with it. Harry could not stop futzing with the fingers of his gloves, the threads hanging off his hat, the buttons nearly falling from his pocket flaps. Draco glanced at him once when they were on the outskirts of the town and raised an eyebrow. "You keep messing with that and it's going to disintegrate."

Harry flushed and pursed his lips. "Come on. I want something hot to drink."

Draco followed him into the Three Broomsticks. Ron and Hermione were already sitting at a table. Ron tried to glare for Draco's benefit, but quickly lost interest when Hermione laid a hand on his arm and leaned forward to say something. Harry went directly up to the bar and ordered a hot chocolate. Madame Rosmerta smiled and nodded at him, then looked over his head at Draco.

"Spiced cider."

Rosmerta nodded and walked away. Harry watched as Draco gingerly wiped off the barstool next to him with one glove and took a seat.

"What, don't drink cocoa?"

The Slytherin eyed him stonily. "Why, of course. When I was ten."

Harry scowled and fell silent. Their drinks came and Draco clasped his mug with both hands, staring into the steam rising from the liquid. Harry look a tentative sip and smiled at the taste coating his tongue. He took a longer drink. "So... where do you want to go first?"

Draco glanced at him and blew on his cider without answering. He allowed himself a small sip. Harry saw his tongue dart out to the droplets left on his upper lip. "I'm not staying. Just a bit of a break. And I don't shop, if that's what you're thinking."

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "Well, I wasn't planning on staying very long either. I need to read some stuff for McGonagall anyway. But I was thinking of picking up the last of my gifts. It won't take long."

For some reason, Draco scowled. He turned back to his drink and took a sip, then jerked back and slammed the mug down, sloshing cider over the edges. "Damn!"

"What?"

Draco tore one glove off and pressed his fingers to his mouth. "Burned myself is all."

"Are you--"

"Potter!" Draco turned on him, eyes sparking, but then blinked and drew back. He lowered his hand from his lips. "It's... I'm fine. Harry, it's nothing."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it quickly. He turned back to his cocoa, but it no longer looked appetizing. "Well... I think I should get a move on. Want to make it back to the castle in a timely manner."

Draco said nothing. Harry fished a few knuts from his pockets and put them down on the bar with a clink. He glanced at Draco's partially consumed cider and remembered his promise the day before concerning food in Hogsmeade. He was about to dig more deeply into the depths of his coat when he heard an answering clink to his left. Draco's gloved hand came away from the countertop, revealing his own set of shiny coins. The blond did not look at Harry. He merely straightened his coat and stood, making for the door. Harry looked at the money again and then, jamming his hat over his unruly hair, hurried after Draco.

* * *

Step 8: If at first you don't succeed...

Hogsmeade main street, 11:47 AM

"Wait, wait, wait. The Weasley twins are making how much, now?"

Harry smiled, taking the Fire Pop from his mouth. "Easily enough to open five similar stores across England. They've sent me some of their trial goods by owlpost, but I've learned to stop opening those boxes. Never turns out well for me."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not respond. He popped a small chunk of chocolate into his mouth and chewed. "Mmm, bloody hell. I'd no idea Honeydukes sold these. I've only seen them in one other store and certainly not here."

Harry eyed the rather large bag of similar chocolate pieces clutched in Draco's left hand. "Trust me, they're new. If they'd been here before, I'm sure I would have died long ago from seeing such a price put on simple chocolate."

Draco snorted. "There is nothing simple about these chocolates, Harry. They are worth every sickle."

"Or every Galleon," Harry muttered, and was gratified to see an answering grin from his companion. He smiled ruefully. "And it's easy for you to say that. They were my Galleons!"

Draco smiled at him sweetly. "One thing you need to learn, Potter, is to refrain from making deals your arse can't cash."

Harry threw up his arms in mock frustration. "You didn't make me pay for the drink."

The other boy's smile turned into a grin. "What can I say? I changed my mind. A person is allowed to do that, isn't he?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Yes, yes that was definitely acceptable. Especially in the case of certain refusals from certain Slytherins.

They came around the last building on the street and the wind hit them full force. Harry squinted and shivered, wrapping his scarf once more around his throat. The chill bit through his worn coat and wrapped itself around his legs through the baggy material of his jeans. Draco tugged his hat down with a grimace and stuck his gloved hands into his pockets. His voice came low and muffled through his scarf.

"Amazing. Maybe there's something to be said for ridiculously cold Scottish highlands."

Harry followed his gaze and saw the Shrieking Shack. Memories tugged at him and he pushed them away with practiced ease. "What, the shack?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No. There."

He pointed and it took Harry a brief confusing moment to realize he was talking about the land rolling away beyond the torn and tattered house. Harry raised one hand and shielded his eyes. He caught his breath.

The grass, a piercing frosty bluish color, was iced over in little white crystals. It dipped and swelled across the low hills sweeping around Hogsmeade, and the bright sunlight made each blade sparkle and dance like millions of diamonds. A line of dark pines stood silent guard over the outer edge where the hills gave way to higher crags and low valleys. In the distance, Hogwarts nestled against the mountains, stately and many-tiered.

Harry found his voice at last. "Wow. That's... pretty."

"Goodness, you have such a way with words," Draco said in a sarcastic tone. Harry frowned.

"Well, I didn't hear you giving out any poetic gems either."

The Slytherin adjusted his collar so it stood up, blocking the wind from his cheeks, and relooped his scarf. "When there are no adequate words, it's much more appropriate to refrain from speaking at all."

Harry glanced at him. Draco's eyes flicked to his, caught his gaze for an instant, then darted away again over the crystallized fields. He allowed himself a long moment to take in the glitter, the small blackbirds swooping up and down in flurries over the stiffened grass. Then he sighed, checked his watch, and turned to go.

Draco's brow furrowed. "Where are you going?"

Harry turned around, walking backward. Draco looked like a dark statue against the bright shine of the hills. His face, what Harry could see of it, was pink-tinged with the cold, the tip of his nose red, and his eyes brighter and more open than Harry had ever seen them. He wanted to capture it in a photograph; not a moving one, but a Muggle still shot. "It's nearly noon. I still have to get a few presents before we go back."

Draco's eyes flickered and shut down again. Harry frowned, puzzled, but the Slytherin merely jerked his scarf ends tighter and stalked toward him, his face a blank slate once more. Harry was intrigued. He wondered how long it took to master that sort of quick change. Hours in front of a mirror, he supposed. Though...

Draco's shoulders gave a sudden jerk and he cursed the cold in a muffled voice. A new thought popped unbidden into Harry's head. He had not seen Draco shift so easily from liveliness to stoniness since the war. The hours in front of a mirror... were they to master that change, or avoid it?

It took Harry nearly an hour to find a suitable gift for Hermione. He finally settled on a book on the history of the Unspeakables. Ron was easy. A quick trip to the local Quidditch supply shop for a new set of Sure-Grip Keeper's gloves took care of his best mate. Hagrid was slightly harder, and he consulted Draco on various balms and tonics at Hogsmeade's small but intricate animal specialty shop for near on twenty minutes before the Slytherin told him in a testy voice to "just get the oaf a new dragon-hide lead for his blasted hound". The blond calmed somewhat upon entering Mafelda's Magical Methods and Supplies, walking over to check out the wide selection of potions ingredients lining the far wall, and Harry picked out a set of self-cleaning goblets for the Molly and Arthur Weasley, a book entitled Growing Your Own Garden Gargantuans for Neville, and a tiny prancing crystal unicorn for Luna Lovegood. The final person on his list was Remus Lupin, and he realized very belatedly that he had just spent the past half-hour considering the merits of a magically adaptive moon-phase projector - Takes into account all sorts of weather and magical mishaps - versus a special sealant that allowed clothing to patch itself seamlessly. He found Draco at the front counter picking through a set of sinister-looking blood-red vials and asked his opinion.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "How should I know? I don't know the man at all."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. He'd like both, certainly, but... I just want this to be special. Which one do you think has a more personal feel?"

"What?" Draco's face was quickly sliding into a scowl. He crossed his arms over his chest. Harry saw that he was chewing his lip agitatedly.

"I think the moon one might be better. I wish I could have made him something, but I haven't the time."

The Slytherin looked impatient to be gone. "Harry, I have to get back. Just buy him the moon kit and come on!"

Harry looked at him for a moment, and then down at the two parcels in his hands. "I just... Wait a minute, okay, what would you choose? For your mother? Have you gotten her gift yet?"

Draco's scowl was very apparent. "Oh, please, Potter! As if I still needed to shop for anyone on my list. Not all of us wait for the last minute to buy important heart-felt Christmas gifts for our families!"

Harry blinked at the sudden sarcasm in Draco's voice. But it wasn't just that. The Slytherin sounded genuinely angry underneath his scoffing. It made Harry's gut twist. He had no idea what had prompted this. Draco had seemed perfectly happy fiddling with the potions ingredients for hours on end. He had not said anything about having to go, even when Harry had taken as long as he had.

"It's just that Remus is... well, he's like a father to me. He was my parents' friend, and he's helped me so much over the last few years... Since Sirius died he-- Well I want it to be something that shows how grateful I am. How close we are. And I don't--"

Draco cut him off abruptly. "Whatever, Potter. Just buy your damn gift for the werewolf. I'm going back before Christmas holidays begin without me!"

And with that, he turned around, face twisted into an ugly grimace, and stalked out of the store, jerking his hat low over his eyes. Harry watched dumbfounded, still clutching both gift options in his hands.

The bell above the door tinkled merrily as another customer entered, accompanying the soft easy voices of two chatting witches behind him. But Harry could only stand there with his jaw clenched, worrying his lip with his teeth. His stomach flipflopped sickeningly.

Draco was gone, and Harry had no idea what he'd done to cause it.

* * *

Step 9: Minimize contact with others for a while

Outside the Gryffindor boys' dorm, 5:46 PM

There was a note spell-o-taped to the outside of his room. Harry looked at the yellow lined paper dully, at his name scrawled in loopy letters across the front. He had half a mind to just ignore it, to go inside and leave it out there as a message to the person to leave him the hell alone for the love of Godric. He had more than half a mind to write those very words over the top of his name. Perhaps he would even add a few choice phrases.

But it was Ginny's handwriting.

Harry sighed. He ripped the note down, spelled the door open, and went through it, slamming it shut behind him. His dorm room was empty, thankfully. Neville's bed was pristinely made, Ron's an absolute just-fell-out-of-bed mess, and Seamus' and Dean's somewhere in between. But none of his roommates were there at least. He leaned against the door and began turning out his pockets, tossing his purchases onto his bed with barely a thought of whether or not they landed safely. The magically shrunken items transfigured themselves to normal size in midair and made his bed squeak when they bounced into stillness atop his quilt. He yanked off his sodden gloves, jerked his equally damp scarf over his head, and removed his coat, flinging it to the floor.

He'd not gone back immediately after Draco had left, but had instead returned to the Three Broomsticks to think. His new cup of cocoa had been long cold when he rose and left, not having solved any one of the questions he had asked himself repeatedly as he sat. He'd gone over the conversation numerous times and still could not pinpoint the exact phrase that had set Draco off. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Draco had been growing more and more agitated as the day passed. The only times he hadn't been upset were when they were in Honeydukes, and when they were gazing at the field frozen over with ice crystals.

And Harry had no idea what that meant.

To top it all off, it had begun to snow heavily midway through his walk back to the castle. His coat was wet, his gloves were soaked, and he was still shivering. And now this note, with a slowly spreading damp spot from grabbing it with his gloved fingers. Harry kicked his shoes off and went to his bed, pushing the pile of gifts aside with one arm. He sat down, gathering his knees up and shoving his toes under the blanket. Luckily his clothing underneath his coat had not gotten wet. He fingered the letter open and read it apprehensively.

Harry--

Wasn't sure when you'd be back from Hogsmeade. The team - well, except for you and Ron of course - decided to get a spot of practicing in, so if you want to join us, we're out on the pitch.

I wanted to talk to you about the Yule Ball, but I couldn't find you this morning. I know you said you didn't want to go, but I have this friend in Ravenclaw who really would love to see you there. I think she'd like to ask you herself, but she's much too shy. I tutor her in Transfiguration and she's really sweet! She plays Seeker on their Quidditch team, so you know her a little. I don't want to make you go if you really don't want to, but she's a fourth year and it would give her the thrill of her life if you just came for a bit and said hello. Please? As my friend?

Anyway, sorry to spring this on you, but I had to ask. Talk to you at dinner!

Cheers, Gin

Harry threw the note aside and jerked his curtains shut. The headache that had started when he saw the note on the door was in full swing now. He clutched his hands to his head, kicked at the presents littering his blanket, and flopped onto his back. He wasn't getting up. Not for rowdy laughing roommates, not for dinner, not for fourth year Ravenclaw crushers. Not for irate Slytherins he had somehow managed to lose all chances with.

Not for anything.