Nine Days Till Christmas

DAY NINE: CHRISTMAS EVE, December 24^th

Step 28: Give up

Gryffindor boys' dorm bathroom, 7:35 AM

The Harry staring back out at him from the mirror was no one he recognized. The dark hair was his, mussed into wayward spiky tufts, as were the greener-than-green eyes. The thick-lensed glasses. He was even wearing his old yellow nightshirt with the Chudley Canons blazoned across the front in peeling orange letters. But it wasn't him.

The face was too old. There were too many shadows under the familiar eyes. And there were tear tracks dried on the cheeks. Harry never had tear tracks.

He sighed and splashed water over the smooth face of the mirror. It made a disgruntled sleepy murmur, the first voice other than his own that he'd heard all morning. It was only just becoming light outside now, the sun peeking weakly over the tops of the mountains. Harry had been up for an hour already, drawn out of sleep in a gradual slide. Ron had finally fallen asleep on top of Harry's blankets, his arm flung out to the side, breathing nasally. Harry had smoothed a quilt over his friend's slumbering form and gone down to the Common Room to rankle with himself in solitude. The fire was out, the room filled with the chill of the newly fallen snow outside. Harry curled up under one of the blankets on a couch and watched the room go from midnight blue to gray as the morning crept up.

The cold finally drove him back to his dorm. The sleepy heat of the room tried to envelop him, but he moved through it to the bathroom, and that was where he was, barely able to hear his friends' snores. He was starting to think that Christmas, all aspects of it, was not a holiday meant for him.

He'd had nice Christmases at Hogwarts, especially after the nonexistence of the holiday for him at the Dursleys'. But the Christmas that echoed most vividly in his mind, the one that should have been a happy memory of being with the friends and family he never knew he had... was tainted. When he pictured that Christmas, all he could think of was Sirius. He'd had a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this year would give him a new memory, just as vivid and encompassing, but without the sorrow attached to it with iron wire.

Harry let out a humorless laugh. The sound was dry in the stillness.

He shed his clothes, shivering in the cool air, and went to the nearest shower. Stepping under the hot stream was painful and gloriously warm. Harry let it run over his neck and shoulders, down his legs; he raised his palms to cup the water and watched it pool in the small basin before running over the sides of his hands and down his arms.

It was time to stop being a child about this. He'd received his answer. Hell, it was the same answer as the one he'd gotten the day he first asked Draco for more than friendship. But he was so unprepared to discount everything that had happened in between the two answers. Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. The scalding water hit his face, making him gasp. No, that was ridiculous. He couldn't discount it, any of it. It would have been just as foolish to do that as to carry on like nothing had happened.

But that also meant he had to let it go.

Somewhere during that week, in between the snow angels and the impromptu Quidditch practice, the nightmare and the walk in the iced-over fields, Harry had stopped wanting Draco to be his and started wanting Draco to be happy. At one point he would have considered them one and the same, but that was clearly not the case. Harry shivered in spite of the heat. You're ready to give up, I think, his mind whispered.

"I'm not ready." Harry whispered back, and bit his lip. "But it's done, regardless."

It hurt already, a sharp stinging in his chest. The images of Draco just after crying, of the slow easy dip of his broomstick, of his face when he'd looked up from the snow and finally noticed just how much bluer the sky looked from there... they pricked at him with tiny claws.

Draco's hand sliding around his waist, his lips meeting his. The way his mouth moved when he intensified the kiss, his chest expanding against his own as he breathed-- Harry slid down to a crouch on the floor of the shower and wrapped his arms around his legs, rocking on his feet. He pressed his eyes against his knees and tried not to cry.

But the tears came anyway, and they were hotter than the stream of water cloaking him in mist.

* * *

Step 29: Admit that you've given up

Front atrium, 11:37 AM

Harry was enveloped by embrace after embrace as each Weasley managed to find his or her way to him. The twins were already pulling out lists of merchandise, pointing to the more marvelous inventions of the recent past. Harry nodded and perused along with them, not really taking anything in, but glad of the noise and life surrounding him again. Hermione, Ron, and the rest of his dorm-mates had been tiptoeing around him all morning. It was rather nice in some respects, as Hermione had gone down to the Great Hall and returned with toast and fruit for breakfast. But then she'd sat around mothering him, trying to get him to eat, and he just couldn't manage more than a few bites. Now, however, with Charlie spinning colorful stories of the discovery of the oldest dragons in the Himalayan and Balkan mountain ranges, and Bill's self-confident, easy presence at his back, Harry was finally finding the warmth that had eluded him all morning. Even Percy was in high, if still slightly pompous, spirits, listening to Ron's retelling of the Yule Ball.

Mrs. Weasley wrapped Harry in a rather suffocating hug when she finally got through the press of her sons and the other students, and then stood back to cup his face in her hands. She sighed. "Oh, Harry, it is good to see you again. My goodness, I think you've grown another few inches since I last saw you!"

George poked his mother. "Mum, don't be ridiculous. He's still exactly one inch taller than the tallest feather on your Easter hat."

"Yes," Fred added importantly. "But Mum, the good news is, if you're shrinking instead--"

"--then at least you'll no longer make him sneeze with the blasted thing when you hug him," George concluded.

It felt good to have the twins back.

Hermione's parents showed up a few moments later, looking utterly bewildered until Dumbledore took them aside and settled them with Earl Grey and biscuits. More parents from the Order were arriving, and the Grangers accepted Percy's offer of a tour. After a few muddled minutes of organizing, the odd group set off.

"Hogwarts has always had four separate houses to its name, each one named after one of the four founders..." Percy's self-important voice echoed off the stairwells as he began the climb to the first floor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione trailed behind in comfortable silence. They were just passing the dungeon hallway entrance when Draco walked around the corner and stopped short. Harry froze.

The Slytherin was wearing his black traveling cloak, and had his knit cap clutched in one white-gloved hand. Draco's eyes widened. His mouth opened and he closed it quickly. Harry felt his stomach flip. He let out his breath in a long silent whoosh and started to move past the other boy.

"Harry."

Harry swallowed at the sound of his name in Draco's voice again, and turned slowly back to face him. The Slytherin seemed to be at a loss for what to say. His eyes flicked around, finally settling on Harry's face uncertainly. Ron and Hermione had come to a halt a few yards in front of him, and Harry could see Hermione's hand on Ron's arm out of the corner of his eye. The redhead looked furious, but remained silent.

"Draco," Harry said, managing not to sound like his voice was being twisted somewhere around the vicinity of his abdomen. Draco's eyes met his. He looked so lost.

"Harry, about yesterday..." The blond licked his lips and glanced away again. Took a deep breath and frowned. "Blaise said..." He stopped again and stared at Harry, lips pursed tightly.

Harry sighed and shook his head, a weak half-smile trying to find a place on his lips. "Draco, don't. It's okay, really."

"Harry--" Once again, Draco halted, and his gaze skittered away again. His brows met in consternation. When he looked back, his face was grim. Harry let himself have one more fleeting thought of what it would feel like to run his fingers through the smooth blond hair.

"No, it's alright. Draco, I don't want it if... if it's not real."

Harry looked at the other boy for a long moment and then turned and followed Ron and Hermione up the stairs. He felt a heavy weight lift unexpectedly from his chest, but instead of making him feel lighter, it made him ache with a hollowness he'd only felt during the war. As if he were missing something vital.

But, Harry knew with a sick sense of familiarity, even that would fade in time.

* * *

Step 30: Move on

Gryffindor Common Room, 6:26 PM

Harry sat in front of the fire with Hermione, playing a game of Muggle checkers. Hermione was winning handily, but he could see she was trying not to. She'd been not-so-slyly avoiding her inevitable victory until Harry gently told her he would never speak to her again if she didn't take that bloody obvious chance to jump four of his pieces at once.

Dinner had been earlier than usual, and very filling. The Great Hall was full of the remaining students and their families, and the vast room seemed to glow with an extra shimmer as a result. Harry had allowed himself one cursory glance around the hall, but it was easy to see that, while Blaise and Pansy sat quietly eating at Slytherin table with their families, Draco was not there.

Afterward, everyone had said their goodnights and trooped back to their respective rooms for the evening. The Weasleys, with the exception of their parents, had been set up in the empty dorms of Gryffindor, and now the twins were sitting in the corner drinking eggnog with Seamus and Neville. As far as Harry knew, Bill and Charlie had gone out to play some Quidditch with Ron, Ginny, and several others, though how they planned to see the Quaffle in this light was questionable.

The room was warm, especially over by the fire, but there was a nice cool whiff of breeze from the half-open window. Seamus's voice came over the chatter of the other students in the room.

"Lord, you have no idea how good it is to have you two back. There's just no life in the old place anymore."

"What, Ginny's not living up to our legacy?"

"Not even remotely. She tries, but it's just not the same. I was a little worried I'd have to face my family tomorrow without some sort of fun image to take my mind off the boredom. You know, like never-ending fireworks in the front hall, or dirty messages in Christmas lights over the portrait holes or something."

"We could always turn Neville into a canary again."

Neville huffed slightly. "No, thank you. I've had quite enough of that."

There was a sharp cry outside, and Harry glanced up to see Hedwig flying in through the open window. She held nothing in her claws. The snowy owl alighted on his outstretched arm and sidled up to his shoulder, giving him a hoot and a gentle head-butt. Harry found himself smiling as he stroked her feathers. Hermione watched passively, a sad smile on her face.

"How did you know I needed someone?" Harry whispered. Hedwig nuzzled her round head into the crook of his neck and ruffled her feathers. Harry fed her bits of toast and bacon until she settled into a gentle doze.

An hour later, when Hermione had beaten him at checkers a further five times, Harry waved away her plea for "just one more, I'm sure you'll win this time, Harry" and headed up to his room. He was tired, just bone-weary, and he still had presents to deal with. It took him a little over an hour to successfully charm wrapping paper around the various gifts and walk them down to the brightly twinkling Christmas tree in the Common Room. He stood staring at the heaps of gifts from his housemates for a moment, pondering the mystery that always niggled at him: how did they manage to get from there to the foot of everyone's bed overnight? Maybe the house elves had something to do with it. The idea struck him as marginally funny: it was so close to the Muggle idea of Santa Claus that it made him wonder about the legendary workshop elves for a second.

Once back in his room, Harry took out the last gift, the one he hadn't put under the tree: the dragon Snitch. He turned the small gold-wrapped box over in his hands. He could take it back tomorrow, providing the stores were open in Hogsmeade. Or he could just wait another day.

Or he could give it to Draco anyway.

Harry sighed, knowing that that was probably the most painful, and the most correct, answer of all. This gift had nothing to do with getting Draco to like him. He'd purchased it without even thinking of that, and had wanted him to have it because it was so... Draco. Like when the Slytherin was flying: easy, relaxed, beautiful. And no strings attached. It was a gift in the purest sense of the word.

Harry ripped off the tag saying who it was from, found his school cloak, and placed the small parcel in one of the pockets. He'd go down the next day first thing and give it to him in person when he found him. He didn't want to think of it as a parting gift, but essentially that's what it was. Because Harry had found he couldn't handle a friendship stemming from pity, or some sense of duty, or even apology. He'd had Draco, the real Draco, for over a week, and he just could not go back to anything less. He'd rather not be friends with him at all.

Feeling slightly lighter but no less hollow, Harry went back down to the Common Room. The Quidditch players had returned, flushed and breathless, and everyone was laughing and sharing cocoa by the fire. Harry joined them with a smile and managed to forget about his problems for the few hours until bed.

* * *

Christmas Morning

Gryffindor boys dormitory, 3:25 AM

The sound of Harry's name being called tugged him up out of unconsciousness. It was muted, fuzzy in his sleep-drenched ears. He rolled over and burrowed under his blankets, trying to shut out the noise and drift back into the state of nothingness that had been soothing him.

"Harry!"

He groaned, heard Ron do the same from across the room. "What the bloody hell...? Seamus, shut the fuck up."

Seamus' voice, cross and drowsy, sounded through the wonderful barrier of quilts over Harry's head. "Piss off, Ron, it wasn't me."

His name was called again in a more desperate tone, and Harry heard Ron sit up. "Who the hell's yelling then?"

"Come on, Potter, open the damn window!"

There was a beat of stunned silence, then a frantic scrabbling as Ron disentangled himself from his sheets and dashed to the window. He made an outraged sound and shoved it open.

"Bugger off, ferret! I thought I made it clear he doesn't want to talk to you!"

"Oh, do shut up, Weasley! If I wanted to get your attention I'd've chucked a bag of Galleons at the window."

Ron growled. "You could toss half your estate and all your blue willow china up here and I still wouldn't let you talk to Harry!"

Another window squealed open further down the wall and the sleep-muddled voice of a girl was heard. "Draco Malfoy, what in Godric Gryffindor's name do you think you are doing? It's half-three in the morning!"

An exasperated groan sounded from outside. "Oh, shove off, Granger. Where's Harry?"

Neville sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "My God... and some of us thought we would be getting sleep tonight... Harry, maybe you'd better--"

Ron spun around, anger apparent on his face. "Good Lord, no! Harry stays where he is, warm and comfortable in bed! He's not going to give that bloody wanker the SATISFACTION!" The last bit was directed out the window.

Draco's rejoinder floated up to them. "At least my wanking actually gives me some, you stuffed prude!"

Seamus laughed so hard he toppled out of bed and hit the floor with a loud thud. "Oh, Harry, if you do it for no other reason, please go over and talk to him so I can get a good laugh before the family reunion from hell tomorrow."

Harry got up from his bed slowly, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, and padded over to where Ron stood shouting vociferously out the window. He nudged his friend gently aside and looked out.

Draco was standing on the flat rooftop of one of the minor towers below Gryffindor in his green coat, knit cap, and gloves. The moonlight shed a silvery glow over his head and shoulders, throwing half of his body into stark relief, the other half into darkness. He was clutching the handle of his Firebolt in one hand, and there was something Harry couldn't make out lying in a cleared patch of snow near his feet. The Slytherin was in mid-insult when he caught sight of Harry.

"Harry." Even in the moonlight, Draco's face was clearly relieved. "Harry, please, I really need to talk to you."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed the sleep from them. "So, you come wake up my entire house to do that? It's the middle of the night."

Draco clenched his jaw. He looked nervous. "Yes, it's sort of... necessary. Can you come down here?"

Ron broke in. "Bloody hell, Malfoy, it's a fucking ice-box out there! What are you trying to--"

Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder and shook his head wearily. "Hang on. Just for a moment." Turning back to the window, he leaned out, squinting against the icy wind. "Why exactly should I come out there?"

Draco spread his hands as if it were obvious. "I want to talk to you is all."

Harry sighed. He looked sadly out at the other boy. "About what? What could we possibly have to talk about, Draco?"

"Harry, for God's sake..." Draco trailed off, looking extremely agitated. He lifted a hand to his forehead and began to pace. Harry saw his lips moving and realized with some surprise that the Slytherin was cursing steadily under his breath. Suddenly Draco stopped and looked up, eyes darting over the opened windows of Gryffindor tower, the students peering out at him. He looked back at Harry and his shoulders slumped... then straightened.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Draco said, loudly and clearly. "I was a complete and utter bastard and I fucked up royally! I'm sorry that I was so selfish, and I know I'm always selfish. And I'm sorry I acted like such a prick." Draco dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh, frame drooping slightly. "But the worst thing is that because I was such a selfish prick, I hurt you, and I didn't want to do that. And I'm standing here hating myself because of it."

Harry blinked. He stared at Draco, who was now looking back at him pleadingly, and then realized he had forgotten to breathe. He inhaled slowly and glanced at Ron, expecting to see him fuming. Ron's mouth was hanging open, eyebrows almost at his hairline, eyes bugging out of his head. Harry looked at Draco again and saw that sadness had swept his features, wiping out the hopeful look. The Slytherin bit his lip.

"Hang on," Harry said softly. "I'm coming down."

He didn't wait to see what effect that had, but shuffled back to his bed and picked up his cloak where he'd draped it over his trunk. He slung it around his shoulders and pulled his shoes on, picking up his gloves and hat. His Firebolt stood in the corner, and he hesitated for just a moment before grabbing that as well and going over to the window. Ron was watching him, a concerned frown on his face.

"Harry, I don't know about this," he said, shaking his head. Harry gripped his hand and then pulled his hat and gloves on.

"It'll be alright. I'm only going down for a minute."

With some finagling, Harry pulled himself up onto the window ledge and crouched there, tucking his billowing cloak behind him. He positioned his broom, took a deep breath, and kicked off the stone ledge. The Firebolt dropped a few feet and was buffeted by the wind before he got it under control. For a moment, he was tempted to just fly, let himself go, feel the wind in his hair and know that up there, no one could touch him. But Draco's words resounded in his head and he turned, coasting down to the rooftop and coming to a rest beside the Slytherin.

"What?" he asked softly, shivering a bit from the cold. Draco sighed and closed his eyes for an instant. He seemed to be gathering himself. Finally, he looked at Harry pointedly.

"Look, Weasley was right, even though I'd never tell him that. I'm a complete arse. And I realize you already know that, and I also realize that I've done nothing to deserve you flying down here in the middle of the night to listen to me. But I am sorry for what I did." He pulled his hat off and shook his head, running fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't blame you at all if you told me to go stuff myself, or if you never wanted to speak to me again. But I couldn't just sit there and... and not..."

He stuttered into silence, grimacing, and looked away. Harry watched the wind ruffle his silvery hair, making it glow whiter in the light. The boy looked like he was made of finely sifted snow, or sugar. The smooth planes of his face were ethereal in the moonlight.

"What brought about this change of heart?" he asked softly.

A small sad smile quirked the corners of Draco's mouth. "It seems my friends know me a little better than I know myself."

Harry cocked his head, and Draco sighed. "Pansy. Always knew everything about me, up until the war. Apparently she still does, no matter how much I argue it."

Harry smiled faintly. Draco went on. "But it was really Blaise."

"What?" Harry said, surprise raising his voice into a squeak.

Draco scruffed a hand through his hair again. "I've never been yelled at by him before. I don't think he really would have chanced it before, though, either. But last night he made up for lost time."

"Blaise did?" Harry whispered, not quite meeting Draco's gaze.

"Yes, the bloody bastard shouted me through the wall. Pansy actually came by to ask what was wrong. But I deserved it. And I think I knew it then, because I let him yell."

Harry swallowed. Draco hunched his shoulders and looked out over the snow-blanketed grounds. They stretched for miles, pure white and glistening. Harry thought maybe he was supposed to say something, but he couldn't quite form the words coherently in his mind. It was so much all of a sudden, so close to what he wanted to hear that he had to remind himself it wasn't a dream. But it was too cold to be a dream, even a nightmare, after all.

Draco took another breath and went on. "Look, Harry, I don't... I'm not used to being so open with someone. But you bloody well bring it out in me, and for a long time I hated that. Blamed you for dragging it out into the open. I mean, you constantly managed to find me at my worst. You put up with me practically telling you to go to hell that day in Hogsmeade, and you walked in on that letter, and then you fucking dragged me out of the castle! I was ready to hit you so many times this last week... I mean, how the hell did you know exactly where to go, and when? And then, to top it all off, you were nice about it. It was sickening. You listened and you made me talk, and I just... wanted to scream afterward, thinking about it."

Harry looked at the snow, at the castle spires, anything. He couldn't believe he was about to be told off again out in the cold on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day, really. But Draco suddenly put his hands on his shoulders and turned Harry to face him. "But the truth is I... needed it. I've never slept so well since the war. I've never felt so... comfortable around anyone. I've never fought it so fiercely. And I've never... enjoyed myself so much."

Harry looked at him, eyes wide. Draco bit his lip and frowned. Harry felt a shivering in his shoulders and realized with shock that the other boy's hands were actually shaking. He opened his mouth but the Slytherin shook his head. "No, wait a moment, I have to say this or I never will."

He took a deep breath. "Harry that night... the Yule Ball... that wasn't a mistake. And I feel ashamed of myself for telling you it was. It was... the most soul-tearing night I've had in a long time. Probably since the last battle. I don't think I knew how to handle that again, not in front of someone else. No, that's not exactly accurate; I didn't know how to handle it around anyone but you. I panicked. I just... I can't explain it. But that... kiss... was not a mistake."

Harry's throat was closing up. He swallowed again, not trusting himself to speak. Draco raised his hands, then stopped, frowning vaguely. He pulled his gloves off and shoved them into one of his pockets, then took Harry's face gently in his bare hands. His skin felt incredibly warm to Harry's cheeks and he sighed, closing his eyes briefly.

"Harry, look, I'm no good at this. I'm just a bastard at heart. But I don't want to not be friends with you. It's only been nine days, and I couldn't even handle one knowing that you were furious with me! And the idea that it was my fault, that Pansy was right and I'd just ruined the best thing that's happened since... God, I don't know when... I wanted to kick myself. I got scared, that's all! You do things to me that I can't..."

He stopped and looked helplessly at Harry. The Gryffindor pulled his own gloves off and covered Draco's hands with his own. He smiled sadly at him.

"Draco, I don't want you to force anything. I don't want to be the cause of anything that makes you upset, or angry... or regretful."

Draco laughed, a smile breaking over his face. "Harry, you imbecile, you aren't! You make me not regret." He brushed his hands through Harry's hair, and then stopped, furrowing his brow. "And you're freezing, aren't you?"

Harry shook his head, but his chattering teeth gave him away. "We could... we could go up to my room. It's warm and I don't think Ron would--"

Draco took his hands from his face and stepped back, and for a moment Harry was worried he'd said something wrong. But the Slytherin only bent down and grabbed the weird shapeless package off the ground. "No, I've got a better idea."

Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Draco began ripping the brown paper and twine free. Draco paused and glanced at him. "Take off your cloak, Harry."

"What--"

"Just trust me."

Harry hesitated a beat, then shrugged his cloak from his shoulders, holding it to his body and shivering more violently. The paper finally fell away in Draco's hands. The Slytherin gave the bundle a shake, unfurling a long heavy coat. He swept it up around Harry's quaking shoulders and pulled it tightly closed. Harry looked down in disbelief.

The coat was a rich full red color, and softer than anything he'd ever felt before. He gingerly put his arms through the sleeves, relishing the texture against his skin. Draco's white fingers found their way to each button - black polished wood - and fitted it through its hole. Harry looked up at him, his throat constricting. "Draco--"

"Wait a moment, look..." The Slytherin began rubbing his hands up and down Harry's arms slowly. When he took them away, the color of the fabric shimmered to a dark green, then back to red. "I charmed it to... change when I touched it."

Harry stared at the other boy. Draco glanced away, embarrassed, and then met Harry's eyes again. "Sort of a risk, but..."

Harry shook his head wordlessly and began digging through the pockets of his cloak. Finally he found the small package. He thought he'd know what to say when he handed it over, but in the end he gave it to Draco in wordless silence, hands shaking. Draco carefully divested it of the gold paper and opened the box. Surprise crossed his face and he reached in, pulling out the golden Snitch. It rested in his hand for a moment, then unfurled its wings delicately, revealing the intricate design engraved into the gold. The moonlight caught the bronze lines and made them shine deep icy green. Draco looked closer and his mouth dropped open.

"Harry... this is amazing."

Harry shrugged shyly in his new coat, feeling heat flushing his cheeks. "What can I say? You're on my list."

Draco studied him for an infinite moment, eyes bright. Snow began to fall lightly and soundlessly around them. A slow smile climbed over the Slytherin's face. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

Harry looked at him uncertainly. "From the beginning?"

Draco frowned and laughed a little. "Oh, I hope not. I was thinking specifically of this."

He slipped one arm around Harry's waist and guided him gently forward, tilting his head and meeting Harry's lips with his own. Harry gasped at the contact, and suddenly he'd pulled himself against the other boy, and the kiss was deeper and he was lightheaded. It was wonderful. Harry moved his hands up to Draco's face, feeling the warmth there.

"Alright!" came a yell from somewhere up in Gryffindor tower, accompanied by a long wolf-whistle. "Way to go, Harry!"

Draco pulled away, frowning at the highest window. Harry followed his gaze and laughed. "Oh, shut up, Seamus!"

The Gryffindor was practically hanging out over the ledge, a joyful smile on his face. Harry could see Ron watching from behind him, Hermione grinning a few windows down. Draco sighed and stuck two fingers up at Seamus. "Bloody hell, fuckwit, you've got the timing down to a fine art, haven't you?"

Seamus only laughed again. Harry turned Draco's face back to his. "It's alright. My turn, anyway."

He pulled Draco into another kiss. The Slytherin wrapped his arms around him tightly, pressing their bodies together. Harry parted his lips and Draco took the invitation, and there was so much warmth. Harry sighed, running his fingers through the snow-flecked blond hair. It was indeed as soft as it looked.

"Amazing," Draco whispered in between kisses. Harry opened his eyes dreamily.

"What is?"

"Christmas actually means something now."

Harry laughed and pulled Draco in again. "Are you bloody joking? Best Christmas ever."

The snow tumbled softly around them, but the cold was nowhere to be found.