Fran's Archieve - Forty Days of Christmas - Days 04 to 02
This is the seventh archive of stories from the Forty Days of Christmas I've been posting on hogwarts_daily. They are read in reverse order ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... and, of course, are Harry/Draco *grins*.
The subject of each story was picked by the person named at the beginning, who also picked which character point of view would be used. I hope they will approve of how their suggestion has been used.
I have also had some lovely artwork from red_rahl, so please check out the links to them.
Please note, some of the material within the cut is rated NC-17.
Links to the other archives:
Days 40 to 36 - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/167726.html
Days 35 to 29 - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/170299.html
Days 28 to 24 - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/172384.html
Days 23 to 17 - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/175932.html
Days 16 to 11 - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/177373.html
Days 10 to 5 - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/181610.html
Days 4 to 2 - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/183294.html
Day 1 (Christmas Eve) and Christmas Day - http://dragon-charmer.livejournal.com/186556.html
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Day Four....
For wonapalei ... 1595 words ... traditional Christmas pudding, complete with flaming brandy
and various significant trinkets hidden inside
“I can’t believe he kissed you ... I can’t believe you let him out you like that in the middle of the Great Hall of all places!” Ron harrumphed as he tossed and turned in his bed.
“He didn’t out me, Ron.” Harry settled down on his side, facing his friend’s bed. “Just about everyone in the school knows I like boys.”
“But Malfoy, Harry. You let that ... that ferret kiss you!”
“Jealous, Ron?” Seamus’ sleep-filled voice mumbled in the dark.
“Oh piss off, Seamus. Harry’s my friend and I don’t fancy him like that. And we’re having a serious conversation here.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” A candle flared into life on the table beside Neville’s bed and he raised a hand, rubbing at sleepy eyes. “Malfoy may be a creep....”
“Creep? His dad’s a Death Eater for fuck’s sake!” Ron interrupted.
“He may be a creep,” Neville continued, “but isn’t it for Harry to decide who he kisses?”
Ron growled, slamming his fists down onto the mattress. “But this is Malfoy!”
“Ron....” Harry’s voice held a warning that maybe his friend was crossing a line.
“They snogged, Ron!” Dean’s voice shouted from behind the drawn curtains of his bed. “It’s not like they’re engaged or anything.” He poked his head out between the red drapes. “Harry, are you planning on snogging him again?”
“Dean! You’re not making this any better.” Ron threw a pillow, which bounced off the curtains.
“Yeah, right.” Seamus picked up one of his own pillows and now up on his knees bounced on his bed. “He’s trying to show Harry the error of his way.” The pillow flew across the room, hitting Ron on the back.
“And I’ll snog who I want.” Harry hurled his own pillow and, tugging at his pyjama bottoms which had slipped a little, he dived from his own bed and on to Ron’s.
“And who knows,” Neville let fly with his own pillow, whacking it at the Head Boy. “Maybe kissing Harry’ll have a positive effect on Malfoy. It might stop him being evil.”
As all the boys joined in the pillow fight, Ron couldn’t help but join in the laughter. But he couldn’t squash his annoyance at what Harry had allowed Malfoy to do in public. And what about Charlie? Hadn’t Harry done things with his brother? Did that make them friends ... boyfriends?
He lashed out a particularly heavy blow across Harry’s back, the pillow bursting in a cloud of feathers. Why did Harry want anything to do with Malfoy? What was wrong with Harry own friends? And why wasn’t Harry interested in him? Wasn’t he Harry’s best friend? He might not like boys in that way, but he’d have kissed Harry if Harry had asked him.
-~-~-
The Christmas feast always took place on the last day of term. Tomorrow those going home would take the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross for the three week break, but for the evening all were looking forward to the traditional Christmas dinner, complete with turkey and Christmas pudding.
Draco stood near the main entrance, waiting for Pansy and Millicent to finishing chatting to Megan Jones, a Hufflepuff they’d become friendly with over the last few months. Greg and Vince had already rushed into the Hall and were, no doubt, already working their way through the mince pies.
He was just contemplating telling the girls he’d meet them inside when something warm and fluffy began to wind around his ankles. As he looked down he saw the black kitten blink up at him and give a silent meow. Knowing exactly who the animal really was, he crouched down and carefully picked it up, cradling it against his shoulder as he straightened again. The kitten rested its front paws on Draco’s shoulder and started to purr.
“Hello, Cat,” Draco murmured at the creature. “What brings you here like this?” The kitten mewed and licked at Draco’s ear, the sensation making him smile a little.
“I see you’ve finally found a friend, Malfoy.”
Draco looked up from the kitten and scowled at Ron, who was surrounded by his Gryffindor friends. The group didn’t stop, but carried on into the Great Hall. Eyes following the group, he stroked the kitten. “So why aren’t you with them, Harry?” he whispered. “And why don’t they know who you are. I thought they were your friends?”
“Malfoy.”
He looked up at the quiet voice and found Hermione watching him closely. Almost without thinking his arms tightened around the kitten. “Granger.”
“I hear you’re staying over Christmas.”
“Yes. Not that it’s any concern of yours.”
She reached out a hand and stroked the kitten’s head. “Just remember that sometimes when a kitten gets dropped it doesn’t always land on its feet. If I hear you’ve hurt him, you’ll have me to contend with.”
-~-~-
The dinner, as always, was a noisy affair. By the time the ‘pudding stage’ arrived, most people were already too full to think of eating anything else. But when the Christmas pudding arrived in all its flaming glory, it was met with ‘ohhhs’ and ‘ahhhs’, and everyone quickly dug in. Draco knew it wasn’t the pudding they were really interested in, but the silver charms that everyone expected to find in their portion.
Vince had already found his and was happily holding up a little silver boot. “Look -- I’m going to be travelling next year.”
Pansy’s charm was a little ring, which she waved at Draco amid cries of “I’m getting married” while further up the table Blaise was bemoaning the fact he’d ended up with a thimble, which was supposed to mean the opposite.
Draco’s own charm was a little silver Knut, indicating good fortune, something he knew he needed at the moment. He glanced over at Harry who was holding up a little silver wishbone, supposedly granting him a wish in the coming year. Green eyes gazed across at him and Draco thought he saw Harry wink.
Slipping the charm into his pocket, Draco placed a huge dollop of brandy butter onto his pudding and started eating. He had almost finished when he became aware of something heavy in the pocket of his robes. At first he ignored the sensation, but finally he had to reach in. The silver charm felt different then it had earlier, slightly larger and certainly thicker, plus the surface didn’t feel the same anymore.
Carefully he pulled it out, shielding it so that those surrounding him couldn’t see. What he saw made him frown in surprise. The coin had turned into a small gold medallion on one side of which was the Malfoy crest. Recognising it instantly as one of his father message tokens, Draco quickly shoved it back into his pocket. He glanced quickly about him to make sure no one had seem him before settling back into his chair. How the hell had Lucius managed to get the token into his son’s pudding?
Suddenly the Christmas pudding had lost its delight and Draco placed his spoon back in the dish. He could feel the token becoming heavier and heavier, and knew it would continue to do so until he tapped it with his wand and gave the password.
In the end, he quickly excused himself and left the Hall.
-~-~-
Outside in the rose garden, Draco took the token from his pocket and stared at it. Once he would have gone out of his way to open the message as quickly as possible, but for some reason he felt very loath to find out just what his father’s message was going to be.
Finally taking a deep breath, he pulled out his wand and tapped it against the Malfoy crest. The token trembled in his hand and transfigured into a square of parchment and under the glow of a quick Lumos spell, he read the message.
The Dark Lord awaits you.
Be prepared to leave as Christmas Eve turns to Christmas Day.
You will be met at the school gates at three in the morning.
Tell no one. Bring nothing.
You will not be returning to Hogwarts.
Draco read it through a second and then a third time. Was he shivering because of the cold night air or at the words of the note?
The Dark Lord awaits you.
He knew that this was not a request but a demand ... and order that if he disobeyed would probably lead to his death. Except the Dark Lord had ways of making death seem like a treasured gift and living a horror. The message was unsigned, but he recognised his father’s writing. This was the final proof Draco needed that Lucius’ capitulation was a lie and no doubt part of Voldemort’s plans.
The sound of footfalls in the snow made him freeze.
“Draco? Are you okay?”
Something warm was wrapped around his shivering shoulders and he realised it was the same cloak Harry had given him the night of the sleigh ride. Without moving, he screwed the parchment into a tight little ball and slid it quickly into his pocket. When he finally turned to face Harry, any look of fear or concern over the note had been wiped from his face.
“Harry.” He leaned into the palm the other boy had rested against his cheek.
“You’re freezing. Is something wrong?”
Reaching out, Draco let Harry pull him into a hug. He leaned against the Gryffindor, soaking up his warmth as he rested his head into the crook of Harry’s neck.
“No, nothing’s wrong. Just hold me.”
---
Day Three....
For carlatron ... 2765 words ... pumpkin pie
“Harry, you don’t have to stay here on your own, mate. I know mum would love you to join us for Christmas.” Ron’s hand rested lightly on Harry’s shoulder. “We’ve still got time to talk to Dumbledore.”
“Or you could stay with me to start with.” Hermione’s voice was equally as pleading. “Then we could both join Ron for the New Year at the Burrow ... my parents are going to Vienna.”
Harry had been shaking his head through the whole conversation. He was in the crowded entrance hall saying goodbye to his friends before they set off for the Hogsmeade railway station for their journey back to London. “Thanks, but it’s okay. I’ve talked to Dumbledore and he thinks it’s best if I stay here.”
“Because of the attack?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah. And besides, I can try to catch up on some revision and stuff.” Harry quickly added, knowing that anything to do with studying would probably silence Hermione.
“Hmmmm.” She looked like she didn’t believe Harry in the slightest. “If nothing else you could get your Charms project finished.”
“I’ll do my best.” Harry grinned. “Did you remember your presents?” His two friends nodded in unison and for a brief moment he suddenly felt desperate to be with them for this last Christmas before they all finished school ... who knew where they might be this time next year. He wondered for a moment what his answer would have been to his friends’ pleas if things hadn’t changed between himself and Draco; the idea of spending time with the Slytherin was so intriguing. Would he have gone to Dumbledore and begged to be allowed to go with his friends if Draco had been going home? Of course, both Ron and Hermione knew Draco was remaining at Hogwarts and he was sure they had their own suspicions as to just what Harry would be studying over the holiday. Ron wasn’t happy that Harry was having any contact with Draco and he suspected Hermione was concerned as well; her comment the previous day when Harry had been with Draco in his Animagus form had surprised him. She was one of the few people who knew he was an Animagus and he was tempted to ask her if she knew that Draco had now joined that select few.
Ron didn’t know, however, and Harry still felt bad about keeping the information from his friend. The fact was that while he trusted Ron, sometimes Ron was inclined to blurt out things without thinking, especially if goaded by others. Now Draco knew Harry felt compelled to let Ron into the secret. After all, was his secret any more safe with Draco than it was with Ron?
His thoughts were interrupted as Hermione threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. “Be careful,” she whispered in his ear.
-~-~-
Standing in a corner of the busy entrance hall, Draco watched Harry say his goodbyes to his friends. The two Gryffindors joined their other friends in one of the horseless carriages, which set off at a brisk pace down the drive. Of course, Draco was now able to see the Thestrals that drew the carriages. He had seen them for the first time when he’d returned to school the previous September, finally having proof that the creatures were only visible to those who had seen someone die. That thought still sent a shiver down his spine. He didn’t like to remember the Muggle he’d watched a group of Death Eaters kill during the summer ... didn’t like to remember just how much blood one body could contain.
He’d gone over and over in his mind what had happened at the Manor and wondered if it had been a turning point for him. A realisation of just what killing someone really meant. The sounds of the Muggle’s screams still woke him from nightmares.
The hall quickly emptied as the last of the students filled the remaining carriages until the only people left there were himself and Harry. In need of something to pull him out of the memory, he quickly walked over to where Harry was still watching the carriages disappear from sight and he gently placed a hand around the Gryffindor’s shoulders.
Harry looked round at him and gave a half smile. “Okay?”
Draco nodded. “You?”
“Yeah.” The other boy looked a little sad.
“You could have gone with them,”
“I know, but...” Harry shrugged. They moved from the door, which closed behind them with a soft thud.
“But?”
“But I’m here and I’m fine with it.”
“Sure.” Draco snorted. “You don’t have to.”
“Don’t have to what?”
“Have me stay in Gryffindor.”
Harry came to a halt. “I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you there.”
Draco stopped a few paces further on, turning back to look at Harry who was chewing at his bottom lip. He tried to read the other boy’s expression, which was a cross between concern and defeat. Was Harry that dejected at the idea of Draco not sharing his time with the Gryffindor? He straightened and reached out to hook his little finger around on of Harry’s. “A Malfoy never turns down a genuine invitation.” Harry’s expression turned to relief and Draco couldn’t help but smile in response. “Are you hungry? There’s still some pumpkin pie in the Great Hall.”
Harry shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough pumpkin pie to last me a life time. My tastes have moved onto other thing.” The two boys started walking again, little fingers still entwined. “How about chocolate fudge cake?”
“How about honey and ginger cake?”
Harry grinned. “How about honey and ginger?”
“How about I paint your fingernails.”
“Any particular colour?”
“Gold,” Draco smirked, “to match your nipple ring.”
-~-~-
Much later Draco found himself sitting on a squashy, and well-used, sofa in front of the crackling log fire in the Gryffindor common room. He’d been to the room once before, during the tree decorating party, but then it had been difficult to take in his surroundings because of all the people, but now it was just himself and Harry. The room might not be as stylish or as tasteful as the Slytherin common room, but if one ignored all the red and gold it was comfortable and no doubt suited the simple, unsophisticated tastes of the Gryffindors.
Harry was sitting at his side, one hand resting in Draco’s palm as he finished coating the Gryffindor’s fingernails in gold. With a final flourish of the little brush, he admired his handiwork with a frown and finally looked up at Harry again.
“Not bad.” He held Harry’s hand up towards his mouth and blew gently over the fingertips. The hand twitched a little at the contact and Draco smiled at the reaction. A mischievous thought began to grow in his mind as he realised that until the wet varnish had dried, Harry was effectively his to do with as he wished.
“I hope you’re not expecting me to wear this down to breakfast tomorrow.”
“Why not? You were happy enough to have me in dark green.”
“I’d never live it down if Snape saw it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Professor Snape has some strange tastes.” Draco grinned as he put the bottle to one side and leaned in against Harry. The other boy quickly moved his arms out of the way to rest along the back of the sofa, carefully keeping his fingers from not touching anything. Resting a hand on Harry’s chest, Draco took in Harry’s posture with a calculating gaze. Harry was now sprawled out beneath him, arms spread and legs akimbo, but surprisingly, Harry clearly didn’t know how sexually provocative the posture was,
Draco took a moment to trail little kisses along Harry’s neck and was treated to the sound of a responding groan as Harry threw his head back against the cushions, exposing even more warm flesh. A flush of colour trailed after Draco’s touches and he delighted in his effect on Harry and the way he could make the other boy react like this.
Finally reaching Harry’s mouth, Draco sucked at the other boy’s lower lip. As he teased at it with his own tongue, he felt Harry’s body press tighter against him. He’d expected hands to reach for him now, but Harry keep them at arm’s length as if protecting the still damp varnish.
It was like, Draco decided, Harry was tied with invisible bonds. He remembered how exciting it had been to have Harry tied to his bed with the tinsel and that expanse of tanned flesh to do with as he pleased while Harry writhed beneath him. And now Harry was leaned back, opening himself up to Draco yet again.
Reaching for Harry’s glasses, Draco carefully pulled them off and as he did so, Harry opened his eyes again. The green smouldered back at him, pupils larger with growing desire. Setting the glasses to one side, Draco reached a hand down to cup the growing bulge in Harry’s trousers.
Almost at once the other boy’s whole demeanour changed. Harry jerked upright and eyes that had a few second before been full of desire, turned to trepidation. “No, not here ... not in the common room!”
Draco couldn’t help but chuckle. He didn’t move his hand, but kept a delicate pressure on Harry’s erection. “Are you telling me you’ve never wanked off down here when you’ve had a few private moments?”
“No! Of course not!” Harry looked horrified at the thought. “Anyone could come in.”
Nuzzling again at Harry’s neck, Draco felt some of the concern dissolve as Harry started to relax under him. “But that’s half of the pleasure ... the thrill of possibly getting caught ... it adds to the excitement, Harry. Like having a blowjob in a corridor and wondering if you’ll be finished before anyone comes along.”
Harry whimpered a little and Draco knew that at the first opportunity he would have to try that one out. One of the main corridors, or perhaps a classroom just a lesson was due to take place. Or perhaps under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak in a crowded Great Hall. He squeezed Harry through his trousers, a thumb skittering over the head of Harry’s erection. “And besides, there’s no one else here so we can play to our hearts’ content without being disturbed.”
“McGonagall...” Harry hissed nervously, but it didn’t stop him shifting his hips forward a little so that his legs could fall further apart.
“...Is probably sharing a brandy somewhere with the other teachers. They must love it when there are only a dozen students to look after.” Draco leaned in again to kiss Harry, teasing him into opening his mouth and to let Draco inside. He let his tongue twine with Harry’s as he deepened the kiss, but still Harry’s arms didn’t move about him. When Draco finally pulled back the fire was dancing in the green eyes again. “And every time you sit here with your little friends you can remember me kissing you...” He teased at the corner of Harry’s mouth again.
“...And touching you...” He pinched at one of Harry’s nipples through his shirt.
“... And squeezing you...” The hand returned to Harry’s erection as Draco slid from the sofa to his knees into the open vee of Harry’s legs.
“...And me opening your trousers....” Fingers reached for the opening and Draco was thrilled to find Harry’s trousers were fastened with little buttons. As he unfastened each one he had to press against the hardness beneath and he delighted in how Harry’s breath hitched and his cock twitched at each touch.
As the last button was freed and the trousers released their prize, Draco licked his lips at the sight of the hard line of Harry’s cock outlined against the stretched cotton of his briefs, and he had to rub a thumb over the damp patch where the head had pressed precome onto the material.
Any concerns about being caught seemed to have been forgotten as Harry pressed into Draco’s touch. “Yessss,” he finally hissed.
The sound went straight to Draco’s cock and he reached for himself to give a quick reassuring squeeze before returning is attention back to the other boy “What do you want me to do, Harry?” he whispered as he swirled his thumb over Harry a second time.
Harry hissed again and Draco was suddenly reminded of their second year and the moment he’d heard Harry talk Parseltongue. “I want you to touch me,” Harry finally managed to say.
“Where?” Fingers tightened around Harry through his briefs.
“Everywhere.”
“I will if you talk to me.”
“Talk?” Harry swallowed, and Draco delighted in the way the other boy was flushing under his caresses, the colouring trailing down his throat to disappear into the neckline of his shirt. He reached for a shirt button, wanting to see if the colour had spread as far as Harry’s nipples.
“Yes,” Now it was Draco’s turn to hiss as he revealed engorged dark nipples and he had to lean in to briefly tease one to a hardened nub against his tongue. He could feel Harry’s heart marking a fast tattoo against the hand he’d rested on the warmed and flushed skin. “Yes, talk to me in Parseltongue.”
“I’m...” Harry arched against Draco as he moved to the other nipple and sucked hard. “I don’t know if I ... if I can.” His words trailed away as Draco’s hand reached against for his cock. “I’ve only done it if there was a ... snaaaake ... there.”
“Mmmm, then let me give you one to concentrate on.” With that he released Harry’s hard length from the confines of his briefs and watched as it arched up against the other boy’s stomach. His own length throbbed in sympathy and he wondered about releasing it. But there was something about keeping himself confined that made his own heightened desire even stronger.
Needing to taste Harry, he ran a finger over the straining head and then sucked the finger into his mouth. In their brief relationship, he and Harry had brought each other off with mutual masturbation, but so far things had gone no further. He’d been sucked off by others before, but had never given anyone a blow job. Now all he wanted to do was take Harry’s cock into his mouth ... to taste and suck. He remembered Harry’s Truth from the Truth or Dare session and wondered how good whichever Weasley Boy had been when he’d gone down on Harry.
Then he realised Harry was talking ... his head was thrown back, throat working, eyes closed ... talking in a language that made no sense to Draco but was made up of hissed words, the sound making Draco’s balls tighten and a curious heat pool inside his hips.
He had no idea what Harry was saying, but it didn’t matter ... all that mattered was he was talking. As the strange words echoed around him, Draco finally took hold of the base of Harry’s cock and opened his mouth wide around the straining head. He paused, not wanting to trigger his gag reflex and when eventually used to the feel of having his mouth full of the Boy Who Lived, he took it further in and gave a hum of pleasure.
The vibration didn’t stop Harry’s words, but the tone changed, becoming a little higher. Draco sucked and the timbre changed again, and he finally managed to silence the sound as his tongue flicked over the opening of Harry’s cock.
Harry gave a sob, but managed to whisper a few more words that sounded like “please” and “now”.
Fingers trailing over Harry’s balls and the area behind, Draco started to bob his head, the velvet mouthful throbbing against his tongue each time he pulled up. When Harry finally came with a hoarse cry, Draco had just the head in his mouth. It throbbed against his tongue and as the sound of Harry’s cries vibrated through Draco, his own orgasm slammed through him.
Minutes ... or maybe hours, Draco had lost track with the time ... Draco felt Harry pull him from his knees and into his arms. As they lay in a haze of pleasure, he felt Harry sigh and whisper something in his ear.
“What was that?” Draco nibbled gently at Harry’s ear lobe.
“I said,” Harry’s voice was gruff with emotion as his fingers teased at the waistband of Draco’s trousers, “that I think the nail varnish is finally dry.”
---
Day Two....
For phenix_tears ... 2801 words ... a Weasley sweater
When Draco woke he thought that he had been transported to some sort of hell or that he was in a strange dream where Gryffindors surrounded him. Light was reflecting off red and gold hangings and it looked like everything was on fire. Shielding his eyes against the early morning sun, which was shining like some huge, red ball of fire through the window, he started to sit up. All movement halted as he felt a weight on his chest and heard a murmur of displeasure.
Becoming still, he looked down to find the messy black head that he knew belonged to Harry Potter. The boy was curled up asleep next to him with his head on Draco’s chest and one arm slung lazily across Draco’s abdomen. Still not fully awake, Draco stared at his companion and tried to remember why he was here in ... he glanced round again ... this red nightmare. Memories of the previous night slowly infused his brain and he relaxed back against the pillows of Harry’s bed, a smile of satisfaction curving his mouth.
He’d spent the evening with Harry down in the Gryffindor common room. They’d painted each other’s fingernails, talked and enjoyed sex in front of the fire. Then finally they had climbed the stairs up to the circular seventh-year dormitory. Although Draco had known the five Gryffindors shared a dorm, it was still a surprise to actually see the room. He’d had his own room since the middle of sixth year, so sharing wasn’t something he liked to consider. How on earth did they cope on top of each other like this?
He could probably deal with the tiny room, but the worse thing had been all the red. Draco was used to soothing greens that reminded him of gardens in springtime, but this room was ... was so busy. How did they sleep with such bright colours? It did explain, he decided, why all Gryffindors seems to have boundless energy, always taking on the world even when the world didn’t want it.
Then he’d noticed Harry stepping nervously from one foot to the other. “Um ... I can use Ron’s bed if you like, and you can have mine.”
Draco found himself smiling again at the memory ... of Harry worrying that Draco might not want to share a bed with him and of Draco telling him not to be stupid and to “come to bed right now.”
Carefully Draco extracted himself from Harry’s arms and climbed from the bed. The other boy muttered something as he settle back down, burrowing under the covers as he turned his back to Draco. As he padded across the room to the window through which the early morning sun was shining, he wondered how long it had taken Harry to get used to having the sun wake him and decided that six years must be enough because while it had disturbed Draco, it hadn’t had any effect on Harry.
He paused at the window to stare out at the grounds. There had been a fresh fall of snow overnight and everything had a red hue to it. It was strange living in a world with windows he decided, Slytherin was all underground and even his own room had no windows. Yet here was the whole of Gryffindor up in the clouds with views over the school grounds and the forest. Was this better than his lovely Slytherin with its cool beauty and the soft green glow of the underwater world of the lake through the huge windows?
Shivering slightly in the chill early morning air, Draco hugged his arms around himself as reality sunk in. He was in Harry’s bedroom and had just spent the night with Harry in his bed. And yet, tucked away in a drawer in his own room was a letter from his father telling him that the Dark Lord awaited him. He had slept with Voldemort’s nemesis and in two weeks, maybe less, he was expected to pledge himself to Voldemort and join his elite order of Death Eaters.
And worse, once he left Hogwarts he wouldn’t come back unless it was as part of the Dark Lord’s army.
If he didn’t go, what would he have left? Would his father ever understand if he refused to take the Dark Mark? More importantly had Draco’s worldview really changed that much? He still believed that pure-blood wizards were special and that half-bloods and Mudbloods were diluting the magical abilities of the Wizarding world.
But was the answer to that the wholesale slaughter of those who didn’t meet with someone’s hypothesis of just what ‘pure-blood’ really meant?
He’d just spent the night with a half-blood, for fuck’s sake!
Glancing back at the bed, he studied the still-sleeping Harry who was blissfully unaware that in less than forty-eight hours Draco was supposed to walk out of his current life for good. It was tempting to just clamber back into the bed, to snuggle up against the other boy’s warmth and pretend he’d never received the message from his father, but Draco knew he would eventually have to make a decision.
If there was even a decision to be made. After all, just how much was he prepared to give up for his principles? If he was going to walk away from his family, it had to be for a good reason and were his feelings for Harry good enough for him to do that?
And what about Harry? The Gryffindor had had a summer fling with one of the Weasleys and seemed happy to walk away from it. What if all that was happening between himself and Harry was just another holiday romance? If he turned away from his family for Harry and then Harry grew tired of him, what would Draco have left? And if Harry did want him, then did he care enough for Harry to give everything up for the other boy?
He needed to think.
Reaching for a jumper, he quickly pulled it on before grabbing for his jeans. Determined not to wake Harry, he crept from the dorm and down the stairs to the empty common room.
-~-~-
Pointing his wand at the newly laid fire, Draco set it alight and as the flames flickered in the grate, he glanced around. The house-elves had been into the common room overnight and cleared up, leaving the room spotless. Once again he was taken by the windows letting in the sunlight. It had been dark when he’d arrived with Harry the previous day, but now the sun arched into the room and he watched as dust particles danced in the beams.
With a sigh, he finally dropped down onto the sofa, stretching along its length as he stared into the flames content for a moment to remember what had happened here the previous night rather than what fate might await him on Christmas morning.
-~-~-
“Draco.”
The voice was soft and gentle, and for a moment he thought he was dreaming. Opening sleep-heavy eyes, Draco managed to rouse himself from the doze he’d drifted into and found himself staring into the green pools of Harry’s eyes. “Ummm,” was all he managed to respond as Harry’s fingers pushed hair from his face.
Harry perched on the edge of the sofa. “I wondered where you’d gone. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Draco shifted and stretched a little. “I woke and didn’t want to disturb you.” He reached up a hand and rested it against Harry’s chest, stroking automatically at the soft green cashmere jumper Harry was wearing.
“I thought that maybe you’d gone back to Slytherin.” Harry mirrored the other boy’s actions, a smile slowly growing on his face. “But considering what you’re wearing....”
Draco frowned and looked down to where Harry was tracing a finger over the large yellow letter ‘H’ which adorned the front of the dark blue jumper he had grabbed for when leaving the dorm. He’d already left the room before realising it wasn’t actually his own jumper and loath to risk going back into the room again, he’d pulled it on anyway. The jumper was warm and smelled faintly of Harry, and he felt comfortable wearing it. He smiled, “I couldn’t find my jumper.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Harry leaned forward, brushing his own lips against Draco’s. “Ron’s mum knitted it.”
“I know.” Draco had seen the Weasley boys, and even Ginny, wearing the jumpers and had heard rumour that they were handmade. He’d always been condescending about them in the past and had even taunted Ron on more than one occasion. But now he wore Harry’s there was something comforting in knowing that Mrs Weasley had gone to the time and trouble of making something for her children. He’d always gone out of his way to buy expensive gifts, but with no money this year, he’d seen another side of present giving. There had been something very satisfying in writing the piece of music for his mother and he wondered if she would see its real value when she heard it on Christmas morning.
He didn’t want to think about that ... not now anyway ... it brought back thoughts of the message from his father. But if he did go home, he’d be able to spend time with his mother who he missed dearly. She had become his rock after Lucius had been sent to Azkaban and she would be the person he would miss most if he walked away from his family.
The problem was that he loved his parents and his home. His father might be a hard taskmaster, but he had always indulged Draco. If the Malfoys weren’t so intricately linked with the Dark Lord, then his life would be almost perfect.
Pulling Harry down against him, Draco waited for the other boy to get comfortable before asking a question which had been playing in the back of his mind for some time. Harry’s head was rested comfortably on his chest now, with their arms and legs entwined around each other. “Harry....”
“Umm?”
“I know you’re a powerful wizard...” Harry snorted at the comment, “...we all know that, so why don’t you use your magic for yourself?”
“Myself?”
“Instead of joining up with Dumbledore.”
Harry shrugged. “Because I think Dumbledore is right. He believes in a Wizarding world where everyone belongs.”
“But you could have anything. I bet even the Dark Lord would want you on his side if you wanted.”
“I doubt that very much and I wouldn’t go even if he asked.”
Draco shifted a little and let his fingers curl into Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck. “Why not? Even you have to admit he’s a powerful wizard.”
“Oh yeah. That’s why people are scared of him. Mr Ollivander, the wand maker, once said to me that Voldemort did great but terrible things. Do you want to do that?” Harry moved so that he could see Draco’s face. “Be known for doing terrible things even if they were great?”
Draco inwardly shivered at the use of Lord Voldemort’s name. He’d been raised to be in awe of the man and that if one did say his name, it was with due reverence. Yet Harry had always spoken it the same way he mentioned anyone’s name. “But what if those terrible things made the world a better place?”
Harry pushed himself up on an elbow. “He kills people, Draco. His followers kill people. Is that what you want to do? Kill people for him?”
“And Dumbledore’s side didn’t do the same?” Draco’s chin rose defiantly.
“Yes they did, but there’s a difference. You think being pure-blood is important and I don’t. You’ve called me a half-blood and I don’t give a toss about that or who your ancestors are. I’m happy to let you have your views and to postulate about who makes the better witch or wizard, but Draco...” Harry pushed himself upright. “I’m not going to kill you because you think I’m less of a wizard because my mum was Muggle-born. That’s what he expects of you ... to kill Muggle-borns and half-bloods to purify the Wizarding race.”
Draco stared hard at Harry. The other boy’s whole demeanour had changed and there was a fiery antagonism glinting in his eyes. Draco was sure his own expression was much the same. “And if I joined the Dark Lord?”
“Then....” Harry let out a painful breath and the anger suddenly dissipated, his shoulders slumping a little. “Then I don’t know. Is that what you want?”
Carefully extracting his legs from under Harry, Draco pulled himself up to sit at the end of the couch while Harry sat at the other. “If I said ‘yes’, would you chuck me out of here?”
“Probably.” Harry’s lip twitched a little. “But not before I’d taken my jumper back.” The comment seemed to take the tension from the atmosphere that had grown as the conversation had progressed. “I’d try to stop you if I could because ... well ... because I care about you.” He reached for one of Draco’s feet, absently massaging his fingers over it.
“You do?”
“Yes, I do.” The smile grew as Harry finally looked at Draco. “I wouldn’t be here playing with your feet if I didn’t.”
Draco sighed at the pressure on his foot; it felt so good and he would be happy to just lay back and let Harry rub his feet for the rest of the day. He found himself enthralled by the other boy’s touch and by Harry’s expressions as he did so.
And Harry cared about him. Of course Harry cared about lots of people, but Draco had no idea just how deep those feelings might go. Would Harry rub anyone else’s feet? There seemed to be something very intimate about what Harry was doing, maybe even more so than when he’d actually been touching Draco’s more private area.
Then Harry did something Draco wasn’t prepared for. Harry bent down to the foot and placed a gentle kiss on the sole and whispered against the skin in Parseltongue.
Draco gasped at both the sound and the feel of Harry’s breath on his skin. “What? What did you say?”
Harry kissed him again, this time on his ball of his foot and when he whispered, this time it was in English. “Please don’t go to him.”
“Harry....”
Another hiss of Parseltongue as Harry licked lightly across the Achilles tendon.
“Harry ... please....”
“Stay with me.” Harry sucked lightly on the inside of Draco’s ankle, the raised malleolus much more sensitive than Draco would have expected. “Please ... I....” Green eyes looked up at him, pleading, and his face was a little flushed as he whispered in that strange language again, only to repeat immediately afterwards, “I think I love you.”
Draco swallowed as Harry sucked once more before letting the foot fall to crawl up his body. As he moved, Harry hissed that last Parseltongue phrase over and over until the sound turned into words in Draco’s head -- I think I love you. Harry said it one final time, against his lips, and it was all Draco could not to ravish Harry.
Instead he wrapped his arms around the other boy, holding on as Harry ravished him.
-~-~-
“I think maybe we should go down for breakfast.” Draco stretched luxuriously against Harry and couldn’t help but lick at the other boy’s nipple ring. Harry groaned as he tugged on it a little.
“If you keep doing that,” Harry managed to croak, “we’ll be here until lunch ... maybe even dinner. But I think maybe we should shower before we go.” He flexed against the stickiness that marred their skin.
“A shower sounds like fun,” Draco sucked the pulse point at the base of Harry’s throat. The area was always marked from earlier kisses and he paused to lick briefly over a set of purpling bite marks. “But I’m not that hungry.”
“Neither,” Harry pulled him up for a long lingering kiss, “am I.”
-~-~-
Standing beside Harry’s bed, Draco pulled on the dark blue jumper carefully smoothing his hands over the large yellow ‘H’ on the front. His hair was still a little damp, but for once he didn’t care; somehow looking pristine didn’t really matter, at least not for the moment. He’d made his decision and that was the only thing which was important for now.
“I’ve arranged for Dobby to bring us some lunch.” Harry smiled at him, amusement in his eyes. “Are you going to wear that all day?”
“Possibly,” Draco pulled at one of the cuffs. “I might even see if Weasley can get his mum to knit me one with a silver ‘D’ on the front.”
---
15th January 2005