Fran's Archive - Forty Days of Christmas - Days 01 (Christmas Eve) and Christmas Day
This is the eight and final archive of stories from the Forty Days of Christmas I've been posting on hogwarts_daily. I hope you enjoy this last piece, which brings this little H/D story to a grand total of Forty One instalments and 60000 words. I have also been so lucky to have the wonderful and extremely talented red_rahl create Twenty One pieces of wonderful artwork to accompany this series, including a beautiful piece for this final story. 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’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone for sticking with this to the bitter end. I have loved all your comments and can’t thank you enough for all your feedback and kind words,
Thank you also
To ixchelmala for her kind gift of paid LJ membership and additional icons which allowed me to indulge myself with finding a suitable one for each story.
To those of you who suggested the different ideas for each story, without those suggestions these stories would never have been written.
To duckpuppy and kupukello for their beautiful artwork.
To peacerose, tanizard, kupukello and red_rahl for helping me with icons.
These stories are read in reverse order ... Christmas Eve ... Christmas Day ... and, of course, are Harry/Draco *grins*.
Please note, some of the material within the cut is rated NC-17.
Links to the other archives:
Days 40 to 36 ... Days 36 to 29 ... Days 28 to 24 ... Days 23 to 17 ... Days 16 to 11 ... Days 10 to 05 ... Days 04 to 02
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 One.... Christmas Eve ... 24th December 1997
For ixchelmala ... 3503 words ... Father Christmas
Draco spread his thighs a little wider as Harry’s fingers pushed into him.
They were on Harry’s bed in the candle-lit dorm and he’d taken great delight in earlier stripping Harry naked, slowly revealing every inch of the Gryffindor’s skin. That was when he’d asked for this ... for Harry to take him. He wanted Harry to be his first, the one to take his virginity, and when he’d asked, Harry had looked shocked. They both knew what Draco was asking Harry to do, but neither had ever taken nor been taken by anyone else.
Now here he was gasping each time Harry’s fingers filled him. He shuddered, bucking his hips, as Harry touched something inside him.
Harry froze. “Did I hurt you?” He started to pull his fingers out.
“No ... no! Don’t stop. Do that again.” Draco wriggled down, trying to impale himself further. “That was....” He hissed as Harry hit the spot again, the jolt of pleasure liquefying his body. “Fuck, that feels so good. Just keep doing that.”
“Mmmmm.” Harry leaned over him, taking a moment to nibble at Draco’s lips. “Do you think you’re ready? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Reaching for Harry’s erection, Draco found it already slick both with lubricant and Harry’s own precome. He ran his fingers over the velvet surface. “And I’m ready ... so ready.” He’d been ready for this since they’d talked about it earlier ... since the first time Harry had touched him all those weeks ago.
Carefully Harry removed his fingers and kneeling between Draco’s spread legs, he pulled one leg up to rest against his shoulders. “Like this or do you want to turn over?”
“Like this,” Draco wound his free leg around Harry’s waist before reaching up to pull off Harry’s glasses. “I want to see you when you’re in me ... when you come.”
Harry groaned at the words and bracing himself against Draco’s thigh, he pushed a hand under Draco’s shirt to touch his hot skin. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Just do it, Harry.” Draco sucked the arm of Harry’s glasses into his mouth as if he was sucking on Harry and he saw the other boy’s eyes open wide in awe as he pushed Draco’s leg towards his chest.
Then Harry was in him ... filling him ... stretching him. It hurt to start with, but as he consciously relaxed and let Harry in, the pain turned from burning to a feeling of fullness and then to pleasure as Harry brushed against that spot inside him again. He was aware of Harry’s shallow panting, the other boy trembling as he tried to control his movements and not to push either too hard or too fast.
At last Harry was completely inside him and Draco felt the Gryffindor rest against his bent leg. “God, Draco, you feel so good ... so tight.” Harry took a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I’m going to last long.”
“I don’t care how long you last ... just move ... do something ... anything!”
And Harry moved. He pulled almost completely out, only to thrust back in again with an audible groan. As the other boy moved, Draco reached for him, one hand gripping at Harry’s thigh, and the other clenching at black hair. His free leg wrapped tighter around Harry’s waist, pressing against him, urging him to thrust deeper.
It felt like ... like.... He was all too aware of how he was feeling physically ... the pressure ... the fullness ... the way Harry’s cock stroked against the spot inside him ... the stretch of his thigh muscle as Harry’s body pressed against it. But there was something else ... something he recognised as magic. Harry’s magic and his own mingling and mixing together, sparking beneath his skin and flowing over him. It felt like they were surrounded in it, like a silk cocoon and as Harry thrust again, Draco though he was seeing stars, but they seemed real ... like the sparks from his wand when he cast a spell.
Then Harry was coming and suddenly any coherent thought disappeared and all that he wanted to think about was the feeling of Harry throbbing inside him and of the pressure triggering his own orgasm.
-~-~-
Draco groaned as Harry finally pulled out of him. He felt a little stiff and sore, but both pains were underlined with the pleasure of what had just happened. He hadn’t been sure what to expect or how he’d feel, but it had been much more than he’d ever thought possible. The feeling of Harry inside him was like ... like a completion, and without him there, Draco felt empty.
Arms winding around Harry, he hugged the other boy to him. Harry offered no resistance as he lay in a boneless sprawl over Draco, heart still pounding hard enough for Draco to feel. They lay in silence, content to just hold and be held in the afterglow of mutual completion.
When Harry finally spoke it was with a breathless sigh. “God, Draco, that was incredible.”
Draco smirked and could do nothing but agree. “Mmmm. When you’ve got your breath back maybe we can try it again.”
Harry gave a smile and took a moment to nuzzle against Draco’s throat. “Then I take it I didn’t hurt you?”
“Oh no.” Draco pulled him closer and sighed contentedly.
-~-~-
“What are you doing?”
Harry turned from the end of his bed where he’d been banging at something with the heel of his shoe. “I’m banging in a nail.”
Draco crawled up the bed to where Harry stood naked and watched as he worked the little nail into the pole holding up the curtains. “Why?”
“Well,” Harry dropped the shoe and began rummaging in the trunk at the end of his bed. After a quick search he found what he was looking for and stood back up. “There’s a hook here for my Christmas stocking.” He lopped a finger around the hook to show it off before hanging an old, slightly tatty, red stocking from it. The white fur around the top looked like it had seen better days. “Ron gave this to me my first Christmas here and I’ve hung it up every year since.”
“Oh.” Draco frowned. He hadn’t thought about hanging a stocking for Father Christmas; at nearly eighteen years old he considered himself as too old to hang one now. His mother had always insisted he had one as a child and on Christmas morning, the brightly wrapped presents would be spilling out of the stocking, waiting for him to unwrap them. He’d often wondered just what magic his parents had used to get the gifts in his stocking, especially when he wasn’t at home.
“I’ve got a spare one, so I thought you’d like to hang it up as well.” Harry tossed the second stocking at Draco.
Catching it deftly in his right hand, Draco stared at it for a moment, fingers stroking at the white fur. “What makes you think Father Christmas will know to look for me here?” He raised an eyebrow at Harry.
“Because he’s Father Christmas and he knows who’s been naughty and who’s been nice.” Harry leaned in to kiss Draco before smiling at him impishly. “So, have you been a good boy, Draco Malfoy?”
Draco gave a sly smirk. “That depends, doesn’t it, on what you consider to be naughty or nice.”
“Oh yes.” Harry crawled onto the bed.
“Aren’t we a little too old for hanging stockings?”
“Are you telling me you don’t believe in Father Christmas?” Harry looked suitably shocked.
“Well....”
“Just humour me, Draco -- hang it up.”
“Why not,” Draco replied with a shrug. “But I doubt Father Christmas will leave me anything here. He’ll expect to find me down in Slytherin or at home, not up here in Gryffindor.” Draco reached for the new nail, hanging the stocking on it. He was touched by the fact Harry had thought of him and wondered what he would find in the morning ... if he was still here in the morning he reminded himself. When he turned back round Harry had already clambered under the covers and had turned them back so he could get in beside him. He quickly crawled in beside Harry, cuddling up against him.
Draco sighed against Harry’s skin. “It’s been a great day ... thank you.” The two boys kissed slowly and deeply. The kiss held none of the passion of earlier, but was soft and gentle, full of companionship and empathy.
“Are you tired?” Harry finally asked.
“Mmmm, just a little.” Draco looked up at the other boy. “Harry, will you read to me?” He was desperate just to listen to Harry’s voice, to soak up the sound one last time.
“Read?” Harry shrugged. “Okay, if you want. Anything in particular? Something from Advanced Potions maybe.”
“Only if you want to send me to sleep.”
His expression thoughtful, Harry glanced around the room and with a quick smile, he picked up his wand and accioed a book from a shelf down in the common room. “I think I know just the thing.” Flicking through the pages, he settled down with Draco resting against his shoulder and began to read. “T’was the night before Christmas....”
Draco grabbed at the book. “This is for children.”
Harry snatched the book back and ruffled Draco’s hair. “It’s for people who don’t believe. Now be good and listen or I’ll make you sleep in Ron’s bed.” Draco mumbled something, but settled back down again as Harry started reading once more.
“T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hope that St Nicholas soon would be there.”
-~-~-
“... He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight, ‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!’ ”
Quietly closing the book, Harry looked down at the boy sleeping in his arms. Draco had fallen asleep almost immediately, but for some reason Harry knew he needed to finish the story. Careful not to rouse Draco, he put the book onto the bedside table and pulled the covers over himself and the Slytherin.
The little clock beside Neville’s been softly chimed midnight and Harry leaned down to kiss the boy on his temple before whispering, “Merry Christmas, Draco. I love you.”
-~-~-
The charm he’d cast the previous night woke Draco at 2am and he carefully disentangled himself from Harry’s arms. A single candle illuminated the room and he quickly found his clothes. After a moment’s hesitation, he left a note he’d written earlier on the bedside table and grabbed for the cloak Harry had given him on the night of their sleigh ride. Then creeping from the room, he made his way down the spiral staircase to the common room.
By the light of the fire’s embers he quickly dressed and headed for the portrait hole.
“Draco.”
The voice was a deep and he knew immediately that it wasn’t Harry. His wand in his hand, he turned to see a figure standing beside the fireplace. The bespectacled man had a long white beard and for a moment Draco thought it was Dumbledore. “Professor?” Even as he spoke, he knew the man in red robes was not the Head Master. Almost automatically he pointed his wand. “Who are you?”
The stranger gave a jolly smile. “Don’t you know?”
“No ... I....” Draco swallowed nervously and after a moment’s hesitation, he lowered his wand. “No.” The man took a few steps towards him and Draco quickly raised the wand again.
“There now, no need for wands, Draco. You should be asleep.” The man’s voice was gentle and reminded Draco of his maternal grandfather.
“I ... I have to go. There’s somewhere I need to be.”
“Oh yes.” The stranger reached into the air and seemed to pull a piece of parchment from nowhere. “Hmmm. I see you have a meeting at three.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that where you are going?” At Draco’s silence, the man chuckled. “Well, my boy, it’s clear you’re going. Maybe my question should be are you coming back?”
Again there was nothing but a long silence and Draco watched as the man closed the distance between them. He lowered his wand as the man approached and was at a loss as to what to do. The man looked like, of all people, Father Christmas, but even Draco knew the man was a myth. When he was younger he believed but now he was an adult....
Yet here he was talking to the man dressed in red who look like he might say “ho, ho, ho” at any moment. And how could the stranger know about the note from Lucius?
“Harry is waiting for you.” The man’s voice was low as he placed a fatherly hand on Draco’s shoulder. “And it’s very cold outside.”
“I know, but this is something I need to do.”
Nodding sagely the man reached into his pocket. “Yes, it is, but remember that it is your decision. No one should force you to make choices that you cannot live with. And Draco, this is for you.” He pressed something into the boy’s hand. It was a small silver charm, similar to the one Harry had found in his Christmas pudding.
Draco stared at the little silver wishbone then back to the man. But he was alone in the common room.
-~-~-
The almost full moon hung low in the sky as Draco walked down the long drive to the Hogwarts gates. The forest and grounds looked magical under the moonlight, but he hardly noticed as his thoughts focused on the meeting that was getting closer and closer. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to run to his father or to flee from here as fast as he could.
As he approached the gates, they swung open and three black shapes stepped from under the shadows of the trees. Draco recognised his father by the way the moonlight glinted off his white-blond hair and he came to a halt still inside the school grounds.
The three men spread out with Lucius standing in the middle. They stepped to the boundary of the Hogwarts grounds but didn’t cross over. “Draco.” Lucius’ voice seemed to echo in the still night air.
Draco stopped at the gates, several feet separating him from the other people. His heart was pounding in his chest and when he spoke there was a hitch of fear in his voice. “Father. Was it a lie? Have you really changed your allegiance?”
“Leave my Master? Never. Those fools at the Ministry believe everything. They believed that I was under Imperius all those years ago and they think I’ve seen the error of my ways now.” Lucius spread his arms. “I have my freedom and their misplaced trust.”
“Then you never turned from him?”
“No. “Lucius held out his hand. “Come to me, Draco, it’s time to go home.”
Pulling his cloak tighter about him, Draco stared at the older man. His father had been his role model all his life and had taught Draco his whole belief structure ... everything from what it meant to be part of the Malfoy family to the importance of purity in the Wizarding world. He loved his father and had spent his whole life trying to emulate and please the man.
And now Draco was only three steps away from fulfilling his father’s greatest wish ... that his only son would pledge himself to the Dark Lord.
Draco took a step forward and raised his chin defiantly. “No.”
“No?” Lucius hissed. It was difficult to see his father’s expression in the moonlight, but the man’s confusion was almost palpable as he stepped angrily forward only to be halted as he reached the Hogwarts wards. Unable to pass through the wards, Lucius slashed at them with his snakehead walking stick, causing them to ripple and spark in the frigid air.
“No, father, I can’t do it ... can’t join him.”
“Do you think you owe that half-blood Potter something because you rescued him? Foolish boy. He would be dead now, as our master had planned, if you hadn’t become involved. You owe Potter nothing, Draco, nothing at all. But I will forgive your stupidity if you come with me now so we can talk about this.”
“I can’t.” Draco shifted from foot to foot. The snow under his feet was beginning to chill him and he realised he was shivering badly. “Not as long as you expect me to join...” he took a deep breath, “...Lord Voldemort.” There, he’d said it ... said the Dark Lord’s name.
“Do not disobey me, Draco. I will not have a blood traitor in this family.”
“I’m not, father. I’m a Malfoy and I will bear that name proudly for as long as I live. I haven’t changed my beliefs ... it’s just that I think there are other ways that don’t mean killing everyone. I won’t wear his Mark.”
Draco had thought long and hard about what his father’s reaction might be if he should refuse the Dark Lord. He had thought the man would be angry or overwrought, but never did he think that Lucius would look at him as if his son was the biggest disappointment of his life.
He looked at Draco for a long time. “Come with me, Draco,”
“No, father.”
The older man sighed. “Very well, if you prefer the company of a half-blood, then you are no longer a son of mine ... no longer a Malfoy. Never contact either Narcissa or myself again. You are not welcome at the Manor. They will fall, Draco -- the Dark Lord will crush them beneath his feet and you along with them.”
-~-~-
Draco stood by the gate for a long time. As he’d watched his father disappear into the darkness, a part of him expected the man to come back ... to give him a second chance. But there was no one and he was alone.
He’d thought about following, begging his father to forgive him and take him back, but he’d made his choice.
Finally, when he was too cold to stand there any longer, Draco began the long walk back to the castle.
-~-~-
The huge entrance doors opened as he touched them and he stepped quickly into the entrance hall, desperate for warmth. He paused momentarily, wondering whether to go to his room in Slytherin, but in the end headed for the staircase that would lead to the Gryffindor tower.
“Mr Malfoy.”
He recognised Professor Snape’s voice immediately and wasn’t sure he could cope with either chastisement or detention from the man. “Sir?”
“The castle wards were activated.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But you chose to come back.”
Draco gave a small nod, but wasn’t sure just what to say. Finally he straightened proudly, chin high as he tried not to let emotion take over him. “I’ve made my choice.”
The Potions Master nodded perceptively and finally reached out a hand to Draco’s shoulder. “You may talk to me in the morning if you wish, but in the meantime I suggest you get back to bed.”
-~-~-
The single candle was still flickering when Draco returned to the Gryffindor dorm. Harry seemed to be asleep and Draco couldn’t help but smile as he saw the two stockings were overflowing with sweets and gifts. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little silver wishbone, turning it over and over as he wondered about the charm’s powers. Legend had it that it should grant him a wish, but he’d never had one granted in the past, so why should this be any different?
Stripping off his cloak, he reached for the note he’d left Harry, grateful that the other boy hadn’t woken to find it. The note had explained what he was doing ... that he needed to tell his father that he wasn’t going to join Voldemort and that if he wasn’t able to return then Harry should knew that he cared for him, cared more than he’d ever thought possible.
Quickly he pushed the note into a pocket and undressed. He was carefully climbing into the bed when he realised Harry was awake and watching him. The other boy smiled sleepily.
“You came back,” Harry yawned.
“I just needed a walk.”
Green eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “I wondered. Are you back for good?”
Draco studied the other boy ... his lover ... for a long time as he wondered whether there really was a Father Christmas and if he’d gotten his wish after all. Finally he nodded. “Yes ... yes I am.”
---
Christmas Day ... 25th December 2004
For phoenix_starr ... 3635 words ... The Twelve Days of Christmas
Harry knelt beside his old school trunk, rummaging inside it. It still held things from his final year at Hogwarts ... things from before everything went rapidly downhill into bloodshed and horror ... things he couldn’t bring himself to part with even after all this time.
The trunk had seen better days of course, but what else could be expected after seven years of school use and then over five years of war. The outside was battered and scarred, while the lining inside was scuffed and splattered with long-dried spilt ink and other mysterious stains.
Not everything had survived the war. Many of his precious books had been lost a couple of years ago when he’d had to leave his lodgings without time to pack. The Death Eaters had managed to track him down and it was only a last minute warning from Severus that had gotten him out of the house before they’d arrived. He’d managed to save the trunk and his few remaining worldly possessions.
There was a large burn mark on the front, obscuring part of his name, and he touched it briefly with his fingertips. The mark had been caused by a misaimed curse, which had deflected off the trunk and caught Draco on his left calf; Draco still limped a little, especially on chilly, damp days. Harry had been holding the trunk by the handle at the time and the backlash had caught him in the small of his back. Only Draco’s quick thinking had saved them both ... not the first or last time the other man had saved his life.
Harry reached into the trunk and pulled out the item he had been looking for -- his Quidditch robes from that last year at Hogwarts. Getting back to his feet, he gave them a quick shake and studied them for a moment. While the robes might be clean, there was still a rip in one sleeve from the final match, and the Gryffindor badge on the front was hanging off a little. But aside from that, the robes were still in pretty good repair.
Stripping off Draco’s robe, he tossed it onto the bed. He’d pulled on the silver robe earlier in the hope it would cheer him up to wear something his lover had worn on his last visit nearly three weeks ago. Draco was supposed to be here celebrating Christmas with him, but as so often happened, something else got in the way. This time it was Draco’s mother, Narcissa, whom Draco had gone to visit. He’d received the owl from the other man early the previous day ... Draco doubted he’d make it back from Finland for Christmas Day after all, but hopefully he’d be there the following day ... Harry shouldn’t change his plans ... Draco was sorry.
Sorry.
He was used to Draco saying sorry. They both said it to each other so many times ... “Sorry, I’m late” ... “Sorry, I missed you” ... “Sorry, I haven’t been around” ... “Sorry, I’ve been busy”. And now, “Sorry, I’m going to miss Christmas”. Well, that was the way of life, Harry supposed.
They’d had a strange relationship since their last year at Hogwarts. Draco had given up so much that winter but he never talked about what it had cost him to walk away from his family. In the years that followed they’d fought side-by-side against Voldemort’s armies, but their relationship had suffered and they had separated, had other affairs and made up more times than either man would care to remember. But they always did make up eventually and somehow they had always been together on Christmas Eve to hang up their tatty Christmas stockings, wondering what Father Christmas might bring that year. It was typical, Harry decided, that the first Christmas since the end of the war would be the first they’d spent apart.
The last twelve months had been the worst of the war ... the bloodiest, with so many people dying. If it hadn’t been for Draco’s companionship Harry now knew that he could never have continued. More than once he’d thought about disappearing into the night and hiding himself somewhere Voldemort might never find him. But deep inside he’d always known the only way to bring an end to the war was to fulfil the prophecy ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... and five months ago, on his twenty-fourth birthday, the war had finally reached its terrible conclusion.
Harry shivered a little at the memory. All those years of watching the Wizarding world slowly fall apart around him as Voldemort had systematically worked at destroying everything that the Dark Lord thought of as an abomination to wizarding kind. Muggles, Muggle-borns, half-bloods, Squibs ... anything not considered as ‘pure’ was marked for execution.
Then just over a year earlier, on Halloween 2003, the true reason for the Dark Lord’s crusade had finally become clear. Voldemort believed he’d found something in non-pure-bloods that he could use in his quest for immortality ... something missing in his pure-blood followers. He was using what he considered to be ‘tainted blood’ in his spells and potions, and would find his victims by complex astrological and divination spells. Seamus had been one of his victims, along with Colin and Arabella Figg.
Everything had ended nine months later, on Harry’s birthday, when he and Draco had finally faced the Dark Lord one last time. Spies in Voldemort’s camp had told Dumbledore that the Order was finally running out of time. Voldemort’s diviners and seers had decided that Halloween 2004 would be the optimum time for the Dark Lord to complete his plans and that if he weren’t stopped before then it would be too late.
On his deathbed, Dumbledore had called Harry and Draco to his side and finally told the two young men that they were both part of the prophecy and that only by working together would the Dark Lord be distroyed. Harry had made a final promise to his mentor that he would stop Voldemort, but Draco had just sat in silence for a very long time, eyes hard grey slate with anger at yet another secret Dumbledore had kept from them. At first Harry had thought Draco was going to walk out, but in the end the Slytherin had made a similar promise.
It had been surprisingly easy in the end, considering the devastation that had lead up to the event. Draco had lured the Dark Lord down into the Chamber of Secrets beneath Hogwarts where Harry was waiting with a Basilisk, which Neville’s toad Trevor had hatched from a chicken’s egg. Harry had spent months training the creature to his voice and when Voldemort had looked into its eyes, he had been blinded instantly. They had then used the poison from the creature’s fangs to kill Voldemort’s body and the combined magical power of Harry and Draco had trapped what was left of Voldemort’s soul in the Basilisk. It had hurt Harry to have to kill the Basilisk, but in doing so, the Dark Lord had finally been vanquished.
He and Draco had freed the Wizarding world and now they had spent the last five months trying to put their own lives back together. Of course they weren’t the only ones, but somehow it seemed harder when thrust into the public glare. It reminded Harry of his fourth yearm when Rita Skeeter had taken such great delight in her stories about him, and of his fifth year, when the Daily Prophet had printed its lies. Even worse had been his sixth year when people finally started to panic and expected the Boy Who Lived to win against Voldemort again.
The Boy Who Lived was now the Man Who Succeeded and they wanted Harry to join the Ministry ... to open shops ... to kiss babies and shake hands with the masses ... to marry and produce heirs to the Potter name, while all Harry wanted to do was find a space for himself in this world and to work at his relationship with Draco. The fact was their relationship was one thing that hadn’t made it into the public domain. Oh, it was well known that the one-time advocacies were now friends, but not that their friendship had ever blossomed into something else, and the fact was they were both happy to keep it that way. With them both now in the public eye, to have something that belonged to just themselves, and which only their closest friends were aware of, was exactly what they wanted.
The only problem with that was that both men were fair game when it came to speculation about marriage. That was always a subject of humour between them as they perused the Daily Prophet to read who was claiming to be the current flavour of the month, because neither had ever made any secret of their sexual preference.
Harry’s magic had never been quite the same after that final battle. The attack at Hogwarts in his final year had a lasting effect on him and after that final battle with Voldemort things became worse. It was as if he’d used up most of his personal reserves of magic. And then Hermione had noticed the effect his level of magic had on his scar. On good days when his energy was high, it would be there, a red zigzag against his forehead, while on other days it would fade to a pale silver line and Harry would know not to try anything more complex than simple spells, such as lighting a candle or opening a lock.
At first he’d thought that might scare Draco away, but it soon became clear the other man cared little about what magic Harry could conjure up.
Pulling on the Quidditch robes, Harry stared at himself in the mirror. The robes still fitted, if a little short in the sleeves. He smoothed his hands over the material, fingers of his left hand catching in the Gryffindor badge. Quidditch was just about the only thing that had made his seventh year at Hogwarts bearable ... that and Draco of course. It had been Draco who had grabbed at his robes and almost torn the badge off, and a Ravenclaw, Beesley, who’d ripped the sleeve in another match. Beesley had pulled Harry from his broom and it was only Ron’s quick thinking that had saved Harry from actually hitting the ground. Later ... much later when they’d found out Beesley was a Death Eater, Ron decided the Quidditch accident hadn’t been an accident at all.
But Draco....
Harry enfolded himself in the robes, remembering the last time he’d worn them. It had been Draco’s idea, something he’d called ‘role play’. He’d wanted Harry to be the Seeker while Draco was the broom, and the memory of kneeling over Draco’s hips with his lover deep inside him as they rode each other always brought a smile to Harry’s lips.
He was sure he could still smell Draco on his robes and that idea, even if it was a fallacy after all this time, made a warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. He briefly tugged at his boxers, but decided this wasn’t a good time to indulge in his fantasies. Hermione and Ron were expecting him for Christmas dinner and even though visiting them without Draco did nothing for his mood, he knew he wouldn’t let them down. No doubt the event would be wall-to-wall Weasleys, but Harry thought he could cope.
Harry was brought back to the present with a jolt by the sound of someone knocking at his front door. Cursing softly under his breath, he tugged at his robes and strode from the bedroom, through the lounge with its huge decorated Christmas tree, to the door. With a quick wave of his hand, Harry released the wards and opened the door.
In the hallway, stood the last person he’d expected and the one person he really wanted.
“Draco?” Harry stared. Mouth half open in surprise. “But I thought ... you said....”
“I know, but I couldn’t stay away, not today.” Draco’s voice had deepened a little over the years and Harry had always thought that if dark chocolate could talk it would sound like Draco and if that voice had a taste then it would be of clover honey.
Harry wanted to say something sensible, but words failed him. Instead he reached for the other man’s shouldersand dragged him over the threshold. Then slamming the door shut, he thrust Draco against it and fell onto him.
After the three-week separation, they hung onto each other, kissing deeply and hurriedly as they dropped to the floor. Harry felt Draco’s hand push into his underwear and in response he fumbled with Draco’s trousers, desperate to get access to the warm pale skin inside. Finally managing to push the trousers down over the other man’s hips, Harry pulled Draco on top of him, fingers digging cruelly into the perfect buttocks as they pushed already hard erections against each other.
They came together laying on the hall floor, the rug beneath them becoming rucking into little peaks beneath their bodies as Draco groaning into Harry’s mouth, while Harry grabbed at the other man’s jumper, just content to hold on and not let Draco go.
As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Draco finally pushed himself up a little and looked at Harry. Grey eyes sparkled as he smiled. “Well, hello to you as well.”
-~-~-
“But you said you were going to spend today with Narcissa.”
Draco watched with rapt attention as Harry made coffee in the kitchen. They had cleaned up and he’d persuaded Harry to remain in the Quidditch robes. He’d liked Harry in his robes for as long as he could remember and they’d played a central role in their sexual games on more than one occasion. “You know what mother’s like.” Narcissa had fled to Finland the spring after Draco had refused to join Voldemort and had lived in Helsinki ever since. “It turns out she was playing matchmaker again so I told her to stop interfering and decided to come back here.”
Harry padded carefully across the lounge and put the tray down. As he did the robes fell open again, revealing Harry’s long legs and bare chest. He dropped down next to Draco close enough for their shoulders to touch. “Oh?”
Draco shrugged. “Yes. She just doesn’t seen to understand just what ‘Mother, I’m gay’ seems to mean.” He rested a hand lightly on Harry’s thigh knowing the touch would tickle and make Harry squirm ever so nicely.
Reacting exactly as Draco had hoped, Harry wriggled under the touch. “Careful, or you’ll end up with coffee in your lap.” He held out a cup of Draco’s favourite brand of coffee. “Who did she want you to marry this time?”
“A very nice girl from an old Finnish Wizarding family. I told mother I might like snow, but not quite that much.” He sipped at the cup with a “Mmmmm” of pleasure.
Harry grinned. “Well, I can’t say I’m not pleased to see you.” He frowned and put his own cup down. “I should send Hedwig to let Hermione know you’re coming after all.”
“Already done, Love.” Draco returned his cup to the table and turned slightly to face Harry. “But I told her we might be a little late.” The hand resting on Harry’s thigh crept a little further up Harry’s leg.
“I’m sure she’ll love you for that.”
“Oh, I’ll talk her round.” Draco smiled. “She loves Finnish silver and I have the most adorable ring for her.” He leaned in kissing lightly at Harry’s jaw. His lover hadn’t shaved and Harry’s skin was a little scratchy, just the way Draco liked it. Oh, he loved the smoothness of Harry freshly shaved, but if he hadn’t already shaved this morning it meant Draco would be able to carry out the task for Harry later and there was just something so sensual about removing that dark hair to reveal soft, smooth skin underneath. He especially liked shaving Harry’s legs, but that was something he would keep for a long, pleasant evening when they both knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.
And afterwards, Harry would massage Draco’s feet and paint his toenails.
The kisses deepened and Draco pushed his arms into the robe and around Harry, fingers playing lightly over the muscles of Harry’s back. When he pulled away, he could feel the heat radiating from the other man’s skin. “Why are you dressed like this?” He tugged at the edge of the red robes.
Smoothing the bottom of the robes where they had fallen across his bare knee, Harry smiled. “Well, I was looking for something to wear for the Twelfth Night Ball ... you know, on your birthday.”
“Oh yes, the whole of the Wizarding world are going to celebrate my twenty-fifth birthday.”
Harry punched him lightly on the shoulder. “We’re celebrating the end of the war!”
“That as well?” Draco shrugged magnanimously. “I’ll let them do that as well. But how do Quidditch robes fit into the equation? I thought you were going to wear those dress robes I got for you.”
“I know, but the invitation does say fancy dress on the Twelve Days of Christmas theme, so I was thinking of these.” Harry tugged at his sleeve
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is this a special Gryffindor version of Twelve Day..., ending with, ‘and a Snitch in Harry Potter’s hand’?”
“Five gold rings. You know ... the goals.”
“There are six, Harry.” Draco’s lip twitched and Harry glared at him, green eyes glinting. “Or had you forgotten?”
“Well, that is a minor problem. Would you rather I went as a ‘maid a milking’?”
This time Draco didn’t hold back as he laughed, reaching out to hug Harry hard. “That’s something I think we’ll keep for our own private delight, Harry, along with the ‘ladies dancing’.” Harry’s head dropped down onto Draco’s shoulder and he could hear him chuckle. “And the invitation says fancy dress is optional. You don’t have to wear it.”
“I know, I just thought it might be amusing ... you in your Slytherin robes and me in mine. And maybe we could make a ... well a little announcement.”
“Announcement?” He looked down to find Harry looking a little flushed in what he knew was embarrassment or worry. “Harry?”
Quickly Harry disentangled himself from Draco’s arms and crawled across to the tree where he picked up a large parcel. He held it out to Draco. “It’s ... well ... just see what you think.”
Draco loved presents and he’d joined Harry on the floor even before Harry had held the gift out to him. “Thanks.” He was aware of the tiny gift in his own pocket and the fact Harry had beaten him to the present giving. Carefully he pulled off the ribbon and paper, and opened the box. He’d expected something large, but the box was full of tissue paper and after pulling most of it out, he finally found what was inside ... a small gold key. Carefully he picked it up and, holding it out towards Harry, he raised a questioning eyebrow.
Harry was blushing again and his fingers plucked reflectively at the edge of his robes. “It’s ... well, it’s the key for the door here.” Taking a calming breath, Harry continued. “I want you to move in with me, Draco. You know, properly move in, and not just visit.” The words tumbled out. “And we don’t have to live here. We can move into your place, or get somewhere new. I just want us to be together. And I want everyone to know ... including Narcissa, and if you’re in agreement, I thought we could ... well ... announce it at the Ball.”
Draco fiddled with the key before reaching into his own pocket for the small velvet bag, which he held out to Harry. “This is for you.”
Carefully Harry took the little pouch and tugged open the drawstring. Reaching inside he pulled out the contents -- a silver ring shaped like a snake coiling around his finger. He held it out to Draco.
Quickly Draco crossed the few feet separating them and taking the ring, he reached for Harry’s hand. “I was going to ask you the same thing, Harry. I’m fed up being a guest here and you being a guest at my house. I want everyone to know how important you are in my life. I’ll wear my Quidditch robes, but only if you’ll walk in with me and dance with me and let me hold you and kiss you.”
“Yes, anything.” Harry’s finger shook as Draco pushed the ring onto his lover’s ring finger, the coiled serpent flexing to fit the finger perfectly. Draco watched as green fire danced in Harry’s eyes. “Thank you. Will you move in ... here ... now?
“What do you think, Harry?”
Harry’s smile grew. “Father Christmas left your stocking ... I guess I should have realised he’d know where you’d be today.”
“Oh yes. He’s a very wise man.” Draco reached for Harry. “Now tell me, just what time is Hermione expecting us?” Pulling Harry towards him, he leaned in and carefully kissed Harry’s scar.
-~-~-
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....
Twelve bits of Tinsel
Eleven Mistletoe kisses
Ten Nails for painting
Nine Piano concertos
Eight mugs of Butterbeer
Seven Shoulder kisses
Six strings of Popcorn
Five Nipple rings
Four Sugar Quills
Three sticks of Cinnamon
Two Weasley Jumpers
And a kitten on Draco Malfoy’s knee
--- fin
30th January 2005