1

Harry bumped into the wall and reached out to steady himself, holding it for a moment to regain his balance. It was possible he should have passed on that last drink... or four. Ministry holiday parties were generally insane, filled with too much alcohol, too much loud music, and too much obnoxious behavior.

It was with some relief that Harry had detached himself from a clingy blond woman--whose name he could not begin to recall--and went in search of the loo. The party was on the fifth level of the Ministry building this year and Merlin only knew where they kept the facilities.

After staggering away from the third dead end hallway, Harry stopped at the sound of singing. Not just singing, but incredible singing. Harry followed the sound and hovered in the doorway of a large, dimly-lit conference room.

In one corner of the room sat a piano, currently being played by Pansy Parkinson. Standing next to her--singing--was Draco Malfoy.

For a moment Harry thought he was hallucinating. Why was there a piano in the conference room? And way did Draco Malfoy's voice send shivers down his spine?

Malfoy's voice was rich and beautiful as he sang Good King Wenceslas. Harry felt the notes wash over him and felt bizarrely peaceful for the first time in a very long time. Only part of Malfoy's profile was visible, but he looked almost angelic in the muted light.

They both worked at the Ministry, but Harry seldom saw Malfoy--he worked in some obscure department--Magical Trading Standards, or some such. On this floor, Harry recalled. They had always diligently ignored each other.

Harry studied him covertly and was surprised to note that Malfoy had grown into quite a handsome adult. With an amazing voice, he added wryly to himself.

Harry slipped out of sight around the edge of the door frame when the song ended.

"King Wenceslas," Pansy commented. "Was a Hufflepuff. Or possibly a Gryffindor."

"Perhaps he was a do-gooder ancestor of Potter's."

"You said you were not going to mention Potter tonight!"

"You brought up Gryffindors," Malfoy retorted.

"Not that Gryffindor," she said. "What do you want to sing next?"

"I don't."

Well, you have to. The only time I get to hear your beautiful voice is during the holidays after you've had too much mulled cider. You are going to indulge me. Now, sing The Holly and the Ivy."

Malfoy sighed, but when the music began his baritone voice lifted once more. Outside the door, Harry listened, completely forgetting the reason he had left the party.

Harry's bladder finally drove him away from the makeshift music room and by the time he returned Malfoy and Parkinson were gone. The piano had disappeared as well, apparently Transfigured back into the podium in the corner. Harry went home and tried to suppress his disappointment.

2

The following Monday, Harry found an excuse to visit the Department of Magical Trading Standards. He refused to acknowledge the fact that it had taken him all weekend to think of that particular excuse.

Malfoy's door was open and Harry lurked in the doorway for a moment before entering. The space barely qualified as an office. It was even tinier than Arthur Weasley's old office had been. Malfoy apparently shared the closetlike space with someone else--a second desk was tucked into the back of the room while Malfoy's was closer to the door. His office mate seemed to be a slob. That portion of the room looked like a hurricane had visited. Papers were scattered everywhere.

Malfoy's half of the room was immaculate.

Malfoy noticed Harry standing in the door and made no acknowledgment of his presence other than, "McWilliams is out today."

"I'm... um... not looking for McWilliams," Harry said. "I wanted to see you."

"Me? The Chosen One is looking for me? Did I do something wrong or shall we all prepare for the Apocalypse?"

"Very funny. I'm working on a case and need to see if the suspect has violated any Magical Standards. Do you happen to have a copy of Article Seventeen?"

"Could you not have pulled it from the records room yourself?" Malfoy asked.

Harry tugged at his forelock. "Um... yeah. Actually I wanted to ask if you would like to come carolling with me this weekend. I mean us. Carolling with us."

Malfoy actually quirked a grin, which was enough to send Harry's blood sliding to places where it ought not be sliding. What the hell was wrong with him? He just wanted to hear Malfoy sing. He wasn't... attracted to him, or anything ridiculous like that.

"Have you been drinking?" Malfoy asked.

"Of course I haven't been drinking!" Harry said with a scowl.

"Hit on the head too hard last mission?" Malfoy offered mildly.

Harry began to question his wisdom in seeking out the blond. "No."

"Latent familial insanity rearing its ugly head?"

"Look, I just want you to come carolling."

"Absolutely not, Potter. Now run along. I have work to do and don't have time for your little games, whatever they might be."

"No games, Malfoy. I really want you to come." Harry tried for sincerity.

"Why?" Malfoy's voice was thick with suspicion.

Harry had prepared for Malfoy's distrust, at least. "Because I think there should be more interaction and cooperation between the Ministry departments." It had sounded very logical and almost Hermione-ish when he'd practised it in the mirror.

"Ah. You're asking on behalf of the Ministry, then?"

"Urm... no. Well... yes?" Harry was off-balance and mentally backpedalled to no avail.

"Would you mind stepping back two paces, Potter?" Malfoy asked with a shooing gesture.

Harry frowned, but immediately backed into the hallway.

The door slammed in his face. 

3

Refusing to give up so easily, Harry drafted a formal invitation and sent it to Malfoy. It was returned in several pieces with a two word note attached: Bugger off.

Next, Harry tried pulling strings. There were certain benefits to being the famous Defeater of Voldemort.

Malfoy's next note read: Thank you for the spacious private office. I will not go carolling with you even if I am subsequently downgraded to sharing a cubicle with a Weasley. Stop asking me.

Naturally, Malfoy's continued refusal only made Harry more determined. He decided the only way to wear down the Slytherin's defences was to spend more time with him. Thus began Harry's stalking of Draco Malfoy.

"Coffee, Malfoy?" Harry asked, lounging outside the blond's new office with two coffee cups. He had been waiting for Malfoy to arrive at work. Luckily the coffee was still hot. Malfoy recoiled, obviously not expecting him. "Double tall hazelnut half caff with a dash of cinnamon and heavy on the whipped cream."

"Why. Are you here?" Malfoy managed as he bypassed Harry and pushed into his office.

"Just being friendly," Harry replied and followed Malfoy inside. He set the coffee on the desk and took the guest chair as though he planned to stay a while.

"Oh yes, inter-departmental cooperation and all that, right?" Malfoy's voice sounded bitter.

"Well, yes, and your sparkling personality is a bonus." Harry smiled winningly.

A moment later Harry was covered in hot hazelnut flavoured coffee with cinnamon and whipped cream.

"OUT."

Harry decided Malfoy was not a morning person. 

4 

Harry tried again at lunchtime. He strolled into Malfoy's office and dropped a paper bag on the desk in front of the irritated-looking blond. Malfoy leaned back in his chair with a sigh and rubbed both temples with short circular motions of his fingers.

"What is it this time?" he asked.

"I thought you might like some lunch. You don't seem to leave your office much and you need to eat."

"I see. We can't have a Ministry employee fainting away from hunger, is that it?" Malfoy asked.

Harry frowned. "Well... no. I just thought you might be hungry."

"Thank you. Go away."

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"No. I plan to toss it straight into the rubbish bin the instant you leave."

Harry shrugged. "As you wish. Seems a shame to waste Cioppino from Madame Lucidora's, though. It's quite good."

With that, Harry went out, grinning. There was no way in hell Malfoy would throw that dish out. It was, apparently, his favourite. Harry had extracted the information from Pansy Parkinson the night before, along with a veritable catalogue of Malfoy's preferences. Not that it had been easy. Parkinson had demanded dinner in Tokyo, dessert in Stockholm, and dancing in Paris. Harry was exhausted and had heard enough catty gossip to last him six lifetimes.

Harry followed up lunch with a gift that he placed strategically on Malfoy's desk when the blond stepped away for a moment. The secretary sitting outside Malfoy's office was quite accommodating at letting Harry know Malfoy's every movement. It was, of course, possible that she just liked to watch the Slytherin.

She giggled from the doorway when Harry set the package on Malfoy's desk. "Ohhh, is that a bottle of wine? How romantic. Have you two been dating long?"

Harry straightened with a jolt of surprise and stared at her. "What?"

"Ohhhh, are you still in the wooing stage?" she asked in a hushed whisper. "Is he being reluctant?"

"Um... Miss Kelly..."

"Don't mind me, Auror Potter! I'll never tell! I will say that if you fancy him you should follow your heart. You would make such a lovely couple. I think you would soften his edges and he would... well, he would look beautiful on your arm, wouldn't he?" She gave a happy sigh, but before Harry could set her straight, she jerked to attention with a gasp. "Oh, he's coming! Better make yourself scarce!"

Harry fled.

5 

When Harry appeared the next morning, dutifully holding coffee once more, Malfoy glared at him.

"All right, Potter. If you agree to GO AWAY, then I will agree to go carolling with you."

Harry blinked at him in astonishment. He had not actually expected the blond to capitulate.

"However, I have some conditions. One. You will remove yourself from my office and not return. No more bringing me gifts. People are beginning to talk, no doubt egged on by that overly romantic Hufflepuff sitting out there--do stop eavesdropping, Ms. Kelly! Two. I will not go carolling with a group of your irritating Gryffindor friends. I will go with you alone. No Grangers. No Weasels. No Longbottoms. Your presence will be more than enough to tolerate."

Harry was so excited he set the cups down on the desk and eagerly nodded his acceptance of Malfoy's conditions.

The blond wasn't finished.

"Three. I will sing no more than four bloody songs and then I will go home and you will leave me alone for the rest of the year. And by that I include next year."

Harry frowned. "Ten songs. And I'll buy you a drink after."

Malfoy glared. "Four."

"Ten."

"Five songs, no drink."

"Seven songs, a drink and dinner."

Outside the office, he heard Ms. Kelly squeal.

"I cannot believe I'm bargaining with a Gryffindor."

"I was nearly sorted into Slytherin," Harry said gamely.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'll believe that about the time Mephistopheles places an order for mittens. You've been so very subtle in your stalking."

"I wasn't stalking you. I merely wanted you to come carolling."

"By stalking me. Never mind, Potter. You got your wish. My terms are dinner first at a restaurant of my choice, five carols in a neighbourhood of my choosing, and no drinks afterward."

"I'll agree to dinner, but I want six carols and you'll leave the drink option open."

"Only if you agree to stay away from me until December 31st of next year."

"Agreed, although I'm hoping you change your mind about that last condition."

"In your dreams, Potter. Now be gone. I'll keep that coffee, though."

Feeling a curious mixture of satisfaction and unease, Harry obediently left.

6 

On Saturday, Harry was a bundle of nerves. He changed his clothing eight times and finally broke down and went to Madam Maulkins for some professional assistance. He felt somewhat better about meeting the Slytherin once he was dressed in forest green robes adorned with black embroidery. Soft black trousers and a white cashmere shirt completed the outfit. A sprig of holly in one pocket added the perfect touch of holiday charm and Harry felt like a new man when he looked in the mirror.

Hopefully Malfoy would be impressed. Harry frowned at the thought, wondering why he cared what Malfoy thought. He just wanted to hear the git sing.

Regardless, Harry was twelve minutes early arriving at the restaurant where they had agreed to meet.

Harry was nudged from behind by an ungentle elbow whacking into his ribs.

"I see you used your superior Auror skills to find the place," Malfoy said snidely. Harry sighed, suddenly sensing it might be a very long night. Malfoy continued, "Never mind, we're not staying."

"What? But you agreed to dinner--!"

"It's packed and I refuse to wait, not even for Gaston's food. Come along, we'll go somewhere else." With that, Malfoy leaned closer and wrapped both arms around Harry's waist, startling a squeak from him at the intimate contact. Malfoy's breath was hot in his ear as he said, "Hold on, Potter."

Harry felt the wrench of Apparition and would have staggered if Malfoy had not been holding him so tightly. It had been a long jump. He pushed away from the blond; his nearness had a strange effect on Harry's senses. And what the hell cologne was he wearing? It was ridiculously erotic.

"Where are we?" Harry asked as Malfoy's arms fell away. The surroundings were strangely unfamiliar and the heat was almost stifling.

"Bangkok."

"Bangkok. You brought me to Thailand."

"This is the only place that can prepare a decent shabu-shabu. Come along. And don't embarrass me. At least you look decent."

7 

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Rather than becoming offended by Malfoy's pompous attitude--not only did he speak the local language like a native, but he rattled off the names of exotic dishes and forced the chef to prepare items not on the menu--Harry was amused and, quite frankly, impressed. He wondered at his own change of attitude.

It was remotely possible that instead of being an arrogant arse, Malfoy merely wanted to be better than Harry at something. Maybe it was something he had always wanted. Harry tested the theory.

"You're amazing," he said and watched as the silver eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed suspiciously. Harry grinned. "I mean it. Thank you for bringing me here."

Malfoy looked away and took a quick gulp from his glass before muttering, "You're welcome."

Harry was pleasantly full when they left the restaurant. He had avoided alcohol consumption, preferring to enjoy Malfoy's company without impairment.

"So. Where do you plan to take me carolling? Not some abandoned village, I hope?"

Malfoy cocked a brow at him. "That's a clever idea, Potter. Did Granger think of it for you?"

Harry only smiled. "Once in a blue moon I try to think for myself."

Malfoy smiled back and Harry blinked at him. The expression seemed genuine and lit up his features beautifully.

"I'll believe that when I see it. Ready?"

Harry nodded and held his breath when Malfoy stepped close again and wrapped him in another embrace. He wanted to ask why it was necessary to hold him so tightly when Apparating, but there was no time before the spell was cast.

They appeared in a quiet-looking neighbourhood lined with leaf-barren trees. Malfoy released Harry immediately, but grabbed him again when Harry took a single step and nearly fell on his arse when his feet slid out from under him, caught by a patch of ice.

"Careful, there, Potter. We don't want the Destroyer of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taken out by a simple bit of frozen water."

"You don't?" Harry asked stupidly, distracted by the feel of Malfoy's arms holding him for the third time that night. The blond righted him and then moved away once more. He ignored the question.

"Let's get this carolling business over with," Malfoy said and marched up a set of ice-slicked concrete steps to a narrow house with a red door. Harry looked around curiously, not recognizing the house or the neighbourhood.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Malfoy rang the doorbell, which was answered a few moments later by someone Harry had hoped never to see again.

"Hello, Rita," Malfoy said in a purring tone.

8

Harry was rigid with shock for a moment. Rita Skeeter's face mimicked his as she stared from one of them to the other.

"Draco Malfoy," she said, recovering more quickly than Harry. "What brings you here with… him?"

"We are carolling, dear lady. Spreading Christmas cheer and, what was it, Potter? Inter-departmental goodwill or some such rot?"

Harry did not trust himself to speak. Thankfully, Malfoy had no such problem.

"What would you like to hear? I can't vouch for Potter's voice, so you might make it simple."

"You're carolling?" she asked dubiously. Her fingers twitched and Harry knew she was dying to reach her quill and spew out some venomous story about Harry Potter singing Christmas carols with a former Death Eater. He decided to make it easy on her.

Harry stepped forward and slung an arm around Malfoy's shoulders while pasting a smile on his face. "That's right. Happy Christmas, Rita. Shall we sing Deck the Halls? I can probably manage that one."

He felt Malfoy stiffen and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at finally surprising the blond. It was short-lived when Malfoy wrapped his arm around Harry's waist and pulled him closer. "Fabulous idea, Harry," he said.

Before Harry could comment, Malfoy began to sing. His amazing voice left Harry speechless for the first line, but a nudge made him join in the chorus. "Fa la la la la, la la la la!"

Rita stared at them as though hit with a Stunner. Harry thought they sounded surprisingly good together. His voice was slightly deeper than Malfoy's rich baritone and the song was simple enough that Harry managed not to screw it up.

When the last note died away, Rita clapped her hands like a child. Her face was alight and she looked like a human being instead of the newsgrubbing beetle Harry had always viewed.

"That was wonderful!" she cried. "Another!"

Malfoy shook his head. His arm was still clasped loosely around Harry's waist and Harry's arm still draped over Malfoy's shoulders.

"Sorry, dear lady, this is a limited engagement. We have others to gift with our brilliance. "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas!" she replied with something resembling a giggle.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said, feeling magnanimous in the warm afterglow of Malfoy's voice. 

9

Malfoy Apparated them away. They appeared before a single cottage that sat atop a rocky bluff.

"You didn't tell me you have a decent voice, Potter," Malfoy said in a teasing tone.

To Harry's disappointment, his arm fell away as he trudged up the gravel path.

"Yeah, well, it will never compare to yours."

Malfoy stopped and turned to look at him with an almost boyish grin. "You like my voice?"

Harry nearly laughed. With all that he had done recently just to hear that voice again? Still, Malfoy didn't know that.

"Maybe. I'll tell you when we're finished. Where are we?"

"Goyle's," Malfoy said and knocked.

Goyle. Harry groaned. Better and better. Malfoy was obviously trying to kill him.

The door opened and Goyle's bulk blocked most of the light from the fireplace behind him.

"Draco," he said pleasantly and then frowned when he caught sight of Harry. His voice turned cold. "What's up?"

"Potter and I are carolling."

"Carolling," Goyle repeated.

"Yes. What Christmas song would you like to hear?"

"You don't sing for no one but Pansy."

"I do now," Malfoy said sharply.

Goyle scowled and then sighed. "Jingle bells."

Harry groaned inwardly and reluctantly joined in when Malfoy began to sing Harry's least favorite Christmas song.

Goyle watched them expressionlessly, not even joining in on the chorus. Harry wondered if the man had cracked a smile in the past decade, except possibly while watching small animals being tormented.

When the final notes of the song died away, Malfoy looped an arm around Harry's neck and said casually, "By the way, Greg, Harry is my boyfriend now."

Harry scowled and made a sound of protest, but his voice was muffled by Malfoy's arm strategically covering his mouth. Goyle rolled his eyes.

"There's a fucking surprise," he muttered. "Bye, Draco. Potter."

He stepped back inside and shut the door with finality. Harry's fist caught Malfoy in the midsection, but the blond did not seem to feel it—he was laughing, but he released Harry, who stepped away with a glare.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Amusing myself. Oh lighten up, Potter. You know it will be all over the news tomorrow, thanks to our visit to Rita."

"You're evil."

Malfoy sobered and then sighed. "Don't worry, I'll deny everything. You won't need to worry about sullying your pristine image."

With that he reached out and snatched Harry's wrist before Apparating them away. 

10 

"You don't always have to be such a prat, you know," Harry said and snatched his arm away. He looked around curiously. They were in an older part of London that looked similar to Grimmauld Place. The houses were tall and thin, built mainly of brick and old stone.

"According to you, I'm always a prat."

"How would you know? This is the first time we've spent more than a few angry minutes in each other's company."

Malfoy only rolled his eyes.

"Where are we?" Harry snapped, annoyed that they had slipped back into the old familiar pattern of sniping at each other. Were they to be forever destined to induce pain?

"Kingsley's house."

"Kingsley? You know where Kingsley lives?" Harry was nearly flabbergasted. He didn't know where the Minister lived. How the hell did Malfoy?

"Honestly, Potter. I thought you would have been invited to weekly Sunday dinners, being the Chief Poster Child for Good, Righteousness, and the Ministry Way."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said, giving vent to his frustration. He slammed open the wrought iron gate and was further irritated when it slid open soundlessly instead of scraping open with a horrific shriek common to most rusty iron gates He stalked up the concrete path.

Kingsley's wife answered the door and immediately gushed over Harry, practically giving credence to Malfoy's words. Harry refused to look at the blond, not in the mood to see the familiar smirk adorning his perfect lips.

Mrs Shacklebolt hurried to fetch Kingsley, who stood in the door looking imposing and unimpressed. "Do I want to know why you two are here… together?" he asked. "Because I think any complaints can wait until business hours, yes?"

"We're not here to complain, we're just carolling. For Christmas," Harry said lamely.

Kingsley said nothing.

"Singing?" Malfoy prodded. "Sounds issuing from the diaphragm, through the larynx, past the tongue and lips in a pleasing fashion? You understand? Music?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Kingsley said.

Harry absently wondered how many times a day the blond heard those words. A lot, he wagered.

11

"Well, I think it's just lovely!" cried Mrs Shacklebolt. "Do you know Silver Bells?"

Malfoy raised a brow at Harry, who nodded curtly. They launched into the song and, despite his annoyance, Harry felt the powerful spell of Draco's voice easing his tension. It even seemed to have something of a magical effect on Kingsley, who allowed his wife to snuggle beneath his arm and curl against him happily. The Minister looked almost bemused as he watched them.

"Happy Christmas, Minister. Mrs Minister," Malfoy said cheerfully when they had finished. She giggled.

"If you two start fighting, leave me out of it," Kingsley warned.

"Posh, we're getting along swimmingly tonight, aren't we, Potter?" Malfoy looped an arm around Harry's neck and patted his cheek with the other hand. Harry wondered what hex he could use that Kingsley wouldn't notice.

"Goodnight, Malfoy. Potter."

"'Night, Minister, Mrs Shacklebolt," Harry managed even though Malfoy's arm threatened to cut off his air supply. The Minister's wife gushed happily at them, but finally Kingsley was able to pull her inside and shut the door on them.

Harry shook off Draco's strangling arm. "Okay, I understand Rita Skeeter and Goyle, because you hate me. But why Kingsley?"

"He's our boss, Potter. Of course we need to visit him. Can you imagine his hurt and chagrin if Rita Skeeter told him we had gone carolling at her house, but not his? He would have been crushed."

Harry sighed heavily and spun on a heel to stalk back down the path. He was starting to realize this whole evening had been a very bad idea.

"Where are you going, Potter?" Malfoy called. "Do you plan to walk to our next destination?"

Harry stopped and glowered at the blond when he stepped up beside him. "So far our destinations have left much to be desired."

Malfoy laughed. "You should have known I wouldn't play nice, Potter. Your alleged Slytherin streak is hopelessly overwhelmed by Gryffindor." He sighed. "Come on, I promise you won't be upset about our next stop."

Harry slid a sidelong gaze at him, suspicious, but he allowed Malfoy to grasp his wrist once more even while absently wondering what had happened to the close embraces. Had that been part of a game? 

12

For once, Harry recognized the house when they appeared before it. He stared at Malfoy in surprise, but the Slytherin was already ringing the bell. Christmassy chimes sounded from inside the small house.

The door banged open and a small boy let out a squeal of delight. "Cousin Draco!!!" He launched himself into Malfoy's arms and Harry's jaw dropped. It took a smirk from Malfoy to get him to close his mouth with a snap.

Andromeda Tonks appeared behind her grandson and smiled at Malfoy. "Hello, Draco!"

"Good evening, Auntie Drommie. I'm sure you know Harry Potter."

She stepped out and took Harry's hands. "Of course I know Teddy's godfather. Come in out of the cold, both of you."

"Perhaps for a moment," Malfoy said and allowed Teddy to drag him indoors. He smirked at Harry, who wondered what he was up to, but followed, glad to see Teddy and Andromeda.

"What brings you all the way out here?" Andromeda asked as she moved toward a table where a silver teapot rested next to a grouping of sturdy-looking cups.

"Harry and I are carolling," Malfoy explained.

Andromeda paused with the teapot in mid-pour. "Carolling?"

"We've been getting that reaction all night," Harry explained and gratefully stripped off his outer robes. Teddy flung himself at Harry's midsection and squeezed hard.

"Did you bring me presents?" he demanded.

"Teddy, I brought your presents last week. They are already under the tree."

Teddy pouted. "I want more."

"Teddy," Andromeda admonished. "Any more of that behaviour and I'll be sending your gifts straight back to Harry!"

Teddy looked sheepish and his formerly green hair darkened to brown. "I'm sorry," he said. "You don't have to get me any presents, Harry."

"We're here to sing to you tonight, Teddy," Malfoy said. "What Christmas song would you like to hear?"

"Jingle Bells!" Teddy shrieked and bounced up and down.

"Oh Godric, please no," Harry said with a groan.

Teddy frowned at him. "You're not very Christmassy spirited, Harry," he said reprovingly, leaving his side and clinging to Malfoy.

"Frosty the Snowman?" Andromeda suggested.

"Frosty the Snowman?" Malfoy looked at Harry in puzzlement; apparently Frosty was not part of the pureblood repertoire. He smiled and launched into the song. Malfoy quickly picked up the chorus. He also made up several ridiculous verses and soon had Teddy giggling madly.

Even Harry was smiling when they finished. He looked at Malfoy through new eyes, never having seen such a playful, relaxed side to him.

"And the children cried when the snowman died…" Malfoy sang and Teddy clutched at his stomach with laughter.

"That's not how it goes!" the boy cried happily.

"Well, it melts, right?"

Teddy nodded and giggled.

"A snowman would be a terrible friend," Malfoy explained, holding the boy close and kneeling down to his level. "You could never sit on your bed with him and sort Bertie Bott's Beans. And can you imagine him playing Quidditch? He would roll right off the broom!"

Harry thought Teddy might injure himself laughing. Andromeda sighed.

"Draco, thank you so much for stirring him up. He will be awake until midnight."

Malfoy grinned. "My pleasure, Aunt Drommie."

"Drommie," Teddy repeated and snickered.

"I believe it's time for small boys to be in bed," she said sharply. Teddy sobered instantly.

"I'm sorry. I'll be good."

"We need to go, anyway, Teddy, love," said Malfoy.

"Awwwww!"

"Give us a hug."

Teddy flung his arms around Malfoy's neck and squeezed hard. Harry felt a pang on his heartstrings. Teddy let go and ran to give him the same treatment. He held his godson tightly for a moment.

Malfoy hugged Andromeda and kissed her cheek. "Happy Christmas, Auntie."

"Happy Christmas, Draco." She released him and leaned over Teddy to hug Harry. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

He held her closely and Teddy squirmed away. "Harry, hug Cousin Draco, too," he said.

"What?" Harry asked.

Andromeda let go and smiled at her grandson. "Teddy."

"Hug, hug, hug!" Teddy demanded.

"Yes, your majesty," Malfoy said and took two quick steps to envelop Harry in a hard embrace. Harry froze for a moment and then determinedly gripped the blond tightly.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Malfoy said huskily and his warm breath tickled Harry's ear.

"Happy Christmas," Harry repeated and let his lips brush against Malfoy's neck with a flash of wickedness. If the blond wanted to play games, Harry would castle his rook and give it his all. 

13 

They held each other for much longer than seemed prudent, until Andromeda cleared her throat and said, "Stop trying to crush each other and be off with you two. It's Teddy's bedtime."

Harry reluctantly let go and Malfoy grinned at him. The blond gathered his outerwear and Harry shrugged into his winter robes once more. After bidding goodnight to Andromeda and Teddy, they made their way back into the cold. The instant the door shut behind them, Malfoy turned and gathered Harry into another embrace, surprising him into immobility.

"Only two more, Potter," he said and then Disapparated them both.

They appeared in deep snow and Harry noted absently that fluffy snowflakes were falling steadily. It was somewhat hard to concentrate with Malfoy holding him so closely. He tipped his head back to find Malfoy studying him and Harry watched with interest as snow began to gather atop the platinum hair.

His glasses quickly became dotted with melting snow, blurring his vision. Malfoy released him and reached up with both hands to remove his glasses. Harry watched, feeling strangely tongue-tied, as the blond cast a spell and then replaced Harry's glasses.

"There. Impervious to the elements. For an Auror, you seem to know very few practical spells. I'm beginning to think you need a keeper."

"Are you volunteering?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself. He felt a blush tint his cheeks.

Malfoy studied him until Harry thought about casting a spell that would allow the ground to open up and swallow him, but then a smile curved Malfoy's fascinating lips. "I might consider it," he said in a low voice that caused something warm and unfamiliar to uncurl somewhere around Harry's midsection.

"Where are we?" Harry asked to drag himself back to more familiar territory. What the hell was he doing? Flirting with Malfoy?

The blond stepped away and started up the snow-covered path. "You'll see," he said enigmatically.

Harry sighed, knowing from the glee in Malfoy's voice that he wouldn't like the answer. He trailed the blond as slowly as possible, but Malfoy patiently waited for Harry to join him on the portico before ringing the bell.

Harry braced himself, but the door seemingly opened of its own volition.

Malfoy said, "Please announce us, Tombo."

It wasn't until the diminutive figure shuffled away that Harry noticed it was a house-elf. He mentally groaned. Great, they were at a pureblood's house.

14 

A pale face appeared at the door and Harry nearly sighed in relief. He had not been consciously expecting a former Death Eater with a grudge, but it had been a possibility. Then again, Pansy Parkinson probably fit into that category.

"Draco. What a pleasant surprise." Her eyes flicked to Harry and she cocked a brow. "And Potter, too. How interesting. Are you here for a threesome?"

"In your dreams, darling. Actually, Potter talked me into carolling and I knew you would be terribly perturbed if we neglected you."

"Carolling?"

"Yes."

"But you refuse to sing unless you're completely pissed."

"Things change," Malfoy said mildly.

"Things change," Parkinson mocked. "What did you offer him, Potter?"

Harry blinked at her, not quite sure how to answer. Had he offered anything to Malfoy? Nothing other than to be left alone for a year. Harry frowned, recalling that promise.

"Don't bully the Saviour, Pans. We're here to sing and nothing more. What song do you want? And do invite us in out of the cold, won't you?"

She pouted. "Oh all right. Come inside."

Harry felt like he entered the lair of a hungry Siberian tiger by the way Parkinson's eyes measured him. Once wrong move and he would be eviscerated.

"Would you like a drink, Draco, darling?" She paused and asked, "Potter?"

"No, thank you," Malfoy replied. "We are only staying for one song. Choose wisely."

She looped her arm through one of Malfoy's and leaned close to him, pressing her generous breasts into his forearm. Harry felt his jaw muscles clench. For some reason he wanted to snatch her away from Malfoy. She seemed like a malignant tumour that might poison the pristine blond.

"Such a venomous glare, Potter," Parkinson commented in a purring tone. "One might think you were jealous."

"Pansy. Stop baiting Potter or we will leave right now."

"Oh all right. You know what I want."

Malfoy smiled. "Very well. Go sit down so that you may properly bask in our brilliance. Come here, Potter."

Parkinson released Malfoy and flounced to the couch. Harry stepped closer to Malfoy.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…" Malfoy sang.

Harry quickly joined in, although he was shocked at her choice of such a simple, pleasant song. Her entire demeanour seemed to change. She leaned back into the sofa cushions with a delighted smile. Harry pitched his voice to contrast nicely with Malfoy's, pleased anew with their sound.

When the last notes died away, Parkinson sat forward and laughed. "Brilliant! Draco, you sound even better with Potter! Imagine."

15

Harry flushed and Malfoy laughed. Harry was relieved when the blond moved toward the front door, thankfully intending to leave instead of hanging about exchanging Harry Potter insults with Parkinson all evening. Harry followed, more than happy to leave the abode of the dark-haired witch. They had reached the foyer when Parkinson cleared her throat sharply.

"Draco, darling," she said in a decidedly amused tone. Malfoy turned and Harry looked at her curiously. She grinned wickedly and pointed above their heads.

Harry's gaze moved upward and his jaw dropped when he beheld a gigantic swag of mistletoe bedecked with twinkle lights and magical glitter. Surely she didn't mean…?

"Don't be prudish, Potter," she said, confirming his suspicions. "Let's have it."

Harry closed his jaw with effort and then his eyes met Malfoy's. The blond watched him with a half-smirk; his grey eyes were dark and seemed to glow with challenge.

Harry swallowed hard and wondered if he had been set up. It was more than likely. Bloody Slytherins.

Even as the thought flitted through his mind, the light seemed to fade from Malfoy's eyes and his face began to shift back into a familiar cold mask. Harry's heart lurched and he stepped forward resolutely. He knew he was being tested, but by hell he hated to see the Ice Prince returning. He was growing rather fond of the softer, more relaxed Malfoy he had glimpsed many times in the past few hours.

Harry reached up with both hands and cupped Malfoy's face, wondering at the stubble-free smoothness beneath his palms. Malfoy's platinum eyes widened at the touch, but he did not pull away when Harry leaned forward.

Harry's lips brushed Malfoy's as lightly as a snowflake, half-expecting the blond to jerk away and hex him, or laugh, which might have been worse. When that did not happen, Harry pressed a bit harder, pushing his lips against Malfoy's. Their breath mingled, expelled through noses that just touched. The scent flooded Harry's senses and he drank in that which had been previously forbidden—the unique smell and flavour of Malfoy.

Emboldened, Harry opened his lips gently, allowing the more sensitive part of his lower lip to slide against Malfoy's, leaving a wet tease in its wake. In the same motion he drew in Malfoy's upper lip with light suction.

Incredibly, Malfoy's lips parted. The motion seemed to open floodgates of heretofore unacknowledged desire. Malfoy's teeth grazed his lower lip and then their tongues met. Harry heard a groaning whimper and thought it might have issued from his own throat. His tongue slid over Malfoy's, sending tingles of brilliance careening through his blood. He was seized with the need to explore every iota of Malfoy's excellent tongue even as it lapped over sensitive places Harry had never discovered.

It had been a long time since Harry had kissed anyone, but it was far more than pent-up emotion. Malfoy was an incredible kisser.

The need for air forced Harry to stop plundering Malfoy's brilliant mouth. His hands were still tightly holding Malfoy's face. Harry panted as he stared into Malfoy's eyes, half-lidded and slightly dazed-looking. His lips were wet from Harry's saliva.

I kissed Draco Malfoy, Harry thought in bemusement. He noted absently that Malfoy's hands were curled tightly in the material of his robes, one on either side of his waist, as if holding on for balance. Malfoy blinked slowly and Harry thought he needed to be kissed again, in order to maintain the amazing expression on his face—it looked like a cross between wonder and confusion.

"Bloody hell, Potter," a voice said suddenly and Harry jerked his head away from its intended trajectory. He had completely forgotten Pansy Parkinson's presence. "So much for prudish. Damn me, I need a cold shower." She conjured a lace-trimmed fan and rapidly swished it in the air as if cooling herself.

Malfoy's hands loosened from Harry's robes and Harry quickly let go of his face, although he could not stop his fingers from tracing the edges of Malfoy's jaw on the way. He forced himself to step back, but could not come up with a single word of explanation.

"Shall…?" Malfoy's voice was rough and he coughed once before starting again. "Shall we go, Potter?"

Harry nodded and walked quickly to the door, suddenly terrified of the coming aftermath of… that. Whatever that had been.

Harry went outside without bothering to acknowledge Parkinson. At the moment, rudeness was the least of his concerns. The icy air was a welcome coolness on his overheated skin. Harry tipped his face to the sky and felt the snowflakes touch his face.

"You all right, Potter?" Malfoy asked beside him. Harry shut his eyes and wondered how Malfoy could move so silently on the ice-covered walk.

"Never better," Harry said flippantly without lowering his head or opening his eyes. "One more stop, then?"

"Yes," Malfoy said quietly. "Ready?"

Harry stopped allowing snow to accumulate on his upturned face and nodded. He felt a strong hand reach out and grip his elbow. Back to that then, eh? he thought and mourned the loss of the Apparition embraces even as he was swept away to the next location of Malfoy's choosing.

16

They appeared on a silent street populated with tall buildings that seemed to have been smashed together during construction. Each one had a miniscule front lot with a white picket fence enclosure. Harry pictured identical, perfectly manicured gardens in the summertime, but right now they all contained identical, perfectly shapeless masses of snow. Dim streetlights vainly struggled to provide illumination beneath the overhanging branches of leafless trees heavy with snow, but instead only showed off thick flakes that fell ceaselessly from the sky.

"Where are we?" Harry asked as Malfoy moved away through the snow, leaving a path as his dark robes dragged over the whiteness.

"You'll see."

Harry sighed and followed, slightly depressed at knowing this to be their last stop. He was reluctant to end the evening. A drink afterward had been a potential part of their deal, but he seriously doubted Malfoy was in the mood to accompany him to a pub.

The blond opened the door and stood in the darkened doorway. "Potter?"

"I'm coming," Harry said and walked through the collected snow. He felt it cling to his trouser legs and chill his calves. He stomped his feet after ascending the steps, trying to shake off as much of the whiteness as possible.

Malfoy sighed heavily and cast a spell that cleaned and dried Harry's clothing immediately. Harry bit back a comment regarding needing a keeper, since Malfoy had refused to volunteer for the job. Harry tried to stamp down his disappointment over the reminder.

In the narrow foyer, lights came on as soon as the door closed. As Harry watched in amazement, the place expanded until they stood in a mansion-sized entry, complete with a crystal chandelier overhead. Magic was a magnificent thing.

Malfoy took off his outer robes and slung them on a nearby coat tree before heading for the curving marble stairs. "Come along, Potter. Someone is definitely overdue for a Christmas carol."

Harry took off his own robes with a moue of displeasure. Who had Malfoy dragged him to see, now? Someone bedridden? It had to be someone close to Malfoy, or he would not have had such ready access to the house.

Please don't let it be Blaise Zabini, Harry thought. 

17 

Harry followed Malfoy up the marble stairs. His footsteps were muffled by the thick, chocolate coloured carpet. Malfoy bypassed a number of closed doors and halted in a darkened doorway. A quick wave of his wand lit several wall sconces to reveal a wall covered with portraits and photographs.

Curious, Harry stopped next to him and tracked Malfoy's gaze to a portrait in a heavy frame.

"Happy Christmas, Severus," Malfoy said in a singsong voice.

Snape looked up from his chair and calmly turned a page in the book he had been reading. He sneered.

"Is it Christmas again, already?"

"You know it is and it is also time for the annual Christmas carolling. And look! This year Harry Potter is here to help me. I'm sure you remember Harry?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I had hoped he was a figment of my imagination."

Malfoy laughed. "You are amusing, Severus. Harry, Severus particularly enjoys the Twelve Days of Christmas. Shall we? On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…"

Harry joined in, feeling more than a little foolish singing to a portrait and vaguely wondering if Malfoy had imbibed something at Parkinson's without his knowledge. Snape's expression grew more and more sour. To his credit, he made it as far as six geese a laying before leaping to his feet and flinging aside the book.

"Enough!" Snape bellowed. "I am going to Hogwarts. Even listening to the doddering fool prattle on about Christmases past is better than suffering this torment." With that, Snape marched out of the portrait.

Malfoy erupted into peals of laughter, bracing his hand against the wall and nearly leaning his head against the empty portrait frame. He laughed so long and hard that Harry felt the corners of his lips turning up.

"Oh, Potter, that was brilliant. Every year I torment him in revenge for giving me this bloody portrait as a Christmas gift. He gave them to all the Slytherins in my fifth year. Can you imagine?"

Harry wrinkled his nose in sympathy. "I'm glad McGonagall did not do the same."

Malfoy laughed again and Harry grinned and then sighed, realizing the evening was nearly over. Suppressing the dismal knowledge that he wasn't ready for it to end, he turned and made his way back to the stairs before walking down to the entrance hall. When he took in the stylish décor, Malfoy's words finally sank in. Snape had given him the portrait. It was his house. Malfoy's house.

18 

Harry stopped short. "This is your house?" He should not have been so surprised, but he had always assumed Malfoy to still be living with his parents at the Malfoy ancestral home.

Malfoy halted next to him and smirked. "Indeed, Potter."

"It's nice."

"You expected flames and pitchfork-wielding demons?"

"I expected more green," Harry admitted. The colour scheme in the entry hall consisted of chocolate, amber, and muted splashes of burgundy.

"I saved that for the bedroom."

Suppressing a sudden flare of interest at the thought of seeing Malfoy's bedroom, as well as fighting a rush of even stronger interest at simply hearing Malfoy's voice say the word bedroom, Harry glanced upward at the sparkling crystal chandelier.

"No mistletoe," he commented stupidly.

"Are you sorry?" Malfoy asked in a quiet tone and he suddenly seemed to be standing too close. His nearness was almost stifling, or perhaps the heat in Harry's cheeks only made it seem so.

"Yes," he blurted.

He heard Malfoy's intake of breath and then strong fingers were touching his face and lips were greedily seeking his. Harry surrendered with a blissful sigh and waited for the inner voice to start screaming, demanding to know what he was doing snogging Draco Malfoy without benefit of mistletoe or rationality. That voice never surfaced, apparently smothered by the one that chanted, brilliant, simply wonderfully awesomely brilliant.

They kissed until Harry was gasping for breath. His hands tightly gripped Malfoy's shoulders and he tried to loosen them before he left bruises. He noted dimly that Malfoy's breathing sounded just as uneven. Malfoy's hands were curled in his hair at the back of his head, lightly stroking with his thumbs. His lips left Harry's only to press against the side of his neck just beneath his left ear.

"Stay for a drink?" Malfoy murmured.

Drink, yes, fabulous idea. Then he could blame this insanity on alcohol consumption.

He allowed Malfoy to take his hand and lead him through an archway at the back of the hall. Despite the fog clouding Harry's brain, he took in the new room appreciatively. A huge stone fireplace demanded notice from the rear wall and a low fire flickered in the grate. Harry's attention was captured by the large Christmas tree that dominated one corner. It had been completely decorated in silver and white, bedecked with white fairy lights and glittering tinsel. A scattering of presents lay beneath it and their bright colours contrasted warmly with the icy beauty of the tree.

Malfoy gestured to a pale leather sofa and Harry sat down, feeling slightly self-conscious as Malfoy made his way to a nearby sideboard and began to pour drinks. "Firewhiskey all right, or do you prefer something more festive? Eggnog, perhaps?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I can't abide the stuff. Firewhiskey is fine."

Malfoy brought him a heavy crystal glass filled with dark liquid and a handful of ice cubes. Harry took a grateful sip and relished the burn that worked its way down his throat. Malfoy sat next to him, not touching, but close enough to lean in to.

Harry nervously clenched his fingers around the glass. He didn't want to drink too much, despite his earlier rationalization. He tried to think of something to say, but his mind kept tracking over the kiss and he could barely concentrate on not spilling his drink.

Long fingers finally reached over and took the sweating glass from his hands. Malfoy leaned forward and set both glasses on the low tea table before leaning back and gazing at Harry with a soft expression.

"You look terribly warm in those robes, Potter. Would you like me to help you out of them?" Without waiting for a response, Malfoy's hands reached out and began to unbutton Harry's outer robes, exposing the white cashmere beneath. Harry was uncomfortably warm so the cooling effect felt lovely, even with the renewed heat caused by the intimate gesture.

He blushed furiously when Malfoy's hands reached the buttons over his lap, but thankfully sheer terror was keeping his erection at bay. He had been half-hard during their snogging session in the entry. When the last button was free, Harry shrugged out of the material and watched with interest as Malfoy's fingers moved to unfasten his own robes. Harry would have liked to help, but he could not seem to locate his Gryffindor courage.

Malfoy stood and let the robes fall before he reached down and slung the fabric across the arm of the sofa. He sat down once more and immediately reached out and touched Harry's jaw with one hand. The knuckles of his other hand grazed lightly over the cashmere that covered Harry's chest, following his breastbone down to a point just above his navel and back up again.

The fingers on Harry's jaw tugged lightly, urging him forward. His eyes fluttered closed as he capitulated. He knew he was being seven kinds of a fool for allowing this to continue, but he could not seem to get enough of Malfoy. His mild attraction had grown throughout the evening, but their first kiss had been like a bludgeon, forcing him to admit that he wanted Draco Malfoy. He wanted him quite badly.

19

Their lips met and Malfoy was surprisingly gentle, teasing and tasting Harry's mouth, urging his lips to part. The gentleness did nothing to ease the torrent of white-hot need that tore through Harry's blood, sending his pulse skyrocketing. He was focused so intently on Malfoy's mouth drawing unexpected responses from him that he nearly didn't notice the knuckles still sliding over his torso, until they moved lower, and lower still…

Harry broke away in near-panic and stared at Malfoy through wide eyes. The back of Malfoy's hand had slid over Harry's waistband and stopped excruciatingly close to something hard and throbbing. Harry was not quite sure he was ready to cross that line—he didn't even know Malfoy's motive.

"What are we doing?" he asked hoarsely, hating to destroy the moment with words, but hating the thought of being used even more. Was Malfoy planning to set him up for a hard fall?

"I thought it was obvious," Malfoy purred.

"I know that, but why?"

"Why? It is necessary to ask why?"

Harry stiffened slightly. "You know it is."

Malfoy sighed and his gaze refused to meet Harry's. One hand softly played over his neck, sending tendrils of flame on wayward paths, keeping the fire burning in the pit of Harry's abdomen. "I plan to send Rita an owl tonight. I'll buy her off so she won't print anything about you. And Goyle will keep his mouth shut. Pansy… well, no one ever believes her, anyway. She's a notorious gossip. Your virtue is safe, Potter."

Harry frowned at the almost bitter tone of Malfoy's voice. The fingers of his other hand had lifted and they played with the edges of Harry's waistband, tickling first one way and then the other, back and forth. Harry struggled to find words.

Malfoy's silver eyes locked with his suddenly, filled with intensity. He leaned forward and planted a hungry kiss on Harry's lips before pulling away only to slide his cheek against Harry's, pressing closer until Harry could feel hot breath panting against his ear.

"I want you so much, Harry. I don't mind being your dirty little secret."

The words shocked Harry into near immobility. He pulled away sharply and glared at the blond, who watched him with a guarded expression. Harry could practically see him drawing into himself, visibly expecting rejection.

"Hey," Harry said, softening his gaze and reaching up to grasp the fine features of Malfoy's face, cupping it in both hands as if gentling a scared child. "Hey."

Confusion clouded Malfoy's grey eyes, but Harry brushed a thumb over his lip, silencing him.

"I don't want you to be my dirty little secret," he said quietly. "I don't want you to be a secret, at all. I know it won't be easy and my friends will likely freak out and the press will have a field day and your friends… well, your friends don't seem to bat an eye… but what about your parents? Are you willing to put up with the reporters and the Howlers and the drama that will result from being seen as my…"

Malfoy swallowed hard. "Your what, Harry?"

"My… well, my…my… Mine," he said with finality.

"Yours?"

"Will you be mine, Draco? Will you let me be yours?"

As he said the words, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Malfoy's lightly, questing, hoping for a positive response.

Malfoy jerked back, pulling away from Harry's hands to stare at him through wide eyes. Not quite the response Harry was hoping for.

"Are you telling me you want a… a…. a…?"

"Relationship?" Harry supplied helpfully.

"A relationship," Malfoy finished. "With me?"

Harry grinned and nodded before gamely putting his hands back on Malfoy's face and leaning in again, pressing him against the arm of the sofa and likely crushing the expensive fabric of Malfoy's robes.

"Yes. I want a relationship with you." His fingers quested over Malfoy's cheeks, temples, and jaw.

"When did you come up with this momentous idea, Potter?"

"When I kissed you at Pansy's," Harry said and pressed feather light kisses against Malfoy's lips.

"Bloody Gryffindor," Malfoy muttered, but Harry felt him relax slightly. "It's completely ridiculous."

"I want to buy you Christmas presents and birthday presents and anniversary presents," Harry added breathlessly between kisses.

"Are you trying to bribe me, now?"

"Is it working?" Harry asked hopefully.

"It might be."

Harry laughed. 

20 

Before Malfoy could think of any more reasons to protest, Harry decided to curtail the speaking altogether by locking his lips over Malfoy's once more.

Malfoy did not push him away. Instead his hands slid around to Harry's back and began their caressing motions once more, this time travelling up and down Harry's spine. It nearly distracted him from the incredible movements of Malfoy's tongue playing against his own, stroking deliciously until Harry thought he might combust from within.

He allowed his own hands to move over Malfoy, first touching shoulders and arms, and then sliding lower to caress pectorals and ribs. It wasn't enough. Even the thin silk of Malfoy's shirt was a maddening barrier. Harry stopped kissing long enough to tug lightly at the shirt, loosening it from the waistband even as his eyes silently asked permission. His breath caught at Malfoy's nod, and the he pulled the material free. He continued the motion, dragging it up and over Malfoy's head. He let the shirt float to the ground, forgotten, as his eyes drank in the newly bared flesh.

Malfoy's hands were limp, resting on either side of his platinum hair in a pose of casual relaxation, but Harry read tension in every line of his body. Harry smiled encouragingly and reached out to take both wrists gently in hand. He traced light circles over Malfoy's pulse points with his thumbs for a few moments and then drew his thumbs down over Malfoy's smooth forearms, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. He was vaguely gratified to note no sign of a Dark Mark and gave brief thanks that Malfoy had been spared that, at least. Harry had killed Voldemort in time to prevent marring his beautiful skin.

Harry's fingers traced over the velvety soft flesh where Malfoy's arms bent, earning an intake of breath, and then he continued the movement down over taut chest muscles. His questing fingers ghosted over Malfoy's nipples and then touched them again, feeling the stiff nubs with a rush of adrenaline. He could scarcely believe the blond was allowing him to touch…

"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy asked, but his voice had an uneven quality Harry had never heard before.

"Touching every bit of you that I can," Harry replied.

Malfoy looked at him with a guarded expression. "No one… No one ever did that before."

"Hmmm, well I have two words to describe them," Harry said. At Malfoy's puzzled look, Harry continued, "Fucking idiots."

That earned him a smile that warmed him even more than the feel of Malfoy's skin under his palms. He left off playing with Malfoy's nipples, although the slight quiver that rippled through the blond made him want to keep doing so, possibly for hours. Instead he splayed his hands over Malfoy's abdomen while shifting slightly, drawing his legs up until he sat with his thighs cradling Malfoy's arse, and both of Malfoy's legs spread on either side of his hips. If he dared to shift forward a bit, their erections would be touching—and Malfoy definitely had one of those, thankfully straining against his trousers, seemingly as hard as Harry's.

His hands moved lower, petting down the fine hairs on Malfoy's stomach and tracing a circle around the dip of his navel. And then lower still…

Malfoy swallowed hard as Harry touched the waistband of his trousers and halted over the fastenings, once again asking wordless permission. Malfoy's pink tongue flicked out and then disappeared as he nodded. Harry felt both elated and slightly terrified as he screwed up his courage and began to free Draco's straining cock.

The buttons were quickly undone, exposing black silk that bulged in a fascinating manner. Harry tentatively touched it, caressing it with his fingertips. Malfoy jerked and Harry lifted his gaze from Malfoy's crotch in order to gauge the expression in his eyes. Fuck, the silver had gone nearly black and Malfoy's lips were parted in a beautiful O. Harry stared at him in rapt wonder, thinking he might have been the most tantalizing sight Harry had ever seen.

He stroked again, dragging his fingers from tip to base and back again. Malfoy's back arched and he groaned. "Harry," he murmured. It was the hottest thing Harry had ever experienced but it was also not nearly enough. He left off stroking Malfoy only long enough to drag the blond's trousers completely off, pausing only long enough to yank at Malfoy's shiny black boots and toss them somewhere past the couch. When Malfoy's legs were bare, Harry could not resist touching the newly exposed flesh, sliding his hands over ankles, calves, knees, and thighs.

His hands rose high on Malfoy's thighs and slipped beneath the black silk to tuck into the soft curls surrounding Malfoy's hardness, and then nearer still, until his fingertips brushed…

Malfoy's hands suddenly curled around his wrists, gripping tightly. "I want to see you," he said hoarsely.

21 

Harry blinked in surprise, but gave in to the pressure of Malfoy's hands on his wrists, tugging his hands out of Malfoy's pants. Malfoy released his arms and bent forward to pull at the cashmere, removing the hem from Harry's trousers and pulling it over his head in a fluid motion.

Harry nearly bit his lip in uncertainty as Malfoy's eyes travelled over his bared skin and felt indescribable relief when a soft smile curved Malfoy's lips. "I've wanted to do that all night," he said.

"You have?" Harry asked.

"Bloody hell, yes. Watching your muscles ripple under that cashmere… Once the shock wore off that you actually own a cashmere sweater, of course."

Harry could not respond to the jibe, amazed that Malfoy had not only watched him, but had been wanting to remove his clothing all night. He wondered what he had done to deserve such brilliance. Perhaps his reward for killing the wretched evil threatening the world had finally come due. If so, he forgave the wait—it was worth it.

"Trousers off," Malfoy said imperiously. Harry shifted back, feeling a vague sense of loss as he moved out from under Malfoy's long legs even though he planned to return to that position straightaway. He got to his feet and stood up, toeing off his shoes and shucking his trousers with abandon. He paused with his hands on the waistband of his pants, suddenly self-conscious, even though his erection was more than evident beneath the straining material.

Surprisingly, it was a smirk from Malfoy that put him at ease. "Green?" the blond asked in an amused tone.

"It was Christmassy!" Harry protested.

"And had nothing to do with the fact that you've been dreaming of shagging a certain Slytherin."

Harry swallowed hard at hearing the word shagging from the 'certain Slytherin'. "Of course not," he lied and wondered how long he had actually dreamed about Malfoy. Generally his dreams had been of the pounding with fists variety, but he had to admit there had been a few times he had awakened with the disturbing knowledge that perhaps fists were not what he wanted to use to pound the blond, but something else equally hard that he'd been forced to stroke into submission with the thought of a hot mouth sucking his cock while his hands were buried in soft blond hair…

His throat went suddenly bone dry at the realization that his fantasy might actually become reality, if the current hungry expression on Malfoy's face was any indication. His erection twitched in eager anticipation.

"Of course not," Malfoy repeated, disbelief evident in every syllable. "Pants off."

Harry's throat worked, but his salivary glands had ceased functioning, so he took a deep breath instead and shoved. He stepped out of the material and kicked it aside to stand fully exposed before the blond. He realized his eyes were closed tightly about the time the silence became unbearable. He opened his eyes reluctantly to see Malfoy's wide eyes fixed on his jutting cock.

"Malfoy?" he asked uncertainly.

Malfoy did not speak, but moved instead, swinging his feet to the floor and leaning his lithe body forward. Before Harry could react, a pale hand wrapped around the base of his cock and the very hot mouth of his fantasies wrapped itself about the head. Harry inhaled so sharply he felt a flare of pain in his lungs. Silver eyes shot up to his and Harry stared down at Malfoy, who had Harry's cock in his mouth. His cock was in Draco Malfoy's mouth. Before he could fully register the astonishing sight, Malfoy's tongue flicked over the vein at the base and then swirled over the sensitive tip, dipping in to the slit that was most definitely leaking fluid. The taste did not seem to bother Malfoy, whose gaze remained locked with Harry's as he repeated the manoeuvre several times, sending shivers of delight racing though Harry's blood and bringing him dangerously close to spilling quite a lot more fluid into Malfoy's eager mouth.

"Fuck, Draco," he squeaked.

Horrifically, the words stopped Malfoy's blissful motion and he pulled away to leave a cold sensation where the air touched Harry's wet cock. "All right. If you prefer."

The words finally penetrated the confused fog that had formerly been Harry's brain. Malfoy removed the silk that had covered his loins and reclined back upon the couch. One foot remained on the floor while the other propped on the seat of the sofa, giving Harry a tantalizing view of Malfoy's jutting cock and his down-covered testicles. He would have spent quite a long time allowing his gaze to greedily take in the display, but an impatient sound from Malfoy yanked him from his reverie.

Harry fairly launched himself forward, sliding back into position as Malfoy lifted both of his legs and once more placed them on either side of Harry's hips. This time Harry did not hesitate to thrust forward and the first touch of his cock against Malfoy's—Draco's—was blissful. He rocked slightly, rubbing their testicles together and thought the resulting moan from Draco to be the loveliest sound he had ever heard.

He leaned forward and kissed Draco again, adoring the feel of so much smooth skin touching his. The pressure on his cock was almost unbearable, however, so he pulled away before losing himself in Draco's kiss. He straightened and then looked down at their dual erections, suddenly having no idea what to do next. He lifted perplexed eyes to Draco's and the blond laughed.

"Harry. You've never done this before?"

Harry shook his head and flushed, but Draco merely fumbled in his discarded robes for his wand. After a brief lesson, in which Harry was rather embarrassed but even more turned on, Harry found his fingers touching parts of Draco Malfoy that he had not imagined even in his wildest fantasies.

Apparently he touched correctly, judging by the whimpering cries that issued from the blond every time Harry moved his fingers like… so. Draco's back arched and Harry decided he was perfectly content with finger-fucking Draco for however long it was allowed. The Slytherin, however, had other plans. "Good, Harry. Very good, but I need your cock. Inside me. Right now."

Harry nearly snatched his fingers out in his haste to comply, and felt a moment of chagrin when Draco winced, but he said nothing, so Harry quickly positioned the head of his well-lubed cock over the newly-vacated entrance.

"Slowly," Draco said and Harry nodded. He eased his erection forward, guiding it with his hand, and bit his lip when he realized it would never fit. No amount of delightful foreplay stretching could ever—he yelped in shocked amazement as Malfoy slammed his hips forward, impaling Harry nearly to the hilt.

Draco sagged against the sofa cushions, trembling. "Wait a moment," he begged.

"Of course," Harry said, not sure he could move if he tried. He was too busy trying to process the fact that he was sheathed in the tightest heat he had ever experienced—not that he was all that experienced.

After long moments during which Harry finally recovered his senses along with the desperate need to move, Draco said, "Okay. Okay, Harry."

Harry drew in a steadying breath and pulled back, nearly moaning aloud at the feel of slick warmth gripping his cock as he moved. The mental chanting began again and threatened to spill past his lips in a torrent of nonsense. He pushed forward again, gently, but Draco rocked with him, pressing him deeper than intended. A low cry made Harry's eyes snap to Draco's, but the silver orbs were tightly closed.

"Again, Harry. Again, again."

Harry did it again. And again. And several more agains, until he was nearly mindless in his motions, thrusting hard and fast with Draco's cries urging him on. His hands gripped Draco's hips tightly for leverage until he feared he would leave bruises, but he dared not let go. Draco's hands held the sofa as if hanging onto a lifeline.

Harry felt his orgasm building, rising like a flood tide, and he realized Draco's leaking cock was quite neglected. He let go of one pale hipbone to grip Draco's erection. He would have felt some satisfaction when it immediately throbbed in his hand and liquid fairly exploded from the tip, but he was far too distracted by the spasms gripping his own cock. He threw his head back with a near-shriek as he came so hard his vision went white. His shuddering spasms seemed to last forever, but they finally subsided enough for him to collapse in a limp heap on Draco's chest.

"I think you finally killed me," Harry said against the damp strands of blond hair tangling over his face.

Draco's arms tightened around Harry's back, yet another thing he could quickly become used to. "How so, Harry?"

"I can't move. I think I died of bliss."

"It seems to be catching. Perhaps we're both dead."

Harry chuckled. "I wasn't sure I'd make it to heaven."

Instead of making a snide comment about the Chosen One, Draco only tightened his grip.

22 

Harry's arse was cold, but the rest of him was warm and he felt far too languid to move. The body beneath his shifted slightly and he asked, "Am I crushing you?"

"No," Draco replied.

Harry smiled at the single word, but he suspected Draco lied. He pushed himself up and grimaced at the stickiness between them. Draco took care of it with a quickly whispered Charm that left Harry breathless for a moment. He smoothed a hand over his clean abdomen and grinned.

"Are you leaving?" Draco asked when Harry sat back on the couch, feeling slightly self-conscious about his nudity, but unable to stop himself from ogling the reclining blond. Draco held his wand loosely in one hand while the other trailed along the top of the couch in a random pattern. Harry suddenly wanted those fingers to slide over his skin, but Malfoy's question startled him from that line of thought.

Harry frowned. "Do you want me to?" he asked, suddenly nervous. Had he pushed too hard? Had he asked Malfoy for more than he was willing to give? He mentally kicked himself for using the word relationship so soon, especially when he had barely entertained the notion, himself.

Draco sat up. "If you want to," he said quickly.

They sat next to each other, suddenly awkward. Harry's eyes studied Draco's profile. His platinum eyes were fixed on the tree and Harry saw a light blush tinting his cheeks. His blond hair was tousled and a strand of it was caught on his impossibly long lashes. It twitched when he blinked and Harry instinctively reached out and brushed it aside, allowing his knuckles to trail over Draco's forehead and down the side of his cheek.

"I definitely don't want to leave," Harry said thickly and Draco's eyes snapped to his in surprise. Harry groaned and curled his hand around Draco's neck to pull him into a greedy kiss. Bloody hell, he was already getting hard again.

Draco's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. They kissed until they both gasped for air and then Draco asked, "Bedroom?"

"Absolutely," Harry said. He fumbled for his robe and pulled out his wand before reaching for his clothes.

"You won't need those," Draco said in a seductive tone. Harry grinned at him and followed Draco's nude form as he returned to the foyer and ascended the stairs. Harry could not resist reaching out and caressing the curves of Draco's arse it moved in front of him.

"Hey, Draco, how many times have you told me to kiss your arse?"

The blond tossed a saucy smirk over his shoulder. "Too many to count. Why?"

"You're about to get your wish." Harry tackled him at the top of the stairs, sending Draco sprawling on hands and knees over the thick carpet with a yelp. Before he could protest, Harry began to press soft kisses all over his pale arse cheeks, dipping tantalizingly close to Draco's crack and swiping his tongue over sensitive areas.

"Potter, fuck," he said in a breathy tone.

"Okay," Harry replied agreeably. He got to his feet and helped Draco stand, glad to see that the Slytherin's cock was now as hard as his.

"Bedroom. NOW," Draco demanded and pointed down the hall.

Harry did not need further urging. He trotted down the indicated hallway and cheerfully called, "Hi, Severus," as he passed, somewhat surprised that the former Potion's Master had returned so soon.

Draco fairly collapsed on Harry's shoulders when they entered the huge bedroom at the end of the hall, shaking with laughter. "Did you see his face?"

Harry laughed with him as they both fell onto the bed.

23 

Sex on the couch had been fabulous, but Harry much preferred Draco's massive bed. The room itself looked almost Christmassy, with varying shades of green highlighted with white and bright glints of silver. Draco's furnishings were whitewashed oak.

He took only moments to appreciate the décor as he was rapidly distracted by Draco's lips and hands. Foreplay was slow and immensely satisfying. They explored each other's bodies with hands and lips and tongues.

Draco paused once, hovering over Harry, whose legs were spread wide to give Draco access. His throbbing cock ached for attention, even though Draco had been very diligent with that. Harry almost felt worshiped by Draco's attentive actions.

"You're actually going to let me fuck you?" Draco asked.

Harry frowned. Let him? If Draco didn't get to it soon, Harry might actually hex him. "Of course. Why wouldn't I? You let me."

"Yes, but you're the Savior of the World and I'm a lowly Death Eater."

Harry touched the beautiful face above his with a glare. "I know you don't believe that. You're one of the few people in the world who never put me on a bloody pedestal. We both did the best we could with the cards that were dealt us."

Draco's features seemed to soften. "You really believe that, don't you?"

For answer, Harry pulled Draco into another kiss. Draco's lovemaking was slow and sensual. He took care to ascertain Harry was not in pain—which he was, but seeing the blissful expression on Draco's gorgeous face made him determined to withstand anything as long as it brought that much pleasure to his new lover. Once the pain subsided he quickly decided that Draco could fuck him six times a day, if he chose.

In the brilliant afterglow Harry stared into Draco's warm silver eyes and realized he had fallen in love in one short night.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked.

"Trying to think of a way to ask you to marry me," Harry replied.

Draco laughed, another sound Harry knew he would never tire of hearing. "You can't be serious."

"If I'm not now I soon will be, so you might give it some thought."

Draco's eyes went wide. "You weren't joking about the relationship idea, then?"

"Of course I wasn't joking. Are you willing to be my permanent, exclusive lover, or not?"

"What if I'm not?"

Harry grinned. "I've been called stubborn."

To his relief, Draco burst out laughing. "You mean you will continue to stalk me daily until I give in?"

"You haven't seen stalking," Harry assured him.

"And if I date other people?"

"Then I will hunt them down and hex them without mercy."

"That doesn't seem very Savior-like."

"I'm willing to become the new Dark Lord, if necessary."

Draco's smile was brilliant. "You would become the new Dark Lord for me? You would sacrifice honour and nobility and all that is good and kind?"

"Well, I'm hoping it won't come to that, but yeah," Harry admitted.

Draco pulled him into a bruising kiss and then whispered, "I guess I'm yours, Harry."

Harry held him close, basking in the wonder of utter contentment.

"Mine," he said possessively.

24 

Harry felt so warm and contended and happy that it took him a moment to figure out where he was. He shook off the last vestiges of sleep and opened his eyes to view a head of pale hair.

The sight made his heart swell and his arm tightened around Draco's waist. The reason for his warmth was suddenly obvious—he was completely tangled around the man. Cuddling.

Draco made a petulant, almost inaudible, sound and snuggled back against him. Harry lifted his head and found the blankets were mostly bunched on Harry's side, nearly abandoning Draco, who was probably getting cold.

He reluctantly removed his hand from Draco's waist and tugged the covers firmly back over the blond.

"You're not… leaving?" The voice was rough and sleepy, but it made Harry smile.

He nuzzled the back of Draco's neck and returned his arm to its former position, settling himself against Draco's backside. "Try and get rid of me," he replied and pressed several kisses on the sensitive flesh.

Draco's hand found his and their fingers entwined. "You stay," Draco mumbled. "You're warm."

Harry shut his eyes, more than willing to drift back to sleep, but a banging noise jolted them both. Draco's body tensed as it came again.

"Merlin, someone is at the door. What time is is?"

Harry turned his head and glanced at the ornate clock on Draco's mantle. "Just past eight. Are you expecting visitors?"

"Fuck, no. Ignore them. They'll go away."

Instead, the hammering grew louder. Harry pushed himself away from Draco and sat up. "You rest. I'll get rid of them, yeah?"

"Harry, I take back several of the mean things I said about you over the years. You're a prince." Draco yanked the covers nearly over his head and seemed to dismiss him entirely.

Harry chuckled as he dragged his trousers on and made his way to the hall and down the stairs, making a mental note that Draco was not a morning person.

Harry flung open the door, expecting to see some overzealous vendor, but his jaw gaped at the sight of his friends. Ron and Hermione stood on the front step with snow accumulating in their hair from the random flakes that fell.

They stared at him with identical expressions, obviously taking in his lack of attire and Malfoy-mussed hair.

"Um. We got worried when we didn't hear from you last night," Ron said. "You're all right, then?"

"We thought Malfoy might have hexed you and left you for dead somewhere," Hermione added. "But, you are obviously alive and well."

"Very well," Harry said with a slow smile.

Hermione nodded, looking at him speculatively. "We'll just be going, then. Come along, Ron."

Ron frowned. "Were you drunk, or something? Did you sleep on Malfoy's couch last night, Harry?"

Harry burst out laughing. "Well, I was on his couch for a bit," he admitted.

Hermione blushed, but Ron only looked more confused as she tugged at his arm.

Draco's voice called from the top of the stairs, "Harry? Who is it?"

Harry grinned again, realizing Draco was about to find out how serious Harry was about not keeping him a dirty little secret. "You two should come in for a cup of tea, I think."

25 

Hermione looked slightly panicked, but Ron just stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

"Come in?" Ron repeated.

By then, Draco had reached the bottom of the steps. He crossed to the door and threw Harry a look that was hard to decipher—part distrust and part curiosity, it seemed. Harry shivered in the cold air, realizing he was clad only in trousers. Draco, at least, had thrown on a warm-looking black dressing gown.

"Yes, come in!" Harry repeated. "It's freezing out there. Draco, you don't mind, do you?"

"Naturally not." Draco's tone sounded only mildly sarcastic. "Come inside, intrepid friends of Harry. Did you come to rescue him?"

Harry reached out and dragged Ron inside before Hermione could concoct an excuse, even though she was already tugging on Ron's coat before Harry yanked him out of her grasp. Her lips thinned into a fine line, but she gamely trudged inside and allowed Harry to shut the door.

Draco gestured toward the doorway that led to the living room. "Have a seat. I'll prepare tea and crumpets."

Harry rolled his eyes, realizing Draco was being an arse with that statement, but then he noticed the smirk on Draco's lip and knew it had nothing to do with his words as Ron and Hermione walked uncertainly through the indicated passage.

It wasn't until that moment that he realized the trousers he had dragged on in a tired daze actually belonged to Draco—Harry's clothing, as well as Draco's from the prior night, were scattered around the living room couch.

"You are evil," Harry said.

Draco shrugged. "You let them in."

Harry slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close before pressing a kiss into his temple. "Let's go face the music, then, boyfriend. I hope you're ready."

Draco didn't move, despite Harry's urging. "You were serious?"

Harry laughed aloud. "What am I going to have to do to prove it to you? Wait, I know." He took Draco's hand and led him into the living room, where Ron and Hermione had parked themselves next to the still-glowing tree, avoiding the couch completely. Ron's face was red as a ripe apple and Hermione stared fixedly at the tree, as though it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

"Ron, Hermione. I have an announcement. Draco and I are dating," Harry said without preamble. With that, he pulled Draco into a scorching kiss. The blond was tense for a long moment, but then slowly relaxed in Harry's arms, finally melting into his kiss and tangling his fingers into Harry's hair.

Harry had nearly forgotten his friends completely until Hermione cleared her throat and Ron's choking noises became audible.

"Harry, I think we will just see ourselves out. You can stop by when you have time, yes?" Harry knew her question was a command, but at the moment, he had little interest in how his friends would deal with his love life. He knew they would; that was all that mattered.

"See you guys later!" Harry said cheerfully and eagerly returned to his activity.

When the sound of the door closing came to them, Draco pulled away and said, "I think you're well on your way to that Dark Lord position."

Harry grinned. "They'll be fine. Now, where were we?"

"Right about here," Draco said and dove back in.

26 

Harry was nervous. He checked his appearance for the eighth time, but restrained his fingers from touching his hair, knowing he would only make it worse by constantly messing with it.

Instead, he smoothed his fingers over his robes one last time, knowing that those, at least, looked good. He had spared no expense to ensure that Malfoy--Draco, now--would have no cause to shun him.

Well, no visible cause, at any rate. Their relationship was too new for Harry to have much faith in its ability to withstand the pressure of the public eye. He had spent almost the entirety of the Christmas holiday ensconced in Draco's house, mostly sans clothing.

A brief stint to the Weasley's on Christmas day had led to several stilted conversations with everyone in attendance, although they each had kindly withheld their questions to private moments with Harry, all except George, who had bellowed out at the dinner table, "So, Harry, I hear you're bent with Draco Malfoy, now. That true?"

The cessation of movement and stunned silence had brought an embarrassed flush to Harry's cheeks, but he had merely replied, "It's true."

George had raised his glass in a toast and said, "Good on you, Harry." Ron had snorted a laugh, but it had been a laugh of amusement, rather than sarcasm. Molly had loudly asked if anyone wanted more potatoes and that had been the end of it.

He had actually debated the idea of bringing Draco with him, but knew without asking that his new boyfriend would flatly refuse. He knew he would have to save that battle for another day. If there was another day after today.

He cast a Tempus Charm and sighed. It was time. He glanced in the mirror one last time, ignored his image, and Disapparated.

Every time he attended a Ministry party, Harry remembered how much he hated them. Of course, at the last one, he had encountered Draco Malfoy singing to Pansy Parkinson in a secluded room and everything in his life had changed, but still, this one began much as the last had.

Harry smiled inanely and shook hands at the spouses of Ministry employees, apparently a brand new batch than those who had attended the Christmas party, since this was New Year's Eve and he would have expected to recognize more than a few. Perhaps the alcohol was to blame for his faulty memory. Harry had downed a glass of champagne to calm his nerves. It had worked so well that he had imbibed a few more.

His eyes steadily scanned the room for a familiar head of blond hair, frowning with impatience. Draco had promised he would attend, although he had made no promises about giving in to Harry's insistence that they reveal themselves as a couple.

"Beware the mistletoe, Harry," Ron said and pointed over Harry's shoulder. He glanced behind him and saw an ominous bundle of leaves and berries that someone had charmed to float around the room. Devious, that. Probably some former Slytherin.

He sidled away from it and once again looked over the attendees, nearly holding his breath when he spotted a familiar flash of blond. Draco had arrived! Harry took an unconscious step in his direction, but a tight grip on his arm stayed him.

"Don't do it, Potter," a voice warned. Harry turned to glare at Pansy Parkinson. "Draco told me to ask you to stay away from him tonight."

"What?" Harry demanded.

"He means it. The reporters have been sniffing around you all night like vultures. Give him a break."

Harry had barely noticed the reporters, although he supposed they were being more aggressive than usual.

"He's the one who incited the reporters in the first place by dragging me carolling to Rita Skeeter's house!" he hissed, annoyed.

"Yes, well he meant to call her off. But he was distracted," she said and gave him a knowing smirk.

Harry glared and tugged his arm away. "I'll hear it from him, then."

"Suit yourself, Potter, it's on your head if you make him angry."

Harry paused at that, suddenly uncertain. His mind tracked back over the last couple of days. Was it possible Draco didn't really want a relationship? Had it been Harry deluding himself, making himself believe things that weren't there?

He glanced at Draco, who was ignoring the gaggle of reporters crowding around him as he exhanged pleasantries with the Minister. Kingsley warned off the camera-toting crowd with a look, unintentionally giving Harry a better look at his blond lover.

Draco wore cashmere robes. Harry knew they were cashmere, because Draco had modelled them for him just yesterday, shortly before Harry had put his hands all over them prior to stripping them away from Draco's trembling body, slowly kissing every inch as it was revealed. He felt a wrench, looking at them now. They were silver-grey to match his eyes, and possibly his cold-as-steel heart.

Draco avoided looking at him and Harry snarled, "Fine" in Pansy's general direction and then headed toward the buffet table, where more far more potent drinks than champagne or punch resided. There were several deadly-looking concoctions in potion vials that Harry knew were legal, considering this was a Ministry event, but probably still borderline deadly.

"What's that one?" he asked the attendant, pointing at a toxic looking green liquid.

"Salazar Stinger."

Harry snorted. Perfect. He would drown himself in some bloody Slytherin potion. It was fitting. "What's in it?"

"Firewhiskey, Absinthe, vodka, simple sugar, and lime."

"I'll have six."

"Sir?"

"Just do it," he snapped. He waited impatiently while the man located a twisted metal carrying rack and selected six of the vials. He handed it over to Harry, who forced a smile and said, "Thanks."

He threaded his way through the crowd, pretending to be in a hurry to get back to some group or another in order to avoid conversation. Once near one of the exit doors, he surreptitiously ducked out and headed for his office. He was finished with crowds and pretences.

Once in his comfortable office chair, he fished out one of the vials and sat back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk. He pulled the cork and took a swig. It was sweeter than expected, and tart, with a sharp bite and a slow burn. Potent. Just like a certain blond that had infected his blood far worse than any alcoholic beverage ever could.

He tipped his head back and downed it, ignoring the flamelike burn in his throat. Perhaps if he got drunk enough, he could pretend the past few days had never happened.

Harry was pulling the cork on a second vial—it was sticking—when the door banged open and the object of his annoyance stepped over the threshold. Harry stared at him for a moment and tried to suppress an uncontrollable surge of emotion. Fuck, but he was gorgeous. And Harry knew what the robes concealed now, every creamy curve and flat plane.

"Drinking alone on New Year's Eve, Harry?"

Harry looked away disdainfully and pulled at the stubborn cork. "I was informed that my presence was not wanted."

Draco walked to Harry's desk and then skirted it, increasing Harry's heart rate with every step. Draco plucked the vial out of Harry's hands and examined it. "Then you heard wrong, Harry." He popped the cap with ease and then lifted the vial to his lips. Harry watched helplessly as Draco drank, admiring the curve of his throat and the perfection of his features.

"Then what? Pansy told me to stay away from you." He heard the bitterness in his own voice, but he did not bother to prevent it.

Draco stopped drinking and held the vial up to look at it with a curious expression. "It's for your own good, Harry. Obviously, your instinct for self-preservation has fallen by the wayside."

"What are you talking about?"

Draco downed the rest of the vial and then tossed it on Harry's desk. "You saw them out there. They would have torn you to pieces if they thought the speculation was true. Someone of your stature cannot afford to be seen with someone like me." Draco lifted one of Harry's feet from the desk and tugged his leg open in order to step between them. Harry frowned as Draco slowly sank to his knees. His hands trailed up Harry's thighs, moving higher, but Harry caught his wrists and stilled his movement. He slid his feet from the desk and sat forward to look down at Draco's guarded features.

"Do you know what really annoys me, Draco?" he asked mildly.

Draco leaned forward, obviously seeking a kiss, and his eyes fluttered partially shut. "What, Harry?"

Harry felt a flare of annoyance, because it almost worked. The prat knew his seductive power over Harry and he was using it in a very Slytherin fashion. The temptation to kiss those lips, just once, was almost overwhelming. Instead, he dredged up some willpower, bypassed Draco's inviting mouth, and pressed his lips against the edge of Draco's ear.

"It annoys me when people tell me something is for my own good," he whispered.

With that, he got to his feet. Draco looked somewhat alarmed as he scrambled up. Harry had not released his wrists, but he let go of one as he headed for the door, towing Draco in his wake.

"What? Wait, Harry! What are you—?"

Harry paused at the door and turned to look at his lover. "One final question for you, Draco."

Draco's face was set in obvious annoyance, but he nodded curtly.

"Were you serious when you said you agreed to become my permanent, exclusive lover?"

Draco scowled. "You know I was. Were you serious when you said you would become the next Dark Lord?"

Harry frowned. "All right, I might have been joking about that. But I meant it when I said I want you to be mine, Draco. I won't hide in the shadows and keep you hidden like something shameful. Unless you don't want to be seen with me."

"I'm only thinking of you, Harry," Draco snapped. "I'm not good for you."

Harry's annoyance dissipated at that, draining away instantly with Draco's words. "I think I should be the judge of that, don't you?"

Draco looked worried for a moment and then scowled. "Your judgement hasn't always been the best."

"Says the man who dressed up as a Dementor."

Draco flushed and tried to pull his wrist from Harry's grip. "I was a child!"

"I know. Will you trust me?"

A groan met Harry's question and then Draco's gaze was locked with his, intense and serious. "Harry. I want you to be sure. Don't do this if you aren't prepared for the consequences."

Harry released his hold on Draco's arm only to lift his hands and cup Draco's face gently. "I've never been surer of anything. And the consequences can go hang. I want you, Draco. And I want the world to know it."

Blond lashes fell shut over grey eyes and Draco drew a trembling breath. "All right."

Harry leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. "Are you sure? I won't do anything you don't want me to. I promise."

Draco's hands rose and looped around Harry's waist, gently pulling him closer. "Merlin, no, I'm not sure. I'm…"

"Scared?"

Draco snorted. "You wish." It was obviously reflexive and Harry felt his tension drain away as they both laughed. "All right, yes, maybe a little." Draco's breath was warm against Harry's neck.

"I am, too. A little. But we'll be fine."

Draco held him more tightly. "We'll be fine," he repeated and then lifted his head. His eyes met Harry's and they kissed for long, lovely moments. Harry's hands moved over Draco's soft cashmere robes, itching to remove them again. Judging by Draco's response, there would be time for that later. Years worth of time, hopefully.

"Let's go do this," Harry said finally, stepping back and linking his hand with Draco's.

Draco nodded. "All right."

"And maybe later, you can sing for me," Harry suggested, threading his fingers through Draco's and opening the door.

"Don't push your luck, Potter," Draco growled.

Harry laughed and went to introduce his boyfriend to the Wizarding World. It was going to be a bright new year.