Ma Chérie

Draco will never admit to Potter what he told him in French.

He still has no idea why he said it, he was just looking at Harry’s green eyes, and couldn’t help it.
Circe, that sounds so cliché, he thinks now, watching Theo and Pansy play wizarding chess badly in the Slytherin common room.

Theodore Nott was the quietest Slytherin in their year, and Pansy had decided it was her pet project to ‘welcome’ (force) him into their friend group.

To be honest, Draco didn’t mind the tawny-haired boy- he was a breath of fresh air considering the rest of his friends were all so loud.

Slytherins like Theo needed all the friends they could get right now, with the attack on Creevey and Mrs Norris (and a ghost, but that didn’t really count)- their house was the assumed place Slytherin’s heir would be.
Well, it was, until Potter went and spoke Parseltongue- a language no one but Slytherin’s heirs could speak.
Now everyone thinks it’s him, which Draco thinks is almost an insult to whoever the heir actually is, considering Potter’s organisational skills.

Draco wonders if Harry will ever have a year at Hogwarts without any crazy shit happening. At this rate, probably not.

*

It’s snowing and almost Christmas when Draco manages to complete his animagus transformation.

He’s down by the lake, pacing backwards and forwards, still trying the ‘imagine yourself as your animal form’, but since he knows what his animal form is from the last stage, he doesn’t particularly want to transform into it.
He knows that’s stupid and counter-productive, since this final stage is the last part to becoming his animagus.
It’s just, the form is a bit embarrassing.. for a Slytherin.

When snowflakes start to fall, however, he can’t help but picture his animagus form padding about on the snow.

He blinks and suddenly, magically, he is a white cat with soft black paws.
He resolves never to tell anyone about this whole experiment, and gives in to his cat instincts to play in the snow.

*

Snape goes round the Slytherin table at lunch a few weeks before the end of term, writing down those staying for Christmas on a trailing sheet of parchment.

Draco doesn’t particularly want to stay at Hogwarts, but his parents are going on some second-honeymoon thing to the French Alps, and the blond didn’t fancy being a third wheel.

Also, he knows that certain Slytherins (Crabbe and Goyle and maybe even Blaise) will have reported to their respective fathers about his continued friendship with Granger, and this would inevitably pass on to his own father.
While he could now endure his father’s ‘disciplining’ without screaming, he still wasn’t eager to receive it again so soon.

Draco thinks about what Potter told him, in the changing room.
He could tell Severus- but it’s not like his godfather can actually do anything, except perhaps worry about him more and Draco doesn’t want that.

Severus is getting closer to where he’s sitting now, and Draco reminds himself to tell the professor that he’s staying for Christmas. At least he can open his presents with his godfather, even though no one else he knows is staying.

His thoughts drift to Potter again, as they always seem to these days. He wonders if the Chosen One has told ‘Mione and Weasley about his scars. Somehow, he knows Harry wouldn’t.

When he starts thinking about the way Harry hugged him- almost crushing him, warm and safe and- he shakes himself free of this impractical series of thoughts, grinning up at Snape.

“Hey Uncle Sev. Put me down on the list, I’m staying too.”

Severus looks most displeased at Draco’s use of the nickname reserved for outside of school use only. He doesn’t comment on it though, instead replying,

“Oh? I was of the impression you were off to Les Alps, Draco.”

Draco cringes at Severus’ French pronunciation.

“Nope. I sent mother an owl to let her know yesterday, don’t worry about it.”

Snape now looks even more displeased at Draco’s suggestion that he ever worries about his godson (although they both know he does). He writes Draco’s name on the parchment and says,

“Well, in that case, you’ll be happy to know that Mr Potter is also staying for Christmas. You two can bake mince pies and duel each other to your hearts content.”

Draco’s grey eyes widen and Snape almost smiles at the reaction.

He has no idea how Severus knows about him and Potter’s duelling sessions, which they meet up for in abandoned classrooms every weekend or so.
It had been a suggestion of Potter’s, obviously, because as he said, ‘they’re a good match for each other’, as well as both fiercely competitive and desperate to beat the other.
So far, Harry had won 5 duels, and Draco 4, so it was pretty neck and neck. Draco wonders how Severus knows they’re friends... him and Potter have kept their friendship secret rather successfully- Draco’s only told Pansy about it because she would have figure it out eventually with how often he disappears off. One can only go for so many lone broom rides.

The blond recovers his composure in order to respond to his godfather,

“Yes, so glad you approve of a bit of inter-house unity, Uncle Sev. No one would ever suspect you of hating Gryffindor, especially with all those extra Potions lessons you give Har-Potter.”

Snape merely sniffs at this, raising an eyebrow and telling Draco,

“I will see you on Christmas day, Draco.”
The head of Slytherin then drifts off down the table, leaving Draco to wonder how his godfather gets his cloak to billow like that.

It must be some sort of charm…

*

After lunch and talking to Severus, Draco rushes off to look for Potter while trying to appear like he’s not actually looking for the messy-haired boy, considering everyone still thinks they’re sworn enemies.

He knows where Harry will be anyway. It’s a Sunday morning, therefore he’s almost always off brewing some unnecessarily hard potion for Severus.
And Draco knows Harry’s favourite behind-a-tapestry secret room to brew in.

Draco, as he walks down chilly echoing corridors, finds himself wondering why Potter wanted to start extra lessons with Snape last year, and why Severus would even accept.
Uncle Sev sometimes seems to dislike the Boy Who Lived even more than Draco publicly pretends to.

The blond then spots a black rat in the corner of one empty corridor and quickly changes into his cat form to catch it.

After he rapidly changes back, he continues thinking (obsessing) about Potter.

Harry has become as good as him at Potions this year, and when you compare that to last year and what an absolute disaster Harry was then…
And Draco had private lessons with Snape before he even came to Hogwarts.
He doesn’t doubt that Harry will surpass him and Hermione in Potions by next year, and is surprised that he only feels wonder at this, not annoyance or (much) jealousy.

Finally, he reaches the specific tapestry of Baldric the Barmy and slips behind it.

The secret room is surprisingly big behind the tapestry, with a wide, gothic window looking out over the Great Lake. There are a few pillows scattered about, a skinny boy with too-bright eyes and untamed dark hair sitting cross-legged on a pile of said pillows, peering over a steaming potion.

He’s so focused on the fiery red potion that he takes a while to notice Draco. When he does look up, he gives him a lopsided grin, and asks,

“You here to help me fix this disaster of a Pepper-up Potion, then, Malfoy?”

Draco most certainly is not.

“I most certainly am not.”

But when Harry shrugs and turns back to frantically stirring, Draco realises he sort of has to help, if he wants Harry’s attention.

The blond sighs dramatically and Harry glances up again as Draco sits down opposite him, gesturing for the chopped Jumping Toadstools.

Harry grins again, although it’s more of a satisfied smirk this time, and then leans back on one arm to watch Draco add the toadstools.

Draco is trying his best to fix Harry’s stirring (he did one too many clockwise, he can tell from the steam) and avoid looking at the still-smirking Gryffindor.
Draco knows he will only blush if he meets Potter’s grin- he can’t help it, there’s something about the Gryffindor that always makes him feel slightly- not embarrassed exactly, but a strange fluttery feeling. Whatever that means.
He’s pretty confident he’s hidden his weakness for Potter and his smiles well this year though- Harry doesn’t seem to notice anything (not that he ever does), and everyone that doesn’t know about them secretly being friends still believes they’re enemies.

Harry’s weirdly quiet watching Draco stir and the blond is starting to worry, when the other boy suddenly says,

“You came to tell me you’re staying at Christmas, then?”

Draco whips his head up and stares at Potter (his mouth embarrassingly open).
Harry adds,

“Pansy stopped me and told me when I was getting the ingredients for this Pepper-up. For some unknown reason, she thought I would be ‘very interested’ to know that you’re staying. I thought she was having me on, because you seem like you’d rather spend Christmas with your parents…”

Draco narrows his eyes. He will get his revenge on Parkinson. He’s already thinking of ways to dye Pansy’s hair ginger, when he takes in the last part of Harry’s explanation.

“Oh. Erm, they’re off on a second honeymoon thing to France. And I don’t feel up to facing father so soon after the summer, no doubt he’s heard about my ‘unsavoury’ friendships.”

He gestures to Harry sadly at this last part, although he’s sure his father isn’t aware of this particular friendship, only the one with Hermione, and perhaps Ronald.
Potter is biting his lip, and Draco wonders why he (basically) told him the truth. Potter has a way of making people be honest with him- maybe it’s just his pure-hearted-Gryffindor nonsense.

“Well. This calls for a Christmas Eve duel, I think. How about on the Astronomy tower. I’ve heard rumours you’re afraid of heights, Malfoy.”

Draco laughs, forgetting about his father and looking forward to crushing Potter in a duel in only a week’s time.

“You’re on, Scarhead.”

*

It’s one of (or is, full stop) the best Christmases of Draco’s life.

He doesn’t get as many presents as normal, or have house elves to make him mince pies whenever he feels like it, or swan feather pillows.
What he does have instead is a magical castle to explore with a reckless, green-eyed Gryffindor, and his godfather to talk to, and, basically, freedom.
The mince pies at Hogwarts aren’t half bad either (him and Harry even make some themselves on the third day, after Draco tells him what Snape said- mockingly- about the them making pies together).

The two of them figure out how to get in the kitchens by the third day of the holidays too, and spend a lot of time chatting with the elves and accepting endless pastries, sat by the roaring fire.

Draco learns that Harry really loves treacle tarts. Good to know for bribery material in the future, he thinks.

The process of finding the kitchens was actually quite funny too- Harry had apparently heard from a conversation in Gryffindor’s common room that you had to ‘tickle’ some painting to get in. Obviously, as Draco could’ve guessed, he had no idea what painting, or where.
This resulted in them spending almost an entire day on the lower floors of the castle, tickling every single painting.
Severus walked past them at one point and pretended not to see their antics. He must’ve thought they were mad.

*

There are only twelve students in total staying for the holidays, because of parents worrying about the Chamber of Secrets stuff.
Seven of these twelve are OWL or NEWT students that stayed to make use of Hogwarts’ library. The other three consist of two Hufflepuff and one Ravenclaw 4th years.

The three 4th years go ice-skating with Harry and Draco on the 2nd day, although they give up when the Ravenclaw’s eyelashes fully freeze, all three trooping back inside.
It really is cold in Hogwarts during the winter.

Draco stays ice-skating on the lake with Harry for a while longer, despite his nose and hands being positively frozen. He even finds himself teaching Harry how to skate.
Draco had thought himself a perfect skater, considering his mother taught him when he was five, but Potter is something else.

He’s soon lapping the blond, jumping and pirouetting about.

“Training for the ballet, Scarhead?”,
Draco had shouted at the dark haired boy as he did another twirl. Harry shot him the finger, but didn’t stop.

They only go back inside when Hagrid comes and finds them, telling them they’re missed at dinner, and that they will ‘freeze t’ death out ‘ere’.
For once, Draco agrees with the games keeper.

At dinner, Harry accidentally brushes Draco’s hand while reaching for the Brussels sprouts and exclaims,

“Your hands are so cold!”

“Way to state the obvious, Potter.”

Harry takes Draco’s hand, as if it means nothing to do this in front of the other students, and holds it tight, trying to warm it up.
Draco could literally die of embarrassment right now. At least his ears are already red from the cold, so no one will notice him blushing tomato red.

Luckily, the other students are involved in a heated discussion on Thestrals, and so don’t notice anything. He doesn’t look at the staff table. He does not want to see Severus’ face right now.

Harry continues eating with his right hand, as if him holding his public-enemy’s hand is nothing unusual. Draco guesses that he would probably do this with any of his friends, because he’s a Gryffindor and he cares too much about other people- it’s nothing special.

Harry doesn’t let go of his hand.

*

Draco hadn’t been sure what to get his friends for Christmas.
Last year he only had to worry about getting Pansy and Blaise something, but this year was a bit more complicated.

He had given Hermione, Harry and even Ron Christmas cards, because Hermione got him a present, and he didn’t want to leave out the other two members of the trio.

As well as the Christmas cards, he sent Ron a Chudley Cannons bobble hat- only because he knew it would annoy Hermione, who was tired of Ron constantly going on about his favourite Quidditch team.

He also sent: Hermione a bracelet of black jade transfigured into a witches hat, Pansy a muggle make-up set (bought secretly from one of ‘Mione’s muggle catalogues), and Blaise fancy cuff links.

He hadn’t been sure whether to get Harry anything, but when he asked Hermione, she said he should or Harry would feel left out. So he had spent ages in Hogsmeade looking.
Eventually he gave up, and instead went into the forest to search for interesting gemstones, finding a vivid green peridot that was the exact colour of Harry’s eyes. He transfigured the peridot into a tiny green (golden) snitch, which can be used as a fastener for dress robes.

*

Christmas day is the best part of the holiday yet.

Since Draco is the only Slytherin staying for the holidays, he got to choose which house he wanted to sleep in, as Snape didn’t want him to have to live all alone in the Slytherin dungeons (they did get depressing this time of year).

Of course, Draco had chosen to stay in Gryffindor. He told himself this was because it was his rival house, and so he could better learn their secrets by sleeping there for the holidays. While this did influence his decision, he mainly chose it because Harry was there, and he hadn’t wanted to go in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff with only older students for company. This arrangement was surprisingly comfortable, with Draco and Harry talking about various topics till late at night, playing wizard chess, and generally being more open than they could be in public during term time. It was nice- Draco didn’t want to admit to himself how nice.

A few nights before Christmas eve, Harry had asked Draco about his father- a topic usually very much avoided by the two of them. Draco had found himself telling Potter about his dad, not much, but it was weirdly freeing to tell someone.
Harry had been a remarkably good listener, in return telling Draco a bit about his own family. Draco had always assumed that the Dursleys adored Harry- as everyone in the Wizarding World believes- and was shocked to hear the awful truth, but quietly glad that Harry felt like telling him. Apparently only Hermione and Ron also know about Harry’s summers. Draco had resolved since then to cheer up Harry’s long summers by sending letters and food, starting next summer.

Anyway, this arrangement was how, on Christmas Day, he woke up in a very red, warmly-lit room, with Harry Potter jumping on his bed and shouting ‘Merry Christmas Draco!’.
It was the second time Harry had used his first name. Not that he was counting.

It turned out that Harry had actually got him a present, as had Hermione and Ron. Although, Ron’s was just a tin of gingerbread dragons. But still, it was bloody good gingerbread.

Hermione’s gift was an incredibly heavy muggle book, which puzzled Draco as it seemed to be about magic- portals and animagus’ and such, but an imaginary type of magic. Harry had laughed when he showed him the title: ‘His Dark Materials trilogy’.
Draco looked forward to reading it.

Pansy had gotten Draco a ridiculous pair of fluffy pink mittens, which Harry had obviously made him wear, telling him he could ‘get on the cover of Vogue with those!’

Harry’s present to him was interesting- a muggle camera that Harry told him he’d ordered off of Hermione’s infamous muggle gift catalogue.
Draco was hesitant at first- the only other cameras he’d ever seen were Colin Creevey’s bright flashy one and Harry’s old Polaroid.

After he got the hang of all the buttons, Draco was having a blast, taking picture after picture of a laughing Harry, and then of Snape later on.
He knew he’d have to hide this from his father when he goes home for the summer, but he didn’t need to worry about that now.

Even opening the presents from his parents with Severus, while Harry awkwardly sat by Snape’s green and silver christmas tree didn’t really ruin the festive mood.

Nor did the fact that they were both exhausted from their midnight duel the night before. Harry had won. Draco maintained that he’d let him, in ‘the spirit of Christmas’.