Christmas, mistletoe and wine
“You’re back!” Sirius noted first . He even noted the slightly red eyed and the look of disarray but didn't bring it up.
"We're in the kitchen." Harry said, appearing around the corner with flour in his hair, on his face, and a glasses cleaner to wipe the flour off his glasses.
Draco scoffed, waving his hand to clean them spotless. "You've got to teach me that." Harry encouraged, and Draco smiled. This was his boyfriend. “I was trying to make you an apple crumble.”
“Looks like you’ve made a mess, Potter.” He went to step into the kitchen, eager to take the mick even more, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I’m not finished!” Harry protested.
“From the looks of you all the ingredients were in your hair.” he leant against the doorway admiring Harry’s determined nature to keep whatever he was making hidden from Draco’s eyes, which was difficult when your boyfriend is a head taller than you.
“Just go somewhere else.” Harry flicked flour at him.
Draco wiped it off his face and did a swirling motion above his head to get rid of the whiter dusting this hair. “You’re being very demanding.”
“Sirius! Underage magic! Send him to his room!” Harry called, and Remus stepped forward first.
“I’m sure you’ve got work to do,” He did not. “Harry will call you when he’s made something edible.” Remus put a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Which will probably be in a few days.”
“I can cook!” Indignantly, he exclaimed, before stomping back into the kitchen.
Upstairs, Draco pondered over what had happened. Was this the best way to deal with it? If he wanted to bury his head in the sand (he did) then it was.
He also went to Harry’s room to see Hedwig. Harry spent a lot of his time with her, fidgeting as he stroked her feathers. “Kreatcher!” Draco called. When the House-elf popped in Draco jumped, still not used to it.
“What can Kreatcher do for the squib?”
Draco gritted his teeth and wanted to kick it like Sirius did. Filthy little thing. “Bring me tea, preferably not poisoned this time.”
Finally, when Kreatcher cracked in after an hour of waiting, he arrived with lukewarm water, a used teabag, milk that stank worse than Harry’s Quidditch gear, and a cracked mug. “Thank you, Kreatcher, for being the most unhelpful little shit.”
“Kreatcher tries, Master Squib.”
“Go beat yourself on a cupboard.” Draco said offhandedly, forgetting the house-elf would do it. Sighing, Draco threw the tray of last week’s tea on the desk and sighed. Tea was meant to be distracting but it hadn’t worked.
“Hey.” Harry! Slightly, Draco smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“Hedwig, of course. My favourite Potter.” Drawled Draco. He smoothed down Hedwig’s feathers and she cooed back, leaning into his touch.
“Seems like you’re her favourite Malfoy.”
“I’m everyone’s favourite Malfoy.” He smirked, leaning against Harry when he got close enough. “Tea?”
“Sure.” He mumbled, kissing Draco’s head. Draco flicked his wrist and made the drink, adding one sugar (Draco lectured him on that because he used to have three) and making sure the tea bag wasn’t left in too long.
Draco gave Harry the chipped cup and smirked at Harry’s hesitation. “Who gave you the tray?”
“Kreatcher.” Who else did he allow in the kitchen unless Sirius bound him to his boiler room under the stairs.
He sniffed it, “Poisoned?” After the long drag Harry had to admit it didn't smell like it was
“Not as far as I can tell.” He didn't know how much credibility that gave the drink.
There was a beat of silence before Harry said ‘fuck it’ and took a gulp. Draco smirked as Harry struggled to swallow it. “Wow… amazing.” He said through gritted teeth.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Draco pretended to be looking for approval.
He could tell it was a fake smile, but Draco still played along. “Fantastic, Draco. The best I’ve ever had.”
“I’ll be sure to make you tea like this all the time, then.”
“Yup.” Draco laughed and Harry smacked him in the arm. “I was trying to be nice!”
“Too Gryffindor for your own good.” Draco tutted.
“Your apple crumble is ready but you don’t deserve it anymore.” Harry said. He held out a hand for Draco.
Draco hesitated, “What apples did you use?”
“Red.” Draco scrunched his face up and when Harry smirked he smacked his arm. Taking Harry’s hand, they both went down to the kitchen.
The evening faded to night and Draco forgot all about the letter and the paper crane. He focused solely on the here and now, with Sirius Black (his cousin), with Remus Lupin, and Harry Potter, the most amazing person Draco had ever met. But he did wonder what was happening at Malfoy Manor. Never could be imagined He Who Must Not Be Named sitting around a cosy fire on a plush settee, opening wrapped gifts or eating a full table of crisp, perfect turkey with succulent vegetables and several different formulations of the potatoes, topped with beef-doused gravy that adds a homeliness to the whole meal.
Florian might be celebrating: Lucius and Narcissa showering him with the most love and affection he can get considering the circumstances. Draco wanted to switch places with him, to give Florian a day off from the constant turmoil he never seems to escape. Christmas was a solemn time for all the kids in the home, not just Draco. Every child wants a family at christmas. They want the feeling Draco sees in Harry’s glowing green eyes, in the safety of his posture, in the jumper the Weasley mother knitted him, even if it was a crime against all nineties fashion. Draco supposes it’s all new to Harry too, yet, still, it’s hard not to be jealous.
He watched Harry with Remus and Sirius as he opened a few gifts and handed out hot chocolate. While Remus and Harry were off doing whatever Defense Against the Dark Arts geeks do, Sirius joined him on the sofa, keeping space for a person between them. “Alright?”
“Quite fine, yourself?” Draco replied, nursing a glass of elf wine from the Sixteenth century (amazing what finds a dingy old wizard house can hold).
Sirius didn’t reply immediately, and Draco shifted in his seat. Was something wrong with him? Was there a collar askew? Whatever it was Sirius was staring intently at his face. “Sir?”
“Oh, sorry, Draco.” Sirius fumbled. “You just remind me so much of her.”
“Pardon, who are we talking about?” Draco could hatch a guess, one he one hundred percent believed to be right.
“Narcissa: my cousin, your-”
“Mother. Yes, I am well aware of the woman that gave me up.” He stuck his nose in the air and turned away so he wasn’t looking Sirius in the eye, but by his peripheral vision.
“Although Cissy and I didn’t agree on pretty much anything,” there was a sparkle to his eyes and he downcasted them, “we both agreed that family comes first. You should have seen her defending Lestrange when they were at Hogwarts together. Nothing comes between that woman and her relatives.”
Draco hummed, “unless you lack magic.”
“But you don’t.” Sirius lent in and Draco, finally, looked in eyes that reflected his own. “You proved them wrong, and you’re one of the smartest wizards I’ve ever known.”
Draco leant back, relaxing in the corner seat but not slouching. “Where is this leading?”
“Remus and I brought you a few things: it’s not much.” He shuffled around his pocket and brought out a few what looked like Lego pieces. Using his wand, Sirius returned the items to their original size. “They’re a few advanced books on magic: the inner workings, how potions ingredients react to each other, some other stuff… I think…”
Draco held the hardback books with golden, cursive writing on the front. “You know the whole point of giving presents is to wait for the receiver to open them.” He ran his fingertips over the fonts and slid his palm down the spine. They were the most fabulous books he'd ever seen (now who was the nerd).
Sirius rolled his eyes, “I was excited!”
“About books?” Remus raised an eyebrow as he and Harry reentered the room, finally finished with the training dummy Moody brought Harry.