“Let’s take a break. I’m starving”
Draco checked his wristwatch. 9.20 am. “I’m sure you can do more than 20 minutes of work without a break, Weaselette.”
“Maybe, but not on the day before Christmas Eve,” Ginny Weasley smiled and practically dragged him out of their shared office.
It was indeed the day before Christmas Eve and most of “The Seeker Weekly” journalists hadn’t even bothered to come in for work. And those who did had a dreamy look on their faces that suggested they would do as little as possible today.
They sat at a small table in the cafeteria and Weaselette ordered a large croissant for herself and a cappuccino for Draco.
“So, what are you doing for Christmas?” she asked when their orders arrived, her face already full of little cramps of her croissant.
Draco shrugged. “Nothing much.” He was hoping to finish his latest article before the New Year's issue. The Wimbourne Wasps had suddenly replaced their best beater and he wanted to find out if it had anything to do with him revealing he was a muggleborn.
“Nothing planned with family or friends?” Weaselette asked absentmindedly and immediately her eyes widened in realization. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Draco, I shouldn’t have said that.”
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Of course, it was easy for her to assume that everyone had a family to spend the holidays with. But after the war, all of Draco’s friends had fled the country and his father had been locked up in Azkaban. And since his mother had passed a couple of years ago, he was just… alone. But he was free, he had a job he loved and at least one colleague he considered his friend, and that was a lot more than he deserved, in his opinion.
“You should come to my place,” she suggested.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Yeah… right.”
“I’m serious. Everyone is coming. And you shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.”
“I appreciate the offer, Ginevra, but I can feel the awkwardness on my skin already. I hardly believe any of your guests will enjoy the company of a former Death Eater,” he sneered.
“Well, if anyone has a problem with you, they should come and talk to me first,” she replied, flames in her eyes.
Draco smiled. If someone told him a few years ago that he’d be grateful to call Ginny Weasley his friend he’d have hexed them.
————
Two days later Draco was standing outside Weaselette’s apartment carefully holding a bottle of wine in one hand and for the millionth time regretting his decision to take her up on her offer. Before he could muster up his courage and ring the bell, the door opened wide revealing the redhead in a beautiful black dress.
“Draco! I thought I heard someone. I’m so glad you could make it. Merry Christmas!” She pulled him into an embrace.
“Well,” he said rubbing the back of his head, “a certain imprisoned relative of mine wrote just to say that he hopes I don’t spend the holidays with Mudbloods and Bloodtraitors, so here I am.”
“Naturally,” she chuckled. Her cheeks were flushed and her freckles more visible than ever. The half-empty glass of wine in her hand could have something to do with it.
While Ginevra carried his very expensive wine to the kitchen (without nearly the care it deserved, in his opinion), Draco found himself once more regretting his decision to be here. This was clearly a family dinner. All the Weasleys were there (minus one twin he corrected himself miserably), Granger, Wood, a Gryffindor chaser (he wanted to say… Johnson?), Fleur Delacour, and a baby that looked like a mix of her and the Weasley’s eldest son. The only people that were unrelated to the Weasleys by blood or in-law were himself and Longbottom. Oh, and how could he forget. The Savior himself. The Boy He Couldn’t Stop Thinking About for the last decade. Harry fucking Potter in a dark green sweater that, of course, matched his insufferable green eyes was chatting happily with father Weasley.
As if summoned by Draco’s thoughts, Potter raised his head and locked eyes with him. His smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a slight frown.
“And you must be Draco!” chanted a smiling lady snapping Draco out of the staring contest with Potter. “Ginny told us a lot about you.”
Fuck. He instinctively covered his left forearm. Mrs. Weasley caught the movement out of the corner of her eyes but her smile didn’t falter.
“Come on, dear. I have something for you,” she said.
Together, they walked further into the house, where the guests occupied every sofa and armchair available, while some of them were already sitting at the dining table. Potter was back chatting with Mr. Weasley as if the past few seconds never happened.
“This one’s for you. Merry Christmas, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, handing him a package wrapped in shining Christmas paper.
Draco stared. He didn’t expect there would be a present for him. He almost forgot to mumble a thank you before ripping it open. It was a…sweater. A bright green sweater with the letter D stitched on it with brown yarn.
“Mrs. Weasley, this is…” Ugly, hideous, monstrous. But, then again it was a gift and Draco hadn’t received one of those in years, “…wonderful, thank you,” he said and he meant it. The older lady pulled him into a tight, mother-like hug.
Right on time, Weaselette called everyone to the table. Draco grabbed the chair closest to him and found himself sitting between Ron Weasley and Oliver Wood. Great.
“Malfoy.” The redhead narrowed his eyes at him. “I swear if you do anything to ruin…”
“Oh stop it, Ron, it’s getting old,” his wife interrupted from beside him. “Merry Christmas, Draco.” She smiled at him. Granger smiled at him. This is officially the weirdest evening of his life.
“Merry Christmas, Granger,” he returned, completely ignoring Weasley’s comment.
“How are things at The Seeker Weekly?” she asked politely, piling some salad on her plate.
“You’re working at The Seeker Weekly?” Wood jumped in the conversation. Draco nodded. “Did you hear that Bennet got fired from the Wimbourne Wasps?” he continued.
“Oliver, love, I thought we said no work talk during Christmas,” Percy Weasley commented from the other side of the table.
“It’s fine. I did hear about it and I think it’s odd,” Draco replied, thankful for the familiar conversation topic.
“Right? He was the best beater they had in years,” Ron added, too excited to talk about Quidditch to keep pouting at Draco.
The rest of the dinner went by in a blur. Draco kept talking sports with Wood and Ron, with the occasional comment by Johnson and twin-Weasley. He was drinking from his always full glass of wine and wondering just why Potter kept staring at him. Surely, the Boy Who Just Couldn’t Die knew that even if Draco was going to try something funny he would be against what seemed to be a hundred of Ginevra’s friends and family members?
After dessert, the two eldest Weasley sons and Delacour announced that they were going to meet their friends at some bar, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would go home to babysit the little kid (Victoire, Draco remembered, Fleur must have had a big say in that name). By that time, Draco was just the right amount of tipsy to wave goodbye to everyone who was leaving and he even got up and gave mother Weasley a big hug, thanking her again for her gift. She smiled, pinched his cheek, and disappeared in the green flames of the Floo Network.
“I didn’t think you’d be a hugger,” a voice said behind him. He turned to find Potter only a few steps away.
“I am not. Don’t worry, Potter. I didn’t put a spell on your adoptive mother. I just wanted to thank her for getting me a gift.”
“Yeah, I figured. It is a nice sweater,” he said and then, “I always thought green looked good on you.”
Draco blinked. He held his breath as they locked eyes for the second time that evening. Potter smiled. He should say something, shouldn’t he? Thank him, or compliment him back, or…
“Boys, are you coming? We’re playing drinking games,” Weaselette called from the living room.
Potter chuckled awkwardly and left without saying another word. Draco followed.
In the living room, people were sitting in a big circle. Draco chose an empty cushion on the floor next to Ginevra.
“How about ‘Spin the Bottle’?” Longbottom proposed.
“We’re not 13. And half of us are siblings.” Ron made a disgusted sound, while twin-Weasley was sending him kisses.
“Twister?” Johnson asked.
“I don’t have it. And I don’t think anyone here is in the right state to accio one.” Ginevra frowned.
“Truth or Dare?” Potter suggested. Everyone agreed. That’s what you get from hanging out with a bunch of Gryffindors, Draco thought.
“Ok, here are the rules,” Ron announced. “You pick a person and ask them if they want a Truth or Dare question. They choose and then you ask the question and set a certain number of shots they have to take if they refuse to answer or if the rest of us think their answer wasn’t satisfactory enough.” He looked around. “No more than 5 shots for each question!” he added quickly because twin-Weasley was rubbing his hands looking at Percy.
“And no war questions!” Granger called and everyone turned to look at her. “I just thought it would kill the mood.”
The game started and it quickly became clear that no one had any intention of mentioning the war. Longbottom shared that his first kiss was with Ginevra after the Yule Ball, and then, next round, Wood made them kiss “for old times’ sake”. Twin-Weasley chose to take four shots instead of trying one of his own Puking Pastilles and Percy Weasley surprised everyone when he actually went outside on the street and shouted “I am a wizard and this is my wand” completely naked. On a double dare, Draco and Ron were forced to sing “Weasley is our King” together and later, Draco admitted that he had spent the embarrassing amount of four hours writing those lyrics in the Slytherin Common Room.
“Ok, Malfoy, Truth or Dare?” Percy Weasley asked him.
“Truth.”
“For four shots, what was the scariest moment of your life?”
Draco sighed. Trust the nerdy Weasley to ask the most profound questions in a drinking game.
“Well, I was pretty scared your mom would make me wear the sweater she made me,” he answered casually, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey. The room erupted in laughter.
“You’re telling me that you spent a year of your life living with the darkest wizard of our time and my mom still scares you more?”
“I thought you said no war questions.”
“We also said truth, Malfoy,” Ron added, still laughing. “So either tell the truth or drink up.”
“Ok, fine.” Draco breathed out. “The scariest moment of my life…” he looked down, uncomfortably, “happened in a Hogwarts bathroom during sixth year. It was the first time I thought I was going to die.”
For a few seconds, no one talked. And then…
“That must have been one enormous dump,” twin-Weasley said and everyone was laughing again.
Draco’s awkward smile left his face when he saw green eyes looking back at him hurt.
The game died down after a few more rounds when everyone was too tired or too drunk to ask any more questions. Draco was making himself a cup of tea in the kitchen to sober up a bit before apparating back home when Potter walked in and leaned on the counter next to him.
“Hey.”
“Hello Potter.”
He passed his hand through his thick, black hair and rubbed the back of his neck.
“About what you said earlier, I don’t think I’ve ever apologized for that.”
“It’s fine, Potter. We were on opposite sides of the war. You did what you had to do.”
Potter looked at him, eyes wide.
“I… you think I wanted to kill you?”
“That much is quite obvious.” Draco chuckled.
“No, Malfoy, I would never. I didn’t know what the spell was going to do.”
Draco frowned.
“I… I just found it. In a book. It said to use it for… I didn’t know what it was going to do,” Potter repeated, walking up and down the small kitchen.
Draco turned around, his back to the counter, watching Potter pacing nervously .
“So you didn’t follow me to that bathroom?”
“I did, but not to hex you. I was following you because… well, also because I thought you were up to something, which you were, so I was right. But that whole year was… And sometimes you were just there, you know… And I… I was just so confused and…”
Draco grabbed his shoulders.
“Potter, stop. You’re not making any sense,” he said softly.
All of a sudden, soft lips were on his. Lips that tasted like Firewhiskey and Christmas cookies and… Potter. Before Draco could even begin to comprehend what was happening, Potter pulled away. For a moment, they just stared at each other, lips still slightly parted from the kiss. Then, Potter mumbled something under his breath, turned around and left the kitchen. Draco didn’t see him again that night.
————
Two days later, Draco walked into his and Ginevra’s shared office to find her already there with a smug smile on her face.
“Morning,” Draco said.
“You and Harry snogged!” she exclaimed.
“Real people say good morning first.”
“Good morning. You and Harry snogged!”
Draco sighed and sat down on his office chair. This was going to be a long day.
“I knew it! I knew my party was going to bring you closer. You two have been pining for each other for ages.”
“Excuse me, I haven’t been pining for anyone at all,” he stated. “Besides, snogging is an overstatement. He barely kissed me and then ran away.”
Ginevra squeaked and clapped her hands. Draco rolled his eyes.
“He made a drunken mistake, Weaselette. Let it go.”
“But you didn’t?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You say he made a drunken mistake. Did you make a drunken mistake too, letting him kiss you?”
Draco felt his neck and cheeks heat up. “Yeah,” he mumbled, eyes on an empty parchment on his desk. “Yeah, maybe.”
Ginevra looked unconvinced. “That’s a pity then. I guess Harry was right to be disappointed that you didn’t kiss him back.”
“Well, it isn’t my fault he caught me off guard like that!” he snapped without thinking. Ginevra raised her eyebrows. Draco cleared his throat. “So, uhm…” he said trying to sound as casual as possible, “he was disappointed?”
“Uh-huh. Very disappointed.”
“As in, maybe he could be into me?”
“As in, he’s definitely into you,” she responded, “But you don’t care, do you?”
“No. No, not at all.” He shook his head but couldn’t stop a small smile from appearing on his face.
————
For reasons completely unrelated to Potter, Draco accepted Weaselette’s invitation to her New Year’s Eve party. He found himself once again tipsy, full of delicious food and among familiar faces. He could probably get used to that. The only problem was Potter avoided even looking at him, let alone flirting with him like last time. What good was it to know that the Boy Who Lived liked him back if he couldn’t have some fun with it?
Thankfully, it wasn’t long until Johnson suggested they played another drinking game.
“I can’t think of any more Truth or Dare questions,” Ginevra complained.
“Maybe we can play Pass the Lighter instead?” Granger proposed. Everyone looked at her like she’d just got off a spaceship and right into Weaselette’s living room. “It’s a muggle game,” she explained. “If I have the lighter, someone has to ask me a question about the people in this room. The questions could be something like “Who do you think dressed the ugliest today” or “Who is most likely to kill you in your sleep?”. I then have to choose the person that fits the answer and pass them the lighter. Then they get to answer the next question and so on.”
“That’s not a drinking game,” her husband protested.
“Ok, fine. The person who gets the lighter has to take a shot.” She rolled her eyes.
“More importantly, what the hell is a lighter?” Draco asked and saw many heads nodding around him.
“Oh, yes, of course!” Granger started patting her pockets and looking in her purse like a maniac. When she didn’t find whatever it was that she was searching for, she looked at Potter hopefully. He shook his head and she grabbed a quill from Ginevra’s coffee table and with a flick of her wand transformed it into a small, blue object. Everyone gathered around to see it better.
“That’s what Muggles use to make fire,” she explained. “I’ve seen it a couple of times in the wizarding world too, but I guess it isn’t that common. You use your thumb to roll the metal wheel down toward that red button.” She did it and a small flame appeared from the hole on top of the lighter.
After everyone got the chance to examine the muggle object they started playing. It took them a few rounds to understand the rules but eventually, the questions got interesting.
“Ok, Harry,” Ginevra grinned mischievously. “Which one of our amazing friends wouldn’t you snog even if your life depended on it?”
Draco held his breath. Potter would pick him for sure, then he could tease Potter about Christmas and they would go back to flirting.
“That’s easy.” Without any hesitation, Potter tossed the lighter to Granger. Draco rolled his eyes.
“Right back at you, mate,” she winked.
“You would snog me?” Ron asked.
“If my life depended on it,” Potter shrugged.
Twin-Weasley whistled. Granger took a shot and waited for Potter to ask her a question.
“Hermione, who did you have a crush on in school?” She turned to her left, where Ron was sitting. “Except Ron, obviously,” Potter added.
“No one in this room,” she responded confused.
“Are you sure? Not even a small one? A platonic little crush when you were 11?” he continued, smirking. Naughtiness looks so good on him, Draco thought.
Granger buried her face in her hands, mumbled something that sounded a lot like “Why did I ever tell you this?” and blindly passed the lighter to a very bewildered looking Percy Weasley.
The game went on as the lighter moved from Percy to Wood to Johnson to twin-Weasley to Longbottom and then back to Potter.
“Ok, uhm… So Harry…” Longbottom narrowed his eyes thinking of a question. “Who do you think should have been sorted into a different House back in school?”
Potter looked around. His eyes stopped at Granger for a few seconds and then again on twin-Weasley. But he didn’t pass the lighter to either of them. Instead, he concentrated really hard on the carpet under his feet and tossed it to Draco.
“You take that back!” Draco gave an audible, theatrical gasp as he received the little object.
“You got to admit, Draco,” Weaselette laughed, “you blend in with Gryffindors pretty well.”
“I’ve never been more offended in my entire life,” Draco continued, taking a shot. “Ok, Potter, what’s your question?”
Potter looked… blushed? Draco wondered if he was the only one that noticed the pale shade of pink appearing on his cheeks. He took a breath as if he was trying to summon up some courage.
“5 minutes to midnight!” Ginevra shouted suddenly.
Everyone forgot about the game immediately and followed her to the balcony. It was a clear night, the perfect opportunity to watch the New Year’s fireworks in the London sky. Draco searched the crowd for Potter. He was on the back, leaning casually against the wall, hands in the pocket of his jacket.
“Saved by the New Year.” Draco approached him, mimicking his posture.
Potter chuckled, looking down at his shoes
“What were you going to ask me?” Draco continued.
“I- I don’t know,” Potter stuttered. He looked adorable when he was uncomfortable like that.
“Something stupid probably,” Draco teased.
“My questions aren’t stupid, Malfoy,” Potter protested. “I- I was going to ask who you would like to kiss at midnight,” he whispered, his eyes still pinned on the floor.
“I guess we’ll never know,” Draco said.
Potter sighed and stood up properly. He looked so disappointed, Draco really had to try to fight back a smile.
“10, 9, 8” The countdown started.
“Look, Malfoy, about Christmas…” Potter said, not very interested in counting.
“7, 6”
“I want to apologize.”
“5, 4”
“It was way out of line and I really shouldn’t have...”
“3, 2, 1”
“Oh shut up, Potter.” Draco stood up and kissed Potter hard on the lips. Potter gasped and stood frozen for a second before melting into the kiss. It was even better than Draco remembered it, even better than the kiss that had been playing on repeat in his head since Christmas. As everyone was wishing each other a Happy New Year, Draco Malfoy was kissing Harry Potter and all he could think about was that this was indeed going to be a happy new year.