Threatening To Love You.

Title: A Sweet Apology.
Author: Pekeleke
Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.
Rating: M
Challenge: Written for the adventdrabbles 2021. Prompt #5: Gingerbread Cake.
Word Count: 886
Warnings: Explicit Language. Dramatic Draco. Humor.
Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and the HP franchise are owned by JKR and not me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
A/N: Unbeated. Ch 5 of my Christmas Series: Threatening To Love You.
Summary: “Draco bites his bottom lip in indecision. He should probably vanish the thing on the spot, sight unseen. Anything relating to Potter tends to end in disaster, and he's had enough of that this week.

A Sweet Apology.

Draco sleeps in on Sunday. He'd been up late the night before, playing longer than usual with his crups in an effort to settle their jitters after the Santa event debacle. He's just strolling back into his bedroom, feeling soft and utterly relaxed after the hour-long bath he'd indulged in, when Prippy, his favorite elf, pops in front of him, carrying a silver-covered tray.

"Delivery for master," Prippy says solemnly, and Draco stares at the covered tray with the delight of a man whose best friend happens to be currently touring every chocolate factory in Switzerland.

"Has Blaise sent another sample? I thought we'd already chosen the truffles we're using for the Wizengamot's end of the year bash."

"A strange bird delivered this. The card said it’s from Harry Potter, master."

Draco recoils in instinctive reaction. Potter is a walking disaster who hates his guts with a passion. He's got no idea what the man could possibly have sent him, but there is a very good chance that it’s poisoned. Or Cursed. Or both.

"What is it?"

"It's a cake, master Malfoy, Sir."

Draco frowns, bewildered, "A cake?"

"An ugly one. All lopsided and smushed on the side. Master will hate it."

"Could it be poisoned?"

Prippy shrugs, "It passed the master's wards."

Draco bites his bottom lip in indecision. He should probably vanish the thing on the spot, sight unseen. Anything relating to Potter tends to end in disaster, and he's had enough of that this week. Still, Potter's never sent him anything. He could be trying to apologize. Draco would be churlish to deny him the chance.

"You said there is a card?"

"It's on the cake, Sir."

"On the cake?"

"Yes. It's stuck there like a flag."

Draco gasps, aghast. Potter seems to have sent him the ugliest apology cake in existence. Maybe Draco is being too hopeful, and the stupid thing is poisoned after all. Potter has never apologized to him either. Not even after he carved Draco in half, scarring him for life.

In the end, Draco's curiosity is stronger than his fear. He tells Prippy to leave the tray on the little side table beside the bedroom's fireside chair and prepare to Apparate his mother away from the property at the first sign of trouble.

"What about the master?" Prippy wrings her hands unhappily. She used to be his nanny when he was little and is very attached to him. Draco's heart lifts at the affection he's managed to keep, despite the fact that this creature has seen the worst of him.

"I've got my personal wards, Prippy. And I'll cast a general Protego before I open the lid. I'll be fine. I promise."

Prippy doesn't seem convinced, "And the master's puppies?"

"Let them out into the garden straight away," Draco decides, "Potter's antics have scared them enough already."

Prippy stares at him unhappily and throws the dirtiest glare Draco's ever seen at the covered tray before popping out of the room. Draco stands right where she left him for a very long time. He's been trying to be braver, but it's hard. Potter killed the Dark Lord with an Expeliamus. Murdering Draco should be small potatoes for a wizard with that much power. Scarhead doesn't need a poisoned, ugly cake to get rid of Draco though. He could probably vanish him to the other side of the universe with a distracted wand-wave.

Draco shivers, wraps his arms around himself in indulgent self-comfort, and finally steps forward. His hand trembles as he casts every diagnostic spell he knows on the tray. There is nothing nefarious about it, as far as Draco can tell.

Five more minutes go by in an agony of indecision. Finally, Draco casts a shield around the room and levitates the lid in two jerky motions. The sight of the cake itself is villainous enough. What has Potter done to the poor thing? It's a crime against good taste and perfectly turned bakery goods. Draco approaches it oh-so-slowly and takes a cautious whiff. It smells just like Christmas. Draco blinks in astonishment, realizing that Potter has sent him a gingerbread cake. The thing is an apology, then.

Reassured, Draco steps even closer, snatches the flag-like message sticking out of the cake, and reads:

Malfoy,

I'm so sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to sabotage your event, I swear. I was trying to be friendly and hug your puppies and things.

I—er baked you a cake. I know you've got a sweet tooth on you. Don't understand why you're not the size of a whale yet, but I like that you hide shrunken candy bars in your pockets like Hermione hides books.It’s er—cute and shit.

I know it doesn't look very good. But I made this cake myself, and it's nice. Try it, please. I— I'd love to sweeten your Sunday.

Yours,

Harry, I meant Potter. I'm not sure you remember my actual name since you never use it, you, git.

PS: You could. Use my name, that is. If you want. Er— Draco.

Draco stares at the bizarre message and reads his own name written in Potter's abysmal handwriting six times in a row before lowering the note to stare dazedly into space. He feels slightly lightheaded. Potter knows he hides candy inside his pockets. And he called him cute. And a whale. And used terrible grammar to ramble like a lunatic. Draco smiles. This note is nice. It sounds shy and lovely and—friendly. Draco wonders if Potter is finally ready to bury the hatchet they’ve been waving at each other since they were eleven. Draco would like that. He'd like that very much indeed.