Part of the SAC-2003

Happy Christmas, Mr. Malfoy

Angyl and Rina

December 2003

Disclaimer: They belong to JKR, not us, not even as Christmas presents.

It was Christmas Eve, and Diagon Alley fairly reeked of the season: each shop decked with ivy, holly, and little twinkling lights, all the shoppers calling out cheery greetings as they passed people they knew, their arms laden with presents for family and friends. Draco Malfoy sat near a window in the Leaky Cauldron and watched the people outside, for the moment enjoying the anonymity of the dim lighting as he sipped at his mulled wine, wondering what perversity had brought him out on this evening. It wasnít as if he had any family left to buy presents for, and all his so-called friends had been killed during the last battle with Voldemort. Of course, he could buy himself something, but he could do that any time, so what was the point?

It wasnít that he was jealous of the people on the street, heading home to their fires and trees and messy, grubby lives, though he did admit to being lonely at times like this. Although the do-gooders tolerated him for his part in Voldemortís defeat, they still didnít trust him, even five years later, and he supposed he really couldnít blame them; at times he didnít trust himself.

Still idly watching the people outside, he leaned back in his chair, signaling for another drink when he lifted his mug and discovered it was empty. The move caused his long, white-blond hair to fall back from his face and he heard a sharp gasp from the nearest table. Hearing the flurry of whispers, Draco turned his head, leveling his cool gray gaze on the couple sitting there, smirking when the woman blanched and turned away. It wasnít often someone could look at the right side of his face without flinching; the twisted scars tended to turn most peopleís stomachs.

Nodding when the waitress brought him another drink, Draco turned his attention back to the window, idly sipping his wine, deciding that getting drunk might not be too bad an idea this evening. He paused, mug halfway to his lips, and arched his eyebrows when he recognized a form on the sidewalk and found himself staring into a pair of damnably familiar green eyes.

Standing stock still, Harry couldnít quite get his brain to engage. Malfoy. It really was Malfoy. That thought brought the initial gut reaction of Ďpratí, followed by Ďtraitorí and finally Ďbeautiful boyí. Well, all right maybe not the beautiful youth of his past but compelling, intriguing, gut wrenching, intoxicating and sexy as all sin nonetheless.

Oh, heíd had it bad for the bastard back in school, not that heíd ever let on to anyone. Even himself. Back then he was the quintessential poster boy for heterosexuality. Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and numerous other Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor girls, he dated them all and paid court and desperately tried not to be any more abnormal than he already was.

Life, however, had a way of confounding even the best-laid plans, Harry thought with a resigned smile. All it had taken was one drunken night of Quidditch, fire whiskey and memories with the former Gryffindor Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, and Harry Potter realized that he was still living in that damnable closet under the stairs.

Well, not anymore. In the immediate aftermath of the war with Voldemort heíd come out and the wizarding world, more wrapped up in the mythos of Harry Potter, the boy who lived, barely batted an eye, although good mama witches gave up trying to foist their daughters on him, instead offering up their sons.

Harry, however, hadnít been interested. Heíd been bewitched by a pair of storm gray eyes and sensual lips that curled into the most erotic sneer heíd ever seen. Too damn bad that the rest of the package was the Malfoy attitude.

Which brought him back to present day and those same eyes now looking vaguely amused as an eyebrow quirked at his prolonged stare.

Harry suddenly realized he was rapidly becoming a living snowman and decided that it was time to warm his bones and come in from the cold. And what better place than the Leaky Cauldron, the place where heíd first ventured into the world of Wizard? Slapping the snow off his shoulders and finger-combing his hair, he walked briskly through the front door, smiling at acquaintances, ignoring the awed whispers, shaking hands with friends.

Ordering a hot toddy from Tom, who still stood behind his bar after all this time, Harry slid into the seat across from the blond. "Malfoy. Itís been a while, hasnít it?" he said conversationally, continuing to ignore the now gawping jaws and more excited whispers. "So howís life among the upper crust?"

"Careful, Potter," Draco murmured, tilting his head so that his hair fell across his face again, "someone might think you actually care. Wouldnít want my... exalted status to wear off on you now." He smirked and took another drink, the mellow buzz of the wine warming his insides.

"Sod what people think," Harry replied affably. "Iím Harry bloody Potter. I can associate with the devil himself, and people will think Iím performing a fucking miracle," the raven-haired man replied with a derogatory snort. "Malfoy, I never gave a ratís arse about what people thought of me when we were in school; why do you think Iíd care now?

"So, howíve you been? You look like shite, if I might add, and no, I donít mean the..." Harryís hand moved forward to tuck the hair back behind the other manís ear. "Youíve never hidden yourself away before, Malfoy; donít start now. Sod them all. You should be bloody proud of Ďem; they mean you survived when you should have died. Thatís not something to hide away."

Draco snorted and sat back, shaking his hair back into his face again. "Is that supposed to cheer me up or depress me more?" he asked dryly. "Shouldnít you be at some boring Gryffindor gathering or something?"

"Not really, no. Why, trying to get rid of me so soon?" Harry laughed, taking a drink. "Iíve done my obligatories, and I told the Weasley brood that I was holidaying in the muggle world this year. Couldnít squeeze another jumper in my closet if I put a shrinking spell on it."

"Actually, yes," Draco answered Harryís initial question, watching Harry through narrowed eyes.

"Too bad, Iíve decided that you could do with some Christmas cheer and that Iím the one to give it to you. After all, we had such a long and meaningful relationship in school; how could I not want to spend a little time with an old... pain in the arse?" Harry grinned, quirking an eyebrow and waiting for a reply.

"Just your way of spreading Christmas joy, eh, Potter? Planning on giving me a blowjob to make my holiday bright?"

"Gee, Malfoy, if that was all it took, Iíd have done it years ago," Harry replied blandly.

Draco gave a harsh laugh and knocked back the rest of his drink. "Bit it off more likely."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Absolutely sure of that, are you?" he drawled, sipping his own drink. "And what would you say if I told you that youíre the reason I finally admitted that Harry Potter was a homo?"

"Oh really?" Draco signaled for another drink and quirked an eyebrow at Harry. "I would have thought it would have been when you were caught with your cock up Thomasí ass in the Divination room."

"Merlin, no, that was at least a year after I went into denial about lusting after the prince of Slytherin Youíre the reason I dated almost every eligible female in the three remaining houses other than your own. I wasnít having anything to do with the house of the snake."

"Now thereís a shock." Draco accepted his new drink and knocked half of it back. "And just why are you confessing this to me after all this time, Potter?"

"I was visited by the ghost of Christmas past who advised me to Ďfess up or Iíd end up like Snape, bitter, greasy and alone," Harry quipped as he signaled for another drink of his own. "So it was an easy decision to make, and here I am, spilling my guts."

"You know, Potter, if you want to get laid, there are easier ways than coming here and telling me your poor pathetic tale. Trust me, Iím not in a position to turn down offers when I get them." Draco quirked a smile though it didnít reach his eyes.

"On my word as the boy who lived and the man who killed Voldemort, I wanted you so badly I could practically taste you, Malfoy. It was one of the reasons I hated you as much as I did. You were unattainable, the ice prince, so cold, so glacial, so perfect, and I was this sloppy, scruffy, scarred boy who could only inspire you to hate and malice. My god, I hated you. And wanted you. The hate faded to respect, and hell, I even grew to like you. Never stopped wanting you though. Just thought Iíd let you know that."

"So this is my Christmas present? Hearing how Harry Potter spent his formative years wanking off because of me?" Dracoís smile was a bit less cynical this time. "Well, Potter, I suppose I should give you yours then." He tossed back the last of his wine and stood, shaking his head when the world swayed. "Címon then, what are you waiting for?"

"I didnít say what I did in order to get into your pants, Malfoy. Besides, I didnít know you were a bottom boy," Harry replied, knocking back the shot of whiskey that Tom had sent over. "Seriously, I didnít come in here to hit on you. I came because... I understand loneliness. You know you can be in a room full of people, all of whom are there to see you, and you can still be the loneliest person in the room."

"Iím versatile," Draco intoned solemnly, leaning his hands on the table. "And is this where you tell me you understand my pain? Donít bother, Potter; I deserved everything that happened to me and then some. You, on the other hand, didnít."

"No one deserves pain, Malfoy," Harry replied. "Well, okay, Voldemort did, but he was the rare exception. And no, I donít understand the pain, nor am I here to save your soul or to wax philosophical. I hadnít thought beyond sharing a drink with an old warhorse like myself. But hey, itís Christmas, why not." With a shrug of his shoulders Harry stood and motioned for Draco to lead the way.

"So you can ogle my arse? Why the hell not?" Draco snorted, winding his way around the tables and to the door, exiting the tavern into the snowy night air, the chill like a slap in the face after the Leaky Cauldronís close warmth.

"I plan on doing a lot more than ogling your arse if youíre serious about this, Malfoy. I just thought Iíd warn you in advance. Iíve got seven years of lusting after you to satisfy. Be prepared for a very long night ahead. And just so you know, Christmas is a time to give as well as receive, if you follow," Harry replied with a hungry leer as he followed the other man out into the winterís night.

"I follow," Draco drawled, looking back over his shoulder to study Harry closely. "So, yours or mine?"

"Well, that depends. Iíve a flat in muggle London and a house in Godricís Hollow. Youíve the Malfoy mansion. So which would you prefer since location doesnít matter when you can apparate?" Harry replied, crowding up behind Draco, his breath casting a slight fog around both their faces as his lips brushed the blondís just once before he backed away again. Too much, he wanted this man too much so even that slightest whisper of a kiss had him burning.

"Didnít you hear, Potter?" Draco asked, licking his lips, "Malfoy Manor is no more; burned to the ground and damned good riddance to it."

"Must have missed that one," Harry replied absently, his eyes almost black with lust as he avidly watched Dracoís tongue caress that soft mouth, his own tongue darting out in mimicry. "So, how many fires did you have to start in order to make it catch? Or didnít you have anything to do with it?"

Draco arched a silver eyebrow and smirked by way of answer. "My flat I think then. Come along, Potter."

"Keep your secrets, for now, Malfoy. Iíll find them out eventually," Harry muttered but nonetheless trailed the former Slytherin into the night festooned with holiday cheer, the only thing on Harryís mind being just how quickly he could get into Dracoís lush mouth or gorgeous arse.

"What secrets, Potter?" Draco asked innocently. "Iím an open book; what you see is what you get."

Harry merely snorted. To suggest that Draco Malfoy, prince of Slytherin and double agent extraordinaire, was an open book was like suggesting Snape was actually a fairy godmother in disguise. Harry knew better, and, by god, he was going to get to know this enigma of an enemy turned ally turned... lover?

Draco smirked again and started down the street, snowflakes gathering on his shoulders and in his hair. "Believe what you like. Iím off; follow if you like." The last had barely been spoken before he vanished with a crack of displaced air.

"Malfoy, wait..." Harry groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Bloody good thing that Iím obsessed enough to know where you live, you wanker, because you forgot to tell me where to apparate to," he muttered before following hot on the former Slytherinís heels.

"Hmmm," Draco murmured when Harry arrived in his living room, "thought I might have lost you." He sighed and reached for another cut crystal goblet. "Drink?"

"You wish, Malfoy," Harry growled and took the glass out of the blondís hand, downing it in one shot. "If Voldie couldnít kill me with all his evil might, blah blah blah, what makes you think you can get rid of me so easily? Iím Harry Potter, after all," the former Gryffindor smirked, making himself comfortable in what was obviously Dracoís favorite chair as evidenced by the well broken in look of it. "Iíll have another one, thanks," he continued, shaking his now empty glass.

Draco rolled his eyes, tossing back his own drink before pouring them both refills. "Such a gracious guest, must be the result of your upbringing." As he spoke, he settled himself on the sofa, pulling his wand from his sleeve to light the fire.

"Ta, and I was raised to not be seen or heard, so I doubt very much it was that. I wasnít even hired help; I was slave labor. But weíre not here to talk about my family or lack thereof; weíre here to talk about us. Shagging. Numerous times in numerous positions in a variety of different locales. And after talking about it, doing it," the dark-haired man smirked as he this time sipped on his whiskey.

"So, whatís your kinkiest fantasy, Malfoy? This is Christmas, after all."

"Doesnít Christmas mean youíre supposed to be good and pure?" Draco asked, toeing off his loafers and stretching his feet out before the fire. "Not that either of those applies to either of us, I suppose."

"Thank god for that. Iíll leave the goodness and purity to those saints of the wizarding world. I prefer to actually live my life instead of merely existing. Iíll leave it to Dumbledore and his ilk to sacrifice all for Wizard; me, I like getting soused on occasion, having the odd one night stand and being the gay boy who lived, thanks all the same."

Draco cocked an eyebrow again. "And Iím supposed to tell you my kinkiest fantasy after you flat out lie to me like that, Potter? Shame on you."

Taking another sip of his whiskey, Harry arched a single raven brow. "Did I ever tell you, Draco, that the sorting hat nearly sorted me into Slytherin? It was a tough call, and the only thing that prevented it was me saying I wanted to be in any house but Slytherin. It seems that my only other option was Gryffindor. Hell, I even look like dear old Tom, back when he was a handsome young thing. Eerie, donít you think?"

"You as a Slytherin? You wouldnít have lasted a week," Draco laughed, draining his glass and walking back over to the sideboard to refill it, bringing the bottle along to top off Harryís glass as well. "Would have been worth it to see your face if it had happened though."

He paused then and studied Harry closely. "Though you may have done all right as one of us... It certainly would have been interesting at any rate."

"Why do people insist on believing Iím a bloody saint?" Harry sighed melodramatically and then caught Draco around the waist and tugged the blond onto his lap, nuzzling the other manís neck, his tongue lapping at whatever flesh he could reach.

"Iím anything but, but those bloody wankers and people like Dumbledore insist on perpetuating the myth. Downright annoying, really, but then soís most of the wizarding world in general.

"So how about we stop talking semantics and all this other shite and get down to something more interesting? Like me shagging you senseless," the raven-haired man continued, turning Dracoís face so that the scars were facing Harry and proceeded to kiss his way across it to the former Slytherinís lips, wanting to claim them as his.

"Here I thought you were a do-gooding, arse-kissing little prig, and you just might not be... at least about the prig part." Draco slid a hand between them to grip Harryís erection, his hold almost painfully tight. "And not so little either."

"Why, Draco, I never would have taken you for a size queen," Harry gasped and then bit down hard on the blondís lower lip in retaliation, drawing blood as he did so.

Lapping the crimson droplets up, Harryís green eyes darkened to a color akin to the deepest part of the jungle, a green that was almost black in intensity. "I want you, Malfoy. I want to be in you. I want to fuck you until you scream my name, not Potter, not Potty, not any of the other annoying little names you had for me; I want to hear you scream my given name. And I will hear it."

Standing up, ignoring the almost painful hold that Draco had on his bits and pieces, Harry headed for the only hallway he could see, expecting that to lead to the other manís bedroom. He wanted them naked. Now.

"Iím a Malfoy, Potter," Draco drawled, acting as if he was accustomed to being carried everywhere he went. "I like things big, and I donít scream."

"And Iím Harry bloody Potter, the man who stopped Voldemort when he was a babe and kept right on doing it until I killed him once and for all. You donít stand a chance." Dropping Draco on the bed, Harry quickly covered the other man with his own body and began to devour that lush, pink mouth, not giving the blond time to retort.

Draco groaned and fisted his hands in Harryís thick hair, holding his head still so that he could turn the tables on the kiss, taking Harryís mouth as his own had so recently been pillaged.

Harryís response was as immediate as it was violent. His hands grasped the edges of Malfoyís fine silk shirt and pulled, hearing fabric tear and buttons pop off. Stroking and molding his way across the smooth alabaster chest had him fighting the urge to whimper.

It also fuelled his need to taste, and tearing his mouth from Dracoís, Harry ducked his head and practically inhaled one of Dracoís nipples with an odd purring growl of pure contentment.

"Bloody Gryffindors," Draco muttered, fisting a hand in Harryís hair and holding him to his chest, "no sense of style at all." As he spoke, he ground up against Harryís body, his erection rubbing against the matching one.

Harry removed his mouth from Dracoís chest and grinned up at him. "Would you prefer it if I stopped and started all over again Ďwith styleí?" the former Gryffindor golden boy smirked. "Because I can, you know... Iíve developed an infinite amount of patience over the years; Iím sure I can see fit to start over again."

Draco relaxed on the bed and dragged a hand through his silvery hair, pushing it back out of his face. "Turning this into a pissing match, are you, Potter? And here I thought it was my holiday present."

"No, Draco, this isnít your Christmas present; this is just some yuletide cheer. Youíll get your present at midnight, I promise," Harry whispered, running his tongue around the curve of the other manís ear and then blowing on it softly.

Knowing that heíd get some resistance, Harry placed a hand on either side of Dracoís face and held it firm as he placed the first, mapping kiss on the Slytherinís scars, learning them by touch... paying homage to them and the man who earned them by only the greatest of sacrifices, though Draco would never see it as such.

When he was done, he took Dracoís mouth again, his tongue scouring the blondís mouth until at last they were forced apart for the sake of oxygen. "I think weíre both wearing far too many clothes, Malfoy, donít you agree?"

Angry at himself that heíd flinched when Potter had explored his scars, Draco took his pique out on Harry. "Well then, get out of them, Potter, and make a decent show of it, or I might drop off." He reached for the pillows, mounding them up behind his back and shrugging his torn shirt off his shoulders, baring a pale but toned chest.

Harry merely grinned, shaking his head. "Some things only remain the same, no matter what," the Gryffindor commented even as he began to peel off the layers slowly, seductively, letting the sweater and then shirt fall to the bed. His belt was unbuckled and drawn out in a long, slow slide. The pants were unbuttoned and unzipped before Harry stopped. "You know, you can touch; itís not against the rules."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Since when have I ever worried about the rules?"

"You definitely tried to use them against me... especially once youíd become a prefect. But I forgive you for your childish animosity. Magnanimous of me, donít you think?"

Harry grasped his wand and muttered a quick spell, and his pants were folded neatly over the end of the bed, his shirt and sweater hanging over one of the balustrades. "There, all naked, now for you," Harry purred, sliding down the pale torso to unbutton and unzip and tug down just far enough to make Dracoís cock spring from his pants. Licking his lips in an unconscious gesture, Harry bent and lapped at the weeping tip, needing to taste the other man.

"Mmm, you are rather good at this; if youíd have tried it at Hogwarts, Iíd have had to have given Gryffindor ten points." Draco paused and reconsidered, even as he raised his hips to allow Harry to strip him. "Though if you had done this at Hogwarts, youíd probably have bitten my prick off."

"Oh, but I did try this at Hogwarts, just not with Slytherins," Harry laughed lightly. "And no, I was never into mutilation, Malfoy, not even when a snake was involved. However, had I known you were hiding this particular serpent in your pants, I might have been... more eager to admit to things"

Draco sat up enough to run his thumb over the corner of Harryís mouth, looking forward to feeling those lips around his cock. "Hmmm, and here I thought I was a size queen..."

"All that neglect as a child made me inordinately greedy, Iím afraid... Normally Iím rather tightly controlled about such things, but Christmas is the season for a little gluttony, donít you think?" Harry grinned before rather delicately sucking on the tip of the other manís erection, his tongue caressing the underside and playing with it.

"Well then, I suppose I might as well get a look at what Iím getting as well," Draco drawled, sliding around to the side but managing to keep Harryís mouth on his erection. "Not bad at all, Potter," he rasped, stroking a thumb over Harryís shaft and licking the moisture away from his finger. "Not bad at all."

Moaning quietly, Harry allowed the exploration but also increased his suction with every touch. He was hard, he was horny, and he finally had Draco Malfoyís prick in his mouth. It wouldnít take much to send him over the edge, and that was the last thing he wanted... for now. For that particular event he wanted to be buried balls deep inside Draco.

Gasping as he pulled his mouth off of the blond, Harry glared at Draco. "Keep it up and this will be over before it starts. Now be a good little boy and keep your handsóand mouth!--to yourself."

"No stamina at all," Draco panted, his body quivering as cool air rushed over the skin Harry had licked. "And when was I ever a good little boy?" He smirked and deep-throated Harryís cock, swallowing repeatedly.

"Oh MERLIN!" Harry wailed, his head slamming back onto the bed as his fingers dug into the backs of Dracoís thighs, leaving crescent-shaped marks in the alabaster flesh there. Breathing hard through his nose, the former Gryffindor employed every calming technique heíd ever learned, meditation, chanting, distraction, whatever it took to get his raging body back under control.

"Fuck, oh fuck!" he gritted out. "You are in such trouble, Malfoy!" And with that he fell on the other manís prick, technique and delicacy evaporating in the onslaught of pure, insatiable lust as he gobbled Dracoís erection.

Groaning as Harry tried to eat him alive, Draco managed to find a rhythm between hips and mouth and tongue that had him on the edge of coming all too soon. Moaning around the thick flesh in his mouth, he cupped Harryís balls, tugging and kneading them as he felt his own draw up to his body.

Working harder, adding more suction and letting his teeth scrape ever so lightly across the hard flesh filling his mouth, Harry thought of whatever he could to keep from coming. Dudley naked, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon going at it... Albus playing strip poker and losing, Snape and Hooch naked in the broom shed doing the beast with two backs... yes, that did it!

Cursing and wailing, Draco shuddered at the slight pain, then came, his seed sliding down Harryís throat while his own still remained parched.

"Mmmm, whoíd have thought a pickle puss like you would taste so sweet, Draco," Harry grinned as he finished licking the other man clean and then turned to share the taste with the blond. "Itís actually quite addictive... I may need to have a second helping."

"A pickle puss?" Draco inquired, arching his eyebrows and looking up at Harry. "You have quite the way with words there, Potter. I think you do better with your mouth full."

"Well, I could always give it another go, but first I think Iíd rather do this," Harry remarked, accioing the lubricant to him and spreading Dracoís thighs wide as he slotted himself between them. "If youíre really as good as you say you are, Iíll let you be the top next round," he promised with a smirk as he gently inserted one well oiled digit into the blondís anus.

"Be still, my heart," Draco snorted, pressing downward and clenching his ass around Harryís finger.

"The years havenít mellowed you at all, have they, Malfoy?" Harry chuckled as he spread the lubricant around, searched for and then found the other manís prostate, smiling wickedly as Draco shouted and bucked underneath him. "Youíre still a bloody prat. Thank Merlin for that... I donít think Iíd want you half as much if you were anything but my Slytherin prince," he finished, kissing the blond with a surprising amount of tenderness and care.

"Better than a Gryffindor queen," Draco muttered, looking highly disconcerted and almost ill at ease with Harryís change in tactics.

"Thatís the God of Gryffindor, if you please," Harry replied, adding a second finger and swirling them around, massaging and stretching. Moving lower, Harry kissed his way down Dracoís throat, making sure to leave a bright, blood-filled reminder of his presence in Malfoyís bed and body.

After what he deemed to be enough time and preparation, Harry slid his fingers out, slicked his cock up and slid inside the blond writhing beneath him. "Morganaís tits, Malfoy, youíre tighter than a virgin on their wedding night!" he groaned in appreciation as he slowly sank deeper and deeper into Dracoís body.

Draco didnít reply verbally, though he twisted his hips, letting Harry slide fully into him. He dug his fingers into the other manís back and gave a muffled moan, feeling his cock throb between them.

"God," Harry gritted out, falling back on his muggle vocabulary as the pleasure began to build. His hips slapped back and forth, picking up speed or slowing down, circling, twisting, stabbing and generally driving both men insane with need and with lust. "So good, just like Iíve dreamed it only better," the raven-haired man gasped as he continued to move, his mouth ghosting over every inch of skin he could reach with it but always returning to Dracoís mouth as he sought that indefinable flavor that was Draco at his most essential.

"E-exactly," Draco gasped into Harryís mouth, his whole body afire with lust, lust inspired by this man who had been his rival for half his lifetime. They slammed together, each thrust carrying him closer to the edge, though he was determined not to fall again without taking Potter as well.

Harryís hand worked its way between their sweaty bodies to seek and unerringly find Dracoís cock. He palmed it and began to stroke it in time with the thrusts of his hips. Altogether too soon for him, Harry felt his balls tighten and the need to cum become almost overwhelming.

Slamming harder and harder, he worked Dracoís cock in time with his thrusts and, not able to take it any more, bit down hard on the blondís neck with a muffled shout of completion as his hips continued to buck while his seed flooded the other manís body.

Draco let out a shout that mixed shock and pleasure and convulsed, his body clenching around Harryís cock as he came, slicking the skin of both their stomachs. He lay there, eyes closed, until his breathing calmed, then finally opened them to find Harry staring down at him. "So?"

"So, that was bloody brilliant, but Iím not up for another go just yet, no matter how incredible I am," Harry grinned tiredly, pushing sweat-slicked bangs back off his face before bending to capture Dracoís mouth again, shutting up any smart remark rather effectively.

Draco contemplated biting Harryís tongue off but decided against it if only because blood would stain his sheets. "Prat," he sighed, once Harry let him breathe again "Now I imagine youíre going to be insufferably smug."

"Now why would I do that, Malfoy? Just because I turned you into a screamer?" Harry teased as he reached for his wand and performed a quick cleansing spell on both of them and the bed, then proceeded to raise the room temperature a few degrees with another barely whispered charm and finally pulled the covers up over them. "Go to sleep, Draco. Tomorrow is Christmas, and I want to give you a present," Harry yawned and then snuggled in close to the blond whose home and bed he had invaded.

Draco contemplated a really scathing reply, but he felt too good for the first time in too long to give it. Instead, he yawned and muttered, "If itís a gift certificate for a muggle plastic surgeon, I will hex you."

Deciding to relent, Harry rolled over and grinned. "No. Itís actually much, much worse. You get me, Malfoy. Happy Christmas. Now stop being such a prat and go to sleep."

It was Christmas again, and Draco shook his head as he looked around his flat, wondering just where in the name of Merlin all these decorations had come from. He set the small package he was carrying down on a table and poured himself a brandy, needing the alcohol after facing a day of holiday cheer.

"Potter!" he yelled, knowing the other man was behind this. "Where the hell are you?"

"No need to yell, Malfoy, Iím right behind you," Harry chuckled, sliding his arms around his loverís waist, nibbling on the blondís neck as he did so. "So, what took you so long? I thought you were just going out for one little thing. Surely that didnít take," Harry glanced up at the magical clock, "five hours?"

Draco snorted though he did lean back and relax into Harryís arms. "Thatís because people are idiots! A simple request and they muck it up. I almost AKíd the fool, but that would have landed me in Azkaban and ruined your holiday, so I didnít."

"Our holiday, Draco, our holiday," Harry sighed but nonetheless held the Slytherin tighter. "I suppose I ought to warn you... Hermione and Charlie have invited us to Christmas Eve supper along with the rest of the Weasley brood. I said Iíd ask you..." Harry trailed off, leaving the decision to his lover.

"Shite," Draco sighed, "the things I do for you, Potter... All right, Iíll go, just so you donít pout at me."

"You really do love me, donít you, Dray?" Harry murmured, nuzzling his way down his loverís neck. "And donít try to deny it. I know what a supreme sacrifice it is for you to actually sit down and break bread with the Weasleys. For the record, I love you right back."

Draco rolled his eyes again, hating the nickname but knowing mentioning it would only make Harry repeat it more often "And if your little emotional sop-fest is over, Iíd like to change and have something to eat." He glanced over his shoulder at Harry. "You did buy food, didnít you?"

"One of these days Iíll get you to admit it," Harry replied, unfazed, a smile lighting his features. "But until then, dinnerís been waiting on you. You want help undressing... I mean changing?"

"You just tend to the dinner like a good little House Elf, and Iíll get changed on my own," Draco said haughtily.

"Some things never change," Harry replied good-naturedly. "I was the Dursley family House Elf until my final year of Hogwarts where I got to tell them all to go sod themselves and get off their rotund arses to do it themselves because I was outta there. But youíre much cuter, so I guess Iíll humor you for now," the Gryffindor replied, heading first to the small mudroom/enclosed porch off the kitchen that doubled up as the owlery for his and Dracoís owls.

"He said yes, Hedwig. Can you take this to ĎMione and let her know?" Harry whispered, fluffing the feathers on his white companionís chest before attaching his written note. "And good evening to you too, Master Morlock, hereís a treat for you just because youíre exactly like Draco, demanding to the core, but we still love you as much," Harry continued, as he gave the eagle owl some treats as well.

Humming to himself, Harry sauntered back into the kitchen to check on his Bolognese sauce and then plopped the pasta into the boiling water. By the time the ice prince got dressed in what he would consider suitable lounging attire, it would be perfectly al dente. Harry had gotten using the ĎDraco timerí down to an art form.

"Pasta?" Draco observed, glancing from the serving bowl to Harry when he returned from the bedroom. "Iíd expected something more sappily festive for Christmas Eve from you, Potter."

"Are you kidding? Molly is going over in the morning to help ĎMione cook. Weíll be inundated with food and then probably sent home with leftovers," Harry laughed. "Besides the less to clean up, the sooner I can ravish you," he continued with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Or the sooner you can ravish me. Slytherinís choice tonight, I think."

Draco arched a white-blond eyebrow. "Be still, my heart," he murmured, walking over to the side table and picking up the package heíd brought home. "If weíre to be stuffed and mounted tomorrow, I suppose I might as well give you this now." That said, he handed the palm-sized box to Harry.

Eyeing the box with trepidation, Harry felt compelled to ask. "Itís not a body bind hex or a time delayed Avada Kedavra, is it?" he half grinned, green eyes twinkling behind the rounded frames of his glasses.

"And you wonder why I hate this tradition," Draco sighed, picking up his glass of wine and sipping at it.

"Actually, no, I donít," Harry replied with a grin. "Youíve told me in great detail numerous times over the past... Draco?" Harry gasped, staring down at the finely crafted medal with the words ĎOfficial Member of the Harry Potter Fan Club - Draco Malfoy -Ď engraved on it.

Looking up at the Slytherin, a contented smile spread over the Gryffindorís face. "Feel like a promotion? I hear that they need a president, and the perks are fantastic... you get to sleep with the boss."

"Oh goodie, I get to be a groupie." Now Draco wore a small smile.

Harry snickered. "Ooooh, I always wanted a groupie!" he laughed. "Oh, and Dray? I love you too."

Draco smiled. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

The End

  since 02-04-07

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