Draco left very early on Christmas Eve to head out to the hospital where his father was being held. He kept his head high and tried not to feel embarrassed at the poor memory of his past departure from the building. None of the Aurors that were stationed in the hospital gave him any cruel looks – they barely seemed to notice his existence as they kept their eyes alert for signs of trouble. Wondering whether Granger or Shacklebolt had had something to do with the newfound focus of the Aurors, Draco made his way to his father's room and gently pushed open the door.

He hadn't slept much the night before – anxiety plaguing him about seeing his father – but when he entered his father's room, he found the man sleeping in bed, surrounded by his mother and two of the medical staff from St. Mungo's. Dr. Anders and Megan Jones looked absolutely delighted and were grinning from ear to ear.

"What are you two doing here?" Draco asked cautiously as he moved to his mother's side.

"It's fabulous news, my boy!" Dr. Anders announced excitedly. "We've recovered the blood of a Diricawl!"

Draco blinked. "What? But…how? I thought they were rare…?"

"Oh, but they are! Had to send out three of our bravest volunteers to face the perils of the Congo to find the darn thing and guess what? They found it! Put up quite a struggle, too, from what the reports had to say. We all thought it was something of a hopeless cause because of their rarity and had relied on substitute potions but we've managed it! We've managed to obtain the blood of a Diricawl!"

Draco wished he had alcohol in him. The news was difficult to process. "I didn't think it would be possible…"

"Neither did we at St. Mungo's, quite honestly. But our team was able to extract some of the creature's blood before letting it go! Been working marvels, it has! Just look at your father!"

Draco's gaze swept then from the cat-obsessed doctor to his father and he realized that color had returned a bit to his father's face. "The poison?"

"Almost completely eradicated!" Megan chimed in happily. "It will take him roughly a year to completely recover but considering we expected the worst, this is a lot better than before!"

No, it's not. Draco felt his stomach plunge as the room spun. He put a hand on the back of the chair his mother was sitting in to steady himself.

"Oh, Draco, isn't it wonderful?" his mother asked him. She looked so happy at the news – it made him marvel over how different their reactions could be. "He's going to be okay."

It's not wonderful. He knew his father would never be as accepting as his mother. His father's madness hadn't been brought on by poison – his father had been mad before the attack. His father would wake up and demand him to marry a woman. His father would demand that he keep to tradition. His father wouldn't tolerate him finding and making his own path. It simply wouldn't be allowed. Draco's freedom wouldn't be allowed. If he didn't obey his father's will and keep to tradition after all, he wouldn't simply be burned off of the family tree like Andromeda had been.

He would probably be killed.

His mother seemed to pick up on his uneasiness and asked the medical team, "Can you give us a few moments?"

"Of course," Megan replied quickly, sharp as always. Nodding to Dr. Anders, she shuffled out of the room, the eccentric doctor in tow, and closed the door behind them. Once they were alone, Draco's mother turned to face him and took both of his hands in hers.

He still wouldn't look at her. His gaze was locked onto his father, waiting for him to wake up at any moment and call him a failure and a traitor.

"This doesn't have to change anything," Narcissa told him gently. "We won't force you to marry someone you don't want to. Not after all that has happened. Not after I nearly lost the both of you."

"He will," Draco whispered. His voice cracked. There were only six Diricawls left in the world to public knowledge. What were the chances that an exploratory committee team had managed to find one of them in such a short amount of time? This must be Salazar Slytherin himself mocking me. When his father had initially been hospitalized, Draco had momentarily believed that his father would be out of his life from that moment on. He had genuinely hoped and believed that Lucius Malfoy would no longer dictate every action of Draco's. But that wasn't the case. His father wasn't going to be comatose for much longer. He would regain consciousness and clarity of mind and he would force Draco to kill Potter.

He would force Draco to kill Potter.

He pulled his hands out from his mother's touch and tucked them under his armpits to stop the visible shaking of them. An icy fear gripped at him and refused to let go.

He remembered the fury in his father's eyes when he had tried to deny the Dark Lord. He remembered the way his father had looked at him after he had failed to kill Albus Dumbledore. His father wouldn't change. His father would never change.

His father was a follower of Voldemort and the Dark Arts through and through.

"Draco?"

He thought of the Christmas gift hidden away in his room for Potter. He thought of the longing looks and the cuddle sessions and the way Potter always greeted him when he came home from work. He thought of how much progress they had made in their tentative friendship since he had moved in with Potter for protection. He thought of how adamant his father had been that he needed to kill the Chosen One to bring back the Dark Lord. He thought of how it had felt to hold Potter in his arms. All of that progress and personal growth had been for nothing. Nothing!

Narcissa pulled her son close to her and held him but Draco didn't feel reassured. He didn't feel the joy his mother was feeling.

He felt like dying.

XXXXX

Christmas at the Burrow was always a flurry of constant activity. Molly's tradition of knitting sweaters hadn't ceased and this year's sweater had pompoms on the sleeves for Harry to fidget with. (She was a saint.) Ginny and Luna purposefully swapped sweaters in a display of domestic affection that made George roll his eyes and pretend to throw up on a few occasions throughout the day. Overall, Christmas Eve on Harry's end was full of merriment and time well-spent with his friends and extended family. The only snag in the festivities at the Burrow came when a letter arrived addressed to Harry. He looked at the scrawl and his heart fell to his stomach.

"You should read it," Ron encouraged him. The ginger and Hermione were sitting on either side of him on the couch while the rest of the family worked to prepare dinner. "It's been enough time, hasn't it? And you haven't gotten a letter from him in a while."

"You'll be going back there soon enough," Hermione reminded him gently. "You know you can't stay away forever. And it won't take you that long to find a career you enjoy."

He was deeply skeptical but tore open the letter anyway.

Harry,

I loved yer gift! Had trouble reading some of it – blasted thing's got words with 17 letters in it – but I'm reco-recomm-I'm going to suggest that it be on the reading list for next year.

I know yer taking time ta recover and fix yerself and stuff, but ya ain't got nuthin ta fix. Yer a great person, Harry. And I'm looking forward ta seeing ya again.

Swing by the hut whenever. Door's always open to you, 'Mione, and Ron. Fang misses all of ya jus as much as I do.

Love,

Hagrid

XXXXX

Harry wasn't sure how he made it through Christmas dinner in one piece. When he got back to Grimmauld Place around nine, he immediately fell apart. He felt terrible about putting off seeing Hagrid for so long. It was selfish of him and embarrassing and he should really do what Molly said and just suck it up and go see the half-giant.

But I'm afraid, he thought miserably as he buried himself in the sheets on his bed. What if I've let him down?

XXXX

Draco wanted to leave the hospital, leave his father, and escape, but he knew that his mother wanted to stay and therefore he was stuck there, trapped in conversations about nothing, fighting off a panic attack because the last thing he wanted was to flee from a hospital in tears for the Aurors to see and judge him over again, until his mother decided she was ready to leave her husband's side.

"I'm only leaving for a bit," she told Lucius softly. "Draco and I are going to begin restoring the Manor so that you have your home to return to once the doctors say you are ready to go home. I'll be back to see you again when it gets too late out."

She leaned down and kissed her husband's lips and Draco had to look away. He didn't understand how his mother could transform into such a loving soul but his father could remain such a right bastard.

When his mother turned to face him, she announced, "Let's go, Draco."

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Mother?" he asked, half-hoping she would change her mind. The idea of going and restoring his ancestral home felt like restoring his own prison cell. Once his father was out of the hospital, he would turn the Manor into a symbol of hatred again. Draco's work on the building would be for naught.

Waste of time this'll be. I should just go and hang myself now and save everyone the trouble.

Narcissa nodded in answer to his question. Her blue eyes sparkled with determination and a newfound sense of purpose. "I can't stay with the Greengrass family forever and I want my home back as soon as possible." She paused and gave Draco a funny look that did absolutely nothing to ease his personal tension. "I know that you seem perfectly content to stay in the abode of a non-pure-blood but I feel like I'm rotting away if I'm not in the Manor. It needs to be restored and I intend to be the one to rebuild it. It's been a hot minute since I've displayed my powers as a witch and I'll be damned if I give anyone a reason to think I'm inferior to any other lady of the house."

It was only supposed to be a simple jest but Draco felt his will to live slip rapidly away. She didn't understand his fear. She wasn't getting it. To her, the idea of Lucius Malfoy being coherent and awake was sunshine and rainbows.

To Draco, it meant the possibility of death.

XXXX

It took Harry a while to settle down and push the guilt back down into the pit of his stomach where it belonged. He eventually convinced himself that after the holidays were over, he was going to seriously start looking for something to focus his future on. Something that would bring in a steady source of income other than his tell-all book. Something that would make Hagrid and McGonagall and himself proud. With his mind made up, Harry dried his eyes and left his room, convinced that he needed to find something immediate to get his mind off of the day's events while Malfoy was gone. A distraction came easily when he saw Kreacher pacing in the kitchen.

"Kreacher? What are you –"

"You haven't started baking yet! Christmas begins in only a few hours and you haven't even started baking!"

He couldn't believe it. He had just cried out his soul in frustration and his damn house-elf was worried about brownies. Rolling his eyes at Kreacher's theatrics, Harry went about the kitchen, retrieving the ingredients and the pans necessary to make the brownies. Kreacher watched him curiously but didn't say anything. Harry knew the house-elf wouldn't be able to tell what the secret ingredient was – it had already been mixed in with the other brownie ingredients when Harry first brought them home from shopping. For a while, Harry worked on the brownies while Kreacher watched him silently and somewhat impatiently.

"I'm not sure why you're lingering. Even if I finish these now, you're not getting any until tomorrow."

"Kreacher wants to make sure they're ready for tomorrow."

"You don't think I'd make them on time? Do you really think so lowly of me?" It was a silly and rhetoric question – Harry knew Kreacher had developed a reluctant fondness for him over the years. Mostly because of his baking and cooking skills. "Are you hungry? I can make us food in the meantime."

"You ate with the fil-…you already ate, didn't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes again as he replied, "I did, but I can make something else for you and the other house-elves. Malfoy might want something too when he's done with family stuff."

Something sparked in Kreacher's eyes at the mention of the blond. "Master Malfoy liked Kreacher's decorations."

"Yes, he did, didn't he?"

"Master Malfoy also liked your stocking you made him."

Harry couldn't fight the blush and turned away so that Kreacher couldn't see his face. "Yeah, he did."

"Master Malfoy is…different…yes?"

Harry cast a curious look at his house-elf over his shoulder. "Yeah."

Kreacher nodded once and then didn't speak again.

XXXX

They stood together in front of the Manor and were equally shocked to find that only the back corner half of the Manor had been destroyed. The main foundation of the building was still intact and many of the outside windows hadn't been blown out. The wards that had survived allowed the Malfoys and their house-elves inside easily to inspect the Manor's interior condition. The inside walls of several rooms and hallways were charred and a good portion of the ancient furniture and beloved portraits had been destroyed, but all of that was replaceable. Further inspection showed that the only true valuables lost in the attack had been Narcissa's wedding dress, some pieces of jewelry, a flute passed down from Draco's great-great-great-great-great grandmother that had been used to charm an Antipodean Opaleye (one of the most beautiful dragons in existence), and the perfectly-preserved skull of a Chimera. It was something of a wonder that nothing else of value had been lost.

As his mother and the house-elves began using restorative charms to rebuild the wards and repair the gaping hole at the back of the building, Draco set about searching the Manor for anything that might have been overlooked by the Aurors. A message left by the attackers or a hidden item that would try and deactivate new wards. He wasn't about to let his guard down with regard to the Manor's future, psychotic father or not. He still had his mother's safety to think of. No one would be able to hurt her again.

It felt odd, being back at the place that he had called home for so many years. The Manor had always been a symbol of pure-blood strength, wealth, and influence over the Wizarding World. To see so much of it in shambles while his father recovered was…jarring, to say the least. But this was something he had to do.

Everything would be far worse if he didn't help his mother in this endeavor.

A thorough search of the Manor by Draco and Seelba (who knew the inner-workings of the Manor best out of all the house-elves) took hours to properly complete. They ate while they worked, Draco using Probity Probes, Foe-glass, and Secrecy Sensors given to him by Shacklebolt to try and detect anything that the Aurors might have overlooked. Ministry personnel didn't know all the secret passageways in the Manor like Draco did. But despite the long hours spent searching, the only thing he discovered was that his heart was heavy from walking through the ruined sections of his home.

At one point while his mother worked to repair a stained glass window, Draco found himself returning to his bedroom. The space hadn't been terribly damaged in the attack, but things had been knocked over – a pile of owl treats lay scattered across the floor by his bed, his portraits were cracked, and his broom had been split in half. For a long moment he simply stood there, remembering the last night he had slept in the room. He had spent so much time debating on whether or not to apologize to Potter for their disagreement and wondering whether or not he had made the right decision after all that he had never given a thought to imagining what the next day would bring. It was frustrating. Someone would always be hunting him and his family – it was the Malfoy family punishment for helping Voldemort all those years ago. But Draco had always narcissistically believed himself to be more powerful than any wizard who might oppose him and his family.

He bent down and picked up the remnants of his broomstick. Stupid. I'm still just a weak little shite.

Being flatmates with Potter had helped separate him from the traditional path of a pure-blood by finding the courage to break away. But that was when he had thought his father would never recover. What was he supposed to do now?

It had only been roughly a month since he had moved in with Potter and his viewpoint had drastically changed but he knew that he didn't want to go back to being the person he was. He didn't want to go back to being the Slytherin Star.

Draco had changed.

And he didn't want to change back.

Slowly, he stood up and walked over to his bed. He rested his hand on the sheets and accepted the realization that he didn't want to move back here. He didn't want to return to the Manor. While Grimmauld Place still needed a lot of fixing up, it had Potter living in it. And Draco wanted to be near him as much as possible. Not just because he fancied Potter but because Potter helped him be a better person.

Selfish as always. I don't want to go back to being the obedient little pissant I was. I want to grow.

"Master Malfoy?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Draco turned and saw Seelba standing hesitantly in the doorway of the bedroom.

"Madam Malfoy is nearly done with one of the wings. She would like for you to see it and give your approval."

Draco nodded and resigned himself to his decision. If he had to fight his father for independence, then he would fight him.

He didn't look back at his old bedroom as he left.

XXXX

A shiver passed through Harry the moment he heard the front door open. As he took the stairs to greet the blond, he felt a wave of Malfoy's magic hit him from down the hallway. Harry paused, nearly atop the staircase, and just took a moment to soak in the sheer magnitude of power emanating from where Malfoy probably stood just inside the foyer. He hadn't felt Malfoy's magic filling the air, causing Harry's head to spin like this in years. It was nerve-wracking. It was mesmerizing.

Harry wanted to see.

The blond's magic was swarming around Harry in waves, wrapping him up like a big blanket. He moved down the hallway until he came face-to-face with the pure-blood. Malfoy was covered in filth and his eyes had dark shadows underneath them. His usually pristine hair was darkened by dust and soot and his eyes looked hollow. He took a step towards Harry and his body swayed violently. Instantly, Harry was there to catch him, holding Malfoy's shoulders up.

"Whoah – easy. Easy."

Malfoy smiled weakly at Harry as the Gryffindor steadied him. "Restoring an entire mansion is hard work, I suppose." His voice sounded awful and emotionally exhausted.

Malfoy's magic was stronger than any cologne. It filled Harry's senses and distracted him so thoroughly that it took him a moment to concentrate on Malfoy's words. Not being able to help himself, Harry leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Malfoy's. His eyes slipped shut as he took a moment just to breathe Malfoy in. "I bet. Your magic is leaking out at an incredible rate."

"Yeah?"

Harry's hands twitched from their place on Malfoy's shoulders. "Yeah. The entire building can feel it."

"When a wizard uses a great deal of magic, it's known to happen."

"I know."

Their foreheads were still touching.

Slowly, Malfoy reached out and pulled Harry into his arms properly, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry and fisting his hands in the back of Harry's shirt. Malfoy's face buried in Harry's neck and the Gryffindor held him tightly. "I want to shower," Malfoy muttered without moving away.

Harry nodded. He didn't move either.

They stayed like that for a long moment before Malfoy slowly moved back a step and asked, "When I'm done, can we…sit? I don't want to be alone."

The vulnerability in his voice pained Harry and he replied quickly, "Of course. Go shower. I'll be on the couch when you're ready." He wondered if it had been the heaviness of seeing his parents and the Manor that had made Malfoy a smaller version of himself or if something else had happened. "I've got food for you when you're done…if you're hungry."

Instead of replying verbally, Malfoy pulled Harry back into his arms for a tight squeeze before letting go and quickly making his way down the hall and up the stairs.

Feeling a little bit out of his element, Harry spelled off the dirt that had latched to him from their embrace and made his way to the main room to wait for Malfoy.

XXXX

Draco took a very long time to shower. Part of him hoped that he would be able to wash off the knowledge that his father would be back in his life again very soon. Sure, Lucius Malfoy would have to return to serving his sentence in exile, but he would probably spend a week or so at the Manor to recover upon being released from the hospital in a year or so. A week would be all the Death Eater needed to find a way to hurt Draco for betraying his will.

When he finally emerged from the shower, smelling of Muggle shampoo and body wash, Draco put on his comfiest pajamas and quickly made his way down to the main room to sit with Potter. The hero spelled Draco's food into existence and Draco sent him a half-smile of gratitude. Potter didn't push him. He had put on some documentary on space travel and was sitting comfortably close to Draco, arm rested on the back of the couch behind Draco's shoulders while the pure-blood ate his late-night supper. For almost an hour neither of them spoke about their day or their families or Christmas or anything of importance. Potter would offer facts about space travel as a background track to the documentary here and there but otherwise, nothing was spoken.

Just being in Potter's proximity was relaxing. Draco wanted to tell him about his day and his fears and everything attached but he couldn't find the right words to start. So instead of speaking, he simply ate and, when he had finished doing that, he put his head on Potter's shoulder and breathed in the scent of Potter. The stress of the day and the exhaustion of restoring the Manor eventually became too much for him and he fell asleep without ever asking Potter about his Christmas Eve.

XXXX

As heartwarming as it is for Malfoy to fall asleep beside him, it's Christmas Eve and Harry knows that if the blond spends too long on this couch, he's going to be awfully stiff in the morning. Carefully, so not to disturb the blond, Harry wraps an arm around Malfoy's shoulders and sneaks another arm under the pure-blood's legs and lifts him gingerly from the couch bridal-style.

Kreacher's leaning against the doorframe, smirking like a proper git, and Harry does his best to glare at the house-elf. "Not a word," he mouths. Kreacher's smirk grows feral.

Thankfully for him, the blond isn't terribly heavy, and Harry has no problem getting the pure-blood down the hall and up the stairs to Malfoy's bedroom. Gently he places Malfoy down against the sheets. He takes a moment to look at the blond, noticing his wrinkles have disappeared with sleep, before turning and finding Seelba in the doorway.

"I'll be up if he needs anything."

Seelba nods and Harry brushes past, rather exhausted by the day's events himself. However, he knows that he probably won't get much sleep.

XXXX

Draco wakes up rather confused by his surroundings. He had fallen asleep in the main room beside Potter and now he's in his bed, alone. Groggily, he summons the time and realizes it's still terribly early. But he can't sleep. Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffles over to his dresser and retrieves Potter's gift. Opening the small box and looking down at the necklace, he waits.

"Come on," he whispers. "I know you're there."

Ever-so-sluggishly, an image appears in the ruby stone, and he realizes what the necklace reminds him of. A Pensieve! Or the Mirror of Erised. He had never seen the Mirror personally but he had certainly read enough stories about it in his youth. And he had been subjected to a Pensieve many times during his trials. But this necklace is different. As he looks closer at the image swarming in the ruby, he realizes the necklace's effect is a combination of joy and sadness. A memory, both painful and hopeful, plays itself on a loop in the ruby before eventually fading out of existence.

He figures he can guess how he wound up back in his bedroom.

I've always held a fascination for him, Draco thinks to himself as he fingers the necklace. It was an obsession when we were younger. A bitter urge to make him see my worth and power and to lament the fact that he never took my hand our first year. But we've both changed since the end of the war. And now…the hatred that consumed me when I used to think about him or see him or duel him has morphed into something…caring. He's not the skinny outcast who can't perform basic magic anymore. Instead, he's…

Draco tucks the necklace back into its box and closes the lid.

XXXX

Harry can't sleep. He's rather socially drained from spending the entire day with the Weasleys and his friends but he also possesses a sort of restlessness that refuses to leave him. Sighing, he summons the time and groans at what he sees. The sun won't rise on this Christmas morning for a few more hours. Harry decides to head downstairs and try and sneak the holiday gifts for the house-elves, owls, and Malfoy into their proper stockings while they are still asleep. Tucking the tiny boxes under his shirt for a lame attempt at discretion, he sneaks out of his room and tiptoes down the hallway and down the staircase. However, he's slightly dismayed to see light from the fireplace pouring out into the hallway. Poking his head into the doorway, he sees a familiar head of blond facing away from him.

"Malfoy?"

The pure-blood doesn't stir.

Wondering if something's wrong, Harry moves deeper into the room. "If you wanted to hang out here, I could have forgone the heroic thing and left you down here." The joke falls flat and there's an uneasy silence. "Um…Malfoy…you okay?"

The blond asks quietly, "Am I wrong?"

Harry pauses. "With what?"

"In not staying with my mother for Christmas Day."

Harry frowns. "I'm not sure. If my parents were alive, I would spend every holiday with them. But my dad also wasn't a psychopath who wanted me to kill people. So…I guess it's up to you. I do think you should spend it however you want to spend it." He runs a hand through his hair and realizes it's mussed up from sleep. I probably look like a Pygmy Puff.

"I'd rather be here. Is that wrong of me?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I'm not going to lie to you – I would love to have you here for Christmas – but I really want you to do whatever it is that you want to do." Preparing for any reaction from the blond, Harry moves to take his regular spot on the couch and finds Malfoy's expression to be thoughtful. The blond's gazing into the fire and has his arms crossed over his chest protectively.

"When I was trapped under my office door…I didn't think I was going to make it out alive," the blond begins softly. "I didn't think I was going to see this Christmas or any Christmas, for that matter. And when I woke up and realized I was alive…I felt guilty and angry and a deep sense of irony that I do get to have another Christmas when others don't." The blond lets out a sigh. "My father's been cured. And he's going to wake up soon and want me to kill you. And…I'll probably be disowned for good. Mother understands and loves me and wants me to be happy but she doesn't recognize how genuinely delusional he'll be. She thinks it's just the poison making him this way but it's not. He's…well…a psychopath, like you so eloquently put it. When he orders me to try and kill you to bring back the Dark Lord and I refuse…"

Harry's fingers twitch but he doesn't reach out and touch Malfoy. "You could stop him if he tries to hurt you. You're stronger now than you were when you were a kid. And you have many friends and comrades now who would come to your aid if you wanted it. You have a place here at Grimmauld. I know being a pure-blood is a huge source of pride and stuff for you and I'm guessing it would probably hurt like hell if your dad was a huge dick about stuff but –" Harry trails off when Malfoy holds out a box to him. "What's this?"

"Happy Christmas, Potter."

Malfoy isn't looking at him.

Slowly, Harry reaches out and takes the box from Malfoy's hand. He had wondered if Malfoy was going to give him something – a bit selfishly, he supposes – but now that he has a gift from Malfoy in his hand, Harry feels a blush color his cheeks at the implication that Malfoy cares enough to get him something at all. Who knew the great and stubborn Draco Malfoy would have ever gotten him anything? Quite a change from our time at Hogwarts, Harry thinks as he pulls the box into his lap and opens it.

An elegant ruby necklace worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself rests against white satin. It's not a locket. It's not a trap. It's a simple, beautiful ruby that sits on a light, black cord. Harry starts to reach out but pauses his fingertips over the ruby at the last second before he can touch the stone. It's not a Horcrux. It's not a port-key. It's not a Horcrux. It's not a port-key. Taking a breath, Harry allows himself to believe in Draco Malfoy and their newfound companionship and budding relationship and touches the ruby. Instantly, he watches as an image spirals into existence within the ruby. Gasping at the sight, Harry watches, transfixed, as the image comes into clarity.

"It's a Snitch," he whispers softly in awe.

The golden item flutters its wings rapidly from beneath the ruby's surface. The image lasts for only a minute or two before disappearing from sight once more. Harry looks at the locket for a long moment after the Snitch has entirely vanished before he drags his gaze up to look at Malfoy, baffled. The blond had been watching him but quickly looks away when Harry's eyes met his.

"My family used to have trinkets like that," Malfoy explains after a beat. "Rather rare, in fact. We lost possession over time and I was lucky enough to find that one in a shop at Diagon Alley. It's not one of my family's. It also doesn't have any Dark Magic connected to it – I checked thoroughly. It shows the holder something nostalgic." Malfoy blinks before he looks down at the necklace in Potter's hands. "I also charmed it to help soothe your mark. I –" he cuts off, embarrassed and seemingly lost for words as Harry gently lifts the necklace and moves to clasp it around his neck.

"I can't get it," Harry mutters hoarsely after fiddling with the clasp for a minute. "Can you…?" he silently sends a quick prayer to whichever Founding House Member's listening that his heart can find a way to slow down its quick beating as Malfoy pauses for a second before scooting closer to Harry on the couch. Malfoy's touch is gentle and sure as he takes the ends of the necklace from Harry, brushing their fingers together momentarily, before closing the clasp on the necklace. Harry lets the ruby fall against his chest and marvels at how nice it feels to be wearing something that isn't trying to kill or injure him. He turns his head and finds his and Malfoy's faces awfully close together. His gaze falls to the pure-blood's lips. "Malfoy…"

"It's a sign," Malfoy mutters and it causes Harry to look up and meet his gaze once more. "A sign that I will defy my father no matter the end result if it means that I have a chance of finding my own happiness." His eyes search Harry's for a moment and the blond seems pleased with what he finds. "Don't suppose you got me something as well?" Malfoy asks lowly as an attempt to alleviate the tension of the conversation. The corners of his mouth are quirked up in a smirk and his eyes are twinkling.

Chuckling softly in reply, Harry appreciates the break in tension and moves away from Malfoy just enough to retrieve the blond's present from the pile of gifts he had dumped on the table beside the couch. He holds the box out to Malfoy with a sort of nervous energy. "It's not much, I know – 'Mione basically said it was a stupid gift to give someone I wasn't even – but Seelba suggested I get something that would remind you of me and when I saw it, I just – I mean – it seemed…right?"

XXXX

Draco can't help but think Harry's stammering is terribly endearing as he takes the box and opens it with a smile.

And then the grin freezes on his face before slowly falling.

Inside of the box is a ring. It's etched with scales that resemble those of a dragon's – no – of a komodo dragon's. Draco remembers Potter explaining the difference when they watched that documentary so many weeks ago. Draco stares at the gift.

And then Potter's rambling once more.

"I thought that maybe, since you had exploded your family's signet ring, that you would want a new one. Something new and different and not related to anything pure-blood-y. Something that was unique to you and me and the new start we've made and…and stuff. When I saw it, I immediately thought of you and that night and how…nice it is having you around. Fuck, I mean, I never fucking thought I would ever like having you around, much less as a flat mate but you…you mean a lot to me now – and not in an obsessive, weird way like in school but in a kind, genuine way – and I think it's really cool how you come home from work now and I'm here and we hang out and watch dumb crap on the telly and talk all the time and eat together and – and – it's just nice having someone else around who doesn't treat me like I'm some star or who doesn't subconsciously wind up treating me like a third wheel. I love my friends and spending time with them and seeing them but they're all in relationships and prepping for marriage and stuff and you're unattached and easy to talk to and get along with and I like our friendship and our dynamic now and…" Potter trails off once more when Draco looks up and meets his eyes.

Draco opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Closing his mouth, he tries to swallow but the liquid gets caught in his throat. He feels parched. He opens his mouth again and fears he looks rather like a fish out of water. Shutting his mouth again, Draco takes a moment to simply look into Potter's shiny, emerald, gorgeous eyes and compose himself.

"You don't have to take it," Potter says quickly. "If you think it's dumb, I can –"

"No." Draco's voice doesn't come out the way he wants but he doesn't care. Without taking his gaze from Potter, he slips the ring out of its box and onto the ring finger of his right hand. "It's not dumb. It's…you're the first person from the lighter side of my past and my life who has ever given me a ring. I've never…no one except my father and…and the Dark Lord…you're the first to willingly give me one who doesn't come from darkness."

"I wouldn't say that," Potter whispers. Their lips are only inches apart. "I've had a lot of darkness in my past and inside me. Not to try and sound too edgy."

This time, the corner of Draco's lips quirks up in a smile. His right hand comes up and cups Potter's cheek. He wonders if Potter can feel the coolness of the ring against his skin. "We're different people now," Draco whispers in reply. His thumb strokes Potter's cheek gently. "May I ask you something?"

"What is it?" Potter sounds breathless. He looks so beautiful in the light of the fire with his hair messed up and his eyes wide and longing and Draco's necklace sitting comfortably on the hero's chest.

"I'm probably going to mess this up –"

"You won't," Potter interjects softly.

Draco can't help but quirk an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"Because if it's going to get messed up, it'll be both of our faults. I'm just as stubborn and reckless and idiotic at times as you are."

Draco's thumb travels a few millimeters and lightly grazes the corner of Potter's lips. The Gryffindor doesn't pull away. If my days on this planet are limited after all, I don't want to spend them not pursuing the one person on Earth who genuinely makes me feel like a changed man capable of finding love. "I don't want to lose you or…what we have."

"You won't. I'm too interested in you to let you slip away again."

It's the first real confession of sorts that Potter's said aloud and it makes Draco shiver. He can't help the little spawn of self-hatred that flashes through his heart. "You know, I still remember how to summon a Vanishing Cabinet. I could disappear if I really wanted to."

"I know you could. But you won't. You want to stay here. And I want you here as well."

He licks his lips and Potter's eyes track the motion. "You'll be destroyed by the press once they find out. All your fans will turn on you. The families of those who lost loved ones in the war who wrote you kind letters after your tell-all will all turn against you. You'll be mocked and harassed more than you ever were when He Who Must Not Be Named was alive."

"Guess it's too bad that I'm fucking selfish as hell and can finally admit what I want," Potter whispers heatedly against Draco's lips before closing the gap between them. Potter's rather inexperienced and there's far more teeth and tongue involved than Draco initially expected but he reacts enthusiastically, letting Potter's tongue invade his mouth and taste every inch of himself that Potter can reach. Draco feels himself start to laugh at how eager Potter is – he can't help it; he feels the same – and pulls back after a moment to look into Potter's eyes. Emerald gems blaze with a passion that Draco hasn't seen in Potter's eyes in years.

"Slow down," Draco whispers but it comes out garbled and causes Potter to shiver. Wanting to find out how else he can make the Boy Wonder react, Draco leans in and initiates a softer, gentler kiss. Potter proves to be a quick learner – he always had been – and tilts his head against Draco's hand to better align their lips. It feels so good and right and Draco can't help but swipe his tongue against Potter's bottom lip, requesting access to the mouth he had envisioned wrapped around his cock nightly for weeks. Potter instantly gives in and Draco feels something soar deep inside of himself at the realization that he's snogging Harry Potter.

Fucking finally.

Potter whimpers – actually whimpers – when Draco pulls away again to rest their foreheads together. They're both breathing heavily against each other and Draco feels like a teenager all over again. He had never felt like this before on the few occasions where he had kissed another person. Sure, other snoggers had been talented, but nobody made him feel like this.

"Is this okay?" he asks quietly, hoping to Merlin that Potter won't change his mind and back out or vanish on him.

Potter replies by bringing a hand to the back of Draco's neck and forcing their lips together once more. The laugh of genuine happiness that bubbles up inside of Draco is quickly swallowed by Potter's unrelenting lips and tongue. Draco's hand on Potter's cheek moves up to tangle into Potter's knots and keep the hero steady as they kiss. Years of pining had finally developed into something tender and special and all of the tension that had built up was finally letting itself expunge.

"Malfoy," Potter breathes against his lips and Draco knows his name has never sounded sweeter.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Whatever you're willing to give."

There's a deeper layer to that confession that Draco's too emotionally winded to process right now so instead he does what he knows best how to do. Slowly, he slides his hand out of Potter's hair and down the man's chest, right under the necklace, where he lets the heaviness settle for a moment. Meeting Potter's eyes that are dilated and excited, he asks quietly, "Do you want to go further? There's no pressure. I would love nothing more than to spend the holiday simply kissing you."

"I want more," Potter confesses and Merlin if that doesn't make Draco's heartbeat pick up and his dick twitch in his pants. "I've wanted…for so long."

Draco's free hand shakes as he rests it on Potter's leg. "Are you sure? We don't have to –"

"Malfoy, please."

Draco's eyes close and he lets out a small gasp. His breathing's picked up again. He feels Potter's lips against his cheek, his chin, the tip of his nose. And then there's that little beg again.

"Please."

Draco caves.

He slips his hands under Potter's shirt from where it's been hanging loose around the waistband of his pants and glides them around Potter's waist and up his back, feeling the hardened muscle. Potter flinches briefly at the unfamiliar sensation before immediately relaxing against Draco's touch. "I haven't even brushed my teeth yet," Potter mutters with a small laugh.

"Yeah, you taste terrible," Draco replies sarcastically before claiming Potter's mouth once more. Potter's skin is so soft and delightful beneath his hands. Every touch makes the Boy Who Lived shiver and Draco thinks he can spend the entire day exploring Potter's body.

If he's lucky, he will.

Potter isn't one to sit aside and let Draco do all the work, as the blond quickly realizes. Potter's as expressive in snogging as he is in the middle of a fight. Quiet gasps and whimpers and sighs and moans escape the Gryffindor's lips as his hands daringly begin to explore Draco's own body – running up Draco's arms, cupping his face in Potter's hands, toying with the short locks at the back of Draco's neck, wandering down the pure-blood's back…

But as appealing as the goose bumps are that have broken out over Potter's skin, Draco still wants more.

He kisses down Potter's cheek and jawline, moving to let his lips linger against the skin at Potter's neck.

"Can I mark you?"

"Fuck," Potter says in response as his fingers weave through Draco's hair, holding the blond against his neck. It's not quite consent but, as Draco's teeth gently bite down on the skin beneath him, Potter doesn't pull away. Instead, the hero moans and Draco's quick to mark Potter with deep bruises that he hopes will last for days. His tongue travels the length of Potter's neck. He knows Potter'll have to Glamour himself unless he wants to show off the marks. The thought makes Draco's cock twitch again from where it's pressing against the seam of his pants. A deeply feral part of him wants Potter to proudly show off the marks that Draco's put there.

"Malfoy," Potter whines as Draco sucks a particularly impressive hickey against his collarbone. "You're teasing."

"Rather the point."

Potter groans and Draco quickly finds their lips joined again. "Such a prick," Potter laughs when they break away but there's no heat in his words.

Draco feels himself smile. It's filthy and wonderful and everything he's ever wanted from Potter. When he kisses Potter again, it's soft and slow. His hands move to grasp the bottom hem of Potter's shirt.

"Care to use some of that wandless magic to make sure we won't be interrupted?"

Potter grins and recites a spell Draco's never heard before. He automatically guesses the room's been closed off to curious house-elves. Feeling that familiar sense of arousal at witnessing Potter's magical proficiency, Draco smirks before leaning in for another quick kiss before he can pull Potter's shirt up and over his chest. Olive skin marred with the burn from the Horcrux, several scars, and a few pinprick marks meets Draco's curious eyes. Potter's brown nipples stand out against a sea of faded red. The necklace sits perfectly over the center of the burn.

Draco stares at Potter's chest for a long moment.

I love you.

The words are there, on the tip of his tongue, but Draco doesn't say them. Instead, his eyes meet Potter's and he lets the heavy moment hang in the air between them.

"Are you sure you want me? All of me?"

Indecision and self-doubt creep through his mind – Potter's always been a superstar who could have anyone – but the thoughts are eradicated the moment Potter leans forward and presses their foreheads together. Quietly, he whispers against Draco's lips, "Always, Malfoy. Always."

Draco has to bite his lip to stop himself from tearing up. Blinking the emotion away, he surges in for another kiss – one that Potter is more than happy to give. When they separate, Draco looks up at the ceiling as if to send a quiet thank you to whatever deity is blessing them, and that's when he sees it.

A small clump of mistletoe has been taped to the ceiling above the couch.

Draco blinks. And then laughs. And then his laughter turns raucous and he can't stop. Potter's looking at him like he's suddenly gone mad and Draco wonders if maybe he has. In-between his laughter, Draco points up at the ceiling above them and Potter follows his line of sight.

"Oh, I'm gonna kill them," Potter mutters in a mixture of horror and amusement.

Draco's still laughing when he wheezes out, "It was – it was them, wasn't it? Those fucking – the house-elves –"

Potter's gone a lovely shade of Gryffindor scarlet and simply shakes his head in wonder. "Fucking meddlers. Didn't even need that."

That brings Draco a bit down to Earth and his giggles slowly reside into a huge smile on his face. "No, we didn't need it…but it does amplify the holiday affect, hmm?"

Potter rolls his eyes and Draco can't help but kiss him. It isn't long before the heated mood is back and Potter whispers out Draco's last name.

"Draco," the blond corrects when they part, guiding his hands gently over Potter's chest to feel every inch of him. "You've had your tongue in my mouth. We're way past formality at this point."

"Is your mouth the only place my tongue's going? It is Christmas, after all."

Draco freezes. Fingers pause just below Potter's nipples and his eyes dart up to meet coy green. For a moment he's paralyzed. But then he laughs openly. "Cheeky shite," Draco chuckles as he leans in to mark Potter's other collarbone. "Barely knows how to kiss and he's spouting filth."

"You make me want more," the Chosen One whispers against his hair and oh, but that voice has absolutely no business being that low and seductive. Draco's cock is hard and he wants to undress the man beside him as quickly as possible.

Otherwise he's sure he'll come in his pants.

Potter's grip tightens in his hair when Draco leans down to wrap his lips around a nipple, sucking the bud into his mouth and letting his teeth scrape gently against it. While his mouth's occupied, his hands move down to the waistband of Potter's black pajama pants. Draco finishes teasing both nipples and then looks up at Potter from beneath his lashes.

"Bedroom," Potter demands before Apparating them to the room in question.

Draco barely has time to marvel over Potter's wandless abilities for the millionth time before he's being pushed back onto Potter's bed. Potter's climbing on top of him, straddling his legs and sitting down squarely on Draco's erection with his muscular legs pressed down on either side of Draco's thighs. The sensation is amazing as Potter grinds down once, twice against him, before leaning in to capture his lips for a heated kiss. Draco can't even spare a moment to look around Potter's bedroom – he knows this is the first time he's ever been allowed entry and the urge to take everything in that must be on the walls and around them is enticing, but not as enticing as losing himself in the feeling of Potter's lips and tongue and hands. Draco cups Potter's ass and squeezes, loving the way Potter instinctively grinds down against him. He lets out a moan that's swallowed by the Gryffindor's hot mouth. Though layers are separating them, his cock is positioned perfectly beneath Potter's hole and he can only imagine what it'll feel like once he's seated totally inside. The anticipation causes him to moan again.

Potter's begun marking his neck, his shoulder, and Draco wastes no time in grabbing the bottom hem of his own pajama shirt and whipping it off so that Potter can have more access to his skin. Similarly, Potter pauses in his ministrations to admire Draco's naked skin.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Potter tells him and Draco's heart freezes as he believes him. Potter's gaze rakes over the scars, the bruises, and his eyes fill with nothing but affection for Draco. "So lovely."

As Draco's floored by the genuine praise that melts his heart, Potter leans in and continues feeling and kissing the blond's chest. Potter kisses every scar he can – sucks on his nipples – and lets his hands glide up and down Draco's sides.

"You're –" Draco has to close his eyes and take a moment to think about his words in order to get the wording right, "– you're wearing too much." Not the most eloquent way of asking Potter to get totally bare but the Chosen One doesn't seem to mind. Potter smiles against him before moving back to unstraddle Draco and stand before him. Keeping his eyes locked on Draco, Potter slowly hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slides the fabric down, exposing dark legs and emerald boxers and a bulge! Draco's mouth goes dry at the sight of Potter's erection straining against his underwear. As the pants hit the ground, Potter pauses and gives Draco a questioning look.

Voldemort himself could come barreling through the window of Potter's bedroom casting a Killing Curse and Draco wouldn't move. The sight of Potter gloriously undressed is almost too much for him to handle. Unashamed, Draco has to squeeze his dick painfully between his own pants to stop himself from spilling on the sight like a teenager.

Potter's blushing and giving him a cute, coy little grin, and Draco knows he's done for.

"You're the one who's gorgeous," he informs Potter. "Fuck, look at you." He reaches out and takes Potter's right hand in his left. He watches Potter look down and see the Dark Mark on the skin of Draco's forearm. "I'll give you all of me," Draco promises. He takes a breath and gathers the courage before he meets Potter's eyes. "Harry."

Half a beat passes before everything shifts.

Harry's climbed into Draco's lap, pushing the pure-blood back against the bed and leaning over him to devour Draco's mouth in a passionate kiss that leaves Draco winded. Harry's hands are in his hair and cupping the side of his face while Harry's cock grinds against his stomach. The Chosen One's tongue swipes languidly against his neck. Teeth that typically flash whenever Harry smiles are leaving painful but pleasurable welts against Draco's skin and he wants more of it – wants Harry to cover him in marks. He won't Glamour any mark Harry gives him. Hell, he'll show them off to the Minister if he feels like it.

Draco uses his strength to flip them so that he's grinding down against Harry. The Gryffindor's hair is fanned out messily against the sheets of his bed and Draco smiles at the sight. He takes some time to grind against the hero for a bit longer before it starts to chafe. He kisses Harry before leaning back to shirk his pants. Once he's freed, Harry uses the temporary pause to slide off the bed and kneel beside it. Draco looks at him questioningly, unable to resist raising an eyebrow in wonder.

"What…?"

"Like I said – I want my tongue on you."

Draco's lost all hope of controlling his speech when the words come tumbling from his lips, "You're the first." His eyes meet Harry's. And he's surprised to realize that he's suddenly nervous. "Nobody's ever touched my scars or seen me bare or…" he lets the unfinished end of his sentence hang in the air.

"I want to taste you," Harry repeats, gaze dropping to the outline in Draco's boxers. "But…I've never done anything like this before either."

"Whatever you want," Draco promises quickly. "I'll guide you. Just…no teeth."

Harry lets out a nervous laugh at that and it's enough to relieve the tension. He helps Draco remove his boxers and licks his lips eagerly when Draco's dick springs free. Harry settles in between Draco's legs, pushing his knees apart to allow him enough room to settle with his face hovered delicately above Draco's cock. Harry looks up with a raised eyebrow and Draco can't help but shiver. It hardly feels real to him that he's got Harry here, so deliciously wanting and pleading, and begging to taste his cock.

"Harry…"

He wants those lips around him. He wants to know what it feels like to have Harry suck him off for real. This isn't a nightmare. This isn't a wet dream. This is real.

And Harry's definitely loving it as much as Draco is.

Those emerald eyes are alight with mischief as Harry gingerly stretches his tongue out to lap a long stripe from the bottom of Draco's balls to the slit of his cock.

"Fuck," Draco hisses out, resisting the urge to simply thrust up and into Harry's mouth.

Harry smirks knowingly, evidently pleased with Draco's reaction, and continues to lick up and down Draco's cock. Draco's torn between wanting to let his head fall back and keeping his gaze on Potter, taking in every action of the Chosen One's. Harry seems eager to explore and every reaction of Draco's is catalogued somewhere away in Harry's brain.

Draco's right hand – the one with the ring on it – sinks into Harry's hair, not pulling or encouraging, just resting and feeling – while his left hand grasps at the bed sheets beneath him. He watches, entranced, as Harry slowly works his way down Draco's cock, swallowing more and more of it. Harry gags twice before he falls into a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down on Draco's dick, letting the pure-blood's girth fill his mouth. Harry's for sure a beginner but he shows a lot of promise and that's something Draco can work with. He's panting and moaning and whispering sweet praises as Harry sucks him off. It isn't long before he feels his cock filling and knows that he's close. His hand tightens in Harry's hair in warning. "Harry, I'm..." The Chosen One moans around his cock and it makes Draco stutter, "Harry – Harry, I'm going to –"

Rather than backing off and letting Draco spill all over his face and chest, Harry sinks down deeper.

It pushes Draco over the edge.

He stretches out the "H" sound of Harry's name on an exhale that immediately turns into a long moan as he comes in Harry's mouth. The taste seems to surprise Harry but he doesn't back away, working his throat to swallow as much as he can. A bit dribbles out from his lips and Draco curses at the sight. His body finishes trembling and, as his dick turns limp, he falls back against the bed, completely wiped. "Amazing," he wonders aloud at the sensation filling his body. He's had plenty of orgasms before but never one as strong – never one brought on by love.

Harry wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and chuckles before moving to crawl up the bed to lie beside Draco. "Not too shabby for my first time, then?" he asks playfully. His voice is shot.

"Come here," Draco growls, pulling Harry on top of him to kiss him senseless by means of an answer. He can taste his own seed in Harry's mouth and it's kind of fascinating. Harry's a giggling mess and it's so cute and endearing and fucking odd that Draco can't help but run his hands slowly down Harry's back, feeling goose bumps appear. Harry's new necklace is pressed down against Draco's chest because of gravity and a surge of domesticity runs through him. He wants Harry like this every day. He wants to make him laugh and moan and feel just as amazing as he does in this moment.

"Let me have a go?" Draco requests innocently, hands coasting over the firmness of Harry's ass.

Harry blushes. He rolls off of Draco and seems to pause. "How do you want me?"

"Just like this," Draco assures him as he reaches to take off Harry's boxers. While Harry's cock isn't terribly long, it is thick and Draco wastes no time in moving himself between Harry's legs to lean down and suck marks onto Harry's thighs. Harry's a moaning mess beneath him and Draco feels a sense of satisfaction he's never felt before. He wants to explore and spend time licking and tasting every inch of Harry's skin but he also knows that Harry's been hard for a while now and Draco takes pity on him. Wrapping a hand around the cock before him, Draco pulls a few times before leaning down to suck on the head of Harry's dick.

Harry shouts something that could be a curse or a spell – Draco's not sure if it's even English. He speeds up his hand, jacking Harry off while licking and sucking the tip of Harry's cock. When he hears Harry's moans pick up the pace and his breathing become uneven, Draco lets go of Harry's cock with his hand and sinks down, fucking Harry with his mouth and throat. Merlin but Harry's thick. It feels so good, so filthy, and Draco moans around Harry's dick while his hands dig into Harry's hips, pinning him against the bed.

"Please, please, please, I'm close, I'm so close, please, please, Draco –"

When Harry's come hits the back of his throat, Draco's convinced he's died and gone to the afterlife. He sucks Harry through the aftershocks until Harry's simply whimpering and shivering and whispering his name like it's the most beautiful prayer he's ever learned.

I love you.

He wants to say it once he's swallowed the rest of Harry's come and Harry's pulled out of his mouth. He wants to say it as he curls up beside Harry, their legs tangling together. He wants to say it as Harry's lips find his and they lay there kissing for a few, still moments before Harry leans back with a happy sigh of contentment. He wants to say it as Harry pulls him close so that the hero's arm is underneath his neck and Draco's head is resting on Harry's shoulder and bicep. He wants to say it as Harry cups his cheek and takes a moment to simply smile at him, sated and full of affection.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

He opens his mouth – the words are right there – but a nervous fear fills him at the last second and he doesn't say what he truly wants to. Instead, he buries his face against Harry's neck, wrapping his arms around the hero and pulling the Gryffindor tightly against him.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

XXXX

Author's Note: I've landed a career in my field after years of searching and trying, and it, attached with a LOT of emotional shit, was what held me back for so long from updating this fic. I had two people who are super close to me doubt my ability to write well and I responded by harshly writing a bunch of oneshots for other fandoms and pairings that you can find on my main page in a feeble attempt to prove to myself that, despite what they may think or say, I am a decent writer and, most importantly, my works make people happy and that's all I really care about. I think I needed a mental break from working on something lengthy that's multi-chaptered, but I'm back now. I'm not sure when the next update will come as I'm beginning my new career in less than a month and have a lot to prepare for it, but this fic is by no means abandoned. And we are nearing the end of it - over 100,000 words will ensure that lol. As always, thank you for waiting patiently and for reading, and I hope that you've enjoyed this update! We're not done yet!