***

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's note: A Christmas present for amber v, who wanted to see Harry or Draco dressed as a Christmas elf, complete with pointy ears. As always, I went a little … overboard. Enjoy, dearie, and thanks for being an excellent reviewer, and thanks to Lady_Aubrey for the beta!

***

"- will not."

"You will," the Headmistress said sternly, shoving the costume toward the angry blond.

"You cannot force me to wear this – this – abomination."

Professor McGonagall shook her head, her wire-rimmed spectacles sliding slightly down her nose, only adding to her severe expression.

"Hogwarts requires a minimum of thirty hours of community service from all of its seventh-years, as you well know," she said, her face pinched. "You have, thus far in the term, completed none. You will join the students on their trip to the Children's Ward at St. Mungo's."

"You can't force me to go," he sneered, his features showing some of the doubt he felt about that statement.

"I can, and I will," she said, her mouth set in an angry line.

Draco sighed, his arms tightly crossed against his torso.

"Fine. I'll go. But I won't wear this costume –"

"There are no other costumes available," McGonagall said, her voice a tad smug. "Had you signed up earlier in the term, you may have found a different costume. However, at this late date, I'm afraid there are no other options."

Draco grabbed the material from the desk, stooping to pick up a piece of parchment that had dislodged from its place in the folds and fluttered to the floor. McGonagall's lips twitched with the effort of holding back her smile, knowing it wouldn't do to laugh at a time like this.

"You have to be kidding," Draco said, his eyes widening when he read the parchment. It was a spell that would give him pointy ears for the day. "No."

McGonagall put a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him out the door. "The experience may do you a world of good, Mr. Malfoy. It's time you learned that it is better to give than to receive," she said firmly. "Do hurry. The group is waiting in the entrance hall, and St. Mungo's is expecting everyone momentarily."

***

"Potter," Draco whispered urgently, standing closer than he normally would to the Gryffindor. "Psst. Potter."

Harry turned to Draco, smirking. He knew what costume McGonagall had given the Slytherin, and he knew the blond would do anything he could to trade. Harry ran his hands down over his bright red Santa suit, as though smoothing out invisible wrinkles.

"Damn it, Harry," Draco whispered, pulling the dark-haired wizard closer.

"What?" Harry asked, grinning at Draco's expression. Harry knew he had to be desperate to willingly call him by his given name in public.

"Trade me."

Harry looked at the bundle of cloth in Draco's arms, wrinkling his nose.

"No way. Santa's much better than an elf."

"Harry, please," Draco whined, his eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed them talking.

"No."

Draco bit his lip, his eyes narrowing. There had to be a way out of this. He just had to use his impressive Slytherin powers of manipulation and cunning. He leaned in closer, his lips nearly touching Harry's ear as he whispered.

"A hand job."

Harry had been expecting the crude negotiation, so he didn't flinch. He pulled away to look at Draco appraisingly as though considering the offer, then shook his head no. Draco moved in again, his breath against Harry's neck.

"A blow job."

"Tempting," Harry whispered, leaning in even closer to Draco. "But no."

"Damn it, Potter!" Draco growled, drawing the attention of several Hufflepuffs dressed as reindeer. He glared at them until they looked away. He lowered his voice, pitching it for Harry's ears alone. "I'll let you fuck me where you want. The Quidditch locker room, even."

Harry sighed, actually considering the offer. His eyes traveled over Draco's lithe frame appreciatively, his cock responding immediately to the thought of shagging the gorgeous wizard in front of him in the locker room. Saying yes would mean getting something he'd wanted for awhile now, and saying no would probably guarantee him a deep freeze for several days. He was denied the chance to answer, however, since McGonagall chose that moment to stride into the entryway.

"Why are you all still here?" she asked irritably, glaring at Draco when she saw he had yet to don the elf costume.

Harry hesitated, finally caving when he saw the look of pure desperation in Draco's eyes. That look, paired with the promise of slippery, wet sex in the locker room with the blond, tipped the scales in favor of the trade.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress. It's my fault. I wanted to trade costumes with Malfoy. We'll just be a moment –"

McGonagall's eyes flashed, her head whipping around to find Draco fast enough to knock her hat askew.

"Malfoy and Potter, there will be no switching costumes."

Draco's eyes flashed angrily, and he stormed off to a nearby empty classroom to change, his eyes shooting daggers at both the Headmistress and the dark-haired wizard as he glared at him one last time. None of the assembled students were surprised – the rivalry between Potter and Malfoy was already the stuff of Hogwarts' lore, and they hadn't even left school yet. The fighting had decreased after their return for the make-up seventh year, but no one would go so far as to call their tentative truce friendly.

McGonagall set off after Draco, muttering something about haughty Slytherins. "I'll just be a moment, Filius," she said, motioning for the diminutive Charms professor – also dressed as an elf - to corral the wandering students and prepare to leave. "Malfoy may need my help with a Transfiguration spell."

Oh bloody hell, a Transfiguration spell? Harry thought, suppressing a grimace. Though none of this was his fault, he was sure he'd be punished for it later. Draco would probably withhold sex for a week after this debacle was over. Harry groaned, drawing several curious stares from other seventh years. Christmas break started in a few days, which meant two full weeks without Draco. He'd been planning a big Christmas celebration of their own in the Room of Requirement the day before break, but Harry was sure that would be off now. Fuck, he thought with a frown.

***

"You're supposed to be handing out presents, Malfoy," Hermione spat, tucking a silver ringlet behind her ear. Her red cap slipped slightly, the lace dipping down to cover her forehead.

"And you're supposed to be delightful and merry, Granger," he growled, tossing a box to a random child. He sneered as he took in her Mrs. Claus costume, snorting. "I find you neither."

"Can't you take your head out of your arse long enough to do this one thing? Think of the children," she retorted, crossing her arms angrily. "Haven't you ever heard it's better to give than to receive?"

He snorted again, grabbing another brightly wrapped box from the bag blindly and stooping to hand it to a young boy with exaggerated kindness. Hermione huffed, dropping down beside Draco to smile and ruffle the boy's hair.

"Why don't you go see Santa, Ewan?" she said, directing him to Harry, who was giving children piggyback rides across the ward.

The boy cast a critical eye over Draco, frowning.

"You don't look like any elf I've ever seen," he said, his tone challenging.

Draco rolled his eyes, touching his fingers to the pointed tips of his ears. McGonagall had indeed been forced to help him with the spell, since he refused to do it. He rather thought the old crone had gone overboard, giving him ears so pointy the tips were almost sharp.

"Then obviously you've always been a very naughty boy," he sneered, grabbing the package back. "Santa and his elves only come to nice little boys and girls."

"Malfoy," Hermione hissed, yanking the present back and handing it to the child.

"You're thinking of house-elves, Ewan," she said, giving him a light push toward Harry. "He's a Christmas Elf, one of Santa's helpers. Now go see Santa. I'm sure he's got something for you."

"Oh, I've got something for him," Draco muttered, glaring as he watched Harry swing the child up onto his back.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed as she watched the blond stare at Harry.

"Nothing."

***

" – wasn't my fault!"

"You refused to trade before she came, which makes it your fault. Furthermore, you knew what she was planning, and you didn't warn me!"

Harry let his head drop into his hands, sighing heavily. He was sitting on the counter in the Prefects' bathroom, arguing with the blond as he obsessively checked his ears in the mirror.

"I still don't think they're right," he whined, his finger tracing the shell of his ear.

"They are," Harry growled, exasperated.

"You haven't even looked properly, Potter!" Draco spat, his grey eyes meeting Harry's in the mirror.

Harry heaved himself up off the counter, walking up behind Draco, never breaking eye contact with the blond in the mirror. He dipped his head, still staring forward, and followed the curve of Draco's ear with the tip of his tongue. Grey eyes drifted shut at the sensation, Harry's hot breath ghosting down his neck. Harry nibbled his way over Draco's earlobe, pressing tender kisses behind his ear.

"Absolutely perfect," Harry whispered, leaning back to meet Draco's eyes in the mirror again.

Draco huffed, fighting the urge to smile. His humiliation hadn't been entirely the Gryffindor's fault, he supposed. He leaned back into Harry, relishing the feel of Harry's warm, solid chest.

"Besides, I think you looked kind of cute," Harry said, drawing a hiss from the blond.

Draco recoiled, making Harry stumble from the sudden loss of weight against his chest.

"Cute?" he spat, his grey eyes narrowed dangerously. "I was cute?"

Realizing his mistake – he'd had enough discussions with Draco to know that a Malfoy was many things, but cute was not among them – he reached for the blond, his hands closing over nothing as Draco shot to the other end of the large bathroom.

"Draco, I'm sorry," Harry said, his voice a bit desperate. The capitulation he'd seen just moments ago in Draco's grey eyes had been replaced with fury. His shoulders sagged; there was no way Draco would let him anywhere near him in the three remaining days before break. "I didn't mean it. Of course you're not cute. You're gorgeous. Breathtaking. Handsome."

Draco snorted, grabbing his bag from the bench by the door. "Nice try, Potter," he sneered, his voice cold.

"Draco, wait –"

The blond paused in the doorway, turning to watch Harry beg. His green eyes were full of real remorse – probably because he knows he doesn't have a prayer of getting laid anytime soon, Draco thought, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger.

"What, Potter?" he snarled, his fingers tightening on the door.

Harry gaped at Draco, his cock jumping at the sight of the Slytherin Ice Prince in a full fury. He was everything Harry had just said – gorgeous, breathtaking and handsome. Harry's mouth went dry, and he had to concentrate to form the words he wanted.

"Please," he said softly, swallowing audibly. "Please – just, I'm sorry, alright? You know how I feel about you. I'm sorry. Don't go, not like this."

Draco softened imperceptibly. The problem was that he didn't know how Potter felt. He wasn't even sure how he felt. What was this? Were they enemies who fucked? Two boys letting off steam? Or was it more? Were they actually involved?

Draco pursed his lips, his posture still rigid. He shook his head, hefting his bag higher on his shoulder as he turned to leave.

"Happy Christmas, Potter."

***

Harry stared out the window, watching a series of red-haired blobs flit through the sky. He rubbed his eyes, replacing his glasses. If he strained, he could make out Ron's lanky form hovering in front of the make-shift goal, and Charlie's considerably more muscular body crouched over his broom, tearing after what Harry could only assume was the Snitch.

"Tell me again why you aren't out there?" Hermione asked, looking up from her book to watch her friend stare outside.

They were spending Christmas at the Burrow. Hermione's parents were visiting family in Switzerland, and she'd chosen to stay with the Weasleys instead of accompanying them. They were only a week into the break, but Harry was already desperate to get back to Hogwarts.

A week with no word at all, he thought glumly, drawing patterns on the frosted window pane idly. He'd sent several owls – one a day, in fact – to Draco, but there hadn't been a single response. I wonder how much longer he'll be able to keep this up, he wondered, not realizing he'd been tracing Draco's initials on the glass.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione muttered, clearing away the evidence of Harry's daydreams with her wand. It wouldn't do at all for Ron to find that, she thought grimly. "You need to snap out of it, Harry."

Harry turned when he heard his name, studying Hermione with a slight frown. Was she talking to me? he wondered, his mind still tangled up in his latest fight with Draco.

"I said you need to snap out of it, Harry," she repeated, her voice sharp. "I don't know what you see in him, but you're obviously smitten. You know how he is – I'm sure he'll have forgotten whatever it is you two are fighting over by the time the term starts."

Harry blinked, unsure of how to respond. Did Hermione really know who he was seeing? They'd kept it a careful secret – his friends knew he was involved with someone, since he had been gone so much lately, but they didn't know who.

"Don't look so surprised, Harry," she said, her tone softening. "I see how you two look at each other. Something changed after the first week of school. The smoldering glances and glares are still there, but they're – different somehow now."

Harry's cheeks darkened, a hot blush creeping up his neck and flooding his face. Merlin, have we been that obvious? he wondered, a slight bubble of panic rising in his chest. If Draco found out people knew, he'd – well, Harry wasn't sure what the Slytherin would do, but he was fairly certain he wouldn't like it. He'd deny everything and refuse to continue seeing Harry, most likely.

"Harry," Hermione said, setting her book aside and joining him on the window seat. She slipped an arm around his shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze. "I don't think many others have noticed. Just me and Neville, and maybe Zabini. You two have done very well keeping up the pretense of hating each other. For awhile there, Neville and I thought maybe you did still hate each other, and that the sex was just that – sex."

He hadn't thought it possible that a person could blush hard enough to hurt, but he was. His face ached, hot with embarrassment.

"Sex?" he whispered hoarsely, ducking his head so he didn't have to meet her eyes. "You've s-seen us?"

Hermione giggled, a sound he didn't often hear from her. He risked a look up, but found no judgment or anger in her brown eyes - just amusement and maybe the slightest bit of arousal. He shifted uncomfortably, not sure he wanted to be touching her during this awkward conversation. Hermione sighed, pulling him closer.

"Don't be an idiot," she chided, and he gave in, resting his head against her shoulder. "Neville knew first. He saw Malfoy sneaking into your dorm a few weeks into the term. He noticed me watching you two during dinner one night, and he pulled me aside later to confirm my suspicions."

"He had no right –"

"Shush," she interrupted, smacking him lightly on the head. "He's your friend, and he was worried about you. We discussed it, and watched you two a bit more. That's when we realized you actually cared about each other. We decided not to get involved."

Harry muttered something unintelligible against her shoulder, earning himself another swat. Hermione didn't understand what he'd said, but she was sure it had been negative.

"But now you're obviously miserable, so I'm getting involved," she said, concern tinting her voice. "What's going on, Harry? I haven't seen you this depressed since Sirius died."

Harry felt tears prick against his closed eyelids, and he swallowed hard, unwilling to let himself cry. Hermione heard his breath hitch, and she tightened her arms around him, drawing him in closer.

"Oh, Harry," she said, stroking his hair. "How long have you known you were in love with him?"

***

Blaise sighed, falling back on to Draco's rumpled bed.

"This is about Potter, isn't it?" he said, his tone resigned.

"What?" Draco hissed, fumbling for his trousers.

"I said, this is about Potter, isn't it?" Blaise repeated, enjoying how unsettled the question made the blond.

"Potter? W- that's ridiculous. What would Potter have to do with this?"

Blaise laughed, rolling to the side of the bed so he could get dressed as well. It was obvious nothing interesting was going to happen, despite his best efforts.

"You used to be fun, Draco," he said, buttoning his trousers and reaching for his shirt. "We used to have fun."

Draco shook his head, his fingers trembling slightly as he finished fastening his cuff links. He felt better fully clothed. Nothing had happened, but the fact that he'd been angry enough with Harry to put himself in this situation – his heart stuttered, grief and guilt weighing heavily against him.

"I just wasn't in the mood," he said defensively, turning his back so Blaise wouldn't see him blush.

"You've never 'not been in the mood' before," Blaise complained, knotting his tie. "And for the record, that wasn't 'not in the mood'. You nearly fell off the bed in your haste to get away from me."

What was I thinking? Draco berated himself, his chest constricting painfully at how close he had come to betraying Harry's trust. Thank Merlin we didn't get any further than stripping down to our boxers. He'd balked the moment Blaise had leaned in to kiss him, scrambling away before the other boy's lips could touch his.

"I -"

"We haven't been together since what – the first week of school?" Blaise cut in, stooping to tie his shoes.

He saw Draco stiffen, confirming his suspicions.

"Why is that, Draco?"

"It's none of your -"

"It's none of my business that my best friend is fucking Potter?"

Draco whirled, his tie hanging limply around his neck. Blaise read the panic on his face easily, more proof that he was right. The Slytherin Prince always kept his emotions tightly in check. This thing with Potter must be more serious than I thought, Blaise speculated, his chocolate eyes narrowing as he watched the blond.

"What, no furious denial?"

Draco grimaced, shaking his head. He sat heavily on the side of the bed, not flinching away when Blaise settled in next to him.

"How serious are you two?" Blaise asked, watching as Draco's hands fisted in his lap.

"I'm not sure," the blond admitted, his voice a bit hoarse.

"Why didn't you invite him here tonight?" Blaise asked, wondering if the elder Malfoys knew about their son's relationship with the wizarding world's hottest political commodity. Surely they'd set their animosity against the Boy Who Lived aside for the opportunity to have him in their corner. "I'm sure Lucius and Narcissa would be over the moon to have him put in an appearance."

Draco shrugged, another rare gesture. Blaise let a tentative hand rest against his wool-clad shoulder, feeling the tension radiate off him even through the expensive dress robes.

"Are you two fighting?"

Another shrug, this one less enthusiastic. Ah, so they are, and it's of Draco's doing, Blaise surmised, reading his friend well. Draco had a wicked temper, and his ability to hold a grudge was well known throughout Slytherin.

"About?"

Draco mumbled something, and Blaise's chest clenched. Mumbling? Shrugging? Not behavior befitting a Malfoy. He sighed. Draco was in way over his head with Potter. Draco was in love.

"How long have you known you were in love with him?" Blaise asked, his tone casual.

"A few weeks," Draco answered, surprising himself with his honesty. It was a question he'd struggled with often lately. That, and what to do about it.

"What does he say about it?" Blaise asked, correctly assuming Draco hadn't shared his feelings with the Gryffindor.

Draco's answer was mumbled, but Blaise was expecting it this time. He listened carefully, picking out the words "doesn't know" from the low response.

"That's hardly Slytherin, Draco," Blaise chided, and Draco's head rose in shock at the words.

"You have to know he feels the same – he's a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. They don't sleep around. If you're with him, you can bet it's all hearts and flowers on his end," Blaise said with a casual shrug. "Really, Draco, think of the political and social capital he could offer you and your family. You'd be a fool to break it off."

Draco perked up slightly, his expression brightening. He'd never thought of it from that angle, before. Perhaps his parents wouldn't disown him if they went public, after all.

"Let's get back to the party before we're missed," Blaise said, patting Draco on the thigh before they rose.

***

Harry woke late on Christmas Day. He'd been up most of the night, tossing and turning as he thought about Draco. He'd told Hermione everything, but the witch hadn't been much help. She'd told him to hang in there, and that if they were really meant to be together then they'd get past this, just like they'd gotten past the other fights in their short relationship. But Draco had never given him the silent treatment this long before, and Harry's throat ached with unshed tears at the thought that he'd lost him for good. He wished he knew what the Slytherin was thinking. Hell, he wished he knew what he was thinking.

Harry winced slightly when his feet hit the cold floor, registering mild surprise when he saw Ron's empty bed. The enthusiastic redhead always woke him early on Christmas Day, since Molly and Arthur wouldn't let any of the kids open presents until everyone was up. He cast a quick Tempus, his eyes widening when he saw it was almost noon.

Harry hurried down the stairs, surprised to find the kitchen empty. Molly was usually puttering around in there all day on Christmas, roasting, baking and simmering for hours to complete the sumptuous feast she always served that night.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Hermione said, startling him.

Harry turned, watching as Hermione strode into the room and poured a cup of tea. She added a few sugars and stirred, handing the steaming mug to him as she aimed her wand at the range, directing several eggs into a frying pan. Hermione, cooking? he wondered, dumbfounded. Have I been sent to an alternate universe? One where the Weasleys don't go crazy over Christmas and Hermione does domestic things like making tea and breakfast?

"You can stop gaping," she said sharply, sliding the eggs onto a plate and toasting some bread. "The rest of the family is out back, playing Quidditch again. Molly's the referee. I volunteered to wait for you."

Harry accepted the plate with a nod of thanks, tucking into the meal. He'd just realized he was starving.

"Ron didn't wake me," he said, frowning.

"No, he didn't," she said, biting her lip. "I asked him not to. You needed your sleep. He said you'd been up all night."

Harry grimaced, taking a bite of his toast. "I hadn't realized I'd disturbed him," he muttered, forking up another bite of eggs. "I'll have to apologize."

"You'll do no such thing, Harry James Potter," she scolded, opening the cabinet to grab a glass for Harry's pumpkin juice. "We're your best friends. You don't have to apologize for things like that."

He shot her a tired smile, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly when she set his juice down on the table.

"Thank you."

She blushed, swatting his hand away. They chatted as he finished his breakfast, sharing a few funny memories of past Christmases at the Burrow and talking about how Hermione's parents were enjoying their vacation. When he was finished, she Banished his dishes and cast an appraising eye over him, shooing him upstairs.

"You'd better get dressed," she said, her eyes shining in a way that made Harry slightly suspicious. "Wear something nice. After all, it's Christmas."

***

" – always look nice, Blaise," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

Honestly, Draco thought, narrowing his eyes at the seemingly endless row of neatly hung clothing in front of him, what has gotten into him lately? Wear something nice? As if I own anything that isn't nice? As if I'd risk my mother's wrath coming down for Christmas brunch anything less than immaculately dressed?

Blaise smirked, shoving a dark charcoal cashmere sweater at the blond. "Just wear it. After all, it's Christmas."

***

"Before you head outside, you should open this," Hermione said, waiting for Harry at the base of the stairs. He paused, taking the package out of her outstretched hand.

"I'll open it later, with my other presents," he said, tossing it onto the table as he passed. He'd already missed most of the game, but Harry thought he should head out to watch at least part of it.

Hermione grabbed it off the table, thrusting it into his hand.

"Open it now," she insisted, a barely contained smile on her face.

Harry watched her curiously for a moment, finally shrugging and tearing the simple brown paper off the small object. He figured it must be his Christmas present, since she was so eager to watch him open it.

He reached in, grasping the dormant Golden Snitch between his fingers.

"Hermione, what –"

"Happy Christmas, Harry," she shouted, tapping her wand against the Snitch.

***

"You should open this before you go downstairs," Blaise said casually, pulling a small wrapped object from his pocket and tossing it to Draco.

The blond caught it easily, shooting Blaise a puzzled look. They'd spent nearly every Christmas together – Blaise's mother was rarely at home, usually traveling with her latest husband – since they were children, but they'd never exchanged gifts.

"Just open it."

Draco stared at the plain package for a few more moments before sliding a manicured finger beneath the seam, tearing the paper off gracefully. His brow furrowed as he looked at the dormant Golden Snitch in his hand, wondering what Blaise was up to – he hated Quidditch, and he was constantly ribbing Draco for liking such a plebeian sport.

"Is this some sort of j-"

"Happy Christmas, Draco!" Blaise smirked, tapping the Snitch with his wand.

***

Harry swallowed hard, trying to beat back the nausea that always accompanied Portkey travel. He landed in an ungainly heap, his head smacking against a hard tile floor. What the hell? Harry wondered, sitting up carefully and gingerly rubbing the sore spot on his skull. He looked around, recognizing his surroundings as the dizziness from the unexpected trip ebbed. The Hogwarts locker room?

A loud crash from the other side of the room drew his attention, and Harry sprang to his feet, his wand drawn. Thank Merlin I had my wand with me, he thought, crouching to carefully make his way through the room to investigate the sound. What was Hermione thinking, sending me here? He stiffened at the thought that the gift might not have been from the witch at all – she'd never said it was, he realized. Fuck, he thought, casting a nonverbal spell that masked his echoing footfalls as he crept past the showers.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice called out from inside one of the cubicles.

Harry felt a jolt of relief and desire at the sound. He lowered his wand, keeping it in his hand, but no longer pointing it like a weapon.

"Draco?"

A few beats of silence passed before he got a response. "Harry?"

Harry closed the distance between them, his eyes narrowed as he turned the corner. His fingers tightened around his wand, hexes ready on his tongue. He studied the blond, who returned his slightly hostile gaze. Taking no chances, neither of them dropped their wand.

"When was the first time we had sex in the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked, his eyes never wavering from the blond's.

Draco blinked at the unexpected question, taking a breath.

"We never have," he answered, watching as Harry nodded, his features relaxing. Realizing what the dark-haired wizard was doing, Draco posed a question of his own. "Where was the last place we fought?"

Harry swallowed, taking a step closer to Draco. "The Prefects' bathroom," he said, smiling. "And I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have teased you."

The tension that had been building since his unexpected Portkey trip flowed out of Draco, and he nearly sagged against the tile wall in relief.

"It's you," he whispered, moving forward to capture Harry in a fierce hug.

"It's you," Harry answered, pressing a hard kiss to Draco's lips.

Harry looked around, the realization of exactly where they were hitting him for the first time.

"The Quidditch locker room," he breathed, laughing. "Hermione."

"Blaise," Draco answered with a grin.

"I wonder how they set this up? You can't Portkey in without the Headmistress' permission," Harry said, a goofy smile on his face as he thought of the lengths his friend must have gone to in order to make this happen.

"Undoubtedly something the Head Girl and the Head Boy could manage," Draco said wryly, uncurling his hand to show Harry his Snitch.

Harry laughed again, mirroring Draco's movement. The two Snitches suddenly fluttered to life, zooming through the room toward an open door that led to the pitch. The boys looked at each other for a moment, grins splitting their faces.

"Shall we?"

They tore off toward the storage shed, where the school kept spare brooms. They wouldn't be as fast or easy to maneuver as the professional-grade brooms they were used to riding, but that would only add to the challenge.

"Winner gets –" Harry started.

"- his choice," Draco finished with a feral grin. The same stakes they'd played for since the beginning of the year – the right to choose top or bottom for the next week. It had made the Gryffindor/Slytherin game much more interesting for the two of them.

They played a dirty Seeker's game for the next hour, full of bumps and mid-air wrestling matches, until they were too cold and too tired to play any longer. Draco had won four games to Harry's two, and he grinned broadly when they landed, their first few steps wobbly as their legs readjusted to the ground.

"Your choice," Harry said, slightly winded from his latest death-defying dive for the Snitch.

"My choice," Draco agreed, sending the brooms back to the shed with a flick of his wand. "Locker room?"

Harry's eyes darkened with arousal, and he quickened his pace, exhaustion forgotten. They covered the remaining ground quickly, bursting through the door and sealing it behind them with several Locking and Silencing spells. Few students or professors had stayed over the break, but they didn't want to chance getting interrupted.

"Wanted this for so long," Harry moaned as Draco's mouth crashed against his, their fingers, numb from the cold, fumbling to undo buttons and zippers.

"Four months is hardly a long time to wait for something," Draco murmured, pulling away to step out of his trousers, letting them pool on the floor with his discarded cloak and jumper.

Harry laughed, his clothes joining Draco's in the pile.

"Two years," he mumbled, his fingers grabbing Draco's hips and pulling him closer so their erections brushed.

Draco gasped, arching into the sensation of his cock rubbing against Harry's. "Two years?"

"Mmm," Harry agreed, kissing a path down Draco's neck and across his collarbone.

"Two years," Draco growled, pushing Harry away so he could look at the dark-haired wizard.

Harry shrugged, worry clouding his green eyes. Had he gone too far in admitting that? Would the Slytherin pull away now that he knew this was something more than a casual fuck to Harry?

Draco launched himself at the Gryffindor, devouring his mouth with a torrent of kisses, licks and bites. He forced Harry to stumble backward, toward the line of shower cubicles.

"Two years," Draco whispered, shaking his head. He pulled Harry into one of the showers, reaching behind himself to turn on the hot spray. His pupils dilated as he watched the water cascade over Harry, flattening his unruly hair and coursing down his body in tantalizing rivulets, their tracks tracing the edges of the defined muscles of Harry's arms and abdomen.

"Bastard," Draco whispered, giving in to temptation and kneeling to lick at the water beading on Harry's stomach.

Harry groaned, leaning against the wall to support himself. The sight of Draco on his knees in the Quidditch showers – something he'd fantasized about many times – literally made him weak in the knees.

"We could have been doing this two years ago?" he continued, his tone gruff and incredulous. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me then?"

Harry managed a laugh, opening his eyes to look at the angry blond. "Mortal enemies, remember?"

Draco grinned, shaking his head. Deciding two years was long enough to wait, he dipped his head, taking Harry's hard cock into his mouth. He saw Harry's hands fist against the wall, his groans audible even over the rush of the water.

"Oh Merlin, yes, like that," he gasped, tightening his fists to keep from grabbing Draco's head.

"Like that, just like that, fuck," he hissed, coming before he could even form the words to warn Draco.

The blond didn't seem to mind, sitting back on his heels with a satisfied grin. Harry grimaced, embarrassed he'd come so quickly. Then again, this had been a long-standing fantasy of his. It's a miracle I didn't come the moment Draco sank down on his knees, Harry thought with a laugh. Draco gave Harry a moment to recover, trailing a line of kisses up his well-muscled thigh, over his hip bone and up his chest.

"Happy Christmas," he purred, his next kiss catching Harry square on the mouth.

"Mmm," Harry groaned, his lips curving into a smile when Draco pulled away. "Happy Christmas indeed."

His cock was already stirring for another round, but Harry had a good idea of what Draco would want to do, given his Quidditch victory. He closed a hand around Draco's hard length, pumping the shaft gently as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Here?" he asked, shaking the water out of his eyes.

Draco's eyes were nearly black with arousal as he nodded, pressing his body against Harry's as he deepened the kiss. He Summoned his wand from the pile of clothing outside the shower, breaking the kiss long enough to cast a few spells to prepare the dark-haired wizard. Harry shuddered as the spells traveled through him, stretching and lubricating him gently. Merlin I love magic, he thought, his eyes drifting shut as he felt himself relax and loosen, almost instantly ready for Draco's cock.

He sighed when Draco's fingers entered him, brushing across his prostate. He writhed against the blond, loving the feel of Draco's long fingers inside him. It wasn't necessary – the spell had prepared him well – but Draco knew how much Harry enjoyed being fingered, and in turn, how much he enjoyed the feeling of Harry tightening around his fingers, a preview of what was to come.

"Over there," Harry panted, steering Draco toward a tiled bench against the wall of the shower. He groaned as Draco's fingers slipped free, already missing the slight burning sensation of being filled.

"Always wondered why they put benches in here," Harry grunted, bending over one, his arse stuck up in the air for easy access.

Draco laughed, his cock jumping at the sight of Harry so wantonly displayed. "Merlin, you have a gorgeous arse," he sighed, positioning himself at Harry's loosened entrance.

Harry laughed, squirming as Draco teased the head of his cock against his puckered hole. He gasped when Draco finally pushed inside, filling him slowly, taking care not to hurt him. He continued to press forward until he was fully sheathed, pausing when his skin met Harry's to let the other boy adjust.

"Go," Harry moaned, using his elbows as leverage to push back against the blond.

Draco moaned, his hands tightening on Harry's hips as he pulled out and thrust in hard, continuing to adjust his angle until he felt Harry tense and groan underneath him. He held the position, mercilessly ramming against Harry's prostate with every stroke, continuing until the Gryffindor was nearly sobbing with need. He snaked his hand around, wrapping his long fingers around Harry's renewed erection. With a few hard strokes, both of them were coming, the evidence of Harry's release quickly washed away by the pounding spray of the shower.

Draco let his head fall against Harry's back, resting there for a moment before carefully pulling out. Harry winced slightly, accepting Draco's help as he straightened, stretching his arms and back.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, and Harry could tell from his tone that he wasn't talking about the uncomfortable position.

"I'm sorry, too," he said, smiling as he linked hands with the blond.

He used his free hand to turn off the spray, huddling closer to Draco once the torrent of hot water stopped. The air was a little chilly, and he dropped Draco's hand, searching for towels. Just like they always did, a stack of clean, fluffy towels appeared on the shower's bench, and Harry reached for one, wrapping it around his waist. He threw another to Draco so he could do the same, taking the third and rubbing it briskly over Draco's hair. He moved to dry his own the same way, stopping with the towel raised above his head when he saw something that startled him.

Harry reached out, tucking a lock of Draco's fine blond hair behind his ear. "Draco? Why are your ears pointy?"

The blond blushed slightly, his hand coming up to caress the pointed tips. They weren't as defined as they had been under McGonagall's spell, but they were undeniably pointy. "Er," he managed, coloring more.

"What?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing. He brought a hand up to swipe at a droplet of water that slid down from his still-wet hair.

"Well, I wasn't sure if you would forgive me or not, for being such an arse," Draco said, grimacing. "I told Blaise about it, and he, er, suggested I wear the pointy ears for awhile. Kind of in penance."

"Penance?" Harry asked, incredulous. He laughed, shaking his head.

"You said you thought they were cute," Draco replied, his tone hurt.

"They are," Harry said, contrite. He kissed each tip, his lips soft against the skin. "I just can't imagine Draco Malfoy willingly doing penance of any sort."

They were both quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts.

"I love you," Harry blurted out, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for Draco's scathing response.

And waited. When nothing happened, he opened them slowly, searching out Draco's face. The blond was grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear, his eyes absolutely glowing.

"I love you, too."

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the words, backed up by the love he could see written all over Draco's face. He wondered how he hadn't noticed it before – it seemed so obvious now. A pale hand shot out, fisting in Harry's low-slung towel.

"Let's go back to the Manor," he purred, tightening his hold on the dark-haired wizard. "I'd like to enjoy the spoils of victory a few more times before you go back to the Burrow."

Harry chuckled, letting his forehead rest against Draco's before pulling away to finish drying his dripping hair. They were dressed in record time, eager to set off for the Hogwarts gates so they could Apparate. Draco swung their joined hands, skipping like a school boy as they made their way through the thin covering of snow on the ground. Harry had never seen this playful side of Draco in public, and he found himself skipping as well.

"I'd deny it if you told anyone, but McGonagall and Granger were right," Draco said, grinning.

"About what?" Harry asked, wondering what pearls of wisdom from either of the two witches could be applicable in this situation.

Draco's eyes flashed with amusement and desire as he captured Harry's other hand. They passed through the gates, Disapparating straight to Draco's bedroom the moment they were past the wards.

"That it's better to give than to receive," Draco laughed, pushing Harry down on the bed. "Of course, receiving is nice, too. That may be my choice later. I still have a few more days left of my prize."

Blaise paused as he passed Draco's door, listening to the laughter resonating from inside. He grinned, quickly dispatching a Patronus to let Granger know their plan had worked. As the laughter turned to gasps and moans, Blaise sighed, flicking his wand to cast a quick Silencing Spell at the room. He was happy for them, and he knew he'd likely get the blow-by-blow from Draco later now that his and Harry's relationship was out in the open, but listening was a different story entirely. Blaise quirked his lips, heading off to his own room to gather his cloak. Maybe a Christmas visit with Nott was in order.