FIC: So Be Of Good Cheer [Harry/Draco]
Dec. 28th, 2012 08:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: So Be Of Good Cheer
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wantsunicorns
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: #124
Draco/Harry - Getting together cliche!
Co-workers trapped/stuck alone together on Christmas Eve. Griping leads to something better. Both single (no infidelity), please!
Word Count: ~7K
Rating: R (to be on the safe side)
Contains (Highlight to view): *accidental drug use, non-explicit zombies, a certain lack of festive cheer, almost forgot “swearing”*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: First time writing in a while, I hope you enjoy thisfantasyfiend09, I liked your prompt and figured I might add a bit of a twist as to why they are stuck at work and where. Sorry it isn’t pornier.
Thanks to my ever amazing beta for being there for me on such short notice.crazyparakiss, I love you!
And thank you to the mods for their patience and for not mod-mjolniring me, when December’s RL workload kicked my arse.
Summary: Draco is stuck at the Ministry on Christmas Eve, not entirely by choice. The fact that he’s stuck there with Harry Potter doesn’t really improve the situation and neither do their co-workers lurking outside the door, who only want him for his brain and not his body.
So Be Of Good Cheer
As far as it went, this was the worst Christmas Draco could remember. There were some viable choices for second and third place, like when a certain hairless wizard had taken over their home and even his mother had felt awkward decorating the tree in fat happy cupids, or that time little Draco had had a nightmare about not getting any presents and accidentally set the tree on fire. This year however… Draco didn’t even know where to start or whom or what to berate first. He sighed.
There was the fact that he was currently trapped inside a lift, with none other than one Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World. One very drunk and touchy-feely Harry Potter to be precise. It wasn’t even like Draco minded the touchy-feely part so much, it was quite nice, if he was completely honest, but it still wasn’t right.
Draco looked at the lift doors, shimmering in rainbow hues with the wards he and Potter had thrown up after they had realised there was no getting away in the Atrium
“Do you suppose they’ll get bored eventually or find somewhere else to go?” Draco asked in lieu of having anything better to contribute.
Potter just leered at him and put his hand high up on Draco’s thigh.
“Oh, I think their boredom should be none of your concern. There are so many more interesting things right here,” he replied while squeezing Draco’s leg.
“What? I’m not bored. Are you even listening?”
Instead of an answer Potter’s hand travelled further up Draco’s thigh, running his fingernails along the seams of Draco’s tailored trousers. Draco dragged in a ragged breath and tried to move away, unwilling to admit even to himself just how much Potter’s behaviour affected him.
As it was, Draco was already wedged as far into the corner of the lift as was physically possible for him to be without merging with the wall. Potter was now glued to his side, his alcohol scented breath hitting Draco’s neck in warm puffs, making his skin break out in goosebumps. When Potter’s tongue snuck out and sampled his skin, Draco couldn’t help the shuddering sigh that escaped him.
“Stop it, you’re really starting to freak me out,” Draco said. And it was true, only for all the wrong reasons.
He had to do something before Potter discovered the state Draco was in by now. He hesitated before going for his wand. What he was about to do was usually Pansy’s measure of last resort after a long night out. He knew from experience just how unpleasant it would be for Potter. There was nothing to it though, Potter had to be stopped.
“I’m sorry,” Draco said quietly, realising that he had never said those words to the man in front of him. Then he cast a sobriety charm.
***
Potter ran past him at breakneck speed, entirely unlike his usual distracted shuffling walk when in the office. The kind of headless panic he had just displayed really wasn’t normal. His unexpected entry made the tea in Draco’s cup slush around dangerously and Draco turned to shout after him.
“Potter, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Potter came to a halt just before rounding the corner and he stumbled back to where Draco was standing.
“Malfoy? What are you still doing here?”
“I asked first.”
Potter seemed more flustered than Draco had ever seen him. There was something else, he was slightly swaying from side to side and there appeared to be a wet spot on the front of his shirt.
“Potter, are you drunk?” Draco asked, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger and then held them up to his nose. “You are, aren’t you?”
“I – no. I’m not, I was just doing some last minute paperwork before the holidays.”
They both knew it was a lie.
“So that’s what it’s called these days. How much have you had?” Draco was enjoying this more than he should. Catching the hero of the wizarding world drunk in the Ministry for Magic on Christmas Eve was somehow so beautifully depressing that Draco just couldn’t let it go. However before he could tease Potter any further, he placed a hand on Draco’s arm and motioned for him to be quiet.
“Did you hear that?” Potter asked, his words tense but still slightly slurred.
“Hear what? What is this now, some less than eloquent plan to distract me from the fact that-“
“Will you shut up,” Potter interrupted him. Draco found he was too gobsmacked to be able to offer a witty reply. “Shit, I think they followed me.”
“Who-,” Draco tried to ask, but one look from Potter shut him up. He had no idea how it happened, but while drunk and slightly disorderly, right now, Potter was definitely in charge. Potter’s hand covered Draco’s mouth, because he probably still didn’t trust Draco to follow orders.
An eerie moan sounded along the corridor followed by shuffling steps. Draco was suddenly glad that Potter was dragging him backwards to wherever he had been headed before, even though it made him drop his favourite mug. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what made that noise. First one then many more voices followed, their moans and the shuffling becoming a cacophony that made Draco’s skin crawl.
“Potter…” he mumbled against the hand that was still pressed to his mouth, trying to urge him to go faster. It must have been the wrong thing to do, because the moaning increased in intensity and the shuffling steps sped up. Potter let go of Draco only to take his hand and drag him along. Draco couldn’t help himself, a morbid curiosity not unlike the one that made him look over his shoulder in nightmares made him turn.
Going by their uniform the people following them in a lurching unsteady walk, which was much faster than it should have been, mostly belonged to the Ministry cleaning staff. They were probably the only people aside from him and Potter who were still in the building. Their eyes were dull and most of them sported signs of having been bitten somewhere along their necks or exposed forearms. It was creepy. And festive, Draco realised with a start, some of them were half covered in mistletoe and garlands.
Potter was dragging him into a lift. The doors seemingly closing in slow motion, framed the advancing horde of whatever they were. Draco still couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Potter, is that…?”
“No.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Potter had the good grace to blush.
“Did you really try tying them up with garlands?”
Potter cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at Draco, who was again facing the doors, which closed just shy of the first hand stretched out towards them.
Draco freed himself from Potter’s grip and turned on him.
“What exactly is going on?”
Potter didn’t reply but hit the button that would take them to the Atrium instead. Draco felt his mouth open to berate Potter further, but closed it again, when what he saw sunk in. Potter was barely managing to stand up, he looked haggard and his cheeks were red as if. As if he had been crying. It seemed impossible now that Potter had been able to manhandle Draco into the lift at all. Something was wrong. Draco took a step forward and as if waiting for that, Potter’s legs gave way, Draco barely catching him.
“I repeat my question, what the fuck is going on?”
“Language,” Potter replied tiredly and Draco couldn’t stop a small grin.
“I was just… just catching up on some reports.” Potter looked a bit lost for a moment as if he had no idea how he had got to where he was. “Wasn’t I in my office just now?”
Draco shook his head. He helped Potter to stand up properly, the light above the doors indicated they were about to arrive in the Atrium. They could talk about this later, maybe.
“Where’s your wand?”
“I don’t know, ‘s no use anyway.”
Draco was worried, Potter’s state seemed to be deteriorating much quicker than even an entire bottle of Firewhiskey would have been able to explain.
“What do you mean, no use?”
“Riot Precaution Wards,” Potter mumbled and Draco remembered. The week before the Ministry had installed a new kind of ward to prevent the kind of attack the Ministry had to suffer from during the wizarding wars. Attack spells wouldn’t work within the Ministry, neither would defensive spells. That explained the garlands at least. They were pretty much defenceless. Either way, they were most definitely, completely and utterly buggered!
Physical assault or defence were their only option and Draco knew those weren’t options at all. Unlike Aurors regular clerks didn’t have to do any kind of physical training and while Draco was fit – if he said so himself – having gone into finance he was certainly not prepared to take on whatever might await them in the Atrium. And Potter was in no state to do anything but… Draco didn’t even know what Potter would be able to do, except for apparently staring at Draco’s lips like he was being hypnotised and—Draco’s eyes widened as Potter squeezed his bottom.
“Stop it!” he hissed.
Potter’s eyes were wide and innocent when he looked at Draco.
“Can you at least concentrate until we get out of here?”
“Oh, but I am concentrating,” Potter replied his hand moving across Draco’s buttocks.
Draco had had enough. He gripped and twisted Potter’s wrist with such force it must have hurt a lot, considering the whimper that escaped his lips. His wand trained on the door, Draco tensed as a cheerful ‘ding’ announced their arrival at their final destination. The doors creaked and shuddered open, nothing like the smooth glide from only a few floors up. The tangle of grappling limbs trying to force their way inside would explain that.
Desperately trying to hold them at bay, Draco shouted at Potter to press a button “any button” at all. But it all came out a bit garbled as dry cold hands closed around Draco’s throat.
Potter squeezed Draco’s arse again, sending Draco into something of a fit. The rage giving him the strength he needed to push the attacker out of the lift and back into the approaching ranks of dull-eyed service staff shuffling towards the open lift doors.
“For fuck’s sake! I said button not buttock, you moron! Now move it!” Draco rounded on Potter, shoving him against the side of the cabin. He could only hope that Potter would listen to him this time around. Draco recognised the next person to try and enter the lift. It was Rafferty. How he had managed to get to the Atrium before Potter and Draco was a mystery that Draco couldn’t be bothered to solve right now. Once again remembering the utter uselessness of any kind of defence spell, Draco poked Rafferty in the eye with his wand. To his surprise Rafferty stumbled back wailing and clutching his face.
Draco hefted his wand like a very short rapier, wracking his brain for any memories of the fencing lessons he had taken when he was a boy. His father had insisted on it, because he thought it befitting a wizard of their station. For once in his life, Draco was grateful for his father’s insistence to follow tradition. He attacked and parried, lunged and ducked, slowly driving the intruders back. Potter must have for once been able to follow simple instructions, because the space Draco had to defend was growing ever smaller as the doors slowly closed.
Draco was panting by the time the lift finally jerked back into motion. He approached the switchboard and with a groan of exhausted hit the red “emergency stop” button that caused the lift to come to a juddering halt between the floors.
He looked at Potter who had a bemused expression on his face and was already reaching for Draco again.
“Alright, before we talk about how fucked up you are, and we will talk about it. We need to make sure nobody who’s not supposed will be able to get in. Can you help me with that?”
“Sure,” Potter said, sounding almost normal. “What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking we could cast wards on the doors together. Since you don’t have a wand we need to find a way to combine our magic.”
“Oh, I’ve got an idea.” The lewd grin on Potter’s face told Draco that he was not going to like it.
Draco nodded in acknowledgement and swallowed nervously when Potter stepped closer, pressing his front to Draco’s back and sliding his hand along Draco’s arm until both their fingers touched Draco’s wand. Potter’s other hand alighted on Draco’s hip and he couldn’t suppress a shiver when Potter began to whisper an explanation into Draco’s ear. This was neither the time nor place, but Draco was only human, even if he would deny it, if pressed for an answer, but no matter what he might have said, resisting against Potter’s closeness, especially after as long a dry spell as Draco had had was nigh impossible.
“Are you ready?”
“Sorry, what?” Draco swallowed again, noticing that he was leaning back into Potter’s warmth. Merlin’s beard, he hadn’t heard a word that Potter had said. A dark warm chuckle and more warm breath against his ear were the only response.
“As I said, we need to cast in unison, you need to let me in, let me guide your magic in this spell. I was once your wand’s master—“ Potter chuckled as if he had just made a particularly witty joke, but continued after a moment. “and it will allow me to cast the wards. Speak with me and release your magic, I will do the rest.”
“What do you want me to say, oh Learned One,” Draco replied, wanting it to sound sarcastic to get a bit of his own back, but what came out sounded nothing but breathy and desperate. Maybe how buggered he was, wasn’t something he should be thinking about right now.
“Protego Maxima, obviously.”
Potter held onto his wrist lightly and still it felt as if his heat was burning Draco’s skin where they touched. Potter moved their joined hands several times until Draco’s wrist could be entirely guided by his own with no resistance whatsoever.
“That’s it, let go, Malfoy, let me take the lead.”
Draco couldn’t reply and only nodded, acutely aware of everywhere they were touching. Potter’s hands on his hips almost stinging, as if he was trying to imprint his brand of ownership on Draco. And for the shortest moment Draco allowed himself the thought that he didn’t quite mind as much as he pretended to. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and relaxed further into Potter.
“On three. One, two, three.”
“Protego Maxima,” they said in unison and Draco let his magic go, feeling it guided by Potter’s. It was as if Potter had got under his skin, was warming him from the inside. It was too close, too intimate and intimidating as hell and yet it wasn’t enough. Part of Draco longed to turn around and capture Potter’s lips in a kiss, finally releasing the pent up tension. When he focused on his wand again, he could see the spell had begun.
What erupted from Draco’s wand was a stream of rainbow coloured lights – how fitting he thought sarcastically, that ran over their skin, then covered them like a cocoon of shiny lights, before separating from them and covering the floor, walls and ceiling and most importantly the blasted lift doors.
“Great, we’re trapped inside a rainbow. If unicorns show up next, I’ll know I’m actually dreaming,” Draco said.
Before he could extricate himself, Potter had slammed him into the wall of the lift and was sucking wet kisses into his neck. For a moment Draco gave in, unable to hold back the moans that wanted to spill forth.
“So, you dream of me then, do you?” Potter asked, his breath warm against Draco’s collarbone.
“I never said... hmmmm.” Potter scraped his teeth across Draco’s Adam’s apple and completely derailed Draco’s train of thought. It was only when Potters erection began digging into Draco’s thigh that the fog of lust lifted enough for him to be able to realise what they were about to do.
“Potter, no. Stop it!” he said, pushing the other man away hard enough for him to stumble backwards. He would have fallen to the floor too, if his motion hadn’t been stopped when he collided with the opposite wall of the lift.
They stared at each other, both panting and if Potter’s pupils were anything to go, Draco’s must look just as wide. Then again, a small thought reminded Draco, Potter had been drinking. Before he could say anything though, Potter was slowly inching back across the space separating them, a predatory glint in his eye. Draco was wary.
“I’m warning you, Potter,” he said hoarsely, aiming his wand at Potter.
“What are you going to do? Poke me in the eye?”
“Well, it worked with Rafferty, didn’t it?” Draco spat.
Potter came ever closer and Draco was both afraid and excited of what might happen if he let Potter touch him again.
“I mean it. We have to figure out what the hell happened. You sit in that corner over there and I’ll sit here and we’ll talk.”
Potter looked about ready to protest, but Draco somehow managed to expel several angry looking red sparks from his wand and Potter backed off. He sank to the floor in the corner opposite and Merlin help him, the man actually pouted at Draco.
As they talked Potter moved ever closer. First there were tiny shifts of his legs and then little by little he covered the distance between them, until he was flush against Draco’s side. Draco tried to follow Potter’s narrative but was distracted by covertly having to push against him, trying to keep him at bay. In an attempt to get to the story straight, Draco decided to ask some simple questions, repeating what Potter had said earlier.
“So, what you’re saying is that you decided it wouldn’t hurt to open your Christmas present delivered by owl and wrapped in WWW paper today at work, while you were catching up on paperwork.”
Potter nodded.
“And then you thought it was alright to try just a tiny bit, of what did you call it?”
“Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes’ Seasonal Firewhiskey, guaranteed to bring Christmas cheer even into the dreariest home.” Potter prompted.
“Yes, that. And you didn’t for a moment think that might be a bad idea?” Draco shook his head disbelievingly, already trying to derail Potter’s finger that were trailing up his trouser leg. Again.
“Don’t you think it’s odd how you’re behaving?”
“What do you mean?” Potter seemed genuinely perplexed. “How am I behaving?”
Draco looked at him as if to say “really, you’re gonna go there?”. Apparently Potter did want him to go there.
“Do you normally… no wait, how much of that Firewhiskey have you had?”
“Dunno, maybe a glass or two?” Potter seemed to seriously consider Draco’s question, counting on his fingers, when he came to five he returned his hand to Draco’s thigh and nodded. “Yes, two, no more.”
Draco closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. That at least explained the weird behaviour, it was just something Draco would have to deal with until rescue arrived.
“What about Rafferty? And the garlands?”
“I was just topping off my mug for the fif—eh, second time, when he burst into my office.” Potter thought for a moment. “I tried to ask him what he wanted, but he simply kept coming closer, which was a bit weird, considering we don’t even shake hands usually.”
“So… he tried to hug you?”
“That’s what I thought. Maybe he had had too much to drink during the interoffice Christmas party.”
“That was last week,” Draco interrupted.
“Ah, so that can’t have been it then. Anyway, he tried to bite me. Look,” Potter said, pulling his collar to the side where a dark red bruise was forming. It seemed like Rafferty hadn’t managed to break the skin. Whatever the hell was going on, Draco was only glad that he didn’t have to deal with a medical emergency as well.
“Are you checking me out?” Potter asked.
“What? No. Merlin, Potter, I don’t know why it doesn’t enter that thick head of yours, we’re stuck. Stuck together in a lift, surrounded by people who wish us harm, on Christmas Eve. The last thing I want is to check you out!”
“You fancy me.”
“Are you ears only for decorational purposes? I don’t fancy you.”
“Draco Malfoy fancies me,” Potter sing-songed.
Yes, Draco decided, this was definitely the worst Christmas ever. Although except for the part where they were stuck in a lift, it wasn’t much unlike other Christmases he could remember. Potter leant close and licked his earlobe. Why does the universe hate me? Draco thought, why?
***
“Oh Merlin,” Potter whimpered. Draco felt sorry for him. He hadn’t expected Potter to be as strongly affected as he was. Maybe five glasses of Firewhiskey were still too far from the truth. Potter’s eyes slowly regained focus, he was half draped over Draco’s lap, his hands on his head and his face pressed tightly against Draco’s chest. There wasn’t a position much more awkward to be had. Draco kept his arms close to his side, not touching Potter any more than strictly necessary. When realisation dawned of where he was, Potter scrambled back into the opposite corner of the lift, staring at Draco as if he had seen a ghost.
“Bugger,” he said weakly. “Did I really—?” He left it hanging there.
“Yes.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Potter said. He couldn’t quite meet Draco’s eyes.
They sat there, time passing slowly and the awkward silence growing to something almost tangible. Draco sighed in annoyance and Potter flinched.
“This sucks,” Draco said quietly and ran his fingers through his formerly immaculate hair in a nervous gesture. He didn’t miss how Potter’s eyes flickered up to watch only to swallow visibly before looking away again.
“It’s alright.”
“No it’s not alright. I shouldn’t have… Merlin, Malfoy you don’t even fancy me… I didn’t care, I would’ve…”
Draco was shocked. So it hadn’t been a game after all then.
“What do you mean?”
“Malfoy, I already said I was sorry. This is embarrassing enough as it is, since you’re clearly averse to my advances, forced or otherwise.”
“I didn’t know you even knew what those words meant, Potter,” Draco replied, trying for humour but failing miserably.
“Can we just not?” Potter asked. “Just this once, can we not go there, about how all of this is my fault. Can we talk about something else? Please?”
Draco relented, something in the quiet despair of Potter’s voice getting under his skin.
“Alright.”
Silence fell and stretched seemingly into infinity, connecting them both over the vast stretch that was so small in reality and yet too big to cross or break with something as simple as words.
Potter began to fidget on the other side of the lift, threading his fingers into each other and getting more and more restless by the minute, glancing anywhere but at Draco. Potter was staring into the corners as if expecting or maybe hoping for some kind of monster to manifest to give them something to talk about. Then again, maybe Potter was claustrophobic. Draco decided to take pity on him.
“What do you want to talk about then?” he asked but unable to hold back a bit of a jibe despite his better intentions, he continued. “The fact that this is the worst Christmas in the history of horrible Christmases?”
Potter snorted in response and Draco was happy to see a small smile stretch his features only to be replaced by the earlier unhappy scowl within seconds.
“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got more shitty Christmases to list than you‘d expect.”
Potter looked up at him then, expectantly. Draco went on. “I’m not even talking about the time You Know Who was there, I’m talking about that thing my father does, where he gets to be home for Christmas and then locks himself away in his study or his library, knowing that we’re waiting for him to join us. I can see my mother fidget and worry and sitting at attention just staring at the door. Sometimes I feel like I don’t exist, like I don’t matter…” Draco stopped talking then. Somehow his supposedly sarcastic and cheerful story had become too personal.
“You matter,” Potter said from across the cabin, his voice raspy.
“I don’t need your pity,” Draco spat, wanting to lash out despite the fact that only a moment ago he had tried to comfort Potter. Potter was obviously attempting to speak but Draco waved his hand as if to show that the thing he said was nothing of importance. “I’m sorry, it’s alright. Just don’t.”
And there it was again, their friend, the awkward silence. After a while Potter finally spoke up.
“I’ve had more shitty Christmases than good ones. Not so sure how high this one ranks yet. I mean sure, since the war is over everyone says that I must be so happy to be with my family for Christmas. Hurray,” Potter said moving his right hand as if he was throwing confetti. Draco just looked at him. He hadn’t expected this. Potter suddenly looked very sad. “I mean, it’s like every time someone talks to you, they just tell you what to be, who to be or how to feel. You must be happy, you must be proud, you must, you must.” Potter paused again and this time Draco followed his instincts, got up, walked over to the other side of the small space and sat down beside Potter. Draco rested his hands in his own lap, staring at his own outstretched legs and feet, not quite sure how to continue.
Potter turned to him for a short moment, smiling, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach over and squeeze Draco’s leg again in a gesture of thanks, but he didn’t and Draco pretended he wasn’t disappointed. Potter eventually began to speak again. “And I am, happy, I mean, mostly anyway, but there’s something, I don’t know how to explain, it’s like…”
“It’s like nobody really sees you. Like you’re on the outside looking in, like you’re not part of it all. Like they only notice you when you’re in their way,” Draco interrupted.
“How did you…?”
“Well, Potter, it’s not only the good guys that get reduced to their public image,” he answered lightly, as if it didn’t matter. “I mean, people still ask you how you are, don’t they?”
Potter nodded.
“I suppose it doesn’t make much difference if they don’t really want to know the answer does it? The answer needs to be “ok” or “fine” or “fantastic” because everything else is unbearable. The only person who ever asks me how I am is Pansy and even then I’m not sure she actually wants to know the truth.”
“What is the truth,” Potter asked breathlessly, as if all his hopes rode on the right answer.
“I don’t even know anymore, do you?”
Potter shook his head. “I don’t. I’ve let myself forget that it’s alright not to be fine. I feel like the mask I put on and maintaining it has become who I am. I… I’ve let myself become empty, become something I can’t even love anymore. How can I expect anyone…” he fell silent.
This time Draco reached out and placed a comforting hand on Potter’s twisted ones. Potter unclasped his own hands, turned his palm up and intertwined his fingers with Draco’s. Neither of them looked at their joined hands, nor talked about it, but if Potter felt anything like Draco at that moment, he had to be acutely aware of the change. Draco squeezed Potter’s hand once in return and then both of them continued to sit there in silence. The awkwardness finally bleeding away and the earlier glumness slowly turning into something more comfortable.
It wasn’t easy for Draco to change his opinion of Potter, but at least he could admit to himself that there was more to him than met the ever so public eye. Maybe that was why Potter had been at the Ministry on Christmas Eve instead of at home. When everyone was gone, maybe if only for a moment he could stop pretending. Could be who he wants to be, who he was inside and not who responsibility to everyone else dictated him to be. Maybe that’s why the present he had received had been so tempting.
“So, is that why… you know, the Firewhiskey?”
“Yes, no, maybe.” Potter sighed and finally looked down at their joined hands as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “You see, I should be at the Weasleys’ right now, having dinner, talking about how lovely everything is, cooing over babies and this year. Well this year I just couldn’t.” Potter’s voice faltered for a moment and it become obvious he had to force the next words out. “They love me, I know that, and I should be there, but it’s like they all moved on without me, somehow they are happy, they’ve finished becoming something else and they simply are where they needed to get. I’m just here, just me. Just Harry.” He smiled sadly. “Even Neville is married now with a pregnant wife. I know he always had this potential and I’m happy for him, I really am, but sometimes I wish… I wish our roles had been reversed. Sometimes I wish I was someone else, not just someone people only notice when they get in their way.”
Draco couldn’t believe his ears. How could Potter, Harry fucking Potter, ever want to be anyone else? He understood that being in the spotlight all the time was difficult and that it would influence his life, whether Potter liked it or not, but that it went so far that Potter seemed to be unable to discern between who the public wanted him to be and who he was in truth was a terrifying though. If the symbol of all that was pure and true had doubts, what did that mean for everyone else. And then Draco finally understood that Potter had never been that boy or man he had shown everyone, this right here. This vulnerable person laying his soul bare to an almost stranger was who he truly was. A wave of protectiveness washed over Draco. He turned to Potter and raised his free hand to cup his cheek, turning Potter’s face towards his.
“What if you’re in my way?” he asked, noting that Potter’s eyes were flicking back and forth between Draco’s eyes and lips. He looked unsure and a bit out of his element, as if he knew what was going to happen and craved it desperately but at the same time was terrified of it. Draco could feel Potter’s heartbeat picking up where his fingers touched Potter’s neck. He traced Potter’s bottom lip with his thumb and Potter took in a shuddering breath.
“What if I like it that way?” Draco asked and leant in, brushing his lips against Potter‘s in a barely there kiss, giving Potter ample time to pull away. “What if…” and now Draco pushed his lips less gently against Potter’s only to pull away again. “What if I never really liked the person you were pretending to be? What if I don’t care that you’re not ok, because I know exactly what that feels like, Harry?”
Potter couldn’t hold back a choked sob, he reached for Draco blindly, grabbing hold of Draco’s neck with his free hand and burying his fingers in the hair at the back, all the while pulling him into their next kiss.
Potter lips were slightly chapped but somehow Draco didn’t mind, simply enjoyed the slide of their mouths against each other. He untangled their hands to get a better hold of Potter, climbing into his lap and turning his head this way and that to get better access. They kissed for a long time until Draco’s lips felt puffy and slick with saliva. He wouldn’t have wanted to have it any other way. He broke their kiss, to pepper a series of pecks along Potter’s cheek, his nose, the closed lids of his eyes, his forehead and finally on the corners of his smiling mouth.
Potter pulled him close, resting his head against Draco’s chest and Draco felt wanted and kept and finally like he belonged. Somewhere along the line, something had changed, had slid into place, as the tension ebbed away. Draco caressed the messy mop of dark hair as he rested his chin on top of the crown of Potter’s head, letting him take all the comfort he wanted, because somehow for once, Draco had more than enough to give.
After a while, Potter finally pulled away from him, pushing Draco back so he was sitting on Potter’s knees instead of directly in his lap. Potter took both of Draco’s hands into his, staring down at them in wonder. He had trouble meeting Draco’s eyes, as he held his hands and mumbled. “I’d like that very much.”
“Hm?”
“I’d like that very much, if I was in your way and you in mine…” he hesitated for a moment and then went on. “Draco.”
“So, Potter—“
“Harry,” Harry interrupted.
Draco smiled.
“Harry then, I have it from reliable sources that you have no plans for Christmas Eve, is that true?”
“Maybe.”
“I also heard that you might not be opposed to spending Christmas Eve with a certain available frightfully attractive bachelor, if he was asking.”
“Is he asking?”
Both of them were grinning at each other now.
“Let’s suppose he is. What would your answer be?”
Harry’s answer was entirely non-verbal. He pulled Draco forward again and kissed him gently.
“It’s a date then.” Draco said, feeling slightly gobsmacked at the enormity of what lay ahead of them and grinning stupidly.
“It is.” Harry replied.
They kissed some more, because after all, what else was there to do. But eventually they both grew tired. Draco climbed out of Harry’s lap, leaned against the wall and beckoned for Harry to lie down in the V of his open legs, his back pressed against Draco’s chest. Harry complied and moved Draco’s arms around his waist, covering them with his own. It wasn’t long before they fell asleep like that.
***
“Harry James Potter! What do you think you are doing?”
The shout startled them both. And Harry barely avoided whacking Draco in the face with the back of his head as they both flailed about trying to figure out what was going on.
“Where have you been? Don’t you know we’ve been worried sick when you didn’t show up? Why didn’t you send for help?”
Too many questions Draco thought, trying to focus on the intruder. Was that…?
“Mione?” Harry asked sounding unsure.
“Don’t ‘Mione’ me, Harry!”
Definitely, that was Granger as she breathed and lived. No doubt about it. Draco smirked, Harry was in trouble now.
“Do you know what time it is? We had no idea where you were and I was so worried.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. Granger’s expression softened a little only to harden when she realised whose arms were still slung around Harry’s middle.
“You! What have you done to him?”
Before Draco could even begin to explain, Granger went on.
“Harry, tell me you didn’t make him drink from that bottle.”
“What, I… no! I would never.” Harry turned to Draco who was getting confused, what bottle? Oh no. “You have to believe me, Draco, it wasn’t like that.”
“Granger, would you be so kind as to explain what is going on?”
“George sent Harry a joke gift for Christmas. Firewhiskey imbued with a love potion to… how did he put it? Ah yes, to ensnare his one true love.” Granger said, making air quotation marks around “one true love”. “He wasn’t supposed to open it till Christmas Day, because by then the potion would have evaporated. When George told me I was furious. Apparently there was a note with the bottle explaining how it should be used.”
Draco couldn’t believe his ears. Harry had drugged him? His arms slung around Harry’s middle felt like phantom limbs, like they belonged to someone else. He couldn’t move.
“Draco, please,” Harry begged, looking like he was about to cry as he tried to catch Draco’s gaze. “I thought about it, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” Draco tried to shift away, but Harry held tight to him. “Please, I was desperate, I’ve wanted you for so long and you never seemed to even notice I was there.”
Granger looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but here. She was inching towards the doors of the lift, so before she could leave the two of them alone, Draco had to act. Draco ignored Harry’s desperate pleas and addressed Granger directly again.
“How—,” he had to clear his throat before continuing. “How was it supposed to work?”
“The potion had to be consumed orally by the intended, as will not have escaped you that would be you, for them to fall madly in love with the person who had served them the drink.”
“But he never…” Draco pondered before continuing to speak. Then he pushed Harry away with a shove that was harder than intended and stood up. Harry followed him and tried to hold onto him. His fingers scrabbling for purchase against the fabric of Draco’s clothes. This time Draco didn’t push him further away than arms length. He looked him in the eyes to make sure he was listening.
“You’re such an imbecile.”
That had apparently been the last thing either Harry or Granger had expected. The surprised expression on Harry’s face only grew in intensity when Draco pulled him close against his chest before quickly pressing his lips against Harry’s.
“I, …what? I don’t understand.” Harry whispered, clinging to Draco’s shoulders. Draco nuzzled the place behind Harry’s ear that he now knew drove him to distraction and then traced his nose along the shell of his ear, before beginning to speak. “You drank the potion, not me. You got yourself drunk and that’s why you couldn’t keep your naughty hands to yourself, but when I kissed you, all traces of the Firewhiskey and what was in it had already been washed from your system. You didn’t drug me, you understand?” Harry still looked confused when Draco pulled back.
“It was my choice,” Draco said and kissed Harry again. Finally Harry smiled, sensing that the danger had passed. He was still refusing to remove his arms that had wound themselves around Draco’s waist.
Turning back to Granger, Draco had to ask. “What about the rest of it… them?”
“Oh you mean everyone else in the building?”
Draco nodded.
“When they tried to leave the Quarantine-Disinfection spells set off, you know, the one that was installed alongside the Riot Prevention Wards. Aurors were called in, but by the time we arrived they were all out cold. Most of them still are, they were taken to St Mungo’s. Apparently some artefact that wasn’t properly secured caused this. Also, I don’t really know why I’m telling you this. At any rate, we discovered one lift cart stuck between the floors and protected by wards, it took us embarrassingly long to disable them to be able to get through to you. So, whatever you did to the cart, Malfoy, maybe you should think about getting it patented.”
Draco had to hide his grin against the side of Harry’s head.
“Well, Granger, thanks for the rescue. Am I free to go home then?”
“Yes, absolutely. Harry, are you coming?”
Harry tightened his hold around Draco’s middle and this time Draco didn’t hide his smile.
“Let me rephrase that: Are we free to go home?”
“But I thought—Harry?”
Harry was grinning were he pressed his face into Draco’s neck when he heard Granger sputter in the background.
“It’s alright, Granger, I’ll send him back to you in a day or two. In one piece even, but no promises, mind,” Draco said nonchalantly sauntering from the room with Harry at his side. Or as close to sauntering as was possible with a giggling maniac clinging to him with his vicelike arms.
Draco looked over his shoulder once more, grinning at Granger and thinking that maybe this Christmas was looking beginning to look up after all and he couldn’t resist one last jibe.
“Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
~Fin~
Author:
wantsunicornsPairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: #124
Draco/Harry - Getting together cliche!
Co-workers trapped/stuck alone together on Christmas Eve. Griping leads to something better. Both single (no infidelity), please!
Word Count: ~7K
Rating: R (to be on the safe side)
Contains (Highlight to view): *accidental drug use, non-explicit zombies, a certain lack of festive cheer, almost forgot “swearing”*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: First time writing in a while, I hope you enjoy this
fantasyfiend09, I liked your prompt and figured I might add a bit of a twist as to why they are stuck at work and where. Sorry it isn’t pornier.Thanks to my ever amazing beta for being there for me on such short notice.
crazyparakiss, I love you!And thank you to the mods for their patience and for not mod-mjolniring me, when December’s RL workload kicked my arse.
Summary: Draco is stuck at the Ministry on Christmas Eve, not entirely by choice. The fact that he’s stuck there with Harry Potter doesn’t really improve the situation and neither do their co-workers lurking outside the door, who only want him for his brain and not his body.
As far as it went, this was the worst Christmas Draco could remember. There were some viable choices for second and third place, like when a certain hairless wizard had taken over their home and even his mother had felt awkward decorating the tree in fat happy cupids, or that time little Draco had had a nightmare about not getting any presents and accidentally set the tree on fire. This year however… Draco didn’t even know where to start or whom or what to berate first. He sighed.
There was the fact that he was currently trapped inside a lift, with none other than one Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World. One very drunk and touchy-feely Harry Potter to be precise. It wasn’t even like Draco minded the touchy-feely part so much, it was quite nice, if he was completely honest, but it still wasn’t right.
Draco looked at the lift doors, shimmering in rainbow hues with the wards he and Potter had thrown up after they had realised there was no getting away in the Atrium
“Do you suppose they’ll get bored eventually or find somewhere else to go?” Draco asked in lieu of having anything better to contribute.
Potter just leered at him and put his hand high up on Draco’s thigh.
“Oh, I think their boredom should be none of your concern. There are so many more interesting things right here,” he replied while squeezing Draco’s leg.
“What? I’m not bored. Are you even listening?”
Instead of an answer Potter’s hand travelled further up Draco’s thigh, running his fingernails along the seams of Draco’s tailored trousers. Draco dragged in a ragged breath and tried to move away, unwilling to admit even to himself just how much Potter’s behaviour affected him.
As it was, Draco was already wedged as far into the corner of the lift as was physically possible for him to be without merging with the wall. Potter was now glued to his side, his alcohol scented breath hitting Draco’s neck in warm puffs, making his skin break out in goosebumps. When Potter’s tongue snuck out and sampled his skin, Draco couldn’t help the shuddering sigh that escaped him.
“Stop it, you’re really starting to freak me out,” Draco said. And it was true, only for all the wrong reasons.
He had to do something before Potter discovered the state Draco was in by now. He hesitated before going for his wand. What he was about to do was usually Pansy’s measure of last resort after a long night out. He knew from experience just how unpleasant it would be for Potter. There was nothing to it though, Potter had to be stopped.
“I’m sorry,” Draco said quietly, realising that he had never said those words to the man in front of him. Then he cast a sobriety charm.
Potter ran past him at breakneck speed, entirely unlike his usual distracted shuffling walk when in the office. The kind of headless panic he had just displayed really wasn’t normal. His unexpected entry made the tea in Draco’s cup slush around dangerously and Draco turned to shout after him.
“Potter, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Potter came to a halt just before rounding the corner and he stumbled back to where Draco was standing.
“Malfoy? What are you still doing here?”
“I asked first.”
Potter seemed more flustered than Draco had ever seen him. There was something else, he was slightly swaying from side to side and there appeared to be a wet spot on the front of his shirt.
“Potter, are you drunk?” Draco asked, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger and then held them up to his nose. “You are, aren’t you?”
“I – no. I’m not, I was just doing some last minute paperwork before the holidays.”
They both knew it was a lie.
“So that’s what it’s called these days. How much have you had?” Draco was enjoying this more than he should. Catching the hero of the wizarding world drunk in the Ministry for Magic on Christmas Eve was somehow so beautifully depressing that Draco just couldn’t let it go. However before he could tease Potter any further, he placed a hand on Draco’s arm and motioned for him to be quiet.
“Did you hear that?” Potter asked, his words tense but still slightly slurred.
“Hear what? What is this now, some less than eloquent plan to distract me from the fact that-“
“Will you shut up,” Potter interrupted him. Draco found he was too gobsmacked to be able to offer a witty reply. “Shit, I think they followed me.”
“Who-,” Draco tried to ask, but one look from Potter shut him up. He had no idea how it happened, but while drunk and slightly disorderly, right now, Potter was definitely in charge. Potter’s hand covered Draco’s mouth, because he probably still didn’t trust Draco to follow orders.
An eerie moan sounded along the corridor followed by shuffling steps. Draco was suddenly glad that Potter was dragging him backwards to wherever he had been headed before, even though it made him drop his favourite mug. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what made that noise. First one then many more voices followed, their moans and the shuffling becoming a cacophony that made Draco’s skin crawl.
“Potter…” he mumbled against the hand that was still pressed to his mouth, trying to urge him to go faster. It must have been the wrong thing to do, because the moaning increased in intensity and the shuffling steps sped up. Potter let go of Draco only to take his hand and drag him along. Draco couldn’t help himself, a morbid curiosity not unlike the one that made him look over his shoulder in nightmares made him turn.
Going by their uniform the people following them in a lurching unsteady walk, which was much faster than it should have been, mostly belonged to the Ministry cleaning staff. They were probably the only people aside from him and Potter who were still in the building. Their eyes were dull and most of them sported signs of having been bitten somewhere along their necks or exposed forearms. It was creepy. And festive, Draco realised with a start, some of them were half covered in mistletoe and garlands.
Potter was dragging him into a lift. The doors seemingly closing in slow motion, framed the advancing horde of whatever they were. Draco still couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Potter, is that…?”
“No.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Potter had the good grace to blush.
“Did you really try tying them up with garlands?”
Potter cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at Draco, who was again facing the doors, which closed just shy of the first hand stretched out towards them.
Draco freed himself from Potter’s grip and turned on him.
“What exactly is going on?”
Potter didn’t reply but hit the button that would take them to the Atrium instead. Draco felt his mouth open to berate Potter further, but closed it again, when what he saw sunk in. Potter was barely managing to stand up, he looked haggard and his cheeks were red as if. As if he had been crying. It seemed impossible now that Potter had been able to manhandle Draco into the lift at all. Something was wrong. Draco took a step forward and as if waiting for that, Potter’s legs gave way, Draco barely catching him.
“I repeat my question, what the fuck is going on?”
“Language,” Potter replied tiredly and Draco couldn’t stop a small grin.
“I was just… just catching up on some reports.” Potter looked a bit lost for a moment as if he had no idea how he had got to where he was. “Wasn’t I in my office just now?”
Draco shook his head. He helped Potter to stand up properly, the light above the doors indicated they were about to arrive in the Atrium. They could talk about this later, maybe.
“Where’s your wand?”
“I don’t know, ‘s no use anyway.”
Draco was worried, Potter’s state seemed to be deteriorating much quicker than even an entire bottle of Firewhiskey would have been able to explain.
“What do you mean, no use?”
“Riot Precaution Wards,” Potter mumbled and Draco remembered. The week before the Ministry had installed a new kind of ward to prevent the kind of attack the Ministry had to suffer from during the wizarding wars. Attack spells wouldn’t work within the Ministry, neither would defensive spells. That explained the garlands at least. They were pretty much defenceless. Either way, they were most definitely, completely and utterly buggered!
Physical assault or defence were their only option and Draco knew those weren’t options at all. Unlike Aurors regular clerks didn’t have to do any kind of physical training and while Draco was fit – if he said so himself – having gone into finance he was certainly not prepared to take on whatever might await them in the Atrium. And Potter was in no state to do anything but… Draco didn’t even know what Potter would be able to do, except for apparently staring at Draco’s lips like he was being hypnotised and—Draco’s eyes widened as Potter squeezed his bottom.
“Stop it!” he hissed.
Potter’s eyes were wide and innocent when he looked at Draco.
“Can you at least concentrate until we get out of here?”
“Oh, but I am concentrating,” Potter replied his hand moving across Draco’s buttocks.
Draco had had enough. He gripped and twisted Potter’s wrist with such force it must have hurt a lot, considering the whimper that escaped his lips. His wand trained on the door, Draco tensed as a cheerful ‘ding’ announced their arrival at their final destination. The doors creaked and shuddered open, nothing like the smooth glide from only a few floors up. The tangle of grappling limbs trying to force their way inside would explain that.
Desperately trying to hold them at bay, Draco shouted at Potter to press a button “any button” at all. But it all came out a bit garbled as dry cold hands closed around Draco’s throat.
Potter squeezed Draco’s arse again, sending Draco into something of a fit. The rage giving him the strength he needed to push the attacker out of the lift and back into the approaching ranks of dull-eyed service staff shuffling towards the open lift doors.
“For fuck’s sake! I said button not buttock, you moron! Now move it!” Draco rounded on Potter, shoving him against the side of the cabin. He could only hope that Potter would listen to him this time around. Draco recognised the next person to try and enter the lift. It was Rafferty. How he had managed to get to the Atrium before Potter and Draco was a mystery that Draco couldn’t be bothered to solve right now. Once again remembering the utter uselessness of any kind of defence spell, Draco poked Rafferty in the eye with his wand. To his surprise Rafferty stumbled back wailing and clutching his face.
Draco hefted his wand like a very short rapier, wracking his brain for any memories of the fencing lessons he had taken when he was a boy. His father had insisted on it, because he thought it befitting a wizard of their station. For once in his life, Draco was grateful for his father’s insistence to follow tradition. He attacked and parried, lunged and ducked, slowly driving the intruders back. Potter must have for once been able to follow simple instructions, because the space Draco had to defend was growing ever smaller as the doors slowly closed.
Draco was panting by the time the lift finally jerked back into motion. He approached the switchboard and with a groan of exhausted hit the red “emergency stop” button that caused the lift to come to a juddering halt between the floors.
He looked at Potter who had a bemused expression on his face and was already reaching for Draco again.
“Alright, before we talk about how fucked up you are, and we will talk about it. We need to make sure nobody who’s not supposed will be able to get in. Can you help me with that?”
“Sure,” Potter said, sounding almost normal. “What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking we could cast wards on the doors together. Since you don’t have a wand we need to find a way to combine our magic.”
“Oh, I’ve got an idea.” The lewd grin on Potter’s face told Draco that he was not going to like it.
Draco nodded in acknowledgement and swallowed nervously when Potter stepped closer, pressing his front to Draco’s back and sliding his hand along Draco’s arm until both their fingers touched Draco’s wand. Potter’s other hand alighted on Draco’s hip and he couldn’t suppress a shiver when Potter began to whisper an explanation into Draco’s ear. This was neither the time nor place, but Draco was only human, even if he would deny it, if pressed for an answer, but no matter what he might have said, resisting against Potter’s closeness, especially after as long a dry spell as Draco had had was nigh impossible.
“Are you ready?”
“Sorry, what?” Draco swallowed again, noticing that he was leaning back into Potter’s warmth. Merlin’s beard, he hadn’t heard a word that Potter had said. A dark warm chuckle and more warm breath against his ear were the only response.
“As I said, we need to cast in unison, you need to let me in, let me guide your magic in this spell. I was once your wand’s master—“ Potter chuckled as if he had just made a particularly witty joke, but continued after a moment. “and it will allow me to cast the wards. Speak with me and release your magic, I will do the rest.”
“What do you want me to say, oh Learned One,” Draco replied, wanting it to sound sarcastic to get a bit of his own back, but what came out sounded nothing but breathy and desperate. Maybe how buggered he was, wasn’t something he should be thinking about right now.
“Protego Maxima, obviously.”
Potter held onto his wrist lightly and still it felt as if his heat was burning Draco’s skin where they touched. Potter moved their joined hands several times until Draco’s wrist could be entirely guided by his own with no resistance whatsoever.
“That’s it, let go, Malfoy, let me take the lead.”
Draco couldn’t reply and only nodded, acutely aware of everywhere they were touching. Potter’s hands on his hips almost stinging, as if he was trying to imprint his brand of ownership on Draco. And for the shortest moment Draco allowed himself the thought that he didn’t quite mind as much as he pretended to. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and relaxed further into Potter.
“On three. One, two, three.”
“Protego Maxima,” they said in unison and Draco let his magic go, feeling it guided by Potter’s. It was as if Potter had got under his skin, was warming him from the inside. It was too close, too intimate and intimidating as hell and yet it wasn’t enough. Part of Draco longed to turn around and capture Potter’s lips in a kiss, finally releasing the pent up tension. When he focused on his wand again, he could see the spell had begun.
What erupted from Draco’s wand was a stream of rainbow coloured lights – how fitting he thought sarcastically, that ran over their skin, then covered them like a cocoon of shiny lights, before separating from them and covering the floor, walls and ceiling and most importantly the blasted lift doors.
“Great, we’re trapped inside a rainbow. If unicorns show up next, I’ll know I’m actually dreaming,” Draco said.
Before he could extricate himself, Potter had slammed him into the wall of the lift and was sucking wet kisses into his neck. For a moment Draco gave in, unable to hold back the moans that wanted to spill forth.
“So, you dream of me then, do you?” Potter asked, his breath warm against Draco’s collarbone.
“I never said... hmmmm.” Potter scraped his teeth across Draco’s Adam’s apple and completely derailed Draco’s train of thought. It was only when Potters erection began digging into Draco’s thigh that the fog of lust lifted enough for him to be able to realise what they were about to do.
“Potter, no. Stop it!” he said, pushing the other man away hard enough for him to stumble backwards. He would have fallen to the floor too, if his motion hadn’t been stopped when he collided with the opposite wall of the lift.
They stared at each other, both panting and if Potter’s pupils were anything to go, Draco’s must look just as wide. Then again, a small thought reminded Draco, Potter had been drinking. Before he could say anything though, Potter was slowly inching back across the space separating them, a predatory glint in his eye. Draco was wary.
“I’m warning you, Potter,” he said hoarsely, aiming his wand at Potter.
“What are you going to do? Poke me in the eye?”
“Well, it worked with Rafferty, didn’t it?” Draco spat.
Potter came ever closer and Draco was both afraid and excited of what might happen if he let Potter touch him again.
“I mean it. We have to figure out what the hell happened. You sit in that corner over there and I’ll sit here and we’ll talk.”
Potter looked about ready to protest, but Draco somehow managed to expel several angry looking red sparks from his wand and Potter backed off. He sank to the floor in the corner opposite and Merlin help him, the man actually pouted at Draco.
As they talked Potter moved ever closer. First there were tiny shifts of his legs and then little by little he covered the distance between them, until he was flush against Draco’s side. Draco tried to follow Potter’s narrative but was distracted by covertly having to push against him, trying to keep him at bay. In an attempt to get to the story straight, Draco decided to ask some simple questions, repeating what Potter had said earlier.
“So, what you’re saying is that you decided it wouldn’t hurt to open your Christmas present delivered by owl and wrapped in WWW paper today at work, while you were catching up on paperwork.”
Potter nodded.
“And then you thought it was alright to try just a tiny bit, of what did you call it?”
“Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes’ Seasonal Firewhiskey, guaranteed to bring Christmas cheer even into the dreariest home.” Potter prompted.
“Yes, that. And you didn’t for a moment think that might be a bad idea?” Draco shook his head disbelievingly, already trying to derail Potter’s finger that were trailing up his trouser leg. Again.
“Don’t you think it’s odd how you’re behaving?”
“What do you mean?” Potter seemed genuinely perplexed. “How am I behaving?”
Draco looked at him as if to say “really, you’re gonna go there?”. Apparently Potter did want him to go there.
“Do you normally… no wait, how much of that Firewhiskey have you had?”
“Dunno, maybe a glass or two?” Potter seemed to seriously consider Draco’s question, counting on his fingers, when he came to five he returned his hand to Draco’s thigh and nodded. “Yes, two, no more.”
Draco closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. That at least explained the weird behaviour, it was just something Draco would have to deal with until rescue arrived.
“What about Rafferty? And the garlands?”
“I was just topping off my mug for the fif—eh, second time, when he burst into my office.” Potter thought for a moment. “I tried to ask him what he wanted, but he simply kept coming closer, which was a bit weird, considering we don’t even shake hands usually.”
“So… he tried to hug you?”
“That’s what I thought. Maybe he had had too much to drink during the interoffice Christmas party.”
“That was last week,” Draco interrupted.
“Ah, so that can’t have been it then. Anyway, he tried to bite me. Look,” Potter said, pulling his collar to the side where a dark red bruise was forming. It seemed like Rafferty hadn’t managed to break the skin. Whatever the hell was going on, Draco was only glad that he didn’t have to deal with a medical emergency as well.
“Are you checking me out?” Potter asked.
“What? No. Merlin, Potter, I don’t know why it doesn’t enter that thick head of yours, we’re stuck. Stuck together in a lift, surrounded by people who wish us harm, on Christmas Eve. The last thing I want is to check you out!”
“You fancy me.”
“Are you ears only for decorational purposes? I don’t fancy you.”
“Draco Malfoy fancies me,” Potter sing-songed.
Yes, Draco decided, this was definitely the worst Christmas ever. Although except for the part where they were stuck in a lift, it wasn’t much unlike other Christmases he could remember. Potter leant close and licked his earlobe. Why does the universe hate me? Draco thought, why?
“Oh Merlin,” Potter whimpered. Draco felt sorry for him. He hadn’t expected Potter to be as strongly affected as he was. Maybe five glasses of Firewhiskey were still too far from the truth. Potter’s eyes slowly regained focus, he was half draped over Draco’s lap, his hands on his head and his face pressed tightly against Draco’s chest. There wasn’t a position much more awkward to be had. Draco kept his arms close to his side, not touching Potter any more than strictly necessary. When realisation dawned of where he was, Potter scrambled back into the opposite corner of the lift, staring at Draco as if he had seen a ghost.
“Bugger,” he said weakly. “Did I really—?” He left it hanging there.
“Yes.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Potter said. He couldn’t quite meet Draco’s eyes.
They sat there, time passing slowly and the awkward silence growing to something almost tangible. Draco sighed in annoyance and Potter flinched.
“This sucks,” Draco said quietly and ran his fingers through his formerly immaculate hair in a nervous gesture. He didn’t miss how Potter’s eyes flickered up to watch only to swallow visibly before looking away again.
“It’s alright.”
“No it’s not alright. I shouldn’t have… Merlin, Malfoy you don’t even fancy me… I didn’t care, I would’ve…”
Draco was shocked. So it hadn’t been a game after all then.
“What do you mean?”
“Malfoy, I already said I was sorry. This is embarrassing enough as it is, since you’re clearly averse to my advances, forced or otherwise.”
“I didn’t know you even knew what those words meant, Potter,” Draco replied, trying for humour but failing miserably.
“Can we just not?” Potter asked. “Just this once, can we not go there, about how all of this is my fault. Can we talk about something else? Please?”
Draco relented, something in the quiet despair of Potter’s voice getting under his skin.
“Alright.”
Silence fell and stretched seemingly into infinity, connecting them both over the vast stretch that was so small in reality and yet too big to cross or break with something as simple as words.
Potter began to fidget on the other side of the lift, threading his fingers into each other and getting more and more restless by the minute, glancing anywhere but at Draco. Potter was staring into the corners as if expecting or maybe hoping for some kind of monster to manifest to give them something to talk about. Then again, maybe Potter was claustrophobic. Draco decided to take pity on him.
“What do you want to talk about then?” he asked but unable to hold back a bit of a jibe despite his better intentions, he continued. “The fact that this is the worst Christmas in the history of horrible Christmases?”
Potter snorted in response and Draco was happy to see a small smile stretch his features only to be replaced by the earlier unhappy scowl within seconds.
“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got more shitty Christmases to list than you‘d expect.”
Potter looked up at him then, expectantly. Draco went on. “I’m not even talking about the time You Know Who was there, I’m talking about that thing my father does, where he gets to be home for Christmas and then locks himself away in his study or his library, knowing that we’re waiting for him to join us. I can see my mother fidget and worry and sitting at attention just staring at the door. Sometimes I feel like I don’t exist, like I don’t matter…” Draco stopped talking then. Somehow his supposedly sarcastic and cheerful story had become too personal.
“You matter,” Potter said from across the cabin, his voice raspy.
“I don’t need your pity,” Draco spat, wanting to lash out despite the fact that only a moment ago he had tried to comfort Potter. Potter was obviously attempting to speak but Draco waved his hand as if to show that the thing he said was nothing of importance. “I’m sorry, it’s alright. Just don’t.”
And there it was again, their friend, the awkward silence. After a while Potter finally spoke up.
“I’ve had more shitty Christmases than good ones. Not so sure how high this one ranks yet. I mean sure, since the war is over everyone says that I must be so happy to be with my family for Christmas. Hurray,” Potter said moving his right hand as if he was throwing confetti. Draco just looked at him. He hadn’t expected this. Potter suddenly looked very sad. “I mean, it’s like every time someone talks to you, they just tell you what to be, who to be or how to feel. You must be happy, you must be proud, you must, you must.” Potter paused again and this time Draco followed his instincts, got up, walked over to the other side of the small space and sat down beside Potter. Draco rested his hands in his own lap, staring at his own outstretched legs and feet, not quite sure how to continue.
Potter turned to him for a short moment, smiling, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach over and squeeze Draco’s leg again in a gesture of thanks, but he didn’t and Draco pretended he wasn’t disappointed. Potter eventually began to speak again. “And I am, happy, I mean, mostly anyway, but there’s something, I don’t know how to explain, it’s like…”
“It’s like nobody really sees you. Like you’re on the outside looking in, like you’re not part of it all. Like they only notice you when you’re in their way,” Draco interrupted.
“How did you…?”
“Well, Potter, it’s not only the good guys that get reduced to their public image,” he answered lightly, as if it didn’t matter. “I mean, people still ask you how you are, don’t they?”
Potter nodded.
“I suppose it doesn’t make much difference if they don’t really want to know the answer does it? The answer needs to be “ok” or “fine” or “fantastic” because everything else is unbearable. The only person who ever asks me how I am is Pansy and even then I’m not sure she actually wants to know the truth.”
“What is the truth,” Potter asked breathlessly, as if all his hopes rode on the right answer.
“I don’t even know anymore, do you?”
Potter shook his head. “I don’t. I’ve let myself forget that it’s alright not to be fine. I feel like the mask I put on and maintaining it has become who I am. I… I’ve let myself become empty, become something I can’t even love anymore. How can I expect anyone…” he fell silent.
This time Draco reached out and placed a comforting hand on Potter’s twisted ones. Potter unclasped his own hands, turned his palm up and intertwined his fingers with Draco’s. Neither of them looked at their joined hands, nor talked about it, but if Potter felt anything like Draco at that moment, he had to be acutely aware of the change. Draco squeezed Potter’s hand once in return and then both of them continued to sit there in silence. The awkwardness finally bleeding away and the earlier glumness slowly turning into something more comfortable.
It wasn’t easy for Draco to change his opinion of Potter, but at least he could admit to himself that there was more to him than met the ever so public eye. Maybe that was why Potter had been at the Ministry on Christmas Eve instead of at home. When everyone was gone, maybe if only for a moment he could stop pretending. Could be who he wants to be, who he was inside and not who responsibility to everyone else dictated him to be. Maybe that’s why the present he had received had been so tempting.
“So, is that why… you know, the Firewhiskey?”
“Yes, no, maybe.” Potter sighed and finally looked down at their joined hands as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “You see, I should be at the Weasleys’ right now, having dinner, talking about how lovely everything is, cooing over babies and this year. Well this year I just couldn’t.” Potter’s voice faltered for a moment and it become obvious he had to force the next words out. “They love me, I know that, and I should be there, but it’s like they all moved on without me, somehow they are happy, they’ve finished becoming something else and they simply are where they needed to get. I’m just here, just me. Just Harry.” He smiled sadly. “Even Neville is married now with a pregnant wife. I know he always had this potential and I’m happy for him, I really am, but sometimes I wish… I wish our roles had been reversed. Sometimes I wish I was someone else, not just someone people only notice when they get in their way.”
Draco couldn’t believe his ears. How could Potter, Harry fucking Potter, ever want to be anyone else? He understood that being in the spotlight all the time was difficult and that it would influence his life, whether Potter liked it or not, but that it went so far that Potter seemed to be unable to discern between who the public wanted him to be and who he was in truth was a terrifying though. If the symbol of all that was pure and true had doubts, what did that mean for everyone else. And then Draco finally understood that Potter had never been that boy or man he had shown everyone, this right here. This vulnerable person laying his soul bare to an almost stranger was who he truly was. A wave of protectiveness washed over Draco. He turned to Potter and raised his free hand to cup his cheek, turning Potter’s face towards his.
“What if you’re in my way?” he asked, noting that Potter’s eyes were flicking back and forth between Draco’s eyes and lips. He looked unsure and a bit out of his element, as if he knew what was going to happen and craved it desperately but at the same time was terrified of it. Draco could feel Potter’s heartbeat picking up where his fingers touched Potter’s neck. He traced Potter’s bottom lip with his thumb and Potter took in a shuddering breath.
“What if I like it that way?” Draco asked and leant in, brushing his lips against Potter‘s in a barely there kiss, giving Potter ample time to pull away. “What if…” and now Draco pushed his lips less gently against Potter’s only to pull away again. “What if I never really liked the person you were pretending to be? What if I don’t care that you’re not ok, because I know exactly what that feels like, Harry?”
Potter couldn’t hold back a choked sob, he reached for Draco blindly, grabbing hold of Draco’s neck with his free hand and burying his fingers in the hair at the back, all the while pulling him into their next kiss.
Potter lips were slightly chapped but somehow Draco didn’t mind, simply enjoyed the slide of their mouths against each other. He untangled their hands to get a better hold of Potter, climbing into his lap and turning his head this way and that to get better access. They kissed for a long time until Draco’s lips felt puffy and slick with saliva. He wouldn’t have wanted to have it any other way. He broke their kiss, to pepper a series of pecks along Potter’s cheek, his nose, the closed lids of his eyes, his forehead and finally on the corners of his smiling mouth.
Potter pulled him close, resting his head against Draco’s chest and Draco felt wanted and kept and finally like he belonged. Somewhere along the line, something had changed, had slid into place, as the tension ebbed away. Draco caressed the messy mop of dark hair as he rested his chin on top of the crown of Potter’s head, letting him take all the comfort he wanted, because somehow for once, Draco had more than enough to give.
After a while, Potter finally pulled away from him, pushing Draco back so he was sitting on Potter’s knees instead of directly in his lap. Potter took both of Draco’s hands into his, staring down at them in wonder. He had trouble meeting Draco’s eyes, as he held his hands and mumbled. “I’d like that very much.”
“Hm?”
“I’d like that very much, if I was in your way and you in mine…” he hesitated for a moment and then went on. “Draco.”
“So, Potter—“
“Harry,” Harry interrupted.
Draco smiled.
“Harry then, I have it from reliable sources that you have no plans for Christmas Eve, is that true?”
“Maybe.”
“I also heard that you might not be opposed to spending Christmas Eve with a certain available frightfully attractive bachelor, if he was asking.”
“Is he asking?”
Both of them were grinning at each other now.
“Let’s suppose he is. What would your answer be?”
Harry’s answer was entirely non-verbal. He pulled Draco forward again and kissed him gently.
“It’s a date then.” Draco said, feeling slightly gobsmacked at the enormity of what lay ahead of them and grinning stupidly.
“It is.” Harry replied.
They kissed some more, because after all, what else was there to do. But eventually they both grew tired. Draco climbed out of Harry’s lap, leaned against the wall and beckoned for Harry to lie down in the V of his open legs, his back pressed against Draco’s chest. Harry complied and moved Draco’s arms around his waist, covering them with his own. It wasn’t long before they fell asleep like that.
“Harry James Potter! What do you think you are doing?”
The shout startled them both. And Harry barely avoided whacking Draco in the face with the back of his head as they both flailed about trying to figure out what was going on.
“Where have you been? Don’t you know we’ve been worried sick when you didn’t show up? Why didn’t you send for help?”
Too many questions Draco thought, trying to focus on the intruder. Was that…?
“Mione?” Harry asked sounding unsure.
“Don’t ‘Mione’ me, Harry!”
Definitely, that was Granger as she breathed and lived. No doubt about it. Draco smirked, Harry was in trouble now.
“Do you know what time it is? We had no idea where you were and I was so worried.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. Granger’s expression softened a little only to harden when she realised whose arms were still slung around Harry’s middle.
“You! What have you done to him?”
Before Draco could even begin to explain, Granger went on.
“Harry, tell me you didn’t make him drink from that bottle.”
“What, I… no! I would never.” Harry turned to Draco who was getting confused, what bottle? Oh no. “You have to believe me, Draco, it wasn’t like that.”
“Granger, would you be so kind as to explain what is going on?”
“George sent Harry a joke gift for Christmas. Firewhiskey imbued with a love potion to… how did he put it? Ah yes, to ensnare his one true love.” Granger said, making air quotation marks around “one true love”. “He wasn’t supposed to open it till Christmas Day, because by then the potion would have evaporated. When George told me I was furious. Apparently there was a note with the bottle explaining how it should be used.”
Draco couldn’t believe his ears. Harry had drugged him? His arms slung around Harry’s middle felt like phantom limbs, like they belonged to someone else. He couldn’t move.
“Draco, please,” Harry begged, looking like he was about to cry as he tried to catch Draco’s gaze. “I thought about it, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” Draco tried to shift away, but Harry held tight to him. “Please, I was desperate, I’ve wanted you for so long and you never seemed to even notice I was there.”
Granger looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but here. She was inching towards the doors of the lift, so before she could leave the two of them alone, Draco had to act. Draco ignored Harry’s desperate pleas and addressed Granger directly again.
“How—,” he had to clear his throat before continuing. “How was it supposed to work?”
“The potion had to be consumed orally by the intended, as will not have escaped you that would be you, for them to fall madly in love with the person who had served them the drink.”
“But he never…” Draco pondered before continuing to speak. Then he pushed Harry away with a shove that was harder than intended and stood up. Harry followed him and tried to hold onto him. His fingers scrabbling for purchase against the fabric of Draco’s clothes. This time Draco didn’t push him further away than arms length. He looked him in the eyes to make sure he was listening.
“You’re such an imbecile.”
That had apparently been the last thing either Harry or Granger had expected. The surprised expression on Harry’s face only grew in intensity when Draco pulled him close against his chest before quickly pressing his lips against Harry’s.
“I, …what? I don’t understand.” Harry whispered, clinging to Draco’s shoulders. Draco nuzzled the place behind Harry’s ear that he now knew drove him to distraction and then traced his nose along the shell of his ear, before beginning to speak. “You drank the potion, not me. You got yourself drunk and that’s why you couldn’t keep your naughty hands to yourself, but when I kissed you, all traces of the Firewhiskey and what was in it had already been washed from your system. You didn’t drug me, you understand?” Harry still looked confused when Draco pulled back.
“It was my choice,” Draco said and kissed Harry again. Finally Harry smiled, sensing that the danger had passed. He was still refusing to remove his arms that had wound themselves around Draco’s waist.
Turning back to Granger, Draco had to ask. “What about the rest of it… them?”
“Oh you mean everyone else in the building?”
Draco nodded.
“When they tried to leave the Quarantine-Disinfection spells set off, you know, the one that was installed alongside the Riot Prevention Wards. Aurors were called in, but by the time we arrived they were all out cold. Most of them still are, they were taken to St Mungo’s. Apparently some artefact that wasn’t properly secured caused this. Also, I don’t really know why I’m telling you this. At any rate, we discovered one lift cart stuck between the floors and protected by wards, it took us embarrassingly long to disable them to be able to get through to you. So, whatever you did to the cart, Malfoy, maybe you should think about getting it patented.”
Draco had to hide his grin against the side of Harry’s head.
“Well, Granger, thanks for the rescue. Am I free to go home then?”
“Yes, absolutely. Harry, are you coming?”
Harry tightened his hold around Draco’s middle and this time Draco didn’t hide his smile.
“Let me rephrase that: Are we free to go home?”
“But I thought—Harry?”
Harry was grinning were he pressed his face into Draco’s neck when he heard Granger sputter in the background.
“It’s alright, Granger, I’ll send him back to you in a day or two. In one piece even, but no promises, mind,” Draco said nonchalantly sauntering from the room with Harry at his side. Or as close to sauntering as was possible with a giggling maniac clinging to him with his vicelike arms.
Draco looked over his shoulder once more, grinning at Granger and thinking that maybe this Christmas was looking beginning to look up after all and he couldn’t resist one last jibe.
“Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
