***
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. I don't own e.e. cummings' work, either. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's note: For Aisling-Siobhan, who wanted a Christmas fic with Draco cheering Harry up after exams. The title – and its capitalization - will make sense after you read it. It's not my traditional Christmas fare, but it's kind of Christmas-y, if you squint at it. *grins* Enjoy, sweets! Thanks to Lady_Aubrey for the beta!
***
Harry's head hit his desk, the loud thunk mirroring how everyone else in the Transfiguration classroom felt, even if they didn't show it the same way the exhausted Gryffindor did. The last exam of the term, finished.
"Mr. Potter, your histrionics are both unnecessary and unappreciated. Five points from Gryffindor," McGonagall said, frowning as she looked down at his slumped figure through her wire-rimmed glasses.
She turned to the rest of the class, made up of the returning seventh years from all four houses. N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration was optional, and she only accepted those students who showed both aptitude for the subject and determination to do well. Given how high her standards were, it was a relatively small group.
She clucked her tongue, Summoning their exam papers with a flick of her wand.
"None of this material should have challenged you, if you'd spent adequate time revising before the exam," she said, her expression dour. The students didn't move, glassy-eyed and sluggish from three grueling days of exams.
"Go," she said, a wave of pity washing through her. "Enjoy your holiday. And don't forget the essay due upon your return! Two feet of parchment on the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration!"
Her words were lost over the noise of chairs scraping against the stone floor. No one paused to chat as they normally did between classes – finals week had been incredibly draining, and everyone just wanted to get back to their common rooms to relax before dinner.
***
Harry said goodbye to Hermione, who was headed off to wait for Ron's last exam – Care of Magical Creatures – to end. She and Ron had reservations at the small Italian restaurant in Hogsmeade that evening, since Hermione would be spending Christmas with her parents in Greece instead of at the Burrow with them.
As returning seventh years, their class had been granted more leeway than the normal seventh years. As such, the Headmistress allowed them to spend time in Hogsmeade whenever they chose, and even went as far as to open the Floo in her office for students in their class who wanted to venture to London on the weekends.
His thoughts on tomorrow's train ride to the Burrow, Harry wasn't prepared for the arm that snaked out of the darkness, grabbing him by his robes and yanking him into a hidden corner. He'd managed to draw his wand before he saw his attacker, his eyes narrowing as he let the slim piece of holly slide back into his wrist holster.
"Malfoy?" he asked, surprised to see the blond. How had he gotten so far in front of him? He could have sworn the Slytherin left the Transfiguration classroom at the same time he did.
"I see you didn't manage to completely fry that pathetic brain of yours, Potter," he sneered, his hand still gripping Harry's robes.
"What do you want?" Harry spat, in no mood for this type of confrontation. He just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for hours – possibly days.
Draco studied him for a moment, his eyes drawn to the faint red mark on Harry's forehead.
"You're going to look like an idiot if that bruises," he said, squinting in the darkness to see how serious the self-inflicted injury was. "What on earth possessed you to do that?"
Harry shrugged, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He ran his free hand through his hair, his fingers ghosting over the sore spot where his head had connected with his desk.
"Just tired," he said, punctuating the sentence with an uncontrollable yawn.
Draco snorted, dropping his hand. "Did you really think losing sleep to revise this late in the game would help you?"
Harry rolled his eyes, taking a step closer to Draco. The blond wizard was pressed flat against the wall, their bodies touching.
"I wouldn't have been revising until dawn if I hadn't spent half the night with you," he said, growling as he kissed the Slytherin.
Draco's hands came up, cupping Harry's arse through the voluminous fabric of his robes. He squeezed, drawing a surprised laugh from the Gryffindor.
"Stop mauling me," Draco complained, even as he pulled Harry against him tighter.
"Worried to be seen snogging a bloke with a bruise on his forehead?" Harry teased, diving in for another heated kiss.
"More like worried the bloke has a concussion, if he thinks I'm daft enough to do this here," Draco said, actually pulling away from Harry this time. He brought his hands up to cup Harry's face, holding his head still so he could look into Harry's eyes.
He saw only exhaustion and amusement shining out of the steady green gaze locked with his own, no cloudiness or confusion. No concussion, then. Nodding to himself, he released Harry, waiting until the dark-haired wizard had straightened his robes before ducking out of the darkness, striding swiftly down the corridor. Harry waited a few beats, setting out after him as though they weren't together.
"An empty classroom?" Harry asked as he closed the door behind him, sealing it with a Locking and Silencing spell. He had a fair idea of what Draco wanted, and it wasn't something he'd care to have interrupted.
"Not hardly," Draco laughed, lighting the torches with a spell.
Harry looked around, blinking as the room was suddenly bathed in warm, flickering light. They were in an abandoned classroom, though to call it that was hardly the right description. Lush carpet covered the stone floor, and not a speck of dust or grime – which they usually encountered while stealing moments like these wherever they could – was visible. A large four-poster bed sat in the middle of the space, covered with a thick gold duvet and a mountain of pillows that looked like absolute heaven to Harry. A small table was set with candles and food, a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice next to two crystal flutes.
A large Christmas tree glittered in the corner, covered in fairy lights and ornaments. Harry took a step closer, his tired eyes widening when he realized they weren't ornaments at all, but dozens upon dozens of Golden Snitches, all carefully hung from the tree's fragrant branches. He laughed, touching his finger to one in amazement. The Snitch fluttered its wings briefly, never moving from its perch on the tree.
"It's beautiful," Harry gasped, accepting a glass of ice-cold champagne from the blond. He shrugged out of his robes, tossing them over a comfortable-looking wingback chair in front of the roaring fire. He raised an eyebrow at Draco – classrooms, as a rule, did not have fireplaces.
"Transfigured," Draco said with a cocky grin.
Harry sighed. If the Slytherin was capable of this, there was no way he'd struggled as Harry had on today's exam. His shoulders slumped slightly, some of the ease and happiness slipping away as he thought about his tenuous place in McGonagall's class. He'd gotten an A on his Transfiguration O.W.L., which already put him below most of his classmates. She'd only let him in at all because he'd done extra work over the summer, holed up in Grimmauld Place while the rest of the world celebrated Voldemort's defeat, with his Transfiguration book and an endless array of tea cups to practice with. He needed a N.E.W.T. in the subject to qualify for the Auror Academy, though, which was why he'd denied himself sleep for the last few days, studying as hard as he could. If he didn't pass McGonagall's final, she wouldn't let him back into the class next term.
He felt Draco's hands on his shoulders, massaging away the tension that had gathered there.
"I'm sure you did fine," he assured him, his fingers kneading a particularly sensitive spot near Harry's neck. The Gryffindor groaned and sagged into him, relaxing despite himself. "You're not nearly as hopeless as you think you are. I'd never date someone who wasn't brilliant."
Harry chuckled, closing his eyes as Draco's massage continued down his back, pressing at the tight spots between his shoulder blades. He wouldn't necessarily classify what they did as dating. He opened them when the delightful rubs stopped, blinking when Draco took the champagne flute from his hand and set it aside, leading him over to the bed.
"Draco, I don't think –"
"Shh," the blond whispered, forcing Harry to sit on the opulently dressed bed as he drew his jumper over his head, letting it fall to the ground. He unbuttoned Harry's shirt, his fingers caressing the soft golden skin underneath as he unfastened them. When he'd worked them all free, he helped Harry shrug out of the shirt, dropping it carelessly to the ground. He plucked Harry's glasses off as well, placing them on a nearby table. "I know. Kick off your shoes and lie down."
Harry let himself sink down into the amazingly soft bed, which was every bit as welcoming and comfortable as he'd hoped. He nestled his face against the mattress, enjoying the way the soft fabric felt against his cheek. The bed dipped as Draco climbed in, settling himself across Harry's arse as he straddled him. Harry moved to protest again – he was too tired for sex – but Draco cut him off.
"Just relax," he whispered, and Harry flinched as warm oil trickled down over his bare back. "I know how hard you revised for your exams, and I know how much of a distraction I was. I didn't realize how seriously they had you worried."
Harry sighed, a sound of pure contentment and pleasure, as Draco's hands smoothed the oil over his back, his long fingers gliding over the skin, rubbing and pressing against Harry's sore muscles. Aches he hadn't even realized were there melted away. Draco continued his ministrations until he was sure Harry was asleep, carefully climbing off him and drawing the duvet up to keep him warm.
He smiled at the sleeping boy fondly, brushing a stray lock of dark hair back from his face. He didn't often get to see Harry sleeping, since their encounters were usually quick blow jobs or hurried shags in a random closet or classroom, most of their time together stolen minutes when they judged they wouldn't be missed. He was a bit surprised at how much he enjoyed just watching Harry sleep.
Draco quietly crossed the room to search for something to read to pass the time. He'd taken a Pepper-Up Potion with breakfast, so he felt none of Harry's fatigue. As he rummaged in his bag, his fingers brushed against the vial he'd stashed away for Harry, intending to give it to him when they got here so the dark-haired wizard would be up for a night of wild shagging. He let it fall back into its pouch, his fingers closing around a slim, leather-bound book instead. The Gryffindor was obviously exhausted, and potions weren't a good idea for the extremely sleep deprived. He settled into the chair Harry had tossed his robes onto, snuggling into the fabric and breathing in Harry's spicy scent as he let the warmth from the fire flow over him, opening the book and beginning to read.
***
"Draco?" Harry asked, his voice heavy with sleep. He thrashed in the blankets, panicking when he realized he was alone in the bed.
"I'm here," the blond answered, still sitting by the fire. "Feel better?"
Harry sat up, stretching lazily. He felt much better. Actually, he felt amazing.
"You gave me a massage," he said, his voice almost accusing. "And you let me sleep."
Draco laughed, setting the book aside and crossing the room to climb into bed with Harry. He snuggled against his sleep-warmed skin, his eyes dilating with arousal as he noticed the light flush on Harry's cheeks from sleeping burrowed in the heavy blankets.
Harry reached for his glasses, slipping them on quickly so he could look around the room again. Now that his mind wasn't hazy from stress and exhaustion, the enormity of what Draco had done to the abandoned classroom struck him.
"Shit, Draco," he said, his tone apologetic. "You went to all this trouble and I fell asleep. You must be furious. I'm sorry."
Draco shrugged, a small smile curving his lips. Truthfully, he didn't know why he wasn't angry. He and Harry didn't have a real relationship – they were simply a convenient sexual outlet for each other. As he smoothed Harry's sleep-rumpled hair, he felt a twinge inside. They had been little more than a convenient sexual outlet for each other, he corrected himself, feeling unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest as he looked at Harry. At some point in the last few months, Draco realized, it had come to be something more.
He followed Harry's gaze around the room, taking in the intricately decorated Christmas tree – Charming all those Snitches had been a beastly job – and the crackling fire, the table laid with a dinner, the champagne, the bed.
"Don't worry," he said, grinning as the dark-haired wizard's brow smoothed. "It's your Christmas gift. You can use it how you see fit."
Harry laughed aloud, rising up on his knees to look around the room again.
"It's brilliant," he said, his smile turning slightly shy as his gaze met Draco's. "I've never had such a thoughtful gift. I'm sorry I wasted any of it sleeping. How much longer do we have?"
They were both spending the Christmas break away from school, which meant they'd have to catch the Hogwarts Express in the morning. Harry's heart clenched at the thought of two weeks without Draco. Hurried though their assignations were, he enjoyed them. He found he even looked forward to seeing Draco in the classes they shared – even surreptitiously watching him across the Great Hall at meals, especially on days they couldn't get away to meet. It would be hard not having that for days on end. A small flicker of hope lit inside him as he watched the very real flames in the Transfigured fireplace. What Draco had done took a lot of skill, a lot of concentration and a lot of time. It surely wasn't something he would do unless he truly cared about Harry. For the first time since they began seeing each other at the start of the term, Harry let himself believe they might have an actual relationship.
"It's still early," Draco said, smiling at him. "You only slept a few hours. Are you hungry? Dinner's waiting."
Harry nodded, throwing the duvet back and crawling out of bed. His feet sank into the deep pile of the carpet, and he sighed, enjoying the sensuous feeling. He took his seat at the small table, his eyebrows rising as he recognized a dish from his favorite Chinese restaurant in London. It was almost impossible to find War Sui Gai, and he was surprised Draco had bothered, since he always complained when Harry ate anything with garlic on the nights they planned to meet.
"Draco, this is amazing," he said, grabbing a glass of champagne.
"It's just dinner," the blond said nonchalantly, shrugging.
Harry stood, leaning over to kiss him. "It's not just dinner. It's dinner from my favorite restaurant hundreds of miles away. Thank you."
Draco blushed, his reaction surprising both of them. Harry pushed back from the table, snagging the bottle of champagne as he made his way back to the bed.
"We can eat later," he said, and Draco's cock jumped at the sight of Harry's green eyes glittering with desire.
His embarrassment forgotten, he followed the dark-haired boy to the bed, both of them shedding their remaining clothes along the way. Harry took a swallow of the bubbly champagne from the bottle, handing it to Draco.
"Honestly, Potter," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. "Have you no manners at all? It's horribly uncouth to drink from the bottle."
Harry opened his mouth to respond when Draco raised the bottle, dribbling the cold liquid over Harry's abdomen. He gasped in surprise, hardening instantly. Draco lowered his head, licking the wine from Harry's warm skin.
"Malfoys never drink from the bottle," he whispered, drizzling more of the cold wine across Harry's body, his tongue dutifully following, licking up as much as he could before it rolled off.
"That's, ahh –" Harry hissed as liquid cascaded over his rock-hard cock, the cold wine making him shiver, "– a good rule."
Draco grinned wolfishly at him before wrapping his mouth around Harry's wet cock, his taste buds singing at the combination of the wine and Harry's musky flavor. He pulled off with a pop, raising a challenging brow when Harry opened his mouth to protest.
"It's good breeding," he said, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched Harry squirm on the bed.
Harry groaned, his body relaxing as Draco's mouth returned, the bottle of champagne forgotten as he laved Harry's cock with his talented tongue, tracing the thick vein along its underside with enough pressure to make Harry gasp and writhe.
"Being that I am so well-mannered and polite, I'll let you choose how you want to continue," he purred, smirking when it took Harry's muddled brain a moment to make sense of the words.
Bright green eyes flashed with desire and amusement as Harry edged up on his elbows, watching as Draco's tongue swiped across the head of his cock once more.
"It's only right, since this is my Christmas present," Harry agreed, letting his head loll back when Draco nipped at his hipbone, crawling up the bed until their faces were level. "I think I'd like you to fuck me."
"You think?" Draco mocked, a brow arched imperiously. He traced one of Harry's flat brown nipples with his tongue, eliciting a moan from the dark-haired wizard. "You can do better than that."
Harry gasped as Draco's hot mouth moved to his neck, latching on to the salty skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and sucking hard.
"I want you to fuck me," Harry said, his eyes closed as Draco continued assaulting his neck.
"Better," Draco said, leaning back to admire his handiwork. Harry's neck would most definitely bear the mark for days. It sent a zing of satisfied glee through Draco to know he'd staked his claim in such a visible way, even though his mind screamed that he had no claim to stake. He and Harry were friends with benefits, if it was possible to have that sort of relationship without actually being friends.
Harry made an impatient noise, arching his body until his cock came into contact with Draco's. The blond hissed at the sensation, pushing harder into Harry to increase the skin-on-skin friction. Without warning, he pulled away abruptly, Summoning his wand.
Harry's eyes were nearly black with arousal, his breath coming in pants. He watched as Draco cast several spells, shifting uncomfortably as he felt the unmistakable tingle of a Lubrication spell. He gasped at the unexpected sensation of Draco's fingers breaching him, since he'd been anticipating the usually rushed Slytherin would simply cast a spell to prepare him.
Harry pushed back against the fingers, trying to take them deeper into his body. He'd actually have preferred the spell, since it would have meant having Draco inside him sooner.
"Merlin, more," he groaned, ignoring the burning as Draco added a third finger, stretching him even wider.
"It's good, go," he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as Draco's fingers brushed over his prostate, sending shivers of pleasure through his body.
"Patience is another sign of good breeding," Draco murmured, his eyes on Harry's face as he moved his fingers, taking care to find the spot he knew would make Harry whimper.
"Damn it, Draco," Harry growled, and the Slytherin's already hard cock twitched painfully in response to the hoarse words.
Harry groaned in triumph when he heard Draco repeat the Lubrication spell, this time over his own cock. Moments later, the blunt head rubbed against Harry's entrance, the pressure enough to tease but not enough to breach.
Harry growled wordlessly, arching his hips to force Draco's cock inside. The blond gasped in surprise as he slipped past the tight ring of muscle, groaning as the slick walls of Harry's entrance hugged his hard length like a glove.
They were both past the point of speaking, their moans and gasps filling the room as Draco thrust all the way inside, not pausing to let Harry adjust before he began fucking him hard. The dark-haired wizard met him stroke for stroke, his arms braced against the bed so he could push against Draco.
They were too far gone to keep up the frantic pace for long. Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's cock, fisting him roughly as the Gryffindor bucked against him, deepening Draco's thrusts by thrusting up on his own. Though they had all the time in the world – a rarity – Harry seemed to want to fuck with the same hurried abandon as always. Draco wondered if it was because the Gryffindor couldn't get enough of him or because he couldn't get away from him fast enough. A strange ache throbbed in Draco's chest at the thought, and he redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming against Harry as he quickened the already brutal pace of his thrusts.
Harry opened his eyes a fraction of a second before they both came, smoldering green locked on stormy grey. Their gaze didn't waver as they both came hard, their breathing harsh as their muscles spasmed, the act of watching each other come somehow much more intimate than the actual sex itself.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he came down from his release, his mind whirling at the emotions he'd seen flit across Draco's face as he came. Pleasure – that had been easy to spot. Tenderness – surprising, but gratifying. And two more things, much more confusing than the others. Worry and – love? Harry's already uneven breathing hitched, his brain frantically picking apart everything that had happened since he left the Transfiguration classroom.
Harry sighed, burrowing deeper into the blankets. Draco scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Harry and pulling him tight against his body. The cumulative effect of the mind-blowing orgasm and a week of getting hardly any sleep at all was catching up with Harry. He could feel his blinks slow, his eyelids becoming heavier as his exhaustion resurfaced.
He and Draco had been playing this game far too long, he decided. He needed to know where they stood, even if meant embarrassing himself or losing this new easy affection from Draco. Being a Gryffindor, he decided to say it outright. Being a bit Slytherin as well, he decided to take advantage of the moment, knowing Draco would be too shocked to respond before sleep claimed him, giving Draco time to formulate his own response or pretend he hadn' t heard later, after Harry woke up.
"Mmm," Harry murmured sleepily, relaxing into Draco's embrace. "Love you."
Draco's eyes widened, his pulse racing at the words. He waited for something more from the Gryffindor, both disappointed and relieved when he heard Harry's breathing even out as he drifted further into slumber. Draco was wide awake, unsure if it was the effects of the Pepper-Up Potion or Harry's unexpected confession. He rubbed his face against Harry's soft hair, breathing in his scent – so much stronger than it had been on the robes Draco had snuggled into earlier – and settled back on the pillows.
Draco Summoned the book he'd been reading by the fire. The slim volume of poetry sat comfortably in his hand, small enough that he didn't need to release Harry from his embrace to support it. He burrowed deeper into the pillows propped up behind him, trying in vain to find a comfortable position.
He sighed softly, his breath ruffling Harry's messy dark hair as he exhaled. He didn't know what had changed, or when it had happened, but at some point in the last few months, he'd fallen head over heels in love with Harry Potter.
Draco's heart raced at the thought, and he pressed a soft kiss to Harry's hair, as if reassuring himself the boy hadn't vanished simply because Draco had finally admitted how he felt. Even within the confines of his own mind, the statement seemed shocking and improbable. I've fallen in love with Harry Potter, he thought again, his lips curving into a tentative smile as a feeling of joy swept through him at the admission. I'm in love with Harry Potter. His breath hitched as he recalled the words Harry had mumbled just before falling asleep – words he didn't know if the Gryffindor had meant for him to hear. And Harry loves me, too, he thought, his smile so wide it hurt.
He settled back into the pillows, flexing the arm that held Harry to dispel the pins and needles that had begun to tingle there. The position was uncomfortable, but he did nothing to dislodge the sleeping Gryffindor. Draco grinned, returning his attention to the worn book in his other hand, its pages dog-eared and torn from repeated readings. He let the damaged binding fall open, revealing the page he'd read so often over the last few months. Its edges were frayed, the paper worn so thin as to almost be translucent in some places, the result of Draco trailing his finger down the page as he read and re-read the short poem.
He'd been confused as to why this particular piece had struck him so much. He couldn't figure out why reading it several times a day had become a near-obsession, or why that number more than quadrupled on days he and Harry couldn't meet. Why his hands, which itched to caress the Gryffindor so badly that Draco often had to resort to shoving them in his pockets in public, found almost as much solace in stroking the soft paper as they did stroking Harry's skin.
He settled in, letting his eyes drift over the familiar words.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh. . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
Draco frowned, reading the poem again, the act unnecessary since he could have recited it from memory, and often did, at least in his mind. For the first time since he'd happened upon the small book of poetry, which he'd found wedged underneath one of the sofas in the Slytherin common room, he understood why the poem had affected him so deeply that he'd felt compelled to carry it with him everywhere he went. The poem he found himself reading so often that he'd been forced to spell the book's cover to look like a Potions text to avoid rousing anyone's curiosity.
Because his body was new when he was with Harry. The Dark Mark that marred his arm, the faint outline of which still remained, never gave the Gryffindor pause as he kissed Draco's soft skin, his tongue often tracing the hideous faded tattoo.
Being with Harry made him feel like a different person – a better person, who would never have blindly followed the path his parents set out for him, who would never have foolishly served a bloodthirsty madman, who would never have stood by impotently when so many were suffering.
Draco looked around the room, swallowing as he realized that the things he'd done for Harry – hours of Charming and Transfiguring the room, a hurried trip to London to get one of Harry's favorite meals when by all rights he should have been studying or sleeping – weren't the kind of things the old Draco Malfoy would have done. A slow smile spread across his face as he realized that maybe he was a different person now, or at least on the road to becoming one.
He let the book fall to the floor, rolling so he could wrap both arms around the dark-haired wizard. Harry shifted slightly, settling more comfortably against Draco in his sleep. The blond buried his face in Harry's neck, his words barely audible as he pressed his lips to the soft skin.
"I love you, too."
– The End –
Note: "i like my body when it is with your" was written by American poet e.e. cummings (1894-1962). He's one of my favorite poets, and a writer I could see Draco appreciating (even though he's a Muggle!).