It's been quite a while since I've written anything Drarry. Forgive me if I'm a little rusty. I realize this is a few weeks late, but it didn't come to me until a few days after Christmas.
The story takes place a few years after the final battle. Ron and Harry are Aurors working at the Ministry. Hermione is a Ministry employee as well. (that's pretty much where the cannon ends) The Ministry is sponsoring a Secret Santa gift exchange. Reluctantly, Harry joins in–and comes to regret it for more than one reason.
the usual disclaimer: I am not writing this for profit, only fun. I do not own any of the characters in the Harry Potter series.
After a long day at the Ministry, Harry took the lift to Level 8 with Ron to head home. In contrast to the way it looked on their way in, the Atrium was dressed for the holiday season. In the middle stood a tree Harry guessed to be about twenty feet tall. Many of the ornaments were easily the size of a wizard's head. Lights shimmered among them, creating a festive mood. Red and gold bows adorned each fireplace, while the ceiling was spelled to look like a snowy evening.
"Blimey, is it that time of year already?" Harry asked.
"December first, mate. Where's your Christmas spirit?"
"I left it in my other trouser pocket," Harry answered dryly.
"You need to get shagged, mate," suggested Ron. "You've been a grump for months."
"Have not." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe a bit."
"What's that?" Ron pointed to a large parchment posted on the wall. Several other wizards were gathered around it, reading.
Harry and Ron approached the notice.
Ron read aloud. "Christmas is just around the corner. Why not spread some holiday cheer to your fellow Ministry employees? Become a Secret Santa and brighten someone's day. Joining is easy. Simply submit your name on a piece of parchment by day's end on December the seventh to the Level Seven secretary's office. On December the eighth, participants will choose a piece of parchment with their recipient's name. The fun begins on December the eleventh. For the following two weeks, feel free to indulge your beneficiary in any way you see fit–gifts, treats, favours–but try not to get caught. Secret Santas will gather on Christmas Eve in the Atrium for a Ministry sponsored cocktail hour, and to reveal themselves."
Ron turned to Harry. "Sounds fun."
"Fun? What if you get someone you don't even know? Or worse, someone you dislike."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that." Ron shrugged. "But it could still be fun. Besides, you're not just doing nice things for someone else. Someone is going to do nice things for you."
"I don't know," Harry grumbled.
Nudging Harry in the ribs, Ron said, "Well, I'm going to do it. Wouldn't it be funny if I got Hermione? But even if I don't, I sort of like the idea of doing nice things for someone without them knowing. People are always trying to do things for me, still, after all this time."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Harry said. "I can barely go to a wizarding establishment without someone picking up my bill."
"You are our saviour."
Harry shoved him lightly. "Come on. At least I can treat you. Let's go to The Leaky Cauldron."
The following week, Ron pestered Harry about becoming a Secret Santa until he finally agreed. He also urged him to find someone to date, or at the very least, have a one off.
"Hey, maybe you'll pull the name of that cute bloke in the Department of Magical Education."
Harry's brows rose. "Excuse me? Did you just refer to a man as cute?"
Blushing, Ron stammered, "Well, er, you know, that's what Hermione called him."
"Oh, so she's been putting you up to this. Is she still trying to play matchmaker?"
"She wants you to be happy. We all want you to be happy."
"Even Ginny?"
"Yes, of course even Ginny. She's not upset with you anymore. Really, she understands."
"I didn't mean to hurt her," Harry sighed. "I just didn't have a chance to sort out my feelings when I was younger with everything else that was going on."
"I know," Ron chuckled. "It took me nearly as long as you to figure out my own feelings. To think I could have let Hermione slip through my fingers . . ."
"We were all a bit distracted," Harry said. "And to be perfectly honest, I'm still not certain what I'm looking for."
"You're only twenty-one. You don't have to know yet. Hermione and I got lucky. That's all." Ron laughed. "I did, at any rate. Not sure Hermione got so lucky."
"I wouldn't call it luck," Hermione's voice called from the doorway to their office. "I'd say it was fate that brought us together. Are you two ready for lunch?"
"Hello, luv." Ron crossed the room to give his girlfriend a kiss. "I'm so glad you finally transferred to our department."
Hermione sighed. "There was nothing more for me in the Regulation of Magical Creatures. I was fighting an uphill battle."
"Department of Law Enforcement's gain," Harry said. "I'll meet you two down in the canteen. I'm going up to Level Seven to put my name into the Secret Santa pool. Maybe that cute bloke in Education will get me." He winked.
"You told him." Hermione swatted Ron's shoulder.
"You know subtlety is not my strong suit. Besides, it worked, didn't it?"
"No matter who I get, or who gets me, I have to break out of this funk I've been in," Harry said.
"You have to let more than Ron and me into your life," said Hermione.
"It's hard to know who's in it for my celebrity. I wish the wizarding world would let it go already."
"But you'll never know if you don't take a chance," she warned.
Harry nodded, then walked past them to head up to Level Seven. He approached the secretary's desk and smiled. The man behind the desk smiled back.
"Harry Potter. I was hoping you'd join the festivities. And I'm certain I'm not the only one. There are a fair number of witches and wizards that would love the chance to repay you for all you've done."
"Please, I've been more than repaid. The prosperity of the wizarding world is all I ask. I'm only here to add a bit of cheer to someone's day."
"Well, you've certainly added a bit of cheer to mine." The man handed Harry a small square of parchment.
Harry scribbled his name, folded the parchment, then handed it back.
"Into the bucket," the man directed.
Peering into the bucket filled with folded papers, Harry dropped his inside. He walked away feeling a little more enthusiastic about the holiday season than he had before. Perhaps Ron and Hermione were right. Harry needed to let loose and have some fun. Playing Secret Santa might be just the ticket.
On December the eighth, employees from all throughout the Ministry gathered in the Atrium to choose a parchment from the bucket of possibilities. Harry was surprised to see just how many witches and wizards were participating.
"Sure, and why not?" Ron said. "It's not everyday the Ministry springs for a party. Everyone wants to attend. You have to take part in Secret Santa in order to go."
"Oh, right."
"And it's wonderful way to foster fellowship among employees," Hermione pointed out.
Just then, something across the room caught Harry's eye–a head of unusually light blond hair.
"What the devil is he doing here?"
"Who?" Ron glanced about.
"Draco Malfoy."
Harry pursed his lips and snorted. He immediately made a bee line for the younger Malfoy. Through his determination, he vaguely heard Hermione calling his name. But he wouldn't be deterred until he found out why Malfoy was there at the Ministry. A few people cleared the way as they saw Harry stalking their way. Malfoy turned, meeting Harry's glare.
"Why are you here Malfoy?"
"Potter." Draco nodded.
"Answer me. What are you doing in Ministry Headquarters?"
"Same as you. I work here."
"Bullshit."
Malfoy grinned.
"What's funny?" Harry demanded.
"I don't know. For some reason I expected you never used foul language."
"Well I fucking do. And you haven't answered my question."
"Yes, Potter, I have. I work here. Just started a week ago, as a matter of fact."
"Doing what?" Harry questioned.
"Shit work in Transportation, for now. Until I've proven myself. Then I hope to transfer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Harry stood with his mouth hanging open. How in the name of Merlin did Malfoy manage to secure a job with the Ministry?
"You may have been able to fool the Wizard Resources department, but Shacklebolt–
"Hired me personally."
"What?"
"Shacklebolt hired me himself. He's determined that I am a fully rehabilitated former Death Eater."
At a loss for words, Harry stood silent.
"I'm not sure I understand your surprise, Potter. You testified on my behalf at the Death Eater trials. Did you not truly believe in my contrition?"
"Uh, yes, of course. But . . ."
"Then you believe, even though I have taken measures to make up for my role in the war, I have no right to a life comparable to other wizards?"
"No, of course not." Harry paused. "I mean, yes." His brow furrowed.
"Clearly, you're still conflicted," Draco remarked.
"I'm just a bit confused. Why would you need a job anyway? Surely the Malfoy fortune is enough to live off?"
Smirking, Draco replied, "I could say the same about you. Thanks to Rita Skeeter, your own personal fortune is common knowledge."
"But I didn't do anything to earn any of that. I want to make my own way."
"Then you do understand." Malfoy glanced toward the massive Christmas tree. "Pardon me, they're starting to queue to pull parchments."
"You're participating in Secret Santa?"
"Yes. Why shouldn't I?"
"No reason, I suppose. I didn't think you'd be . . ." Harry thought better of finishing his sentence. He'd already insulted the man a couple of times during their conversation. Telling Malfoy that he thought he was not the sort who would want to do something nice for another person certainly wouldn't make up for it. "No reason at all."
"If that's all, I should like to queue up."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Right."
He watched Malfoy walk away, more confused than before he talked to him. Ron and Hermione were near the front of the queue, but Harry slowly walked over to the end. From his spot, he watched witches and wizards reach into the bucket and pull out the names of their holiday beneficiary. Some looked quickly and grinned. Others frowned. He shook his head. Why did he let Ron talk him into this?
When it was Malfoy's turn, Harry watched. Though Malfoy looked at his parchment, his expression remained emotionless. He glanced Harry's way, then smirked, leaving Harry with an uneasy feeling. It would be Harry's luck to be chosen by the one person at the Ministry he didn't want anything at all from.
By the time it was Harry's turn, there were only a dozen or so parchments left. He reached in and pulled one out. Without looking at it, he made his way over to Ron and Hermione.
"Who did you get?" He asked Ron.
"I'm not telling. That'd defeat the whole purpose. Who'd you get?"
Harry laughed. "I haven't looked yet." He unfolded the paper. "Fuck me."
"Why? Who is it?"
"I'm not telling."
"You don't have to," Hermione said. "You got Malfoy, didn't you?"
"I knew this was a stupid idea," Harry groused. "Can I trade with one of you?"
"Right," Ron let out a howl. "Oh, wait, are you serious? Like either one of us is going to play Secret Santa for that tosser."
"Ron." Hermione gave him a stern look. To Harry, she said, "Shacklebolt arranged for several former Death Eaters to be employed by the Ministry. I'm sure he wouldn't have done that if he didn't feel they were trustworthy."
"You knew?"
"It was in the monthly newsletter. You must not have read it."
"Oh."
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Despite what Hermione said, neither of them wanted to trade parchments with Harry.
"It's fine," Harry said. "I'll just deal with it. I'll throw a couple of trinkets his way and be done with it."
"Not exactly the spirit of the season, mate." Ron said, appearing to have regretted it the moment he did.
Harry sighed. "You're right. He signed up expecting his benefactor to put in a good effort. At least it's only for two weeks."
"That's the spirit," Hermione smiled. "We've all got to do right by the people we've gotten."
"Why? Who did you get?" asked Ron.
"No telling, remember?"
"It sounds like you got someone you're not fond of, as well," Harry said.
"Suffice it to say, she–or he, wouldn't be my first choice."
Ron smiled. "Well, I'm not complaining about mine. But if you're not going to tell me who you have, I'm not saying who I have."
"Fine, Ron." Hermione snorted. "No need to gloat."
"Good thing it's Friday. I could use a drink," Harry said.
"Leaky Cauldron?" Ron asked.
"Yeah. My treat."
"You treated last time."
"But this time I'll be paying for more than just your drinks. You two are going to going to help me figure out how to pull off being Malfoy's Secret Santa."