Summary – Oneshot. Harry takes Draco to muggle shop Ann Summers to pick up some more, interesting, Christmas gifts. Draco picks up something of his own.

Rating – M for language and possibly a hint of smut towards the end..

Disclaimer – The plot is mine, the characters- belong to J K Rowling.

A/N - This will probably be in three parts. It's roughly written out, just needs the finishing touches. It's unbeta'd, and it's the first fic I've decided to post! So constructive criticism would be gratefully received. Hope you enjoy!

Merry Kiss My Ass

"Harry, where the fuck are we going?"

Draco spat the words out, clutching Harry's arm close to his own with both hands, forcing the awkwardly held shopping bags to bounce and thump into them with every step. The streets were teaming with people, muggles, and he didn't like it at all. Not one tiny bit. It wasn't the fact that he was surrounded by muggles as much as the fact he was surrounded by people at all. Since the war he had tried to avoid scenes like this as it invariably led to hexes and curses and dirty words being spat his way. In fact sometimes he was just spat at. It was incredibly boring and tiresome and always led to his hair being messed up.

It wasn't fair; especially when one considered the fact that he had been proven to have been spying for the light, of having saved Harry Potter's life. And it was really not fair due to the fact that he was now living with said Harry Potter, involved with him, in love with him, bloody fucking shagging him! Harry Potter! The wizarding worlds darling, it's hero, saviour, whatever they wanted to call him. This should have saved him from the trouble of having to drag the Malfoy name up from the depths of disgrace. It should stop people from bothering in public, and it should bloody well save him the bloody trouble of constantly having to worry about his hair! Unconsciously he ran a hair through said meticulously styled blonde hair whilst Harry merely chuckled to himself and strode through the crowds confidently, tugging Draco alongside him gracelessly.

"Harry. Where are we going now? Can't we just go home? What else can you possibly want to get? Harry! Potter!"

His words were lost in the Christmas cheer simply oozing into the air. Harry was humming something about wanting a hippogriff for Christmas. Sickeningly soppy seasonal songs about goodwill and love blasted from open shop fronts. Chestnuts merrily popped and roasted as the stallholders each shouted out about how theirs were the best quality, best price, even though they were each clearly the same as the one situated ten metres down the road. Ear piercingly loud children on their way home from their last day of the school term appeared to be running riot down the already overcrowded pavements. Chasing each other with mistletoe and squealing when caught, halting the progress of other shoppers who just smiled indulgently at them. Draco did not feel indulgent at all. Draco's feet hurt, and he was cold, and he hated shopping. Well, no, he didn't hate shopping. He hated Harry's version of shopping, which just seemed to involve wandering around aimlessly. For hours.

"HARRY!"

Draco stopped suddenly, unceremoniously flailing his arms from where they had previously been tightly attached to Harry's. He crossed his arms, pursed his lips, tilted his head up, and sniffed. Draco would not be ignored any longer. Malfoys were never ignored, especially by Harry-Bloody-Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Infuriate him. Harry stopped, and sighed. He pushed up his glasses from where they had slipped down his nose. And then he laughed. Infuriating!

"Don't you dare laugh at me."

Draco was glowering darkly at him. Harry stopped, though his lip quirked up to one side, barely hiding his amusement. Draco sniffed again. Harry's lip quirked higher.

"Draco, dear," He began, his tone soft and appeasing as Draco's expression grew even more sour at the term of endearment. "We're Christmas shopping. It's jolly. It's festive. It's lovely. We're browsing. That means we're not going anywhere in particular.." Harry's words trailed off as he caught sight of the shop they were currently stood in front of. "Actually scratch that love, we're going in here. Satisfied?" And with that he was off, disappearing into yet another godforsaken, overcrowded shop. Draco glared at his back and stuck his nose up in the air, it didn't matter if Harry couldn't see, before surveying the place Harry had stepped into.

The shop was lit by a bright neon sign. And it was pink. Pink! Ann Summers it glimmered brightly. The windows were adorned by gaudy decorations and mannequins trussed up in frilly festive women's lingerie. Why the fuck had Harry gone in there? He waited a few more seconds before he haughtily stalked after his partner. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of rushing in after him like a clingy Hufflepuff, definitely not.