December 22, 2004.

Why I will be spending Christmas alone.

It isn't that I don't love my friends, of course I love them. It isn't that I haven't gotten over my break up with Ginny, because I have. She broke it off with me, and I had done everything possible for her to do it because the truth is, I am brave, but I am chicken-shit. Yeah, I stole the prince's advanced potion book from Slughorn's classroom and claimed it to be my own. Yeah I had no problem being the Captain of the Quidditch team and telling Mclaggen to stick it. I had no problems accepting my death, welcoming it when it was time to kill You Know Who. But, when it was time to ask Cho to the Yule Ball, I croaked most of the time until she had decided to go with Cedric. Whenever I saw Ginny with Dean the monster inside me rose, but I for the most part attempted to tame it. I didn't have the guts to break up with her so I made everything possible to do it with me.

And now, I have the same problem.

I go out of my way to run into him every morning. I know where he stops over for coffee and I casually stop by some mornings. There are days when I bring my own coffee so I don't seem desperate and there are mornings when I accidentally spill it so I would have to go to the café to buy a cup. Yeah I see him, he sees me sometimes. Our eyes lock and I give a courtesy nod. Most of the times, I pretend to not even acknowledge that he's there. There's a mirror on one side of the café, and I sit there, facing it, and I watch him order his coffee, talk to his associates, return back to the office. Then later I see him in the hallways. I notice when he wears a new tie to work, I notice when we have casual Friday parties once a month and we all dress in Muggle clothing and he always wears a green tight t-shirt with jeans and the way they squeeze his arse, it should be illegal. Since I noticed that he wears a different form of a dark green t-shirt every month to casual Fridays, I wear a half sleeved button down dark green shirt with dark blue jeans, hoping that he'd notice.

Sometimes he plays the Muggle game of Twister with other associates and every time his shirt lifts up showing his flawless skin, my cock twitches as though it is my worst enemy. His midriff is my worst enemy. I often excuse myself to go to the bathroom so I could calm myself, since the dragon inside me has a difficult time being tamed when I see how flexible he is and how his body wraps around others since he always wins at Twister, relentlessly.

So why have I not accepted the Weasley annual Christmas weekend invitation?

Because nowadays Christmas is the most quiet time for me. It is when the office is completely closed, there are no emergencies, there are no 'come in for a few hours.' I work long hours, I go into work early, not just to bump into him, but planning to stalk him requires time, time I should be spending working. So my work days are twice as long. I want nothing more than to spend Christmas Eve alone, dreaming of Draco Malfoy. I want to imagine his blond head bopping up and down on my cock, pleasuring me, and I want to wank, as hard as I can as much as I can because I need him, I need this release. Nothing at the moment would be more torturous than being surrounded by half a dozen Weasley children and the Weasley parents and the presents, and the happiness. It is all wonderful, and I have loved it always, don't get me wrong. But, I need to be selfish, I need this for myself, my body needs it, my mind needs it. I simply require this release.

Then there's the other reason, the ultimate secret reason that I shall share with no one. The Malfoy elders are travelling this holiday season, leaving Draco alone at Christmas. From casual conversations at work I have discovered that he is excited to be alone for the Holidays as well. He considers them to be 'utterly stressful for no apparent reason' so; he's hoping to just mosey around the city. I have let it known around the office that I am spending Christmas alone for much needed rest and I might spend the day off in the Muggle city at a spa for some R & R. The wizards of course think it's atrocious; the only person who understood was, much to anyone's surprise, Hermione. In case he does over hear this in conversation and wishes to meet up. So my secret wish for this secret reason is to run into him when we are alone. Me just being casual bumping into a colleague and asking him for a quick bite or a drink. Then, after a few shots of Firewhiskey, he will confess to me how much he's wanted me as I have wanted him for the past few years, if not always. Of course, this will not happen but, this hope is a lot more important to me than spending Christmas at the Burrow and missing the opportunity entirely.

I have promised the Weasleys that I will certainly be spending New Years with them to make up for lost time.

December 26, 2004.

Christmas Eve started with a warm fire and a glass of wine, eventually that became a bottle of wine. Number 12, Grimmauld Place is most beautiful in the middle of the night when the neighbourhood is quiet, and the only noise you hear is the wood crackling under the fire. I sat at the sofa looking over the news clippings of the past five or so years with any article in the Prophet that mentioned Draco, especially if it came along with a picture. My favourite one, to this day, is the news story and the pictures about the Malfoys visiting Panama as Draco jumped off a cliff into a waterfall, almost candidly naked. He wasn't happy for the photograph being displayed in the Prophet the way it did and he demanded all the copies to be reverted, but, I managed to keep mine hidden. So from time to time, I take out this secret box of treasure, the pictures of this flawless looking man, and wonder about the taste of his tongue, the smoothness of his skin, and the heat of his probably perfect cock.

Whenever I find myself perfectly content with the state of my intoxication, I wander into the room with the Black Family Tree Tapestry, and I touch his face. Sometimes, without any shame, I kiss his face, then I progress to my room and spend the rest of the night imagining all sorts of excessive sexual exploits I would perform with him if he would ever have me. If I ever confessed to him, or if he ever professed to me. Needless to say, these actions repeated themselves on Christmas Eve, all night, unashamedly. I imagine his laugh; I recollect the tingling feeling when I -accidentally- brush up against him in the crowded elevator. He never flinches, but of course in my mind, he's as turned on as I am. How I miss someone, I never had, how I long for his touch.

Christmas day I woke up with a hangover larger than Aragog. I stumbled into the kitchen to find my potion to rid the headache. I had wished to stay in bed and sleep but I didn't want to waste my day. I shouldn't waste my day because this is exactly why I was missing the Weasley Christmas weekend. After my long shower and of course the fantasy of being soaped and washed by Draco, I dressed in Muggle clothing and headed out to the city. I had decided to start at the bookstore I know Draco was most fond of but, hunger had taken the best of me and I stopped at my favourite breakfast place first. And there he was, in his most Christmas perfection, as though Merlin himself was granting this wish upon me, I caught his eye before I noticed he was there.

He called my name, and I was startled. An act I couldn't have performed with the amounts of time I had practiced it. I really hadn't seen him. I thought I'd bump into you here, he said, and I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. He asked me to spend Christmas day with him. I couldn't believe it was happening. When he wasn't looking, I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't. The morning consisted of breakfast, the bookstore aforementioned, and ice-skating. The afternoon consisted of lunch at my favourite restaurant, which coincidentally was his favourite as well, and drinks at the Ritz-London.

The day was passing by wonderfully, and I shouldn't have asked but I did. I asked him why did he ask to spend Christmas day with me. He told me something I had not expected.

For the past few years, I have had only one wish for Christmas, a wish I haven't told anyone but always hoped for it to come true. When I asked what this wish was, he said A kiss from you. I thought he was joking; I became unnecessarily upset because this was not funny. He knew of my feelings and was toying with my emotions, he wasn't.

He had sat across from me and he stood up and approached me and kissed me as I had dreamt of being kissed for what seems like now an eternity. As the kiss broke apart, I foolishly whispered the words I love you. He grinned and kissed me again, he whispered in my ear It's about damn time.

He knew. Well, according to him, he suspected. He called me daft because though he suspected, I never gave him an opportunity to approach me. Needless to say it was because I never in my life thought he would feel the same way. He does. The most surprising of the news was that he wore a green t-shirt at every casual Friday party because he once read in the Prophet that my favourite colour was green. He too, paid attention to news clippings about me.

With the last kiss, he gave me a key. A key to the hotel room in the Ritz-London. He told me to meet him there in twenty minutes. I finished the last of my drink and obeyed. I am not that daft. When Draco Malfoy tells you to come to his hotel room, you go to his hotel room.

There he stood, perfection, personified. I wish I could say that the dragon inside me is now tamed because now I have received what I have desired for the past few years, but I would be lying. Now that I have tasted the forbidden fruit, I cannot get enough. His tongue can do wonders that should be illegal, his hands, his touch, everything I ever craved for and even more. Now I have received my Christmas present and I have delivered his, in many ways.

He brought me back home this morning and we re-enacted everything from the hotel room last night. Now he's gone home to get a new change of clothes and we shall spend another night together until we are absolutely required to be apart and return to reality.

The only problem that persists: How do I get out of spending New Years at the Burrow?


"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." ― Anaïs Nin


(A/N): I wrote this quickly in an hour as a 'pick me up' because I truly needed to escape my reality. Please write a review and let me know what you think!