Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Authors' note: This was co-written with the lovely and talented Laylee. Thanks so much, my dear, for suggesting that we do this. It was a joy to work with you.
What Matters Most
Harry looked around the front room with an air of satisfaction. In the two hours since he'd arrived home, he'd managed to get the tree up, decorate the room, and wrap the last remaining presents, ready to be dropped off with various people the next morning. He'd even had time, whilst doing all of that, to check that Kreacher had everything he needed for Christmas dinner. It was only for him and Draco, but he didn't want either of them going without their favourite treats because of a small over-sight.
Satisfied that everything was as prepared as it was going to be, and that the room didn't look too gaudy for Draco's more high-brow sensibilities, Harry collapsed onto the large sofa with a contented sigh. He'd left St Mungo's well over two hours late, but the thought of three days off, with nothing to do but spend time at home with Draco and visit friends had sustained him. Despite the fact that they had been together for three years, and planned to spend the two previous Christmases together, it was the first year that they'd managed it. Determined not to worry that this year would be a repeat of the previous two, with Draco having to work through the festivities, Harry got up and headed for the shower. They had dinner reservations with Snape and Lupin, and he knew that if he hadn't showered before Draco got home, he either wouldn't have time, or they'd be late.
Harry was out of the shower and dressed within half an hour, but Draco still wasn't home. Reaching for the pot of Floo powder, Harry almost jumped out of his skin when the fire roared into life in front of him. Expecting to see Draco step out of the fireplace, he was very surprised to see the head of Julie Scrimshaw, Draco's PA, floating in the fire.
"Sorry to make you jump, Mr Potter," she said with a small smile.
Harry replaced the pot of Floo powder and straightened his robes before crouching in front of the fire with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. Has Draco been delayed?"
Julie's face appeared to flush through the flames, and Harry's stomach sank to somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. "Mr Malfoy asked me to inform you that he's been delayed, and won't be able to make dinner."
Harry sighed. "Thanks, Julie. Could you give him a message back, please?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.
"Of course."
"Tell him that if this year turns out to be a repeat of last year, the shit is really going to hit the fan." With a sharp wave of his wand, Harry closed the Floo connection. Trying to convince himself that he was over-reacting, and that Draco would actually be home for Christmas, it took several moments for him to realise that he was about to have dinner with Snape without Draco for protection.
Julie walked slowly back to Draco's office, took a deep breath and knocked.
"Come in," said Draco, not looking up from behind a mountain of parchment. "Yes, Julie? Did you give Harry my message?" His question was met by silence. "Well?"
"Yes, Mr Malfoy, I gave him your message."
Draco sighed. "What did he say?"
"Erm, he wasn't very pleased, Mr Malfoy."
Draco couldn't deny he had been expecting that. "I see. Just how…unhappy was he?"
"He said that if this year turns out like last year—please keep in mind, sir, that I'm quoting here—the shit will hit the fan."
"I see."
"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"
"No, thank you, Julie. That will be all for now." Julie nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
"Fuck." Draco knocked his head a few times on a stack of parchment. He shouldn't leave his office, but Draco knew he had no choice. Going to his Floo, he grabbed a handful of powder, threw it in and disappeared in a whoosh of green flames.
"Harry?" called Draco as he stepped out of his home fireplace.
"In here," came the frosty reply.
He quickly made his way to the lounge, finding Harry seated on the sofa, arms crossed. Draco looked at Harry, then scanned around him. "Goodness, the room looks beautiful! You've done a cracking job with the decorations this year, Harry."
"No thanks to you."
"Harry, I know you're angry—"
"You're damned right I'm angry!" replied Harry. "Is it too much to ask that my husband spends Christmas Eve with me? And to make matters worse, you didn't even have the balls to tell me yourself. You got Julie to do your dirty work for you!"
"It wasn't like that," said Draco.
"Oh no? Why don't you tell me what it was like, then?"
"It's the workload—I'm completely swamped at the moment. I was in the middle of something that I need to get done by tomorrow. I simply asked Julie to let you know; there was nothing more to it than that."
"Done by tomorrow? Does that mean you'll be working on Christmas Day as well?"
Draco knew Harry wouldn't like his answer. "Unfortunately, that is a possibility."
"That's just not on, Draco."
"I don't like it any more than you do, Harry."
"You could have fooled me."
"Now that's not fair. You know I'd rather be here with you."
"Do I? I'm not so sure anymore."
"Are you doubting my love for you?" asked Draco, gobsmacked by Harry's words.
Seeing the hurt look on Draco's face, Harry said, "I know you love me, Draco. It's just that, well, sometimes you don't exactly show it."
"I don't mean to hurt you, Harry. That's the last thing I want to do."
"Then stay here with me now and come to supper with Remus and Snape."
Draco shook his head sadly. "You know what Gribbish is like—he expects that report by tomorrow at the very latest. Goblins don't celebrate Christmas so he doesn't give a damn about the fact that I do. He's a hard taskmaster, relentless in his methods. I have a job to do, Harry, and I can't neglect it." Draco looked at the clock on the mantle. Sighing, he said, "I'm sorry, I have to go." He tried to give Harry a kiss, but Harry manoeuvred out of the way. "I really am sorry."
"You realise that I'll have to face Snape alone?"
"It'll be fine with Remus there."
"What shall I tell them about you not being there, Draco?"
"Tell them the truth, they'll understand." With that, Draco was gone.
"But I don't," whispered Harry.
Harry arrived at the restaurant just before eight, and by the time the maitre d' had shown Harry to the table he was sharing with Remus and Snape, he was only just on time.
"On time, Potter?" Snape asked with an exaggerated glance at his watch. "Will wonders never cease?"
"Funny, Snape," Harry snapped back, before taking his seat. "Have you two ordered drinks yet?"
Remus sighed. "We've only just arrived, Harry, don't listen to him. They should be along soon to take our orders."
"Draco's stuck at work, so he won't be joining us," Harry said from behind the wine menu, hoping that by hiding his face he would be able to disguise how much that fact was getting to him. "Have you two eaten here before?"
"One could be forgiven for thinking that he doesn't actually wan—" Snape started, only to be silenced by what was presumably an elbow to the ribs, or judicious application of Remus' foot to his toes.
Harry, who had arrived at a very similar conclusion, put the wine menu back into its holder, and ran a hand through his already untidy hair. "One more comment like that, and I'm going home. I don't know that the fuck I've done to annoy you again recently, but I'd appreciate it if you'd drop the bastard act."
Harry's use of expletives garnered him a harsh glare from several diners sitting around them, but he couldn't find it in himself to care; his relationship was on the rocks again, he would be almost certainly be spending Christmas alone again, and to top it off, he was stuck in a posh restaurant with Snape.
"I apologise, Potter. I did not mean for that to sound quite so—"
"Bastardly?" Harry asked, eyebrow arched.
A small smirk flitted across Snape's mouth, and Harry cursed himself for over-reacting. Even when he didn't hate you, his former teacher was a git, and it was something that Harry normally factored into their conversations.
"Are you ready to order, gentlemen?" the maitre d' asked from somewhere behind Harry, putting a timely end to that line of discussion.
Within minutes of ordering, their drinks had arrived, and Harry wasted no time in pouring himself a very generous glass of wine.
"So, how was the end of term?" he asked, hoping to find a safe conversation.
"It was fine," Remus said with a small smile. "The usual chaos, but no worse than any other year I've been there. Would you agree, Severus?"
"Quite," the dark-haired man replied, plucking non-existent lint from the sleeve of his shirt. "How is life at St Mungo's? I understand that you're considering applying for a promotion, Potter."
The remainder of the meal passed without further incident, and by the time they were outside the restaurant, Harry was rather tipsy from drinking a little too much wine, and looking forward to getting to bed.
Remus wrapped Harry in a warm hug, and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "You're welcome to join us for Christmas if Draco is working, you know."
Harry summoned a smile from somewhere, and returned the hug. "Thanks, but I doubt Snape would like that. Besides, at least I'll have time to play on that X-Box you bought me last year without being glared at."
Remus snorted and stepped away. "Well, the invitation is there is you want it."
Harry turned to face Snape, and extended his hand. "Have a good Christmas, Snape," he said, as the other man shook his hand.
"You too, Potter. As Remus no doubt said, you're welcome to join us tomorrow, should you feel so inclined."
Despite knowing that he wouldn't take them up on the offer, Harry was grateful to have received it, nonetheless. "Thanks, but I've got plenty to occupy me at home. Right, merry Christmas, and I'll see you at the Burrow on Boxing Day," he said before turning on his heel and Disapparating.
Upon arrival home, Harry went straight to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a measure of Firewhisky, then doubled it up. He downed half of it in one go, coughing as the amber liquid burned his throat. He'd never been partial to Firewhisky, but there were times, such as at that moment, that it seemed to be the drink of choice. Sighing, he flopped down onto the sofa, sipping more slowly as he pondered his situation.
Harry had always known that Draco's job at Gringotts was important to him; after the war, it had become Draco's way of establishing respectability and showing the wizarding community that, in spite of the mistakes of his youth, he could be a valuable and contributing member of society. It had been difficult, but Draco had worked his way up the corporate ladder and had become the right-hand wizard to Gribbish, one of the higher placed goblins at the bank. Harry grinned as he remembered how they had celebrated the night Draco received his promotion. The smile quickly faded as Harry realised how things had changed since that night.
When did his job become more important than me, than our relationship? thought Harry.
"Accio Firewhisky!" called Harry as he Summoned the bottle and then poured another glassful. By the time he had finished it, he had had enough.
"Fuck this," he said, withdrawing his wand. "No sense keeping all this around." In no time at all, Harry had packed up all of the Christmas decorations, leaving a bare tree standing in the corner. Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Harry then stumbled off to bed.
Draco awoke with a start, blinking as the bright light assaulted his eyes. Momentarily disoriented, he looked around and soon realised that he had fallen asleep at his desk. Panic set in as he glanced at his watch. It was five a.m.! Draco swore under his breath. He had been desperately trying to finish his report so that he could go home and spend the last few hours of Christmas Eve with Harry, that plan now ruined. All of the late nights he had been putting in of late had finally caught up with him, and at a most inopportune time, too.
"Bloody buggering hell," hissed Draco as he tried to gather up his report, casting a Drying Charm on the large spot of drool smack dab in the middle of the parchment. He perused his last entries—he was almost done! A sense of joy spread through Draco; all was not lost. If he set to work right away, he could be home in time for breakfast.
Two hours later, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. His report was finally complete. Standing and straightening his robes, he took up a sheaf of parchment and set off down the hall to Gribbish's office. "Now comes the hard part," Draco muttered to himself.
Draco knew that Gribbish would be already hard at work, in spite of it being early on Christmas morning. Holiday or not, the wheels of Gringotts kept turning. This time Draco was determined not to follow along. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the large oak door, entering when commanded to do so.
"Good morning, sir," said Draco. "I have that report you wanted." At Gribbish's grunt, Draco placed the parchment on a corner of the desk. "I'll just be going home now, sir, if that's all right with you."
Pointing to a stack of parchment, Gribbish said, "Those need your immediate attention, Mr Malfoy." With that, he bent back to his work.
"But, sir, it's Christmas," said Draco, somewhat hesitantly.
"That means nothing to me or this bank. That will be all."
Draco nodded and started to turn away, but then decided against it.
"I'm very sorry, sir, but I need to go home for the day."
Gribbish fixed Draco with an icy stare. "Do you value your position here at Gringotts?"
"Yes, sir! You know I do."
"I suggest you get to work, then."
"I'll see to those reports first thing tomorrow, sir, but for today, my husband needs me. He's expecting me home, so I must go." Draco swallowed and waited for the axe to fall.
Gribbish sat back in his chair, his long fingers steepled, considering Draco for a long while.
"We goblins also value our mates, Mr Malfoy. It is a trait highly regarded amongst us," replied Gribbish. "Very well, you may go."
Gobsmacked, Draco quickly said, "Thank you, sir," and was gone before the old goblin could change his mind.
Draco stepped out of the fireplace into his living room and stopped short, taken aback by what he saw. The room was as it always was—all the beautiful decorations that Harry had so lovingly set out were gone.
"Oh, Harry, what have you done?" whispered Draco. "What have I done? We can't have this." With his words, he withdrew his wand and carefully put back the decorations where they belonged. Once he was satisfied that all was in order, Draco lit the tree, Vanished the empty Firewhisky bottle, and then headed upstairs.
Creeping into the bedroom, Draco sat on the edge of the bed, gently waking Harry from his slumber.
"You're here!" exclaimed Harry, wincing at the shooting pain in his head. "What time is it?"
Draco handed Harry a small phial. "Here, Headache Potion. I thought you might need it. It's 8:30."
Harry downed the contents of the flask and felt immediately better. "Thanks. I don't understand, Draco, I thought you had to work."
"I thought I did, too. Turns out I was able to get away after all. Seems Gribbish appreciates my sense of family."
"What?" asked Harry, perplexed.
Laughing, Draco said, "I'll explain later. Come; let's go downstairs."
Harry suddenly remembered what he had done the night before. "Erm, about that…"
Draco pulled Harry out of bed and down the stairs, Harry barely having time to toe on his slippers. Upon entering the living room, Harry gasped.
"You put everything back!" he exclaimed.
"I did," said Draco. "It broke my heart to see that you had taken it all down. Harry, I'm so sorry that I hurt you. You have to believe me when I say that it was never my intention. I don't know how I could have let my work take over my life like that. It will never happen again; I swear it. You are, and always will be, the most important thing in my life. Please tell me that you forgive me. Please!"
Harry took up Draco's hands. "I do believe you, Draco. It means the world to me that you came home today. Yes, I forgive you."
Draco kissed Harry deeply, joyously, with all the emotion he could muster. "I love you, Harry. Merry Christmas."
"Love you, too. Merry Christmas, my darling Draco."
Draco grinned devilishly, eyeing the tree. "Presents now?"
"Presents now," said Harry, laughing aloud at his husband's enthusiasm. His family was whole again, and that was all Harry needed. All was right with the world once more.
Fin