I am delighted to have been invited to be part of LightofEvolution's little Advent fest :) Thank you so much! I hope you'll like this (overall silly) piece.

Alpha- and Beta-thanks go to MalfoysMuggleMrs and additional love to RunningQuill!

I had the following prompt to work with:
The number three and a quote from Christmas Vacation ("I've never been treated like this in my entire life." – "I'm sorry, this is our family's first kidnapping.")

'You don't understand, Luna … I've seen the man naked. Twice.'

Harry takes another sip of his eggnog. It is barely the beginning of Christmas season, but like he gives a shit. His friend only looks at him expectantly, so he carries on, 'I mean, I'm finally partnered up with him, and of course, he's taken.'

'No, he's not,' Luna merely states. That's all she offers, practically forcing Harry to lure every tiny bit of information out of her.

'He's not?'

'Draco's been single for a while now.' The blonde savours her hot chocolate instead of elaborating on literally the only relevant subject right now. Harry grows frustrated.

'Then why do I regularly see him with Zabini ever since I came back?'

'Blaise?' She tilts her head. 'Didn't you know Draco is Blaise's best man?'

'Blaise is getting married?' blurts Harry.

In that moment, George sticks his head through the door.

'Shh, Harry, keep your lovely voice down, will you? Beth is sleeping, and I would like her to do that for as long as possible. And how do you not know that Ginny said yes?'

'Ginny said – Blaise – what?'

This time, both George and Luna hush him simultaneously.

'Why does no one in this family tell me anything?' Harry continues with as much reproach as his whispered tone allows. 'Just because I've spent the last two years working for MACUSA doesn't mean I don't want to know these things!' He empties his drink with much fervour and pours himself a th- second cup.

'You could have Owled me, you know,' Harry whinges, adding in a murmur, 'Godric bless America for eggnog.'

'Didn't Ron tell you?' asks George. 'He was supposed to send Pig.'

'Right, deliver a letter across the Atlantic and use the smallest owl to ever owl,' deadpans Harry, watching as George makes himself comfortable next to his wife.

'Get over yourself, mate,' says the redhead amusedly. 'It's not a big deal. Besides, weren't you two discussing something more important than my sister's wedding?'

Harry feels his cheeks tingle, his attention suddenly shifting back to his memory of the last time he's accidentally watched Draco in the changing room. Draco Malfoy and his hot and firm –

'So, what's the news?' Harry's train of thought is interrupted by George's question.

'Harry fancies Draco Malfoy,' says Luna.

George smirks devilishly. 'How is that news?'

Harry is now certain his face is redder than the Gryffindor common room. Is he really that easy to read? Hermione had, by all means, connected the dots right away, but literally everyone else? In a feeble attempt to change the subject, he says, 'So … Pigwidgeon … does that mean he fell into the ocean or –?'

'Please.' George gives a dismissive wave with his hand. 'That beast is practically indestructible.'

'George, Harry just tries to divert you because he's uncomfortable, that's all.' Luna flashes her husband a loving smile.

'Oh, I'm aware.'

At that moment, they hear a baby squall, and George pushes himself up.

'That's my cue,' he sighs wistfully and leaves, but not before winking at Harry with a playful glint in his eye. Knowing exactly what the gesture implies, Harry reaches for his glass.

'Thanks for the refill,' he tells Luna.

'You're welcome.'

'Are you trying to get me drunk?'

'If I wanted to, you'd be drunk by now, you know.' The blonde bats her eyelashes innocently.

Harry shrugs and swigs more eggnog.

'Why aren't you drinking any?'

'I'm still breastfeeding, Harry … oh, George is already complaining about them getting smaller again.'

Harry makes a sheepish sound and drinks another. His head feels positively fuzzy now, warmth and tension alike taking up residence in his stomach.

'So, how are you going to tell Draco?' asks Luna.

'Tell him what?' Harry swipes his mouth with the back of his hand and puts down the glass. 'That I want him for Christmas? With a ribbon and all?'

'You do?'

'Fuck yeah!' Harry flails about wildly. 'I don't know what it is … I mean, I do. Have you seen the man? He's a sexy beast … but – ugh'– his shoulders sink in a semblance of frustration –'what am I supposed to do?'

'Hm … I think I might have an idea,' teases Luna, again leaving Harry in the position to prise.

'So? What is it?'

She just smiles broadly and says, 'I'll have to consult with my husband first.'

Harry's eyebrows wander up. 'That can't be good,' he says warily. 'But I suppose that as long as it doesn't involve mistletoes and Nargles, it can't be that bad.'

And boy, couldn't he be any more wrong.

Draco Malfoy loved Christmas as a child – the sweets, the presents, the attention. He still receives copious amounts of sugary treats every year, along with expensive gifts he does not truly care for. The attention on the other hand … With his father in Azkaban and his mother as the Malfoy matriarch turned businesswoman, this particular perk of Christmas had dwindled down to almost nothing ever since the end of the war. And despite having a plethora of admirers, Draco does not pay the witches any mind.

Hence he finds himself alone on Christmas Eve, lounging in his favourite armchair whilst swirling a new broomstick's worth of bourbon his in his glass and staring vacantly at the crackling flames.

If only Potter would finally make a move – Draco is certain he's dropped ample hints so far: from stolen glances to casually brushing his arm to leaving the changing room door unlocked on purpose.

Ever since the bespectacled wizard returned from New York City, he's become so much more appealing. The dark stubble makes his ruffled hair appear even wilder, which – in Draco's opinion – only contributes to his good looks; a feature he used to slander now messing with his hormone levels.

A look at the bottle provokes a frustrated groan. It's empty. As it appears, his entire liquor cabinet is bereft of its usual inhabitants, too. Fuck Gamp and his bloody transfiguration laws. Though not looking forward to stepping into Diagon Alley on such a cold and busy night, the need for getting sloshed conveniently decides for him.

His feet carry him through the chattering crowd, the usual route past Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and around the corner, then another corner, until Montague's Wine, Spirits, and Knick-Knacks comes into sight. Although Muggle distillates are of supreme quality (as Draco had to accept begrudgingly at some point prior to our story), there is no way he would have ventured into Muggle London on a night as busy as this.

Perhaps you should have, he tells himself upon feeling his hackles rise.

But before he can so much as reach underneath his robes to go for his wand holster, he gets tackled from behind – screw Potter and his "keeping your wand in your sleeve for quicker access is unnecessary these days"-bullshit.

Draco can't see; something similar to a hessian sack obstructs his sight while the fabric's distinctive scent replaces all other olfactory impressions. Then, an ice cold sensation trickling down from the crown of his head betrays that he's just been hidden from sight through a Disillusionment Charm. Finding himself unable to escape the grasp of his kidnapper, Draco decides not to put up a fight until he finds a loophole to present him with a means of escape. He is being pushed somewhere, although not as roughly as would befit an ambush.

'Careful,' whispers a female voice. 'Don't hurt him.'

'Don't worry, we'll deliver him in one piece,' says the man right behind him. He sounds vaguely familiar and – to Draco's utter confusion – quite amused.

'What the fuck is going on?' snarls Draco.

'He's not a very good role model for Beth,' says the female. Now that she isn't whispering, Draco recognises the uncanny, dreamy inflection.

'Lovegood?' he questions, walking forward.

'It's Lovegood-Weasley now,' she both affirms and corrects his assumption, and Draco remembers seeing her and George Weasley's faces on many a newspaper's cover years ago. The crackpot and the prankster – who would have thought?

Before he can ponder on the couple's heretofore unknown criminal career, George – and hence, Draco – comes to a halt and says, 'Here we are – mind the steps.'

Somehow not wary of the situation anymore at all, Draco's aggravation level rises higher than Bottomlong in April. What are they thinking? They can't possibly want to cause him harm, can they? He takes the steps only with difficulty, but with dignity. Even with a sodding potato bag pulled over his head and torso, they can't take that away – he's still fabulous.

'This is you,' says George cheerfully, relieving a coughing Draco of the bag.

'Ugh, I've never been treated like this in my entire life!' he fumes.

Draco spins around and looks at Loony Lovegood – pardon, Loony Lovegood-Weasley – tilting her head and flashing him a warm smile. Although, he can't tell whether she's actually looking at him or drifting off into dreamland.

To her right stands George Weasley. The stupid grin plastered across his face Draco could have expected – what he didn't see coming was the baby sling.

'I'm sorry,' chuckles the ginger. 'This is our family's first kidnapping.'

'What the actual,' Draco starts, yet with a glance at the (apparently) sleeping baby's head, he continues in a tense whisper, 'What do you want from me?'

'Nothing,' says Luna, dissembling innocence. 'The question is, what do you want from Harry?'

'Excuse me?'

'Now that I'm thinking about it'– George shoots his wife a pensive look and scratches his chin –'we should have asked him before we kidnapped him, but … oh well, the spell is cast either wa –'

'Ask me what?' Draco's eyebrows knit together.

'Whether you like Harry Potter, of course,' says Luna matter-of-factly, and Draco attempts to gulp down his trepidation.

'Look, mate.' George Weasley lifts one hand and cradles the back of his child's head with the other. 'It's Christmas – time to be candid. You want to spend tonight alone just as much as I'd like to get a lapdance from Dolores Umbridge. Let's make this simple: Harry fancies you. Do you fancy him back?'

'Um …' Draco stares at his feet for a second, feeling heat rush to his face. After clearing his throat too many times in a row, he admits, 'Yes, so?'

'Terrific!' George grins stupidly. 'Now tell him yourself.'

Draco whirls around, finding himself face to face with Harry fucking Potter standing beneath the doorframe of what appears to be his flat, wearing plaid pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Draco's now uncomfortably aware of his ruined hair and attempts to fix it under the pretext of scratching his scalp.

'I like it better tousled,' says Potter, blushing hard. He presses his lips together tightly while locking eyes with Draco, until his glance shifts to his friends.

'What in Godric's name were you thinking?' he admonishes them.

'What?' poses Luna sanctimoniously. 'It's what you wished for, isn't it?'

'Beg your pardon?' Harry raises his eyebrows.

Draco attempts to say something, though Potter hushes him with a raised index pressed to his lips before a single sound can leave them.

'Shh – this isn't about you … it only concerns you.' He draws back and takes a step towards the married couple, the loss of touch leaving Draco's lips tingling. 'What do you mean, Luna?'

'Hang on.' The blonde rummages in her pocket, pulls out a piece of paper and says, 'I quote: "I want Draco Malfoy for Christmas. With a ribbon and all. Have you seen the man? He's a sexy beast".'

Draco observes Potter's face go from shocked to mortified within seconds. His new Auror partner flashes him an apologetic look, though Draco decides not to complicate the situation any further; hence in return, he smirks and winks suggestively. Merlin does that feel liberating!

Potter, on the other hand, seems to die of embarrassment.

'You took that literally?' he wails. Looking at George, he adds, 'And you let her?'

'Please, do I look like the guy who dismisses a chance at making mischief? Besides, I usually enjoy whatever shenanigans my lovely wife comes up wi –'

'Spare me,' says Potter, sticking out his tongue in a gesture of disgust.

'I mean, we would have added the ribbon, but, you know …' George looks rather pleased with himself. 'We wouldn't want to go over the top with the gift. It would have been a bit much, don't you think?'

'A bit much?' Potter raises his hands exasperatedly, and Draco begins to feel out of place.

'If I may contribute to this conversation,' he interferes, 'as much as I enjoyed being kidnapped, I can't help but get the feeling that you'– he raises his eyebrows at Potter –'don't want me here. Am I mistaken?'

'No, I …' he stammers. 'Ugh, this is going to sound so bloody soppy …' Potter reaches up to ruffle his hair, granting Draco a sneak peek at his exposed midriff. 'It's just that – damn it, you two, I had a plan!'

'A plan which involves getting an early Christmas present?' George winks at them both.

'No?' Potter looks ready to give in, and Draco simply cannot wait for that to happen. The Chosen One turns around and looks him straight in the eyes.

'I was going to try my luck at Ginny and Blaise's New Year's Eve party,' he confesses. 'You know, outside of our workspace.'

Draco's gaze quickly darts to George and Luna, who are in the middle of sneaking out. The redhead mouths a "we'll leave you to it", and off they go.

Draco hums, taking a step closer. 'Pity, judging from the fact that our workspace provides us with such a formidable excuse for seeing each other naked …'

'You know that I saw you in the changing room?' Potter's eyes widen while Draco keeps slicing the distance between them. He's only marginally shorter, but in that moment, he feels larger-than-life.

'The first time … was a serendipitous accident. The second time – I wanted you to.'

Finally, Potter shows some confidence: a smile tugging at his delectable lips and extending all the way to his bright green eyes.

'Well, you know what they say – third time lucky.'

Draco smirks back. He grabs his partner's t-shirt and gives a gentle tug, brushing his lips against Potter's and feeling the other man's breath hitch.

'Lucky, indeed.'

The End