Author's Notes: For the slythindor100 advent challenge.
Their first Christmas living together, Harry and Draco made a point of decking the tree out in what Muggles would probably call the usual Christmas colours. Both of them knew, though, that the colour scheme in their flat during the holiday season really had very little to do with Christmas tradition; that was just a convenient excuse.
No, it was definitely all about House pride. Draco made that very clear when he furtively stole all the red baubles off the tree. Their remaining green counterparts suddenly shone so unnaturally brightly against the silver tinsel that only an idiot could fail to recognise the taunt. Of course, this had been Harry's flat long before he'd finally caved and invited Draco to move in (mainly so that Harry wouldn't have to keep setting foot inside the Manor as often, to be honest), so Harry was well aware where all the best hiding places were. It didn't take long, therefore, to recover the red balls from where Draco had stashed them (should have just Banished them, Draco realised) and get them quickly strung back in place (with a few of them now spelled to sing out such Gryffindor classics as 'Weasley is our King' whenever Draco walked past, just to make a point).
"You realise you could do that five times as easily with a well-placed Levitation Charm," Draco remarked as Harry strained on his tip-toes, reaching to rehang one of the temporarily-displaced red baubles in a position of honour right at the top of the tree near the star.
"Course I could," Harry said. He looked over his shoulder without fully turning, noting the way Draco was slumped a little too casually across the couch, pretending he hadn't been watching Harry's every move since the moment he'd entered the room. "But then, if I'd done that, you wouldn't have been staring so hard at my arse just a second ago, would you?"
"Was not," Draco muttered somewhat petulantly. "As if your arse is even worth looking at, Potter."
"That's not what you said last night," said Harry, breaking their stare so that he could hang the last of the ornaments with a slight flourish.
Draco shrugged. "You know, I don't recall saying anything complimentary about you at all last night. Or ever."
"Huh. Really? 'Oh, fuck, Potter, you're so hot, so big, mmm, no one's as good as you.' That doesn't ring a bell?"
Draco went almost as red as one of Harry's baubles. "Definitely not. I'll have you know that I've never sounded like that in my life."
Draco tried to appear nonchalant (and to pretend he wasn't still blushing) as Harry stalked purposefully towards the couch.
"Is that so?" Harry asked, draping himself on top of Draco's lap, effectively straddling him. "I think I'll just have to demonstrate otherwise, then."
The next day, Draco would continue to avidly deny having ever been impressed with anything Harry had to offer. In fact, he would completely refuse to admit that he'd done anything the previous night other than yawn occasionally with boredom while Harry made an utter fool of himself.
But, on the other hand, Harry would spend the whole day unable to stop grinning with a certain knowing satisfaction.
~FIN~