Harry apparated, carefully balancing his tray of gingerbread creatures. After breathing a sigh of relief when he saw they had suffered no ill effects, he quickly walked towards the kitchen of the old recently converted barn. Wanting to go home for once before the locking wards set in.
The barn was located on a large property in the edge of Sherwood Forest. The true edge, located on the opposite side of the small section that was unwarded for muggle use. The Forest actually belonged to the Blacks and after the war, Harry, Remus and Sirius had made use of the area and turned it into a sanctuary and orphanage for wizarding and werewolf children alike.
The barn had been redone as the office and 'official face' of the non-profit organisation they ran. Whilst the true community and little village they had built, from all the money Harry had received from people the world over, - their thanks for him defeating Voldemort - was located in the centre, away from prying eyes.
The barn comprised of a large open area on the floor level, with a kitchen to cater for events and on the upper level were a few offices and one lone bedroom. Sirius had added the room and the bed after Harry had made a habit of spending the night on the far too small couch in the office when he got too tired to apparate home or hadn't paid enough attention to the time and the wards locked him in.
The wards that Sirius and Remus had erected, protected the entire section of forest from would be werewolf hunters and late night protestors against the 'blended' orphanage. Harry wasn't about to bring them down and leave them vulnerable just so he could go home.
Backing into the swinging door that led to the kitchen, Harry spotted his long-time blond nemesis. Though they were now on speaking terms since the war, they still weren't anything close to civil. Their feud had channelled into baking though.
Specifically, the annual Christmas bake-off in which people would enter their Christmas creations to be auctioned off on the 24th of December every year, all proceeds going to the 'Reclusive and Inclusive Orphanage' of course.
Harry and Draco alternatively were the highest raising donors every year and the score currently stood tied at 3:3. This year would see one of them on top, one way or the other.
"Malfoy," Harry grunted as he set his gingerbread creations down. Ignoring again the rush of appreciation at the sight Malfoy presented and the wash of unrequited feelings. Sticking to their rivalry was far easier than admitting his feelings might be leaning to slightly more than friendly. Which if Harry was being honest with himself was more than slightly. A lot actually. But he was definitely not being honest with himself.
"Potter," Malfoy sneered, not even looking up from where he was applying the final layer of icing on his gingerbread house. It was impressive really. How he could throw so much dislike at Harry whilst still making beautiful creations. Harry quickly brushed that thought aside, Malfoy's house was nowhere as whimsical as his magical creatures.
Harry snorted, "You're such a copycat, gingerbread? Really?"
Malfoy's face tightened as he finished his last swirl of icing. Looking up he glared at Harry, "At least mine has integrity, structure, beautiful design, instead of sad little cookie-cutouts and gumdrop buttons."
"Hey!" Harry cried indignantly, "I'll have you know there's not one gumdrop on those creatures and I did not use cookie cutters! Those are all handcrafted, you pillock!"
"It looks like it," Malfoy sneered again, giving Harry's biscuits a look of such disdain that it made Harry's blood boil.
"Make up your mind! And at least I've got originality, instead of doing the same old boring house as every other dunderhead that thinks they are good at baking." Harry shot back.
Malfoy scoffed, "Do not mistake tried and tested for boring, Potter! It's traditional! Not something that a half-blood like you can fully appreciate!"
"Oh, leave the blood purity out of this, Malfoy!"
"Gladly! So long as you admit that traditions matter!"
Harry was about to respond when suddenly they heard the loud, heavy sound of a lock clicking into place.
"Gee, thanks Malfoy!"
"I didn't do anything! What was that?" Malfoy demanded.
Harry snorted, "Oh, right, you wouldn't know, you're never here long enough. That, Malfoy, was the wards."
Malfoy's eyes went wide, "You mean, we're trapped here?"
Harry peered at Malfoy, was that panic he heard in his voice? He shook his head, he was probably just tired and hearing things.
"Until the morning, yes." Harry shot a preservation ward at his biscuits and then turned to go upstairs. "Seeing as we're stuck here now, I'm going to bed. You best find something comfortable to transfigure if want to sleep tonight. I'll give you a hint, it won't be the couch in the office."
He pushed through the door and started to make his way upstairs.
Harry had barely opened the door to the bedroom when he heard loud footsteps on the stairs. Crossing the room he sat down on the bed and started to unlace his dragonhide boots.
"So, there is an actual bed. Why do you get it?" Asked Draco as he appeared in the doorway.
"Uh, because it was put here for my use? So it's my bed." Harry retorted, tossing his boots and socks into a corner.
"And why do you have a bed here?" Draco needled as Harry stood and fetched a pair of sleep pants from the drawer in the small bureau. "And clothes."
"Because I'm usually here too late to go home," Harry said before shucking his shirt in the same direction of his shoes.
"Now, if you don't mind, I'd actually like to get some sleep. Got a contest to win tomorrow."
Draco scoffed and looked away haughtily.
Harry took the opportunity to replace his jeans with the soft cotton sleep pants and climbed into the bed.
"Goodnight, Malfoy," Harry said pointedly as waved his hand at the lights, plunging the room and building into darkness.
He heard a small squeaking sound from the doorway and as his eyes adjusted he could see that Malfoy had yet to move.
"Seriously, Malfoy, piss off," he groaned.
"To where exactly? You said yourself there wasn't anywhere else to sleep and that bed is big enough for two."
Harry's mouth went dry and his heart battered in quick succession. Malfoy wasn't seriously suggesting they share. It wasn't as if he hadn't shared a bed before, but it was always platonic. Like with Ron and Hermione after the war, the nightmares had sometimes been terrible - for all of them, or the twins after a few too many drinks. Never with anyone else. Not even his occasional lovers, he never had that kind of connection with the few muggles he'd accompanied back to their place.
And certainly never someone like Malfoy, someone who Harry had a turbulent history. Who was sharp and witty. Someone who, despite their hard angles, was stunningly attractive and had an arse built for worship-
Wrenching his thoughts from that direction, there was no way he was going there. He refocused on what Malfoy was doing. Harry had barely wet his lips when he heard Malfoy's footsteps come further into the room and the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor.
"What are you doing?" Harry barely managed to rasp out.
"What does it look like, Potter? I'm going to bed and refuse to give up comfor. If it bothers you so much, YOU go find somewhere else to sleep."
Harry heard the rustling of clothes.
"But it's MY bed!" He squeaked.
Draco snorted amused, "Didn't your parents ever teach to you share?"
Anger suddenly overrode anything else Harry might have said. "No." He said shortly as he felt the covers begin to be pulled back.
There was a sudden stillness in the room and the atmosphere thickened.
"Oh. Right, I'm sorry, I didn't mean.."
"Whatever," Harry muttered and turned onto his side. Facing away from the blond git.
There was more silence, only punctuated by a soft sigh and the whisper of bed sheets as Malfoy slipped between them.
Harry felt the bed dip slightly and he tightened his jaw in response. Grinding his teeth together he stayed frozen in place by his anger at Malfoy. Why couldn't the prat just leave him alone? Why was he always around? Always in Harry's face about everything?
"Potter," Malfoy said softly after an indeterminately long time, "I really am sorry, it's just a phrase, it slipped out and I really didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry for causing you upset."
Harry grunted in response and Malfoy sighed. There was quiet again and apart from the occasional shifting, Harry had almost convinced himself the former Slytherin wasn't even there when he spoke again.
"Does this happen to you regularly, Potter? Getting stuck here?"
"Yes." Came Harry's short answer.
"Why?"
Harry sighed, obviously Malfoy was set on keeping him awake. Obviously part of some evil plan to make him too tired to keep up with tomorrow's activities. The joke was on Malfoy though.
Harry was used to little sleep.
Sighing he rolled onto his back. "Because I do the bloody accounting for this place and it's a nightmare. Why are you here, Malfoy?"
"I would have thought that was obvious." Malfoy drawled, "Trying to prove I'm not my father. Not all of us can be Saint Potter, the Hero of Magical Britain."
Harry made a derisive noise in the back of his throat.
"No-one's a Saint, Malfoy. And I'm only hailed as a hero because I 'won'." He said bitterly, putting as much disdain into that last word as he could.
He stared up at the ceiling, able to pick the exposed wooden beams and light fixtures thanks to the weak moonlight that filtered into the room.
"Of course you're a Saint, you're Potter. To-decent-to-walk-past-a-person-in-need, can't-leave-a-man-behind, always-has-lollies-in-his-pockets, Potter. You're the son of heroes, not a Death Eater and society climber."
"Everyone's got their opinions, Malfoy, you're entitled to yours."
Harry saw Malfoy sit up in the corner of his eye. "What's that meant to mean?" Came the harsh reply.
"It means you're wrong and I don't want to argue about it," Harry returned.
"Wrong? Wrong?" Malfoy cried shrilly, "Those are facts, Potter, they can't be wrong."
Harry shrugged and laced his fingers together on his chest. "They don't make me a saint either."
Malfoy sputtered indignantly, "More of a saint than anyone else can achieve," he said bitterly.
Harry looked over at him, saw him looking down at the sheets, fingers twisted tightly in the linen.
"What was the worst thing you did in the war?" he asked suddenly.
Malfoy's head flashed up and his eyes locked on Harry's. The soft moonlight caught along his features and highlighted the strands of his hair. Harry made sure to make his face expressionless and open.
Malfoy took his time responding before he finally said, "Well, you know it don't you? You were there after all. I let Death Eaters into the school, and I tried to kill Dumbledore."
Harry nodded, "Right, so, have you ever actively hunted someone down to bring about their total and utter demise?"
Malfoy shook his head.
"Held anyone underneath your wand watching them scream, and writhe, and wet themselves because of how much pain they were in? Wanting to hurt them further?"
Another head shake.
"Ever wondered how many people you've killed?"
Malfoy's eyes were wide as his head shook no again.
"Ever killed anyone at all? Ever been responsible for another person's death?" Harry pressed on, Cedric hovering in his mind's eye. "Ever use an unknown curse on someone and then left them there to bleed out?"
Malfoy had stopped answering by this point but his raised one hand to press against his ribs. Harry's eyes flicked to the trail of silvery scars there and he swallowed hard.
"I am sorry for that by the way. I was scared, I panicked. I'd like to say that I would have gone for Pomphrey had I not heard Snape, but I just don't know."
Harry felt Malfoy's hand rest gently on his arm and he quickly turned his head to stare at him fully.
"I do," came Malfoy's voice, softer than Harry had thought he was capable of. "You would have gone for her. I believe that."
Malfoy's hand squeezed gently before it was retracted. His voice took on a more thoughtful tone, "So, it's not just the books, is it? Or helping the kids? You're here because you think you need redemption too."
Harry shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Merlin, Malfoy was even more of a prat when he was insightful.
"So? Is it a crime to have more than one motivation to do something?" Harry retorted.
"No," Malfoy uttered in such a way that made Harry think he had more than one of his own.
Harry tried to discern his expression, but shadows obscured his face too much. "So what are your other reasons then?"
Malfoy abruptly lay down on his side, facing away from Harry. "It's nothing. Go to sleep, Potter."
Harry snorted and sat up, "Oh no, you don't get to poke me with questions and then ignore mine. Turnabout is fair play, Malfoy."
Malfoy didn't say anything for a while and Harry leant closer and poked him in the shoulder blade. He received a heavy sigh and muttered jumble of words in return.
"What was that?" Harry asked.
The muttering came again, only slightly louder this time.
"Uhuh, louder for those in the back."
Malfoy suddenly spun around hoisting himself up to lean on one hand, "I said because I like you! Merlin! Are you deaf as well as daft, Potter?"
Harry blinked, stunned into silence.
"And, that's just great, now I've made a complete fool of myself and I'll never be able to show my face here again. Thanks very much, Potter."
He started to get up and Harry stopped him by grabbing his arm.
"Wait! How is it my fault that you've decided you like me? And why the hell would it mean you have to stop coming if we're, what, friends? Not enemies?"
Malfoy flopped back onto the bed and laughed hysterically.
"Fuck! How did you defeat the Dark Lord if you're this dense?"
Harry frowned at him.
Malfoy wiped at his eyes, "I don't mean 'like' you as in 'let's braid friendship bracelets and start a book club' Potter. I mean, I like you, as in, I fancy you."
Harry was stunned once more. "You- what? Why?"
Malfoy sighed and fidgeted, "You're just Potter. That's why." Harry's frown was back but Malfoy didn't notice as he kept his attention on his hands. "You're kind, you have infinite patience with children. Even when they are asking you for the same story for the tenth time in a row. You're always willing to lend a hand and you are the first to stand up for people who are being mistreated. You're magically powerful, but you're never a show off about it. You don't do things to show off. You do them simply because it's the easiest way to do something or because it needs doing. You have this stupid way of smiling, one corner of your mouth pulls up before the rest of it does and you always cough after you sneeze."
Draco continued to ramble and Harry's jaw dropped, all of the things he was saying, none of it had anything to do with Harry's fame and everything to do with him as a person. Some of it, stuff Harry hardly noticed himself.
"Draco," he said softly trying to halt his litany.
"-and your hair, Merlin it's atrocious, you always look as though you've just shagged-"
"Draco," Harry tried again, louder this time.
"-and your baking is delicious, I blackmail Blaise into polyjuicing himself as someone different every year to get him to bid on your entries-"
He obviously wasn't listening, so Harry decided that actions would speak louder than words. Positioning himself onto his hands and knees, he grabbed the blond's chin and brought their mouths together.
Draco froze in Harry's grip and when they pulled apart he barely rasped out a coherent, "What?"
Harry smiled at him in the moonlight, "I like you too, you prat."
Draco's shy grin was infectious and they spent the remainder of the night exchanging kisses and soft words before finally falling asleep.
They woke together the next day to the smell of coffee and a loud crunching. Harry blearily opened his eyes to see Sirius sitting on the foot of the bed with a shit eating grin and gingerbread hippogriff in his hand.
"Morning!" He said brightly, causing Draco to yelp and clutch at the covers. "I was wondering if this was the year I was finally going to have to spike the eggnog. Thank Merlin you got your act together." He said with a lewd wink, causing Harry to redden. "I didn't fancy having to answer to Moony. Now come on. Up and at them. We still have to decorate before everyone gets here tonight."
With that, he crammed the last of the hippogriff into his mouth and leapt off the bed. He walked out of their room singing "God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs!" At the top of his lungs.
"Oi! Those are for the fundraiser!" Harry bellowed after him.
Shaking his head and snorting softly he turned to Draco who was looking anywhere but directly at Harry.
Harry edged closer and brought their faces level. Waiting patiently for Draco to lift his eyes to his. When he finally did, Harry smiled and pressed their lips together softly. "Come on, we better get downstairs before Sirius decides to start on your house too."
"He better not! I'll hex his hair to flash green and silver for a week if he so much as touches one candy caned fireplace!" Draco replied indignantly, bringing a grin to Harry's face. Harry stole another kiss, feeling lighter than he had in years before letting Draco drag him downstairs to hang mistletoe with Luna. Keeping an ever watchful eye for Nargles and opportunities to snog.
FIN
AN: Don't forget to find me on fbook and on Ao3 under the same name.
(My Ao3 account also contains more works, partly because you can't post anything explicit on here, so I have some PWP stories there *winkwink* but mostly because it is infinitely easier to post on Ao3 than it is here. Sorry guys, but it's true. You'll get quicker updates on that site than this one.)