Author's Note: Alright guys, last chapter until 2012 (hopefully I'll have more reviews by then - cuz you know I'm fishing for them! lol). Happy ChristmaHanaKwanzikah to you all. And Happy New Years. Love, darkmorsmordreheart.

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Twelve Days and Forever After

The Third

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"You know?" I asked just as his lips began to collect the teardrops at the corner of my frown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know that you used me. I didn't mind," he said, quickly taking advantage of my open mouth and revealed tongue and when he pulled away, he added, "At the time."

"At the time?"

Instead of answering, he climbed over me, out of the bed and walked towards my bathroom. I merely watched him, in silence and confusion. Then, finally, I sat up in the middle of the bed just as the toilet was flushing and I called out, "Get back here and tell me what you mean!"

"Can't hear you over the toilet!" he called back. "Do you have an extra toothbrush?"

With a huff and in a rush, I stood, quickly recovered from the knee-buckling reaction the recent lovemaking had given me and marched to my bathroom. I snatched my silk robe off the hook near the door and wrapped it around me before opening a cabinet by the sink and pulling out a new toothbrush. I set it on the counter instead of putting it in the hand held expectantly out to me.

He chuckled and picked it up to unwrap. "Green? Don't you have red?"

"No."

"Toothpaste?"

"That dispenser there."

"This one?"

I waited until he had placed the white goo covered brush into his mouth before saying, "No, that's hand soap. The dispenser next to it."

It took two consecutive brushes to get all the foam from the soap out of his mouth. On the second brushing, I chose to brush my own teeth and we stood, side by side, brushing in the mirror. Together. I had never before had an experience like that, not even with Dudley. I felt… domestic. When we finished, I gave him a towel and pushed him towards the shower so that I could do my private grooming things that I didn't want him to see. All the while he chatted with me and tried to entice me into the shower with him.

It was… different. And I kind of liked it.

When he exited the shower, I was hair-free in all the places I didn't want him to know ever had hair and he gave me a quick kiss before exiting the bathroom altogether.

"Let's go out for breakfast," he said from the bedroom as I adjusted the shower settings. "I know a nice coffee shop that isn't filled with Starbucks people."

I took a quick shower as I mulled over his suggestion.

Let's go out for breakfast.

He said it as if we regularly stayed in for breakfast. Or as if either one of us had invited the other for breakfast. Or as if the night before had not fully intended to be a one-off… Or a two-off… Did that morning make it a three-off?

I dressed carefully, even more carefully than I did when I prepared for dinner the night before. Then I wanted to convey myself as irresistible and wanting Harry to fill the space between my legs. But now… I had no idea how to dress to say I was confused and I wanted to get off of the ride. A pashmina scarf, maybe?

When I had finally dressed – in a simple grey buttondown, dark jeans, and a light blue silk cardigan (with a dark grey pashmina wrapped around my neck) – I stepped into the living room where Harry was waiting for me.

"You look handsome." I nodded at his compliment and moved towards the door where my boots and coat awaited. Harry stood and followed and we put our boots on together in silence. When I reached for my coat, strangely, he reached for my coat as well. In my confusion, I merely watched him as he took the coat and wrapped it around me. It wasn't until he was completely done buttoning my coat and kissing me on my nose that I realized what he had just done. I allowed him to hold the door open for me and even take my keys to lock it for me. He even handed me the gloves I had left over his house the day before. "I found them in my living room."

"Thank you," I said as we stepped into the elevator together. I watched my leather encased hands stretch and fold for awhile rather than look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me. "What did you mean?"

"What?" he asked, sounding as if I had taken him out of his own thoughts.

"In the bedroom earlier. What did you mean?"

"About what?"

I sighed and silently cursed the fact that I lived in a penthouse and, thus, was required to be in a tiny box with the most infuriating man in the world for so long. "When you said that, um, you knew about… You knew about, um… God."

My eyes were closed, but then he stroked a finger along my jaw and I looked up at him. He gave me a soft kiss, one I accepted, and he pulled away first with a small smile. "Let's talk about it over coffee. I reckon a little caffeine may clear our thoughts, yeah?"

"Maybe," I agreed. Then I blushed because I realized that I had just been charmed like a teenage girl, but before I could gather my wits about me, the elevator opened and Harry was already striding out.

We caught a cab to his little coffee shop and, I must admit, I liked it very much. It was indeed not filled to the brim with Starbucks people and it did not look chic in the slightest, but the coffee prices were high enough that I did not look out of place and neither did Harry. He was wearing the clothes he had on the night before, sans his black blazer, but the white of his shirt and the wrinkles my fisting hands put into it the night before did nothing to ruin the overall man-of-expensive-tastes look he had.

"I really enjoyed last night, if that's what you're worried about," he said just as I was beginning to sip my dark blend.

"I'm not worried about you!" I snapped. "I'm worried about… Well, I guess I am worried about you… I used you last night and what did you mean that you were okay with it? How was any of that okay? I used you without feeling. Without remorse! My thoughts were somewhere else! I… I was thinking of Dudley." I searched his eyes for something. Then, I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but now I realize I wanted to see if I hurt him in any way with my words. However, that was not the case. Harry merely chuckled and took the cup of black coffee out of my hand and replaced it with his own chai tea.

"Maybe too much caffeine is a bad thing," he teased and I rolled my eyes.

"I barely even tasted it. Now answer one of my questions."

He adjusted his glasses and sat back in his seat a bit with one arm resting on the back of his chair as if to better assess me and the situation.

"I was fine with last night because the night before was… different." I waited for him to go on, but I had to prod him with a spoon before he continued. "I'm okay with being used last night – and forty minutes ago – because I know for a fact that the night I took you home from that Christmas party, you wanted me – you really wanted me and no one else. And I know the only reason you were thinking of Dudley was because of that first night with me."

I looked into his eyes and, beyond the glasses, through the green, I saw confidence in that statement. As if those were the truest words he had ever spoken. And I admitted, even then, that it was true. I was thinking of Dudley because he was the last man I slept with who meant anything to me. Sleeping with Harry… meant something to me. Something that could potentially be on par with my feelings about my ex-fiancé.

"I know you needed time to realize it," continued Harry. "I was mostly surprised when you called me last night, but… I understood that you needed to work through your feelings."

"Yes," I replied helplessly and Harry took my hand in his.

"I understand… It meant something to me, too. I always knew it would." All the air hurriedly left my body and I pulled my hand away so I could stare down at it and its brother in my lap. "Er… I promised you breakfast, didn't I? I'll get you a muffin." I nodded and Harry left the table.

It meant something to me, too.

Making love to me meant something to Harry Potter. I wasn't so much amazed at that as I was amazed that he could read me so well. He knew I felt the same way about that Friday night as he did and he wasn't afraid to admit it. When he came back with multiple muffins (because he didn't know which kind I liked), I was ready to speak with him.

"I'm grateful that you shared your feelings with me."

Apparently, he was not satisfied with this because he responded with, "But?"

"What do you mean by that, Potter?"

"I mean, Malfoy, what else do you have to say?" I narrowed my gaze in warning but his own eyes only brightened with more defiance. "You like that I shared my feeling, but what? Nothing's going to come of it? Is that what you think?"

"Is that what I – What the hell are you on about, Potter?"

He flattened his arms on the table and leaned over to me, over my muffins. "I'm trying to tell you that this is not school. We're not little boys anymore. I didn't just send you a note asking you to go to the dance with me. I'm not asking you to like me back, Draco. I already know that you do, so there's no need to act like you're not affected. I know you are. I felt it when I made love to you… Even last night, when you couldn't even feel it yourself."

I felt my face redden, so I scrunched it up as if in fury to mask all the other emotions I was feeling in that moment. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to stop thinking of ways to escape me. Don't run from me."

"I'm not! I'm not running! I feel like… like I'm, um, I'm walking in circles and I don't know which path to go down. I'm trekking uphill and I don't know what's waiting for me at the top. I don't want to do this."

"All these walking metaphors. That's anxiety, Draco."

"My therapist told me what it bloody is, Potter," I snarled and Harry sat back and laughed at me. I felt my anger leave me as quickly as I had summoned it and I laughed at myself as well. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I don't want this… I don't want a relationship," I told him after a silent moment of thought. "Especially not with you of all people – no offense."

"I'm not sure about that, but okay, I'll say, 'none taken' for the sake of politeness."

I returned his smile sadly and said again, "I don't want a relationship with you."

He nodded and stole a bite out of the muffin I was just about to pick up. "Tell you what, I'll think about that and I'll get back to you."

"You'll... You'll what? What? It's my decision, not yours!"

He stood, put his coat back on, and then he bent down and kissed me, slowly and sweetly; just as I had begged him to do several times the night before.

"Bye."

"Bye."

When he was gone and I was finally biting into my muffin – an interesting blend of cranberry and peach – the woman behind the coffee counter said, "Your boyfriend is lovely. Beautiful couple."

I nodded and thanked her.

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I tried with everything in me to throw myself into my work that afternoon, but that ended after an hour long phone conversation with Pansy and then meeting the Great White at the baby section in Bloomingdale's an hour after that.

"Maybe you should buy Potter something for Christmas… you know, for scratching all those itches you got," she giggled with a suggestive lift of her brows and a nudge of her elbow into my side.

"Nice," I replied as I held up a purple onesie. She shook her head and I set it down. "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't want to see him again."

"Right and what did he say to you right before he kissed you and left this morning?" My sour expression only made her smile wider. "Stop picking purple things! Blaise hates purple."

"Hates purple? He always wears purple."

"Because he looks fantastic in it. It looks good on his skin."

"Which means you force him to wear it."

"Yes," she said with a barracuda grin; all teeth. "Maybe we can give the baby one or two purple things. Little caramel baby – I'm sure her skin will look fantastic in them."

"'Her skin'? Doctor confirmed or you just decided."

"I told you that Blaise didn't want us to know the sex just yet, but I can just tell it's a girl… Plus I made the doctor tell me."

"Ah yes, a mother's intuition to bypass her significant other's decision and call the doctor," I chuckled.

"Hush," she replied, but her red cheeks told me she was perfectly chided. "Enough about me –"

"That has to be the first time you've ever said that in your life."

" –tell me more about Harry… Is he anything like he was in our school days?"

I groaned and rolled my eyes, making a show before I intended to tell her I did not want to talk about the man who had been on my mind all day, but something she said had me stopping in my tracks – quite literally. Pansy almost left me behind on her warpath to the children's shoes. "School days? Whatever do you mean?"

Even smiling at baby booties, Pansy managed to send me a glance that told me I was insane. "When we were in boarding school?... Seriously, you don't remember?"

"You never said anything about him being in school with us! You never even mentioned it when I was w-with… Dudley."

Her eyes narrowed, then relaxed until they were just heavily hooded, sparing me the chance to gage any type of emotion from them. She traced the blue stitching of one tiny shoe thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, Draco, but I never liked talking of your relationship with the Dud and you would never answer my questions about your relationship with Harry."

"I never had a relationship with Harry!" I snapped, hoping to distract her from the flush that had suddenly appeared on my face.

She didn't even look at me; just shrugged and picked up another shoe. "I could tell that there was something going on because you never talked of him. I know he must have been at all those Christmas dinners with the Dudders –"

"Dursleys."

"Right." A roll of her eyes and Pansy was off again, presumably in search of the women's shoe department now that she had a taste for them. I followed faithfully. It wasn't until we paused to smell Chanel we already knew the scent of that we spoke again. "I suppose you never brought him up because you didn't remember him from school."

"I like to think I would remember going to school with a handsome, lecherous demon man who bested my height by half a head for seven years, Pansy."

She set down the scent after spraying some on my coat and was off again, her heels clicking in an ominous way I hadn't noticed before.

"There's a little thing called puberty, Draco. And it doesn't always begin at the most fortunate of times. It's what gave me breasts when I was nine, what made you slightly less pointy when you were sixteen and what gave a quiet boy with glasses half a meter and a voice for sex when he was eighteen."

"Quiet boy with…"

"Oh, sweet youth! Sweet horrid-haired, bespectacled, ragged-clothed youth!"

"What are you going on about, woman?" I had tried my hardest to conjure this image of Harry in school with me, but all I could imagine was him seated across the cafeteria from me, surrounded by his equally beautiful peers, ignoring how I drooled for him over my lunch. And maybe a fan or two for the purpose of blowing his hair back.

"Scarhead, stupid," she said as we reached the shoes. She pointed to several pairs, sending several salesmen off to retrieve them in her size and I knew the conversation was over. There had been a boy we called Scarhead in school.

I frowned and I thought about it. And then I frowned some more.

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"Hello?"

"Hello, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon," I told Harry, clutching the phone to my ear with both hands.

"Well, I said I would get back to you on the issue and I meant to do it as soon as possible."

"This issue you speak of… What is it exactly? I thought I made clear that I didn't want any part of this."

He clucked his tongue at me and I could feel his smug smile. He said nothing in response to my statement, but I already knew his answer.

"I don't want this, Harry," I sighed. "I've decided."

"Well, I've decided that I can't accept that."

"You decided? You de – You can't do that! It's my decision that decides this!"

His answer was expectantly infuriating. "As I see it," he said, "a relationship relies on the cooperation of the two people involved, so - going on that - I figure deciding not to be in a relationship also relies on the cooperation of the two involved."

"So what are you saying?" I asked flatly.

"I'm not cooperating. What else could I possibly be saying?"

"You can't force me into a relationship with you, Potter!"

"And you can't force me to not be in a relationship with you."

Resisting the urge to slam the phone down, I said, "Stop it, Harry. Please."

I have no idea whether or not it was the tone of my voice that filmed our conversation with tension. I remember immediately regretting saying it, not because I didn't mean it, but perhaps because Harry knew I meant it. And more importantly, why I meant it.

When next he spoke, his voice was soft and careful. It was almost as if he were cooing a wounded animal.

"Draco… What are you doing for Christmas?"

"What do you mean?"

"How are you spending your Christmas? Are you going on a trip? Spending it with family?"

It almost hurt, these questions.

Actually, they did hurt. Especially coming from Harry. Anyone but him.

"I'm sorry, love."

I curled into my armchair with my legs folded under me and covered my mouth. My eyes were only watery… My vision was only blurry because I was so tired.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"No," I managed to grunt. I winced at how unattractive my voice sounded, so I cleared my throat. "No… Don't worry about it."

"I can't help but worry about it," Harry told me and the instant warmth that statement brought me had me cradling the phone like a teenage girl once more. "Draco, I know that you don't take me seriously – In all the years knowing one another, Lord knows I've never given you a reason to." I smiled and nodded dumbly. "I don't need you to trust me right now… All I can ask is for a chance. Do you think you could spare me one? I want you to trust me – Give me a chance to show you that you can."

God. How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? I had no witty reply that compared to my earlier quips in prior conversations with this man. I couldn't make a joke; the mood for that had since left us – and quickly at that. I didn't know what to say, so that's exactly what I told Harry. He chuckled and the humor I thought had died was alit once more and dispelling most of the tension our seriousness had caused.

"Spend Christmas with me."

"I can't," I snapped immediately and Harry laughed at me.

"Saw that coming, did you?"

"You have a way of avoiding the point when you want to explain something."

"How's this then: I want you to spend Christmas with me… Starting tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Christmas is more than a week away."

"Twelve days." He said. "Ever heard of that? I think we already missed a couple."

"Don't you have family and friends that expecting you?"

"You already know my family and my friends already know how long I've been pining for you. They'll understand."

"Harry…"

"Draco… Be with me for Christmas. Just Christmas."

He asked me to be with him as if it were nothing, but he wanted far too much.

And at the same time, too little.

In hindsight, I know that in this moment, I wanted nothing more that to give into everything he asked, but my reservations stood like a wall between me and my wants.

"I don't know, Harry."

"Well, it's late… Sleep on it. Then meet me with an answer in the morning."

"Meet you where?"

"Our coffee shop," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right."

"Which muffin was your favorite?"

"What? Are you treating me to breakfast a second time? What a gentleman."

"Which muffin, you prat?... So I can have it waiting for you."

I hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm, I think… all of them."

"All of them?"

"Yes. And blueberry scones."

"You git."

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A/N: It's beginning to look a lot like romance… No matter how reluctant Draco is trying to be. Leave me some reviews and I'll make you muffins! You know, the kind you can read! (That makes no sense…) -DMH