Draco fidgeted, shooting an imploring look towards Luna. He didn't want to tell Harry about his dream and he was loath to burden Harry's shoulders. The Gryffindor had looked so at ease this Hogwarts term, free from the Dark Lord's threats.
But Luna just cocked her eyebrows at him and Harry's glare told him he was losing patience.
"Fine, Potter, you want to know the truth?" Draco raised his arms and said in a loud voice, "I had a dream which family history leads me to believe may be prophetic!"
Draco expected Harry to object heatedly, but instead he nodded calmly, his unruly hair limned by the light shining through the kitchen window in the dusk.
"I studied the Black tapestry, Malfoy." Harry offered by way of explanation. Scuffing his boots in the linoleum floor, he peered at Draco over his fringe. "I take it the dream was about me?"
Luna nodded at Hermione, who was standing just inside the kitchen, having dealt with the telephone call. Hermione was about to offer her interpretation of Draco's dreams, but something in the stance of the boys dissuaded her. The hint of tension that always framed Harry's broad shoulders was absent, and despite the obvious awkwardness of the boys, there was a certain relaxed atmosphere in the kitchen.
Then again, Hermione reflected wryly, that might have to do with the comforting scent of thyme and cinnamon wafting down from the spice rack. At any rate, she decided to bide her time and allow their conversation to flow freely.
Draco was fighting to control the blush tainting his cheeks. He had told Luna and Hermione the gist of the dream, but there were aspects to it he didn't feel confident in sharing with the girls – shades of the vision that mortified and shamed him because of the sharp spike of desire they evoked in him.
"Come on, Malfoy, spill it!" Harry said, growing impatient with the Slytherin; though he had to admit Draco looked quite fetching when he was being shy.
"Not here, Potter," Draco muttered through clenched teeth. "Somewhere more private, please."
"You can always go to the Tower." Luna coughed into her fist. "Very cozy place, with interesting ghosts."
"That's nice, Luna," Hermione said with a sigh. "I read it's quite drafty, though." She pursed her lips and looked sharply at the boys. They obviously needed the open space and comfort of a crowd around them to spill their pent-up feelings - at least she hoped they would do that instead of throwing hexes at each other.
"I've got the perfect suggestion which is educational, too," she said softly. "Unfortunately I can't go with you; mom needs my help getting the house ready for the holidays."
"Can't go with you either. I've got to go home to dad," Luna said with a shrug. Judging from Harry and Draco's flustered faces, Luna knew the seed she had judiciously planted with Draco's photo would yield fruit.
oOoOo
Harry snuggled into his coat as he made his way from Nelson's Column towards Draco, whose long legs easily carried him across Trafalgar Square. In the throng of people enjoying a quiet Christmas break in the center of London, Draco's blond mane was striking, and it drew Harry in like a magnet.
The brightly lit spire of St. Martin-in-the-Fields to his right coaxed a smile out of him; Hermione had dragged him and Ron to a classical concert there. Needless to say, he and Ron had bantered through most of it which hadn't pleased Hermione at all.
Harry dashed towards Draco, catching up with him just in front of the fountain next to the huge Christmas tree.
"So you saw me swimming inside a bottle?" he said, the import of Draco's dream weighing down his mood.
Draco nodded somberly, his gaze fixed on the imposing façade of the National Gallery, and then he turned towards Harry. "That wasn't all, Potter."
Harry arched his eyebrows and prodded him. "There's more?"
"You have to understand there wasn't any rhyme or reason to the images in my dreams, they were disjointed, like a flash of the Golden Snitch flying away from me." Draco lifted his eyebrows at Harry. "It may be that Granger's right and this is all about my subconscious desires."
"But you don't think so," Harry said firmly.
"No, they were too sharp to be just vapors of my imagination." Draco took a deep breath and then said in a rush. "There was a brightly lit dungeon with a stone table. Upon the stony slab there was a broken goblet out of which smoke drifted towards the ceiling."
"Merlin, that sounds ominous!" Harry said, his fingers itching to reach out and try to smooth the creases of worry that marred Draco's chiseled face.
Draco nodded and turned away from Harry, staring at the points of light dotting the gargantuan Christmas tree. "That wasn't all, Potter. Up until that moment I wasn't sure it was you in my dream, though the body swimming inside the jar was smooth and toned like yours."
Draco bit his tongue and scuffed his dragonhide boots on the floor, averting his gaze from Harry, who was smiling broadly at Draco's words which echoed his own feelings.
"What made you sure it was me?"
"I saw you crouching on the top of the jar." Draco stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat, his breath puffing up in the cold winter night as he went on. "You were gazing down; your glasses perched firmly on your nose as you gripped the edge of the stopper so as not to fall down."
"Did I defend myself in your dream?" Harry said wonderingly. "Hope I cast a spell on the bloody wizard that held me!"
"There was no one else, Harry, and you couldn't cast a spell because you had no wand, no robes, nothing. You were completely bare." Draco blushed so fiercely, he wondered if he looked as red as the Christmas lights on the tree.
"I was naked?" said Harry, a bit ashamed at being bare in Draco's dream, strange as it seemed. "So, was I hung?" He nudged Draco's back.
"Didn't pay much attention." Draco lied, omitting the fact that after he woke up he had wanked himself raw at the imagery in the dream.
"You're lying, git," said Harry fondly. "Admit it, Malfoy; judging from your reactions, I must've been sexy in that dream of yours!"
Draco turned to face him and poked him in the chest with his finger. "In your dreams, Potter!"
"You mean, in your dream, Draco." Harry stepped towards Draco, his fingers snaking a trail from the alabaster neck up to his flushed cheek, marveling at Draco's soft skin.
"You wish, Potter!" Draco's lips curled up in his trademark lopsided smirk, and Harry acted on impulse. He did what he had yearned to do for so long, what should have happened long ago if both had been free from the expectations imposed on them by the Wizarding World.
He kissed Draco, his tongue rubbing against the chapped lips to seek entrance which was readily granted.
It was a brief kiss with not too much tongue, both of them shivering in the cold and the emotions swelling up inside them.
Tinged as it was by nervousness at displaying their affection in public, nevertheless it was the best kiss in Harry's life. Neither Cho nor Ginny could compare to Draco, Harry decided. There was something liberating, intoxicating even, in running his fingers through Draco's silky hair and smelling the cologne that enveloped him, as vital and fresh as the feelings Draco always evoked in him.
tbc
