When Harry awoke on Christmas morning, he was tired from being up late the night before. He'd originally hoped that he and Malfoy would be able to cut Celestina short and disappear upstairs—much like he and Charlie had the year before—but he'd been pulled into a game of Exploding Snap with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the children, and hadn't talked to Malfoy all night.

Malfoy, for his part, seemed to be trying to keep a low profile. Harry had seen him talking to Andromeda and Molly for quite a while, and later, he and Ginny seemed to be having an intense conversation about the future of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch division. He carefully avoided George, who sipped Firewhiskey in a chair in the corner and seemed to be avoiding everyone but Percy and Mr. Weasley. Harry usually quite liked to spend time with George, but this year, he felt a stab of miserable guilt every time they spoke, so this year, Harry avoided him too.

Harry didn't talk much to Charlie either, save for one exchange that left him wanting to crawl out the window. Charlie came up to the table where they were playing Exploding Snap and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Hey, Harry. I've been meaning to show you the, uh, new dragon hide boots I got this year," he had said quietly, as Ron's cards exploded and Teddy shrieked with laughter. "If you've got a moment, I can show you now. Upstairs." He had squeezed Harry's shoulder and glanced pointedly at George, his roommate, who was deep in conversation with Percy, a full glass of Firewhiskey in his hand

Harry's stomach had twisted; he'd known exactly what Charlie had in mind. Normally, he'd have been grateful for the excuse to sneak off, but this time it just didn't feel right. Without thinking, he glanced at Malfoy, who was still talking to Ginny on the other side of the room. Malfoy's eyes darted away the moment Harry looked up; had he been watching?

"Maybe later," Harry had told Charlie, grinning at Teddy's antics to hide his discomfort. "I'm going to, ah, stay downstairs for a while."

Disappointment had crept into Charlie's eyes for just a moment, but then it was gone. "All right then. Enjoy your game. I'm going to go get another drink."

Harry carefully avoided making eye contact with either Charlie or Malfoy for the rest of the night, and Malfoy had been asleep by the time Harry went upstairs, tipsy from too much Butterbeer and irritable from a long conversation with Ron about Auror training. He'd half hoped that Malfoy would be up to distract him from it, like he had about the letter earlier that day, but maybe it was for the best that he was already asleep.

And now it was Christmas morning, and Malfoy's bed was already empty and carefully made. For a brief, insane moment, Harry considered going over there and pressing his face into the pillow, inhaling Malfoy's fresh, piney scent, and pulling back the covers to muss up the bed Malfoy had so carefully made.

"Get a grip," he muttered out loud, and leaving his own bed an unmade mess, he went downstairs to celebrate Christmas.

At first, it seemed as though Christmas might be relatively normal after all. Charlie sat next to Harry at breakfast and chatted amiably with him as though Harry hadn't rejected him the night before. It was easy to avoid eye contact with Malfoy, who was sitting next to an excitable Teddy and Victoire at the other end of the table. It almost felt as though yesterday's kiss hadn't happened at all, which also meant that it would probably never happen again. Maybe Malfoy thought it was a mistake, or maybe he thought it wasn't a big deal, just like any of their other Friday night hookups.

Harry couldn't tell if he felt relieved or frustrated about this.

After breakfast, they exchanged gifts; for one odd moment, Harry had felt concerned that Malfoy might not have anything to open, but of course he had gifts from Andromeda and Teddy, and Molly, who had knit him a scarf in Slytherin colors. Harry hid a smile as Malfoy awkwardly stuttered his thanks.

"At least it's not a sweater," Ron whispered to Harry, who was jolted out of staring at Malfoy's flushed face. Ron was already sporting his own new maroon sweater, a large R resplendent on his chest. "But there's no way he's going to wear it."

"Not a chance," Harry agreed.

The rest of the gifts were unwrapped quickly. Harry's stomach sank as he opened Ron and Hermione's gift, a set of books about the history of the Aurors, but he eagerly watched Teddy unwrap the gift he'd bought last week in Diagon Alley: a brand new, fully-functional, child-sized broom. Teddy shrieked with excitement and dragged Harry outside to practice on it as soon as they were finished opening gifts.

"All right," Harry told him, helping him get settled on the broom. "This might look like a children's broom, but it's just the size-this one will really flies, and not just a couple feet off the ground, either. You've got to be careful."

"How high can I go?" Teddy asked eagerly.

"Let's start with just making some laps in the yard," Harry told him. "See if you can get as high as that tree over there." He showed Teddy how to speed up and slow down safely, and let him loose into the yard. It wasn't long before the door opened and Hermione came outside, too.

"Careful, Ted," Harry called, as Hermione came up next to him on the deck. "Remember to lean back when you're coming in for a landing!" he called to Teddy as he flashed a grin at Hermione. "Yes, that's it exactly!"

"You're good at this," Hermione said, leaning against the deck rail. She was bundled up against the cold, a mug of hot chocolate clutched between mittened hands.

"What, shouting?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Can I have a drink of that?"

Hermione laughed and handed him the mug. "I suppose you are rather good at shouting, though I meant that you're good at teaching, and making Teddy feel important. Like he's a grownup."

Harry's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "He wants to learn so badly. Wish I had more time with him."

Hermione nodded. "Maybe once you're finished with Auror training."

"Maybe." It was unlikely, though, he thought with a frown. Once he was a full Auror he'd have real caseloads and would be working all hours of the day and night.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching Teddy make laps around the yard. Hermione was chewing her lip as though she wanted to say something.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry said, half-teasing, half-exasperated. "I know you've got something to say. It's why you came out here, isn't it?"

Hermione laughed halfheartedly. "It's just—are you all right, Harry?" she asked. "I mean, personally. Are you doing okay?"

Harry's stomach sank. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully. "No higher than the fir tree, Ted!"

"I mean...you just seem different lately," she said earnestly. "Not like you're hiding something, exactly, but you seem distant. Worried. You're all right out here with Teddy, but the last few days, and at the pub last week—I don't know, Harry. Is it Ginny? I saw you looking at her last night."

Harry swallowed hard. He hadn't been looking at Ginny, but he had been looking at Malfoy while the two of them talking. Stupid, he told himself. Stop looking at that prat. Stop thinking about him. Stop snogging him.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. Hermione gave him a knowing look. Harry sighed. "It's not Ginny. It's just…" He paused, and for a moment, he considered what it would be like to tell Hermione everything; about the Aurors, and the Muggle bar, about Charlie and Malfoy. About the nightmares, and the loneliness of Grimmauld Place. But he couldn't do it. Hermione had it all figured out, just like the rest of them. She and Ron were happy. They loved their jobs. Somehow, everything was easy for them, and somehow, it wasn't for him.

He chewed his lip and watched Teddy accelerate to just over the top of the fir tree. He took a deep breath. "I have nightmares sometimes," he said finally. "About the war." He wasn't sure why he'd chosen that to start with, but he felt a rush of urgent relief as he said it.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Nightmares?"

"Not like the ones I had during the war," he said quickly. "I guess these are normal nightmares. But I don't sleep well. I take—I take too much Dreamless Sleep." He waited for Hermione to reprimand him for this, but she didn't.

"I have nightmares too," she said after a moment. He turned to her in surprise.

"You do?"

She nodded. "I dream of Bellatrix sometimes, and what happened at Malfoy Manor." Harry sucked in a breath; of course she did. He opened his mouth to say something—the time they'd spent at Malfoy Manor weighed heavily on him, too, and not just because of Malfoy himself—but she shook her head and continued talking. "And my parents; I have nightmares that they don't recognize me, that they don't remember who I am." Her eyes filled with tears, and Harry reached out to grip her arm tightly.

"They do remember you, though," he said softly. "And they're alive. You did the right thing."

"They remember me now," she agreed. "But for a long time, I wasn't so sure that they would." She hesitated. "Sometimes, the nightmares are so bad that Ron can't wake me."

"I didn't know," Harry said quietly.

She shrugged. "We're all struggling, Harry. Ron misses Fred terribly—it's why he loves Auror training so much. It gives him a purpose and something to keep fighting for even though the war's over." Harry nodded; he'd long known this about Ron, even though it wasn't true for himself.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "The war was awful, and it really wasn't that long ago. I mean, look at George. He can hardly stand to be in the same house as Malfoy. And do you blame him?"

Harry swallowed hard. "No," he said at last. "I don't." And he didn't. What he didn't know was how he could justify his empathy for George with his own complicated feelings about Malfoy. He didn't know what Hermione would say about that.

When he turned back to her, she was still looking at him, her brow wrinkled with concern. "The nightmares aren't all that's going on, are they?" she asked. Harry sighed.

"No, they're not," he admitted. But he couldn't bring himself to elaborate. When he didn't say anything else, Hermione sighed and reached up to pull him into a hug.

"You should do what will make you happy, Harry. Don't beat yourself up about the rest."

He nodded. He only wished he knew what that meant. "I'll try."