Chapter Eleven:

Act on Impulse

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And all this talk of death,
Has really brightened up my week.
And the smell of sweat,
Really helps me sleep.
We act alone.
We act on impulse.

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There was two sides to every moment that happened with Draco. Always two sides, ever since his birthday. Even in the simple moments, he still felt two almost polar opposite ways about every simple, little detail. Especially when it came to Harry Potter. The Veela in him, who had unaccordingly chosen him as his mate, was always pleased by his happiness and craved his company, attempting to further any sort of connection or friendship they had. However, the Malfoy in him wanted to be distant, to ignore all urges and instincts that came to pass and return to feeling ill at ease around the Gryffindor.

It was most definitely too late to turn back, this Draco knew and told himself daily almost like an affirmation. It was becoming easier to live with the choices he inadvertantly made and the better part of that was Harry's doing, making it so easy to care for him. Especially now, with no outlying factors to intrude on their conversations or interactions, Draco was finding it increasingly hard to differentiate the two sides of himself around Harry. Slowly, but noticeably, they were melding together creating a whole being when he was in his presence and Draco wasn't comfortable with that, yet. He understood where he needed things to head for his own survival but he wasn't ready to submit himself, to give into every urge and impulse. In a way he was scared of what could happen to who he truly was, would he melt away and just become an extension of Harry? Would he still be himself, still feel so passionate about Pureblood breeding and Potions and upholding his image or keeping his hair well trimmed? They were foolish thoughts some of them, admittedly, but these were some of the things most important to Draco and he was too afraid he might lose them if he let himself and the Veela in him get lost in his intended.

Through all of his thoughts there was still something he couldn't account for; the way Harry was changing around him and beginning to feel about him. The Gryffindor was always wretched when it came to hiding his emotions and even moreso now that to Draco, due to his heightened senses, he was like reading an open book on how he felt. The Veela in him was confident he knew more about how Harry felt than he knew himself. Even without the Veela blood, Draco would've been able to tell through the slight blushes, the biting of his lower lip when on certain conversations or the way he fidgeted every time he sat near him. It was so unlike how he acted beside his best friends when they were around, instead of trying to force himself away and withdraw he was constantly trying to pry, ever so lightly, and get closer. Draco, of course, didn't mind but he still hadn't any idea why Harry would feel the way he did, or was beginning to at least. Was he really as forgiving as Professor Lupin had vouched?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Draco stood slowly from his seat at the black leather Common Room couch and slowly made his way to the portrait hole. Taking a strong, deep breath he finally reached forward and opened the door, trying to act as cool as he could upon greeting Harry. It was a different kind of step in their friendship to be spending Christmas Eve together...alone. Neither had any idea what to expect from the other or the oncoming evening.

"You didn't come to dinner, aren't you hungry?" Harry started as soon as he came through the portrait hole, a quick look around the Slytherin Common Room made it clear literally not a thing had changed since Second Year.

Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking coldly as he resumed his seat at the right hand side of the couch. "You noticed I was not there," he stated in return, avoiding the question. His stomach was too busy doing sumersaults and his head too full to function properly to eat.

Flushing lightly, Harry cast a look aside, "There's only like twelve people at Hogwarts, Draco, of course I did I'm not daft," he mumbled, hands in his pockets. They kept in silent for a moment before Draco extended his hand out, gesturing to the other half of the couch left open or the armchair to its side.

"Sit," he said, half asking and half ordering, his tone always sounding so authoriataritive, "Unless you are really just baffled by the wonders of our Common Room," Draco grinned.

Harry shrugged, "Same as it was when I was last here; plain, boring, cold," he merely said and took his seat on the couch next to Draco, he drew his legs up on the leather and crossed them beneath himself. He was wearing a ruby red wool sweater with the letter 'H' knit on in an ugly yellow. Draco only noticing this now scowled at it.

"That looks absolutely ghastly, where did you ever get it and why did you never return it?" it was hard to keep his eyes off of the sweater, it really was rubbish looking.

"Mrs Weasley knit it for me. She makes me one every year and I always wear it on Christmas Eve and Day," Harry explained, blushing as he did, "It doesn't look the greatest but who cares, it's comfortable," he shrugged, feeling his nerves flip flop in his stomach especially under Draco's examining, piercing silver eyes. "So, what are we going to do? What do you usually do on Christmas Eve?" Harry wanted to do anything to change the subject, averting it from himself.

Draco's face almost immediately fell, he frowned and turned his gaze towards the flames underneath the fireplace's mantle, "Father would usually have company, Mother and I would help entertain and we would exchange a few gifts, otherwise it would take all Christmas Day to unwrap them all," he said, fully realizing now that this would be his first holiday season ever without any of his parents. "You?"

Immediately, Harry hated and cursed himself for asking that question, there he was biting his lower lip gently again as a shaken hand ran its fingers through his hair. "Er, usually with Ron and his family, maybe 'Mione, too and whoever joined us. We'd just kinda hang out, talk, play Wizard's Chess or Charades or Exploding Snap,"

"The two latter of those things sound like absolutely wretched things to do, they are both such uncivilized games," Draco sneered and upon seeing Harry's frown etch in his face he continued, "Though, we could do the other things if that is what you wish. Wizard's Chess, I think you are finally beginning to gather some skill in it, and talk," he suggested. They were both so unsure where tonight was headed, what were they supposed to do, study and play Chess all night on their Christmas Eve?

"That would be nice. The talking bit," Harry clarified, "I think I've had just about enough of losing at Wizard's Chess," he smiled sheepishly, he was fidgeting with his fingers again, playing with a lose piece of wool from his sweater.

"You said you spend every Christmas with the godforsaken Weasel's," Draco began, scoffing at their name, "But what did you do before Hogwarts, before you knew them?" he asked curiously. The Boy Who Lived life before school was quite a mystery to everybody, he was never seen, never reported about, did Dumbledore have him hideaway in a Secret Keeper's home or something until he was eleven? It was definitely a subject Draco had always been curious about.

Harry looked much more uncomfortable than he had before now, Draco could feel it through him just how uneasy he felt. "I, erm, I lived with my Aunt and Uncle, the only family I've left. My Mom's sister. Uhm, Muggles," Draco rolled his eyes at this, everybody knew Harry was a Half-Blood and so he didn't understand why the clarification was necessary, "They were, uhm...a different type of Muggle than most, er..." Harry trailed off, trying to fit the right words together to describe the Dursley's, "They were absolutely rubbish," he finally settled on.

Draco raised his brow, "How so? They did not celebrate Christmas or..." he was lost at what he meant by rubbish.

Sighing, Harry didn't know where to start. How much did he want to share with Draco about his past, before school? He definitely didn't want the pity most gave him after learning about his relatives, but he also felt obliged to share considering the sensitive information Draco openly shared with him. "They do. I just wasn't included. Christmas was just another day to spoil their rotten son, my cousin Dudley. Other than the fact he weighed a tonne, he used to remind you of me when you were...a prat," he settled, sending Draco an apologetic smile.

Flabberghasted, he asked, "What do you mean you were not included? Dumbledore must have at least given you gifts, or Hagrid,"

Harry shook his head, his eyes downcast, "I never knew either of them existed till I was eleven. Hell, I didn't even know I was a Wizard till then, it took me eleven years to figure out why I was living 'neath my Aunt and Uncle's stairs, I gathered it was because they hated my parents and the fact they had to look after me after their supposed car crash," he grumbled most of it, he hated talking about the Dursley's. All he did was go there at the end of each term to renew that stupid protection magic Dumbledore had explained to him and Harry counted down the minuets till he could leave Privet Drive again. The less he was with and around them, the better.

Now to say Draco was surprised would be an under statement, it actually took quite a bit of concentration to keep his cool mask in place though he could feel it slipping with pity for the boy beside him. Pity that surged stronger upon feeling his unrest reach out and touch him. "Okay, sorry, Harry but you are going to have to explain this to me a little better than that. You have me lost," Draco admitted, there were too many things wrong with Harry's previous statement that it floored him and he didn't know where to begin.

Harry, slowly, started his recollection of the important parts of his past life before Hogwarts. He found it odd how easy it wasy to spill it all to Draco who sat, listening intently with a slightly mistified look in his features as he took in all these new information. It made so many things about Harry make sense; his over-sized clothing, his quiet demeanor, how quickly he clung to the Weasley's upon arrival at Hogwarts and how quick he was to judge, deny and fight up against Draco all those years ago when they first met. He tried not to let the pity swallow him whole knowing full well just how uneasy that would make his intended feel. When he finished they sat in silence for a few minutes, Harry staring blankly into his sweaty hands and Draco the fire though through the corner of his eye he kept a steady sight on the brunette.

"Well, they certainly do sound like a rubbish sort of Muggles," Draco finally responded, he really had not much else to say. What could he? Could he apologize for the years of his life he wasn't even present in? It just didn't seem fitting and he thought on top of that that Harry wouldn't much appreciate an apology, either. I guess I could return the favour, Draco thought to himself, a tit for a tat, hoping the more he shared with Harry the closer it could bring them. They did, this night, seemingly have all the time in the world. "A lot of people assume I grew up spoiled," Draco knew this, it wasn't a secret, everybody knew how well off his family was and that he usually got everything he wanted but to him, that wasn't what spoiled exactly entailed, "Truth be told, my Father made absolutely sure I was never overly pleased. That would be too relaxing; to be happy. I was taught to always be prepared, for anything. Though I may have been materialistically spoiled, I had little time to enjoy any of my posessions as Father had me constantly working. Studying Dark Arts, Potions or History of Purebloods or how to properly behave in public, as a Malfoy. It never ended, the lessons never ended, I was never allowed a moments peace," Draco began his own recount of his upbringing. He exemplified how his only interactions with his Father were lessons, most of which he never quite agreed with on a moral stand point but there was never any room for difference on opinions. Then there was his Mother, always snivelling away in a corner, skulking or brooding. She was an exhausting person to grow up around. Draco admitted that his Father and her should have never been together, that his Father had meant to be with somebody else but Harry didn't quite catch what he meant by that, he let it slide. "That is why, ultimately, I believe my Mother turned my Father in with more than enough evidence to keep him locked in Azkaban forever. She was left with a portion of his Estate, as was I, the rest was confiscated by the Ministry, and I have not heard from her since then. I feel as though she was ashamed of her being with my Father in the first place, at first his title and money had meant everything but eventually it was of the least importance," he had never said it out loud to anybody, not even Blaise, how he felt about what had transpired and how his Father came to be in Azkaban in the first place. "I cannot blame her and in the same I cannot condone her actions,"

Harry was shocked, in the least. It was Draco's own Mother that was the reason behind his Father's imprisonment? He couldn't even fathom little, frail looking Narcissa Malfoy doing such a thing. Or, Narcissa Black, as it would be now. Unsteadily, Harry reached out his rough and calloused hand to rest it upon the blonde's who jumped in response. There it was, that electricity, but the two had become almost used to it and Harry didn't even question it any longer, he thought that maybe they were just creating excesses of static but he knew that couldn't be right by why question what felt good. "I'm so sorry, Draco. Nobody should have to deal with that happening between their parents," Harry sincerely looked up at the blonde, their eyes locking for a moments time.

Draco found it hard to tear himself out of those emerald pools, he wanted so badly to enclose the distance between them the Veela inside of himself was screaming but he couldn't, he just couldn't give in, he fought the impulses with every fibre left inside of him. His hand was unmoved beneath Harry's, he didn't recoil at the touch but he didn't deepen it, either. "Really, it is for the better it happened," Draco finally said, his voice small and distant. He couldn't even concentrate on his parents anymore or either of their pasts, all that mattered was Harry's hand was voluntarily laying on top of his own and it still wasn't moving. It just lay there, comforting him.

"I always forget your Mother's related to Sirius," Harry said, somewhat to himself and somewhat to Draco, his hand still lingered comfortably where it was almost as if he had forgotten about it but truth be told he just didn't feel the urge to stop that electricity, the conduction burrowing through him at the contact of their skin.

"Yes, I heard a nasty few things growing up about him," Draco admitted and then frowned, he wanted to hit himself. Why, when he knew just how close Harry had been to him, would he bring up something so negative?

To his surprise, Harry laughed. "I bet you did," he chuckled. Draco sighed with relief, glad he hadn't upset him and gave him a small smile instead. Then Harry was frowning again, suddenly his limp hand began to grip Draco's which surprised the blonde to look up directly at him, he looked forlorn. "I miss him so much Draco...I've never missed anybody like him before, not even my parents how horrible is that?" Harry choked out, he hadn't exactly openly spoken about Sirius except briefly with Remus and it was always different, cheerier subjects.

"It is not horrible, Harry, it is normal," Draco turned his hand underneath Harry's so their palms were facing each others, Harry blushed at the movement and bit his lip hard when the blonde squeezed his hand back, holding it tightly now in his cold, slender fingers, "Please do not take this the wrong way but you never even knew your parents. You knew Sirius and you cared for him so of course that makes the loss that much harder," he didn't push him to share more, he didn't want to ask or to prod. He knew they were close, that was all that mattered, and that Harry had lost him and it was still so recent to him.

"He understood me and he really respected me, not out of fear or fame like everybody else, but because he cared. And he always knew what to say," Harry was finding it hard now, having it be the first time he really spoke about Sirius since that night he had died in Dumbledore's office, he was swallowing his tears praying they wouldn't emerge, "He could make sense of everything for me. I'm so damned lost without him and sometimes I just don't care to try anymore if he's not going to be there along the way," he admitted, his voice so shaken and strained.

Draco's grip on Harry's hand had become impossibly tight now, instead of the electricity al lhe could feel was the overwhelming pang of sadness that burrowed itself in the pits of his stomach and filled his entire being. It was all Harry's sadness and not just for his own Veela's sake he wanted to make it disapear but he hadn't the faintest idea of how. Interupting Draco's thoughts, Harry suddenly closed the distance across the couch between them and leaned into his classmate. He dropped his head just beneath the other's shoulder and clenched his eyes shut for fear of two things; being thrown in a fury from almost cuddling into Draco and in fear that the tears that threatened to fall would start to.

The Veela in Draco burned and urged to bring Harry's face up to his own, to enrapture him, enthrall him and have him but with a shuddered intake of breath he repressed it and instead settled for gently taking his arm and unsnaking it from underneath the brunette to bringing it around him, not holding him but just laying his arm there, comfortingly. Harry smiled, moments had passed and he hadn't been thrown off and no words were exchanged for which he was glad. The crackle of the fire and feeling exhausted from all of their emotional shares of the past, it wasn't long before Harry drifted into a sleep in Draco's arms. He couldn't explain what urged him to do it, maybe it was just for comfort or maybe something else, but all he knew was that he felt right and it was easy falling asleep in his hold.

It could have been five minutes or five hours, Draco wasn't sure how much time had passed as he sat there, a small smile of triumph and pleasure on his face as he watched the peaceful Gryffindor rest on him. Eventually he found his legs on the couch, stretching out underneath Harry, and his eyes slowly closing and drifting off to sleep as well.

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Shit.

Harry was in a fluster when he woke that morning. At first with a smile on his face and a strong almost floral scent invading his nostrils he felt at peace. Till he recalled who he was half on top of, curled up against on the leather couch of the otherwise vacant Slytherin Common Room. Somehow in the night, Draco had slipped almost fully underneath him and was holding him with boy arms now, their legs were in a mess of one anothers at the foot of the couch and Harry's glasses were strewn on the floor next to them. Trying to move as to not wake the resting blonde, who looked extremely peaceful with his lips twitched into a small smile as he slept, Harry reached out to grab his glasses and pushed them back on before slipping out from the others arms.

What had he been thinking? First with the hand holding, which was one thing, but then in a fit of sadness and obvious loss of mental capacity Harry had gone so far as to cuddle with Draco Malfoy. He was cuddling Malfoy and had slept with him on Christmas Eve nonetheless. His head was spinning. He had to get out of there before he fainted. What would Ron and Hermione say? Obviously that he had gone mad.

As quietly as possible Harry rushed out of the Common Room, closing the portrait hole with such care though his absence from the room is what immediately awoke the blonde from his stupor. Draco stirred and noted how cold and alone his body felt, he sighed, frowning and slowly sitting up on the couch. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Harry," he mumbled.

Bounding up to the Gryffindor Tower, Harry had to keep himself distracted or he would otherwise drive himself bonkers. Yes he liked Draco, as a friend, right? He enjoyed his company. He wanted to know more about him, he thought he was witty yet vain, arrogant and intelligent, pompous yet good looking...ah! Harry screamed at himself, not only for his actions the night before but for his devilish thoughts that morning thus far. It was as if he couldn't believe his own feelings, that they were betraying his mind. How could it be that the comfort of Draco's honest company had somehow managed to turn itself into a crush? How, Harry couldn't fathom, how in Merlin's name and when did he fall for Draco Malfoy?

Upon entering the Gryffindor Common Room Harry found the few stray younger year students unwrapping their gifts excitedly by the oversized Christmas tree. There, a distraction, he thought greatly to himself, plopping down on the couch after he gathered a few gifts with his own name written on them. There was Dark Arts History book from Hermione, of course, a few Chudley Canon memoribilia from Ron and a new knitted sweater along with some baked goods from Molly. Then there was something surprising which just made Harry's head swim even more. A gift from Malfoy. There it was, sitting in his hands, light as day, Draco's handwriting directing a gift for Harry from him. With unease and anticipation Harry unwrapped it to reveal a leather bound black book. At the top of its front as well as its spine and the lower part of the back side was Harry's name, engraved in golden script. It was full of empty parchment paper besides the first page which had a simple note for him.

'Harry,

Now you can get rid of all those blasted loss pieces of parchment you carry around with you.
Happy Christmas,

Draco.'

Harry groaned. It really was a beautiful book and he did very much need it, having always just written his class notes on spare bits of parchment and always losing them in his bag here and there. The reason he was groaning was because of course he had thought of Draco when he made his last trip to Hogsmeade and what had he gotten him? All he did was leave him a lousy packet of his favourite Honeyduke sweets.

The rest of Christmas Day Harry spent holed up in the Tower or strolling outside on the grounds, he even went for a walk with Hedwig at a point and stopped briefly to wish Remus a happy holiday. The werewolf sensed his off mood and the scent of another he caught on Harry's sweater alerted him but he merely pushed it aside in his mind, leaving it alone and wishing him a happy holiday in return.

As much as he wanted to stop thinking about him, he couldn't. Harry couldn't get his actions and the words shared the previous night out of his head. What was happening and more importantly how was it happening? How were he and Draco suddenly going from rivals, to bearable acquintances and now to...what were they, friends that exchanged Christmas gifts? Did friends fall asleep together on couches? Harry shook his head, that in itself had been a mistake, a moment of weakness...yet, he didn't regret it, either. He was flushed and embarassed recalling the decision he made to curl into Draco yet he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It just felt unquestionably right.

Though consumed with thoughts that he couldn't sort, Harry knew that for one day, for tomorrow, whatever confusion he felt regarding Draco didn't matter. All that did matter was that he needed to be there for him, as a friend, when Draco had nobody else to turn to. It was, of course, the day Lucius Malfoy was to receive the Dementor's Kiss.

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