New York, New York
Overview: When Harry's classmates are asked to return for an 8th year of schooling in preparation for Ministry positions, there was little idea that it would take place in New York City. But not everyone is ready to face the post-war reality, and Draco must come to terms with his beliefs one way or another. HP/DM slash. Not explicit until later chapters. M for language and sexual content.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own nor am I affiliated in any way with JK Rowling and her creations.
The holidays were greeted with a bout of excitement as most of the eighth years prepared to go home. Not many chose to stay, whether for personal reasons (Harry), disinterest (Draco), or simply because they wanted to stay the fuck away from their parents (Seamus, Justin, and well, the majority of the guys). Hermione had already packed and left with Tonks to catch a portkey, and Harry had to keep back the will to run after them lest he get himself into two weeks of agonizing acting with the Weaselys- "Sure, Mrs. Weasely, everything's great. Oh hi, Ron, I completely support you! Hey Ginny, let's go pretend that I want to make out"- but it was weird to see Hermione leave without him, to say the least. Even she'd had a hard time with the decision, and Harry had talked to her on numerous occasions about repairing the relationship. This only led Hermione to call him a hypocrite, because he wouldn't even bother with Ginny.
That was entirely different. He wasn't going to attempt to make up with a girl he hadn't even broken up with yet.
So, here he was, his first Christmas without Ron (he'd thankfully had a Hermione-less holiday his first year, back when she was hundreds of times more annoying than she was now) since Hogwarts. He didn't like where any of this was going. He and Ron hadn't spoke since he'd left, and Hermione was left to piece together Ron's remaining feelings. He hadn't felt so separated from the two of them since- well, ever. Even during their seventh year, and even when Ron had walked out on them in the fall, he had a feeling in his gut that everything would turn out alright. When he wasn't wearing the horcrux, that was.
He sat next to Luna on a long upholstered bench as they watched their classmates load their things into the atrium. He had at least expected her to be leaving with them. Her father wasn't the most responsible man in the world, but he certainly seemed protective of her. But no, she'd insisted on staying behind, and merely smiled quietly as she observed everyone's excitement.
"Neville wanted to stay, too. His grandmother wanted him home to help with the chores," Luna said unexpectedly, but Harry was already desensitized to her random method of conversation. "They're having a family reunion, he said."
Harry was taken aback. "A reunion? Meaning distant relatives, right?"
Luna shook her head softly. "No, I think he tried to make it sound that way, though. Just his parents and them," she said in an oddly bright manner.
Harry stared at Neville from across the atrium. "Oh." It was always an odd thought. Harry knew that Frank and Alice Longbottom were incapable of even keeping track of the holidays, but he often couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow for Neville. He shouldn't have felt as though he needed to keep them, or at least the idea of them, under wraps. He had his parents, no matter how far gone they were, and Harry felt as though Neville was extinguishing their memory by being ashamed. "He could have told us."
Luna straightened herself and leaned backwards on her extended arms. "He doesn't have to. We already know. And I think that's enough for him," she sighed, staring at the chandelier some twenty feet above them.
"Yeah." Harry took in her answer as Dean Thomas accidentally dropped a suitcase down the main staircase. He didn't want to laugh, as his mind did not want to switch emotional gears so quickly, but a strangled sort of chuckle made its way out of him regardless. "Sorry, that was because of Dean," he offered quickly.
"Oh! Did I miss something?" she said, looking back down and surveying the scene. "Was I supposed to laugh?" And after a moment's pause in which she recognized what had happened, she gave a hearty guffaw that was much too delayed.
Harry sunk a bit when everyone looked over, but shrugged. It was Luna. What could he do?
"So . . . Luna," he started, making sure she was finished. "What made you decide to stay here? Is your father out of town?"
"Mmmmm," she hummed, deciding what to say. "No. But I like the trees. We don't have too many of them on our hill," she said.
This wasn't the answer Harry was looking for, but it was an answer he should've expected. But just when he was about to figure out a way to get her to reply like a normal human being, she continued. "My father needs space. I'm growing up, and soon I'll be gone. This will help, I think."
It was the intelligent type of answer that only came out of Luna once a week, if Harry was lucky. He looked at her and gave a small smile. "He cares about you, Luna." Enough to get him killed. Yeah, that was a lovely thought.
She swung her feet as she sat. "You've got people that care about you too. But you're staying here, right?"
"Yes, I'm staying here."
"For Draco?" she asked airily.
He shot a look at her, but squashed it quickly. "No, not for- why do you think that, Luna?"
"You look like friends. I've seen you two with Spectraspecs on."
"Let me guess," Harry said. "Too many wrackspurts between us?"
Luna looked at him placidly. "No, you don't seem to have any at all when you're around him. I'd say your brains are completely clear and healthy."
Harry cleared his throat. "Oh. That's good to know." If there was one thing he needed to be assured of, it was the fact that his brain was "completely clear and healthy" when he'd held Draco's hand, or when Draco kissed him, or whenever he was around Draco at all. Great to know, really, exactly how aware he was when he was questioning his sexuality.
Thank you, Luna.
As most of the staff had left to return home for the holidays, Lupin and Tonks were put in charge of making sure everything ran smoothly for the handful of students that stayed behind. Lupin insisted it wasn't too big of a deal, as they had the cottage to themselves until the school year ended, and the only major responsibility they had was making sure no one died of starvation, should Lupin or Tonks forget about food. Other than that, the students were free to conduct themselves however they wanted, and were urged to find something to do instead of sleeping all day.
Harry noticed that the people he usually spent his free time with had all left for the next two weeks, and with the exception of Seamus and Luna, he never really enjoyed the remainders' company that much. It was only a matter of thirteen hours before Justin Finch-Fletchly began to seriously impede upon his nerves, and not long after that Padma Patil had slapped Michael Corner for trying to cop a feel. Luna and Draco were similar in their interests, and could usually be found reading for hours on end, but no real conversation was to be had with either of them- Luna was, well, Luna, and Draco insisted on being left alone if Harry had nothing in particular to discuss. Because two weeks of living like this would've caused Harry to lose his sanity and take a bludger to somebody's head, he opted for visiting his godson whenever possible.
After this became noticeable to Tonks and Lupin, however, they'd decided that an outing was desperately needed, and as a result all of the remaining students were forced out of the school and into the cold. It was suggested that they enjoy the outdoors, or take a train into the city, as long as they didn't manage to get themselves killed due to a growing angst. When it came to the city, somehow, Harry didn't see how taking the same group of classmates to an even more hectic environment would make anything better. But still, it was refreshing to get out after all, and he was thankful that he had a group of equally unwilling classmates follow in suit.
"This is your fault, Potter, I hope you realize," Draco said begrudgingly as the entire group marched through the snow. It was one of the first times he's spoken a full sentence to Harry since the previous week. "Some of us just couldn't keep to the school and occupy ourselves, could we?"
"'Ey, I'm kind of glad Harry got us out of there," Seamus said from Harry's other flank. "Nice gettin' Tonks to consider it."
"I did not get Tonks to do anything," Harry insisted. "She was the one who came up with the idea."
"Yes, but had you not felt the need to go over and disturb their peace every other hour, we might not be in this situation," Draco said. "You just can't keep to your own bloody business, can you Potter-"
Draco was interrupted by a whack on the back of the head. White flakes settled on the shoulders of his coat, while the original shape of the ball that hit him fell to the ground. He quickly jerked around, and noticed that Padma was cringing. "Sorry, Malfoy, wasn't aiming for you-"
"-Right well you weren't!"
Harry broke into a laugh, and smacked the back of Draco's head hard enough so that the rest of the snow flicked out of his hair. "There, that's better," he joked.
"That's physical abuse," Draco spat, grabbing hold of the spot where Harry had made contact.
Someone from the back of the pack whistled suggestively. Harry didn't have to turn around to know who it came from. "Shut it, Justin."
"Just pointing out the obvious!" he shouted.
Harry whipped around and started for Justin, but Draco caught his coat and forcibly pulled him back into position. "Uh-uh, Potty. Murder him and we'll never made it out of this goddamn town." He then have Harry a look that was hard to translate, but was piercingly intimidating nonetheless.
"What's your problem?" Harry said as inaudibly as he could.
"If you overreact, you'll only fuel his argument."
Harry glared back at Justin. "But he doesn't have an argument. You and me aren't together or anything- how he finds these kinds of things amusing, I'll never know . . . "
Draco said nothing in retort, but simply continued forward with a smug look on his face. As they approached the platform, which was rather small and open due to the size of the local town, he readjusted his scarf. "No, I don't suppose we are, are we."
Harry gave a sideways glance at Draco, who caught his eye after he looked up. Draco frowned. "What?"
Harry averted his attention to the train that was now pulling into the station. A few passengers, perhaps four, got off before the group of eighth years climbed on. "Nothing," he said, grabbing hold of the rail and pulling himself inside.
Draco was currently invested in a dream involving all the things that could possibly go wrong with his new position in the ministry. It wasn't a particularly wonderful dream, to say the least, and it definitely wasn't the type of dream he wanted to have on Christmas morning. In it, he'd been working for the past three days straight, and no matter how many things he accomplished, there was still a twelve-foot pile of paperwork on his desk that occasionally screamed obscenities at him. He had a photo on his desk, framed, and he couldn't exactly make out the subject, but the longer he slaved away at writing, the clearer it became. It was Pansy Parkinson, throwing daggers at him from out of the frame of the photo, moving quickly and sporadically until she wore herself out. As if that wasn't enough to make him want to regurgitate, the photo changed, and it was again blurry-
- REFRIDGERATOR FUCKER! the pile of invoices screamed.
He leaned in closer to the photo, desperately ignoring the papers.
- BLOODY SPATOON BOLLOCKS!
It was two people, holding each other in a tight squeeze of a hug.
- ANGRY COD, YOU ARSE!
It was Harry and Ginny's wedding photo.
- FOUL PARROT CHUFFERS! WAKE UP, YOU GIT!
Draco winced as he opened his eyes. "Goddamn it, Draco, get up! Tonks made breakfast!"
Harry had nudged him and was now walking into the kitchen. Draco sat up, and for a second, was disoriented. This was not his bed. That's right. He was on the couch. The entire eighth-year class that was still in the school had been invited over. On the opposite couch was Lovegood, and the floor, enlarged via charm work, was littered with makeshift beds and sleeping bags for the other eight. Finch-Fletchly was directly underneath him on the floor, also one of the last to awaken. Draco made sure to step on him as he stood up.
The light from the adjacent kitchen was bright, and Draco reluctantly stumbled in. On Lupin and Tonks' radically elongated dining room table, however, there was a sizeable pile of wrapped presents, each bearing a different name on their tags. Tonks piled the last of the pudding on the breakfast plates, and placed them in front of the each of the seats. "C'mon, kids, you like to eat, right? Tuck in already," she said, walking out into the back room for what Draco assumed was a second supply of napkins.
Draco took a seat nearer to the wall, and Harry followed in suit. Though Draco had just woken up, and usually wasn't as, well, alive in the mornings, he propped his head up with his arms and made a jab at Harry anyway. "Don't you ever stop following me, Potter?"
Taking a bite (Tonk's recipes were becoming logarithmically better with time), Harry leaned back in his seat. "Nope."
Draco investigated his toast, and eventually indulged. After chewing it for a few seconds and reaching for his glass of milk, he snuck the comeback in easily and unexpectedly. "I saw you staring at me last night."
Harry nearly dribbled his coffee, but retained his composure. "Alright. You weren't asleep, and it was weird, when everyone else was. Forgive a guy for worrying."
"I'm allowed to be awake when I want to," Draco commented simply, taking another bite.
"Don't tell me you were waiting for sleigh bells on the roof," Harry joked.
"Waiting for what now?" Draco asked, his fork dropping slightly.
"Never mind," Harry quickly said, realizing this was largely a muggle fantasy. But Seamus had overheard from his side of the table. "Oy, let'm have a go at the story. I'm sure he could use the coal by now," he said, grinning.
"To stoke the fire for his ego, no doubt," Justin mumbled into his plate. Draco let his utensils clank against his plate as he made a quick motion for his wand, but Harry grabbed his arm first.
"Fuck off, Fletchly," Draco spat, still wriggling in Harry's grip. "Will you let go of me, Potter, I'm not going to do anything."
"Justin, eat your food and open your goddamn presents, will you?" Harry said. Apparently, though, this wasn't going to solve any problems.
"Defending your boyfriend, now, eh Potter?"
This time it was Harry who let his fork drop against the porcelain. Luckily enough, Tonks had just re-entered, and set down a few extra plates in a hurry. "Harry, Draco, I want you two to sit in the parlor. Justin, be a good boy and sod off, will you?" she offered, gaining many amused faces from the guests at the table. She then ushered them from their seats and collected what was left of their breakfast before leading them into the dimly lit parlor. They both took a seat as Tonks lit another lantern. "You realize you can't let your emotions get the better of you, Harry. This isn't a warring state, it's Christmas."
Harry shot Draco a why-the-hell-is-she-blaming-me look, before turning in his seat to face her. "Yeah, but he can't go around saying stuff like that. He'll get himself murdered," he said.
"Or worse," Draco added quietly, not bothering to wipe away the small sadistic smirk on his face.
Tonks gave Draco a wide-eyed sort of reprimand, but kept her focus on Harry. "Just finish up in here, will you? You can go back out when you're done. I'll go fetch your gifts."
She was back in less than a minute with a small pile in her arms. She tossed four packages to Harry and three to Draco (which to him, was an honest surprise) before re-entering the kitchen.
Draco shuffled through his gifts. One was from Pansy. How could he forget about her? She always gave him gifts. It was enough to almost make him feel guilty. He rotated the package at least three times, trying to extract an entrance into her impeccably-wrapped box, before sliding under the paper and ripping it off.
"What's that?" Harry asked, a small hint of amusement in his voice.
"It's a flask," Draco said plainly, as it was hard to hide his embarrassment. He tossed it in Harry's direction. "Have a look. Apparently she decided to have it engraved for me."
"The Virginity Killer," Harry read. "Love you, Pansy. Wow, she doesn't hesitate before thinking, does she?" he said.
He sunk in his seat. "No, she never did. And it's not as though I've never been drunk before, where she gets these ideas, I'll never know."
Harry unfolded the newest sweater in his Mrs. Weasely collection and set it on the arm of the seat he was in. "Maybe you've just never been drunk enough," he joked. "Thought you and Pansy would've got that done and over with ages ago, anyway." He tore open another gift that was obviously from Hermione, because it was a book. "Look, I've just got the entire history of Norwegian quidditch in anthology form."
Draco gave a mock scowl, ignoring the book. "Classy humor you've got there, Potter. And no, I, like any reasonable man on the face of this earth, would never have any part of my body come in contact with Parkinson. Merlin forbid I contract rabies."
"I dunno. Pansy's kind of like a guy, right? You're into that now, aren't you?"
Draco tossed a throw pillow at the side of Harry's head, but sunk in his seat, blushing. "Forget about that. I'd rather be happy on Christmas than have to worry about my reputation." The last thing he needed was Potter continuously bringing it up.
"Whatever you say, Draco," Harry said, setting the heavy book aside. "Open the next one, will you?"
Draco gave Harry a suspicious look before picking up a smaller package. It was wrapped in green and silver, and although the colors were fitting of the holiday, he rolled his eyes at the choice. The tag said "From Harry", and Draco looked up at his company. "You weren't supposed to get me something, you know."
"I know," Harry said. "Too late, anyway."
Draco sighed, and began to unwrap the gift (or rather, unroll it, as it was very obviously a spherical package) carefully. He tried to keep his pulse to a minimum, and was happy to note that it didn't seem to be too large or too expensive. He was now holding a small yet heavy globe, the contours of the continents traced into the reflective surface.
"And I certainly didn't ask you to buy me the world, Potter," he joked, turning the object over in his hands. Harry shook his head. "No, but it's a handy paperweight if you know what to do," he said pointing his wand at it and stretching just far enough between the armchairs to give it a tap. Instantly, the globe illuminated, and images of luminescent portraits began to casually float and disappear across its surface.
"See. Gives you a general idea of what people are up to in other places," Harry said. As if on cue, images of the Weasely family flashed across northern Europe and faded, as if being brought up by some unseen oceanic current. "Since you'll be over here for a while, I suppose."
Draco didn't know what to say. He wasn't even expecting Harry to get him anything at all. He certainly forgot to pick something up, at the very least. Christmas simply wasn't something he'd gotten the chance to enjoy in the past three years, so it slipped his mind that maybe, Potter was worth a gift. And a whole lot more than that.
"You're ridiculous, Potter."
"Harry. Harry to you if you're Draco to me."
Draco laughed to himself, but shook his head in disbelief. "Fine. Whatever. I just don't know why you put so much thought into this. I'm not that close of a friend."
Harry furrowed an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that you were."
"Oh." Draco looked back at his gift, which momentarily flashed a giggling Narcissa Malfoy. "I mean, yeah, I suppose we're good mates."
Harry smiled, and went back to his gifts. "Something like that."
After watching Harry's present display a few more colorfully illuminated images, he set it down on the coffee table and turned to his last gift. He wasn't sure whether to open it or not, especially after not having communicated with his mother in months, but he ultimately untied the ribbon on a whim.
It was a photo, framed in what looked like an antique, of him at a much younger age. His father was just as stately as ever before, but his face was less receded and his expression didn't seem as pronounced. Narcissa was smiling, leaning down toward her son, and every so often she gave Draco a pat on the shoulder to make him look at the camera. It was at least ten years old.
He didn't mean to, but he sniffed back some moisture. The note was simple, and read All My Love, but it was enough to matter to him. Harry looked over and noticed that Draco had tucked his knees up and was sinking into the chair, the frame obscuring his face. "You okay, Draco?" he asked quietly.
Draco moved the frame against his chest in order to see Harry. He was watching him placidly. "Yeah." He wiped away a wet streak with his sleeve, and set the photo down next to Harry's present. "You?" he asked in return, swallowing his sentiment.
Harry looked down at his own newly unwrapped gift and sighed. "Yeah." He held up a leather-bound journal that upon closer inspection appeared to be a photo album. "Ginny's."
"Right."
Harry set it down next to the large collection of candies and chocolates from Lupin and Tonks. He didn't open it.
"Harry."
He looked up at Draco, who was content in remaining in his curled-up position. "Do you think it'll be worth it? Keeping someone out of your life like that?"
Draco had meant it in terms of Ginny, but somehow, he couldn't help but think of his mother.
Harry didn't respond. He stared at his gifts for what seemed like a very long three minutes, before pushing himself up and out of the chair. "Come on," he said, offering a hand to Draco. "Let's go kick Justin's arse."
It was good enough an answer.
Mincemeat was had, gifts were exchanged, and egg nog was spiked. In the end, it was a nice thing for Lupin and Tonks to do. The eighth years left in sparse groups, two first, then three, then three more. Naturally, Harry was the last to depart, making sure he was able to help clean up and give Teddy his first toy model broomstick (it had to happen sometime, right?) before leaving with ample amounts of leftovers and alcohol. Although he felt as though he could use a drink, he held off. Between these get-togethers and Ron's ever-present stock, he was becoming something of a budding alcoholic. Happy Christmas, from the saviour of the wizarding world and his rotting liver.
Draco was waiting outside on the deck. "You got it all?"
Harry kicked the door to a close and began to descend the shallow steps. A crunch underneath his foot signified that he'd either hit the snowy ground, or had accidentally stepped on vermin. He marched forward, not allowing Draco to grab any of the bags.
"You're a right out berk, you know that?" Draco said, defeated. "Give me something so I don't feel completely useless."
"Oh trust me, there's got to be something you're good for," Harry laughed. "Really, Draco, I've got it."
"Ha-ha, Potter, real funny."
"I'm not going to tell you again, you git, use my first name," Harry said spitefully.
"Excuse me if I'm not used to it. I'm trying to remember that you're a person now." Draco reached for another bag, unsuccessfully.
"God, Draco, for a seeker you're horrible at grabbing," Harry said. "Stop it, will you? You're going to make me drop something."
"Best hang on, Harry, you know what happens when you let go. You've fallen off your broom during gameplay more times than I can count," Draco taunted.
Harry tried to evade him again. "Draco, just for second-"
"- Will you stop trying to be so bloody polite?"
"I'm not being po- Draco, really-"
And, just as he'd thought, he'd managed to drop every bag he was holding in his left hand. Three bottles of wine hit the ground and shattered against the hardened stone pathway, leaking their contents in streams that eroded the snow. Next to that, an entire plateful of turkish delight was scattered out of the bag. Harry stared at the ground, reeling. Neither spoke.
"I'm sorry. Next time I won't be so-
"- There better not be a next time, Draco," Harry said quietly. "I told you to get off."
"Oh, so it's my fault for trying to help? Don't take on so much next time, you idiot!"
"I told you to get off. And what do you do?"
"God, Potter, I was only joking around! Why the bloody hell do you have to be such an arse about it?"
Harry averted his gaze to Draco, taking in what he'd just said. It took him a moment to cool down.
"Fine. I'm sorry." And he took out his wand to clean up the mess the best he could before continuing down the path.
Draco jogged to catch up with him. "What the hell's your problem?"
"Nothing."
Draco huffed. "Again with this 'nothing' business of yours! Do you always withhold information from your mates like this, or is it just me?" He took two steps backwards, facing Harry. "If you won't even hold a legitimate conversation with me, Potter, then I'm done. This isn't the type of thing I signed up for."
But as Draco made a motion to turn, Harry grabbed his wrist and flung him back to face him. His insides were racing to keep up with his blood flow. "Fine. You want to know?" he asked, his voice cracking. "You're my problem, Draco." His couldn't control his tone, no matter how hard he tried, and it softened to a plead. It was barely audible, but he forced it out just above a whisper. "You are."
Whatever compulsion drove him to do it, in whatever part of his body, Harry leaned in and met Draco's lips. They were wet, from the accusations and the yelling, but they were heatedly warm, and Harry couldn't help but push against them further. Draco's breathing staggered as his wrist flinched under Harry's grip, but for one brief moment, Harry felt Draco kiss him back, his mouth quivering ever so slightly in surprise as his lips pressed against Harry's.
And then Draco pushed him off. Hard.
He didn't look angry. He looked terrified.
" . . . Harry?" he said, his eyes wide in shock. "What- what did you just-"
"- I don't know. I'm sorry, Draco, I wasn't-"
Harry cut himself off. He didn't know what he wasn't doing. Thinking? He wasn't thinking. He wasn't breathing.
He looked at Draco. He could've been looking in a mirror, when it came down to expression. "I'm sorry," he offered again.
Draco's face was a deep shade by now. "No. No, it's . . . I'm fine, are you?"
Harry smiled nervously. "Yeah. I'm not dead or on fire, am I?"
"No," Draco said. The two of them stared at each other with apprehension, before they broke into a mutual shaky laughter that was anything but joyous.
"Now you know. That's 'nothing'. That, and everything else I've been putting up with," Harry said, averting his eyes to the ground. He didn't mean to, and he definitely didn't want to, but he felt a warm saltiness drip down his the tip of his nose. "Happy now?"
Draco watched as Harry scratched the back of his head nervously. He didn't say anything, and kept his eyes low.
"Harry."
He looked up.
"Do you . . . do you mind?" Draco said, using Harry's own words.
Draco alleviated Harry of the other bags that were still in hand and set them on the frozen tarmac.
Carefully, he took a step closer to him, so that they were nearly at eye level (Draco had always been an inch or so taller), and he pushed Harry's moistened glasses to the top of his head, catching a few strands underneath the frames in the action. For the second time, Draco leaned in, and brushed against Harry's lips with a tentative movement, before the other responded. With a sharp intake of air, Harry pressed against Draco in a deep snog that eventually opened both of their mouths as they moved closer. Speech muscle against muscle, they tasted each other for the first time, all while their hands moved into an embrace that tightened with every movement. Harry's head wasn't swimming. It was sinking. Drowning.
When they'd pulled apart, they looked at each other, face to face, before Harry smiled weakly and leaned over into the nook of Draco's shoulder. And he broke down completely.
Draco would remember this night as the Christmas he'd held Harry up. He hugged him tightly, both realizing that for the first time, things were about to get very complicated.
A/N: AUGH. I need to finish an animation project by 1 pm tomorrow! No sleep tonight! Again, if no page breaks show up, it ain't me. Blame your siblings. =D Review if you'd like to give me a literary caffeine rush. I'm going to need it for tonight!