Chapter 36: A Christmas party
I hope I haven't made a mistake.
I've given him a broom for Christmas this morning, a brand-new Ultra Rebel 3000. Only to be tried out under my personal supervision. After all, he has only just recovered from a near-fatal slasher attack, long-term poisoning, and chronic heart disease. I told him he must avoid any kind of overexertion. I also told him to keep the broom strapped in its case inside the flat at all times. The Rebel is notorious for being as rebellious as its name suggests. I don't want my flat to end up like Ginny's exe's when Ron did that stunt with her Quidditch balls. Yeah, I hope I haven't made a mistake buying the thing.
I've gone out to borrow those very balls from Ginny right after breakfast so Draco and I can play some Quidditch over the holidays. Book a training court, have some fun, just the two of us. He's extremely confident about his flying skills, to put it mildly. He's convinced he was always better than me back when we used to play against each other in Hogwarts. I can't wait to teach him some modesty.
When I come back, I run into Hermione and Ron at the door to my building. They came to call on us, pay us a season's visit. They are clearly aiming at Christmassy cheerfulness. Their smiles when we say hello are extra bright, especially Ron's. His future in-laws did a terrific job on him; with those teeth, he could pass for a US movie star.
I'm really happy to see him, both of them. They still haven't really met Draco yet, and it's past time. Yeah, I'm really happy they are making this move to reach out, to welcome Draco into their lives. They even brought two presents. Plus the traditional plum pudding from Mrs. Weasley.
"By the way, the Malfoy Drops made George's ear grow back. Isn't that fantastic?" Hermione says as she's walking up the stairs by my side. "Ron thinks it's fantastic, don't you, dear."
Ron just grunts behind us, but he's following us up the stairs to my flat. Oh Godric, I really, really want this to work out.
When I enter the flat, Ron and Hermione in tow and my pulse suddenly racing with nerves, I see the Rebel's case in the hallway, empty. And from the living room comes the buzz of a flying broom. The next moment, there's the sound of something shattering to pieces. Expecting the worst, I rush into the living room.
The floor is covered in broken Christmas balls. Draco is circling the ruffled-looking Christmas tree on his Rebel in elegant if hazardous curves, wearing nothing but a pair of silver Speedos, his wings spread out and glittering like candle light.
"Hey, Harry, you ready for your personal Christmas Special of Waltzing Wizards? I'm going to do the first ever airborne show act! I'm afraid that means you'll have to keep your hands to yourself!"
Behind me, Ron makes a strange noise through his nose. But Hermione energetically steps up to my side.
"Merry Christmas, Malfoy," she calls out. "I mean Draco."
Draco stares down at the three of us, and the next moment, the Rebel bucks and twists, effectively unseating its rider. For a moment, Draco hangs off to one side, frantically flapping his wings, then he falls. I dive to catch him, and I do. I became Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team at age eleven for a reason. Draco's wings flutter against me like those of a man-sized Golden Snitch as I hold him pressed to my chest.
"You okay, baby?" I gasp, out of breath with shock. He nods, then wriggles out of my grip and hastens from the room, his wings swaying from his bare shoulders, the Speedos showcasing his bubble butt like only Speedos can.
Ron makes that noise in his nose again. Hermione says nothing for once.
Yeah, I guess this couldn't have gone much worse. -
Draco has changed into a pair of jeans and one of my sweat shirts. It covers his upper body like a tent. Everybody has said hello, nicely and formally, like no one is thinking about things like Speedos, or silver wings, or seven years of fighting each other.
Hermione has taken the lead in the conversation. She has made me unwrap our present. It's for both of us, and it's a Nativity scene. Traditional from the Alps, Hermione explains. Pimped with special care.
It's what she's been using Sirius' farm animals for. When she explains how she's been thinking we might both enjoy this little yule tide gimmick, with the animals having been the toys of generations of Black kids, and with us both having roots in the Black family, it's a reminder of why she's my favourite girl in the world.
She repaired every last wooden tail, and she did a really nice job with that Nativity scene. The sheep's bleating isn't exactly melodious, and every couple of minutes the donkey utters a shrieking eyore and the ox drops something that smells funny, but the angels flying about above the roof of the little stable will sing any Christmas hit known to mankind if you shout just the first few words of the lyrics at them. And little Baby Jesus waves at everyone whose gaze he catches as he's sitting on mother Mary's lap.
Hermione gives Draco a short summary of the Nativity story, and the life of Jesus, followed by an abstract of the history of Christianity. Ron keeps to wolfing down his mom's plum pudding.
When Hermione is done, Draco gets up to serve everyone some more tea, then clears his throat.
"So, the two of you got no problem with me?"
"Somebody being a half-breed has never been a problem for any one of us, I think you know that much," Hermione says smoothly.
Draco shifts on his feet and looks at Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus waves back at him, oblivious to his plight. I think it's the first time anyone called Draco a half-breed to his face not to abuse him but as a simple stating of fact.
"We've been best friends with Hagrid from day one in Hogwarts, just as an example," Hermione continues, then adds, "Hagrid is a half-giant."
That's Professor Hermione Granger for you, never above spelling out facts any baby knows, and sounding exactly like the annoying know-it-all she was at age eleven. Draco gives a short, tense nod, his face a flaming red. This is definitely the first time anyone compared him to Hagrid.
"Yeah, I know, that's great. I mean it's great that you... that I..."
He clears his throat again.
"What I meant to ask was, it's no problem for you that I'm living here? That I'm with Harry? I mean, you never liked me, and I know why, and I think Ron told Harry the other day he won't come see him anymore as long as he's with me, and I get why, but now you're here, and I hope that means we can... that perhaps we can... Okay, say something? Ron?"
Ron shrugs and takes a big spoonful of plum pudding, obviously wildly uneasy and incapable of glossing over the big deal this is. Me living with Draco Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy as good as pleading for his blessing.
Hermione, on the other hand, isn't anywhere close to being out of her depths. Being unable to cope in any situation is something that's simply not part of her genetic make-up. Lecturing Ron, on the other hand, most certainly is.
"Draco, everyone can see you've changed, even Ron here," she states matter-of-factly. "And I don't mean the wings, or the ears, or, you know."
She waves at his face, forcing him to take a step back. The gesture could be insulting. But Hermione isn't aware of that, she's only aware of facts. And of her mission to get Ron to follow her lead and embrace that Draco is here to stay.
"Dumbledore used to say it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be. Dumbledore was a wise man, wasn't he, Ron."
Ron grunts something unintelligible, his mouth full of pudding.
"Plus, Harry has been lonely for a long time, and he says you're his family now, Draco." Okay, thanks for making me sound super pathetic, Hermione. And for telling him I claimed him to be my family in front of my friends before I ever asked him what we are. I sneak a glance at Draco to check his reaction. He looks right back at me, smirking, but his eyes radiate stars. They dim a bit at Hermione's next words, though.
"And with your whole situation and all, having no money and nothing but an internship job-wise till a week ago, of course Harry would take you in."
Yeah, his eyes are back to their usual grey now, but he doesn't cast them down, he meets Hermione's gaze, looking as arrogant as I have ever seen him. By now I know it's his way of dealing; a simple reflex of self-preservation. And I know he understands she means to argue his case, if in her incorruptibly blunt way. I'd swear I see a smile tug at his lips when she concludes, "I think everyone agrees it's legit for people to watch out for their family. Ron?"
Ron munches something around a mouthful of pudding that very much sounds like kiss my ass, then swallows and says, "Anyone in the mood for a game?"
He lets the present he brought levitate above the couch table and tear open mid-air. The paper sails into the bin in the corner and the present lands on the table with a thud. It's a season's version of Exploding Snap.
I never expected Ron to be all smiles and roses. I mean, he's Ron. Graciousness is not exactly his middle name. But he can't argue with his own words. And even less with his girlfriend. As he's shuffling the cards in the air, he looks at her smug smile like he'd love to transform her into a kitten. Or just anything that can't talk. God, I love my two best friends.
And I love them all the more for the fact they understand that people do change. And sometimes in even more fundamental ways than growing wings.
A couple of hours of nerve-wrecking Exploding Snap and aberrant amounts of seasonal food later, Draco and I are alone again.
He has given me his present, a Proteus Planner. It looks like a golden credit card, and there's room for entries for every hour of the day from January 1st 2002 into the indefinite future. There's a stack of twenty-five identical cards to go with it.
"For your future students," he says. "Like this, you'll be able to hand out assignments simply by entering them into your own planner. Or to give people detention. Or to reschedule lessons."
"Why would I reschedule lessons."
"There's always something that can come up, isn't there."
Living with him, I've learnt that's true.
"I might not get to have any students, Draco. I've sent an application, but that doesn't mean I'll get the position."
He scoffs.
"Alright."
"Seriously…"
"You are Harry Potter, for fuck's sake! They'll fly you in on a Hippogriff and hold a three-day welcome banquet in your honour! You are so going to get that job, and you are going to keep it, too. You are going to be The One Who Stayed. Oh Merlin, those students are so going to freak out when they hear the news. Harry Potter to be the new Professor for Defence against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts!"
I honestly hope he's right about my chances. At first I only thought about going into teaching because he had asked me to, but at some point I realized I'd really like to be a teacher, and that I won't miss the fighting that has been my life for so long like, at all. I had a good time working as an Auror, but things change. I don't really need all that anymore. Time to let others be the hero.
And I'll still be able to spend every night with Draco, even if I work at Hogwarts and he stays in the capital. Thank Godric for Apparition!
Draco is still happily envisioning me at Hogwarts.
"Yeah, they are so going to freak out," he says, sounding thoroughly pleased. "Only promise me one thing, Harry, don't show them your Muggle moves, or the whole class will swoon!"
He's talking about Krav Maga. He has asked me to teach him, and makes me demonstrate more or less the whole lesson whenever we practice.
"Not everyone is as easily impressed as you are," I say.
"Okay, the girls and the gays will swoon."
I shake my head, laughing, and lift one of the golden cards so it catches the light.
"These are truly beautifully designed, Draco. Don't you think they're a bit too valuable to give out to students? Is it really what you had in mind when you crafted them?"
"Well," he says with just a hint of a smirk, "family life takes a lot of organizing, too, from what I've heard. Just think all those Quidditch games we are going to have to attend if we start this adoption thing. So I guess you could keep the cards for the kids."
He smiles at me while I try to wrap my brain around the idea of twenty-five children. Of course he's joking. He must be. I guess. How many multiples are considered normal in fairy families again? I'll have to ask Hermione.
He snatches the cards from my hand and puts them on the couch table, then takes my arm and wraps it around his shoulders.
"Relax, Potter," he murmurs, settling his head against my shoulder.
We sit on the couch for a while, cuddling, and look at Hermione's Nativity scene under the Christmas tree.
Eventually, his eyes on the tirelessly waving Baby Jesus, Draco says, "I like the story. The message. Too much gore for kids and too much fantasy and magic to be believable, obviously, but it's still beautiful. But, you know, Harry, to me, the Saviour will always be you."
"Don't speak blasphemy," I say, idly stroking his wings. "I did some tricks with my wand that happened to work out when it counted, but it's not like I saved all mankind."
"Perhaps you didn't," he says, snuggling into me. "But you did save me."
xxxx
Author's note:
The next (and last) chapter, "HEA" wraps up Harry's and Draco's love story. It's a depiction of their first time, and I found it impossible to edit it and make it less explicit without ruining it. I've decided to take the safe route with my fic and not put the chapter up on ff net.
So, dear reader, if you're a minor, or else opposed to graphic scenes, let me assure you Harry finds his Happy Ever After with Draco, and that theirs is a love that'll stay.
Everybody else, please go read Chapter 37: HEA on my site on ao3! -
You'll also find the sequel there, FFF2: The Last Supper. It's a mystery drama, but sexual issues are a big part of it, so I'm afraid it's not fitting for ff net, either. I'd be honoured if you'd care to check it out on ao3!
Thank you for reading, and special thanks to everyone who shared their thoughts on explicit writing, and/or sent me a review or PM!
All the best, Crystal