For the rest of the day, Draco seemed to be determined not to be alone in the same room as Harry. The rest of the students invited him to participate in their various pastimes, and he accepted but was careful not to sit too close to Harry. And when Mrs. Weasley asked for help in the kitchen, Draco practically leaped to assist her, despite never cooking a meal by himself in his life.
Harry himself did just as bad a job hiding his shaken, befuddled emotions. He floated in his own cloud of thoughts the whole day, which didn't go unnoticed by his best friends. It was about an hour after lunch, when he accidentally let the tea kettle overflow with water, that Hermione stepped in.
"Harry, what's gotten into you?" She tutted, clearing the spill with a wave of her wand.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, putting the kettle on the stove and lighting a fire underneath it with his own wand.
"You're acting strange." Hermione leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "Come on, talk to me."
Harry sighed and watched the steam rush from the kettle's spout. "It's nothing." Draco's hand in his hair, his naïve and ardent lips. He was becoming rapidly obsessed.
"Are the dreams getting worse?" Hermione asked softly. Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, the whole Trio had shared nightmares of their friends and family, their minds forever imprinted by the trauma of the war they had been through.
Harry shook his head. "They come farther and farther apart. How about you?"
"The last bad one was around September."
"That's good." The kettle whistled in earnest, and Hermione extinguished the flame with a tap. "Don't worry, 'Mione, I'm fine. If anything was seriously wrong, I'd tell you."
"I certainly hope so," She replied, taking two mugs out of the cabinet. With another casual flick of her wand, two teabags flew from a drawer and into the mugs.
From the doorway leading to the living room came Draco, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He wore a simple black turtleneck; Harry, who hadn't seen the Slytherin in anything other than school robes or his coat, thought the Muggle-style clothes suited him well. Draco noticed Harry's unintentional staring and shot him a look, causing the Gryffindor to flush slightly and focus on pouring hot water.
"How's the game getting on?" Hermione asked, grabbing another pair of mugs. Draco and Ron had been playing an intensely silent game of chess in the living room for the past half hour.
"He's beating me," Draco said in disbelief, putting his forearms on the counter. He seemed much more relaxed than the day before, to Harry's relief - though the fact that Arthur and Percy had left for work already probably helped quite a bit. "Not by much, though," Draco added as Hermione handed him two mugs of peppermint tea.
"Bring the other to Ron, will you?" Hermione requested, and the Slytherin obliged. "Draco's really not that bad, is he?" She remarked once he had left. "I guess it's possible to take the evil out of the Death Eater, after all."
"Right…" Harry blew on his tea before taking a careful sip. But he had barely heard what Hermione had said, busy wondering how Draco could go on with business as usual when the kiss lingered between them like a rose too fragrant to deny.
• • •
"Everyone ready?" Mrs. Weasley peered around at the faces of her true offspring and pseudo-adopted children, all of them dressed for the cold. "Draco, have you traveled by Floo powder before?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes," He said, and looked as if he was going to add a cutting remark, but wisely bit his tongue.
"All right, then," Mrs. Weasley held out a cracked flowerpot filled with glittery green powder. "Ron, you first."
"Why aren't we Apparating, Mum?" Ginny asked as Ron stepped over the grate.
"Well, you haven't got your license yet, have you?"
"Yes, I do," Ginny caught Harry's eye and shook her head exasperatedly.
"Oh. It's neater this way, anyhow," Mrs. Weasley said dismissively as Ron shouted, "Diagon Alley!"
A few minutes later, the company of six brushed the ashes off their clothes as they stood by Diagon Alley's main grate. Crowds of witches and wizards doing last-minute Christmas shopping thronged about the streets, arms laded with brightly colored bags and packages.
"Head to Weasley's," Molly called; their group was already starting to be pushed apart by the multitude. "We'll meet George there."
"Come on," Hermione took Ron's hand, and they pressed forward, Harry and Draco following close behind.
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was in clear view at the end of the street, exploding with even more color and energy than the rest of the shops. But Harry noticed, tucked between the open stores, that a few of them were closed and shuttered. Some windows had shattered completely, and no one had bothered to fix them, leaving the shadowy shells behind empty.
Harry looked from the spots of wreckage and glanced at Draco, vaguely wondering if he had been one of the Death Eaters that destroyed parts of Diagon Alley during the War. As if sensing Harry's thoughts, Draco's brow furrowed, and he didn't speak for the whole walk, keeping his head resolutely forward.
The whirlwind of activity that met them in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was more than enough to take Harry's mind off Draco's distant attitude for the time being. Potions for all sorts of mischievous behavior lined walls in colorful vials. Decoy detonators and other such moving, tiny machines wandered around their display pens. A whole candy section dedicated to Fever Fudge, Puking Pastilles, and other, tastier creations shone on the opposite side of the giant, two-story shop.
"If it isn't Molly Weasley!" A jovial voice came from above, and Lee Jordan fell out of nowhere in front of the students, making them jump back. He was dressed in the standard WWW uniform, complete with an orange-banded top hat that partially covered his neat dreadlocks. "Nice to see you all, Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione…" Lee paused for a split second, recognizing the pale, pointed face of a Malfoy, but his retail employee instincts took over, and he continued smoothly, "And Draco Malfoy as well, what a surprise. Looking for George, then?"
"Yes, though I'm sure the young ones will want to be doing some shopping," Mrs. Weasley replied.
"Sure, go ahead," Lee said casually, "And I'll fetch George in a jiffy." He jumped suddenly in the air and disappeared without a sound.
The five young wizards dispersed within the mingling shoppers. Ron and Hermione walked off, discussing presents to get the various Weasley brothers. Draco muttered something incomprehensible and slipped off to look at the potions, leaving Harry and Ginny to meander about the store.
"Let's check out the new sweets," Ginny suggested, and Harry followed her to the wall of glass drawers that held all the different kinds of candy.
Ginny stood on her tiptoes to peer into a drawer of Ton-Tongue Toffees, wrinkled her nose, and looked into the next one. Harry stepped back and trailed his eyes over the case, searching for the tell-tale black of licorice.
"Oh, look!" Ginny said happily, tapping a drawer of small, colored jawbreakers, "These change your hair color as you suck on the different layers. Ron'll like that."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, bending to read the label on another drawer. Licorice Lip-Biters: The licorice allsorts that'll try to eat you before you eat them! Harry raised an eyebrow and backed away from the motionless, innocent-looking licorice. He decided to wait until they went shopping at a normal sweetshop.
Ginny had wandered off to a different part of the store, muttering something about a present for Luna. Spotting her fiery-red hair in the crowd of shoppers, Harry moved to follow her.
Someone seized his arm and jerked him into a nearby photo booth. Why the Weasley's joke shop had a photo booth, Harry could not fathom, but he didn't spend much time dwelling on it. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and spun around to face his attacker.
"Potter! Merlin's sake, it's only me!" Draco let go of his arm immediately, wearing a vexed expression.
Harry huffed, his heart still pounding. "Was that really necessary? I thought someone was going to kill me."
"I was trying to get you alone."
"There are much easier ways to do that. Something like," Harry cleared his throat, raised his voice slightly, and made a haughty face, "'Potter, I must talk you to alone.'"
"I don't sound like that," Draco grumbled, sitting down on the photo booth's tiny bench. "Besides, that would've looked too suspicious."
"Oh, more suspicious then yanking me into a closed space?"
"Never mind, Potter. Sit down."
Harry sighed sharply, but he joined Draco on the bench.
The Slytherin lowered his voice. "I'm ready to address it."
Harry furiously tamped down the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. "Address what?" He asked, but he knew exactly what.
Draco ignored his faked ignorance and continued, "Look, what happened yesterday was a mistake. I wanted to properly apologize for it."
"Malfoy, don't-"
"Don't apologize, I know. But I'm serious, Potter, it shouldn't have happened. It only happened because of a lack of self-control on my part."
"Yeah, well, I kissed you back, didn't I?" Harry said hotly, "So we both don't have self-control."
Draco pursed his lips. "You…doing it back is a mystery to me," He admitted.
"I like you, okay?" Harry stated bluntly. "I don't know how it happened, or why, but somehow I have feelings for you, strong feelings, and I don't really know what to do with them, and I'm honestly kind of panicking about it because I've never felt this way about another boy before, least of all a boy who only last year wanted me dead." He said this all very fast and looked at the floor when he finished.
Draco took a moment to process, then said softly, "You're wrong."
Harry looked at him in confusion. "What do you…?"
"I hated you last year, I'm not going to deny it. Ever since the day you rejected my friendship, I hated you, though all the while, I still wanted to be you. You had a perfect life."
"That's not true."
"It was more perfect than mine, anyway," Draco countered. "But you're wrong on one count. I never wanted you dead." His face was stony and impassive, but his eyes were liquid mercury.
Harry watched the Slytherin crumple into himself the only way he knew how, crossing his legs, folding his hands, and looking away. "Do you still hate me?" Harry asked quietly.
"You should know the answer to that."
He did. Harry reached out and turned Draco's face towards him, fingers brushing over his pale jaw.
"Don't," Draco murmured, but even as he gently guided Harry's hand away, he leaned in. His emotions pushed and pulled within him, scrawled plainly on his face. Only millimeters separated them, and Harry prepared to close the distance-
"Gotcha!" A girl shouted, throwing away the photobooth's curtain. The two young men jumped apart, pressing themselves against the opposite sides of the small box. Draco's head hit the wall with a thunk, and he winced.
"Um, hello?" Harry said to the girl - she looked a little younger than Hogwarts age, wearing winter robes and brown pigtails.
"Oh. You're not my brother," She said sadly and wandered away.
"Do you know her?" Harry asked, utter confusion on his face. Draco only shrugged in response, rubbing his head where he banged it. "Oh…Are you okay?" He reached to touch Draco's head, but the Slytherin promptly swatted his hand away.
"I'm fine, Potter," He snapped, and at Harry's hurt expression added, "But thank you for your concern, or whatever."
Harry frowned in response but didn't deign to come up with a retort. They slid out of the photo booth, both doing their best not to acknowledge what had just happened, not even with a look. Thankfully, Ginny and the others had entirely scattered throughout the store and hadn't noticed them.
"This discussion isn't over," Harry said under his breath as he and Draco looked for their group.
The Slytherin gave him a regrettably frigid look. "We'll see."
• • •
The next morning, the day before Christmas, the Burrow bustled with enough activity to keep everyone busy. Percy, Luna, and Xenophilius Lovegood all arrived to stay for a couple nights - their presence in addition to George Weasley's meant Draco was forced to move into Ron's room. Ron himself was not entirely pleased about it but managed to keep his mouth shut for Harry's benefit. Though Harry was too busy being frustrated with and confused about Draco to care.
Mrs. Weasley sent the youngsters all about the house to dust the furniture polish the windows, weed the garden, and help her in the kitchen. Even Draco, who Harry suspected had never done a menial chore in his life, helped out as an excuse to avoid conversation.
In the early evening, twilight glittering on the white snow, the work had finally been completed. Stifled from the warmth and labor inside the house, Harry, Ron, Hermione, George, Ginny, Luna, and Draco bundled up in their various coats and scarfs to venture into the fresh winter chill.
"It's so cold," Ginny said, already shivering. "Why don't we get some brooms out and - oof!" A giant snowball had hit her in the stomach. Across the yard, George put on his best innocent expression and put his snowy gloves behind his back. "Oh, you wanna play that way, huh?" His sister threatened, pulling out her wand.
"Hey, that's cheating," George pointed out, already molding another snowball. "No magic allowed."
Ginny huffed but immediately scooped up a handful of snow, packed it, and tossed it at him. Her aim was dead-on, but George dodged the snowball, and it hit Hermione instead.
Hermione gasped, and Ginny started to giggle. "My bad," She said, none too remorsefully.
"Oh, it's on." Ron came immediately to his girlfriend's aid, and he and George began to work speedily on a new barrage of snowballs.
In no time, two sides had formed: George, Ron, and Hermione stood on one side of the yard while Harry, Draco, and Ginny held their ground on the other. Luna drifted between teams, giggling whenever snow got in her hair and making snow angels.
Childhood came back to the seven young adults in a flurry, their joyful screams echoing through the winter afternoon. For a few minutes, Harry completely forgot about all the teenage drama and the threat of new enemies - and judging by Draco's rare grin, he felt the same way.
"Time out, time out," Ginny said after a while. Breathless, she collapsed onto the ground. The other six knelt down as well, warm and panting.
"I reckon Mum wants us to help with dinner," George said, and the other Weasley children mumbled in reluctant agreement. Brushing the snow off their clothes, the Hogwarts students headed inside.
Draco hung back, hands in his pockets. Harry turned and looked askance at him; the Slytherin's silver eyes wandered about the ground in thought.
"You were right," He said finally, and Harry took a step towards him. "They're warming up to me, after all. Even though I spent so much time hating them."
"Well…You spent so much time hating a lot of people," Harry pointed out.
Draco gave a wry laugh in response. "Yes…" He trailed off, and both of them walked together towards the house.
Everyone else was inside now, their chatter drifting out over the snow-covered grass. A warm, golden lambency emitted from the Burrow's lower windows, and with it came the feeling of home.
Their hands brushed on accident at first. An urge came over Harry, and before he could talk himself out of it, he interlaced Draco's gloved fingers with his. The Slytherin tensed at the sudden display of affection, but he didn't pull away until they reached the door.
"I still don't get it," Draco said thoughtfully as their hands drifted apart. "Why you're so intent on giving me a second chance."
"Maybe it's because…" Harry shrugged. "I've always gotten a lot more chances than you have. And you sought me out first, after all."
A sweltering summer night. Shadowed faces basking in the light of a merciful spell.
"I did, didn't I."
Wintry wind kissed their exposed skin. Harry opened the door, and they entered the warmth of the Burrow. Something was giving at long last, barriers tumbling down and melting.