Moments later, Draco's feet hit solid tarmac. Gone were the snowy, rolling hills of the Devonshire countryside, replaced with a long row of unfamiliar dilapidated tenement buildings. Ron stepped off of the road onto the pavement and Draco followed without prompting, coming to a stop between two adjoining houses numbered eleven and thirteen.

"I assume that the property is Unplottable?"

"You guessed right," Ron confirmed. "The address is number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Draco pictured the words in his mind, and in the blink of an eye, a battered door with the number twelve on it materialised from nowhere. He scrunched up his nose as he took in the sorry sight of the place: it looked like it had been a grand property before it had been allowed to fall into disrepair. The once handsome townhouse now sported dirty walls and grimy windows, and an unkempt front garden overgrown with weeds was covered in litter.

"This place has seen better days," he mused.

"Yeah, well not all of us live in fancy palaces."

"I live in a Manor, not a palace," Draco corrected him before adding, "And I don't live there anymore."

"Whatever," Ron muttered. "Well, in the off-chance that Harry isn't here, I suppose you better head back to The Burrow and we can check out a couple more places."

"Thank you."

"Don't start," he grumbled. "Let's get one thing straight—I'm doing this for Harry, not you."

"I know. Still...you didn't have to."

"'Course I did," he argued. "I might not be able to stand the sight of you, but Harry's my best mate, and somehow, you make him happy. I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't help."

Draco hesitated before admitting, "I know that you and I don't always see eye to eye, but I'm glad that Harry has you in his life, even if you are an insufferable git."

Ron cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're rubbish at dishing out compliments, you know that?"

"I know. I don't plan on making a habit out of it, either."

"Thank Merlin for that."

"But you are a true and loyal friend, the kind that Harry deserves."

"What he deserves is someone who isn't going to mess him about," Ron shot back. "You've convinced me enough that you love him, now you just need to prove it with your actions."

"I'll try my best."

"You better," he warned. "I think it goes without saying, if you hurt him again, I'll be breaking more than your nose next time."

Draco clenched his jaw. "Duly noted."

With that, Draco braced himself and walked up the stone steps towards the shabby black door of number twelve. He instinctively raised his hand for the door handle but paused when he saw none. There wasn't a keyhole or letterbox, either.

"Um," Draco turned to Ron. "Weasley, a little help?"

"Oh. Right, " Ron drew his wand and hurried up the steps. "I forgot about that."

Ron tapped the door once with the tip of his wand and Draco heard many loud, metallic clicks before it creaked open. Draco looked at Ron. "Is there anything else that I should know about this place before heading inside?"

Ron thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Nope, not that I can think of."

His tone was a little too casual for Draco's liking, but he had no choice but to take him at his word. As he pushed the door open and stepped inside, Ron said, "I hope for Harry's sake that the two of you sort things out."

"Yeah, me too."

With those parting words, Ron turned around and skipped back down the steps before Apparating, presumably back to The Burrow. Draco closed the front door of Grimmauld Place behind him and was immediately plunged into total darkness. Although he couldn't see anything, the place had a distinct smell of sweet, rotting wood and dust. Drawing his wand, he muttered 'Lumos' and used the small beam of light to guide him down the hallway. He took a cautious step forward and his foot immediately struck something hard, causing him to trip. Quickly lowering his wand, he saw that what he had tripped over was an umbrella stand fashioned out of a troll's leg. Shaking his head, he raised his wand high into the air. The crystal chandelier overhead glinted in the wandlight, casting odd shadows down the narrow corridor. The place had an unsettling, even downright creepy atmosphere to it, even for Draco's tastes: shrunken elves' heads lined the walls alongside age-blackened portraits, and a long, dark curtain hung on the wall at the bottom of a gnarled staircase. Draco took another step forward but paused dead in his tracks when he heard a voice whisper out of the gloom.

"Severus Snape?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the sound. He hadn't heard the voice in several years, but the gruff Scottish accent was instantly recognisable as that of Mad-Eye Moody. Before Draco could respond, a cold breeze whooshed over him and his tongue curled backwards on itself, making it impossible for him to speak. He retched and instinctively grabbed at his throat, only realising then that he'd been struck with a Tongue-Tying Curse and he swiftly cast a wordless counter-spell to remove it. Evidently, there were some security measures in place that Ron had conveniently forgotten to mention to him. Cautiously, Draco took another step forward into the semi-darkness. This time, something shifted in the dim light at the end of the hallway and a figure, cloaked in shadow emerged. Draco paused and lowered his wand slightly.

"Harry?" he called out.

The figure did not respond. Instead, it raised a hand, black and withered, accusingly towards him. Draco recognised who it was immediately and the man, long dead but never forgotten, shuffled towards him. Draco, paralysed with fear, could not move. He could not breathe. It never occurred to Draco to defend himself. Instead, his wand slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor as the figure—a tall, grey, bearded figure with waist-length hair—glided ever closer. Draco tried and failed to regain the use of his limbs, stumbling and falling backwards as the spectral figure of Albus Dumbledore loomed over him and hissed, "You...killed...me."

"No," Draco stammered, scrambling blindly back towards the entrance. "Nononono!"

It could not be—Albus Dumbledore was long dead. But rhyme and reason had long fled Draco then, and his fear was all-consuming. He clenched his eyes shut and covered his head with his hands, forgetting himself or why he had come to this place. Just then, a piercing, animalistic scream rang out through the corridor, but Draco couldn't be sure that the voice wasn't his own.

Just as Dumbledore was about to grab Draco's throat, the man exploded in a great cloud of dust. Coughing and spluttering, Draco wrenched his eyes open and found that the gas lamps had been lit, casting flickering light down the gloomy hallway. As the dust began to settle, Harry appeared with his wand drawn.

"Draco?" he said, sounding confused. "What are you doing here? How did you even get—"

"Mudbloods!" screamed the portrait of a wild-looking woman at the bottom of the stairs. "Filth! Stains of dishonour, taint of shame on the house of my fathers—"

"Oh, for the love of god, will you shut the hell up!" Harry bellowed, swishing his wand at the portrait. Red sparks burst out of the end of his wand and the dark curtains swung shut again, silencing her. Harry lowered his wand by his side and shook his head. "Every time someone comes into the house, she does that."

Draco didn't reply. He was still crouched on the ground with his hands over his head, shaking uncontrollably. Harry pocketed his wand and knelt down by Draco's side, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," he said gently. "You're alright. It's just security measures that Mad-Eye cast to protect the place."

Draco slowly lowered his hands from his head and looked up at Harry. "I take that Weasley knew about those enchantments?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Gave him quite the fright too, the first time he came across them."

"Figures," Draco grumbled. He could picture Ron laughing heartily to himself back at The Burrow thinking about how terrified Draco would be to be confronted with the spectral form of Albus Dumbledore. Harry helped him back to his feet and Draco gingerly brushed the dust off of his cloak and trousers. "Are there any other nasty surprises that I should know about?"

"No, that's all of them," Harry assured him before asking stiffly, "What are you doing here?"

"I thought that would have been obvious," Draco replied. "I came to see you."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Because you're my boyfriend and I wanted to wish you a merry Christmas, perhaps?" he quipped. Evidently, his dry wit was not appreciated, as Harry huffed and crossed his arms.

"Oh, really?" he sneered. "I imagine your fiancé would have something to say about that."

Draco grimaced. "Yes, I also came to speak to you about that."

"Came here to tell me what—now that you've found someone that your parents will actually approve of, you won't be needing my 'services' anymore?"

"Of course not—"

"Or is it that this thing between us was just you satisfying some twisted curiosity of yours?" Harry accused. "Yeah, let's literally screw around with the person that you hate just for the fun of it!"

"Now that's bullshit and you know it!" said Draco angrily.

"Then what the hell was it all about?" Harry shouted, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. "Did you ever actually care about me, or was this just some fucked up scheme you and your father came up with to screw with my head?"

Draco gaped at Harry. "No! How could you even think that I'd do such a thing?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Harry sarcastically. "Maybe because since the day we met, you've hated my guts and have been trying to get one over on me ever since! Well, mission accomplished! I fell for your lies hook, line and sinker. Now you and your dad can have a good laugh about it at my expense. Though I have to say, even for you, this is a really messed-up thing to do to anyone, even to someone you hate."

"I don't hate you!" Draco protested. "I couldn't hate you...I love you."

Harry's face crumbled. "How can you still say that to my face and sound like you really mean it when you lied to me about getting married?"

"I didn't lie!" Draco cried. He reached out to Harry but he quickly took a step back, out of Draco's reach. "Please, just let me explain—"

Suddenly there was a loud bang. Draco was momentarily confused as he found himself lifted into the air and thrown backwards, crashing into the front door with such force that the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He slid down the door and landed in a heap on the floor, doubled over in pain and gasping for breath.

"Kreacher, no!" Harry shouted, running to Draco's side. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Kreacher heard Master shouting," someone croaked, and an ancient, shrivelled-looking house-elf shuffled into view at the bottom of the stairwell. "Kreacher saw the intruder try to grab Master, so Kreacher protected him."

"He wasn't going to hurt me," Harry assured the house-elf. "We were just having an argument."

Kreacher blinked slowly. "Master...was not in danger?"

"No, I'm fine! And Draco isn't an intruder, he's just an—an unexpected guest," he explained, helping Draco sit in an upright position. Kreacher looked more closely at their unexpected guest and stilled.

"You...are Miss Cissy's son," he realised. Still unable to speak, Draco nodded vigorously in confirmation and what little colour Kreacher's face held drained away. "F-forgive me, Master Draco. Kreacher did not realise—"

"It's fine," Harry assured the house-elf quickly. "Could you go and put the kettle on? Make Master Draco and I some tea, please."

"Y-yes, Master. Kreacher will make tea straight away," the house-elf nodded eagerly before shuffling away as quickly as his ancient bowed legs would carry him. When Kreacher was out of sight, Harry turned his attention back to Draco.

"Are you alright?"

Draco nodded again and croaked, "It's only the second most painful thing to happen to me today, if you would believe it." Harry drew him a curious expression and he elaborated. "Weasley broke my nose before he dropped me off here."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Ron broke your nose and then dropped you off here? Why?"

"So that I could speak to you," he wheezed, massaging his sternum, although it didn't ease the pain in his chest. "He's the one that told me how to get into the house. Although, he conveniently neglected to tell me about the security measures. His idea of a joke, I'm sure, although not a very funny one, if you ask me."

Harry looked uncertain all of a sudden. "But why would Ron help you out? He..."

"Hates me?" Draco drew Harry a wry smile. "I'm well aware of that and believe me, the feeling's mutual. But I can explain everything if you'll let me."

Harry hesitated. Draco couldn't blame Harry for not trusting him entirely, but Ron was a different story. Ronald Weasley may not be the most sensitive of souls, but he was fiercely protective of his best friend. He wouldn't have brought Draco here unless he had a good reason for doing so. Eventually, Harry nodded and helped Draco back to his feet. Draco cast a wary look over the house, wondering what other potential dangers lay within.

"Could we maybe discuss things somewhere else?" he requested. "Preferably somewhere without house-elves, security enhancements—or any Weasleys."

They didn't stray far from Grimmauld Place. Harry ushered Draco out of the front door only to take a seat on the steps of the former Black residence, with cups of tea in their hands provided by an incredibly remorseful Kreacher. The hot drinks and a warming charm helped stave off the worst of the cold winter air, but as far as Draco was concerned, anywhere was better than spending another moment longer than he had to inside that awful house.

It was only now that they were sitting in direct sunlight that Draco noticed Harry's eyes were red and puffy. His gaze dragged up and down Draco's bruised face. "You look awful."

"That doesn't surprise me. Loath as I am to admit it, Weasley's got a hell of a right hook on him." Draco unconsciously touched the bridge of his nose and winced in pain. "Granger managed to get in a few swings too before Ginny stepped in."

"However angry they were, they shouldn't have hit you."

Draco shook his head. "They were only being protective of you. I will say on this rare occasion I don't think that I deserved it, but I can understand why they behaved the way that they did."

"How did that even happen?" asked Harry curiously, then the colour drained from his face. "Oh god, they didn't go to the Manor to confront you, did they?"

"No, nothing like that," Draco assured him. "I actually popped over to The Burrow to speak to you."

Harry's eyes widened with surprise. "You went to The Burrow?"

"And got a less than welcoming reception," Draco grumbled. "But Mrs Weasley patched me up before that knuckle-dragger friend of yours dropped me off here. Honestly, does he forget that he's a wizard? Who throws punches when they've got a wand?"

"Hold up," Harry cut in. "You spoke to Mrs Weasley?"

"Yes, and thankfully, she managed to refrain from throwing any punches," he quipped. "Anyway, Weasley surmised that I'd probably find you here. I suppose appearances can be deceiving, he's much cleverer than he looks."

Harry looked confused. "That still doesn't explain why Ron would bring you here."

"Oh, you know me, I can be very persuasive." Harry cocked an eyebrow at him and Draco admitted sheepishly, "Alright, it took some effort to persuade him that my intentions with you were noble. I um...I let him perform Legilimency on me."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Seriously?"

"He wouldn't tell me where you were, otherwise," he groused. "For the record, his Legilimency skills leave a lot to be desired. It felt like someone scrambled my brains with a whisk."

Harry shut his mouth and gave Draco a hard look. Intrigued but still guarded, he gave him a curt nod. "Alright, I'm listening. Explain."

Draco took a deep breath before starting from the very beginning. He recounted the events of the winter ball in detail for Harry, explaining who Aline was and the circumstances around meeting her. He then detailed the subsequent argument that he had with his parents about the secret engagement, about finally coming out to his mother, and storming out of the Manor without any of his belongings. Harry sat and listened intently to Draco's explanation of the previous evening's events, his gaze never wavering from the untouched mug of tea growing cool in his hands.

"After I left the Manor, I realised that my options were pretty limited," he continued. "I would have come to see you, but I didn't know where the Weasleys lived, so I took my chances and went to Theo's. By some miracle, he took pity on me and let me stay at his place."

Draco fell silent then, giving Harry time to digest everything he had just said. After a long moment, Harry looked up at him, his expression uncertain.

"You really had no clue what your parents were doing?" he asked, unable to disguise the hopeful note in his voice. "You didn't know about the engagement or Aline?"

"Not a thing," Draco assured him. "And I didn't know that they'd contacted the papers about it, either. I'm sorry that you had to find out about it that way."

Harry still looked unsure. "If your parents hadn't put that notice in The Prophet, would you have actually told me about the engagement?"

"Of course, I would have! That's actually one of the reasons I came to see you at The Burrow. I wanted to talk to you about our relationship, and I um…" Draco cleared his throat and bowed his head. "I was talking to Theo this morning, about us—well, mostly we talked about me and my various hang-ups, particularly when it comes to my parents—but he made me realise that I may not have been the best or most supportive boyfriend to you lately—or ever."

Harry's eyes narrowed but he said nothing, so Draco took that as his cue to continue. "I told you that I wanted to hold off telling my parents about us because I knew that they'd react badly, but that was only a part of it." His grip tightened on the mug and with some effort, he continued. "When we first got together, I didn't know what your intentions were; whether it was just out of morbid curiosity or the sheer thrill of hooking up with someone in secret, or whether you actually liked me. I didn't much care, either, truth be told. It just felt good to be wanted by someone, and to be wanted by you, well…" He clenched his eyes shut and forced himself to say the next part before he completely lost his nerve. "I knew from the very beginning that I wasn't worthy of your affections. A stronger, better man would have turned you down, but I am neither of those things—I'm weak, and insecure, and selfish, and I took what I could from you for as long as I could, waiting all the while for the inevitable moment when you'd realise what I'd always known, and you'd leave me."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Draco…"

"Let me finish," he pleaded. If he didn't say it now, he never would. "I was so convinced that you'd eventually come to your senses and break up with me that I just didn't see the point in telling my parents about us. And I didn't want anyone else to know because it would just be yet another thing people would mock me over. I wanted to keep us a secret not because I was ashamed of you—far from it. I was just trying to protect myself, but in doing so, I've hurt you in the process. It took me confronting my parents and getting knocked about the head a couple of times to realise that, but I know now, and I'm sorry."

Harry gave Draco a despondent look and shook his head. "How many times do I have to tell you before you get this into your head? I don't care what other people think about us!"

"I know that you don't," said Draco. "It's just taken me some time to believe that myself."

"Well, it's about bloody time," Harry mumbled, tossing the contents of his mug into the nearby weeds before setting the cup down on the step beside him. "I do get it, you know. I know how scary it is to open yourself to another person; it leaves you exposed. And I also know what it's like to be hurt by people. I wouldn't hurt you, Draco. I don't know what I need to do to convince you of that."

"You don't have to do anything. If anyone's got anything to prove, it's me." Draco put the stone-cold cup of tea on the step between his feet and turned to look Harry in the eye. "I know that I'm not the best person when it comes to talking about my feelings, but let me make one thing perfectly clear: I love you, Harry. I don't deserve your love...but I still love you. Don't look at me like that, I'm just being honest. You ought to be with someone infinitely better than me, but I still want to be that person, and I know that's selfish but I don't care. I want to be the only one that you wake up next to every morning, to be the person that you tell your rubbish jokes to over breakfast and fall asleep mid-sentence when we're in bed come the end of the day. I want to be the one that you come to when you've had a bad day, that makes you laugh 'til your ribs hurt. I want to be that one person for you, because you're the one person—the only person—that I've ever wanted those things with, too. You've seen me at my absolute worst, but somehow, you still saw something in me that was worthwhile when nobody else could—despite the fact I can't even see it myself. But you make me want to be better than I am. You make me want to be worthy of you."

Draco tentatively reached out and took Harry's hand into his own. "And I won't deny that I'm still worried about what people are going to say when they find out about us, but I'm more afraid of pushing you away and losing you forever. I might not be worthy of your love, but I do value it. And I'll keep trying to be worthy of you, so long as you'll have me—if you'll still have me."

Harry looked steadily at Draco. "You can be quite poetic when you want to be."

"I'm just trying to be honest."

"Yeah? You should try it more often," Harry gave Draco's hand a light squeeze and bowed his head. "You know, I've spent my whole life being at the mercy of other men's choices."

"I know how that feels," Draco muttered.

Harry nodded in agreement. "After the war, when I should have felt happy, I just felt...adrift. I'd never had the luxury of being allowed to choose things for myself, and then suddenly, for the first time in my entire life, I found myself in charge of my own destiny, and every choice I made was my own. It was scary at first, but now, I wouldn't give it up for anything. I'm done with being manipulated or exploited by other people, the choices I make are mine and mine alone—do you understand that?" Draco nodded mutely in response. "Good. Now, let me make one thing perfectly clear to you: I choose you. Not out of a sense of responsibility or duty, but because I love you—because I want you."

Harry let go of Draco's hand and carded his fingers through Draco's hair at the base of his neck. "When I feel adrift, you're the only thing that makes me feel anchored to the world. And even though you absolutely drive me round the bend at times"—Draco let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a cry, and pressed his forehead against Harry's—"I don't want to be with anyone else; you make me happy. You might not think that you're worthy, but you are. And if I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you of that, then so be it. It's a small price to pay to have you in my life."

"Wow," Draco chuckled. "You can be quite poetic when you want to be, too."

Harry leaned forward and pressed their lips together then and Draco instantly felt a huge weight he didn't even realise he'd been carrying around on his shoulders lift. Although the kiss was chaste, it held the promise of so much more. When Harry finally broke the kiss, he was beaming at Draco.

"Okay, now that we've got all of the grown-up talk out of the way, I don't suppose you fancy coming back to The Burrow with me to say hello to everyone?" he asked. "I still haven't opened up my Christmas presents yet."

Draco pretended to consider the offer. "Mmm, I suppose since the Kneazle's already out the bag, I might as well."

Harry grabbed Draco's hand and pulled them both up onto their feet. "I guarantee that Christmas at the Weasleys' will be way more fun than some stuffy old winter ball at your parents' house."

Draco huffed out a mirthless laugh. "Well, that wouldn't be difficult."

Harry only gave him a moment to brace himself before he Apparated them both back to The Burrow. Draco's feet were wrenched off of the wet pavement and they hurtled through a whirlwind of darkness only to reappear moments later outside the Weasleys' home, now ankle-deep in snow. Harry cast a nervous glance between the house and his boyfriend.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Not entirely," he admitted. "Just stick with me, please."

Harry tightened his grip on Draco's hand and gave him a reassuring smile before tugging him towards the kitchen entrance. Before they were even halfway up the path, the kitchen door flew open and Mrs Weasley appeared.

"Harry Potter!" she bellowed and Harry stuttered to a halt as the Weasley matriarch came marching down the snowy path towards him like an angry bull to a red flag.

"Oh bugger," Harry muttered.

Mrs Weasley stopped in front of Harry with her hands on her hips, her expression one of abject fury. "Where have you been?"

Before Harry even had the chance to explain, Mrs Weasley had started ranting. "No note—no explanation—I've been out of my mind with worry all morning wondering where you could have gone!"

"Sorry about that," Harry grimaced. "I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That much is evident! You didn't even finish your breakfast before pulling that disappearing act on us. And look at you!" She waved her hand at Harry in disbelief. "You're not even wearing a cloak! You could have frozen out here in weather like this!"

"I'm sorry!" Harry cried. "I didn't mean for you to worry."

"Of course, I was worried!" she bristled. "You're one of my boys! You can't just vanish on a whim like that and not expect me to think the worst after everything that's happened—" Mrs Weasley stopped talking abruptly and bowed her head, taking a moment to compose herself before she looked up at Harry again and said more calmly, "Next time, do me a favour and just send us a messenger Patronus, if for no other reason than to put my mind at ease."

"I will," he mumbled. "Sorry…"

Mrs Weasley waved her hand dismissively. "It's quite alright, I'm just glad that you're okay." She turned her attention to Draco who instinctively took a step back from her, fully expecting the woman to start shouting at him next. "Draco, dear. Thank you for bringing Harry back here safe and sound. I assume that you'll be staying for dinner?"

"Uh…"

"Of course, you are," she insisted, already turning on her heel and marching back up the path towards the house. "Come on, then. We've all been waiting for Harry to get back before plating up."

Draco and Harry looked uncertainly at each other before following Mrs Weasley up the path towards the house. As they approached, he could see Hermione and Ron watching them from the kitchen window.

"Maybe it would be for the best if I just headed back to Theo's," Draco suggested.

"Don't you dare!" Harry hissed. "The only reason I'm not getting sent to my room without dinner is because you're here. You're gonna have to stick around for a bit now."

As Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen, she cried, "Harry's back!"

"About bloody time!" came a distant voice from deeper within the house. "I'm bloody starving!"

Mrs Weasley disappeared into the corridor just as Harry and Draco entered the kitchen. Hermione ran up towards Harry and threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, thank god you're alright. We were so worried!"

"I'm fine," he groused in reply, patting Hermione on the back. Ron held back from hugging Harry and instead, he glared at Draco.

"I guess you two sorted things out?"

Harry looked at Draco with a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, everything's alright now."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Weasley," Draco preened.

"Yeah, don't remind me," he muttered before stalking out of the kitchen, closely followed by Hermione.

Harry and Draco toed off their shoes and left them by the kitchen door before following the others. Draco felt a stab of anxiety when he heard several voices chattering as he made his way down the cramped corridor and stopped short of entering the living room. Harry grabbed his hand again and smiled.

"You're going to be fine," Harry assured him and before Draco could protest, he had pushed the living room door open and pulled Draco inside. The chatter came to an abrupt halt and a roomful of mostly redheads sat around a long dining table whipped around to look at the pair. Draco stood stock-still, paralysed by the judging gazes of the Weasley clan. He could feel several eyes lingering on his and Harry's joined hands, and although his palm was sweaty, Harry wouldn't relinquish his grip.

"Sorry that I'm late," said Harry with a jovial air that didn't match the tense expression on his face. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Draco. Draco, this is everyone."

Draco fixed an awkward smile to his face and gave everyone a slight wave. "Hello."

The response was mixed as some people mumbled 'hello' and 'merry Christmas' while others stared curiously at the two of them. It was taking all of Draco's willpower not to bolt straight out of the room and Apparate back to the safety of Theo's house but just as he was about to lose his nerve completely, Ron rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

"Here, there's a couple of free seats next to me," he said, beckoning them over to his side of the table.

Chairs scraped against the floor as some of the older Weasleys leaned forward, giving Harry and Draco enough room to squeeze past them. Harry took the empty seat next to Ron and sat down. It was only when Draco took his own seat next to Harry that he realised Theo was sat to his left, an amused grin plastered across his face.

"Right!" said Mrs Weasley loudly, cutting through the tension. "Now that everyone is finally here, tuck in!"

Mercifully, the attention swiftly moved away from Harry and Draco towards their meals as everyone began tucking into the mountain of food that was piled on top of the table: a golden turkey sat at the centre, surrounded by platefuls of buttered Brussels sprouts, pigs in blankets, three different types of potato, boatfuls of steaming hot gravy, and a pyramid of Yorkshire puddings.

As everyone began to put food onto their plates and chat amongst themselves, Draco leaned towards Theo and whispered, "What are you still doing here? I thought you'd have headed back home." His eyes narrowed as he took in his best friend's odd appearance. "And what on earth are you wearing?"

"Molly very kindly invited me to stay for dinner," he replied simply as he proceeded to dump several spoonfuls of crispy roast potatoes onto his and Draco's plates.

Draco scoffed. "Molly? You've only been here five minutes and already you're on first name terms with the woman?"

"It's not my fault that she finds me incredibly charming," he drawled, drizzling gravy all over the potatoes. "She even made me a jumper for my Christmas." He put down the gravy boat and held out his arms to showcase the knitted black sweater adorned with silver stars. "Don't you like it?"

Of course, he did. But there was no way in seven hells that he was going to admit that. Instead, he crossed his arms and asked, "Did she make you that stupid paper hat as well?"

"Nope, I won it in a Muggle cracker," Theo explained lightly. "Not as good as magical ones, of course, but they are quite amusing. Here." He grabbed a shiny red cracker from the table and held on end out to Draco. "Give it a pull."

"No, thank you."

Theo tutted and rolled his eyes. "Bah humbug to you, then. Potter—care to pull on my cracker?"

Harry paused from shovelling another forkful of roast beef into his mouth and leaned over Draco to take ahold of the cracker. "Usually, I like to be wined and dined first before I do that, but since it's Christmas."

As they tugged on the cracker, there was a loud snap and it tore in two, scattering the contents all over Draco's plate.

"Whoops! Sorry about that," said Theo cheerfully, picking up the paper hat, now sodden in gravy, between his index finger and thumb and wrapping it in a tissue. He snatched a discarded square of white paper from the table and unfolded it. "Ooh, you got a joke, too! I'll read it, shall I?"

"You needn't bother," said Draco, but Theo ignored him and proceeded to read it aloud anyway.

"How does Darth Vader enjoy his Christmas Turkey?" he asked. "On the dark side!"

Harry involuntarily snorted but Draco stared blankly at Theo. "Who's Darth Vader?"

"No idea," he admitted, pocketing the joke. "Potter, perhaps you could tell us?"

Draco was only half-listening as Harry proceeded to explain in detail about a series of films called Star Wars. Instead, his focus was drawn to the other guests at the dinner table. The dining experience at the Weasleys' was so far removed from what he was used to at Malfoy Manor, he actually found it a bit intimidating. Dinner with his parents always consisted of sitting at opposite ends of a long dining table with Draco in the middle, with little more than polite conversation taking place. It was always quiet, formal, and (in Draco's honest opinion) incredibly dull. This, on the other hand, was all-out chaos by comparison. Everyone was shouting and laughing over each other, and George even went as far as throwing a couple of buttered sprouts at his brother Percy at one point, although his mother scolded him for that. They were making such a racket that Draco was surprised they could understand what anyone else was saying.

Just then, Harry nudged their knees together and whispered, "Are you alright?"

Draco thought for a moment before nodding and replying quietly, "I'm fine. Just...taking it all in."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to, but you'll learn to enjoy it."

Draco wasn't so sure that he'd ever enjoy it to the same extent as Harry did, but he had certainly settled into it by the time desserts were served. Mrs Weasley magicked the main courses away and with the swish of her wand, the table was laden with platefuls of sugar plums, jelly and ice cream, and a flaming Christmas pudding. There was even a gingerbread house that was an exact replica of The Burrow, but Ron made quick work demolishing that and stuffing his face with fistfuls of the festive biscuit.

"You're not the only one who wants to eat that, Ron!" Hermione chided. "Leave some for the rest of us."

"In this house, if you're not first, you're last," he mumbled through a mouthful of food before ladling spoonfuls of jelly into a bowl. Hermione drew her boyfriend a disgusted look but rather than argue, she shook her head and helped herself to a large serving of vanilla ice cream.

By the time the desserts were cleared, Draco was feeling quite full and content with life. It also seemed like the Weasleys were somewhat cautiously accepting of him. Mrs Weasley in particular was very accomodating and kept asking Draco how he was and offering to top up his butterbeer. Even Ron seemed more amenable to his company, although Draco suspected that a belly full of food had a lot to do with that. Ron even went as far as to ask Draco to play a round of wizard's chess, which he accepted, only to immediately regret it when he realised what a formidable player his opponent turned out to be.

Draco cursed under his breath as he watched Ron's queen demolish his knight into several pieces with her chair. "You're smarter than you look, Weasley, I'll give you that."

"Chess is a thinking man's game," Ron declared. "It requires patience and strength of character. You'd probably be better suited to something less taxing on the brain, like Exploding Snap."

"Hilarious," Draco muttered, tipping his defeated king over onto his side.

Just then, Harry tapped Draco on the shoulder and asked, "You finished your match?"

"Yes, I've had enough of having my arse handed to me by Weasley for one day, thanks very much," he replied, rising to his feet.

Ron laughed and began resetting the chessboard for another game. "Always a pleasure, Malfoy."

Draco followed Harry out into the corridor and was surprised when Harry began leading him up the steep, crooked steps of The Burrow. "Where are we going?"

"I've got a little surprise for you," said Harry without elaborating.

Intrigued, Draco followed Harry, climbing higher and higher until they reached the top floor of the house and entered a dusty, cramped attic room with two beds. It looked more like storage space than a bedroom, but based on the Chudley Cannons quilt thrown over one bed and Harry's discarded clothes lying at the foot of the other, this was where the two friends had been staying over the holidays.

"This is...cosy."

Harry huffed out a laugh and threw open the lid of his trunk. "Yeah, well it's a hell of a lot more spacious than a cupboard."

Draco grimaced. He couldn't argue with that. Harry pulled something out of the trunk and quickly hid it behind his back before standing upright again. Draco's eyes narrowed. Harry looked nervous all of a sudden. "What's that you've got there?"

"It's a Christmas present."

Draco groaned. "Harry, you've given me a present already, there's really no need to give me anything else."

But Harry shook his head. "It's not from me."

Harry pulled the mystery gift out from behind his back and held it out to Draco. He stared at it for a moment, trying to process what the green lump of wool was.

"Is that a jumper?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Mrs Weasley makes them for her family and friends every Christmas."

"But…" Draco was confused. "Why would she make one for me?"

Harry shrugged. "Because I care about you and you make me happy. It's just her way of saying welcome to the family."

Harry placed the jumper in Draco's hands and he couldn't tear his eyes from it. His parents had always spent exorbitant amounts of money on gifts for him, but when you were a Malfoy, money was no object. They, nor anyone else for that matter, had ever taken the time or care to actually make him a gift before. He could tell by the quality of the jumper that Mrs Weasley had spent many hours constructing it—making it for someone that she didn't know from Adam, or even liked. It was a credit to her love of Harry that she had put so much love and attention into the jumper, and Draco felt a lump forming in the back of his throat just thinking about that.

"I mean, you don't have to wear it," said Harry hurriedly. "But they're really soft and warm, and it gets pretty cold down in the Slytherin dungeons, it might come in handy."

Draco rubbed the soft wool between his fingers and noted quietly, "It's in my colour, too."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I made sure that it wasn't maroon."

Draco chuckled and sat the jumper on the end of Harry's bed. "I appreciate that, thank you. Red clashes horribly with my complexion."

"I wouldn't say that," said Harry, draping his arms around Draco's shoulders. "I think you look good in pretty much anything—or out of it."

Draco cocked an eyebrow at Harry and rested his hands on his hips. "Did you really bring me up here just to show me a jumper?"

Harry drew him a licentious smile and purred, "Well, I may have had other, less noble intentions in mind. Everyone's busy downstairs, so we should have a bit of time to ourselves. Of course, you're more than welcome to go and let Ron beat you at chess again, if you'd prefer?"

Draco pretended to consider Harry's proposal for a moment. "No, I think I'd rather stick around here, thanks."

He pulled Harry into a heated kiss, thinking to himself that his day, which had started out as an unmitigated disaster, couldn't possibly get any better, when suddenly and without warning, the attic door burst open and Ron came crashing into the room.

"Oh, no you don't!" he yelled, pointing accusingly at the pair. "I can just about abide you eating my food and drinking my butterbeer, Malfoy, but I won't have you shagging my best mate in my own house!"

Harry threw his head back and groaned. "We weren't shagging, it was only a kiss!"

Ron let out a mirthless laugh, "A likely story. Five more minutes and Merlin knows what I'd have walked into..." His gaze fell on the green jumper at the end of Harry's bed and he froze. "What is that?"

"Nothing," Harry lied but Ron was already marching forward and holding out the jumper to inspect it more closely. He looked between the offending item and Draco, a look of dawning spreading across his face.

"Did my mother knit you this?" he hissed, brandishing the jumper in Draco's face.

"Apparently so," Draco smirked. "Looks like I'm officially a member of the Weasley clan now."

Draco couldn't help but laugh at the stricken expression on Ron's face. He tossed the jumper back onto the bed and stormed back out of the room. "I can't believe she knitted you a jumper—my own mother!"

Harry sighed and turned back to Draco. "Looks like we'll have to postpone our reunion 'til another time."

"That's alright," said Draco with a sly smile. "Winding up Weasley will keep me ticking over for the time being. Here, pass me the jumper. I'm going to wear it for the rest of the day."

Harry picked up the jumper and handed it to Draco. "Ron's going to hate that."

"I know," said Draco delightedly, pulling it over his head. Merlin, it really was cosy. "I better go thank Molly for my gift—in full view of Weasley, of course. Maybe I'll just tell him we shagged, anyway—on his bed, no less—while I was wearing the jumper! Oh, the look on his face will be priceless."

Harry drew Draco a hard look. "Considering Ron was the one that helped you find me earlier today, do you think you could cut him some slack, just this once?"

"Why would I do that? It's fun winding him up!"

"It's not really in the spirit of Christmas though, is it?" he argued.

Draco tutted and crossed his arms. "You're a real spoilsport, you know that?"

"Draco…"

"Urgh, fine," he groaned. "In the spirit of the holidays, I'll behave myself, just this once. Consider it my Christmas gift to you."

Harry looked relieved. "Thank you."

"But I'm keeping the jumper on," he added defiantly. "It feels nice."

Harry rolled his eyes but he was still smiling. "Good enough."

Draco and Harry headed back downstairs to join the rest of the festivities. Although it was a struggle, Draco kept his word and managed to refrain from winding Ron up too much for the rest of the day. As Christmas drew to a close and everyone began heading home or to their beds, Draco and Theo Apparated back to Nott Hall, feeling far more jubilant than when they had departed that morning. As Draco lay in bed that night, his thoughts inevitably began to wander as he ran the events of the day through his mind. Okay, so his current situation was far from perfect. He still had his parents to worry about, and there was a real possibility that he'd be disinherited by them. And sure, everyone else in the wizarding world still hated his guts—but not Harry. Despite his many faults and shortcomings, Harry loved him unequivocally. That knowledge alone was enough to keep Draco going; no matter what happened, he wouldn't have to face the world on his own.