Author's Note: Hey, all! :) What's new with you? With me, well, covid sucks, but at least it means both my husband and myself are home! I'm on maternity leave, as in January we had our second baby, Lily! Everyone in my household is safe and healthy. I hope you guys are, too :)

Chapter 42: Merry Fucking Christmas

Severus sat firmly in his chair before his fire, contemplating a potion to render himself unconscious til morning. He wanted nothing more than to join Her—Miss Granger —at her home for dinner, as invited. However, he had never gotten so much as a crush on a student before, not even in his first years teaching, when he had known some of them not-as-a-professor, so he wasn't really able to trust himself to handle things rationally.

Yes, he had a nasty habit of falling for women who had become a friend to him—Lily, Narcissa—so Hermione was just another on the list. It wouldn't be so bad if she was actually out of school, had a few years under her belt, and so on... But as it stood, he knew the signs of an impending crush-on-his-friend and didn't want it to progress to the inappropriate-and-unrequited phase.

Which meant distance. Not lapping up crumbs of friendly affection in front of her parents. No more weekly office hour book clubs. No longer joining her on every patrol. Oh, he followed her discreetly now, to ensure her well-being. There were reasons why they assigned student patrols in pairs, after all. But that was it. To ensure her safety, like any other student.

Not just because she smiled at him, made him feel at ease in his own skin. Not just because she talked to him like he was a person and not a pariah. Not just because with him, he could see her relax and become more like the girl he had spent time with. It made him feel special.

Dangerous, dangerous territory.

This would end one of two ways, he thought morosely, turning the vial left and right to admire the shimmering teal. Either as with Narcissa, these...feelings...would dissipate. Or, more likely, he would end up as he had with Lily. Loving her fiercely, never telling her, and he would inevitably lash out in a fit of temper and lose her.

Well, at least this time he knew better than to join any Dark organizations. His lips curved bitterly.

Why was he doomed to fall for his friends?

Hermione was already in bed and asleep by time Mr. and Mrs. Granger donned their pyjamas and climbed into their own bed.

"Did she seem sad to you?" Mr. Granger asked, setting his glasses atop his book.

"I think she's upset that her professor didn't join us," Mrs. Granger said, lips pursed. "If you ask me, I think Hermione's got a bit of a crush on him but doesn't know it yet."

"Well, that's not a surprise."

They shared a smile. Mrs. Granger had been Mr. Granger's TA during his college courses. It had taken some convincing for him to get her to go out with him, but they ended rubbing along nicely and history was history. All these years, a daughter, and a respectable dental practice to boot.

"No, dear, but it would be preferable if she doesn't realise it until after school," Mrs. Granger said.

Mr. Granger laughed. "What if he ends up returning her affections?"

"Hmm," she said slowly. "I liked him well enough. He seems a good match, and if he doesn't return her feelings I'll eat my left shoe."

"Just the left, dear?" They both laughed. "And if he doesn't feel the same?"

She scoffed. "Hermione gets her stubbornness from you, love. If he doesn't, she won't give up til he's at least given her a chance."

They lay in companionable quiet for a while.

"And if he tries to be all noble about it?" Mr. Granger asked. "You certainly tried to be."

"Then I'll have to go and give him a talking-to," Mrs. Granger said matter-of-factly, a gleam in her eyes.

Harrod's was packed, but Draco had been quite insistent on going shopping. Harry was clutching his hand as the blond led him through the throng of post-holiday shoppers.

"Why are we here again?" Harry asked breathlessly as they reached the menswear section.

"Because, scar-head, you need a proper wardrobe." Draco turned and released Harry's hand, looking him up and down critically. Saggy clothes. Again.

Harry flushed, the scar on his forehead standing out white. "What? No! It's okay, Draco. You don't have to—"

"But I want to," Draco murmured, standing close enough to fluster Harry. He watched those green eyes dilate. "It's not that I dislike what you wear, or that you can't buy yourself clothes, but I want to. How I look has always been a large part of my upbringing. And I've gotten really into Muggle fashion and, well, I wanted to share it with you."

"Oh." Harry smiled.

"I mean, I've been designing a blended line for our world, and I thought about getting you a set of those, but I didn't want you to think that I wanted you to wear it to make my name look good or something and—mmf!" Draco was cut off as Harry gave him a quick kiss.

"Shut up, Malfoy," he muttered, but he was grinning widely. Draco smiled back.

"I've wanted to do this for a while," he explained.

"So you over-thought. What's new?" Harry asked. "Alright. I'll let you dress me. Where do we start."

Draco looked him over critically. "Bottoms, tops, then undergarments."

Harry protested the last as Draco plunged into the clothing racks, dragging him behind him.

Harry sat in the changing room, waiting, turning his wand over in his hands. This was embarrassing, but, well, nice. It was sweet of Draco to want to give him a Christmas gift of a new wardrobe, something that was important to him. And Muggle, no less. Harry had fretted over what to give Draco. He still had no real idea, and was hoping that while they were out that the perfect idea would come to him. He had a planner shrunk in his pocket as a Hermione-inspired backup idea. He'd figured that he was in his apprenticeship and as studious as Hermione, so it would be not entirely awful.

He'd had a lovely Christmas with the Weasleys, and had had an eggnog-infused snog with Ginny under the mistletoe which left him feeling torn and guilty. He wanted to talk to Draco about it but bringing it up on their Christmas date?

A purple shirt sailed over the top of the changing room door. "Try this one."

Harry caught it reflexively and set about trying it on.

Draco sat with Harry in the coffee shop, stirring his latte absently. Harry seemed...off. Well, he'd seemed off since they'd met up this morning. He flicked his wand under the table, setting up a few privacy wards.

Harry looked up at him, startled.

"What's wrong?"

"That's what I was going to ask," Draco muttered. His blond brows drew into a frown. "You've been acting off all morning."

"It's...it's Christmas," Harry said. "I... we shouldn't talk about it now."

"Alright, that's never good. Pansy used to say that," Draco said. His shoulders drooped. "Look, Potter—a"

"What happened to 'Harry'?"

"Well, you're going to break it off with me, aren't you?" Pansy had dropped those words about seven of the times they'd broken up.

"No!" Harry blurted. "I mean, I don't think I am? I don't know, honestly."

"Start at the beginning," Draco ordered.

He listened intently as Harry explained the whole thing—Ginny, her saying to go kiss him, them kissing, his confusion, the mistletoe, everything. Draco couldn't help it. He started laughing.

"Harry. We've never said we're an exclusive couple. I honestly thought you still were with the Weaslette." Harry blinked at him. "Look, I can't be only your boyfriend."

"There are others?" Harry looked shocked and hurt. Draco shook his head quickly.

"No, I mean... I've got to someday marry. Produce an heir. Ideally with someone who will understand that we're together, too, assuming that we still are." Draco leaned back, his arms crossed uncomfortably over his chest. "I thought that you'd want a family of your own with Weasley. I... we can have both, can't we? Families and each other?"

Harry looked bewildered. "I...I've never heard of anything like that."

"It's pretty common among Purebloods. Sometimes marriages are alliances. Or only for bloodlines. I'd like to have some affection for my partners," Draco said dryly.

Harry studied his face for a long while, then nodded, his green eyes earnest. "I like that, Draco. I do."

Draco smiled, relief painting his features. "That's the best Christmas present I could ask for."

"So you're my boyfriend?" Harry pressed.

Draco laughed. "Yes, Harry. We're boyfriends."

Severus rolled over blearily and swatted ineffectively at the owl fluttering about his bed chamber. "Go 'way. Mail's not til breakfast and it's in the bloody Hall."

Being an owl, of course, and the holidays, it didn't listen, and instead dropped its sooty parcel on his belly. He exhaled sharply at the weight of it. It flew off, presumably back up his chimney.

"Bloody bird," he muttered, sitting up. Then froze. The handwriting was far too familiar. Too dear. What had Hermione sent him?