The Night Before Christmas
Author's note: hmm…just wanted to wish one and all a Merry Christmas. May your God bless and keep you today and every other day as well.
Oh yes, and this is slash. *shrug*
Standard disclaimers apply.
A roaring fire burned in the great hall of Hogwarts, the warm orange-red flames licking hungrily at the wood in the fireplace. Wreaths hung gaily at regular intervals, the cheerful green and red and gold strangely at odds with the rows and rows of empty chairs and tables that littered the room.
"'Twas the night before Christmas…" a voice whispered self-mockingly.
He lounged indolently in front of the fire, half-curled in an oversized chair purloined from the teachers' table. Swirling the wine in his glass, he watched as light shone through the clear liquid and was refracted into thousands of tiny bright slivers.
Suddenly, an irrational surge of anger washed over him, and swiftly downing the wine in a single gulp, he flung the glass away in frustration. A strange sort of peacefulness swept through him at the sound of breaking glass, and the sight of the shattered chalice.
"Is that all that is left?" he wondered aloud, looking at the remnants on the floor. Running frantic fingers through uncharacteristically wild blond hair, he rose in one smooth motion and began to pace back and forth in front of the fire.
With each turn he seemed to get more flustered, and as he covered the distance again and again and again, something finally snapped, and he crumpled to the floor in a pale, unmoving heap. He was too tired to move, too drained to cry…and too alone to care.
On the night before Christmas, as children laughed and songs of joy filled the air, Draco Malfoy closed his eyes and wished desperately that he still believed in hope.
Children carry through the streets
A brightly painted star.
Angels gather round the hearth,
Strumming on guitars.
Men of great renown and faith
Say prayers on boulevards.
It's the night before Christmas.
At the sound of sudden footsteps, Draco forced himself to rise, and greet the newcomer proudly. As his eyes fell on thick black hair and concerned green eyes, he felt the scowl form on his face, felt his expression fall into its habitual contemptuous countenance. A mask…
True, but then he had lived his entire life behind masks. The arrogant young master, the selfish, cruel, heartless bastard that he been expected to be, had been raised to be. He had worn the masks for so long that it was hard to know who he really was anymore. Then again, perhaps there was nothing but the masks anymore.
"Have you come to mock me too?" he asked in a bored, uncaring tone, watching as Harry Potter carefully picked his way across the room to stand directly opposite him. "Haven't you and your motley friends had your fill yet? he continued, his tone betraying a hint of the bitterness that lingered within him.
Harry hesitated, and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Actually," he began, "I came to apologise. We went overboard today."
"And what are you now Malfoy? Without your big bad daddy behind you, you're nothing more than a spineless little prick."
"Aww, daddy's little boy's all alone now. Malfoy senior's just another loony in Azkaban. What's a poor, helpless chap like him gonna do?"
Sounds of raucous laughter, students that he had once picked on now turning on him with a gleam in their eyes he recognised all too well.
"He's all alone now…"
All alone…
Alone…
Draco shuddered at the recollection and turned away. "I don't want your pity," he said to the boy at his back, willing Harry to leave him.
Alone.
But you don't have to be an angel
To sing harmony.
You don't have to be a child
To love the mystery. (mystery)
And you don't have to be a wise man
On bended knee.
The heart of this Christmas is in you and me.
(The night before Christmas.)
(The night before Christmas.)
He felt the hand grip his shoulder, and tried to shrug it off, but Harry just held on tighter. The boy wrenched him around with a strength that belied his lithe, seventeen-year old frame, forcing Draco to meet his gaze.
"It isn't pity I feel," he said simply, the truth in his eyes making it impossible, try as he might, for Draco to convince himself otherwise, and he certainly did try.
The sentence stretched between them, loaded with veil upon veil of meaning, veils which Draco didn't want to lift, didn't dare to lift.
"I…" he began, not knowing what he wanted to say, just aware that if he didn't say something soon, he was going to do something they would both regret. Harry Potter was an exalted hero, loved by millions; he was the scion of the Malfoy house, now nothing more than one of the despised, conquered foes. Surely, Harry didn't know what he was saying, or perhaps he had meant it differently…
But caught as he was in Harry's gaze, he couldn't help but see the flashes of longing and desire that they contained, emotions that he was sure were reflected in his own. And something else, something Draco didn't recognise because in all of his seventeen years, Draco had never been loved, or loved anyone else.
Until now.
If your heart's been longing,
You've been afraid to try,
Sorrow's kept you company,
And the dance has passed by,
I'll lift you up and blaze with you
Across the moonlit sky
On the night before Christmas.
As Harry bent towards him, Draco closed his eyes and surrendered to the kiss. He hated him, he really did; after all, Harry had ripped away all the illusions he had so painstakingly built around himself. But hate and love are after all, two sides of the same coin, and feelings of such depth are so easily mistaken.
It didn't matter really, Draco reflected, as Harry gathered him into a tight embrace. Sometimes, it was enough to just take what was offered. He put a hand on Harry's cheek, savouring the feel of his skin. He could taste the honey on his breath, a sweet, clean scent that ran right through him.
Their outer black robes had long since fallen to the floor; Harry laid him gently upon them, stroking the silky blond hair into place. Draco pulled him down as well, and lay curled on his side, Harry's arm around him.
They watched the flames pop and crackle in the hearth, content to just to lie there.
Together.
'Cause you don't have to be an angel
To sing harmony.
You don't have to be a child
To love the mystery. (mystery)
And you don't have to be a wise man
On bended knee.
The heart of this Christmas is in you and me.
An interminable length of time later, Draco whispered his question. "Why?" he asked the dark figure beside him.
Harry smiled and pulled him closer. "No one should be alone on Christmas," he replied.
The stars shone bright through the enchanted ceiling above, and snow fell silently around them.
It was the night before Christmas, and they had finally found each other.
The heart of this Christmas is in you and me.
(The night before Christmas.)
(The night) The night before Christmas.
(The night) The night before Christmas.
(The night) The night before Christmas.
(The night before Christmas.)
(The night) The night before Christmas.
(The night before Christmas.)
(The night) The night before Christmas.
(The night)
© ai 2002. The story, not the song. Do hope you liked it.
The Night Before Christmas is copyrighted to Amy Grant.