Morning found Harry and Draco snuggled up on the couch, Harry's arm around Draco's slim waist.

"OY!" shouted a most unwelcome Seamus Finnigan. "It's bloody well about time!" Harry and Draco jerked awake. "Told you they'd get together by Christmas!" Dean groaned and shoved a handful of Sickles into Seamus's hand.

"Anyways, it's Christmas! Everyone's already opened their presents. Yours and Draco's are upstairs. We'll meet you at breakfast!"

When they were gone, Harry glanced blearily down at Draco. "Did you catch anything he said?" he asked, groggily.

"Not much, but I heard something about presents!" Draco exclaimed, rocketing off the couch and bounding up the stairs.

Harry followed (quite a bit slower) and found Draco sitting on Ron's bed, staring in amazement at a massive, glittery pile of Christmas gifts. He looked like—well, like a child at Christmas.

"What's up?" Harry asked, sitting on his own bed.

"It's so HUGE!" he breathed. Harry laughed.

"Don't you get this many gifts usually?"

"Nope," Draco said, shaking his head. "I get like four things."

"Well, go on then! Open 'em!" Harry encouraged, picking up his present from Hermione. Tearing it open, he saw that it was a book of beautiful paintings. They were by an artist named Vic Fitzgerald, and they were all of historical Quidditch moments.

"Look!" Draco exclaimed, excitedly. "I got a present from Professor Lupin!" He picked up a note attached to the package. "Glad to see you and Harry have made amends. Happy Christmas, R.J. Lupin."

"What is it?" Harry asked. Draco opened it. It was a long, thin silver flute with a gold-filigree snake curled around it. Draco played a quick tune on it and the sweet music rang through the room, entrancing Harry.

"I can't believe he remembered!" Draco breathed.

"Remembered what?"

"In third year, when we faced the Boggart, my greatest fear was not being able to play my flute." He played another tune, and grinned. "Even playing it wrong, it sounds good!"

They continued opening presents, Draco all the while still amazed at the people he was getting them from. He got a very nice quill and ink set from Sirius, and an odd alarm clock that would play a tune according to the mood he would be in that day—a benefit to himself, and his dorm mates—which he got from Dumbledore.

He got a book on dragons from Hermione, and he even got a Quidditch book from Ron. All in all, he was ecstatic by the time he picked up his last present.

Untying the red ribbon, Draco reached into the velvet bag and pulled out a silver dragon. Intricate runes and long-forgotten languages trailed down its slim body. Draco watched in amazement as the dragon yawned and stretched, turning brilliant emerald (literally) eyes on him.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked nervously, as Draco watched it zoom in circles above their heads. Draco's jaw dropped.

"You got it for me?" he gasped. "Harry, it must have cost a fortune!" Harry smiled, pleased that the Boy-Who-Had-Everything was worrying about how much it cost.

"Actually, Rio gave it to me for ten Galleons. I'm pretty sure she discounted it, 'cause I can't imagine it really cost that little!" Draco nodded, knowingly.

"Rio and Rigel are like the older sisters I never had," he agreed. Then he leapt at Harry and flung his arms around Harry's neck. "Thank you SO much!" he exclaimed. Harry hugged him, and he felt a warm wetness on his neck.

"Hey, why are you crying?" Harry murmured, rubbing his back, soothingly. Draco grinned, sheepishly.

"It's just that…Well, all my life I've obeyed my father's stupid rules, and now that I've broken his number one rule—to the extreme, I might add—it seems like nobody hates me. I've gotten gifts from half the Gryffindors, faculty, and even people I've never really met!" He sighed and snuggled into Harry's chest. "You really are the Golden Boy."

Harry picked up his last gift. It was a gold band with a ruby, a diamond, and an emerald on it, and the word Angelos embossed on the inside. Wordlessly, Harry kissed the top of Draco's head, and Draco sighed contentedly as he slipped it on Harry's slim finger.

"You're my Golden Boy."

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