Button up that shirt you're supposed to wear.
Don't forget your airline ticket or to brush your hair,

"Draco," he called. The blonde man turned around slowly, comb poised above his silken locks.

"Yes love?"

"I found your shirt, the grey one. It was on top of the bookcase," Harry proffered said shirt, a sleek affair with too many shiny buttons. He looked slightly guilty. It was in fact, his fault that the shirt had wound up there in the first place. Harry however was not going to remind his ruffled boyfriend of that fact.

"I can't pack it now, you know this. I needed that last night, I'm busy now," he intoned rapid fire, pausing at the end of his speech to peer at Harry disgruntledly through the mirror. "You do have the tickets, correct?" Harry sighed. Draco sighed, distractedly fixing his hair and smoothing down his jeans while scrutinizing himself in the mirror. Harry had explained that airplanes required sitting for several hours and that they could clean up on the flight but Draco, of course, had refused scathingly, and had spent the last two hours primping to perfection.

We're going to get on the plane and do it all over again. Harry thought wearily.

"Uhh…Tickets, tickets" the tousled haired man patted down his clothes and back pocket, turned around twice and spotted the missing tickets under his socks which were still strewn on the bed. The rest of his packing lay across the bed, on the floor, and under the bureau if he had cared to check. Draco's trunk had been packed since yesterday morning in an exacting and precise sectioning that made Harry's eyes sore if he looked too long. Draco called Harry's packing an eyesore. If packing it could be called. He was hurriedly gathering a collection of items from the bedroom and shoving them hastily in a suitcase that he had snagged from the attic that morning. Draco gave him a pinched look of distain and agitation, emphasized with the minutest raise of his left eyebrow. Harry sheepishly tucked a shirtsleeve back into the woefully packed trunk and scrounged around for his favorite tie.

Getting Draco to agree to this mode of transportation had not been easy. The blonde had been most fussy over what he deemed 'vulgar Muggle transport' but Harry had assured him that airplanes were quite safe and that no, he would not reconsider and take an overseas portkey. Draco had a Cadillac, but he was uneasy over the prospect of a machine that hurled him through the air without the use of magic. When Harry had decided live in America, he had taken AmeriKey, portkey transport of the New World. He had been violently ill for over a week, nausea and splitting headache for two, and had come out of the experience with the steely determination to never ever do that again. Voldemort had nothing on long distance portkeying.

"Ahem," Draco coughed, eyeing his socks. Harry shook his head wearily. It was going to be a long trip.

Show that family that you care.
But could you wear something that celebrates
Everything you love, and maybe what your family hates.
'Cause that might be what it takes.

For the trip back to England, Draco had insisted on wearing only pure wizarding robes.

"Harry, my family does not understand the concept of tee shirts. I am wearing these only to blend in on the aeroplanent," he had pronounced the unfamiliar word horribly but with such nonchalance that Harry had to hold back a snicker. "After the flight I insist on changing back immediately. Preferably in a posh salon, preferably with menservants in loincloths and palm fronds," Harry had grinned wickedly.

"Can I come with?" Draco had rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Yes, and I'll show up to Mrs. Malfoy's Christmas Eve dinner party completely snogged out! Think Harry, think, just for one moment." Harry had snickered again, quietly, but sobered quickly.

"You could come to Ron's. I mean, he and Susan are hosting the Weasley dinner this year. Ginny just had her first baby and she and Dean will be there. Hermione and Charlie are even flying back from Romania. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, even Percy. I would love for you to meet them. I flew back a few years ago but not since…" He took a breath and eyed his trainers, tapping them together much like Dorothy in Oz. "I know I can't go with you but I wouldn't mind you going with me." Harry said quietly. He whispered under his breath, almost silently, "I wouldn't mind telling them if you were there telling them with me." Draco had looked over at him and gnawed his lip. Draco had taken a deep breath and looked at Harry but opted to ignore the seriousness of the moment.

"Oh Harry, come off it. You should be excited. I am letting you take me for a death-ride on the unstable, impractical, Muggle flying contraption. Be happy." Harry smiled slightly and pulled Draco towards the cab.

It's your fire, it's your soul, you shouldn't have to go.
It's your fire, it's your soul, you shouldn't have to go.

First thing they'll say's take off your shoes,
And they'll say they want your story, but they get confused,
By all those words you use.

"Explain this again."

"We get on the little ship. The little ship goes up in the air. About eight hours later we arrive in London. We get off the ship."

"Not that," Draco looked around the airport with disgusted disbelief. "This." he waived his hand airily towards the screaming children and mechanic conveyer belts, "This business is all pertinent to our trip how, exactly?" Harry sighed.

"It comes with the territory love." Draco snorted in a most undignified fashion. Harry rolled his eyes. It had been hell trying to get Draco to part with his trunk, rapidly explaining that, no, they would not steal it and no, he could not lock it, and Merlin no, he could not put a hex on it. The blond had looked murderous and Harry had checked his hair surreptitiously in the first available reflective surface. When Draco lost his temper, he had a nasty habit of turning Harry's hair into a bubblegum pink dog shape with a tendency to bark at strangers. He couldn't imagine what he would have told the security guard. Draco gave him a look that would curdle pumpkin juice as a child's curdling scream cut the air.

"I am not getting on a plane with that," he stated. As they headed for their entrance, Harry saw the brunette woman with the screaming baby get into line with them. It's going to be a long trip. Harry thought for the millionth time that morning.

Last year, Draco had portkeyed home for Christmas, leaving Harry with Hermione and Charlie who had taken a detour from globe trotting to settle in for the holiday. Harry had been pleasant but quiet, allowing Hermione to chatter endlessly about how the antidotal qualities of Peruvian Vipertooth venom and the endangered Chinese Fireball's intestines were identical. Apparently this meant a price reduction and quantity boost on many previously hard to obtain potions. Charlie had smiled proudly, Harry had smiled encouragingly, and Hermione had prattled on. It had been a lovely but tiring few days. Although Charlie had looked curiously at the two toothbrushes in the sink, he hadn't said anything. Draco had not moved in until that February so any other suspicions had remained unfounded.

Draco's visit to the Manor had been a different matter. Mrs. Malfoy was not a woman to be easily hoodwinked and had remained suspicious throughout her son's entire visit. His quandary was not helped by the fact that after dating Harry for over a year, Draco was left with precious few stories to tell that did not involve his green eyed boyfriend. Christmas day had been a bit awkward. Draco's business endeavor, Malfoy Ltd, a clothing line, had proved a resounding success in America and he had nattered on about that for awhile. Narcissa had been slightly confused by all the American and Muggle words but she had smiled reassuringly. Draco had tried to explain but soon realized that his business jargon was getting nowhere. However, the Malfoys were nothing if not polite hence they had continued with nonsensical chit chat for the remainder of his trip. That night, after Draco had finished his scrupulous packing, he had lain in bed, thinking about Harry.

The next morning Draco had bid his mother a brief goodbye and portkeyed home. Narcissa Malfoy had looked suspiciously after him long after his cologne ceased to scent the air. Her boy had the look of one in love.

A year ago your car went off a cliff,
And you saw an angel in midair who said you'd live.
Well, that's a story you can give.

A few weeks after they had started dating, Draco had been driving his shiny new Cadillac home in a rainstorm. He had been sliding down Harry's driveway when the breaks slipped and his car had lurched forward, heading towards the ravine. Harry had been at the window, watching his progress. When he had seen the Cadillac slip, he had apperated inside, regardless of the risk and grabbed Draco. The blond had been panicking and Harry had looked him straight in the eyes, green connecting with grey and had said,

"I've got you, love," and popped back into his living room. The car had been totaled but he was unharmed. Although Draco never told him, that was the moment had fallen in love.

Harry had needed no near-death experience to tell him that he was in love. His penchant for falling into danger at any second had somewhat inured him to its effects. One morning, Harry rolled over to see Draco, blond angel hair tousled over his face, sleeping peacefully. In that split second, Harry had realized that this was what he wanted to awaken to every day for the rest of his life. That afternoon, he had gone to Diagon Alley and begun shopping for rings.

It's your fire, it's your soul, you shouldn't have to go.
Your fire, your soul, you shouldn't have to go.

They sat on the plane in disgruntled silence. Draco had wanted to speak to the flight attendant regarding certain ill-behaved children and Harry had been forced to restrain him from Silencio-ing the howling thing, or worse. Draco was of the erroneous opinion that "flight attendant" was synonymous with "house elf".

"Snapping your fingers will not bring the flight attendant faster. And please stop eyeing the child like that. Not that it wouldn't do her good," he soothed, "Its just going to look dodgy if the child suddenly can't make any noise and grows sprouts from her nose. This is a Muggle plane, love." Draco looked mutinous.

"That's no child, that's a banshee! And this Muggle nonsense is slower than a flobberworm, and smells just as bad. I should have portkeyed. I could be there by now, I don't want to be here," he sulked "Harry!" he whined. "Make it stop," Harry sent up a plea to Merlin for the child to cease its cries. He was not heard. For the next eight hours, he had to listen to Draco complain about everything from the inappropriate air temperature to the lack of leg room. His attempts to acclimate Draco to Muggle entertainment failed miserably and he had been forced to discreetly tuck the remote on Draco's seat back into its holder and hope that the flight attendant didn't notice that it had been lacerated into fine strips. Harry swore that if he ever made it off the plane, he would never bring Draco on any Muggle device ever again. He would also make sure that he didn't get sex for a week. It was times like these that made Harry wonder why he had not strangled Draco long ago. Next time, Harry decided, he'd brave the overseas portkey.

And they'll say, "You're family, you belong to us.
You can stay at home and have our love and trust,
But any day now one of us could die,
and if we make you suffer don't you want to find out why,
'Cause we love to watch you try,
With your fire, your soul, your soul.
It's your fire, it's your fire, it's your fire.

Harry arrived at Ron's house with only slight trepidation.

I can spend an entire weekend and not talk about Draco. I've spent plenty of Christmases not talking about Draco, this one is no different. He knew he was lying. Those other Christmases had not involved the rings jangling uncomfortably in his pocket. He had been so sure that Draco would come along. Grudgingly, but consenting, he would have allowed Harry to drag him to the Weasley's. Then, confronted with love from Harry's pseudo family, he would have been won over and be happily accepted into the Weasley clan. He snickered into his palm as he pictured a smiling, cheery Draco wearing a Weasley sweater with the words 'Mrs. Potter' emblazoned on the front, a red-haired child in his lap, giving a present with one hand and eating one of Mrs. Weasley's specialty biscuits with the other. Harry sighed. Perhaps he had been a bit too optimistic.

Susan ushered him into the kitchen with a smile and a holler for Ron. Apparently she had just finished baking and needed some extra help setting the table, help which Harry was happy to provide. The Ex-Hufflepuff was a violently efficient cook, mountains of noodles, plates of green bean casserole, and four stuffed turkeys stood testament to her skills. The array of food littered the kitchen. A ham sat on top of the refrigerator, the oven was crammed with cranberry sauce, and a wayward potato was levitating a few inches above the sink. Susan and Harry bustled back and forth, moving the feast onto the dining room table. It had been spelled to three times its usual size yet the table still overflowed. Ron came trotting in as the last bit of mashed potatoes was tucked between two platters of roast. The red-head nicked an asparagus stalk and pulled Harry into a hug.

"Just put Beth down for a nap," he grinned. At ten months, Beth was the newest addition to this Weasley household. Lila, Winston, and now Elizabeth made three children for Ron. Harry was perpetually surprised at how well fatherhood suited his oldest friend.

"We've got two hours until dinner hopefully she'll sleep until then. Then she can meet Uncle Harry, eh?" Ron turned up a cheery eyebrow. Harry blushed and grinned.

"Yeah, sure," Uncle Harry replied. With his mind on his newest god-daughter, Harry gamely greeted the rest of the family as they arrived, trundling through the door or flooing in through the fireplace. This felt like home.

Exactly two hours later, Beth woke up screaming.

"Perfect timing, we were just about to start," announced Susan with a matronly smile. Ginny Thomas rocked her newest bundle in the corner and Mrs. Weasley cooed loudly. Mr. Weasley was shoving a spark plug at Dean, jabbing and gesturing in an aborted fashion by the fireplace in what he must have assumed was a discreet manner. He seemed to harbor the hope that if he was subtle enough, Mrs. Weasley would not see him. For now, the baby appeared to be distraction enough for his robust wife. Charlie was twirling Lila around in a circle while Winston pouted and whined to be next. Bill, single again, was chatting with or rather listening to Hermione rant on about the new laws punishing poachers of Norwegian Ridgebacks. Harry personally thought that anyone stupid enough to try to catch that specific breed of dragon would not need any further punishment than would be meted out by the indignant Ridgebacks. Percy was studying the photos on the walls, humming from time to time, clasping and re-clasping his hands behind his back. His defection had been patched long ago but he had remained slightly subdued ever since. The children on the wall gurgled at him and bounced, not unlike the live children behind him. The twins were rearranging the place cards and charming them quietly, much to Susan's dismay. Mrs. Weasley shot a look at her husband and he sheepishly tucked the plug back into his robe. Dean looked immensely relieved. As everyone settled into their places and redistributed their name cards to their original places, Harry wished, for the hundredth time that evening that Draco had agreed to come with. He imagined the Ex-Slytherin's scathing, incessant, commentary and grinned.

"Oy mate, you look distracted. Everything alright?" Ron nudged Harry's shoulder.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine." The meal was just beginning and the platters were rotating and hovering like a large fan about the table due to the ingenuity of Ginny's newest spell. A goose honked in the vicinity of Harry's ear. He stuck his hand in the cranberry sauce in surprise. Susan frowned slightly and Ron cocked his head in question.

"Who could that be?" she asked. Harry had breathed a sigh of relief. It's just the doorbell you jumpy twit, he chastised himself. Wait the doorbell? He lost his breath again as Draco appeared in the doorway, being escorted by a very puzzled Susan. The blond smirked a rather enormous smirk in Harry's direction.

"Hello love, what did I miss?"

Dead silence greeted this pronouncement. Or at least what would have been dead silence, except at that moment, the newly charmed name cards chorused into an off-key prankster rendition of "We Three Kings of Orient Are". Ron dropped the gravy into the pudding bowl.

Then you'll fly home and get the flu,
And you'll keep staring at the ground, you always do,
When they get their time with you.

You are not a punching bag, my dear,
I think your darkest day should have some light this year,
I think you should stay right here.

"Okay, in my defense, when I suggested visiting the Weasley's I suggested visiting together, as a couple, not making an entrance five minutes after dinner's begun," Harry protested. Draco leaned over on the tiny guest bed and kissed him cheekily.

"You did say I was welcomed here," he pointed out.

"I…" Harry gave up as Draco began to nuzzle his neck.

"Anyway, did you see the Weasel's reaction? One more surprise for the ginger git and it would have been off to Saint Mungo's with him."

"Draco," Harry began warningly. Draco obliviously continued on.

"His mouth all wide like a tree frog, freckles standing out in stark relief to the rest of his body, like swarming red ants on an…OOF! Harry!" The tousle-haired avenger waved his pillow threateningly. Draco gave him a look of scandalized hurt.

"Not one more peep from you," the avenger said menacingly. Draco giggled then snorted unceremoniously. Harry was comfortable and soothed, having consumed a liberal amount of eggnog and biscuits, watching the children open their Christmas Eve gifts. Draco had sat stiffly next to him the entire time, using his cutting repartee to answer even the most innocuous questions directed towards him. And some that weren't. Ron had given Harry looks of complete bewilderment and confusion the entire night. Charlie had grinned in a rather frighteningly knowing way. Most of the Weasleys had seemed concerned or bemused. Only Percy seemed unaffected, but to be fair, he always looked slightly aloof and uninterested.

"So why did you come anyway?" Harry questioned. Draco stared hard at the coverlet, their matching trunks, the wicker cabinet and bedside table; everywhere but Harry.

"Isortakinda….." his last few words blended into the background noise of the house being expanded to fit the extra guests.

"I can't hear you love," Harry whispered.

"I sort of told Mother. About us. And, well," he fluttered his hands uselessly.

"Yes?" Harry prodded.

"Unfortunately, she went berserk, and started chasing me, a cocktail fork in one hand and a fruit knife in the other," he tossed his hair haughtily when Harry looked bemused.

"Your mother is chasing you and you are identifying her implements of destruction?" the blond sighed.

"My boyfriend is a cretin. It was lucky that she figured out my undying love for you during the appetizers; the steak knives would have been lethal." Harry rolled his eyes and Draco resumed his tale, "So anyway, while being chased with non-lethal eating utensils, I made my exit, relieving the serving table of a French raspberry tart on the way out. And, well, I supposed that your offer still stood. And I was hungry. So, here I am. Why?" here he looked slightly horrified. "Oh my God, I shouldn't have come! You changed your mind! Here I thought…and instead I screwed it up for you! And I…oh bollocks, Harry, I'm sorry…" Harry shut up his histrionic boyfriend with a kiss.

"No, not a problem. I just would have appreciated a warning is all," he mentally grimaced as he imagined the conversations he was going to be having with all his friends tomorrow and probably for weeks afterward via post. "And I'm not sorry you came. In fact," here Harry scrambled for his robe pocket, "I wanted to give this to you." Draco stared at the sparkling rings with utter amazement.

"Um, Harry," he began, words deserting him momentarily. Harry's smile wavered. "No, wait." Draco opened a compartment in his meticulously sorted trunk. "I…here."

The duo wore two matching bands to breakfast the next morning.

It's your fire, it's your soul, you shouldn't have to go.
It's your fire, it's your soul, you shouldn't have to go.