Chérie, parchments and quills
Chapter Fifteen – Christmas gifts

That morning haze – and blindness – of waking up, made Harry groan as he patted his hand over to the bedside table in search of his glasses. Thump! He lifting his face from the pillow to see what he'd knocked onto the floor in his blind search, but the light from the arched window was forcing his eyes to scrunch tightly closed, and as things were blurry anyway without his glasses, he continued to find his spectacles first.

As his eyes finally adapted to the morning rays that streamed through the window, golden and intrusive, he saw what he'd knocked off his bedside table a moment ago – the Le'Amortentia parchment and quill. Tau-Draco, had already sent him a message that morning:

Merry Christmas Mon Chéri,

Shrouded in darkness, the cold still of night,
Come hither the sunrise, enfold you in light.
Go on forth Mon Chéri, the rebirth of dawn,
Merry yuletides amour, the year will adorn.

Seeing as I couldn't send you a gift, I decided to great with a poem.

Tau. x

"Ahh, damn it!" Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

The bloody, blond-haired git had been declaring his very amorous feeling rather full-on over the last two days, or at least, strongly implying that he felt that was for Padfoot. It was immensely obvious what Draco was doing – avoiding Harry and investing all his time in Padfoot, obviously hoping to speed into 'something' with Padfoot, so that he may avoid feelings for him – Harry ... or have an excuse to avoid and reject him at least.

Yes, Draco had talked, or in this case, written his ears off last night. He'd already heard all about wizarding traditions – yuletide and winter solstice, seeing as Draco had educated him about it until the early hours of the morning. He knew exactly what that poem meant:

The winter solstice – the longest night, which was a few days ago, would now give way to light as the days grew longer once again. Draco was blessing him, expressing his desire for him, Padfoot, to be wrapped in light, in his arms, and have a fruitful year. He alluded to the new year, using the French word for love, and implying that with the coming year Padfoot would only grow more beautiful.

Merlin, who knew Draco could be such a sap? It was all rather confusing, and the mess he had landed himself… Well, not really knowing what to say, he quickly settled on sending a short message and Christmas greeting, before darting into his bathroom:

Good morning Tau,
Thank-you for the poem. I'm afraid I have no skills in poetry to return the thoughtful gesture, but I do, sincerely wish you a very Merry Christmas, and Happy Yule tidings likewise.
Padfoot x

Hopefully, it would be enough. He had no desire to be cold with the man, but he had been more reserved and careful with his words. It was the constant whisper of 'Padfoot isn't real', and 'you're leading him on', that made him less than enthusiastic to write sweet nothings in return. There was also his desire to start distancing himself; if he expected Draco to reject him once he knew the truth, then he would not be so hurt when it actually happened… well, that was the theory at least. If truth be told, he was also feeling bad, and the idea of losing Draco was already casting grey rain clouds over him.

As for Draco, well, he had helped Harry out with Kaison's gift as promised, but he hadn't been spending as much time in Harry's company. He stayed for maybe half an hour when he returned from Diagon Alley on Thursday – checking that Harry was reassured in his ability to buy gifts for a baby, and yesterday they'd had coffee half an hour before attending the Great Hall for dinner together. After dinner, Draco had gone back to his own rooms, only to spend the rest of the evening writing to Padfoot.

As Harry washed his hands in the bathroom sink, he continued to think about the mess he had landed himself in. It had become so difficult writing to Tau as Padfoot, knowing that Draco had rejected him as Harry, but that he was grasping so tightly to his illusion of Padfoot… an illusion that he – Harry, was soon to destroy… and perhaps, along with their friendship too.

Harry had finished washing, and had just started brushing his teeth, when…

Knock, Knock, Knock!

Harry's head flew up to face his bathroom door, hand pausing with the toothbrush, wondering who was knocking at… 'What time is it anyway?' He wondered.

"Potter?" An elegant, flawless voice called through his room. Draco!

That was the other thing, Draco was using his surname more often again… but fuck! Why was he concerned about names when he was in his underwear in the bathroom brushing his teeth, and Draco had let himself into Harry's private rooms?

"I'll be right out!" Said Harry, around a mouth full of toothbrush and toothpaste, and then started to panic when he realised, he'd left his wand on the bed – forgetting it in his need for the loo and his deep thoughts, and he hadn't prepared his clothes for the day either. He would have used a wandless summoning charm, but without knowing what clothes he wanted specifically, there was no guarantee that he would summon suitable clothes.

After finishing with his teeth, he wrapped a towel around his waist and blushed before he'd even left his bathroom; he wasn't a prude, but there was something embarrassing about an unrequited love interest seeing you almost naked.

He had planned to make a quick, but elegant, rush to his bedroom, but he'd almost tripped as he caught Draco standing there in his living-room, taking in the sight and gawping at him. He smiled shyly, "I'll just… Give me five minutes," he stuttered, and ducked his head as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Fuck! His conflicting emotions were whirling. He was a little angry that Draco had just walked in… and hadn't he locked his door last night? He wanted to shout at Draco to piss off, to express his vexation regarding Draco's lack of common courtesy – you didn't just let yourself into someone else's private rooms when the door was locked! Yet, despite his embarrassment, the man he had come to love – even if it was unrequited, was comfortable enough to take such liberties – what did that mean? If only Draco was here for other reasons though… actually, why was he here? It was Christmas morning, maybe Minerva had sent him to be fetched for breakfast.

Outside the bedroom, Draco had taken a moment to pull himself together – Harry's body was littered with scars but… Salazar, what a body! There wasn't an ounce of fat it seemed, all firm and… perfectly delectable. He gulped. Taut skin, firm muscles, messy hair, and… Wow! He'd be lying to himself if he denied it, but Harry was sexually attractive!

Taking a deep breath, he decided to make coffee for Harry and himself, it would keep his hands busy. The owls he'd let in, were currently sitting on the back of the two wooden, dining room chairs. "You have owls," Draco called out, "parcels. They were waiting for you in the hallway." Draco was proud of his ability to act normal and nonchalant, even if he was desperately trying to chase away his growing feeling for the raven-haired Gryffindor – feelings that were still like weeds, weeds that refused to die no matter how much herbicide he used.

"Right," Harry called back from the bedroom, "I'll be out in minute!" Harry quickly proceeded to search for suitable clothes. 'Perhaps a dark green t-shirt,' he thought, pulling one out of the draws to join the black jeans now laid out on his bed … it was Christmas after all, and Molly would have sent him another knitted jumper.

"Minerva sent me to fetch you," Draco continued, "something along the lines of, 'Mr Potter will not be avoiding meals today!'"

"Right," repeated Harry.

Draco had just finished the coffees when Harry finally appeared – noting how good Harry looked in green... they really highlighted his eyes! And the jeans were tight around his arse… Damn!

"Erm, Merry Christmas Draco!" Harry smiled, taking the offered coffee before going to the table to address the owls.

"Merry Christmas Harry!" Draco said, following him to the dinning table.

"Are you not going to open the others?" Draco asked. He'd watched as Harry opened the letters, and only one of the Christmas gifts that turned out be a rather nice, knitted green jumper. Harry had slipped into the jumper immediately, abandoned the other presents, and asked it they should get going to the Great Hall then.

"I thought Minerva ordered my presence?" Harry frowned.

"Indeed she did, but there is time to open your gifts first… or are you embarrassed about your mediocre Christmas presents." Draco smirked, purposely eyeing the green jumper Harry wore.

"Hey! This is from Molly. She always makes one for me, and I happen to think this has much more value then something meaningless and expensive."

Yes, Draco had to concede. His mother had sent him an expensive robe that was more then suitable for potion masters to wear; it had charms to protect him against potion mishaps and fumes, and it was protected against staining – easy to clean. He was very grateful, and it did have an element of thought, but every year she gave him either that or dress robes. He wouldn't mind something unexpected and … dare he say it… something more sentimental.

"If you say so Potter." Draco smirked instead. He eyed Harry's presents again, noting that, considering Harry had a huge number of friends and fans - and of course the Weasley's as his claimed family, he didn't have many gifts. "Do the redheads not send you gifts, or your fans?"

Harry sighed and sat back down. "My fans don't really send gifts, and if they do, or if they send cards, they get redirected to Gringotts. As for the Weasleys, Molly's letter was apologetic but the owls were worked into exhaustion this year and Ruffles, their family owl, couldn't be expected to carry them all on his own so she just sent the jumper and mince pies along with the cards. Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, couldn't carry the gifts on his own either, and he's a bit clumsy." Harry sighed again. "I really don't know why they can't just say the jumper and the mince pies are from the whole family, I really don't need gifts from everyone separately."

"Who are these from then?" Draco asked, pointing to the gifts on the table.

"The staff; Minerva, Hagrid, Neville and Hannah, and Filius always gets me something." Harry shook his head, like he just didn't understand why they would bother.

"Open them then Potter," Draco picked one up and handed it to him, "It would be rude not to thank them for the gifts when we get to breakfast!"

Harry sighed again, but he gave in realising that Draco was right. I would come across as ungrateful if he had to admit that he hadn't bothered to open his gifts yet. Minerva had gifted him Scottish shortbread biscuits: Hagrid's, was a book on magical creatures and how they assisted witches and wizards in their jobs or daily lives: Neville and his wife had sent along another bottle of Firewhiskey, one they Neville had used his herbology skills to adapt into their own brand: Filius, had sent along the usually charmed socks – they kept his feet rather toasty, and they had been a regular gift since Harry had complained, a few years ago, that his feet were always so bloody cold.

"Like I said Potter," Draco commented, "very mediocre. Well at least my gift should make up for the pitfalls of the other staff."

"Your gift?" Harry had started to blush in his neck again, he could feel it, but he chose to ignore it.

Draco pointed to a small box, wrapped in red and green stained paper – it currently sat on the coffee table between the two armchairs across the room. Draco had planned on just leaving it there for Harry to find, planning on feigning indifference and passing it off as unimportant – just a gift, nothing more. Harry obviously hadn't noticed, but Draco had an unexpected desire to point it out just then.

"Yes. I remembered these from my stay in France," Draco explained as Harry went to fetch it, "and I ordered you one. I do hope you don't take it the wrong way, but if you don't appreciate it or it offends you, I'd rather you just say so and I'll send it back."

Draco held his mask firmly in place, he didn't want Harry to know what he was feeling… his desperate hope that Harry did appreciate the gift was creating such an embarrassing chant in his mind – 'Please like it, please, please like…'

Harry looked back over to see that Draco look pale with nerves as he watched him holding the gift. The slight movements the blond man made, made Harry believe he was forcing himself not to fidget. Harry was very curious to what Draco could have gotten him from France, but the fact that Draco was so nervous… well, it made him slightly nervous too.

Harry held the gift in his hands – still unopened, remembering his own gift that he'd brought for Draco. He felt a slight wash of anxiety… what if Draco hated his gift, what if it didn't match up to the one Draco had gotten for him. Oh well, he thought, taking a deep breath, he would just have to get this over with and deal with whatever came.

"I got you something too," Harry admitted with a small smile. He went to his bedroom to collect the large book sized gift.

When Harry came back, Draco took the gift in a state of being mute from pleasant surprise. It wasn't a book, but a box wrapped in green paper. He glanced back up at Harry and was almost relieved to see that Harry was just as nervous as he was.

"Thank you, Harry," he managed to say as Harry sat back down opposite him, but he just stared at the Christmas gift most tingling in his hands.

Draco hadn't expected Harry to give him anything, what with the huge number of people he already had to buy gifts for. He was immensely curious to what his ex-rival would have gotten an ex-death eater, teacher of Hogwarts like himself. He didn't feel deserving of anything to be honest, not after he'd basically rejected Harry's obvious interest in him, and then been slightly avoidant of the man's company these last two days... and of course, the way he had behaved towards the golden boy during their school years. He wouldn't deny that he had missed Harry's company though, at least not to himself, not now they had developed a rather wonderful companionship. The gift was unexpected, but it meant something he hadn't concluded on yet, and it made him feel light and fuzzy that Harry had brought something for him.

"Open it then!" Harry said, when Draco just continued to stare at it. He was nervous enough as it was, he just wanted to get this over with – and he hoped that Draco wouldn't assume Harry was trying to buy his affections.

"You haven't opened yours yet." Draco raised his eyebrow, looking at the gift still unopened in Harry's hands.

"Together then?" Harry asked, smirking at how awkward this had become, hoping his face wasn't as flushed as it felt. He looked down at his own present, unwilling to look at Draco's face. Surely it shouldn't be this uncomfortable, two friends exchanging gifts on Christmas morning? Oh, but he wished they were more than that, and Draco's reaction to his present was obviously very important to him.

"Together." Draco agreed.

They both started to open their respective gifts, slowly, sneaking glances at each other all the while. Harry was the first to reach his gift under paper, a few seconds before Draco in fact, and he frowned as he opened the lid to reveal a potion vial and what looked like a leather Lanyard.

The potion vial was opalescent glass, tear shaped, and had a silver ring soldered onto it. It contained a potion, but it was hard to identify through the glass colouring. The lanyard was a beautiful soft leather, well made, and it had runes embossed into the fabric. Seeing as he was rubbish at runes, he had no idea what they were for. There was a clasp at the bottom of the lanyard, and a strange silver chain that joined it at the top. He looked up to question Draco, to see the man almost reverently running a finger over his new green, peacock quill with a frown.

Draco, had opened his own gift to find a rather aesthetically pleasing leather-bound journal with parchment pages. The front of the leather was embossed with a most detailed image of a dragon's head, bordered by what he thought was an intricate Celtic pattern. It also had a well-tailored gold clasp of some sort that kept the journal closed when not in use. It didn't look wizard made though, which made him conclude that it must have been muggle made, but there was something magical about it regardless. It the journal wasn't enough, accompanying it, was a beautiful, green peacock quill… but the writing end was unusual and strange – where the calamus shaft should have been, was a beautiful, gold filigree body… or handle he supposed, where you would hold the quill. The writing tip was also made of gold, and the box contained five other tips… but they were separate. There was also a bottle of ink, with a company name he didn't recognise, and a pipette.

"It is mostly muggle made," Harry spoke first, quietly and unsure, but it still made Draco jump, "but I managed to get some charms added."

"Charms?" Draco inquired; it was all he could say right now. This gift was so suited to himself, so shocking and appreciated, that he just lost his thoughts to surprise.

Harry knew that Draco was confused, it was expected, but he could also see the appreciation in coin-grey eyes. He was relieved to have something to direct the focus away from himself, even if he was curious about his own gift… that could wait a moment.

"The journal," Harry pointed to it, "it is made by muggles, but I managed to get an everlasting spell added… the pages will never run out. It's also protected from damage: dirty, dust, wear and tear, water… even most potions. If you choose to do so, a single drop of your own blood on the clasp, will make it unopenable to anyone but you." Harry gave a small, hopeful smile.

"That's… thank you Harry. Really, thank you." Draco blinked as if in a daze. The gift was so thoughtful, and he wondered if the Dragon was just a coincidence. As if Harry had read his mind…

"I saw the journal in a muggle store. I knew you were named after the Draconis constellation, and the Dragon just… yeah." Harry rubbed at the back of his neck.

"How did you know that?" Draco asked, frowning.

"Sirius once told me that all the Black's were named from constellations or Greek mythology. It wasn't hard to figure it out."

"No, I guess not." Draco hesitated a moment, looking back down at his gifts – especially the quill.

"The quill is also muggle made, not much magical about it I'm afraid, but again… I saw the green peacock quill and I thought you would like it." Harry cleared his throat, deciding to plough on. "May I?" Harry asked, pointing to indicate his desire to show Draco how to use it. Draco nodded his consent, and Harry moved his chair around until he was sitting rather close next to him.

Draco was horrified to feel his face heating up at the close proximity, but he focused on watching as Harry unscrew the tip from the gold handle.

"You unscrew this," Harry explained, "and you can use the pipette or magic to put the ink inside. You don't need to dip it into the ink, you just write. It will last for about eighty inches of constant writing before you need to refill it." Harry waited for the nod before continuing, trying not to smile as Draco's look of surprise and awe stayed plastered to his face. "You have six different tips, from very flat to very pointy, so you will have to figure out which one you prefer. If the ink doesn't flow, if it dries up a bit, or you wish to change tip or change ink colour, you can clean it with warm water or just use a cleaning charm. It's actual gold, so it is okay to use magic on it. You just screw them back on like this."

When Harry handed it back to him, their hands brushed and Draco felt bereft when the contact was lost. It confused him and frustrated him, his feelings, and he quite frankly didn't wish to feel the way he did… he couldn't afford to; the Golden boy and an Ex-Death Eater would never work out, his father's actions had sullied the Malfoy name, and the media… people in general, it would go to madness if they found out. He would be targeted most aggressively for daring to 'corrupt' the boy whole lived, and Harry's life would he a living hell – Merlin, Morgana and Salazar together wouldn't be able to prevent the chaos and calamity that would erupt.

Harry was looking at him with anticipation in them big green eyes of his. "Thank you, Harry, I will try this out later for certain." He smiled, but he gratitude just didn't seem enough – Harry had put a great deal of thought into this quill and journal. He honestly was fascinated by it, in awe, curios, and greatly appreciative … but how did he show that without turning into a Hufflepuff. Then he remembered the gift he had gotten for Harry.

"Did you… your gift Potter." Fuck, he had stutter, Draco swore internally, but now that he'd realised that Harry hadn't asked or said anything out his own gift, he worried that Harry hadn't appreciated it. It had been a risky move on his part.

"Oh," Harry realised that he'd been so caught up in Draco's reaction to the journal and quill, delighted in making the blond speechless with appreciation, that he'd actually forgotten about the vial and lanyard. Harry reached across the table, to carefully bring his present closer, and smiled almost guilty at Draco. "It's beautiful Draco, but… erm… what?" He frowned.

"It's fine Potter," Draco said, but Harry instantly recognising the defensive tone. "I shouldn't have been so bold. My mistake, I'll just-"

"Draco!" Harry interrupted, knowing he'd misunderstood completely. "I, I'm just not sure what it is exactly." He admitted, feeling almost contrite as he bit his lip.

"Oh…" Said Draco. Yes, he'd not thought of that. Fuck! Had he been drugged, breathed in too many potions fumes lately? "I see," Draco quickly tried to rein in control of his body and his growing embarrassment, "Hand it over then Potter, and I'll show you!"

Harry smiled as he did so, knowing the use of his surname was Draco's protection – feigning indifference. Something about this gift was worrying Draco, and the man had said it had been a bold move, and not to take it the wrong way… he suddenly had a feeling this was related to his mental issues, it was personal… very personal… but then he decided, he wouldn't react negatively, that he would appreciate it no matter what it turned out to be… and it was from Draco!

"This is a medi chain potter, or as the French call it, collier de médecine d'urgence. It is common in France, for those suffering seizure, allergies, or other ailments that need a close supply of potion, to wear one of these containing said potion."

Draco seemed to speak to the room, like he was in a lecture or teaching a class. Harry was listening but he was also enraptured as soon as Draco had spoken French… it was rather sexy actually.

"You clip the potion vial here once you have filled it," Draco continued, and Harry looked as the vial suddenly shrunk down to the size of a garlic clove. "Now, you put it on over your head, like so," Draco put it over his own head, Harry noticing that he did so with the utmost care not to mess up his neat blond hair, "and when you need the potion, you yank it away like this." Draco surprised Harry then, when he literally ripped it away from his neck – the silver chain at the top severing apart. "It's alright Potter, it's not broken." Draco rolled his eyes, obviously seeing Harry's look of utter shock and upset at his broken gift. Harry frowned, and then he noticed that the vial had grown back to its original size. Draco was still explaining, "the vial can be uncorked now and drunk. The chain will not close itself again the vial has been removed and reconnected."

Harry watched in fascination now, as Draco removed the still full vial from the clasp and then reattach it, the chain magically connecting itself back together. A particular memory then slithered its way into Harry's mind:

"My – My…" Harry tried to speak, pointing up at the bathroom cabinet. The visions were fading, but his breathing was so erratic that vertigo was settling in dangerously. The pain threatened to undo years of therapy, and he was humiliated to be caught in this state by anyone, let alone Draco Malfoy.

The blond frantically searched the bathroom cabinet for clues as to what Harry needed.

"P-Po -Potion." Harry rasped, fighting to focus on Draco instead of his nightmares – listening to him list of the potions as he searched.

"Pain relief? Dream sleep? Pepper up? Anti-Hiccup? Calming D-?"

Harry managed to make a loud noise of confirmation.

"Calming drought." Draco confirmed before rushing back to him. "It won't be as effective with the whiskey you know."

Harry tried to nod, but the spinning room threatened to make him vomit again. He tried to grab the potion vial, but he was too off balance and his hand grasped at air. Still gasping for breath, he felt a hand gently tip his head back so he could take the potion that Draco was now pouring into his mouth.

Harry wasn't sure why Draco had brought this gift for him exactly, but he had a few ideas: Draco didn't want to find himself in that uncomfortable situation again with him, Draco was worried that he-Harry could be caught short one day, maybe he assumed that would make him-Harry feel more comfortable to know that had the potion nearby, but Harry assumed that Draco cared. Draco had seen him at one of his worst moments, had seen him weak, had seen him broken for a few minutes that day… He wasn't judging Harry, wasn't laughing or ridiculing him, and most importantly, he wasn't asking if he was okay or offering pointless advice. Draco was trying to help make things easier for him, was offering a gift that, at this point in time, meant a great deal to him.

Looking down at the leather lanyard with the shrunken vial attached, he tried to blink away a few stray tears… Fucking hell! Why was he getting emotional over this…?

'I feel Mr Potter, that your lack of affection growing up has repressed your emotional development. It is normal therefore, to feel emotional over things you consider 'pathetic or childish', it is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is quite common in those that have suffered neglect. You're learning later than most, how to control these emotions, especial those related to someone showing you care, affection, praise…'

"Harry?" Draco asked, in way that sounded as if it wasn't the first time that he'd called his name.

"I'm fine," Harry wiped his eyes quickly, "Just got lost there for a moment."

"One of your mind haze episodes?" Draco asked with concern. Harry was grateful he never mentioned the bloody tears.

"Something like that, yeah." The memory of what his therapist had said nearly ten years ago, was still hard to hear, even as a memory. He quickly pulled himself together however, "thank you Draco. This is a really thoughtful gift." Harry picked up the Lanyard, putting it over his head. He noticed that it felt weight less. He lifted the shrunken vial in his fingers, and then he remembered, "what potion is this?" He was pretty sure he already knew the answer thought, and as he expected…

"It's a calming drought potter. I made it myself, so I know it's safe and most certainly better than where you usually acquire it from."

Harry nodded with a smirk, "Thank you! I really do appreciate it." His smirk morphed into a small smile.

"Good." Draco decided to change the subject, he would never admit that Harry's appreciation set of fireworks and bright fires of warmth inside of him. He also wanted to puff out his chest with pride, but what a ridiculous thought! "Now, I say we catch the end of breakfast before Minerva finds us."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, but it was rhetorical as he checked his watch; 9:30am. As it was Christmas, and knowing that the children slept in late because of excitement preventing them from sleeping last night, and knowing how most children like to open all their Christmas gifts when they did wake up, breakfast was always held till late on December the 25th. "Yeah, let's get going."

They made there was to the door, exited into the cold corridor, and made their way to the Great Hall together.

"Thank you again Draco," Harry said, looking down at his potion lanyard, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas Harry!" Draco nodded once. The smile on Harry's face was worth it – he might never entertain his growing affections for the raven-haired man, might never be able to fully deny what his heart seemed to want, but as Harry's friend… he could be there for him, and maybe… maybe he could pacify his growing desires with just that… a platonic relationship. And if he could persuade Padfoot to meet him, then he could have someone to focus his more amorous feeling on.