Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
—W. B. Yeats
The newly remodeled Leaky Cauldron was bustling that night. And why wouldn't it be? It was two days 'til Christmas and it was sleeting outside.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were squashed into a booth with Neville, Luna and Ginny. They'd been there for several hours now, and none of them were particularly sober. So when Hannah pulled out her charmed karaoke set, it didn't take much convincing for them to join in. Or, rather, it didn't take much convincing for Ron to join in. He grabbed the microphone and immediately launched into an over the top, but shockingly in-tune rendition of 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas'.
When he was done, he collapsed back into their booth, falling slightly onto Hermione and making her giggle.
"That was lovely, Ron," Luna said.
"I've been practicing," he said. "That, and George wanted me to test out the new Harmonious Voices Tonic he's been working on." He slapped the bottle down on the table and Harry leaned forward with interest to inspect it. The bottle had a cartoon pair of open lips on it, with musical notes floating out and around the rest of the bottle. A new voice with every sip, read the text next to the lips.
"Can I have a go?" he asked, picking it up. He was feeling pleasantly tipsy — enough that he felt comfortable enough singing in front of strangers.
"Be my guest," Ron said, gesturing with a hand.
Harry unscrewed the lid and sniffed the tonic. It had a pleasant minty aroma, so he brought it to his lips and took a sip. It tickled his throat on the way down and he coughed. Once the tickling had passed, he sang a quiet note. His voice came out all breathy and high. He blinked in surprise. It was completely different to how Ron had sounded. But then, the label did say a new voice with every sip.
He stood and made his way over to the karaoke machine. His stomach turned over once with nerves, but he took a deep breath and quelled his fear. He told Hannah which song he wanted to sing and then took the microphone from her. He turned to face the rest of the pub and icy fear flooded him as he saw who else was at the Leaky that night.
There were so many people he recognized, that it could almost be called a Hogwarts reunion. Zacharias Smith was sitting with Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones at the bar, chatting happily with Hannah when she wasn't manning the machine. Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Stephen Cornfoot were engaged in a lively game of darts in the corner, while Parvati and Lavender watched from a high top table to the right of them. Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Davis and Parkinson were at a table near the back, sharing what appeared to be an entire bottle of firewhisky between the five of them.
Even as he looked around, the door to the pub opened and Seamus and Dean walked in. Not to mention Oliver Wood who was sitting across from a nervous looking Percy Weasley, or Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, who were hovering near the impromptu stage, clutching their drinks and looking at him with large, expectant eyes.
But it was probably Malfoy he was most afraid of singing in front of, because surely Malfoy would find something mean to say about it. Probably loudly, and probably while Harry was still singing.
But then the first few notes of the song came on, and he squashed his fear down like the Gryffindor he was, and started to sing.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light." The voice he was singing with sounded strange to Harry's ears, but not in a bad way. It sounded almost sultry, which is more than could be said of his normal voice. Indeed, even as he continued, someone in the crowd wolf whistled. He glanced up to see Malfoy lowering his hand from his lips. But that couldn't be right, could it? Why would Malfoy be wolf whistling him? And yet, Malfoy was staring right at him. As Harry watched, Malfoy picked up his glass and tipped it in Harry's direction before bringing it to his mouth.
Malfoy was clearly trying to fluster him, and it had almost worked. Harry had almost tripped over the line,
"Make the yule-tide gay," but saved it at the last second. But then Malfoy whistled again and Harry nearly threw down the microphone to go and give him a piece of his mind for distracting him. Malfoy was saved only by the fact that Harry needed to keep singing.
He made it through the rest of the song, and the pub burst into rapturous applause. He did his best to look sheepish, even though he was pleased that people had seemed to enjoy his singing. He handed the microphone back to Hannah and then made his way back to the booth where Ron was trying to start up a chant of,
"Potter! Potter!" But to no avail. Harry picked up his drink and took a large sip of it.
"I'll be right back," he told his friends. Then he strode off in the direction of the Slytherin table with a purpose, only to find that Malfoy wasn't there. He glanced around the pub quickly, but no flash of blond caught his eye. Figuring he must have gone to the loo, Harry changed course.
He resisted banging the door open, but only just. And of course, as soon as he got through the door, he realized this was a terrible place for a confrontation, as they were entirely alone. There'd be no one there to stop them if things got out of hand. At least Harry wouldn't try using sectumsempra again.
"Potter," Malfoy said, turning his head just enough to see who had come through the door. He was standing in front of one of the urinals and Harry looked away quickly.
"Malfoy," he said, not looking at the man. He cast about for something to do, so he wouldn't look like such a knob, walking in on Malfoy in the loo. He walked over to the sink and turned it on before thrusting his hands under the water. He heard a flush and then the sound of a zipper. A moment later, Malfoy was standing beside him.
"I liked your singing," Malfoy said as he started to wash his hands.
"Er, thanks?"
"I didn't know your singing voice sounded like that." Malfoy turned to look at him with the same intensity he'd had when Harry had been singing. It was much more intense when Harry was this close to him. Harry swallowed nervously.
"It doesn't," he said. "Ron's testing out a new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product. It changes your singing voice when you drink it." Some of the intensity went out of Malfoy's gaze. He turned his attention back to his hands.
"Shame," he said. He turned off the tap and then turned to dry his hands. "It was rather sexy." Then he left Harry, still with his hands under the running faucet, and went back out into the pub.
Harry stood there for what felt like several minutes as his mind parsed through what Malfoy had just said. He went through the motions of washing his hands and drying them, still trying to figure out what it meant that Malfoy had thought his voice had sounded 'sexy'.
Strangely, it didn't bother him. In fact, it rather excited him. After all, Malfoy wasn't a bad looking bloke. In fact, if Harry hadn't disliked him so much, he might even have said he was good looking.
In the years following Hogwarts, Malfoy had softened somewhat. His face had filled out, making him a bit less pointy. He no longer looked like it would be uncomfortable for him to rest his head on your shoulder. Not that Harry had ever thought Malfoy would rest his head on Harry's shoulder.
He was shaken from his reverie by the sound of music outside the door. He banished all thoughts of Malfoy from his head and pushed his way out of the loo and back over to his friends. He glanced up at the stage to see Seamus crooning out,
"As long was you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," to Dean. He felt a small stab of jealousy at the casual way the two could show affection to each other. But then, while their names were known for having fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, they hadn't cast the final expelliarmus. Harry sat down next to Ron, pushing him closer to Hermione as he did.
"How long do the singing voices last?" Harry asked, picking up his drink again and sipping it.
"Dunno," Ron said. "An hour maybe? George didn't say."
"And are they different each time you drink it? Or just different for each person?"
"Oh," Ron said. He frowned. "I don't know."
"Perhaps you should try it," Harry said. He didn't want to give up this voice for reasons he didn't want to examine to closely, but possibly had something to do with Malfoy calling it sexy.
"Good point," Ron said. "I'll do it for science." He uncapped the bottle and took a sip. He screwed up his face for a moment while the potion took effect, then tried out a few notes. His voice came out in a deep baritone.
"Oh," Hermione cried. "Let's go sing Santa Claus is Coming to Town! You can do the low parts."
"Only if you drink it as well," Ron said. Hermione twisted her mouth to the side for a moment while she considered this.
"Fine," she said. "Give it here."
And so the evening went.
More and more people joined their booth, such that another table and additional chairs had to be brought in to accommodate them all. Everyone wanted to try out the Harmonious Voices Tonic, which suited Harry just fine as he didn't want to change his voice. Not if Malfoy liked it, which, as he drank more, became more and more important to him. Not that he could quite tell why.
At some point, Hannah waved her wand, and the various and sundry room dividers vanished, leaving the pub much more open. Other tables began to come together with theirs. Soon, there was a large amalgamation of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors at their original table. Harry was squashed in the middle, and quite happy to stay there as he had Ernie on one side and Parvati on the other.
"What's all this fuss about?" a voice asked. Harry looked up to find Zabini staring down at the bottle of voice tonic.
"'S'magic," Ron slurred. "Changes your voice."
"Is that why you've had a ten octave range this evening?"
"A what?"
"I'll take that as a yes," Zabini said. He plucked the bottle off of the table and opened it. "May I?"
"Sure." Ron gestured widely with his hand, which only accentuated how tipsy he was. Harry glanced over at the Slytherins' table. Most of their bottle of whisky was gone, and yet Zabini was conducting himself with much more propriety than Ron.
"Oi, Pansy," Zabini called. Parkinson looked up.
"What?"
"C'mere." Parkinson narrowed her eyes at him, but pushed herself to her feet.
"What?"
"Drink this. It's a voice tonic."
"Changes your voice," Ron said. Parkinson's eyes darted to Ron for a moment before she took the bottle from Zabini's outstretched hand.
"Fine," she said. "But if I sound horrible, I am holding you personally responsible, Weasley." She took her requisite sip and then Zabini dragged her up to the karaoke machine, where all propriety fell away as he began to sing Fairytale of New York City.
"It was Christmas Eve, babe," Zabini intoned. "In the drunk tank." He threw his arm around Parkinson's shoulders. She rolled her eyes, but allowed it, at least until the song started to pick up speed, when she threw him off.
Ron began, to Harry's surprise, to clap along, and soon most of those assembled had joined in. Harry did too, for a spell, until the slur came up, when he stopped and looked uncomfortably down at his hands.
When they finished singing, Parkinson and Zabini made their way back to Harry's table, not the Slytherin one. He looked up at them in surprise.
"Budge up," Parkinson said to Ernie.
"But—"
"—It's Christmas, Potter," Zabini said. "It's a time to be nice to everyone. Even you." Harry thought he should be offended, but Zabini was right. It was Christmastime. He didn't have it in him to be upset with anyone.
"I see you've abandoned us," a voice behind Harry said. He craned his neck to see Malfoy standing behind him. Malfoy reached over the back of the booth and plonked the whisky bottle on their table. His arm brushed the side of Harry's and Harry shivered at the contact.
"Join us," Parkinson said. "We can be one massive Hogwarts table."
"Yeah, alright. MacMillan, move." And then to Harry's horror, Malfoy's long leg appeared on the seat beside him. Malfoy's torso followed soon after, as he clambered over the back of the booth, sliding in next to Harry.
"Hullo Potter," he said as though this were entirely normal behavior and they saw each other on a regular basis. Which, they sort of did. Malfoy worked a few offices over from Harry, but it wasn't as though they actually spent time together.
"Hi," Harry said. Harry felt as though he were sitting straight as a board. He barely dared move, what with Malfoy sitting directly next to him. Their arms were pressed together, squeezed in as they were, and Harry didn't even want to reach out to grab his drink for fear of jostling Malfoy. But then Malfoy moved to pour himself some more whisky and Harry felt stupid for sitting so still. He reached out and grabbed his drink, conscious of the way his arm moved against Malfoy's.
"What's that?" Malfoy asked, gesturing to Harry's glass.
"Vodka and soda water."
"Didn't want brown liquor like the big boys?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm teasing," Malfoy said, and to drive his point home, he elbowed Harry in the ribs. It felt strange, the casual physical contact, but not in a bad way.
"Fine," Harry said. He knocked back the rest of his drink. "Hit me."
"Hit you?"
"With the whisky. Give me some."
"'Atta boy," Malfoy said, pouring him some. Something warm bloomed in Harry's chest.
They were interrupted by Angelina breaking into Sleigh Ride with a voice so good, Harry was convinced it must have come from the bottle, only to be told by a newly arrived and snow covered George that it was her natural singing voice.
"So, what?" Malfoy asked once Angelina was finished. "Everyone's drinking this potion and singing karaoke?"
"Exactly," Seamus said, leaning forward to look over at them. "Hiya, Draco. Didn't expect to see you here."
"Theo insisted we all come out," Malfoy drawled. "So here I am."
"Where is Theo?" Zabini asked.
"I think Tracey's taken him upstairs, if you catch my drift," Pansy said. She arched one of her eyebrows and Harry caught exactly what drift she meant.
"Harry," Ginny said, breaking into the conversation. "Do a duet with me!" Then she rushed off towards the stage.
"Yes, yes," Draco said. "Don't keep your girlfriend waiting." He pushed Ernie off the end of the seat and slid along to let Harry out.
"We're not—"
"—Go on, Potter."
"She's with Luna," Harry said, refusing to move, because Malfoy was standing with his back to Harry, arms crossed in front of his chest and shoulders tense, and Harry didn't like it. At his words, Malfoy's shoulders relaxed.
"Still," he said. "Go sing." Harry nodded and walked up to join Ginny. He looked at the song she'd chosen and raised his eyebrows at her.
"That's a bit on the nose, isn't it?" he asked as the first strains of the synthesizer echoed around the bar.
"It's a joke, Harry," Ginny said and then started singing the first lines of Last Christmas. "Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away."
Harry couldn't help it. He looked over at Malfoy, wanting to see his reaction. But he was disappointed, as Malfoy was lounging back against the booth, his arms stretched wide across the top. He looked bored, but as Harry began to sing about giving his heart to someone special, Malfoy looked up. And the look he gave Harry could have lit an ocean on fire. Harry almost stumbled over his next line, but pulled himself together at the last second. He turned his attention away from Malfoy.
But it was difficult, he realized, keeping his attention away from him. Malfoy had a sort of magnetism about him that drew Harry's eye. He always had. Even back at Hogwarts, when they'd been separated by two tables worth of students, Harry's attention had always gone to him.
He made it through the song and then made his way back over to the table. Malfoy glanced up at him, then removed his arm from the back of the booth, as if this were invitation enough for Harry to sit there again. And Harry was almost ashamed to say that it was. He sat and Malfoy passed his whisky glass back over to him. While Harry had been singing, Malfoy had refilled it. They fell back into their easy banter, the one that Harry hadn't realized they would have if they'd ever stopped insulting each other for five minutes.
"You were that bad in bed then?" Malfoy asked, lifting his glass in the direction of Ginny. "Scared her off men?"
"Exactly," Harry deadpanned. "I kept asking why she didn't have a dick and she left me for someone who didn't."
"Sorry, are you telling me that the savior of the wizarding world is bent?"
"It would seem I am telling you that," Harry said. He frowned down at his whisky. "You didn't lace this with anything, did you?"
"Potter you wound me," Malfoy says, clapping a hand over his chest. "It is simply in vino veritas."
"Don't quote poncy Latin at me," Harry grumbled.
"It's not my fault you're a pleb." Malfoy flicked an invisible piece of lint off of his sleeve.
"Don't, er, tell anyone, yeah?" Harry said, fully aware that Malfoy was the first person who absolutely would spread this information around.
"Don't people know?"
"The important ones do," Harry said. And they did. Ron and Hermione had been very supportive, and Ginny, well, she was now happier than she'd ever been with Harry.
"But you're a public figure. Got it." And then for some bizarre reason, Malfoy shot finger guns at him and the only reason Harry could think he'd done that was that he was far more tipsy than he'd previously let on.
They were interrupted then, by Seamus and Dean launching into a slightly off key, but very enthusiastic rendition of Elton John's Step Into Christmas. They were so energetic the whole pub joined in, even Malfoy, whose face lit up with such excitement that Harry almost couldn't tear his eyes away.
But he did, somehow, because Ron was beckoning in Harry's direction. He excused himself, sliding out the other side of the booth seat so as not to bother Malfoy.
"What is it?" he asked once he was standing next to Ron.
"We're out of the tonic," Ron said. "I'm afraid you're stuck with that voice until it wears off."
"Oh," Harry said. "That's fine." He almost blurred out that Malfoy had called it sexy, but he hauled the words back at the last second. Ron was fine with his sexuality, but he didn't think he would be fine if he knew that Malfoy was the current object of Harry's tipsy desires. He looked back over to where Malfoy was sitting, only to find he'd begun to make his way to the karaoke machine.
"This one's for you, Potter," Malfoy leaned in and whispered in his ear as he passed him. Harry frowned after him.
"The Slytherins aren't that bad," Ron said, snapping Harry's attention back to him. "Blaise is positively hilarious." The man in question turned around and raised his glass to Ron.
"Cheers," he said before continuing on his conversation with Michael.
"Excuse me," Malfoy said, tapping the microphone. "Please pay attention to me." A few people laughed. Harry turned to stare at Malfoy, as requested. He took the time to really look at him, allowed to by the fact that he was on stage.
He'd clearly come straight from work as he was still wearing the waistcoat and collared shirt he usually wore under his robes, but now the sleeves were rolled to his elbows and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. As he moved, Harry could see the faded Dark Mark on his forearm, and while it should have filled him with revulsion, all he felt was sadness. But then Malfoy started to sing, and all thoughts about his Mark were forgotten.
"Santa baby, just slip a dildo under the tree, for me,
Been an awful good boy, Santa baby,
So hurry down my chimney tonight."
As he sang, he stared directly at Harry, who felt himself turning red. He hoped that no one else had noticed where Malfoy's attention was.
"Santa baby, and take me in the last bathroom stall, next thing
I'll wait up for you dear, Santa baby
So hurry down my chimney tonight."
Harry's mouth was dry. Did Malfoy really want him to do that? Why now? What had changed? Or was this just some raunchy song that Malfoy sang every year at Christmas?
"Think of all the fun I've missed,
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed.
Next year I could be just as good
If you check off my Christmas list."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He was decently sure Malfoy was back to singing the original lyrics of the song. Maybe Harry had imagined the previous two verses. No one else seemed to be paying that much attention to the lyrics, or if they were, they weren't reacting to them. The only thing that told Harry he wasn't going crazy, was Parkinson's single arched eyebrow.
"Santa baby, I'll suck your cock
And really that's not a lot.
I've been waiting all year, Santa baby.
So hurry down my chimney tonight."
There were some muffled giggles at this verse, but Harry wasn't one of the people laughing. He was staring at Malfoy, drinking in his visage. From his hair that looked artfully disheveled at this juncture of the evening, to his eyes that were still locked on Harry. He almost felt as though Malfoy's stare was a physical string tying them together, and he couldn't look away. He didn't want to.
"Santa honey, one little thing I really need,
Balls deep, you in me tonight please,
Santa baby, so hurry down my chimney tonight."
At this point, Hannah had clearly heard enough, because she promptly turned the machine off and made her way over to Malfoy. Harry stood there, his mouth hanging open, as Hannah snatched the microphone away from Malfoy.
"This is a family establishment," he heard her scold.
"Merry Christmas," Malfoy called, and several people cheered as Hannah then dragged Malfoy off of the stage.
"Harry?" Ron asked. "Are you alright?" Harry nodded, dumbly, his attention still on Malfoy. He pushed past Ron and over to where Malfoy was now getting an earful from Hannah. He was clearly not taking her seriously, because he had an amused smirk on his face, the likes of which Harry recognized from Hogwarts. He waited for Hannah to leave before he leaned into Malfoy and whispered,
"I'll be your Santa baby." He wasn't sure what made him say it. It could have been the alcohol. It could have been the song. It could have been the Christmas spirit that had permeated the pub. It could have been the way that Malfoy looked in the dim light.
"I've been waiting all year," Malfoy responded. Harry blinked and moments of his year came into clearer focus.
The way that Malfoy was always in his office as Harry would leave each day, and the way he would always make a point to wish Harry a nice evening. The way that Malfoy would always catch his eye in the break room, just for a moment, and incline his head in greeting before turning back to whomever it was he was talking to. The way that Malfoy always noticed when Harry got a new haircut, or a new tie, or the time he changed his glasses for a day before reverting back to his old ones.
It had been right in front of him the entire time.
He didn't know if Malfoy had been waiting for confirmation of his preferences before making a move, or if he'd just been waiting to have enough liquid courage to make his own feelings known. But he was now. All Harry had to do was act on it.
He took a step towards him. Draco's eyes went wide. He looked, for a moment, nervous, in spite of the song he'd just sung.
"Is this alright ?" Harry asked, taking another step towards him.
"You tell me." Harry did one better. He showed him. He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Draco's. Behind him, Harry heard a cheer. He pulled away from Draco and turned around. Ron was standing with Hermione near the bar, applauding.
"Finally!" he cried, shooting Draco a thumbs up. Harry looked with confusion from Ron to Draco and back again.
"You two planned this?" he asked.
"No," Ron said. "But I've been trying to get Draco to ask you out for months. The pining was getting to be unbearable." Harry looked back to Draco who was standing now a pace away, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head.
"That's great, Ron," Harry said. "But could you maybe leave us to it?"
"Right," Ron said. "Yes. Carry on." Hermione winked at Harry and then dragged Ron away by the arm.
"Now then," Harry said, stepping back towards Draco. "Where were we?"
"Verse Two?"
