CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

[Can We Kiss Forever]

DRACO

The bitter wind bit at their cheeks, tinging them red as they sat in thoughtful silence. Harry and he were sitting shoulder and shoulder and he allowed the warmth from it to fill him up completely. The black lake rippled below them in a natural elegance Draco only wished he could steal for himself.

It was early in the morning and Draco could still hear the birds chirping in the distance. It was the first time either of them had dared to be out together past the protection of the dark. But seeing as Harry had the map and the cloak if someone spotted them despite the castle being nearly remote for the Christmas holidays, they could quickly hide. Draco supposed Harry had the map for other reasons though.

Harry had told him yesterday about the fiasco with Granger and Weasley. He'd nearly had a panic attack trying to spit it out. Draco wasn't going to lie - them knowing scared him. He couldn't have imagined if it had been the other way and Pansy and Blaise had found out. He had no doubts though that three Gryffindors would make up sooner or later. Harry's friends were rapidly different from his own. They were a package deal, so he supposed he should have seen it coming sooner or later. Draco mostly felt guilt he was just the one who had caused a rift between them in the first place.

Draco tried his very best not to imagine all the crude things they had to say about him. Sooner or later they would have to meet and Draco would finally take the brunt force of it. He knew after all these years it was only to be expected, he would do the same thing, but expecting the pain and receiving it were two different things. The longer he waited, the worse it would become. And besides, Draco had no idea how much Harry had told them. All he said was what happened from his relatives to that moment. Did that include Bramble? His father? Draco had let himself fall into ease around Harry and he didn't quite want to share that with anyone else yet. The thought made him feel vulnerable; the one thing he hated most in the world.

He looked back over at Harry who was lost in thought. His glasses frames rested on the very tip of his nose where it was just subtly tinted red under his tanned skin. Draco fought off the urge to reach over and push them up and instead looked down at their hands. If he wanted to, he could interlock them. Harry probably wouldn't even notice. He hadn't said a word in the past couple of minutes.

"Harry."

He didn't hear him. Draco sighed.

"Potter!"

Harry shook his head and blinked a couple times. He hadn't realized he'd been zoning out.

"What?" He asked. He gave a crooked-apologetic grin when Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I expect if you continue staring at that tree it might grow legs and run away to file for harassment."

Harry rubbed the back of his head nervously. "I'm just nervous. They haven't even sent a letter yet. Or perhaps they're waiting for me to send one. I just really hope they decided to keep their mouth shut and not tell the rest of the Weasley's."

"I could obliviate them if you'd like?"

Harry's mouth formed a tiny 'o'. "What? No way...! Actually..."

Draco elbowed him in the side. "It was a joke, Potter. Calm down."

"Hmph."

Draco rolled his eyes. "They'll be fine. They can't hold on grudge on you forever. Believe it or not, Granger and Weasley would never abandon you. Any fool with enough common sense would see that. You've been through how many life-threatening events with them?"

Harry laid his head on his knees. "It's more than that, though. Hermione, maybe. Ron would be a miracle. You should have seen his face."

Draco sighed. "I know. I suppose that's my fault. You can hardly expect them to be all cozy on the idea. If I was in their place I might punch me too."

Harry groaned with his face in his hands. "Not helping."

"No, I don't think you're getting the whole point. They have no reason to trust me, but that doesn't mean I can't try. The entire thing is not your fault and rest fully on me. I'll have to apologize sooner or later. I can't just keep digging myself in a hole forever."

"It's not your fault-"

"No no, it is. I'm an arse and it's better if you just agree with me on this. From what you told me, they weren't upset with you, but the idea of me. I'll do something, alright? I can't fix everything immediately but I can at least try," Draco says. He pauses. "Oh no, I'm becoming a Gryffindor, aren't I? You're contagious."

It was enough for a small smile to form. Draco took it as a victory.

Draco stood up and wiped the snow off his trousers. He held his hand out to Harry. He looked back with confusion.

"Come on, we're going to Hogsmede. I need to replenish my chocolate stores because someone didn't let me go on the last trip. Besides, quite frankly you look like a kicked puppy. "

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now, get off your arse, and let's go. If I remember correctly there's a passage directly into Honeydukes?"

They transfigured their features so they wouldn't have to hide underneath the cloak the entire time. They both looked very similar to what they first appeared as in Diagon Alley to get school supplies. Draco huffed when his blonde hair was transformed into a vivid red and freckles dotted his face. Harry had grinned at his despair.

"The only combination you can think of?"

"No one suspects a Malfoy hiding as a ginger."

Draco huffed and opened the entrance to the cellar of the shop. He had never taken the route of course but Harry had advised him to stay under the cloak with him until they got to the main part of the shop. Both of them seemed to be hypervigilant over their close proximity. (Harry had touched the small of Draco's back accidentally and sent both of them in blushing panic though they wouldn't admit it).

Inside the store wasn't nearly as crowded as it would be on any Hogwarts days. There was a cluster of people here and there for their last-minute holiday shopping. Christmas Eve was the next day and the shop was prepared for it. Dozens of holiday-themed treats lined the shelves. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-coloured toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizzbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Goyle had used to love; along yet another wall were 'Special Effects' sweets: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ('breathe fire for your friends!'), Ice Mice ('hear your teeth chatter and squeak!'), peppermint creams shaped like toads ('hop realistically in the stomach!'), fragile sugar-spun quills and exploding bonbons.

They slipped off the cloak when no one was looking and Draco quickly sprinted for the chocolate section. Usually, if his father allowed it, his mother would give him a box of chocolates she would make by hand every Christmas. They were the same ones that used to come in her weekly care-packages. He wouldn't get that this year now, nor likely for the rest of his life. Sometimes he would still look up on Monday mornings and expect to see his mother's owl with them.

Draco lifted his chin up from his self-pity and proceeded to stack all the chocolate he could fit in his arms into a bag. He didn't need them; he was just fine on his own. Draco had made his choice and he certainly wasn't going to let himself overthink it over something sentimental as chocolate. He stuffed a couple caramel cobwebs and sugar quills in for extra measure.

They didn't care about him and so he wouldn't either.

"How are you so bloody skinny when you eat that much candy?" Harry asks. He had found him again and was holding a tiny bag he already seemed to have paid for. He was eyeing the mountain in Draco's arms with apprehension.

"Because I don't gorge myself on it like Vincent or Gregory. Moderation is the key. I have to stock up for the rest of the year if I keep getting called away whenever I have the chance to restock."

"You drink, like, eight cups of hot chocolate a night."

"Shush. I don't go mocking your Quidditch habits or addiction to chasing danger at every turn, do I?"

"Actually-"

"Pleasant talk. End of discussion."

They exited the shop with a curious stare by the shop owner who was now twenty-five galleons richer. Outside Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees. If you listened faintly you could hear the cheerful music coming from inside the shops.

The trip so far seemed to be doing Harry well. There was a faint wisp of a smile though it wasn't the same with his transfigured features. He also hadn't yet zoned off or gone on a tangent about his two best friends. Draco was lying if he said he didn't use Harry's happiness as an excuse to temporarily block out his own anxiety.

"Where to?"

Harry did a once over of the empty street and immediately started left without a word. Draco sprinted to catch up. It soon became obvious where he was heading.

'Spintwitches Sporting Needs' headed the front of the store. Draco followed suit of the eager teen and pushed open the door. They were immediately overrun with the chaotic atmosphere. Snitches flew around with minds of their own followed by miniature models of the latest brooms. There were kids not quite Hogwarts age yet running around against their parents lecturing. Dozens of people swarmed the store to find the last of the best gear before it was sold out.

Harry grinned at the chaoticness. Draco winced and plugged his ears. It was a wild difference from the pleasantness outside. Draco does love the way Harry's eyes light up, however.

"Do you think they'd have a seekers game snitch? I've been meaning to get one to practice with..."

Draco follows Harry throughout the shop, dodging the random objects soaring through the air. Harry doesn't seem to mind them, dodging them almost indicatively without looking up, as he browzes throughout the shelves. Harry spots a long padded pole padded in pygmy puff fur and Draco has to explain it as equipment for an American wizarding game named Shuntbump.

Draco had to admit that he missed Quidditch, even if he only got on in the first place because 1) His father forced him saying it was 'good for a social image' and 2) That his father had bought the entire team brooms after he failed tryouts (in which he was punished severely for). He had ended up enjoying it rather well despite it. He missed soaring high on the broom away until it was just him and his thoughts. The constant practices to keep his mind off things. It reminded him before everything had gone to shit and he didn't have more important things to worry about than making sure Potter knew his hair was a mess (that made him wonder if he only now developed a crush...).

Harry found what he was looking for easily. "Do you think you could test it out with me? Ginny said I should practice with the cloak so I could build on my other senses other than sight."

Draco raised an eyebrow. He quickly grabbed Harry's glasses and held them mockingly up to see his own face and away from Harry's urgent hands. "She might have a point, you know. You're blind as a bat. How do you see through these things? They're thick as my history textbook!"

"Give them back!" Harry whined, trying to reach for them. He made uncoordinated moves trying to catch Draco off guard. Draco smirked and held them higher. Draco's couple centimeters on Harry's hight now seemed to rival a tower.

"Pretty please?"

"Let me think," Draco hummed. He considered the horrible out-of-date classes briefly before placing them on his own head. They fell down considerably with the slope on his nose. "'It's me Harry Potter! Behold my pratishness!'"

"I'm the prat?" Harry laughed and look another swipe for the glasses with his bad eyesight which Draco easily dodged. "Give them back-!"

"We both are. We can be prats-ners in crime. Wait, no. That wasn't very good, I take it back. And- hey! Haven't you heard never to hit a bloke with glasses?!"

Harry had reached up and grabbed ahold of Draco's face with one hand and snatched them right off. He smirked smugly as he fitted them back on. "Hmmm. Try telling that to Voldemort. You think he'll stop going after me every year then?"

"Perhaps not. Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen any death eaters with glasses. Do you think he has a personal vendetta against them?"

Harry snorts. "Probably."

They finish up in the store quickly after that. Harry ends up buying a miniature quidditch model set to help him plan plays for the quidditch team, the seekers game snitch, and a book called 'Charms for the Athletic Witch or Wizard' for a last-minute Christmas gift for Ginny Weasley.

They decided they would save the Three Broomsticks for last. It was nearly lunchtime right then and that's when it would be the most crowded. They opted instead for a small shop off the corner of the street named 'Auntie Albatross' Antiques'.

The crooked, old door dings when they enter. The dustless shop was a minefield for the clumsy. Delicate and expensive handcrafted figurines, glass bowls, and kiln-fired plates were left on low shelves where they could be easily knocked and broken. A cute little sign hung greedily in the window, 'nice to look, nice to hold, but if you break it, consider it sold.' Draco wondered if they got more sales that way than people actually choosing to make a purchase.

At the counter was an old woman, not the kind you pity with their old bones and feeble limbs, but the kind who could still run an army kitchen given half a chance. She stood quite tall and slim, her short grey hair neat and likely styled with old fashioned rollers, the kind women used to sleep in. She gave the two a kind smile as they wondered the too-tall stacked shelves.

Draco's attention was immediately drawn to the large stack of muggle literature. Draco had a small collection he'd hoarded over the years in his tower but he had read through them all dozens of times already. It was excruciatingly hard to find them when your parents refused to let you out of sight with muggles around. And in Hogwarts; why in Merlin's name would they even store muggle fiction?

He was mildly impressed the shop owner decided to keep these books in stock with the war going on. Shops were being targeted for this exact kind of thing. His father was the one who brought up the idea in the first place. Should Draco had stayed, he suspected it would have been one of his first missions as a death eater. Perhaps she thought she was so close to Hogwarts and Dumbledore none would dare come this close. He looked back at the books and the unassuming lady. It sent an unwanted shiver up his spine.

Harry split from him to examine the wares in between the tall, inward leaning shelves. They're stacked with the brim with a mix of muggle and wizard items Draco couldn't begin to comprehend what they all did. He'd only been inside the headmaster's office once but it reminded him very much of that. He could easily see the old man in bright-colored robes drifting through the aisles on the weekends looking for the new addition to his collection.

Draco's finger sorted through the dusty shelves of books. He spotted a few he was already acquainted with such as 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and 'Hamlet'. There were a few new ones that caught his attention though. 'The Little Prince', 'Frankenstein', and 'Catch-22' were some of many he piled up in his arms.

It's just his luck when the mark on his arm starts to tingle at that moment. Draco's pauses, any hint of emotion careful stripped from his face, as a tinge of fear shot through him

Oh, course it had to happen right here, wouldn't it? Draco couldn't risk Harry seeing him and finding out. He quickly reached into his pocket and brought out the nerve-regeneration potion he kept on him ever since his godfather's lecturing. He downed it quickly after he had made sure no one was looking. It wasn't bad right now but if he took it before it happened he usually could only get away with a dull ache for a couple hours.

He didn't know why the Dark Lord didn't just serve the connection between them. They already figured he was a lost cause, so why go through the trouble? They seemed to want to cause the most pain possible. Actually, that wouldn't be too far off. Every time he called a meeting the pain would radiate throughout his entire body when he rejected. The worse had been in the owlery a couple days ago when he felt as if his entire arm was getting chopped off. Other times it would just flare up whenever the Dark Lord's emotions, usually anger, flared. He assumed that was what this was now.

With a grunt of pain, he stuffed the bottle back in his jumper pocket and discreetly checked if the glamour on the mark hadn't faltered. He cast an extra one for good measure before venturing off to find Harry who was at the small booth set up for payment at the back of the shop. He turned the corner just in time to see Harry gently place a small box in his Honeydukes bag in exchange for a handful of galleons.

"And just whos that for?" Draco faked a grin through the throbbing. Harry didn't seem to notice any difference. "Please don't tell me you haven't done any of your holiday shopping? Let me guess, is it Granger? How about Mr. Weasley? I've heard he has quite an obsession with muggles..."

Harry eyed the selection of books in Draco's hands and cocked an eyebrow. "No, actually. I figured their presents out forever ago. He's rather simple to buy for. I got him a muggle notebook and a set of fancy pens. I was hoping to get Hermione to tell me his reaction..."

Draco instantly realized his mistake in bringing up the two best friends. He buys the books quickly and tries to turn the conversation around as they exit the shop. "Is it for Lupin?"

Harry shakes his head. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

Draco stares at him rather confused. Harry chuckled slightly.

"It's a muggle saying. It means- you know what, never mind. It doesn't matter. It's for you, you wanker. It was supposed to be a surprise but you had to go ahead and ruin it."

"For me! How considerate. I'll think of it as an honor to get a gift from the great boy-who-lived!"

Harry elbowed slightly him in the ribs. Draco tried to stifle his wince. "Yeah right. You've probably got gifts from the minister of France or something. Let me guess, you got me a rock cake with a picture of me falling off my broom?"

"I take offense to that. I take great pride in my gifts, actually. You should know I sorted out your gift weeks ago. I do not take them so lightly."

Harry stops and stares at him as if he can't believe Draco would actually get him something. His expression shines with something he frustratingly can't place.

"You have chocolate of your face," Harry finally says. Draco blinks, surprised at the suddenness of the statement. He had been too busy watching the snowflakes melt on Harry's hair.

"Where?" He wipes quickly at the corners of his mouth and comes up clean. Harry laughs and continues walking down the rural pathway covered in thick snow to 'Gladrags Wizardwear' for Dobby's present.

Draco squints at him evilly. He looks down at the snow and an idea forms.

He carefully bends down and scoops of a pile of snow before shaping it into a small ball. The dragon-hide gloves easily protect his hands from the frigid cold. A split second later a snowball hits the back of Harry's neck, causing the brunet to jump. His head snaps back with a speed of an owl to meet Draco's devilish smirk.

"Oi!"

"Come on! Don't be a chicken."

Harry looks around for any passersby. There's only one or two on the empty street who seem to be ignoring them.

"Bak-bak!"

In minutes the air is thick with snowballs so compacted that several feel solid and icy. The ones from the freshly fallen flakes burst open on impact, showering crystalline fragments that glint in the wintry light.

Draco got snowball fights down to an art by his first year at Hogwarts. Best snowball size, best snowball density, just the right swing in his throwing arm. There was a spell to make it go quicker of course but enjoyed it better this way. Goyle and Blasie used to love them, not to mention throwing them at random students before running away with stupid grins. There's a nagging voice telling him to let Harry win, that it'll be better in the long run, but he simply can't. He was too competitive and snowball fights were war and wars just had to be won.

A large one soared back at Draco's head. While Harry was good at dodging, he was horrible at throwing. Draco was the exact opposite and threw them with a scary precision. Harry made a large 'oof!' sound as a particularly large one lit his directly in the stomach, causing him to fall back to the ground. Draco beamed down at him.

"This is so unfair!" Harry whined as Draco towered over him with a snowball nearly as big as Lockheart's head.

"Alls fair in war, young grasshopper," Draco says before pausing. "I used that phrase right, yes?"

Harry rolled his eyes with a groan in the snow. "Yes, you did."

"Brillant. Now-"

Draco doesn't get to finish his villain monologue. He's swiped off his feet before he can register what's happening. The snow cushions most of his falls but he can't help but wince at the pain that shoots through his left forearm.

"I win," Harry taunts as they lay side by side. Draco turns his head to stick his tongue out when he finds Harry's nose nearly touching his own. Draco's heart momentarily stops. Draco wasn't the only one to notice the delicate tension. Harry was frozen, just staring at him. His mind short-circuits and he ends up staring right back. The tension is brittle enough it feels a single movement will snap it. Draco can feel the weight in his chest waiting to take over. It sits there like an angry ball propelling him towards an irreversible decision.

He knew Harry couldn't possibly like him back, but he couldn't resist. He leaned in a little closer, their foreheads touching. Dear Merlin, he couldn't fight against the temptations that were going through him. He hated feeling vulnerable, not being to hold himself back, and yet why did it feel so bloody right like this?

The next thing Draco knew, Harry had slammed his lips to his own and nearly knocked all wind from Draco's lungs. Warmth flooded from between them in every direction, and the world was slowly disappearing around them, along with all of their worries, their troubles. Draco honestly never knew that a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying. Draco's hands move to cup the brunet's face. He pulled him closer, the kiss deeper, more passionate. Draco felt hands on the back of his neck and run their way through his hair.

He was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours he'd spent with Harry - watching him talk, laugh and frown - that he would know all there was to know about his lips. But he hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed up against his own.

Draco was kissing a bloke. Draco was kissing Harry Potter. And it felt bloody brilliant.

Slowly, they pulled back. Both of their eyes were wide as they stared at each other.

"Oh," Is all Draco can say. It comes out in such a small whisper that he can hardly believe it comes from inside him.

"Oh?" Harry laughed. He had a drunken smile on his face as if he couldn't believe he'd just done that. "That was the best kiss I've ever had and that's all you have to say?"

"Just shut up and kiss me," Draco rolls his eyes with a replica grin before pressing his other hand against Harry's cheek, giving him more support to push himself towards the other, and connect their lips again. His lips were firm against his, but the kiss remained soft, gentle, slow. They held it for a few seconds before their lips began to move in perfect sync, slowly, cautiously. Draco had never less control over himself than now and yet it was the most blissful thing he'd ever felt.

Out of nowhere Harry suddenly yanks himself forward with a gasp. Their foreheads collide painfully and Draco limps back to the ground with a groan.

"W-what-"

His befuddlement disappears when he sees the tight grimace on Harry's face. His palm is up and pushing against the vivid scar on his forehead. There's the smallest hint of blood coming from Harry's scar. Draco's eyes widen.

"I don't-," Harry gasps. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."

The adrenaline running through his veins from the kiss spikes. He frantically looks around for anything that could be causing it but the entire path was empty.

Draco didn't understand what was happening. Someone clutching a bleeding, decade-old scar wasn't something most healing books prepared you for.

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry didn't respond. His eyes were squeezed shut painfully and his body was scrunched up.

Draco bit his lip which was still tingling. With a heavy breath to calm himself, he pulled himself up in a sitting position and pulled Harry's head into his lap so the snow wouldn't make it worse. He cast for some frantic pain-numbing spells which barely seemed to have any effect.

"You better not bloody pass out on me or I swear to Merlin," Draco hisses. "You always pick the worse times to faint like a damsel in distress."