CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

[I'll Follow You Into The Dark]

DRACO

The wind howled from outside the window, piling up snow in drifts, blinding the early morning light with ice-white dust. Intricate patterns of ice floated weightlessly downward from the pure white sky above, each flake swirling and dancing, as an icy wind carried it toward a group of intrepid travellers.

It was going to a white Christmas.

He looks to the left of him where Harry was sleeping. The faintest pink dusts his cheeks when he realizes they had fallen asleep against each other. In Harry's bed nonetheless. Not that they had done anything of course.

Draco hadn't intended to fall asleep at all. They had spent Christmas Eve inside the dungeons when Harry had wanted to check up with Dumbledore on what assumed was the event from yesterday. (He was trying not to think of it much.) Neither had wanted to walk away back down to the freezing, night dungeons and Harry instead had smuggled him into the Gryffindor tower with the cloak.

He was grateful for that. It was no wonder they called it a den. It felt safe and comfortable between the thick comforters and plush furniture meant for comfort and not show.

Harry's chest rises slowly. He's deeply asleep. His head leans close to Draco's shoulder and his midnight hair is strewn about and tousled. Draco can see him up close. The way the morning light brushes over his features and illuminates them in a peaceful melancholy. Draco's falls entranced. Only quietly, as to not disturb the delicate moment. But falls, nonetheless.

Draco hardly understands why. Out of all the people in the world, Draco had to be the least deserving to be in such a place of pure tranquility. And yet, Harry had kissed him. Multiple times and gave him that dizzy, drunk smile afterward as if he was the one that had the entire world in his hands. And every time Draco held his breath waiting for whatever twisted dream he was in to wake him out of his fairytale.

He was the brewing storm clouds over a perfect sunset. He wasn't meant to be here. He was a joke of a person who was only working on borrowed time. Soon enough the last grain in the timer would run out and Harry would realize that as well.

If he only knew….

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Harry was warm against him. Their temperatures were perfectly balanced.

It didn't matter that he regretted it. He'd done inexcusable things and he wasn't ever going to pay that off. He was being selfish playing innocent around him. He wanted to scream, make him realize he was making a mistake. But he couldn't, and he was a coward for taking these moments from someone who deserved it.

He stood on the brink of something he couldn't describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on his shoulders and he welcomed it. The self-loathing had crept up on him so subtly he hadn't even known it was there until he was drowning.

Draco took one last glance at Harry before pushing himself off the bed and into the bathroom.

He ignores the mirror the best he can as he strips down and steps slowly into the tub, turning the water on high and letting it beat over his head in steamy rivulets. It gets much warmer here than in the dungeons. Closing his eyes to the water as the heat soaks into his skin, he leans against the cool tiles as his weak legs threaten to buckle. The boiling water pours down as his mind fades into dullness and everything is a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calms him; it takes the edge off things for a little bit so he could gather his mind.

He shouldn't feel like this when he'd just been given nearly the brightest gift of them all. Again, it felt selfish, making the storm in his head grow bigger. It made no sense. Nothing inside his head ever did. He wanted to relish the moment and everything about it from the scent of Harry's hair to their stupid banter, but he also wanted to destroy it. He wanted to watch it all burn like a wildfire and run away like the coward he was.

He switched the faucet off but continued to stand there in the shower letting the humidity seep into his lungs and making it hard to breathe. Water from his hair dripped down his back but he didn't care. He was too busy glaring down at the mark on his arm to register anything else.

If Harry knew of it, everything would be gone in a blink of an eye. It would be normal and Harry would hate him again and Draco would be back to grasping for any steady surface, desperate not to fall. The darker part inside him was tempted to wake Harry and show him just for that reason.

"I trust you. You're not like your parents and I get that. You'd never become one of them."

He itched to do something. To grab his wand and burn the mark off his flesh until his entire arm was disfigured. He hated waking up every morning when that glamour disappeared. It didn't matter if no one else could see it because he would always know it was there for the rest of his life. He hated waking up in the middle of the night in pain from a literal monster was calling for his allegiance. The same exact one that had murdered Harry's parents and hundreds more.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and recast the glamour, and cleans his clothes with a 'scourgify'. He wasn't about to submerge into the temptation after months of fighting it. Besides, Harry was right outside the door.

He changes quickly and exits the bathroom. What surprises him was that Harry was up despite the early hour. He's sitting up on the bed but hadn't yet had the time to change out of the red and yellow nightwear. As soon as he sees Draco he gives his a massive yet innocent smile as he rubs the sleep out from under his glasses. Even his hair was endearing as it poked up in random directions.

"Your hair looks funny wet," he says.

"How cruel. Don't abuse the competition just because you're jealous. If you don't want me stealing the spotlight I'm sure I can fix you with a purple mohawk."

Harry laughs and Draco's heart constricts.

"Happy Christmas, you ass."

Snow hits against the castle's windows followed by the loud crackle of the fire. Harry already had a house-elf bring up two mugs of hot chocolate (with cinnamon) that were steaming on the bedside table following by a couple Christmas crackers. The scene feels like it'll collapse around him if he so much moves a centimeter.

"Happy Christmas."

He didn't notice that he had presents at first. He'd read Hogwarts: A History when he was ten and knew all about the Christmas custom for the house elves to send presents to the end of beds. It had slipped his mind that morning and messed things even farther inside his head.

He had a very small stack of gifts on the other end of Harry's bed. It was noticeably smaller than Harry's own but he found hadn't cared. He was genuinely surprised he'd gotten anything at all, to be honest. He was half-expecting one of them to be a prank by some other Slytherin to 'get back at him'. No such thing happened.

It was an other-worldly experience to sit crisscrossed on the other side of Harry's bed opening presents and laughing on a Christmas morning. He doesn't remember ever being so happy and careless on one. Sure, Bramble used to be there but the cheerless Ministry parties were non-negotiable. He'd associated the Christmas spirit in his childhood with drunk old men raving about the newest wave of 'radical politics' and tipsy women gossiping to one another about what their next-door neighbor was doing.

They'd wordlessly agreed to skip breakfast in the Great Hall in favor of having an elf bring them some left-overs to eat in bed. They munched on scones and treacle tart (he could practically hear his father screaming at him for table manners) as they paced themselves in opening their gifts. If either of them caught one another staring at them with a grin when they thought they weren't looking, nothing was said.

Harry opened a tin of homemade cookies and a teal-coloured knitted sweater with an 'H' on the front. There was a note inside he quickly read to himself. The relief from it was obvious.

"They didn't tell Mrs. Weasley," Harry finally says out loud, now looking down at the sweater with wide eyes.

"About us?"

Harry takes in a deep breath before he speaks. "Yeah. I was afraid…"

The self-loathing from earlier that morning makes a reappearance. He swallows it back distastefully. Draco wouldn't be able to handle it if he was the reason Harry lost someone close to him simply by 'association'. He doesn't know what to say. What were you supposed to do? Reassure them? Pat them on the back? It hardly seemed fitting when you're the cause of the misfortune in the first place.

They continue eating and going through their gifts. Both of them sensed the conversation was best due for a later time. However, a question did arise throughout the mess despite him trying to push it to the back of his mind. What did Harry consider them?

Draco received a very nice set of casual robes that had a small snitch clasp near the collar from Pansy. He'd sent her a pack of talking headbands ('they whisper praises in your ear all day!') and an extendable ear he had no way bought off a Hufflepuff third year. Blaise had sent him a dozen or so sweets in a gift basket along with a note that said 'so you can't get you knickers in a twist when I say I raided your sweet cabinet before I left' that had a suggestive smiley face on it. He made a mental note to hex his dormmate's blankets with an itching charm before he got back.

There was a gift from Bramble there too. It was a never-ending bag filled with Tupperware filled to the brim with every single of his favorite homemade meals and desserts of hers as a child. The most surprising was the last two gifts; one from Goyle and another without a name. He opened the first one only with a quick detection spell from Harry.

"Are you sure you want to open that? It could be something to get back at you…"

In the end, Draco's curiosity had won him over. Harry watched him carefully with his wand out just in case.

Inside was a brand new set of Gobstones. He had to read the note once or twice to make meaning of it.

Malfoy,

I was a prat and Im sorry. I should not have judged you so quick. We miss you here.

Goyle.

P.S. you're mother misses you

He blinked. The note was vague. It could mean a million different things if you so wanted it to. And an apology? It seemed so unlike the Goyle who had glared at him when boarding the train only a couple days ago. 'We miss you here.' Where was 'here'? Who was 'we'? And what the bloody hell did he mean about judging quickly? And his mother? That was a low blow.

Harry took the note out of his hands and read it with a frown. It gave them both more questions than answers.

He waited until Harry was finished with his presents for his last one. Both Granger and Weasley had gotten over the idea of Draco quick enough that they still sent presents. Weasley's, however, came with no note. Grangers only came with a brief one that assured Harry that they were okay. Nothing about him was mentioned. Harry tried to hide the fact he was devastated by the small notion but the damper on his mood was obvious.

"I'm sorry," Draco says.

"S'not your fault. If they don't want to listen to reason that's on them. Besides," he looks up a Draco, "more for me, right?"

Their eyes met briefly before Harry's leaning in. He kissed him and the world fell away to the sound of Draco's heart thumping in his chest. Harry's hand rested below Draco's ear, his thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingled. It didn't matter they'd done this a dozen times the day before, it still felt just as scarily intense and unsure as the first

When they pulled apart finally, they sat in a comfortable silence watching the snow hit the window and eating their candy. They leaned against the headboard of the bed, shoulders touching and feet intertwined carelessly. He got Harry to try one of the Christmas crackers which exploded in a loud 'pop!' and left both of them with comically large, yellow pointed hats on their heads and a few live doves flying around the room. (He had to assure Harry that the transfiguration on the birds would wear off in an hour or two and back into a small figurine.)

Harry was the first to bring up the question. "Draco...," he asks carefully.

He looks up from the book he'd stolen from Harry's presents. He hesitates at the tone in Harry's voice. That meant something serious was about to be discussed.

"Hm?"

"I really like you," he says. It comes out more of a stutter really because his red and his hands are wildly tapping at his thigh again.

He was taught from a young age to always keep his mind steady and his tongue sharp. But now, Draco's mind blanks. He truly and completely at loss for words. Complete overdrive and he doesn't know what to do. He'd curse himself later because 'he kissed for a reason, dumbass' but hearing Harry say the words outright felt like a punch to the face.

And he knows he shouldn't because there's always that one voice in his head saying he's going to fuck everything up, but his heart flourishes at the sound of it. It's too good to be true, especially for someone like him. He shouldn't be selfish and take what he does not deserve but he does and he loves it and hates it both at the same time and how can that be possible?

And out of all of the confusion in his mind, for some odd reason, the only thing he remembers is an old quote from a muggle book he'd read years ago. 'The true enemy of love is when emotional indifference takes command of logic; for only when love takes command of logic can good choices be made. Indeed, love in command of both our higher logic and our primitive drive is humanity's hero-mode.'

"Yes." Is what finally ends up coming out. His face goes red. Embarrassment was the bane of his existence.

"...what?"

Draco's eyes widen. "No- I mean, yes- I do. I do too. I like you. A lot."

Who knew confronting your feelings was this bloody pesky?

"Oh thank Merlin, I thought you were about to tell me to go piss off or something."

Despite it, Draco tips back his laughs because who would have thought he'd ever be having this conversation? "I bloody well hope you don't. You're stuck with me. No take-backs."

Harry hums. "I think I might be able to live with that."

Someone pinch me, please

"So…."

Draco raises an eyebrow. The smile has yet to leave his face. "So what, Potter?"

Harry runs his fingers through his hair as he debates something mentally. "Oh shut it, let me get my confidence first. This isn't as easy as it looks."

Draco knows that fairly well after a few months of what he thought was pointless pining. Confidence was relative. They had cleared the air though and their feelings were mutual. Yes, relationships were a horribly sticky area where he had no experience, but it was hardly anything against suppressing those feelings for so long. He'd kissed Harry back too- that had to count for something. So it surprises himself that he steals the words before Harry gets the chance.

"Will you out with me?"

Draco's heart roars in his ears.

Harry pauses and stares at him. He clearly hadn't been expected Draco one to spit the question out. Both their faces are flushed from the confessions and the kiss. It becomes impossible for him to look anywhere other than Harry's searching eyes. It occurs to him that Harry wouldn't need Legilimency to see every shade of fear and insecurity in him. He'd let his guard down enough to figure everything out in a few seconds of unspoken exchange, and yet, he didn't want to stop it.

It takes a moment for Harry to regain his composure. The brunette swallows nervously before shaking his head up and down. "Of course. You're stuck with me."

Draco sat back and let the happiness soak right into his bones. He wanted the feeling to still be there when he was old. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment, but never released his grip on the hand weaving its way into his own. For the first time in forever his body and mind relaxed. In that moment there were no expectations upon him, no glares and no mask to pretend to be something he wasn't. It was brilliant.

Draco allowed himself to lean into Harry's body heat. When they finally fell each other in a warm, slow and luxurious embrace, he felt all his oppositions to it melt. Before the cold feeling inside can creep under and take the feeling from him, Harry's hand moves around his middle, warm and soft. In seconds his body is moulded to Draco's own, sharing his body heat as easily as he shared his mind. His chests rising and falling against his back, their breaths in unison, and the warm blood that they could feel in each others' arms.

Harry Potter, the golden boy, was his boyfriend. (He'd really have to start getting used to that word…) His father would go mental. He gave a small smile at that. It was the cherry on top of everything realizing, again, he did not care what the old man had to say. After all, he had more than he could ever dream of now.

Draco doesn't know how long they stayed like that. It was quiet and peaceful. He might have even drifted off to sleep once or twice. It's only when Harry slowly starts to pull away that he's roused.

"Sorry," Harry apologies, "I realized I forgot your Christmas present."

Draco blinks. Out of all the confusion he'd completely forgotten about that. Harry hadn't received his either and he was quite eager to see his reaction to it. It had taken more than a bit of thought to it. He only hoped Harry didn't think it was a little overboard.

Harry was currently inside his trunk all the way back in the Slytherin dorms. He hadn't wrapped it because then the house-elves would have made it appeared at Harry's bed wherever he slept on Christmas and at the time he didn't know if he was spending it at the Weasleys or not. He didn't want to cause questions on who it was from. Besides, Bramble had drilled it in his head as a child that it was best to give a gift in person. It was more personal that way and if anything Harry deserved that.

Harry slipped off the bed causing him to immediately miss the body heat. He let out a small whine and pulled the thick comforter that pilled at knees back up to his chin. Harry let out a small laugh at his childish display before sticking his tongue out at him.

"Hold on, it's just under the bed. Here." He pulled out the small white box from the shop the day before. (Which in retrospect, seemed like weeks ago now.) "I rubbish at wrapping charms. I usually bribed Dean or Ron to do them for me."

He pushing himself back into a sitting position to accept the gift. Slowly, he opened it to a carton full of tissue paper.

At first, he thought it was some kind of joke about vanity. It was a small vintage style, hand-held mirror. It was extremely ornate with encrusted intricate silver swirls and designs up and down the back and handle. It was rimmed with some kind of stone he could only assume was Sapphire as well. It was beautiful, really. Further inside he found a matching one only this time in bronze and Ruby.

"They're twin mirrors," Harry explained at Draco's confusion. "They go two-way. Whatever is in one mirror shows up in the other. They're used in communicating."

Draco had read about them more than once but never had the chance to actually see one himself. They were mostly used for wizards during world war I to communicate rapidly between units. They were exceptionally rare to find one now, let alone a matching pair in perfect condition. He looked down into the silver one and sure enough, he appeared in the other.

"I just figured," Harry cuts in before he can ask, "that maybe you could send one to Bramble? I know you've been worried about her and everything, especially with her overseas in the States. You'd be able to see her daily now instead of infrequent letters. I just…" he was becoming more and more unsure of himself as he talked, "I know with your parents you miss her…"

Leave it to Potter to make a Malfoy speechless twice in one day. It had to be one of the most thoughtful gifts he had ever received. He would have never thought of such a gift in his entire lifetime.

He would be able to see Bramble now. Make sure she was really okay after months of thinking she was dead. It was real contact, not just through letters, to the only adult who ever gave a real hippogriff end about him other than being a good little heir and playing doll.

Draco struggled to find the words for his overwhelming gratitude. In the end, all he could do was throw his entire body weight onto Harry in an enormous hug. Harry's eyes widened.

'Malfoy's don't show emotion,' a voice ringed out inside his head.

'Suck it,' another replied.

"It's brilliant. Thank you."

Harry smiled back shyly.