Harry was more than a little surprised when Malfoy followed him up to their shared bedroom after dinner that night. He paused when he entered, looking at Harry as though he wanted to say something, but Harry didn't invite any sort of conversation. Communication's not your thing, Charlie had said the other day, and maybe he was right.

Harry and Malfoy had been courteous to one another today, sure, but Harry still didn't know how to converse with him. Everything had been easier when they didn't know anything about each other. Now Harry knew where Malfoy worked, that something was amiss with his parents, that he'd apologized to Neville, and most recently (and shockingly) that Malfoy was good with children. Teddy all but worshipped him. It was hard to reconcile this new information with the Malfoy he'd always known, or at least the one he thought he knew.

In any case, Harry didn't acknowledge Malfoy's questioning gaze. Malfoy went over to his things and began rifling through them, and Harry turned back to a thick envelope he'd received from his senior partner while they were playing Quidditch that morning. He let out a huff of annoyance and pulled out a note from his partner, ignoring Malfoy's curious glance. The note had come with a stack of documentation outlining a mission he'd shadowed the week before.

Proof these and have them back to me by the New Year. Sooner if you can.

"Merlin, it's Christmas Eve," he muttered irritably. Malfoy looked back up at him.

"Just...Auror stuff," Harry said unhappily. "Can't even get away for one lousy—" Embarrassed, he shut his mouth. He hadn't meant to tell Malfoy all that.

Malfoy was still looking at Harry, but he didn't say a word. Harry jammed the letter and the documents into his overnight bag, his pleasant mood from earlier all but shattered. Can't get away from Malfoy, can't get away from the bloody Aurors... He sighed. He'd actually come up here to change his clothes before dinner, but now Malfoy was over there, lounging on his own bed and paging through a book. Harry thought about going to change his clothes in the bathroom for some privacy, but decided against it. What the hell, he thought after a moment. It wasn't anything Malfoy hadn't seen before. He'd seen it all that very morning, as a matter of fact.

Harry peeled his shirt off, shivering in the drafty bedroom. He was suddenly aware that Malfoy watching him.

"What?" he asked irritably, tossing his t-shirt on the bed next to that bloody envelope. "I'm just changing ."

"Merlin, you're in a mood," Malfoy said, exasperated. "Are you always like this?" Harry didn't answer. Malfoy looked at his irritated face and sighed. "I'm looking at you because you look good, you idiot. I'm attracted to you."

Harry stared at him. "You're attracted to me?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Why do you think I've been sleeping with you for this long? It certainly wasn't for your personality. And honestly, I thought your whole Savior complex might be a, ah, compensation for other... deficiencies ." He looked pointedly at the front of Harry's' trousers, and Harry's face reddened. Malfoy smirked.

"This is the worst compliment I've ever received," he announced to the room. Malfoy rolled his eyes. It was also the longest conversation they'd ever had. "And I'll have you know that I was certainly not compensating for anything."

"Well I know that now ," said Malfoy, the hint of a smile on his face. Harry couldn't believe it. Was Malfoy flirting with him? It was unsettling, but he also had to admit that he rather liked it. "And besides, you're attracted to me, too."

"I am not," Harry lied. He felt as though his face was on fire. He realized with some surprise that Malfoy might be trying to distract him from the contents of the envelope. He didn't really know what to think about that.

Malfoy laughed, but not unkindly. "You absolutely are." He came over and sat on the edge of Harry's bed and stared blatantly at Harry's chest, and the trail of dark hair leading into his trousers. Harry shivered. "You like my hair," Malfoy continued. "My chest. You love my thighs."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. He did like Malfoy's thighs...they were pale and firm and sensitive and touching them felt, well, intimate. "I like the sounds you make when I touch them," he said, hoping his voice wouldn't catch. He was gratified to see that Malfoy's cheeks had reddened, too. Malfoy reached up and undid the button on Harry's increasingly tight trousers, looking at him expectantly. Harry nodded, and Malfoy tugged down the zipper. Harry felt his knees weaken, and he took a deep, shaky breath in anticipation of whatever Malfoy was about to do.

And then there was a knock on the door.

"Fuck," Malfoy muttered. "Can't you get a moment of peace in this—"

"Shut up," Harry hissed, clapping a hand over Malfoy's mouth. "Yes?" he called.

"Harry? Draco? Are you in there?" Molly called through the door. "We're about to put Celestina on!"

Harry groaned. "We're here," he called back. "We'll come down."

"Celestina?" Malfoy said, perplexed. "Warbeck?

"Unfortunately, yes," said Harry. "And we'd better go now or Molly will break the door down and drag us down there herself." He'd have laughed at the confused look on Malfoy's face if he wasn't so bloody frustrated. Regretfully, he removed Malfoy's hand from his trousers and zipped up his pants. Malfoy sighed and handed Harry his shirt. He pulled it on over his head, willing his body to cool down. He grimaced at the thought of trying to listen to A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love with his trousers feeling this tight and Malfoy and all the Weasleys in the room.

"I'll see you down there," he told Malfoy, and headed for the door.

"Potter," Malfoy called after him. "Wait."

Harry turned back. Malfoy was still sitting on the edge of Harry's bed, looking at him with some uncertainty. Despite his pink cheeks, he still looked far more crisp and presentable in his blue sweater and grey trousers than Harry felt. He reached up self-consciously and tried to smooth down his hair. "What?"

Malfoy hesitated. "What's the deal with you and the older Weasley?"

Harry looked back at him in surprise, his heart suddenly thumping loudly in his chest. "Bill?" he asked, feigning confusion. "Sorry, I don't know what you mean."

"No," said Malfoy impatiently. Harry watched him run a hand through his hair. "Don't make me admit to knowing their names. The other one. In the dragon hide jacket. Muggle jeans." Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not that I was looking," Malfoy added hastily. "So what's the deal?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, turning back toward the door, his stomach churning. "There's nothing going on with me and Charlie."

"Have it your way, Potter," said Malfoy, standing up. "I don't care either way. Maybe it's a Christmas tradition here, snogging all the Weasleys in the kitchen."

"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry said, swallowing hard. "We weren't—we weren't snogging ." He and Malfoy looked at each other, and Harry felt a keen desire to open the door and let in some air. Maybe then he'd be able to breathe. "I'm going downstairs."

He turned to leave for the second time, but felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Malfoy, just let it—" Before Harry could finish his sentence, Malfoy had spun him around and pressed him up against the door, one hand on Harry's chest, the other at his waist. Inches apart, they met each other's' gaze, and Harry's heart rate quickened. He had only a moment to consider the intensity in Malfoy's grey eyes, and then Malfoy's soft lips were on Harry's, his tongue snaking into Harry's mouth. Harry's eyes flew open in surprise for only a moment, but then he relaxed into everything Malfoy was doing.

It wasn't a romantic kiss—they'd never had one of those—but it was deep and passionate and left Harry feeling woozy and breathless. He groaned into Malfoy's mouth, his earlier arousal flooding his body, his hands grasping at Malfoy's soft blue cashmere sweater until it was twisted up in his fists.. Malfoy was hard and needy against him, but this wasn't about that, at least not entirely. Malfoy was putting everything he had into snogging Harry senseless in a way they'd never done before. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever kissed anyone like this.

The kiss only lasted a moment or two, but Harry had nearly forgotten about Celestina Warbeck by the time Malfoy pulled away, leaving Harry leaning against the door, gasping, flushed, and wholly unsatisfied. They stared at each other, breathless.

"See you downstairs, Potter," said Malfoy quietly. His ears were bright red, and his swollen lips almost looked bruised next to his pale skin. Harry very nearly lurched forward to kiss them again, but looked away instead, finding the doorknob behind him.

This was Malfoy , he reminded himself as he fled down the stairs. Malfoy. But it was getting harder and harder to remember why he should care about that.