Disclaimer: JKR owns all HP characters and settings etc. They are not my dollies, I simply stole them and played with them for a short while. Only the plot belongs to me.
Rated: M for language and some sexual situations.
Warnings: There will be slash/ malexmale/ yaoi/ whatever you want to call it. Basically, if you are a homophobe, I don't advise reading this story. Also, for some, there may be unbearable amounts of fluffy relationship stuff that may induce vomiting and/or blindness. Have a nice day.

Post-DH but NOT epilogue compliant. There may be some spoilers.

This is the last of today's five chapters! More ARE coming, I promise!!

I realy enjoyed writing this chapter; it was nice to look at things from Draco's POV for a change... =D

Three days later, Harry was sitting on the plush rug on the floor of his living room, underneath the huge Christmas tree by the fireplace. Kreacher had decorated the giant tree with red and gold baubles; silver tinsel draped around its branches and a bright, crystal star sat at the very top, the sunlight streaming through the window hitting its surface and casting rainbows all round the room.

It was Christmas morning and Harry turned to his giggling godson; helping him unwrap the toy broomstick he had bought him as a gift; while the boy's grandmother – Andromeda Tonks – chuckled softly at Teddy's hair as it turned the colour of the violet wrapping paper Harry had chosen to envelop the broom in. The boy was barely a year old, but Harry felt that it was never too early to start learning about flying. He'd received a broom from his own godfather on his very first Christmas afterall. He smiled down at the small child as Teddy Lupin let out a shriek of delight as he at last discovered what his present was. He beamed up at Harry, silently pleading with his godfather to test it out that very moment.

His face splitting into a wide grin, Harry lifted the boy on to the broom, steadying him as he muttered words of encouragement to Teddy; the broom lifting a few inches off the ground.

"That's it Teddy," Harry laughed at the look of shock on his godson's face as the broom began to move and he shuffled forward on his knees so he could keep supporting the child with his hands around the small boy, "Careful now."

Harry marvelled to himself that the first time he had spent time with Teddy as his official godfather, he had been afraid of the fragile infant in his arms. The boy would rely entirely upon him, and him alone, for everything he needed, and needed to be taught. He knew that at this point, it was far beyond his capabilities to take care of a baby himself and Andromeda had agreed to help Harry out, taking care of the child for the most part and allowing Harry to visit whenever he could, which was usually once or twice a week. His visits, however, had dwindled since he'd returned to Hogwarts and Harry hadn't seen his godson for a little over three months. He was amazed at how much he'd grown to love the little boy, and just how much he'd missed him during term time.

He'd grown to love Andromeda during the time they'd spent together too. She'd become like a loving aunt towards Harry and helping him with every question he had; whether it was to do with the baby or not. Currently, she was sitting on the sofa and observing the scene just a few feet away as Teddy's face lit up and Harry grinned widely at the small boy as he rode the broom proudly. On her lap sat a box of her favourite chocolates and bath scents Harry had bought her; it was a perfect gift as she saw no need for extravagance; some chocolate and hot bath was her heaven on earth, and Harry knew her far too well. She glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece.

"Harry, dear. Shouldn't we be getting to The Burrow? Molly will start fretting if we're late." She smiled down at the two boys on the rug, not wanting to spoil their fun; but knowing that an enormous and festive Christmas party was awaiting them at the Weasley's home.

Harry glanced up the clock and nodded. "Come on Teddy; she's right." He lifted the boy off the broom and shrunk the remaining presents under the tree and began putting them into the bag that already contained the presents for his friends. "We can unwrap the rest of the presents when we get to The Burrow."

They floo'd to Ron's home, Harry carrying his rucksack full of gifts and feeling a bit like Santa, Andromeda carrying little Teddy on her hip. Stumbling out of the fireplace, Harry was greeted with cheers and handed a drink of firewhiskey before he was enveloped in the arms of Molly Weasley. She had lost rather a lot of weight since Fred's death, as had George, and there was a slightly subdued atmosphere about the house as the family spent its first Christmas without one of their children. Nobody had let it get on top of him or her however, everyone was determined to enjoy the holiday with the remaining friends and family they had, now more aware than ever of how much they meant.

Bill and Fleur were seated close together, smiling and laughing as Charlie and Percy argued jovially over something trivial. George and Ginny were taking it turns to hex Charlie and Percy's jumpers; seeing which one of them would get caught out first as they edited the lettering on their older brothers' Christmas presents. Ron and Hermione were curled up in an armchair together, grinning happily at Harry and Andromeda as they arrived.

"Harry! Merry Christmas dear, how have you been? Sit down, sit down… There's got to be room somewhere," Mrs. Weasley released him and bustled around the entirely too-small room, moving discarded wrapping paper and ribbons until there was space enough for the three new arrivals to sit down. Ginny immediately took Teddy from his grandmother and she, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat on the floor, amusing the little boy and exchanging the gifts they had bought - Hermione gasping with delight as she unwrapped an in-depth encyclopaedia of 'Useful Spells for Unusual Situations' Harry had bought her, and Ron punched him playfully on arm as he revealed a Chudley Cannons Broom Servicing Kit, wrapped in customary orange paper. Ginny hugged Harry tightly as she tore the paper off a box of her favourite honey and cinnamon sweets, plus the biography of Gwenog Jones – captain of her favourite team, the Holyhead Harpies.

A few minutes later, dinner was served in the small, cluttered kitchen and everyone trooped through to devour the workings of Mrs. Weasley. Harry sat at the large table next to Bill and Ron as everyone helped themselves to turkey, potatoes, an assortment of other meats and roast vegetables, wide variety of sauces and snacks and finally sloshing homemade gravy over the lot.

There were loud and cheerful discussions and raucous laughter exploded all over the table in intermittent bursts as everyone piled their plates high in good spirits and company, chuckling as Teddy poked at his mashed potato and attempted to mould it into several shapes before trying to stuff the whole lot in his mouth at once. Harry was in the middle of an argument with Ron, Bill and George about which Quidditch team was likely to win top of the British League this year – Ron ever insistent that it would finally be the orange-clad Cannons and Bill arguing for the side of the Montrose Magpies. Harry and George were arguing the case of the Kenmare Kestrels; a team that Harry had recently discovered Draco had also been a fan of since he was five.

This thought made him reminiscent of the blond and he noticed now, that to his left, although they were both involved in separate discussions, Bill had his arm around Fleur's waist and she a gentle hand on his knee. To his right, Hermione had her head rested on Ron's shoulder as she flicked happily through her newest book. Nothing could have made him miss Draco more as he stared around at the happy couples that surrounded him on all sides, and he wished now more than ever that he had an owl, a piece of parchment and a quill, and perhaps some peace and quiet so he could write to the boy currently occupying his thoughts.

-x-

Draco pushed the food around his expensive plate forlornly, taking in the exquisite preparation of the finest ingredients money could buy that had gone into the Malfoy Christmas dinner. He sat on a straight-backed and elegant, eighteenth-century Venetian chair as he poked at the delightfully seasoned pheasant with the solid silver Malfoy cutlery that had been in their family for generations. He had always taken pride and enjoyment in the finer things in life; money, food, art and literature and, of course, historical furniture; all of which he had. No longer. He still appreciated all the fine things his family owned and his well-trained eye never failed to spot the quality only large amounts of gold could buy, but he was no longer as proud of the fact that he had it in his home as he once was.

Currently, he would have been much happier dining in the home of a certain Gryffindor and hopefully not wearing the uncomfortable and starched formal robes he was presently dressed in. He would have much preferred a meal that was lumpy and burned, like it was sure to be, if Harry and himself had cooked it together over a hot bottle of firewhiskey which they would share, along with many jokes and kisses as they inevitably ruined their dinner.

Draco sighed and took a bite of his food. Ugh. It was cold. He looked up and met his mother's gaze that had been fixed on him for several minutes now.

"Mother, may I please be excused?"

She nodded; her eyes full of concern for her only child at Christmas.

Draco stood and cast her a look of reassurance: he was not ill. As much as he loved the way his mother had fussed over him in the past, now he felt suffocated by her when she over-worried. He was grateful that he had her and she cared however. He knew a certain raven-haired boy that would have been outraged at the thought that Draco didn't care about his parents. He did, however, and he knew they were probably closer than most families with everything they had been through, even if they didn't show it on the surface. Malfoys were famed for putting on a sneering, smirking mask that only another Malfoy could see through. They could read the slightest signs in each other perfectly, and also knew that they each preferred to solve their own problems personally, so interference from his parents into Draco's life was rare - unless he needed it.

He strolled from the enormous dining room, his expensive shoes echoing with each step he took across the marbled floor. Taking the staircase to his right, he ascended the three floors to his private quarters, and once inside, swept over to his mahogany desk and sat down. Pulling out a sheet of fresh parchment and an eagle-feather quill; he proceeded to write a letter to Harry.