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.
Harry awoke late that Boxing Day to the sound of Ron's snores filling the room once again, and the delighting smells of a promising breakfast being cooked in the kitchen downstairs. Though his stomach felt a little queasy from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed the night before; he hadn't really drunk that much and the sensation was overridden by hunger as the scent of his favourite pancakes drifted up towards Ron's bedroom.
He poked the redhead awake and went to get dressed, leaving the sleep-ridden Ron to decipher that the smells currently wafting under his door meant food; which was currently more desirable than lying in his warm bed with no food.
The boys trooped downstairs a few minutes later, chatting and joking with one another as their stomachs rumbled. As soon as that entered the kitchen, Harry was greeted by a squeal from Teddy and he happily lifted the little boy from his willing grandmother's arms; starting to tickle him playfully as they took their empty seats at the breakfast table. Fleur served him the pancakes he'd come for and he smiled gratefully at her as he placed his godson on his lap. Ron was already piling his plate high with bacon, eggs, sausages and tomato sauce, Hermione shaking her head in resignation at him as she continued to scan her textbooks over her breakfast; determined to keep up with her schoolwork, even though she had already finished all their holiday assignments. Ginny laughed at the couple and turned back to her honey-covered porridge and her discussion with Bill and George, muttering something about 'old married couple' as she spooned a small bite of the sweetened mush into Teddy's waiting mouth.
Harry grinned at her as Teddy pleaded with his big - and currently bright green - eyes to him for a bite of Harry's own breakfast. He chuckled and cut a tiny portion of blueberry pancake for the little boy and placed it in his mouth. The boy chewed thoughtfully before eventually swallowing and grinning again. Harry kissed the top of his head before saying "No more Teddy. You've got your own breakfast to eat." The boy pouted, but put up no resistance when he was lifted off Harry's lap and back into Andromeda's arms to finish his breakfast of mashed bananas.
Once the meal was over, Harry, Andromeda and Teddy made their rounds with the Weasleys, thanking them for their various gifts and promising to meet up and visit again soon before taking the Floo Network back to Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Kreacher, who bowed very low to Harry and thanked his master for his Christmas gift, greeted them as they arrived. Harry smiled; "You're welcome Kreacher, just don't get me any maggots in return this year, ok?" He left the kitchen, chuckling and promising to call his elf should he need anything.
After saying their own goodbyes, Andromeda and Teddy headed back to their own home as the young boy was still tired from the day before. Harry smiled and waved them off, sighing inwardly as he now had no excuses or distractions so he could avoid doing the mountains of homework they had been assigned over the break.
Just as he had made his way up to the study however, Kreacher appeared in front of him, carrying a letter. "This just arrived for you, Master Potter Sir." He handed the parchment over and bowed low, disappearing again as Harry took it.
A grin spreading across his face, Harry sat down at the desk as he open the sealed letter, recognising the handwriting immediately.
Dear Harry,
Yes, it has only been three days. Well, four now, but that is beside the point. I apologise for not replying to your letter sooner. Father called me away from my desk.
I resent you calling me a git, you prat. And of course I'm perfectly aware your friends still refer to me as 'Ferret'. I resent that too. Although I may point out that the weasel cannot talk.
In reference to your request to carry out a certain tradition on New Year's Eve, when and where? I'm perfectly sure I can feign illness or tiredness to escape early enough to meet you.
Draco.
P.S. Of course it is necessary to be formal. Malfoys always treat a potential love interest with care and respect. Even if they do have a spectacular arse, we try not to make it a focal point when thinking about them. Allowances, however, must be made occasionally.
Harry couldn't stop his smile from widening with each word he read. The last letter he had received from Draco had seemed so formal; so like the old Malfoy he knew that he was worried time and distance between them was making Draco regress and slip into his old habits, so much so that when they returned to school, he may have rethought his decisions and actions about and towards Harry. This latest letter however, reassured him that Draco was still interested in him. He'd even managed to slip in a joke or two! Harry felt a light blush creeping up from his collar at the implication that Draco had not only noticed his arse – which in turn implied he'd been looking – but had also commented on the fact that he thought it was "spectacular".
Once again, he pulled a fresh sheet of parchment towards him and instantly began to pen his reply with his favourite quill.
Dear Draco,
No need to explain, I understand.
You resent a lot of things. However, I did not hear you mention the fact that I was not there beside you in that list of things to resent. Is there perhaps another? I fear there may be, as you refer to me as only a 'potential' love interest. That implies that I am one of many of which you have your eye on.
Meet me at the Black family residence at 11 o'clock on December 31st.
Harry.
P.S. Of course he can talk. You've been getting his heritage all mixed up. He is, in fact, a Jarvey. Not a weasel. Pay more attention in Care of Magical Creatures.
P.P.S. Your arse isn't that bad either. I am not a Malfoy and so am under no obligation not to think about it at every possible free moment. In fact, I'm thinking about it right now.
Harry smirked and rolled up the letter, sealing it with a tap from his wand. He strolled down the stairs and found the same dark owl that had delivered the first letter waiting for him in his kitchen. He smiled and fed the faithful bird a treat before tying the scroll to its leg and letting it fly out the open window.
-x-
Harry was halfway through a Charms essay in his study when Draco's reply arrived; the dark owl looking a little disgruntled and sleepy by this point – gliding in gracefully through the window left open for its use and Harry eagerly ripped open the sealed letter.
Dear Harry,
You're such a Gryffindor. Any Slytherin worth the title knows that once you spot a fine specimen, you stop all pursuit of others in favour of the best. And just so you know, no other specimens have caught my fancy the way you have.
I also do not resent the fact that you are not beside me. For if you were; I would be doing something a lot more interesting than writing you a letter. And don't you dare call me a pervert after that comment about my arse. Malfoys are also blessed with rather a lot of free time, in case you were wondering.
I'll be there.
Draco.
P.S. How dare you insinuate I do not pay attention in class. If you had paid any attention you would have realised that a Jarvey more closely resembles a ferret than a weasel, and I would not make such a mistake as to confuse the two.
Harry laughed as he set the letter aside, smiling to himself. The owl that had delivered it looked exhausted, and he let it sleep up on Hedwig's old perch after feeding it a couple of treats from the store he kept. He felt that Draco's letter didn't need an urgent reply as they had confirmed plans to meet up in less than a week anyway. Still smiling to himself at the thought of the approaching encounter, he picked up his quill and returned to his work; repeatedly having to vanish the word "Draco" from the essays he was penning.