A/N : I'm so sorry that it's been so long since I posted a chapter. I had ideas for 3 chapters to be posted over the Christmas period but everything got so hectic during the holidays that I didn't have time to write them. I'm currently revising for mock exams as well, so I will try to upload when I have time. Hope you don't mind getting the festive chapters in late January! xxx
Raindrops run in streaks down the windows as the train races through London suburbs. Harry slumps against the window, tracing a raindrop with his finger until it disappears out of sight. It feels like he has been sitting on this rain for days, months, years even. The countryside disappeared a few minutes ago and now the only views are of tall, grey brick buildings. The life of living like a muggle. If only he was allowed to apparate, he'd have saved this snail-like train journey and be back before he could click his fingers. Harry's mind goes to the small zip-up compartment hidden in the back of his bag, containing his wand. It was such a relief to have it back in his hand after God knows how long. Ministry rules, utterly pointless but 'for their own good' apparently. Surely, in the safety of their home, magic may be allowed but according to the bosses, absolutely not. Harry may start taking more jobs in deserted England just as a chance to use his wand more.
After what seems like an eternity, the train pulls into Kings Cross with the familiar sharp squeal of brakes. Harry leaps out of the carriage, bag in hand and proceeds to stride towards the ticket gates. His ticket is clutched firmly in his hand, no stray wind catching it this time. After a brief nod from the guard, the gates slide open and Harry starts to descend down the steps into the Underground station. The station is packed, queues of people impatiently waiting for the ticket and Oyster card machines. Harry has to dodge groups of confused tourists and small children to get to the tunnels leading to the trains. Once on the pavement, he lowers his bag, stretching his hand and wincing. Covering his third and fourth finger is a bandage and a mess of dirty surgical tape. Harry grins ruefully at the sight of it, already dreading the fuss Hermione will make. There's a huge whoosh of warm air and a loud clackety-clack as the Tube draws into view, pushing Harry's curls off his forehead. The train is full, hundreds of people heading home from work to festive households. There are one too many tacky Christmas jumpers to count, and Harry also spots several small children thoroughly decked out in tinsel.
When he finally reaches his stop, both the platform and station are deathly quiet, empty apart from a few bored-looking ticket inspectors. The air outside is painfully cold, with icy droplets of rain carried by the wind. Starting the walk home, his hand clenched painfully in his pocket, Harry sighs, brushing curls out of his eyes and squinting past the raindrops running down his glasses. There's only one person he wants to see right now. It's only been just over a week but Harry would've done anything to be with Draco. He's missed him that much. Ridiculous, really. Harry is sure it's just the need for something familiar and comforting, the kind of Christmas feelings people get. Maybe. He hopes so, anyway. But still, there's nothing stopping him as he grabs his phone and dials Draco's number, waiting with bated breath for him to pick up.
'Harry?' Draco says sleepily.
'Hey. You alright? Were you asleep?'
'Just fell asleep in front of a movie. Didn't mean to but White Christmas is kinda boring,' Draco laughs. 'Anyway, where are you? Calling for any particular reason?'
'Erm, yeah, kinda,' Harry stutters. 'I'm off the train now and walking back home but Ireallywanttoseeyouplease?' He finishes off quickly.
'You wanna come over?' Draco says, sounding amused.
'Yeah, sure, I mean, if it's not too much trouble,'
'Harry, shut up. Come over. I'll text you the address. And also, Iwanttoseeyoutoo,' Draco mimics Harry's rushed tone.
'Stop making fun of me. Also, White Christmas is not boring, it's a classic!'
'But the songs go on for sooooooo long and not much actually happens,'
'Blasphemy!' Harry mock-gasps.
'How about you come over and finish it with me, huh? I didn't know you were a sucker for a happy ending,'
'Isn't everyone?' Harry sighs.
When Harry finally reaches Draco's door, his hands are almost frozen solid. The wind has picked up but the rain is still relentless. It leaves little bullet-shaped marks on Draco's grey concrete stairs and when Harry gets closer, a light turns on, illuminating the gold number 12 surrounded by a green and red Christmas wreath. There's an old-fashioned brass lions-head knocker on the door, which Harry raps gently, before noticing the bell on the door frame. Harry can hear the loud ring echoing around the house and checks the address on his phone nervously. Soft footsteps get louder and suddenly the door is opened and Draco is standing there, a smile lighting up his face as he sees Harry.
And he looks good. So good. And Harry's missed him so unbelievably much. There's a slight second of hesitation as they stand there, just looking at each other before Harry's feet shuffle forward and his arms lift, reaching for Draco. Draco pulls Harry tight against his body and buries his face in Harry's shoulder. Harry lets out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding. Draco's eyes are shiny, full of happiness as his breath puffs out in visible clouds in the freezing night air. Harry's still standing on the doorstep, bag at his feet, fingers going numb but he couldn't care less because Draco Malfoy's back in his arms, and Harry never wants him to leave. A shiver wracks through his body as an icy breeze slithers down his coat collar and Draco lifts his head, taking a step backwards into the hallway and tugging Harry with him. Harry can't take his eyes off Draco so with some difficulty, he maneuvers his bag inside and pushes the door shut behind him, all this time never breaking eye contact.
Once inside, the warmth engulfs him, chasing away the goosebumps on his neck. Harry doesn't even get a chance to look around before Draco's hands are back on his waist and Draco's lips are covering him, more delicious warmth rushing through his body. Harry's frozen fingers twist into Draco's hair and he stumbles, back pressed against the solid wood of the front door. Harry is still wearing his jacket, his fingers are still taped up, his bag in the middle of the hallway but all he can think about is the wonderful feeling of Draco's body pressed against his, lips sweeping over his own and warm hands skating over his cold torso. It's several minutes before Draco leans back, drawing in a deep, ragged breath as a smile slowly stretches over his face.
'Hey there, you,' Draco grins.
Harry feels his cheeks grow warm as he reaches up to run a hand through his curls. Shrugging off his jacket, he drops it onto his bag and reaches forward to press a chaste kiss to Draco's cheek.
'Hey yourself,' he mumbles. Taking a step back, Harry looks around, taking in the wood floors, silver framed pictures on eggplant-coloured walls, curving staircase and artful lighting. Draco follows his gaze and blushes.
'Yeah, I know it's a bit much. It was actually Pansy's but she gave it to me when I moved to London, as she had just moved in with her boyfriend. She's actually an interior designer now, as you can probably see from the state of this place,' He waves a hand around and laughs.
'No, it's gorgeous. You probably were shocked at the state of our flat when you first came. This is… like something out of a magazine. An upmarket home decor magazine,' Harry answers.
'Your flat is...warm and friendly, actually. Unlike this place. It's definitely a family house but with just me living in it, it's too empty. There's some really nice rooms upstairs and Pansy did an excellent job, but it's not really my kind of place. It's really close to work though, so that's a perk,' Draco slides his hand into Harry's and starts to walk down the hall.
The kitchen is fancy, all marble worktops and steel appliances. Harry wanders around, looking at the noticeboards, filled with hand-written planners and timetables, each meticulously planned out. The kettle starts to boil, filling the kitchen with a thin whistle as Harry reaches down to pick up a framed photo of Pansy and Draco. They are in Hogwarts uniform and clowning around, Draco, cross eyed, sticking his tongue out and Pansy's features contorted into an exaggerated pout. An arm winds round his waist as Draco appears beside him.
'5th year, I think. We were messing around in the dungeons between classes and Blaise took this photo. About a year after y'know, this was my birthday present from her,'
'We never saw you like this,' Harry comments, turning round to face him.
'Yeah, well. Had some walls up and held some grudges, didn't I? Not my finest years anyway,' His eyes look sad and Harry kisses his jaw, wishing he hadn't asked.
'Tea's done,' Draco suddenly announces, voice cheerful again, and tugs Harry back to where two mugs sit on the counter.
Steaming mugs in hand, they slump down onto the sofa in Draco's living room. Floor to ceiling shelves are decorated with photographs and memorabilia and a television sits against the other wall, paused on the end scene of White Christmas. Harry sits down, one arm holding the mug and the other stretched out along the back of the sofa. Draco sits twisted towards Harry, eyes roving over his body until he stops sharp, noticing Harry's hand.
'What the hell happened to you? He murmurs. Harry remembers his fingers and winces as he looks down at the bundle of filthy tape and gauze. Placing his mug down, he turns to Draco, stretching out his hand to show what had happened.
'Looks a lot worse that it actually is. I kinda broke a couple of fingers, I think, but it's really not much,'
'Not much? Harry, you should probably go and get them checked out. How do you "kinda" break a few fingers, anyway?' Draco says, holding Harry's hand gently as he examines the injury.
'Well, we were heading back into the hotel at night and one of the guys tripped me up as a joke. They just expected me to stumble but instead I fell straight into a flowerbed which had decorative rocks in it, and crushed my fingers. I've broken fingers tons of times before so it wasn't too difficult to tape them up, but travelling all day makes them look like that bandage has been on for weeks,' Harry grins ruefully. 'Kinds scared about what Hermione will have to say about it, she'll probably act like I've gone into cardiac arrest or something,'
Draco frowns, opens his mouth to say something and then closes it, obviously deciding not to say whatever it was. Harry uses his good hand to cup Draco's chin.
'Injuries are part of the job, y'know. Nothing much that I can do about it. No need to worry, love. I'm good,' Harry smiles as Draco's expression softens and he leans forward to brush his lips over Harry's.
'Let's clean you up properly to avoid a row with Hermione, then,' Draco says softly and jumps off the couch, Harry following.
The bathroom is all tiles and shining porcelain surfaces. Draco sits Harry down on a stool by the sink, running a basin of warm water and placing fresh reels of gauze and tape onto the counter. They stay in silence, Harry watching Draco as he gently washes Harry's hand and wraps it with the utmost care.
'How did you become so good at this?' Harry asks as Draco re-tapes his fingers with the precision of a surgeon.
'Got into a bit of a habit of punching walls a couple of years ago,' Draco mumbles, blushing, eyes trained onto Harry's hand. Fully taped up, Draco releases his hand and straightens up, eyes meeting Harry's. Harry takes a couple of steps forward, backing Draco up against a blue-painted wall, and reaches up to brush his gauze covered fingers against Draco's cheek.
'Thank you,' he says quietly, green eyes staring deep into Draco's grey ones. Their lips meet. Again. Harry can't bear any loss of contact between them. Although skin on skin would be better. It doesn't take long before Draco's shirt is draped over the towel rail and Harry's is being pulled up over his shoulders, knocking his glasses askew. A few swift movements and Harry's glasses land safely on top of his shirt, now in a heap on the tiled floor. A whirlwind enters the room, pushing them out down the hall and into the bedroom, arms wrapped like chains around each other, hands exploring. Stars swirl in front of Harry's eyes, giddy from lack of oxygen and excitement. Draco steals his breath again and again as they crash, stumble, fall against each other. The stars escape Harry's head and gravitate around the room, amongst a solar system of thoughts, feelings and wishes. Harry has never felt so alive, euphoric. Falling, falling. At least he's falling with someone.
The shift of movement wakes Harry, pulling him out of a world of fast-flowing dreams. The room is blurred, only the faint shapes of furniture and the moss-green walls visible to his eyes. Sunlight pours through what Harry guesses is a window. Draco's arm is splayed across Harry's chest, face tilted towards his as the sunlight pours across the bed, turning his hair into fiery gold. Soft eyelashes flutter, casting shadows across defined cheekbones as Draco snuggles tighter against Harry, the open expression so angelic and vulnerable that Harry's heart aches. A boy with a stolen innocence, a boy with no choice of his own. Harry's head starts to cloud with memories and he closes his eyes, trying to push the demons back. The thoughts are like shadows, moving into every available space, creeping up and up until they shroud everything in blackness. And just as suddenly as they advance, they get obliterated, by a warm hand on his cheek and a soft voice calling his name. A soft, ever so familiar voice.
'Harry, love. You ok?' Harry opens his eyes to the sight of a shirtless Draco leaning over him, tousled hair soft over his forehead, Harry's glasses held in one hand. Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position, taking his glasses from Draco's proffered hand and slipping them onto his nose. The room is drenched in gold, the mirror casting rainbow refractions of light over the ceiling. Harry turns to face Draco, who is half straddling him, watching Harry's movements intently. He leans forward to place a soft kiss on the blonde's lips and smiles.
'I'm ok now,'