Christmas had once been Draco's favourite time of year. It no longer held any charm. He let the House-elves make the preparations and waved them away if they tried to ask for advice. If it weren't for the fact that they desperately wanted to set the manor up for all the Christmas cheer it could handle, he wouldn't have decorated at all.
He was a little drunk when Bones arrived on Christmas Eve. Drunk enough to make him coldly pleasant and charming. He was laughing when he opened the door, then Bones looked at him with eyes that were bleak as ice and he stopped.
"Invitation still open?" she asked, and Draco remembered that he'd invited her to Christmas over coffee a few weeks ago. Her nose had evidently been seen to by a healer as there was no evidence left that it had been broken in the past week.
"Yes," he said. "Of course."
She strode past him fluidly, shrugging off her cloak and turning to toss a bottle of scotch to Draco.
He caught it easily. "Thanks," he said, tucking it under his arm. "But we're not going to be needing it."
"No," agreed Bones, looking around.
The music was loud and, hooking his fingers into Bones', Draco led her to the living room where it was even louder. Marcus Flint was dancing on the table while Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode cheered. Draco leant in the doorway, drawing Bones closer to him and wolf-whistled.
"Merlin's balls, how did a Hufflepuff get in here?" asked Millicent coldly.
"Manners, Bulstrode," said Draco. The alcohol softened the edges of his tone, making him sound almost warm. Millicent obviously wasn't deceived. She gave him a withering look before going back to watching Flint.
"A lot of people here," commented Bones.
"Mm, you are a rodent among the snakes," said Draco fuzzily. "Stay close. I'll protect you."
"Badgers aren't rodents," said Bones.
"I'm quite sure they are," replied Draco. "And if they're not, they ought to be. And either way, snakes very much like to eat them."
Bones laughed.
Draco twisted the lid off the scotch bottle and took a long, deliberate sip. Leaning into the other side of the door-frame, Bones watched him. She was pretty sure that he'd already had quite a bit to drink, and it didn't seem like he'd be slowing down anytime soon. She could appreciate that. When he lowered the bottle, she reached for it.
"Parents cancel on you?" he asked, relinquishing the alcohol easily.
Gulping down several mouthfuls, she coughed and shook her head. "Nope," she said, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. "I couldn't stomach going home. It drives me crazy."
There were a lot of Slytherins around. Bones had thought that Draco would be alone for Christmas; he didn't have a father or mother anymore. He didn't have any family at all left. She'd forgotten that many of the younger Slytherins didn't have any family left; it made sense that they were prioritising old House-mates.
He smiled at her; the smile was softer now that he was drunk but his attention was focused on her as completely as ever. "You're lovely." She was pretty sure he wouldn't have said that if he'd been sober, but his voice was low and certain. "I noticed that you took down the Revenirs."
It had been front page news for the past few days so Bones laughed. "You noticed that, did you?" It was a better compliment than she was used to getting. Mostly people would follow up a statement of telling her that she was lovely with a compliment on her hair, or her eyes. Wizards didn't tend to compliment her on her Dark Wizard battling skills. She liked it.
Evidently finding her sarcasm endearing, he grinned and slid a hand through his hair. "I cut the article out and kept it," he said. "Nott assures me that this is very creepy."
"It is," agreed Bones, smiling and leaning back into the door-frame for support.
Draco held a hand out to her, grey eyes serious suddenly though his mouth still curled contentedly at the corners.
She stared at his hand for a moment, her own palms becoming clammy and her heart skittering like a nervous cat. He had touched her coming in, and generally if people touched her she just moved away from them as soon as she was able. She didn't touch others, not anymore. It was surreal in a way, because when she'd been younger touch had been as regular to her as anything. Now it was a somewhat alien concept.
She reached out a hand, letting him take it. If he had been any other stranger in the world she would have cringed under his touch; loathed it before it had begun. Intellectually it was a surprise that him twining his fingers with hers felt natural, but on some level she had expected it.
He didn't seem to notice the internal crisis she was having; not surprising really. She had so many of them that it would be a little awkward for people to realise it every time. Instead he led her to another room. This one was darker and quiet and Bones relaxed a little. This was more like the Christmas she'd expected, even if the muffled sounds of bawdy carols still drifted through the walls.
Curling up, catlike, in an armchair, Draco pulled her to sit beside him. "Are you okay?" His voice was soft and steady; two things that Bones would never ever associate with Draco Malfoy.
She wriggled into the seat. It was designed for one person, she suspected, but was big enough to seat one and a half. It would have been comfortable if she knew Draco a little better than she did. Finally, accepting that she was going to be half on his lap no matter how much she shuffled, she slipped her ankles across Draco's knees and sighed. "I'm okay," she said, but she didn't try to make the lie sound true. He leant in and kissed her shoulder and she laughed. "You're drunk," she told him, twisting the cap off the bottle and wondering whether she was surprised that he was an affectionate drunk. His affection had to come out sometime, she guessed, and it didn't while he was sober.
"I think I am. Maybe. Yes, I mean." He sounded as though he'd only just realised that he was drunk, and as though it displeased him.
She took a sip from the bottle.
"You're cold." For a moment she thought that he was complaining, but he was frowning rather than scowling.
Lowering the scotch, Bones licked a line of fiery liquid from her upper lip before her eyes dipped to where Draco's fingers were pressed against the hem of her robes. The fabric was cold and wet against her skin and she shrugged. "I walked around for a bit. Don't fuss."
He made a face at that. "I'm not concerned, Hufflepuff, I'm irate," he said. She could tell that he wasn't and wondered whether he wanted her to believe him or whether he was making fun of her. She didn't much care. She liked his voice when it was blurred and softened by the alcohol and would have happily listened to him make fun of her just to hear him speak. It wasn't as though she'd ever much minded people insulting her. Be a bit hypocritical if she did really.
Leaning her head against the back of the couch, she studied Draco. She was studying him critically, assessing him less for weakness now than for information. There was a reason for him trying with her. She didn't know what it was, or even what he was trying; but there were reasons and she needed to figure them out. Then she'd know what compartment in her life he slotted into. There weren't a lot of them, really. Work, Helen, friends and the one she tried to forget; her parents.
"I shouldn't have drunk," he said, suddenly leaning away from her. "I should have not drunk."
"You feeling sick?" she asked, but she didn't bother moving away. She'd been covered in blood and pus and other things that she didn't like to remember during the war; the idea of vomit didn't bother her.
With an emphatic shake of his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. "I just…If I'd known you were coming…"
He couldn't seem to get a coherent train of thought going. Bones found it mildly amusing but not enough so to pursue. "I don't care if you're drunk, Malfoy. I'm planning on getting pretty spiflicated myself. We can compete over who gets the drunkest if you want."
Draco made a face. "No class, you people. Intoxication ought to fall into one of two categories. Either there should be an aristocratic feeling of melancholy about the affair or it should be rustic and jocular."
"When you slur your big words," Bones informed him. "You sound aristocratic and jocular."
Draco squinted down his nose at her, somewhat fondly. "That is not at all what I was aiming for."
Bones lifted a shoulder and let it drop before swirling the amber contents of her bottle. Draco put a hand into his robes, and the work-orientated part of her brain told her that he was going for his wand. There were about three ways in which she could have taken him down before the tip of it cleared the pocket of his robes; instead she tipped her head back and took a long sip of scotch.
When Draco got his wand clear, he did point it at her, but the charm he cast was a warming one, followed by a quick-dry spell. "You were never good at House-keeping spells," he said, tone still warm and affectionate.
Swallowing hard, she shrugged again. "Never wanted to keep house." She was scaring herself too much for her voice to stay even. Unknown elements never got the chance to pull their wands on her. She'd taken Arthur Weasley down once for pulling a wand before she knew he wasn't someone else under Polyjuice Potion.
He gave a short, soft laugh; it came out husky and strangely pleased, as though he was proud of her. Then he leant forward and kissed her again. His mouth caught hers this time; inquisitive rather than demanding, and his lips were soft though Bones knew that hers were chapped. The kiss tasted of salt, lemon and tequila. She should have reared back; just as moments ago she should have hurt him rather than let him pull a wand on her.
Instead she leaned forward, reaching up with her free hand to catch his collar and draw him closer. The scotch bottle was between them; Bones was considering tossing it aside when Draco nipped her lower lip. She didn't fall apart; but came together. Adrenaline flooded her, making her blood fizz. It was as though Draco knew exactly what to do to make her pulse skitter into over-drive. Perhaps it was just the heady rush, but for once her emotions felt clear. Not congested; clogged up and smothered inside her own head. With him, she felt like a better version of herself.
Letting go of his collar, she ran her hand down his chest. She could feel the expense in the heavy fabric that slipped under her fingers like silk. Most witches wouldn't be able to tell much through robes like that, but she was used to finding weapons with her fingertips. His body was hard under the robes, his stomach flat. He tensed under her hand but didn't pull away from her, and she was surprised as the realisation that he was nervous flashed through her. The mouth on hers was unhurried though; curious as though searching for something in her. It seemed to call to her; and if she understood it she thought that she would have liked to answer the call.
Twisting, she pulled away from Draco. He let her go; her hair running through his fingers as it untangled from his hand. She didn't know what he wanted, but she tilted her head to the side and caught his gaze. "Sex?" she asked, because this couldn't be about anything else, and she just couldn't kiss him anymore. He undid her.
His body shook lightly. It took Bones a moment to realise that he was laughing. "Uhm…" he murmured finally, chewing on his lower lip and studying his hands. His ears were pink, which was strange. Bones would have thought that he'd have mountains of experience in this sort of thing. "Maybe some other time." Bones almost sagged with relief. She didn't need that potential train-wreck of a situation messing up her work. When he raised his head, he met her gaze without evident discomfort. Laughter still lurked in his grey eyes. "What I'd really like to do tonight is dance with you."
Bones' response was automatic, and bored. "I don't dance."
"Ah." Hands steepled, Draco tapped his index fingers against his mouth. "That would be why we get you drunk first."
He was used to having people twist themselves to accommodate him. Bones didn't know why she was so willing to let him try and twist her. But she laughed shortly and leant back into the armchair. "I do get drunk," she said pensively.