|Here We Come a Wassailing
Author: Cheryl Dyson PM
This will be a series of holiday drabbles in 24 parts! Harry and Draco, of course, wherein Harry becomes obsessed with Draco's voice. Among other things... HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Chapters: 26 - Words: 16,690 - Reviews: 1,059 - Favs: 386 - Follows: 115 - Updated: 12-31-09 - Published: 12-01-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5549917
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Harry was nervous. He checked his appearance for the eighth time, but restrained his fingers from touching his hair, knowing he would only make it worse by constantly messing with it.
Instead, he smoothed his fingers over his robes one last time, knowing that those, at least, looked good. He had spared no expense to ensure that Malfoy--Draco, now--would have no cause to shun him.
Well, no visible cause, at any rate. Their relationship was too new for Harry to have much faith in its ability to withstand the pressure of the public eye. He had spent almost the entirety of the Christmas holiday ensconced in Draco's house, mostly sans clothing.
A brief stint to the Weasley's on Christmas day had led to several stilted conversations with everyone in attendance, although they each had kindly withheld their questions to private moments with Harry, all except George, who had bellowed out at the dinner table, "So, Harry, I hear you're bent with Draco Malfoy, now. That true?"
The cessation of movement and stunned silence had brought an embarrassed flush to Harry's cheeks, but he had merely replied, "It's true."
George had raised his glass in a toast and said, "Good on you, Harry." Ron had snorted a laugh, but it had been a laugh of amusement, rather than sarcasm. Molly had loudly asked if anyone wanted more potatoes and that had been the end of it.
He had actually debated the idea of bringing Draco with him, but knew without asking that his new boyfriend would flatly refuse. He knew he would have to save that battle for another day. If there was another day after today.
He cast a Tempus Charm and sighed. It was time. He glanced in the mirror one last time, ignored his image, and Disapparated.
Every time he attended a Ministry party, Harry remembered how much he hated them. Of course, at the last one, he had encountered Draco Malfoy singing to Pansy Parkinson in a secluded room and everything in his life had changed, but still, this one began much as the last had.
Harry smiled inanely and shook hands at the spouses of Ministry employees, apparently a brand new batch than those who had attended the Christmas party, since this was New Year's Eve and he would have expected to recognize more than a few. Perhaps the alcohol was to blame for his faulty memory. Harry had downed a glass of champagne to calm his nerves. It had worked so well that he had imbibed a few more.
His eyes steadily scanned the room for a familiar head of blond hair, frowning with impatience. Draco had promised he would attend, although he had made no promises about giving in to Harry's insistence that they reveal themselves as a couple.
"Beware the mistletoe, Harry," Ron said and pointed over Harry's shoulder. He glanced behind him and saw an ominous bundle of leaves and berries that someone had charmed to float around the room. Devious, that. Probably some former Slytherin.
He sidled away from it and once again looked over the attendees, nearly holding his breath when he spotted a familiar flash of blond. Draco had arrived! Harry took an unconscious step in his direction, but a tight grip on his arm stayed him.
"Don't do it, Potter," a voice warned. Harry turned to glare at Pansy Parkinson. "Draco told me to ask you to stay away from him tonight."
"What?" Harry demanded.
"He means it. The reporters have been sniffing around you all night like vultures. Give him a break."
Harry had barely noticed the reporters, although he supposed they were being more aggressive than usual.
"He's the one who incited the reporters in the first place by dragging me carolling to Rita Skeeter's house!" he hissed, annoyed.
"Yes, well he meant to call her off. But he was distracted," she said and gave him a knowing smirk.
Harry glared and tugged his arm away. "I'll hear it from him, then."
"Suit yourself, Potter, it's on your head if you make him angry."
Harry paused at that, suddenly uncertain. His mind tracked back over the last couple of days. Was it possible Draco didn't really want a relationship? Had it been Harry deluding himself, making himself believe things that weren't there?
He glanced at Draco, who was ignoring the gaggle of reporters crowding around him as he exhanged pleasantries with the Minister. Kingsley warned off the camera-toting crowd with a look, unintentionally giving Harry a better look at his blond lover.
Draco wore cashmere robes. Harry knew they were cashmere, because Draco had modelled them for him just yesterday, shortly before Harry had put his hands all over them prior to stripping them away from Draco's trembling body, slowly kissing every inch as it was revealed. He felt a wrench, looking at them now. They were silver-grey to match his eyes, and possibly his cold-as-steel heart.
Draco avoided looking at him and Harry snarled, "Fine" in Pansy's general direction and then headed toward the buffet table, where more far more potent drinks than champagne or punch resided. There were several deadly-looking concoctions in potion vials that Harry knew were legal, considering this was a Ministry event, but probably still borderline deadly.
"What's that one?" he asked the attendant, pointing at a toxic looking green liquid.
Harry snorted. Perfect. He would drown himself in some bloody Slytherin potion. It was fitting. "What's in it?"
"Firewhiskey, Absinthe, vodka, simple sugar, and lime."
"I'll have six."
"Just do it," he snapped. He waited impatiently while the man located a twisted metal carrying rack and selected six of the vials. He handed it over to Harry, who forced a smile and said, "Thanks."
He threaded his way through the crowd, pretending to be in a hurry to get back to some group or another in order to avoid conversation. Once near one of the exit doors, he surreptitiously ducked out and headed for his office. He was finished with crowds and pretences.
Once in his comfortable office chair, he fished out one of the vials and sat back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk. He pulled the cork and took a swig. It was sweeter than expected, and tart, with a sharp bite and a slow burn. Potent. Just like a certain blond that had infected his blood far worse than any alcoholic beverage ever could.
He tipped his head back and downed it, ignoring the flamelike burn in his throat. Perhaps if he got drunk enough, he could pretend the past few days had never happened.
Harry was pulling the cork on a second vial—it was sticking—when the door banged open and the object of his annoyance stepped over the threshold. Harry stared at him for a moment and tried to suppress an uncontrollable surge of emotion. Fuck, but he was gorgeous. And Harry knew what the robes concealed now, every creamy curve and flat plane.
"Drinking alone on New Year's Eve, Harry?"
Harry looked away disdainfully and pulled at the stubborn cork. "I was informed that my presence was not wanted."
Draco walked to Harry's desk and then skirted it, increasing Harry's heart rate with every step. Draco plucked the vial out of Harry's hands and examined it. "Then you heard wrong, Harry." He popped the cap with ease and then lifted the vial to his lips. Harry watched helplessly as Draco drank, admiring the curve of his throat and the perfection of his features.
"Then what? Pansy told me to stay away from you." He heard the bitterness in his own voice, but he did not bother to prevent it.
Draco stopped drinking and held the vial up to look at it with a curious expression. "It's for your own good, Harry. Obviously, your instinct for self-preservation has fallen by the wayside."
"What are you talking about?"
Draco downed the rest of the vial and then tossed it on Harry's desk. "You saw them out there. They would have torn you to pieces if they thought the speculation was true. Someone of your stature cannot afford to be seen with someone like me." Draco lifted one of Harry's feet from the desk and tugged his leg open in order to step between them. Harry frowned as Draco slowly sank to his knees. His hands trailed up Harry's thighs, moving higher, but Harry caught his wrists and stilled his movement. He slid his feet from the desk and sat forward to look down at Draco's guarded features.
"Do you know what really annoys me, Draco?" he asked mildly.
Draco leaned forward, obviously seeking a kiss, and his eyes fluttered partially shut. "What, Harry?"
Harry felt a flare of annoyance, because it almost worked. The prat knew his seductive power over Harry and he was using it in a very Slytherin fashion. The temptation to kiss those lips, just once, was almost overwhelming. Instead, he dredged up some willpower, bypassed Draco's inviting mouth, and pressed his lips against the edge of Draco's ear.
"It annoys me when people tell me something is for my own good," he whispered.
With that, he got to his feet. Draco looked somewhat alarmed as he scrambled up. Harry had not released his wrists, but he let go of one as he headed for the door, towing Draco in his wake.
"What? Wait, Harry! What are you—?"
Harry paused at the door and turned to look at his lover. "One final question for you, Draco."
Draco's face was set in obvious annoyance, but he nodded curtly.
"Were you serious when you said you agreed to become my permanent, exclusive lover?"
Draco scowled. "You know I was. Were you serious when you said you would become the next Dark Lord?"
Harry frowned. "All right, I might have been joking about that. But I meant it when I said I want you to be mine, Draco. I won't hide in the shadows and keep you hidden like something shameful. Unless you don't want to be seen with me."
"I'm only thinking of you, Harry," Draco snapped. "I'm not good for you."
Harry's annoyance dissipated at that, draining away instantly with Draco's words. "I think I should be the judge of that, don't you?"
Draco looked worried for a moment and then scowled. "Your judgement hasn't always been the best."
"Says the man who dressed up as a Dementor."
Draco flushed and tried to pull his wrist from Harry's grip. "I was a child!"
"I know. Will you trust me?"
A groan met Harry's question and then Draco's gaze was locked with his, intense and serious. "Harry. I want you to be sure. Don't do this if you aren't prepared for the consequences."
Harry released his hold on Draco's arm only to lift his hands and cup Draco's face gently. "I've never been surer of anything. And the consequences can go hang. I want you, Draco. And I want the world to know it."
Blond lashes fell shut over grey eyes and Draco drew a trembling breath. "All right."
Harry leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. "Are you sure? I won't do anything you don't want me to. I promise."
Draco's hands rose and looped around Harry's waist, gently pulling him closer. "Merlin, no, I'm not sure. I'm…"
Draco snorted. "You wish." It was obviously reflexive and Harry felt his tension drain away as they both laughed. "All right, yes, maybe a little." Draco's breath was warm against Harry's neck.
"I am, too. A little. But we'll be fine."
Draco held him more tightly. "We'll be fine," he repeated and then lifted his head. His eyes met Harry's and they kissed for long, lovely moments. Harry's hands moved over Draco's soft cashmere robes, itching to remove them again. Judging by Draco's response, there would be time for that later. Years worth of time, hopefully.
"Let's go do this," Harry said finally, stepping back and linking his hand with Draco's.
Draco nodded. "All right."
"And maybe later, you can sing for me," Harry suggested, threading his fingers through Draco's and opening the door.
"Don't push your luck, Potter," Draco growled.
Harry laughed and went to introduce his boyfriend to the Wizarding World. It was going to be a bright new year.
~That turned out differently than expected, but they do have minds of their own at times. HAPPY 2010, EVERYONE!~