As usual... JK Rowling owns the boys, I just play with them from time to time.
The twinkling Christmas lights lit the street in arrays of red, green, gold and white. The colors reflected off the bright white of the snow covering the neighborhood. It was a veritable kaleidoscope of color against the dark night. But they were only decorations of the season.
Harry let the curtain fall from his hand. The flat was lit only by the Christmas tree in the corner. He'd managed to get the strands of lights looped around the tree in a somewhat festive manner. He didn't really feel like decorating the tree, but he felt like he had to; it was a tradition he and Draco had started two years ago. It had been fun then, finding a tree, bringing it home, decorating it with ornaments, sitting back admiring it, and then talking about the past year over glasses of red wine.
Reaching into the box, Harry pulled out a frizzy haired doll ornament. He smiled. Draco had said it reminded him of Hermione. But, he hadn't called her a Mudblood that evening. He ran his thumb over the soft curls on the tiny head and shut his eyes. If he thought hard enough he could just remember the silky feel of Draco's hair. How good it felt sliding between his fingers; or how wickedly delicious it felt against his skin as Draco kissed his stomach; just a brief stop before moving lower. Harry sighed and hung the ornament on the tree.
He reached over and took a sip of wine. It was merlot, dark and rich against his tongue. He rolled it over his tongue before swallowing. Slowly, he ran his tongue over his lips, and if he really thought about it, he could still taste the way Draco tasted when he kissed him; the faint taste of wine behind the sweetness of his kiss. Although, Draco would have frowned to be described that way. He wasn't sweet, he wasn't tender, he wasn't loveable: he was a Malfoy. Malfoys did not do sweet.
Another ornament caught his eye. It was an elf holding a toy train; strands of bright red hair sticking out from underneath its tiny green cap. How Draco had laughed when he'd seen that one! His only comment was that it should have been a weasel in its hands.
Harry placed it on the tree, near the Hermione-like doll ornament. It seemed to reason that they should be together. He grinned faintly at the sight of the two together.
The faint gleam of gold came from the box. Harry reached in and gently took it out. It was a Snitch. He could still remember the words Draco had said when he had given it to him last Christmas. He pressed it to his lips and closed his eyes, a wistful smile on his face.
"It's the only one you won't have to fight me for, Harry," Draco said, a smirk flitting across his lips.
Harry stared in awe at the fragile ornament. It was hand-blown glass, shot with threads of gold. He ran a finger of the wings, and gasped as they opened and fluttered gently in his hand. He looked up at Draco, unconcealed puzzlement on his face.
"Drop it," Draco said, laughing.
"No, it'll break, it's too delicate."
Draco reached over and took it from Harry's hand and tossed it into the air. The golden globe fluttered around his head before landing in his palm.
"I charmed it. As long as we love each other it'll fly."
Harry laughed in delight. "Ha! I didn't know you had it in you. I'd never thought I'd thatt from you!"
"Shut up, Potter," Draco grumbled good-naturedly. "You'll only hear it once, so don't forget."
Harry moved closer and took the ball from Draco's hand and hung it high on the tree. He turned, smiling, and kissed the blond, a gentle playful peck. But Draco wasn't having any of that. He wrapped his arms around Harry, one hand in the small of his back, the other sliding into the dark tousled hair. His tongue dominated Harry's just as his hands took control of his body. It seemed if they were everywhere, stroking, teasing, and arousing Harry as only he could do.
Draco breathed heavily as he broke the kiss. He whispered into Harry's ear, words that he would only say once, and only once to the man he loved.
"You see, Harry, it's only a holiday. The Snitch is only a decoration, a token of the spirit of the season. But, what we have is real, and it lasts all year long, not just a few weeks every year." He pressed a finger against Harry lips, before whispering against them. "I love you." Needless to say, no more decorating was done that evening.
Harry opened his eyes. He brought the Snitch closer to his eyes. If he stared hard enough he could still see Draco between the tiny glimmers of gold. If only Draco hadn't… with that thought, a sudden ripping pain tore through him. Harry gasped and clutched his chest, and the ornament spiraled down, it's one fluttering wing unable to keep it aloft. It smashed against the brickwork of the fireplace; tiny shards of glass and gold on the floor near his feet. Its tiny wings, one withered and still and the other barely flittering lay near the broken glass. Slowly the one moving wing slowed and lay quivering, thumping like a dying heart.
He'd only felt a pain like that once before. It had been the second of January; a cold bright day, snow and ice covering the streets of London. Draco had only stepped out for a moment, intent on getting the biscuits Harry fancied.
Witness had told him he hadn't suffered. He hadn't even cried out or groaned in pain. He had just slipped away. Of course, the papers had actually written something akin to hero worship about him. It wasn't everyday that a man, much less a wizard, gives his life pushing a child out of the way of a bus.
How quickly a dream can vanish, a hope of a life lived together can disappear. It can all be destroyed in one brief, shattering moment.
Harry stared at the glass covering the floor, the lights of the tree reflecting off the tiny shards. A tear rolled down his face. It was only a decoration, after all.