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“Professor Potter!”
Harry turned, blinking a couple of times in surprise. Professor Potter? That was interesting. Harry supposed they should call each other that in front of the students, but McGonagall and Dumbledore had sometimes called their colleagues by their first names. Harry wished Malfoy would call him ‘Potter’, or even ‘Harry’ – an indulgent fantasy, he knew.
It had been a year and a half since Harry joined the staff, but he couldn’t remember if he and Malfoy had ever actually interacted directly during that time. He could’ve sworn they had… though maybe not by name. Harry had been making an effort to nod and smile at Malfoy since he started teaching, but it was difficult with how busy they both were.
“Professor Malfoy,” he greeted, then cocked his head and furrowed his brows. “Is everything alright? You look rather pale… I mean, even paler than usual.” An awkward laugh bubbled out of his chest and he scratched his chin nervously. What the fuck was that? Pale? Paler than usual?? Malfoy was always pale! Sure, he was whiter than normal right now, but – ‘Well what else could I have said? ‘Ashen’ and ‘peaky’ aren’t exactly part of my usual vocabulary, and they sound a lot worse than ‘pale’. Pull yourself together, Harry. Jesus.’
Gods, Malfoy made him nervous. But when hadn’t he? The most comfortable Harry had ever been with him was back in school when they were constantly at each other’s throats. But even then, just seeing the git gave him butterflies that wrenched around in his gut like they were in a boxing match.
“Err – yes – well… I’m fine.”
Alright, Harry thought. That was strange. Why was Malfoy acting strange? Oh gods, those eyes. Those stunning, grey eyes were locked on his, now. What was going on? ‘Malfoy, what are you doing?’
“Happy Christmas.”
Harry brightened and couldn’t help a smile. “Happy Christmas. What can I do for you?” He almost said ‘er’ after ‘Happy Christmas’, but that awkward boy from his past was meant to stay firmly in the past. However, Malfoy – who had never been awkward around him – all of a sudden was. Then Harry was presented with an elegant little box; narrow, wooden, and wrapped with a green and silver ribbon.
Malfoy got him a gift.
To say Harry was shocked would be an understatement. The corners of his mouth pulled up; it was somehow more special that the ribbon was Slytherin colors rather than red and gold.
“I just wanted… wanted to give you… something,” Malfoy said.
Joy filled him, a warmth that spread through every inch of his body. He reached for the box, almost gingerly, eyes bright and smile big. “What is it?”
“They’re chocolates.”
Harry’s cheeks were warm and he knew he was blushing, but he couldn’t help it. His heartbeat picked up as a million questions ran through his mind. What did this mean? Was it a truce? Though, they’d had a truce for a long time. Was it just Malfoy being nice? Did he want something from Harry? Did he like Harry? Did he want Harry? What in Merlin’s name was Harry supposed to make of this gift?
He tried to play it cool, but of course, he was Harry Potter. “Oh, that’s very kind of you. The box is… exquisite. And tasteful. Did you get the chocolates from a special confiserie?” What was Harry doing? Exquisite? Tasteful? Confiserie? ‘Trying to impress Malfoy,’ he grumbled silently to himself. This wasn’t like him. But… it also kind of really was, he had to admit. He’d developed confidence over the years, but inside, he was still the same awkward teenager whenever he was nervous about something. Particularly with someone he had feelings for.
“Err – I made them… for you…”
Wait.
Malfoy made him chocolates. Made them. Himself. For Harry, for Christmas. And he was blushing (made very obvious by his paler-than-normal face), awkward, and nervous.
Harry may be oblivious sometimes about certain things, but all of these signs pointed towards a crush. But how on Earth could Malfoy possibly have a crush on him? That was preposterous.
… Oh gods. Now he was even thinking words that Malfoy would use. ‘Okay, Harry. Time to answer. Don’t leave him hanging.’
“You made them… for… me?” He glanced down at the box, running his fingers over it almost lovingly. He was so surprised and so heartened by this that he didn’t know what to say. Or how to act. His gaze met Malfoy’s again and wow could he get lost in those thunderclouds.
A ruckus overhead startled him out of his staring and he looked up. Owls, excitedly yelling about Merlin only knew what as they flew out of the Great Hall. Then he noticed something that made his heart skip a beat.
Mistletoe.
“Oh, seems like we’ve picked the right spot for our conversation,” he teased, flashing Malfoy a grin. This was an opportunity not to be missed. He’d dreamt of kissing Malfoy for ages. Even if the blonde didn’t return his feelings, at least Harry would get a kiss out of it.
Malfoy looked confused, so Harry lifted a finger and pointed up. He waited, giddy, for Malfoy’s reaction.
“No.” That only spurred Harry on. Then Malfoy added, “No, Potter, absolutely not.”
Harry’s grin widened and he chuckled. That reaction was really cute. And Malfoy called him ‘Potter’. That alone had Harry’s heart in disarray. “Malfoy, we have no choice. Not doing it brings bad luck.”
“Certainly not.” Malfoy shook his head.
Harry felt a mischievous zing spark through his body. “This isn’t just a custom. The Norse goddess of love, Frigga, from whom the tradition originates, considered the mistletoe her symbol and imbued it with powerful magic. I wouldn't dare incur her wrath if I were you.”
“There are students around!”
Harry glanced around the Great Hall, then affixed Malfoy with an expression that was somehow even more mischievous. “No one to be seen far and wide…” He winked. He actually winked. ‘What’s gotten into you?’ … Malfoy. Malfoy was what had gotten into him. ‘Hopefully one day… or maybe I’ll get into him…’ That line of thought almost made him choke. He put the box in his pocket and stepped closer, an abnormal surge of confidence spurring him on. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” No answer. “Just to make sure we don’t incur Frigga’s wrath?” Still no answer. Harry raised both hands to cup Malfoy’s beautiful face. He got caught in those grey eyes again – so, so lost. So gone.
It felt like eternity before Malfoy nodded. Harry’s fingers flexed, then he leaned in. Malfoy’s lips felt better than anything his mind had dreamt up. He probably should’ve just gone for a simple peck, but that odd new confidence made him want to do something a little extra. So he did. Just before he pulled away, he pulled Malfoy’s bottom lip between his teeth and, ever so gently, let it slowly roll back out. “Phew, we just managed to escape in the nick of time,” he teased.
He received an awkward nod in return with an expression Harry couldn’t quite make out, but he had a feeling that it meant Malfoy was just as affected by the kiss as Harry was. He cocked his head, thinking for a moment. “Spending Christmas on your own isn't very nice. How about I come over to your place tonight, bring a bottle of wine, and we try your chocolate together?”
Malfoy nodded again. His face was still somewhat unreadable, but the adorable awkwardness had to mean something. Malfoy had to have a thing for him. The Slytherin’s reactions alone were telling enough. Harry was actually rather good at reading people – contrary to what some might claim – thanks to his upbringing requiring hypervigilance. Auror training and experience only enhanced that skill. And yet, he was still a little unsure about whether he was reading Malfoy correctly or not. But Harry did take this job because of him (well, mostly), so he might as well take the plunge. “See you tonight, then.” He smiled – softly but brilliantly – and walked up the stairs towards his quarters.
But something stopped him. He turned just in time to see that gape and before he knew what was happening, he was walking back to Malfoy. ‘Draco,’ he corrected. Without looking too desperate, Harry hoped. He approached with another grin, this one seductive, and stopped just within a foot of him. ‘Your eyes are so beautiful,’ he thought, then realised he probably looked like a lovesick fool. Gods, he hoped not. “Perhaps I’ll have a present for you tonight, as well.” He winked. What was with all the winking?? Then the idea to kiss him again popped into his head. But instead of kissing his lips, Harry lifted himself on his toes and kissed Draco’s forehead. He hoped that made it obvious that he wasn’t just in this for sex, that he wanted all of him. Fully and completely.
Then he was gone, without looking back. If he had, he wouldn’t have been able to leave.
*
Harry showed up that night dressed in darker jeans than what he’d been wearing earlier. Slightly tighter, too; they hugged his hips and thighs, but without being too revealing. He’d been sorely tempted to wear a horribly ugly Christmas sweater, but he opted for something he thought Draco would find appealing – a dark charcoal grey long sleeve shirt. Casual, but much nicer than what he’d wear to class or around Diagon. He pushed the sleeves up to his elbows and knocked.
“Hi,” he greeted with what was hopefully a charming smile when Draco opened the door.
“Evening.”
Those grey eyes roamed Harry’s body, down and back up, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He held out the wine – one of Draco’s favourites – and nervously awaited his reaction.
Draco’s eyes lowered as he took the bottle, then caught Harry’s again, brows furrowed in mild confusion. “How did you know this is my favourite wine?”
Harry shifted on his feet and sheepishly ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I owled Pansy.”
Draco was speechless for a moment. “Thank you, Harry. This is incredibly thoughtful.” He stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
Harry’s eyes widened. That was the first time Draco has ever called him by his first name. He could feel his cheeks heating and he desperately tried to hold back a beam while he stepped through Draco’s doorway. He looked around briefly and paused; he didn’t know where to sit, or what to do with his body. There were two comfy-looking armchairs by the lit fireplace with a small end table between them. Perfect. He made a beeline for one while Draco fetched two glasses. “Wow. This is really nice. Cozier than mine. Bigger, too. Much more spacious.”
“Thank you,” Draco said on his way from the kitchen. “Though yours could be just as nice, you know. It’s not about the size; it’s about what you do with it.” He froze with his wand hand suspended in the air – having just uncorked the bottle – when he realised how that sounded.
There was a moment of dead silence when their eyes met while a shit-eating grin formed on Harry’s face. Then he snorted and broke into laughter.
It was infectious, but Draco managed to contain his laughter behind a closed-lipped, exasperated smirk while he tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “You have the mind of a twelve-year-old boy.”
“Well someone around here has to. Laughter’s good for the soul. So is a dirty mind.”
“Oh is it, now? Where’d you hear that, Witch Weekly?” Draco joked.
Draco Malfoy was actually joking with him, sitting by a fire with wine and chocolate. Harry could die happy. Oh, right; the chocolate. He pulled the shrunken box from his pocket and resized it. “Nah, made it up.”
“Typical Potter fashion.” Draco handed Harry a full glass, held by the bowl with the stem between his elegant fingers.
“You know me too well,” Harry teased, then reached for the stem of the glass. “Thank you.” He purposefully brushed his fingers over Draco’s, light as a feather but charged, and kept them there. It sent an invisible shiver down his body from head to toe. He met wide, heated grey eyes and knew that how much he wanted Draco was written all over his face, but he didn’t try to hide it. He shifted his hand to get a better hold on the glass so Draco could take his hand back. The blonde looked a little shaken; good, Harry thought. “And thank you again for the thoughtful chocolate. I opened the box earlier and got a sugary snowball lobbed at my head.” Draco failed to hold back a smirk and Harry laughed. Then he took a sip of wine and moaned.
“Merlin,” Draco muttered, clearly frazzled by that sound. He crossed one leg over the other, but Harry knew it wasn’t for comfort.
“What? This wine is amazing. You have great taste.” Before Draco could respond, Harry opened the chocolate box and another sugar snowball was thrown – at Draco, this time. The blonde’s eyes followed it until it hit his cheek, making him blink adorably. “Whoops,” Harry said with a grin. He leaned over and wiped it off with his thumb. “It’s incredible that you made these yourself. Your magic is beautiful.”
“What are you playing at?” Draco asked after studying him for a moment, voice soft and curious.
“I’m not playing at anything, just telling you how much I appreciate your gift.”
“And my favourite wine? The forehead kiss? The compliments? The nicer-than-normal clothes you never wear?”
Harry grinned. He weighed his options and settled on coming right out with the truth. “Why do you think I came here so soon after you did?”
Draco’s brows wrinkled in confusion. “I haven’t the vaguest idea.”
Harry stood, put his glass on the table, and placed his hands on the armrests of the other man’s chair, effectively boxing Draco in. “I did want to leave the Aurors; that wasn’t fulfilling. And it was honestly rather exhausting.” Harry smiled warmly as he took in Draco’s features from this close up. “And I have wanted to teach for a long time. Luckily, the DADA position was open as it is before the start of every year.” His eyes flitted down for a moment, landing on the blonde’s perfect lips before capturing his eyes again. “But it was mostly to be closer to you, Draco.”
Harry closed the distance between them.
There was no mistletoe, this time. Thank the gods; they were full of nargles.