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Draco cussed to himself as he had no choice but to land the craft on an empty rooftop.
It landed with a rougher bump than he’d been intending, and he hoped that the occupants in the house did not wake or come to investigate. He wasn’t sure how he would explain the situation to any adults coming to see who was on their roof at this time of night, and nearly laughed at the idea of someone wearing fuzzy bunny slippers climbing onto the roof, just to see a grown man in a skimpy skirt sitting up there in a broken aircraft. It would be far more comical, though, if Draco didn’t run the risk of getting fired if that happened.
The engine of the craft gave a cough, shuddering the vehicle, then going eerily still. “Fuck!” Draco cursed, slapping the dashboard, though it did nothing to bring his craft back to life. Outside, the snow was blowing in heavy flakes, nearly obstructing his surroundings, the cold already creeping through the glass hatch without the heat blowing inside.
Draco did not want to go out into the weather.
For one, Draco wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do to fix the aircraft when he had exactly zero knowledge of how it worked. And for another thing, Draco was not dressed for the weather. He wasn’t sure who designed the uniforms, but he’d like to find them right about now and strangle them. He glanced down at the crop top, tank top shirt with a large tooth stamped onto the front of it, and the scant skirt was barely enough to cover his arse when standing. The outfit was adorned with a tiny crown clipped into his hair and flimsy fabric wings strapped to his back.
The only thing the outfit seemed to be missing was a little wand.
The outfit was not at all made for this kind of weather. Draco assumed that the designer had not considered the fact that the Tooth Fairies using the clothes would be out and about during the winter time, as though children were just able to hold onto their baby teeth until the weather was warmer.
Instead, Draco was stranded on the roof of a house that he was not meant to be at with no way to get to the children he needed to see. He considered radioing back to home base, to see if Blaise or Theo would be able to come rescue him, maybe even take over for him, but he knew no one would answer. He’d sent everyone home to enjoy the holiday, so there was no one left to bail him out. Looking back, that had been a stupid decision on his part, but Pansy’s incessant whining about missing some big party had made Draco feel more sympathetic towards keeping everyone in the office.
Draco hadn’t, after all, anticipated any problems arising. He thought he could handle the visits, as not many kids seemed to lose their teeth around Christmas, but Draco had been desperate to fulfill his flying hours. His boss, Severus, had insisted that he spent too much time behind his desk and not enough time out in the field, and if he didn’t log more hours before the end of the year, he’d lose his certification.
Now, though, Draco would give almost anything to be behind his desk again.
Draco snatched his tote bag from the passenger seat of his aircraft, rifling through it until he could pull out the scroll of his scheduled visits. There were only three on the list: Juliana, Lilian, and Michael, and two of them lived in the same neighborhood. All in all, it could be worse, but if Draco couldn’t figure out how to get his craft back in the air, all three children would wake up with their teeth still under their pillow and no pound.
Draco could, theoretically, reach out to another Tooth Fairy division and see if they could pick up his deliveries, but that will paint their own department in a negative light, and Draco doesn’t want to do that to his friends.
That and Draco was certain if someone took over for him, he wouldn’t be able to count these flying hours, and Draco was running out of time before the new year to meet the required hours to keep his certification. The last thing Draco needed was to lose his job and have to work for a holiday.
Like Easter. Or worse—Christmas.
Draco would rather be blackballed from every agency before he willingly worked for Christmas.
Which was rather ironic, considering Draco was currently working on Christmas Eve and was stranded atop the roof of a random house with no idea on how to fix his situation. Even if he could call Pansy, Blaise, or Theo, they were all likely far too drunk at this point to be of any help. Calling Severus would be mortifying and ensure he got the chewing out of his lifetime, but would it be better than being stranded out in the snow to freeze to death? Draco hoped he wouldn’t have to make that call.
With a huff, Draco tossed his list onto the passenger seat and turned to scowl out the glass hatch in front of him. The whole situation could have been avoided if the snow wasn’t falling quite as heavily as it currently was. Fat snowflakes were hurtling towards the ground like it was some kind of race, making it difficult to see through the large clumps. Draco had been pretty certain that he’d seen a blur of movement that could have been a bird before there’d been a solid bump on the side of his aircraft a moment before he’d made the emergency landing.
But really, what kind of birds were out and about in this weather? At this time of night? Draco couldn’t be blamed for hitting them.
Either way, Draco knew he would have to get out of the aircraft to check out the engine and hope that he’d be able to get it up and running again. Sitting here as the cockpit steadily got colder was not going to solve the situation, and he couldn’t just wait for it to resolve itself.
Draco glanced down at his flimsy uniform, cursing himself for not grabbing a coat on his way out the door. He hadn’t anticipated needing one, as theoretically, Draco would only have to be out of his aircraft briefly in the dash from the vehicle to the chimney and then back again. That decision was truly biting him in the arse now, though.
Draco twisted in his chair until he was able to look under the seat where the emergency kit was kept. Draco had gone through enough training sessions to know exactly what was inside–bandages, maps, and more importantly, a flashlight–and what wasn’t inside–a coat, or at the very least, a blanket.
The flashlight was small and compact, and Draco honestly didn’t know whether it would help too much, but it was better than fumbling around in the dark looking at the engine without it. He gripped the small item tightly and grit his teeth, bracing for the cold that was sure to greet him the second he popped the hatch.
It wasn’t too late to call Severus, but the image of the man’s disappointed face was enough to keep Draco from reaching from the radio, and instead, pressed the large yellow button to open the hatch.
It was far colder outside than Draco had anticipated, as if it had dropped several degrees since taking off from base. Snow blew inside the cockpit with a strong gust of wind, and Draco shrieked helplessly as the flakes battered against his bare arms and legs and swept up under his skirt. Any warmth that had existed in the cockpit or in Draco’s body escaped immediately, and goosebumps began to rise across every inch of Draco’s skin.
Clutching the flashlight, Draco climbed out of the aircraft, his uniform-mandated heels sinking into the several inches of snow on the rooftop. Draco’s ankles wobbled with the uneven surface below his feet, and his free hand gripped the lip of the cockpit for balance. The uniform as a whole was entirely impractical, but the heels in particular always had Draco tottling around like a newborn calf.
Would it have killed the designer to have practical footwear?
Shuffling through the snow, barely daring to lift the heels from the roof, Draco made his way to the side of the aircraft, his numb fingers sliding across the cold body of the vehicle looking for a handle. He knew vaguely that the latch was waist high, but his fingers were stiff from the temperature, and he was having trouble locating it.
“Fucking come on,” Draco stammered, his teeth chattering as his nails scratched lightly across the smooth surface of the aircraft, unable to locate what he was looking for. The wind battered against his exposed body, twisting and curling up his bare legs until no part of him remembered what it was like to be warm.
Finally, his fingers curled around the handle, and he tugged at it. The handle pulled out slightly, but not enough to open the panel covering the engine. Because of course it couldn’t be easy. Draco yanked a second time with just as much success as the first time, frustration welling in his chest.
“Piece of shit,” Draco snapped at the aircraft, though it did not have the desired effect, as Draco’s words came out wobbly with his trembling. He tucked the flashlight under one arm, though it had become cold as ice in the time outside and was as if he’d tucked an ice block there instead of an innocent flashlight. It did, however, free up Draco’s other hand, and he used it to wrap around the handle.
Bracing himself, Draco wrenched the handle with all of his might, the heels of his shoes digging into the roof for stability.
Because the world hated Draco today, the handle popped open with relative ease, and the give of the hatch threw Draco off balance. His numb fingers slipped from the handle, tipping him backwards. He landed flat on his arse in the thick snow, both of his shoes flying off his feet in the fall. The flashlight slipped from under his arm, landing atop the snow and rolling down the slanted roof until it took a dive off the edge.
The howl of the wind as it mocked him for his failure had tears welling in the corners of Draco’s eyes. He couldn’t tell whether they were from frustration or anger, but he swiped angrily at his cheeks and picked himself back up. The snow squeezed between his bare toes, biting at his trembling thighs, dusting in his blond hair and atop his shoulders. It was miserably cold, and he was seriously regretting not calling Severus.
What would his boss think now, seeing him in this state? Putting pride above his safety and his job?
Draco was shoeless, freezing, without a flashlight, and stranded with a broken aircraft. He was quickly losing any hope of completing his mission and visiting the children he was meant to see tonight. Would they fire him for this? Draco was already on thin ice with his lack of field hours; a blunder like this could show Severus that he wasn’t worth keeping around, even though Draco was normally very good at his job.
Not that tonight was proving that.
Despite all the issues, Draco had to at least try and fix the aircraft before he called for help. He shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to retain any warmth he had left, and peered into the opening at the quiet engine inside the hatch. It was dark enough to wash the details of the machinery in shadows, and Draco cursed himself for losing the flashlight. Even if he knew anything about engines, he would never be able to fix it with the lack of light.
It was a lost cause.
Draco would have to swallow his pride and radio Severus for help. Risking his job was a much better situation than being stranded out in the cold without the proper attire.
Just as Draco had decided on a course of action, movement in the snowy sky caught his attention, and his night took a turn for the worst. Because flying in the air, heading directly for the roof Draco was currently stranded on, was a bright red sleigh and eight reindeer.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Draco huffed, rubbing his cold arms with his equally cold hands. It shouldn’t surprise him, really. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and Draco had never been lucky. He shouldn’t have expected to have crash landed on the roof of a house a Santa had already been to.
“Ho ho ho,” the Santa called out, just as the reindeer touched down upon the other side of the roof from where Draco was standing next to the unresponsive aircraft.
“Just my luck,” Draco grumbled to himself, shuffling through the snow until he could locate both of the heels that had fallen off as he’d toppled, jamming his numb feet into them to give the illusion of being more put together than he actually was. “As if being stranded on the coldest night of my life wasn’t bad enough, I have to be rescued by a Santa.” Draco wobbled in his heels as he struggled to find even footing on the slanted roof, gripping the edge of the hatch for balance. “Pansy is never going to let me live this down.”
Draco was not going to give this Santa the chance to be his knight in shining armour by simply walking up and asking for help. He was a Specialty, for gods sake, and he was not going to let a Holiday bail him out. He was going to call Severus and fuck the consequences.
Limping, Draco struggled back to the cockpit of the aircraft, his knees stiff with cold and nearly uncooperative as he hobbled. Across the roof, he could hear the Santa dismounting from the sleigh, and Draco leaned over the lip of the cockpit, his rigid fingers fumbling for his radio. He jabbed at the power button, relieved as it sparked to life, squawking at him before going silent and ready for his command.
Draco’s fingertips scrambled for the dial to tune into Severus’ channel, picturing his boss’ unimpressed face before he’d left the office earlier that evening, warning them against the consequences of contacting him and interrupting his peaceful evening, despite the way he was technically on call. For situations just like this. Surely he would understand?
Draco hesitated, thumb trembling against the call button as the Santa approached, his red hat appearing over the slope of the roof first, followed by the white brim, then thick, dark curls spilling out underneath. Draco blinked in surprise, thumb slipping off the button as the Santa’s face came into view, earnest, open, and bespectacled. His mouth was curled into a smile that stretched his handsome features pleasantly, and Draco’s heart skipped in his chest.
This Santa was hot.
“You alright?” The Santa asked, boots crunching through the snow. Draco’s eyes dipped lower, to the red fur coat he was wearing and the matching trousers that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than Santa. But this Santa wasn’t what Draco had always pictured when he’d imagined what Santa looked like. For one, his hair wasn’t white. For another, he wasn’t the fat, jolly man in all the typical stories.
The Santa came closer, stopping a few meters away from Draco, the smile softening with concern as his eyes—the most brilliant shade of green—swept over Draco’s body still bent forward, half inside the cockpit of his aircraft.
A strong gust of wind blew across them both, flipping Draco’s flimsy skirt up over the swell of his arse and exposing the lacy pants he was wearing underneath. Draco squeaked, dropping the radio and scrambling to yank his skirt back down, though didn’t miss the way the Santa’s eyes lingered on his now covered undergarments.
“It’s standard uniform,” Draco blurted, snapping back into an upright position, hands still pressed over the skirt to keep it from blowing up again. His heart thundered in his ears, cheeks caught up in pink over the lie, but Draco could easily blame that on the cold.
The Santa swallowed, dragging his eyes from Draco’s exposed thighs up to his face, nodding jerkily. “Right,” he agreed, voice considerably more strained than before. “Are you–” He scratched at the back of his neck, his fingers covered by thick, warm looking back gloves that Draco was instantly jealous of. “Are you alright?”
Draco would have thought the answer would be obvious.
After all, who would willingly be standing out in the heavy snow, wearing the outfit that Draco was currently dressed in, if they were fine? “My aircraft died,” Draco explained, eyes drawn to the way the Santa’s teeth poked out, trapping his lower lip between them, sucking just slightly on it in a way that should not have all of Draco’s blood rushing south. The only positive was the fact that it proved he did still have warmth left in his body.
“Ah,” the Santa murmured, his eyes darting over to the dark and unmoving vehicle next to Draco, adjusting his glasses but not taking a step closer. “Did you radio for help?”
“I was just about to,” Draco answered, distantly recalling the animosity he’d held for Santas just moments ago. He’d almost given up his opportunity to speak to this Santa out of what? Pride? Snobbishness? Because he thought he was better than a Holiday? Draco knew that this Santa’s looks were clouding his perception of Christmas, but he was just a man. He couldn’t help it if this Santa looked like every wet dream Draco had ever had. “You don’t look like the Santa from the stories.”
That drew a laugh from the Santa, deep and warm in a way that had butterflies fluttering in Draco’s stomach. His eyes crinkled, drawing Draco’s attention to a thin scar on the Santa’s forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. It was pale and contrasted sharply against the brown of the Santa’s skin, though was nearly buried in his black fringe.
“Were you expecting someone old and hardly able to fit down a chimney?” The Santa teased, his teeth flashing in his grin. “I don’t have the gut of the stereotypical Santa, but I’ve been told my jolliness makes up for it. Besides, you don’t look like the Tooth Fairy from the tales, either, do you? Last I recalled, the Tooth Fairy was a girl.”
Draco’s cheeks flushed guiltily, but the Santa had a point. “I guess,” he conceded, shivering as the wind stung against his icy skin, chafed from the breeze and coloured with red. “I’ve never met a Santa before. Or any of the other Holidays, I suppose.”
The Santa hummed, crossing the distance between them, his gloved fingers fumbling with the buttons down the front of his coat. “Yeah, well, there’s always been a rivalry between the Holidays and the Specialties, hasn’t there?” The Santa mused, and Draco’s eyes tracked the man’s fingers, his coat opening up to show his broad chest, clothed by a black shirt. “I don’t know why the animosity exists, honestly. This job is all about making the kids happy, isn’t it?”
Draco nodded, head bobbing up and down uselessly as the Santa finished unbuttoning his coat, slipping his left arm out of the sleeve. The rivalry was silly, really, but it was played up a lot in the office, especially when the different divisions of Specialties had to get together for a meeting once a year. Last year, Draco had gotten into a heated debate with a Monster in the Closet about whether Christmas or Easter was the worst Holiday, though they’d ended up just agreeing that all Holidays were unbearable.
“You look like you’re freezing,” the Santa commented, holding the left side of his coat open and nodding for Draco to approach. “Unfortunately, I only have the one coat, but we could share if you’re comfortable with a bit of close proximity.” When Draco hesitated, the Santa’s grin came back, his eyes sparkling attractively with mirth. “I promise none of my Holiday cheer will rub off on you, even if you look like you could use it.”
Draco huffed, rolling his eyes, stepping forward, shaking fingers reaching for the opening of the sweater. “I’m only doing this because I can’t stand the cold,” Draco insisted, shoving his frozen arm into the sleeve, instantly relaxing as the warm fabric wrapped snuggly around his limb, encasing it and protecting it from the cold.
“Of course,” the Santa agreed, taking a step to the side to give Draco more room. Draco expected to feel a tug on his arm with the movement and nearly scolded the Santa, but to his amazement, the coat seemed to expand, until there was room for the two of them to both stand side by side in it, each with their arm in a sleeve. Draco blinked, staring at the much larger coat wrapped around both of them, and the Santa laughed at his dumbfounded expression. “It’s charmed,” he explained, his infuriatingly handsome grin returning to his face. “There’s magic woven into the fabric that keeps it warm and also adjusts the size to fit whoever wears it. Santas come in all different shapes and sizes, after all.”
He winked, and Draco shrugged off his open amazement, reaching for the two sides of the front of the coat to do up the buttons and further protect them from the cold. “Please don’t tell me you want me to share your trousers, too.” Draco’s voice was clipped, haughty, but the idea of stepping into one leg of the Santa’s trousers wasn’t entirely as unbearable as he would have thought even twenty minutes ago.
“Nah,” the Santa assured, shaking his head, curls bouncing with the movement. “The trousers aren’t charmed with anything more than warmth. We only had the budget for one or the other.”
Draco hummed, shivering as the wind blew up his legs again, the hem of the coat falling just a tad higher than his flimsy skirt, providing no protection for his aching legs.
“Come on,” the Santa nudged Draco’s arm on the inside of the coat, inclining his head towards the sleigh on the other side of the roof. “I have a blanket in the sleigh for emergencies and we can radio for help from there. You’ve got to be freezing in that skirt of yours.” The Santa leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to have Draco shivering. “And those uniform regulated pants.”
Colour scorched at Draco’s face, his breath catching in his throat as he stumbled alongside the Santa on their way to the sleigh. The Santa’s arm slid around Draco’s waist as they crossed the top of the roof and Draco’s heels stumbled through the snow, but he didn’t remove the arm once they were back on steadier ground. The arm was warm and firm around Draco’s waist, their skin brushing with every step, and Draco wondered whether the Santa’s skin would burn so pleasantly against other parts of Draco’s body.
It was incredibly uncomfortable referring to this man as Santa when Draco was currently thinking such inappropriate thoughts about him.
“I’m Draco,” he announced randomly, leaning just slightly more firmly against the Santa’s side under the guise of his heel slipping on a shingle.
The Santa paused at the sleigh’s side, and that adorable grin was painted on his face again. He was very jolly indeed, and really, he had no right to look this endearing. Not for a Holiday.
“Hi, Draco. I’m Harry. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The Santa—Harry—looked like he truly meant it, and Draco wondered whether the man was even capable of insincerity. His face was so open and expressive, and Draco had no trouble reading every emotion that crossed his features. It wasn’t something that Draco was used to. All of his friends in his department were cut from the same cloth: serious expressions, unfriendly demeanor, pinched body language. They had fun, sure, and teased one another, but it was always clipped and dripping with animosity that was often difficult to tell whether it was genuine or part of their friend routine.
Reluctantly, Draco had to admit that it was a rather nice change of pace to meet someone so open.
“Yes, well, I’m incredibly grateful that you arrived,” Draco drawled as they climbed together into the sleigh, movement a bit jerky with the coat they were both wearing. “I was just about to radio for help, and my boss would not be pleased if I were to interrupt his evening. I probably would have frozen while I was waiting, too. This uniform is not made for these conditions.” Draco stood next to Harry while the man rifled through a little chest stowed away under the bench seating in the sleigh, pulling out a blanket. “Severus is going to be furious that I got into this situation. Our department is already suffering because one of my coworkers, Vincent, fell off a roof earlier this year and broke his leg and got seen by the residents in the house.”
Harry winced at the information, pulling a thick-looking blanket from the chest he was rummaging through, a grimace twisting his features. “That’s really unfortunate. Getting seen by people on the job has got to be one of the worst ways to get fired, especially when it’s for a situation out of your control,” Harry sympathized, handing over the blanket, and they shuffled over to sit on the bench so Draco could wrap it around his legs. “My best friend, Ron, nearly got caught last year by the kids in the house he was dropping off gifts at. They had set up this really elaborate trap, and he’d nearly stepped right into it. He had to wipe a camera they had set up. These kids are getting smarter every year, I swear.”
Draco tucked the blanket snuggly around his legs, burrowing in the warmth of his borrowed items, glad to have some protection from the cold. “At least you don’t have to be in close proximity to the children,” Draco pointed out. “It’s terrifying to have to get their tooth from under their pillow while they’re sleeping. There have been too many close calls.” Draco scooted a tad bit closer to Harry on the bench under the guise of seeking warmth, shivering for a reason other than cold as their arms pressed against one another.
“That does sound quite risky,” Harry agreed, pulling his hat off his head to settle it on top of Draco’s, over the plastic crown clipped in his hair. The warming charms applied to the hat’s fabric as well, and Draco nearly moaned as it brought life back to his numb ears.
“Do you have a radio in here?” Draco asked, though could clearly see it built into the dash of the sleigh. “I should probably call Severus so he can get here soon. I don’t want you to fall behind on your job because you were trying to keep me from freezing to death.”
Harry hesitated, then reached out to grab the radio, thumb hovering over the button on the side. “You can call your boss if you want,” he started, though didn’t hand the device over. “But I have a friend who works on mechanics that could come out and take a look at it. Get it up and running again. There would be no need for you to call your boss or for anyone to find out that you had any trouble tonight.”
Draco’s attention was perked at that, though his gaze was sharp and calculating. “Why would you want to do that? You’re a Holiday, and I’m a Specialty.”
Harry huffed, shaking his head. Without his hat on, his black curls were even more wild than before, following the movement of his head. Draco wondered whether they were as soft as they looked and wondered whether it would curl nicely around Draco’s fingers. “I don’t care about that, Draco. You need help, and I have the means to help. There’s just one condition.”
Draco’s mouth was a bit dry at the earnest offer for help, expecting nothing back and brushing past the rivalry that preceded them. “A condition?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded, and his mouth split on a grin again, a twinkle in his eyes. “You join me for the rest of the night while I deliver presents.”
Helplessly, Draco laughed.
“Join you?” He echoed, fiddling with the edge of the blanket tucked over his lap helplessly. “You want the Tooth Fairy to hitch a ride with Santa Claus?”
Harry’s grin turned sheepish, and he scratched the back of his neck with the hand not currently trapped in their shared coat. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound kind of silly. But I mean it. It’s going to take my friend a little bit of time to get here and then who knows how long to actually fix it. I’m not going to let you just stand out here in the cold when I could keep you warm right here. And you’re right, I do have to finish my job. But you do, too, right?”
Draco nodded reluctantly, thinking about the three children on his list. “I don’t have that many, but I hadn’t gotten to any of them before my aircraft died.”
“Great!” Harry chirped, then winced. “Well, er, I mean, not great. But great in terms of convincing you to come with me. We both have kids we need to go and see, so we might as well go do it together while we’re waiting for my friend to fix your aircraft. That way neither of us fall behind on our job, and you get to stay warm. Because you’re right, that outfit is not fit for this weather. I mean, don’t you have a winter uniform?”
“No,” Draco grumbled. “Evidently the board thinks this is the only uniform that we could possibly need for any kind of weather. But after tonight, I’m going to write a very strongly worded letter to them to inform them otherwise.”
Draco looked sideways to Harry, flushing pink as he realized that Harry was looking at Draco’s bare shoulder in the wide collar of the coat. He had an urge to attempt to cover up his exposed skin, but a larger part of him was pleased to have Harry’s attention on him, his mouth parted slightly, looking liable to start drooling at any moment.
“This uniform is very cute,” Harry muttered, looking as though it took great effort to drag his eyes from Draco’s shoulder and up to his face. “But it’s not suited at all for nights like tonight.” His tongue poked out, wetting his lower lip as his green eyes darkened a bit. “You look good in red, though.”
Whether due to Harry’s compliment or whether to just further show Harry how good he did look in red, Draco’s face flushed darkly, and he ducked his head in an attempt to hide it. He couldn’t be flirting with a Santa. Even if this one was kind and good and didn’t seem to care that they were not meant to be anything more than rivals to one another.
Harry’s gloved fingers touched under Draco’s chin, tilting it back up with the lightest of pressure, until their eyes met again. Draco’s pulse fluttered at his neck, but he didn’t pull away, watching Harry’s eyes dart to the colour splotched on both of Draco’s cheeks.
“You should call your friend,” Draco blurted, his stomach squirming under the intensity of Harry’s gaze, looking prone to do something like kiss Draco.
His words broke the moment, and Harry pulled his fingers away hastily, as though caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “Yes, right,” Harry cleared his throat, his own cheeks heating slightly, picking up the radio he’d set into his lap as he began to fiddle with the dial to tune it into the right frequency.
Draco could have cursed himself for ruining the situation.
How often was it that anyone took an interest in Draco like this? That someone saw through his snark and hostility and flirted with him? Even if they were a Santa, surely Draco could get past that. His gaze traveled over Harry’s profile, still just as soft and open as before. His nose was pinkened with cold, and his hair was dusted with flakes of snow that settled like art into his black curls. His lips looked soft and inviting, and Draco wished that he had kept his mouth shut.
“Charlie?” Harry called into the radio, waiting for an answer. Draco held his breath, hoping that they would hear back, and Draco could avoid calling Severus. “Charlie? It’s Harry.”
The radio crackled to life, and the voice on the other line didn’t seem at all bothered at being interrupted on Christmas Eve. “Harry!” The man, presumably Charlie, greeted. “What’s up? Don’t tell me your sleigh is acting up again. I swear, I’ll write another letter to the board demanding that they put actual time and effort into fixing the sleighs if I have to. This duct tape and hot glue method is clearly not working.”
Harry grinned even though Charlie couldn’t see, waiting for his friend to finish his rant before speaking. “No, it’s not my sleigh. I’m actually here with a Tooth Fairy, and he’s having trouble with his aircraft. It died and left him stranded on the rooftop, and we were hoping you could come take a look at it. Off the books.”
There was a pause, then Charlie laughed through the speaker. “A Tooth Fairy? Oh, Harry, you always seem to get yourself into all kinds of trouble. Yeah, sure, I’ll come take a look at it, just tell me your location.”
Draco breathed a sigh of relief as Harry rattled off their address, thanking Charlie profusely. After setting the radio back down, Harry grinned over at Draco, nudging him with his elbow. “See? It’s going to be alright. He’ll get your aircraft up and running in no time, and after we visit the kids, I’ll drop you off here again and no one will know you had any trouble at all.”
“Thank you,” Draco said through not quite gritted teeth. If Pansy could see him now, not only agreeing to work with a Santa, but thanking one, she would die laughing. Draco hoped he could keep this a secret, lest he ruin his reputation amongst his friends. He didn’t want to know how they’d react to knowing he desperately wanted to shag said Santa, on top of needing a bailout.
“No problem,” Harry assured, looking far too pleased with himself. “Charlie is great with machines. His brothers call him a Dragon Tamer, which really is just a running joke between them. They call all the vehicles Dragons because they’re cooler than sleighs or baskets in the case of Percy, who works as an Easter bunny. They’re a great bunch, really. Hey, you should meet them sometime, I think you’d like them. Or, well, maybe not, because they can be quite a bit to handle at first, but they mean well. Even though they–”
“Harry,” Draco interrupted the frankly adorable rambling Harry couldn’t seem to stop. “We should probably focus on getting our jobs done. Then we can think about other things like that.”
Harry’s embarrassed blush was back, and he nodded quickly, biting his lip. “Right, sorry. We should focus on the kids. Don’t want any of the kids to miss out.” Harry glanced behind him, where a large green sack was sitting, likely bulging with presents. “I should probably deliver these gifts and then we can figure out where your kids are located, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Draco agreed, sitting still and watching as Harry fumbled for the buttons of the coat for a second time.
“You wait here, and I’ll just pop down real quick. It shouldn’t take that much time, but go ahead and plug the kids into the navigation system while I’m in the house.” Harry jabbed his thumb in the direction of the screen on the dash of the sleigh, slipping out of the coat and taking care to tuck his side around Draco’s now exposed shoulder. The size of the clothing shrank again, until it was appropriately sized for just one person.
“You’re not taking the coat with you?” Draco asked, brow furrowing. “Won’t you get in trouble for being out of uniform?”
Harry shrugged, grabbing the cinched end of the sack behind them, tugging in closer. “Probably, but it’s alright. I’ll just explain to Minnie that you needed the coat and she’ll let me off with a warning.” Harry yanked the sack over the bench, settling it on his back, glancing down at Draco. “Minnie is my boss. Sorry, should have mentioned that. But she won’t mind that I’m out of uniform once she knows the situation. And that’s only if she finds out. Don’t worry, I can take the heat. She loves me.”
Harry flashed Draco a toothy grin, and Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a far too fond huff escaping his lips. “Alright, if you’re sure. Thank you, Harry.”
Harry’s smile grew at the thanks, and he stepped out of the sleigh, the snow sticking and melting against Harry’s exposed arms. “You’re welcome, Draco. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Draco watched Harry jog over to the chimney, climbing up on top of it and turning back to Draco. He was still grinning, and Draco couldn’t help the smile that curled on his own face. Harry saluted him, then dropped down into the chimney, disappearing from view. Draco huffed for a second time, his smile lingering. “What have I gotten myself into?” He asked quietly, leaning forward to plug the addresses of his kids into the navigation system.
He was pleased to see that all three of the children were already on Harry’s list to visit, meaning they wouldn’t have to make any detours. And despite Draco’s best efforts, he found that he was rather excited at the prospect of getting to spend the rest of the night with Harry. He never would have believed that he’d be looking forward to spending time with a Santa.
Perhaps they weren’t so bad, after all.
Harry returned after only ten minutes, tossing his sack carelessly into the back of the sleigh and climbing inside, where Draco was already holding out the right side of the coat for Harry to slide back into. “Thanks,” Harry breathed, scooting closer to Draco so their thighs were pressed together, skin separated by Harry’s trousers and the blanket still over Draco’s lap. “Did you get the kids put into the system?”
“Yes,” Draco nodded, doing up the buttons on the front of their coat to keep the cold from seeping in past the warming charms. “You’re already scheduled to visit them, so it won’t be out of the way or anything.”
“Perfect.”
Harry shot Draco another grin, and Draco wondered whether he was even capable of doing anything but smiling. He picked up the reins to the reindeer in front of them, his forehead wrinkling slightly. Draco seemed to realize the problem at the same time, unsure how Harry was going to steer the sleigh if one of his arms was trapped inside of the coat.
“Do you want to try?” Harry asked, already offering one of the reins towards Draco, a hopeful look on his face. “Otherwise one of us is going to have to freeze while we’re driving, and I’ll be honest, it’s not going to be you. Not with that uniform.”
Harry’s eyes darted down into the wide collar of the coat again, and the fluttering in Draco’s stomach returned. Hastily, he reached out and grabbed the offered rein before he was the one to initiate a kiss. “I’ve never done this before,” Draco informed him, trying to tug his hand and the rein into the sleeve in an attempt to protect his skin from the cold weather.
“I can teach you. It’s not that hard,” Harry assured, tugging off his left glove to offer to Draco. Gratefully, Draco took it, sliding it over his hand. The fingers weren’t quite long enough, but it was better than nothing, so Draco said nothing, gripping the rein firmly and listening to Harry’s explanation on how to utilize it properly. “The reindeer know what they’re doing, so they don’t need too much guidance, really. Just enough to show them which houses they’re landing on.”
Draco nodded, a little nervous, but determined not to make a fool of himself. “Okay, I’m ready.”
As it turned out, it wasn’t that hard. Either that or Harry was just a good teacher, and Draco had a fairly easy time navigating the reins after their first bumpy landing. Almost like a reward, Harry gave him one of those goofy grins that made Draco’s cheeks warm and look away hastily. It was ridiculous, really. They had just met. Had only known each other for an hour at most, and Draco was ready to cast aside all of his self respect just for a quick snog with Harry.
Lilian was the first child on Draco’s list that they visited, and they landed smoothly onto her roof. “This one is you, too, right?” Harry questioned, fingers working on the buttons of their shared coat with ease. This was their seventh house so far, and they had the routine down now to work as efficiently together as possible.
“Yes,” Draco confirmed, bracing himself before taking the blanket from his lap. The cold air instantly had goosebumps rising on his skin, and Draco shivered, shrugging out of the coat once Harry had the buttons undone.
“Hey, what are you doing? You’re going to freeze if you don’t wear the coat,” Harry protested, halfway through leaning into the back to grab his sack of presents.
“The Tooth Fairy can’t wear Santa’s coat in the house,” Draco argued back, slipping the hat from his head and holding both items out to Harry, his limbs already trembling. “I have to stay in uniform because I can’t afford to get written up or penalized for that.”
Harry set the sack on the bench and reluctantly took all of his clothes back, including the glove. “Your boss wouldn’t understand? Surely they wouldn’t want you to freeze in this weather.”
Draco rubbed his hands over his arms, shaking his head. “Severus would understand, but he’d still have to write me up for it regardless of the situation. I’m already in trouble because of— Well, that’s not important. I just can’t afford to take a hit like this. Now, please, can we get inside?”
Draco’s face was flushed with embarrassment at the way he’d nearly admitted to Harry the fact that he was slacking on his flying hours. There was just something about Harry that made him seem so trustworthy. Like Draco could spill his heart out to Harry and Harry wouldn’t use the information against him or judge him for it. Something about Harry that made him feel like he wanted to tell Harry about all the details of his life.
Harry slipped into his coat, not even bothering to do up the buttons, and shouldered his sack. “Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Harry apologized, as though it were needed. Draco just gave him a light nod, allowing Harry to help him out of the sleigh and over to the chimney. Harry set his sack down to help Draco up onto the chimney, and even though Draco didn’t really need his help for this, he allowed it because it felt rather nice to have Harry’s hands on his waist, and feel his strength as he helped lift Draco up onto the brick.
Draco didn’t bother standing in his heels, not wanting to make a fool of himself by rolling his ankle, and just dangled his legs into the hole of the chimney. Harry’s hands were still on his hips, and despite the cold surface Draco was perched on, he lingered, not wanting Harry to take his hands from his body.
He needed to get a grip on himself.
Taking a deep breath, Draco slipped forward, disappearing into the chimney. He landed rather ungracefully into the living room, stumbling forward in his heels until he could catch himself on the coffee table. He paused, listening to ensure no one had stirred, then stood up straight, brushing his skirt down, the fabric tickling his thighs.
The house was blessedly warm, and Draco didn’t bother waiting for Harry to make it down before heading towards the hall, determined to find Lilian and get this over with. They still had close to two dozen children to visit that night, and Draco didn’t want to be the reason that they both fell behind.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Draco worried spending prolonged time in Harry’s presence would wear down his rational thinking.
Lilian was in the last bedroom down the hall, and she was sound asleep. She clutched a stuffed bunny in her hands, her blanket twisted around her limbs like she had done a lot of rolling around.
Draco slipped out of his heels, worried that he would somehow topple over on top of the little girl and wake her. He fished around in the pocket of his skirt until his fingers found one of the round coins he’d tucked away earlier. Tiptoeing over to the bed, Draco slid his hand under Lilian’s pillow until he located her tooth, exchanging it for the coin and withdrawing, holding his breath. Lilian didn’t stir, thankfully, and Draco took his leave, reluctantly putting his shoes back on.
Harry was in the living room when he returned to the chimney, placing the last of the presents under the tree. The stockings hanging on the mantle were already filled with gifts and goodies, and Draco paused, taking in the scene that he’d failed to notice when he’d first entered the house.
The Christmas tree in the corner of the room was decorated with shiny, round ornaments and a clash of homemade monstrosities likely made by the children of the house. The lights were twinkling between a soft white and colours that painted the living room in blue, red, yellow, and green. The presents under the tree were wrapped to perfection and topped with large ribbons and bows, bringing the promise of joy in the morning. There were four stockings dangling above the fireplace, each one unique and lumpy with the gifts inside, embroidered with the name of each person in the household.
Everywhere Draco looked, there was evidence of the impending holiday: garland strung across doorways, plastic snowmen adorning shelves, paper snowflakes taped to the insides of the windows, mocking imitations of the ones falling outside.
Draco had actively avoided flying the nights of holidays, not wanting to run into any of the people working for those holidays, and he’d never before seen a house decorated quite like this. Like Christmas was something special and worth celebrating. Like it was more than just an attempt to upstage everything else in the world by claiming a single night or day.
The house felt magical in a way that had nothing to do with the two people awake in the living room.
“Wow,” Draco breathed, his eyes falling finally to Harry, who knelt before the tree to adjust a bow on one of the gifts, his red and white suit truly completing the picture of the scene. “Is this… Are all houses like this tonight?”
Harry looked up as he climbed back to his feet, head cocked to one side and a singular eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”
Draco gestured to the tree, then the decorations crammed into almost every available surface of the room. It should feel tacky. It should feel ridiculous. But it certainly didn’t. Instead, it felt like home in a way that Draco didn’t understand. “It’s all so–” Draco’s voice faltered, unsure how to properly articulate the words he wanted to say. “Beautiful.”
Harry was staring at him oddly, and for the first time all evening, Draco wasn’t able to read the expression painted on his face. “Have you never collected teeth around Christmas time?”
Draco shook his head, tucking his hands into the pockets of his skirt and resisting the urge to rock back and forth in his heels. He was sure to fall over if he did that. “No, I haven’t. I usually avoid working around any holiday.”
Harry’s face softened, and he came over to stand next to Draco, bumping him gently with his shoulder. “Well, then let me be the first to introduce you to the magic of holidays,” he joked, and his familiar grin spread across his face again. “You’ve been missing out on something pretty incredible.”
“Yeah,” Draco agreed easily, unashamed of the fact that he found the holiday to be quite more impressive than he’d anticipated.
“And!” Harry said excitedly, stepping over to the coffee table, picking up a plate that had been left out. “Here’s the best part about Christmas.” He held the plate out to Draco, and Draco was quite surprised to see there were two cookies on it, one shaped like a star and frosted in red, and the other shaped like a tree and frosted in green. “They always leave cookies and milk out for me. Like a little reward for doing my job.”
Draco stared down at the cookies unmoving, and Harry gently thrust the plate closer, urging Draco to take one. Draco picked the tree shaped cookie, watching Harry eagerly take the other, immediately biting into it.
“Sugar cookies are my favorite,” Harry informed Draco through a mouthful of the cookie, spewing crumbs back onto the now empty plate. “They’re the most common type, but sometimes we get a good variety throughout the night.”
Draco hummed softly, inspecting the cookie and trying to picture the little girl he’d just taken a tooth from spending time decorating the cookie with the hopes that Santa would be there to deliver her and her family presents. There was so much care and thought put into every aspect of Christmas that was simply lacking in visits from the Tooth Fairy. At most, Draco would occasionally get a letter from children, but that wasn’t frequent.
Taking a bite of the cookie, Draco was surprised by the flavor of the cookie. It was soft and buttery, the frosting sweet but not overly so, balancing out the cookie perfectly. Draco had eaten and made plenty of cookies, but there was something different about this cookie. A cookie left out in hopes of a nightly visitor bringing gifts and joy while the house slept on.
“Pretty good, right?” Harry asked, his cookie already gone, red frosting smeared against the corner of his mouth.
“Pretty good,” Draco echoed, and before he could think about whether it was a good idea, he leaned forward, thumb swiping over the frosting on Harry’s mouth. Harry startled at the touch, his eyes going wide behind his glasses, the lenses dotted with water from the long melted snowflakes. Draco paused, his thumb hovering between them both, unsure what to do with the frosting now.
Did he wipe it on his uniform? Did he risk going to the kitchen to wash his hands? Did he put it in his own mouth?
Harry takes action before Draco’s spinning mind can make a decision, leaning forward until he could take Draco’s thumb into his mouth, tongue swiping across the pad of Draco’s finger, chasing the sugary smear. Draco’s breath caught in his throat, eyes tracking the close of Harry’s lips around his thumb.
Harry’s tongue bathed Draco’s finger, then pulled back slowly, until it popped out of his mouth audibly. Their eyes were locked on one another, and the intensity in Harry’s gaze should scare Draco. No one had ever looked at him like that before—like they were barely holding themselves back from pouncing on Draco.
Draco didn’t know whether he wanted Harry’s composure to hold or not.
Harry set the plate down on the coffee table and stepped forward, into Draco’s space. He was a little bit shorter than Draco was, and the heels only added to the height difference, causing Harry to have to look up at Draco. His hands settled on Draco’s waist, absent of gloves, and Draco shivered as their bare skin brushed together.
Draco was still holding his half eaten cookie, and he fumbled to figure out what to do with his other hand, flitting nervously between Harry’s chest, shoulder, and hair. Harry huffed out a warm laugh, but offered no help, instead leaning forward until he could take the rest of Draco’s cookie into his mouth, coating his upper lip in the green frosting in a way that had to be intentional.
Draco’s breathing was shallow and rapid, eyes staring at the colour on Harry’s mouth and wondering whether he could lean forward and clean it up. He wasn’t sure if that was a brave or a foolish thing to do. Harry was, after all, a Santa, and Draco had been doing his best to not do stupid things like fall for Harry.
But as his hands found their place—one on Harry’s shoulder and the other in his hair—he let his logic fly out the window, dragging Harry closer until their mouths met, his tongue darting out to find the frosting painted on Harry’s lip. Harry groaned into Draco’s mouth, his hands tightening on Draco’s hips, pulling him closer.
The Santa uniform was warm even from the outside, and although Draco was no longer freezing thanks to the heated house, he still shivered at the warmth of Harry’s clothes and the body inside of them. Harry’s mouth was wet and tasted like sugar from the cookie he’d just eaten and the ones he’d likely eaten in the previous houses, and distantly, Draco realized that he could very easily become addicted to this feeling. This taste.
Their tongues met, sliding together in a way that should be uncomfortable but was anything but. One of Harry’s hands left Draco’s hip, pressing flat against the base of Draco’s spine and moving upwards, fingers darting just under the hem of Draco’s tank top. Draco’s skin was tingling everywhere they were touching, and he twisted his fingers in Harry’s curls, giving them a firm tug that had Harry moaning, staggering forward and forcing Draco back a step. His heels wobbled threateningly below him, but Harry’s hands were steadying, keeping him upright.
Draco’s lungs were burning in his chest, but he didn’t want to come up for air. He didn’t want the kiss to break and shatter the moment between them. Draco’s rational thoughts had long since vacated his brain, and frankly, Draco didn’t want them back. Not when they prevented him from snogging Harry right here in the middle of a stranger’s living room.
Draco’s friends were going to lose their minds when he told them about this whole night.
Harry pulled away first, leaving only a small gap between their mouths to allow them both to suck in a breath, but his hands didn’t move from their holds on Draco’s body.
“You taste like sugar,” Draco blurted once he had adequate breath back.
Harry laughed, low and warm across Draco’s face. “So do you.”
Then they were kissing again, mouths sliding together like this was their hundredth kiss instead of just their second. The hand on Draco’s hip pulled him closer, as though there was anywhere else to go, and Draco moaned as their crotches brushed. Harry was half hard through the layer of his trousers, and Draco was well on his way there.
Unannounced, Harry pulled back, panting. Draco swayed forward, but Harry hadn’t removed his hands, and it prevented Draco from falling over. “Sorry,” Harry breathed, his voice ragged and strained. “Sorry.” Draco wasn’t exactly sure what Harry was apologizing for, but his heart sank thinking that Harry had regretted what they’d just done.
His hand slid from Harry’s hair, but Harry didn’t let him withdraw completely.
“That was fantastic, but we really don’t have time for this,” Harry went on, looking so terribly earnest that it dispelled the worry that had sprung up in Draco’s mind. “We still have a lot of kids to visit, and we need to leave plenty of time to get back to your aircraft, too.”
Draco licked his lips, struggling to find a single coherent thought in his head. “Right, yes. We have a job to do.” It was difficult to think about something like a job when Harry had just made out with him like they had all the time in the world. Like he would have gone further if their responsibilities weren’t pulling them away.
Harry removed the hand from Draco’s back, and it hovered in the air briefly before brushing Draco’s hair away from his face, his fingers brushing rather deliberately against Draco’s cheek. “Can we take a raincheck on this?” He asked, his voice low in a way that made Draco shiver.
“Yeah,” Draco agreed with no hesitation, barely able to resist the urge to lean forward and press their lips together again. He wasn’t sure either of them would have the strength to pull away for a second time.
“Yeah?” Harry echoed, mouth breaking into another grin.
“Yeah.”
Harry let go of Draco slowly, then turned to the glass of milk still on the coffee table. “You want any?”
“No, thank you.” Draco brushed down his skirt, pleased that the flimsy fabric wasn’t tented with his own arousal. Harry downed the milk with little to no effort, scooping up his sack and gesturing to the chimney politely. Draco rolled his eyes but stepped forward eagerly.
The air was still just as cold as before, and the snow was blowing down just as quickly, dusting their sleigh in a light layer. Draco stumbled over to it, shaking out his blanket and plopping back down in his seat, shivering as he fumbled to tuck the blanket back around himself.
Harry joined him a moment later, the coat already open and the left side waiting for Draco to get inside. Gratefully, Draco thrust his arm into the sleeve, and had no hesitation this time as he pressed himself into Harry’s warm side. Harry smiled at him, transferring his hat back onto Draco’s head.
“Thanks,” Draco murmured, biting his lip briefly before leaning over and kissing Harry’s warm cheek. Colour broke out across Harry’s face, though it was barely visible under Harry’s complexion. He ducked his head rather bashfully, but didn’t have a chance to respond before his radio crackled to life.
“Harry?” Charlie asked. “Are you there?”
Harry pulled his attention away from Draco to grab the device, clicking the button along the side. “I’m here.”
“Good, you didn’t answer my call earlier. Hey, so, I got the aircraft fixed up and running, but I had to bring it back to my workshop. If you want this to stay off the books like you asked for, someone is going to need to come and pick it up tonight. I have an inspection first thing in the morning, and having a Tooth Fairy vehicle in the shop is going to be very suspicious, considering I’m only meant to be working on sleighs right now.”
Harry grinned as his friend rambled, looking over at Draco as though they were sharing some sort of secret, and Draco couldn’t help the way his mouth twitched up towards a smile.
“Yeah, okay, we can come pick it up tonight after we finish up with the kids,” Harry promised, the silly, endearing grin still on his face. “Thanks a lot, Charlie. I owe you one.”
Charlie’s laughter filtered through the radio, and Draco found that he was looking forward to meeting Charlie in person later that night. “I’m pretty sure you owe me at least a dozen, but don’t worry about it. Just get here when you can, I’ll be waiting.”
Harry didn’t bother answering, placing the radio back on the dash and turning back to Draco, his smile turning a bit more sheepish. “Well? What do you think?” He asked, knocking his shoulder lightly against Draco’s inside the coat. “Can you handle spending the rest of the night stuck with me?”
Draco rolled his eyes just to be dramatic, fighting the upturn of his lips. Truthfully, the idea of spending the rest of the night with Harry, sneaking into houses to do their respective jobs, and sharing cookies and kisses sounded like the absolute best way to get through the rest of the evening.
Instead of voicing any of that, Draco just huffed, smirking at Harry, picking up his side of the reins. “I suppose I might be able to handle that.”
Harry’s smile was dazzling and joyous, warm and bright. He grabbed his rein, and together they directed the reindeer into the night sky, taking off to the next house on their route.