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“What?” Harry asks, finally lifting his head from the pillow. “What do you mean Ismelda isn’t having a Christmas party this year?”
Hermione doesn’t look up from the book she’s reading, head resting on Ron’s belly.
They’re currently in the living room of Ron and Hermione’s flat, Ron and Harry watching a movie and Hermione reading.
“Esmeralda,” Hermione corrects absent-mindedly. “Adelaide and her just adopted a kid, so it’s not the best time for them. Why do you even care? You barely know her.”
Harry doesn’t know her at all. Esmeralda is Hermione’s muggle friend’s boyfriend’s sister’s girlfriend, or something of the sort, but she invites them to her Christmas party every year.
And really, Harry doesn’t even care about the party. The only reason he’s been looking forward to it all month - all year, if he’s being honest with himself, which he’s not - is because after the War, Malfoy completely disappeared to live a Muggle life.
Somehow, he ended up in the same College as Esmeralda, so he’s always at that party, and it’s the only time Harry ever sees him.
“I… like her.” Harry lies.
Hermione cocks an eyebrow without bothering to look at him. “Do you?”
“Nah, he doesn’t.” Ron says, not taking his eyes away from the movie. “He’s been waiting to see Malfoy all year.”
“Oh,” Hermione says. “Right.”
“What?” Harry asks, voice coming out higher than he’d like. “I have not.”
“You have,” Both Ron and Hermione say.
Harry scowls at them. “I’m going to get better friends.” he threatens. “Ones that’ll let me lie all I want.”
Hermione snickers. “Sure thing, Harry.”
Ron pauses the movie. “So?”
“So, what?” Harry asks.
“So what are we going to do to get you to see Malfoy?” Ron cocks an eyebrow.
“What?” Harry asks.
Hermione rolls her eyes, but sits up and closes her book.
“Well, we’re going to do something.” She says. “Otherwise you’ll be moping all year. And hey, maybe this year you’ll finally ask him out on a date, and you’ll shag and you’ll finally get that kicked puppy look off your face anytime you think about him.”
“Which is more often than it should be, mate.” Ron says.
Harry’s face heats. “I do not-”
“Are you going to spend the time we have lying to us, or are we going to plan a way to get you and Malfoy in the same room?” Hermione asks flatly.
Harry’s face heats further.
“The second one.” He says quietly.
“Good,” She says. “Now, let’s see. We can’t just throw a party, because Malfoy would never come. Who do we know whose party he would come to?”
It clicks for the three of them at the same time.
“Luna.”
“A party?” Luna asks softly, later, when they’re all sitting in the living room of her and Ginny’s apartment.
“Yup,” Harry says. “A Christmas Party.”
“Is this so you can see Malfoy?” Ginny asks, smirking.
Harry throws his hands up, exasperated.
“Does everyone know about that?” he asks.
“It can be an Ugly Sweater Party!” Luna says excitedly. “Oh, that’ll be lovely!”
“It has to be this Friday, though.” Ginny says.
“What?” Ron asks. “That’s in two days.”
“Why this Friday?” Hermione asks.
“Luna and I are going away for the Holidays on Saturday.” Ginny says.
“We can do it on Friday, here.” Luna says. “It’ll be no problem. Oh! And we can bake Christmas cookies, and Gingerbred men, and write letters to Santa!”
Two days later, Harry finds that Luna’s wrong. It is a problem. On a two day notice, the only sweater Harry can get is one that says ‘KISS ME UNDER THE MISTLETOE’, which wouldn’t be so bad, except it has mistletoe haging just above his crotch.
“It is horrible, Hermione.” He complains.
Hermione’s barely holding back a laugh, but she manages to respond. “It’ll be fine, Harry.”
“No! I might as well not go, this’ll only make me look ridiculous!” He says.
“Harry Potter, you made Luna and Ginny throw a Christmas Party with a two days notice, you have to go.”
Harry groans. “Fine. But this won’t make him date me.”
“Be positive,” Hermione sing-songs, grabbing a pinch of floo powder.
Harry sighs and follows her.
For the first few hours of the party, the only thing Harry does is stare at the door and drink Eggnog. A lot of people showed up, which is nice, except that they keep getting in his line of vision and he might’ve missed the stupid blond-
Just as he’s scowling to himself, the door opens, and a familiar figure steps in.
Malfoy’s wearing a blue sweater with Santa riding a Dinosaur, and it should look uglier than it does, but on him Harry can’t help but think it looks breath-taking.
Malfoy goes over to say hello to Luna and Ginny, and then begins talking to a girl Harry doesn’t know.
Harry spends the whole party awkwardly following him around. Every time he decides to talk to him, he takes two steps and loses his nerve, walking away again. He must look like some sort of creep now, he’s sure, and his only consolation is that Malfoy hasn’t noticed.
“Nice sweater, Potter.” Someone drops on the seat next to his, and Harry looks at Malfoy with wide eyes.
He’d already sat on the couch, giving up on ever talking to Malfoy, and now here he is! Maybe he should’ve given up sooner.
Malfoy frowns, Harry laughs stiffly, remembering that Malfoy had said something. “It was the best I could find.”
Malfoy flashes a small smile. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks softer, more relaxed, and Harry realizes he’s more than a little bit drunk.
“So,” he says. “What was it you wanted to talk to me all night about?”
Shit. Maybe Malfoy did notice.
“What?” Harry asks, as casually as he can.
“I noticed you following me around.” Malfoy says. There’s an almost imperceptible slurr in his voice.
Shit.
“I kept waiting for you to talk to me, but I think you gave up.”
“I’m sor- what?” Harry asks, surprised. “You wanted me to talk to you?”
Malfoy grins lightly. “Well, yeah. We only ever see each other once a year. I kept waiting for you to ask me out, but you didn’t.” He pouts. “So I have to do it myself. Do you want to go out with me?”
Harry swallows. This is everything he wants, and, at the same time, not it at all.
“You’re drunk.” he says. Malfoy evidently wouldn’t say these things to him if he were sober-
“A little courage,” Malfoy shrugs lightly. “But I know what I want. I’ve known for a - for a while now. Kept waiting for you to take the first step, like an idiot.”
There’s a pause.
“It’s alright if you say no,” Malfoy says. He looks like a lost puppy, and he begins to say no. “I’m sorry, Potter-”
“No!” Harry says quickly, grabbing Malfoy’s hand to stop him from leaving.
Of course, being more than a bit drunk, Malfoy doesn’t have great balance, so the action sends him toppling onto Harry’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” Harry says. “I do want to go out with you. I just didn’t want to agree to anything while you’re drunk, because you’ll regret it-”
“I won’t,” Malfoy says softly. “Just like I won’t regret this.”
And he presses his lips to Harry’s.
Harry’s brain short-circuits for a full five seconds before he begins to kiss back. Malfoy’s lips are the best thing Harry’s ever felt, and he never wants to stop. He grabs onto Malfoy’s hips, and Malfoy wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him closer, and it’s perfect-
“Oi!” Ron yells, throwing a pillow at them that hits Harry’s cheeks. “Get a room you randy bastards!”
Harry glares, but Draco merely giggles.
“Maybe we should,” he whispers to Harry. “I mean, it is tradition to kiss under the mistletoe,”
It takes Harry a moment to understand that he’s talking about his sweater.
“Yeah?” Draco asks shyly.
“I’m - that’s - you-” Harry begins, and gives up on trying to form a sentence. “Yeah. Definitely.”
And Harry grabs Draco’s thighs and lifts him up.
“Side along?” He asks. “To my place?”
Draco smiles softly. “Yeah.”
They grin at each other.