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“Draco, sweetie. Don’t you think you’ve bought him enough presents already?”
“Absolutely not, what are you talking about?” Draco shoved another box of ridiculously obnoxious boxers into Pansy’s arms, already crammed with rainbow socks, Quidditch-themed pyjamas, and a bunch of the softest headbands Draco had ever seen. “Hm. What do you think?” He pulled out two other sets of boxers from the back of the shelf. “Nifflers with antlers or Kneazles with Santa hats? Why am I even asking. Nifflers with antlers, of course. Come on, let’s pay for all of this, we still need to visit Honeyduke’s before they close.”
“You’re impossible. Too far gone. Love has officially ruined you,” she said as she followed him to the front of the shop. He blew her a kiss over his shoulder.
Once he got back home, he took the gifts—perhaps not completely reasonable in amount, even if he’d never say it out loud—out of his magically expanded satchel and took his time placing them under Harry’s stocking. Images of Harry opening them, laughing, calling him an idiot, calling him his idiot, and squealing and grinning all the while filled Draco’s thoughts, and by the time he was done and had cast the Vanishing Charm that would make the stack of gifts undetectable until the early hours of the 25th, he himself was grinning so much his face was starting to hurt.
A little while later, when Harry got home—clutching his own bag close to himself and failing spectacularly at acting casual—Draco hid his smile in the crook of Harry’s neck, hugged his waist lightly, kissed him behind the ear, and announced he’d be taking a bath now, and wouldn’t disturb Harry for an hour or so while he attended his own matters.