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“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday…”
Harry hummed along to Brenda Lee’s voice through the open window, his head bobbing in time as he strung lights around the patio. He wove them between the lattices to create straight, bright lines, careful and sure. In previous years, Harry would have hung them haphazardly, a riotous mess of color and tangled cords. This year however, Draco had requested the lights follow some semblance of geometry, compromising that the color could still be rainbow (“though orange lighting makes my complexion look absolutely frightful”) as long as there was symmetry.
Draco was a new addition to Harry’s Christmas routine, and he loved it. He loved Draco’s thoughtful orderliness, the pinch in his brow as he color-sorted his sock drawer, the careful way he counted three sugars into his tea. He especially loved Draco’s delicate side, when he sighed contentedly into Harry’s arms after a long day, wrapping himself into Harry’s chest as if he wished to stay there forever. Harry would let him. It had only been nine months, but Harry wanted to build a home in his heart for Draco to feel safe in.
As if summoned by Harry’s thoughts alone, Draco stepped out on the porch. He was holding two mugs of hot chocolate and the steam rose to his ears, turning them pink in the cold.
“How’s it going? Need any help?”
“Almost done here,” Harry patted the porch railing. “Just on the last one.”
Draco set the mugs down and walked out into the street a few steps, surveying Harry’s handiwork. Even from this distance, Harry could see how his mouth curved up in a small, pleased smile.
“It’s perfect.”
“Yeah?” Harry jumped off the porch and walked towards him, thick-soled boots crunching into the snow. The icy wind wormed its way under his collar as he pressed his cheek against Draco’s green jumper.
“Yeah,” Draco said into Harry’s hair. “Just wait one second, no peeking.”
Harry pressed his nose into the hollow of Draco’s throat, breathing softly. He felt Draco’s arms rise and heard a gentle rustling. Opening his eyes, he turned to see the porch columns sprouting evergreen branches adorned with small red berries. The string lights were threaded through the newly formed branches, casting their home in a rainbow glow.
“Merry Christmas Harry.”
“Merry Christmas Draco.”