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“No, no, no. Absolutely not.”
“The others are all paired up,” Harry shrugged, “we don’t have much choice, if we want to take part in the sleigh ride.”
“Can you not go with your Weasley girl or something?”
“We broke up, Malfoy. Three months ago. The whole school knows.”
Of course Draco already knew. “It’s not like I care about who you’re going out with, Potter.”
“Alrigh’, hurry up, we’re ready to go!” cried Hagrid’s thunderous voice over the whirling wind.
“Come on, we risk being left behind,” Harry said, mounting the wooden sleigh and waiting for Malfoy to do the same.
The blond boy scoffed and grumpily accepted Harry’s hand, then sat down on the sleigh next to him. “I should’ve stayed inside; I’m just freezing out here.”
Harry half-smiled. “Nah, it will be fun.”
Next to him, though, Draco was really freezing. His warm, wool, fur-lined coat wasn’t enough to keep the Slytherin warm, and he was shaking. His cheeks were red from the cold, and snow was melting on his head and slithering down his neck. He cast a warming charm on himself, putting both his gloved hands on his lap, ready for the ride to start.
From far away they heard Hagrid’s whistle, and at once 20 identical sleighs set into motion, each one with runners painted a deep red, and each one pulled by a pair of thestrals. Harry recalled when he and Luna were the only one who could see them. Now, after the Battle of Hogwarts, after the war, there were very few people left who couldn’t. Harry wandered if, next to him, Malfoy was thinking the same. Sure, the Slytherin wasn’t exactly Harry’s ideal company for a sleigh ride, but for some reason he didn’t mind. The boy was strangely quiet, his bright, grey eyes fixed on the elegant black creatures.
Harry cleared his throat. “You can see them too.”
“What?” Malfoy drawled, pretending not to know what Harry was talking about.
“The thestrals. You can see them.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I’m sorry. I mean, they’re beautiful, but we pay too high a price to see such stunning creatures.”
Malfoy sighed. “Wasn’t this supposed to be fun?”
Harry chuckled. “Am I boring you?”
“I didn’t exactly came here to talk about the war, Potter.”
Harry mentally smacked himself. “Oh, right. Sure. It was just to start the conversation.”
“Sure you can think of something else,” Malfoy replied, just as they took a curve next to a huge pine tree.
“You could make an effort too and come out with a different topic.”
“To be honest, I’d rather not talk at all.”
“Oh.” Harry felt stupid. He was trying, really trying, to talk to Malfoy, to understand him, but the boy remained an unsolved mystery.
“Don’t take it too personally. I’m just not that fond of Christmas anymore.” There was a strange look on Malfoy’s face, something bordering on sadness and longing for something lost. The sight made Harry’s heart clench painfully.
On and on they went. Harry could hear bursts of laughter coming from the sleighs ahead of them, and wished he was with their friends now. Understandably, Ron and Hermione had wanted to go together, and so had Neville and Luna, Dean and Seamus… he couldn’t help but be jealous at the thought they all had someone special next to them to share this experience with, while Harry was stuck with a grumpy Malfoy who didn’t even want to talk. Not grumpy, sad, Harry corrected himself, stealing another glance at his companion, who was watching the snowy landscape and resolutely ignoring Harry.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” Malfoy whipped around to glare at Harry. “Is the view not good enough for you?”
“Uh?” Harry said stupidly. “N-no, you-you just look…”
“Look what?” Malfoy snapped.
“Sad. You look sad.”
“That’s none of your business, Potter. I’ve already told you, I don’t really care for Christmas.”
But Harry couldn’t just let it go. “Surely there’s something you want for Christmas. If you could make one wish, what would you ask for?”
“Why does it matter? What I want it’s something no amount of money could ever buy.” Malfoy’s voice was low now, barely audible over the wild wind.
Of course Malfoy didn’t want an expensive coat or a new broomstick. He wanted something he couldn’t have. But what was it? “What-” Harry started, but Malfoy cut him off.
“It’s none of your business, Potter. Merlin, you’re insufferable. I really dunno why I like you so much.”
Harry’s gasp was so loud the wind seemed tame in comparison. “You… what?”
Malfoy seemed to realise what he’d just said a second too late, for his eyes went comically wide and he covered his mouth with both hands, a cherry red hue tinting his already frozen cheeks.
“You really like me, don’t you?” Harry tried again. “But why didn’t you tell me earlier? I honestly thought you couldn’t stand me.”
Malfoy pressed his lips angrily, then took a deep breath. “Come on, Potter, I can’t exactly hope to have a single chance, when you have dozens of admirers, all beautiful, all happy, all innocent. It’s not like you’d choose someone like me.”
Harry blinked twice. “I…for the record, I don’t think any of my admirers is prettier than you.” Malfoy flushed furiously at those words. “And anyway,” Harry continued, “You’re innocent too. You wouldn’t be sitting here next to me if you weren’t.”
Harry could swear he could see tears well up behind Malfoy’s eyes, but the boy willed them back. “Of course, you see the good in everyone, even when there’s nothing good to see. Why did you broke up with Girl Weasley, anyway?”
Harry didn’t want to talk about Ginny. He wanted to talk about Malfoy’s feelings for him. They’d always been obsessed with each other. What if there really was something more between them? “She wasn’t the one,” he simply said at last.
“Oh. So you’re looking for your one true love?”
Harry shrugged. “You could say that.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
“You know, what,” Harry snapped, “you’re infuriating! First you confess your feelings to me, then you go back to being cold and mean. What do I make of that?”
“That was unintentional,” Malfoy said defensively. “Confessing my feelings.” He lowered his eyes, staring intently at his lap.
“And the worst part is that, even though you’re being a total prat, I still want to kiss you.”
Malfoy’s head snapped up. “W-what?”
Now it was Harry’s turn to widen his eyes in shock. Did he really say that out loud?
“You really want to?” Malfoy asked uncertainly.
“I do. Can’t even fathom why, but I do.”
Malfoy laughed. It was so refreshing, even though the boy was laughing at him, that Harry couldn’t even have it in himself to feel offended. He just smiled back. “What a compliment, Potter. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t act so innocent, you’re the one who keeps insulting me.”
Malfoy looked outraged. “That was you!”
“Mhh, pretty sure it was you.”
“No!”
During their banter they’d gotten closer to each other, whether intentionally or not they didn’t know. Harry only knew he was suddenly so close to Malfoy he could see every single snowflake clinging to the boy’s pale eyelashes as Malfoy blinked up at him. He was close enough to hear Malfoy swallow nervously, to feel his breath on his cheek. Harry was shivering, both from the cold and from anticipation. And damn everything, damn the fact Malfoy was a pain in the arse, Harry wanted to kiss him, right there on that sleigh, while the wind sang and the snowflakes danced for them.
Malfoy shivered when Harry’s frozen fingers tilted his chin up, bringing their lips together in a kiss that was cold and scorching hot at the same time. Harry had never been kissed like this, like he was the only one in the world, like the world itself didn’t exist beyond their lips touching, their arms grasping and clutching at each other, as if they were inside of a snow globe and nothing mattered beside this.
“Is this what you wanted?” Harry mouthed on Malfoy’s cheek, tucking a blond strand behind the boy’s ear. “Is this what you wished for?”
Malfoy’s eyes were as bright as the snow. “Yes,” he breathed, “yes, it is.”
“Good. ‘Cause I want to do this again. With your permission of course.”
Malfoy smiled. “Just shut up and kiss me, Potter.”
“It’s Harry. Will you call me Harry?”
“Not a chance. You have to do much more than just kiss me for me to call you that.”
Harry laughed, then pressed his lips on Malfoy’s once again, his mind supplying him with delicious images of Malfoy whispering his name while they were tangled in bedsheets. For now though, they could only enjoy the rest of the ride, and if they didn’t pay attention to the snowy landscape it wasn’t really their fault.
People are always a bit distracted when they’re in love.