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Soft music echoed through the lit-up windows, glittering with frosted garlands. A wreath with a velvet red bow almost took up the entire front door, as Draco walked the snowy steps, then stopped, as though frozen in time.
The snow kept twirling and whirling around him, while an explosion of cheer and laughter awaited him on the other side of the door. He stayed still, a hand raised over the knocker, unsure whether to take up the courage and knock or run away. This wasn’t his place, these weren’t his people. Granger had been kind enough to invite him, yet still Draco feared rejection, suspicion, disdain, knowing he deserved that, he deserved anything bad that happened to him.
Sighing, he lowered his hand and turned back, walking down the frozen steps, away from something his heart achingly yearned for. But before he reached the bottom of the staircase, the door behind him opened, and time seemed to freeze once more.
“Wait,” a voice called. A voice Draco would’ve recognised anywhere. “Why don’t you come in? There’s food and drinks, and it’s warmer inside.”
“Thank you, but no. I’m not supposed to be here, and you know it. It’s better if I just go,” Draco replied without turning around.
“That’s not true. We want you here. Just come inside, you’ll see for yourself.”
Unbidden, tears welled up in Draco’s eyes. Could it be that these people really wanted his company? He didn’t really believed that, but something warm swelled in his chest, and he walked back to the house, meeting bright, green eyes as Harry Potter kept the door open for him.
Draco sighed in relief at the warmth in the candlelit living room. Cheery guests clad in velvet and wool crowded the sofas, and dozens of garlands glittered on the walls. The music came from a brass gramophone on the mantelpiece, and in the grate crackled a warm fire.
Potter took Draco’s coat and scarf, and a minute later reappeared with a sparkling drink. “Here, this will warm you up a bit.” As Draco took a sip of his drink, people welcomed him as if he was an old friend, as if he was one of them. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind!” Granger greeted him. “How wonderful to have you here!” Lovegood exclaimed, and Draco was all the more confused. He clutched his glass as a lifeline, feeling completely lost but also strangely comforted.
“We knew you’d be alone this Christmas, and thought it would be a good thing if you’d join us tonight,” came Lovegood’s singsong voice again.
“So you took pity on me,” Draco replied, immediately catching himself and biting his lip.
“No,” someone said from behind him, “that’s not pity. That’s simply kindness.”
Draco turned around, only to find himself face to face with Potter once again. “In that case, thank you,” he whispered.
Potter only nodded. “Well, I believe it’s time for us to serve the pudding.” With that, he darted for the kitchen, Granger and Lovegood in tow, leaving Draco standing in a corner of the living room. Draco scanned the room for an empty seat, and found one on the opposite corner, next to the fireplace. He discretely crossed the room and sat on the edge of a plush-looking tartan armchair.
Potter came back bearing a huge silver plate, which he placed on a small wooden table in the middle of the room. A fluffy pudding, decorated with holly and berries, lay on the plate, ready to be cut and eaten by the eager guests. “You know the rule,” Potter exclaimed, “whoever finds the silver ring will find love within the next year!”
A chorus of ohhhs filled the room, but Draco stayed silent. He didn’t believe in silly Christmas traditions; being here was more than enough already. He accepted a slice of pudding with a polite nod, internally congratulating the baker. It was delicious. Draco closed his eyes as he savoured the dessert, lost in his own world, until someone squeaked loudly and he was forced to open them again. Every head in the room was turned towards him, dozens of wide eyes boring curiously into his own, confused ones.
And then Draco realised. He was the one who’d squeaked so loudly. And he knew precisely why he’d done it. As he was chewing on his pudding, something rigid clanged against his teeth. Draco retrieved it as elegantly as he could, holding it up in front of his eyes. And there it was, a small, silver ring. People were laughing and clapping all around him, but Draco couldn’t tear his eyes from the silver band.
“You’ve found it!” Longbottom cried, incredulous. “That’s really lucky, mate.”
Draco blinked, his head buzzing and cutting out all sounds. The music disappeared, the voices muffled, as he finally raised his eyes, only to meet Potter’s glance once again. There was a smile on his face, one that brought with it the promise of something good, something beautiful. It was as if the rest of the world was on hold, and the two of them were the only ones left in the room.
Draco didn’t understand why, or how, but somehow he knew things were going to be okay. He knew, deep in his heart, that this was not the last Christmas he would spend at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was only the first.
And with that thought in mind, for the first time that evening, he smiled.