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Harry woke up to a soft melody playing in the distance. He rubbed his eyes to chase away the sleepiness, hanging on to the distant notes that sounded strangely familiar.
It was very late, the room was almost pitch black, only a small sliver of moonlight coming in from the window. It was also eerily silent, if one didn’t count the music. No breathing apart from Harry's own, no warmth coming from the other side of the bed. Draco wasn’t there.
Harry started to panic. Where the hell was Draco? And why did their neighbours think it was a good idea to play music so late at night? He got up, setting the blankets aside and shivering from the cold, barely awake to put his slippers on.
He staggered out of the room and on the corridor, then noticed the lit up garlands wrapped on the banister of the staircase leading down to the living room. He didn’t remember putting all these decorations up. The garlands sparkled with gold and silver lights. Maybe it was silly, but these two colours together made Harry think of him and Draco. Two opposites that somehow worked wonderfully together.
Had Draco put up the garlands? Why would he do this in the middle of the night? Harry started down the steps, following the green spires with his fingertips, and the warm notes that, he now was certain of it, came from the piano in the living room. The music grew louder and louder with every step he took.
Harry reached the living room and almost gasped at the scene: the Christmas tree sparkled in the centre of the room, and there was Draco, still in his green pyjamas, sitting at the piano and surrounded by dozens of candles. His hands flew on the keyboard, playing what Harry now recognised as his favourite Christmas carol, O holy night.
He’d heard that song as a kid, when Aunt Petunia had begrudgingly taken him with her to shop for Christmas presents to avoid leaving him home alone. The melody had stuck with him ever since, and Harry felt himself tear up at the nostalgic feeling it brought. Back then he never would have imagined one day he’d be so loved; he was just a lonely and misunderstood child. Now Draco had taken that song and turned it into something beautiful, just for him.
Harry silently stepped closer, eyes glistening and heart singing happily. “That’s a strange way for you to wake me up, I must admit, but I can’t deny it’s beautiful.”
Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. “You prat! Don’t do that, you scared me to death! If I die of a heart attack, then you’ll have to spend Christmas alone.”
Harry raised both hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. To be honest, you’re the one who scared me first. I thought there was a ghost in the house! The music, the candles…”
Understanding downed on Draco’s face. “The music, oh no! This was supposed to be your Christmas Eve gift, now you’ve spoiled yourself the surprise!”
Harry smiled. “No offence, my love, but waking me up in the middle of the night by playing the piano has hardly anything to do with me spoiling the surprise.”
Draco pouted. “You hated it.”
“No, I didn’t,” Harry said, reaching out to put both hands on Draco’s shoulders. “I loved it. Very, very much.”
“You did?”
Harry wiped a stray tear with the sleeve of his pyjama top. “It was perfect. You know what that song means to me.”
Draco nodded. “I know.”
“Thank you,” Harry whispered, dragging Draco closer to envelop him in a tight hug. “I love you.”
Draco smiled against his cheek. “Love you too.”
“Any chance of you playing that again?”
“Anything for you, my love.”