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In Harry’s dream, he sat in the Great Hall with all his friends. He was trying to talk to Draco across the table, but his mouth wasn’t working. It would figure that, as soon as he decided it was time to say something, his lips would be sealed shut.
The dream went odd. Ron came to sit beside Harry. He had a plate of food so large that he grunted when he put it down, and the table trembled ominously. Ron shook Harry’s shoulder.
“Harry, wake up.”
The Great Hall faded. Harry fought to stay. He needed to tell Draco—
“Harry.”
Disappointed, Harry opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling of Ron’s room. Beside him, Ron and Ginny stood flushed and with their hands on their hips.
“Get up,” Ron said, gruff. “It’s Christmas. You have gifts.”
He and Ginny left. Harry sighed and rolled back over. Maybe he could go back to the dream. . .
Something shuffled at the foot of his camp bed, and Harry’s eyes shot open.
He peered over the bedside edge. The end of one gift was visible. Heart thumping, Harry watched it. It moved again.
Summoning his courage (had he used it all up during the war?), Harry peered over the end of his bed. His jaw dropped.
Wrapped from mouth to foot was Draco Malfoy. Nonplussed, Draco raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘Well?’
Harry’s neck and face heated beyond measure. He crawled off the bed and pulled the ribbon down from Draco’s mouth. Draco huffed a great breath.
“I don’t know why that was necessary,” he snipped. “Are these Weasleys always so barbaric?”
“You’ll get used to it.” The smile Harry’s mouth pulled toward ended up aborted. “Draco—what. . . Why are you here?”
Draco turned uncertain. “Is it not obvious?”
Harry blinked. “We said we weren’t going to exchange gifts.”
“Ah, but this isn’t from me.”
Smirking, Draco pointed downward with his chin. On his chest said:
To: Harry
Love From: Ron and Ginny
The absurdity of it all hit Harry. He couldn’t help it: he started to laugh, Draco along with him. This was so stupid, yet great. This was a wonderful gift. And yet, why had Draco agreed to this?
His answer lay in the gentle fondness of Draco’s gaze and warm grin.
“So?” A tremble in Draco’s voice betrayed his nerves. “Are you going to unwrap your gift?”
“In a minute,” Harry said as he was already bending down.
Draco’s mouth tasted like peppermint. His lips were soft, and Draco lifted his chin into the kiss. One wouldn’t be enough. When he and Draco gazed at each other afterward, their noses brushing, Draco clearly agreed.
“Harry,” Draco whispered.
“Right.” Harry started peeling at the wrapping.
“No, don’t worry about that.” Draco wriggled. “I want you to. . .”
To kiss him again, Harry thought. However, when Harry leaned down, Draco turned his face.
He bore an impish smirk. “But do please take this stupid bow off my head first, love.”