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“Draco, how much longer is this going to take?” Harry said when Draco tried putting on the fireplace for the third time in a row. “I don’t know, Harry. I’ve never done this before, you know…” Draco reiterated while his hands tried to ignite the fire with the lighter he had found in a basket.
Just moments earlier, Harry and Draco had been sitting next to each other on the couch, surrounded by all their friends while Christmas music played in the background. Then, when it was time to open gifts, Draco opened a letter that read, “Figure it out already!” and, with a loud swoosh, vanished. Upon opening their eyes, Harry and Draco found themselves in a cabin in the middle of who knows where, amidst a snowstorm, and with no wands near them.
“Well, let me try,” Harry said. “I’ve done this before.”
Draco gave him a look. “You could’ve just said that earlier instead of watching me fail miserably.”
“Yes, but it wouldn’t have been funny, would it?” Harry smirked.
Draco rolled his eyes and sat down next to him. Finally, Harry lit the fireplace and stood up to walk toward the window. It was completely white outside, a snowstorm howling. “I am not even going to attempt to open this window. Looks like we are stuck here.” “Are you sure?” Draco said from where he was sitting in front of the fire. “Let me see.” He stood up and, in a couple of steps, was in front of the door, hand on the handle. “Don’t open that—” and with a whoosh, Draco came crashing down with a pile of snow that had been stacked against the door.
“Oh, Draco, are you okay?” Harry rushed forward to help free Draco, and as soon as he was free, Harry burst out laughing at the sight before him: snow piled up in Draco’s hair and eyebrows made him look even paler and more ghostlike than he already was.
“Stop laughing, you prick,” Draco pouted, scooping a handful of snow and packing it into a ball before tossing it straight at Harry. “Hey! That was mean—I wasn’t prepared!” Harry yelped as the snowball hit him square in the shoulder. He quickly retaliated, grabbing a fistful of snow from the floor and launching it back at Draco.
“Oh, it is on!” Draco shouted, already firing off a rapid succession of snowballs like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. Harry ducked behind a chair for cover, laughing as he tried to form another snowball while Draco hurled three more in his direction.
Snow was flying everywhere—on the rug, across the furniture, and all over both of them—Draco’s hair now completely dusted white again. Harry popped up from behind the chair long enough to throw two quick shots back, one hitting Draco square in the chest, the other exploding harmlessly by his feet.
“You call that aim?” Draco taunted, bending down to gather more ammunition. “Pathetic.” “Oh, keep talking,” Harry said, grinning as he prepared another snowball. “You’re going to regret it.”
The cabin echoed with laughter, thuds of snow, and Draco’s dramatic yelps every time Harry managed a direct hit—neither of them remotely concerned about the mess forming around them or the storm raging just outside the door.
“Okay! Stop! Truce?” Harry exclaimed after a particular snowball knocked his glasses off his face. “You’re just saying that because you lost,” Draco teased, grinning smugly at him.
“Okay, yeah, maybe—I admit it—you beat me, okay?” he held up his hands in defeat while shaking out his dark hair, snow falling down onto the wooden floor. Harry started walking over to the fireplace that had been put out by the gust of wind constantly coming through. “Hey, Draco, try closing the door, would you? I’m not trying to freeze to death.”
Draco closed the door, having to scoop up heaps of snow to succeed. Next, he sat down next to Harry, who got the fire to work again. “So what now?” he asked, and Draco just shook his head. “I’ve got no idea.” Together, they sat in front of the fire, barely any distance between them, and stared into the flames.
—
Beyond the snowstorm, beyond the mountains and the trees, in the middle of London, a group of friends sat in the living room, holding glasses and celebrating loudly—except for two particular women standing in the kitchen, arguing just as loudly.
“Pansy, are you sure the spell worked? What if they got stranded in the middle of nowhere?” Hermione anxiously bit her lip. “I fear that’s the whole point, Hermione.”
“I wish you would’ve let me look over it one more time. What if we are wrong and they are all alone without their wands—” “Or maybe they already jumped into bed with one another!” Pansy interrupted the other woman’s rambling.
At Hermione’s mortified look, she exclaimed, “Don’t be so prude—everybody can sense it!” “Well, instead of talking about our friends’ sex life, maybe we should hope that you didn’t mess up any spell, because if you did, then—”
“Hermione, just relax. Let’s get you another drink!”
—
The snowstorm was still raging outside, and although the snow in the cabin had turned into puddles across the floor, they were still no closer to getting out than before. After a while, Harry started pacing through the tiny cabin, looking for clues or anything that would help him. He stumbled across some hot chocolate packets.
“Hey, I know it’s not exactly an Earl Grey with one sugar and a splash of milk, but do you want some hot chocolate?” Harry asked Draco, who was still sitting in front of the fire.
“How do you know how I drink my tea?” Draco turned around to look at the other man suspiciously. “Er—I’m good at noticing things, I s’pose.”
With two mugs that had definitely been dusting away on the shelf—something Draco did not need to know—Harry sat down on the floor again. “Here you go.” “Tastes almost as good as my tea,” Draco said sarcastically. “Really?” Harry said skeptically.
“No, I was joking, Harry. Obviously.”
“Do you still have the note?” Harry asked absentmindedly. “Maybe it’s a clue. You don’t think it’s a trap, do you? That there’s someone who wants to hurt you, right?” “Harry, you’re overthinking it. Pansy gifted this to me, probably as a joke, and, you know, you just got dragged along, I suppose.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Draco sighed and stood up to retrieve the note. It was lying on the table where he had put it down, next to the basket he desperately tried to ignore. But he knew Harry would not budge. The basket contained a blanket, pen and paper, and a mistletoe.
“So, does any of this help solve this mystery?” Draco remarked.
Harry just shook his head. “And you can’t think of any reason why she would gift this to you? I mean, ‘figure it out’—there’s something that you need to figure out—” “Thanks, Mr. Obvious,” Draco retorted.
“There is something, I guess. It’s just personal and has been really difficult to navigate for me,” he started, before stopping himself to take another sip of his chocolate.
Harry patted the space next to him, signaling him to sit down again.
“I’ve been feeling things, and I complained to Pansy about it—how I’ve been struggling. I suppose this is her way of telling me to deal with it.” Harry nodded encouragingly.
“I like someone.”
The secret was out—no backing out anymore—and Draco feared looking at Harry, so he just turned to face the fire. “They’re really great, and I feel like we’ve gotten closer, and they are great, really, but, you know, I’m me, so there’s really no chance—”
“Don’t say that. I think you’re great, and whoever it is is lucky to be worthy of your attention,” Harry replied with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes—but Draco couldn’t see that.
“Thanks. That’s nice of you to say. That doesn’t mean I believe you, though. I don’t think they’re into me…” Draco bit his lip anxiously and turned around. “Do you like someone?” he asked sincerely, with a quiver of hope in his voice.
At Harry’s puzzled look, he backtracked. “Just out of curiosity, since we are talking about feelings and that sort of thing.”
“It’s been a while. I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly. He hesitated before continuing. “It would be nice to date again. You know, with Ron and Hermione’s wedding coming up, I definitely need a plus one.” He chuckled before adding, “Maybe, if we’re both single, we could be each other’s plus one.”
“Yeah, maybe…” Draco nodded along.
“No—sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Harry interjected.
“No, it’s fine. I understand what you were saying,” Draco replied, a disappointed look on his face—one Harry couldn’t see, too caught up in his ramblings. “It’s just—whoever you like will definitely like you back. But just in case they don’t, which won’t happen, but, you know, just as a fail-safe—”
“Okay,” Draco said simply, and Harry nodded.
It was quiet for a while—the storm raging outside and a whirlwind of emotions trapped between the two men. The fire dimmed, and Harry kept feeding it more wood, while Draco had, at some point, returned to the table and started drawing.
“I didn’t know you could draw,” Harry said after watching him for a minute.
“Yes, I guess there are a lot of things you didn’t know,” Draco replied, annoyed.
“Hey, did I say something—” Harry immediately shot back, worried.
“No, I’m just angry at Pansy, not you. Maybe we should go to bed. I’m sure it’s well after midnight now,” Draco sighed. With that, he stood up to grab the blanket and turned toward Harry. “I don’t mind sharing the bed, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” Harry agreed, lying down as far away from Draco as the bed would allow—the last thing he wanted was to make him uncomfortable.
Back in London, the group periodically started to look at the two vacant spots on the sofa—the ones where Harry and Draco had vanished from. “Okay, am I the only one who is wondering what’s taking them so long?” Blaise threw the question into the room, looking pointedly at Pansy.
“Thank you for saying something! They are missing out on Christmas. This was supposed to take an hour maximum, not the entire evening!” Hermione claimed, and the room murmured in agreement.
Except for Ron.
“Come on, ’Mione, you know how Harry is with his feelings. He just needs some time. We’re giving him time and space right now.”
“Thank you, Ronald,” Pansy quipped.
“I hope you’re right…” Hermione murmured and went to pour herself another glass.
—
Draco fell asleep quickly, as Harry could tell from his breathing. Harry, however, felt on edge, his mind constantly going back to their conversation, trying to retrace the steps where it had gone wrong. At last, he stood up. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the paper Draco had been drawing on. He went to inspect it further and found himself looking at a sketch of a mistletoe, two stick figures kissing underneath it. As if a lightbulb had gone off in his head, he rushed toward the bed.
“Draco, wake up—I think I figured it out!” Harry kept shaking the other man until he finally responded with a half-asleep, “Really?”
“See this mistletoe? Come on, get up!” Harry held the mistletoe in one hand, the other dragging Draco by the arm and pulling him up in front of him.
As if magic were imbued into the mistletoe, it started to float above their heads. “I think we need to kiss,” Harry said while intently looking at Draco.
Draco, completely taken aback, just stood frozen in place, overwhelmed by the realization that this was about to happen. “Okay. I—yes. Okay,” he managed to get out.
And that was all the confirmation Harry needed.
He closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met, and it felt like sparks exploding everywhere. Outside, the storm settled into small snowflakes drifting gently down.
When they parted—lips glistening and a small smile on both their faces—Harry realized.
Oh.
Oh.
With a swoosh, they vanished and reappeared on the sofa in London, not as elegantly as one might have hoped. They weren’t alone anymore; their entire group of friends startled at their sudden return.
Pansy was the first to speak up. “Told you, Hermione. They’re fine.”
“Well, sorry for doubting your ability to properly execute my plan!” Hermione said.
“You planned this?” Harry said indignantly. “Merry Christmas, guys!” Hermione smiled guiltily.
Harry and Draco had a lot to talk about, but for now, in that moment, they just enjoyed Christmas with their friends, as they had planned. And if they shared a couple of touches here and there, while none of their friends paid attention, then so it may be. And when the party ends, and everyone is gone, in the quiet aftermath, they will figure it out, together.