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Harry pulled his coat around him, shivering as he trudged in through the snow as it surrounded him in flurries, lost on a street he only vaguely recognised. The car had broken down some way back and no recovery vehicle could get out in the snow. His only option was walking.
He checked his watch. 12.03am, it was officially Christmas Eve and he wasn't at home by the fire, which he took quite personally.
He tripped up on something and realised, as he landed in the snow, that he couldn't feel his hands nor his feet, and he was losing faith in his arms and legs. He wasn't religious but he prayed for the safety of his extremities regardless.
The streetlights offered little help in the midnight darkness. The snow only left Harry colder and more confused than he was before.
He passed a small picket fence and smiled to himself a little when it rang a bell in his memory. He paused, pacing backwards to the fence again. He looked to the gate, to the small cottage which lay twenty or so metres within the confines, and back to the gate.
The cottage was small. He could see lights on in the house and a roaring fireplace in the living room. Knees weakening from the cold, he tried his luck, prying open the gate and kicking snow out of the way as he made his way down the path, too cold and tired to even lift his feet.
Harry didn't waste any time banging on the wooden door. And again when there wasn't an immediate answer.
A voice started shouting from within. "If there're carol singers at this time of night I'm going to- Potter?"
As Draco Malfoy of all people opened the door, Harry realised he would have been safer if he'd carried on walking home.
"Potter, I'm freezing with this door open." Draco muttered, rolling his eyes.
"S-s-sorry," Harry stuttered through chattering teeth, shivers wracking his body. "My c-c-car broke d-d-d-d-d-down and-" he paused when everything started spinning.
"Potter!" Draco's arm's caught him quickly before pulling the man inside his home.
Harry took a couple seconds to get his stature back before apologising profusely.
"You're an idiot," was all Draco mumbled in reply. He went to head further into his house, but stopped for a second, turning to to Harry. "I'll run you a bath, just leave your clothes by the door."
Harry did as told and soon found the bathroom at the end of the hallway. He entered, seeing Draco had left already, and was hit by a wall of the scent of lavender and lemongrass. The steam in the room was quick to fog up his glasses and he stepped into the piping hot bath, sighing loudly in content.
He contemplated using the array of expensive-looking soaps and whatnot but decided that he'd rather not face Draco's wrath after wasting such bougie products. Instead, he let himself slip a little further under the water as his body soaked up the warmth, grateful for this recovery from the harsh winter night still raging outside.
After a little while, there came a sharp knock at the door.
"Harry?" Draco called from the other side.
"Yep," he answered, "one sec" he added under his breath. He sat up and got out of the tub a little too quickly. Glasses still sitting on the counter and rendered almost blind, Harry's foot caught on the side of the bathtub and he was sent flying, or would have been at least if it weren't for the pair of arms which wrapped around him, saving him from the impending crash.
"Definitely an idiot," he heard Draco chuckle. "I've got your towels." He added, clearing his tone. "Your clothes were soaking. I'll leave some outside the door for you."
"Cheers," Harry replies sheepishly, wrapping a towel around his waist quickly.
Draco was sat on the sofa deep in thought when Harry reentered the living room, now donning a pair of emerald green, tailor-made pyjamas, probably silk. Both the trousers and the top were too long for Harry, meaning he'd had to roll up the sleeves and the legs.
The TV was on, but it was only showing a midnight TeleShopping channel, probably just white noise for Draco.
"Draco?" Harry leaned in the way of his gaze, waving his hand a little. He jumped a little and frowned the ravenhead. Harry gestured to the towel in his hand. "What should I do with-"
"Harry, your hair is soaking?" Draco scolded. "You'll catch a cold."
"I think given earlier I've probably already caught one," Harry smiled and chuckled a little.
Draco didn't, pointing to the floor in front of where he sat. Harry sat down, scared of what might happen if he didn't, his legs crossed and his back to the sofa.
"Those are nice," Harry muttered after a while, Draco still softly drying his hair. He felt Draco stop, probably to have a peek at the TV screen.
He tsked under his breath and continued with his work.
"What's wrong with them?"
"Potter, it's silver. If you're proposing to someone at least go for a white gold. Good lord, don't tell me you proposed to the She-Weasel with a silver ring."
"Ginny and I broke up."
"I would too if you proposed with a silver ring," Draco rolled his eyes, not that Harry could see. Harry was grateful that the blond hadn't bothered to inquire with the 'why' which most people followed his statement with. "There, all done." He pulled back, towel in hand, just as a ping came from the kitchen behind them. Draco leaned forward and dropped the towel in Harry's lap, leaving to man on the floor for the kitchen.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Harry called, turning around for his eyes to follow Draco. Draco yelled back something about a heated rail in the bathroom, to which Harry rolled his eyes because of course Draco Malfoy has a heated towel rail.
When Harry returned to the living room, Draco was sat - sprawled, really, if posh tossers could sprawl - on the sofa where he had been a minute ago, a mug in each hand. Harry tentatively sat on the opposite end, taking one of the mugs which Draco offered him.
"Tell me, Potter,"
"Harry," he interrupted. Draco positively glared at him before resuming.
"Potter, how do you know where I live?"
"Oh, I didn't. I just... I'd been walking for so long - my car broke down - and I thought I recognised this place. If some stranger had answered and turned me away, well at least I tried."
"What were you trying to get? And don't sit like that, you look like you're ready to run off."
Harry blushed, nodded, and settled into the seat a little more. He waited until he saw a more approving look on Draco's face before answering.
"Well maybe they'd let me in out of the cold for a bit, a hot drink perhaps. It was worth a try even if they say no. Why are you being nice to me?"
"Guilt," Draco lied. Harry saw right through him. "Why were you even trying to walk in the snow? Why not wait for a recovery vehicle? You know you'll get yourself killed that way, right?"
Harry shrugged, "gut instinct. Got me through life, really. I finished late at work anyway and no one's at home waiting for me so," he shrugged again.
"Where do you work? The tabloids were all over us when we finished school, which of course I ignored. I never found out what you did."
"I run a florist."
"Take down a serial killer as a teenager and now you sell flowers."
"It's called trauma, Draco. What're you doing anyway?"
"I... own a pharmacy."
"Parents are in a serial killer's cult and now you sell medicine," Harry said in a mocking tone. Draco frowned and shoved Harry's leg with his foot.
"I rarely work the counter, though. People in this town talk and don't trust my face."
"I trust your face." Harry mentioned off-hand.
"You know me. I mean, I was a dick during school but you know what my parents did, you know I wasn't included in it. They don't. They hear my name or see my face and just leave the shop."
"If I was a stranger I'd trust your face."
"You wouldn't, it's all sharp angles. Nothing trusting about it."
Draco was taken aback a little when Harry rolled his eyes and practically straddled the blond. Harry seemed to thinking nothing of the position, naïve as always.
"It was sharp during secondary school, I remember that, but..." Harry leaned in close. Draco took this time to study Harry's own features, not that they had changed much since school, he'd just never had the opportunity.
"Ok it's still sharp but... it's kinder. Your jaw has softened a little, your eyes are a lot nicer. Experienced, wise."
"Old."
"We're the same age, you twit. That's not what I meant. During school..." Harry leaned back on his haunches a little. "During school they were always glaring, you had a harsh look. Angry and... scared, I think. Now they're calm and wise. I like them much more now." He added, not thinking about his words. "You have crows eyes too!" Harry leaned back in, brushing a thumb along the end of Draco's cheekbone, his hand cupping the blond's purely accidentally.
"You're still the same, naïve idiot from school." Draco deadpanned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Draco wanted to laugh at how offended Harry looked, but he kept his resolve. He openly glanced down to the way Harry was practically - no, fully - straddling him. The ravenhead quickly moved back to the other side of the sofa, blushing brighter than Draco had ever seen him.
Draco stood up from the sofa, holding a hand out to Harry. He tentatively took it, to which Draco smiled and rolled his eyes.
"Your mug, you twit."
Harry let out a soft 'oh' of realisation, blushed a little more, and handed his empty mug to Draco, avoiding eye contact after his blunder.
"Bedroom's down the hall on the right," Draco said over his shoulder as he left the room.
Harry found the bedroom easily, surprised by the amount of personal decor it had for a guest room. He took a minute to look at the picture frames on the dresser, images of Draco and his two closest friends throughout the years after high school.
He jumped when he heard the door open behind him, turning quickly to see Draco.
"What're you doing?"
"Going to bed, Potter. What does it look like?" Draco retorted, tone as snarky as it was in school.
"But... never mind."
"If you say so." Draco shrugged off Harry's strange atmosphere, getting changed as Harry tentatively clambered into the bed, careful not to look at Draco.
~~~
Harry woke before Draco. The rising sun streaming warm light through the gap in the curtains, a carpet of snow on the world outside just visible. He looked to the man sleeping soundly next to him, a calm expression on his face which was, frankly, a rare sight on him.
He brushed away a couple hairs which had fallen onto Draco's face, the man's eyes fluttering open as he did. The calm expression left his face for an angry one, one which Harry knew to not believe.
"Stop stroking me, tosser. I'm not a bloody dog." He muttered as he sat up. "Good morning," he added, almost an afterthought.
"Good morning," Harry smiled back softly. Draco leaned over, kissing his fiancé on the cheek as he done every morning for the past couple years.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered, a smirk in his voice, relishing in the expression of anger on Harry's face.
"I hate you." He muttered in return.
"You're a child."
"I just want to say it first one day, alright? Can I at least have that?" Harry cried, but, much like Draco, he could never be angry at the other.
Because Draco had been the first to say I love you, the first to propose, the first to everything. Every holiday celebration, Draco got there first. And if Harry was being honest with himself - which was a rare feat - Draco had been the first to his heart.
"What were you thinking about?" Draco asked after a moment of silence, because of course Harry loved to spend time remembering their time together on quiet mornings, and of course Draco knew this.
"You remember when I turned up on your doorstep on Christmas eve?"
"Which time?" Draco smiled.
Harry rolled his eyes and lightly slapped Draco's arm.
"Obviously the first time." Although it wasn't obvious at all. "Technically our first Christmas together."
"It was awful, you came down with a cold and didn't get me a present."
"Draco you're an awful liar."