Harry's Special Christmas
Title: Harry's Special Christmas
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 2,000
Warning(s): Slight flangst
Author's notes: Written for slythindor100's Christmas Challenge: Mince meat pies, red and green cocktails and champagne. Also written for dracoharry100's Christmas Challenge: awkward, uncomfortable work party
Summary: The Minister is missing from the Christmas Party. Draco is not amused.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Draco took a sip of his champagne and nodded politely, trying and failing to pay attention to the Representative from the Guild of Cauldron Welders. Something about rising brass prices? Corrosive ingredients in potions? Honestly, he didn’t have a clue- it was all starting to blur together. He really had to hand it to the Ministry’s Event Committee. Only they could take something as festive and cheerful as a Christmas party and then dish out the dullest affair in the history of magical celebrations.
Unlike other guests, Draco couldn’t make a polite appearance and sneak off. As the Minister’s aide, he had an obligation to stay until the night had run its course. This was one of the few events of the year where the Minister for Magic was expected to make an appearance and people were lining up left, right and centre for ‘just a minute’ of his time. And consequently, Draco’s as well.
Draco felt a twinge of sympathy for Harry. He really hated these things. Besides, he worked hard enough to deserve a real celebration on Christmas. But this was a big part of his job as Minister for Magic and it was Draco’s job to make sure he did it.
Speaking of the Minister...Draco frowned. He hadn’t seen Harry around for a while.
And there’s Escape Attempt Number One, he thought dryly.
“I’ll have someone from the office get in touch with you,” he informed the Rep shortly before taking off.
Ah, there was the man he wanted to see.
“Kingsley,” Draco greeted, approaching the Head Auror. “Having a good time?”
Kingsley sighed and pocketed his wand, still keeping a sharp eye on the gathering. “Oh, I’m having a ball,” he replied blandly. “How are you, Draco?”
“Brilliant,” Draco replied in the same dry tone. He shared an amused look with the Head Auror before coming down to business. “I was wondering if you’d seen Harry anywhere.”
Kingsley straightened his relaxed stand just a fraction. “The Minister was last seen in the West Corridor,” he reported. “I’m told he was on his way to his office. We expect him to return shortly. Of course, I could send out a team to...”
“That won’t be necessary,” Draco broke in politely. “I’ll find him. Keep up the good work, Head Auror.”
He took his leave and took the familiar route to the Minister’s office. Why was Harry here? The budget had been discussed last week, the meeting with the Bulgarian Delegation wasn’t until next Monday and Draco had personally seen to the expenditure reports. So what in Salazar’s name was Harry doing up here when the Italian Ambassador was expecting him downstairs?
“Typical,” he grumbled to himself. “I can’t leave him alone for a second.”
He quickened his pace and reached the ornate mahogany doors, rapping sharply once to announce his presence.
“Minister?” he called, making sure to adopt a stern tone. Harry had a tendency to do whatever he said if it meant avoiding a lecture. “Are you in there?”
“Draco?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “No, it’s Santa Claus.”
“Really?” Harry’s voice perked up in delight.
“Of for the love of...” Draco gave up trying and turned the door knob. “I’m coming in.”
“No, wait! I’m...”
Harry trailed off as Draco walked in. Draco didn’t notice. He was far too busy gaping at the ridiculous scene in front of him.
“What in the name of...”
“Hi,” Harry mumbled guiltily. He was sitting cross-legged on the plush Persian rug that Draco had just installed last week, surrounded by every bit of furniture in the office. No, really. There was a side table and two plush arm chairs circling the rug. Sheets and curtains were draped over them. The desk had been moved a little to the left to accommodate the tent like structure. And Harry was in the centre of it all with a tray of red and green cocktails in front of him.
Okay, this had officially gone too far.
Draco crossed his arms and went for Disapproving Expression Number Three. That was a good one. “Minister Potter,” he intoned sternly. “Are you building a blanket fort in your office?”
Harry blinked innocently. “No.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
“No,” Harry repeated, a tad more belligerently. “I’ve only had six of th’ red drinkses,” he added, holding up five fingers to emphasize his point.
“And?”
Harry ducked his head. “Four green ones,” he admitted sheepishly.
Honestly. Draco suppressed the urge to rub his temples. “Minister Potter,” he tried again, doing his best to sound calm and reasonable. “As your Personal Aide and Communications Officer, I strongly advise against this course of action.”
Harry made a high, keening sound- not unlike a whining Crup. “But Draacoo...”
“No,” Draco replied firmly. “Everyone is wondering where you are and I’m not quite sure I can explain this. Therefore, we are going back to the party. I’ll cast a Sobering Charm on you, we’ll get you a coffee or three and then...”
“No!” Harry interrupted, scowling stubbornly at him. “Not going back! You can’t make me!” And with that declaration, he scuttled back in the fort and out of Draco’s sight.
Draco, for his part, was starting to grind his teeth. “Minister, get out of the fort.”
“No!”
“Harry, now.”
There was an odd noise in response to his order. Draco surmised it was a raspberry. And that was officially the last straw.
“Fine!” he snapped, yanking his tie off sharply and stepping over to the tent. “Then I’m coming in after you.”
“You can’t come in!” Harry declared triumphantly. “You don’t know the password!”
“Is the password Draco’s-being-mean-to-me?”
“How did you know?!”
“Because that’s the password to your private office, you berk!” Draco snapped. “Now budge over and let me do my job.”
Harry made a small sound of dismay as he wedged himself into the fort. It was a tight squeeze but eventually Draco was sitting cross-legged too, glaring as his inebriated boss huddled in a corner and gave him the Kicked Crup look.
“Not going,” Harry repeated in a small, albeit stubborn voice. He was pouting, for Salazar’s sake.
“Harry, I’m going to say it one more time,” Draco declared. He was pretty sure there was actual steel in his voice. “You are going to that party or so help me...what’s that?”
Harry stashed whatever he was fumbling with behind his back. “Nothing.”
“Is that...are those mince meat pies?” Draco craned his neck to get a better look. “Where on earth did you get those?”
Harry snickered gleefully and retrieved his loot. “I stole ‘em.” With that, he commenced munching on the pilfered pies.
Draco groaned and swiped a hand over his face. “This is so bad for Public Relations,” he muttered. “What else did you take?”
He took a brief glance around the fort. It was worse than he’d imagined. There was a string of fairy lights draped around one of the desk legs, a small tree stood proud in the corner, there was a stack of mince meat pies in Harry’s lap and a bottle of champagne rolled next to what may or may not be the Accounts Department’s Yule Log. Evidently, Harry had arranged a one man Christmas party all for himself.
Draco was starting to get a headache.
“Why do you hate me?” he demanded. “How on earth am I supposed to explain this to the Italian Ambassador? Why would you do this now, Potter? Just tell me why.”
Harry seemed to get smaller and smaller through Draco’s rant. By the end of it, his shoulders were hunched and he was picking sulkily at the pies. “Wantedanicechristmas,” he mumbled.
Draco frowned and slid over. “What was that?”
“I said...” Harry sighed and hunched over again. “I just wanted a nice Christmas for once.”
“You could have a perfectly nice Christmas downstairs,” Draco pointed out.
“They don’ wanna talk to me,” Harry replied quietly. “Everyone just wants things from me all the time. Save the world, Harry. Run the country, Harry. Fix the budget, meet the Bulgarians, eat your vegetables...”
Draco sighed wearily. Not this argument again. “For the last time, it was a State Dinner and I did not yell at you.”
“Whatever,” Harry grumbled. “Every Christmas it’s the same thing. When I was little, the Dursleys wouldn’t even let me come downstairs and see the presents. They just locked me in my room. And now, people won’t leave me alone.”
“So your solution is to lock yourself in a room?” Draco asked.
“Better this way,” Harry replied quietly. “At least I don’t have to pretend to be happy.”
Draco winced. To tell the truth, he wasn’t a big fan of this plan. Harry shouldn’t have to spend Christmas with a bunch of people who only wanted to talk to the Minister. But he shouldn’t have to spend it alone either.
No, that wouldn’t do.
It seemed that he would have to come to Potter’s rescue once again.
“You really don’t want to go down there, do you?” he asked softly.
Harry shook his head, looking drunk and pathetic and very, very lonely. He looked up and his green eyes were so big and sad. Draco cursed inwardly. He knew that look. It was a look that tugged at his heart strings. A look that made him want to do whatever it took to make Harry feel better. A look that would probably spell disaster for his career one of these days.
Oh, well.
“Minister,” he said finally. “I propose a new plan of action.”
“You’re making me go back to the party,” Harry muttered.
“One way to go,” Draco agreed. “Or we could just stay here. In the fort.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “We?” he squeaked. “You’ll stay here? With me?”
No one should have to spend Christmas alone under a blanket. Besides, Draco had done a lot worse for Harry, and for a lot less.
“It’s a very nice fort,” he replied. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
A grin broke out on Harry’s face. His eyes lit up and his shoulders relaxed. For the first time in a long while, he actually looked happy. “Thank you,” he murmured, almost bashfully.
Draco tried not to let his expression soften. Potter got away with enough. Instead, he just affected a nonchalant shrug and poured himself a glass of champagne. “I’ll expect a raise, of course.”
Harry grinned and handed him a pie. “Of course.”
Draco hid his smile with a sip of champagne.
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 2,000
Warning(s): Slight flangst
Author's notes: Written for slythindor100's Christmas Challenge: Mince meat pies, red and green cocktails and champagne. Also written for dracoharry100's Christmas Challenge: awkward, uncomfortable work party
Summary: The Minister is missing from the Christmas Party. Draco is not amused.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Draco took a sip of his champagne and nodded politely, trying and failing to pay attention to the Representative from the Guild of Cauldron Welders. Something about rising brass prices? Corrosive ingredients in potions? Honestly, he didn’t have a clue- it was all starting to blur together. He really had to hand it to the Ministry’s Event Committee. Only they could take something as festive and cheerful as a Christmas party and then dish out the dullest affair in the history of magical celebrations.
Unlike other guests, Draco couldn’t make a polite appearance and sneak off. As the Minister’s aide, he had an obligation to stay until the night had run its course. This was one of the few events of the year where the Minister for Magic was expected to make an appearance and people were lining up left, right and centre for ‘just a minute’ of his time. And consequently, Draco’s as well.
Draco felt a twinge of sympathy for Harry. He really hated these things. Besides, he worked hard enough to deserve a real celebration on Christmas. But this was a big part of his job as Minister for Magic and it was Draco’s job to make sure he did it.
Speaking of the Minister...Draco frowned. He hadn’t seen Harry around for a while.
And there’s Escape Attempt Number One, he thought dryly.
“I’ll have someone from the office get in touch with you,” he informed the Rep shortly before taking off.
Ah, there was the man he wanted to see.
“Kingsley,” Draco greeted, approaching the Head Auror. “Having a good time?”
Kingsley sighed and pocketed his wand, still keeping a sharp eye on the gathering. “Oh, I’m having a ball,” he replied blandly. “How are you, Draco?”
“Brilliant,” Draco replied in the same dry tone. He shared an amused look with the Head Auror before coming down to business. “I was wondering if you’d seen Harry anywhere.”
Kingsley straightened his relaxed stand just a fraction. “The Minister was last seen in the West Corridor,” he reported. “I’m told he was on his way to his office. We expect him to return shortly. Of course, I could send out a team to...”
“That won’t be necessary,” Draco broke in politely. “I’ll find him. Keep up the good work, Head Auror.”
He took his leave and took the familiar route to the Minister’s office. Why was Harry here? The budget had been discussed last week, the meeting with the Bulgarian Delegation wasn’t until next Monday and Draco had personally seen to the expenditure reports. So what in Salazar’s name was Harry doing up here when the Italian Ambassador was expecting him downstairs?
“Typical,” he grumbled to himself. “I can’t leave him alone for a second.”
He quickened his pace and reached the ornate mahogany doors, rapping sharply once to announce his presence.
“Minister?” he called, making sure to adopt a stern tone. Harry had a tendency to do whatever he said if it meant avoiding a lecture. “Are you in there?”
“Draco?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “No, it’s Santa Claus.”
“Really?” Harry’s voice perked up in delight.
“Of for the love of...” Draco gave up trying and turned the door knob. “I’m coming in.”
“No, wait! I’m...”
Harry trailed off as Draco walked in. Draco didn’t notice. He was far too busy gaping at the ridiculous scene in front of him.
“What in the name of...”
“Hi,” Harry mumbled guiltily. He was sitting cross-legged on the plush Persian rug that Draco had just installed last week, surrounded by every bit of furniture in the office. No, really. There was a side table and two plush arm chairs circling the rug. Sheets and curtains were draped over them. The desk had been moved a little to the left to accommodate the tent like structure. And Harry was in the centre of it all with a tray of red and green cocktails in front of him.
Okay, this had officially gone too far.
Draco crossed his arms and went for Disapproving Expression Number Three. That was a good one. “Minister Potter,” he intoned sternly. “Are you building a blanket fort in your office?”
Harry blinked innocently. “No.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
“No,” Harry repeated, a tad more belligerently. “I’ve only had six of th’ red drinkses,” he added, holding up five fingers to emphasize his point.
“And?”
Harry ducked his head. “Four green ones,” he admitted sheepishly.
Honestly. Draco suppressed the urge to rub his temples. “Minister Potter,” he tried again, doing his best to sound calm and reasonable. “As your Personal Aide and Communications Officer, I strongly advise against this course of action.”
Harry made a high, keening sound- not unlike a whining Crup. “But Draacoo...”
“No,” Draco replied firmly. “Everyone is wondering where you are and I’m not quite sure I can explain this. Therefore, we are going back to the party. I’ll cast a Sobering Charm on you, we’ll get you a coffee or three and then...”
“No!” Harry interrupted, scowling stubbornly at him. “Not going back! You can’t make me!” And with that declaration, he scuttled back in the fort and out of Draco’s sight.
Draco, for his part, was starting to grind his teeth. “Minister, get out of the fort.”
“No!”
“Harry, now.”
There was an odd noise in response to his order. Draco surmised it was a raspberry. And that was officially the last straw.
“Fine!” he snapped, yanking his tie off sharply and stepping over to the tent. “Then I’m coming in after you.”
“You can’t come in!” Harry declared triumphantly. “You don’t know the password!”
“Is the password Draco’s-being-mean-to-me?”
“How did you know?!”
“Because that’s the password to your private office, you berk!” Draco snapped. “Now budge over and let me do my job.”
Harry made a small sound of dismay as he wedged himself into the fort. It was a tight squeeze but eventually Draco was sitting cross-legged too, glaring as his inebriated boss huddled in a corner and gave him the Kicked Crup look.
“Not going,” Harry repeated in a small, albeit stubborn voice. He was pouting, for Salazar’s sake.
“Harry, I’m going to say it one more time,” Draco declared. He was pretty sure there was actual steel in his voice. “You are going to that party or so help me...what’s that?”
Harry stashed whatever he was fumbling with behind his back. “Nothing.”
“Is that...are those mince meat pies?” Draco craned his neck to get a better look. “Where on earth did you get those?”
Harry snickered gleefully and retrieved his loot. “I stole ‘em.” With that, he commenced munching on the pilfered pies.
Draco groaned and swiped a hand over his face. “This is so bad for Public Relations,” he muttered. “What else did you take?”
He took a brief glance around the fort. It was worse than he’d imagined. There was a string of fairy lights draped around one of the desk legs, a small tree stood proud in the corner, there was a stack of mince meat pies in Harry’s lap and a bottle of champagne rolled next to what may or may not be the Accounts Department’s Yule Log. Evidently, Harry had arranged a one man Christmas party all for himself.
Draco was starting to get a headache.
“Why do you hate me?” he demanded. “How on earth am I supposed to explain this to the Italian Ambassador? Why would you do this now, Potter? Just tell me why.”
Harry seemed to get smaller and smaller through Draco’s rant. By the end of it, his shoulders were hunched and he was picking sulkily at the pies. “Wantedanicechristmas,” he mumbled.
Draco frowned and slid over. “What was that?”
“I said...” Harry sighed and hunched over again. “I just wanted a nice Christmas for once.”
“You could have a perfectly nice Christmas downstairs,” Draco pointed out.
“They don’ wanna talk to me,” Harry replied quietly. “Everyone just wants things from me all the time. Save the world, Harry. Run the country, Harry. Fix the budget, meet the Bulgarians, eat your vegetables...”
Draco sighed wearily. Not this argument again. “For the last time, it was a State Dinner and I did not yell at you.”
“Whatever,” Harry grumbled. “Every Christmas it’s the same thing. When I was little, the Dursleys wouldn’t even let me come downstairs and see the presents. They just locked me in my room. And now, people won’t leave me alone.”
“So your solution is to lock yourself in a room?” Draco asked.
“Better this way,” Harry replied quietly. “At least I don’t have to pretend to be happy.”
Draco winced. To tell the truth, he wasn’t a big fan of this plan. Harry shouldn’t have to spend Christmas with a bunch of people who only wanted to talk to the Minister. But he shouldn’t have to spend it alone either.
No, that wouldn’t do.
It seemed that he would have to come to Potter’s rescue once again.
“You really don’t want to go down there, do you?” he asked softly.
Harry shook his head, looking drunk and pathetic and very, very lonely. He looked up and his green eyes were so big and sad. Draco cursed inwardly. He knew that look. It was a look that tugged at his heart strings. A look that made him want to do whatever it took to make Harry feel better. A look that would probably spell disaster for his career one of these days.
Oh, well.
“Minister,” he said finally. “I propose a new plan of action.”
“You’re making me go back to the party,” Harry muttered.
“One way to go,” Draco agreed. “Or we could just stay here. In the fort.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “We?” he squeaked. “You’ll stay here? With me?”
No one should have to spend Christmas alone under a blanket. Besides, Draco had done a lot worse for Harry, and for a lot less.
“It’s a very nice fort,” he replied. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
A grin broke out on Harry’s face. His eyes lit up and his shoulders relaxed. For the first time in a long while, he actually looked happy. “Thank you,” he murmured, almost bashfully.
Draco tried not to let his expression soften. Potter got away with enough. Instead, he just affected a nonchalant shrug and poured himself a glass of champagne. “I’ll expect a raise, of course.”
Harry grinned and handed him a pie. “Of course.”
Draco hid his smile with a sip of champagne.