(no subject)
Title: The Private Tree
Written by: pingviini
Drawn by: amariel
Characters: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: Not your Granny’s Christmas tree.
Note: . Sequel to What We May Be. Can also be read separately.
The Private Tree
When Harry said goodbye to Hermione outside their office building, a group of teenagers was singing carols surprisingly beautifully in the street corner. It was their last workday before Christmas; tomorrow was Christmas Eve. There was no snow yet, but the air was sharp and frost glittered on the ground. Harry took a deep breath and smiled to himself as he headed towards Grimmauld Place.
He could have Apparated but decided to walk instead, in need of some air and a few minutes to think. Draco would be waiting at home, and Harry wanted to sort through today’s work in his head so he could leave it behind.
Humming to himself as he walked, he reflected that he could not believe how much he enjoyed his life these days or how well life had turned out for those he loved.
The firm that Hermione and Harry had set up a year ago was doing very well indeed. They both enjoyed the work and were receiving so many requests they were already in the process of hiring more hands. Ron was well established at the Ministry, having begun as Kingsley Shacklebolt’s assistant and then rapidly creating a name for himself, showing a surprising aptitude for a life in politics.
Neville and Luna had married last year and lived in the country, where Neville grew vegetables, flowers and magical plants in three enormous greenhouses and did good business. Luna was an increasingly popular and very prolific fantasy author, writing highly improbable stories featuring valiant Muggles struggling and fighting their way through challenges and hardships without the aid of magic, guided only by their bravery and their honest, noble hearts. The settings were abundant with such exotic phenomena as cars, underground trains, supermarkets and telephones. Her books were adored by young witches and wizards whose knowledge of the Muggle world was as faulty as her own, but also by Muggle-borns and halfbloods who put up with the blatant inaccuracies because they wished the Muggle world had been more like her depiction of it.
Harry heartily enjoyed visiting them (provided at least the visits were short), but after going once, Draco adamantly refused to go again.
”There's no point, Harry! No one enjoys it. Longbottom detests me, and that Lovegood person seriously freaks me out. You think she’s completely potty and clueless until she turns those weird moon-like eyes on you and sees right through you.” He shuddered. ”No, Harry, when you visit them, you go on your own.”
Draco himself had surprised everyone by entering the Ministry’s Auror training programme and was currently in his final year. And now he was home for Christmas, the first Christmas Harry and Draco would spend together since Malfoy Manor three years ago, and the first that would be entirely their own.
Kreacher was always overjoyed to have Draco there, as he was a descendant of the Blacks, and consequently had the house in tiptop shape and had prepared more food than they could possibly eat in a month. Not until last summer had he seen fit to let Harry know that the house boasted an impressive wine cellar, and although Harry was learning to enjoy the taste of the drink he had hitherto avoided (with the exception of champagne), he would let Draco pick the wines for their Christmas Eve dinner. The guests would be mostly family but also some friends. Ron and Hermione were coming, as were Dean and his Muggle girlfriend, Kingsley, Bill and Fleur, Narcissa, Andromeda - and Teddy, who would hopefully spend most of his time asleep. (One of the guest rooms had been turned into Teddy’s own room.)
They hadn’t had much time for Christmas preparations, but the ones they had fit in had been wonderful. Harry had introduced Draco to Muggle Christmas music, and Draco had listened attentively with a slight frown, and now and then with an indignant comment:
” ’Have yourself a merry little Christmas’, what kind of condescending crap is that?”
” 'We’ll have to Muggle through somehow’? Oh, muddle.”
” 'He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake’? That’s really creepy! He ought to be stopped!”
”How could that snowman run off? Did they animate him, like you did with our snowmen?" (This comment had initiated a bout of kissing that ended up with them both naked, gasping and sweaty on the living-room floor with tinsel lavishly distributed all over them.)
Harry was grinning to himself at the memory when he reached Grimmauld Place. He whispered a complex combination of spells and listed to the sound of unravelling magic as wards relaxed and locking spells opened.
Draco was waiting in the hall as Harry entered - he must have heard the wards breaking. They stood for a moment listening to the whispering and crackling of wards and spells locking back in place, and then smiled at each other, feeling safe.
Harry took a step forward, and Draco's hands were already finding their way in under his coat as they kissed.
”Too much clothes. Get this off. I have something to show you."
”I bet you have,” Harry mumbled and removed gloves, scarf, coat, and boots.
Draco impatiently took his hand and pulled him into the living room. ”Ta-daa!”
The Christmas tree was magnificent, with strings of lights, frostily glittering branches and sparkling ornaments that looked as though they were made of ice.
”They are made of ice!” said Draco triumphantly. ”The frost is real, too. I used a freezing spell that'll keep it going well into the New Year."
”It looks fantastic.” Harry cupped his hands around Draco’s face to kiss him again, but Draco pulled away.
”No, we’re not done yet! There’s more.”
”You’ve been busy!”
Draco stopped and looked at him then, his eyes soft in the light from the tree. ”I’ve been thinking about what you told me, about your lousy Christmases when you were a kid. The bent paperclips and all that.” His lips met Harry’s cheekbone, moved lightly over his cheek to his ear, teeth gently catching his earlobe and making him shiver. "I'm trying to make it up to you."
Harry was glad that Draco turned his back then and went ahead of him to the bedroom, for his eyes were suddenly stinging. That Draco would do this for him…! By the time they reached the bedroom door, he had recovered. Draco stopped in the doorway and let Harry go past him inside, and there…
The tree was only slightly smaller than the one in the living room, and decorated quite differently. It was different, in fact, from any Christmas tree Harry had ever seen. His incredulous eyes followed the ornament upwards from the sailor on the lower branches, sporting an impressive package, to the somewhat unorthodox fairies at the top…
”Make the Yuletide gay,” quoted Draco glibly.
Harry spluttered.
”Do you like it?” Draco asked, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe, eyes wide and innocent.
”I…” Harry had to cough. Then he went closer and had to cough again. Whips, handcuffs, naked buttocks, erections… ”Draco, promise me one thing. Do not let our guests see this tomorrow.”
”No, that’s why I put it in the bedroom. This is our tree. Our very own. Strictly private.”
Harry thought of Aunt Petunia and her colour themes and laughed. If she could see this tree…! He drew in a breath to say something, but then Draco was suddenly very close behind him, his hands sliding round to Harry’s front and down under the waistband of his jeans, making him swallow his words and gasp. ”So you do like it,” Draco mumbled, his lips against the back of Harry’s neck, his hands moving further down to savour the evidence.
”Mmmm,” Harry groaned. ”Oh, yes. Oh, don’t stop…”
”As if anything could make me,” Draco breathed.
They didn’t emerge from the bedroom until well over an hour later, when Kreached coughed demonstratively outside the door and called them to dinner.
After the meal, they had coffee in the living-room, admiring the tree. They were sitting closely together on the sofa, Draco's fingers playing with Harry's unruly hair, when Harry suddenly jumped up and ran to the window like a child. ”Look! It’s snowing!”
Draco set down his cup and sighed, but he did join the other boy by the window, standing behind him with his arms around Harry’s waist, chin resting on Harry’s shoulder. They stood in silence for a while, watching the snow whirl and dance in the light from the streetlamps. When Harry smiled and sighed with contentment, Draco kissed the side of his neck and began to sing softly in his ear: ”As long as you love me so - let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”
