Snowmen
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Pairing: Harry X Draco
Summary: Draco and Harry and a pair of snowmen
Rating: Teen
Note: this is my belated entry for HP_Art_Tales. My prompt is Let It Snow, by Naadi, which is absolutely beautiful, I don't think I do it justice with the story. Thanks to Susan5124, who despite the rush had beta-ed this fanfic and made it so much better than it originally was. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Snowmen
The snowmen in the garden looked pathetic. The one with the green scarf had a dent on his body. Where its hand used to hold the others', there was a hole the shape of a suitcase.
‘He doesn’t even want the snowmen to hold each others' hand,' Draco thought bitterly. If he were to be rational, he knew it was a childish accusation. Harry hadn’t done it in purpose. But Draco was not in the mood for logic.
The one with the glasses and red scarf was in even worse shape though. Draco had gotten his revenge and nobody could deny he had a vicious streak a mile wide. The snowman had lost half of its head to a well-placed Aquamenti and part of its body to the broom that had delivered multiple hits to it afterward.
The heavy snow that had fallen the last few days had only made the damage worse. At that moment they looked more like a pair of lumps than the snowmen they were supposed to be.
Draco sighed, resting his head on the window’s glass. The sky was grey and heavy and suited his mood. Harry hadn’t come home since their latest fight five days ago.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
“Can’t you just keep your mouth shut for a while?” Harry had all but screamed to him.
“Me? Why don’t you ask your poor excuses for friends to do so?” Bitterness and anger were dripping from Draco’s every word. He could still hear the Weasel's mocking voice and Granger's look of disdain. He could still picture Harry, his boyfriend Harry, who had done his best to ignore his friends’ slights and thinly veiled insults toward him.
“It’s not about my friends. Don’t bring them up as excuses every time,” there was a long suffering tone to Harry’s voice.
“It’s not? Hell Harry, what kind of world are you living in? It always is about your friends, your beloved Weasel and Mudblood.” The words came out in a rush of anger. He knew that they would piss Harry off further. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.
In a flash, Harry moved to where Draco was. His left hand was gripping Draco’s collar tightly and his right one was posed in the air, ready to deliver a slap. Absently, it crossed Draco’s mind that when Harry was angry he often forgot he was a wizard.
“Do it!”
Draco was well aware Harry was a powerful wizard. Usually this knowledge, as well as a healthy fear of painful hexes, kept him from the unwise temptation of provoking an angry lion. For once though, when his emotion overcame his sense of self-preservation, he tilted his face and bared his cheek to Harry.
Harry, taking a deep breath, abruptly released his hold. Draco, caught off guard, stumbled a bit.
Regret as well as bitterness replaced the anger for a moment. He had matured enough since the war to realize calling someone a Mudblood was hurtful and wrong. But, why should he care? Why shouldn’t he hurt them when they thought nothing of hurting him? He didn’t want to hurt Harry really, but he couldn't help but wonder why he should care when Harry obviously didn’t think twice about his own boyfriend being disrespected and insulted on a regular basis?
“I thought you had changed. I see now that you are just the same spoiled scum you were. I shouldn’t bother to defend you to my friends.”
The words hurt. In fact, Draco was quite sure they hurt more than the canceled slap. Defend him? When had Harry defended him? He had never even cared enough to ask Draco’s side of the story. The anger flared anew and with it, the rashness.
“Yes, you should listen to them. You always do, don’t you? After all, you are incapable of thinking for yourself,” he said mockingly.
“I can! And right now I agree with them. Moving in with you was a big mistake.”
Draco trembled, from anger, he was sure. If there was also pain causing it, he wouldn’t admit to it.
“Then go! Nobody petrified you.” The words came out before he had time to think them through.
Harry sent him one last glare, Accio-ed his things, and after grabbing his bulging suitcases, slammed the door behind himself.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Just the memory of it made his blood boil again. Stupid, arrogant Potter seemed to think the label of Gryffindor was a seal of perfection. Potter took notice of all the insults, and retaliations that Draco dealt his friends with, but was too blind and deaf to see and hear those that his dear friends threw. He wanted very, very much to shove them down from their high horses.
Then his eyes fell onto the decapitated snowmen again and another kind of memory crept into his mind.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
“What are you doing?” Draco asked, walking towards his lover. Harry had spent the morning in the garden making huge snowballs and then, when he deemed them not good enough, discarding them.
“Building a snowman,” Harry’s answer was muffled by his scarf; the red Gryffindor one with frayed edges that Draco had tried to no avail to throw away.
“A what?”
“You never built one?” Harry asked back. His disbelief was clear.
Draco shook his head. Playing in the snow was for the commoner, or at least that was what his father said.
“Then you can help me make one,” Harry said, dragging Draco’s hand eagerly.
-.-.-.-.
Draco smiled involuntary at the memory. They had spent the entire evening filling the yard with varied snowmen before settling in for hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. It was a year and a lifetime ago. Everything seemed to be so easy at that time. They were young enough to hope and having survived a war, were cocky enough to think everything would go their way.
Funny. If anything, the war should have taught him that nothing would be easy, that things he wanted could slip through his fingers. But of course, he always saw what he wanted to see, didn’t he?
They had been so happy, those days. When did everything go wrong?
-.-.-.-.-.-.
“Are you blind?”
“Excuse me?” asked Harry absently, trying to clean the soot from his robe. From his tone of voice, it was clear to Draco that Harry wasn’t even aware of what he did, which only irked Draco more.
“Can’t you see what time it is?” he clarified. As if to make certain the man could, indeed, see, he conjured a gargantuan clock barely an inch from Harry’s face, its gigantic hands pointing very clearly to two at the morning.
Harry sighed. “Look, Draco. I am tired. I don’t have time to argue with you.”
“But you have time to drink with your friends.” He had smelled the firewhisky on Harry’s breath and the cheap perfume Ginny Weasley wore on Harry’s clothes. He would have accused Harry of having an affair if there wasn’t the smell of Granger’s perfume as well.
“What’s wrong with you? They are my friends. We just closed the case. We only went out for a drink or two. I don’t tell you that you can’t meet yours, do I?” Irritation started to creep into Harry’s voice.
Draco glared at Harry’s back. The git was taking off his robe and hanging it and how could he refuse Draco the courtesy of talking to Draco’s face?
“And I never make you wait for me because I'm having fun with my friends and forget that I have a lover at home, do I?”
Draco felt his anger flare anew. The case had been running for weeks and when he had heard that afternoon that it had finally been solved -- from Pansy, of all people, who had heard it from her boyfriend in the Auror department -- he had waited for Harry to come home and celebrate. In the end, the dinner had been thrown away, ruined by too many warming charms and he had fallen asleep on the sofa which was not as soft and comfortable as their bed.
“I never asked you to!”
To say that the reply was unexpected was an understatement. Draco had imagined a contrite Harry who promised him to never ever make him wait again. But then again, Harry was out with his friends, wasn’t he? He preferred to be with them rather than being with Draco, his boyfriend, never mind that Harry’s job had left them little to no time to be together the previous weeks.
“Why are you being such a jerk?”
“Why are you so jealous of my friends? Never mind, I don’t want to know. I am tired. You make me tired.”
And with that, Harry walked towards their bedroom without sparing his lover another glance.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The arguments, Draco now admitted, had been more frequent, each time worse than the previous. Though none had been as bad as the last one.
Maybe, Draco thought, they were simply not mean to be. After all, their friends seemed to think so.
His friends of course, understood perfectly well why dating someone like Harry Potter, famous slayer of Voldemort with political clout and connections was a good thing. In that, they supported him wholeheartedly. At least they did until they found realized Draco really liked the has-no-fashion-sense-and-too-much-moral-fiber Harry Potter.
Harry’s friends, on the other hand, simply didn’t like him. They thought he was not good enough for Harry and their relationship would only end up with Harry getting hurt, since Draco obviously had no heart and couldn’t be hurt as well.
They had tried with angry demands (Weasley), logical arguments (Granger), and tantrums and guilt trips (Girl Weasley). Then they tried with snide comments, insinuations, and by making Draco feel as unwelcome as possible in any get-together Harry had dragged him to.
Draco had continued clinging and was convinced that he would prove them all wrong. At that moment though, he started to think maybe, maybe they were right after all. There was no future for their relationship.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The first thing Draco realized upon awakening was he was warm. Despite the expensive and thick comforter, the extra sweater and the warming charm built into the room, He hadn’t been warm since Harry had packed his suitcases and left.
The next thing his sleepy brain registered was that there was someone in the bed with him. The other person’s smell was familiar and he could recognize the arm that was holding his midsection, through the fog of sleep easily enough.
He turned around to face a pair of green eyes that were wide awake.
“We need to talk.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.
Draco sat on the chair he had personally lugged from the Manor. It was beautiful and comfortable and upon hearing the price, Harry had called him a spoiled snob. His hands were wrapped around the ugly yellow mug Harry had insisted on keeping because it had been a housewarming gift from Mrs. Weasley.
He didn’t lift his eyes from the mug even when he heard Harry entering the room. Harry had said they needed to talk. It didn’t take a genius to infer that Harry wanted to break up with him.
Funnily enough, he couldn’t even feel much anger. He felt resigned and sad. He had decided that maybe it was for the best. He still loved Harry, but he would not make it a long and teary break up. He still had his pride, after all. He had decided that he would smile and say that he agreed it was for the best when Harry broke the news.
“I am sorry,”
Draco’s head turned so fast he could hear the bones crack.
“Huh?”
Draco had always been proud of his ability to weave words to convey his meanings but at that moment his brain seemed to have stopped working.
Harry took a breath and squared his shoulders, then locking his eyes with Draco’s, he started to step towards the chair. There, kneeling, he took Draco’s hands into his.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I lied. Moving in with you was not a mistake. I love you,”
And so much for his resolve not to cry, Draco thought, feeling the telltale wet in his eyes. The relief was so overwhelming and before his brain registered it, the confession came up through his mouth.
“I am afraid,” he said, burying his face into Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s hand came up and started to pet his hair - a habit that had been lost in their fights lately.
“I am afraid that one day you will wake up and realize that you want your friends more than me, that I am too troublesome, that you can get someone better.”
The hand stopped petting his hair and tugged at it instead, until Draco lifted his head and faced Harry’s stricken face.
“I don’t know…I never knew.”
“I am not paranoid. They don’t like me. They never did. And I am afraid that one day you will realize that they were right all along.”
Draco knew the moment the penny dropped. There was understanding in Harry’s eyes and his face was clouded with self-blame and guilt.
“And I left.”
His arms snaked onto Draco’s waist and hugged it tightly. Draco was quite sure he broke a rib or two.
“I am really, really sorry,” This time, it was Harry who was burying his face in Draco’s shoulder.
“I am sorry too. I know that you don’t like it when I call Granger with the m word.”
Then, in a smaller voice, he continued, “It just, you spend so much time with them.”
“I’m sorry. I know they are less than friendly with you.”
At this understatement, Draco snorted.
“But they have reasons to be, you know. You weren't exactly an angel before,” Harry continued, apparently deciding to ignore Draco’s disbelief.
Then, as if afraid that Draco would hex him for his previous judgment, he rushed his words out,
“But I thought if we gave them time, they would see that you have changed, that we are good together. That’s why I got annoyed every time you insulted them. They wouldn't get the chance to see the part of you that I see.”
“I thought as strong as you are, you wouldn’t let their insults get to you. I thought the only reason you were throwing the tantrum is because you hate to lose, hate that they hit your pride. I thought you hated me spending time with them because you hated to share, simply because you don’t like them. I never realized that my acts made you insecure.”
“I am not insecure. And I don’t like them,” Draco mumbled.
Apparently, Harry decided to ignore this as well. Instead, peppering Draco’s cheek with kisses, he said, “I chose you. And they will support my decision. I’ll talk to them.”
“I’ll stop picking on them,” Draco mumbled.
Draco could feel Harry smile on his hair. This was not happily ever after he thought. But they took the right step. This was not Harry coming back groveling and telling Draco that he would do anything like Draco had dreamed sometimes. But it’s okay. Compromise, Draco decided, was not so bad.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The pair of snowmen was standing in the garden across the street. One of them was wearing green scarf, the other was decorated by red scarf and an old spectacle. They both were smiling, greeting the people who passed them by.
The snow was falling heavily now, covering the ground with mounds and mounds of white. But, safe and warm in Harry’s embrace in their garden, Draco thought that it was peaceful rather than cold.
Fin
Pairing: Harry X Draco
Summary: Draco and Harry and a pair of snowmen
Rating: Teen
Note: this is my belated entry for HP_Art_Tales. My prompt is Let It Snow, by Naadi, which is absolutely beautiful, I don't think I do it justice with the story. Thanks to Susan5124, who despite the rush had beta-ed this fanfic and made it so much better than it originally was. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Snowmen
The snowmen in the garden looked pathetic. The one with the green scarf had a dent on his body. Where its hand used to hold the others', there was a hole the shape of a suitcase.
‘He doesn’t even want the snowmen to hold each others' hand,' Draco thought bitterly. If he were to be rational, he knew it was a childish accusation. Harry hadn’t done it in purpose. But Draco was not in the mood for logic.
The one with the glasses and red scarf was in even worse shape though. Draco had gotten his revenge and nobody could deny he had a vicious streak a mile wide. The snowman had lost half of its head to a well-placed Aquamenti and part of its body to the broom that had delivered multiple hits to it afterward.
The heavy snow that had fallen the last few days had only made the damage worse. At that moment they looked more like a pair of lumps than the snowmen they were supposed to be.
Draco sighed, resting his head on the window’s glass. The sky was grey and heavy and suited his mood. Harry hadn’t come home since their latest fight five days ago.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
“Can’t you just keep your mouth shut for a while?” Harry had all but screamed to him.
“Me? Why don’t you ask your poor excuses for friends to do so?” Bitterness and anger were dripping from Draco’s every word. He could still hear the Weasel's mocking voice and Granger's look of disdain. He could still picture Harry, his boyfriend Harry, who had done his best to ignore his friends’ slights and thinly veiled insults toward him.
“It’s not about my friends. Don’t bring them up as excuses every time,” there was a long suffering tone to Harry’s voice.
“It’s not? Hell Harry, what kind of world are you living in? It always is about your friends, your beloved Weasel and Mudblood.” The words came out in a rush of anger. He knew that they would piss Harry off further. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.
In a flash, Harry moved to where Draco was. His left hand was gripping Draco’s collar tightly and his right one was posed in the air, ready to deliver a slap. Absently, it crossed Draco’s mind that when Harry was angry he often forgot he was a wizard.
“Do it!”
Draco was well aware Harry was a powerful wizard. Usually this knowledge, as well as a healthy fear of painful hexes, kept him from the unwise temptation of provoking an angry lion. For once though, when his emotion overcame his sense of self-preservation, he tilted his face and bared his cheek to Harry.
Harry, taking a deep breath, abruptly released his hold. Draco, caught off guard, stumbled a bit.
Regret as well as bitterness replaced the anger for a moment. He had matured enough since the war to realize calling someone a Mudblood was hurtful and wrong. But, why should he care? Why shouldn’t he hurt them when they thought nothing of hurting him? He didn’t want to hurt Harry really, but he couldn't help but wonder why he should care when Harry obviously didn’t think twice about his own boyfriend being disrespected and insulted on a regular basis?
“I thought you had changed. I see now that you are just the same spoiled scum you were. I shouldn’t bother to defend you to my friends.”
The words hurt. In fact, Draco was quite sure they hurt more than the canceled slap. Defend him? When had Harry defended him? He had never even cared enough to ask Draco’s side of the story. The anger flared anew and with it, the rashness.
“Yes, you should listen to them. You always do, don’t you? After all, you are incapable of thinking for yourself,” he said mockingly.
“I can! And right now I agree with them. Moving in with you was a big mistake.”
Draco trembled, from anger, he was sure. If there was also pain causing it, he wouldn’t admit to it.
“Then go! Nobody petrified you.” The words came out before he had time to think them through.
Harry sent him one last glare, Accio-ed his things, and after grabbing his bulging suitcases, slammed the door behind himself.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Just the memory of it made his blood boil again. Stupid, arrogant Potter seemed to think the label of Gryffindor was a seal of perfection. Potter took notice of all the insults, and retaliations that Draco dealt his friends with, but was too blind and deaf to see and hear those that his dear friends threw. He wanted very, very much to shove them down from their high horses.
Then his eyes fell onto the decapitated snowmen again and another kind of memory crept into his mind.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
“What are you doing?” Draco asked, walking towards his lover. Harry had spent the morning in the garden making huge snowballs and then, when he deemed them not good enough, discarding them.
“Building a snowman,” Harry’s answer was muffled by his scarf; the red Gryffindor one with frayed edges that Draco had tried to no avail to throw away.
“A what?”
“You never built one?” Harry asked back. His disbelief was clear.
Draco shook his head. Playing in the snow was for the commoner, or at least that was what his father said.
“Then you can help me make one,” Harry said, dragging Draco’s hand eagerly.
-.-.-.-.
Draco smiled involuntary at the memory. They had spent the entire evening filling the yard with varied snowmen before settling in for hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. It was a year and a lifetime ago. Everything seemed to be so easy at that time. They were young enough to hope and having survived a war, were cocky enough to think everything would go their way.
Funny. If anything, the war should have taught him that nothing would be easy, that things he wanted could slip through his fingers. But of course, he always saw what he wanted to see, didn’t he?
They had been so happy, those days. When did everything go wrong?
-.-.-.-.-.-.
“Are you blind?”
“Excuse me?” asked Harry absently, trying to clean the soot from his robe. From his tone of voice, it was clear to Draco that Harry wasn’t even aware of what he did, which only irked Draco more.
“Can’t you see what time it is?” he clarified. As if to make certain the man could, indeed, see, he conjured a gargantuan clock barely an inch from Harry’s face, its gigantic hands pointing very clearly to two at the morning.
Harry sighed. “Look, Draco. I am tired. I don’t have time to argue with you.”
“But you have time to drink with your friends.” He had smelled the firewhisky on Harry’s breath and the cheap perfume Ginny Weasley wore on Harry’s clothes. He would have accused Harry of having an affair if there wasn’t the smell of Granger’s perfume as well.
“What’s wrong with you? They are my friends. We just closed the case. We only went out for a drink or two. I don’t tell you that you can’t meet yours, do I?” Irritation started to creep into Harry’s voice.
Draco glared at Harry’s back. The git was taking off his robe and hanging it and how could he refuse Draco the courtesy of talking to Draco’s face?
“And I never make you wait for me because I'm having fun with my friends and forget that I have a lover at home, do I?”
Draco felt his anger flare anew. The case had been running for weeks and when he had heard that afternoon that it had finally been solved -- from Pansy, of all people, who had heard it from her boyfriend in the Auror department -- he had waited for Harry to come home and celebrate. In the end, the dinner had been thrown away, ruined by too many warming charms and he had fallen asleep on the sofa which was not as soft and comfortable as their bed.
“I never asked you to!”
To say that the reply was unexpected was an understatement. Draco had imagined a contrite Harry who promised him to never ever make him wait again. But then again, Harry was out with his friends, wasn’t he? He preferred to be with them rather than being with Draco, his boyfriend, never mind that Harry’s job had left them little to no time to be together the previous weeks.
“Why are you being such a jerk?”
“Why are you so jealous of my friends? Never mind, I don’t want to know. I am tired. You make me tired.”
And with that, Harry walked towards their bedroom without sparing his lover another glance.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The arguments, Draco now admitted, had been more frequent, each time worse than the previous. Though none had been as bad as the last one.
Maybe, Draco thought, they were simply not mean to be. After all, their friends seemed to think so.
His friends of course, understood perfectly well why dating someone like Harry Potter, famous slayer of Voldemort with political clout and connections was a good thing. In that, they supported him wholeheartedly. At least they did until they found realized Draco really liked the has-no-fashion-sense-and-too-much-moral-fiber Harry Potter.
Harry’s friends, on the other hand, simply didn’t like him. They thought he was not good enough for Harry and their relationship would only end up with Harry getting hurt, since Draco obviously had no heart and couldn’t be hurt as well.
They had tried with angry demands (Weasley), logical arguments (Granger), and tantrums and guilt trips (Girl Weasley). Then they tried with snide comments, insinuations, and by making Draco feel as unwelcome as possible in any get-together Harry had dragged him to.
Draco had continued clinging and was convinced that he would prove them all wrong. At that moment though, he started to think maybe, maybe they were right after all. There was no future for their relationship.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The first thing Draco realized upon awakening was he was warm. Despite the expensive and thick comforter, the extra sweater and the warming charm built into the room, He hadn’t been warm since Harry had packed his suitcases and left.
The next thing his sleepy brain registered was that there was someone in the bed with him. The other person’s smell was familiar and he could recognize the arm that was holding his midsection, through the fog of sleep easily enough.
He turned around to face a pair of green eyes that were wide awake.
“We need to talk.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.
Draco sat on the chair he had personally lugged from the Manor. It was beautiful and comfortable and upon hearing the price, Harry had called him a spoiled snob. His hands were wrapped around the ugly yellow mug Harry had insisted on keeping because it had been a housewarming gift from Mrs. Weasley.
He didn’t lift his eyes from the mug even when he heard Harry entering the room. Harry had said they needed to talk. It didn’t take a genius to infer that Harry wanted to break up with him.
Funnily enough, he couldn’t even feel much anger. He felt resigned and sad. He had decided that maybe it was for the best. He still loved Harry, but he would not make it a long and teary break up. He still had his pride, after all. He had decided that he would smile and say that he agreed it was for the best when Harry broke the news.
“I am sorry,”
Draco’s head turned so fast he could hear the bones crack.
“Huh?”
Draco had always been proud of his ability to weave words to convey his meanings but at that moment his brain seemed to have stopped working.
Harry took a breath and squared his shoulders, then locking his eyes with Draco’s, he started to step towards the chair. There, kneeling, he took Draco’s hands into his.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I lied. Moving in with you was not a mistake. I love you,”
And so much for his resolve not to cry, Draco thought, feeling the telltale wet in his eyes. The relief was so overwhelming and before his brain registered it, the confession came up through his mouth.
“I am afraid,” he said, burying his face into Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s hand came up and started to pet his hair - a habit that had been lost in their fights lately.
“I am afraid that one day you will wake up and realize that you want your friends more than me, that I am too troublesome, that you can get someone better.”
The hand stopped petting his hair and tugged at it instead, until Draco lifted his head and faced Harry’s stricken face.
“I don’t know…I never knew.”
“I am not paranoid. They don’t like me. They never did. And I am afraid that one day you will realize that they were right all along.”
Draco knew the moment the penny dropped. There was understanding in Harry’s eyes and his face was clouded with self-blame and guilt.
“And I left.”
His arms snaked onto Draco’s waist and hugged it tightly. Draco was quite sure he broke a rib or two.
“I am really, really sorry,” This time, it was Harry who was burying his face in Draco’s shoulder.
“I am sorry too. I know that you don’t like it when I call Granger with the m word.”
Then, in a smaller voice, he continued, “It just, you spend so much time with them.”
“I’m sorry. I know they are less than friendly with you.”
At this understatement, Draco snorted.
“But they have reasons to be, you know. You weren't exactly an angel before,” Harry continued, apparently deciding to ignore Draco’s disbelief.
Then, as if afraid that Draco would hex him for his previous judgment, he rushed his words out,
“But I thought if we gave them time, they would see that you have changed, that we are good together. That’s why I got annoyed every time you insulted them. They wouldn't get the chance to see the part of you that I see.”
“I thought as strong as you are, you wouldn’t let their insults get to you. I thought the only reason you were throwing the tantrum is because you hate to lose, hate that they hit your pride. I thought you hated me spending time with them because you hated to share, simply because you don’t like them. I never realized that my acts made you insecure.”
“I am not insecure. And I don’t like them,” Draco mumbled.
Apparently, Harry decided to ignore this as well. Instead, peppering Draco’s cheek with kisses, he said, “I chose you. And they will support my decision. I’ll talk to them.”
“I’ll stop picking on them,” Draco mumbled.
Draco could feel Harry smile on his hair. This was not happily ever after he thought. But they took the right step. This was not Harry coming back groveling and telling Draco that he would do anything like Draco had dreamed sometimes. But it’s okay. Compromise, Draco decided, was not so bad.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The pair of snowmen was standing in the garden across the street. One of them was wearing green scarf, the other was decorated by red scarf and an old spectacle. They both were smiling, greeting the people who passed them by.
The snow was falling heavily now, covering the ground with mounds and mounds of white. But, safe and warm in Harry’s embrace in their garden, Draco thought that it was peaceful rather than cold.
Fin