Harry awakes on Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the foot of his bed and Ron is already halfway through opening his own, rather larger, pile.
Harry had stopped sleeping in the same room as Draco since they kissed. While they haven't spoken much about it, they aren't nearly as awkward as he thought they might be.
Most of their conversations regarding the subject have been an exchange of, "kissing you was nice."
And "Yeah. . . You wanna do it again?"
It wasn't very long after their first kiss that Mrs. Weasley noticed their closeness and decided to switch up their sleeping arrangements. Now, Harry and Ron share a room, Draco stays with the twins, and Hermione, who arrived not long after the first visit to St. Mungo's, with Ginny.
Their lack of alone time has now made it even more awkward and while they may have made out quite a few times, Draco usually pulled him off to the side and pinned him to the wall or one other time, a door, there still hasn't been a conversation regarding what this situation means for them.
Are they friends that occasionally make out? Dating? Boyfriends?
The very thought of being with someone sends shivers down his spine.
"Good haul this year," Ron informs Harry through a cloud of paper, snapping him out of his thoughts, "Thanks for the Broom Compass, it's excellent, beats Hermione's - she's got me a homework planner -"
Harry sorts through his presents and finds one with Hermione's handwriting on it. She had given him a book that resembled a diary, except that it said things like "Do it today or later you'll pay!" every time he opens a page.
Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts, which has superb, moving color illustrations of all the counter jinxes and hexes it described.
Harry flicks through the first volume eagerly; he can see it is going to be highly useful in his plans for the D.A. Hagrid had sent a furry brown wallet that has fangs, which are presumably supposed to be an antitheft device, but unfortunately prevents Harry putting any money in without getting his fingers ripped off.
Tonks's present is a small, working model of a Firebolt, which Harry watches fly around the room, wishing he still has his full-size version. Ron had given him an enormous box of Every-Flavor Beans; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley the usual hand-knitted jumper and some mince pies; and Dobby, a truly dreadful painting that Harry suspects had been done by the elf himself.
He had just turned it upside down to see whether it looked better that way when, with a loud crack, Fred and George Apparate at the foot of his bed.
"Merry Christmas," says George. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."
"Why not?" asks Ron.
"Mum's crying again," says Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."
"Without a note," adds George. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything . . ."
"We tried to comfort her," says Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait. "Told her Percy's nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings -"
"- didn't work," says George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."
"What's that supposed to be anyway?" asks Fred, squinting at Dobby's painting. "Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes."
"It's Harry!" says George, pointing at the back of the picture. "Says so on the back!"
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IMPOSSIBLE RISKS // Drarry
FanfictionLucius nods and takes a sip of his fire whisky, "I want you to befriend him, make sure he isn't all that suspicious. I don't want him to figure out our plans." Draco wrinkles his nose at the thought of talking to Potter civilly, let alone being fri...
