I'll Play Your Game

Chapter Twelve

Draco had found dinner to be a surprisingly pleasant ⁠⁠— if incredibly boisterous — affair for the most part.

The food had been delicious, and if it had been laced with something after all...well, it might have been worth it for the taste.

Molly had been noticeably less cold to him, and Draco thought Harry must have had that talk with her, which made him a bit uncomfortable. He already felt he was intruding on the family gathering, and the idea of Harry asking for more on his behalf made him feel guilty.

And then there was also Ginevra.

Draco knew it was ridiculous to feel jealous. He and Harry weren't even really together, so it certainly wasn't his place; and it wasn't really his business whether Harry and Ginevra were just close friends or still interested in each other. 

Plus, stooping to jealousy just felt so...silly. But he couldn't help the pang he had felt when he'd come in for a respite from the cold and saw the two of them cuddled together, laughing and whispering on the sofa. Harry was a tactile friend and a cuddler, Draco knew that now, so it didn't even necessarily mean anything, but it still hurt a bit.

Ginevra seemed likeable too, though, and that was the other problem. Draco really didn't want to hate her, and he couldn't help hoping that what Harry had said before they'd left (about the two of them getting along once she warmed up to him) would be true. But as he watched Harry put a comfortable arm over her shoulders and lean his head against hers — even as he held Draco's hand on the other side — he resented her just a little bit.

Harry nudged Draco's foot with his, and looked at him out of the corner of his eye, head still resting on Ginevra's shoulder.

"Feeling okay?" He mouthed, and Draco nodded and squeezed his hand. He didn't need to be ruining Harry's holiday too with his petty jealousy.

Still, it made something inside his chest glow a little warmer to have Harry paying close attention to him and caring about his comfort.

Harry squeezed his hand back, and brought them up to press a kiss to the back of Draco's hand. He let them drop again and traced his thumb over the edge of Draco's ring, which made him feel just a tiny bit more soft and glowy inside. Not that anybody had to know that.

Draco watched as Harry closed his eyes like a contented cat — possibly listening in to Ron's fantastical story about a recent Auror bust, or perhaps lost in his thoughts. 

And maybe Draco felt pretty content right now too. Even with his discomfort, feeling like he didn't belong at the Weasley family's Christmas, and his silly jealousy, and his stupidly hopeless pining after Harry. The room was warm and filled with laughter and chatter, and he was holding hands with the man who had so quickly wormed his way into his life, and who was now — to Draco's surprise — his best friend. He was safe and full of good food, and he thought maybe things didn't have to live up to your highest hopes to be worth enjoying.

◇◇◇

About the time Bill and Fleur took their leave to put the kids to bed, Harry started nodding off heavily. After about five minutes of nearly being smushed under the ever-farther-leaning dead weight, Ginny pushed his head off her shoulder.

Harry blinked his eyes open with a small, betrayed noise, but Ginny only rolled her eyes. "Oh no you don't, you big lug. You've got a boyfriend for that now," she said, elbowing him in the side until he shifted his weight off of her. 

"He's a better pillow than you anyway," Harry mumbled, resituating himself to curl against Draco's side.

"Good." Ginny replied, rolling her arm, and trying to shake the feeling of pins and needles from it. "Don't know how you do it," she said to him.