Recipient's name: irya_angelus
Word Count: 11,000
Summary: Christmas never turns out the way it ought.
Notes: Irya, I hope you enjoy it-- Happy Holidays! Emphatic thanks to my beta, currently nameless, yet always awesome.
[[Does that one count as having been together?
Yes. But it will be forever known as the year you were more of a prat than usual.
Me?! How was your leaving for all of a day and a half my fault?
Two days. And that whole... unpleasantness was your fault.
One and a half. And may I please remind you who dragged who into that closet?
Two, damn it. Only if I can remind you whose idea it was to go there to begin with.
One and a bloody half. And I'm sorry. I just thought it'd be good to get out around other people after the one before.
Two. Shut up.]]
"Hey. Having fun?"
Holding up his glass, Draco grinned crookedly. "More than I was when we first got here."
Harry snickered, the bottle in his hand mostly empty. "You can't have been standing here for more than thirty minutes."
"No," agreed Draco, "but the bartender was better company than any of the Gryffindors and Gryffindor sympathizers about."
"Potter!! You bastard, how've you been?!"
Harry's eyes went wide as Seamus Finnigan slapped him on the back hard enough to make him take a half-step forward. He spun on his heel, visibly twitchy as he shook Seamus' hand, sparing a nod for the giggling Lavender Brown at his side. "Hey, hi."
"Merry Christmas, Harry," said Lavender with a little wave around a very bright pink drink. "And um, Malfoy."
Pointedly, possessively moving closer, sliding an arm around Harry's waist and hooking a finger through his beltloop, Draco offered up a languid grin as he held his glass up. "I've no idea who you are, but sincerest season's greetings to you as well."
"Still hanging about, then, Malfoy?" Finnigan said with false cheer. "Potter here still get enough publicity to keep you in the papers?" Lavender giggled again and mouthed, 'Sorry' at Harry, very obviously not.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, "Seamus. Back off. It's Christmas."
"Yeah, yeah. I remember," said Seamus, failing in his bid to appear casual as he glared at Draco. "Hey, Harry, you remember Dean?"
"Yeah and you should too. Hey, I think Nev's looking for you," said Harry, his voice hard, cocking his head toward the crowd near the fireplace. "He's right over there."
"Come on, darling," said Lavender a little boozily. "Parvati's there, too."
"Right then. Was good seeing you, Harry," said Seamus as he allowed Lavender to tug him away.
Harry scowled as they retreated. "I'm so sorry. I've no idea what that was about."
"I do. And I have to say," mumbled Draco, as he drained his glass. "At least Lovegood was trying to be cordial with her madness over near the bar. Did you know about the nargles?"
With an amused snort, Harry said, "I hadn't heard."
"And fuck him, anyway," Draco said, still on the topic of Finnigan as he nuzzled Harry's neck. "No one of any consequence gives a damn about what any loser Gryffindor thinks, anyway." With a sly glance at Harry's half-groan of protest, he added, "Oh. Right."
Harry tugged the glass from Draco's hand and Banished it along with his own bottle. "You spent a lot of time with the bartender, didn't you?" he asked, smiling good-nauredly at the public display of affection that made it clear Draco was well on his way to comfortably drunk. Not about to complain, given he was in nearly the same state, Harry dropped a kiss to his jaw.
"Enough to make this party bearable," Draco said, shifting to murmur into Harry's ear. "Enough to want to disappear for a bit with you, I think."
"Wicked," breathed Harry as Draco nibbled on his earlobe. "Home?"
"Nuh-uh," said Draco, tugging him down the hall with a perfunctory glance to make sure no one was paying attention. "Your party's not over. We'll just take a break."
Caught between a snicker and gasp, Harry depended on the wall of the tiny, unused closet at the very end of the darkened corridor to hold him up, feet spread apart as far as the trousers around his ankles would allow, hand fisted in Draco's pale hair. Draco's mouth moved slowly up the length of his cock, tongue darting out to trace the veins along the underside as his fingers teased Harry's arse, finally --oh, god, finally-- pulling Harry's head into his mouth, tongue swirling. There was no question as to whether Harry was gasping or not as Draco's head bobbed, eyes darting up to catch Harry's reaction, still managing to look smug through kiss-swollen lips, wet and cherry red and stretched around Harry's cock. Harry's fingers somehow unfisted long enough to paw at the hand holding his hips steady, though his toes curled inside of his shoes so tightly they began to go numb.
"God, yeah; that's-- that'sperfectfuckyeahloveyou," swore Harry under his breath, biting his lip to keep his voice down, oblivious to the low laughter and shuffling feet outside. His fingers twisted in Draco's hair as his hips bucked up, swallowing crookedly, his stomach turning over as he murmured Draco's name.
And then the closet door was pulled open and Lavender Brown was standing no more than two feet away with her hand covering her mouth in feigned shock, apology belied by the snickering of more than just Seamus behind her. "Harry! Oh! I'm um, Sorry!"
Harry reached for the door, and even wandless, caused it to slam shut again, but the damage was done. Draco's face was flushed, his eyes narrowed as he stood. Harry reached for Draco next, murmuring, "Don't worry about those bastards," but Draco shoved him away hard.
"Get away from me."
"Wait- what?" asked Harry confused as he tried again to catch hold of Draco only to be shoved again.
"I'm fucking sick to death of you and your little Gryffindor friends," snarled Draco, pulling his wand and Disapparating with a crack that sounded too loud in the small, confined space.
Furious, Harry zipped his trousers and walked out of the closet to a small crowd of cheers and catcalls, a still-inanely giggling Lavender at the forefront of the pack.
"At least he knows his place, Potter," laughed Seamus and Harry's eyes flashed. He shoved Lavender roughly aside and didn't give Seamus a chance to protest, fist connecting solidly with his jaw and sending him sprawling.
"There's yours, wanker," muttered Harry over the 'oooh'ing crowd, not bothering to see who else he recognized as he pulled his own wand and was gone in an instant.
Harry had looked everywhere he could think of beginning with their home, and ending here on the ground outside Parkinson Manor looking up at what he now knew was Draco's window.
"I know you're up there," he called up with air of someone that had been at it for a while. "And I'm sorry that they were such arseholes. Even being pissed was no excuse, and for what it's worth, I clocked Finnigan hard enough to break his sodding face, and I hope I did. Would you please just-- come to the bloody window?" The window slid open, and Harry murmured, "Oh for fuck's sake. Finally," but it was Pansy that popped her head out.
"Go away, Potter. You're not welcome here."
"Come on, Pansy," Harry said, throwing his hands up. "This is ridiculous. Would you please just tell him to get his arse out here and talk to me?"
"If you weren't such a common, plebian idiot Gryffindor half-blood, you wouldn't have created this problem to begin with," she answered eyes narrow.
"How is this my fault?" asked Harry. "How?"
"Sorry, this question and answer session is over," Pansy shrugged, nose upturned. "Be on your way. My House-Elf will be by in the morning for Draco's things."
"WHAT?!" cried Harry. "That's it. I'm coming up there."
"Cross my wards and you'll find yourself uncomfortably and irreversibly transgendered, Potter," hissed Pansy. "And if you think I'm kidding, feel free to try, because I, for one, wouldn't mind seeing your dumb arse in a skirt."
"Fine. Fuck it," snarled Harry right back, voice rising as he spoke, feeling as though he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. "Your boy wants to play grammar school and use a go-between to fucking leave me then so be it. Tell him I said to have a nice fucking life."
"There is one other thing," Pansy called out as Harry turned to leave.
"What the hell do you want now, Parkinson?" shouted Harry, finding that his next sentence consisted of, "Fuck! Jesus! Christ, that's cold! You bitch!" as a pail of ice water was dumped over his head. He knew unequivocably that it had been charmed, because it seemed like the water never stopped and was leaving frost behind on his lashes, the tip of his nose and anything else it dripped off. He shivered and pulled his wand, biting off a hex in her direction that just bounced off a wall of thin air seemingly inches from her nose.
Pansy smiled nastily. "I'll give him the message."
Harry sat sprawled in the armchair by the fire on Boxing Day, exactly thirty seven hours after Draco had disappeared from the party, drunk despite the fact that it was only ten am, given there was no other way he'd be able to face Parkinson's House-Elf coming to collect Draco's things. His eyes were shut, but he heard the crack of an Apparition in the room and waved his hand in its general direction. "Do whatever. Take whatever."
"I might just do that," said Draco, arms crossed as he stared hard at Harry, who sat up so fast, the bottle in his hand tumbled to the ground, spilling whatever was left onto the floor. "You were just going to let me walk away?"
"Th'fuck was I s'pposed t'do?" said Harry. "You woudn' even talk to me. I don' even know howzit mafault." With that, he sneezed into a handkerchief that went back in his pocket after the third try. "And th' fucking cow poured ice water on me and threatened my cock. Water was fucking cold."
"That she did," said Draco. "But she did that of her own volition."
"Well, tha's just ducky, innit?" said Harry, peering blearily at Draco and finally coming to the conclusion that he was moving closer. "G'way. You can't jus' leave me when it's convenient and come back whenever you want. Tha's just fu-fucked up, is what."
"I hadn't left you to begin with, you drunken bastard," Draco said, disgruntled.
"Did. Had Pansy tell me you weren' coming back. But that didn't surprise me, 'cos everyone leaves. Except how it sort of did, since I didn't think you'd leave. But whatever. 'Smy fault, anyway. Least you're not dead," Harry rambled on as he sat hard on the sofa. "Prolly would have come looking for you all-- hungover or still dru-unk and even more pathetic just for you to rip me apart again, though. 'Pologise in advance."
"Potter?" Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't have this conversation with you if you're only going to forget it when you're sober."
"You're still here?" asked Harry, slumping against the armrest.
"My god, you are pathetic," murmured Draco, raising his voice to say, "Since when do you believe what Pansy tells you? You know better."
"She's your best friend 'nd whatnot," said Harry, gesturing haphazardly. "'Swhere you go when you're all bent outta shape."
"I didn't know she was going to say that to you," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"You didn't?" said Harry, cracking an eye open. "So, you're not leaving?"
"No," said Draco, reaching out to run his hand through Harry's hair. "Though I'm sorely tempted to wait until you've dried out to declare my intent to stay. And I'm never coming near that pack of bastard Gryffindors again."
"Done done done," Harry said through a smile that would have lit up the room had he been more conscious. "Tha's fucking brill'nt. Didn't wanchoou to go. I'll kick every last one of those bastards in the arse for catching you sucking me off, if you want. I c'n do that, y'know. 'M the big bad saviour man and all."
"Come on," Draco said with a great, put-upon sigh, tugging on Harry's hand. "You need to sleep this off."
Harry nodded, then groaned and curled against the armrest, pulling Draco's hand with him. "Ok. 'M good here. Now you're not leaving, I'll sleep. Tha's good. Love you. Was a mis'rable sod withouchoo. All of a day and a half, too. You're right. Pathetic."
Well past patience, Draco pulled his hand away and stalked off. "Fine. Stay there. Don't want you vomiting on me anyway."
"K," agreed Harry and promptly loosed a loud snore.
Ten minutes later, Draco was jogging down the stairs, muttering as he squeezed onto the sofa and slid his arms around a smelly, snoring Harry, "I cannot believe this."
Harry tucked his arm around Draco, murmuring, "You prolly weren't pathetic without me. Prolly drank champagne and watched Pansy do a no-Potter happy dance."
"You'd be surprised," said Draco quietly, rubbing at his eyes.
"Mmph?" said Harry, one eye half-open.
"I said, you'll be surprised when you're sober," Draco said, backpedalling without remorse. "Go to sleep."
That was your fault, too.
Oh now, I draw the line there.
I don't. You cut that trip too close. You could not possibly be surprised that you were delayed.
They needed me to go with the delegation. They swore I'd be back in time!
Who believes what the government tells them, I ask you?
Point. Not that you didn't get your revenge.]]
Harry stood at the counter of the Portkey terminal in Washington DC, staring at the counter agent in disbelief. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm afraid no Portkeys are being allowed to activate at the moment, sir, until the terminal is thoroughly searched in the wake of the terrorist scare."
Blinking again, Harry checked his watch. "No, see, you don't understand-- I promised I'd be home by tonight."
"I'm really very sorry, sir," said the agent. "Next?"
Harry hung his head speaking more to himself than anything. "Oh, Christ, I'm so dead."
"Sir?" the agent said, tilting her head at him.
"That's really nice," said Harry, the lights around the counter flickering as his anger rose. "Bet you people wouldn't be so smug if everyone worked out Transatlantic Apparition, wouldn't you? You know, bet I could. Maybe I should try it right now?"
Businesslike yet managing to display some empathy, the agent said, "No one's managed it yet, sir." Her eyes flicked to his scar. "Maybe one day someone like you will manage it, but I wouldn't advise trying it tonight, if you want to make it home to whomever you're trying to make it home to." She smiled, genuinely apologetic and a little tired. "The coffee and owl post booths are both staying open, free of charge until normal travel resumes."
Sighing, Harry finally looked at her nametag. "Thank you, Janine. I'm-- sorry. You've been more than kind." He ran a hand through his hair and picked up his bag as Janine wished him good luck, and turned away toward the coffee stand.
Once he had his coffee in hand, he sat dispiritedly, pinching the bridge of his nose as the carols piping through the speakers above grated on his nerves. All around him were people that were either huddling together or looking as upset as he. Harry set the paper cup down with a growled swear, exhaling and letting his hand fall onto the bag at his side. He could feel the outline of the miniaturized giftboxes inside and let his gaze drag up to the owl post booth, suddenly cracking a grudging smile.
Late Christmas morning, Harry arrived at the flat, still rumpled in the clothes he'd been wearing for the past twenty-four hours. He let himself in quietly, but as the door shut behind him, he heard a familiar voice from the kitchen.
Harry flinched involuntarily even though Draco didn't sound as irritated as he probably had a right to be. "Hey," he said as he entered the kitchen and made for the tousled blond at the table. "I am so s... huh?"
Leaning up to kiss the very confused Harry, Draco adjusted the quilt tucked around his shoulders and smirked. "Welcome h-- back."
Brow deeply furrowed, Harry reached out to tug at the quilt, "Where'd you get that?"
"Funny you should ask," said Draco, taking a slow sip from his teacup and seemingly oblivious to Harry's consternation. "I received it in the owl post last night from a prat that couldn't balls up and say no to a last minute business trip." He kept speaking as Harry shook his head slowly in disbelief. "Honestly, I thought the gift was disturbingly domestic even given the rather graphic letter that came with it." Draco smiled languidly as he set the teacup down. "But you know, I found it's fabulously filthy to have a good wank to a pornographic letter of apology under a 'wedding ring' pattern quilt."
Harry pressed the palm of his hand against his face and groaned, "Oh my god."
"I have to admit, I was still fairly peeved until I received the post this morning," Draco went on, holding out the letter that had been sitting under Harry's next to his saucer. "I know it was addressed to you, but when I saw who it was from, I felt you wouldn't mind my opening it."
Harry took the letter and unfolded it, sinking into his empty seat. "Oh my god."
"My favorite part is where Granger talks about how touched she is that after all these years you're comfortable enough to give a gift so personal and potentially embarrassing," Draco drawled as he stood, obviously enjoying the fact that Harry was busily wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. "Or possibly," he added, sliding closer to Harry, "the bit about how the Weasel got over his embarrassment once he found out how well it worked, and would send his thanks as well, but was busy being passed out with a stupid grin plastered across his face."
"Oh my fucking god," groaned Harry again, dropping the letter and covering his face with both hands this time. "I cannot believe I switched the boxes."
"At least you didn't switch the letters," said Draco. Snickering, he straddled Harry's lap and tilted his head. "And what exactly did the Weasels receive, praytell?"
Harry's answer was nothing as much as a strangled, "Ckrngnahrns." Strangled half because of the fact that he couldn't quite say the words because he didn't want to complete the visual of his two best friends having used it; the other half because Draco was quietly and no doubt purposefully shifting in his lap, and had made it clear that he was totally starkers under the quilt he was wearing in place of a dressing gown.
"I'm sorry, what?" asked Draco, ever so innocently as he rolled his hips again as he slid his hands up Harry's ribcage to his shoulders, effectively uncovering Harry's face while was at it. "I didn't quite catch that."
Easily distracted, but still completely mortified, Harry let his hands fall around Draco, eyes shut. He sighed and said quickly, "Fine. A cock ring. And a-- harness sort of... thing. From one of the finest sex shops in DC, I'll have you know."
What began as a snicker became a wild peal of laughter as Draco fell against Harry. He was barely breathing in between the laughter, somehow managing to say, "Imagine the look on--"
"Just stop, please," said Harry, letting his head loll back. "I don't want to imagine any of it."
Laughter barely receding, Draco sat up again, the grind of his hips against Harry's no accident and this time making Harry suck in a harsh breath.
"Point. And you're really out of luck because I'm not about to trade my gift back now."
Harry slid his hands around Draco's arse, kneading roughly through the thick quilt. "Pattern and all?"
"More to the point," murmured Draco, rocking into Harry's hands and nuzzling his jaw. "I know where the other gift's been and the very idea is revolting. You'll just have to buy me a new one."
"Mmyes," said Harry, stealing one hand under the quilt to run up Draco's bare side and chest. "That I will gladly do. More time to use it, too, given I'll never be able to look at my best friends again, much less spend time with them." He ran his thumb up and across Draco's nipple, eyes snapping wide at his yelp of both pleasure and pain. There was no time to register what was different as Draco's sudden shift managed to topple the chair over backward. Harry's head hit the tile and he exhaled a grunt that was cut short as Draco landed on him, the chair sliding out just far enough from under Harry that the edge bit a hard line just under his shoulderblades. "Ouch."
"Bloody hell--," said Draco, sliding his hand around the back of Harry's head. "Alright? Not grievously injured, are you?"
"What was that?" breathed Harry.
"Minor body modification while you were away," Draco grinned. "Lovely little titanium bars. Thought you might like them. I sure as hell do."
"Oh. I'm sure they're brilliant. I know they've got to be, in fact." Harry let his head thump back down, fully expecting hard tile again, but Draco's hand was still there to catch him. "Can we please take this conversation to bed where I can properly appreciate them?"
"God yes," Draco murmured, planting his free hand over Harry's shoulder. "Still planning on, and I quote, 'holding me down and fucking me hoarse'?"
"Without question," Harry growled, licking his lower lip.
"When your employers Floo looking for you tomorrow, I plan to tell them to sod directly off," said Draco, eyes alight. "Wearing only my Christmas present."
Harry snickered, suddenly far less tired as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Be my guest."
You're grinning like an idiot.
So what if I am?
It's hardly an uncommon occurrence.
It was a good Christmas, alright?
It was about bloody time.]]
The air was filled with the scent of a freshly-cut Christmas tree, and Harry was grinning breathlessly as he pinned Draco's wrist above his head, free hand sliding up and under his shirt and smoothing against his skin. With his own free hand fisted tightly in the front of Harry's half-open shirt, Draco canted his hips upward seeking more friction, but gave up with a sound caught between a whimper and a growl. He settled instead for lifting his head off of the rug far enough to nip at Harry's jaw as he fumbled with shirt buttons, only to have the other wrist pinned at roughly the level of his ear.
"Nice." Draco laughed and let his head thump down again, dragging his calf up the back of Harry's thigh. "Except now you're out of luck, unless you've sprouted another hand." He licked his lower lip and considered trying to squirm out of this situation and immediately thought better of it as Harry rocked his hips down against him. Draco had some trouble trying to resist being driven mad by the slow grind of Harry's cock against his own, undone trousers in between notwitstanding.
Harry leaned in to kiss him properly and Draco moaned low in his throat, the heel of his foot now firmly set against Harry's arse and being used as leverage with which he could rock his hips. Breaking the kiss with a gasp for air, Harry grinned, the mischievous gleam in his eye clearly stating that he was up to no good. "Even better."
Draco arched an eyebrow, given that Harry's ideas were either really fucking good, or really very bad, but he still managed to drawl out, "Astound me," not for the first time surprised when Harry did. Without bothering to reach for his wand, Harry cocked his head in the direction of the tree and hissed. Really Hissed, as in, used Parseltongue, which Draco could identify easily by the goosebumps that pulled up on every square inch of his skin and an almost painful twitch of his already very interested cock. Better indeed-- the fuzzy silver garland hung that in lumpy patches on the tree seemed to slither off and down onto the ground; a strange, gleaming reptile intent on wrapping itself tight around Draco's wrists and anchoring itself to the legs of the nearby sofa. Draco was caught between a laugh and a moan as Harry lifted Draco's shirt, tongue swiping across his nipple twice before using teeth to tug on the titanium bar that had become one of his favorite toys.
And then there was more Parseltongue, and Draco shut his eyes and let it wash over him, rocking his hips into the wandering hands that were shoving his trousers and pants down past his hips. The hissing waxed and waned between nips and kisses that worked their way downward and Draco's hands strained against the garland that held them, though it was more that he wanted them on Harry than wanting to get away. Twisting, back arching, Draco tried to speak in what might be considered a sexy, bedroom murmur though the he was stretched on the sitting room rug, yet his voice was husky and too loud and completely out of control as he said, "Don't know what you're saying. Wanna know."
Those damnably green eyes that were nearly luminescent some days peered up, squinting slightly in the absence of the glasses that had been tossed aside sometime during the chucking aside of wrapping paper, and Harry set his chin just below Draco's navel. "That you're fucking gorgeous all tied down like this. That I love the fact that ancient, dark magic turns you on." Smirking, Harry tilted his head so that his lips occasionally brushed a fresh bitemark nearby in a sideways reverent kiss, his hand stroking the bare flesh of Draco's thigh and slowly creeping upward, voice low and full of intent. "That I cannot wait to suck you off, long and slow, until you're absolutely incoherent and your fingernails start going blue from how hard you tug to get loose," he murmured, bending to swirl his tongue teasingly around the head of Draco's cock, eliciting an impossibly loud moan in the otherwise quiet room. "That I'm going to leave another mark just here," he said, his thumb pressing hard on Draco's thigh, fingers digging into his hip, "and another here when I fuck you. And another set later to match."
"Fucking h--" Draco tried to say, interrupted by his own harsh intake of breath as Harry's tongue began playing along the underside of his cock, "--hell; that's... that's..."
"Mmhmm." Harry pinned Draco's bucking hips down with one hand, the other sliding up and over his flat stomach once before moving back into place around the base of Draco's cock, stroking lazily as he went on. "Floo's shut off. Hedwig's intercepting the post. Everyone we know's been accounted for. Wards are up. The world's shut out and we're shut in. And so," Harry said, moving to nibble at Draco's thigh, "this is definitely better."
As Harry's mouth closed around him again, Draco's foot came off of the ground and flailed for a moment, finally hitting the rug again with a muffled thump in concert with a groan that originated directly in the tight tangle of heat and emotion in the pit of his stomach. His mouth was moving, yes, but he wasn't quite clear on the words that were coming out of it.
"I fucking hate you, Potter. Always will."
Draco didn't need a translation for the answering bit of Parseltongue that reverberated through his very spine and shook him to the core. By now he was well familiar with, "I know."
"Smug bastard," Draco murmured from his perch on the armrest of the sofa, using his index finger to trace Harry's lips as he stood between Draco's knees, cider long gone and mugs set aside. "Think you're so brilliant now."
"Know it," said Harry, arms loosely draped around Draco and shamelessly enjoying the opportunity to be allowed this close; not physically- most of the time they were (or had just been) a lot closer before Harry was grinning quite as stupidly. It was more a matter of being allowed past all of the blocks and fears and bad memories and feeling the heady rush of having convinced Draco that he wouldn't run or leave or stab him in the back. All they'd been through had led them here, and Harry wasn't about to give that up for anything. And Draco knew it. "It's an incontrovertible fact."
"Granger teaching you her five-Galleon words?" said Draco.
"Nuh uh," Harry said, pressing a kiss to the fingers at his mouth. "Article in the Quibbler on the latest developments in the hunt for the Snorkack."
Draco laughed and it carried almost none of the hard, bitter bite that it always did. "Idiot."
"Prat," said Harry, nose twitching to keep from smiling.
"Halfblood," said Draco, turning up his own nose.
"Snot!" Harry cried with much feigned indignance as he shook Draco once and forced him to tighten his grip on Harry's belt to keep from falling over.
"Stupid Gryffindor," Draco muttered.
"Lying, scheming Slytherin."
"Pain in the arse."
"Not yet, no," said Harry, this time shoving him all the way back onto the sofa and following him down. "But give me a chance. I'll get there."
"Oof!" Draco breathed as Harry landed on him. "Pervert."
Harry cocked his head at Draco, shoving the hair off of his forehead, watching him quietly for a long time. "I--"
The crack of a nearby Apparition made them both narrow their eyes. Harry shifted and pushed up onto his knees, carefully peering over the back of the sofa as Draco sat up and followed suit. There was a rapid series of knocks at the door followed by Ron's voice.
"Sorry, mate. It's me, Ron. You home? It's important."
Harry hung his head and swore under his breath.
"Is there any danger of someone dying or coming to grievous harm, Weasel?" shouted Draco.
From the other side of the door, Ron called back, "Well, no. Listen--"
"Any Dark Lords rising from the dead? World in danger of impending destruction?" Draco shouted again, and this time Harry had to bury a snicker against his shoulder.
"Um, No," said Ron. "But--"
"Then bugger off and have a nice Christmas," Draco said, still managing to sound haughty as he held Harry's face to his shoulder to keep him from arguing, the sounds of Harry's laughter and half-hearted sounds of protest muffled effectively in Draco's jumper. "Come back when we're done, if your drama is all that pressing," he added grudgingly through a snicker of his own as he squirmed under Harry, who was poking at his ribs in an effort to distract him.
"Done doing wh-- UGH," said Ron. "Ugh. Malfoy that's still vile. I don't-- UGH. Harry! Just - Floo later, yeah? UGH."
At the crack that signaled Ron's departure, Draco let Harry up, stopping whatever he was going to say with a wicked smirk and strategically placed hand. "I'm sorry-- where were we?"