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Eleven Canticles of Tradition	By : empathicsiren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1596 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Eleven Canticles of Tradition
- 1
ELEVEN CANTICLES
OF TRADITION

(How Harry
Potter Found Christmas)

by, Empathic Siren

Disclaimer: I own
nothing Harry Potter related. I intend
no copyright infringement. I make no
money from this.

A/N: Special
thanks to Sansa for her intrepid beta skills and for simply being her. Thanks also to Montana Dan and Snottygrrl
for their encouragement.

Canticle I: I have No Gift to Give, I Play My Best for
You

Harry Potter had a new respect for Molly Weasley as he
surveyed what used to be the kitchen in the small London flat he shared with
his lover, Draco Malfoy. Flour dusted
everything like a fine layer of snow.
There were globs of gelatinous gravy splattered on the cupboard
doors. Every dish, every utensil, was
strewn about the kitchen in varying stages of misuse. Harry himself was covered in . . . something�he squinted at his
shirt�yellow, maybe? It was hard to
tell beneath all of the flour. One
quick swipe of his index finger across a largish spot of the stuff and quick
taste later determined that it was the gelatinous gravy�pre-gelatin. The larger problem, he was realizing, was
the smoking mound of char in front of him that, at one time, had been a lovely
roast just waiting to be warmed through.
Properly.

�Bloody hell!�

Harry rolled his eyes and turned
to face Ron, not surprised that his best friend was here, uninvited, and
witnessing his humiliation. Harry
squinted at Ron�s greenish complexion.
He knew the kitchen looked bad, but was it enough to make one sick? He was about to comment when Ron�s
complexion shifted abruptly to a shocking shade of neon pink. It was then that Harry realized he was
seeing the reflective effects of the Muggle fairy lights he�d strewn about the
living room two weeks before.

�Seriously, Harry. I mean . . . bloody hell! I thought you said you used to have to cook
for the Muggles.�

�A quick fry-up in the morning
and a sandwich or two doesn�t make me a bloody chef,� Harry snarled, staring at
the roast. Willing it to do . . .
something.

�Merlin! Did you string more of those Muggle fairy
lights?�

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes,
not that Ron was paying attention.
Harry was surprised he�d even heard Ron, what with the Christmas carols
blaring in the background. There was
something rather perverse about adults with chipmunk voices signing with great
excitement about Christmas, Christmas time being near.

Sodding Malfoy. None of this would have happened if he
hadn�t demanded that they spend Christmas together the Muggle way. Harry hadn�t the heart to tell Draco that
just because he�d grown up with Muggles didn�t mean he had a clue about their
Christmas traditions. Not ever being
allowed to participate, the idea of a Muggle Christmas didn�t resonate with
him. But, he was determined. After all, he broke the world�s most
dangerous curses for a living. How hard
could it be to whip up a few Christmas traditions?

Besides, he knew the way
Christmas was supposed to feel. He
remembered the sense of wonder and excitement the first time he saw the
reflection of the fairy lights on the brightly wrapped gifts nestled beneath
the Christmas tree. All he had to do
was find things that recreated that.
How hard could it be? The
expression on Ron�s face as he took in the devastation wrought by Harry�s
attempts at cooking shook Harry�s confidence, however.

�You know, you can�t just pop
round whenever you feel like it,� Harry said with an uncharacteristic edge to
his voice as he tried to stab the �roast� with little new potatoes attached to
toothpicks. The toothpicks kept
snapping in half�Harry refused to believe it was because of the impervious
surface of the solidified brick of meat in front of him. No, this was the result of shoddy
craftsmanship. �Ruddy cheap wankers,�
he muttered under his breath as another one snapped, catapulting the previously
attached small, undercooked potato to the floor.

Ron ignored Harry. And his flying potatoes. Was that cherry sauce? On the ceiling? �Fred and George didn�t ambush you with anything, did they?� Ron
asked, while poking suspiciously at something that was supposed to have been a
cranberry congealed salad.

�No,� Harry snapped as he gave up
on the potatoes all together and turned his attention back to the gravy with
the fervent belief that he could whisk it into submission.

After watching Harry throw his
entire body into whipping the gravy into shape, Ron could stand the humiliation
no more. He cleared his throat. Harry couldn�t hear him, of course, what
with the racket from the hi-fi in the living room. It sounded like Crookshanks was being dragged through the mud
rather than the �Ave Ma�riiiiiii-aaaaaaaa,� some chirpy bird was singing in a
screechy voice that rivaled that of Trelawney at her most ridiculous.

�Mate,� Ron tried again as Harry
had words with the gravy.

Harry!� Ron finally yelled.

�What?� Harry barked as he turned
around, slinging gravy all over Ron in the process. �Oh, bloody hell,� Harry muttered as he reached out and
wordlessly Scourgified Ron�s shirt.

�It�s okay, mate, really,� Ron
yelled, trying his best to drown out the grand orchestral swell bleating from
the living room. �Look, do you think we
could turn that off for a few minutes?�

Harry sighed and slumped against
the kitchen counter. Defeated. Another non-verbal spell and flick of the
wrist later and the flat was blessedly silent.

�Things not going so well?�

Harry pursed his lips, lest he say something
scathing. If nothing else, Ron had
always been the master of the understatement and the captain of the
obvious.

�Not particularly, no,� Harry
opted for instead, turning his attention back to the gravy once again.

�Good thing you�ve got four weeks
vacation,� Ron muttered.

Harry snorted.
�Vacation, my arse,� he said as he made another go at the gravy.

�Harry,� Ron said. He hesitated as the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh
of the whisk stopped for a moment.
Waiting. �Have you thought about
. . . I mean to say . . . Look, you know Mum--�

�No!� Harry exclaimed, his
whisking starting up again, going faster and faster. �I�m doing this on my own, Ron.
It�s my gift to Draco. I don�t
need help.�

Ron nodded his head, even though
he knew Harry couldn�t see him. He
cleared his throat. �It�s just that . .
. well . . . I don�t understand why you just don�t tell him about the Dursleys.
What�s so horrible about telling your .
. . l-lover--�Ron cleared his throat and pulled his collar away��that you don�t
have any Muggle traditions?�

Ron winced when the furiously
turning whisk clattered against the side of the glass bowl. He watched as Harry�s shoulders tensed and
his hands made little fists.

�I�m not going through this with
you again,� Harry whispered in a tight voice.
�You know why. Besides, I can
figure it out. I did have a life before
Hogwarts, you know. I saw things. And, I�m resourceful, remember? Besides, Draco�s a pureblooded wizard. He won�t know the difference. He just wants to see what being Muggle is
like. It�s a curiosity thing for
him. I�m sure of it. It doesn�t really mean anything to him.�

�Sure, mate. Yeah, I�m sure that�s right. And . . . I get it Harry, I really do. You�re the uh . . . well, I mean, you�re
like the guy in the relationship.�

Harry spun around, the caked
whisk hovering expectantly. �Like the
guy in the relationship?� he repeated.
�Funny. I thought we were both
guys.�

Ron turned pink . . . and then
green again. �I mean, I know that you
like for things to be perfect. I mean .
. . you know . . .� Ron cleared his
throat again. �Look, it�s obvious that
you coddle the ferret.�

At Harry�s sharp glance, Ron
mumbled an apology. �I�m just trying to
say, I mean . . . I get that you�re the . . . strong one the . . . uh . . .
well . . .�

One of Harry�s eyebrow arched in
a Malfoy-esque way. The effect was
rather ruined by the bits of potato and cranberry in his hair. �What, Ron?
What is it that you get? That I
top? That it�s my cock that goes up his
arse, not the other way round?�

�Bloody hell, Harry,� Ron swore
in a whisper, looking away with a red face, which hadn�t been induced by the
blinking fairy lights.

Harry sighed. �Sorry.
That was unnecessary.�

Ron kept clearing his
throat. �I wasn�t really talking about
the sex,� he mumbled.

Harry bit his lip. He really didn�t need to cock things up with
his best friend. Not now�not when his
�practice dinner� was turning to shite.
He had two weeks to shore up this abominable holiday. He was bound and determined to do so.

The silence was killing
Harry. �Do you mind?� Harry asked,
waving towards the hi fi.

Ron looked a bit leery, but
nodded anyway. Strains of �The
Little Drummer Boy,� wandered through the flat.

Harry ran his hands through his
hair while Ron looked away from him, tapping his fingers in time to the
pa-rum-pum-pum-pums. �It�s just that
we�ve been through this a million times already,� Harry finally said,
explaining as gently as he could. �I�m
not going to tell him about the Dursleys.
Ever. It would change
things. It would make Draco doubt that
I could take care of him. I mean, if I
can�t defend myself against Muggles, how can I be strong for him? He needs that, don�t you see? I can�t have him think that . . . that. . .�

�That you were a little kid
once? That you had a shitty life and,
despite that, turned out okay? Please,
Harry. So what if you were
vulnerable? So what if you are,� Ron
added in a whisper, �It�s part of who you are�you can�t run away from it
forever. And, the last time I checked,
Malfoy was a big boy. He can take care
of himself. Fuck, he should be the one
taking care of you�not the other way round.
Speaking of which, where is Malfoy anyway?�

�Hong Kong, and I�m not doing
this again, Ron,� Harry said. �If this
is why you came, you can leave.�

Ron made a frustrated noise in
the back of his throat. �Harry,� he
whined. But Harry refused to
budge. Ron hung his head and nodded for
the third time.

�How long is he gone, then? How long do we have to have to figure this
out?� Ron asked as he gestured around the kitchen.

Harry sighed. A smile played at his lips at Ron�s
agreement to help. �A few more
days. He�s working on that big merger
between Gringotts and the I.A.P.�

Ron shuddered. �How can he stand to work with those dry
financial reports all day? I�d go
barmy, I think.�

Harry shrugged.
�He loves it. Even if he has to
work for Merrinder.� He sniffed.

�You really don�t like Merrinder, do you?�

�Of course I don�t. He always sneers at Draco as if he were
something stuck to his shoe�all because he was a Malfoy. Draco is not his father. Draco is one of his finest accountants, he
works bloody hard and he does everything the right way.�

�Uh, mate . . . Draco still is a
Malfoy.�

�You know what I mean! He�s changed.�

Ron did a double take. �Changed?
How exactly? He still calls me
Weasel. He�s still as surly and sullen
as ever. All he cares about is how much
things cost and--�

�Stop right now,� Harry
warned. �He�s good, Ron, and you know
it. So what if he�s a bit
materialistic?�

�A bit?� Ron interrupted

�So what?� Harry asked again,
talking over Ron and tiring of this oft-trod argument. �He eventually turned to the right
side. He works hard. He cares about me. And I . . . I care about him.�

Ron found himself staring at the
cherry sauce stain on the ceiling again.
Only love could explain cherry sauce on the ceiling. �You really love him, don�t you?�

�Yeah. I do,� Harry said a few beats later.

Resigned to the way things were
going to be, Ron held out his hand.
�Fine. Give me the sodding
gravy. You focus on . . . on . . . that
green mush over there.�

�Those would be the green beans,�
Harry said in a tight voice.

Ron kept himself from shivering
involuntarily, but only just. �Of
course,� he murmured before plucking the whisk from Harry�s hand and trying to
salvage a bit of Harry�s pride.

* * *

Canticle II: The Holly Bears a
Prickle, as Sharp as Any Thorn

�The Holly and the Ivy� twined through the living
room as Harry, shell shocked and still covered in flour and bits of potato,
drank his butterbeer and stared at the far wall. Thank the gods Draco was off to Hong Kong for a few days,
counting his little beans for that tightwad Merrinder. Harry still had a bit of time.

It was two weeks until Christmas and Harry hadn�t come up
with any truly �Muggle� traditions. The
tree, carols and dinner had been easy enough, but they seemed too humdrum, too
common. Even the wizarding world had
those things. More importantly, they
didn�t leave him with that breathless sense of wonder he remembered having as a
child. He�d thought the dancing Father
Christmas he�d found at the local super-mart might be enough. It wasn�t, though. Nor were its four companions.
Harry sighed. If he knew anything, he knew that Draco Malfoy
would be disappointed with humdrum and common.
Though, given that criteria, Harry could never quite figure out why
Draco was with him.

Ron had convinced him to go to a Muggle department store,
sure that they could find what Harry needed there. Harry wasn�t as sure, but his book research hadn�t yielded
anything. Everything seemed a variation
on the same theme�trees, lights, dinners, carols, blah, bloody blah, blah,
blah, blah. How he wished Hermione was
here to help him. He smiled at that, a
bit sadly, and raised his butterbeer in silent salute. He switched to thinking about other things,
lest he become too maudlin. It was
nearly Christmas, after all.

�Carol of the Bells� started playing. Harry cursed. He hated that carol. It
always sounded edgy and discordant to him�left him with an anxious, gnawing feeling. He found the remote for the hi-fi, relaxing
a bit as �The Holly and Ivy� began to play again. Though somewhat morose, it was the better
choice, Harry thought. That gnawing
feeling lingered, though. Truth be
told, it had been plaguing him all day, flaring at various points, like it had
an hour ago when Ron had claimed Harry�s pumpkin bisque was its own class of
poison.

Harry bit his lip and stood. Something was out of place.
He sprayed more pine scented air freshener. Better. But . . .
something was still missing. He
examined the tree. Yes, another string
of lights was in order; that was the problem.
The gnawing feeling began to abate as he fished out the lights and
carefully wove them deep into the branches.

* * *

Canticle III: The
Best Time of the Year

Harry stared blankly at the garish display in front of him
while the tinny refrains of �Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas� reverberated
around the large, posh department store.
It had been two days since his cooking fiasco with Ron.

�Muggles really shop at places like this?� Ron asked, his
expression wide.

Harry sighed. He suspected he might later regret bringing
Ron with him. �Let�s get started,� he
said as he began wandering the aisles, Ron in tow.

The first hour passed with little fanfare. Harry filled his shopping basket with
premium crackers, little potholders with embroidered reindeer, and more
Christmas music. He clutched at the
Christmas stockings he�d found, sure that Draco would like anything that involved
more presents. All the while Ron
goggled at the miniature train display, the children�s toys and the plastic
snowflakes swaying from fishing line attached to the ceiling.

Leaving Ron to his own devices, Harry traipsed through all
of the Christmas displays. Though, he
became more disheartened at every turn.
Nothing stood out. It was the
same boring trees, lights, ornaments and brightly wrapped packages. Harry sighed. Ready to surrender.

�Harry!�

Harry turned. Ron
was calling him from somewhere, but he couldn�t make out from where. Ron called again. Harry followed. As he
turned the corner, his breath caught at the sight before him. There was a beautiful hand woven cloth with
green, black and red threads darting through.
There were gleaming silver candelabras in shapes he�d not seen
before. He saw small four-sided tops
with figures carved into them that looked a bit like runes. �What�s all this?�
Harry said aloud.

�Dunno, but I�ve never seen anything like it. All of this other stuff is the same old
boring stuff we have at home. But this
. . . this is different, Harry. I�m sure of it. Truly Muggle.�

�I wonder what it all means,� Harry murmured to himself,
feeling something akin to that sense of breathless wonder he�d been searching
for rise around him. It wasn�t quite
the same, but it would do.

Ron spied a small card on the table. �Hey, listen to this. �There�s more to the Holidays than trees,
tinsel and Father Christmas,�� Ron began reading aloud, ��Marks and Spencer is
pleased to help you celebrate all of your holiday traditions. New this year are our Kwanza inspired
linens, a celebration of family, community and self-determination, and
everything you need to celebrate your own Festival of Lights!� This is perfect, Harry!�

Harry nodded as he fingered the beautiful hand woven cloth
and admired the gleaming silver candelabra.
�I quite like this runner. It
feels hand woven.�

�It is. It�s
authentic Kente cloth,� a voice said behind them.

Harry whipped around, startled. There was a rather officious looking salesclerk eyeing him up, no
doubt paying attention to the cashmere jumper and expensive jeans Draco
insisted Harry wear out in public.

Harry hadn�t the foggiest idea what Kente cloth was, but
wasn�t about to let on. �Of course,� he
said, as if he�d had a momentary lapse of memory. �I�ll take it. I love the
green, black, red and gold woven in it,� Harry murmured as he thought about how
it was perfect for him and Draco.

�Shall I wrap it as a gift?�

�Uh, no. It�s for
me,� Harry said.

The salesclerk leaned forward and peered closely at
Harry. �Really?� he said, surprised.

�Er, yeah. It�s
not like a traditional gift, or anything, is it?� Harry asked, as he shared a
glance with Ron.

The salesclerk smiled.
�No, of course not. Sorry. Beautiful tradition, Kwanza. I�ll just get one from the back for you.�

�Er, are these things for the Festival of Lights?� Ron
asked, while pointing to the menorah and dreidels.

�Yes! They�re new
this year. We here at Marks and Spencer
recognize that there�s more to the holiday season than trees, presents and
Father Christmas.�

Ron and Harry exchanged grins.

�He�d like this too, and some of those,� Ron added,
pointing to the Menorah and the dreidels.

�Yes, of course.
Do you have your candles?�

Harry shook his head.

The salesclerk scoffed.
�Well, we can�t let that happen.
You can�t have a Festival of Lights without the lights, now can
you? I think we have some lovely ones
in the back.�

Harry smiled as the salesclerk darted to the back of the
store. A festival of lights and a
celebration of things like self-determination and community sounded
perfect. This was definitely not a
boring old tree, Muggle lights and dancing Father Christmases.

�You sure about this Ron?
Nothing wizardish about any of this?� Harry asked while they waited for
the clerk to return.

�Positive. Never
seen anything like it. Not at all like
any wizarding traditions.�

Harry smiled. �You
know, I�ve seen the candelabra things before.
I didn�t realize they were just a Muggle thing.�

Ron turned thoughtful.
�I�ve never seen them before.
I�m sure they�re exclusively Muggle, Harry.�

Harry bit his lip.
�Maybe we should ask a few more questions. Just to make sure, you know.�

Ron waved away his concerns. �Trust me, Harry. This
Christmas will be like nothing Malfoy has ever seen.�

�I just want it to be special. I don�t want Draco to think I don�t have any traditions, or
anything.�

Ron opened his mouth to remind Harry that he didn�t really
have any traditions but was stopped by the return of the salesclerk. �I forgot to mention that we�re having a bit
of a sale on our fairy lights. Do you
have enough? You should have at the
very least one hundred lights per foot of tree, you know,� the salesclerk
added.

Ron snorted, thinking about Harry�s tree, completely
doused in Muggle fairy lights.
Therefore he was surprised when Harry took the salesclerk�s words to
heart, his eyebrows knitting in deep concentration. He tugged at Harry�s sleeve.

Harry felt a bit of a panic. Did he have enough lights?
It seemed as though there were enough, but one could never be sure. �Um, I�ll take three, no four, boxes of
lights,� he said as he batted Ron�s hand away.

Harry walked out of the posh
London store feeling lighter than when he�d entered. He couldn�t believe his good fortune. Draco would have his Muggle Christmas after all.

�Want to come back to the flat
for a butterbeer? To celebrate?�

Ron nodded. �Yeah.
There�s something I wanted to talk to you about anyway.�

* * *

Canticle IV: Home for
Christmas, Even if Only in My Dreams

After they arrived back at the
flat, fussed over the new decorations, and sat down for a drink, an awkward
silence descended. Ron drummed his
fingers on the coffee table. He cleared
his throat. He shot a glance at Harry
before staring at the Christmas tree and the globs of tacky tinsel that still
hadn�t been sorted out. It seemed Harry
had strung more fairy lights. Why did
he need four more boxes? He wrinkled
his nose at the overpowering smell of pine.

�I�m still invited to Christmas
Eve dinner, right?� Ron asked.

�Of course,� Harry said,
wondering where Ron was going with this.
Harry drank his butterbeer and waited.

Ron cleared his throat again
before snatching his butterbeer from the table and taking a long pull. He slammed the bottle back on the table and
leaned forward. He stared at Harry and
made several attempts to say something. �I was wondering if . . . I was
wondering if I could bring a date,� Ron blurted finally.

A sharp tack of surprise pricked
the inside of Harry�s gut. He sat
up. Ron had gone all flushed and
sweaty. �Seriously?� he asked after
several long moments.

Ron hung his head and
nodded. �Yeah.�

Harry was struck dumb. He�d not expected this. When had his best friend found someone he
cared about enough to bring to Harry�s impending night of disaster? When had he started thinking about
dating? When had he finally let
Hermione go? It was disturbing to Harry
that he didn�t know the answer to these questions. The melancholy refrain in �I�ll
Be Home for Christmas,� wafted through the flat, oddly appropriate at that
moment.

Hermione�s death had been hard on
everyone and Ron hadn�t seemed interested in
moving on. Ron and Harry rarely talked
about her. Harry had always thought
that the two of them had an unspoken pact to simply disregard her death. It was easier to believe that she was still
there, hovering, tsking, lecturing, loving her two boys�now men. But, she�d been gone seven years now. And, until this moment, Ron had never shown
any interest in . . . well, replacing her.
A huge part of Harry was thrilled that his best friend had finally taken
this step. But, a small part of him
grieved anew at the loss of his friend.
If Ron had moved on�or was willing to try, anyway�then she really was
gone.

When he realized he�d not said
anything Harry sat forward, clasped Ron�s hand and said, �Of course. Yes.
Of course. Happy to have . . .
um . . .her?�

Ron snorted. �Stop trying to convert me.�

Harry snickered and squeezed
Ron�s hand before letting go. Before
letting Hermione go. He took a deep
breath and, once again, turned away from the past. �Tell me about her. How
did you meet?�

Ron hesitated and searched Harry
for some sort of confirmation that it was okay that he was considering seeing
someone new. �We work together. At the Ministry.�

Harry rolled his eyes. �I know where you work Ron. Skip the preliminaries. Get to the good stuff,� he said as he
waggled his eyebrows.

Ron flushed again and looked away
before murmuring, �Bloody hell, Harry.�

That told Harry everything he
needed to know. Ron was serious about
this girl. That sharp stabbing pain hit
him again, but this time�this time�it didn�t hurt nearly as much.

�Her name�s Melanie Marchbanks. She�s the grandniece of Madam
Marchbanks. She reminds me a lot of
Hermione, in a way. She�s bright,
speaks before she thinks, and is passionate about the things she believes
in. She�s forward as hell�she asked me
out! Can you believe it? Wouldn�t take no for an answer. Made me dinner�tasted as good as Mum�s. Anyway, I think . . . I think I really like
her. And I think you�ll like her too.�

Harry nodded. �I�m sure I will,� he whispered.

Ron sighed as he relaxed. Harry realized that Ron had been very
nervous about Harry�s reaction. �Thank
you for telling me about her. I�m glad
. . . I�m glad you�re doing this. That
you�re moving on. You deserve it.�

Ron turned and gave Harry one of
his patented hang-dog looks that nearly had both of them weeping. That simply wouldn�t do. Men didn�t cry.

�Has Molly met Ms.
Marchbanks?� Harry asked as he rolled
his butterbeer bottle between his hands.

Ron grinned. The previous �seriousness� was
forgotten. �No. I�m taking her to meet everyone after dinner
with you. We�re staying through Boxing
Day and then back to work. I figure
your dinner will make anything that happens at the Burrow seem tame by
comparison.�

�Prat,� Harry murmured before
remembering a time when Bill�s wife Fleur had failed to impress Molly
Weasley. �Word of advice, mate, avoid
that Christmas program on the wireless.
You know how your mum gets.�

Ron snickered. �Thanks.
I�d forgotten about that. I
thought for sure Fleur and Mum were going to tear at each other that Christmas.�

�No one�s good enough for her
boys, you know?�

�Yeah. You know you�re included in that, right? She sniffs every time I mention
Draco�wondering when he�s going to make �an honest man� of you.�

Harry ducked his head, hoping to
hide his blush. He didn�t know why, but
the thought of someone looking after him like a mum always left him with a
squeezing pain in his chest�one that left him just a bit short of breath. He stood and gathered Ron�s empty butterbeer
bottle with his own. �While you�re here,
how about helping me with a project,� he asked while he threw away the bottles.

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered
something under his breath about Harry and his projects. �What is it this time? Please tell me, for the love of Merlin,
you�ve decided against the pumpkin bisque?�

Harry shot him a dirty look. �There is nothing wrong with that soup.�

�Yeah. And nothing right about it, either,� Ron mumbled as he
stood. �What�s next, then?�

Harry flashed a nervous grin
before he ran out of the room, leaving a bewildered Ron behind. A few moments later, Harry returned dragging
something that looked vaguely like a little wooden house made of plastic. There were outlines of figures that were
supposed to be inside as well.

�What in the heavens?� Ron asked.

�The piece de resistance! It�s a Muggle Christmas decoration for the
lawn,� Harry panted.

Ron stared at the plastic creche,
having no idea what he was looking at.
�But Harry, you don�t have a lawn�you live in this tiny flat, already
filled to the gills with fairy lights and dancing Father Christmases.� Ron shuddered as one of the Father
Christmases began shaking and whirring, as if on cue.

�Yeah, I know. That�s why I thought we could use a sticking
charm and plaster it outside the balcony window.�

Ron swore under his breath. It was time to draw the line. A Christmas decoration intervention was in
order. �No,� he said.

Harry blinked. �Yes.�

�No, Harry. You don�t even know what this thing is. And, what�s with the little baby��Ron leaned
forward and squinted��laying in the straw with that manticore looking beast
staring at it. He looks awfully hungry
to me.�

Harry looked down. �I told you, Ron. I�ve seen this before.
And, that�s not a manticore, it�s a donkey, Ron. It�s smiling. At the baby, the donkey�s smiling at the baby.� Harry felt it wise not to get into a
discussion with Ron about who the �baby� was exactly.

Ron shook his head. �It�s baring its teeth. I think it means to eat that baby,� he
speculated. At Harry�s pursed lips,
which always meant he was refusing to give in, Ron sighed and tried a different
tack. �How exactly are you going to
explain it to Draco? You know he�ll
ask.�

Harry crumpled and bit his
lip. It would be difficult to
explain. Draco would demand details,
threaten long, philosophical debates, and generally make Harry wish he�d never
brought it up. His constant questioning
about Harry�s childhood Christmas memories was unnerving enough. He didn�t need the added pressure of
religious debate. He looked down at the
creche and the bizarre smiling figures again.
�Too much, you think?�

Ron clapped his hand on Harry�s
shoulder. �Mate, you hit �too much�
four dancing Father Christmases ago.�

* * *

Canticle V: Think of All
the Fun I�ve Missed, All the Fellas I Haven�t Kissed

Draco hesitated before opening
the door to the flat he shared with Harry.
It had been a long four days in Hong Kong. He wasn�t sure he was up for the colored fairy lights and dancing
Father Christmases. Every time he
turned around, the tacky Muggle decorations multiplied. They were like sodding puffskeins. He was beginning to regret ever asking Harry
to share his Christmas traditions with him.

He�d hoped to find out more about
Harry through this. He�d hoped Harry
would share this part of himself. The
holidays were special. Draco wanted to
know what made them special to Harry.
But, so far, all he�d gotten were suspicious burn marks in the kitchen
that couldn�t be magicked away, beady-eyed Father Christmases that seemed to
track his every move, and enough blinking fairly lights to warrant tacking a
seizure warning notice on the front door.
He ran his hands through his hair and let himself in, cautious and wary.

Draco had prepared himself for
the Father Christmases and the cheery Christmas carols blaring from the Muggle
music machine Harry had purchased several weeks prior. But the overwhelming smell of pine had him
sneezing within seconds. He thought he
might sick up. Worse still, Harry had
added even more fairy lights. Their
erratic blinking was making him feel woozy.
He blinked his eyes rapidly, hoping to make the flat stop spinning. Off to the side, a messy mop of hair poked
out from the kitchen doorway, making Draco lurch to the side.

�You�re back!� Harry exclaimed
while bounding into the hall to greet Draco with a kiss.

Draco couldn�t help but
laugh. Harry had been trying to cook
again, it seemed. He was covered in
some orange paste that smelled a bit like burnt pumpkin. �Merlin, Potter. More lights?� Draco sneered before giving Harry a hard, needy
kiss.

�Hmm,� Harry whispered as he
pulled away. �Missed you, too.�

�Thank the gods I don�t have to
go anywhere else before Christmas.
Merlin only knows what I�d come home to,� Draco teased.

�Well, you did say you wanted a
Muggle Christmas. Come see. I�ve finally had a chance to finish putting
everything out.�

�Wonderful,� Draco said,
cautiously peering around the flat.
�You know, Harry, when I asked for a Muggle Christmas, I meant--� Draco
stopped as he took in what looked like a mismatched jumble sale on their dining
table. �What�s all this?�

�Oh. Well, in addition to the tree and the Father Christmases, there
are these celebrations. One is a light
festival represented by the candelabra. The Kente cloth,� Harry said with some
authority, �is representative of Kwanza, a celebration of community, family and
self-determination.� Harry grinned.

Draco fingered the cloth. �Slytherin and Gryffindor,� he muttered.

Harry nodded. �Traditional Kwanza colors. How perfect, yeah?�

Draco nodded. �I�ve never heard of these.�

Harry beamed.

�How did you celebrate them
growing up?�

�Oh, you know,� Harry said as he
pressed himself against Draco�s back.

Harry�s warm breath slid across
Draco�s ear, making him shiver. Harry
was in the mood to play and Draco didn�t know if he�d be able to hold out. He sighed.
�Harry,� he started, but he got no further.

�Gods,
I missed you,� Harry growled as he leaned into Draco and wrapped his arms
around his waist from behind. �Santa
Baby,� began playing. Harry moved
in time with its seductive rhythm and base line. He bit the side of Draco�s neck and thrust his hips into Draco�s
backside. �Can�t wait to fuck you,� he
whispered before nibbling the shell of Draco�s ear.

Draco eyes fluttered closed as he
inhaled sharply. When Harry�s hands
opened Draco�s trousers and massaged his cock, Draco decided he�d ask his
questions later. A far more pressing
need had just arisen.

�Bedroom?�

�Can�t wait that long,� Harry moaned as he started pulling
at Draco�s clothes, kissing and biting every inch of skin revealed to him.

Draco groaned and turned so that
he was facing Harry. He kissed him
hard, tugging at his trousers as he did so.
�Too long, too fucking long,� Draco whispered against Harry�s lips.

Harry made a small sound of
agreement, before attacking the side of Draco�s neck.

As soon as they had stripped each
other, Harry turned Draco around and pushed him up against the wall. Draco�s eyes fluttered closed. He loved it this way and Harry knew it. He spread his legs a bit wider and bent
over. His moves, like Harry�s, were
practiced and efficient, but no less loving because of it.

�Ready, love?� Harry asked some
time later in between kisses and nips along the small of Draco�s back.

�Yesss,� Draco hissed as he
arched backward and rubbed his cleft against Harry�s cock.

Draco felt Harry position
himself. The wait seemed
interminable. He screwed his eyes shut
and panted in anticipation. Just as he
was about to scream at Harry to get moving, Harry pushed against him, entering
slowly.

�Fuck, yes,� Draco moaned as he
pounded against the wall, wanting the feeling of Harry sliding into him to end,
but to never end.

�We�re going to start out slow,
and then we�re going to go slower and slower and slower until Cornwall can hear
you screaming, begging me for release,� Harry whispered as he made slow,
shallow thrusts.

�Fuck, you�re going to kill me,�
Draco puffed out in one long exhalation.

Harry chuckled. �Only a little,� he whispered before biting
Draco�s shoulder blade hard and following it with soft, feathery kisses.

Draco moaned. With a smile, he resigned himself to a very
deliberate and a very thorough fucking.
�Love you,� he whispered.

�Love you,� Harry whispered back.

* * *

Canticle VI: Woe is Me,
Poor Child

Christmas Eve arrived. Harry was a nervous wreck. He was either barking at Draco to run out
and buy more butter or eggs or pureed pumpkin, or he was spraying the pine
scented air freshener.

�Stop with that shite,
Potter! What are you trying to do? Just what are you trying to cover up with
that pine-scented hell?�

Harry ran his hands through his
hair in frustration. �I just want
everything to be perfect, Draco. Ron
and Melanie are due in the hour and the bisque is separating, I�ve done
something to the potatoes and the beans have gone all mushy.�

Draco chuckled, finding Harry�s
disheveled appearance sexy for some unknown reason. �Thank god I�m not with you for your domestic skills.�

�I�m serious, Draco. This,� Harry said, flapping his arms about,
�is part of your Christmas present. I
just want it to be--�

�I know, Potter. You want it to be perfect,� Draco said,
cutting Harry off. �Is this what it was
like at your house growing up? All this
chaos? Bits of . . . is that
pumpkin? Seriously, Harry, how did you
manage to get pumpkin in your hair?�

�Fuck off,� Harry growled as he
patted his hair in embarrassment.
�What�s with all the questions?�

Draco shrugged. He�d tried for the last week and a half to
get Harry to talk about what his Christmases were like, but every single time,
Harry had gotten him off track, gotten him talking about his own childhood
Christmases. �Just making conversation,
Potter.�

�Well, stop it. I�m not in the mood,� Harry said, looking
adorably grumpy and rumpled.

�By the way, where are the
truffles? I didn�t see them anywhere.�

�That�s because there aren�t
any,� Harry said, his lips pursed.

�But, I always have truffles at
Christmas Eve supper,� Draco said.

�Yes, well this year there are no
truffles. Deal with it. Be glad you got your bloody potatoes. And if you make one more crack about my
roast, it�ll be you stuffed in that oven.�

Draco chuckled again as he walked
over and wound his arms around Harry�s waist.
�It�s going to be fine, love.�

Harry relaxed into the
embrace. �I�m never cooking again,� he
growled.

�Agreed,� Draco said with a
shudder. �Should I make sure the curry
take-away place is open? Just in case?�

�Fuck you,� Harry muttered before
stomping off to get a quick shower, ignoring Draco�s laughter. �Just for that, no stocking presents from
Father Christmas for you.� Draco
stopped laughing. Harry smirked and
sauntered into their bedroom, humming �Here Comes Santa Claus.�

An hour later and Harry and Draco
were dressed for dinner, the Coventry Carol was playing softly in the
background, candles were lit, wine was uncorked and the kitchen was full of
food gently steaming under warming charms.

�Stop that,� Harry said with a slap
to Draco�s hand, which kept sneaking into the bowl of small potatoes.

�Can�t help it,� Draco
whined. �These are actually pretty
good.�

�Damn it, Draco,� Harry
said. Before he could say anything
further, however, the doorbell chimed.

�Okay. They�re here. Please,
please for the love of Merlin, try to be civil,� Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. Harry decided to take that for a yes.

Harry opened the door. Ron, looking nervous, stood next to a
striking young woman with shoulder length brown hair. There was a keen gaze in her eyes and a sharpness to her
features. Her smile, though, warmed her
through and made her seem less severe.
Harry liked her instantly.

�You must be Melanie,� Harry said as he invited Ron and
Melanie in.

�Yes, and you must be Harry. So lovely to meet you,� Melanie said with a firm handshake and a
bright smile. �I must say I never
thought I�d have the chance to meet you.�

Ron tugged at his collar a bit.

�Er, yes well, I�m glad you could join us,� Harry said,
hoping Draco hadn�t heard. Draco hated
it when people got too close to Harry and gawked at him. He was rather protective like that. It drove Harry crazy. When Draco slipped in behind him and pulled
him close, allowing him to loom over Harry a bit, Harry realized he�d heard
everything. �Draco,� he whispered in
warning.

�Weasley,� Draco acknowledged with a nod of his head. He turned his gaze to Melanie, staring at
her critically. �Hello. I�m Draco,� he drawled.

Melanie smiled just as warmly as before as she turned to
Ron. �My, he is taciturn, isn�t
he? I thought you were
exaggerating.� Turning back to Draco,
whose eyes had gone wide with shock, she said, �Nice to meet you, Draco. I�ve heard loads about you. Looking forward to having it all proved
wrong,� she said with a wink.

Draco sputtered.
Harry rolled his eyes. �Forgive
Draco, he�s a bit tetchy around strangers.
He�s a bit like a dog in that regard,� Harry said with a firm smack to
Draco�s thigh. He wriggled free and
took Ron and Melanie�s cloaks. �Please,
make yourselves at home. Ron, you know
where everything is.�

Melanie strode forward but stopped as soon as she was
assaulted by the blinking fairy lights.
She blinked rapidly, hoping to stave off the dizziness. �Oh,� she said, just as she began to feel
woozy.

Ron braced her. �I
should have warned you,� he said quietly, blinking rapidly himself.

�It�s not that bad,� Harry hissed, tired of everyone
complaining about the fairy lights.

�Yes, it is,� Draco growled. �You�ll have to forgive Harry, he�s taken quite a fancy to the
fairy lights. But, he�s always been
attracted to bright and shiny things.
Rather like a kitten in that regard,� he drawled smugly, in recompense
for the dog comment.

Melanie giggled.
�You two make quite a pair,� she said as she wandered around the
flat. �What a fascinating assortment,�
she said as she picked up random things and examined them.

�Why don�t we go ahead and sit down to dinner,� Harry
said, fearing that Draco might lose his temper soon. �I thought we�d start with a nice pumpkin bisque.�

�Oh, Merlin no,� Ron muttered.

�What was that?� Harry said, snapping his head
around.

Ron knew that sharp, slightly wild look well. Apparently, so did Draco. �Nothing, Potter. We�re all looking forward to the bisque. Aren�t we, Weasley?� Draco asked.

�Yeah. �Course,�
Ron said with a weak smile as Harry brought out the soup.

�This is rather, er, peppery,�
Melanie said as she struggled through the first few bites of the pumpkin
bisque. �Unusual flavor,� she rasped
before draining her water glass. �Oh!� she said when she spotted the
Menorah. �Shalom.�

�Bless you,� Harry said, thinking
Melanie had just sneezed, while at the same time Ron said, �Merlin�s blessing,�
thinking the same thing.

Melanie rolled her eyes, giggled
and swatted at Ron. �No, you silly
prat. Shalom,� she said,
emphasizing the word carefully before turning to Harry and Draco. �Which one of you is Jewish?�

Draco shot Harry a speculative
look. Harry�s mind raced to come up
with an answer. �How did you know?�
Harry said tentatively, hoping he�d bought himself some information and a
little more time.

�Well, I�m quite fond of Muggle
holiday traditions. Including Muggle
religious rituals. Quite a buff on
them, actually,� Melanie said.

Harry blinked. He shot a look at Ron, whose face was
screwed up in an expression of abject horror.
Ron hadn�t known, then. This was
going to be bad. Very, very bad. Still, though, if Harry could break the
world�s most dangerous curses, he could bluff a pureblood witch with a penchant
for Muggle traditions.

�My Uncle�s family was Jewish,�
Harry finally said. �We, uh, didn�t
celebrate much. He didn�t practice, per
se.� Harry said all of this very
slowly, watching for signs of recognition or confusion on Melanie�s face. So far, he seemed to have gotten things
right.

�That explains the pepper, I
suppose,� she said before trying another bite.

Harry nodded. He had no idea what Melanie was talking
about.

�So,� Draco began as he pushed
the soup away, �Did anyone have a favorite Christmas gift growing up?�

�Ooh! What a lovely idea,
Draco. It�s the perfect time of year
for remembering!� Melanie exclaimed as she discreetly pushed her soup away as
well. �I�ll start. I was, oh I don�t know, eight I suppose, and
my grandmother gave me my first magical gift�an old family bonding ring. I still wear it on this chain around my
neck. It�s loaded with protection
spells. Eventually, when I get married
that is, I�ll wear it on my right hand and its mate will be given to my
spouse.�

�A wonderful memory, Melanie,�
Draco said. �Harry? How about you?�

Harry went white. He took a large swallow of wine while he
thought about how best to answer. It
came to him. He smiled. �My invisibility cloak. Got it my first year at Hogwarts. It was my dad�s. Ron and I got out of loads of scrapes with it.�

�What about before Hogwarts,
Harry?� Draco pressed.

Harry blinked. �I didn�t realize there were conditions on
this, Draco. The invisibility cloak was
my favorite gift as a child,� he snapped.

�Yes, but I knew you then. I think we�d all be interested in hearing
about your favorite gift before going to Hogwarts.�

�Oh, yes. Wonderful idea,� Melanie echoed. �I for one would love to hear about how you
spent your holidays with your Muggle relatives.�

At the sound of Ron�s spoon
clattering against the side of the soup bowl, everyone turned.

�Brill soup, Harry. Can I have some more?� Ron croaked out,
looking a bit peaky. It seemed he�d
started shoveling pumpkin bisque in his mouth the second Draco began pressing
Harry about his pre-Hogwarts years in hopes of diverting the conversation
elsewhere. It didn�t work.

�Don�t be silly, Ron,� Melanie
sniffed. �The soup was ghastly. Even Harry knows it. Oh, I hope I�ve not
offended you,� Melanie said as she turned back to Harry, her gaze horror
stricken.

�Uh, no,� Harry said, not sure
how to respond to Draco�s request or Melanie�s bizarre apology.

Ironically, it was Draco who
saved him from having to answer his question.

�You�re awfully rude,� Draco
snarled at Melanie. �I�ll have you know
that Harry worked very hard on that soup.�

�Well, I don�t see you eating it
either,� Melanie said dryly. She was so
honest, it was rather difficult to get upset with her, Harry decided.

Draco sputtered. He looked indignant on Harry�s behalf. He made rude gestures. But, never once did he pick up the spoon. Finally, he turned to Harry. �Sorry.
It is a bit dodgy.�

Much to everyone�s surprise,
Harry laughed. He could give two flips
about the soup so long as he didn�t have to answer any more questions. Dinner became a much more relaxed affair
after that. Until Melanie noticed the
Kente cloth.

�My, what an unusual runner,� she
said slowly.

Harry nodded. �Yes, it�s Kente cloth. It�s part of our Kwanza celebration.�

Melanie looked up and peered
closely at Harry. �Really?� she
murmured.

�Er, yeah,� Harry said trailing
off a bit, shooting a glance at Ron.
�Are you familiar with Kwanza?� he squeaked.

�No, not that much,� Melanie said
slowly.

Harry smiled, feeling more
confident. �I�m not surprised. It�s not every Muggle that celebrates it.�

�That is certainly true,� Melanie
said.

�Tell us all about it, Harry,�
Draco said. �I�ve yet to hear about how
your family celebrated the holiday. I�m
sure we�d all like to know.�

Harry eyed Ron. �Okay,� he said, launching into a completely
fictitious account of Christmas with the Dursleys. He regaled them with charming stories about Christmas gooses and
celebrating the Festival of Lights, careful to keep his accounts vague lest
Melanie call him on anything. There
were several times when she looked at him strangely, but thus far she�d not
made further comment. Feeling braver,
Harry began his account of Kwanza.

�You see, Kwanza is a celebration
of community and self-determination and family. I remember pulling out the Kente cloth every year and helping
Aunt Petunia lay it across the table.
At Christmas dinner, Uncle Vernon would tell us stories of how his family
had celebrated Kwanza when he was a child.
We�d each have a prepared reading that we shared with everyone. Then, we�d light all of the candles in the
Menorah and sing Silent Night before going to bed and waiting for Father
Christmas. Dessert anyone?�

�So, your uncle�s family
celebrates both Hanukkah and Kwanza?� Melanie asked.

�No, you misunderstood. The Festival of Lights and Kwanza,�
Harry said as he stood.

�But, Hanukkah is the same thing as the Festival of
Lights,� Melanie said, confusion wrinkling her brow. �Isn�t it?�

Draco�s head shot up. He stared at Harry, waiting for his
answer.

�My, would you look at how late
it�s gotten!� Ron interjected.
�Melanie, we�d better get to the Burrow soon. Don�t want to make Mum mad.�

�In a minute, Weasley. I�d like to hear Harry�s answer to the
question,� Draco whispered in a steely voice.

Harry swallowed. �Well, you see, um . . . well, yes, Hanukkuh
is technically the Festival of Lights, but there are a few
differences. It can be dreadfully difficult
to tell the two apart.�

�I didn�t know that,� Melanie
said, genuinely confused. �Surprising,
too.�

�What do you mean?� Draco asked,
his eyes flashing dangerously.

�Hmm? Oh, it�s nothing. I�m
just surprised that Harry knows the difference, given that he said that his
uncle�s family wasn�t particularly faithful.�

Draco looked up at Harry. �Yes, that is a bit strange.�

�The Burrow? Melanie?� Ron tried again. No one was listening, though. Ron slumped in his chair, hoping to become
invisible by proxy.

�That�s what�s so fascinating
about Muggle holidays,� Melanie said, still trying to work out the Hanukkah
issue. �I mean, take Kwanza, for
example. Based on my reading, I would
have expected to see ears of corn at each place setting. And, perhaps a Kinara, though it would be
difficult to have both a Menorah and a Kinara, I suppose. And, what of the blessing cup? I thought for sure that was an integral part
of the celebration?�

Harry sat back down. He felt a bit green about the gills. �I,� he said, not sure of how to
respond. No matter, Melanie pressed on,
oblivious to the rising level of discomfort in the room.

�And then, I was very surprised
when you said that your uncle celebrated the holiday. I assumed that your aunt and uncle were British.�

�They are,� Harry said,
perplexed.

Melanie leaned close again,
staring at Harry as though he were a specimen pinned to a scientific
slide. �But that still doesn�t explain
. . .� she said before trailing off and leaning closer.

�Stop staring at him,� Draco
growled. �He doesn�t like that.�

�It�s okay Draco,� Harry said,
though unnerved by Melanie�s scrutiny.

�Oh! It�s your aunt that your blood related to. How silly of me to have forgotten.�

�What does that have to do with
anything?� Ron asked, curious despite himself.
Harry shot him a dirty look. Ron
winced in apology.

�Well it certainly explains a few
things,� Melanie said with a chuckle.
�It must have been really, really interesting growing up in an
interracial home, Harry. I�d love to
hear all about it.�

Harry choked on his wine. �What?�

Ron chuckled. �Melanie, you�ve got it all wrong. Harry�s uncle is as pasty an Englishman as
you�ll ever meet.�

Melanie bit her lip. �Well, then I�m confused again.�

�Why?� Harry asked, as he raised
his wineglass to his lips.

�It�s just that . . . well, Kwanza is primarily an
African-American celebration.�

Harry�s wine glass shattered into
a million pieces as his face lost every ounce of color it had. Ron, he noticed, was gesturing feverishly at
Melanie�trying to get her to shut the bloody hell up. But, it was too late.
Draco�s eyes had narrowed. Harry
watched as his silver gaze darted between the Menorah, the crackers, the fairly
lights and the Kente cloth. Draco
looked up, his level gaze screaming that he, in that moment, comprehended the
scathing depths of Harry�s duplicity.
Harry knew the death knell had sounded for his little farce. He snorted.

Draco�s eyes narrowed. �Do you think this is funny?� he spat.

�What?� Harry asked, his eyes as
round as saucers. �No, Draco, I
don�t. Sorry. I was just--�

Draco continued undaunted. �Was this your plan all along? To have a laugh at my expense? Invite the
Weasel and his little girlfriend over to watch it all come together, yeah? Did you honestly think I wouldn�t figure it
out?�

�I can explain,� Harry rushed.

�Really? Okay.
Go on, then. Explain.�

�I don�t�I didn�t . . .� Harry
looked to Ron who was encouraging him with his not-so-subtle hand motions to
come clean. Harry turned back to
Draco. He opened his mouth to tell him
the truth, but he faltered at the look of utter betrayal, of utter loathing, in
Draco�s eyes. �I wasn�t trying to hurt
you,� he murmured. �You don�t
understand.�

�I don�t understand? I don�t understand, do I? I�ll tell you what I understand,� Draco
growled as he stalked closer. �I
understand that all of this�this shite�isn�t real. None of it! Stories about
Christmas gooses, poetry readings, festivals of light, this, this Kwanza
thing. You don�t believe in any of it,
do you? Huh? Not a word of it is real, is it?
What�s so sacred about your Christmas that you won�t even share it with
me? What was so hard about sharing your
Christmas with me? I thought��Draco�s
voice broke��I thought I meant something to you. Like really meant something.
I thought you were sharing something with me. But, you�re just the same selfish prat you�ve always been.�

�How dare you!� Harry yelled, cut
to the quick by Draco�s accusation.
�You have no idea the lengths I have gone to give you your sodding
Muggle Christmas! You don�t get
it. All you care about is what�s in it
for you!�

�I never asked for a sodding
Muggle Christmas! I asked for your
Christmas, Harry.�

�Well, sorry to disappoint,
Malfoy, but I�m not sodding perfect!� Harry screamed, still unable to tell
Draco the truth.

�So, the Golden Boy finally
admits it. You�re just a silly little
boy pretending, aren�t you? Well, I
don�t play with silly little boys.�

Ron winced and thought about
intervening but quickly thought better of it.
Instead, he sighed and prayed to the gods that this end soon. Before wands were drawn. He pulled Melanie away, who was standing
there, gobsmacked.

�Is that what you think of me?�
Harry asked, his voice tremulous.

Draco looked away, refusing to
answer. This had already gotten out of
hand. This was not at all what he had
expected this night would bring. These
were not the questions he�d thought he would be asking.

�Is it?� Harry said again, his
voice rising. When Draco still refused
to answer, Harry spat, �And a happy fucking Christmas to you too, Malfoy,�
before Disapparating with a loud crack.

�We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas,�
drifted through the room�a mocking parody of what had happened.

�Turn that bleeding shite off!�
Draco roared as he wandlessly vanished the hi-fi and all of the Christmas music
Harry had amassed over the last several weeks.
Draco stalked out of the room, leaving Ron and Melanie at the epicenter
of the most disastrous Christmas dinner either had ever witnessed.

The door to the bedroom slammed
shut, opened, and then slammed shut again before creeping open. Ron and Melanie heard a string of
expletives.

�I think I�ll just go to the
Burrow,� Melanie announced in a soft voice as she gathered her coat and
mittens. �I�m truly sorry, Ron�I�ve
bollocksed this up, haven�t I?�

�No, you haven�t. Harry did that,� Ron muttered. �And I helped him,� he said while trying to
figure out a way to save his friend from himself.

�He had no idea, did he?� Melanie
pressed. �I mean to say, he�s never
really participated in a Muggle Christmas, has he?�

Ron looked up. Perceptive as Hermione, Melanie was. �No, he hasn�t. It�s�it�s a really sore spot for him, actually. Please don�t say anything to anyone about
it.�

�Of course not,� she said,
grasping Ron�s hand and squeezing gently.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed the side of his mouth. �I�ll make your excuses. Join us when you can. Take care of your friends. I daresay they aren�t terribly equipped to
take care of themselves.�

Ron snorted. �You have no idea. But, listen. You
shouldn�t have to go to the Burrow alone.
You�ve no idea what that lot is like.�

Melanie smirked. �I know you, and that�s all I need to know. Besides, you talk about them all the
time. I�ve got a pretty good idea of
what I�m getting myself into. I think I
can handle myself.�

Ron smiled at the warm flutter
that rose in his chest. �Happy
Christmas, Melanie,� he said before dipping down and kissing her soundly�as if
he meant something with that kiss.

When they pulled apart, Melanie
looked up at him, a question in her eyes.
She seemed to answer it for herself, if her blinding smile was anything
to go by. �Happy Christmas, Ron.� She winked before flooing to the Burrow.

* * *

Canticle VII: Find Comfort, Find
Joy, Let Nothing You Dismay

Ron watched Melanie go, his gaze
lingering on the bits of green fire still swirling in the fireplace. When he could ignore the problem no longer,
he marched down the hall and stopped at the bedroom door. He could see Draco sitting on the edge of
the bed, staring at a small, brightly wrapped box. His expression was rather morose, Ron thought. He took a deep breath and knocked before
entering.

Draco looked up and hastily put
the small box in his pocket. �Come to
rub it in, have you,� he sneered as Ron approached. �Finally got your wish.
No more Draco Malfoy to sully your little golden boy.�

Ron kept his anger in check. �No,� he said evenly. �I�ve come to explain.�

�Explain what? That my, my . . . that Harry can�t be
bothered to share his family traditions with me? That I mean so little to him that he concocted this unholy mess
so that he wouldn�t have to?�

�You just don�t get it, do you,
Malfoy?� Ron exclaimed, unable to cover his anger. �Did it ever occur to you--�
Ron stopped. He was treading
into dangerous territory. If he went
further, he knew he�d have to tell Draco the truth. What he knew of it, anyway.

�What, Weasel-bee?� Draco asked,
falling back into familiar schoolboy taunts.

Ron let out a shaky breath and
took a few steps forward. He sat in the
chair next to the bed and stared hard at Draco. �Did it ever occur to you, Malfoy, that Harry has never had a
Muggle Christmas? That he doesn�t have
any Muggle Christmas traditions?�

Draco stared back. �I don�t believe you.�

�Of course you don�t,� Ron
muttered under his breath, preparing to stand and leave. Harry was Merlin knew where and Malfoy was
in the mood to be nasty. Ron had had
enough. He wanted some of his mum�s
mince pie and, more importantly, he wanted to be sitting outside under a
charmed blanket, staring at the stars and snogging Melanie�not consoling Draco
sodding Malfoy. �See you,� he said in
flat voice.

�Wait!� Draco said as Ron stood
to leave. �That�s impossible. I mean, he lived with those Muggles for
years and years. They worshipped him. Christmas had to be glorious for him.�

Ron laughed. He couldn�t help it. �Is that what Harry told you?�

Draco shifted on the bed. �Uh, no.
He never . . . He doesn�t talk about them. I just assumed. I mean,
he was the �Chosen One,� the �Boy-Who-Lived.�
I imagine he got everything he ever wanted.�

Ron winced. He argued with himself for some time about
what to do. He could simply leave and
let the two of them sort it out themselves.
Yes. That�s it�he�d simply
leave. But, at the sound of Draco�s
shuddering sigh, he knew he couldn�t just leave things the way they were. Harry would be furious, but Ron was going to
have to tell Draco the truth.

Ron turned around. �Do you love him? I mean really love him?
I�m serious about this, Malfoy.�

Draco dropped the sneer and
nodded.

Ron blew out a deep breath,
cursed, and fell back into the chair.
He struggled to collect his thoughts.
The tense silence made him wish for some of Harry�s ridiculous Christmas
music. When the weight of Draco�s
expectancy outmatched his own discomfort, Ron knew he couldn�t stall any
further. �Harry�s aunt and uncle hated
him,� he said simply.

�What?� Draco asked, a hard edge
to his voice. Ron imagined that it was
a protective kind of sound�like when he growled at Melanie for staring at Harry
too closely. �Impossible. Dumbledore would never--�

�I�m telling you, they hated
him,� Ron said as he leaned forward.
�They kept him locked in a little cupboard, never fed him, told him he
was a freak because he was a wizard.
His first year at Hogwarts they sent him a used tissue as a Christmas
gift. The summer after second year we
had to rescue him�they�d barred his window and put a little flap in the bottom
of his door to pass food and water through.
He never�not once�went home for Christmas while at Hogwarts and they
never asked him to come home. Now you
tell me, Malfoy, does that sound like they cared one whit about him? Does that sound like someone who has any
meaningful Muggle Christmas traditions?�

Ron�s question hung in the air
for quite some time before Draco responded.

�They were afraid of him,� Draco
whispered.

Ron nodded. �But more than that, they despised him. They--� Ron shook his head. He had to stop. He�d already told far more than he�d planned.

�They what?� Draco demanded.

�I shouldn�t have said this
much. But, just so you know, Malfoy,
Harry did all of this�all of this�for you.
He wanted you to have a perfect Christmas. It didn�t turn out, but he never meant to hurt you. He wasn�t keeping his holiday from you, only
. . . only his sadness or maybe his embarrassment, I guess.�

Draco nodded, his hand slipping
into his pocket. �He thinks I want him
to be perfect, but I don�t. I could
care less, actually.�

Ron sat a bit straighter,
surprised by the admission. �He�s just
trying to protect your lily-white arse,� he grumbled.

�Yeah . . . I let him think
that.�

Ron�s mouth fell open.

�What? You think I don�t know that he fancies himself the top in this
relationship? Please. That man needs more protecting and coddling
than the bloody Minister of Magic. The
trick is getting him to let me do it without him knowing that I�m doing
it. Seems I�m going to have to take a
more direct approach.�

Ron continued to gape.

�Don�t look so surprised. I know all about Harry�s �saving people
thing.�� Draco sniffed. �Besides.
It works well for us. Harry has
a pathological need to be needed and I have a pathological need to be showered
with attention.�

Ron chuckled at Draco�s gentle
quip, but the underlying truth was too sobering. �Doesn�t seem to be working right now, mate.�

�Yes. I rather got that, Weasley.�

�He loves you, you know. I mean, he really loves you. I�ve never seen him do anything remotely
this stupid or pathetic before.�

Draco chuckled. His hand fiddled with whatever was in his
pocket�the small package, Ron suspected.
�Cost you quite a bit to say that, I expect.�

�It would have. A long time ago. Not anymore,� Ron admitted in a whisper.

Draco nodded. The long awaited truce had been sealed
between them.

�Well. I guess I should go collect him, then.�

Ron returned to gaping. �Where?
How? You�ve no idea where he
is!�

�Don�t be so stupid. I know exactly where our sweet, little,
psychologically damaged Harry is. He�s
gone to the Muggles. I�m sure of it�especially
after what you�ve told me. A return to
the scene of the crime as it were.�
Draco shrugged. �Besides, it�s
not as if he can resist the opportunity for a bit of self-castigation.�

Ron�s jaw snapped shut. Draco was right. That�s exactly where Harry would have gone. �Do you know, uh, know where the Muggles
live?�

�No. But you do. I�d
appreciate the address, if you please.�

Ron hesitated out of habit. He�d guarded this secret jealously for most
of his life. It was hard to give it
away so freely. But, Draco wasn�t the
enemy. Not anymore, anyway. �Four Privet Drive. Little Whinging, Surrey.�

Draco nodded. �Happy Christmas, Ron. Please give your family our best. By the way, I hope to meet Melanie again,
under different circumstances of course.
She suits you,� he said before standing to leave.

Flushing from the compliment, Ron
stuttered out a �Happy Christmas to you as well.�

Draco nodded and turned to leave,
but Ron�s voice stopped him.

Ron cleared his throat. �Hey, Malfoy . . . so . . . I was, uh . . .
I was wondering.�

Draco turned back, his eyebrow
arched in question.

�Yeah . . . so what you said
before . . . I mean about Harry�you know, fancying himself . . . well.�

Draco couldn�t stand Ron�s
agonized collar tugging a second longer.
�Yes, Weasley, the equality extends to the bedroom.� At Ron�s blank stare, Draco sighed. �We both top, Weasley. He probably more than me, but we share. Isn�t that what you wanted to know? Any more sordid details about our sexual
predilections that you�d like to know?
One time offer, mate.�

Ron looked away. �Uh, no.
Sorry to, uh . . . sorry.�

Draco chuckled. �No problem. Seems I�ve dispelled quite a few myths tonight,� he said before
collecting his coat, and one for Harry, and left the flat.

Ron sighed as the door clicked
closed. �You have no idea,� he mumbled
to himself before flooing home, thoughts of Melanie, mince pie and charmed
blankets making him smile.

As predicted, the Burrow was
absolute, glorious chaos. Everyone was
in the kitchen. The twins were charming
marshmallows to fly through the air and blow up as soon as they made contact
with something. Mrs. Weasley alternated
between yelling at them to stop and trying to get the pies out for everyone to
eat. Ginny and her husband were signing
carols of some sort while Mr. Weasley was playing with all of his new Muggle
electronic things, carrying on in a boisterous voice about what each thing did
to anyone who would listen. And there
in the middle of it all was Melanie, giving it to the twins as good as she got. Ron smiled and watched a bit longer until he
was discovered.

�Ron!� Ginny called as soon as
she saw him. She launched herself at
him and captured him in a bone-crushing hug.
She was as bad as Mum.

Everyone joined in the chorus of
greetings, including Melanie. �Hello,
Ron. Everything get sorted out?�
Melanie asked, with a slight blush.

Ron looked around the room and
saw smiles on everyone�s faces. He
heard nervous schoolgirl giggling. For
the life of him, though, he couldn�t be too upset by it. �Yeah.
Everything should be okay.�

�Melanie was telling us about
what a wonderful evening she had with you and Draco and Harry.�

Ron�s mouth fell open. He glanced at Melanie.

�Er, yes. I was saying how refreshing it was to see
the lengths people go to in order to make the ones they love happy,� Melanie
said as she took Ron�s hand in hers and squeezed.

�Oi! Ron!� Fred called. �Got a
right good one there. Got some brill
hexes, she does. Better not get too
frisky with her!�

�Fred!� Mrs. Weasley shrieked, as
she beat him with her wooden spoon and shooed everyone out. �Let them have some privacy,� she snarled in
a whisper before giving Ron a significant stare.

When they were finally alone, Ron
leaned down and kissed Melanie again.

�What was that for?� Melanie
asked with a smile.

�For tonight. For Harry.
For getting on with my crazy family.�

�I wouldn�t have it any other
way. How are Draco and Harry?�

�They�ll be fine, I think. Draco really loves him. I don�t think I knew that before tonight.�

�They�ll find their way. I can see why you love Harry so much. Why you protect him like you do. I think that�s one of my favorite things
about you, Ron Weasley. Something I could
even grow to love,� Melanie finished softly.

Ron looked up at that. A strange expression passed over his
face. He glanced at the back door. �Ever sat under a charmed blanket on
Christmas Eve and stared at the stars?�

�No.�

�Would you like to?�

�Yes, I think I would. Who knows?
We might make it a tradition of sorts.�

�Yeah,� Ron said with a blush,
happy to be home. Happy to be with
Melanie. �Yeah, we might just do that.�

* * *

Canticle VIII: Love�s Pure
Light

Harry wished he�d thought to
bring his coat. The ground was
freezing, but he couldn�t bring himself to move. Instead, he shifted slightly, leaned further back into the
prickly holly and wrapped his arms around his knees, drawing them closer to his
body. The warming charm he�d cast when
he first sat down hours ago had faded.
It hadn�t occurred to him to cast another.

His gaze was fixed on the nondescript
house in front of him. Gauzy curtains
softened the glow of colored fairy lights.
He closed his eyes. He knew
exactly how everything was arranged.
The tree would be in the corner of the living room closest to the window
so that everyone could see how impressive the Durselys� tree was. Strings and strings of lights would cover
it, blinking cheerfully. There would be
more lights twining along the mantle and up the banister, with fresh pine
garland interwoven with them. Harry
took a deep breath. He could almost
smell the pine again. He cocked his
head to the side, sure he�d heard the faint strains of carols and
laughter. The Dursleys were having
their annual Christmas Eve party�the one Harry had only ever seen through the
grate in his cupboard door.

Harry started at the feel of
gentle hands touching his shoulders, wrapping something thick, soft and warm
around him.

�I�m starting to think you�re the
one who wants all of the attention, you know.
What with these dramatic displays of hysteria and stubbornness.�

Harry looked up. He blinked.
�Draco? How�What . . . Why are
you here?�

Draco sighed and looked at the
house across the street. �You forgot
your coat.�

�My coat? You�re here because of my coat?�

Draco looked away.

�How did you get here? How did you find me?�

Draco muttered something under
his breath that sounded remarkably like �sodding Knight Bus,� as he pulled his
own coat around him tighter and stared at the ground before dropping down next
to Harry. His stare migrated to the
house across the street. �That where
you grew up? With the Muggles?�

Harry was bewildered. Why was Draco here? Why had he growled when he�d said
�Muggles�? Why wasn�t he answering
Harry�s questions? Why was he here? Harry continued to stare at Draco, who was
staring at the Dursleys� house, his gloved hands held in tight fists. Harry thought about asking all of these
questions, and the other dozen swirling around in his head, but instead opted
to answer the one still hanging.

�Yeah. Um, yes that�s the Dursleys� house,� he said as he pulled his
coat on and fastened it closed.

Draco nodded. �At least the fairy lights were real.�

Harry�s face flushed in
embarrassment and anger. He hung his
head and said nothing.

They sat there, on a curb, in the
freezing cold, backs pressed into the holly bushes, on Christmas Eve staring at
the Muggle house across the way, pretending that listening to the strains of �Silent
Night,� was more important than talking about what had led them to stage
this bizarre tableau.

Draco�s gaze shifted to the
brightly lit bits of plastic on the lawn next door to the Dursleys. He squinted. �Why is that manticore trying to eat that baby?� he asked.

Harry sighed. �It�s a
donkey. It�s smiling. What�s wrong with you lot, anyway? How can that possibly look a lion with a
human face?�

Draco leaned forward and squinted
more before shrugging. �What�s it
mean?� he said eventually, gesturing at the cr�che with his chin.

Harry ran his ice-cold hands
through his hair, trying to figure out the best way to answer. Sod it.
He would tell the truth. It�s
not like things could get any worse.
�Something religious�the birth of Jesus, I think,� he whispered,
grateful Draco didn�t seem the least bit interested in knowing who Jesus was. Harry wasn�t sure he would be able to
explain it.

Draco turned to him slowly, his
gaze purposeful and heavy. Harry looked
down, embarrassed. Draco reached out
with one hand and ghosted a finger across Harry�s flushed cheek until he
reached Harry�s chin. He tilted Harry�s
head up. �Tell me what you do know,�
he whispered.

Harry took a deep breath. �I know that I love you. I know that I never meant to hurt you.�

Draco nodded. �We�ll get to that. Tell me about Christmas, Harry. Tell me about the Muggles.�

Harry�s breath caught in his
throat. It didn�t escape him that this
was some sort of test. He�d figured out
about an hour before that Draco hadn�t been upset about the �traditions,� he�d
been upset at the thought that Harry was refusing to share a part of
himself. He was giving Harry a second
chance. With that thought in mind,
Harry nodded. �What do you want to
know?�

�Everything,� Draco said in a way
that told Harry he already knew a fair amount.

Harry nodded again, cleared his
throat, shoved his hands in his pockets, and told Draco Malfoy all of his
deepest, darkest secrets. It took the
better part of an hour to get through it all.
Twice Harry had to keep Draco from storming over and hexing the
Dursleys. At the end of it, Draco
closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

�I want to see the cupboard.�

If Harry hadn�t already been
sitting he would have fallen flat on his arse.
�What?�

�You heard me,� he said as he
stood and smoothed his trousers. �I do
believe our invitation was lost in the mail,� he said as he ran his hands
through his hair to style it.

�What?�

Draco�s smile was smug. �That all you can say, Potter? I certainly hope your conversation skills
are better than that. Come on. Stand up.
We have a party to grace with our presence.�

Harry leapt to his feet as Draco
stepped off the curb. �What do you
think you�re doing?� he hissed as he grabbed Draco and pulled him back.

Draco�s stare was hard. �I am going into that house, I am going to
meet the Muggles, I am going to see this abominable little cupboard and you are
coming with me.�

�The hell I am!� Harry roared.

Draco shook free of Harry�s
grasp, leaned in and snatched Harry�s hand, tugging hard as he started walking
across the street. �Oh yes, you are.�

�It�s not worth it, Draco. Stop it, please. They aren�t worth it!�

Draco stopped. �You�re damn right they aren�t. But, you are. You wouldn�t be here otherwise.
Sitting here in the goddamned freezing cold, without a fucking coat mind
you, heaping all sorts of guilt and despair on yourself because of them. We are going to do this. We are going to finish this. And then you are never coming back to this
house.�

Harry�s mouth flopped open as his
eyes went wide. It was as though he�d
fallen into a parallel universe. This
was Harry�s job. He was the one who
took command of the situation, who pushed Draco into letting go of the ghosts
of his past. A little thrill tingled
through Harry�s body at Draco�s possessiveness. Feeling a bit dazed, he could only nod.

Harry let himself be led to the
house, barely registered Draco�s sharp raps on the front door, and almost
missed Dudley�s expression of terror at realizing just who was standing in
front on him. Dudley�still rotund and
dimwitted�made small choking sounds in the back of his throat before he started
to tremble. His beefy hands twitched as
he tried to keep them from going around to cover his backside.

�Well, are you just going to
stand there quivering like jelly or are you going to let us in, you overgrown
oaf?� Draco sneered.

Harry turned to Draco, his
expression incredulous.

Dudley�s attention snapped to
Draco at the same time. His eyes
drifted to Harry and Draco�s clasped hands before finally returning to
Harry. �We thought we were rid of you, you
freak. Get the bloody hell out of
here,� he hissed.

Before Dudley could slam the door
closed, Draco had his wand in his hand and cast a transfiguration spell. Where Dudley Dursley once stood was now a
small piglet, squealing in distress.

�Oh, piss off,� Draco growled
before casting a silencing spell and transfiguring a small branch into a little
cage. �There you go, little piggy,� he
crooned with a sneer before snapping the cage shut and shuttling it off to the
side of the house. �What?� Draco asked,
a bit defensively, at Harry�s incredulous stare.

�You turned my cousin into a
pig. A bloody pig on Christmas
Eve! You can�t just go around
transfiguring people!�

Draco rolled his eyes. It was times like this that he refused to
believe the stupid Sorting Hat had ever considered putting Harry in the
serpents� den. He was too bloody
kind.

Harry arched a brow and crossed his arms. �Draco,� he growled, when Draco had the
audacity to feign innocence.�

�Oh, all right!� Draco
exclaimed. He turned and cast a warming
charm on the little pig�s cage.

�Draco!� Harry shrieked.

�That�s all he gets! Ghastly manners,� Draco sniffed as he pushed
the door open, as if this excused turning Harry�s cousin into a pig.

Harry didn�t get a chance to
respond, because in the next moment Vernon was looming the doorway. His face was purple with rage as he loomed
over Draco and Harry. Unconsciously,
Harry took a step back. He may have
defeated Voldemort, but Vernon was . . . he was different.

Draco looked back at Harry, a
moment�s concern flickering in his gaze.
He turned back to Vernon and with a lazy flick of his wrist, he
whispered �Imp--�

�No!� Harry roared. �Absolutely not.�

Draco sighed. �Fine, fine! Confundus,� he said with a half-hearted drawl.

Vernon�s stance straightened and
his eyes glazed.

Harry couldn�t believe what was
happening. He was the reckless one; the
impulsive one. Not Draco. And yet, here they were, standing on the
front steps of Four Privet Drive while Draco thought nothing of casting
Unforgivables and human transfiguration spells with wild abandon. Harry yanked Draco�s hand hard and cast a
significant look his way�one that clearly said, �What the fuck are you doing?�

Draco shook his head and rolled
his eyes. He returned his attention to
Vernon. �Well? What are you standing there for? Shoo, you slovenly Muggle.�

Vernon nodded. He opened the door a bit wider and stood to
the side, inviting them in, though seemingly confused as to why he would be
doing such a thing.

Draco cast Notice-me-Not
charms over both himself and Harry before pulling a stunned and reluctant Harry
through the door.

Once they were in, Vernon closed
the door and returned to a conversation with a pudgy gray-haired Muggle.

It had been years since Harry had
been in this house. He�d worked hard to
forget it and now here it was, all around him, reminding him of all of the
things he�d fought to put away. People
laughed and sloshed eggnog and stared lasciviously at their friends as if
nothing bad had ever happened in this house.

�Show me the cupboard,� Draco
whispered. There was a warmth, a
concern, in his tone that seeped through the confused haze in Harry�s
mind.

No fight left in him, Harry
nodded and shuffled through the hall, stopping in front of the cupboard. It was funny how small it looked now. How . . . unimposing.

Draco stepped forward and opened
the door. He stooped down and leaned
in, getting a good look at what had been Harry�s bedroom for nearly ten
years. He fought hard to keep the bile
from rising higher in his throat as he looked around. He spied a small cot now folded and standing flat against the
wall, an open shoebox full of small, broken toys and knick-knacks and other
remnants of Harry�s childhood dispersed among the cleaning supplies, forgotten
tennis racquets and brooms. He kept his
face impassive as he retreated and stood upright again.

�Cozy,� he said. �Now I know why you were always so short.�

Harry�s face drained of
color. He blinked in confusion. Was this some sort of twisted revenge?

�Though, I must say,� Draco
continued, �you were a far better decorator than your Aunt,� he said with a
sneer as he took in the overabundance of floral chintz, overstuffed furniture,
and silk flower arrangements. �Utilitarian,
minimalist . . . you were ahead of your time, Potter. Too bad that innate sense of style never made it to your hair,�
he drawled as he reached out and tried to flatten Harry�s hair.

Harry realized what Draco was
doing. He burst out laughing at the
ridiculousness of Draco�s comments.
But, that was rather the point, Harry figured. �Cozy is one word for it,� he said with a chuckle.

He bit his lip and leaned
forward, getting his own view of the cupboard.
Whatever he had expected wasn�t there.
It was just a cupboard. It was just
a cupboard. He started to enter, to
see if he could even fit anymore, but Draco stopped him.

�Catharsis is one thing,
Harry. Self-torture is another. Close the door to the cupboard, love.� Forever, Harry knew Draco meant.

Harry reached out, steeled
himself, and slammed the cupboard door closed.
He locked it tight. Something
left him then. Something heavy. Something that he couldn�t describe or had
even known was there. Draco came around and pulled him close. He kissed his temple. Harry sighed and leaned back, surprisingly
content to let Draco take the lead. �No
more cupboards,� Draco whispered.

�No more cupboards,� Harry
agreed. No more hiding. No more pretending. No more cupboards.

�Now, let�s enjoy the party,�
Draco said.

* * *

Canticle IX: Facing Plans
Unafraid While Dreaming by the Fire

It was strange, at first, to wander through the party,
drinking spiked punch, making fun of Muggle clothing, watching in horror as the
Dursleys attempted to dance to Winter Wonderland. But, as the night wore on, Harry
relaxed. He even managed a chuckle when
Dudley streaked through the house, naked, with little brambles stuck in his
hair.

�A timed spell, then?� Harry said with an arched brow.

Draco shrugged.
Spots of color appeared on his face.
�I want to have sex with you again someday.�

Harry laughed before his
attention turned to the tree.

�Ghastly, isn�t it,� Draco said.

�I rather like it,� Harry
whispered.

�I think you need to get your
eyes checked again,� Draco muttered into his cup as he took a drink.

�The first thing I remember from
Christmas are the lights. I loved
them. So cheery. The Dursleys certainly liked them. Something we had in common, I guess.�

�You�ll never have anything in
common with those filthy Muggles,� Draco snarled, not liking the direction the
conversation was headed. �I think it�s
time to go.� Draco grasped Harry�s arm.

�I wanted to. You have no idea how much I wanted to have
something in common with them.�

Draco let go.

�I was never allowed to touch
them, either. I remember dreaming of
the day that I could have as many fairy lights as I wanted.�

�I think you�ve achieved that,�
Draco said with a snort.

Harry blushed. �I suppose I overdid the lights.�

�Overdid?� Draco said with an
arched brow. �Try exceeded the farthest
bounds of all that is decent and true.�

�Fuck you,� Harry said as he
turned away and walked over to the mantle.
Draco followed him and stood to the side, unsure of how to proceed.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. �I love that smell.�

Draco sniffed delicately before wrinkling his nose in
disgust. �What? Cheap perfume? And�gods! It smells like
that awful stuff in the can you keep spraying about the flat!�

�Fresh cedar and pine,� Harry murmured, a faraway look in
his eyes. A gentle smile tugged at the
corners of his mouth. �I love it. The Dursleys always strung loads of it. I loved seeing it as a kid.�

�What in heavens for? Sap oozing on everything, needles
falling, braches poking you as you walk by, not to mention the smell.�

Harry shrugged.
�It meant it was Christmas. They
were happier. I was happier. I got . . . they didn�t. . .� Harry hesitated.

Things started making sense to Draco. At the sound of Harry�s gasp, Draco figured
they�d started making sense to Harry, too.
Draco rested his hand on Harry�s arm.
�I know, love,� he said, responding both to what Harry had said and,
more importantly, to what he hadn�t.

Harry couldn�t believe it. All this time he had unwittingly been sharing his holiday
traditions with Draco. He just hadn�t
realized it. But, more than that he�d
realized, standing there, watching the Dursleys� party unfold, what was
important to him. It wasn�t the lights
or the gifts or the perfect holiday tradition.
It was Ron, who ate all of the horrid pumpkin bisque to save his
friend. It was Mrs. Weasley, whose hugs
made Harry�s heart want to burst. It
was Hermione, whose life still touched him, even though her death had nearly
shattered him. It was Draco, who had
every right to be furious with him, but loved him, brought him his coat, and
protected him anyway. It was even
Melanie Marchbanks and her bracing honesty, without which this moment would
likely have never come. It was all of
these things, these people, and so much more.
The feeling of breathless wonder he�d been desperate to find now lay
with him, curling lazily.

They stood that way for a long while, Draco bracing Harry
while Harry�s fingers brushed against the soft cedar needles. Draco cleared his throat. �I was thinking that the flat could use a
bit of garland next Christmas. Just a
bit, though. I�m serious, Harry�no
Forbidden Forest, or anything. And only
on the condition that I never see another can of that Muggle pine spray ever
again.�

Harry looked up.
Draco was staring at him with the strangest expression. Harry couldn�t pin it exactly, but the
wonder within him leapt at it and made him feel even better. �I�d like that,� he murmured.

Draco continued. �And the lights. They�re not that bad. I
suppose I could handle white lights or ones that don�t blink so much. But, absolutely no more than one hundred
lights per foot of tree, Harry. We had
more lights than tree this year.�

Harry laughed. �Fair enough.� He shot Draco a quick smile.
They stood there a while longer, watching the party.

Draco nodded and fought to keep his wits about him. This was not going to turn into a sodding
Muggle romance novel. He refused. �More punch, I think,� he said before things
could get unbearably sappy.

They shared another cup of punch
before retreating to the corner. �This
reminds me of �A Christmas Carol,�� Harry murmured as they watched the goings
on.

�Gods, Harry . . . no more
Christmas music.�

Harry chuckled. �No, no.
I mean the movie. �A Christmas
Carol.�� At Draco�s blank stare, Harry
pressed on. �It�s about this mean,
sarcastic, bitter old man.� Harry paused.
�Think Snape, only happier.�

Draco nearly choked. �That�s a scary proposition,� he muttered.

�Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, the old man�Scrooge is his name�is
taken to this Christmas party by a ghost or a spirit, I think, and no one can
see him. He�s observes everything as
it�s happening.�

�Sounds like a Pensieve memory.�

Harry shrugged.

�So, how does it end? Why was he at the party?�

Harry shrugged again. �Dunno.
That�s the only part I ever saw.
Always wanted to see it. It comes
on every year, I think. It�s a
Christmas movie.�

Draco nodded. He cast a sly glace at Harry. �Perhaps we should watch it. If we like it, we could watch it every
year.�

Harry hesitated. He took a large swallow of his punch. �I�d like that. Er . . . a tradition of sorts.
Our own.� Harry took another
swallow, letting the punch, Draco�s proximity and the overwhelming cheeriness
within him warm him.

�Exactly. You know, Harry, it wasn�t the Muggle thing
I wanted to know about. It was
you. What was important to you at
Christmas.�

�I know,� Harry murmured. �Took me a while to figure that out. I�m glad I did, though.�

�What did you figure out,� Draco
asked, a smile playing at his lips.

Harry rolled his eyes. �Merlin, I knew it was too good to
last. Already trolling for compliments
again, are you? Fine, fine. I figured out that you�re what�s important
to me. Sharing the holiday with you and
everyone I love is what�s important.
Not the stuff, not the artificialness of it all,� Harry said as he
gestured around the room to make his point.

�I still get my presents though,
right?� Draco asked with narrowed eyes.

Harry laughed. �I�m not mad, you know. Who in their right mind would take presents
away from you?�

�Exactly. Now, come on you silly pouf. Let�s go home,� Draco said after they�d both
finished their punch. He pulled Harry
close. �Let�s make our own traditions.�

Harry cocked his head. �You mean, like we�ve been doing all night?�

Draco blinked. �I have no idea what you�re talking about.�

Harry chuckled. �Of course not. I must have misunderstood all of that haggling over Muggle
movies, cedar garland and white fairy lights, then.�

�Yes, you must have,� Draco said
with a sniff.

Harry�s face turned serious. He pulled Draco in for a heated kiss. �Love you,� he whispered while cupping
Draco�s face.

�Love you,� Draco murmured. A familiar glint lit in his eyes. �Let�s go
home. It�s time to make up,� he said as
he pulled Harry close and Apparated them back to their flat, the thrill of
wonder and excitement spiking higher.

* * *

Canticle X: What Glorious
Morn Breaks Through the Weary Night?

The minute their feet touched the floor in the flat�s
living room, they became a tangle of limbs and sloppy kisses. Like a Virginia Reel, they tilted and
whirled and bumped their way through the flat.
One of the dancing Father Christmases starting undulating as they passed
by. Draco kicked it hard, sending it
clattering to the floor.

�No,� kiss, �more,� squeeze, �dancing,� suck, �Father
Christmases,� Draco stammered as he pushed Harry up against the wall, unbuckled
Harry�s belt and pulled it through the loops in a fast, ripping motion.

�Agreed,� Harry moaned as he wound his hands in Draco�s
hair, pulled hard and slammed Draco into the wall. �No truffles. Ever. Again,� he said as he punctuated each word
with a tug of Draco�s hair.

Draco�s eyes rolled back.
He loved it when Harry pulled at his hair like that. �Truffles.
Not. Negotiable,� he puffed
out. He grasped at Harry�s wrists and
shook them free.

�No truffles,� Harry growled as he rubbed his knee against
Draco�s hard cock. �I hate
truffles. Don�t care if you ate them
every Christmas. This is our Christmas
now. No fucking truffles.�

�Oh, fuck,� Draco moaned.
�You play fucking dirty, Potter.�

Harry smirked and leaned in further, rubbing his knee just
the right way, and bit Draco�s ear lobe.
�Learned from the best, Malfoy,� he whispered before nibbling more.

Draco called out and melted. �HolyfuckingMerlin . . . fine, no truffles, no goddamned
truffles. Stop. You�ve got to stop. You�re killing me!� Draco panted.

Harry pulled back, hesitating just a bit, as if
uncertain. It was just what Draco was
waiting for. He grabbed Harry�s hands,
spun him around and pushed him against the wall. �You haven�t learned everything yet,� he said. He smiled at Harry�s needy mewing as he
swirled the point of his tongue on the side of Harry�s neck. �Bedroom,� he whispered before letting go
and pulling Harry from the wall, pushing him into their bedroom.

They were on each other again, pulling at each other�s
clothes, snarling like wild beasts and kissing violently. There was nothing tentative, nothing
objectively tender in their foreplay.

Somehow they made it the bed, a new horizontal tangle of
limbs. With practiced ease, Harry
rolled Draco over and climbed astride, ready to prepare him. Draco, however, had other plans. He flipped them over so that he was on
top. He grabbed Harry�s hands and
pushed them above his head. He looked
down. Harry lay beneath him, panting
and sweaty.

Time stopped as Draco let go and moved his hands to gently
cup Harry�s face. Harry curled his
hands around the headboard�s posts and waited.
Draco quirked an eyebrow in question.
Harry let go a sigh and blinked slowly as a smile played at his
lips. Draco nodded and started his
preparations. He took his time. No words were exchanged, but none needed to
be. Harry sighed and arched into Draco
as he stretched him further and further.
There was no fast way to do this the right way. They had learned that there was pleasure in
this task.

�Love you,� Draco murmured just as he began pushing his
way in.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, arched and scrabbled as the
sharp burn gave way to indescribable warmth.
�Gods, love you,� he moaned as Draco fully seated himself.

�Look at me, Harry.
Don�t stop looking at me,� Draco said as he began a series of shallow
thrusts.

Harry swallowed and nodded.

They said nothing else.
Grunts, mews and moans told them when to move and how to do so. Their bodies moved together in a seamless
tumble of skin and bone. Matched
halves, stretched and molded to fit by time, circumstance and kinship.

In the haze of afterglow, Harry found himself cleaned and
gathered into Draco�s embrace. Warm
puffs of air slid across his chilled, slick skin. He brushed his fingertips across Draco�s stomach. Draco kissed the top of his head. Harry found himself humming, �O Holy
Night.� Draco didn�t seem to
mind. He joined in when he could, his
voice scratchy and a bit off-key.

�Harry,� Draco whispered a long while later.

�Hmm?� Harry asked, muzzy with sleep.

�It�s Christmas.�

�Hmm?� Harry asked again.

Draco chuckled, shifted Harry in his arms a bit, and
kissed his head. �I said, it�s
Christmas.�

One green eye opened.
�I suppose you want your presents, then,� Harry mumbled. He made to get up, but Draco stopped him.

�In a bit. I . . .
I wanted to give you your present first.�

Harry opened his eyes.
Draco was shaking a bit. His
voice sounded all wonky. �Cold?� he
asked.

�No,� Draco said as he pulled away from Harry and reached
across him, searching for his trousers.
He recalled that they�d landed somewhere near the end of the bed.

�What are you doing?�

�Getting your present,� Draco whispered. �Aha,� he said as he finally found what he
was looking for. Draco hesitated a
second. He sat straight up and pulled
Harry up with him.

�Draco?� Harry asked, concerned.

�You see, I had this question I�ve been wanting to ask
you. But, I could never find the right
time, the right way. I�d intended to do
it after dinner. It seemed like the
kind of thing one ought to do. But,
then things fell apart, didn�t they?
And, who are we fooling? Nothing
will ever go the �normal� way for us.
But, maybe that�s why this works.
Why we work. Do you follow?�

�Not really, no,� Harry said.

Draco sighed before shoving the small box at Harry. �This will explain, I think,� he whispered.

Harry looked down at the brightly wrapped gift.

�Go on, open it,� Draco rasped as he ran his hands through
his hair. He was nervous.

Harry swallowed, feeling a bit nervous himself, before he
gingerly removed the paper. A small
jeweler�s box lay inside. Harry opened
the lid. He gasped. �Draco?� he asked, as his head snapped up,
only to see Draco staring at him. �Is
this . . .?�

�Yeah. Yes it is,�
Draco confirmed. �So . . . will you?�

Harry looked back at the box. He looked back at Draco.
They weren�t normal. They�d
forged their own ways in life, done the most unexpected things. And that was precisely why they worked. Would he?
Yes, he would.

�Yes. Absolutely,�
Harry said, strength in his voice.

Draco beamed. He
launched himself at Harry and kissed him deeply. �Love you,� he growled as he nipped at Harry�s bottom lip.

�Love you,� Harry echoed as he returned the kiss and
clutched at Draco, never wanting to let go.

* * *

Canticle XI: Lights
Turned Down Low, No Better Place to Go

�Harry? I can�t
make this bloody Muggle machine work!�

Harry rolled his eyes as he poured the popcorn in the
bowl. �Coming,
love,� he called out as he made his way to the living room.

The tree was beautiful with its soft, twinkling
lights. Pine and cedar swags draped the
windows and the mantle. A cheery fire
danced in the fireplace. Remnants of
take-away curry were left on the table, bathed in candlelight from the silver
Menorah.

Harry laughed at the deep scowl on Draco�s face as he
tried to make the DVD player work.

�Malfoy, how is it that you can handle complicated
financial transactions every day but you can�t figure out the DVD player?�

�We use it once a year, Potter,� Draco growled. �All so that we can watch that ridiculous
Muggle movie you like so much.�

Harry chuckled.
�Yes, of course. How ever could
I have forgotten that only I like this movie?
If that�s the case, we can skip it this year.� Harry made a move to switch off the television.

Draco�s hand stopped him. �Not so fast,� he whispered in
Harry�s ear before gently nipping. �We
have to watch it, Potter. It�s
tradition, after all.� Draco�s hand
snaked around Harry�s waist and pulled him close, the platinum ring on his left
hand glinting in the firelight.

Harry smiled and turned his head so that they could kiss
properly. �Yes. Tradition,� he whispered before leading them
to the couch and settling into Draco�s embrace as the opening credits to �A
Christmas Carol,� began to play.
- 1
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Eleven Canticles of Tradition

Canticle II: The Holly Bears aPrickle, as Sharp as Any Thorn

Canticle IV: Home forChristmas, Even if Only in My Dreams

Canticle V: Think of Allthe Fun I�ve Missed, All the Fellas I Haven�t Kissed

Canticle VI: Woe is Me,Poor Child

Canticle VII: Find Comfort, FindJoy, Let Nothing You Dismay

Canticle VIII: Love�s PureLight

Canticle IX: Facing PlansUnafraid While Dreaming by the Fire

Canticle X: What GloriousMorn Breaks Through the Weary Night?

Canticle II: The Holly Bears a
Prickle, as Sharp as Any Thorn

Canticle IV: Home for
Christmas, Even if Only in My Dreams

Canticle V: Think of All
the Fun I�ve Missed, All the Fellas I Haven�t Kissed

Canticle VI: Woe is Me,
Poor Child

Canticle VII: Find Comfort, Find
Joy, Let Nothing You Dismay

Canticle VIII: Love�s Pure
Light

Canticle IX: Facing Plans
Unafraid While Dreaming by the Fire

Canticle X: What Glorious
Morn Breaks Through the Weary Night?