It was the first weekend of December, and Draco couldn't pinpoint when it happened, but something had shifted between him and Harry. It didn't shift in a bad way, things were just... different. Harry was always around him in some way, shape, or form, and always inviting him out to do things, just the two of them. If he didn't know better, he would say they were dates.

But that's the thing, he did know better, so he was trying to navigate very carefully through everything he was feeling towards Harry. Draco didn't deserve him anyway.

"Draco, are you ready?"

That was another thing. Unless Harry was teasing him, it was always Draco. Draco didn't know how to react to that, and called him Scarhead most of the time.

"Yes, I'm ready."

"Are you sure you won't be cold?"

"I'm fine Scarhead, if I get cold I know some strong warming charms."

"Whatever you say pumpkin," Harry replied with a grin, wrapping his arm around Draco's shoulders.

That's another thing. Harry had gotten so much more physical this last month. He would casually touch Draco, lean on his shoulder, have Draco lean against him. There was one time he even had Draco sitting on his lap in the common room so that Ron and Hermione could sit on the couch with them as they all studied for a Potions exam.

"Hogsmeade first? And then we can go see the muggle lights?"

"Are you sure you want to go with me to Hogsmeade? You remember what happened last time right?"

"Draco, they write about me every single time I go out, this is nothing new. But if you don't want to go-"

"Fuck it. Let's go."

The trip started out fine, but Harry was right. Draco should have grabbed his scarf. It has started to snow, which Draco wasn't expecting.

"Here," Harry offered, removing his scarf and wrapping it around Draco's neck. "Perfect. Have I told you that red is your color?"

"You'll be cold."

"You'll just have to keep me warm then won't you?," Harry asked with a grin, looping Draco's arm through his own. "The light displays here are so pretty."

"I'm excited to see the muggle ones."

"Next Christmas we'll go to New York and see Times Square. I promise."

"That would be nice," Draco replied, but he wouldn't hold Harry to a silly promise made on a whim.

Harry told Draco about all of the places he would like to visit one day, with Draco telling Harry about his travels in France as they looked at all of the Christmas displays.

"Would you show me around one day? Maybe this summer? I don't know what your plans are, but it would be nice I think."

"Let me know after graduation if you still think that."

"Did I do something wrong?," Harry asked with a frown, grabbing both of Draco's hands in his own.

And wasn't Harry a sight, looking earnestly at Draco under the glow of the Christmas lights, snow gently falling around him.

"No, nothing wrong. I just don't know what I'll be doing, that's all. I would honestly love to go with you."

"Then we will."

Harry didn't release Draco's hand, and Draco was terrified. He knew what would be said, and he didn't think he could take it.

"You promised I could try hot apple cider?," Draco asked, pushing the panic from his voice.

He didn't think that had been the flashing of Christmas lights that he just saw.

"Of course. Ready?"

Things were so easy with Harry, and Draco wished he could always have this. Harry kept holding his hand, keeping Draco close to him. Harry gently wiped some snowflakes from Draco's cheek, and Draco shivered.

"Are you still cold?," Harry asked quietly, pulling Draco closer to him.

"I'm better now."

"Let's get you that cider, yeah?"

They got cider and cookies, and Harry couldn't help but look at Draco. He looked so soft with his nose red from the cold, and Harry wanted to cuddle him to no end.

"Is there something on my face?," Draco finally asked.

"Your nose is red. It's cute. You look like Rudolph."

"Rudolph?," Draco asked in confusion. "Who is he?"

"Rudolph the red nosed reindeer?"

"Scarhead can you please stop equating me to seasonal holiday staples?"

"I'll come up with something better eventually. You can't rush brilliance."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"This helps me sleep at night," Harry teased, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist and dropping his head in the crook of Draco's neck.

Draco leaned his head against Harry's, enjoying the closeness.

"Do you want to apparate back to the castle, or do you want to walk for a little longer?"

"We can walk a little longer, but we need to be back before the snow gets worse."

They walked hand in hand from the apparation point, Harry's face tilted upwards into the snow. Draco gently brushed some out of Harry's hair, smiling softly at him.

"Is that-," Harry began to ask, stopping mid-sentence.

"Mistletoe," Draco finished with a breath.

"I, erm..."

Harry slowly leaned in, looking for something in Draco's face. He didn't find it, so he pressed a soft kiss to Draco's cheek instead, before walking back towards the castle. They walked back to their respective rooms in silence, Harry whispering a soft goodnight to Draco, who was incapable of forming sentences at this point.

The article had been published while they were in muggle London, and Draco went back to his room to find a letter from his mother, which shook him to his core. Opening it with shaking fingers, he read the content, and immediately needed something stronger than apple cider.

Harry found Draco at around 3am after a nightmare, clutching a bottle in one hand and the letter in the other, blankly staring out the window.

"Draco?"

"Are you okay?," he asked, words slightly slurred.

"Are you?"

"No. I'd ask you to leave if it wasn't for the nightmare."

"I'll go then."

"Potter-"

But it wasn't Harry, so he left, wondering if he had overstepped to the point of making Draco drink into the early hours of the morning. He went to go see Ron instead, who was thankfully alone in his room. 

"Harry?"

"Sorry for waking you, I can go-"

"No mate, it's okay. Just surprised 's all. Normally you go to Malfoy."

"I think I've upset him. He wasn't receptive and I think he needs some space."

"You're always welcome here," Ron reminded him softly, pulling back the covers for Harry. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I thought we had a great day, you know? We saw all of the lights and he was wearing my scarf and we held hands. We were under some mistletoe and I kissed him on the cheek and he didn't really talk to me after that. Do you think I scared him?"

"You haven't seen the Prophet have you?"

"Ron, you know I'm not subscribed to that garbage."

"There were pictures, mate. It looked like a proper date. You wrapped your scarf around him, and you looked at him the way that I look at Hermione when she's not paying attention."

"Where's the paper?"

"On my desk. I should've sent it your way as soon as you came in."

The headline read "The Boy Who Loved?" and Harry couldn't help but snort. It was a piece speculating on his and Draco's sexualities, and then started spewing the same old story about them being enemies and Harry being the golden boy and Draco being a death eater.

"I am looking at him like that aren't I? And he wants to be anywhere else but with me."

"Harry, that's not true! You told me what he did for you on Halloween. He made me look like a right tossed, being unsupportive and all that."

"You're still my best mate, regardless of all that. We've had our own Halloween adventures over the years."

"I'll never forget that troll as long as I live."

"We have that troll to thank for Hermione," Harry replied with a snort.

"All I'm saying is you should talk to him. Maybe not right now, but soon. There has to be more to the story."

"You're right."

It turned out to be near impossible to even attempt to talk to Draco. Every time Harry tried, Draco snuck away. Harry was starting to wonder if Draco had taken his invisibility cloak and cloned it, because he could not be found. He would follow him on the map, trying to see if Draco was in some kind of trouble, but he spent most of his time alone in a corner of the library.

Harry wasn't eating. He wasn't sleeping, and when he was, he had awful nightmares. That's what glamours are for. Classes were attended few and far between, because Harry didn't see a point. He could get any job he wanted, why should he even bother?

There was a knock on his door, and Harry groaned.

"Come to the quidditch meeting mate!"

"Why are we having a quidditch meeting in December?," Harry asked in confusion.

"That's what Oliver is calling it anyway. Said he needs your opinion on something."

"Fine."

Harry followed Ron into the Gryffindor common room, sighing at the return of the rarely felt feeling of home.

"I miss it in here."

"You and me both," Harry replied with a sigh.

The whispers had started as soon as Harry entered the common room, and his mood immediately soured. It wasn't home anymore. They were people from other houses present, and Harry had no idea where to sit. He turned his head to ask Ron, but he was already across the room, having been challenged to a game of wizard's chess.

"Harry, mate! I saved you a spot."

"Thanks Oliver."

Harry sat down, and Oliver immediately stretched out over the couch, his legs resting in Harry's lap.

"Let's begin," Oliver started, soon launching into a discussion of the remodeling of the quidditch pitch.

Thankfully, everyone got over Harry's presence and paid attention to Oliver instead. Harry always admired how he could command a room, and he was excited about the prospect of getting to fly again.

Oliver spoke about how they wanted to get the house quidditch teams started up again, and that tryouts would be occurring on his team's pitch. A signup form was passed around, and Oliver turned to talk to Harry.

"Would you want to help- why is Malfoy looking at me like that?"

"Huh?"

Harry turned his head, meeting Draco's eyes for the first time in a week, before he glared at both Harry and Oliver before storming out of the room.

"No idea. He's been avoiding me for a week. When are tryouts?," Harry asked, getting up from the couch.

"The first weekend after the new year. We can reconnect during winter hols and talk strategy?"

"Sounds good Oliver. I look forward to being in touch."

Oliver grinned at him, pulled him into a side hug, and went to go speak to some of the younger students.

Harry quickly made his way back to his room. He was exhausted, and he needed a shower. Keeping up the glamour was slowly draining him without the food, but he simply wasn't hungry. He had forgotten how easy it was to fall back into old ways.

Draco meanwhile, was absolutely fuming. How dare Oliver Wood come in and steal Harry from him?! They looked mighty cozy on the sofa, and Draco was having none of it. His feet moved faster than his brain, and suddenly he was in Harry's room.

"Ron I'm fine- oh. It's you."

"Yes, it is me," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"What do you want?," Harry asked tiredly.

He wasn't in the mood for Draco's games.

"You and Wood looked mighty close."

"We were teammates, and we're still friends. What's your point?"

What was Draco's point exactly?

"Merely making an observation."

"Glad your eyes are working. I didn't know that I still existed to you. If Oliver didn't show up, you wouldn't even be speaking to me, so I don't have time for this conversation, like you haven't had any time for me," Harry retorted, hurt seeping into his voice.

"If you wanted to find me you would have."

Something inside Harry snapped. He spun around, hands slamming on his dresser.

"Just like everyone else, you left me Malfoy! I come to you because I'm having a nightmare and I needed help and you were drunk! Calling me Potter and telling me you'd ask me to leave. You didn't come after me when I did leave, and I try to find you the next morning to apologize, and you avoid me!

You don't understand how fucking hard it is for me to ask for help when I am the help! When my whole life has been tailored to meeting the needs of other people and I think I found someone who actually lo-," Harry cut himself off with a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. I don't matter, and I won't forget my place again. Don't worry Malfoy, you're free from me and all of my baggage."

"Harry, you look awful."

"You're no prize either. And don't call me Harry, Malfoy. We're not friends, you can't just revert back to suddenly pretending to care about me because you see what you've done to me."

"What I've- what do you mean what I've done?"

Whatever was left of the glamour fell away, and Draco recoiled in horror.

"If you'll excuse me Malfoy, I need to take a shower."

"What have I done?," Draco whispered, hand pressed to his mouth.

Harry had looked fine, Draco didn't think Harry even missed him much. He should have known better.