When the Snow Melts

Christmas or Something Like It

"It's fine," Draco cut him off with a growl, closing the lid on the box and tossing it onto the nightstand.

That was not the reaction that Harry had been hoping for and without meaning to his face fell in disappointment at the thought that Draco hated it. Draco let out a longsuffering sigh when he noticed how emotional Harry was getting.

"Just a second," he grumbled, making his way to the table where his sketchpad sat. He flipped through a few pages, finally stopping on one and ripping it out.

"Here," the blond stated gruffly, shoving the picture at Harry.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat when he realized that it was the drawing that Draco had been working on his first morning there. When Harry made no move to take it, Draco growled at him in irritation. "Well, you liked it, didn't you?"

"I can't," Harry protested, knowing how much it meant to the boy.

After Draco had returned that morning, he had shown Harry the rest of his sketchbook, explaining with an embarrassed blush, that flowers were the only thing he knew how to draw. It was something his mother had taught him and the two had spent countless summer days in the garden together, sketchpads in hand, working on whatever was in bloom that day. Instead of giving his mother flowers, he always drew them for her instead. Harry was touched by how cute that was, but when he had said as much, Draco had threatened him with unspeakable horrors if he revealed his secret to anyone.

"Take it," Draco insisted, expression earnest, leaving Harry no choice.

"Thanks," he replied softly, taking the gift delicately in his shaking hands. Draco flopped in the chair without a word, leaving Harry to deal with the butterflies in his stomach.

"I guess I should open the rest of my presents now," Harry mumbled after finding a safe place for Draco's drawing. It didn't feel right to be opening presents in front of the boy. On the other hand, he couldn't leave the presents there for the rest of eternity. So, one by one, he went through them, acutely aware of Draco's eyes on him.

Fred and George had given him a pouch filled with coins and a note attached.

Dear Harry,

This is your cut of the profits for the year. I know you didn't ask for it but seeing as how none of this would have been possible without your help, we feel you deserve it. We don't want to hear any arguments either; just take the money and shut up.

Your friends,

Fred and George

Ron had given him more candy than he could possibly eat in a lifetime. It would pair nicely with the lifetime supply he already had in his dorm. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed that some of the candy wrappers were already empty.

He got the usual sweater from Mrs. Weasley, which he immediately began to put on until Draco stopped him with a decidedly disgusted look on his face.

"You're not planning on wearing that thing?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, why?" Harry innocently replied.

"Because I don't think I will be able talk to you anymore if you do," he warned.

Harry let out a warm infectious laugh, pulling the sweater on despite the appalled expression on Draco's face.

"I have to wear it – it's tradition."

Draco's eyes widened, clearly mystified as he spoke. "How is wearing an ugly sweater tradition?"

"Six years ago, on Christmas day," Harry proclaimed with a dramatic flourish of his arms. "Mrs. Weasley gifted me a sweater very similar to the one I have on right now. Upon performing the ritual of the sweater, I was accepted as an honorary member of the Weasley family."