And because I am lazy and because I have been working a lot I didn’t finish editing it for a long while as it just sat there in my documents waiting to be edited and published. Also I know it’s waaaay too late for most people to be in the holiday spirit, BUT I FINALLY got around to edit it, and with some help along the way from the wonderful @catsandladyluck (thank you thank you thank you) I’ve finally decided I’m gonna publish this Drarry Christmas one-shot.
SO, without further ado, this is how it turned out, I hope you like it, and sorry for taking so long
Harry is casually sitting on the bedroom floor, wrapping Christmas presents and making small cards as Draco rushes past the open door.
“Harry, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Draco asks as his pace comes to a sudden stop. He grabs at the doorframe, slowly taking a few steps backwards to admire Harry’s quick movements as he pulls a scissor along a white straight ribbon, making it curl several times.
“Wrapping presents,” Harry says, smiling and picking up the gift he just wrapped. The ribbon on the top now forms a beautiful curl.
“… The muggle way?” Draco asks, his face pulling together in a weird way, almost as if confused.
“Yeah,” Harry shrugs, fidgeting with the neatly wrapped present. “I guess it just seems a bit more personal when someone takes the time to wrap a gift by hand, you know?” He flashes a small smile in Draco’s direction, making Draco’s heart flutter.
“Alright,” Draco mumbles thoughtfully while watching from afar.
Even before leaving the bedroom, Draco decides that he should try wrapping presents the muggle way this year. At least the one for Harry.
- Later that day -
Cutting the paper was no problem. Neither was ripping off the bits of tape from that little plastic-thing. But the rest was just one big mess. Harry always had a way of making Draco do stupid, weird, impulsive things; technically, he still does. But wrapping presents the muggle way must be the most idiot thing Draco has ever thought of doing. Harry made it seem so easy, but this was not easy at all. It was rather difficult, and frankly, it made Draco exasperated. How in Merlin’s beard did Harry manage to wrap the presents nicely without magic?
Tired, annoyed, and frequently mumbling curses under his breath, Draco places the gift for Harry at the middle of the already cut paper. Draco looks at it, then sighs, and he turns the paper to better position to the fit of the gift. Another moment of staring, then he flips the gift around. Then the paper. Draco does this several more times, wondering where he should even begin.
“By Merlin’s beard, Harry, how is this supposed to work?” He mutters to himself, annoyed with how little he knows about wrapping gifts the muggle way, or basically any other muggle activity that could be done with the use of magic.
After turning the wrapping paper and the gift a few more times, and misplacing several pieces of tape, Draco finally places a red ribbon on the top of Harry’s present. With a loud sigh he looks at the wrapped-up present. It’s not neatly wrapped like the one Harry had done earlier that day, but it has been done the muggle way. Harry’s words ran through Draco’s mind again: ‘I guess it just seems a bit more personal when someone takes the time to wrap a gift by hand, you know?’ Those were Harry’s exact words. Draco looks at the present for a long while before shrugging and pushing it away. After all, it’s the thought that counts.
With the present wrapped, Draco gets ready to make a card to attach to it. Rummaging through some boxes to find paper and a pen, Draco smiles. This is a more familiar activity, and as soon as the card is done, Draco is ready to exchange gifts with Harry.
- The next day -
It’s Christmas Eve, and Draco and Harry sit down at one of the couches in the living room, facing each other. Harry pulls up his feet and sits cross legged, while Draco curles his feet elegantly at his side. They look at each other, both excited about the gift exchange. With a shrug, Draco hands Harry the rather poorly wrapped present. Draco’s face is clearly revealing how dissatisfied he is with his own work. He’s rolling his eyes, his mouth slightly hung open, his tongue tracing the row of perfectly straight teeth as he hands the present to Harry.
“Did you wrap this yourself?” Harry asks, smiling excitedly looking at the present Draco has just handed to him.
“Obviously,” Draco states, scratching at his neck with his left hand while shrugging insecurely.
Harry looks at the present again, still admiring Draco’s work. “It’s wonderful,” he says, smiling giddily as he looks at Draco and slightly shaking his head as those few words leave his lips.
“Well,” Draco scoffs cooly, a smirk forming on his lips. He runs his fingers through his hair and straightens his back proudly. “Of course it is.”
Harry’s smile grows larger, and Draco looks away, biting his lip in attempt to suppress his own grin. He pushes his hand back through his hair, and when he looks back at Harry, he fails.
Thank you to both @space-marauder and @catsandladyluck for allowing me to write based on your thread and for helping me edit, thank you for inspiring me to write, you are both wonderful <3
Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban | more here
“Louis!” Harry gasps as something small but dense rocks into his side. Louis is festooned in tinsel, glittery gold wrapped around his head like a halo, but somehow his grin is still the brightest thing on him, even outshining the red glowing nose of the reindeer on his jumper.
“Hazza!” he shouts. “Christmas!”
“Yeah, it is,” Harry agrees. He grabs Louis’ wrists to hold him still. “Liss’n, I ‘ve to tell you something.”
Louis’ eyes go wide. “What?”
“I,” Harry says, placing a hand over his heart to show he’s really, really sorry, “kissed someone else under th’ mistletoe.”
Louis stares at him for a second, eyes wide and reflective, throwing the party back at Harry as he watches him for a reaction. Then he turns, just as slowly, to the napkins on the wall, reads for a long few seconds, then gasps.
“S’okay,” Louis says, and Harry stops his wailing.
“Yeah. ‘sides, I kissed someone under it too.”
“Oh,” Harry says, frowning. “You did? Who? Who’d you kiss?”
“Who,” Louis repeats, laughing. He taps Harry’s nose, and says, “Little owl. Who, who.”
“Louiiiis,” Harry complains. “Who wassit?”
“I dunno,” Louis shrugs.
“Oh,” Harry says again. Then, “Was it me?”
Louis stares at him for a long time again, but this time his eyes are narrowed like he’s reading Harry’s bones through his skin. Harry lets him look, because he doesn’t really have another option. Walk away? Not likely. “No…” Louis says finally. “No, it wasn’t you.”
“How d’you know?” Harry’s sure that Louis’ had more to drink than him, because he’s got a tolerance like a racehorse, or something else with a really high alcohol tolerance. Either way, if Harry’s not had as much to drink as Louis and he can’t remember who he snogged in the doorway to the living room, he doubts Louis knows either.
But Louis just says, “It didn’t feel like you,” the words said simply, laid out in front of Harry matter-of-factly.
Harry’s about to say oh for the third time, this time taken from his mouth by surprise. He’s about to say that he’s sad that it wasn’t Louis that he kissed, because they’ve had over three hundred of those now and each one is different but also the same, like coming home to find everything moved slightly to the left, and discovering that you like it better that way anyway. And after that maybe he’ll say that the strand of green twinkle lights overhead make Louis’ eyes look like oceans, and that he smells like peppermint and all Harry’s best childhood memories.
He says, “Oh,” and he’s about to say all that or maybe something else, some of the other words caught in the stalagmites of his chest. He’s about to say that maybe Niall and Liam were right, and this bet did change everything but he can’t point towards a single demonstrative thing that is different, except maybe that way Louis looks like how coming home feels. He’s going to say that starlight burns hot in his chest now and it flares when Louis touches him, but then a not-Louis hand yanks on his arm.
Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.
what she means:
what did harry give hermione and ron for christmas? we knew what he had received but never what he had given them and did he ever thank hagrid for the presents or mrs. weasley for all of the sweaters? did his friends give him better presents than he bought for them or were they the same value? why didnt ron have an 'r' on his christmas sweater in the first book? why did the dursley's spend so much time mailing harry pitiful gifts if they hated him so much? why didnt they want him to go back to hogwarts why-