Word Count: 1,074
Rating: R this part
Prompt: Day 9 traditional - mistletoe
Warning: Humor, snogging and barely SFW manip
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns them, not me. This is for mischief's sake, not profit.
Author's Notes: This is for slythindor100 's Christmas challenge picture prompts. Sequel of Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five, Part six, Part seven & Part eight
"I know what you did last week."
"You do, Draco?" Narcissa lifted the cup to her lips, raising an eyebrow at her flustered son.
"With the pudding," Draco said sharply.
The cup trembled minutely in Narcissa's grasp before she recovered her poise. Taking a deep breath, she stared outside the French window of the solarium. "Draco, let me assure you…"
"You did it for my protection," said Draco tiredly.
"Yes, son. I worry about you; those trips abroad where you search for cursed treasures are not safe, Draco." Narcissa eyed her son shrewdly, deciding what words would make Draco forget about the charms in the pudding. "In fact, it's rather Gryffindor of you; just like your clothes."
Draco blushed whilst he sat down opposite Narcissa, tugging the sweater he usually slept in; unfortunately, it had shrunk and barely reached his midriff. His pale fingers brushed against the knitted red deer which reminded him of Harry's Patronus.
Draco fished out his wand from his bright red pyjamas to Accio his old blanket.
Narcissa lifted her eyebrow and Draco shrugged. "There's a draft and I'm tired, Mother. I was at Lovegood's until 3 am."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Narcissa sipped her tea. "Doing what exactly, son?"
Draco covered his yawn with his left hand. "Trying to solve the curse of the Spanish treasure. Luna comes up with the strangest ideas that prove useful somehow."
"Indeed," Narcissa said curtly.
Draco grabbed a biscuit and stared at it before biting it delicately. The pastry reminded him of the Christmas treat which protected him, though. "Your pudding saved my life, Mother."
"I'm glad to hear that," said Narcissa neutrally.
"I'm afraid not for long, though. I reckon the spell won't last after I digest it."
"What?" Narcissa sat even straighter on her chair. This new development was certainly outside the scope of her plans. Had Draco eaten one of the silver charms? She glanced around, hoping Lucius had returned home. After all, her husband was the one who had dealt with big emergencies during Draco's toddler years.
Draco yawned again, eyeing covetously the wicker settee next to the French window. Luna had waxed enthusiastic for hours about her trip to the dragon reservation in Wales as the night passed.
"Shrewd idea, Mother, using Longbottom's plant."
"I'm glad that meets with your approval, Draco." Narcissa's lips twisted upward in a tightly controlled smirk.
"You could have consulted me about the potion in the pudding, though." Draco finished his biscuit and stood up, heaving a sigh. "I can see through your plans, Mother."
"Indeed, Draco, I know how hard it is to outwit the Slytherin Prince."
Draco made his way to the settee, and thus was unable to watch Narcissa's ladylike sneer.
"By the way, I invited Harry for lunch."
"I'll tell the house-elves, Draco."
"Mate, we have to work harder to solve your case." Ron sighed in desperation at Harry's unfocused stare. The way he gripped tightly his bright green quill reminded Ron of their Sixth Year; he shook his head, wishing for the simpler past when Harry was overtly obsessed by Malfoy
"You shouldn't worry so much, Ron," Harry finally said, "Draco and I are protected by the pudding. Reckon you are, too."
"But I didn't keep any of the…"
Harry lifted up his hand. "I saw you eating it."
"Wot?" Ron puzzled his eyebrows in thought. "I don't know what you're talking about, mate."
"Neville's great with plants," said Harry, staring at Ron significantly.
"And Narcissa wanted the plant you brought with you to the Manor."
"Come off it, Ron!" growled Harry exasperatedly. "The potion!"
"The potion in the pudding!"
"You mean there was a potion there, besides the charms?"
"What charms?" Harry poked Ron's robes with the point of his quill. "You wouldn't hide anything from me, would you, Ron?"
Harry's gleaming eyes unnerved Ron.
"Malfoy's mother put charms in the pudding," Ron said with a shrug, "they're supposed to protect you and Malfoy."
"Charms?" Harry squinted at Ron. "Not potions?"
"She didn't say anything about a potion."
Harry sniggered, thinking that Draco wasn't so sharp after all. He decided to keep this fact to himself, the better to taunt Draco with later.
Ron's stomach rumbled and he glanced around. "Kreacher prepared lunch yet?"
"What?" said Harry.
Before Ron could answer, Harry bolted out of the room, hastily grabbing his cloak.
"Draco is in the solarium, Potter," said Lucius, his lips twitching in a slight sneer.
"Fine, see you." Harry dashed out of the parlour, depriving Lucius of the chance to utter one of his polished barbs.
"Why is there so much mistletoe and… who was that?" said Narcissa, walking into the room.
"Potter," Lucius said disappointedly. "And I used the mistletoe because the peacocks were eating it."
Harry walked into the brightly lit room and the sight that greeted him took his breath away. Draco lay upon the settee like a gift from Merlin himself, his pale skin contrasting sharply with his red clothes. The Slytherin turned to look at Harry; his eyes, grey as the cloudy sky over the Quidditch Pitch, pierced him with the promise of rain and life. Draco's white sweater rode up his torso, revealing tantalising glimpses of toned abs and sinewy muscles. Harry's heart clenched painfully at the sight of the scar from the Sectumsempra curse, so faint that he reckoned he could kiss it away if he tried hard enough. It had the zigzagging shape that he knew well from watching his own forehead in the mirror. In fact, it was so like his own, Harry knew in his heart it was another of the multiple things that joined them: Seekers in their Hogwarts years, and the pains and tribulations of the war. It all condensed in the sinful flesh of the man that had always had a part of his heart, Harry realised with a start. The first wizard that Harry had met, and the Seeker his heart had long sought.
Harry pointed at the mistletoe which hung from the ceiling above the settee as he pounced on the recumbent Slytherin, his arms wrapping around the toned torso whilst his lips sought the comfort only Draco's flesh could offer. His mouth touched Draco's timidly, until he felt the corded muscle of Draco's arms holding him tightly.
They kissed slowly; unaware of the strange glow that briefly limned their bodies.