A Tale of Christmas Cheer
An Impish face poked out of the Christmas tree, which dominated the far end of the Great Hall: Coloured glass baubles gleamed brightly, tinsel and garlands wound round its many wide branches; sparkling lights twinkled, yuletide candles floated--and perched at the very top, the Christmas star danced.
Another fey creature peered out from its upper branches.
His little friend looked up and waved happily.
'Bob, just in time...I think our very own brand of Christmas Cheer is greatly needed this year...'
Bob slid down a bauble, pulled himself along a descending garland and finally reached his fairy friend.
'That blond one sat over there looks like he needs some yuletide cheer...and soon! Look at him scowling and sneering...I think some cheering dust sprinkled in his porridge should it!"
'The one with the messy hair and askew glasses looks like he could do with some cheering up, too...he just looks so sad, poor boy! Maybe a little dust in his Pumpkin Juice would help?'
'Do you sense...?'
Griselda nodded solemnly.
'Yes...yes, I think I do.'
'Then should we...?'
'Well, Merrybelle did say we shouldn't mess in affairs of the heart...however?'
Bob grinned mischievously, and his pointy ears perked up.
'It wouldn't really hurt, would it? Besides, it's all part of our job...bringing good cheer and Christmas spirits to all lovelorn wizards...'
'...and witches, too. Let's not forget them. I suppose it wouldn't hurt, though, just this once. Merrybelle would never need to know, would she?"
'A drop of Le Tonic Amour would do the trick.'
'But aren't there side-effects. I'm not sure, Bob...'
Griselda looked doubtful.
'Oh, the bursting into song? Don't worry your wee head about that, Grisy, I'll only pour the teeniest drop. Besides, wouldn't a song or two add to the Christmas cheer?'
Griselda's frown eased, as a playful smile popped onto her lips, and the two Christmas fairies exchanged a conniving look.
Then, with two little looks of determination on their faces and twin identical squeals of merriment, they fluttered their wings, took flight, and glided gracefully down the great hall, with wee pouches of dust held tightly in their tiny hands.
"Spirits move me...."
"Whirling like a cyclone in my miiiiiind...."
"Draco, have you gone quite mad-!?"
"Come, come into my arrrrms...."
Pansy arched a knowing eyebrow, narrowed her eyes, and fell into deep thought. Hmmm, something rather peculiar was going on - and she would bet her last galleon on who was behind it. Potter!
"Baby take me...."
"I could love you...build my life around you."
"Harry, mate, are you feeling okay?"
"Baby, I want you..."
"Harry, now you're scaring me!"
Ron watched Harry, wide-eyed, as Harry continued to sing loudly at the top of his voice with a soppy grin plastered over his face.
"Hermione, what's wrong with him, eh? - what's he doing?!"
"He's singing Muggle pop songs, Ron, he's just happy. Actually, it's quite a good song this one...and Harry really has rather a nice singing voice."
Tapping her foot to the beat, Hermione began to hum along to Harry's deep baritone.
"Could this be Magic...come...come into my world..."
Sinking his head down onto his arms, Ronald Weasley groaned deeply. Things had become very strange lately, very strange indeed: what with Harry singing and seeming happy, and slyly checking out Malfoy's arse every time the slimy blond Slytherin walked past them.
Don't think he hadn't noticed - it was hard not to - ever since breakfast, a few days ago, when Harry had began to act oddly.
Ron could deal with that, though, the arse checking that is...no, it was the yearning sigh that accompanied the bum staring that got him. Christmas it may be, but this was really taking good will to all men (especially blond Slytherin ones) too far! It had to stop!
Ron lifted his head again, and stared at Harry meaningfully through determined eyes.
"H-Harry, is th-this anything to do with, um..." Stammering, Ron blushed furiously, and paused for a moment. Then he gathered his courage, blurting out, "Well, this hasn't anything to do with Malfoy, has it?"
Harry's eyes glazed dreamily.
"You're my lifeline...Annngel of my lifetime..."
Clamping his hands tightly over his ears, Ron began to bang his head against the nearby wall...repeatedly.
"I need some love like I never needed love before...."
Pansy gritted her teeth. Honestly, it wouldn't be quite so bad if Draco's voice wasn't so high and reedy. Her hands twisted fretfully around the quill she was holding, and she clutched it tightly.
"Wanna make love to ya, baaaaby...."
SNAP! The quill snapped in her hands, as did the last tether binding her patience and sanity.
"In the name of Salazar, Draco! Will you please desist with that awful racket and stop looking so dreamy...it's so unbecoming of you."
Draco didn't bat an eyelash. Tapping his fingers against the arm of the regal chair, in which he lounged lazily, the 'Prince of Slytherin' continued to serenade the (thankfully) nearly empty Slytherin common room.
"Because tonight...is the night...when two become oooone...."
Pressing her palms of her hands against her temples to relieve her rising blood pressure and screwing up her eyes in pain as her eardrums were assaulted, Pansy dimly wondered if you could be flung in Azkaban for castrating wannabe Sopranos with a penchant for fluffy love songs.
"Buuut, Draco - Muggle pop songs?! What ever would your father say?"
Thank Merlin! - that seemed to have done the trick - the caterwauling had finally stopped. Opening one tentative eye, Pansy peered warily over at Draco, only to meet with his highly offended glare.
"Father happens to adore The Spice Girls, who are a prime example of a wizarding musical group..." Draco drawled indignantly with his eyebrows raised high in disdain. "Posh Spice alone displays an amazing vocal range, and Scary happens to be a whiz with her wand. Didn't you know that Ginger Spice is a distant - two generations, I think - relative of the Weasleys? Muggle, indeed...where do you get your information from, Pansy?"
Good grief - this was worse than she thought - Draco was obviously loosing it, and loosing it fast...something was obviously very, very wrong with him!
"Draco, dear," Pansy soothed, in most contrite tones. "Maybe you should take a little nap? Just ten minutes or so...a little lay down would do you the world of good, you have been looking rather...well, tired and strained lately."
"Have I?" Jumping to his feet, Draco began to pace and mumble. "Tired and strained? When I asked Zabini this morning, he told me I looked fine...must remember to hex him at lunch time.
Is that why Potter's been staring, does he think I'm ugly? No, of course not, how could he? I'm gorgeous...any one with eyes can see that! Maybe he'd like me to serenade him? Does Potter like The Spice Girls? ABBA, perhaps? I can reach the high note on 'Knowing Me, Knowing You'...that's bound to impress him - OW!!"
Pansy's palm struck his cheek with a loud smack.
"I'm sorry, Draco, but it's for your own good."
Draco's bottom lip pouted as he touched his had to his reddened cheek.
"What w-was that for? Do you think ABBA"
"You're babbling, Draco - babbling and saying terrible bad things that you'd never, ever say in your right mind..." Pansy moved up behind him, taking his arm. "Now let's get you safely back in your room, where you rest and gather your wits..."
"Caaaaan you feeeel the looove tonight?"
Rolling her eyes to the heavens and bemoaning her loss of hearing, Pansy continued to doggedly drag Draco down to his dorm.
Harry Potter was behind all this, she knew it. Ever since she'd caught him staring at Draco at breakfast a few days ago...well, Draco had changed and not for the better: singing and sighing, daydreaming and smiling, it was obvious Potter had put Draco under some sort of love charm.
He had transformed her perfect, snarling husband-to-be into a fluffy Hufflepuff with a dodgy taste in music, and she would not allow him to get away with it. Potter was going to pay for this.
Going to pay high and pay dearly, she vowed, and then winced as Draco hit another particular high note. She would throw her head back and laugh manically, making his ears bleed as his screams rang out - she would show no mercy - she would have revenge...terrible, sneaky Slytherin revenge! Potter was so going down.
"Sorry, is all that you can't saaay"
Mooching towards the Great Hall with a sappy smile plastered over his face and a dozy look in his vivid green eyes, Harry sung to himself quietly.
"Words don't cooome easss...ily..."
Harry, honestly and truly, would have loved to sing it out loud and proud, but since the Ron head-butting the wall incident earlier, he had refrained himself, and taken to murmuring the words softly under his breath.
"Like sorry...like sooooree-ee...."
He didn't quite know what had gotten into him lately: he would often find himself completely captivated by Dra--Malfoy's pert backside, or staring into space and daydreaming about a certain pair of cold-grey appraising eyes, and the vivid image of smirking lips pressing tantalisingly against his own kept on popping into his mind at a increasingly alarming rate.
And, if that wasn't enough for him to begin suspecting that someone had tampered with his Pumpkin juice and of nefarious, evil Slytherin scheming, then the goofy smile that always seemed to adorn his face nowadays most certainly would. That, and his constant impulse to burst into song.
"You can brush my hair, undress me everywheeeere..."
Malfoy had obviously drugged him, but the question still remained...why?
An all too clear vision of a naked Draco, holding nothing else but a small bottle of hand lotion and a hairbrush, suddenly popped - uninvited - into his mind, and Harry blushed, shuddering pleasantly as warm tingles began to spread from the tip of his toes to the very last strand of his ever messy tresses.
Honestly, this madness must come to an end. Daydreaming about naked sex- Slytherins just wasn't something to ever be entertained...in fact, it was the closest thing to a Gryffindor cardinal sin, and he had to put a stop to it right now, before he eventually lost all the rest of his remaining marbles!
Rounding the next corner and despite his mental berating of himself, Harry still wore his goofy, love-struck grin as he smacked - CRASH, BANG, WALLOP! - into a very solid presence coming from the opposite direction.
Harry was sent flying backwards, arms wind milling madly, as his backside soon connected with the hard terra firma beneath him.
'Are you blind?" sneered a voice. "Why don't you try walking with your eyes open next time..."
Winded, Harry winced, and peered up to see the owner of those 'oh, so' familiar derisive tones. Bugger! It was just as he thought...Malfoy! Well, in for a penny, in for a pound...or was that in for a sickle and a galleon? Harry had never completely got the hang of wizarding terms.
"Malfoy, I need a word."
"Everything changes, but yoooou..."
"P-P-Potter? Are you serenading me?"
"Hermione, have you seen Harry?"
"Uh-hum...he just went down to dinner."
"Dinner, Ron. He's going to bring me some back to the tower...I'm just too busy with this Arithmancy homework, otherwise I would have gone too..."
"Are you mad - you let him go by himself?!"
Hermione finally tore her eyes from the book laid out in front of her.
"Honestly, Ron, Harry's a big boy now...I'm quite certain he can make it safely to dinner on his own."
"BUT!?" Ron looked extremely close to blowing his top. "How could you?! How can you call yourself a friend, letting him go like that - in his state?"
"Oh, Ronald, he's only singing...he's happy! It's no big deal, honestly..."
Shaking her head dismissively, Hermione turned back to her studying.
"It's not ju-just that, though, Hermione," Ron spluttered, "he's been ogling Malfoy's ars..."
Hermione's eyes snapped up again.
"Well...it's about time you noticed, to tell you the truth, Ron. I thought you'd never cotton on, I've known Harry was gay for ages now. Actually, I'm surprised you never noticed the way he eyes Snape in potions...."
But, Ron wasn't listening anymore. Eyes wide with horror, Ron was hare-footing across the common room and it out of the portrait hole, pushing startled Gryffindors out of his way as he speeded past. The portrait door slammed closed after him.
Hermione stared at the cloud of dust he left behind for a moment or two, before tut-tutting and turning back to revision.
"Hopeless," she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. "A complete and utter hopeless case! And, from that reaction, I think, I'm quite right in assuming that now's not the time to tell him about me and Lavender."
"Of co-course n-not!" Harry stammered and blushed rather endearingly, or so Draco thought. "It must be the concussion. That's it...I'm concussed."
Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Harry, feeling quite certain that Potter had just been serenading him. Looking into those brilliant-green eyes of his blinking innocently up at him, though, Draco found his convictions wavering. His brow furrowed into a small thoughtful frown.
Could Potter be bluffing?
Draco couldn't be sure, but it did seem rather odd that Potter happened to be singing cheesy Muggle pop songs, too.
Could Potter be suffering from the same affliction as him? Was he also bursting into song, grinning like a Cheshire cat for no reason, and drooling over thoughts of his school-yard rival smothered in melted chocolate?
Draco decided to test him. Screwing up his eyes tightly, he summoned up some very rare Slytherin courage, and pretended that he wasn't blushing in the slightest.
"Just like me, they long to be...close to yooou..."
Harry goggled up at him.
"Is that a ch-cheesy muggle pop song, Malfoy?!"
"What if it is, Potter!?" Draco snapped back at him, feeling rather mortified, as he fought the urge to sing the blues. "I should have known better than to serenade an ignoramus like you..."
Squaring his shoulders, Draco struggled to find his inner Malfoy, as he prepared himself for walking away with a little dignity left intact.
"You were serenading me?"
"No, I was serenading the bloody wall, you stupid prat! What do you think I was doing? Honestly, Potter, you have the brains of a pea!"
Stepping over Harry, Draco smoothed down his robes in the vain hope to regain his cool, but any pretension at being calm and collected was greatly hindered by Potter suddenly grabbing hold of his ankle.
"Potter! Get off! What are you still doing on the floor anyway, you imbecile?"
"I liked you serenading me, Malfoy..."
"Let go of me, Potter, or I'll be forced to hex you into oblivion..."
"Malfoy, I said, I liked it."
"Uh-hmm, I thought it was swe..." Harry had enough sense left to decide against calling Draco sweet, and floundered around for a more appropriate phrasing. "...suave. That's the word, I was searching for...suave. It was very suave, Malfoy, extremely polished and enter..."
"Honest, Malfoy, I'm a Gryffindor...would I lie to you?"
"Well, in that case, Potter..."
Smirking ever so slightly, Draco offered his hand down to Harry, and promptly hauled him back to his feet when Harry boldly accepted it, clasping Draco's warm hand in his own.
"I think we have a great deal to tell each other, starting with confession of your own," Draco continued, eyebrows raised, now that Harry was finally upright again. "First up, though...have you, um, I mean...well, have you been having thoughts about melted chocolate lately?"
Pansy stood in the middle of the room, wand tapping against hip, her foot jigging impatiently, thinking over who she should hex first. Her eyes darted from one gormless face to the other, and she couldn't help but wonder if they'd both been dropped on their heads at birth. Narrowing her eyes, as she peered at them each in turn, Pansy left a minute or two before she chose to speak.
"So...what was it that you two thickheads couldn't quite manage to get your miniscule brains round this time, hmm?"
"Dunno..." Goyle all but growled, shrugging his heavy shoulders and evasively averting his eyes. "Can't really remember..."
Only managing a small grunt, Crabbe just stared back at her as he scratched absently the top of his massive head. Pansy drew a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her wand with whitened knuckles.
"Is that all you can both say for yourselves, you dunderheads?! Have you no more of your special grunts of wisdom for me?"
Both boys remained silent, choosing to glare sullenly at her instead.
"No...nothing at all? Have you never even had the slightest of inklings?"
"Are those them flying things, then?"
Exclaiming in exasperation, Pansy finally gave up the ghost, and acknowledged that she'd been defeated by gross stupidity. No answers to her questions forthcoming meant that she had just been wasting valuable time and brainpower, sniping sarcastically away...to no avail, when she should have really been off to search for Draco ages ago. Pansy paused for a seconds though.
Pansy spun on her heel. Dinner, I'll bet my last galleon that that's where he is heading to. Let's have a slow walk towards the Great Hall first, followed by a visit to the Quidditch stands, if not found in either, he's surely turn up in the Owlery. Full of determination., Pansy hurried out of the dungeons, desperately seeking Draco.
"Um, chocolate? No...no chocolate. I, er...well...I've had other things on my mind."
"Other, things?" Draco quirked a questioning eyebrow. "Such as?"
Harry flushed an endearing shade of pink.
"Well, er...I've been having thoughts about Gryffindor ties and bedposts..."
Draco's eyes raised alarmingly. Now that change that to a Slytherin tie, and he'd admit to being tempted. He licked his lips, inching closer.
"Care to elaborate, Potter?"
It came out as a squeak. Goderic on a broomstick! Just how embarrassing was this? Harry had been more than content with his fluffy pop songs and daydreams, he hadn't expected it to come to this, and it was taking all of his Gryffindor courage, not to take foot and runaway to the safety of his tower.
Draco was unnerving him now he'd done with serenading him; he was looking more like his old self...with that long-established amused smirk of his back firmly in place. And his eyes were so close now...too close. Streaks of liquid lightning amidst the cloudy grey, sparking at him, mesmerising him, making him drown in those swirls of silver. Harry's breath hitched, he took a step backward, and felt his back hit the wall. Oh, no!
Draco's grin was shark like and predatory.
"What's the matter, Potter? You look rather flustered...is it anything I can help you with?"
Letting his eyes drift to Potter's crotch, Draco made sure that the Gryffindor got the message. It was quite funny really...he suddenly felt very bold, which was a very un-Slytherin way to feel indeed. But, putting all new found boldness aside, Draco managed to pinpoint it down to Harry's admiration of his singing voice. Draco decided to put it into practice again.
Baaaaby, can I hold you tonight....
Harry gulped, and his eyes glazed over, which Draco took as a good omen. Moving in for the kill, Draco advanced slowly on Harry, until they were almost nose to nose.
"Wanna make love to ya, baaaaby...
Who would have thought, a squeaking Potter could be so damn attractive? Draco stuck his tongue out, wiggling it suggestively, as Harry's eyes gleamed with unmistakable naked need and desire. Laving his tongue against Potter's cheek, Draco pulled back and upped the ante.
I could love you, wrap my arrrms around you...
As Draco's arms wrapped around his waist and gave a little squeeze, Harry briefly wondered when he had died and gone to heaven. This was heavenly; his arms slinking around him, his fingers grazing lightly, his sweet chipmunk voice, the silken locks falling sexily into smouldering eyes, those lips so full and pouty...everything about this blond love-muffin was perfect...just perfect
You don't have to be rich to be my girl, you don't have to be cool to rule my world. There ain't no star sign I'm more compatible with, I just want your extra time and your...kiss!
Harry sighed contentedly. Now, if only he could stop those perfectly plump lips from singing and put them to better use. Then, taking his words at face value, Harry puckered up, leant forward, latched firmly on to Draco's bottom lip, and gave that sexy taut arse of his a quick squeeze. The singing came to an abrupt halt.
Mmmn, this was quite enjoyable. Although Draco didn't normally like being taken by surprise, Harry's tongue dancing a tango across his teeth was something he could most definitely get used to... he liked it...a lot!
Harry's mouth held the faint taste of liquorice and jellied slugs. An odd combination, true. But there was something about the combined flavours that tantalised Draco, as did Potter's delightful tongue.
Draco decided to join in. Contemplating the kiss so far was quite fun and all, and fuzziness in his head was a much appreciated bonus, as was the warm heat that had recently sprung to live in his groin. In fact, he would call kissing Harry Potter a great success, except for the part where he wasn't actually kissing him back yet. Something had to be done about it, and be done soon.
With a mind of its own, Draco's tongue darted in, and joined heartedly with the tongue wrestling.
Both boys sucked, nipped, laved, squeezed, gnawed and bit to their hearts content. And, lost in their shameless moans and lustful sighs, neither of the totally head-over-heals boys noticed as their two best friends stumbled upon them amid their romantic tussle.
"Potter, get off of him before I hex off your bits!"
"ARRRRRH, blinded...I'm BLIND!"
"Oh, sod off, Weasley...you're such a homophobe...it's so unoriginal!"
"I would call it more of a Dracophobe, myself."
"Don't look now, Weasleby, close your eyes..."
"Why, what are they doing...? ARRRH!! Get off my Harry's neck, you leech! And keep your wandering hands to yourself...."
"Weasley, you threw up over my best patent Twifoot and Tatting snakeskin shoes!"
"Who cares, Parkinson, did you see that? Harry put his hand down the ferret's trous..."
"Eurgh...yuck! No, Merlin...NO!!!"
"Get ready to sell your house, Weasel, because you are so paying my shoe cleaning bill!"
"I think, I'm going to be sick again..."
"Salazar's knickers, how could anyone have so much puke stored up within them?!"
Grumbling and retching, they both staggered away from their snogging mates with identical scowls screwing up their faces. Neither of them noticing the two mischievous looking sprites that fluttered down the halls after them, fairy dust pouches in hands.
Two impish faces peeked out from the Christmas tree in the Great hall. Turning their twinkling eyes towards the door, both watched as two brand new couples walked through the entrance, hand and hand...and, obviously, very much in love.
'Don't they just look adorable, Bob?'
'That they do, Griselda.'
'I think we did a perfect job..."
'I'll drink to that!'
Bob held up a thimble, toasted, and downed his mistletoe wine in one.
'Bob, you know what Merrybelle thinks about drinking while we work...'
'What Merrybelle doesn't know, won't hurt her. Hic! Mmm, I think I'll have myself a wee top up. "
Griselda giggled, then sighed romantically.
'They do make such handsome couples, just look at them. They're so very much in love...'
'Indeed, they do...I think we can - hic! - consider our work done for the year.'
'No, not yet we can't...have you forgot Merrybelle's special commission?'
'Hic! I think you'll have to run that by me again...'
'Well...do you see that greasy-haired man with the hooked nose?'
Bob blinked twice.
'Actually, I see two of them...hic!'
'...and can you see the hairy half-giant who's just walked through the door?'
Bob shook himself to clear his head, squealed, and fell from his perch atop a gleaming bauble straight into a passing Hufflepuff's bag. Not even noticing that her fairy companion in crime had gone, in more ways than one, Griselda carried on explaining their next mission with unconcealed relish.
'Weeeell', she giggled naughtily, 'apparently they're secretly in love....'
A/N: I wrote this for Chrstmas, but as the archive closed around the holiday period, I couldn't post it. Then, silly me, I forgot all about it until now. Anyway, belated happy Holidays, lol!
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