25 days of Drarry Christmas

A Christmas to remember

A Christmas to Remember

The snow had begun to fall in thick, soft flakes, carpeting the streets of Diagon Alley in a blanket of white. Shops had adorned their windows with sparkling decorations, and the glow of festive lights reflected off the cobblestones. Christmas was in the air, and for the first time in many years, Harry Potter found himself walking alone down the magical street, his thoughts distant, as the holiday season loomed on the horizon.

It had been a decade since the Second Wizarding War, a decade since the world had healed from the wounds of battle. He'd moved on, of course. He had his friends, his family, and his career at the Ministry, where he worked tirelessly as an Auror. But Christmas had always felt like a reminder of the things he'd lost. His parents were gone, his godfather, his mentor—too many to count.

But this year was different. Harry had been invited to a Christmas Eve party, by none other than Draco Malfoy.

The invitation had come as a surprise. Harry hadn't heard from Draco in ages. Since the war, they'd been distant, their paths rarely crossing. There had been mutual respect, certainly, but no real friendship. Draco had distanced himself from his family's old ways, and Harry, for his part, had tried to move past the tension that had always existed between them.

Still, there was something about the invitation that made Harry hesitate. Maybe it was the fact that it came with no explanation, no extravagant excuses, just a simple note that read:

"Come to the Manor. Christmas Eve. I would like to see you there. Draco."

Harry had debated it for days, but in the end, he found himself standing at the gates of Malfoy Manor on the eve of Christmas Eve, his breath misting in the cold air. The grand house loomed before him, its towering spires outlined in the soft glow of magical lights.

He raised his hand to the door, hesitated, then knocked.

The door opened almost instantly, revealing a house-elf wearing a tidy green waistcoat.

"Master Potter, sir!" the elf exclaimed. "Come right in! Master Malfoy is expecting you!"

Harry stepped over the threshold, immediately greeted by the warmth of the large entry hall, a fire crackling in the hearth. Draco stood nearby, dressed in dark, tailored robes, his platinum blonde hair gleaming in the firelight.

"Potter," Draco greeted with a smirk, his voice still carrying that familiar sharpness. But Harry could tell it was softer than before, less biting.

"Malfoy," Harry replied, his voice matching Draco's tone, but with a warmth he didn't expect. "Nice place you've got here."

"Thanks," Draco said, stepping aside to let Harry in. "I'll be honest, it's a bit of a pain to keep it all together. But the Manor's been in the family for centuries. Hard to let go of it."

"I can imagine," Harry muttered, glancing around at the sweeping marble floors, and the tapestries on the walls depicting scenes of ancient Malfoy ancestors.

Draco led him into a lavish sitting room, where a fire burned in the hearth, and the scent of mulled wine filled the air. The house felt both grand and cozy as if Draco had made an effort to merge the old with something new.

"Wine?" Draco asked, holding up a bottle.

Harry nodded. "Sure."

The two of them settled into armchairs, the crackling fire the only sound in the room for a moment. It felt... strange. Harry wasn't sure what to say. For years, Draco had been someone he'd either avoided or actively disliked. Now, here they were, adults, years removed from the chaos of their youth.

"I didn't expect this," Harry said, breaking the silence. "Not... the invitation, I mean. I don't know what I thought, but I didn't expect you'd want to see me."

Draco's expression softened. "Truth is, I never thought much about the war until after it was over. After everything was over, I realized how much I had taken for granted, you know? My family's expectations, my... position in life. I was just a product of it all. But I didn't want that anymore." He paused, then added, "I... wanted to make things right, somehow."

Harry stared at him, surprised. "You want to make things right?"

"Not for the world, Potter." Draco's smile was faint, a little sad. "But for myself. For you."

Harry didn't know what to say. The words felt so foreign coming from Draco, but they were sincere. He could tell.

"Thank you for this," Harry said softly. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that." He let out a small laugh. "I'm surprised, to be honest."

Draco chuckled as well, then handed Harry the wine. "I suppose we both surprised each other."

The conversation flowed smoothly after that, the wine loosened the tension in the air. They spoke about their past, how things had changed since the war, the state of the Wizarding world, and even a bit about their personal lives. Harry learned that Draco had left his family's business behind, opting for a quieter life. He had invested in several charities that supported victims of the war, though he never sought the spotlight for his good deeds. Harry was impressed.

"You've done more than I ever expected," Harry said, finally feeling like they were on the same page for the first time in their lives.

Draco smiled, though there was a touch of melancholy in his eyes. "I didn't expect this either, Potter. But sometimes... people change. They grow."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted. They started discussing Christmas—what it had meant for them when they were younger. Harry shared stories about his family's humble Christmas celebrations with the Weasleys, the warmth and laughter that had filled the Burrow. Draco, on the other hand, spoke of the extravagant but hollow celebrations of his childhood, where gifts and grandeur were given more importance than love.

"You know," Draco said slowly, "I never really got Christmas. Not in the way you do."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Draco looked at him, his gaze softer than it had ever been in the past. "It's not about the things you get or even the things you give. It's about... the people. The people who show up. Who chooses to be there? I never really understood that. Until now."

There was a silence between them, the weight of Draco's words hanging in the air.

"Maybe... maybe we could start our tradition," Harry said, feeling an unexpected warmth in his chest. "You know, something that's just ours. No expectations. Just... us."

Draco's gaze flickered to Harry's, and for the first time, Harry saw vulnerability in his eyes. "I'd like that."

The night wore on, and the two of them talked for hours. They reminisced, laughed, and began to bridge the gap that had once felt insurmountable. The old bitterness, the old misunderstandings, slowly dissolved, leaving behind something new and fragile. Something worth holding onto.

When it was time to leave, Harry stood up and made his way to the door, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. He turned back to Draco, who stood in the doorway, watching him.

"Thanks for this," Harry said again. "It means a lot. I didn't expect this Christmas to be anything special, but it is."

Draco nodded, his expression unreadable. Then, as if by instinct, he stepped forward and reached out, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Take care, Potter," he said softly.

Harry smiled a genuine, unguarded smile. "You too, Malfoy."

And with that, Harry stepped into the snow, the chill of the night air biting at his skin, but his heart warm from the unexpected turn his Christmas had taken.

It wasn't the holiday he'd imagined. But it was one he would always remember.