Friendly Competition

[16] The Burrow

When they first arrived at the Burrow on Christmas Eve, things were a little awkward.

Teddy and Andromeda had grown used to Draco well enough, but the rest of the Weasleys ⁠— by blood, informal adoption, or marriage ⁠— didn't seem to know how to act around Draco.

Harry had been telling the truth ⁠— ultimately they just wanted him to be happy ⁠— but that didn't mean they were completely comfortable with Draco or that Molly and Arthur hadn't had any hesitations. With Draco's history with all of them, how could they not?

Once the food and alcohol started flowing, however, things quickly lightened up, and Draco managed to charm his way into Molly's good graces by complimenting her cooking.

The Burrow was warm and overflowing with more food and sweets and friendly faces than you could shake a stick at, and Draco found himself glad he had come after all. George had done a bit of light hazing with some of the joke shop products, but Draco thought that if that was the worst of it, then he'd made out pretty damn good. The Weasleys were welcoming, much more so than they had to be, and he found it surprisingly easy to forget himself and simply chatter along.

Molly, for her part, was overjoyed to see Harry again after much too long and too many skipped holidays, but for once she wasn't fussing over him. For once in the last few years, he didn't look tired or pale or underfed or glum at all. She seemed happy about it, but in a bit of a mystified way, and shot more than a couple glances Draco's way when he coaxed another of those brilliant smiles out of Harry.

It was strangely beautiful for Molly to see her last child finally blooming. Oh, he wasn't her youngest, but he had certainly tagged along last, and he would always be the baby of the family.

She'd thought that she'd seen him and Ginny blooming when they had gotten married, but looking back, and looking and this...she didn't think that had actually been the case at all. For either of them. But seeing Ginny come into her own as one of the famous Holyhead Harpies, now that had been what her little girl had clearly been made to do.

Harry laughed again at something Draco said, and she saw Draco light up in response, and maybe he would never be Molly's favourite, maybe it would at least take time to forgive some of the things he had done (if ever), but...she could appreciate this. She was thankful for this. And she was happy that Harry seemed to bring out the best in him too. Merlin knew, the child needed it.

~*~

Weasley jumpers were handed around on Christmas morning, and Draco was given a faintly hideous navy blue and neon orange hat, with Molly Weasley telling him a little less apologetically than she could have that she simply hadn't had the time, but perhaps next year.

Somehow, Draco found the thing a little charming.

Merlin, what was happening to him?

He was the only one of them not wearing Muggle clothes, in any case, so it wasn't as if he could have put on a jumper over his robes, regardless.

After presents were opened (during which Draco spent most of the time reading letters from his friends in France and an excerpt from his and Luna's book that Neville had sent him, which he had saved precisely to keep him from the awkwardness of not being included), Ron challenged him to a game of wizard's chess.

It lasted hours, and Ron ate himself absolutely sick on jam thumbprint cookies as they played, with the justification that he needed 'brain fuel'.

Hermione spent the entire time doing her best to make both of them question every move they made, and the game only ended when George set off a firecracker in the room, which ended up zipping across the board and scattering the pieces. Draco just knew Harry was behind it, somehow. He didn't have any proof, but he could just feel it. Not that Harry would ever admit it.