Cheers, Potter.

Whatever you say.

Harry's POV

As large meals tend to cause, the house was brimming with lethargic zombies, all of us full of roast potatoes and content in our abilities to shovel away Brussel-sprouts without Mrs Weasley noticing. We convened in the living room all in various stages of a food-coma listening to the sound of carols gently lulling us to sleep – all but Charlie it would seem, who for some un-godly reason was still putting away Yorkshire puddings at an alarming rate.

I glanced around the room with heavy lidded eyes and smiled at just how very content I was. For the first time, it was Christmas, I was with my family, I had no fears or worries in the world, my loved ones were no longer in danger. I could be still and happy without consequence. A noise from the kitchen stirred me and I took a deep breath before rousing myself to standing – quite a shock to the system since I hadn't moved for upwards of an hour.

Instinctively, I didn't enter the room straight away, I stopped to listen first. I couldn't hear anything anymore but decided to check anyway and slowly walked in.

"Errol!" I whisper-shouted, "You scared me," the silly bird had flown in through the kitchen window and got himself stuck in a saucepan, the glass lid having shut on him.

He chirped happily once I'd freed him and sat himself on my arm gratefully. He'd a letter in his beak, one addressed to me, and he dropped it in my hand when I reached for it.

By now, I'd recognise the handwriting anywhere, we'd been exchanging letters for a week now and I'd catch myself in an excited stomach flip when I received one from him. There was nothing particularly special about this letter. It was just three words, but my chest squeezed and my lips turned up at the corners anyway.

Three little words: Merry Christmas, Potter.

I just stared at the perfect cursive for a while, thinking about Malfoy as he wrote them, no doubt begrudgingly – he wasn't the sentimental type.

"What have you got there?" Molly came bustling into the kitchen, her usual kind and jovial expression donning her face as she busied herself with spelling our dishes into the sink and the leftovers into the fridge.

I scrambled around my brain for words, any words, and eventually remembered there were two letters Errol had come with.

"There's a letter here addresses to you," I handed it to her and simultaneously pocketed the one for me, hoping she hadn't seen it.

"Oh, how lovely!" she said aloud once she'd read it, "it's from your Slytherin boy, thanking us for the Christmas howler,"

You know when you stand up too quickly after being down for too long and your head goes static? That's how it felt hearing my as-good-as-mother call Malfoy my 'Slytherin boy'. I didn't dislike the feeling.

"How very sweet of him, he really isn't who I thought he was, you three always used to say such horrible things about him but really he is just a big softie!" She chattered, warmly pinning the letter to the string of other holiday well-wishes they'd received.

Still spinning from the previous comment, it took me a moment to register what she was saying next.

"He's very fond of you, you know, Harry,"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well he must be to be sending you such regular letters," she had a telling smile that I'd describe as devious if I didn't know better, "don't look so startled, my boy, it's all too clear you're soft on Draco Malfoy, the grins give you away."

"I... am." I was going to say something to the contrary but decided it was pointless.

"It's okay, dear," she came over to me and engulfed me in a mince pie scented hug, "if it's not something you feel like talking about, that's fine, if you do, I'm here for that too."

"Thank you, Molly" I sighed and squeezed her in return.

~Ж~

The Burrow had well and truly relaxed into a quiet Christmas night; the board games had been put away, the loud and raucous laughter had subsided, replaced with gentle chatter and gifts had been exchanged.

Carols played softly in the background and Bill pulled Fleur to the middle of the room to dance, swiftly followed by Molly and Arthur and Ron and Hermione. In turn Charlie hauled George up from his perch on the sofa, drawing a laugh from us all – he didn't look particularly invested in being stood but he danced nonetheless. I grinned, watching my family be as happy and content as they were, until I got a tap on the shoulder.

"Come on then, Potter," Ginny chimed from my left, hand outstretched. I smiled and let her drag me to the middle of the room.

"It's weird to see you happy," she said, perhaps too honestly, "Even now when there's no more danger, you always seem... tense,"

"That's a very polite way of saying I look like crap," I laughed, she did too, then more seriously I added, "I am trying to get better, Gin. Thing is, I've never known happiness like this before. Never known I didn't have to worry about going hungry for the tiniest misstep, not having to be ready to run at any minute, not always being in the middle of some peril or another. It's taken a minute to get used to."

"I know," Ginny hugged me as we swayed to the chimes and bells of the carol songs, "how are you sleeping?"

"Slughorn's Elixir is working wonders, barely any nightmares since I started with it,"

"That's great!" She said, too loudly for the environment.

"How are things with Luna?" I asked, wanting the subject of the conversation away from me.

"Oh, we're great! I miss her," she sighed, "it sounds ridiculous, it's only been a week," I heard the coy smile in her voice.

"It's not... I know how you feel," I said before I could thing better of it. Ginny didn't miss a beat and looked directly at me with uncomfortable scrutiny, a maniacal grin on her face.

"Are you talking about Malfoy?" she wiggled her eyebrows.

"No," I replied quickly, "I mean all the others. You know, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus. Malfoy just happens to be one of the people I miss,"

"Mhmm," Ginny rolled her eyes, "whatever you say,"