Funerals and Weddings

For disclaimer, summary, story codes and other information, please see the prologue.

Chapter the Thirty-third: Christmas
A few days later
25 December Christmas Day

Harry awoke early Christmas morning. Yawning and stretching, he hopped out of bed and immediately hopped back in.

“Argh!” he shivered. ‘This house is fucking freezing!’

Bracing himself better for the cold this time, Harry got up again and grabbed his quilted dressing gown and stuffed his socked feet into his slippers. He made his way down to the kitchen for coffee.

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” Remus greeted him with a smile. He got up to give Harry a hug.

“Happy Christmas to you as well, Remus,” Harry replied, attempting and failing to stifle a yawn. “Sorry. Need coffee.”

Remus laughed. “It’s already made. Go grab a cup. I’ll never figure out how you got addicted to coffee, of all things. What’s wrong with a good cuppa?” He lifted his own steaming tea cup.

Harry sipped at the wonderful dark brew in his mug and sighed appreciatively. “Tea’s fine—just not for first thing in the morning. Or for keeping me awake to finish my homework or revise for exams,” he said, with a wry grin.

“Ah,” Remus said. “You’re one of those.”

Harry looked puzzled. “One of those what?”

“Procrastinators!” Remus said with a laugh. “Putting everything off until the last possible minute! I’m surprised Hermione lets you get way with it.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, well, she tried her best to reform both me and Ron. But I’ve really improved this past term—I don’t know why, but all of the sudden I wanted to learn and do better than just scraping by. My marks have improved quite a bit, I’m glad to say—even in Potions!”

“Good for you, Harry. I’m glad to hear it. And if Snape is giving you better marks, you must have drastically improved!”

Harry laughed with the former Marauder. A loud tapping at the window interrupted them.

“Hedwig!” Harry cried, rushing to the window to let in his owl. “Come in girl! You must be frozen!”

The snowy-white bird looked even more snowy than usual. Clicking her beak as if to agree with Harry, she flapped her wings and fluffed the feathers all over her body to shed the snow. Harry winced as it landed on him.

“Hey, careful there, Hedwig. I don’t want to be covered in snow any more than you do. Here, sit on the table. What have you got for me?”

Hedwig obediently stuck out her leg so Harry could untie the small parcel attached. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and had “Harry Potter” written in black script on the top. Snagging a piece of bacon from the plate on the table, Harry broke off a few bits for Hedwig, then returned his attention to the box.

“I wonder who sent it?” Harry asked, turning the package over. “I wasn’t expected anything to be sent since the Weasleys are coming here and Hermione’s gift arrived yesterday.”

Remus frowned slightly. “It doesn’t say who it is from? You don’t recognise the handwriting?”

“No, it just has my name on it. The handwriting is slightly familiar, though. Hmmm….no, I can’t quite place it,” Harry replied.

“I don’t want to sound paranoid, Harry, but perhaps it would be best if we tested it for curses before you opened it,” Remus said seriously.

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, I thought of that as well. Do you mind if I try first? I need the practise.”

Remus agreed and Harry cast several Revealing and Dark Detection spells. He handed it over to Remus who cast one more spell, then looked at Harry.

“What did you find, Harry?”

“Nothing except a surprisingly strong protection charm,” Harry replied. “Do you think I missed something?”

“No, you did the spells correctly—nice job, by the way—and I got the same result as you with the one spell I tried. I’d say it’s safe for you to open it.”

Harry nodded. “I should wait for everyone else, but…” he grinned, and started ripping off the paper, “I’m too curious!”

A green velvet box lay underneath the brown paper.

“Looks like a jewellery box,” Remus commented.

Harry nodded, then slowly lifted the lid. His eyes grew round and a smile lit up his face.

“Wow! This is so cool! I’ve never seen anything like it!” he exclaimed, lifting the pendant from its box. A black leather thong was attached to it.

Remus crossed over to look over Harry’s shoulder as he examined it closely. “You’re right—that’s very unique. And beautiful.”

Harry rested the silver disc in his palm and traced his fingers first over the green snake decorating the white side of the yin-yang symbol, then the gold one gracing the black side. When he did, each snake wiggled and hissed. The snakes’ eyes glittered in the light of the kitchen.

“Who could have sent this to me?” Harry wondered. “I love it! I wish I knew who to thank.”

Remus traced a finger over the green snake and watched it wiggle. “You can’t think of anyone who would send you something with snakes on it? Bit of an odd gift for a Gryffindor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah—but not for a Parselmouth,” Harry replied with a grin, sticking out his tongue to show Remus the snakes on either end of the barbell piercing his tongue.

Remus laughed. “Ah, yes, I had forgotten for a moment. Is that common knowledge?”

“Well, yeah—considering I spoke in Parseltongue in front of most of the school during second year when Draco released that snake in Lockhart’s Duelling Club. I think I told you about that?”

“Yes, yes, that’s right. But do you think people still remember that?” Remus asked.

Harry lifted a shoulder. “Dunno. I’m sure some do. Just wish I knew who sent this.” On impulse, he concentrated on the two snakes and spoke in Parseltongue: “Who sssssent you to me?”

Remus looked startled, then intrigued when the two snakes lifted their heads off of the pendant and hissed back at Harry:

“Greetingsssss, Massster,” the snakes hissed together.

The green snake continued: “We do not know who sssent usss to you, Massster. He did not tell ussss hissss name.”

“Only to protect you,” the gold snake added.

Quickly translating for the fascinated werewolf at his side, Harry asked the snakes, “He? The one who sssent you wassss a male?”

“Yessss, a young one, like Masssster,” the gold snake replied.

The green snake, not to be outdone, said, “He had many other sssnakesss for ussss to talk to. It wassss nice to talk to our own kind again. It isss nicssse that Massster ssspeakssss in ssserpent-tongue assss well.”

“Many other live sssnakesss—or magical onessss, like yourssselvesss?” Harry questioned, curious.

“Magical,” the gold snake said, “Many magical sssnakesss. We were ssssorry to leave but now we are pleasssed to be with a Massster who sssspeakssss to ussss.”

Harry hissed another question: “Do you have namessss?”

The green snake hissed back, “Yesss. I am Oran.”

“And I am Orla,” said the gold one.

“I am pleassssed to meet you both, Orla and Oran,” Harry replied. “I am Harry.”

“Yessss, Massster, the one who sssent ussss told ussss we were to protect our Masssster Harry Potter,” said Orla.

Oran added, “You sssshould alwayssss wear usss, Masster. We can help keep you ssssafe.”

Harry nodded, then hissed a farewell to the snakes after thanking them for their protection. The snakes returned to their still position on the yin-yang. He looped the pendant over his head.

Remus was dying of curiosity. “What did they say?”

“Oh, sorry, Remus. I forgot to translate, didn’t I?” Harry quickly told him what the snakes had imparted to him.

“Well, I guess it’s nice to know someone else out there is looking out for you,” Remus replied. “It’s an exquisite gift.”

Harry agreed and picked up the velvet box to close it. “Yeah, I love it. Still wish I knew who sent it, though.” A sudden thought crossed his mind.

“I guess you have a secret admirer,” Remus teased. “Anyone you fancy at Hogwarts? Or seems to fancy you?”

“No, no one who seems to fancy me,” Harry replied with a smile, deliberately ignoring the first part of Remus’ query. “I’m going to shower and get ready before the others arrive, all right?”

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As soon as Harry returned to his room, he flipped open the velvet box again. He just had a feeling…

“Yes!” he said as he lifted the flat piece on which the pendant had rested and looked underneath. “A note!”

He didn’t know why he hadn’t wanted to look while he was downstairs with Remus when the thought of a hidden message first occurred to him, but he hadn’t. Shrugging the thought aside, he eagerly opened the folded note.

Dear Harry,

Happy Christmas to you. I hope like your gift and that it finds you well and happy. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you.

I’ll be disappointed if you haven’t already figured out that the pendant is charmed for your protection. You’re not as dim-witted as you like to make people think, so I’m sure you already have.

I know you are probably wondering who I am, but I don’t think the time is right to tell you just yet. And I want to tell you in person. I hope the time will be soon, though; I’ve been dreaming of touching you for a long time now.

I want to touch you, Harry. I want to feel your hair and your skin under my hands. I want to taste you and feel your body against mine. I want to kiss you all over. I want to see your beautiful eyes darken in lust. I want to feel you inside me. I want to pleasure you until you come screaming my name. And then I want to start all over again.

I hope you want the same thing when you find out who I am.

Until then, I will have to be content with my dreams.

Wear your gift, Harry.

Happy Christmas.

Harry was extremely glad he’d followed his instincts by opening the note in private. Just reading it had made him hard. Merlin, he’d never read anything so arousing in his life! He re-read the letter once more and couldn’t help rubbing himself through his pajamas as he did. Folding up the letter carefully, he placed it back in its hiding place in the velvet box and headed for the shower.

Harry peeled off his dressing gown and pajamas as fast as he could, easing the bottoms carefully over his straining manhood. Casting a quick silencing charm, he stepped under the hot water and sighed. He lathered his hands quickly with rain-scented shower gel, then slid one soapy hand down his stomach and began to stroke himself lightly, thinking of the erotic words written by the mysterious gift-giver.

I want to touch you, Harry.

Bracing one hand on the tiled wall, he caressed his balls briefly, rolling them through his fingers, before returning to his cock. He rubbed his thumb over the head before beginning firm, measured stokes up and down the length.

I want to kiss you all over.

Groaning, Harry imagined a hot mouth sliding up and down his cock, sucking and licking.

I want to feel your hair and your skin under my hands.

Strong hands running over his chest, his stomach, down his flanks, squeezing and massaging his arse, while a wicked tongue pressed firmly against the throbbing vein running along the underside of his cock as it licked its way from root to tip, swirling around his sensitive head.

I want to taste you and feel your body against mine.

A tongue dipping in to tease the shallow slit at the top, tasting the milky essence already dribbling out. Hands reaching around from behind to dance fingertips lightly over the soft skin of his inner thighs. Stroking softly.

I want to see your beautiful eyes darken in lust.

Silver-grey eyes gazing up at him seductively just before closing as that talented mouth began to work him in earnest. Harry arched his neck and moaned, hips thrusting.

I want to taste you…

Licking, sucking, just the faintest hint of teeth scraping on the way up and a warm, wet tongue soothing on the way back down.

I want to touch you…

Harry could feel the tightening in his balls and the tingling at the base of his spine. He was panting and thrusting into his fist hard, the rhythm becoming jerky as he neared his peak…

I want to pleasure you until you come screaming my name.

Every muscle in his body clenched and Harry threw back his head as the climax ripped though his body. White jets splashed against the tile as he let out a throttled shout:

”Draco!”

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Draco slept late Christmas morning. He didn’t awaken until almost eleven, when Blaise called his name and rattled his bed curtains.

“Draco! Hey, Draco! Time to get up. It’s Christmas, lazybones, get up!”

Draco groaned and rolled over. “Doanwanna,” he mumbled sleepily.

Blaise poked his head in through the curtains. “C’mon, you’re going to miss the feast if you don’t get up and get ready. Besides, don’t you want to open your presents?”

Opening one eye, Draco peered blearily at his roommate. “I have presents?”

“Yeah, you have presents. Now, c’mon, get up,” Blaise replied before yanking the curtains open fully.

Draco sighed and pulled himself out of bed. “All right, I’m up. Is there still coffee or did you drink it all?”

With a dramatic flourish, Blaise pointed his wand at Draco’s desk and levitated a steaming mug of coffee to Draco’s waiting hands. He grinned broadly. “Happy Christmas, Draco.”

“This better not be all you got me,” Draco said, putting on his best insulted expression. Then he grinned back at Blaise and motioned with the mug. “Happy Christmas to you too, Blaise. Cheers.”

“Hurry up and shower, glamour boy. You’ve only got an hour to get ready and open your gifts if we don’t want to be late to the feast,” Blaise said, turning to leave the room. “I’ll be in the common room.”

Scowling at Blaise’s “glamour boy” comment, Draco took himself off to get cleaned up and ready for the feast.

Thirty minutes later, he joined Blaise in the Slytherin common room, seating himself in the chair closest to the Christmas tree.

“Wow, that was fast,” Blaise commented, raising his brows.

Draco smirked. “You did say something about presents. You know how I love presents.”

Laughing, Blaise handed Draco some packages and then started opening his own. Draco received a very handsome quill from Pansy (he’d admitted to her how much he was using the journal she had given him), a huge supply of chocolate from Crabbe and Goyle (not very imaginative, but they knew he had a weakness for chocolate), a book simply entitled Seers from Professor Snape and gourmet coffee beans from Blaise.

Opening Blaise’s gift, Draco laughed. “I guess coffee was the only thing you got me!”

Blaise grinned back. “Yeah, I thought it was pretty funny when you made that comment this morning. Thanks for the CDs. These guys are brilliant!”

Draco had gotten Blaise two CDs by The Dragons and Wandering Witches, wizard bands he knew Blaise enjoyed.

From his mother, Draco received a new set of black dress robes (‘Appropriate for a funeral,’ Draco thought darkly), a cashmere jumper and matching socks, a box of good writing parchment (he supposed that was a hint that he was meant to write more often) and a bottle of his favourite cologne. Down to his last gift, Draco opened the attached card first.

Dear Draco,

Happy Christmas, son. I’m sorry that circumstances prevent us from being together today. I hope things are settled soon, because I can’t wait to see you. It’s been too long.

It makes me both sad and proud to give you this gift. It’s not a gift I ever imagined giving you while you are still so young. Yes, I know you will be seventeen in just a few short weeks, but you are my son and you will always be my little boy.

As you know, with your father’s passing, you are now the head of the Malfoy family and the Malfoy estates. I’m sure you will recognise this ring—the Malfoy signet that is handed down to the Malfoy heir when he assumes stewardship of the Malfoy name, duties, and properties. Despite the circumstances under which you receive it, I hope you wear it with pride.

There are many other things that I need to tell you, but it is best that I wait until we are able to speak in person.

I hope you enjoy your gifts and your holiday.

With love,

Mother

There was a strange ache in Draco’s chest as he put aside the card and opened the small, black box to which it had been attached. Nestled on black velvet was the ring he had seen on his father’s finger everyday of his life. Made of heavy silver, the Malfoy family crest was engraved into the flat oval surface of the ring. It was set with a small emerald on either side.

He hadn’t really thought about the fact that he was no longer the Malfoy heir, but the Malfoy. Funny, his entire upbringing had been designed to prepare him for this very event. All of his life he had been taught what it “meant to be a Malfoy.” Sometimes the lessons had been reinforced with pain if he hadn’t learnt them quickly enough. Bringing pride and honour to the family name had always been his goal in life.

Being the head of the Malfoy family was something he used to fantasize about as a child: ruling supreme over the wealthy Malfoy estates, having servants at his beck and call, wielding power, engendering envy. Now, it didn’t seem so appealing. Well, the wealthy bit was quite all right, but the rest…in Draco’s mind the embodiment of the Lord of Malfoy Manor would always be Lucius Malfoy and that wasn’t who he wanted to be anymore.

Turning the ring over in his hands, Draco sighed.

“Draco,” Blaise said quietly, “Are you all right?”

Draco started slightly at the sound of Blaise’s voice. He’d forgotten where he was.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting…” He trailed off and handed the ring to Blaise in lieu of words.

“The Malfoy ring. So you’re officially head of the family now. Why do you seem surprised?” Blaise asked, examining the ring.

Draco lifted one elegant shoulder. “I’m not, really. I just hadn’t given it much thought lately.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d be thinking about it constantly. I mean, I’ve seen how my uncle is with my cousin—he’s the Zabini heir, thank Merlin—and how your fa—uh, Lucius was with you.”

“Yes, “What It Means To Be A Malfoy” was one of Lucius’ two favourite topics of discourse—the “Joys Of Serving The Dark Lord” being the other, of course. I can’t tell you how many times I heard the Malfoy sermon from him.

“‘Draco, a Malfoy only associates with his equals.’ ‘Draco, a Malfoy must never show or be controlled by his emotions.’ ‘Draco, a Malfoy puts family loyalty and duty above all else.’” Draco mocked his father’s superior, aristocratic drawl perfectly.

“‘Draco, a Malfoy must walk around with a stick up his arse at all times,’” Blaise said in a much-exaggerated version of Lucius’ snotty tone.

Draco laughed. “Ah, yes, the infamous Malfoy arse-stick. Thank the gods Mother didn’t send that along.”

“Do you really think anyone could pry it out of Lucius’ arse? It was jammed up there quite firmly, I believe,” Blaise snickered.

Draco snickered along with him. “True, true. Well, that’s quite all right, I’ve no desire to inherit any of Lucius’ shite.”

Blaise almost fell out of the chair, he started laughing so hard. His laughter was contagious and Draco was soon laughing right along with him.

“Merlin,” Draco finally gasped out, “I needed a good laugh.”

Blaise was still trying to catch his breath. “Yeah…and I need a good feast! Let’s go!”

Still breaking forth in chuckles intermittently, the two Slytherins made their way to the Great Hall for the Christmas feast.

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Harry had a great Christmas with the Weasleys and Remus. Molly outdid herself with the meal and all of them left the table groaning. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall and Hagrid had joined them in the afternoon after the Hogwarts Christmas feast.

As for his gifts, Harry received the usual Weasley jumper, an assortment of his favourite sweets (from Ginny), some books (one from Hermione about Ancient Greek wizardry and a handsome full-colour one from Bill and Charlie about dragons), some hard-as-nails fudge (from Hagrid), a mismatched pair of socks (from Dobby), and some Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes (from the twins of course!). Ron got him refills for everything in his broom-servicing kit (which he desperately needed). Remus gave Harry a thick, suede-bound journal that Harry could charm to appear blank to everyone except himself.

He also surprised Harry with a beautiful set of Gryffindor cufflinks—he explained that they had been James’ and he had found them whilst going through Sirius’ things one day. When Harry asked him how he knew they were his father’s, not Sirius’, Remus laughed and said he remembered when Harry’s grandfather had given them to James when he left Hogwarts and how Sirius had joked that he doubted he’d be getting any “cute little lions” from his family.

After opening the gifts, everyone sat around the fire, enjoying some Christmas cheer. Everyone had commented on his new necklace and he’d had to explain the story (leaving out the secret note he’d found) and introduce Oran and Orla to everyone. Feeling rather mellow after his third (or was it fourth?) glass of mulled wine, Harry’s mind kept drifting back to the note and his wank in the shower.

He’d shocked himself by calling out Draco’s name when he came. He’d had no idea that lurking in his subconscious was the thought that Draco Malfoy might have sent him the gift. His mind comfortably fuzzy, Harry tried to decide how he felt about the possibility of Draco sending him the necklace and the note.

At first his brain knee-jerked a reaction of “Hell, no! Malfoy’s a git!” but that thought was quickly drowned out by the alcohol sloshing around in his head. The carnal part of his brain took over and said, “Hell, yes! Draco is hot!”

‘Yes,’ Harry agreed with himself, ‘He is definitely hot. And snakes—Slytherin. Makes sense. But what about the fact that he can be a complete prat? And the fact that I just offed his father?’

Then another little part of Harry’s brain that he couldn’t quite identify at the moment spoke up and reminded him that Draco really hadn’t been a prat this year, rather he’d been almost…pleasant. And he was on the side of the Light now. And maybe Remus was right, and Draco didn’t hate Harry for killing Lucius…

That was the part that kept sticking in Harry’s head. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept that someone could kill a bloke’s father and the bloke wouldn’t be pissed as hell.

Harry was still trying to work that problem out in his mind when he realised someone was saying his name. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he looked around blearily to see Ginny grinning at him.

“C’mon, Harry. Get yourself up. People are leaving and then I think the lot of us are hitting the sack!”

Harry gave her a loopy smile and hauled himself off the sofa, only staggering a bit. “Ah, bed. Beds are lovely things. Must’ve been a clever one who invented beds, doncha think? Your mum’s wine’s bit more potent than I thought, I think.”

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at Harry’s befuddled comments. Taking his arm, she led him to the kitchen to see off the Hogwarts group and then somehow managed to herd both Harry and Ron (who’d also had quite a bit to drink) up the stairs to their bedroom. Both boys collapsed on their beds, still dressed. Harry did manage to kick off his shoes and toss his glasses on the nightstand before burrowing under the covers. Ron crawled under his blankets, shoes and all. Stifling her laughter with her hand, Ginny shut the door and headed up to her own bedroom. It had been a good Christmas.

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Draco lay awake in his bed later that night. He wondered if Harry had liked his gift. He really hoped he had. And he wondered what Harry had thought about the note he’d included. Had he been shocked? Turned off? Turned on? Draco hoped Harry had been turned on. He’d gotten a little aroused himself just writing it!

Snuggling deeper under his down comforter, Draco smiled and let himself drop off to sleep, thinking about The Dream…

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A/N: Mmmm...wet, wanking Harry! Happy early Christmas to me! *WEG* In case you are interested, the names for the snakes are both Celtic in origin. Orla means golden woman and Oran means green. Thanks so much for the awesome reviews—wow, Diabolus and Tatem, especially. I can’t thank you guys enough for your great reviews! I’m stunned! All of y’all who review faithfully--you guys are the best!!!!

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