Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Hold Me Tight And Don't Let Me Go

Harry was tired of Hermione's insistence upon incorporating Muggle Christmas culture at the Ministry. Despite her constant insistence, he refused to partake in the 'Secret Santa' festivities. So, imagine his surprise that for the first day of 'Secret Santa,' there was a present waiting for him at his desk.

Christmas was falling on a Saturday that year, and Hermione had been very explicit about the rules. One small gift every day Monday through Thursday, and on Friday, which was Christmas Eve, the Secret Santa would deliver the 'Big Gift.' Then if the gifter really wanted to reveal themselves to the recipient, they could, although it was not a requirement.

"Hermione, why do I have a present at my desk?" Harry walked into Hermione's office and saw her sitting with Malfoy having a discussion. "Sorry, I didn't realise—"

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, closing the file she and Malfoy were looking at.

"I have a gift," Harry said.

"Just one?" Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow. "I would think the Saviour of the Wizarding World would have more than one talent."

Harry glared at Malfoy, who raised his hands in surrender and backed off. "Sorry, apparently the gifted are very touchy." He turned to Hermione, who giggled in response, which only annoyed Harry more.

"I thought I'd told you that I did not sign up for 'Secret Santa?' Why was there a gift waiting for me at my desk when I got there?"

"Well, have you opened it?" Malfoy asked, interrupting the conversation again.

"No, I haven't opened it." Harry sneered.

"Why not? If I had a present waiting for me at my desk…"

"This isn't about you."

"Hardly anything ever is." Malfoy snorted and gathered his things off Hermione's desk. "See you later, Granger," he said and left the office.

"Harry, I think this is someone working on their own accord," Hermione said, grabbing the small wrapped box from Harry's hand. "I think they just wanted to buy you a present; it's sweet."

"Who is it?" Harry asked, slightly annoyed. "I don't want it."

"Why?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. "You used to love Christmas."

"Yeah, that was at Hogwarts, when we were kids. I don't have time for games—"

"But this is a fun game!" Hermione argued. "Someone got you a present, probably because they know what a grouch you've become. It'll be great, open it!"

Harry reluctantly opened the box and found a small booklet. It was a booklet full of gift certificates for a free treacle tart at all the sweet shops found in the one kilometre radius of Grimmauld Place.

"What is it, let me see!" Hermione took the booklet from Harry's hand and began flipping through the pages. "Harry, this is so thoughtful…"

"Evidently, they just want me to get fat," Harry answered.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Harry, this person went to over ten sweets shops, purchased a gift certificate, and spent time creating this booklet for you. What is wrong with you?" Hermione slapped Harry's arm with frustration.

"Ow, Hermione!"

"Harry, just write them a thank you note!" Hermione demanded, shoving the booklet back into Harry's hand and knocking him upside the head again.

"How do I—?"

"You can hand-write the note and leave it on your desk, then when they deliver tomorrow's gift, they'll pick up the note." Hermione stared at Harry until he nodded in agreement. "Also, I need your latest field report."

"Alright, I'll send it shortly," Harry answered and began to take his leave.

"And Harry—try to make it legible this time!" Hermione wasn't smiling, and Harry knew that his last few reports had been written in such a hurry that even he couldn't read it when it was finished.

Returning to his desk, Harry sat down and picked up a quill and parchment.

Dear gift giver, thanks for the gift!

"That's awful." Harry heard Malfoy's voice and turned to find him staring at the parchment over Harry's shoulder.

"Don't you have work to do?" Harry asked. He and Malfoy had been partners for almost two years, and Malfoy took any to all opportunities to insult Harry. Harry had learned to just tune him out.

"No, I already submitted my field report to Granger. She's waiting on yours," Malfoy said, grabbing the parchment off Harry's desk and waving his wand at it. "Try again."

"I don't need your help," Harry argued.

"Alright, but if it were me, 'Dear gift giver, thanks for the gift,' usually would mean there won't be a gift tomorrow."

"Well, you should be glad then that it isn't you!"

"Why wouldn't it be me?"

"Why would you want to be my Secret Santa?"

"I wouldn't!"

"Exactly!"

Malfoy huffed and walked away, and Harry wasn't sure what had just happened. Did he win an argument or not?

Before leaving for the night, Harry sat down at his desk and thought about what he'd write to his gift giver. The idea was incredibly thoughtful and he had no idea who would give him such a gift.

Dear Mystery Person,

I'm truly humbled by your present and would like you to know that it will not go to waste!

Yours truly,
Harry Potter.

Harry read the note and smiled. It wasn't half bad and Malfoy was right, it was loads better than what he was going to write. Not that Harry would ever thank Malfoy for anything, anyway.

He folded up the parchment and left it on his desk, unsure if he wanted another gift the second day. Would he be obligated to buy this person a gift if it was revealed to him who they were?

On his way home that night, Harry used one of the gift certificates at the bakery that was closest to his house and received a free treacle tart. He tried to ask the shop owner who could have bought the gift certificate, but it was of no use.

"It's the holiday season, we get over fifty people a day buying gift certificates. I'm sorry, Mr Potter, I wouldn't be able to tell you who it was if they walked in this moment."

Harry nodded and gladly took his treat and headed home.

0-0-0-0

The next day, Harry got called into the Ministry two hours earlier than he was required to. The suspect for a recent robbery at a potions shop had been caught and the Head Auror wanted Harry and Ron to interview him. Harry wondered why the Head Auror didn't ask Malfoy to do it, but chalked the thought off his mind since Harry would much rather work with Ron anyway.

When he arrived at his desk to pick up the file on the shop robbery, Harry noticed that his 'thank you note' was gone but there was no new present. He sighed with relief; hopefully the person who was playing Secret Santa with him had changed their mind.

Harry headed off to the holding cells and met up with Ron to discuss the interview with him. Two hours later, by the time Harry had interviewed and charged the alleged suspect with the crime, he'd all but forgotten his Secret Santa.

Harry arrived at his desk, and saw a gift-wrapped box. It was bigger than the box from the day before and Harry didn't really want to open it. He didn't want to celebrate Christmas; it had been ruined for him a year before and now every holiday cheer only reminded him of his pain.

"What is it?" Malfoy asked, breaking Harry's concentration as he sat on the desk across from Harry.

"I don't know—"

"Open it!" Malfoy demanded and Harry only got annoyed.

"Why do you care, anyway?"

"I want to see!" Malfoy whined and Harry rolled his eyes. Typical of Malfoy to make it about himself.

"Merlin's sake, you're like a five-year-old child." Harry shook his head and opened the box. It was a quill with some ink. Harry looked at the parchment that was attached to the box.

Glad to hear that my first gift was appreciated. Here's a little something to help you make everyone's life around you a little easier. Enjoy the Skill Quill.

"What's a Skill Quill?" Harry asked, reading the note. He looked up at Malfoy who didn't seem to be paying attention. "Malfoy, what's a Skill Quill?"

"Bloody hell, Potter. You really don't know anything! A Skill Quill is an enchanted quill that improves your handwriting as you write. It forces your hand to make certain strokes in particular order so it improves your skill. I'm surprised you never had one before given how much Granger complains about the legibility of your reports—or lack of."

Harry's brows furrowed as he glared at Malfoy. "Not everyone complains about my handwriting."

"Yes. Everyone complains about it."

"You don't."

"Because I don't read your reports."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. It was true. Ministry policy was that Auror partners didn't read each other's reports when they submitted their field work to make sure there were no fabricated information and everyone accounted for their own perspective.

"Whatever." Harry stood up from his desk and decided to go see Hermione. As he began to walk away, Malfoy called after him and Harry turned to look.

"I'm sure Granger still doesn't know who it is." He smirked and Harry scowled at him in return.

0-0-0-0

"I've told you already, Harry, I don't know who it is!"

"Who do you think it is?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"I don't know, it could be anyone. Everyone here knows you like treacle tart and everyone knows your handwriting is rubbish!"

"Hey—"

"It's true." Harry frowned and Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "Harry, a Skill Quill is something that's sold in set. One use of it is to improve your writing, but the other is so you can communicate with its other half. Whoever gave you the Quill clearly decided to keep the other one. Maybe you can write to them."

"Do you think whoever it is will write back?"

"Why not. The Skill Quill is a very expensive instrument. Whoever got it for you is really being very thoughtful." Harry nodded at Hermione's statement and thought over her comments. "Now about your report—" Harry groaned. "Why don't you put the quill to some good use and rewrite it?"

Harry unhappily returned to his desk and began rewriting the report. Writing the first sentence proved to be difficult. The quill kept adjusting itself in Harry's hand and his wrist would twist.

"Ow!"

"You're holding it wrong," Malfoy said. Harry looked up from the parchment and saw Malfoy sitting across from him with his head resting on two fingers, and his stare concentrating on Harry. Harry gulped with nervousness. He'd seen Malfoy so intense before—it usually meant he was being determined about something. Harry knew that he'd found that side of Malfoy a bit attractive, even though he hated almost every other side of him.

"Mind your own—"

"I would, except listening to you whine every few seconds isn't exactly helping me mind my own."

Malfoy stood up from his chair and came around the desk next to Harry. He grabbed Harry's wrist. "What are you doing?" Harry asked, yanking his hand away.

"Helping you, you twat," Malfoy retorted. "Give me your hand, Potter."

Harry allowed Malfoy to hold his right hand and he held the quill with his left. "Here, turn your wrist this way…" Malfoy gently twisted Harry's hand, then his wrist and handed him the quill. "Try writing with this angle; it doesn't push pressure on your hand and it'll be…"

Harry started writing before Malfoy had stopped talking.

"It's working," Harry said. Malfoy didn't answer and his left hand was still on Harry's shoulder. "Malfoy?" Harry asked after he stopped writing the first sentence and looked at Malfoy's hand on his shoulder.

"Right." Malfoy cleared his throat and returned to his desk. "I'm not supposed to be reading your reports anyway." He picked up his travelling cloak and wrapped the strings around his neck.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"Coffee," Malfoy answered and started to walk away.

"Oh, get me—"

"Yes." Malfoy didn't turn and continued walking. Harry hadn't even told him what he wanted, and ten minutes later, Malfoy returned with two coffees and a chocolate croissant.

It took some effort, but Harry learned how to make the Quill work. Malfoy helped from time to time, but mostly he laughed at watching Harry struggle. At times, Harry would pretend to lose the grip, only so Malfoy could come around the desk and help him with it. He liked it when Malfoy placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. Although, Harry would never admit that.

0-0-0-0

When Harry arrived home that night, he'd brought the Skill Quill with him. But not before he stopped by Matilde's bakery to redeem his free treacle tart. The shopgirl at Matilde's had no idea who'd bought the gift certificate for Harry either. It seemed as though whoever it was worked really hard to keep their identity safe.

After a long bath, Harry settled in his bed and brought the quill and a piece of parchment with him.

Who are you? Harry wrote on the parchment, hoping the other quill owner would reply. He waited patiently for a few minutes, but there was no response. Harry didn't even know how it would work. Was this like Tom Riddle's diary from second year? The words didn't disappear; nothing happened.

Five minutes later, Harry placed the parchment and the quill on the table next to his bed and decided to retire for the night when the quill and the parchment flew in the air. The parchment landed in his lap and the quill began moving on its own.

I'm surprised you know that this works as a communication tool as well. Harry read.

Hermione told me, Harry answered, grabbing the flying quill. Then he waited for the quill to fly off from his hand and it did.

I should have known, the reply came.

Why are you giving me these gifts? Harry asked. He wanted to know desperately.

I know you hate Christmas, and I just want to make you like it again. Harry was sceptical. Lots of people didn't like the holidays, why was he so special?

Why won't you tell me who you are?

Those are not the rules for Secret Santa.

So when will I know? Harry asked.

When you're ready.

I'm ready now, Harry wrote.

You have to wait until the game is over.

Harry groaned. He didn't write back.

Friday. He read a few minutes later.

Okay, see you Friday, Harry scribbled. He'd also noticed that the Skill Quill was still being stubborn with him, but his handwriting was greatly improving.

0-0-0-0

The next day, Harry did his best to not rush into the Ministry first thing in the morning. He didn't want to seem desperate about getting his gift. He was still technically, sceptical about the whole thing. He packed his Skill Quill with care, and took the Floo to the Ministry at half past eight. When he arrived, he noticed that Malfoy had arrived at the same time as him.

"So, what's in store from Secret Santa today, I wonder," Malfoy teased and Harry didn't reply.

"It's weird that you're having more fun with this than I am," Harry said eventually. Then he paused for a moment. "Why aren't you participating in it?"

"I am," Malfoy said.

"You are?" Harry was surprised; he hadn't heard Malfoy talking about it all.

"Yeah, I've got Patil."

"I didn't realise you were playing—"

"Well you've been all about your secret admirer, so—"

"Secret admirer?" Harry asked and they entered the lifts one after the other and it packed up quickly, leaving the conversation at a halt.

"I'll see you later, I've got to drop off my present." Malfoy exited the lift two floors before his and Harry's and was lost in the crowd.

When he arrived at his desk, Harry saw another box waiting for him. This one was bigger than the day before. Harry wondered if he should wait for Malfoy. The day before, Malfoy was utterly curious about the contents of the box, so Harry deliberated waited. He glanced over at Malfoy's desk and saw a small package. He reached over and picked it up.

To Draco Malfoy, from Secret Santa.

So Malfoy was participating and he'd been receiving gifts as well. Harry wondered what Malfoy had received thus far.

"Keep your paws off my present, Potter."

Harry was startled by Malfoy's voice and he quickly dropped the box on Malfoy's desk. "Sorry, didn't mean to pry."

"So what did you get today?" Malfoy asked.

"I don't know, I was waiting for you."

"Oh, I'm touched, Potter. So you decided to snoop around my possessions."

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy—"

"Just open the bloody package, Potter."

The two men opened their gifts quietly. Harry looked over at Malfoy who revealed a Tie Clip. "Nice," Malfoy said and he placed it back in the box and put the box in his robes' pocket. He looked at Harry. "Well, go on."

Harry opened his present. It was a box from a shop called Topsman. Harry had walked by the shop a few times in Muggle London when he was on a mission with other Aurors, but they had to stay undercover as Muggles. He opened the box immediately and Harry couldn't believe it. It was a black lambswool scarf. It was nothing special, but Harry remembered how he'd admired it on the mannequin and how he always thought of returning back to the shop to purchase it. Their case had gotten too complex and Harry had sort of forgotten all about it.

He remembered mumbling something about it when he was half-drunk at the last Ministry gala he had attended. Someone had asked him what would have been his regret if he died tomorrow and Harry had said "not purchasing that scarf he'd seen in a shop." That's all Harry had said; he hadn't said what shop, what scarf. This only meant that it would have to be someone who was an Auror and spent a lot of time with Harry. The Aurors that were undercover with him then were: Ron, Malfoy, Neville, Dean, and Dennis. Why would any of them want to be Harry's Secret Santa? None of them would go out of a way to make Harry "like" Christmas again.

Ron would, probably. But he would never put in this much effort. He probably would have just taken Harry to the pub and gotten him pissed. Neville and Dennis weren't that close to Harry so they wouldn't have noticed. Dean was with Ginny and he wouldn't really give a care about Harry. That left...Malfoy. Malfoy had Patil for Secret Santa, why would he buy sentimental gifts to Harry? Besides, Malfoy wasn't interested in Harry like that. Harry knew that already. Maybe it was someone else that's close to one of them and they told this mystery person.

Harry's head was spinning.

"Well, are you going to try it on?" Malfoy asked.

"What?"

"The scarf, Potter. It looks expensive. Let's see, then." Harry took the scarf out of the box and wrapped it around his neck. Malfoy sighed and Harry looked at him confused. "Honestly, it's high time you get yourself a wife. You evidently can't do anything yourself." Harry looked at Malfoy annoyed, who had shortened the distance between them; Malfoy undid Harry's scarf, then tied it around his neck again.

Malfoy's face was centimetres away from Harry's and his gaze was fixated on the scarf, and Harry's was on Malfoy. He looked so concentrated as though he was trying to solve the case of his lifetime.

"I...uh...I'm sure it's fine now," Harry said as he grabbed Malfoy's hands and gently pushed them away from his neck.

"Well, look for yourself," Malfoy said, and waved his wand in the air and conjured up a mirror for Harry to look in. Moments later, the mirror vanished into thin air.

"Thanks," Harry said and nodded at Malfoy. He felt awkward.

"Why are you thanking me? I didn't give you the scarf," Malfoy said with half a snort and returned to his desk. "I'm going—"

"Breakfast sandwich," Harry said.

Malfoy sighed. "Bacon, or no bacon today?"

Harry grinned. "No bacon."

Harry put his hand in his pocket, but before he could do anything Malfoy said, "Keep your coins," and walked away.

Harry sat on his chair and played with the fabric of the scarf. Oddly enough, he found himself wishing that Malfoy had given him the scarf.

0-0-0-0

Wednesday ended up being quite the long day. After breakfast, Malfoy, Harry, and several others Aurors were called in for creating a search party for a missing elderly wizard. Evidence suggested that he was kidnapped by a former Death Eater that the Ministry had been looking for several years.

After following lead after lead, the Aurors had been successful in rescuing the elderly man, but the Death Eater had gotten away.

Harry arrived home and immediately headed off to shower. He was exhausted. He'd also missed lunch and dinner and only managed to grab a quick bite with Ron before Ron had to leave to pick up his daughter from the Burrow.

Harry stayed under the hot water, soaking in the comfort it provided. It was washing away his exhaustion and he knew that he was going to have a good night's sleep. He'd almost forgotten about the Secret Santa and looked forward to whatever present he was going to get the next day.

Harry returned to his room wrapped only in a towel and he saw the scarf on his bed; he'd flung it off when he returned home. Next to the bed, in mid-air, hung his parchment and his Skill Quill.

I was worried about you today. Glad that you were able to return to the Ministry safely. Harry looked at the message on the parchment and smiled. He grabbed it quickly and the quill as well and began writing his message.

Were you there with me? If you were, I wish you'd had said something.

You'll find out soon enough, the message stated.

Are you… Harry paused for a moment, he didn't know how to ask. Would it be considered rude to ask?

A bloke, if that's what you're wondering.

Harry grinned at the message and stopped immediately. As though whoever was on the other end could see him grinning like a fool.

Sweet dreams, my Saviour The message said and the quill dropped on the floor.

My Saviour, Harry thought. "Who would say that?" He was now even more stooped. He was considered the Saviour of the Wizarding World… the person who'd call him that could be anyone.

Without a desire to get dressed, Harry threw his towel on the chair next to the bed and wrapped the scarf around himself. He took the parchment and even if the mystery person had already gone to bed, Harry thought of writing him a message.

Thinking of you tonight.

He placed the parchment and the quill on the table next to him; he searched under his pillow for his secondary wand, and with a nonverbal spell, rid the room of light. Harry searched under his pillow again and found his phial of lube. He lay down on his bed, the scarf still around him, and he opened the container.

Slowly and firmly, he began stroking himself. His right hand was on his hard cock as his left massaged his balls for a moment then travelled up to touch the scarf. Harry was tugging on the scarf and stroking himself at the same time and as the pleasure intensified inside him, he bit his lower lip to prevent himself from screaming. From calling out a name, but whose name would he call out anyway?

He didn't know this mystery person's name.

He ran the thumb over the head and his body shivered. The room was dark but still Harry closed his eyes; he imagined kissing this mystery person, tasting his tongue, his cock in the other man's mouth. Harry was harder than before; he was whimpering silently, he was aching. He touched the scarf, and the feel of the soft fabric resulted in another jolt through his body. He imagined running his hands on the mystery person's back. Mystery person was too long, Harry decided to call him "M." A whimper ruptured from him and a jolt went through his body, and he came undone.

Harry moaned the name over and over again. "M! M! Fuck...Malfoy!"

Harry immediately opened his eyes. Fuck, he'd just come moaning Malfoy's name. Searching for his wand again, Harry spelled himself clean. Blaming it on the familiarity of the letter M as why he had reflexively called out after Malfoy, Harry turned to his side and fell asleep.

When he awoke in the morning, he found a message on his parchment: Bloody hell. Harry smiled to himself, thinking of the mystery person and wondered if they'd thought of Harry the night before.

0-0-0-0

Thursday morning arrived. One more day, Harry reminded himself. This was the last day of secret gift giving and then the mystery person would reveal themselves on Friday. Harry was beyond excited.

He arrived at his desk with his Skill Quill in his pocket, ready to write the report for Hermione of the events of the day before. He tried not to think about the package that would be waiting for him at his desk. However, Harry was only met with disappointment when there was no package. Trying not to think about it, Harry sat at his desk and decided to simply start writing the report.

Maybe something happened, maybe they went on holiday and whatever it was, it didn't matter. He was at work and he was supposed to do his job. Strangely enough, Malfoy wasn't around anywhere either.

An hour passed and neither the package nor Malfoy had appeared.

"Harry, this came for you." Harry looked up and saw Padma Patil holding a small box.

"Oh, what is it?" Harry asked, knowing what it was.

"I think it's your Secret Santa present," she answered casually. "I didn't know you were playing."

"Yeah, it's a long story—" Harry paused remembering that Padma was Malfoy's recipient. "Hey, did you get your gift today?"

"No, but that's because Malfoy's in the hospital."

"You know it's Mal— Wait! Malfoy is in the hospital?"

"Yeah," Padma said as if it were common knowledge. "Hermione told me. She received a Floo call from St Mungo's. Apparently whatever curse you were hit with yesterday, Malfoy was on the front end of it. He woke up this morning, and the right side of his body was completely numb and his mother took him to St Mungo's right away. Then she contacted Hermione, who in turn told the Head Auror."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Harry asked angrily. "He's my partner."

Padma shrugged. "I don't know, I'm not your boss." She turned and walked away without looking back. Harry watched her with shock, holding on to the box of the gift from his Secret Santa.

Harry placed the box in his pocket, grabbed his Skill Quill and a parchment and made his way to the Floo. He arrived at St Mungo's five minutes later.

"Where's Malfoy?" Harry all but roared at the reception desk.

"Level Four," the receptionist answered and Harry made a way to the lifts.

Gasping for breath, because he's been running like a mad man, Harry found Malfoy's room and saw Narcissa, Andromeda, Teddy and Hermione waiting by his side.

"How is he?" Harry asked, as they all stared at him in shock.

"Harry, you didn't have to com—"

"He's my bloody partner," Harry said. "Sorry, Teddy." The nine-year-old smiled at his godfather and ran to hug him. "So, how is he?"

"He's in a comatose state," Narcissa Malfoy said, giving Harry a once over. "It seems the curse he was attacked with—you were attacked with—made his body numb and the Healers have given him potions. They know the antidote, thankfully, so he just needs to wake up."

"When will that be?" Harry asked.

"They're not sure, it could be tomorrow, it could be next week," Hermione said.

"I thought you hated him," Narcissa said, sitting down on the chair next to Malfoy's bed.

"He's my partner, I don't hate—"

"But I was under the impression that if he died tomorrow, you wouldn't care." Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

"Evidently not," Harry answered and sat on the chair across from her.

"Well, as long as we are all making ourselves comfortable," Andromeda said, sitting next to Narcissa and Teddy sat beside her.

"I have to get back to work. Harry, I take it you're staying?" Hermione asked as she picked up her coat and put it on.

"Yes, I think I'll stay a while," Harry answered.

"Great. Get in touch with me if you need anything." Hermione smiled at Narcissa and Andromeda and left.

Everyone was quiet for a while as Harry didn't know what to say to Narcissa. When he was alone with Andromeda and Teddy, he never had a problem chatting. But over the course of the last year, Harry felt that Narcissa had begun to give him a cold shoulder. He wasn't sure why, but he never pressed the issue.

Harry's thoughts were broken when Teddy yawned and his own stomach grumbled.

"I think it might be time for us to leave," Andromeda said. "Do you want us to get you anything?"

"No, that's fine," Narcissa answered.

"Mrs Malfoy, why don't you take a break also, I can stay here and watch over—"

"Yeah, Narcissa, come on. Let's get you home, I'm sure Harry will contact you when something changes." Andromeda tried to convince Narcissa, but she didn't look like she was going to move.

"No, I'm quite comfortable here," Narcissa answered without a flinch. Her gaze turned towards Harry and she was staring him down. He didn't understand where all the animosity was coming from.

"Okay, we'll be back in the evening," Andromeda said, and she and Teddy left.

The silence in the room fell again and Harry didn't look up to see, but he knew that Narcissa was staring at him.

"Why do you hate me?" he finally asked.

"I don't hate you, I just don't understand," she said. Harry was about to ask what she didn't understand when Malfoy groaned. Harry immediately stood up from his chair and ran towards Malfoy's bed.

"Malfoy?" he asked softly.

"Potter…" Malfoy whispered and was quiet again.

"Malfoy, can you hear me?"

"Draco, are you here, dear?"

There was no response.

"Maybe we should get a Healer," Harry said and Narcissa nodded. "I'll go—"

"No, stay here," she said. "Just keep talking to him."

Narcissa left the room and Harry turned towards Malfoy. "You're so stupid, you know that?" Harry said. "You always have to be the one to lead, and now you're hit with some body numbing curse. This is the height of the stupidest thing you've ever done!"

Malfoy didn't answer and Harry placed his hand on Malfoy's forehead. He brushed off a strand of hair that was in between Malfoy's eyebrows and gently caressed his cheek.

"You have really soft skin," Harry whispered. "I always wondered about that…"

Harry heard the Healer and Narcissa Malfoy approached and he quickly stepped back from Malfoy.

"What was he doing?" the Healer asked.

"He just made a groaning sound and then said my name. He's out again. He's not responding to anything."

"This is quite normal actually," the Healer said reassuringly. "Some patients, if they have had a lot on their mind, sometimes, mumble things. It's not a real comatose state, he's just been put into a sort of sleeping spell. So we're just waiting it out. Whatever is on Auror Malfoy's mind, it must be something that was bothering him a lot that he had a physical reaction to it in his sleeping state…"

"He's stressed about me?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Well maybe. You work together. Maybe he's stressed about work," the Healer answered and Harry nodded. It made sense. "It might be better if you stayed with him tonight. He clearly has an attachment with you, so if you talk to him—it might help him wake up sooner."

"It might?" Narcissa asked. "What kind of a Healer are you?"

The Healer looked offended and was about to say something when Harry chimed in. "We're very thankful for your help!" She looked at Harry and nodded, then walked away.

Narcissa turned to glare at Harry, and Harry just looked at her confused. Her face eventually softened. "So you'll stay?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah, I'll stay," Harry replied, smiling. Maybe now she would stop being so mean to him.

"Alright, I'll go and fetch you something to eat," she said, and left the room.

"I can see where you get your snarky attitude from," Harry said, turning to Malfoy. "Insulting a Healer is what I expected for you to have done." Harry laughed and held Malfoy's hand. He squeezed it a bit, hoping that Malfoy would squeeze it back, but nothing happened.

0-0-0-0

After Narcissa left for the night, Harry tried to make himself comfortable in the hospital chair. He tried to speak to Malfoy, but was running out of things to say.

"The Weasleys want me to come by for Christmas dinner again this year. I don't know why, after the disaster I was last year. I wish I could just tell them no. I don't want to celebrate Christmas. I sort of hate it now."

Harry sighed and waited for Malfoy to respond. Once in a while, Malfoy would still groan in his sleep. In the beginning Harry ran up to him, thinking he was waking up, but after a while he just realised that it was an involuntary reaction.

"I suppose I should tell you why I hate Christmas. I mean, you're sleeping; it's not like you can hear me or will respond anyway." Harry twiddled with his thumbs for a while and crossed his legs—still trying to get comfortable in the chair.

"It's your fault, just so you know," he said, then sighed again. "We had such a great first year as new partners, and I thought you were brilliant. I can't believe Jameson had asked for a different partner after two years with you. I thought you were great. Your instincts are excellent and—" Harry paused. "Anyway, that's not the point. We also had a good banter going. Of course, I was stupid, and I eventually fell for you. I mean, it was stupid, right?"

Malfoy made no sound.

"Exactly. Then I thought that on Christmas day maybe I could kiss you under the mistletoe and maybe—if you liked me—you'd kiss me back! So, I got all ready to go to the Christmas Eve lunch at the Ministry—which I am going to miss by the way this year—thanks to you, again. So I get there, I see you on the other corner and you're chatting with people, and I sit with Ron and Hermione and have lunch. The whole time I see you, you're looking at me—and I'm looking at you. I think, foolishly of course, that you feel the same way."

Harry adjusted his seat, then stood up and decided to walk around. "Finally, after two Firewhisky shots I have enough courage to walk up to you and—you're snogging Blakely."

Harry shook his head and returned to his seat. "Blakely! The office slut!" He leaned back into the seat again and crossed his arms. "I was heartbroken of course. I mean, I know it sounds insignificant. It would—to you, to anyone, but you didn't feel the way I felt." Harry covered his face with his hands and breathed into them.

"I mean...you were my first crush. Boy-crush. I mean we were still in Hogwarts—and you were an arse! And I still liked you. Then the war happened, fast forward nearly ten years and great, we're partners. And you've grown up, and I have to look at you, every day. Then you go and you snog Blakely." Harry was sitting quietly, staring at the roof when Malfoy groaned again. He didn't move.

"I…"

Harry didn't look up.

"I didn't kiss him back…."

Harry's head shot up and he looked at Malfoy.

"Bloody...hell." Malfoy was whispering, and then he groaned. "You're an idiot."

"Malfoy?" Harry stood up from the chair and ran towards Malfoy.

"He kissed me, and I rejected him. Then you were such an arse to me for six months!"

"How was I supposed to know you rejected him?" Harry asked. His hand was on Malfoy's shoulder, gently caressing it.

"For an Auror…" Malfoy paused. "You're not very observant."

"For an Auror, you're not very good at counter curses," Harry retorted.

"I was shielding you, you bloody git," Malfoy answered and coughed. Harry saw him pointing towards a jug of water next to his bed, and Harry quickly poured him a glass. Harry helped Malfoy sit up and assisted him in drinking the water. "Blimey, you can talk, Potter."

"Were you really shielding me?" Harry asked and Malfoy shrugged.

"Did you like today's gift?" Malfoy asked softly. Harry reckoned he was still having trouble speaking.

"What?" Harry didn't know what Malfoy was talking about then remembered, the Secret Santa. "Oh, it's in my pocket—I haven't even opened it." Harry turned to look at Malfoy who didn't react. "Do you know who it's from?" Malfoy didn't say anything and continued to drink the water. "I'll open it later."

"Why?" Malfoy whined.

"Why do you care so much about it?" Harry snapped.

"I like seeing your reaction," Malfoy answered. "I don't know why you are being so hesitant about it, you went to bed in your scarf last night."

Harry's eyes widened and Malfoy's cheeks turned pink.

"It's you—I thought you said—What?"

"The scarf is charmed—if it touches your skin, I can feel it," Malfoy answered, his complexion had turned bright red.

"But last night, I—"

"I know, I felt that."

"Malfoy!"

"I came with you."

"And I—"

"You what?"

"I moaned your name as I came," Harry confessed and this time, Malfoy's eyes widened. "I wanted it to be you. I wished, hoped, prayed, that they were from you because—"

"Because what?"

"Because I can't imagine being with anybody else."

Malfoy pulled Harry towards himself and kissed him. Harry let out a small sigh in Malfoy's mouth, and as his lips parted, Malfoy slid his tongue in. A moment later, Harry was on top of Malfoy and he'd deepened the kiss. Malfoy moaned into Harry's mouth and Harry's hands instantly reached down to massage Malfoy's hips.

"That's how I wanted to kiss you last Christmas," Malfoy said when they broke the kiss. "Bloody Blakely ruined everything."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Harry asked, his hands resting on Malfoy's shoulder as he gently stroked Malfoy's skin with his fingers.

"You wouldn't even look at me after the holidays were over, and every time I tried to speak to you, you snapped at me," Malfoy said and Harry placed his finger on Malfoy's chin and pulled him in for a kiss again. "Open your present."

Harry had almost forgotten about his present again. He took out the box and unwrapped it in front of Malfoy. It was a silver bracelet. It looked like it was made of pure silver and had a charm on it—it was an owl. Harry brought it closer to his face. "Is that—is that Hedwig?"

"Yeah, it's stupid, I know. I was running out of ideas, and you don't have to wear it. I mean we're not allowed to wear any sort of jewellery for work anyway, and you probably think it's too gay—"

"I love it!" Harry said. "You did see me looking at the scarves at Topsman?"

Malfoy nodded.

"You're insane, what else don't I know?"

"Jameson didn't request a new partner—" Malfoy said. "I asked to be assigned to partner with you."

Harry gasped. "Why?"

"Why do you bloody think, Potter?" Malfoy retorted. "I worked near you for so long, but you never talked to me unless it was about a case. So I asked to be assigned as your partner, worked my arse off—to prove to you that I'm a good Auror—and to make you see me in a different light and then Blake—"

"Blakely ruined it all, and I ruined everything else," Harry said.

"Well, I see someone is feeling better?" The Healer interrupted Harry and Malfoy's private moment, and Harry jumped off Malfoy's bed. "Any pain, Auror Malfoy?"

"No, I'm feeling quite alright." Malfoy smiled at Harry and Harry smiled back at him.

"I can see that." The Healer turned to eye Harry who embarrassedly looked at the ground.

"Do you think I could leave?" Malfoy asked.

"Leave? It's the middle of the night!" The Healer sounded outraged.

"I know, but I don't care much for hospitals and—"

"I can take him home," Harry interjected.

"Yeah, I'm sure you can," the Healer answered.

"Please, really. I am perfectly alright and I'm an Auror, and with an Auror. It's Harry Potter for Merlin's sake, the bloody Saviour! Technically, you can't hold me here if I don't want to—"

"I know how the Aurors work, Mr Malfoy," the Healer snapped. "I'm far too familiar with my patients walking off because they think their work is above their health."

"Some of us think pleasure is above our health, too." Malfoy winked at the Healer and she smiled.

"Fine, I'll give you two more doses. One for tonight and one in the morning and I want you back here the moment you feel...anything!" Malfoy nodded frantically, and the Healer shook her head. "Alright, you can get dressed."

Malfoy hopped off the bed and took off his hospital robe. He quickly changed into his trousers and shirt.

"Ready?" Harry asked and Malfoy held his arm. A moment later, Harry had Apparated them to Grimmauld Place. "How long do you think until she Floo calls your mum?"

"Twenty minutes, tops. Then Mother will probably make her way here. I'd say that gives us thirty minutes at most. So we better—"

Harry was kissing Malfoy before he even had a chance to finish his sentence. "We should go to my bedroom, before this escalates—" Malfoy nodded in agreement and Harry all but pulled Malfoy upstairs to his room.

He pushed Malfoy on the bed and began undressing himself. Malfoy lay on Harry's bed, without moving. His hands gently touched the sheets as though he was trying to imagine or remembering something.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, pausing in getting undressed to check on Malfoy.

"Yeah, I'm just… you were here last night, and I was...with you."

"It was amazing. Nothing like I'd ever felt before."

Malfoy smiled softly and Harry felt his heart beat faster. He was so utterly in love with Malfoy, he had been for so long...how could he have ever thought that that could go away, only if he had kept his distance.

Malfoy pulled Harry on top of him and Harry began unbuttoning Malfoy's shirt. Malfoy's hands travelled down to Harry's boxers and pushed them down, taking his erection in his hands and began stroking Harry.

"Are you sure, you want to—" Harry asked, still worried about Malfoy's strength..

"Yeah, more than sure," Malfoy answered, and he used his other hand to move Harry's hand down to his groin. "I want you, I want you touch me, I want you inside me…"

Harry's lips were on Malfoy's again and Harry's hands unbuttoned and removed the rest of Malfoy's clothing. A moment later, Harry was on his back and he reached under the pillow for the lube. Malfoy's body curved into Harry's and with his fingers slicked with lube, Harry pushed a finger into Malfoy. Harry felt Malfoy's body shiver, but received no indication to stop. Harry continued pushing in another finger, and Malfoy moaned and pushed onto Harry's hand.

Several minutes later, Harry was thrusting into Malfoy with four fingers and Malfoy continued to encourage him. Harry's cock was begging for a release, and Harry wanted to pull his fingers out and push his prick into Malfoy, but he waited.

It wasn't until Malfoy was begging him that Harry pulled out. "I need you, Potter. Fuck me, please…"

Harry lined Malfoy's hole with the head of his cock and gently pushed in. "Fuck, you feel so amazing," Harry uttered and he thrust into Malfoy, pushing in and out.

Malfoy was on his left side and Harry was behind him, thrusting into him. A moment later, his hand reached over and grabbed Malfoy's erection. He stroked Malfoy as he continued to fuck him. Harry felt incredible. Everything he'd wanted for the good part of two years was finally at his reach. He was madly in love with Malfoy and his wildest dreams had come true. Malfoy had been "M," the mystery person.

"I've wanted you so much," Malfoy whispered right before his body arched into Harry and he came all over Harry's hand. Harry was still inside Malfoy, and he continued to thrust, to take his time. He wasn't ready to go over the edge just yet. He wanted to savour every moment.

Malfoy clenched his hole around Harry's cock and Harry came undone.

"Fuck, Malfoy…" Harry uttered over and over again as he emptied himself inside the man he'd been so in love with. "Merlin, I love—" Harry paused, shocked at his almost declaration.

"What?" Malfoy said, and he waited patiently for Harry to pull out of him so he could turn to face him.

"I...loved...this," Harry managed to say and Malfoy scowled at him. "I love you, alright," Harry said with a sigh. "I know you probably think I'm crazy and won't want anything to do with me—"

"I love you too, Potter." Harry grinned at Malfoy, and Malfoy leaned in to kiss Harry again. "Do you have your—"

"Yeah," Harry said and reached for his secondary wand from under the pillow. He charmed them clean and pulled Malfoy into his embrace.

Malfoy nuzzled into Harry's neck as Harry wrapped the blanket around them. Harry had a nagging feeling that Narcissa Malfoy would come barging into his house at a moment's notice, and it would be better if they were both covered.

"What were you going to give me tomorrow?" Harry asked, and Malfoy looked up at his confused. "For Secret Santa."

"Oh," Malfoy said, smiling. "I was going to conjure up mistletoe, as the first clue, and let you figure out the rest."

"How was I supposed to figure it out from just mistletoe?" Harry asked.

"You'll see," Malfoy said, and shortly after fell asleep.

Narcissa Malfoy didn't show up at Harry's house that night, which he was glad for, but she did send him a howler the next day. Malfoy promised Harry that he'd calm her down by the time he would arrive to Malfoy Manor for dinner.

Harry didn't remember agreeing to dinner at Malfoy Manor, but didn't argue with Malfoy.

The next day after Malfoy went home, Harry went to the Ministry. And like clockwork, a package was waiting for him at his desk and it was in fact mistletoe. Harry didn't understand. At the end of the day, since it was Friday, Harry decided to stop in at Tasty Treats Cafe for a treacle tart. He still had his gift certificate booklet and he thought of treating himself before heading off the Malfoy Manor.

When Harry ordered the treacle tart at Tasty Treats, the shopgirl smiled at him and gave him his order. Harry thought it was odd the way she was acting. When he opened the small dessert box, he saw a piece of paper attached to it.

I know you got the mistletoe today, and I know we are supposed to meet face to face. We missed our chance to kiss last year under the mistletoe, but I hope that you'll give me a second chance. Come by my place tonight for dinner, and allow me to make up for a year of regret.

Yours Truly, your Secret Santa

Harry couldn't believe it. Malfoy knew that Harry would go to Tasty Treats on Friday and he had planned the whole week of gifts based on that. He grabbed the treacle tart with him and left the cafe. He found an Apparition point and headed to Malfoy Manor.

When Harry arrived at the Manor, Malfoy was waiting for him in the sitting room.

"I can't believe you set up all of this, just so I could be here for dinner."

"Yeah, Mother was most disappointed when I'd gone to the hospital. She was afraid my plan would be ruined."

"Oh is that why she was being so mean to me at the hospital?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I reckon she doesn't really need a reason to be mean to you. You did ruin all of my last year—"

"All of your last year?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yeah after the Blakely fiasco, you wouldn't talk to me and she had to deal with my—complaining."

"You whined to your mum about me?" Harry joked.

"Shut up, Potter!"

Harry laughed and Malfoy all but attacked him with punches before they landed on the sofa snogging.

"So dinner here tonight, what tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, what do you think?" Malfoy said

"Wanna go the Burrow with me?"

"Is that really wise?"

"I don't know, breaking you out of the hospital last night so I can shag you all night, was that wise?"

"Potter, I jumped in front of a curse to save your arse. We never do anything that can be considered wise."

"So why start now?"

The End