Giving oneself a Christmas present was perfectly acceptable, in Draco's humble opinion. He certainly deserved one. Christmas was a time of cheer, and he was not cheerful and was unlikely to be cheered up by anyone. He might as well do it himself.
Picking out his present was the easy part. Actually getting it took some careful planning. The fact that most eight-years stayed in the school for the holidays, studying for their N.E.W.T.s, was a clear sign that the universe was on his side and he should really do it.
On the morning of December 25th, he would kiss Harry Potter. All he needed was a distraction, an escape route and to make sure that Madam Pomfrey was readily available, for he would definitely need a healer's attention if his escape should fail and Potter managed to hex him to smithereens. And he needed Potter to stay faithful to his new habit of getting up early to fly over Hogwarts grounds.
Luck was on Draco's side. Christmas morning was beautiful, the sun bright enough to make the snowy grounds sparkle. Draco didn't even have to lurk too long near the castle's entrance. Potter showed up without Weasley in tow, which would make everything easier. He was wrapped in a thick cloak, knitted dark red scarf and woolly hat and didn't even notice Draco was hidden behind a nearby tree. Potter's boots crunched the fresh snow as he made his way towards the broom shed. Draco followed soon after.
Draco wasn't running, but he was out of breath by the time he reached the shed. There was no room for panic and second thoughts, though. He was doing this. It was settled.
He entered the small, dark space. Potter spun around, the Firebolt already in his hand. He visibly relaxed and nodded. "Malfoy." When Potter said his name like that, Draco could never tell if it was meant to be a simple greeting or an accusation.
Draco returned the nod and then hurried to grab his Nimbus before Potter could escape; he was already at the exit.
"What's wrong with your broom?" Draco asked.
Potter glanced between Draco and the Firebolt in obvious panic. "What? Nothing." He stood there examining it carefully, nonetheless.
Draco approached, trying not to grin. It was the perfect thing to say. Of course it was. Potter and his precious broomstick. "It has a crack, Potter." Draco stepped forward; he was standing very close now. "There, on the handle."
Potter's fingers slid over the wood with enormous care. "You're taking the piss, Malfoy. I don't see it."
"Here." Draco took out his wand and lit it up with a quick non-verbal Lumos. Potter raised the broom closer to the light.
Draco's stomach was doing somersaults. His escape plan was working perfectly: he had his wand in one hand, his Nimbus in the other. Now he just had to do it. Potter was raising his head; it was now or never. Draco leaned in. His lips touched something soft and cold.
He kissed Potter's cheek.
Draco jumped back. Potter was staring at him, eyebrows nearer to his hairline than Draco thought possible.
"What..." Potter's mouth opened and then closed. He was silent for a moment. "What was that?"
"I..." Draco clutched his wand, ready to defend himself. Potter was supposed to hex him, not just stand there, talking and staring. But then again, Draco was not supposed to miss Potter's goddamn mouth. "I was just trying to... I needed a closer look and... It was merely an accid—" Oh, fuck it. Fuck explanations and fuck the whole thing. Draco jumped on his broom and shot out of the shed. His wand fell to the ground in the process, but he didn't even care.
The cold air on his face was pure bliss. He had thought his skin would melt from the heat. Sweet Merlin. Risking embarrassment for a kiss on the cheek was not the plan.
Draco was flying fast towards the Forbidden Forest.
His broom shuddered. It swerved to the left, turned completely around. It was heading back, straight towards Potter.
Draco clutched the handle, pushed and pulled, but the broom ignored all his attempts to regain control. Potter stood down in the snow, his wand pointing at Draco, pulling him in. Draco imagined he could see his green eyes burn with anger.
The ground was getting nearer. His Nimbus seemed to have disappeared. He flew forward and slammed against Potter's chest. Potter caught him as deftly as he'd catch the Snitch, with his arms wrapped around Draco's back. It was a wonder they didn't fall down. Their chests were pressed so tightly together Draco couldn't tell whose heart was hammering between them.
He pushed back as much as Potter's arms allowed it. He didn't get far. Potter's face was much too close to his. Potter had lost his woolly hat and his black hair was catching snowflakes; Draco hadn't noticed the sun had disappeared, not with Potter around.
"I asked... What was that?" Potter sounded rather calm and had spoken very slowly. His gaze was fixed on Draco's eyes.
"I, er..." Wandless and broomless, Draco had little choice. "It's Christmas, Potter. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Obviously." He forced his lips to stretch into a smile. "Merry Christmas, Potter." He thumped Potter's back, as hard as their proximity allowed it, and then air-kissed both of Potter's cheeks. "May it be jolly and filled with fattening delights."
Potter stared. "I see." He still held Draco trapped against him; the cold has pinked his cheeks. "Well, then." He leaned in closer; Draco held his breath. Potter didn't hex him or bite him or air-kiss his cheeks. He kissed Draco right on the mouth. Potter had good aim. And he could kiss. He could make Draco's toes curl with a swipe of his tongue. He could make Draco's body surge forward with a tilt of his head. He could make him whimper by pulling away.
"Merry Christmas," Potter said. His lips were wet; he was smiling. He released Draco and stepped back. Two flicks of his wand delivered Draco's broom and wand to his hand. Potter sure knew how to summon the things he wanted. Or maybe everything and everyone was eager to end up in his hands.
Potter handed Draco his broom and wand, and summoned his Firebolt. He was up on it in seconds, flying away, taking the merry part of Christmas with him.
What a time to realise a mere kiss was a curse not a present.
Draco turned to see Potter up in the air, staring down at him with a frown.
"Are we flying or what?" Potter cocked his head. "You know I'll beat you in a race. I can't believe you're giving me a head start."
Draco clutched his broom, blinking up at Potter. His mind cleared. Potter wanted them to fly together.
Also... Potter just kissed him.
"I can afford it!" Draco said, with a sudden burst of energy. He could afford it. He was sure he didn't even need a broom to fly. He jumped on his Nimbus, nonetheless, and pulled up next to Potter. "Winner gets a prize, right?"
Potter grinned. "Hurry up and find out," he said and soared towards the forest.
Draco gripped his broom, and hurried.