The corridor was adorned with bright red and golden cockades - too Gryffindorish according to his tastes, but pleasant to the eyes nonetheless. Walking towards the Headmaster’s office, Draco could have heard the echo of the carols, the students’ laughter coming from the Great Hall.
He smiled, himself a herald of the Christmas spirit, clutching a plate of gingerbread biscuits in his arms.
“Hippogriff!” he announced to the gargoyles who let him pass.
The Headmaster was at his desk, bent over a piece of parchment.
“If the others could see you now, they would believe you truly care about this school.”
“Better keep them in the dark then,” Harry replied.
Draco moved his wand and the biscuits plate planed over the desk.
“You work too much, Headmaster. Time for a break.”
“If you suggest so, Potions Master …”
An exasperated muttering came from the frames above.
“Are they going to be disgustingly affectionate again?” Phineas Nigellus Black asked. “I’d rather not witness it.”
“Dear Phineas, love is an action which can be practiced only in freedom,” Albus Dumbledore replied. “I think it’ll be best if we move to our other portraits for a moment.”
The old Headmaster Black frowned but disappeared. The frames were left empty.
“At last,” Harry sighed as he buried his nest of hair against Draco’s chest, holding him tight in his arms. “I’ve been waiting for his moment all day.”
“Me too,” Draco whispered, kissing his tired, handsome face. “My dearest Headmaster, my beloved.”
Harry looked up at him, green eyes shining with gratitude and fondness.
“We did it, again. Another year at Hogwarts without sudden deaths and dangers, another year together. Merry Christmas, my love.”
“Merry Christmas to you.”