A Cup of Tea, Please

20 | The Realisation

Although every morning for the next few weeks Harry received a copy of The Daily Prophet featuring a large picture of himself and Draco plastered on the front page from every evening prior, he didn't feel as sickened by it anymore. In fact, it impressed him how Rita managed to squeeze so many lies out of a single hug. As if friends can't hug, Harry scoffed.

Rita would have a field day if she ever found about how often Harry used to cuddle with Ron during their Hogwarts years, especially on nights he couldn't sleep. Hermione was truly a lucky witch to have such a good cuddler for a boyfriend, though Harry thought that sometimes her cuddling exceeded that of her boyfriend's.

Maybe Harry was the lovebug, and not Draco. But there was no way he was going to admit that: it was too amusing to watch Draco turn pink after teasing him for being so affectionate.

But despite all these issues of The Daily Prophet covered with invasive pictures and information about Harry and Draco cuddling at the cafe, neither of them cared about it anymore. It was only really an excuse for them to see eachother every day on the run-up to Christmas, until it came to the twenty-fourth.

Christmas Eve that year landed on a Friday, and despite the cosiness of the cafe being perfect for such a day, a surprising number of customers opted for fish and chips instead, which confused Harry. Or maybe they just wanted to spend the evening with their family, which made so much more sense.

But Harry knew that Draco had no family left. That along with him having to work all alone in an empty cafe undeniably elicited a twinge of guilt inside Harry's heart. Furthermore, Draco told him that he'd been offered, even encouraged, to take a day off today. But he refused, and remembering that only made Harry feel worse: Draco didn't have anything better to do on Christmas Eve.

Harry tightened the scarf around his neck as he peered up at the familiar building. His heart thumped in his chest as he reached for the golden handle, preparing for the worst—more specifically, preparing to stumble upon Draco crying. If there were any days to cry about a dead mother and an imprisoned father, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were definitely it.

The first glimpse of Draco that Harry caught was him cleaning a table, but as soon as their eyes locked, Harry bolted towards him and threw himself into Draco's arms, prompting him to drop the towel he'd been cleaning the table with.

"I didn't expect you to come today," Draco laughed, squeezing Harry tightly.

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry asked with a smile, letting his head rest on Draco's shoulder momentarily.

"I thought you'd be spending Christmas Eve with Weasley and Granger and the rest of the family."

"If I did, then how was I going to excuse myself to come visit you?"

The two finally let go of eachother although it was clear neither of them wanted to. They were just following social cues, they supposed. It would be weird for them to hug for minutes on end.

"You would go out of your way to visit me?" Draco smiled, visibly touched by Harry's words.

"We're best friends at this point," grinned Harry, "it would be rude not to, especially on Christmas Eve. Besides, I've already gone out of my way several times to come see you. And that reminds me, you're not doing anything special tomorrow, are you?"

"Er, no. Why?" Draco's smile wavered at the reminder.

"Well—I was thinking—maybe we could spend Christmas together?" Although Harry had started off strong, he felt his confidence starting to wane as the room fell uncomfortably silent.

"You're not being serious, are you?" Draco asked quietly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You have the Weasleys and Granger. Aren't you going to spend Christmas with them?"