Title: What Feels Right
Author: scarletladyy
Pairings: Harry/Draco, past Draco/Astoria
Word Count: 4,395
Rating: R
Warnings: Past Character Death
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Draco is alone at the manor with his servant Harry.
Author’s Notes: Written for spamilla for hd_parallel 2010. Thank you to my beta chemical_haven.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remember, Christ, our Saviour
Was born on Christmas day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

"You have to get rid of them," demanded Draco, pounding his fist on the table. "This is their third carol. You would have thought they'd get the hint when I didn't answer the door to them."

Harry nodded sincerely. "Yes, Master. I'll do it straight away."

"You should have done it five minutes ago," muttered Draco as his servant, Harry, skittered out of the door and into the hallway. As the door was opened the carols got louder, and Draco just knew he would have that tune in his head for the rest of the night now.

From God our Heavenly Father
A blessed Angel came;
And unto certain Shepherds
Brought tidings of the same:
How that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by Name.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

"Please, you have to stop—" Draco could hear Harry trying to shout over their carols. "My Master is not impressed with your singing."

Draco sighed and stood up, joining Harry in the hallway. "Do I have to do everything myself?" he snapped at Harry before addressing the carollers, who, as luck would have it, had finally stopped singing. "I want you gone this instant!"

"Oh! Mr Malfoy!" One of the women in the front row bowed down in front of him. "I'm ever so sorry, sir. We did not mean to disturb you; we'll move on straight away." They all smiled apologetically as they scurried down the street, and Draco had never been gladder to hear feet fading away from him.

"Hurry up and shut the door," said Draco, settling himself comfortably in his favourite armchair once more. "It's cold enough in here as it is."

"Yes, Master," said Harry dutifully, slamming it shut and doing up the necessary locks. "May I ask you something?"

Draco eyed Harry suspiciously; what could a servant want to speak to him about? More to the point, it wasn't really his place. "No."

"Of course, Master." Harry stood perfectly still in the corner of the room, his arms crossed against his chest as he'd been taught.

Despite the fact that it really wasn't Harry's place to ask questions, rather just to serve Draco as he saw fit, whatever Harry had wanted to ask was now bugging Draco incredibly badly. It wasn't as if there was anyone else in the manor to talk to, or really anything else to do. He'd turned down several invitations to Christmas Eve parties that his friends were throwing, preferring to just stay at home and pretend it wasn't Christmas. "Fine," snapped Draco, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What is it you wanted to ask?"

"I was just wondering why you declined your parents' offer of Christmas abroad, Master," said Harry, looking incredibly astonished at being allowed to ask his question.

"I didn't much fancy their company," replied Draco tersely. "Fetch me a Firewhisky, and sort out the fire; it's fading away."

Harry nodded and walked towards the cabinet in the corner of the room. "It's just you hate Christmas so much I would have thought a holiday abroad would do you some good."

"Are you trying to hint that you wish you'd had a holiday instead?" Draco raised his eyebrows as Harry brought over a tumbler of the finest Firewhisky.

"No, no," said Harry quickly, walking towards the fireplace. "I guess I just thought being abroad would make it easier to forget."

The room went quiet, and memories of his wife Astoria dying on Christmas Eve seven years ago today came screaming back to him. The stab wound that had been issued to her stomach when Draco refused to give up his wallet to the mugger flashed through his mind, and it was all he could do to bite back tears. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes, Master," said Harry as he brought the fire back to its full flame once more. "My apologies if I caused you any unpleasentness."

Draco shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. "You didn't. If it weren't for you I wouldn't even be here." As much as Draco hated to admit it, he did indeed owe his life to his servant; after all, it had been Harry who'd stepped in front of Draco and been stabbed too, though his hadn't been fatal like Astoria's. For months afterwards Draco would scream at Harry and demand to know why he, a mere servant, would survive when his wife was left to die. It had been a trying time for both of them, but they were back to their usual selves now. Sort of.

"I just did what anyone would do, Master." Harry was so modest; Draco knew if he'd saved someone's life, especially someone with much more status and power than he, that he would reap it for all it was worth, but Harry, no. Harry wanted to forget the incident altogether and pretend everyone would have done the same, when they both knew that not to be true. As bad as Draco felt to admit it, he certainly wouldn't have done the same for Harry. "Perhaps we should put up some decorations? Cheer the place up a bit?"

"That's quite bold coming from you," stated Draco, secretly quite enjoying Harry's bravery in approaching subjects none other would have dared in front of him. There was nobody else about, so Harry was the only one able to entertain him, and while Draco wouldn't admit it, he'd rather have Harry's company than nobody's, or, he thought, anybody's for that matter, particularly on Christmas Eve. "But," he continued before Harry could apologise yet again, "I suppose you are right. It is what Astoria would have wanted, after all. Fetch the boxes from the attic."

Harry nodded, though he looked as though he regretted his suggestion now.

"Take my wand," called Draco as Harry turned to leave the room. "You've been my faithful servant for twenty five years, I'm sure I can trust you for ten minutes with my wand, can I not?"

"Y-yes, yes of course you can," said Harry, looking utterly gobsmacked and receiving the wand as though it were made of gold. "Thank you."

"Consider it your Christmas present." Draco smirked, as he knew how much Harry liked and wanted to do magic. He was able, and very capable as Draco had caught him out several times, but by law, he was not allowed to do any. If Draco told anyone that Harry had been practising magic under his roof, Harry would surely be executed faster than he could apologise. Though Harry was merely a servant, Draco felt some attachment towards him as he'd served Draco for most of their lives.

Even with the wand it took Harry some time to fetch the boxes down from the attic, and Draco was remarkably surprised when Harry came in with them floating by his side. Whilst Draco knew Harry could do magic, he didn't know he was that good without any proper training. "Your magical skills surprise me," remarked Draco. "You can further put them to use to hang the decorations; we don't want to be here all night."

"Don't you want to help?" asked Harry, setting down the boxes and opening them up. "Putting up the decorations for you was always my favourite part of Christmas."

"You're the servant, Harry, not me. Let us not forget that," said Draco slyly, a little worried that their unusual conversations had started to make Harry forget his place.

"Yes, Master," said Harry, charming the porcelain Father Christmas to take center stage on the mantelpiece.

"Trust me," said Draco. "I am quite content to watch." And indeed he was, smiling at the fond memories he had of when he and Astoria would watch Harry put up the Christmas decs, laughing about something or other and getting ready for one of the many Christmas parties they attended during the month.

"There we are," said Harry as he placed the nativity set on the coffee table. "There's something missing though."

"Oh?" Draco looked around the sitting room, trying to find what could possibly still need putting up. The manor, or this room at least, looked like there had been an explosion in a Christmas factory. "Pray tell, what is that?"

Harry rolled his eyes, and Draco was just about to correct him for this transgression when he excitedly started to speak. "A Christmas tree! It's not Christmas without a tree."

"You really like Christmas, don't you?" said Draco. "I don't think I've ever seen you so alive. In fact, some days, I swore you were dead you never moved."

"Yes, well, it isn't in the least bit exciting for me having to sit by your side as you entertain others of your status."

Draco glared at him. "Watch your tone. It may be Christmas, but that is no excuse to treat me as anyone but your Master."

"Yes, Master." Harry blushed, obviously a little ashamed that he'd spoken so boldly out of turn. They both knew that if Lucius had been there and heard that he would have had Harry lashed for it, but Draco was in no mind to spoil their fun. It was finally feeling like Christmas once more, just a Christmas that didn't have Astoria in it. Truth be told, Draco hadn't thought he'd ever be able to celebrate Christmas again, but now just felt right, as though Astoria wanted him too, as absurd as that would sound to anyone but him.

"I agree." Draco stood up from his armchair and turned into the hallway, taking his coat and scarf and wrapping them warmly around him. "Follow me into the gardens. There's a selection of trees at the very back that I think would do wonderfully."

Harry frowned as he too grabbed his coat, though it was extremely thin compared to Draco's larger, warmer one. "You have fir trees in the garden?"

"Of course. You won't have seen them as you're not allowed to go out that far," said Draco, doing up the last of his buttons and exiting the manor through the patio doors in the kitchen. "My, it's cold." Draco took a pair of black leather gloves out of his coat pocket and pulled them on, momentarily feeling sorry for Harry who was breathing into his hands to try and warm them up. "It's this way. Don't worry, I daresay we'll be more than ten minutes."

"I'm pretty sure ten minutes is enough to freeze in," Harry muttered, and Draco chose to ignore it, silently chuckling to himself instead. He'd never seen Harry like this before, as a person, rather than just another of the hired help. It was odd, and frankly, refreshing, though he'd never let his father know that.

Manoeuvring himself round several shrub bushes, Draco grabbed Harry's arm for support as he lost his footing in an unsteady patch of soil. "Damn gardeners," Draco grumbled, quickly regaining his self and letting go of Harry. "They're just round here, next to the line of fruit trees."

"You have fruit trees as well?"

"Yes," said Draco, not quite understanding why on earth he wouldn't have fruit trees. This was Malfoy Manor, after all. "Now. I like that one." Draco pointed to the tallest tree in the bunch, the one with the thickest branches. "I trust you brought my wand?"

Harry took Draco's wand out of his pocket and gave it to Draco. "Here. I don't trust myself to cut down a tree."

"Neither do I," said Draco slyly, pointing his wand at the fir tree and speaking loudly. "Diffindo!" The tree came crashing down, thankfully in the opposite direction to where they were standing. Draco smirked to himself and then turned to Harry. "Now, you can pull that back to the manor, can't you?"

Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically. "How strong do you think I am?"

"Fine," sighed Draco, charming the tree to drag across the ground behind them. "But you're cleaning up the mess when we get inside."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," laughed Harry, trudging alongside Draco with his hands stuffed as far in his pockets as they would go.

"You look cold," Draco observed as they made their way through the snow, Draco's perfect leather shoes getting scuffed beyond all repair. "Don't you have a warmer coat?"

Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at Draco. "Are you kidding?" When Draco shook his head, Harry explained himself. "You buy all my clothes, Master, and you bought me this four years ago in Vienna."

"That'll be why it's so thin, then," remarked Draco. "You should have asked for a thicker one."

"And risk being lashed by your father? No, thank you."

Draco pulled Harry's arm to get them moving again; the less time they spent outside the better. "My father isn't as bad as you make out."

"Not to you, he isn't, but he spares no mercy for us servants." Harry stepped onto the concrete patio and held open the door for Draco, shutting it quickly behind them to keep out the cold. "He treats us worse than the house-elves."

Wanting to avoid the subject as it made him very uncomfortable, Draco swept into the hallway and removed his coat, scarf and gloves. Feeling the cold on his former warm hands, Draco scurried into the sitting room and sat in the armchair in front of the fireplace, holding out his hands to warm them up. Several minutes passed by before Harry entered, carrying a tray of warm milk and a plate of biscuits.

"You always used to like these after having walks with..." Harry stopped talking then, realising his mistake. For the last seven years, Draco had forbid anyone in the manor to talk about Astoria, but he'd lately started to feel as if everyone had forgotten her.

"No, it's okay," said Draco, wanting to hear about his wife for the first time in so long. If she couldn't be alive herself, he could at least keep her memory alive. "It doesn't hurt to hear about her anymore. I want to remember her fondly, I don't want everyone to just forget she was ever alive."

"… Mistress Astoria." Harry finished his sentence and set the tray down on the coffee table, handing a glass of milk to Draco, who sipped it and allowed the memories of his wife to come flooding back to him; how she would beg him for a glass of warm milk in the summertime just so she could feel as though Christmas was upon them once more. Christmas was indeed her favourite time of year, just like it appeared to be Harry's. "I think you're making the right decision, Master Malfoy."

"You would say that regardless," chuckled Draco, taking another sip.

Harry shook his head and smiled broadly. "Not tonight I wouldn't."

"If it wasn't Christmas Eve, I'd have you lashed for your cheek," said Draco with a smirk across his face. "Alas, I can afford you some leniancy tonight; I'd rather not spend it alone and in silence."

"Understood, Master," said Harry, his smile fading slowly.

Suddenly an idea occurred to Draco that had not before; he had an uncontrollable desire to visit Astoria's grave. He only visited it twice a year; on her birthday and their anniversary, but never on the day of her death. Draco had always found the thought too painful before, but tonight it felt as though it could grant him some peace. "We're going to the church down the road. I want to visit my wife's grave."

"Er, yeah, course." Harry looked quite taken aback, and Draco figured it was because he'd always point blank refused to do such a thing before. "How come, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I know it's what she would have wanted." Draco slid his arms into his coat once more, wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck and pulled on his gloves. Then, remembering how cold Harry was before, he went to the drawer in the hallway and got out a spare set. "Here," he said as he handed them to Harry. "You'll be no use to me frozen. Who'll make Christmas dinner?"

"Who indeed," murmured Harry as he gratefully slipped on the gloves.

The cold wind bit at Draco's exposed flesh, particularly his face, forcing him to sink even lower into his scarf and appear as though he did not have a neck. The walk to the church was a pleasant one, and they passed shops whose windows were lit up with Christmas decorations, showing off their goods to the best of their ability. As they walked by a lane of terraced houses, Draco saw the Christmas carollers from earlier, who were now entertaining a young family.

Harry quickened his pace, figuring Draco would want to get away from them as quickly as possible, but Draco put his arm out to slow him down.

"No. I want to listen; Astoria always loved carol singers." Draco stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the carollers entertain the family. The little girl, who could be no more than three, was giggling and clapping away, while the boy was jumping up and down as though on a pogo stick. Draco smiled as he remembered he and Astoria talking about the family they would have, and under different circumstances, this very well could have been them.

Away in a manger,
No crib for a bed
The little Lord Jesus
Laid down His sweet head

The stars in the bright sky
Looked down where He lay
The little Lord Jesus
Asleep on the hay

Their voices were soft and sweet, and they touched Draco's ears with all the happiness that Astoria used to. He swayed in time to the carol, not even caring that Harry was looking at him as though he had lost his mind; this was the first time since Astoria had died that Draco had actually enjoyed carol singers, and he knew he had to cherish it, if only out of respect for his late wife.

Once they'd finished their rendition of Away In A Manger, Draco walked up to them and handed them a pile of coins. He didn't know how much it came to, but there were several Galleons in the handful. The woman who had previously run from his manor now beamed at him, then hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy!"

Draco nodded and smiled. "You're welcome. Come, Harry, we'd best be going."

"That was very generous of you, Master," remarked Harry when they had rounded the corner, onto the street that held the church they were heading towards.

"It has been known to happen," Draco chuckled, taking a deep breath as they walked into the church's grounds. Graves formed the path to the church itself, but Draco veered off it and onto the grass, to the large gravestone at the back. He didn't know what to do or say now he was here; he usually brought flowers. "Astoria..." He whispered her name and gently traced the letters of her name with his index finger, a tear begging to fall from his eye. Swiftly wiping it away, he stared at the date of Astoria's death and embraced the flashback of her murder once more.

The night she had been taken from him was the worst night of his life. For the past seven years Harry had called him a scrooge, as he'd basically cancelled Christmas in the manor, with it being too painful to remember. But now, as he stood here, on the very night his wife died, Draco felt finally at peace, as though this was the time he'd been waiting for for so many years.

"I miss you. More than you'll ever know." Draco didn't know what else to say, never having been very good with words. He'd failed to tell her he loved her many times, and he sorely regretted it now. If he ever loved again, Draco vowed he would tell them every second of every minute of every day, because you never knew how little time you have left in the world, and that scared him more than anything else. Draco stood up and patted the gravestone affectionately. "I love you, Astoria. I always have and I always will."

Draco nodded to Harry to let him know he was ready to leave, and they began the journey back to the manor in silence. The cold still bit at Draco's skin, but it didn't seem to bother him anymore, and he smiled when he could hear the Christmas carollers singing in the background, further down the stree this time. The fact that his shoes were now practically ruined from the snow didn't even seem to faze him, and he lazily kicked them off when they arrived back at the manor.

"Thank you for coming with me," said Draco in a gentle voice. "I appreciate it."

"Of course, Master," smiled Harry. "And believe me, I appreciated your gloves. They're a bit big, though."

Draco smirked. "Well, you know what they say about people with big hands, don't you?"

"Big feet?" replied Harry, laughing as he hung up his threadbare coat.

"Amongst other things." Draco winked at Harry and then instantly regretted it, unsure of why he'd done it in the first place. Having a conversation, or rather a whole night’s worth, with Harry had been one thing, but to practically flirt with him was something else entirely. Lucius would surely see Draco lashed a thousand times for such a transgression, and yet, despite the fact that it felt so wrong, that's exactly why it seemed to feel so right, and he stepped towards Harry with purpose.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry, but Draco silenced him by placing a finger on his lips.

"What feels right," Draco whispered, seconds before he placed his lips upon Harry's, savouring the taste and the softness, for he knew this would be the one and only time he got to do this. When he pulled away he looked deep into Harry's eyes, and saw confusion but elation within them. "You musn't tell anyone."

"I won't," Harry replied gently as Draco pushed him back on the sofa, and they both knew that although Draco's punishment would be painful, Harry's would be almost certain death. If anyone should be worried, it really should have been Harry. "You know I won't."

Draco smirked as he placed his legs on either side of Harry, straddling him. It took a second for him to get comfy, but as soon as he was he placed his lips on Harry's again, kissing him with more passion and vigour than he'd ever thought possible. Trying to distract himself from the possible repercussions of his actions, Draco fumbled with the buttons on Harry's shirt and tore it open, revealing a perfectly bare chest.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" said Harry in between kisses.

"Shut up," snapped Draco. "Just forget for now. Forget who we are and what we're supposed to do. Just do what you want, what feels right."

"I can do that," replied Harry as Draco knelt up and unzipped his flies, pulling his trousers and underpants down to his knees. Draco didn't even have to tell Harry to slump down as he brought out his erect cock, resting it on Harry's lips.

"Do you want this?" asked Draco, staring intently into Harry's eyes, which were planted on Draco's cock. Harry nodded frantically, and Draco needed no more encouragement than to shove it straight into Harry's mouth. Draco started off slowly, wanting to feel every last touch and lick that Harry could offer. "Oh God."

It felt too good, and Draco wasn't able to stop himself from pumping faster into Harry's mouth, face fucking him for all they were worth. Draco placed his hands in Harry's hair to steady himself, and lolled his head back in pleasure as Harry deep-throated him. In the midst of his enjoyment, he heard a fumbling about below him and assumed Harry was going to wank himself off, but instead, Harry took Draco's balls in his hands and started to massage them.

"You know just how to please," whispered Draco as he closed his eyes firmly shut, on the verge of orgasm. He knew it wouldn't be long until he came now, and when Harry deep-throated him again, Draco exploded down his throat. Draco was still for a few moments as he gained his composure, before pulling out of Harry's mouth and wiping his cock on Harry's lips. "Fuck me, you're good."

Harry didn't say anything, but there was a massive smirk plastered across his face. A second later, he spoke, the smirk fading slightly. "I don't expect you to service me."

"Good," replied Draco. "Because that's going a bit too far."

"I like to please," said Harry quietly. "It's all I've ever liked, and I suppose it's a good thing since I'm a servant."

"Indeed." Draco pulled up his trousers and underpants, regarding Harry as he did so. "Maybe you'll get lucky next time."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "There will be a next time?"

"Christmas comes every year, Harry," said Draco. "Now, get your arse off that sofa and decorate the tree." Draco watched as Harry bent down to pick the decorations out of the box, admiring his pert bottom. He knew it was wrong, but right here, right now, there was nobody to tell him that, which was particularly good because he didn't want to hear it. "Oh, and Harry?"

Harry turned around, his hands full of bright green baubles as the clock finally struck midnight. "Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."