Draco discerned a periodic snore sound that mixed with the sluggish picture of Fred and George in Slytherin Quidditch Uniforms. Draco could remember a talking Gnome being there but he could not quite remember which role it had played in his previous dream.

Next, Draco felt the gentle rise and fall of his pillow and the lovely warmth engulfing him. Strangely enough, the rise and fall did not fall into the same rhythm as the snore. Latter was slightly faster.

The soothing rise and fall suddenly stopped before it picked up, a bit faster. Then, Draco's shoulder was shaken, "Malfoy." He heard distantly. Draco groaned and tightened his arms around whatever warmth he was holding. His brain could make just as little sense of it as of the dream.

"Malfoy!" He heard, clearer this time. It was a panicked hiss. Draco registered the smell of wood and something he could not name, but it reminded him of their first potions lesson this year when they brewed Amortentia. "Malfoy!"

Draco knew that voice. And his pillow was vibrating with it-

With a start, Draco sat up. He stared at Potter, scooting away from him. Their eyes locked.

The wild green eyes that looked back at Draco were filled with uncertainty and shock. Draco was sure he looked no different. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. A loud snore pulled his attention to the sleeping Weasley on the bed. Then, he looked back at Potter. "Not a word about this to anyone, got it?" Draco hissed.

Potter just nodded, still looking paralysed. Draco threw one last look at Potter's quite muscular chest, pushing down the unknown feeling that was spreading in the pit of his stomach. Then, he scrambled up, gathering his clothes and finding the bathroom.

###

When Potter and Ron finally joined the breakfast table, everyone else was already seated. Draco tried to look unbothered by him, but he could not help the glance when the two new comers sat down opposite of him.

Draco looked up, his eyes locking with Potter's once again. He had to admit that they were a beautiful, unique green colour. They always seemed to be filled with a tumultuous storm. It did something to Draco's heart that he was not able to grasp.

"Umm... Harry?" Ron said, looking at his best friend concernedly. Potter and Draco broke eye contact quickly. Severus, who was seated beside Draco, eyed him curiously. Draco ignored him.

In fact, he ignored all the stares for the rest of the day. Severus left shortly after breakfast, promising Draco to bring him his necessities in the afternoon. But the Weasleys and Fleur also seemed to have picked up on something, because they watched attentively whenever Draco and Potter were in the same room. And Potter was not being as subtle as he thought he was as his green eyes drifted to Draco more often that usual.

In the evening, everyone sat at the dinner table together, except for Mr Weasley who was still working. A few candles were burning on the table for Christmas spirit and Mrs Weasley went to put on some Christmas music. Draco held her back hesitantly. "Could I maybe... put on some music?"

Mrs Weasley looked a bit thrown off, but then smiled softly, "Of course. Do you have a record?" Draco nodded, looking at Bill. He rolled his eyes, handing Draco his wand. Draco smiled thankfully, trying not to feel hurt when everyone tensed. Summoning the record, he quickly gave the wand back to Bill and put on his music.

Draco watched as Fleur started to beam at the familiar tune. "Oh," Mrs Weasley said. "This sounds nice." But her eyebrows furrowed when a soothing female voice started to sing French lyrics. "What's this?"

"I asked Uncle Sev to bring it for me." Draco smiled timidly. "It's what we always listen to around Christmas at home. It's a mixture of English and French songs. A mixture of my mothers inheritances. Sometimes, she gets father to slow dance to it with her." Draco laughed. Those memories were certainly one of the happiest ones at home.

He quickly caught himself. He was a Malfoy. He was not supposed to show people his feelings this openly. It showed them his weaknesses.

"Now that I think about it," Draco mused, furrowing his eyebrows. "It's one of the only times I've seen them this close. But I mean, that's normal. You're not supposed to show any kind of affection in front of people. It will show them your weaknesses. Christmas is just special."

And Draco was not there for it. He was not at home when his family should be the happiest in the whole year. He thought about his mother, how she would tell the house elves to make the most delicious food from different cultures and charmed the house to have a warm red-golden glow. His father always grumbled about the Gryffindor colours so he hung twigs of evergreens everywhere he saw fit. And mother would beam at Draco and tell him how glad she was to have him home again.

His heart ached. He missed that. This year, his mother would be worried about him instead of bathing in the Christmas glow and rejoice about Draco's presence in the house.

Although, Draco had to admit that it would have been different this year anyways. There was no space for a Gryffindor coloured Christmas glow and happy family moments. The dark, oppressive magic and the unwanted, threatening presence would stay and overpower every serene feeling that wanted to spread in the Malfoy household.

Last year, it had also not been the same. But back then, Draco had overlooked it because he believed that it was for a good purpose. That this was the best thing that could happen to the wizarding world.

"That's bullshit, Malfoy!" Potter's voice suddenly interrupted Draco's reminiscing. "Just because you think every bullshit your father does is right doesn't mean everyone has to be like him."

"Huh?" Draco looked at Potter, his thoughts still caught up in the past Christmas holidays. Potter was glaring at him. His dishevelled hair looked strangely attractive.

"Harry. Language." Mrs Weasley said, efficiently cutting off Draco's strange thoughts. "And don't be so harsh on him."

"Don't be so harsh on him?!" Potter exploded. He had a terrible temper, this chosen one. Angry Potter steered something in the pit of Draco's stomach, and not necessarily something bad. "He's entitled and egoistic. He said horrible things about you. He's a Malfoy. Why is all of that erased as soon as he's in your house? I bet my broom stick that he's constantly judging you behind these pretty eyes and flattering long lashes. He's just the same Malfoy like in school. He's just hiding behind his Malfoy mask. He wants to get back at you or something, I don't know. But why do all of you insist on treating him like glass? He's done shit for you! All he does is quietly judging you until he has somewhere better to go and he will hex your face off."

There were a few beats of silence. Then, Ron broke it. "Did you just call his eyes pretty?"

The question was insensitive, no doubt, but Draco had thought the exact same thing. Potter did not look pleased at all though. His cheeks were pink, but he ignored it in favour of glaring at his best friend. "This was all you've picked up from my speech? Really?"

"Sorry, mate." Ron said. "I'm just saying. You've always had a strange obsession with- Ow." Ron cut himself off, glaring back at Potter, who returned the favour.

"To come back to Harry's 'speech'," Ginny made quotation marks with her fingers at the last word. "Draco... Are you silently judging us and gonna hex our faces off when you find somewhere else to stay?"

"Of course he won't just say it to you, Ginny." Potter rolled his eyes.

"I'm not judging you." Draco said, but he knew he was lying. Their house, their food, their clothes, it was just lowest standard. And then all these muggle things that appeared around the house, although they were purebloods. They could have such a great status in the wizarding society, but they chose to befriend mudbloods and werewolves, even muggles. "Well, I... I'm not gonna hex your faces off. I have more class then that." Draco smirked at Potter, who glared back.

"See," Potter said, "Just because he's a rich pureblood he thinks that he's in a higher class that we are."

"I didn't say that, Potter." Draco said. "Relax, it was a joke."

"Honestly though, Draco." Ginny said. "Don't believe everything your father says."

"Huh?" Draco looked at her, startled by the sudden change of subject.

"That's how this whole argument started, didn't it?" Ginny cleared. "You saying your parents don't show affection therefore everyone has to be like that."

"I never said everyone had to do it." Draco said.

"But you concluded it was normal from the fact that your parents do it." Ginny said. "Be careful with that. I would bet most of the things your parents do are not normal. And they definitely do not apply to the biggest part of the society."

Draco frowned. "Well, of course not. The biggest part of the society aren't upper class purebloods."

"Ha, there you have it." Potter said. "He thinks his family is better than anyone else's."

"Don't put words in my mouth Potter." Draco said, although he had to admit that Potter's statement was mostly true. But Draco was not going to give him this satisfaction. "Us being upper class purebloods is simply a fact."

"So what are the Weasleys." Potter challenged. "Lower class purebloods?"

Draco hesitated. "Well, yes. But that's not a bad thing. At least they're purebloods."

"So you think purebloods are better that everyone else?" Potter said with a harshness that was taking Draco aback. "So me and Fleur as halfbloods are worth less than everyone else in the room."

Draco frowned. "Well, father said that blood traitors-"

"Are just open-minded purebloods." Ginny interrupted.

"No, my father didn't say that." Draco shook his head. "He said-"

"Forget the bullshit your father feeds you!" Potter interrupted. "There is no such thing like blood traitors. The Weasleys just know what a happy life with equality should look like. What? You think you can just rest on your pureblood status and legacy while others have to work hard their whole life because they've grown up under different circumstances? What did you do to deserve a better life than anyone born in a muggle family without much money? I'll tell you what. Nothing."

Draco frowned. What was Potter talking about? Why was he comparing him to some poor muggle family? They had nothing to do with each other.

"What Harry is trying to say," Mrs Weasley said gently, "Is that you were raised to believe that you are better. But the parameters that you decide after are blood status and money. Both of them are things that you have no control over when you are born. So you should not judge a person about how they are born. You should judge them how they act. Do you understand?"

Draco frowned. He could not wrap his head around it. So did this mean he did not have a higher status in society? Did his pureblood status mean nothing? That could not be true. It had to mean something. It was special, only having pureblood ancestors. It was rare and it should be treasured. Being a pureblood could not mean nothing. "I... I don't know." Draco answered honestly.

Potter scoffed. "He just doesn't want to understand it. Pretty face and nothing behind it."

"You've done it again." Ron said.

"What?" Potter asked.

"You called him pretty." Ron tried to whisper, but Draco could still hear it. "You also did it in our room when we talked about-"

He was cut off by a squeal. Everyone looked at Fleur. She was flushing at all the attention on her. "I'm zorry. I just love zat song."

If Draco was being honest, he had completely forgotten about his record playing quietly in the background. He just had so much else to think about. Now though, he listened carefully and a smile spread over his face. "Oh, 'Les étoiles de cette niut', eh? C'est aussi la chanson préférée de ma mére." (The stars of this night, eh? It's also my mother's favourite song.) Draco ignored the surprised looks the Weasleys sent him.

"Tu parles francais?" (You can speak French?) Fleur beamed.

"Oui, depuis mon enfance." (Yes, since my childhood), Draco nodded.

"Merveilleux. Parler francais me manquait." (Amazing. I missed speaking French).

"J'aimerais bien parler francais avec toi. C'est une belle langue. Elle me fait penser á mes vacances en famille." (If you want I can speak French with you. It's a beautiful language. Reminds me of our family vacations), Draco told her.

"Is everything okay with you, Harry?" Their attention shifted to Ron and Potter. Ron was looking at the raven haired boy, who was shifting on his chair, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Yes, Ron. Fuck off." Potter avoided everyone's eyes.

"Harry!" Mrs Weasely said. "Such language not under my roof."

"Sorry." Potter grumbled. Draco frowned, seeing relief flash over Potter's face when everyone turned away and let it go. Then, he looked directly back at Draco. Unlike the last times though, he did not maintain eye contact defiantly. Instead, he looked back down. Draco could swear he saw his cheeks getting red.

What was up with Potter?

"You wanna play again after dinner?" Fred asked. Ginny, George and Draco agreed. Bill and Fleur excused themselves. They wanted to have a bit privacy. Mrs Weasley looked sour at that but there was nothing she could say against it.

"Harry, Ron. You should join this time." George said.

"Yeah, it's fun." Ginny agreed.

#

"This is so boring." Ron sulked as they played the third round of their card game. "Can't we do something else?"

"You're just a sore loser." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should keep up with your cards."

"I'm not a sore loser." Ron argued. "This game is just boring."

"What would you like to play then?" Draco asked quietly.

"Wizard Chess." Ron said. All the Weasleys and Potter groaned.

"Boring." George said, laying down a card.

"Extremely boring." Fred agreed.

"Besides," Ginny said. "Only two can play chess at a time. It would be even more boring for the ones sitting around."

"It would not be boring." Ron argued. "We can do like a tournament. And we can root for players..."

"This is not Quidditch, Ron." Ginny rolled her eyes. "You just want to play chess because it's the only thing you always win at."

"You're good at chess?" Draco asked.

Ron blushed. "A bit." He waved off.

"He's brilliant." Potter said. "Didn't you hear that he helped us fighting Vold-

"Don't say his name." Ron interrupted, shuddering.

Potter rolled his eyes. He rolled his eyes because his friend reminded him of the power this name held. This audacity! "Okay, relax." Potter said, then he turned to Draco with a glare. "Didn't you hear about Ron helping to find Vol-, You Know Who in first year?"

"There were some rumours going 'round." Draco said, feigning disinterest, "But you never knew what actually happened when you have your little rendezvous with the Dark Lord."

"Rendezvous?" Potter glared. "They're nowhere near pleasant meetings."

Draco looked at Potter's enraged face from underneath his eyelashes. "Who says that rendezvous are always pleasant?"

Fred and George burst into laughter. "That's true." George grinned, holding his hand up for a high-five. Draco accepted and winked at Harry, who glared in return.

"Can we come back to the actual topic?" Ron asked, throwing his cards onto the table. "This game is boring. I wanna play chess."

"No." Ginny, Fred and George said at once.

"I would like to play against you some time." Draco said. Everyone looked at him, surprised. "What?"

Ron's face slowly lit up. "You wanna play? Wait, I'm gonna go get the board." And the red head was gone. He came back with a pretty battered, old chess board and got out the even more battered chess pieces. He did not seem to mind it though. Or maybe he did not notice. Pretty much everything in this house was old and battered.

When Draco had said he wanted to play against Ron, he had not meant right now, but he was not going to argue. The Weasley seemed excited at the prospect of beating someone else in Chess, but Draco was not going to let him.

Ron was good, Draco had to admit. They were both worthy competitors. In the end, the other three had given up their card game and moved on to just talking and occasionally looking how Ron and Draco's game went. To Draco's displeasure, Ron ended up beating him.

The red haired boy beamed and shook Draco's hand. "It was amazing." He said. "I've never had such a good opponent. Can we do this again sometime?"

"Sure." Draco nodded. A small smirk settled on his lips. "And next time, I will win."

Ron grinned, "We'll see about that." Everyone turned to Potter when he yawned loudly, holding his hands in front of his whole face. He looked kind of adorable, Draco thought briefly.

"Let's go to bed." Fred said. "I'm knackered." George agreed by yawning.

That evening, when Draco finally lay comfortably in Bill's bed, he almost felt sad about sleeping alone. For some reason, he had enjoyed sleeping close to Potter. Probably because he somehow eliminated his nightmares last night. He could not remember having one, even though normally, he had at least two every night.

It should probably freak Draco out that Potter helped him have a peaceful sleep. And it did. A bit.