A Christmas Pick-Up (PG; Charlie/Draco, others; 400 words): A Christmas pick-up by Charlie delivers Draco from the rigours of Weasley holiday cheer.
Draco stood alone at the Weasleys' Christmas party, uncertain as to why he'd come but knowing exactly whom to blame for his attendance. Sodding Potter, he thought, sulkily watching his partner kiss his girlfriend under the mistletoe. So what if I am lonely? This is supposed to help?
No one was talking to him, and Draco, who'd never experienced such a . . . boisterous social occasion before, didn't know how to engage anyone in conversation. He felt like a jealous cat to be standing there brooding over everyone else's happiness, but he couldn't help it. One didn't just approach other people already engaged in conversation, did one? Sighing, Draco slipped out of the room, found the kitchen, and dashed out the door.
I'll send a thank you letter. No one will notice—
"Hey, blondie! Where are you going?"
Looking up, Draco quickly listed all the Weasley brothers he'd seen or to whom he'd been introduced that night. Bill, Percy, George, and the Weasel, so he must be—
"I'm Charlie," Charlie said, landing his broom by Draco and grabbing one of his hands to shake, "and you're Draco Malfoy."
"Yes, and I was just—"
"Leaving, so I see." Charlie laughed. "Yeah, the family can be a bit overwhelming," he said, scooting back on his broom, "but don't let them chase you off—particularly not after everything Harry told me about you in order to get me here tonight."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hop on," Charlie replied, jerking his head at his broom.
"You want me to ride with you?"
"For a start." Charlie winked at him.
Mortified, Draco realised he'd been set up. "I'm going to kill him."
"Who? Harry?" Charlie asked, looking over Draco's shoulder.
Draco looked, too, only to see the Burrow's back windows filled with grinning redheads—and one dark-haired head. "Fuck," he muttered, leaping onto Charlie's broom. "Get me out of here!" He started as Charlie wrapped an arm around him and lifted off, and flushed to feel Charlie's breath warm on his neck.
"Yeah, Harry told me you were always eager to fly."
His heart beginning to pound, Draco didn't reply. Charlie wouldn't have been able to hear him, anyway, given the speed at which they were flying, and as he pressed back into Charlie's hard body, he realised that this particularly Weasley was more interested in a Christmas pick-up than festive conversation.
Relaxing, Draco thought, Happy Christmas to me.