![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dracoharry100 Christmas Challenge of 31 prompts
Dec. 22nd, 2009 09:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vickyduckyTitle: Christmas Spirit
Author:Vickyducky
Team:Death Eaters
Word count:~2000
Characters/pairings:H/D
Rating:PG
Warnings: Lots of fluff
Challenge:#Christmas challenge to write one fic containing all of these prompts:
Cider, Nutcracker, Christmas Carols,
Kings, Christmas Tree, Eggnog,
Snow/Snowman, Icicle, Reindeer,
Yule/Yuletide, Silent Night, Midnight Mass,
Deck the Halls, Wreath, Gifts,
Wrapping, Mistletoe, Nuts,
Mulled wine, Holly, Ribbon,
Stockings, Fruitcake, Mince Pies,
Tinsel, Angels, Chestnuts,
Jingle Bells, Saint Nick, Fairy,
Re-gifting
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
“Of course Father Christmas is a wizard, Harry,” Draco scoffed. “How else could he travel around the whole world in one night?” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “And the fact that he enters down the chimney – you are familiar with the Floo network?”
Keeping an eye on the milk he was heating for bread sauce, Harry half-turned to cast a sceptical glance at Draco. They were in the kitchen of twelve Grimauld Place. Tomorrow it would be full of people, loud with festive chatter, but for now it was just the two of them.
Harry was attempting to get a head start on the preparation for the large Christmas dinner he was planning for the following day, and Draco, sitting at the table, was wrapping presents. He was doing a lot of re-gifting and Harry had a strong suspicion that a number of their guests would recognise their gifts. Although where Draco had found the enormous, phallus shaped nutcracker that he was currently swathing in gold ribbon, or for whom it was intended, Harry couldn’t imagine.
The radio was playing quietly in the background; earlier they had listened to the Service of Nine Lessons and Carols from King’s College, but now the WWN seemed to be running through an eclectic mix of Christmas carols and every seasonal song, Muggle and Wizarding, ever written. Jingle Bells had followed Silent Night, which had segued, unexpectedly, into ‘Little Saint Nick’, by the Beach Boys. Currently, Celestina Warbeck was warbling Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly.
Harry caught the milk just as it began to boil and strained it onto some breadcrumbs. “You sound as though you think he’s real,” he said dryly.
Draco looked up, frowning slightly. “Don’t you?”
Harry could hear the surprise in his voice.
“Of course not! Draco, it’s just something adults tell kids to make Christmas more fun. You don’t really still believe that Santa Clause comes down chimneys and fills stockings, do you? I mean, are you expecting him to visit you tonight?”
“There’s no need to be facetious, Harry. He only brings presents to poor children who wouldn’t get any otherwise,” Draco replied matter-of-factly.
Harry stared. How much mulled wine had Draco had? “Well that I definitely don’t believe,” he said firmly. “He never brought me anything. The first time I got any presents was my first year at Hogwarts - and they weren't from Santa Clause!"
Draco didn’t seem to have heard him; he had a far away look in his eyes.
“You know,” he said, wistfully, “one year I remember Lucius dressed up as Santa. I can only have been four or five. He’d over-indulged in the eggnog and tripped over his sack.” Draco began to chuckle. “Landed on the Christmas tree and got covered in tinsel. Mother was furious because he knocked all the berries off a holly wreath she’d made.” He gave himself a little shake, clearing the memories. He grinned at Harry apologetically. “He wasn’t always an evil bastard, you know.”
“Well, at least not to you,” Harry said, wryly. “But I suppose that’s something. Nobody ever dressed up as Santa for me.”
A speculative look came over Draco’s face. He pushed back his chair and stood up.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” he said, “I’ve got to go out. I just remembered that I... promised Pansy I’d take her to Midnight Mass.”
“Midnight Mass? With Pansy? You never said anything about that before!” Harry felt a spark of jealousy flame to life in his belly.
“I told you, I only just remembered myself.”
“If you’d let me know I could have gone with you, but I’ve too much to do now,” Harry said crossly. “Shall I wait up for you?”
“Yes. Oh yes, definitely. Don’t go to bed.” Draco wrapped Harry in a hug as he stood at the counter and kissed the back of his neck. Harry hmphed and tried to shrug him off.
“Don’t be like that,” Draco cajoled. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Harry sighed and turned in Draco’s arms to face him. “Don’t be too late, please,” he said quietly.
Draco kissed his nose. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Then grabbing his coat from the peg by the door, he Flooed out.
Feeling fed up, Harry started peeling the chestnuts for the stuffing and set a couple of knives to putting crosses in the bottom of sprouts. He felt even worse because as he was inflicting a dozen or so Weasleys on Draco the following day, and Draco hadn’t complained once, it was only fair, really, that he spend Christmas Eve with his own friends. Harry didn’t feel at all like being fair. He hated peeling chestnuts, he hated bloody sprouts and he especially hated Pansy Parkinson.
“Christmas is humbug,” he muttered to himself, half meaning it.
He’d finished the chestnuts and was mixing them in with the forcemeat and spices when he was startled by a deafening clatter that sounded like an army marching about on the roof. Thinking that the chimney must be falling down, Harry rushed out into the garden. Earlier there had been a rather desultory flurry of snow and the little that had settled crunched under his feet. He peered up at the roof. Balanced precariously on the very apex was a large blue sleigh, encrusted with icicles, with what could only be reindeer harnessed to it. He stared in absolute astonishment. Where had that come from?
Through the open kitchen door he heard the loud clang which announced that someone had passed through the wards, followed by the whoosh of the Floo. Hoping that maybe it was Draco home early and with a last incredulous look at the snorting, stamping reindeer, Harry hurried inside.
It wasn't Draco. Emerging from the kitchen fire-place, stepping carefully over the Yule log in the hearth, looking very much the real thing, was a portly, bearded gentleman wearing a red, fur trimmed suit.
“S...santa?” Harry stammered.
“Hello, Harry,” Santa replied, sinking onto a chair with every sign of relief. “Don’t suppose you’ve a glass of sherry and a couple of mince pies for an old man on a cold night?”
The simple answer to that was, no. Hermione was bringing the mince pies tomorrow, but Harry didn’t want to appear inhospitable and racked his brains for something to offer his unexpected guest.
“Er, would cider and fruit cake do?” he asked tentatively.
“Just the ticket,” Santa boomed cheerfully.
While he poured a glass of Mrs Weasley's home pressed cider and, with a pang of regret for his sugar paste angels, cut a slice of Christmas cake, Harry tried to think of an explanation for the fact that Father Christmas was sitting in his kitchen. One that didn’t involve him having received a blow to the head, or having to become a long stay patient in St Mungo’s secure wing.
He handed Santa the refreshments, but then snatched the cake back at the last minute. “It’s got nuts in,” he said, “you’re not allergic, are you?” Imagine if he put Santa Clause into anaphylactic shock!
Santa chuckled and shook his head. Taking the cake he tucked in. When his plate and glass were empty, he smacked his lips and patted his belly in appreciation. Then with a sigh he fixed Harry with a beady eye.
“I happened to overhear that you don’t believe in me,” he began, “and as I was in the area I thought I’d pop in and see what all this was about.”
Blushing, Harry began to deny this, but Santa cut him off.
“I’m sorry that you were over-looked as a child, Harry. In the old days it would never have happened, I visited everyone, but once the world population went over a billion, I had to cut corners. Mary, that’s the wife, thinks I should franchise, but I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like the spirit of the thing.” He sighed. “The Dursley’s always seemed so affluent, it just never occurred to me that they bought that many presents for one child, and you got nothing. It's no excuse, of course. What's the point of making a list, if you don't check it twice?”
"It's okay," Harry said, feeling a bit surreal being apologised to by Santa Clause. "They'd have given anything you brought me to Dudley, anyway. It was probably easier to have nothing, than to have something good taken away." For some reason an image of Draco, laughing with Pansy, popped into his head. He pushed it away.
"I'm glad there's no hard feelings, Harry. Well, I must be off, busy, busy."
He got to his feet, groaning a little as he did so.
"Thank you for the cake, Harry, excellent marzipan."
"Er, thanks," Harry muttered, feeling slightly dazed.
"And er, a word of advice, don't fret too much about Draco. He may not always show it, but he loves you a great deal. Merry Christmas, Harry." With a tiny popping sound, Santa vanished.
For a moment, Harry stared at the spot where Santa had been. He blinked. Had Father Christmas just given him relationship advice? Coming to his senses, he rushed outside. There was no sign of the sleigh, just the snow frosted tiles and slightly wonky chimney. Had he imagined it all, Harry wondered, sure that he hadn’t. He shivered. What was he doing hanging around outside like this? Maybe he was losing his marbles. He hurried inside and as he was closing the door, the wards clanged again. If this is the tooth fairy then I’m definitely dreaming, Harry thought, as he turned round.
It was Santa again. Only not. This was clearly Draco in an ill-fitting costume.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” he cried, pitching his voice much deeper than usual.
“Draco?” Harry asked, bemused.
“I’m not Draco, I’m Santa.”
“Yes, and I’m the Queen of Sheba. I thought you were going to church with Pansy."
"I just said that so I could go out and get this sorted," Draco said in his normal voice, sitting in the chair only recently vacated by the other Santa.
"So you wouldn't rather be with Pansy?" Harry asked, feeling foolish but needing to hear the answer.
"Good God no! You didn't really think that, did you?"
"No, of course not," Harry said, deceiving neither of them.
Draco gave him a despairing look but didn't press the point.
"It was what you said earlier, about no one ever dressing up as Santa for you. It seemed to me that if anyone deserved a visit from Santa, you did." Draco gave a most un-Santa like leer as he pulled a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket. "Come and sit on my lap and see what I've got for you."
Harry laughed happily as he perched on Draco's knee. He wondered if he should tell Draco that he'd had a visit from another, perhaps more authentic Santa. No, he decided. Maybe, by some miracle, Santa Clause had been here, in their kitchen, but compared to the fact that Draco had gone to all this trouble for him, it wasn't important. What mattered was that Draco cared enough to try and make Christmas special for him, and that, Harry thought, truly was in the spirit of the thing.
He smiled at Draco with all his heart. "Happy Christmas, love," he said and kissed him.
Author:Vickyducky
Team:Death Eaters
Word count:~2000
Characters/pairings:H/D
Rating:PG
Warnings: Lots of fluff
Challenge:#Christmas challenge to write one fic containing all of these prompts:
Cider, Nutcracker, Christmas Carols,
Kings, Christmas Tree, Eggnog,
Snow/Snowman, Icicle, Reindeer,
Yule/Yuletide, Silent Night, Midnight Mass,
Deck the Halls, Wreath, Gifts,
Wrapping, Mistletoe, Nuts,
Mulled wine, Holly, Ribbon,
Stockings, Fruitcake, Mince Pies,
Tinsel, Angels, Chestnuts,
Jingle Bells, Saint Nick, Fairy,
Re-gifting
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
“Of course Father Christmas is a wizard, Harry,” Draco scoffed. “How else could he travel around the whole world in one night?” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “And the fact that he enters down the chimney – you are familiar with the Floo network?”
Keeping an eye on the milk he was heating for bread sauce, Harry half-turned to cast a sceptical glance at Draco. They were in the kitchen of twelve Grimauld Place. Tomorrow it would be full of people, loud with festive chatter, but for now it was just the two of them.
Harry was attempting to get a head start on the preparation for the large Christmas dinner he was planning for the following day, and Draco, sitting at the table, was wrapping presents. He was doing a lot of re-gifting and Harry had a strong suspicion that a number of their guests would recognise their gifts. Although where Draco had found the enormous, phallus shaped nutcracker that he was currently swathing in gold ribbon, or for whom it was intended, Harry couldn’t imagine.
The radio was playing quietly in the background; earlier they had listened to the Service of Nine Lessons and Carols from King’s College, but now the WWN seemed to be running through an eclectic mix of Christmas carols and every seasonal song, Muggle and Wizarding, ever written. Jingle Bells had followed Silent Night, which had segued, unexpectedly, into ‘Little Saint Nick’, by the Beach Boys. Currently, Celestina Warbeck was warbling Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly.
Harry caught the milk just as it began to boil and strained it onto some breadcrumbs. “You sound as though you think he’s real,” he said dryly.
Draco looked up, frowning slightly. “Don’t you?”
Harry could hear the surprise in his voice.
“Of course not! Draco, it’s just something adults tell kids to make Christmas more fun. You don’t really still believe that Santa Clause comes down chimneys and fills stockings, do you? I mean, are you expecting him to visit you tonight?”
“There’s no need to be facetious, Harry. He only brings presents to poor children who wouldn’t get any otherwise,” Draco replied matter-of-factly.
Harry stared. How much mulled wine had Draco had? “Well that I definitely don’t believe,” he said firmly. “He never brought me anything. The first time I got any presents was my first year at Hogwarts - and they weren't from Santa Clause!"
Draco didn’t seem to have heard him; he had a far away look in his eyes.
“You know,” he said, wistfully, “one year I remember Lucius dressed up as Santa. I can only have been four or five. He’d over-indulged in the eggnog and tripped over his sack.” Draco began to chuckle. “Landed on the Christmas tree and got covered in tinsel. Mother was furious because he knocked all the berries off a holly wreath she’d made.” He gave himself a little shake, clearing the memories. He grinned at Harry apologetically. “He wasn’t always an evil bastard, you know.”
“Well, at least not to you,” Harry said, wryly. “But I suppose that’s something. Nobody ever dressed up as Santa for me.”
A speculative look came over Draco’s face. He pushed back his chair and stood up.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” he said, “I’ve got to go out. I just remembered that I... promised Pansy I’d take her to Midnight Mass.”
“Midnight Mass? With Pansy? You never said anything about that before!” Harry felt a spark of jealousy flame to life in his belly.
“I told you, I only just remembered myself.”
“If you’d let me know I could have gone with you, but I’ve too much to do now,” Harry said crossly. “Shall I wait up for you?”
“Yes. Oh yes, definitely. Don’t go to bed.” Draco wrapped Harry in a hug as he stood at the counter and kissed the back of his neck. Harry hmphed and tried to shrug him off.
“Don’t be like that,” Draco cajoled. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Harry sighed and turned in Draco’s arms to face him. “Don’t be too late, please,” he said quietly.
Draco kissed his nose. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Then grabbing his coat from the peg by the door, he Flooed out.
Feeling fed up, Harry started peeling the chestnuts for the stuffing and set a couple of knives to putting crosses in the bottom of sprouts. He felt even worse because as he was inflicting a dozen or so Weasleys on Draco the following day, and Draco hadn’t complained once, it was only fair, really, that he spend Christmas Eve with his own friends. Harry didn’t feel at all like being fair. He hated peeling chestnuts, he hated bloody sprouts and he especially hated Pansy Parkinson.
“Christmas is humbug,” he muttered to himself, half meaning it.
He’d finished the chestnuts and was mixing them in with the forcemeat and spices when he was startled by a deafening clatter that sounded like an army marching about on the roof. Thinking that the chimney must be falling down, Harry rushed out into the garden. Earlier there had been a rather desultory flurry of snow and the little that had settled crunched under his feet. He peered up at the roof. Balanced precariously on the very apex was a large blue sleigh, encrusted with icicles, with what could only be reindeer harnessed to it. He stared in absolute astonishment. Where had that come from?
Through the open kitchen door he heard the loud clang which announced that someone had passed through the wards, followed by the whoosh of the Floo. Hoping that maybe it was Draco home early and with a last incredulous look at the snorting, stamping reindeer, Harry hurried inside.
It wasn't Draco. Emerging from the kitchen fire-place, stepping carefully over the Yule log in the hearth, looking very much the real thing, was a portly, bearded gentleman wearing a red, fur trimmed suit.
“S...santa?” Harry stammered.
“Hello, Harry,” Santa replied, sinking onto a chair with every sign of relief. “Don’t suppose you’ve a glass of sherry and a couple of mince pies for an old man on a cold night?”
The simple answer to that was, no. Hermione was bringing the mince pies tomorrow, but Harry didn’t want to appear inhospitable and racked his brains for something to offer his unexpected guest.
“Er, would cider and fruit cake do?” he asked tentatively.
“Just the ticket,” Santa boomed cheerfully.
While he poured a glass of Mrs Weasley's home pressed cider and, with a pang of regret for his sugar paste angels, cut a slice of Christmas cake, Harry tried to think of an explanation for the fact that Father Christmas was sitting in his kitchen. One that didn’t involve him having received a blow to the head, or having to become a long stay patient in St Mungo’s secure wing.
He handed Santa the refreshments, but then snatched the cake back at the last minute. “It’s got nuts in,” he said, “you’re not allergic, are you?” Imagine if he put Santa Clause into anaphylactic shock!
Santa chuckled and shook his head. Taking the cake he tucked in. When his plate and glass were empty, he smacked his lips and patted his belly in appreciation. Then with a sigh he fixed Harry with a beady eye.
“I happened to overhear that you don’t believe in me,” he began, “and as I was in the area I thought I’d pop in and see what all this was about.”
Blushing, Harry began to deny this, but Santa cut him off.
“I’m sorry that you were over-looked as a child, Harry. In the old days it would never have happened, I visited everyone, but once the world population went over a billion, I had to cut corners. Mary, that’s the wife, thinks I should franchise, but I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like the spirit of the thing.” He sighed. “The Dursley’s always seemed so affluent, it just never occurred to me that they bought that many presents for one child, and you got nothing. It's no excuse, of course. What's the point of making a list, if you don't check it twice?”
"It's okay," Harry said, feeling a bit surreal being apologised to by Santa Clause. "They'd have given anything you brought me to Dudley, anyway. It was probably easier to have nothing, than to have something good taken away." For some reason an image of Draco, laughing with Pansy, popped into his head. He pushed it away.
"I'm glad there's no hard feelings, Harry. Well, I must be off, busy, busy."
He got to his feet, groaning a little as he did so.
"Thank you for the cake, Harry, excellent marzipan."
"Er, thanks," Harry muttered, feeling slightly dazed.
"And er, a word of advice, don't fret too much about Draco. He may not always show it, but he loves you a great deal. Merry Christmas, Harry." With a tiny popping sound, Santa vanished.
For a moment, Harry stared at the spot where Santa had been. He blinked. Had Father Christmas just given him relationship advice? Coming to his senses, he rushed outside. There was no sign of the sleigh, just the snow frosted tiles and slightly wonky chimney. Had he imagined it all, Harry wondered, sure that he hadn’t. He shivered. What was he doing hanging around outside like this? Maybe he was losing his marbles. He hurried inside and as he was closing the door, the wards clanged again. If this is the tooth fairy then I’m definitely dreaming, Harry thought, as he turned round.
It was Santa again. Only not. This was clearly Draco in an ill-fitting costume.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” he cried, pitching his voice much deeper than usual.
“Draco?” Harry asked, bemused.
“I’m not Draco, I’m Santa.”
“Yes, and I’m the Queen of Sheba. I thought you were going to church with Pansy."
"I just said that so I could go out and get this sorted," Draco said in his normal voice, sitting in the chair only recently vacated by the other Santa.
"So you wouldn't rather be with Pansy?" Harry asked, feeling foolish but needing to hear the answer.
"Good God no! You didn't really think that, did you?"
"No, of course not," Harry said, deceiving neither of them.
Draco gave him a despairing look but didn't press the point.
"It was what you said earlier, about no one ever dressing up as Santa for you. It seemed to me that if anyone deserved a visit from Santa, you did." Draco gave a most un-Santa like leer as he pulled a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket. "Come and sit on my lap and see what I've got for you."
Harry laughed happily as he perched on Draco's knee. He wondered if he should tell Draco that he'd had a visit from another, perhaps more authentic Santa. No, he decided. Maybe, by some miracle, Santa Clause had been here, in their kitchen, but compared to the fact that Draco had gone to all this trouble for him, it wasn't important. What mattered was that Draco cared enough to try and make Christmas special for him, and that, Harry thought, truly was in the spirit of the thing.
He smiled at Draco with all his heart. "Happy Christmas, love," he said and kissed him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-12-24 05:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-24 05:50 am (UTC)