Author's Notes: For the slythindor100 advent challenge.
Harry Apparated home from St Mungo's without first bothering to change out of his hulking Santa Claus outfit.
He expected to be assailed with laughter the moment Draco spotted his padded belly and artificially rosy cheeks. It was even on the tip of his tongue to head Draco off by mentioning that he'd been volunteering in the Juvenile Ward, because surely not even Draco could possibly find anything funny about sick children, especially not over the holidays.
It turned out Harry didn't have to say a word, though, because Draco looked more intrigued than amused.
"You know, my father never let me sit on Santa's lap when I was younger," he said suggestively.
Harry privately thanked Lucius for not allowing it, because Harry didn't particularly want to be forced to think about Draco – even long ago, at a very young age – getting that up close and personal with another man.
He was, however, more than all right with Draco now perching himself on Harry's lap.
Especially when Draco squirmed tantalisingly against him and, after shoving Harry's fake beard pointedly out of the way, leaned in close to whisper against Harry's lips exactly what he wanted for Christmas.
~FIN~