Okay, I know it is going to be a huge project, but I really want to do this. These could be drabbles, maybe even short-stories or AUs as I'm doing this. So expect really anything to do with the Christmas season! Also taking suggestions and prompts...so review! (Like always!)

"Looks Like it's just you and me, now." The first year fidgeted on his bench seat in the empty main hall at the sound of a familiar boisterous laugh echoing through Harrow's empty halls.

"They're coming. I know they are. They sent me a letter and everything, " the boy voiced his belief strongly, but his teary, red eyes betrayed him.

"Who knows? They could be enjoying the holidays somewhere warm, like Cairo or Athens. Adults don't bring their children abroad." The older boy saw the kid wasn't taking his comments lightly.

"Except for your father. I've heard that he took you everywhere-Germany, France-and all because of your insane-"

"Oh look," the 3rd year commented, "There's a carriage. I assume it's yours."

"Really?" The young boy jumped up from his seat, and ran with his packed clothes out the door with a small comment over his shoulder, "Maybe your parents will show up someday."

But the remaining young man could not hide the loud laugh when his tortured victim slammed the wooden doors back open a few seconds later and plopped down on his bench.

"That was quite boorish of you," his voice quaked while the other kept laughing.

"I'm sorry," the elder tried to compose himself, and failed, fits of uncontrollable, infectious laughter bursting. 'It was all meant in jolly, good fun."

"I don't see why everyone respects you so much," the high-pitched boy exclaimed.

"Why wouldn't they? Think a little, boy. What admirable qualities do I lack? I'm always-"

But he was interrupted by the opening of Harrow School's innately carved doors. In the entrance stood a tall, older-looking gentleman with light features and adorned in rich apparel. His eyes were dull and hardened as he sternly gazed at the young man boasting about himself, and said in a tired voice, "Percy."

"Sir Algernon," his son replied. For the first time, he remained solemn and indifferent, his eyes hooded and drowsy. "It's about time you took me away."

"I'm afraid only for the day. After that I'm taking you to Lord Foullkes for the rest of the holidays." Sir Algernon guided his son out the door with a hand on his back.

The winter had come full-on during the last few days of the 2nd term, snow flurrying around, making the world look like it was covered in sugar. That particular day was windy in the extreme, and Percy wished he had not left his extra scarf in his luggage. He tugged his cloak around him tighter and shivered, though the bitter cold still seemed to find a way to his skin.

London was only ten miles away, so they traveled there for an afternoon of sightseeing. When Algernon had the kindness to give him money to spend, Percy had the pleasure in spending it on his cravats and handkerchiefs, getting fitted for new clothes and boots to arrive at the beginning of the next term, or giving the rest to peddlers on the road. Algernon would always mumble and scowl when this happened, claiming it to be a waste of money.

Percy would hear it and smirk, only to give a pound away to another unsuspecting person. "Not everyone is as fortunate as you or I, Sir," Percy reasoned. "I met some boys at school who are just as sma-"

"Ah look, Percy. This is where Parliament meets. You could do well here." Percy stopped and stared, his build stiffening.

"I'd rather be a cricket player," he remarked with a laugh.

"You're joking." Algernon stared at him incredulously, "I thought you said you wanted to be a politician?"

"That was the last time I saw you-my first year here. I've changed my mind since then."

"But I think you would do well in Parliament."

"Why? It's not like you to assume things about me."

Algernon sighed and shook his head. "I guess I was wrong in my assumptions. Everyone changes their minds at times, especially someone as young as you."

"I'm not so young, sir, I'm one of the head monitors at Harrow."

"Well, I am mistaken again, my son, now how about we tour the-"

But Percy had already walked past the beautiful building, trying to avoid any more thoughts about his future in politics and pointed at a tavern. "How about we warm ourselves with some food and drinks, Pops?"

"Sure, if this is where you want to go," Algernon wearily glanced at the outside of the building, scrutinizing the people who entered with them.

"A table for two," Algernon ordered, "Warm brandy and..." he glanced at his son who spoke up.

"Make it two brandies, my good friend," Percy grinned, glancing at his father with question in his eyes. Algernon sighed and looked at the boy, finally nodding.

"Here you are, milord," the owner guided them near a window at a small table at the front of the coffee room.

As he walked past the father to the kitchens, Algernon whispered,"Water down that second brandy almost to nothing."

"Take our cloaks to the fire," Algernon ordered, and Percy nimbly carried the heavy fabrics to warm as they waited.

Percy lingered at the fireplace though, spreading his hands to bring some feeling into them. He glanced at Algernon from his peripheral vision, not wanting to have to be at that table with him until he had something to do in his hands.

Things had never been great with Algernon, and Percy hadn't seen him since his first day at Harrow a few years ago, but knew it had something to do with his deceased mother, Joan. Percy had only met her a few times, but the first...well it was something he would never forget. The look in her eyes was just...not right. Even he knew that at his young age. She had died a few weeks after his tenth birthday, and Algernon had been even more distant in his mourning ever since. Percy remembered when he had actually talked to him every day, even though most conversations ended with a small smack to his face for being extremely disrespectful.

Algernon had always been a big man, strong, and all the Old Harrovians commented on how Percy would grow up to be just like him, but with this visit, Percy could tell that there was something wrong- he looked more withered and old, weak almost, and it wasn't fitting for a Blakeney.

He noticed the mugs making its way to his father and headed back to the table, settling down in his wooden chair. Algernon gripped his cup and prepared for the burn of the alcohol down his throat only to spew it out...right at his son's face. It was a natural reaction to the awful taste of the drink when he realized...that was meant to be Percy's drink.

His son wiped his eyes and hair desperately and shouted, "You demmed idiot! What was that?"

"I'm sorry. I ugh. I realized I shouldn't be drinking it until just now," he deluded.

"Convenient that you would just remember now." Percy sighed and forced a smile, sipping on his fully alcoholic drink. Algernon watched him with jealousy, knowing he couldn't explain the real reason he had spit it out. Surprisingly, Percy didn't even grimace when he gulped, and he wished he had resorted to his son having grape juice or something. He wouldn't have messed those two up in a million years.

Algernon sighed and knew it would be the best time to tell him now. The news couldn't wait any longer. "Well, Percy. I know the money and shopping is commendable, but I actually have something to give you. Something much more important than cravats and clothes in tailor shops." Algernon leaned forward, onto his elbows and expected Percy to lose the stupid look of indifference and amusement, but he didn't. Instead, he slouched in his chair and sipped from his mug occasionally. His father tried to ignore his own annoyance and continued, "It's something that has been passed down for generations...ever since the very first Percy Blakeney-the one you are named after, my son. I may not be..." he paused struggling to admit it for the first time aloud, "around much longer. You know I've been in Berlin for the past few years?"

"Yes, to be near Joan. I know. Her death makes you mourn."

"Don't," Algernon trembled, "don't talk about her that way. You may get to call me by my title, but she...she is sacred. My wife-your mother. And she was wonderful. Even after..." He shook his head, not about to be lost in his memories, during their courtship, the two years of blissful marriage before Percy was born. A few weeks after their child's birth, she had never been the same. Never recognized him again.

"And this...this is not about her. The doctor who treated her has been seeing me. Not for the same disease, of course, but for other health problems. he confirmed just before I left that I have less than a year."

Percy set his mug down and stared at his father. Algernon really knew nothing about his young, teenage son, and his mask was unreadable. He wondered if his son would be relieved or mournful, at least feel anything at all.

"That is..." Percy's eyebrows creased together as he thought and finally met his gaze, "purely regrettable. I really don't know what to say, or even how to react."

"And I don't expect you to, Percy. You're so young and I know that you don't love me. I've..."but Algernon could not go on any further. His pride kept him from speaking of his faults and regrets, and he had so many, he didn't have time to voice them aloud.

Percy, much to his father's pain, didn't object. It looks like he understood at least one thing about his son. He quietly said, "Should we go to the Foullkes' home now? I have lost my appetite for anything else."

"Of course. Go fetch our cloaks." And they continued on just like before, as if nothing had happened a few moments before. The carriage ride to the Foullkes' was completely silent, and when they pulled up, Sir Algernon walked with him up to the front entrance. Before Percy could knock, his father pulled him to a snug embrace, the first of its kind in years. He didn't know how to respond but wrap his arms around his aging father and try to recall one happy memory of them together.

"Don't ever think I ever hated you, son. Merry Christmas."

Percy opened his mouth and for the first time could not think of something that would make him laugh. "Merry Christmas...Sir Al-excuse me...Father."

"Here." Algernon smiled with the threat of tears, "I forgot to give you this in the tavern, Percy. It''s what we were talking about-our heritage. I want to give you this personally."

He looked down at Percy's boyish hand and took it, placing the object there. Percy's fingers curled around it, his fist turning white as he clutched it. "Goodbye, Father."

When Algernon sat back in his carriage he sighed and looked at the back of his hand. His wedding band was still there, but the signet ring was now gone, the only remembrance of the ring ever being there was the white mark of pale skin from years of wearing it. He looked out the window as Percy was beckoned into the London house by his friend, and caught the glimpse of flashing metal on Percy Blakeney's hand. He beamed, tapped the carriage ceiling and put his hand up when he saw his son wave goodbye. All too soon the image of him was lost as the door closed and the carriage traveled away.

So don't expect every day to be like this, okay? I did NOT expect this story to turn out the way it did when I started it, and this is just to kick it off. Tomorrow is going to be a lot shorter, and humorous too!