Title: Santa's Knee

Author: Emmylou

Disclaimer: The concept of Harry potter does not belong to me.

Summary: Harry Potter gets his one and only chance to sit on Father Christmas' knee. Gentle ficlet for all those dreaming of Christmas.

A/N: I know it's a little early, but I'm in a Christmassy mood.


Fairy lights in the shape of bells were hanging over the streets. Harry stretched his head back to squint at them. He'd heard lots of things about Christmas. Bells had never come into it.

Aunt Petunia wouldn't tell him if he asked.

He watched some people, weighed down by bags, stop and buy some hot mince pies of a man with a tray.

Perhaps they were angels and he was looking at them wrong.

"Keep by me!" hissed Aunt Petunia, dragging him closer and locking her hand around his wrist. She turned away and waved at Dudley who was sitting on Father Christmas's knee.

He'd heard that in America children who sat on Father Christmas's knee tried to pull his beard and make it come off. Harry had been in the queue for twenty minutes and no one had tried that yet. Maybe children in England were nicer. Or maybe they wanted more presents.

"I want a Power Rangers outfit. The black one, not the blue one or the red one, mind you. And an Action Man with real working radio. They're in PlayStop for twenty-four ninety-nine, they're in Tesco's for less but you can't get them there because Mummy says only poor people buy toys from the supermarket."

A girl in a stripy green outfit starting trying to heave Dudley of Father Christmas's knee. Another one rushed back from stopping a blonde girl from throwing up in the tombola. "You're next kid. What's your name?"

It took Harry a second to notice he was being spoken to. Aunt Petunia paled.

"The boy can't go on his knee," she said desperately, tugging Harry out of the girl's sight. "It's against his...religion."

"What religion?" asked Dudley, looking bored now that talk of presents was over.

"Besides, we're running late," said Aunt Petunia more loudly.

"Oh, it will only take a minute," said the girl cheerfully. "Besides, all the kiddies love talking to Father Christmas. Go on..."

Harry was prodded forwards and then lifted onto the man's knee. The mince pie smell was getting a bit sickly. What if the man thought he'd been bad?

He realised he'd been asked his name.

"Harry," he said. Everyone was watching.

"Well there Harry, have you been good this year?"

Harry didn't know. He looked towards Aunt Petunia for help. She looked like she wanted to forcibly drag Harry away from the sleigh.

"I'm sure you have been," said the man, sounding very pleased about it. "I'll know you know, come Christmas Eve. I have a list."

"Oh," said Harry. What could he say? "My last name's Potter- in case you can't tell which Harry I am."

"Oh, I'll know it's you. So what presents would you like?"

"Um," in truth, Harry couldn't think of any. Last year was a long time ago, but he remembered no one had really bothered about him. "A soldier," he said after looking around desperately again. "There's always a picture of you giving boys a toy soldier. With a big hat."

The Father Christmas chuckled. "I'll see what I can do Harry. Have a candy cane." One was shoved into Harry's hands. It had swirly ribbon around it. "Merry Christmas kid."

"Merry Christmas," Harry parroted back.


I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love a comment or two.