A/N: Please ignore the corny title that really has nothing to do with the story. I hit somewhat of a roadblock when it came to naming this. Anyway, this was a fun little idea I had that spiraled into this somewhat-cathartic little fic. I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. I own nothing pertaining to this story, except perhaps the anxiety that I let Harry borrow for this story.

A Merry Little Christmas

Harry was sitting on the roof, his arms wrapped around his torso as he rocked back and forth, back and forth. His heart was pounding in his chest, racing along like Harry had just finished a duel with Voldemort. That, of course, is not the case at all. Harry had been having a day like any other, except for the erratic pounding of his heart and the urge to tug relentlessly at his unruly hair. So back and forth he rocked. It was the only thing that made him feel even remotely better. Why was he like this? What was making him feel this way? Harry turned these questions over and over his mind, looking for any possible solution. He knew, of course, that he could simply confess his feelings to Severus, and the man would probably bend over backwards to offer him an array of potions and comforts to make him feel better again. You can't get off that easy, a little voice taunted.

Harry just tried to breathe and calm down as he sat rocking back and forth on the roof in the December cold. This time last year, before the final battle had taken away so many people he loved, Harry remembered putting up Christmas decorations in the little tent he shared with Hermione, though both of them were feeling less than festive without Ron. This was his favorite time of year, and this would be the first Christmas that he would actually get to spend with Severus, despite the fact that they had been together for almost two years. He should be bouncing off the walls right now, annoying Severus to no end with his cheeriness. He should be festooning their shared quarters with an array of Santas, fairy lights, and shining baubles in green, silver, red, and gold. He should be convincing Severus come with him to chop down a Christmas tree, and then the two of them would quibble fondly about where Harry could put his various Gryffindor-themed ornaments. He should be trying to bring some holiday cheer into Severus's life, all the while knowing that the stoic potions master loved watching Harry's antics. However, this was not at all the case. Harry couldn't feel anything other than pounding of his heart, the anxiety gluing him to the roof. He pulled his arms tighter around himself, closed his eyes, and continued to rock back and forth.

…..

As Severus watched Harry from the window, his poor love rocking back and forth, he felt his heart- he did have one, after all- ache as he stewed in his feeling of utter uselessness. Harry had been withdrawing gradually for about a month now, and Severus just couldn't put his finger on why, which of course irked him to no end. The Gryffindor, in typical Gryffindor fashion, was normally very open and direct with Severus about what he wanted or what he was feeling. The sudden change in him was… unsettling, to say the least. Severus had tried to get Harry to open up to him, but he was met with a closed off stare and a shaky "I'm fine, Sev, everything's fine".

If there was one thing Severus hated, and really that was like saying Bertie Bott's only had one flavor of bean, it was being useless. His lips pursed in frustration as a quiet growl rumbled from his chest. The silly boy should be turning their quarters into a sodding winter wonderland right now, but instead he seemed further away from Severus than his horcrux-hunting had ever taken him. "Oh bloody hell," Severus muttered as he pushed the window open and crawled out onto the roof. Harry turned to look at him, the blank look on his face replaced for a fleeting moment by a flash of surprise. Still Harry rocked.

Without saying a word, Severus made his way over to Harry and sat down behind him, spreading his legs out on either side of his- and Severus hated this term- boyfriend. His arms wrapped around the young man and pulled him close. Severus held Harry tightly and buried his face in his love's mop of raven-black hair. He inhaled the scent of broom polish, parchment, and vanilla body wash while he placed kiss after kiss on the head and neck he was so familiar with. They sat like that for a long time; Severus kept Harry tightly wrapped in his arms as he waited for the rocking to stop, seeking his own comfort in the knowledge that he had done something, however small and useless it ultimately was.

…..

Harry stopped rocking after a while and just let himself be held by Severus. There was comfort in the tight grip and human contact, and he was grateful for the warmth. He felt his heartbeat begin to slow, but he knew the feelings would be back all too soon.

When Harry began to shiver, Severus scooped him up in his arms and carried him back to their dungeon quarters. Harry found himself settled on their plush, white couch, staring into a magically lit fire. He heard Severus bustling around in their small, well-appointed kitchen, and soon a cup of tea was placed into his hands by a worried Severus. The potions master settled himself on the couch next to Harry and began to grade papers. Harry had grading of his own to do, but he just couldn't get out of his own head. He stared pensively into his cup of tea as his leg began to bounce up and down. The names of the dead swirled around in his head, and Harry felt a tidal wave of guilt crash over him as he imagined empty places set at Christmas dinner tables this year

Harry tore his gaze from his cup and looked over at Severus. He was looking down at the papers with a frown tugging at his thin lips. A long fingered hand came up to pinch the bridge of his hooked nose in exasperation. Then, his dark eyes flicked over to glance at Harry, checking on him, the younger man realized. Harry took a long drink of his tea, picked up his students' papers, and scooted closer to Severus. His leg was still bouncing, but his mind was soon occupied and he was almost… normal, happy, even. The evening passed in relative peace, but Harry noticed that Severus would glance over at him worriedly, as if he expected the rocking to resume any minute.

"I'm not a piece of glass, Severus. I won't break if you look at me the wrong way," he said quietly, but his chest was tight with guilt. He wanted so desperately to tell Severus what he was feeling, what was wrong, but he couldn't quite put it into words for himself. Besides, Severus would probably tell him that it wasn't his fault, but anytime someone said that to him, it just seemed to make the feeling worse.

….

Severus sat up in bed, grumbling. It was the middle of the bloody night, and Potter (Severus preferred to call him by his last name when he was less than pleased with the young man) had woken him up with his thrashing. Both of them suffered from nightmares, but Harry's tended to be more violently expressive to the rest of the world. Severus turned to wake Harry up so he could pull him close and hold him until he fell into a more peaceful sleep, but he paused with his hand hovering above Harry's shoulder. He was muttering something, and Severus bent closer to listen.

"Too many… My fault… All gone…" Severus sat back in their four-poster bed, mulling things over. He fancied himself a very smart man who was talented at solving the puzzle that was Harry Potter (well, he had been, until recently). Harry's words stumped him for only a few moments, but then the pieces fell together. He frowned and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, which was covered by a red and gold duvet, which Severus would vehemently deny in public. His long fingers began to move in soothing circles, and the thrashing began to calm as Severus pondered, looking for a solution. It came to him in a flash, and his eyes widened while a smirk settled on his face. Of course, this was perfect. Severus leaned over and quickly kissed Harry's forehead before he bounded out of bed, throwing on a robe as he rushed to find McGonagall.

…

The following weekend, Harry was once again sitting on their couch, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms locked around his legs. He was rocking again. This week had not been a good one for The Boy Who Lived. The tightness in his chest had settled over him each morning when he woke up, and a general sense of paranoia had crept over him. Harry had almost hexed Mrs. Norris when he mistook her soft pawsteps for the rustling robes of a Death Eater. Severus's looks of concern had grown more frequent over the course of the week as well, a fact that filled Harry with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

That Wednesday, things had really taken a turn for the worse. Harry was standing up in front of a class of third year Slytherins and Gryffindors when his heart had begun to race with seemingly renewed vigor. Harry was outwardly unfettered as he continued his lecture about ways to defend against Bogarts. The ticks began with nervous hands running through his hair every few minutes, then he began to pick at his nails as he spoke. His words tumbled out faster and faster, and he began to stutter as he tripped over his words.

When he dismissed the students, his face had paled, his hands were shaking, and his breath was coming in rapid gasps. Harry leaned on his desk, clutching his chest. He looked up and saw Severus standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

Without a word, Severus closed the distance between the two of them as his black robes billowed out. In the back of his mind, Harry really understood why the students called the potions master a dungeon bat. Without any warning, Harry found himself folded tightly into Severus's arms. He buried his face in the hard, familiar chest and tried to calm himself. Harry felt Severus's hands moving up and down his back. The two of them stayed like that, even as students began to filter in. Severus's arms did not loosen until Harry began to fidget, ready to start his class. It was then that Severus turned to face the snickering, whispering students. Harry flushed bright red while Severus affixed them with a glare that (and Harry knew this from experience) would make even the most hardened Death Eaters freeze and repent any perceived wrongdoings.

Harry laid his head on his knees, not looking up when he heard Severus's footsteps on the stone floor. "Harry," the soft baritone voice, though, was enough to bring his head up. He looked into Severus's dark, inscrutable eyes and cocked his head, waiting. "C'mon love. We are going to get ourselves a Christmas tree." Severus attempted to smile and failed miserably, producing a strangled grimace. Harry couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. He got up and smiled at Severus, ready to head out the door. "Don't forget your cloak," Severus reminded him. Long fingers caught his shoulder and spun him around. A cloak was carefully draped around him, and two sets of hands fought to do the clasps.

"I'm not made of glass, Sev," Harry said, frowning.

"Sometimes I wonder, Harry," Severus muttered, almost inaudibly.

"Sorry, Severus." Harry shuffled his feet. "I know that I haven't been easy to put up with lately." Severus just shook his head and took Harry's hand.

…

Severus had a plan in motion, but, master strategist that he was, he knew that the best laid plans took time. Meanwhile, he still had an anxious, frazzled Harry to deal with. Unfortunately, Saviors of the Wizarding World don't come with instruction manuals, so for a while, Severus was left grasping at straws. The idea had hit him Friday night at dinner, and he'd had to resist the urge to slam his head into the table at the sheer obviousness of it. That would be far too undignified for the stoic potions master.

So, here he was, trudging out in the snow along the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest with an axe in his hand, Harry following behind him. Severus's face was set in a look of grim determination; he just needed to get this over with and then maybe, just maybe, Harry would be happy again. He glanced back at the boy in question, his face softening into a smile at the sight of Harry's red nose and flushed cheeks. Severus was also freezing, but in a much more dignified way, he was sure of it.

Finally, Harry stopped their trek along the perimeter of the forest with a soft exclamation. He gestured to a well-formed fir tree. Severus offered him a warm smile and began to swing his axe. After a couple of swings, he snuck a surreptitious glance at his Harry and noticed with some satisfaction that the boy had flushed a shade of red Severus liked to call "corrupt Gryffindor", for it was the shade Harry inadvertently turned whenever his mind rolled its way into the gutter, which was quite often. Severus smirked and continued his work, and not a moment later, the pair had themselves a fresh-cut Christmas tree.

Severus levitated the tree back through the castle and to their rooms; he set it up carefully by the fireplace. Harry settled himself on the couch, his eyes clouded with thoughts Severus wished he could read. Severus spelled some lights on the tree and pulled out the ornaments from the closet shelf. Normally, Harry would spend the day with his head in the branches, hand-lighting the tree. Severus would hold the strands of lights and stare at Harry's bum, enjoying the view. Then, Harry would take time and care to place each ornament by hand, often persuading Severus to pick him up to place ornaments on higher branches. If Severus was feeling generous (when it came to Harry, he normally was, but would hex anyone who thought so), he would place some of the ornaments himself. He would do anything to see the smile that lit up Harry's face and made those green eyes sparkle. However, this was not a normal Christmas. Their first Christmas day together was approaching and Harry was so far inside his head that Severus wouldn't be surprised if the boy just imploded.

Severus got out a ladder, sighing to himself because it was impossible to be dignified and intimidating perched on one. He then began placing ornaments, hoping to entice Harry to join him. "Look at this one," he said with a smile as he held up a beautiful roaring lion. "Do you remember when you got it?"

"Yeah." A faint smile crept across his face. "Showed up under the tree at the Weasley's my sixth year with the name on the package. Never figured out who gave it to me." Harry winked conspiratorially. "The inscription 'I will survive this, for you. Stupid Gryffindor' was a dead giveaway. Very you, Sev."

"Bloody Gryffindor, getting me through another war," the potions master shook his head. No one needed to know he'd indulged Harry's love of Christmas with such a sentimental artifact. "Why don't you put it up, love?" Harry nodded vacantly and picked up his wand, levitating the lion to a central branch near the top of the tree. At least he has flashes of his old self, Severus mused.

"Potter," he half-growled, "Didn't you say that this was better done the muggle way? Well, dammit, if it's got any hope of bringing a smile to your face, this is how we're going to do it. Severus turned his back to Harry and reached into a box, pulling something out.

…

When Severus turned around, he had a big, red Santa hat on his head and a scowl on his face. Harry felt an involuntary grin spreading across his face. Severus looked wrong wearing that hat, but Harry liked it. The white sharply contrasted his long black hair. The red brought out just a hint of color in his cheeks, accenting his strong features.

"Alright, Sev, let's do this." Harry got up, still grinning. He began rifling through the various ornaments until he found what he was looking for. "Here, Sev, catch." Harry threw him a golden snitch that he had turned into an ornament. Severus calmly snatched the snitch out of the air.

"I remember this," Severus smiled fondly as the snitch opened. "When you sent me this last year, I thought you'd mixed up my gift with that infernal Weasley's. Then I touched it again, and I saw what was inside." Harry knew that Severus was referring to the emerald heart that he had stashed inside the snitch. "It was a clever gift. The metaphor was a bit obvious, though."

Harry grinned. "Just put it on the tree. Git."

"Brat."

"Dungeon Bat." They laughed as Severus found an appropriate spot for the golden snitch. The pair continued on like that for most of the afternoon, trading memories and insults as the tree was carefully and methodically decorated.

When it was done, Severus went to get himself a glass of wine. Harry, meanwhile, laid himself down under the tree. He stared up through the branches as he put his arms behind his head. The stone floor was cold on his back, but he didn't mind. There was an odd sort of peace in watching the shimmering lights; it was almost hypnotic. Harry didn't have to think, he could just stare up and not worry. He didn't see the faces of the dead, just the twinkling lights.

Harry was startled when Severus laid down beside him with a small groan. Harry looked over, his hand found Severus's as soon as the man settled in. He went back to staring up through the branches. "Harry," Severus broke the silence, "are we ever going to talk about this."

"There's a strange temporality to life," Harry said, not entirely off topic. "We're here, and then we aren't. We take it for granted. The people who died… they didn't know it was their last Christmas. I wonder if Fred argued with Molly, or if Remus and Tonks were even together. Colin Creevy probably couldn't wait for Christmas morning."

"That's the thing about life, Harry." Severus said quietly. Harry turned to look at him. "This is why I have learned, especially after that run-in with Nagini, not to waste my time by wishing it away. Is this really what's bothering you?"

"Kind of. I don't know, Severus. Everything seems fine and then my heart starts racing and I feel like I can't control anything. I'm sorry. I get so wrapped up in my own head that I just… well… I'm sorry."

"Come back out of there. Come back to me, Harry." Harry bit his lip, shame and self-loathing welling up inside him. Without a word, he pressed himself up beside Severus, turning his head to lean it on the man's shoulder.

"I never really left."

Later that night, Harry woke with a start, his heart pounding. He launched himself over to Severus's side of the bed, attaching himself to the man's chest. He listened to his lover's heartbeat before looking up at Severus. His mouth was slightly open, his face unlined, almost vulnerable. This was a face Severus would never show anyone else. If Harry even brought it up, he would deny it, saying Harry was just dreaming. Harry smirked and laid his head back down, falling asleep within minutes.

…

The rest of term went by in a flurry of deducted points and detentions for Severus, and before he knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived. Everyone who was in the Final Battle was invited to a special dinner organized by Headmistress McGonagall. Empty places had been set for all of those who did not survive. Severus was sitting with Harry and, much to his earlier protest, the Weasley family. The Granger girl, call her Hermione, he reminded himself, was sitting next to Ron. Harry was chatting seemingly happily with his two best friends, but Severus noticed that Harry would glance over at the empty place at their table, looking uncomfortable. Hermione seemed to notice as well, as she shot Severus a concerned look. Severus merely nodded, trying to give a look that said he had it all under control.

He could feel Harry's leg bouncing against his under the table. Not much longer now. Severus looked around the room and noticed several dirty looks directed at Harry. Severus was surprised that, for once, the looks were not directed at him. He returned each and every stare with a glare that would halt even the bravest of Aurors. Did these fools not care that Harry had died for them? That he fretted over each and every person lost in the war? Did they know about the nightmares? No, of course not. Harry didn't want them to know. Severus sighed, earning a questioning look from the Boy Who Lived. Severus just ran a hand through his love's ebony locks and settled with an arm around Harry's shoulder.

"May I have your attention, please," McGonagall's voice rang out at the end of the dinner. "If you will all follow me, a surprise has been prepared for all of you." Severus fought back a smirk and took Harry by the hand. His best laid plan. McGonagall strode out of the Great Hall and led everyone to a newly-refurbished part of the castle. They stopped at a doorway leading to a new corridor. "We at Hogwarts have been looking for a way to honor all those who feel defending our castle. We were going to inscribe everyone's names on the rebuilt outer wall of the castle, then Severus," Harry turned to him and raised a questioning eyebrow. He just nodded. "Approached me with a new idea, one he wanted to unveil around the Holidays, when our lost loved ones are most keenly missed." Several murmurs of agreement swept through the crowd. Severus couldn't contain his smile any longer. Harry looked absolutely perplexed. Silly Gryffindor. "I give you now, the Hall of Portraits!" The heavy wooden doors opened, revealing long stone corridor lined with moving portraits of every person who died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Families rushed over to the portraits of their loved ones, eager for a conversation, however artificial. Severus, meanwhile, turned to look at Harry. He found a pair of misty green eyes staring back at him.

"Severus, you did all this?"

"No, you dolt," Severus smiled, "I merely came up with the idea and helped with some of the magic. I do hate that McGonagall gave me credit for it, but I don't think you'd have believed me if I told you. Now come on, I have a couple more things to show you." He took Harry by the hand once more and led him down the hall, pausing at a familiar face.

"Cedric," Harry breathed.

"Hey, Harry," The portrait said with a friendly smile.

"Cedric, I'm-"

"I know," Cedric cut in. The two nodded at each other in understanding as Severus gently tugged Harry's hand, noting the free-falling tears. He led him to another portrait.

"Moody!" Harry exclaimed.

"Constant Vigilance!" Moody boomed loud enough for the whole hall to hear.

"But Severus," Harry turned to look at him, "These men died before the Final Battle."

"I know, love, but I also know you and many other people believe that these men have earned a place here." Severus gently wiped away Harry's tears and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. "There's one more, Harry, but he's not here." Severus led Harry away from the crowd, pausing often to let Harry talk with the portraits of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, and many others. Severus brought Harry to the Gryffindor and let Harry give the password. He was the Head of Gryffindor House, after all. As the Fat Lady swung open, the last portrait could be seen above the fireplace, illuminated by the flickering flames.

"Sirius!" Harry cried, his tears coming back in full force, though they had never really stopped. He rushed up to the fireplace, staring eagerly up at the portrait.

"Hey, pup. You know, I didn't believe the other portraits when they told me you were in love with old Snivellus here, but I don't think the old bat's that bad anymore. That being said, Snape, if you hurt him, you will feel my wrath!"

"Good to see you, too, Black," Severus drawled before kissing Harry and exiting through the portrait hole.

…

"I can't believe Severus put this all together, for me." Harry was astonished, but seeing all of these people, even has portraits, had given him a bit of peace.

"He loves you." Sirius shrugged. "And for some reason, you love him. Are you happy Harry? If you're not, I swear I'll tear old Snivellus limb from limb." In order to assuage his godfather's portrait's worries, and to fill him in on the time he had missed, Harry told Sirius about everything that happened since he fell through the veil. Sirius was a very animated companion, and he was thrilled by Harry's bravery. The two talked for what seemed like hours, and Sirius finally had to stop Harry when the clock struck midnight.

"I'll be back, Sirius," Harry promised as he left the common room. Severus was sitting against the wall, waiting for him.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," he said as he stood up. Harry flung his arms around him and kissed him hard, trying to use the kiss to tell Severus exactly how he was feeling.

"Severus, I- I can't thank you enough. What you've done for these people-"

Severus cut him off, "I didn't do it for them, I did it for you. I'm not you Harry. I'm terribly selfish. Your happiness is all I care about. I know this won't fix all of the anxiety and hurt that you've been trying to deal with, but I wanted to help." Severus finished his little speech and looked down at his shoes, his cheeks flushing. He was always so bad at talking about feelings.

"It's perfect, Severus." Harry lifted Severus's chin so onyx eyes met emerald green, and he pressed his lips against Severus's, winding his arms around the other man's neck. Severus's strong arms wrapped around him, one around his waist, and a hand knotted in his hair, bringing him even closer. This kiss was intense, and Harry was finally feeling something other than anxiety again. The two broke the kiss when they needed air, smiling as they stayed wrapped in each other's arms.

"You know," Severus said slyly, "I think I've won Christmas."

"You can't win Christmas," Harry protested, sticking his tongue out.

"Silly Gryffindor. Everything's a competition."

"Severus," Harry sighed mock-exasperatedly.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Severus said cheekily, kissing the tip of Harry's nose.

"Happy Christmas," Harry laughed, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Severus's cheek. The two then walked off, arms around each other, back to their quarters for some much needed sleep.