Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I do kinda own Charlus though! I also kinda own this particular AU, since it's my story... but not really. I don't own Christmas either for that matter.

Before a Journey

Part Four of the Thirteen Days of Christmas

"On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree."

Song: The Twelve Days of Christmas

"On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: four pounds of back bacon, three french toasts, two turtle necks, and a beer... in a tree!"

Song: Bob and Doug MacKenzie's Twelve Days of Christmas

"Da-ad!" He whined, looking around his room that was swarmed with presents. "You forgot to weed through the fan mail again!" Harry sighed, kicking aside the pale green comforter that showed his Dad's Quidditch team's emblem, the Welsh Wildebeests, on it. The blanket hit a pile of presents and it fell over. He always felt so... awkward when he got fan mail. Charlus didn't get mountains of gifts from strangers for Christmas or their birthday. And they kept coming! It was two days after Christmas – Boxing Day had a lot of boxes sitting in front of the house – and his room was full of fan mail again. Everything he got from his fans went straight to charity anyway; did they have to clutter up his room with the brightly colored gifts every year?

Still, he just sighed and made his way through the thin passage from his bed to the bathroom. There hadn't been one to his door, but he could leave through Charlus'. He'd probably borrow Charlus' clothes too, since he couldn't even dream of seeing his dresser through all the red, green, and gold. So Harry entered the bathroom, did his thing, and did manage to get to his brother's room, where Charlus was reading a book. Charlus was always reading, provided he wasn't playing Quidditch, or with Harry, or Neville, or that their mum hadn't roped him into brewing potions with her (he had a flair for potions)... alright, he actually didn't read too often. But if he had the opportunity, Charlus would be reading a lot more than he did. He was just... distracted a lot. Usually by Harry.

"Hi Harry," Charlus caught sight of his brother's pajamas, his new burgundy ones than had penguins on them, and smiled. "You got buried under presents again?"

"No, but my dresser did," Harry sighed. "Can I borrow some of your clothes? We're going over to Neville's for a snowball fight today, and it could take ages to dig through! Please Chaz?" Harry put on his best "be nice to your twin brother ad let me borrow some clothes!" pout (he had a whole range of pouts used in specific situations) to woo his brother. Said brother laughed, swiped some dark red hair from his eyes (his fringe refused to keep out of his face, sadly) and nodded before going back to his book. "Thank you! You won't regret it!"

Not that he could regret it, but Harry just grinned. His pouts always won over. He took the stairs two at a time after changing into some of Charlus' snow gear, ready to face the day as he heard sizzling bacon in the kitchen and a B52's song from the same. In the dining room, his father was already at the table, reading the comics, but he handed the second page to Harry after a quick pout.

"Dad, did you even hear me earlier? My room was totally buried again. I had to escape through Chaz's!" The older version of Harry (they did look practically identical, excepting the eyes) just chuckled, ruffled his already messy hair, and promised to take care of it later. He'd make sure everything was safe and give it to an Orphanage, he promised. "Alright Dad." And so the morning went. They had breakfast, played a game of Quid (that Harry won due to his good eye as a seeker) and got ready to go to Neville's.

Of course, Harry wasn't great friends with Neville, but it was a snowball fight. Not to mention all of his friends were out of the area for the Holiday, and the Dursleys were visiting Vernon's sister, so he had no one else to hang out with. At least they got along.

At Neville's they did have a snowball fight, and Neville won, being the biggest and strongest of the three, before they went back in to have some of Alice Longbottom's hot cocoa. Harry managed to get one marshmallow more than the other two, and ate the sugar with relish (not literally obviously, that would be gross... although...).

And so the prank idea was born. Harry dared his father to eat a marshmallow with relish. And when James tried to save his honor by doing it, Harry laughed.

It was that night, when Harry went to bed, that his mother had a feeling. She had to relish her time with him. He would be gone soon. She went up to his room, laid a hand on his forehead, and kissed his scar. He would be gone soon, and she had to make sure he knew he was loved before then. Charlus would understand.

Author's Note: Yes, winter drabble to get to know non-canon!Harry better. That's all. And a sort of prelude to Look for the Good Instead. This is kinda the fuel behind Lily's hysteria in chapter 3. That's all though. Bye!

I dare you to try the marshmallow with relish thing! Really. Heck, if you're an author and you do it, I'll make you a fanart or something. Just for kicks. Please? Look, Harry's doing his best "please put relish on the marshmallows so I can laugh at you! Please?" pout. Come ooooon!