word count: 670

Harry isn't surprised to find his youngest kids still up at eleven on Christmas Eve, though Albus looks particularly disgruntled. Still, Harry knows Albus wouldn't deny his little sister anything.

Lily has a telescope out (taken, no doubt, from James' room) and peers through it while Albus sits beside her, chin resting in the palms of his hands, looking out the window at the moon.

"And what are you two still doing awake?" Harry asks, fighting back a laugh when his kids startle at his voice.

"I just want to go to bed," Albus groans, "but Lily says we have to stay up and look for Santa."

"Daddy!" Lily climbs to her feet and hurries forward, wrapping her arms around Harry. "When will Santa be here? I want to see him."

Harry clears his throat. Ginny usually handles this, but she's in bed sick with something that Pepperup seems to be useless against. Sometimes Harry realizes that he's still a bit out of his depth. He loves his kids, and he thinks he's a pretty good dad. Still, he doesn't always know what to do. After a little over a decade of having kids, he would have thought he would be better equipped for these little odds and ends moments that come with raising them. He isn't, and all he can do is sputter and hope for the best.

"Well… You see, Lily… Er…"

Albus rolls his eyes. "I feel like my brain is about to slip out of my ear," he says. "Just say you don't know, Dad."

Lily's bright and cheerful expression falters, replaced by a look of disappointment that shatters Harry's heart. With a sigh, Harry scoops his daughter into his arms.

"I don't know," he explains, "because Santa won't come until everyone is asleep."

"Can we leave him cookies?" Lily asks. "Aunt Hermione brought some cookies, and we didn't eat them all! If we give Santa cookies, maybe he'll bring really good presents."

Harry chuckles. He wonders if his childhood could have been more like this, if he could have had warm holiday memories. Instead, he spent so many Christmases in that little cupboard, listening to Dudley unwrap his presents, never getting anything more than a pair of socks. All he can do now is make sure his kids have a magical holiday, always so full of love and joy.

He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose and sets her back on the floor. "Of course. Leave him some milk too. I'm sure all this traveling makes him thirsty."

And with that, Lily bolts from the living room. Albus sighs, clearly not impressed by his sister's antics, but dawdles along behind her. Harry watches in amusement, shaking his head. He hopes those two stay this close forever.

By the time the two return with cookies and milk, Lily's eyes look a little heavier, and she fights back a yawn. Harry chuckles. "I think it's about time for you two to get some sleep," he says.

Lily takes his hand, squeezing it. "Tell me a story?"

"Tomorrow. I promise. But I need to go to bed too so Santa can come," Harry tells her.

She pokes out her lower lip in a ridiculous, adorable pout, but she doesn't protest. With a huff, she folds her arms over her chest. "Fine. But you gotta tuck me in, okay?"

Harry reaches down and ruffles her hair. "Deal. Now, go get in bed. I'll be there in a few minutes."

This time, it's Albus who hurries off. Lily lingers a little longer, like Harry will suddenly change his mind if she just takes her time. Finally, she disappears from the living room, and Hary is left alone, unable to resist a grin. One day, Lily will be too old for this, and all Harry will have are the memories of playing Santa making the holidays special.

For now, though, he still has these moments, these dear, sweet, perfect moments. And he wouldn't trade them for the world.