Coming Home for Christmas
December 1996...
The Hogwarts Express slowed as it reached the terminal at King's Cross Station.
It still felt bewildering for Harry to even be aboard it at all.
Especially with Malachi who – until that summer – had never actually used it, either.
It had never been safe.
Now, though, on this late afternoon in December, he and Malachi stood from their seats in the carriage that they had spent the past few hours – laughing and snuggled in with their girlfriends – as the train gradually came to a stop.
Harry pulled down Daphne's bag from the luggage rack, handing it over to her, before getting his own.
"Who's coming for you?" Daphne asked, curiously, and Harry just knew that she was wondering if it was going to be Snape.
The man becoming a topic of excited discussion amongst all the students at Hogwarts ever since their return to school, three months before.
"Uh – Reg – Mr. Bla – " Harry cleared his throat; "Malachi's dad. He's taking us into London for a bit, first."
He heard Malachi snicker behind them, as they stepped out of the compartment and made their way down the walkway of the carriage.
"Don't know why you still think it's so weird just to call him by his name," Malachi said, as he and Luna followed them, hand-in-hand.
"He was 'Mr. Black' for years."
"You called his brother Sirius."
"Uncle Sirius," Harry corrected him.
Come to think of it, Uncle Regulus sounded a little bit less overly familiar than simply Regulus did.
"I get it," Daphne said, grinning with amusement even as she came to his defence, "I mean, if your stepdad told me to start calling him 'Severus' after knowing him as Professor Snape all that time, I'd find it really weird."
"Ha!" Malachi didn't miss his chance; "Harry doesn't even call him Severus."
Daphne's eyebrows lifted – both she and Luna suddenly looking even more amused than before – as she turned to him; "You don't?"
"Do you refer to him as 'stepfather'?" Luna asked, innocently, to more guffaws from Malachi, who tugged Luna in close to wrap an arm around her shoulders as they stepped off the train onto the platform.
"No," Harry rolled his eyes, taking Daphne's hand as they walked to where they could see Malachi's dad waiting, chatting animatedly to the baby; "I don't call him anything, really. Just 'Sir'."
"Sir," Daphne repeated, bubbles of barely repressed laughter escaping her, while Malachi's snickers became real laughter then.
"Nuts, right?"
"That's what I like to see, smiling faces coming home from school."
Mr. Black greeted them with a wide smile – baby Nicholas, too, who was facing towards them in a carrier – when they reached where he stood.
"Hey, Dad," Malachi smiled, warmly, stepping away from Luna to give him a hug, before he chuckled Nicholas' chin and gave him a kiss on the head, his smile even warmer for his little brother.
"Aw, hi, Nicholas," Daphne cooed – looking just as besotted as Malachi did – and immediately stepped from Harry's embrace to speak to him.
Mr. Black grinned, pulling the baby up and out of the carrier, and plonked Nicholas into Daphne's eager arms.
"Harry," Mr. Black gave him a nod, before turning faux-innocent eyes Luna's way for a second, before looking at Malachi expectantly.
Harry grinned, then, as he realized that the tides of hilarity were about to turn in his own favour, for Malachi had been avoiding this particular meeting for some time.
When Malachi just stared back at his dad, not budging, Mr. Black grinned and held out a hand to her himself.
"You must be Luna."
Luna smiled, taking his hand – as if to shake it – but Malachi's dad gave the back of it a kiss with a flourish, instead, to Malachi's obvious exasperation.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Black," Luna said, smiling with reddened cheeks.
"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Sweetheart," Mr. Black said, releasing her hand, and giving Malachi a wink, "My son has been rather coy with any details. But I must say, that you are even more lovely than I knew you would be."
"Thank you, Mr. Black," Luna beamed at him, smiling widely now – obviously charmed – before she added; "You're very handsome too."
"Oh ho!" Mr. Black beamed right back at her, before clapping Malachi on the shoulder; "Son. I approve!"
Malachi pressed his palms to his face, blushing like mad, while he and Daphne could no longer hold back their hysterics.
And then Nicholas joined in too – with delighted baby giggles, as if understanding the joke – from where he was held in Daphne's arms, which made Malachi drop his hands and look at his little brother, quickly, with surprised delight in his eyes.
Before Malachi rolled his eyes, shooting his dad a look while Mr. Black chuckled, reaching to take Nicholas back into the carrier – settling him in – before he slung another an arm around his son's shoulders and drew him away.
Harry turned to Daphne, as Malachi and Mr. Black walked with Luna in the direction of her dad, where he was also stood waiting.
No doubt so Mr. Black could introduce himself to them, too.
Not that introductions would necessary, considering the way every eye that wasn't on Harry, right now, turned to follow the man's every move, with whispers and nods of greeting as he and Malachi passed.
Daphne gave Harry a coy smile; "Weird having an audience?"
Harry shrugged.
"Mr. Black took some of the eyes away."
He glanced over at one of the beams, before getting a smile, and he tugged her to follow him further across the platform, urging her where to stand.
"Why here?" Daphne asked, managing to both smile and frown as she glanced around them, for they were no more sheltered here than they were where they'd been before.
Harry kept his eyes on hers but pointed upwards between them.
Daphne glanced up, noticing the mistletoe overhead, before she smiled, raising an eyebrow, and met his eyes.
It was that same coy little smile of hers that he loved bringing to her face.
"Oh? It'd be all over the papers."
Harry grinned and shrugged.
"So."
He tugged her in closer and kissed her then and there – ignoring the 'awws' of the nosey people looking – and just enjoyed the simple normality of kissing his girlfriend goodbye for Christmas, in the middle of a packed King's Cross Station.
Daphne drew back first, though she remained close, and her smile turned impish rather than coy then.
"Well. Have a good Christmas with your mum and your sister. And your 'Sir'."
Harry chuckled, nodding; "I will. It's our first one."
"I know it is," Daphne raised her eyebrows; "Enjoy it."
Harry smiled.
Determined that he would.
Muggles were packed, shoulder to shoulder, within the carriage as the train hurtled with a screech through the underground tunnel.
The tube.
There was always that rush – that impatience – amongst them, as they waited and poured in and out at each stop – sometimes barely a minute apart – but, as December wore on, the anticipation was heightened.
Angry voices, jolly voices and singing in the tunnels as they made their way up the escalators to the streets.
People jostling and barking at one another in their rush to ascend.
Regulus was used to all of this now.
They stepped out onto the street at Hyde Park Corner and made their way to the fair.
It was a tradition, long standing for himself and his son – the Christmas celebrations in Hyde Park – but with the festivities – literally – on their doorstep, now, it seemed foolish not to take advantage.
Snow was falling – not lying, for footfall was quickly turning it to slosh – and merry Christmas music played – carried on the chilly breeze from within the park – and there was the laughter and the singing and the heckles of muggles, as the three of them – Nicholas in tow, napping, now, in his carrier – stepped on into the crowd and made their way through, to the corridors of market stalls that lined the pavements.
The three of them spent the next couple of hours lost in the festivities, full of teasing and laughter, as the poked and prodded at the items for sale – and one another – encouraging each other to try on this silly hat, and that ugly scarf, or pick a gift and who'd it make you think of, before they munched on various savory snacks that were adorned on skewers and chocolate covered marshmallows and pieces of fruit.
Nicholas reached up, eagerly – eyes wide with delight – for the piece of strawberry Regulus held in front of him, when his dad turned him back to face the celebrations when he awoke.
"Three mulled wines, please," Malachi said, when they reached the front of the beverage line some time later.
"Make those virgin mulled wines, Sweetheart. Two," Regulus winked at the girl behind the stall, while Malachi rolled his eyes.
"Coming right up," the girl said, with a bright smile, as she stepped away.
"So, tell me, Son," Regulus put an arm around his shoulders; "How'd you like your new Head of House? Same as mine, y'know."
"Slughorn? Oh, I know," Malachi rolled his eyes; "He doesn't shut up about you."
"Is that right?"
"Mhm. He even keeps a picture of you," Malachi shot Harry a smirk; "And Harry's mum."
Regulus chuckled, nodding; "That sounds like Slughorn."
"Two mulled wines," the girl reappeared, with full steaming mugs that Regulus took one at a time, handing each over – careful of Nicholas, still in his carrier – first to Harry, and then to Malachi, whose eyes twinkled as he smirked at him.
"Thank you, Sir."
Harry rolled his eyes, elbowing Malachi in the side, while Regulus shot him a look, as he handed over the muggle money to the girl.
"Watch it, you."
The boys erupted into snickers – the cheeky little sods – as they made their way further into the market.
"Didn't you say Julia wanted to invite Draco for Christmas?" Malachi asked, as they bumped their way through the crowd – the boys sheltering their mugs, while Regulus sheltered his excited baby son – and he nodded.
"Oh, we did. Got a letter last week. Grateful, of course, but he made it clear in his letter that he'd much rather spend the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts…" Regulus said, before he added with a grin; "With 'Remus'."
"Remus? Wow," Malachi's eyebrows lifted; "Funny, never even really thought about Professor Lupin and him getting close like that."
"Well, he is family now. The husband of the new Mrs. Nymphadora Lupin, in case you've forgotten that glorious event this summer," Regulus pointed out, before he perked up as they reached the fairground, "Aha. Did you boys bring your letters to the North Pole? Grotto over there, could go and have a sit on Santa's lap?"
Harry laughed while Malachi snickered, shaking his head into his mug while he carried on sipping, the two of them sharing a look that said – oh, what a true embarrassment his father is! – which only made Regulus laugh, heartily, along with them.
"Of course, no need!" Regulus went on, before reaching up and taking Nicholas' little hands in his, doing a little dance; "Got our own Little Saint Nick here to celebrate with."
The boys laughed more fully then – Nicholas giggling along with them – before Regulus nodded at the line for the Ferris Wheel.
"London by Christmas Lights, now that is a sight to behold!"
Before long, they were riding in one of the passenger cars, Regulus pointing out all of the city sights to Nicholas when they reached and stopped at the highest height – his youngest completely delighted by the movement of the fairground ride – while Harry and Malachi chatted away, animatedly, on the bench opposite.
Regulus had always been amazed – ever since he'd been brought here as a child – by the lights and the festive splendor of the Christmas decorations that adorned the streets and the market and the shop windows whenever December rolled around.
This year, however, Regulus had a particular appreciation for it. For the effort that it must have taken the muggles to light up the city for the occasion.
An appreciation brought about, of course, by the fact that he, himself, had thought it would be incredibly romantic to scatter the bed sheets and hallways with rose petals and light his and Julia's bedroom up with hundreds of candles to mark the occasion of their first night alone together – Lily and Severus offering to take Nicholas for a night in September – following the birth of their son.
A task which, as a wizard, would have taken a second – a simple tilt of his chin – but, as a newly-made muggle – for he much preferred that term to squib – this simple task had taken far longer than anticipated.
And Regulus was certain that was not only due to the fact he'd only bought one pack of matches – so he had to lift each carefully placed candle back up after lighting the first hundred to light the rest – the entire undertaking taking so long that Julia had ended up falling asleep on the couch waiting.
He had insisted Julia carry on sleeping when she roused to join him, knowing that she was particularly exhausted during those early days of parenthood – and that they did, in fact, have many more nights to look forward to – so, he had got a blanket and simply joined her, the two of them falling asleep snuggled up on the couch as they'd done in those blissful early days together.
After he'd spent another half hour blowing out all the bloody candles, one by one, of course.
He had promptly headed into Covent Garden the next morning, while Julia had gone to collect Nicholas from Lily, and bought a mound of fairy lights that he set up in the bedroom, ready for next time.
"Wait, isn't that where you live?" Harry pointed to the row of townhouses, easily visible from where they were suspended in the air.
"Yeah," Malachi shrugged, as the Ferris Wheel started back up again and they made a swooping descent; "You've been in it, mind?"
"Once. At night," Harry pointed out; "I didn't realise it was so close to everything!"
"Dad insisted," Malachi said, giving a coo and a smile to Nicholas, to his baby brother's delight.
"Oh yes," Regulus admitted it; "The hustle and bustle of city life always was a soft spot for me, boys."
"Wait, did you get that muggle thing set up?" Malachi asked, his eyes suddenly lighting up with obvious recollection; "With the games?"
Regulus made a show of thinking about it; "Hm. I think you'd have to ask Santa Clause."
Malachi shot him a look, a smile playing on his lips.
"It's Father Christmas," Malachi pointed out.
"Santa Clause is the preferred term amongst my current circle of peers, isn't that right, Little Sprout? All the ladies talk about, these days, at our 'Mummy and me' groups –" Regulus said, to bubbles of laughter; "Yes. It's up and running – had seem help from good old Steve – though good luck trying to navigate that thing, you two."
"Who's Steve?" Harry frowned.
"Neighbor next door," Malachi said, with a shrug; "Can we go now? To the house?"
The Ferris Wheel came to a halt and they disembarked, as Malachi eagerly went on; "We could play it a bit before Harry has to go home?"
Regulus grinned, before handing over the key; "You two go on ahead. I promised Nicholas here a little ride on the carousel."
Malachi laughed and rolled his eyes, before he took the house key – which Harry looked at as if it were a great novelty, indeed – and the boys headed off in the direction of the gates while Regulus took Nicholas' little hands in his once more – doing another dance with his arms, making him giggle – as he stepped further into the crowd.
Entirely at ease amongst the festive, celebrating muggles.
It was late by the time Julia dropped Harry off at the house, for the new muggle thing that Malachi had gotten – which Mr. Black hadn't been able to sort out that summer – was completely awesome.
A play station.
So much so that when Malachi had suggested Harry just spend the night, Harry couldn't help but immediately say yes – determined that he would beat Malachi at this game – and Julia quickly sent off a message to his mum that he'd be back the next morning, if that was alright.
But, as the night wore on, guilt set in, knowing his mum and – especially – Grace would be disappointed that he'd delayed his return.
Even if his mum had sent back a message saying that was no problem at all.
And, so, here he was.
Walking through the door into an almost completely silent house, just after eleven.
Harry cleared his throat, calling out into the unexpected darkness; "Um – hello?"
The silence dragged on and Harry shrugged – wondering if he ought to have just stayed at Malachi's – but it was too late to be disappointed by his choice to return, now, so he headed in and lit up the room, taking in the familiar surroundings.
Mostly, it all looked the same.
But there were the odd few differences, here and there, that had slowly begun to spring up throughout those blissful summer days before Harry had returned to school.
Differences such as the chair situated by the fireplace and the side table next to it – that hadn't been there before – adorned with a pile of very serious-looking books.
Daddy's spot, Grace called it.
And a new bookshelf by the nook, filled with even more serious-looking books.
And there was a new picture sitting upon the mantle.
The one that had previously been of just three of them now replaced by one of the four – of he, and Grace, with his mum and Snape – taken just days following the final fall of Voldemort, at his mum and Snape's wedding.
If it could be called that, Harry thought to himself, with a smirk as he stepped further into the room, dropping his bag down on the floor.
There were already some Christmas decorations up. Not all of them yet. Just a few garlands and some candles and even the tree was up – undecorated – in front of the window, ready and waiting for them.
The coffee table had books and leaflets and parchment and crayons scattered upon it.
Harry smiled when he saw a picture drawn in amongst the mess of a Christmas tree and four figures – obviously them – beside it, that Grace had made.
And then his eyes perked up and he reached down to lift and glance at one of the other items – a program – which seemed to be of the launch convention that Harry realized had taken place that afternoon.
The reason it had been Mr. Black who'd been at the train station to greet him.
Harry's eyes found his mum's name amongst the listings – knowing her project was one of those being proposed – and he smiled when he found it.
Mrs. Lily P. Snape.
Harry guessed that was where they were.
That, maybe, Grace had gone to stay with Tonks – for she was still Tonks to them all, despite her own nuptials that summer.
Harry lifted his bag and headed up the stairs.
He was at the door to his room, in the darkness, when a voice behind him spoke, making him jump.
"I see you have decided to grace us with your presence this evening, after all."
Harry rolled his eyes when he realized, immediately, who it was, and turned to face him, pursing his lips to hold back a smile.
Snape.
Standing outside the door to his mum's – their – bedroom.
In his nightclothes.
It wasn't the first time Harry had seen that, obviously – they'd lived together all summer – but it was still a bewildering sight to behold.
One that Harry wasn't quite used to yet.
"Oh. Hi," Harry smiled.
Snape flicked his wand and the hallway lit up, making Harry flinch a bit.
"Um. Is mum still at that convention?"
"Indeed. She decided to return to partake in the evening festivities upon receiving your message."
Harry realized Snape must have stayed for Grace – could hear the little snuffling snores of his sister from the slight gap of her bedroom door now that he was upstairs – and felt sheepish, once more.
"Sorry, I…"
Harry hesitated, not entirely sure that saying he had wanted to stay so that he and Malachi could continue to indulge in playing muggle video games all night would be a good enough excuse for Snape for turning up so late. Or, rather, not turning up at all.
But Snape didn't look mad.
If anything, he just looked – a little bit – pleased to see him.
"Was Grace upset?"
"I am quite certain your sister will find a way to ensure her brother makes up for the disappointment."
Harry chuckled, nodding, as he glanced at Grace's ajar bedroom door; "Yeah. I bet."
Snape continued to just regard him – a little bit warmly, a little bit uncertainly, as if neither of them really knew how to greet one another after this relatively short time apart – before the man simply gave him a nod.
"Well."
Snape turned, making to return to bed.
"Um…Sir?" Harry almost cringed at the title, after Malachi's teasing all day, but Snape turned as if that were entirely normal, meeting his eyes.
And Harry felt himself relax then, at the warm enquiry in the man's eyes; reminding him that they'd spent three months together that summer, during which Harry had quite determinedly considered him family – and he knew that Snape had felt the same – and then he smiled.
For he knew Snape would take the lead from him, rather than the other way around on this.
"It's good to see you."
Snape's lips twitched a little – that almost smile that Harry was extremely familiar with now – before he simply said:
"Goodnight, Harry."
And the two of them headed into their own respective rooms.
Harry certain he got the glimpse of an unhindered, genuine smile on the man's face, as he slipped back into the dark.
The next few days passed in a haze of excitement, in the lead up to their first Christmas together.
As the family they'd all keenly dreamed of.
Grace woke Harry at the crack of dawn when she'd, somehow, learned of his return – no doubt by intending to snoop in his room thinking that he wasn't about – and they'd had a quickly gobbled down breakfast before either Snape or their mum had even woken up, before – as soon as Harry had finished the last spoonful of porridge that he'd made them – he was dragged out into the freshly-fallen snow by his delighted little sister.
"It's been snowing, Harry!"
The two of them played in it as if they were both still little kids – which Harry couldn't help but become, often, under the playful antics of his sister – and they made snow angels and flung snowballs at one another before quickly putting together a snowman.
Followed by a snowwoman.
And two snowkids.
All at Grace's insistence.
"It's us!" Grace declared, smiling widely at their creation as Harry stepped back up beside her with the items she'd sent him back into the house for.
"Here, I brought the carrots –" Harry dumped the crate on the ground; " – wait, Grace, that one's all bent and crooked."
Harry tried to stop her, as she made to stick it into the head of the tallest snowman.
"I like this one, it's the best one, see," Grace pointed to the crooked bump; "It's like Daddy's real nose!"
Harry couldn't help it, he laughed and laughed, relieved that it was just the two of them out there as Grace stuck the crooked carrot into the snowman's head and called him Mr. Snape, before wrapping a black scarf around its neck.
They weren't alone for long – his mum and Snape joining them – the new arrivals making themselves known when his mum tossed a snowball at Harry in lieu of a hug of greeting.
Her attack triggered another snowball fight that Snape daren't deign to join in with, but Harry could see – from the glimpses cast his way – the way his lips would twitch in those occasional little smiles as he watched the three of them frolicking in the snow, with a contentedness in his expression that was almost beginning to become as familiar as those almost-smiles.
The hot chocolate station came a couple of days later.
After all the snowball fights and the gingerbread house decorating and the Christmas crafting that Grace had insisted they do had taken place.
"But…if your Uncle Sirius used to do this with you, how come we've never done this before?" Grace asked, as she and Harry set up the marshmallows and sprinkles on the table.
Harry shrugged, sheepishly, not really knowing how to answer that. How it had, at first, simply fallen away in the years that followed losing Sirius. Harry only reminded, once more, when he'd spent Christmas at Mr. Black and Malachi's. The dreadful year that he hadn't seen his sister at all over the festive period.
And it wasn't as if he and his mum were any mood to celebrate Christmas last year. What with Dumbledore's death and everything.
Harry unscrewed and held open the jar of marshmallows, that Grace eagerly took a handful of, determined that this Christmas would make up for all the terrible ones that had passed by them more recently.
"Been saving it 'till you're ready for it, Grace," Harry nudged her, making her smile, before he capped and put the jar back on the table; "Bringing back the old traditions seemed like a good idea. Now we've got your dad back with us and everything."
Grace smiled – though her excitement at every mention of Snape had dwindled somewhat, now that he was finally a permanent fixture in day-to-day life – before she pointed to the mug with the reindeer, and Harry set about making her a hot chocolate; "What's traditions?"
"Something you do time and again, whenever Christmas – or special events – come about."
"Like decorating the tree?"
"Mhm."
"And…"
"Presents. Baking cookies. Making those Christmas cards we did. And decorating the gingerbread house. Anything, really, like what we've been doing."
Grace grinned.
"I like traditions. We've always done those things, though. We should ask Mummy and Daddy if we can make a new one, just us four!"
Harry smiled and told her that they would.
And that was how they ended up walking through the streets the following night, in the dark, eyes seeking out all the Christmas lights in the windows and the gardens of the neighbours.
For that was the only Christmas tradition that Snape could think of from memory.
And Harry couldn't help but notice that he struggled to come up with even that one.
"Look, Daddy, there's a Santa's Sleigh all lit up over there!" Grace pointed, from where she was up on Harry's back.
"So it is."
"It's pretty, isn't it?"
"Very much so."
Harry glanced over at Snape as he said it, noticing his eyes were warm and his expression almost light as he held his mum's hand, the four of them walking along together as the snow began to fall once more.
His mum was delighted – for she loved the snow – that they were forecast to have a white Christmas in Yorkshire, for the first time in years.
The star for the tree and the stockings came last, on Christmas Eve.
"Daddy! The new tree's so big, you're going to have to put the star on."
Snape stepped away from his mum and made his way over to where Grace stood with Harry – the silver star clutched in her hand – but rather than taking it from her when he reached them, he hoisted Grace up into the air – making her laugh – and held her up to the tree for her to put it on.
Harry chuckled, sharing a smile with his mum, as Grace was plonked back down on her feet beside him.
Grace frowned, tilting her head as she looked at where the star had been placed upon the highest bough; "We should've got the one that lights up."
Snape glanced at her, where he still stood at the tree, and then he flicked his wand.
The star started to sparkle.
Grace giggled, sharing a delighted look with Harry, before looking back at Snape over her shoulder.
"Daddy. Why do we put a star on the tree?"
Snape was silent for a moment.
"Because the stars guide people to where they need to be."
Grace looked thoughtful at that, before she looked at Harry, getting a slow smile. And then she turned back to the star and lifted up a hand, waving at it.
"Hi, Sirius."
Harry laughed, and then he felt his mum's hand on his shoulder – giving it a squeeze as her lips pressed to his cheek – before Grace slipped from their side and hurried up to the table for the last items in the box.
"Stockings go up last!"
Grace handed them all out. First, the three tatty tartan stockings, well-worn, that had been going up on the mantle for years and then the newer, fresher one, with 'Daddy' stitched into the top, that Snape's eyes lingered upon for a second – almost reverently - before they attached each of them to spots on the fireplace.
Harry smiled to himself as he looked at them – noticed his mum doing the same – before he felt Grace's hand take and tug on his hand.
Barely giving them any time to really bask in all of this, in her youthful excitement at the festivities.
"Come on!"
She grabbed Snape's hand too, pulling them both to the door.
"I can hear the bells, Mummy! Quickly, get the food for the reindeer."
His mum laughed and accioed the jar, as the four of them came out onto the doorstep of the house.
Grace hurried down the snow-covered path, sprinkling the sparkly seed mixture, while – sure enough – bells could be heard ringing in the distance, before she finished up and hurried back to where they stood.
"You've never been here for Christmas before, Daddy," Grace remarked, innocently, as she reached them.
Her eyes bright and her cheeks rosy from the chill in the air.
Snape nodded, only once; "That I haven't."
"Will you be here in the morning? For the presents?" Grace asked, seeming to think the fact he was there too good to be true.
Something that Harry kind of thought, too.
"I will."
Grace smiled, brightly, before she stepped up to stand where they stood and as Harry moved aside to make way for her, he caught Snape's eyes.
The two of them sharing a look that told him that Snape felt the same. That, somehow, they were all sharing in a dream that they'd all had but had always felt out of reach.
A fantasy.
Except, it wasn't that anymore.
All of this was real.
Harry smiled at him. Awarded, to his surprise, by a small smile from Snape in turn.
Maybe Harry was just dreaming.
He felt his mum's arms come up and around him and Grace as they stood and listened and – Harry was sure – Snape's arm was somewhere around them, too.
The four of them lingering on the doorstep of home, on their eve of their first Christmas as a family, as fresh flurries of snow began to fall.
Malachi kept his face hidden behind the stocking for another second, before letting it drop.
"Boo!"
Nicholas burst into thrilled giggles, delighting Malachi once again with the sound.
He'd only just heard his baby brother's laughter for the first time recently – at the start of these holidays – with Nicholas still being so little when he'd set off back to school at the end of the summer.
Malachi reached over, giving him an affectionate tickle, before he adjusted one of the – several – pillows that he'd arranged in a semi-circle around the back of where Nicholas was sitting. For Malachi always was a bit of a worrywart, it seemed, whenever his dad and Julia asked him to watch him for a bit.
Nicholas' eyes followed him, eagerly, obviously keen to carry on with the game and Malachi – helpless to resist – lifted the Christmas stocking back up to hide his face for another game of peek-a-boo in the living room of the new townhouse that they'd all moved into just at the beginning of August.
It had been strange, at first, to live in London.
The hustle and bustle of city life on their doorstep a complete culture shock to him, after spending years and years in the country or along the quiet coastal villages or amongst the trees.
Hidden.
But his dad and Julia had given Malachi the choice, first, to choose where they'd settle down. And he knew, from the hesitant looks in their eyes, that what they were really asking him was if he wanted to go back to Crail.
That they'd loved it as much as Malachi had.
It had been on the tip of his lips – yes, for the place was home – but he knew, even then, that the sounds of the waves and the crisp Scottish breeze would only make him think of her.
So, he told his dad no. Not Crail. He'd go wherever else his dad and Julia wanted.
And – after mutters between them and jokes that Malachi wasn't entirely sure were actually jokes about Paris – they'd decided on London.
And, so, to London the Blacks went.
His dad loved it here.
While Malachi, feeling like it was all just an extended holiday or something at first, had found himself asking his dad on their third night here why.
"Hm. Well. City's always felt like home, I suppose."
Whenever his dad went out, he'd leave and return with a smile on his face – in his element amongst the crowds and the noise and the rush – and Malachi quickly got used to it.
The sight of his dad's unhindered happiness.
He'd been sick of hiding, too.
And within just a few short weeks – there, with his dad and his stepmum and his baby brother – London had started to feel like home to him too.
And then he'd gone back to Hogwarts.
More reluctant than ever.
Malachi dropped the stocking.
"Boo!"
Nicholas erupted into fits of delighted giggles once again – before toppling over onto the pillows with mirth this time, making Malachi extremely glad he'd put them there – and he laughed, too, helpless under his little brother's joy and he leaned over to help him sit back up opposite him on the rug in front of the fireplace.
"Listen to that, Wife –"
Malachi looked up, seeing his dad and Julia coming into the room – his dad's arms wrapped around her from behind with his chin propped on her shoulder – as he grinned.
" – our boys are in their element this year. Can't beat the sound of a house full of kids' laughter on Christmas Eve, am I right?"
His dad wiggled his eyebrows – as if there was a shared unspoken joke between them – while Julia shot his dad an amused look and shrugged him off with a smile.
"We gonna get these stockings up, hm?" Julia said, giving Malachi a wink as she reached the two of them, reaching down to lift up Nicholas – who held his arms out towards her – onto her hip; "This little man is already up way past his bedtime."
"Only you could keep him smiling through the witching hour, Son," his dad remarked, clapping Malachi on the shoulder as he got to his feet.
Malachi laughed, nodding – remembering those wails – and made to hand over the stocking he and Nicholas had been playing with.
"No, no," his dad held up a hand, before handing over one of the three he held, "You put up your little brother's. And yours."
It seemed kind of silly, to be so thrilled about hanging up stockings, of all things, especially considering he was hardly a kid, anymore – sixteen in a few months – but, still, Malachi did feel the thrill as he went over and attached his own and then Nicholas' to the middle of the mantlepiece.
His dad and Julia hung theirs up on either side.
"With this precious act complete, we can officially declare it Christmas Eve and this home ready for Father Christmas," Julia announced, to their chuckles, before she gave Malachi a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Going to feed this one –" she said as she nuzzled into Nicholas' cheek, to more delighted giggles, " – see you both in a while. Marshmallows and cream."
His dad smiled and nodded at the reminded hot chocolate preferences, as Julia headed from the room with Nicholas in her arms, leaving Malachi and his dad in front of the fireplace.
His dad eyed the stockings, appraisingly.
Malachi frowned, watching him.
"What?"
His dad shrugged, looking contemplative.
"Looks a bit crowded, don't you think?"
Malachi glanced back at it.
At what Malachi, quite frankly, thought looked fantastic.
The mantle that was adorned with a pinecone and berry garland – several lit, long candles sticking up from amongst the branches – and four Christmas stockings which hung below, above the fire, with each of their names – Malachi, Nicholas, Mummy and Daddy – stitched into the fabric.
Malachi grinned and rolled his eyes.
"You're the one that wanted those stockings," Malachi pointed out; "I told you. They're too big."
His dad made a face, shaking his head.
"We need a bigger mantle."
"We don't need a bigger mantle, Dad."
"Oh, I assure you, we do."
"What, especially for Christmas?"
His dad grinned then, his eyes still on the stockings, before he nodded.
"Mhm. That's right."
"That's mad."
"Is it?" his dad looked at him, innocently – but he had that twinkle in his eyes, making Malachi pause – before his dad flung an arm around Malachi's shoulders and drew him closer; "I disagree. Want to know why?"
Malachi eyed him, at his side; "Why?"
"Well, because next year…"
His dad started to laugh.
Happy, joyful – teasing – laughter, before he gave a little shrug.
" – we're going to be hanging another stocking."
Malachi simply stared at him for a second.
At his dad's delighted, beaming smile – a little chuckle escaping him while his eyes twinkled – and then Malachi smiled.
Smiled for a second, before he started laughing too.
Their joyful laughter carrying throughout the house while, beyond the windows, bells ringing and carolers singing could be heard floating up to them from the streets below.
The uplifting, merry sounds of Christmas time at home.
Author's Note: I just couldn't resist a Christmas Fic for these guys (and a little peek into their future!)
Happy Holidays to all you guys who've found this one!