Christmas Eve was cold and snowy, as Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, watching the snow fall down, sparkling in the cruel winter sun. He'd hated days like this at the Dursleys' - he couldn't hide outside, and, worse yet, they knew it. So, whenever they needed a buttmonkey, he was there. "HARRY!" Dudley'd cry, and Harry had to come, he just had to. Even for punches "for good luck" - the bruises certainly didn't give anything of the sort.

Hogwarts was lonely on Winter Break - there were teachers, sure, but they were grading papers, or otherwise enjoying a bit of privacy. Harry'd buried himself in the library, reading as much as he could - for once, he only needed to dodge Pence's quiet presence, so he got a lot of reading done, and was already considering the moves he'd need to become an animagus.*

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The next day dawned cold, and Harry hadn't wanted to get out of bed, not even for breakfast. So it was halfway through the morning (when he finally convinced himself he couldn't sleep more) that he got up and saw he had presents.

Ron's... mother? Had sent Harry a present. Not Ron himself (of course), but then again, Harry hadn't sent anyone anything. He hadn't really expected anything.

Oh, and there was a letter from... Aunt Petunia. Harry braced himself for a moment, remembering some of what Uncle Vernon had often said to him. Inside there was a fifty pence coin, and a simple note, "This was hers." Harry smiled, and tried to imagine what his mum would have done with the coin. Why she'd kept it, because most people just spent coinage, nothing of significance. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have just sent him something without any sentimental value... would she? No, the remarkable part was that Aunt Petunia had kept the coin. Aunt Petunia had never struck Harry as the nostalgic or sentimental type. Still, Harry thought, she was her sister.

Hermione Granger had gotten him a book on the Potters, with a sketched out family tree stretching into the fifth generation. Interestingly enough, Malfoy was Harry's second cousin. Harry wrinkled his nose at that fact. Really, who'd want to be related to that massive git?

Everyone else from his dorm room had given chocolates to Harry, which made him vaguely uncomfortable. Did that mean Ron didn't have the money...?

Harry hadn't got anyone anything. Still, he was finished with his homework, and he had plenty of time to create something special.

And then Harry found the final present - a box, with a suspicious handwriting on it, that he didn't recognize, "To Harry Potter, from Santa Claus." Harry frowned, and started to cast detection spells. Not that he would trust himself with determining that it was safe. He just wanted to catch it if he could. He must have spent a full hour casting spells, including a full book consultation four times.

Nothing. Off to McGonagall it went, Harry thought as he wrapped it in his blanket.

*No, not for a while yet. He plans. It's ridiculous for a first year to become an animagus. And he's NOT a prodigy. Studies a lot, sure, but that's That.

[a/n: Harry's Heart's Desire was actually a hug from Snape. Just because it's what his heart wants, doesn't mean he'll recognize it if it stared him in the face (you know, like out of a mirror!).

More reviews gets you more story. Up Next: Malfoy and McGonagall!]