Holiday Special

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956428

The Burrow was alight with cheerful colours. Gold tassels and garlands, multicolored baubles, red and green wreaths, pixies charmed to sing Christmas carols, garden gnomes wearing little hats, etc. The work.

It was the first proper Christmas since old Voldy had canned it for good (the one just after the Battle didn't count, there still had been too much to be done then), and Molly had outdone herself. The Yorskshire pudding had been spectacular, as had been the cranberry sauce.

Though a shadow flitted on the plump witch's features when she had distributed the traditional jumpers and gave one she had knit for Fred to Severus (the yellow F transformed seamlessly into a phoenix), the valiant matriarch had been determined to celebrate the new era of peace.

All the guests had fallen in stride with their host's upbeat mood; eating the magnificent food with gusto, toasting abundantly with butterbeer and stronger spirits, and reprising Celestina Warbeck's tremulous refrains from the radio in unison.

Food coma had been achieved at around half past ten, the Grangers — their memories restored and delighted at everything on their first visit to a magical household — having lasted the longest while digging into the Christmas pudding that was soaked with elf brandy.

It was nearing midnight, and their little crowd had moved out to the garden. They sat, with drinks in hand, in mismatched chairs disorderly sprawled about under a magically heated canopy. Candles floated, and the radio jazzed. Ron and George had promised fireworks.

The chorus of carols were getting bawdier by the minute. Now that everyone in the Weasley family was of age, and Teddy not old enough to understand yet, even Molly was letting her hair down. She was currently bawling a limerick version of A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.

Harry bottomed up his — was it the seventh or twelveth? — glass of wine: a toast from Bill to Fleur's pregnancy, and excused himself. He really needed the loo.

When he returned to the garden from inside the house, the cold water he had splashed his face with having dimmed his ethylic buzz somewhat, he cast his eyes about to look for his lover.

Unsurprisingly, Severus wasn't under the canopy with the rest of the festive pack.

A lone dark silhouette barely distinguishable by moonlight, he was leaning under the protruding roof of Arthur's garden shed.

Harry redirected his steps toward the dark-haired and dark-robed man.

"Sorry I left you on your own. Bill's ecstatic. It's Frederic for a boy, and Victoire if it's a girl," Harry said as he stepped into the pocket of warm air Severus had charmed around himself. He sneaked his arms around his lover's waist.

Severus only tensed up a fraction before leaning into Harry's grasp. "Don't be. You deserve the cheer. And I wanted some air by myself," he replied mildly.

The retired teacher and spy, whose frown lines were too deep for a man yet to turn forty, looked good. Relaxed, with his hair slightly mussed. He too had a few glasses of wine, having been toasted by everybody present.

Though he had spoken little, Severus had been remarkably gracious since their arrival over three hours earlier. He had sat next to Harry at the table and had tasted a bit of every dish, paying an appropriate compliment each time. Molly's gift had been politely accepted, and he had presented one of his own: a potion that would allow George to mend his ear. Molly's eyes had teared up.

Sometimes Harry had difficulty deciphering Severus' behavior, but tonight he knew the man he loved so much was making an effort for his sake's. The fact that he was allowed to embrace him publicly was another evidence to that.