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Harry greets Percival at the door with a kiss and a string of tinsel, which he wraps around Percival’s neck. “Merry almost Christmas.”
“Be warned: I haven’t decorated a Christmas tree in my life,” Percival tells him, but he’s smiling.
“Me neither,” Harry says, pulling Percival along. “That’s why it’s fun.”
Harry had spent the morning choosing the perfect tree. He’d decided on a nice, big evergreen fir, taller than both himself and Percival and with thick, even branches. Without magic, he would’ve had a hell of a time getting it into his flat. It would have been easier to set up the tree in Percival’s house, but Harry’s been resisting Percival’s various offers to move in with him. It’s too early, even for the appeal of the extra space for the tree. But next year...
Next to the tree are various bags and boxes full of ornaments, tinsel, fairy lights, and everything Harry could think of. He’d resisted buying out half the Christmas decorations at the store, but it had been a close one.
“Then let’s get to work,” Percival says, picking up the first box. It’s only after a while that he says, “Tell me what you like about this.”
Harry looks up from where he’s fiddling with the tinsel and trying to get it evenly spread out on the tree. It’s a question phrased like a statement, and Percival’s expression is curious, open.
“Back at Hogwarts, they had these great big Christmas trees in the great hall around this time of year. I’d always stay for the winter holidays, so I’d watch Hagrid drag them inside, and McGonagall and Flitwick decorate. They made all the decorations by magic. I think it was a personal competition for them, not that they’d let on around us students. We weren’t invited to help; not that I would have been much help, with no practice at making ornaments.” Harry takes a step back to admire the tree, deciding the tinsel is finally as he wants it. “My first Christmas at Hogwarts was magical. The next few... There were petrifications, Azkaban breakouts, the Triwizard Tournament, Mr. Weasley getting hurt, the looming war with Voldemort, the actual war with Voldemort... I never got the chance to enjoy the holiday.”
“And before Hogwarts?” Percival asks.
Harry makes a face. He’s talked about the Dursleys a few times when Percival asked about his family, but it’s never been a topic he likes to linger on. As far as Harry’s concerned, he sprung up fully formed when he arrived at Hogwarts, and his time with the Dursleys was just a bad fever dream. Christmas at Hogwarts had been wonderful in comparison to Christmas at the Dursleys’, which Harry was thrilled to never again experience.
“It wasn’t all bad,” Harry replies as he lays the most interesting ornaments in a row, picturing where he’d like to place them on the tree. He tugs at the string of one of them, rotating it to examine the design. “Decorating the tree was a family event, so I wasn’t allowed. I could vacuum next to the tree and put the ornaments back on if they fell. I mostly got hangers and cleaning supplies as my gifts, but we got candy all the time at school in the month leading up to the holiday. When I was seven, we were given blank ball ornaments to decorate for our trees at home. I knew better than to give mine to Aunt Petunia, so I hung mine up my cupboard from the cord you’d tug to turn on the lightbulb. It was like having my very own tree.”
Percival’s embrace is warm, comfortable, and Harry doesn’t need it, but he likes it all the same.
“I could have them dealt with for you,” Percival offers. His voice is measured, the way it often gets when he doesn’t want Harry to know what he’s thinking. Harry assumes that his boyfriend thinks it would scare him off; Harry hasn’t found a way to convince Percival that there’s precious little that Harry fears.
Harry shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll never see any of them again. Now, let my find my I love New York ornaments.”
A few years later, spurred by a momentary curiosity, Harry looks up the Dursleys to see where they are now. He rolls his eyes at what he finds. He should have been more firm with Percival; now he really will never see them again. But it’s early in the morning, and he’s in need of coffee, and the status of the Dursleys’ well-being isn’t a great concern for him. Harry puts them out of his mind.