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“Harry,” Tom said from the kitchen as he flicked his wand, filling two mugs with hot tea. Into Harry’s he directed two cubes of sugar and a splash of milk. His, he had plain.
“Harry,” he called again as the tea swirled in a perfect little vortex within the mugs. Tom’s mug was a respectable green with a single silver stripe along the rim. Harry’s though…
He eyed it with distaste. It was monstrously red with little snitches flapping merrily upon it. They were in complete disarray, half the time bumping into each other and flopping over in small piles of quivering gold and helpless wings. Tom glared a little and the snitches slunk around to the other side of the mug, leaving the spot facing him blissfully blank.
He paused for a moment, but all he could hear was the obnoxious music and horrendous dialogue coming from one of those disgustingly muggle Christmas movies that Harry insisted on watching every year. His lip curled a little.
He levitated the mugs behind him as he strode to the living room. The tree was lit, twinkling merrily with enchanted fairies that giggled and gossiped more than they glowed, and shining glass baubles that Tom had picked in silver and green. There were a few unfortunate red ones scattered sporadically around the tree as well, but Tom didn’t mind too much, since those ones were Harry’s.
The obnoxious whispering increased as he approached the tree and he turned and glared. The fairies giggled and fled to the top of the tree where they hovered, still pointing at him every few moments. Honestly, this was the last time Tom would let Harry choose what enchantment to place on the figures. He didn’t care if it was all the rage that year — he refused to allow such obnoxious magic in their home again.
“Your tea, Harry,” he announced as he stepped into the room. It was Christmas morning and it was their tradition to drink their tea on the couch instead of at the table as was proper. Only this year, Harry seemed to have replaced their morning together with a movie. Tom frowned. In a few hours they would have to go spend time with the families, so this was the only time they would have in the quiet for a while.
Harry didn’t move as Tom stepped closer, his eyes still glued to the screen of the television, and Tom’s frown deepened. He stepped up behind the couch and reached over, dangling the mug in front of Harry.
Hands reached up to grasp the proffered mug even as Harry’s head moved sideways so that he could keep watching the movie, unobscured by Tom’s arm. The snitches on the mug fluttered happily around Harry’s hand as he lifted it to his lips, taking a sip without blinking as the television flashed its merry scenes.
“How is it?” Tom asked after a few moments. “It’s a new blend.”
Harry made a small noise and then took another sip, but his eyes never wavered from the moving pictures and Tom found himself scowling. He floated his mug over to the far side table and then stepped around the couch, taking his time as he blocked Harry’s view of the television. The green-eyed boy made a sound of protest, shifting to see around Tom.
Deliberately moving closer, Tom sat down, shifting until Harry was pressed against the arm of the couch, making the boy shift until he was partially seated on Tom’s lap to avoid being squished. Harry made a grumbling sound, but remained riveted by the movie. The main character was bending on one knee, proposing in the snow, and oh Merlin, Tom wanted to gag at just how sappy it all was.
Instead, though, he reached over and put his arm around Harry’s shoulder, his fingers playing with the collar of Harry’s shirt, sometimes brushing against the skin of his neck. Harry shivered a little and took another sip of his tea, but did not even look at Tom.
Annoyance flared and Tom reached up to brush his fingers through Harry’s hair, messing it up. Today was one of the few days Harry actually put effort into taming his hair and normally he hated it when Tom ruined his efforts. But Harry said nothing, though he did sniff a little, his green eyes looking suspiciously watery at the disgustingly romantic scene playing on the screen.
Tom glared at the screen. Then at his soft-hearted Gryffindor lover. “Harry,” he said, giving him one last chance.
Nothing.
Tom knew he shouldn’t have agreed to get a television. Damn Harry and his horrendously cute pleading expression.
Finally fed up, he reached down and plucked Harry’s glasses from his face. Immediately Harry protested, his free hand reaching up to try and take them back, but Tom held them just out of reach, his longer arms working to his advantage.
“Tom!” Harry protested. “It’s the best part of the movie. I can’t watch it without my glasses.”
“I know,” Tom replied, earning an indignant sound in response. “Honestly, Harry. I don’t understand how you can watch such overly-sentimental drivel. It’s going to shrivel your brain if you’re not careful.”
“It’s sweet,” Harry protested with a light glare. “And cute. And festive,” he emphasized.
“We are going to be festive all day,” Tom said, working hard to keep the distaste from his voice. “Surely we can have our morning together without this mushy nonsense.”
Harry’s gaze softened at the reminder of their Christmas ritual. He sighed, leaning his head onto Tom’s shoulder. “Of course we can,” he said. “All you had to do was ask.”
Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes in a terribly plebeian way. He decided to keep Harry’s glasses for now though, just to be safe. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Harry’s and received a happy sound in return.
“Happy Christmas, Harry,” he whispered against Harry’s lips.
Harry beamed, and Tom’s heart thumped, and even the bright, obnoxious scene playing on the television could not interrupt their moment together.