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The Yule celebrations were likely to go on late into the night, and Harry didn’t blame everyone for being excited to have a reason to celebrate after so much struggle and death. He would have been glad to join them in partying until the wee hours of the morning except for how exhausted he was before it even got close to midnight.
“Getting a little late for you, dear?” Voldemort teased, noticing how Harry was starting to flag as they made the rounds in the beautifully decorated ballroom.
Harry wanted to be annoyed, but it really was. In his excuse, he’d been working very hard the past few months at the Ministry to help bring things together after the end of the war. It hadn’t left a lot of time for sleep, as Voldemort well knew since he’d been by his side the whole way.
“Can we just leave a bit early?” Harry asked, eyeing a Ministry official who was headed their way and almost certainly wanted to do actual work while they were supposed to be celebrating.
Voldemort leaned down and pressed a kiss to his husband’s temple. “Of course.”
A well placed glare — because Voldemort was still Voldemort even if he’d been tamed enough to become Minister of Magic and lead wizarding Britain — had the official scuttling off, and Voldemort and Harry headed for the door. A few more people tried to stop and talk, but they were easily sent away. Anything official could wait until after Yule.
Voldemort wrapped his arms around Harry at the apparition area, and Harry let himself sink into the comforting warmth of him. In a few minutes they’d be home and in their bed, which was something Harry could have never thought of having just a year ago. But so many things had changed for the better since then. The wizarding world had peace and stability, and he and Voldemort had each other.
And Harry had never been happier.