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“Do you think he’s too young for Father Christmas?” Lily asked as she slipped under the covers having just settled Harry in his crib.
“I certainly hope not, Sirius has already got the costume,” James said, taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside table. “Muggles have got Father Christmas too, yeah?”
“Well, yes, but everyone knows he isn’t real once they’re about ten,” Lily said.
“Well they’ve got that wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s real,” James said, and Lily stared at him blankly, “Everyone knows that! Only for little kids, of course. Once you’re about seven he stops coming round. My parents kept going with it until I was in Hogwarts though, extra presents for me,” James said smugly. “Since I’m such a good boy.”
“Father Christmas is not real, you’re having me on.”
“I’d never.”
“You would,” Lily said, and gave him a wry look. “How’s he getting in?”
“Floo, of course.”
“How does he get to every child in one night?”
“Time turner.”
“So you’re telling me that if we had our floo open, a fat, jolly man with a beard would really come and give Harry presents?”
“Of course. Harry would get loads, he’s exceptionally well behaved,” James grinned.
“Hm… We’ll have to see next year, then.” Lily said, as if she was sure that the next year everything would be normal.
“What do muggles do for him?” James asked.
“Oh, my parents would pretend he brought some of the gifts, we would leave out cookies and milk so dad could eat them and pretend it was Father Christmas, and we’d go have photos with someone in costume at the shopping mall, like the one Petunia sent us,” Lily explained.
A card had arrived via muggle post, containing a photo of Dudley in a miniature suit being held by an old, fat man wearing a fake beard, with the words Happy Christmas, from our family to yours printed across the bottom. Petunia had foregone writing in the actual card, and Lily was fairly sure she’d only bothered to send it at all in an attempt to make her and James rage with jealousy. They hadn’t, obviously, but Lily still spell-o-taped the picture to the icebox and made James promise not to draw a mustache on the baby.
“That was supposed to be Father Christmas?” James asked sarcastically, “I thought Vernon had grown a beard.”
Lily tried to stifle her laugh as she gave James a stern look, “Be nice.”
“I’m surprised they let that baby near Father Christmas, he’s obviously a wizard… or magician.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’d take any chance to spoil Dudley, even if there was a mention of magic… they’ve probably bought him about fifty presents,” Lily sighed, thinking of her sister's chubby, blonde son that was allowed to do things like leave the house and have a photo taken with Santa.
“Children should never be spoiled,” Said James, “Or they’ll grow up to be… what was it? Arrogant toerags?”
“You’re going to have to let that go eventually.”
“No, it was the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” James complained as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’ll live.”
James rolled over so he was leaning over her, their faces close, “I think you should make it up to me.”
“I think I have done for about three years,” Lily grinned back, shuffling closer to him and running her hand through his hair, “But I suppose I could try again.”
Then, as it so often did, their playful banter turned into soft sighs as James undressed her and kissed down her neck, his hands dancing across her body. Lily leaned over and turned off the lamp, so the room was illuminated only by the moonlight through the window as James moved over her, moaning her name quietly. Lily kissed him lazily as she came apart, shuddering as he touched her.
She awoke a few hours later to the sound of Harry crying and James getting out of bed, kissing her on the forehead and mumbling “Got him,” as he stumbled sleepily out of the room, shoving his glasses on, only to appear a moment later with a tearful baby.
“He needs his mummy,” James whispered, and passed him over, “He’s hungry.”
Lily took him from James as she sat up, cooing softly. James crawled back into bed beside her, closing his eyes as his head rested on his pillow. “Don’t fall back asleep, it’s not fair.”
“‘M not, I’m just resting my eyes,” James mumbled, though his voice was quiet and sleepy. “I’ll take him when he’s done.”
Lily felt she too may have fallen asleep, had she not been so preoccupied with looking down at her perfect, tiny son in her arms. True to his word, James took Harry back once he’d finished feeding, and Lily could hear him humming under his breath to their son as he carried him back out of the room to his nursery.
Harry slept through the rest of the night, but woke bright and early Christmas morning, grizzling happily as James carried him down the stairs, pointing at the snow covered ground outside.
“Oooh, Harry, look at all the gifts you’ve got,” James said as he settled on the couch, showing Harry the pile of gifts under the tree and the overflowing stocking on the mantle. Though Harry did not understand what his father was saying, he giggled and stretched towards the tree, his tiny hands grasping towards the presents.
“We’ve overdone it, I reckon,” said Lily as James helped Harry open another stocking stuffer.
“Of course we haven’t,” James winked at her over Harry’s head.
As James and Harry played with his new toys, a wave of melancholy washed over Lily. It was a bit sad that Harry wouldn’t remember this Christmas, because it was shaping up to be quite perfect. As she watched her family, slightly misty eyed, there was a knock at the door and James handed Harry over to Lily, “Harry, I think you have a visitor.”
“Santa is meant to be jolly,” James grumbled as opened the door, giving a reproachful look to Sirius’ outfit.
“I’m very jolly.”
“He’s supposed to be plump.”
“Look, do you want me to be Father Christmas or not? He won’t even remember this, who cares if I’m fat?” Sirius sighed as he pushed past James, balancing a pile of gifts awkwardly.
“Lily wants a photo. A proper one.”
“Fine, I’ll shove a pillow under my suit. Happy?”
“Very,” James clapped Sirius on the back and grabbed the gifts from him. “Is this big one for me?”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “No, you plonker, they're all for Harry.”
Peter and Remus arrived not long after, both carrying gifts for Harry. They had all noticed there was a new excitement this Christmas, one that could only come with a child’s eager energy as they opened presents and played in the snow. It was much different from previous years, when they had been young and irresponsible and got drunk on champagne and pumpkin juice. Instead, this year it was about the little boy in his snowflake pajamas, who seemed to be quite thrilled at all the attention he was getting.
“Er, things are a bit tight this year,” Remus said awkwardly as he pushed a small package towards James and Harry, blushing under his elf hat.
“Nothing to worry about,” Said James swiftly as he and Harry ripped into the gift, Harry just grasping a fistful of the brown paper. It was a little stuffed owl that blinked and flapped its white wings, obviously charmed to move like a real bird.
“Oh, it’s lovely. Thank you,” Lily gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Harry, you’ve got your own owl!” She said to Harry, who was giggling as James bounced him, holding the little owl.
“Mine next!” Peter said, and passed his parcel over, which was taped together so severely that James eventually gave up on ripping it and used his wand to cut through the paper to reveal a large, enchanted picture book.
Afterwards, Sirius shoved one of Lily’s decorative couch pillows under his red coat, punching it into place so it looked like a round stomach. James passed Harry over, and Sirius grinned as he settled in his lap, wriggling towards him and grabbing at his fake beard.
Lily held up a polaroid camera,”Harry, look over here!”
He wouldn’t though, and kept grabbing at Sirius, even when his godfather tried to turn him around. James grinned and came to stand beside Lily, shaking his head so the little silver bells which adorned the red antlers Sirius had shoved on him jingled.
“Harry! Look at daddy! Look at daddy, Harry!” The sound of bells ringing got his attention, and Harry turned to his father with a bubbly grin as the camera flashed.
“This will be perfect,” Lily said happily as the camera printed the photo.
She carried it to the fireplace and fixed it to the garland they’d hung there, smiling as the photo developed.
“What’s that for?” Peter asked.
“My mum used to hang a photo of us with Santa every year… so by the time we were a bit older she’d have seven or eight photos. Maybe it’s a muggle thing,” It made Lily quite happy to think of Harry a bit older, looking back at all the photos from when he was tiny. They’d hang them every year, and she could embarrass him when he was a teenager and brought a girlfriend home and they could point and laugh at Sirius dressed as Father Christmas and explain they couldn’t have a real photo that year.
“No, my parents did the same…” Said Peter, “We’d go to Diagon Alley for the photos.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, I was hoping we could do that this year but… well, we’ll take Harry next year,” Lily smiled, and gave Peter a squeeze on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” Said Peter vaguely, “Next year.”