Work Text:
“There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”
-Vincent Van Gogh
The day before Christmas, Hogwarts classes generally got out early (except potions, because Snape enjoyed torturing the students to his best ability) and the students were allowed to roam the corridors. The time was used for farewells, well wishes, quick holiday parties, pranks, gifting, and Secret Santa. Secret Santa, of course, was a sensation amongst young witches and wizards, because the muggle-borns and half-bloods had to teach them. New revelries were overwhelmingly favored in a school where some of the best entertainment came from an overly aggressive tree.
The entire week leading up to the last day of classes was used for small gifts hidden in various places ( not the potions classroom) that culminated in one larger gift at a final party, where the students guessed their “Santa.” Some kids made the matches within their Houses or years, others across Houses, so the parties could be held within dormitories, common rooms, or somewhere on the snowy grounds where every witch or wizard felt welcome.
Despite all the fuss about the TriWizard Tournament, the Gryffindor boys had managed to put together a Secret Santa within their dorm and year. Harry Potter sat on the floor with his back to a roaring fireplace in the common room, facing a stack of colorfully packaged presents, all pristine because Flitwick, in holiday cheer, had taught them wrapping charms. A faint char mark was the only one to distinguish Seamus’ from the rest, which caused quite the uproar at the start of the party and was only quieted by Harry’s distribution of cauldron cakes.
“Settle down now,” Ron said noncommittally around a mouthful of chocolate. It took several more minutes for the boys to follow this suggestion.
Harry was nervous (he had no guesses who his Santa was) and excited beyond measure. Having friends, while no longer an entirely new sensation, still held that curious pang in his heart where he wasn’t sure he deserved them. Looking at the smiling faces around him, he banished the idea and patted his knees animatedly. “Come on then!” he added, gesturing to the stack.
Dean, who had graciously organized the thing, stood and cleared his throat. The boys applauded him and he gave a little bow, a little wink at the end thrown to Seamus. “Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate these gits sodding off back home.” He waved vaguely in the direction of all the students leaving Hogwarts for holiday while Harry jeered and Ron shouted happily, “You are, too!” Dean made an exaggerated stern expression that closely resembled McGonagall’s and proceeded to continue his speech over poorly-stifled giggles.
“Also, because you’re all idiots who have no knowledge of this amazing tradition, the burden falls upon me.” He grinned widely as he did this. “The rules are simple, easier even than football, so I’m sure you lot can handle it.” The boys all cackled when Seamus stretched to poke his best friend’s ribs, delaying the reveal further when the incident caused an impromptu wrestling (more tickling than anything else, really) match.
“Anyway!” Dean gasped between fits of laughter, “Once you’ve guessed your Santa, he gives you your final gift, all of which should be-- ha!-- should be in that pile.”
Harry surveyed them again and realized that one was missing. Shrugging, he waited for Dean and Seamus to rejoin them as he recalled all of his presents in his head. Day one was broom polish, day two a green and red snitch ornament, day three a coupon to Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlor. That could be anyone. The next days were generally required to get more personal and hint at a relationship that could make guessing easier. Day four had yielded an enchanted hippogriff figurine that flew around much like a snitch. After that, some rarer chocolate frog cards that were missing from his collection, and then a book called Quidditch Through The Ages signed by Victor Krum.
“You go first, Neville,” Dean directed. He sat back with his long legs crossed and nodded politely. “So just stand up, tell us what you’ve been given, and then pick which one of us did it.”
Neville stood, wringing his hands a bit self-consciously when their all the attention was drawn to him. “Go on,” Harry prompted with a grin, and that seemed to pluck up his nerve. He recounted his gifts with absolute adoration, even to the double set of remembralls and a cheeky note that said In case you forget one. Harry had been particularly proud of that.
“Harry, yeah?” Neville asked, turning to his friend. Harry jumped up as he reached out to toss Neville the final gift. Everyone congratulated him on a correct guess, whooping raucously. He unwrapped it carefully and then squealed excitedly when its contents were revealed; Great Greens: The Complete, Unabridged Guide to Magical Herbs and Plants. “Thank you!” he exclaimed, and pulled Harry into a clumsy hug.
“Crushing me,” Harry wheezed, but with a smile.
They settled, Neville wiping away a few tears. Ron discreetly passed him a couple pumpkin pasties and a tissue. Next Dean asked Harry to stand, and he did so with his heart beating rapidly. Slowly he turned round the circle, inspecting each face for some sort of tell. When he saw a small one, he sighed in relief and spoke confidently. “Ron.”
“Two for two!” cried Dean when Ron poked Harry’s final present with a slippered foot. Harry, unlike Neville, tore into it. “How’d you get Krum to sign that book?” he inquired while he opened the package. Ron made a face that translated to not easily. The boys all roared, but silenced themselves immediately when Harry held up his gift.
He had two tickets to a Chudley Cannons game, in the far back (but he minded not one bit). Harry and Ron embraced, Harry thanking a rather scarlet Ron in complete gibberish. Suddenly, this Christmas felt warmer than the multiple fires burning cozily in the common room.
A Prefect came around to remind all departing students when luggage would be collected, temporarily suspending their antics. When she left, Ron’s turn came, and he listed all of his presents, feigning confusion at the ashy fingerprints found on some of the wrappings. Dean elbowed a blushing Seamus as the boys cheered. Seamus’ last gift to the Weasley boy was three new ties, since he himself had burnt Ron’s only one off during a potions mishap (Snape took ten points from Gryffindor that day for the disruption, which only caused Seamus to incinerate another brew). Ron was thrilled.
Seamus guessed Dean first, but corrected his answer to Neville after Dean told him he was wrong. Neville handed him the most beautifully wrapped of all the boxes, and inside was a an inflammable cauldron. “I’m sure I can still get this one in flames,” Seamus assured them after another round of laughter. Harry had a severe case of hiccups.
Seamus started to stand, but Dean pressed gently on his leg and told him he would be last. Seamus smiled with only minimal confusion and muttered, “Okay.” Dean hopped up, towering over his roommates, and guessed without hesitation, “Harry!” after telling everyone his other gifts (one of which had been found during his detention session with Snape, which he thought quite clever and courageous). The others’ brows’ furrowed slightly before they remembered last weekend when Harry had cornered them. Since there was an uneven number of them, Dean had asked not to be given any gifts, but they all said someone would take two. Harry had volunteered immediately, and Dean seemed delighted despite his earlier insistence to only be the organizer.
“Thanks, mate,” he gushed, and selected the last present in the pile. The floor seemed strangely empty without all the boxes, and already the boys were whispering about Seamus’ gift’s absence.
Harry, though he didn’t know Dean as well as he’d have liked, had selected something he thought fit perfectly. After a week of art materials and comic books, it was also entirely unpredictable. When Dean ripped back the paper, it revealed an Irish National Qudditch sweater, since Dean and Seamus had attended the World Cup together and Seamus had told Harry it was Dean’s new favorite team. “I’ve only ever seen you with those muggle team posters,” Harry teased, “so I thought it was time you supported a real sport.” Dean held up the sweater and appraised it approvingly before he went to take off his own navy tee and replace it with the green and white striped wool. Seamus wolf-whistled jokingly and everyone clapped. Once on, Harry could see it fit Dean’s lanky body well, and he silently thanked Hermione for helping him with sizes.
Finally, that left Seamus. His Santa was obviously Dean, so he just stared at him expectantly from the floor. “Well?” he prompted when Dean did not speak right away.
But Dean suddenly seemed overly flustered. He scratched his head and bit his lip, unable to make eye contact with anyone, especially Seamus. Seamus stood quickly and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Hey, I don’t care if you forgot my gift, D.”
Dean shook his head. “No, it’s not that,” he responded. “I’m just not sure you’ll like it.”
Seamus laughed. “Don’t be daft, mate, of course I will. You know me better than anyone.”
Dean cast a desperate look around the circle of boys and then put his hand in his pocket as if to withdraw it from there. Harry and Ron exchanged a puzzled but anticipated glance and then looked back up at the pair.
“Here goes, then,” Dean whispered, and promptly kissed Seamus right on the mouth.
Ron’s mouth dropped, stunned, and Harry felt his expression mirrored that. Neville beamed after recovering from the shock and was the first to speak, raising his voice over the chaos to say, “That’s sweet!” Harry and Ron agreed with small, dumbstruck nods.
Dean pulled away and almost at once hung his head, afraid to say anything. Seamus’ eyes were wide with wonder, but otherwise his face was blank. Harry’s stomach rolled in nervous sympathy. He almost thought Seamus would reject Dean until Seamus licked his lips, smiled, and said, “That’s got to be the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten, Dean.” Cacophony ensued, loud enough that some of the other Gryffindors ran downstairs to check on their Housemates. Each student only saw a huge mess of boys’ limbs as they all hugged and ultimately fell over, still hugging.
“Happy Christmas!” Dean yelled from somewhere at the bottom of the pile. Harry, Ron, and Neville all echoed the sentiment, but that time, Seamus kissed Dean first.
Happy Christmas, indeed.