Christmas Celebrations

Summary: Voldemort does not celebrate Christmas. At least not until fourteen-year old Harry Potter ends up in his life.

Pairing/s: None.

Warnings: Slight Light bashing, very OOC Voldemort and some other stuff.

Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter nor do I make any money writing fanfiction.

-o-

This is something I began to write last year, but I never finished it. Since I'm short on time, and have trouble with finding fanfiction inspiration right now, this was the perfect opportunity to finish this one!

-o-

Voldemort did not celebrate Christmas. He never had. At the orphanage no one gave him gifts, he never expected any, and at school he only bought gifts to others to make sure he stayed in contact with people to use at a later date. The only exception was Abraxas Malfoy, who received more generous and thought-out gifts due to him being at Voldemort's side from the beginning.

Why did Hogwarts even celebrate a Muggle holiday? Voldemort knew magical families celebrated it as well. The Malfoys celebrated Yule, and Voldemort could accept that. But he still didn't celebrated Christmas, or Yule. He just didn't.

As he grew older, and got busy with other things, the notion of Christmas soon faded. Abraxas kept up with the Yule tradition, spoiling Lucius rotten. Voldemort did give in and gave the Malfoys gifts; no one of his Death Eaters expected their lord to give them anything.

So all that Christmas cheer and decorated trees remained out of sight for Voldemort for a long time.

Then came the prophecy. Then came Harry Potter. Then came the years as a spirit, fighting his way back to a normal shape. Then came that year. Harry Potter's fourth year. Harry Potter was supposed to be an enemy. The prophecy had made him into an enemy. Perhaps more so on Voldemort's and Dumbledore's parts than Harry's, as he had been an infant and unaware he was anything but an infant.

Getting off topic. Fourth year, Voldemort resurrected due to his successful plan of having Harry in the Triwizard tournament and what did he get? He got a complaining teenager who didn't want to be on Dumbledore's side anymore, would very much like to be left alone and who then demanded that next Christmas, there better be Christmas trees in his life.

In short, Voldemort's life was ruined. Well, his murderous life was sort of put on hold as he, in the graveyard with a whimpering Peter Pettigrew off to the side, realized Harry was worth more alive than dead. It helped that Harry didn't care much for Dumbledore, whose grandfather persona was debatable at times, and whose misshapen plans had ruined Harry's childhood.

Voldemort could get behind that, sent an order to Crouch Junior to get all of Harry's things from school to his manor, and brought the teenager home.

"Grand place," Harry said as he looked around the house.

It was in actuality falling apart, as he hadn't exactly had a chance or the magic to do anything about its condition. Voldemort was not amused. Well… he was sort of amused. The sarcasm was rolling off the boy in waves.

"What about your friends?" Voldemort asked.

"If they are my friends, they'll know my perspective and join me," Harry said. "If they don't… well, not my problem. I can't please everyone."

"Do you really think someone from the Weasley family would join my side?"

"Oh, judgemental much are we?"

And thus began a new chapter of Voldemort's life. One he hadn't expected.

-o-

Harry Potter was impossible. He was annoying. Beyond annoying. That, and hilarious. He made Severus Snape look like he swallowed twelve lemons, and then had the man bursting out in laughter ten minutes later. Scratch annoying; Harry Potter was a miracle. Voldemort had never seen Severus do as much as a smirk at anything funny.

Dumbledore went mad, with worry or anger Voldemort had no idea, and Severus was harassed throughout the whole summer about Harry's whereabouts. As the only ones who knew Harry was with Voldemort were Severus, Voldemort, Nagini, Crouch and Pettigrew, it wasn't too difficult lying about it. Severus was the only one who really was seen in public, as Nagini rarely left Voldemort, Pettigrew was supposed to be dead and so was Crouch.

Harry didn't like Pettigrew very much, mostly because of his willingness to do anything to save his own hide, be it betraying his friends or cutting of his own finger, and Voldemort wasn't so sure it would be a good thing having the rat running around.

Then he found Harry dangling a terrified rat by the tail in front of Nagini who, if she hadn't been a snake, would be drooling. She sort of looked like she was drooling anyway, eyes tracking the rat as it struggled.

"Harry, is that Pettigrew?" Voldemort asked.

"It's not like you need him," Harry defended.

"He's still my servant."

"Do you really need him that much? I can spy on people better than him, and at least I'm not a cowardly traitor."

"I don't make a habit of murdering people the moment they turn useless." I usually let them take the blame for something and then kill them. More or less.

"Oh, fine, but I warned you at least," Harry said and let the rat go.

Voldemort had a talk with Pettigrew, but it only took four days for Pettigrew to show his true nature. He went to Dumbledore and ratted out Severus in an attempt to remain alive and out of prison, and Severus barely managed to escape the Order. Voldemort caught up with Pettigrew and this time it was him who dangled the rat in front of Nagini.

Harry was watching attentively while Severus, bruised and cut as well as with a newly healed broken arm and shoulder, drank from a cup of hot tea laced with a fair bit of whiskey. He glanced over at Voldemort every once in a while. His dark eyes betrayed nothing, but his free hand clenching and unclenching told Voldemort he was feeling rather angry about the whole ordeal.

Voldemort had already asked Crouch to sneak into Hogwarts to try and get some of Severus' belongings before they were taken and destroyed by the Order.

"I told you so," Harry said to Voldemort now.

That bratty teenager. Voldemort rolled his eyes and replied:

"Yes, I know, fine, you were right. Happy now?"

"Not until she eats him. Can you tell her… never mind, I'll do it."

Harry hissing Parseltongue was a rather soothing sound. It had been so long he heard someone else speak Parseltongue. Anyway, he knew what Harry told Nagini and when the snake looked at him, he nodded. So she lunged for the rat and bit it in half. Harry clapped his hands in delight, and Severus murmured:

"You've corrupted him, my lord."

"I have done no such thing!" Voldemort protested.

"Keep telling yourself that, my lord. Also, I was informed before this whole incident, by Granger, that she and Weasley wanted to come over to your side. Or rather, to Harry's side."

"Ron and Hermione are coming here?" Harry said as Voldemort spluttered.

"It appears their friendship to you is stronger than whatever Dumbledore can offer them. They mentioned the twins were in on this changing side as well."

"Fred and George too? Awesome! Oh, I didn't get to collect the money for winning the tournament; I was planning on giving it to them."

"A thousand Galleons?" Voldemort said. "Why to those two?"

"So they could start their own joke shop," Harry said. "Hmm, I've still got enough money to give them that anyway…"

"A joke shop?" Voldemort repeated.

"Yeah, it's brilliant, they've got a lot of ideas. You'd like it."

"I don't do jokes."

"Not yet anyway."

Voldemort would have argued more, but gave up in favour to watch Nagini eat the second part of Pettigrew. She had taken the bottom half of him first.

"What about your godfather?" Voldemort asked once Nagini slithered over to Harry, Pettigrew in her belly. "He won't come to me."

"Give him time," Harry said. "Good girl, Nagini. Why does he trust Dumbledore anyway? Dumbledore must have known Sirius would never betray my father, and yet he never seem to have tried to defend Sirius."

"Hmm, that's an idea…" Voldemort murmured. "Severus, do you mind if we managed to lure Black to our side?"

"Just keep him away from me," Severus muttered.

Voldemort life, complete with illogical banter, continued now with the addition of more teenagers. Hermione Granger abandoned school in favour of staying with Harry. Apparently that was a huge deal. Voldemort questioned it, until he heard her talk. After that, he was almost ready to beg her to stop talking about studying.

As a gesture of trust, and perhaps to make her stop talking about work sheets in different subjects, he let her loose on his library. Once Ron heard about it he said:

"Great, now we won't see her for days!"

"You reckon if we put out food, she'll find it eventually?" Harry wondered.

"You two are not serious," Voldemort said.

"No, we're Harry and Ron," Harry said.

The joke was tragically not lost on him, and he grumbled. What had his life turned out to be, surrounded by teenagers and a grumpy potions master?

A life filled with a whole lot of Christmas in it, as he discovered in early October. October. At Hogwarts at least, they hadn't started until mid-December.

First of all, his life consisted of teenagers, three of them living under the same roof as him, and two coming and going as they wanted. Fred and George had successfully opened a joke shop well ahead of time, using the excuse of Ron's supposed death to want to quit school.

Yeah, Ron, Hermione and Harry were considered dead. Voldemort was still good at striking fear at people's hearts, and he was hated for supposedly having killed the three. He hadn't said anything himself, people just assumed it. He supposed that was alright, because then they wouldn't suspect where the teenagers actually were.

Although Hermione had stayed so long in the library she was pale and tired by the time she came out. Voldemort still couldn't believe his own reaction; forcing her down on a couch and stuffing her with tea and biscuits before sending her straight to bed.

"Worse than Mrs Cole," he muttered afterwards. "No, wait, she never gave me tea, and sending me to bed was more like tying me down and threatening to beat me again…"

And also having someone trying to remove the demon within him, as Mrs Cole thought his magic and ability to talk to snake was. But the children, or Severus, didn't need to know that, so Voldemort was careful not to mention it.

Anyway, back to this… greenery. In early October. Because Fred and George came with two Christmas trees.

"Why?" Voldemort asked.

"Because it's gonna be Christmas in two months," Fred said.

Or was it George? Voldemort sometimes wanted to paint numbers on their foreheads so he could bloody tell them apart.

"Yes, two months," he replied. "Two months, not two weeks. How did you even get inside?"

"Harry let us in. You never give us a key. George, let's go and put these up."

"Why trees?"

"Harry wanted one," George said. "We need to make it special. So we brought two."

"Why do we need to make it special?" Voldemort wanted to know, crossing his arms.

Harry hadn't spoken much about himself. He was sarcastic, rolled his eyes a lot, and seemed immensely relieved to not having to fight anything anymore. Because Voldemort had made it clear while Harry would learn how to duel, he wouldn't make the teen fight anyone else but him and a few select others, for training purposes. If Harry chose to fight, then so be it, but Voldemort couldn't quite bring himself to have Harry fight.

He was getting very sentimental and stupid when it came to Harry, and couldn't even bring himself to be angry at himself for that.

But why was Christmas supposed to be special for him?

"He told us," George began.

"About Christmas at his Muggle home," Fred continued.

"He was never allowed near the tree…"

"And during the celebration itself they locked him up in the cupboard so he didn't ruin the mood. He said his cousin got over thirty present last Christmas he spent with them."

"Thirty?" Voldemort repeated. "How do you even open thirty presents as a child without growing bored after ten of them?"

"Sounds like you've never had a bit Christmas before," Fred said.

"I mean, we have gifts, but not thirty each, mum and dad couldn't afford it and now we're probably not gonna get any because we quit school and aren't heartbroken about Ronnie."

"Yeah, we kind of failed there but it's hard to fail when we know exactly where he is," Fred said. "Playing chess with professor Snape because Harry sucks at it. Never thought I'd see the day when professor Snape was enjoying himself."

"Never knew he could do that."

"How about you, Voldemort? Have you never celebrated Christmas before?"

"Not really. Hard to do it as a spirit."

"Yes, that is true but before you became one?" George wondered.

"No," Voldemort replied. "I received gifts but never celebrated it."

He did let them come in with the trees. Harry did his pleading eyes-look to make Voldemort decorate the trees with them. Even Severus was falling for that look.

"He's getting too good with that look," Severus said.

"I'm decorating my house, for Christmas, two months before the event itself, because of that look," Voldemort said. "Trust me, I know how good it is."

The thing was, as the days progressed, Voldemort found himself actually wanting it. Wanting to celebrate Christmas, because it made Harry happy. He wanted to make Harry happy. A boy he had hated on default less than a year ago. Well, hated was a rather strong word for it. He hated Dumbledore. Harry had just been someone in Voldemort's way. A weapon to be used against him.

But the more he heard about Harry Potter's life with those Muggles he had to call family, Voldemort found himself thinking they were rather similar. Grew up under the same circumstances; at the mercy of Muggles who didn't want to understand. Grew up hated, and feared.

It made Voldemort rethink some decisions he had taken. Being good to Harry, and Harry's friends, didn't make him into a nice person. He shuddered at the very thought of becoming anything close to a nice person.

But he was less horrible, he supposed, as he decorated trees, fixed his house so it looked lovely and dealt with sarcastic teenagers and a cranky potions master. He rethought his methods, and changed things. Dumbledore knew Voldemort was back, but Voldemort ordered no raids, and no Muggle hunts. Most of his Death Eaters had no idea what he was planning. He hadn't called on them, not until he was sure how he wanted to proceed.

Most of them had figured out he was back. Dumbledore had quickly understood as well, and before Severus had to flee he reported back to Voldemort that the headmaster had asked him frequently about the dark lord. At first Dumbledore had feared Harry was dead, and then he got convinced of it, and that Voldemort had killed the teenager.

Instead Voldemort had a habit of letting Harry stay up late at light, seeing as he had no strict schooling going on, and making sure he had snacks. Voldemort had a good reason for it too; the teen was skinny. He also ate in the same manner Voldemort recognized he had eaten as a child, the type of eating when you weren't sure if you'd be getting more that day.

Severus kept saying he didn't care for them, but was the one who made sure that there were vegetables for each meal, and also the one who forced them to eat some of it. Like a well-meaning mother. The look on Severus' face as Harry said it had Voldemort, to his shock, laughing over his plate while Hermione quickly hid her face behind a book. Ron wasn't even trying to hide as he laughed.

Severus glared at Harry, then at Voldemort. When neither of them stopped laughing he threw up his hands and said:

"Children, the lot of you!"

Then he sat down and drank his tea.

"Why do you always drink tea with dinner?" Voldemort said. "Bitter tea. You aren't bitter enough?"

"I do not always drink bitter tea," Severus snapped. "Also, I like hot drinks."

"Some hot chocolate then? To celebrate the season?"

They were in mid-December at this point, and it was fine to start preparing for Christmas.

"I said hot drinks, not sweet vileness."

"Coffee?"

"Devil's brew," Severus muttered. "Eat your dinner, my lord."

"You know that makes you sound like a mother," Voldemort said as he speared a broccoli on his fork, frowning at it. "That is what a mother sounds like, right?"

"Sounds like my mum," Ron said.

He didn't sound as sad as he used to, in the beginning when he felt incredibly guilty for leaving his family. But he couldn't bring himself to stay with Dumbledore, who still seemed to find his decision to leave Harry with those horrid Muggles had been for the best.

"I am not anyone's mother, and if you dare to suggest it again, my lord, I will attempt to use the Cruciatus spell on you."

"Were you born with that frown on your face?"

"You're wearing one now."

"It's due to the broccoli. I have been fairly happy recently, which clearly indicates I've gone mental," Voldemort said.

"How is that being mental?" Hermione asked, lowering the book at last. "It just sounds like we turned you saner than you used to be."

"I don't think I ever was sane," he said. "All I had growing up was Mrs Cole and those fellows who kept calling me devil. Just because they overheard me talking to a snake once! No matter what I did afterwards, Mrs Cole was convinced there was a demon inside of me."

Voldemort took a bite of the broccoli, and frowned harder.

"Why does broccoli never taste nice someone has told you that you have to eat it?"

"I think it's the laws of nature," Ron told him.

-o-

Christmas came closer, and closer, and Voldemort found himself going out for some shopping. Yes, he had gone completely insane now. He had gone off his rocker, he might as well just hand in his title because there was no way he could be as horrible as he used to be.

He thought he had blended in rather well, a rather youthful face and trying very hard to not be threatening but Dumbledore knew his old face. The new one was unfortunately too much like it, and this they met in the middle of Diagon Alley. Dumbledore subtly pulled out his wand. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, a few parcels in his hands.

"I'm having a rather busy day," Voldemort said. "Could we leave the duelling for another time? Not in the mood, I'm afraid."

"Tom…"

"I'd tell you to stop calling me that but then again, you never listened before so why should you start now?"

"What have you done with Harry and his friends?"

Wasn't Dumbledore already convinced the three teens were dead? Voldemort decided for a lie, of course; why should he be in any way helpful to the old man?

"Done what? Can't you keep track on some teenagers? I thought Harry Potter was your prized pawn in your game of winning over me. Looks like I'm a slightly better position right now."

"Severus is loyal to you."

Did Dumbledore always change subject this quickly?

"He's loyal to himself," Voldemort replied. "Didn't seem to matter to you, when Pettigrew the coward came to you to save his own skin."

"He wanted to atone for his mistakes," Dumbledore said.

They were off to the side of the street, amongst people but speaking quietly enough that no one glanced at them twice.

"No, Pettigrew wanted to survive," Voldemort said. "He would have sacrificed anyone to make sure he lived. Never trust a man like that, Albus; a real rat was braver than him."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't like being betrayed. So I made sure he couldn't betray anyone again."

"So you've killed him."

"Yes. Stupid not to do so. I'm going to leave now."

"What are you planning?"

"Oh, relax, Albus," Voldemort said with a smile. "I promise to not destroy Christmas Day for you and your lot."

With that, he quickly made his exit. He took the long way home, to make sure Dumbledore didn't follow, and closed the door behind him with his foot. Shiny lights met his gaze, and he looked around his hall.

"Wasn't the trees enough?" he asked one of the twins, squinting at the redheaded teen.

Could be George. Voldemort wondered if they would stay still long enough for him to at least pin a name tag on their shirts. But then again they could just swap place. No, numbers in the forehead was better. Engraved numbers.

"We're just adding some small details!" George, or Fred, defended. "What about you? Those are gifts, aren't they?"

"… Not all of them."

He had bought one thing for himself. Voldemort inwardly cursed himself, and the twins, and the whole notion of a silly Muggle holiday. But he still let the twins decorate his hall.

"I've lost my edge," he informed Severus later, a tumbler of Firewhiskey in his hand.

"I believe you lost it the moment you took in Potter," Severus replied.

"He grows on you. Like fungus. All that sarcasm, I've grown used to it. I don't even want to hurt people. Well, I want to hurt a few. His family. Can I kill his family? I feel like I should do something horrible just to make sure I haven't completely gone through a personality change without my permission."

"You're already gone through one."

"What?!"

"You're kinder, my lord. By no means a kind person, but… you seem to see things more clearly now."

Voldemort sat back in the armchair and thought about it. Maybe he had. All Christmas chaos aside, he had been more patient. He had taken in teenagers, and all three were alive and well.

Harry stepped into the living room now, making a beeline for Voldemort. He sat down on the arm to the armchair, and leaned in close.

"What?" Voldemort said.

"Fred told me Sirius has been talking to them. Dumbledore haven't been telling them a whole lot. He refuses to give information and Sirius is often left out."

"Does he still trust Dumbledore?"

"Fred doesn't think he does. Not as much as he used to. Can you do anything about it?"

"Harry, I killed his best friend," Voldemort said. "I also killed your mother, who I do believe was a good friend to Sirius as well. He spent years in jail for trying to get revenge on their murders."

"I…" Harry looked away from him. "Am I weird for not hating you?"

"A fair bit," Voldemort replied. "But if you want your godfather here, I can make sure he's here. As long as he's not a danger to any of you."

"Can you try? He's really… well, not the first adult to want me to be safe, but he offered his home to me. He was the first one to offer to me, to take me away from the Dursleys."

"Then I'll get him here for you, Harry." Voldemort lightly touched the teen's arm. "Anyone else?"

"Remus Lupin. I think he usually sides with Sirius."

Voldemort nodded, because at this point he should just admit he couldn't say no to Harry.

-o-

It was fairly easy to get both Sirius and Remus. They didn't fight back much. Perhaps only for the sake of looks, rather than real intent. Either way, Voldemort had them a full week before Christmas, and wasn't quite sure how to break the news that James' son was still alive.

Harry sorted it out by coming into the room before Voldemort could think out what to say. Once he caught sight of Harry, he just gave up and threw up his arms.

"You couldn't wait five more minutes?" he demanded to know.

"What, so you could be all dramatic?"

"You're the dramatic one!"

"Oh no, that's all you, Voldemort," Harry replied.

"I give up. I'll be over in the living room, drinking to drown my sorrows while you talk some sense into those two."

"And what you just said wasn't dramatic?" Harry wondered.

"Not another word, brat."

"Yeah, yeah, go have your drink. Take professor Snape with you; if he has to suffer any more of Hermione's lecture, I think he's going to kill himself."

"I'm ready to kill myself when that girl starts," Voldemort muttered, sweeping out of the room.

Not dramatically sweeping out of the room, no matter what Harry yelled at him. This was his life now. He had gone from a dark lord to… to just a grumpy man who allowed teenagers to invade his life and demand Christmas trees.

He supposed it could have been worse. He could've still been a spirit. Or he could've been dead.

-o-

Christmas finally arrived. Voldemort felt like it had been Christmas for a long, long time already. Far too long for someone who wasn't used to it.

He was trying to sleep in, when someone landed on top of him. Voldemort wheezed, popped his head up and looked over his shoulder.

"What are you, a child?" he asked Harry, who was lying right across Voldemort's back.

"Technically, I am a child," Harry replied. "I just wanted to try it."

"Try what?"

"Wake a parent up."

"I am not a parent."

"Your look was worth saying that."

"What look?"

"Like you want to murder someone."

"I will murder someone at some point to get rid of this… mushiness that has taken up residence in me. I swore to never be this kind of person."

Harry rolled off him, lay down next to Voldemort and hummed.

"I once swore I would kill Uncle Vernon for all the times he tried to beat the freakiness out of me," Harry said. "People kept calling me kind. At Hogwarts, I mean. They said I was nice, despite… everything. I just think I managed to hide myself better than you ever did."

"No one figured you out?"

"I think Ron saw through me sometimes. Hermione definitely did. They could've told Dumbledore. They didn't."

Harry sat up.

"Anyway, you're fine the way you are now. You still want to change things, right? Change the magical world?"

"Yes," Voldemort replied as he sat up. "In a different way. But that can wait. Your long-awaited Christmas is here."

"Have you eaten Christmas pudding?"

"No."

"Neither have I. I would smell it though, through the cupboard door. It always smelt so good."

"Then we don't we go and find out how it tastes?"

Harry smiled. For all his sarcastic behaviour, he was still a child. Previously undernourished, sometimes with nightmares he refused to talk about, and tired of being someone's symbol of hope. Now he was left alone on the account people thought him dead, and that would blow up in their faces one day.

But not today. Voldemort trailed after Harry, through a house now restored to its former glory. It glowed, snowflakes of fragile crystal that Sirius had gotten from somewhere. His tentative gift to Voldemort, to this new kind of life. A life against Dumbledore, but a life with his godson. Remus was the one who made the spell that made it look like it was snowing in the hall, the snowflakes vanishing just before they reached the floor.

Hermione was already up, not holding a book for once. Instead she held out a gift for Voldemort. Voldemort took it with some hesitation.

It was strange, so strange. His house was filled with people who he never thought he could get along with, much less live with. They were supposed to be enemies.

But that was in the past. Voldemort thanked her and said:

"Perhaps there is one… or two gifts, under one of those blasted trees, Miss Granger."

"Hermione," she said. "You sound like a professor."

"I wanted to be a professor," he said before he could stop himself. "Dumbledore didn't believe. So I went and became a dark lord instead."

"A bit extreme, don't you think?" Harry said.

"I don't think I know how to do something moderately."

It was true, because there were at least seven gifts for each teenager. He had even bought things for Severus. Voldemort shook his head as they walked to the living room, Harry saying food could wait until they had opened their gifts.

Ron was already there. Sirius and Remus was slightly reserved towards Voldemort, which was no wonder; he was surprised they weren't attacking him on sight. Now they stared, and he wondered why until he remembered he was still in his night clothes.

Oh well, he had lost most of his dignity already, being all soft and mushy towards the teenagers, so why not throw away the rest by letting himself be seen in what he wears at night? At least he wears pants and a top.

Severus sat next to Ron, a game of chess begun. Fred and George was taking notes on something, and Voldemort said:

"If you two attempt to put anything in my drinks, or food, I will string you up in the dungeon."

"You have a dungeon?" Fred asked.

The name tag on his shirt said "Fred" at least. So they had already opened a gift. A sort of joke gift, Voldemort supposed. He was glad they didn't take offence to his inability to tell them apart.

He was actually glad. All of this made him… glad. For the first time, he didn't feel like shudder when he realized it. Instead he simply replied:

"I suppose you will figure out if you put something in my drinks. Or my food."

"Not even a little thing?" George asked. "By the way, is this name tag in pure gold?"

"I do not make a joke gift half-heartedly," Voldemort told them.

Harry turned to look at him.

"You made a joke gift," Harry said. "You made a joke."

"Alright, so what if you were right? Open your presents and be nice!"

"Who's the mother now?" Severus muttered.

"Be careful, I might just attempt another joke," Voldemort warned.

"Oh, I'm shivering in my boots, my lord."

"I used to be feared," Voldemort said. "Oh well, nothing lasts forever I suppose. Let's see what you got me… Hermione."

With that he sat down, and opened his first gift in many years. It was a book, no surprise, but one with magical tales. Voldemort found himself absorbed in the book as the living room was filled with voices and the soft sound of paper being removed from gifts. At one point Harry handed him some tea, swearing nothing strange was in it, and then stayed next to him as they together read three of the stories. The feeling of Harry's shoulder against his own was new, and when Voldemort put his arm behind Harry, the teen wasted no time to get closer.

Voldemort wasn't used to being touched. Harry didn't seem used to it either, the way he clung to those who did touch him with kind intent. Perhaps that was why they were fine with each other.

If this was what a Christmas could be, Voldemort supposed he could get used to it.

The end

I hope you enjoyed the story. Happy holidays everyone!

Cheers,

Tiro