Tittle::Where Are You Christmas

Author:: SeulWolfe/Calanor

Rating:: Mature (M)Eventually NC-17

Pairing:: Snape/Harry, Remus/Lucius, Draco/Ron, Sirius/Bill, Hermione/Charlie, Neville/Luna, mentions of Harry/Cedric

Contains:: angst, drama, romance, AU

Warnings:: Spoilers through book 4, with some changes... NO book 5 or 6

Summary:: Father Christmas needs Harry and friends help this year because he's laying in the infirmary as Albus Dumbledore after helping Harry defeat Voldemort in the final battle. Harry must get past his own insecurities and past demons to truly learn what the Christmas spirit is. Maybe this year, Santa will help him find love to last a lifetime as well.

A/N:: This fic is dedicated to anonymous for the gift of paid LJ time. Thank you... and to my best friend.. Morganlefay1958.

Merry Christmas and Blessed Yuletide.

Chapter One

"He's what!"

"Please sit down, Mr. Weasley." Minerva McGonagall glared at everyone gathered. Especially the youngest male Weasley. If this was going to work, she had to have everyone's cooperation and they had to understand.

"Minerva..." Severus began, "Do you mean to tell us, that Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards alive... once a year dresses up like Santa Claus?"

"No, Severus, Albus is Santa."

"Does that make... " Fred Weasley began...

"... you Mrs. Claus?" George finished.

Minerva's lips thinned. "I am Mrs. Claus and I'm glad you find this funny."

"I don't." One voice cut through the giggles, whispers and soft laughter. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the man who destroyed Voldemort once and for all, stood up from the table, exited from the meeting room of the Order of the Phoenix.

The young man was already riding an emotional roller coaster after the final battle where Albus Dumbledore almost died trying to protect Harry as he fought with Tom Riddle.

Now he laid in a magical sleep where in time he will make a full recovery. But now...

Albus Dumbledore is Father Christmas.

That statement alone left Harry cold.

In his wanderings, Harry found himself at the top of the astronomy tower standing in the bitter cold with unanswered questions floating around in his mind. The most prominent... where was Father Christmas when he lived in the cupboard under the stairs?

Where was he when he wished for love?

Where was he when he had to watch Dudley open all of his presents and he got nothing?

Where was Father Christmas? Didn't he see? Or did he turn a blind eye?

Harry couldn't hold back the grief as the sobs broke through and he fell to his knees. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself.


Severus Snape silently followed Harry through the halls, and up the stairs to the Tower. From the shadows, he watched the emotions cross the young man's face, the hurt flow and gather around him, then the tears and grief-filled sobs as he sunk to the cold stone floor. The man who lived a cold and lonely life wanted nothing more than to gather this passionate man and hold him close to his heart. Hold him through whatever grief was coursing through his soul.


Severus stepped further into the shadows as Minerva came rushing up the stairs, and moved toward the grieving young man.

"I--I wish to be alone, Professor." Harry managed, between sobs as he wiped at his face.

"I know you're upset. And you have a lot of questions."

Laughing harshly, a sneer on his face, "Upset? Questions?"

"Harry..." She held out a hand to touch his shoulder, but pulled back when she saw the expression in his eyes.

"Tell me please, Professor… or is it Mrs. Christmas? Where was Father Christmas when I lived in the cupboard?"


"Where was Father Christmas when I had to watch Dudley open his presents and I wasn't even allowed to touch, let alone look at the tree?"

More silence as Harry stood and turned a tear stained face and sad green eyes towards his former head of house.

"Where was Father Christmas when I wished for, begged for someone to take me away and love me?" Minerva covered her mouth to hold back a cry.

"Maybe Uncle Vernon was right. Father Christmas didn't bring presents to freaks. It's why my parents died. It's why I'm alone, and always will be, no matter how good I am."

Harry took a deep shuddering breath, "And now you want me to help Father Christmas?"

From his pocket he pulled out his shrunken Firebolt, enlarged it, and flew away into the cold winter's night.