This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's note: This was written for a Holiday fic challenge on another site. The prompt was to write about a Christmas surprise and include the words cake, red, bug, Santa and present. Had to wait until after Christmas to post, since I couldn't give my identity away! It's also an expanded version, since I had to cut it to meet the length requirement for the challenge. (You all know how verbose I can be! *grins*)


Draco shushed Ron as soon as the lanky red-head entered the flat, grabbing him by the robes and pushing him into the study. He closed the door behind them, poking his head around it first to make sure Harry hadn't seen them.

"I told you not to ring the bell!" Draco hissed, his eyes flashing as he narrowed them at Harry's best friend.

"What's put a bug up your arse?" Ron grumped, collapsing onto the leather sofa near the fire. It was snowing outside, and he was freezing. "I wanted to Floo over, but no, you were worried Harry would see me."

Draco rolled his eyes, pouring them both a glass of Firewhisky. He handed one to Ron, perching on the arm of the sofa next to him. It was Draco's first Christmas living with Harry, and he wanted everything to be perfect.

"Did you get it?" he asked Ron, craning his neck to look for a box or bag.

Ron took a sip of the aged whisky, closing his eyes to savor the rich flavor. He dug a hand into his robes, pulling out a small package, which he tossed to Draco.

"Hermione did," Ron said, swallowing the rest of his drink. "I found one that was green –"

"It has to be red," Draco interrupted, frowning.

"I know, Malfoy," Ron said, exasperated. "That's why Hermione took it back and got this one. I'd have thought your Slytherin arse would prefer green."

"It wouldn't work. Santa's suit is red."

Ron squinted at Draco's earnest face, shaking his head.

"Who is this Santa person? Hermione said the same thing. She tried to explain, but it just sounded … creepy."

Draco grinned, shrugging.

"It's a Muggle thing, I suppose. It's not supposed to be creepy – at least, I don't think it is," he said, frowning as he thought about Ron's words.

"An old man sets a Monitoring spell on you all year long to track your behavior, and then Apparates into your house while you're sleeping to leave you a gift if you've been good?" Ron asked, his eyebrows rising. "Creepy."

Draco shuddered slightly, nodding.

"You're right, Weasley; it sounds creepy. But Harry said something last month about never getting a visit from this Santa person when he was a kid, and he sounded – I don't know –sad when he said it," Draco explained, getting up to refill their glasses.

Ron raised his glass in a silent toast, downing half the glass ins one swallow. Draco rolled his eyes when the other wizard wasn't looking. He got along with most of Harry's friends, but Weasley's complete lack of refinement still bothered him.

Draco fingered his wand, casting an Enlargement Charm on the tiny package. It grew several times its size, taking up most of the table in its expanded form. He peeked in the bag, grimacing when his hand brushed the fake fur trim. The bright red velvet wasn't much better, and he wrinkled his nose as he pulled the Santa suit out.

"Disgusting," he said, his lip drawn up in a sneer as he shook out the suit, holding it up so he could see the whole thing.

Ron laughed, a grin splitting his face. This was going to be priceless. He just hoped he got a chance to see Malfoy in the hideous costume before the blond changed his mind.

"It's enormous!" Draco cried, looking from the over-sized suit to his own slender waist. "Did they not have it in a smaller size?"

Ron shrugged, standing to join Draco by the table.

"Hermione said it was supposed to be this size. Apparently Santa is fat. She said to tell you that you're supposed to stuff it."

"Stuff it?" Draco asked, incredulous.

"Oh, yeah," Ron mumbled, drawing another shrunken package out of his robes. He re-sized this one himself, stepping back as the mound of cotton batting grew enough to spill down onto the floor. "With that."

Draco eyed the pile of white fluff with a terrified expression, his shoulders slumping when he realized how utterly ridiculous he was going to look dressed as this Santa person. It was bad enough he was dressing like some mythical Muggle creation – did he have to be fat, too?

"Weasley, about our deal –"

"No! No backing out, Malfoy! I want pictures, and lots of them. With the stuffing. You promised!"

Draco's eyes drifted closed, and his face was pinched, like he was in pain. He sighed heavily, dropping the red velvet Santa suit on to the table.



Draco had just put the finishing touches on his costume when he heard the Floo roar to life. Harry was home. He glanced in the mirror one last time, smoothing out the long white beard Hermione had charmed for him right before she left. It looked ridiculous, of course, but she insisted it was an important part of this Santa person's image. That and the horrendously bushy white eyebrows and mounds and mounds of fat, which she had simulated by stuffing the suit full of the batting she'd bought.

Draco grimaced again, remembering the entire roll of photos she'd taken before going home. It was a small price to pay, though, to have had her help in doing this for Harry. Draco allowed himself a small smile in anticipation of Harry's reaction when he realized the lengths Draco was willing to go to please him.

"Draco?" Harry called down the corridor, and Draco heard him step into the kitchen, dropping bags of groceries on the counter.

"I'm in the bedroom," Draco answered, running his hands down the hideous red suit and hitching the large bag of presents up higher on his shoulder.

He ran down his mental list to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. Santa suit? Check. Bag with presents? Check. Lines? Check. Ho, ho, ho, he chanted in his head, preparing himself. Hermione had given him a list of things to say that sounded more than a bit disturbing to Draco, but she had insisted they were right. Climb up on Santa's lap. Have you been a good little boy this year? Draco ran through the phrases, his lips pursing in distaste. He just couldn't see the appeal for Muggle children – Santa sounded like a pedophile to him.

"I bought a cake," Harry said, drawing Draco's attention back to the task at hand. He walked toward the kitchen, Harry's voice getting louder as he approached. "I thought since we weren't going to the Burrow until Christmas Day we'd have our own Christmas Eve celebration tonight."

Harry waited for Draco to answer, puzzled when he received no response from his boyfriend. He poked his head into the sitting room, nearly choking on his own tongue when he realized Draco was sitting in the wingback chair by the window – in a Santa suit.

"Draco, what –"

"Come here, little boy," Draco bellowed, his voice pitched low and husky. "Come sit on Santa's lap."

"Draco, really –"

Draco patted his velvet-clad knee, inviting Harry to sit. The dark-haired wizard complied, trying hard to reign in his laughter. The blond looked completely serious.

"Have you been a good boy this year, Harry?" he asked gruffly, tousling Harry's already messy hair.

Harry did laugh at that, quickly biting his lip when he saw annoyance flash through Draco's grey eyes.

"Yes, Santa," Harry said, struggling to maintain his composure. "I've been a very good boy."

"I know," Draco grunted, his expression solemn. "My Monitoring spells didn't put you on my naughty list this year. What toy do you want my house-elves to make you? I'll bring it when I Apparate in later tonight. Er, if you leave me a plate of biscuits and cocoa."

Harry's lips quirked again, and he buried his face in Draco's over-stuffed shoulder. His chest shook with silent laughter, tears forming in his eyes as he tried to quell his amusement.

"What?" Draco cried, his voice normal again. "Am I not getting it right? Don't you like it? I've done everything Hermione told me to do. You said you never got a visit from Santa –"

Harry's heart melted as he realized what his boyfriend was trying to do. It was true that he'd never had a visit with Santa – or even any toys on Christmas – growing up with the Dursleys. He'd mentioned it off-hand a few weeks ago when they'd seen a Muggle advert with a photo of Santa Claus, but he'd never realized how seriously Draco had taken it.

"Draco, no," Harry said, lifting his face so he could look into the blond's eyes. "No, it's perfect. It's just perfect. I love it."

"You don't," Draco said, frowning as he studied Harry's face. "I just wanted to surprise you –"

"You did," Harry interrupted, chuckling again. He ran a hand through Draco's silvery white beard, surprised the hair didn't move when he tugged it gently. "You actually spelled a beard on yourself?"

"No," Draco admitted, shifting slightly so Harry's weight was distributed over both his thighs. "Hermione did it."

"And the suit?"

"Hermione and Weasley helped. They picked it up for me, and Hermione helped me get it on. She gave me a list of things to say as well."

Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Draco's lips, smiling as he pulled away.

"It's the best surprise I've ever had, I swear," he said, his eyes shining. "I love you."

Draco smiled, leaning over the side of the chair to retrieve his large bag.

"I have your presents here," he said, lifting a large box out.

Harry took it, but let it slide to the floor instead of opening it. He turned back to Draco, fisting his hands in the cheap velvet suit.

"Later," he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively at the blond. "There's only one present I want right now."

Draco looked troubled, his ridiculous bushy eyebrows drawing together in a frown.

"This doesn't – you aren't – you don't find this sexy, do you?" he asked, sweeping an incredulous glance down his garishly clad, rotund figure.

"Oh God, no!" Harry laughed, wrinkling his nose. "No! Yuck."

"Oh thank Merlin," Draco sighed, relieved. If Harry had some strange fetish for fat old men, he definitely didn't want to know about it.

"But you, doing this for me –that I find incredibly sexy," Harry purred, leaning in to press another kiss against Draco's lips.

Draco's hands came up, twining themselves in Harry's dark hair. Draco pulled slightly, forcing Harry's head back. He kissed a path down Harry's jaw, nibbling on his exposed neck. He'd gotten down to Harry's collarbone – one of the most sensitive spots on the dark-haired wizard's body – when he realized Harry's shoulders were shaking with laughter, not lust.

"Wait," Harry giggled, planting his hands on Draco's too-soft chest and pushing away. "I can't –" he gasped for breath, his face reddening as he laughed, "– take you seriously like this. Oh Merlin, if you could see how you looked –"

"I've seen how I look," Draco said, an edge to his voice. He wiggled his thighs impatiently, and Harry obediently slid off, standing beside the chair. "I'm perfectly aware of how hideous –"

"It's just –" Harry broke off, gasping as his laughter overtook him "— you look –" he doubled over, holding his sides, "— it's the beard, really –" Harry's arm shot out, supporting himself on the side of Draco's chair.

"– just a bit like –" Draco's eyes narrowed as he waited for Harry to finish his sentence.

"– Dumbledore."


Harry pounded on the bedroom door again, certain he'd make the situation worse if he opened it with a spell. There were times magic didn't give him any advantages, and Draco in a snit was one of them.

"I said I was sorry!" he called through the door, his fisted hand pounding on the wooden panels again.

He sighed, resting his head against the door. There was no sound from inside, and he could detect the faint shimmer of a Silencing spell emanating from underneath the door. He gave it a few more futile slaps with his open hand, knowing Draco had likely spelled it so he could hear Harry's apologies even though Harry couldn't hear him. Draco loved making him beg.

"Fine, Draco," Harry said, sighing heavily. "I'm leaving."

Harry waited a few more moments, shaking his head when he got no response. He slipped down the corridor, heading to the entryway where he could Disapparate.

A minute later, the bedroom door creaked open. Draco stood in the opening, still wearing the rumpled Santa suit, though he'd divested himself of the stuffing and spelled his beard and bushy eyebrows away. He poked his head out, looking up and down the corridor. Seeing that Harry truly was gone, he frowned and walked back to the bed, curling up in a ball with Harry's pillow under his head, breathing in the scent of his lover as he fell into a fitful sleep.


It was light out when Draco awoke, stiff and sore from sleeping in an unfamiliar position. He blinked a few times, his eyes feeling sandy and sore from crying himself to sleep. He knew he'd really messed things up last night – Harry had never left in the middle of an argument like that. It was inevitable, though, Draco thought glumly, his chest contracting at the thought of Harry leaving him for good. Why do I take things so seriously? I knew he was joking – I should have just let him in when he apologized.

Draco dragged himself out of the empty bed, a quick glance around the room enough to confirm that Harry hadn't been to bed. He was notoriously messy – another point they fought over constantly – and the lack of telltale heaps of clothing strewn about the floor made Draco sure Harry was still gone.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing hard and striding toward the door. He didn't bother to change – what did it matter what he looked like, if Harry was gone? He headed straight for the Floo, intending to Fire-call around until he could find Harry so he could apologize. He'd beg on his hands and knees if he had to, promise to change, let Harry have that bloody dog he'd been griping about –

Draco stopped, the familiar smell of coffee and waffles drifting down the corridor. The breakfast Harry always cooked the morning after a fight. He hastened his steps, flying into the kitchen, his heart bursting with hope that Harry had in fact changed his mind and come home. His face split into a huge smile when he saw his lover standing at the stove, adding a rasher of bacon to a sizzling pan.

"Harry, you're –"

"— sorry," the dark-haired wizard finished for him, leaving the stove to press a kiss to Draco's stubbly jaw.

"For what? I'm the one who should be sorry. I –"

Harry pressed a finger to Draco's soft lips, cutting him off. "You're the one who did something incredibly sweet for me, something no one has ever done before, and I'm the one who bollocksed it up. Do you forgive me, Draco?"

Draco didn't answer, claiming Harry's mouth in a fierce kiss instead. He pulled back, peppering Harry's face with tiny kisses, covering every centimeter of the face he'd feared he'd never see again.

"I have a present for you," Harry said, grabbing Draco's wrists and drawing his hands down from their position of cupping his face. "It is Christmas, after all."

He pulled Draco to the table, where a large stone basin sat. Delicate carvings of ancient runes decorated the sides, and a shimmery liquid swirled restlessly in the bottom.

"A Pensieve?"

Yesterday's fight had been building for a long time, and Harry knew most of their problems could be traced back to Draco's insecurities. He'd gone looking for the Pensieve on a whim, hoping it would convince Draco of his feelings in a way normal words hadn't been able to.

"You asked me what I thought was sexy yesterday," he said, kissing Draco's neck, forcing him down into the chair. "These are my memories of all the times I've found you irresistibly sexy. I think you'll find there are quite a lot."

Draco looked from the basin to Harry's face, which was warm and open.

"But you left me."

"Just to get the Pensieve. It was harder to find one on Christmas Eve than I'd thought it would be. And it took me most of the night to retrieve the memories," Harry said, a blush stealing over his cheeks. "I had to – er – stop several times. You'll see why. I put those in memories in, too."


Forty minutes later, Draco emerged from the Pensieve. Harry sat at the table next to him, waiting patiently. Their breakfast was sitting on the counter, still the perfect temperature thanks to Warming spells.

"Harry," Draco whispered, his hand cupping Harry's jaw in a light caress. His grey eyes were wide with wonder. "You love me. You think about me all the time."

"I do," Harry answered with a gentle smile.

Draco launched himself at the dark-haired wizard, climbing into his lap to have better access to his mouth and body. Harry's hands slipped up underneath the voluminous red velvet suit, seeking the soft skin underneath. Draco shuddered at the touch, grinding his erection into Harry's as he thrust his tongue into Harry's mouth.

Pale fingers ripped at Harry's clothes, desperate to get him naked. Harry helped, shrugging out of his shirt as soon as Draco unbuttoned it, his hands moving to grip the gaudy fur trim of Draco's top. They broke apart for a moment as the fabric passed over Draco's head, falling back into their passionate kiss as soon as he was free.

"Not here," Harry gasped when he felt Draco tugging at his trousers, struggling to get them unfastened.

"Here," Draco panted, succeeding in ripping the button from the trousers and drawing Harry's zipper down. He thrust his hand in, and Harry groaned as Draco's cool fingers came into contact with his throbbing cock. "Now."

Harry moved, his grip tight around Draco's torso as he stood. He balanced Draco against the table, carefully pushing the stone basin until it was safely out of the way. He helped Draco hop up so he was sitting on the edge of their scrubbed pine table, yanking at Draco's over-sized velvet trousers, which yielded easily. Harry pushed his own trousers down around his ankles, not bothering to step out of them in his haste.

Harry held out his hand to Summon the pot of lube from their bedroom, but Draco stopped him, Summoning Harry's wand from the counter, instead.

"Impatient?" Harry chuckled, taking the familiar piece of holly from Draco's outstretched hand. He opened his mouth to cast Lubricating and Stretching spells on himself, but Draco stopped him again. "You?"


Harry huffed out a sigh of mock outrage, obliging his lover and casting the spells on Draco, instead. It was technically Harry's turn, but he was more than happy to comply, so long as one of them was penetrated soon.

He repeated the Lubrication spell on his own straining cock, shuddering slightly at the cool sensation that slicked over the hot skin. He stroked himself once to spread the liquid, coating his fingers in the oily substance as well. But when he ran a finger across Draco's hole, the blond shook his head, guiding Harry's cock into place instead.

"Happy Christmas indeed," Harry muttered, taking care to push slowly into Draco. They usually took much more time to prepare, but it was clear Draco didn't have the patience for foreplay at the moment.

He eased Draco back on the table, gripping Draco's slim hips to steady himself as he thrust into his tight heat. Draco wrapped his hand around his own cock, furiously stroking himself in time with Harry's movements.

"Fuck, Harry," Draco groaned as Harry's thick cock ran across his prostate, sending a shiver of pleasure up his spine. He gripped his own member harder, roughly stroking himself. "Harder. More."

Harry's tense muscles quivered at Draco's tone, so full of lust and pleasure that he nearly lost control at the sound. Draco's delicious gasps and moans were quickly sending him to the edge, and Harry quickened his pace, pistoning into Draco harder and faster. The table shook with the force of their frenzied lovemaking, but they were both too far gone to care.

"Oh Merlin, fuck," Draco gasped as he came, his body clenching around Harry, milking his own orgasm out of him.

"Draco," Harry whispered, resting his head on Draco's chest as he came, his legs trembling violently with the force of his release.

They lay there for a moment, the only sound in the room their labored breathing. With a sigh, Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's slick chest, pushing himself up on his forearms so he wasn't crushing the blond into the table.

"We should get moving," Harry said, patting Draco's naked arse affectionately. "I forgot to tell you –"

A strangled scream cut off Harry's words, and both Harry and Draco flinched.

"– Ron and Hermione are coming for Christmas brunch."

The couple stood in the kitchen doorway, obviously shocked at the scene in front of them.

"I'll give you anything to Obliviate me. You can have the Santa pictures back – anything! Please, Malfoy, I'm begging here," Ron cried, his hands still covering his eyes.

Hermione smiled.

"I'm just sorry I didn't have my camera this time," she said, waggling her eyebrows. "That's definitely a picture worth having."