Garish, Harry thought, was a pretty dead-on accurate description of Aunt Petunia's typical Christmas decorations. "Wizarding traditions will be fine," he answered, somewhat subdued.
For all that, though, Snape charmed the berries on the holly to be both red and yellow. Draco huffed at that, but Harry thought it a rather touching gesture.
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Draco claimed he wanted to save the goose for Christmas Day, and though Harry personally suspected the other boy just wanted to put off the work that would go into roasting it, he agreed. They had chestnut soup on Christmas eve, along with piping hot whole-grain bread. Snape got that from the magic crate, but the rest of the meal they prepared at the cottage. It wasn't too much work, though. The house-elves had packed a lot of half-prepared items. The soup, for instance. It only needed to be thawed and then simmered a bit, which with magic was no problem at all, but Draco just wouldn't stop moaning.
Well, not until Harry threatened to withhold his Christmas present if the other boy didn't start behaving himself.
"You wouldn't," Draco sputtered, outraged. "That's just nasty, that is."
"I will if you don't stop all your whinging," Harry retorted. "Honestly! You don't complain like this in Potions class when you have to chop and stir and boil things!"
"An interesting comparison," said Snape from the table, where he was writing letters. Harry wondered who they were to, but felt that asking would be a bit presumptuous. "You've handled enough meals for us that I know you cook quite well, so why aren't you more skilled at Potions?"
Harry half-smiled as he sprinkled a bit of pepper into the steaming soup. "Well, with cooking if you add too much of an ingredient, you don't tend to get an explosion, you know. There's more room for error."
"Maybe Longbottom should train as a chef, then," Draco gibed.
"Maybe I'll send your present back owl-return," Harry threatened. "Neville's doing the best he can. I don't want to hear you insulting him. In fact, when we get back to class, why don't you try to help him for once? There's probably no better way to convince the Gryffindors that there might be something decent inside you, after all."
Draco huffed in indignation, and didn't directly reply.
"Speaking of owls, though," Harry continued, "I was wondering if the cottage is charmed to keep them away."
Snape nodded. "There is little cause for concern, but still..." He lifted his shoulders in an eloquent gesture.
Harry nodded as well. "Right. Constant vigilance. I just thought it might be nice if my friends' presents could make it through, though. They'll be delivered to Hogwarts, won't they, not returned to the senders?"
"I did apply a sensible redirecting spell, yes," Snape drawled.
Harry couldn't help but notice the slightly offended tone underlying those words. "You're a great and powerful wizard," he admitted, and then realizing what he had said, chortled a bit. "Sorry," he gasped when Snape and Draco both gave him a look. "It's a line from a Muggle movie. Um... The Wizard of Oz. I just laughed because the 'great and powerful wizard of Oz' couldn't possibly be more unlike you, Professor."
Draco quite obviously didn't get it. "Where's Oz?" he asked Snape, who looked a bit bemused.
"It's fiction," Harry stressed.
"Oh, like My Broom Can Zoom?" Draco asked. "That was my favorite book when I was little."
"Uh, yeah, bit like that I guess," Harry mumbled.
"So how am I different from this 'great and powerful wizard'?" Snape inquired.
Harry blushed. "Oh, well really he wasn't a wizard at all, didn't know any magic, he just knew how to invent things. I think. I don't remember it very well."
"Muggles have very odd ideas about wizards."
"We definitely need that Wizard Studies class," Draco agreed.
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Later that night, Snape set a snowy white candle on the table. Unlike the tapers that were glowing everywhere --apparently in some pureblood families, it was traditional to have no wizarding light on Christmas eve, only candles-- this one was one of the tiny votives Harry had seen burning in churches. Not that he'd been to church much at all, but Uncle Vernon had had a thing about midnight mass on Christmas eve. Mostly, Harry remembered being yelled at the whole way there to keep his hair flattened down over his scar, then yelled at the whole way back that somebody had probably seen it.
And then the next morning, his "misbehavior" at church the night before would be used as a pretext for why he didn't have any presents.
He'd always known that Christmas was supposed to be a happy time, but it really never had been for Harry, not until he'd spent one at Hogwarts.
Looking at the votive now brought back bad memories, but Harry didn't know that his eyes were actually haunted with them. He wasn't even aware that he was nervously tugging down his fringe, not until Snape reached out and placed a hand over his, guiding it back down to the table, then holding it firmly. Harry looked up, a bit surprised. He might have told Snape about the cupboard and the missed meals, and Snape was smart enough to guess that Harry'd never gotten proper presents from his relatives, but he was sure the man didn't know what the small, short candle represented to Harry.
Apparently, though, Snape didn't need to know details. He knew Harry, which was better. He could tell when the boy was lost in painful recollections.
To Harry's great surprise, the unlit votive upset Draco as well. The blond boy stared at it, leaning both his elbows on the table, his shoulders rising then collapsing in a sigh that wasn't theatrical in the least. "I'm the youngest here too?" he confirmed with Snape, who nodded.
"All right," Draco breathed, pushing off from the table. "I wonder who's doing this at..."
He never finished the sentence.
Harry watched in confusion as Draco touched his wand to the wick to light the candle, then walked to set it on the windowsill. He charmed the curtains to stay apart enough that the flame could be seen through the glass. That done, he flopped onto the worn couch, leaning against one end of it and propping his crossed ankles on the other as he stared and stared and stared at the flickering candle.
His attention on it was strange enough, but what was even more unusual was the Slytherin boy's posture. Draco usually sat as though he was demonstrating an etiquette lesson, which was one reason why it was hard to get him to unbend enough to join Harry on the floor.
The smell of melting wax floated through the room, making Harry think the votive might actually be a regular candle, the kind that slowly melted into nothingness.
Realizing that Snape's long fingers were still clasping his, Harry pulled his hand away. "What's wrong with Draco?" he whispered.
The words breaking the vigil, Draco shifted on the couch to make room for Harry, then beckoned him over. He waited until Harry was next to him, then murmured, "It's just that I'm youngest at home, too. So, the candle... you know." A brief pause. "Oh, maybe you don't. I don't know if Muggles have the tradition."
He looked back at the votive. "The youngest in the family puts a candle in the window to await the arrival of Father Christmas, that's all." His voice broke slightly. "My father used to hold my hand when I was little, and we'd incant Incendio together to make it light... Sorry. I know how much you hate my father. I hate him too. Well, most of the time."