"So why did my parents take credit for all those presents over the years?" Draco challenged.
"Yeah, and Dudley never deserved anything, believe me," Harry added. "So if Father Christmas is real, he's doing a pretty terrible job of deciding who's been naughty and who's been nice." He decided not to mention that Draco had also belonged on the naughty list every year.
"Ah. Well, he doesn't visit Muggles, so that explains your cousin's bounty," Snape announced, shaking his head. "And as for your family, Draco, no doubt a great many of those presents were from your parents."
"And your point is?" Draco asked, his own brow furrowed by then.
Snape shrugged. "Nicholas is a notoriously unreliable wizard."
"What?" Harry gasped, never having expected to hear that. In a strange sort of way, it made sense, though, didn't it? If there was a Father Christmas at all, he'd have to use magic... Hmm, and elves definitely did exist... "Oh, you're having us on," Harry said when he'd gotten over the shock.
Another shrug. "As you wish. I'll merely say that there's a reason he doesn't visit Muggles; he long ago realized he couldn't keep up with the work load. And of course wizarding parents know better than to depend on him. My understanding is that some years he stays up most of the night drinking wassail and then rushes out, only to turn back from Finland at dawn."
"That's a completely stupid story," Draco objected.
"Perhaps so," Snape allowed, "but one thing I do know for certain. On the years when he does make his rounds, he doesn't stop at homes where the occupants are still awake. Now, if you don't mind, I'll need the two of you to remove yourselves so that I might get to bed, myself." He made a shooing motion with his hand.
Once Harry and Draco were in their bedroom, the door closed, the only light the single candle Draco had snatched off the tree as he'd passed it, Harry whispered, "He looked serious. Was he, do you think?"
Draco snuggled down into his covers and quietly called across the room, "How should I know?"
"You grew up a wizard! If Father Christmas actually is one, wouldn't you know?"
"Well, everybody says he is, but you get to a certain age and you realize it's all just a story," Draco explained.
"What if it's not a story?" Harry mused. "I mean, it could be true."
"No, it couldn't," Draco retorted. But then he said, "Tell you what, though. Let's go to sleep now... just in case."
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Harry was woken the next morning by the feel of a hand shaking him awake. "Get up, Harry, up," he heard Draco's voice urging him. "Come on! It's Christmas!"
"Ten more minutes," Harry mumbled, brushing off Draco's pestering hand and rolling onto his other side.
"No!" Draco shouted, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and bouncing on it. "You can't sleep in on Christmas! You have to get up! We'll have presents!"
Half asleep, Harry groaned at the way his bed was wiggling and jiggling. Instinct had him booting the other boy off the mattress. Literally, his feet kicking out to shove Draco arse-first onto the floor.
That turned out to be a mistake. The next thing Harry knew, the bed and mattress beneath him vanished into thin air and he was sent hurtling to the floor in a tangle of sheets and blankets.
"Draco!" he chided, sitting up. "Control your... er, enthusiasm. There's no rush! You aren't even dressed!"
Draco was practically jumping up and down. "Honestly, who gets dressed before they open their presents? Come on out!"
"In pajamas?"
"Yes!"
Unable to wait any longer, Draco snatched Harry's hand, yanked him from the bedding on the floor, and literally dragged him to the door.
Harry hung back. "Snape might not even be out of bed. What time is it, anyway?"
Letting go of Harry's hand, Draco snatched his watch from the windowsill where he'd set it the night before, and thrust it in Harry's face. "See? See? See?"
Sure enough, a tiny dial was pointing to even tinier lettering, but when Harry looked close, he could read the words.
Time to open presents.
"All right," he finally gave in, laughing. "Just let me find some socks. The floors are freezing here, not spelled warm for the morning like in Snape's rooms..."
Draco waited impatiently while Harry pulled on his warmest pair, then yanked open the door and rushed to the mantle. He was about to pull his sock down when a chiding voice from the sofa said, "Patience, patience, Mr. Malfoy."
Snape was sitting there, looking as though he'd been awake for hours. As he'd done throughout the holiday, he'd left off his voluminous robes. Dark gray trousers and a black jumper weren't terribly Christmassy, Harry supposed, but anything more colorful than that just wouldn't be very Snape, would it?
Harry gave him a sleepy little wave, then wondered what he was supposed to do, really. He wasn't used to a family Christmas, to say the least.
At Snape's words, Draco had backed away from the mantle. Harry actually wondered what the big attraction was, there. Presents were strewn across the hearth and under the tree. He recognized the ones he'd given to Snape to hide when it became so very obvious that Draco simply could not be trusted to wait for Christmas morning. He supposed the others were from Snape and Draco, but that wouldn't account for the numbers he was seeing.
And why was Draco still staring at his sock, which looked... well, like a sock and nothing else?
"Happy Christmas," Snape said, nodding at them both.
"Happy Christmas," the boys echoed in unison. Immediately after the formalities were seen to, Draco began to complain. "I'm about out of patience. What is it, you want Harry to look in his sock first?"
Harry cleared his throat. "There's nothing in it. I can tell that from here."
"Oh honestly, we have got to make a proper wizard of this boy, Severus," Draco complained. "Go on, Harry, look."
"Look together," Snape mildly corrected. "I didn't want you rushing ahead of Harry."
When Harry took his sock down, it felt oddly heavy, though it looked like a perfectly normal sock. Out of it, however, he pulled a candy cane that must have been two feet long. It was in Gryffindor colors. Draco, he noticed, had a similar candy cane in green and black. Along with the candy cane spilled a variety of small, wrapped chocolates and, of all things, a top.
Draco whooped and set his spinning at once. It shot off sparks in every direction... sparks that rose toward the ceiling before exploding like miniature fireworks. Harry tried his too, then... and found out that once the top was started, it seemed it would spin forever on its own. He watched the fireworks going off all around, his green eyes a bit dazed by the display.
"So, what first," Snape asked, a small smile on his features as he studied Harry. "Breakfast, or presents?"
"Presents!" Draco shouted, clapping his hands down on Harry's top and then his own to stop their frantic activity.
"I rather thought you'd say that," Snape dryly remarked. "Harry?"
He didn't want to seem greedy. It reminded him too much of the disgusting way Dudley had always behaved. "Perhaps breakfast," he temporized, frowning slightly as he wondered how Dudley was faring with Aunt Marge this morning.
"Harry," Snape quietly advised, "There's nothing wrong with wanting your presents first. In fact, as I'm aware you've never had a proper Christmas in your life, I'd thought to make this a truly memorable one?"
"I just thought you might be hungry... sir," Harry murmured, distinctly uncomfortable.
"Presents first it is," Snape announced in answer to that. "Go sit by the tree, both of you. I've already warmed the stones."
Harry noticed that Draco had no trouble sitting on the floor on this particular morning.