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The first time Harry had done this, he had felt more than a little silly, but this was now his fifth year playing Santa at Number 12 Grimmauld Place - or rather, at the orphanage it had been converted into.
‘Potter’s Orphanage for the Reincorporation of Nurturing’ - Yes, Harry knew he shouldn’t have let Hermione name the orphanage. But he was just so grateful that she handled all the paperwork for him that he had convinced himself it couldn’t possibly be worse than S.P.E.W. Since then, Harry had done everything possible to keep the full name - and especially the abbreviation - out of the papers and away from the public. To them, it was merely: Potter’s Orphanage.
“So Charlotte,” Harry began as he sat the last child on his knee. “What would you like for Christmas?”
Harry had very deliberately left Charlotte for last. All the other children had wished for things he could buy: new books, toys, a practise potions set. Charlotte, however…
“I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally, really, really, really want to meet Puddlemere United!!! Please, Santa, please!!”
Harry was quite glad that the aging potion, did not affect the joints. Otherwise, Charlotte’s bouncing could have caused some damage.
“Hmmmm…” Santa Harry mused, “Puddlemere United, you say? Are they the black and yellow team?”
Charlotte shook her head.
“No? Oh! The bright orange team?”
Charlotte giggled and shook her head again.
Harry pretended to think and stroked his beard as if deep in thought, “Oh ho ho! I remember now! The navy blue and gold team!”
“Yes! Please, Santa! Please, can we meet them?” Charlotte begged, hands clasped under her chin and eyes wide and begging.
Harry chuckled, “Santa will see what he can do. I promise.”
Charlotte hugged him tightly, “thank you, Santa!”
Harry patted her on the back and stood off the chair with not a completely insincere groan.
“Alright, boys and girls! Santa must get going now!”
Luna stepped forward with a smile, “Come on, everyone! Say goodbye to Santa!”
The boys and girls all cheered and Harry waved at them all as he kept an ear out for the signal and once heard, he tapped his nose.
“Alright, I have to get back to the North Pole for now, but! I do have one last surprise for you all!”
The kids all gasped and fell silent, watching him avidly.
Harry tossed the potion ball George had created to the ground and a flurry of glittering navy and gold sparkles exploded into the air. While the kids were distracted by the glitter, Harry quickly dispelled the disillusionment charms behind him and apparated upstairs to his office.
He grinned as he heard the excited shrieking from downstairs and made his way to the desk to unstopper the antidote to the aging potion. He sighed with relief as his body returned to normal.
Discarding the red robes trimmed with white fur and big shiny black boots for his usual jeans, shirt, jumper, and joggers, he moved next to the bathroom to transfigure his beard back to his usual scruff.
Knowing Luna and Ron had things under control, not to mention the nine members that made up Puddlemere United, Harry took the time to get some much-needed paperwork done. Most importantly; writing down the list of things the kids had asked for.
~*~*~*~*~ Harry&Oliver ~*~*~*~*~
Around an hour later, Harry headed downstairs, coming to rest against the doorframe to the converted living room. It had initially been an old drawing-room full of mouldy, uncomfortable chairs, and portraits that muttered dark curses under their breath only to be disappointed when their painted wands didn’t light up.
It had also shared a wall with the entrance hallway.
With the removal of Old Walburga, (to the attic, so as not to give poor Kreacher a complete heart attack) and several expansion charms, it was now a room large enough to entertain some thirty children of varying ages, nine Quidditch players, Luna, and Ron.
Harry watched with a satisfied smile as several of the children were gathered around a toy Quidditch stadium, complete with moving toy players as the real players showed them different strategies for the game.
He looked around the room, still unnoticed, and he watched as his old Quidditch Captain spoke to Charlotte on what appeared to be a very sombre topic.
“-but Quadpot is STUPID!” Charlotte cried, “Why can’t they play Quidditch like normal people.”
Harry rolled his eyes. He’d had this conversation with Charlotte many times. One of their newest additions was a boy of six. His mother was English, his father an American immigrant to Britain. They had both been severely infected by a particularly virulent strain of Dragon Pox, and neither one of them had made it. The boy, who had been staying with a friend while they went away for the weekend, had remained unaffected. With no family left here or in the States, Harry’s contact in the Department of Magical Welfare had gotten in touch him immediately.
The boy, Parker, had an insane love for the American sport of Quadpot.
“But Quadpot is normal to them. That’s their sport, just like the muggles love their football, and the Egyptians love their carpet racing. Just because it isn’t your normal, doesn’t mean it’s bad. People are allowed to like different things. It’s what makes the world interesting and fun.”
Charlotte screwed up her nose in thought, “like how Poppy doesn’t like chocolate? And Logan only eats foods that are blue?”
Oliver chuckled, “Exactly like that.”
“Oh, well I suppose that’s okay then.”
“Maybe you should tell him that,” Oliver suggested.
Charlotte nodded thoughtfully and quickly stood up to run over to the boy in question.
“PARKER! It’s okay ifs you like Quadpot! I like Quidditch! But we can still be friends!”
She glomped the boy in a big hug, and Harry smiled when he saw Parker hug her back.
His gaze turned back to Oliver and he nodded in greeting when saw Oliver coming his way.
“Hey, Oliver,” he said warmly.
“Hey, Santa,” Oliver teased quietly.
Harry snorted, “How did you recognise me?”
Oliver grinned, “it’s not hard when you have the same eyewear,” he said, pointing to Harry’s eyes.
“Oh, shite!” Harry said, quickly tearing off his glasses. He had indeed forgotten to transfigure the thin golden spectacles back into his usual darker, thicker frames.
He sighed as the now-familiar glasses slid back onto his nose. “That could have been awkward. Thanks.”
“No worries, Harry. How have you been?”
Harry huffed a laugh and ran a hand through his hair and then gestured to the somewhat chaos around him, “Bloody busy. You?”
Oliver’s eyes shadowed, and his next words were somewhat cryptic. “Winding down actually. I was wondering; I’ve got some free time… Could I come around more often? Help out with the kids? I could take them on some excursions, to the park? Maybe just hang out?”
Harry tilted his head, looking at Oliver seriously.
“Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry! You missed Santa!” cried little three-year-old Killian.
Harry turned and swooped him up into his arms.
“Did I? Oh no!! I’ll have to make sure I’m here to see him next year, won’t I?”
Killian nodded gravely, “But how are you gonna get your presents?”
“I’ll write him a letter,” Harry said with a smile, “we can send it with Rowena, yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“Did you want to help me? You can make the card?”
Killian started squirming in excitement and Harry set him down, only for him to run directly over to the table that held all their colouring things.
“You’re really good with them,” Oliver said, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.
He turned back to Oliver, appraising him once more, as Oliver’s captain called out that it was time for them to get going.
“Can you come back tonight?”
Oliver nodded.
“The kids are in bed by half eight. Come by after that?”
“Sure thing!” Oliver grinned.
~*~*~*~*~ Harry&Oliver ~*~*~*~*~
Harry had just finished putting the older kids to bed - they were still buzzing with excitement from the visit earlier - when he felt the floo chime. He turned out the light and quietly closed the door before padding near silently down the hall. When he reached the floo, he nodded in greeting to Oliver, held a finger to his lips and gestured for him to follow.
Harry led them to his office and gestured Oliver inside. Ensuring the privacy spells were in place, he sat down in one of the armchairs by his fireplace and gestured for Oliver to do the same.
“So what’s going on?” Harry asked.
All afternoon, Harry had been racking his brain, trying to figure out why, but more importantly how Oliver would be able to spend more time at the Orphanage. For as long as Harry had known him, Oliver had been Quidditch-mad. He lived and breathed it, and Harry wasn’t about to let someone come around whenever they felt like it; these kids needed stability in their lives. Not someone who would show up a few times a week and then suddenly abandon them when Quidditch picked up again.
Harry and Luna both lived here full-time. Ron was a steady presence from two in the afternoon until bedtime every other night. He switched off with George. Hermione made lesson plans and was in charge of all library visits every Saturday morning and would come every Wednesday to help with homework. Hannah came every weekday at nine and cooked until she had to leave at two for her shift at the Leaky Cauldron. Neville stayed with them during the summer holidays, and Molly and Arthur were always there from four onwards for dinner.
Harry wasn’t sure if Oliver could commit like that, no matter the fact Harry was expecting a few more children over the next couple of weeks - once all the paperwork was handled by the Ministry - and another set of hands would be Merlinsent. Not to mention that Harry needed time to scout a new location - they were bursting at the seams here in Grimmauld and if he didn’t find a new place soon…
“I’m retiring,” Oliver said, a grin breaking out as Harry sputtered into his drink.
“You’re what? Since when? Why?”
Oliver’s grin quickly faded away and he grimaced. “No-one knows yet, it’s top-secret. I’ve already been replaced. They aren’t going to announce my retirement until the day before the match against the Tornadoes. They’re our strongest competition next season.”
“Oliver…” Harry said, still bewildered, “I don’t-”
“Bludger Sickness,” Oliver said bluntly. “I’ve got Bludger Sickness.”
Harry’s eyes went wide. Bludger Sickness was the kiss of death to a Quidditch Player’s career. It didn’t happen often, but it could happen at any time, to anyone. All of a sudden, the affected player would develop an acute allergy to the highspeed lead balls and would no longer be able to even touch one, let alone play with one. The magic used to create the balls changed the properties of the lead and when mixed with the affected player’s magic it often caused fatal reactions.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered.
Oliver shrugged, “I’ll be alright. I can still play pick-up games so long as we use wooden balls, and I had a good run, didn’t I? I probably only had a couple of years left anyway. Most Quidditch players retire at thirty-two.”
Neither of them said that it was mostly Seekers who retired that young. Most Keepers didn’t retire until they were closer to thirty-eight.
“Anyway,” Oliver swallowed heavily, “I always wanted to start my own orphanage when I retired, but you kind of beat me to it. I don’t know if you know- but I’m an orphan myself.”
Harry nodded, “I didn’t find out until you left Hogwarts and started with Puddlemere, but I know.”
Oliver nodded, “Well, with my first Quidditch sponsorship, I brought this huge mansion east of Worcester… anyway, not important, I want to help, Harry. I want to be here. I know you were probably worried about me being away for Quidditch, but I won’t be. I’ll be here as much as you want me to be. However you need me to be, and you don’t need to pay me, Merlin knows I’ve got more than enough money to see me through a few lifetimes. An early inheritance, a whipsmart goblin accountant, and a Quidditch career will do that. I want to move on to my next dream.”
Harry’s mind was spinning. Oliver sounded very much like a silver platter, one Harry wouldn’t have to second guess and check for tarnishing. It didn’t matter what Oliver’s passion was, if he said he wanted something, he would get it one way or another. A spot on the Quidditch team in his second year? Done. Quidditch Captain? Done. Four Outstanding NEWTs? Done. Play for Puddlemere United? Done.
“Oliver… what if…” Harry blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I need to talk this over with Luna first. But I don’t know if you noticed, we’re getting a little short on space here. Luna and I are already sharing a room, and this,” he waved a hand, “used to be a closet. We’ve used nearly all the expansion charms that can be safely applied. That mansion you said you have… What if that was your buy-in?”
~*~*~*~*~ Harry&Oliver ~*~*~*~*~
That had been nearly a month ago. Now, they were all quite settled in the new home Oliver had provided. Although, a letter had been sent to Santa with a change of address when the children worried he wouldn’t find them.
It was more than Harry had expected, more than he could have dreamed. Not only were the grounds large enough that the children had plenty of room to run and play in. But there were more than enough rooms for everyone to have their own. Harry and Oliver stayed in one wing with the boys and there were a few spare rooms for other volunteers when they were needed. Luna had taken a room on the east side with the girls. She liked the sunrise.
There was an extensive library, in which they had placed a few study nooks for the children old enough for Hogwarts. A music room, which was a big hit with some of the kids who had decided they wanted to start a band. Harry wasn’t sure how long their enthusiasm would last, but he was glad for the silencing charms. Neville had been able to stop by right at the beginning of Christmas break to check out the gardens. He was going to have some of the NEWT level students at Hogwarts come up with some designs for it as part of their last assessment piece.
Harry smiled as he walked down the halls toward what they called the family room. It was the largest lounge room - there were several after all - but this one was designed to hold everyone. There were couches and poufs and bean bags. Warm rugs covered the carpets, and it sported two fireplaces for those cold, snowy nights when they would gather with hot chocolates and tell stories.
It also held the Christmas Tree.
And they had one last job to do before bedtime. The gifts needed to be placed under the tree. Harry picked up the pace a little, knowing that they would be woken early by no less than half of their cohort.
He ran into Luna on her way out of the room.
“Harry!” she exclaimed warmly, “You’re just in time. We just finished.”
Harry cocked his head bemused, wondering how he could be on time for something that was over.
“Alright, then. Are you for bed?”
Luna nodded, “I am, Charlotte’s going to wake me at four-forty-seven. Oliver’s still in there, waiting for you.”
“Oh, erm… is he?”
“You should tell him how you feel.”
Harry sucked in a breath as his thoughts suddenly whirred over the time since the day that Puddlemere United had visited his home. How his dormant and deliberately forgotten crush on his old Quidditch Captain had roared to new heights. How these past few weeks he had snuck glances at Oliver - only to see him looking back, hoping it was for romantic reasons.
Luna patted his arm and softly skipped toward her room.
Slowly, Harry turned the doorknob and walked into the room.
Only to find Oliver sitting on a rug in front of the fire, a bottle of the spiced wine Harry favoured and a plate of fruits and sweets.
Feeling his heart begin to beat a little faster, Harry closed the door behind him softly.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
Oliver turned slowly from where he had been staring into the fire. Harry couldn’t quite see the expression on his face with only the fire and the light from the Christmas tree. Harry absently noted that all the gifts had been placed under it already. The pile was large and full, and Harry knew the kids were going to be excited to see it in the morning.
“Harry, would you join me?” Oliver asked quietly, gesturing to the space beside him.
Harry bobbed his head in an approximation of a nod and made his way over.
“So- uh, what’s all this?” he asked as he sat down.
Oliver shrugged, “I thought maybe we could have a nightcap? And a little chat in front of the fire?”
Harry inhaled slowly, trying to calm the fluttering nerves that arose in him in the face of Oliver’s confidant voice.
“Sure, yeah, erm, sounds good.”
Oliver smiled, and Harry felt like he swallowed a flitterbloom bush.
He watched as Oliver reached for the glasses - only to knock over the bottle in the process.
“Oh! Quaffleshite!” Oliver cursed, making Harry laugh, his nerves dissipating as he realised Oliver was likely as nervous as he.
“I haven’t heard that one before,” Harry teased, and Oliver glanced up to catch his eye.
Right away, he ducked his head again and chuckled softly, “Sorry, I’m just- I really wanted this to go well…”
“And what exactly is it that you want to go well?” Harry asked, shifting a little closer under the guise of snagging a cherry from the small pile on the plate.
He watched as Oliver’s eyes flicked across the new distance between them and a smile tugged at his lips. He looked up at Harry, holding his gaze as he spoke.
“I like you, Harry. I always have, I reckon. And this past month has been like a dream come true, and not just because of the kids… spending this time with you, getting to know you again, I feel like I’ve come home and I wasn’t sure I would feel that way again, not after my diagnosis...”
Harry’s lips twitched into a soft smile at the mention of Oliver’s first love, Quidditch.
“I feel the same way,” Harry said quietly, “I mean, about you, erm-” he ran his hand nervously through his hair, “Luna told me I should uh, ‘man up’ and tell you how I feel.”
Oliver snorted softly as he leant a little closer, “those words exactly?”
“Well, maybe not exactly,” Harry allowed with a grin, matching Oliver’s posture and tilting his head just a little for good measure.
Oliver hummed as he leant closer, and Harry could feel the soft whisper of his breath against his face. He angled his chin just slightly, bringing himself within millimetres of Oliver’s lips.
He felt Oliver’s nose graze gently against his and he shivered lightly at the sensation.
“Merry Christmas, Harry,” Oliver whispered.
For an answer, Harry leant in that last little bit, connecting their lips, and that was how they spent the remainder of their evening. Held tight in each other’s arms as they kissed softly in front of the fire, Christmas tree glinting merrily in the corner.
~ fin ~