𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬- 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Harry- 8. Again

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff

_

"Merry Christmas."

She rolled under the chunky blankets as her husband lovingly kissed her forehead, his warm hands belted around her waist.

Christmas, so far, had always been their favorite holiday. A day when Harry didn't have to rush to his Auror duties, a day when she didn't have to hasten to the Ministry.

"Come on, wake up," he cooed silently in her ears, deliberately moving down and nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck.

Smiling, she tilted her head, giving him more room to continue. His hair still smelled of vanilla and cranberry, soothing the cold atmosphere around and setting up a much homey feel she needed.

"What are you so excited about?"

"It's Christmas, Y/n! Definitely, something to be excited about."

"Still a holiday for me."

Kissing him on top of his head, she finally made her mind to get up and rubbing her eyes accompanied by a short yawn; until she realized Harry was gone.

Potter indeed was impatient.

With the war three years in the past, she contended that Harry had changed- changed for good. He was no longer suffering from nightmares, and the ones he encountered were thankfully meager.

She had always been with him at that time. The Weasleys were, of course, their biggest support system. And knowing that Teddy would not have woken up at eight of the cold morning, she diverted a glance out of the window.

Grimmauld Place was the perfect, cozy place for their little family.

There were little rustlings downstairs, and judging by the way Harry had literally jumped out of the room, she decided to skip down the stairs, her sock-clad feet unable to forge a nice melody.

To her surprise, he wasn't tearing the rainbow wrappers of the gifts (little did she know he already had seen them). He was nowhere to be seen, but Kreacher stood at the kitchen door, a skeptical look adorned between his poking nose and oblong lips.

"Where's Harry?"

"Master asked Kreacher to empty up the kitchen."

She absentmindedly patted on his bald, rough head, "Call him Harry. And Merry Christmas."

Leaning on the frame of the kitchen door, she watched him silently as he dipped his head low and chopped something, the curls of his hair bobbing up and down at the subtle movements he made in response to the soft tunes playing on far away.

She couldn't could but stuff her face into her hands; she felt blessed. Having him as a partner was the best thing that ever happened in her life.

Silently, stepped inside, careful enough to not break his reverie. A sly smile stretched across her face as she thrust her now cold hand into his scarf and further into his warm neck, earning a yelp from him.

"Blimey, Y/n!" He gripped her by the waist as she roared with laughter. "Always an arse in winters, aren't you?"

"Yes," she tugged half of his long, maroon scarf into her bare neck and littered his nose with a small kiss. "What are you cooking? Should I help?"

"I love you from the bottom of my heart, darling," he shook his head while hugging her from behind, his chin resting on their shared, fluffy scarf, "but I don't trust you cooking. Stay out of my kitchen."

She smote him playfully on his arm as he continued murmuring sweet things into her neck.

"Gee, fine. You can cook. I'm opening the presents."