ghost stories - h. potter

CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

"Harry. Harry! Wake up, lazy bones, it's Christmas!"

Harry Potter awoke on the twenty-fifth of December, two-thousand and four, to his wife, Belle Potter, hitting him in the face with her pillow.

"Belle, give it a rest, it's too early!" Harry mumbled turning his head into his pillow to avoid any more hits to the face. He tensed, waiting for another hit to the back of the head and when it didn't come, he glanced up wearily, only to see that Belle was standing at the base of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping wildly against the floor as she waited for her husband to wake up.

"I swear you still have the heart of a twelve-year-old sometimes," he said, as he took her hand and pulled her onto the bed towards him. She giggled as he pulled her close and kissed her cheek softly before burying his head into her neck.

"Merry Christmas, Belle," Harry said.

"Happy Christmas, Harry." A soft peacefulness fell like a thick blanket over the two of them. Belle allowed her husband five minutes, before she forced him to get up.

"The kids are waiting for us downstairs, you know. The longer we are, the hungrier and more impatient they get," Belle said and Harry groaned, reaching over for his glasses. He shoved them onto his face, only to be met with the sight of the smiling Ravenclaw alumna.

"Alright, alright, I'm up," he said as he pushed the covers from his body. He was clad in red tartan pyjamas, still representing his previous Hogwarts house with pride. Belle was wearing matching pyjamas, though hers were a beautiful shade of midnight blue, representing her own house. The two made their way downstairs and into the living room where, just as Belle had said previously, their children were waiting for them.

Well, 'children'. Belle and Harry liked to use the term 'kids' or 'children' to define the army of animals that the two were raising together. Harry shook his head, a small smile lighting up his face as their family of nifflers, kneazles, crups, cats, english and french bulldogs, and the occasional gnome all turned to face the two humans as they entered the room.

"Presents or breakfast first?" Boba, the elderly kneazle that Belle had rescued off the streets, gave a mournful meow and Harry chuckled.

"Breakfast it is."

"You know we're going to be doing presents at the Weasley's later on, Harry," Belle smiled as she entered the kitchen and Harry shrugged.

"It's Christmas, it's not a crime to open one or two in the morning, is it?"

"No, I suppose not," Belle replied.

"The small, red present under the tree is yours. You can open it now if you'd like."

"You're the best," Harry said as he leaned over the kitchen counter to kiss his wife and she smiled gently as he pulled away.

"Don't you forget it."

Opening his present, Harry smiled as he saw the framed photograph of him and Belle on their wedding day, surrounded by their friends and family.

"It's for your desk at work, so you've always got an incentive to come home," Belle said and Harry leaned over to kiss her gently, cupping her cheek with his palm.

"You being here is an incentive for me to come home."

Once the animals had been fed, Harry and Belle spent the majority of the morning in the backyard, basking in the snow together.

The pair had bought their own house a month after they had gotten married, after realizing that if they wanted to start having children they would need more space than they had in the small apartment they were originally staying in. Harry wanted a nice cottage somewhere secluded, where he could get away from the press and reporters who were still, six years later, trying to get a glimpse into the life of the famous Boy-Who-Lived and his wife, Belle Potter. Belle too had wanted a small house with a large backyard - though that was mainly due to the fact that she knew it would be impossible for her to raise her furry family in a typical family home somewhere in the city.