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“Wake up, luv. I have a surprise for you."
Harry yawns and stretches as Neville's voice rings out from above, waking him from sleep. Neville starts peppering his face with tiny kisses to rouse him, and Harry grabs at the fabric of his collar in an attempt to pull the man fully back into their bed.
"Come ‘ere," Harry moans sleepily. "It's early."
Neville laughs at Harry's mumbled plea and smacks Harry gently on the arse for his petulance. "No, I have something planned, so get your arse up; no laying about!"
Neville's already dressed, bundled up for the chilly outdoor weather, and he hands Harry a steaming mug of tea. Harry cards a hand through his sleep-rumpled hair and scoots up the headboard to give his partner a baleful stare.
"Nev, it's not even sunrise yet," Harry whines.
Neville stares at him with a look he uses on particularly tiresome first years, but ultimately gives Harry a smile. "I know, but I think this will be worth it."
Harry sips from his mug and slowly comes fully awake. He will never be a morning person like Neville—the man is practically walking sunshine from the moment he rises— but he can't help but manage a small smile of appreciation as Nev trails in and out of their shared quarters, gathering things they will need for the day.
Harry catches Nev's eye with a wink and lets the sheet slip down and pool at his waist, laughing as Neville halts in his tracks and stares at Harry's half-naked form. "You sure I can't get you to come back to bed first?" Harry grins.
"You’re such a tease." Neville rolls his eyes playfully and stays out of Harry's reach. “And no, not this morning.” Harry lets the plea go—as much as he wants Neville underneath him, he will happily participate in whatever the other man has planned. "Now, get your skinny arse into the shower, and don't spoil my surprise."
Still, it's part of his nature to rile people up, so Harry rises from the bed, fully nude, and struts across the room to continue their playful game. He laughs outright at the heated look Neville gives him, filled with promises for later, but yelps as a mild stinging hex hits him on his right arsecheek and spins around in a huff.
"And make sure you dress warm," Neville smirks at Harry’s wide-eyed indignation. “We’re going into the forest." With one last wink, Neville turns on his heel and heads to their living room.
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An hour later finds them outside in the December snow, trudging through the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Neville is dressed in sturdy boots and work trousers with a plaid jacket thrown over a henley, and Harry can't help but think he looks like an advertisement for an outdoor hiking magazine. The weather is crisp and cold, and their breath condenses in the early morning air as the sun rises in the sky before them. Harry trudges along a few paces behind, and smiles to himself with a heart full of contentment as he watches Neville survey the land, leading them in a direction Harry doesn't recognize. He loves how competent and confident Neville is in his own skin.
"It's not much further now," Neville says as he pauses and allows Harry to catch up to his much longer gait. Harry seizes the opportunity, tugging on Neville's gloved hands and pulling him down into an eager kiss.
"We both know I enjoy sneaking through the forest," Harry says, and Neville snorts. "But you still haven't told me what we’re doing out here."
"And I'm not going to. Trust me. I want you to see it for yourself." Neville turns abruptly and heads toward a dense patch of trees in the distance. Harry grins and follows eagerly.
A few minutes later, Neville stops suddenly, and Harry almost runs into his back. Harry looks up, and his breath catches in his throat at the pure beauty of the landscape before him. A large patch of Fraser fir trees, their branches full and thick, sits ahead, lit by the morning sun and shining with snow. The scene looks like something plucked from a glossy postcard, and Harry instantly knows why Neville loves this place.
"We're here," Neville states the obvious as he drops a worn rucksack off his shoulder and onto the ground, the bag sinking slightly into a snowdrift. He starts rummaging through the contents, pulling random shrunken items out as he goes.
"Nev, this place is gorgeous," Harry says as he settles on a boulder in front of the copse of stately trees. "But what are we doing here?"
Neville stops rummaging through his pack and moves to stand right in front of Harry. There are small spots of colour on his cheeks, and a bit of his hard-won confidence falters as he rests a hand on Harry's knee.
"When I was little, Gran used to tell me stories about my parents," Neville starts a bit unsteadily. "It wasn't often that she would talk about them, but sometimes at Yule, she would get a bit nostalgic." He motions for Harry to scoot over on the rock, and Harry quickly obliges, giving Neville a moment to gather his thoughts. They settle on the stone hand in hand as Neville continues. "Anyway, she told me that every year, my mum and dad would sneak out to this specific patch of forest, and they would pick out their own tree… together."
"Nev, that's…." Harry stares into the comforting hazel eyes he's fallen for and can't help but choke up a bit at the pure emotion written across Neville's handsome face. He takes a gloved hand and brings it to rest on Neville's cheek as the man continues.
"When I was young, I begged and pleaded with her to do the same with me. But she always had the elves bring in already decorated trees— said it was too much hassle." He takes a deep breath and shrugs, "I thought maybe we could start our own tradition, and pick out our tree—just like my parents did."
Harry doesn't answer, just pulls the larger man towards him and presses their lips tightly together, kissing Neville with all the emotion he can't name. "I'd love that," Harry says on an exhale as they sit entwined in the morning sun.
Something about this feels momentous. It's more than just picking out a festive decoration—so much more.
This is building a life and memories and a future in ways that Harry has always longed for, but never expected. Yet, Neville lays it out freely for him, without hesitation. To have this after not thinking he would ever really have anything good for himself, well, it shakes something loose inside of him.
He pulls Neville rightly towards him and doesn't bother to hide any of the emotion shining on his face. Neville is worth it, so even though Harry has never been great with words, he tries anyway. He looks into Neville's earnest face, and this time it's his own voice that cracks as he speaks. "Growing up, I never got to do the whole holiday thing…Then with the war and everything, I never–-Traditions weren't… they weren't something I got to have." Harry takes a deep breath, "I'd love to start this one with you ."
Neville grips Harry's hand tight as a thousand thoughts pass between them—flashes of a quaint home they built together, a family and future beginning from this moment. Harry knows Neville feels it, too; his smile is blinding as he grins and pecks Harry quickly, his excitement palpable. "Okay, then let's go find the perfect tree."
He hops up from their perch and grabs Harry's hand, dragging them both towards the rows of sturdy firs. Harry tilts his head back and laughs, rushing behind the man he loves. "What does the winner get for finding the perfect tree?" Harry sings as they bound around between the branches.
Neville winks with a devilish grin that belies his usually innocent demeanour, "I don't know, but I can't wait to find out." Then he's off, looking at tree heights and examining the needles.
Harry gleefully joins in on the game.
They probably look ridiculous, running about in a field of trees and alternating between snowball fights and snogging sessions, but Harry is so happy he could almost burst. This feeling of family and holiday and joy isn't one he's very familiar with. But at this moment, he realizes it's something worth fighting to keep. The smile on Neville's face as he drags Harry to the perfect tree reassures Harry that some things are meant to last.
Xxxxxxxxxx
It's late afternoon when they bound into their shared Hogwarts quarters, wheeling in a frankly ridiculously sized tree. Of course, Neville could never abide by cutting the thing down, so they spent nearly an hour excavating it—roots and all—and transplanting it into a special barrel to keep it whole and healthy for years to come. Neville even promised the foliage he would let it live in his greenhouse all year long.
Harry won't ever admit how sexy he finds the whole gardener vibe, but it's something fundamental to Neville's personality, and Harry wouldn't have it any other way.
"Nev, are you sure this thing will fit?" Harry says as they manage to wedge the fir through the door.
"It'll fit," Neville answers as he lifts the tree quickly out of the cart and carries it effortlessly across the room to a spot that seems perfectly made for it. Harry tries not to stare at the flex of his muscles and the glint of sweat on his brow. He fails; Neville is so broad and so fit, and Harry wants to climb him.
Neville sets the tree down and checks on the roots, fussing over the placement, and suddenly Harry can't stand it anymore. He crosses the room in a couple quick strides and pulls Neville into a standing position. He doesn't waste a single second as he starts kissing the taller man's throat and neck the moment he is in reach. Neville growls and responds beautifully to Harry's advances, large hands pulling Harry close and greedy lips seeking entrance to his mouth.
For Harry, loving Neville is as easy as flying and just as instinctual. He groans as Neville's tongue presses deeper, and melts against the heat and intensity that flow between them. Harry doesn't hesitate as he snaps his fingers and strips them down to just their briefs.
"Impatient, are we?" Neville smirks as he pulls away and runs his large hands up the muscles in Harry's back. "I thought we were decorating the tree."
"Later," Harry purrs and then drops to his knees. "Right now, I'm far more interested in giving you a prize for finding it."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," Harry breathes hotly against Neville's thigh and lets the moisture of his breath ghost over the wet spot at Neville's crotch. He fingers at the silky crimson material, and Harry yanks the fabric down hastily at a gravelly "please" coming from the man above him.
He doesn't waste any time taking Neville into his mouth, shuddering when strong hands find their way to his unruly hair. Harry meets Neville's hazel stare and then, without breaking eye contact, licks the man's thick cock from root to tip. Neville growls, and Harry feels the tremble of strong legs under his palms as he fully closes his mouth around the hard length of Neville's prick.
He loves moments like this, Neville panting and quaking above him, watching Harry with a gaze filled with heat and devotion. He knows Neville loves him, it's something Harry is assured of every day, but here, now, he feels their connection louder and more potent than just words.
"Fuck, Harry, that's so good," Neville's hand grips Harry's hair with a force that is just the right mix of pleasure and pain, and Harry relaxes his throat and leans forward to take Nev's large cock as far down as he can. Then he hums. Neville whines and growls, and Harry's already hard cock jerks and leaks with arousal from the sound.
He focuses on the task at hand, and loses himself in the sight and sound of Neville falling apart above him. He pauses at the feel of Neville's hand on his face and pulls off with a pop. Neville’s pupils are blown wide and his chest is heaving as he speaks, "I'm so close, I need…."
Harry doesn't get to find out what Neville needs, because in one graceful motion, Neville drops to the floor so that they are face to face. He grabs at Harry roughly, and in a blink, he's chasing his own essence from Harry's tongue. Neville’s hands are all over Harry's skin like a brand, and now it's his turn to quiver and pant as calloused fingers slip between the cleft of his arse.
"I've wanted you all day," Neville groans. "Want you to ride me."
"Yes, gods, Nev… please."
As soon as the words leave Harry's mouth, Neville sinks back onto his haunches and pulls Harry into his lap. Their cocks and chests rub together as Neville whispers a charm, and his hands coat themselves in slick lube. He runs one digit over Harry's furled hole and buries himself knuckle deep, thick fingers spreading Harry apart. Harry whines into Neville's throat and trembles as he's opened up just the way he likes, quick and dirty.
"Luv, please, I want to fuck you."
Neville is thrumming fingers against Harry’s prostate and nipping at his lips, and Harry needs to sink onto Neville almost as much as he needs air to breathe. He shuffles forward and growls, "Want you—so much."
Then Harry slides down onto Neville's stiff prick, eyes rolling back as Neville breaches him slowly, inch by glorious inch. Harry is fully seated, but he's shaking from head to toe with the sensation of being stretched and filled. He stills for a moment, trying to control his body and mind. His palms dig into the bronze skin of Neville's shoulder, gripping so hard that he knows he'll leave marks.
"Move… Harry, I need you to move," Neville groans. "Please." Harry obliges as he pulls almost all the way off and then slides back down in a fluid motion. He repeats the action as Neville pleads and begs, broken whispers escaping from kiss-swollen lips.
As their motions grow more frantic, Harry knows he can't hold on much longer. He is so close and his cock is leaking between them, untouched. Neville's hands are heavy against his thighs as he meets Harry stroke for stroke. It's wild and frenzied, and they’ve set a brutal pace, taking pleasure from each other's bodies with abandon. "Yes, Ha-rry, fuck—you’re so tight—just like that— want ya to come all over me."
Neville's prim and proper mouth spewing filthy words is all it takes as the white-hot pleasure of his orgasm drags Harry under. He tries to get his lips on Neville's, but they end up panting into each other's mouths while Harry flies apart. He spurts between them, coating their chests in his come. Neville thrusts up two more times and empties himself as far into Harry as he can manage, crying out as his orgasm rips through him like a bullet.
They are breathing hard and sweaty as they pitch sideways onto the rug, still tangled in each other. They don't speak for a few minutes but lay together with Harry's head pillowed into Neville's neck and Neville's hands trailing lazily over Harry's body.
Finally, once he’s back in his own mind, Harry breaks the silence. "I think I like this new tradition," he grins and kisses Neville's shoulder.
"The tree trimming or the shagging?" Neville asks as he summons his wand to clean them up and drags himself into a sitting position against the sofa. Harry crawls over and immediately curls into Neville's side to leach some of his warmth.
"What would you do if I said both?" Harry asks with a teasing smile.
"Well, I guess next year we'll have two traditions to continue," Neville says effortlessly, and Harry is stunned, not for the first time, just how freely the man at his side reveals his feelings. Because when Harry sits down and imagines the next month, the next year—hell even the next decade—he sees light brown hair, bright hazel eyes and plants covering every surface of their home. He's never had that before, not in any concrete way, but he's grateful to have found it.
"I like the sound of that," Harry replies softly, the 'I love you' written all over his face, the promise of forever in his eyes.
"Me too, Harry…" Neville trails off and squeezes Harry's knee, lost in similar thoughts. "Me too."
They don't say anything else for a few minutes but sit contentedly, and stare at the giant Christmas tree in the corner, lost to their own daydreams.
Then, Neville stretches and breaks the silence as he asks, "Now, where in Merlin's name did you toss my briefs? We have a tree to decorate."