2017 Secret Santa/Advent Ficlet Collection

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
F/F
F/M
Gen
M/M
G
2017 Secret Santa/Advent Ficlet Collection
author
Summary
A collection for the advent fics/Secret Santas I'm doing this year. Still some slots open HERE if you want to Ask for a fic for someone else—just hit up my Tumblr.
Note
Requests are still open HERE through December or until I run out of Asks to fulfill. I have the right to refuse an Ask, but will def try to do them if I can.DO NOT REPOST OR ARCHIVE THIS FIC ANYWHERE. That includes Wattpad, Instagram, translation sites, and literally anywhere that I didn't post it myself. TY (I can't believe I am having to put this notice up again. What happened to fandom etiquette?)
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A Very Hagrid Christmas

Dec 8 | for @gingertodgers

Scotland, and Hogwarts in particular with all her wards, hadn’t seen this kind of blizzard since Rubeus was a small lad—well, as small as he ever was. Snow was up to Rubeus’s chest today, so Minerva had cancelled classes, locked the castle doors, and forbidden any of the students from venturing out. 

That didn’t mean Rubeus didn’t end up trudging out to the Quidditch pitch and rescuring a couple of Gryffindor lads who’d sneaked out of their tower on brooms, fallen into the snow, and found their brooms weren’t strong enough to overpower seventeen feet of snow. 

But now Rubeus was back at home, a bonfire the size of the Headmistress’s office burning merrily in his hearth. He made himself a cup of tea, added a litre of rum—just a dash, really—and settled in to read a new large print murder mystery from his favourite author.

“Mrehhhh! Mrehhhh!”

Rubeus glanced up, smiling fondly at his last three Skrewts. They were growing strong—nearly ten foot a piece now—and watching him from their makeshift crate in the corner. Fang was in the opposite corner, as far away as possible, the old coward.

“What is it, loves? Are ye hungry? Want a bit o’ fruit cake?”

“Mrehhhhhhhh!”

“Arright, arright.” Rubeus set his murder mystery aside, heaved himself up, and went to his expanded, Status Charmed ice box. He stepped inside, looked around, frowning. There wasn’t much fruit cake left—he’d eaten more than he thought, himself.

“Ah!” One of the Thestrals had died of exposure in the blizzard. Rubeus hated to waste. Circle of life, and all that. 

He heaved the frozen Thestral from the ice box and returned to his sitting room. He tossed it into the crate with the Skrewts and Rubeus would swear they gave him, just for a moment, a look of utter trust and adoration. He beamed at them. Silly little buggers.

They tore into their din-din, making happy, gutteral purrs as they crunched through bone and meat alike. Rubeus returned to his book by the fire, thinking that it really was Christmas when you got to spend it with the people you loved. 

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