"That was your fault, that one."

I scoffed, my eyes drifting to the shattered ornament that lay at Harry's feet on the wooden floor.

"How was that my fault?"

"You tempted fate - 'Harry, don't put it there, it'll drop' - and what did it do? 'Dropped. S'on you, Ana Grace," he grinned, securing another ornament onto the tree.

"Shut up!" I laughed, and he shrugged, his grin only widening as I eyed the tree, "Do you think we need any more?"

"Sure, if you want your living room to look like a Harrods display," he mused, reaching behind the tree to switch on the lights, "though I guess it already does."

"This is the best it's looked in a while," I said honestly, trailing my finger along an old ornament; a woollen dog, thing string stitched between its head and tail, creating a loop for it to hang from the branch.

"What's that?" Harry asked, putting down whatever he'd been fidgeting with, and standing up from his kneeling position to head over to where I was standing.

"I knitted this with my grandma when I was younger," I told him, as he rested his chin on my shoulder from behind me.

"It's cute. What's its name?"

I frowned, turning to face him, "I never named it."

"Oh, come on, that's tragic. You want a dog so badly, yet you never thought about names?" he said pointedly, his hands resting in the curve of my waist.

"I never had to think about it!" I protested, "I never even met your dogs - they could have had trashy names."

"That's because I had them when I was little," Harry shrugged, "Max and Milo."

"Okay, maybe that's kinda cute."

"Glad you think so, because I wasn't planning to defend thirteen year old me's choice of names," he cocked an eyebrow, before changing the subject, "I wish I could stay here with you tonight."

"Me too," I nodded in agreement without missing a beat. Sleeping beside Harry wasn't necessarily a regular occurrence as of then, but I knew how much better I slept in his arms; the comfort I found.

A bell sounded from the other room, and I groaned, rolling my eyes, "Time for dinner, then."

"You're kidding," Harry roared with laughter, "There's a fucking bell for dinner? Absolute bloody f-"

I clamped my hand over his mouth, "and don't cuss. Come on," I grabbed his wrist, reaching up to peck his lips quickly before we headed for the dining room and I had o drop his hand, "I switched our places , I'm in between you and Tasha, and you're next to your mom and I. Okay?"

"Lifesaver, you are, beaut," he shot me a grin, pinching my bum lightly, just hard enough to make me suppress a squeal, before sliding into his seat, as I did the same. Tasha stumbled in moments later, her hair a total mess and her lipstick smudged - luckily it was only me who noticed.

"Tasha," I hissed, my jaw dropping, "Tell me you did not-" my question answered itself when JJ stumbled into the room a moment afterwards, sliding into a seat on the other end of the table.

"Shush!" she whispered, smoothing down her hair, "Do I look like I've been fucked?"

"One thousand percent," I whispered back, wiping her smudged lip stick away with my thumb.

"What are you two whispering about?" Harry whispered to the both of us as drinks were poured.

"Tasha hooked up with JJ!" I whisper shouted, and Harry gasped.

"Tasha, you filthy little-"

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman," my father stood up from the opposing end of the table, my mother beside him flashing what must've been her fakest smile of the night.

"Here we go," I couldn't help but mutter, earning a snigger from Tasha and a nudge from Harry as my father continued with his speech.

"My wife and I are eternally grateful for your attendance tonight," he spoke, and I glanced at Harry, who was likely to be thinking the same thing I was. How formal can this fucker be?

"Obviously this annual party wouldn't go ahead without you, and - I'm sure everybody is starved so; let's eat, eh?" my dad raised his glass before the two of them took a seat, and dinner began to be carried from the kitchen.

Celia leant over to us, "Tree all done then, pet?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, looks good - thanks to me."

"Both of us," I corrected, a smile on my face as he sent me a wink.

"Oh, I love you two," Celia sighed contently, "you're like my two little children."

"Mum, that'd mean we-"

"We love you too, Celia," I cut Harry off quickly with a kick to his shin, our plates placed in front of us.

Half the things on the plate I couldn't possibly name, and I doubted Tasha and Harry could either - but they both still attempted to pick at the unknown seafood and weird sauce beside it.

"This is shit," Harry whispered huskily into my ear, drumming his fingertips on my inner thigh, "I want to leave."

"Shush," I gently moved his hand from my thigh, shooting him a warning look, "Twenty more minutes, tops. Then we'll go."

"Excuse me," Tasha nudged my shoulder, "you're pretty hypocritical."

"Shut up," I grinned, taking a sip of my drink.

"Harry, is it?" the table fell silent as my father spoke, causing my eyes to widen. Shit.

I'd basically promised Harry my parents wouldn't say a word to him - I'd been certain they wouldn't. My parents never paid any mind to my friends; they couldn't care less. But now my father's eyes were on Harry, as well as the rest of the table.

I bit my lip, opening my mouth to speak before Harry closed his palm gently over my knee, silencing me.

Harry cleared his throat, "Yes, sir - that's me."

"Hm," my father raised an eyebrow, a judgemental look on his face as he eyed Harry, "You know Anastasia from school, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," Harry repeated, rubbing gentle circles on my knee, in attempts to comfort me, though it should've been vice-versa.

"You're good friends with my daughter, then?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well let's hope you know your boundaries then, hm?" my dad spoke sternly, and Harry's eyes narrowed, Tasha taking a sharp intake.

The table fell silent once more, before suddenly breaking into roars of laughter, my father alongside them. I watched Harry's jaw clench, before he let out a half-hearted laugh. I put my hand over his on my knee, squeezing his fingertips lightly, watching his face soften in the slightest.

Dinner finally drew to an end, people bidding their goodbyes as the time neared 11 - rushing home to return to their families on Christmas night. I couldn't say the same for my parents, as they were up in bed for the night before I knew it.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," I couldn't help but mutter as I heard the door shut upstairs, my eyes rolling.

"You alright if I go, babe?" Tasha asked, and I nodded.

"Yeah, of course - I'll see you on New Years?" I asked.

"Definitely," she kissed my cheek, "have fun you two - don't do anything I wouldn't," she winked, pointing at Harry and I before leaving.

"No funny business, either of you," Celia walked out of the bathroom, poking Harry's chest, "and you - I want you home before I wake up in the morn, hm? I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Harry scoffed, "now get out, woman."

"Be good," she said pointedly, kissing my cheek, since she knew Harry wouldn't allow her to kiss his, before rushing out of the door.

"We survived," Harry shot me a grin once the door shut, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Barely," I teased, "but yes, we survived. Wasn't that bad, was it?"

"This whole thing just really isn't my scene," he shrugged, "couldn't eat a bloody bite of whatever that food was."

"Yeah, me neither - are you hungry?"

"Starving - and I'm craving a McDonald's," he added, raising his eyebrows suggestively at me as I nodded my head, grabbing my keys from the counter.

"You're lucky I am, too," I told him, opening the door as he followed, "We'll take one of the cars, I really don't feel like walking."

"If you have so many cars, why don't you drive yourself to school?"

"I'm not allowed to, obviously," I shrugged, pointing the keys at a Range Rover after pulling the garage door open.

"But tonight?" Harry raised his eyebrows at me, coming to a halt at the door of the garage and opening his palm.

I groaned, "Fine - you can drive," I reluctantly tossed him the keys and walked over to the passenger's side.

He caught the keys with ease, "Good girl."

"When did you even learn to drive?" I questioned as he pulled the car out of the garage and onto the street.

"When I was sixteen, like everyone else?" he chuckled, poking my knee with his index finger to annoy me.

"Shut up," I groaned.

"Sorry, baby, sometimes I forget you have drivers to take you anywhere you please, so you would've never learned," I watched a smirk tug on his lips, finding amusement in making fun of me.

"Actually, Anders won't drive me anywhere anymore," I said pointedly, "thanks to you."

"Is it?" he asked nonchalantly, watching my annoyance grow.

"I hate you," I muttered as he flattened his palm against my lower thigh, his hand resting there while he gently drummed his finger on the inner, meeting the beat of the music that blared from the radio.

"Mm, sure you do," he hummed in response, squinting his eyes to study the pattern of cars driving past us, "D'you ever used to play 'yellow car'?"

"Huh?"

"When I was younger, I'd sit at my bedroom window and count how many yellow cars drove past," he explained, his eyes continuing to scan the road.

"Why yellow?" I frowned.

"Cos they're the rarest ones, 'nt they?" he said as if it were obvious, his face lighting up as he caught sight of one, "yellow car," he declared, "point to me."

"There's a point system and everything?" I raised my eyebrows, chuckling.

"Of course there is, Ana Grace - my bloody god, didn't you have a childhood?" he huffed playfully, and I rolled my eyes.

My eyes settled on a yellow car speeding around the corner, "Yellow c-"

"Yellow car!" Harry exclaimed over my voice, "two points to me. Keep up."

"I said that one first!" I argued, "you're not fair."

"What an amateur," he scoffed, moving his hair from his face before placing his hand back on the steering wheel, "I think you'll find that I shouted it far louder than you - couldn't even hear what ya' said."

"Who makes these rules?" I scowled.

"I do, obviously," he shot me a devilish grin as he pulled into the drive-thru lane.

"Overshly," I mocked his accent, watching his jaw drop.

"Wow, Ana Grace, you are a sore loser," he grinned, "now tell me what you want to eat before I change my mind and get you nothing."

Harry ordered our food, having to repeat each item at least three times due to the woman in the window not understanding his accent or pronunciation half of the time.

"Bloody idiots," Harry muttered, "full a' tosh."

"What the fuck is 'tosh'?" I laughed as he pulled into the next window, grabbing our bag of food.

"Americans," he tutted under his breath, as I flicked his hand which rested on my leg.

"Don't insult my country, asshole."

"I wasn't insulting your country, I was insulting the people in it," he retorted.

"You're one of the people in it," I challenged.

"Yeah, but I'm one of the cool ones."

"Wishful thinking there, Harry."

"Wishful thinking there, Harry," he mimicked in an American accent, high pitched and squeaky.

I burst out laughing, "That was awful."

"That was awful," he mimicked again, as we stopped at a red light and he returned to his normal voice, "Can I smoke in this car?"

"No chance," I said simply, and he huffed.

"Don't deprive me of a smoke."

"Have to - you can't smoke in here," I shrugged, and he squeezed my leg.

"You're annoying."

"Says you," I grinned, and he clicked his tongue, sending me a wink.

"Want to hear a joke?" he asked suddenly.

"Not at all, if it's coming from you it'll-"

"Knock knock," he swiped his tongue along his bottom lip, shaking his knee as he awaited my response.

"Who's there?"

"Hula," he glanced at me for a moment, clearly very excited to continue his joke.

I couldn't help but smile, "Hula who?"

He put his finger in his mouth and made a popping noise against his cheek to make the 'p', and I groaned as he burst out laughing, slapping his knee.

"Fuck, that was brilliant," he roared with laughter as he pulled back into the garage.

"No it wasn't," I tried to argue, biting back a smile at his poor attempt at a joke.

"It wasn't?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope."

He slammed his palms against the steering wheel in mock frustration, before running his hands through his hair, "They always told me to pick someone supportive."

"You're the worst," I laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly.

"Mm," he hummed, catching my wrist and tugging me towards him so he could kiss my lips in a few short kisses, before pinching my hip lightly, "now come on, I'm not spending Christmas in this damn car."