When he fell asleep last night, he never imagined he would get any presents. The Dursleys made clear he was not worthy of them, being an orphan thrown into their care because nobody else could be bothered to have him around; he always believed it, even if some part of him wished he could be found by his family one Christmas' Eve, and showered with affection and, why not, presents.

It came as a surprise when Ron woke him up. Harry still worked on getting used to the idea of a friend, having had none before coming to Hogwarts. It was even stranger to hear Ron saying he had presents with a voice that expressed his disbelief that Harry would doubt the permanence of gifts.

Harry didn't bother with putting on clothes. They are the only boys in Gryffindor Tower, and going barefoot wouldn't be wrong today because he has present for the first time in his life and right then nothing else mattered.

He reached the Christmas tree and blinked twice. There were a few presents under it, and for the look of the floor filled with wrappers and Ron wearing a new sweater and socks, Harry guessed he had already opened his own presents.

"Are those mine?" he asked, his voice sounding as small as he felt.

He kneeled on the floor when Ron nodded, and the first present he grabbed was wrapped in gold and red paper. He took care not to mishandle the wrapping even if he knew they would be useless after; maybe he would keep them too.

"A sweater!" Harry excitedly exclaimed when he finally took the item out of the wrapping. He could feel tears on his eyes, but these were different from other times; he wanted to cry because he was happy. Someone had thought of him.

"I told Mum you probably wouldn't get any presents, so..." Ron said with his ears as red as his hair. Harry saw then that the gift meant much more because it had been from Ron and his mother. He blushed, too. "It's not much, but yeah."

"It's perfect, Ron," he said and put the sweater on, feeling its warmth cover his arms and back the same way in which it warmed his heart.