Work Text:
“How much time do we have?” Harry asked, his wand between his teeth as he splashed amber liquid out of a dark bottle and into a wide-lipped punch bowl. Number 12 Grimmauld Place looked better than it ever had. Even the hallway looked brighter, with fairy lights festooning the row of house elf heads. Hermione had transfigured a branch into a proud and verdant Christmas tree. She was now steadily populating its branches with with glittering baubles.
“An hour ’til the happiest of housewarmings,” Ron appeared in the hall, his voice muffled from a fluffy red scarf Mrs. Weasley had knit for him. A levitating box of assorted bottles clanked merrily in front of him. “Sorry I’m late, store was packed. Oi!” he smiled at Hermione from the doorway. “When did you lot get here?”
“We got off the train at King’s Cross and came straight here,” Hermione bounded over to him and Ron wrapped an arm around her in greeting. “Is it snowing?”
“Not yet,” Ron grinned. He took his hat off and shook his hair out like a dog.
It was the first party at Grimmauld Place since Harry had moved in. Ron, reasoning that all of them had missed the revelry of their seventh year, had stipulated Bill and Fleur would be the eldest guests invited. They had politely declined.
Harry surveyed the contents of Ron’s box and selected a silver bottle with an enormous diameter. “This’ll be enough, right? I can put an everlasting fizz charm on this,” he ducked out of the room and the sound of his rummaging around the kitchen soon followed.
“He’s been so nervous,” Ron whispered. “Hopefully we can get a drink in him.”
Ginny poked her head in from the other end of the room. “Ron! Took you long enough,” she groaned. “Luna’s already upstairs and I told her we’d get ready together.”
“I’m already ready,” Ron said frowned. Ginny didn’t bother responding to this.
“Oh, Hermione, the tree looks lovely!” Ginny said, swiveling around the room. She admired the angel topper Luna had found in the basement that kept swearing loudly at passerby. “Where’s Harry?”
“You just missed him,” Ron said.
Ginny crouched down and hoisted a long and slender broom-shaped box out from under the couch in one fluid movement. “Then put this under the tree. Knowing Harry, he won’t notice until later. The tree looks so lonely without any presents under it.”
Ron smirked, making his way towards the tree. “I wonder what that could be.”
Hermione swung her arm out to Ron. “Careful,” she warned. “Don’t trip.”
Ron frowned at the puddle of tinsel at his feet. “Merlin, do we really need this much stuff? The place already looks—”
The doorbell rang, prompting everyone to freeze.
“OUT, YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS TARNISHING THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK, OHHHHHHHHHH!“
Hermione looked at him pointedly. “For the House of Usher? Yeah.”
“What?” Ron frowned.
“I’ll get it,” Harry called out. “We need to put a sign up about the doorbell.”
“Are people already here?” Ginny frowned. “I’m still wearing Harry’s Quidditch shorts!”
“It’s just George!” Harry’s voice came from the hall. “With more drinks!”
“More?” Hermione glanced at the box Ron had already brought. “How many people did you invite?”
“Oh, come on. People were probably excited to hear the Golden Trio were all going to be at the same party,” Ginny teased. “Everyone I told couldn’t wait to invite ten more of their friends.”
Ron smirked. “Harry Potter? Ever heard of him? Boy Who Lived?”
“That Weasley boy’s more my type,” Hermione nudged him.
“Don’t forget about the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” Ginny said with a dramatic flourish.
“Did someone say my name?” Harry said, his glasses askew as he poked his head through the doorway.
“Come on, Hermione,” Ginny laughed. “Let’s go upstairs.”
***
The Brightest Witch of Her Age was wasted. Somewhere between Neville arriving (first, and on time) and the horde of Ron and Harry’s Auror friends, she had lost track of how many drinks she had downed. She swayed along to the din of the party, entranced by the shimmering Christmas decorations.
Harry made his way over to the record player and lowered the volume, causing a grown to come from the crowd. He pointed his wand at his throat and whispered a Sonorous charm. “Can I have everyone’s attention?” he clambered up onto the coffee table.
Hermione perched on the edge of an armchair. Harry’s hair looked wild and his sweater was inexplicably inside out. He palmed a glass of something dark and shimmering with blue steam coming off of it. Everyone had, for the most part, turned their attention to Harry, and conversations around the room came to a halt as people looked up expectantly at the most famous wizard in the room.
“Thank you all—“ he hiccuped, “for coming.” He pointed at Ron. “We’re both dropouts, so it means a lot to us that we could see some of our oldest friends from Hogwarts tonight before everyone joined their families—“
“Take your top off!” George shouted, and everyone laughed.
Harry grinned wide, pretending to pull at his sweater. “Wait, wrong Weasley!” he joked. “Speaking of, where’s my girlfriend?”
Ginny waved from a few feet away. “Ginny,” he clutched at his heart, “Thank you for helping me plan this party,” he bowed. “I hope I can repay you…on our holiday to Paris next week,” he took two tickets out of his pocket with a flourish and stepped off his perch on the coffee table to kiss a bewildered Ginny as the room roared with whoops and applause.
The party resumed and Hermione made her way George crouched on the floor and fiddled with the old record player on the coffee table. He carefully surveyed a spread of dusty records spilling out of a musty cardboard box labelled MOONY’S.
George looked up at Hermione, a bemused smile on his face. “Wotcher, Hermione.”
She pointed errantly to a grayish blur of an album in the corner of her eye. “My favorite! Play that one.”
George surveyed the album and shrugged.
Someone pushed a glass of water into her hand. She ignored this and kept her eyes trained on a ruddy-cheeked Percy who was pouring everyone shots near the Christmas tree. If the portrait of Walburga Black was saying anything, it didn’t matter, because the party was so loud it was difficult to hear what anyone was saying. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Seamus slip his hand into the back pocket of Dean’s pants.
“‘Mione,” a low, familiar voice. “There you are,” she beamed, leaning in to kiss Ron, whom she hadn’t spoken to properly since the party began. She aimed for his mouth but found her lips brushing against his nostril. He laughed into her chin. Just then Hermione’s favorite song began to play, a delicate croon with a hard and steady guitar strum. She swayed along, smiling.
“What song is this?” Ron asked. “Oi, easy,” he kept her from tumbling into him. “You need to stay hydrated.”
“I am! See?” she slurped at the water. “Where’ve you been?”
“Actually, er,” he glanced at George. “Ginny’s asking for you.”
Hermione groaned. “Tell Harry to do it.”
“I think it’s about Harry,” he whispered back.
***
Ginny slammed the door behind her, breathing a little too hard from running up the stairs to the bedroom, the muffled sound of the party below softer now.
She fumbled for her wand, turning all the lights on and collapsing onto the dusty bed.
“Ginny?” an airy voice came from the door. She stiffened, sighed, and walked the half step it took to go from the foot of the bed to the door. She opened it and a few curious partygoers glanced at her from the stairs. It was Luna. She looked at Ginny expectantly, radish earrings twinkling.
“Oh, come in then,” Ginny whispered, beckoning her inside.
Only then did she notice Luna was holding two mugs of something dark. Luna offered one to Ginny. “Hot chocolate?”
“I might need something stronger.”
Luna nodded, pushing the glass into her hands. “I added rum,” she said.
“How’d you know I was up here?” Ginny sipped at the drink. It was rich, and, indeed — she wrinkled her nose — the rum added a kick.
“The Nargles in the mistletoe told me. I’ve been learning Narglese.”
Ginny nearly choked on her hot chocolate. “R-really?”
“No, I saw you go up the stairs. And Nargles don’t speak,” Luna added. If she was joking, her expression gave nothing away. “Why are you hiding?”
“It’s silly.”
Luna only smiled, as if silliness was the least of her concerns.
“I don’t know what to get Harry,” Ginny whispered timidly.
“But you already got him a gift,” Luna said, cocking her head. “You said Quality Quidditch was having a sale.”
“They were,” Ginny said miserably. “I feel so awful…who wouldn’t be happy if her boyfriend got her two tickets to Paris? All I got him is a secondhand Nimbus!” she buried her face in her hands.
“Harry’s already so happy that you’re here,” Luna said sympathetically. “Ginny, listen, I have an idea—“
A rap on the door interrupted them. “Occupied!” Ginny shouted out.
Hermione stumbled through the door. “Hey!” she exclaimed, looking delighted. “I found you!” she pointed at them. Ginny burst into tears.
“Hermione! I feel so stupid,” Ginny sobbed. “I h-haven’t seen him in months, of course h-he’d get me something really nice!”
Luna took a measured sip from her mug. “Harry’s taking her to France.”
“Oh, yes!” Hermione nodded. “Very good cheese there,” she said emphatically. Luna frowned.
Ginny sighed, perhaps realizing Hermione was not at her usual levels of brilliance. “What did Ron get you for Christmas?”
Hermione immediately turned scarlet. “N-nothing,” she grunted unconvincingly.
Luna laughed. “Oh, gross. Today? Here?” Ginny said, momentarily distracted.
“We were in the…in the attic! Looking for more decorations before the party started!” Hermione said to the floor. She hiccuped.
Ginny shrugged. “Well, on second thought, that’s not a bad idea.”
“That’s what Harry said he was getting you when I spoke to him!” Luna said.
Hermione grunted. “You and Harry—you talk about—“
“He’s very wise,” Luna nodded thoughtfully. “He gives me advice.”
“On…er, matters of the heart?” Ginny said.
Hermione snorted, suddenly sounding very sober. “You’re sure this is the same Harry Potter?”
The sound of a thundering footsteps in the hall shook the floor. “This is a terribly loud party,” Hermione grumbled.
“Oh, I know should be grateful,” Ginny said, her voice wavering again. “Harry must have been looking forward to this for months.”
“Harry doesn’t like to be the center of attention but he gave you that gift in front of everyone,” Luna said.
“Maybe Ron is rubbing off on him,” Ginny mumbled.
“Ron’s a wonderful boyfriend!” Hermione exclaimed. She was trying now, in vain, to plait her hair over her shoulder.
“Harry’s generous,” Luna mused. “He offered to buy me a very expensive Tarot deck for my birthday. And he misses you, so he wants to spend time with you.”
“Ron’s teaching him how to cook, did you know?” Ginny said.
“Ron knows how to cook?” Luna said.
“Molly runs a tight ship. They’re making spaghetti Bolognese tomorrow.”
“Ron’s veryyy talented…” Hermione trailed off.
“Are you seeing anyone, Luna?” Ginny said abruptly. “But we’d know, we’re all in school together—“
“He’s not at Hogwarts,” Luna said airily. “He lives far away.”
Ginny cocked her head. “Does he?”
“Yes, he’s a family friend. We’re pen pals,” Luna nodded placidly, reaching over and taking command of Hermione’s hair. She tied off a neat braid and patted Hermione’s head. “Ginny, if you need a gift, my father just had a friend stop by with a few creatures, like a litter of humdingers and—“
“I don’t know, Luna, Harry probably doesn’t know how to take care of—of a humdinger,” Ginny said gently.
There was a great scuffle from behind the door before it flung open, and then two people stumbled through the room in an embrace, a tangle of limbs and wet sounds coming from none other than—
“Seamus! Dean!” Ginny squeaked. “Do you mind?”
The two men separated quickly, as though they had been electrocuted. “Sorry,” Dean waved at them, smoothing down the front of his sweater. “Lovely party,” Seamus added with an impish grin, beckoning Dean out of the room. The door swung quietly closed.
“Did you two know about that?” Hermione said, astonished.
“Yes,” Luna and Ginny both said.
Luna swiveled back to Ginny as though nothing had happened. “Ginny, tomorrow I could ask my dad—“
“A humdinger is probably not the best solution, I’m sorry, Luna. I’ll talk to Harry,” Ginny said. Hermione giggled loudly.
“No, listen, I think you should—“ Luna started, sounding more and more frustrated.
Ginny pushed past them both, making her way to the door. “I should get back in there.”
“Fine,” Luna said. She pursed her lips and ducked out of the room first, leaving Ginny with a very drunk Hermione. Ginny stared at the door.
“Is she angry at me?” Ginny asked, looking crestfallen.
But Hermione was already stumbling out of the room. “Luna!” she called out. But Luna was already descending the stairs back to the party, only her long blonde hair trailing behind her. Hermione held onto the curtains to steady herself, catching an eyeful of the scene outside as she did. “Oh, wow. It’s snowing,” she grinned to nobody.
***
Sometime in the very early morning, Hermione woke up facedown on a bed. She hoisted herself up, groaning. She seemed to be in Harry’s bedroom, which was Sirius’s old room. Someone had tucked her in. The curtains were drawn, but she could see the daylight streaming in through the gaps in the fabric.
Slowly, she gripped at the bannister and made her way downstairs. She could hear a few people snoring on the couches, and every few steps she could feel something sticky seep through her socks as her feet knocked against abandoned cups and bottles. Ron was splayed on the couch fast asleep, and George was under the coffee table curled around an empty bottle of champagne.
She made her way past them and entered the kitchen. Ginny was seated at the table picking at a bowl of cereal. “Morning,” she glanced up at Hermione. “How are you?”
“Peachy,” Hermione said hoarsely. She poured herself a glass of water, wracking her brain for spells for hangovers.
“I can’t find Luna anywhere. She was supposed to stay the night,” Ginny said, rubbing her eyes. “I feel awful.”
“I’ll find out where she is,” Hermione said, shuffling over to the drawing room. Ron was still asleep, but she prodded his elbow. “Ron.”
“Mmmph,” he groaned. “Five more minutes.”
“Wake up. Where’s Luna?”
“Hmmmph.”
“Ron!”
“Alright, alright,” he hoisted himself upright. “Oh, no,” he said, clutching his head. “I feel like Merlin’s soggy left—“
“Ron,” Hermione interrupted him. “Do you know where Luna went?”
“She left last night. Said she was going home,” he scratched his head.
“Did she say anything else?”
“No, why? Is there any breakfast?”
Hermione made her way back to the kitchen. “She’s fine. She went home,” she told Ginny. Ginny sighed in relief, though she still looked miserable. Hermione squinted out the kitchen window. “Oh! It snowed.”
“Morning!” Harry appeared in the doorway, looking suspiciously chipper, a queue of floating glasses trailing in after him. “You’re up!” he leaned down and kissed Ginny’s forehead and jostled his way to the sink.
“And you look…awake,” Ginny said.
Harry shrugged. “I only had one drink. I wanted to remember the party.”
“I don’t think Hermione over here remembers anything,” Ginny smirked.
“For once in her life,” Harry laughed.
“I do remember some things. Oh!” she clapped her hands together. “You’re going to France!”
Harry beamed at her from the sink. Ginny cleared her throat and made a show of clearing the table. “That’s right! Hermione, can you help me wake up George?”
“Fine,” Hermione said, rummaging around her sweater. “Hang on, I think I lost my wand—“
The doorbell rang. They froze. Harry had a soapy dish in his hand and held it aloft like a tambourine. Hermione kept her hands stuck in her pockets, her shoulders hunched. Ginny stopped, one foot still in the air, and looked wide-eyed at them both.
Nothing happened.
They hurried out into the hallway, tiptoeing past the remnants of the party. Harry strode ahead of them and gingerly lifted the corner of the curtain hanging over Walburga Black’s portrait.
“She’s asleep. I think she’s drunk,” Harry laughed. “There’s a pitcher of mulled mead next to her in the painting, look!”
Indeed, inexplicably, a nearly empty carafe of golden liquid sat at Walburga’s feet and she was fast asleep, her mouth open into a small o and her face as calm as they had ever seen it. Ginny crept over to the front door and turned the doorknob carefully. She squinted at the morning light, made doubly bright by the white snow outside. “Luna!” she said, dumbfounded. She glanced back at Hermione.
“Hello, everyone,” Luna said. Her cheeks were ruddy from the cold and in her mittened hands, she held a large cardboard box. “I’m sorry for leaving so quickly last night. I had to go back home to get Ginny’s gift for Harry.”
“My gift?“ Ginny frowned. “I already—“
“No, Ginny, remember! I said I would pick it up for you. It’s no trouble at all,” Luna said deliberately. The box trembled a little in Luna’s hands, and Hermione gasped, as if she were remembering something. Ginny looked confused, but Harry didn’t seem to notice. He beckoned Luna inside. “Come in, then!” he said brightly.
They made their way into the kitchen, where Ron was bent awkwardly over the sink, his mouth attempting to catch the stream of water coming out of the spigot. “Morning,” he grumbled, straightening up and wiping at his mouth.
“Hello, Ron!” Luna said loudly, placing the box carefully on the table.
“Should I open it now?” Harry looked curiously at Ginny.
Ginny looked at Luna, who nodded imperceptibly. “Yes! Of course,” she said, a clear note of panic in her voice. Hermione froze, not sure what to expect. Luna looked quite relaxed as she sat down. Ron kept glancing from his sister’s face to Hermione’s.
Harry carefully lifted the lid off the box and his jaw dropped. He blinked a few times and reached into the box.
Ron craned his neck and ambled over. “I can’t see—“
“—What does a humdinger even look like?” Hermione muttered quietly to Ginny, and then Harry was lifting the gift out of the box, and Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth as Ginny began to laugh quietly and then loudly, her hands covering her face.
Harry had lifted a tiny, sleepy puppy out of the box. It had a fluffy tail and long floppy ears, and a white coat with brown spots the color of chocolate. Its tail wagged expectantly at them, and they could make out a pink tongue hanging out of its mouth.
“Brilliant!” Ron laughed.
“My dad’s friend had a litter of them that he’s trying to give away. He doesn’t have a name yet,” Luna said. The dog sneezed and Ginny reached a trembling hand over to pet its soft head.
“Wow,” Harry smiled, his grin reaching his ears as he marveled at the little puppy. He placed him in his lap. “I love him. Ginny, thank you.”
Ginny, in awe, gazed from the dog to Luna. Thank you she mouthed to her. Luna shrugged and smiled.
A song began to play from the drawing room. Hermione laughed. “Is that George?”
They wandered into the drawing room and found George alone, doing a two-step. He whipped around to look at them, his velvet jacket slung around his shoulders. “Hello, children,” he pointed at them. “I seem to still be drunk. Also, I found this under the couch,” he held up the package, its wrapping slightly dented now, that Ginny had put under the tree the evening before.
“That’s my gift to you, Harry!” Luna said quickly. “Happy Christmas!” Harry reached over to hug her.
Ron nudged Hermione and pointed to the record player. “What song did you say this was?” he muttered to her.
“Bowie,” Harry answered for her. “Oh! That’ll be your name,” he said very seriously to the dog. “I reckon Remus would have liked it. He had a zillion records by him, and I already had a dog named Padfoot.” Bowie seemed unperturbed. He yawned and nosed at Harry’s hands expectantly. Harry obliged, scratching the dog’s head.
They all began to collect the bottles strewn about the room. George pointed his wand at the record player and the volume went up, a beautiful voice filling the room…
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes, just for one day
We can be Heroes...