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“Alright, everyone. Listen up.”
Harry drug a hand through his hair, ruining the carefully laid style Ginny had managed to construct of it earlier. He paced, back and forth and back again, across the freshly shampooed rug, trying to formulate his racing thoughts into cohesive sentences.
“Out with it, Potter—”
“—Oi! Give him a moment!—”
“—Why? It’s not like he hasn’t ever met the bloke. It’s his cousin, for Merlin’s sake—”
“Enough!” Ginny’s voice boomed over the gathering of friends, temporarily silencing their normally constant bickering.
They sat, huddled on and around the couches and armchairs in the drawing room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, each dressed in a festive holiday sweater.
The warm glow that came from the fireplace cast the entire room in a calm and welcoming orangey hue. The fairy lights on the overly cheery Christmas tree twinkled cheekily from between baubles and tinsel, all but screaming ‘Have A Very Happy Christmas!’ to any who glanced it’s way. Grimmauld had never been cleaner or more homely, if Harry was being honest with himself, and it was all thanks to the group before him. Each had dedicated their time and efforts to ensure that today went off without a hitch.
“There’s no need to yell,” Ron muttered, hunching his shoulders as he stared resolutely down at his feet, the tips of his ears going pink. Lavender reached over the back of the couch, offering him comfort with a gentle hand to his shoulder.
“It’s alright, Ronnie. Ginny-Binny is just a little concerned for Harry-Warry, that’s all,” Lavender cooed, and Harry physically stopped himself from grimacing. His immediate friend group had grown over the past 3 years. Mostly for the better, but, in some instances, in ways that were less than ideal.
Ron and Lavender had reconnected shortly after the war, shortly after he and Hermione had amicably called it quits. Since then, Lavender had been a constant in all their lives. And, while Harry had warmed to her presence and could admit that she was a good fit for his best mate, her unique nicknames for individuals still… irked him.
“Yeah, Ronnie-Bonnie,” Malfoy drawled, leaning over an obviously-trying-not-to-laugh Hermione to give Ron a wolfish grin, “we all know Ginny-Binny cares an awful lot for Harry-Warry. She doesn’t mean to be loudy-wody and scare you.”
Those two, Harry thought as he eyed the pair, had come as quite the surprise. Harry had watched as hatred had turned to tolerance, tolerance to fondness, and fondness to love between his former childhood enemy and his best friend. And, even though it had taken a while for he, himself, to overcome his dislike for the man, even Harry could see that Malfoy had truly changed, and that he and Hermione were good for one another.
But, with Malfoy, came…
“Potter, please, I cannot live in suspense any longer. Go on and give your speech so I can go and ensure that your ancient house elf hasn’t set the kitchen ablaze and ruined our dinner.”
Parkinson.
“Right,” Harry began, pushing down his slight irritation and forcing the words from his mouth. “He’ll be here in,” he glanced down at his watch, “He’ll be here any minute, and I figured it was important to go over the ground rules with you all one last time before he arrives.”
Harry met Ginny’s eyes, drawing strength from their seemingly bottomless reserve, and cleared his throat as he continued.
“He’s…that’s to say, my cousin, is a muggle—”
“No, really?” Draco hummed, shifting back from leaning across Hermione’s lap to sit properly once again. “Did you know that, Granger?”
Hermione, bless her, delivered a firm smack to her fiance’s shoulder, quieting him to allow Harry to resume his—fuck, he was giving a sort of speech, wasn’t he?
“Just, try to remember that he and I haven’t always had the best of a relationship, even before I found out I was a wizard. And, his father, my uncle, recently passed, so this is a huge step for him. Well, for both of us, really. I just don’t want…uh, I want him to feel welcomed and not out of place, so, if it’s not too much to ask, if you could all—”
“This is painful to watch,” Pansy grumbled, standing from the armchair she’d been perched in, coming to stand beside Harry.
“No unnecessary magic, got it?” she demanded, looking each of those before her in the eyes. “No whipping out your wands, no levitating shit for the fun of it, and definitely no pranks, no matter how funny they would be. All wizarding wheezes and trinkets away for the evening, folks. This is going to go well,” she stated, turning to Harry as she said the last part. “Everything is going to be fine. Your cousin…what was his name?”
“Big D!” Malfoy called, Hermione’s hand flying to cover his mouth.
“Dudley,” Harry supplied, shooting a scathing look at Hermione, who had the grace to blush in shame.
“Right. Dudley will have a wonderful time, and the two of you will begin to mend your family relationship or whatever. You’ll get to show off that pretty little wife of yours,” Pansy casually motioned towards Ginny, who smiled brightly, “and introduce him to your friends, who you’ve insisted wear these ridiculously horrid sweaters—“
“I actually like mine,” added Malfoy, shimming so that the bells sewn into his ugly holiday sweater tinkled merrily.
“—and we’ll all have an evening of getting tipsy and be full to bursting with holiday cheer. And, hopefully, a not burnt-to-a-crisp roast. Good? Everyone got it?” Pansy inquired, her face making it clear that this wasn’t up for debate.
“Why is she even here?” groaned Ron.
“Because, apparently, only Ginevra and I know how to properly host a reconciliation dinner party.”
Ginny nodded in agreement from her place on the couch, a smirk firmly on her lips. It frightened Harry how well she and Pansy got along…
Pansy sent a final rude hand gesture to them all, the garland on her holiday sweater crunching obnoxiously with her movements, before disappearing from the room, likely on her way to the kitchen to bother Kreacher.
“Uh,” Harry breathed before his stomach tightened once again as a knock echoed through the house, signaling an arrival.
Dudley was here.
Harry stumbled over his own feet into the hall, nervously tugging at the waist of his very itchy sweater as he made his way to the door. Maybe agreeing to the theme ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’ had been a bad idea…
“What Pansy said,” Harry called behind him, “Let’s try to have a nice evening. Just,” he paused, looking back over to the remaining five. “Just…try to act natural, I guess.”
Harry turned, continuing on towards the front door. Dudley was sure to be waiting on just the other side. Hermione had done some clever charm work to ensure that Dudley would be able to find the house without them having to dispel all of the Muggle Repelling Charms the property currently had in place. Harry ran another nervous hand through his hair before reaching out for the handle—
“Harry,”
Two hands wound around him, encasing him in a firm hug, the floral, recognizable notes of Ginny’s perfume surrounding him.
“It’s all going to be fine,” she whispered into his shoulder blades, “Promise.”
He felt her press a kiss to his back, and her presence was all the support and encouragement he had needed.
Harry sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he breathed, patting her clasped hands that were nestled around the protruding face of the fictional reindeer with a light up nose on his sweater.
“And,” she added, as an afterthought, “if it doesn’t go well, well, then it doesn’t, and that’s that.”
Harry swallowed.
“Thanks, Gin. That’s… comforting.”
He felt Ginny take a step back, giving him space as he opened the door. There on his doorstep, wearing a definitely not hand-made Ugly Christmas Sweater beneath his jacket, stood Dudley.
“What’s Life Day?” Harry heard Ginny ask from behind him, “and what kind of creature is that on your sweater?”
Dudley blinked, obviously confused, before looking down at his own chest. “Uh,” he paused. “It’s Chewbacca, and…you really don’t know what StarWars is?”
“No,” Ginny replied.
“Oh, um…it’s a movie,” Dudley said, brows coming together as he tightened his hold on the paper wrapped wine bottle he held in his grip. “I’ll have to bring over the VHS sometime so you can watch it.”
“What’s a V-H-S?”
“Hello Dudley,” Harry stated, extending a hand out to his cousin. “I’m so glad you could make it,”
Dudley paused for a moment, clearly still trying to comprehend Ginny’s lack of modern technology knowledge, before he batted Harry’s hand and enveloped him in a quick and somewhat awkward hug.
“Hello, Harry. Thanks for inviting me,” he said, giving Harry’s back a few pats.
“Nice sweater,” Dudley commented with a genuine smile, pointing to the reindeer head. “I feel a tad underdressed—”
“You’re fine,” Harry assured, dismissing Dudley’s worries with a smile.
“Nice to see you again, Dudley,” Ginny said, offering a quick hug for Dudley herself before ushering the two men from the doorway. “Let’s get you inside and out of the cold.”
Harry closed the door behind Dudley, quite glad that this was off to a good start. Dudley had hugged him, which was a good sign. The knot in his stomach was just beginning to loosen when he heard Dudley gasp.
“Harry?” Dudley asked in an unsure voice, and Harry turned to see Dudley staring wide eyed at the wall opposite of the door.
“Harry, what…are those real?”
“We couldn’t get them off the wall,” Ginny explained in a very casual tone, looking at the mounted heads with a wrinkled nose. “Tried everything we could think of, and they just wouldn’t budge. But,” she said, turning to look at Dudley with a cheery grin, “I think the Santa Hats give them a nice festive touch, don’t you?”
“They’re house elves,” Harry commented, wishing they’d have realized how morbid it would appear to someone who hadn’t any experience with wizarding culture. “They were put there by the previous owners of the home, my godfather’s family. They were, uh, big believers in keeping up with old wizarding traditions, and well…like Ginny said, we can’t get them off.”
“We were at least able to rectify the portrait situation,” she explained, motioning to the frame that had held the portrait of Sirius’ mother, which now sported a silent, plain canvas of black paint.
Dudley nodded, politely pretending to appreciate the art.
“Bloody strange tradition,” Dudley whispered, before catching himself. “But,” he amended, “not strange in a bad way…a good strange, I guess.”
“No,” Harry assured, “a bad strange. It’s not common. But, we can’t get them off, so,” he shrugged, “we make the best of it.”
“Alright,” Dudley said, looking as satisfied with the explanation as anyone could in the situation. “Where would you like me to put my coat?—”
The crack that resounded in the small hallway was deafening.
“Kreacher will be takin’ the Master’s relative’s coat, if you’d like.”
Kreacher was already lowering his nose to the ground in a bow, and Dudley’s eyes flickered between the bowing house elf and the heads on the wall. Harry groaned.
“Well, I saved the roast.”
Pansy came sauntering into the hall, hips swaying in a very smug fashion, before she stopped dead in her tracks, bright green eyes trained on Dudley.
Harry would never admit it to anyone, even under Veritaserum, but in that instant, he could swear that he audibly heard Dudley’s heart stop.
Pansy’s eyes trailed up and down Dudley in an appreciative fashion.
“Why, hello there, Big D.”