Merry Christmas, everyone.
He has never seen the Burrow more crowded. Not when Fleur and Bill were married, even. He wonders if the house has been Charmed to hold so many people. (He's not even sure if that's possible.) Scanning the living room is like cataloguing everyone he has ever known: there's Neville with his arm around Hannah Abbot near the hearth, gesturing with a cup of eggnog to Dean Thomas next to him; then McGonagall, standing stiff in a red jumper that he's pretty sure Molly guilted her into wearing, ignoring George and Lee Jordan yapping next to her; Luna is dragging a streamer above her head, twirling in a white and turquoise dress as Xenophilius looks on; and near the entrance to the kitchen Dennis Creevey is staring up in awe at Kingsley as the Minister of Magic chats with a very red Horace Slughorn.
Harry downs the rest of his eggnog and heads to the kitchen. Dennis squeaks hello, and he responds with what he hopes is the appropriate amount of cheer. He waits patiently behind Parvati at the punch bowl, and when it's his turn he fills his glass to the brim.
He tugs at his turtleneck. The windows are open, but the kitchen is still stiflingly hot. He pushes and slinks through the crowd, murmuring greetings as he goes, and makes his way to the entrance hall. There's a tree here, smaller than the one in the living room, but Molly thought it would seem welcoming, he was told. It's finely decorated and draped in tinsel. Some of the ornaments are little toy cars and airplanes that have been Charmed to buzz around (Arthur's contribution, no doubt). One of the ornaments is made of glass. It has a photograph of Fred inside.
A Celestina Warbeck Christmas song is on, and it's so loud he can hardly hear anything else. Flitwick has just come in the door and is undoing his scarf while Sprout brushes snow from the shoulders of his coat. Seamus and Ernie Macmillan are engaged in some sort of staring contest, and Percy is talking to Fleur with a faint blush on his cheeks.
Harry climbs the stairs two at a time. Ginny's door is closed, but in Bill and Charlie's room Charlie is showing Oliver Wood his old broom and mimicking sharp moves back and forth, reenacting old games. On the second floor Percy's room is also closed. The room that used to belong to Fred and George and now just belongs to George smells of gunpowder. Harry pauses for a moment before continuing.
He thinks about stopping in the toilet on the third floor but he can see Lavender Brown and Justin Finch-Fletchley are standing under the jinxed mistletoe outside it, and from the looks of things Lavender is going beyond the call of duty to free her counterpart. Wrapped presents are stacked outside Arthur and Molly's room on the fourth floor, and he can see at least one with his name written on it.
Ron's room on the fifth floor is open. He enters and sets his glass down on the nightstand. It is still gruesomely orange, which is only worsened by the fact that Fleur and Molly decorated every room to celebrate the holiday. The red and green of the wreaths, bows, and lights don't go well with the orange, he notes. A book lies on the nightstand. He picks it up and flips to a random page in the middle. He smiles as he reads how a witch can be wooed with the right combination of flowers and chocolates (season-appropriate, of course).
He sets the book down and picks up his glass. He goes to the window and looks outside. Down below in the garden there's a mass of people huddled together. Some have broken off toward the shed, and some are playing Exploding Snap a distance away near the pond. He sees that Luna is now standing with Susan Bones near the tallest tree in the yard, although he can't see what they're doing. He once threw a gnome from that same spot.
He opens the window and sticks his head out. He peers down at the ground, to the people milling about near the entrance to the living room. A sudden queasy feeling like vertigo hits him. It's something like the lurch he used to feel in his stomach after seeing a Bludger rushing towards him. It puts him at ease.
The music is fainter up here. The upstairs must not have been Charmed. He closes the window.
He goes down the stairs. The front door is open when he gets to the bottom: Rosmerta has just arrived, and three Weasley boys are rushing to help her with her jacket. He goes back through the kitchen but doesn't refill his glass. The living room is even hotter than it was earlier. Sitting in the sagging armchair is Aberforth Dumbledore, and he's telling Neville and Hannah and Dean a story with sweeping hand gestures. Remus had once sat in the same chair, two Christmases ago.
Harry exits the living room and goes out into the garden. The winter air is nice. He sips on his eggnog and listens to the crescendo of the song that's playing, a Muggle Christmas tune he's heard before. A mass of Hogwarts students are laughing in a circle twenty feet away and swaying to the music together.
He feels a weight against his left arm. Hermione is standing next to him, leaning into him. She doesn't have a drink. He offers her some of his, and she takes a sip.
The song ends. There's a long silence, as if someone has forgotten to put on the next song, or there's an argument over what will be played next. His eyes sweep the garden. To his right is McGonagall, still in the same red jumper but speaking to Hooch now; to his left is Terry Boot and Roger Davies, who are chatting up a blonde girl he doesn't recognize; in front of him is the mass of Hogwarts students.
He recognizes most, but not all. He knows Stuart Ackerley by name, if not personally; Lisa Turpin, who was in his year; a few Gryffindors, including Jack Sloper and Demelza Robins; and even Cho Chang, who is talking to Lisa. They're all beaming and drinking eggnog.
Another song begins. This one is different. It's not classic Warbeck, or a Christmas song. It has a beat to it. It reminds him of the music he once heard in a Muggle club, except it sounds older.
He takes a drink. Demelza starts dancing and grabs Stuart. He begins dancing as well, and grabs a girl that Harry doesn't know. Soon the mass of Hogwarts students is yelling and moving together, legs flying in different directions and jumping with no particular purpose.
He looks down at his cup.
They're shouting now. McGonagall is glaring at them, but they don't notice. The music is loud. His ears hurt. They are a dancing impenetrable mass.
He feels Hermione shifting next to him. She's turning, but only just. He realizes she's moving with the beat. She looks up with him and raises her eyebrows. He drinks.
She begins tapping her foot. The group dances on behind her. Then she's in front of him, twisting her torso and pushing her arms back and forth, but lightly. She looks him in the eye and he sips his eggnog.
The song is louder now, he thinks. It's coming to the chorus and the drums are so powerful he can hear them shaking the ground beneath him. His shoes vibrate with the kick drum.
Hermione turns and moves and looks at him, and he just looks back. She raises her eyebrows again. He stands there.
Now she's dancing wildly, hopping up and down on every fourth beat. She's twisting in the air and her eyes are closed. Her tongue is pressed to the bottom of her front teeth and her shoulders are twisting in front of him as the mass of Hogwarts students toss in frenzied unison behind her.
Her eyes open and she stares at him. She grabs his wrist and raises it, moving it with her. He stands still. She doesn't let go of his wrist.
He doesn't recognize the song, but he can hear the students singing along. Hermione is silently dancing with one arm above her, hand holding his wrist, and her eyes are closed again. When she looks at him again she's looking through him. He knows Terry Boot and Roger Davies are watching them from ten feet away.
He moves to bring his glass to his lips but she stops him. Then she grabs the glass and tosses it away. She's still dancing.
She has both of his hands in hers now, and she's waving them above their heads. She looks at him. Her hair is bushy and wild in the December night, and the music is building up again.
He glances up to their joined hands moving against the black sky. He listens to the impassioned vocals, and to the Hogwarts students he hardly knows echoing the lyrics.
Harry taps his foot against the grass. Hermione watches and grins. She stomps her leg in time with his. She begins to move from side to side. He sways with her. She jumps up once. He continues swaying and tapping his foot. She jumps up again, and grins at him. When she jumps again he jumps with her.
He's dancing now. He sees Ron approaching them from the right and is about to stop. She doesn't. She lets one of his hands go and wraps it around Ron's shoulders, pulling him in. Ron looks puzzled, but she continues dancing and shaking, and so Harry does too. Ron begins to move, just a bit, and now Harry and Hermione are both pulling at him, moving against him, until he laughs and he's dancing with them.
The chorus is loud and they dance. They're shivering, convulsing, jerking around. Hermione is laughing and tossing her hair each way. Ron is doing some kind of dance Harry has never seen before, and he is mugging back and forth as he does it, bringing his knees to his chest one after the other with a faux-serious expression. Hermione laughs again, and Ron grins and whips his head back, running his hands over his hair in time with the music.
There is a crowd outside now, and he can't see the Hogwarts students. The Burrow is loud and Harry can feel the beat of the song in his spine. It should be cold, but it isn't. It is two days before Christmas, 1998, and Hermione and Ron are dancing with weightless abandon next to him.
Harry lets himself get lost in the music and dances with them.