A/N: Hello, welcome, and Happy Holidays! This is a tale of the first Christmas Eve after the war, made up of ten short stories from ten different points of view... I have to say, I didn't realize until I was well into planning/writing it, but it is very much a Harry Potter-Love Actually! If you haven't watched that movie, it is one of my favorites and you SHOULD right now, because it is the season:)
Anyway, ENJOY, please review with any feedback, it's very helpful to me and I love to hear from you!
Everything owned and created by J.K. Rowling.
Part One: Brought On By The Flakes
"Oh, bloody, buggering-" Ginny Weasley sucked her finger furiously as it throbbed and sent needles of pain through her whole arm. She inspected it with narrowed eyes, and then turned her glare on the offender, a gleaming and bubbling pitcher of Butterbeer that she had caught just in time as it rocketed towards her.
"Oooh, lads! She's a fiery one, this one!" One of the more obnoxious Christmas Eve drunkard-patrons of the Three Broomsticks leaned in to whisper dramatically to his friends, "Though I 'spose we could 'a guessed tha' from the hair!"
Ginny considered the professional repercussions of actually setting this man on fire for a moment, before she settled on saying with a wry smile,
"Oh, I am, but you don't want to find out how fiery, Mr. Bazzles." She gave him a look that stopped his dopey grin short- one of the many tricks she had learned from her mum.
She pressed a rag to the table, soaking up the spills of foaming Butterbeer from in front of him, and walked back to the bar, enjoying the small silence she left behind.
"How're you doing, kid?" Rosmerta appraised her with an amused smile, as she filled three drink orders at once. Ginny watched the drinks pour themselves without a drop wasted, and fly smoothly across the pub to land on the tables for which they were intended. She laughed and shook her head. Rosmerta was the only witch in the world who could take on the drunken, holiday force of one hundred and fifty pub-goers without batting an eye. She was also the only witch in the world who could get away with calling her kid. Besides Tonks, maybe.
"Oh… about as well as expected. A complete disaster," Ginny grinned at her, resting her head in her hands. An ache had started in her chest at the thought of Tonks.
"You'll get the hang of it soon enough," the curvaceous bar-maid assured her, "and with you I don't have to spare a moments' worry about you not being able to stand up for yourself, do I?"
She gave Ginny a devilish eyebrow, and Ginny wondered how Rosmerta's powers of doing a million things at once could possibly extend to hearing exchanges all the way across the pub.
"No, I suppose not." Ginny sighed, straightening up, and getting ready to get back to work. She wasn't altogether sure she wanted to get the hang of this job, if she was being honest. It had come about in the most bizarre of ways- Mundungus Fletcher had mentioned to her mother that Rosmerta needed help, and the unlikely team of her mum and Ron had pushed and prodded her into offering her hand for the holiday rush. She suspected Ron had just wanted more reason to come into the Three Broomsticks to skulk around after its beautiful proprietor- an even more ridiculous prospect than usual, seeing as he was now in couple's-haven with Hermione Granger. And her mum had probably been sick of Ginny's funk, of having her moping around the Burrow for days on end. Ginny was damn sick of it too, and in the end, that was why she had taken the job. She needed to get out and move on from the sorrow that had gripped her since the war. And her mother didn't need the extra worry- she had her own grief to tend to.
She had been only momentarily uncomfortable about the title of bar-maid, before she looked around at the world that had kept moving as she lay in her childhood bedroom for months, and realized that it was in a state of complete disarray- Ginny Weasley working in a bar after fighting in the war, would not even be of note. Most of the population was stuck in odd roles and jobs at the moment, like puzzle pieces jammed together in all the wrong ways, only to make the temporary and lumpy shape of a square.
The door to the pub opened, inviting in a swirl of icy wind, and Ginny's heart leapt. George. She stared, and the pint of Butterbeer she was filling, overflowed onto the counter. She hastily stopped it, and charmed away the mess, still staring.
Her brother, to her knowledge, had literally only been out in public once since the war. And that was to the mass funeral service held for the members of the Order only a week after the Battle of Hogwarts. He looked shellshocked to be suddenly standing amidst what must be the loudest and most rambunctious group of people in Hogsmeade, but he looked more whole than she had seen him in months.
She stopped what she was doing, and pushed her way across the bar to him. He saw her coming, and they met in a bear hug halfway across the room. His jacket was cold and sprinkled with melting snowflakes, but she felt as though she could melt insdie her own warm heartache at seeing him out. After Fred's death, Ginny had taken it upon herself, if only as some small distraction from her own unbearable grief, to be by George's side whenever he would tolerate her. They had sat together in days of silence, and when he was ready, they had relived their shared memories for hours into the night.
She pulled away, and looked at him. He smiled. There were the smallest traces of humor back in his eyes, and she felt her own eyes smart with tears.
"Oy, don't you dare get weepy with me, Ginevra Weasley- or do you want to scare me back into hiding again?"
She shook her head violently, laughing.
"What are you doing here?"
"Our brothers decided it was time to burn away our sorrows with the Fire of the Gods," he said, waggling his eyebrows, and very unnecessarily mouthing, 'Firewhiskey'.
"Oh, lovely, I should expect the volume level in here to triple then, shall I?"
"You should. I forgot you were working here," he glanced around dubiously, "doesn't seem the place for a seventeen-year-old who hasn't even finished school yet." He fixed her with a condescendingly stern look that might have once made her blood boil, but tonight made her heart sing with pleasure.
"Take it up with mum and Ron," she said dismissively. George snorted.
"Right- Ron. I might just have to take it up with him- 'our little sister is not to be used as a pawn in your boyhood daydreams'. Come to think of it, it was his idea that we meet up here tonight!"
They shared a look of amused exasperation, and Ginny led him to a table that had just emptied, near the bar. She left him there, looking slightly overwhelmed but pleased to be out, and went to help a mildly-flustered Rosmerta at the bar. She poured Butterbeer, Firewhiskey, Drubles Schnapps, Port, Wine, Champagne- sending trays soaring across the room and carrying pints to the tables whose occupants looked like they may not be able to take their own drinks from the hovering trays.
After a few minutes of this, the door to the pub opened again, and a familiar tingle in Ginny's spine made her freeze. She didn't need to look up to know that it was him. She concentrated on the sickles in her hands as every nerve in her body strained to defy her and look at him. A rustle of whispers and talk was rippling through the room, confirming what that damned sixth-Harry-Potter-sense in her already knew. She sighed. She could feel him walking over, just like she could always feel his every move, and she put the hopelessly uncounted gold down on the counter.
He was moving awkwardly through the crowd, scanning with low eyes for her brothers. George, the only punctual one, was barred from his view by a group of caroling witches, and Ginny could see the momentary panic flit across Harry's face as he realized he was alone in a sea of admiring (and plastered) strangers. As usual, the pure boyishness of his reaction gripped her heart fiercely, and she couldn't stop herself from calling out,
"Harry! Over here."
He looked around quickly, and relieved, made his way over to the bar.
"Hey, Ginny." He smiled a small, friendly smile, and then looked at her with slight confusion. "Er- what are you doing back there?"
She laughed, a little forcedly, and struck a pose to display her apron.
"Working. Or helping, I should say. For the holidays-," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "-really... it boils down to being swindled by Ron into giving him an excuse to see more of Rosmerta."
"Oh?" Harry looked amused, "You, duped by Ron? Blimey the world has changed…"
They both smiled, and silence fell. His hair was disheveled as ever, and was dusted with a fair amount of sparkling snowflakes. Ginny's heart throbbed strangely- she was still not used to being around Harry after the war. They had known each other so closely for those few short months two years ago… but his disappearance with her brother and Hermione, the end of the war, and the half a year that followed made her feel like those stolen months were from another lifetime. They still hadn't addressed it; merely had fallen back into the awkward, surrogate-family, nearly-friends roles that they had filled in each other's lives for the five years previous.
She had daydreamed during that horrible year of being in the dark, not knowing if any of them would survive, that if they did, they might pick up naturally and be together again. But she had not factored in the very real toll that grief, time, and suffering would take on them all.
He cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his hair a little uncomfortably. Snowflakes sprang from the unruly black mass, and rained down on the bar and herself. She could feel them melting on her flushed skin, and sticking in her hair and lashes. He started a little,
"Oh!… Sorry." His voice faded away, and his eyes softened as he looked at her. Ginny's heartbeat quickened. His eyes travelled slowly over the sparkling flakes in her hair, and fell to rest on hers. For an instant she thought she saw the old longing hidden there, before they clouded with something more complex, and he looked away.
"My word, there's a celebrity among us!"
George had risen to join them, clapping Harry on the back and grinning. Harry looked a little startled to see George, but then a grin broke out on his face as well, and the two boys hugged like brothers.
"Good to see you, mate," Ginny heard Harry say, a little muffled, into George's shoulder. He glanced back at her briefly as George led him to his table, and she could see the slight stitches of guilt that had crept into the shadows of his face. She felt her temper flare. He had saved the bloody world, and he was still going around feeling guilt-ridden about every single casualty, she was sure of it.
If possible, the bar became ten times busier as the hour grew later, and Ginny found herself without a single second to think. The rest of her brothers, along with Fleur and Hermione, trickled in, but she barely had time to greet them.
At quarter after nine, Rosmerta ducked out to bring in more cases of Butterbeer, leaving Ginny with her tables. Ginny went to check on them, and immediately wished she had chosen to neglect them instead. Sitting at the very first table, was Draco Malfoy.
They froze when they saw each other, and while he didn't roll his eyes outright, he let them drift down to her apron and back up to her face, smirking pointedly.
"Bugger- What do you need." She asked flatly, promising herself she would remain calm no matter what.
"Is that any way to speak to a customer, Weasley?" he asked lazily. He rattled his empty glass of ice. "I'm having Volcano Vodka, but I think what I need, is Rosmerta…"
"I'm perfectly capable of getting that for you, Sir," she said as sarcastically as she could through clenched teeth. "Just wait a minute."
"I'll no doubt wait ten-"
"-Hello, Ginny!"
Ginny looked around quickly, and her irritation was instantly washed away.
"Luna!" she exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly. "Happy Christmas- how good to see you- I'm so sorry I had to cancel lunch on Saturday, I-"
Malfoy cleared his throat obnoxiously.
"I'm getting it, Malfoy, shut up before I have you chucked out," she snapped, loosing her promised calm as always. A few tables away, she heard Mr. Bazzles intone, 'Oooh! Tell him, lass!'.
"That's alright," said Luna mildly, "you're in the middle of working, I won't keep you. Hello, Draco! I haven't seen you since I was imprisoned at your Manor. How are you?"
In true Luna fashion, her tone and face were pure and pleasant. Malfoy blanched, staring up at her, some trace of a memory flickering across his face.
"Oh, I've made you uncomfortable. It's alright, really. Everyone thinks your family are evil, but I remember how you stood up for Richard Tulley once in my third year when you thought no one was around. I think people would be surprised to know that you're quite good, really." She gave him a friendly smile, and then smiled at Ginny,
"I think I'll go try and find Neville and Hannah. I'm pleased you're working here though, I think it's nice you want to give people Holiday Cheer…" she shuffled past a few staring tables, making her way towards the bar. Ginny grabbed Draco's empty glass. He was staring at the back of Luna, a most uncharacteristically astonished expression on his face. Ginny backed away slowly, but he didn't notice her leave. His eyes were still fixed on Luna. Shaking her head, she followed Luna's path towards the bar.
She filled Malfoy's drink and banished it across the room... and then filled ten more orders. Predictably, the table of her brothers was the loudest in the room, growing exponentially louder with each round of drinks she served. Shaking her head, but feeling slightly proud, she dipped into the restroom for a moment of peace. Upon exiting, she was accosted by Ron, who smashed her into a bear-hug and insisted forcibly that she accompany him, Harry, and George outside to set off some 'Bungdombs'.
The air was crisp and full of the silence of falling snow, and Ginny instantly felt grateful for her belligerent brother's insistence. Even with the Dungbombs that George began setting off at once, the night outside was a hundred times more peaceful than the bar inside, and she felt herself relax. The boys began setting off the Dungbombs in Fred's name, and she smiled at their rambunctious happiness.
"TO FRED!" They shouted together, as a particularly loud and smelly bomb went off, clinking their glasses and drinking merrily. George offered her his glass, and she accepted it readily.
"Happy Christmas, Fred," she murmured, taking a small sip of the Firewhiskey. Her heart ached and glowed at the same time as she caught George's eye. Fred was still very much with them.
"Crikey, I've got to piss," Ron announced. He also let it be known that he would refrain from relieving himself against the building, only because they were in the company of a lady.
"How chivalrous," Ginny noted, amused. George stumbled in after Ron, proclaiming that they would have a race to the stall.
The air seemed to tighten, as it always did whenever Ginny realized she was alone with Harry. He watched the back door to the pub swing closed, and then looked down at her.
"It's almost like the world is back to normal," he said distantly, and Ginny could hear the hope in his voice. She nodded vaguely, knowing that he knew just as well as she, how long it would truly take for all their lives to heal again. But she could pretend with him.
He was looking at her with that unreadable face again, and she was once more aware of snowflakes falling on her hair and lashes.
"You're bloody beautiful- You know that?" he said hoarsely.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn't say anything. He hadn't been asking for a reply. He moved closer, brushing the snow from her eyebrows with a warm hand.
"God, Ginny. I'm happy you're back," he said quietly. She didn't know exactly what he meant- she hadn't thought he had been all that aware of how much of a struggle the past few months had been for her. His eyes were glassy and slightly unfocused. She grinned.
"You're drunk."
He grinned back.
"I am."
The hand that was on her face fell to his side, and after a moment of looking at each other, he nodded towards the door, still smiling. She took his arm, feeling suddenly at ease, and they walked in soft silence through the fresh snow to the door.
A charm of clarity seemed to have fallen on them with the flakes of glittering snow. Ginny didn't know what would happen; where, when, or if they would ever pick up where they left off. But she knew that she loved him. He was her family, her friend, a soul that her own responded to like a mirror. She knew she didn't have to be a stranger anymore.
And that was enough for now.
For the 25 Days of Christmas Challenge