To Life: HERMIONE

The living room was littered with loose stockings and scattered gift boxes. Colourful lights were still strung up and blinking their little hearts out, and the curtains were drawn tight against a snow storm brewing outside. Bill and Fleur were on the couch sitting nearly forehead to forehead and whispering to each other in hushed tones. I silently commended her for not having a giant F stitched to the front of her blouse. Honestly, I love Molly's jumpers and have nothing against them, but the ones I've gotten were always two sizes too big.

The couple on the couch were engrossed in their conversation, and I intended to keep it that way, but my foot chose that exact moment to disturb a particularly crinkly scrap of wrapping paper.

"Hello, Hermione. Happy Christmas, yeah?" Bill said. I smiled. It was as happy as it could be, was it not?

"Yes, Happy Christmas," I replied. Fleur nodded and stole her husband's attention with a loud French exclamation. Bill answered in equal enthusiasm before their voices dipped low again. I didn't know what they were saying but I reckoned they wouldn't want me figuring it out anyway.

I eased out of the living room and into the kitchen. As promised, Harry was leaning against the edge of the table nursing a mug of something in one hand like he'd been standing there his entire life. He looked content downing his drink despite having more bruises than clear skin.

"Hey," I said from the doorway.

Boy Wonder opened his eyes and grinned that boyish grin of his. "There's the snake charmer herself."

I snorted at the misnomer and took the hug he offered, tucking my head in that nook between his neck and shoulder. The floor tiles were freezing under my feet but he was warm enough that it didn't matter. It felt good having him in front of me and seeing that he was okay and I was okay and everything was not nearly as much of a disaster as I thought.

"Not so tight," he groaned. "My bruises have bruises."

"Right, sorry."

"S'Okay," He placed a kiss on my forehead and mumbled, "So happy you're all right," against my skin.

"So happy you're not dead," I replied. He laughed, though he must have known I was not kidding.

"That was a close one, wasn't it?"

"Way too close."

We stood, heads tilted slightly in the suggestion of the kiss we ultimately decided to share because it was Christmas and we were alive and deserved to acknowledge those two indisputable facts. I leant up on the tips of my toes despite the overwhelming taste of alcohol and savored the flood of oxytocin through my pathways. It wasn't the best kiss we ever had, but it was worlds apart from the one I just got upstairs.

"Whatever you're drinking is doing a better job of singeing my eyebrows off than the fire."

"Lovely, isn't it? I can't feel my stomach."

"Harry!"

"Come on, where's your holiday spirit?" He drank deeply from the mug and hummed in satisfaction. Unicorns trotted around on the ceramic.

"Same place as your common sense, apparently," I said, when he put down his liquor.

"Assuming I had any in the first place." I would have replied, but at first I wasn't sure whether to be smug or worried at this new development. The grimace on his face when he dragged himself towards the cupboard for a shot glass and a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey quickly settled it. "I just really wanted that Sword. I thought we finally got a break."

"I know." I wanted to say I was sorry, but it didn't seem appropriate. We both wanted that Sword. We both were sorry it didn't work out like we'd hoped.

Harry hissed and pressed a bandaged hand to his bandaged side.

"You're in pain."

"Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me," was the dry response I got while he filled the glass.

"Give me that," I said, snatching the shot and the bottle. All attempts of keeping a smile on his face were abandoned as I led him to a chair. He set his mug on the table and lowered his head in his hands. "Should you even be out of bed?"

"Should you?"

"Touché, but that doesn't answer my question."

"And neither does this toast I'm about to make." He gestured towards the shot glass that I suddenly realized was my shot glass. It would be a waste of time to ask if he was serious because he was. I shook my head and raised it, knowing that doing this was the only way to get to some sort of meaningful conversation by the end of this century. "To life."

"To life."

We drank to it, me from my shot glass and him from his mug. By the time I got over a wicked coughing fit and wiped my running eyes, Harry had drained the entire thing and was pouring more liquor.

"Again," he said.

"I don't think –"

"Suit yourself."

He drained his mug, and I watched with rising concern. When he reached for the bottle again, I grabbed it first.

"Didn't Mrs. Weasley give you something to help with the pain?"

"Sure did." He swiped for the bottle again but I held it back. Seeker reflexes weren't much use when drunk. I had never seen him like this before.

"Then why?"

"Alcohol heals what medicine can't. Now give it here. Please."

He had a bloody good point. It was hard to remember that only just yesterday he was standing over his parents' graves. The bottle was nearly empty anyway and I let him have it.

"I'm guessing you got cornered by a Weasley too," he said, gesturing to the ceiling. "The yelling, the slamming. Massive clues. Even I couldn't miss them."

"Ron and I just had a little chat."

"Some chat. How'd it go?"

"How'd you think?"

"Fair enough." He nodded. He had no interest in pressing further, and for that I was grateful.

"Ginny was crying."

"Not much of a surprise," he said, shaking his head and chuckling. "One time Arnold fell off the kitchen table. Little fur ball was fine but she bawled for days."

Part of me wanted to know more about what happened (today, not on the day he chose as his red herring) but I decided I ought to respect his space the way he respected mine. "She said rules have been stricter since Snape became Headmaster. They go to their common rooms at eight with lights out by ten. And they march in large factions between classes. No talk of us or anything related to the war is allowed. Punishment to whoever so much as breaths my name."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Isn't it though? Reminds me of Umbridge." He looked at the empty bottle longingly before continuing. "Believe it or not, Neville's taken up a bit of leadership. I hear he's trying to keep the DA together but they haven't found the time to meet like before."

It was great news. Surprising, but great news. Splendid really. I supposed Neville always had it in him somewhere.

"We have to stay here for a bit," Harry said. I frowned at the announcement. "Well don't look too excited. It wasn't my idea; it was Mrs. Weasley's. I think she just wants to fatten me up."

Actually, food sounded really good right about then.

"Did you tell her you can just rest wherever we're heading?"

He chuckled. "As if she'd listen to me. 'You kids have been missing for months and now you turn up half-dead! Do you know everyone's been looking for you? You've been out trying to get yourself killed for years and this time you've nearly done it!'"

Spot-on. I laughed as he continued, "I told her I don't see why we have to endanger anyone more than we already have. Here they are trying to have one last normal Christmas and we fucked it up."

"Well exactly how long does she want us to stay?"

"Two days. After that the whole lot's moving to a safe house somewhere in Romania and Ginny's back at Hogwarts early until the rest of term."

I sighed. "I really don't think it's a good idea to stick around here. Even if it's only for two days. "

"Believe me I would've taken off ages ago but I'm not strong enough without my wand. Do you have it?"

"It's probably back at the tent." I said, unperturbed. There were a lot of things back at the tent.

"Good enough for me." He stood. "Let's talk upstairs."


HARRY

"Bloody hell!" The lopsided ceiling was a hazard even at the best of times. The bumps on my skull were testaments to my poor memory, and my smashed state. I could almost guarantee I'd hit it again at least twice more before we left my second home, sober or not.

I stumbled into the room, grabbing blindly for the bedside table and grasping at the nearest potion. I couldn't be arsed to read it. If Molly put it there, it had to be good.

A cry behind me prompted me to turn with the bottle still tucked between my lips to find Hermione rubbing a sore spot almost identical to mine. I tried not to laugh because I'd choke.

"Watch out for the ceiling."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Anytime." I was running on anesthetics and alcohol and treacle tart and yet I still felt worse than that time that idiot Lockhart turned my arm to jelly.

My trainers came off easily enough, before I crawled under the bed sheets still dressed. Who could bother with clothes when it felt like Fluffy was sitting on your chest? If it mattered any, the pillow hugged against my face was the softest thing I'd ever felt.

The Girl-Who-Thought-Of-Everything summoned a series of muffling spells and silencing charms, as if both things weren't enough on their own. I tensed when she plucked the socks off my feet because I thought she was going to tickle the bottom of them. Though I was sorely mistaken (and slightly disappointed), I tucked them under the covers just in case she got any ideas.

"Let's start from the part after you and Bathilda went upstairs," she said.

"You mean after the part when I didn't listen to you and suffered, as I usually do when I don't?" It was an effort to drag my body until I had it leaning against the wooden headboard.

"Sure, either one is fine." I got her to laugh, which was always a win in my book. It used to be that she wouldn't crack a smile for anything. Somewhere between second year and third, she realized there was a bit more to life than exams and assignments. But only just a bit.

"She led me to the room you found us in and whilst I was glancing about for the Sword, her bloody head fell off and Nagini came out her neck." I said, to the point. The memory sent a shudder through me hard enough to make my ribs ache. "She jumped at me before I could even think of a spell to cast and everything went blurry after that."

"Humour me here. How dark does a spell have to be to reanimate the dead using a snake puppeteer?"

"I should be asking you that." I supposed the charmer became the charmed.

"There are many things I do not know," she admitted, looking down. The revelation seemed to worry her, which in turned worried me. I was sure that many people expected her to know the secrets of the universe by then but I wasn't one of them.

"We've got time to figure things out."

"You don't believe that. You can't," she replied. "He knew where we were. We played right into his hands, Harry."

She didn't mean to make it out like it was my fault, but it was. If I could see inside his twisted brain and feel his emotions, it only made sense that he could do the same to mine. He knew where we were headed, maybe even before I did.

I wondered if he got shitty headaches too or if that symptom was only on my end.

"I'll brush up on Occlumency with Tonks as best as I can but I don't really have control whilst it's happening." The poppy was kicking in. I sunk back down to the pillow. "Your turn. Tell me why we're here."

Waking up with a flurry of rush movements and anxious redheads was bad enough without one of those redheads being your ex-girlfriend, who just so happened to be sister to the bloke who may or may not be your best mate anymore since you and his ex-girlfriend huddled for warmth in a tent all winter. What a mess. The whole lot was one big, mind-boggling mess.

Hermione told her account of events and I listened diligently, adding a few questions here and there when I could pry my eyes open enough to look at her.

When she finally got to the end, I felt her reaching for my hand under the blankets. Hers was shaking when I found it. My hand was shaking too. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't have to."

"Thanks," I said. Sleep was close. I almost fell in to it when a "Harry James Potter," dragged me out. I hardly ever heard my full name and it made something in me hurt the bad kind of hurt.

"Don't you ever thank me for saving your life." Her face was strong, and resolute. I nodded. One kick-ass heroine. Apply as needed.

"Feel free to do it again anytime though. The irony of surviving the Killing Curse only to die from a few tiny snake bites would've been too much."

"If that's your definition of tiny then I don't want to see what you think big is."

I raised my unsinged eyebrows. "Have you seen the basilisk?"

She let me have another one of those smiles.

"Fair point."