Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JK Rowling's.

For no reason at all except that I really, really love the song, go and listen to Last Christmas (Wham). I listened to it while writing this (and not writing, and pretty much all the time).

This is a monstrous chapter compared to the itty-bitty Chapter 31. It's over 4k. :D That means I've passed the 100k mark for this fic! (Also, the 90 reviews mark.)

Chapter 32

CHRISTMAS

Today was an empty day.

A long time ago (it felt like years and years), she would never have thought to lack things to do at Christmas of all times. She went places with her parents, places full of history and museums and books that smelled old and leathery. Sometimes places with beaches and the sea and the sun, which she had hated because it wasn't Christmasy. When she wasn't away she always had something to do, books to read, family to love, things to eat and Christmas to celebrate. But her books... Well, there was no saying where they were now. Maybe they had been thrown out. Maybe they had been shipped to Australia, and maybe somewhere in Australia, Monica and Wendell Wilkins had puzzled over them, wondering what had ever possessed them to buy The Importance of Being Earnest. There also seemed little point in reading about potions and spells now; whenever she thought about it she thought of bursts of light coming at her from all sides and people dying and hurting all around and she, ducking and weaving and hurling spells as fast as she could, and somehow she finally realised that textbooks would never compare to the horrible reality of battle.

In her boredom, she had taken to staying in Ginny's room for most of the day, watching from the window as her friend took out her broom and spent the morning – and afternoon, and evening, and sometimes parts of the night – flying. She would come in, knackered, for supper, and not say a word until they were alone in her room. Then their conversations were light-hearted and futile, almost like they used to be, but horribly shallow in the light of all that had happened. Sometimes, if it was raining outside for example, they would both go down to the kitchen to see if they could help with anything. But for the most part, she spent her days in idleness, not out of laziness, but out of lack of anything to do.

She would go down at around six o'clock, which was when Percy came, because Percy was still as interesting to talk to as she had found him when he was a prefect and she was much younger. He had a knowledgeable air about him, not wisdom or self-satisfaction but a sort of thirst for knowledge that she understood and shared. They could spend long minutes debating an inane subject, and when this happened she almost felt like herself again.

Today, a drizzly, dreary day, Christmas day, the knocks on the door were a half-hour earlier than his habit, but she guessed it was him and started descending the stairs. From the kitchen she heard Ginny say something. There was the sound of a chair being scraped back, and Mr and Mrs Weasley emerged and reached the door before her. Mrs Weasley loved it when her son came; she fretted almost every day that he wouldn't make an appearance. But he always did, and she always hugged him as though she hadn't seen him in years, and Percy bore it. He probably sensed that she wanted to make up for lost time, time he had lost, and he seemed to enjoy the attention, most of the time.

"Hi, mum," he said today, his tone lacking its usual cheer. "Dad. Hi, Hermione. Merry Christmas."

Then he stepped aside to let a small, dark-eyed woman follow him in.

George wolf-whistled from where he had kicked his legs up on the couch. "Oi, Percy's got a girlfriend! Ginny, come out and see!"

Percy smiled tightly and said, "This is Audrey. My wife."

There was a split second's silence, followed by a crash in the kitchen as Ginny dropped a plate. Mrs Weasley's smile froze, and she suddenly looked like she was about to cry.

"Oh, Percy," she wailed, and then she did start crying.

Percy looked pleadingly at his father.

"A pleasure," Mr Weasley told Audrey, kissing her on the cheek. "Merry Christmas. Er."

Percy looked grim, but after a second, George burst out laughing.

"Well I never –" he started, and laughed again. "She's too pretty for you, Perce."

Audrey blushed, then smiled. She was pretty, in a quiet, understated way, with straight brown hair and brown eyes and a warm smile.

"And she's Muggle-born," Percy supplied eagerly, in a flash of lucidity.

His father's eyes brightened. "You are?" he said, and immediately started asking questions.

Percy, meanwhile, slung an arm around his mother's shoulders and whispered soothing words to her. Hermione thought she heard the words I'm so sorry repeated over and over again. This wasn't new; they had heard that almost every day over the summer. When he came over (every day), his face was drawn and pinched and he looked older than even Charlie. He was racked with guilt over Fred's death but there was something else as well, something concealed beneath the surface, beneath the cheerful tone he always adopted. And this was it, the secret he'd been keeping. During the time he had spent apart from his family, he had married.

Hermione watched him in silence, wondering where he had found the courage to bring this Audrey home, to break his mother's heart. Audrey was looking uncomfortable, but she answered Mr Weasley's questions with ease. She was wearing jeans and an oversized hoodie and no make-up. She looked very un-Percyish and Hermione thought she would get on very well with the family. She seemed awfully young, though; nineteen or twenty maybe. Mrs Weasley wouldn't approve.

Hermione sidled up to Audrey once Mr and Mrs Weasley went back to help Ginny in the kitchen.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Hermione. A friend."

"I know," Audrey said, smiling. "Percy has talked a little about you. You're Ron's friend."

"How long have you known Percy?" she asked. "We haven't seen him in ages."

"I met him at the Ministry," Audrey explained. "I applied for work experience there, the summer before my sixth year. He was the only one who said yes. He told me he'd have loved to have the opportunity when he was my age. I worked under him for three weeks. But I didn't see him again until two years later when I finished Hogwarts and started working in his office. He'd been promoted since the last time we'd met, but he remembered me. He invited me to lunch to catch up, and..." She shrugged and smiled. "It just happened.

"Then the Ministry started rounding up all the Muggle-borns, and we ran away. Well, I ran away in the dead of the night, and when Percy realised I was gone he came after me."

Percy laughed and slung his arm around her waist casually. "When I found her, I married her so she'd never leave me again, and then we hid for six months from the Ministry."

"Then he was the one who left me to go fight in that dreadful battle," Audrey said, her eyes bright with love and admiration as she leaned into her husband. "For which I still haven't forgiven him."

Percy winked at Hermione. "Give her some time, she'll come around."

"So we have you to thank for my brother's transformation from a selfish, pompous pat to a human being?" George asked Audrey. "I like you already."

"Thanks, George," Percy said, looking pained. "I knew I could count on your support."

"Anytime, mate," George said, reclining on the sofa. "So you work at the Ministry?"

Audrey looked uncomfortable. "I used to. But since the end of the war, I don't know, really. I don't know how they're organising it."

"I'm meeting with Kingsley later this week," Percy said.

"Yes, well, you'll be taken back, of course," Molly said indignantly from the kitchen. "You'll have your old jobs back if Kingsley's a man of honour."

"He said he'd try," Percy said, shrugging. "We'll see."

"Which department did you work in?" Hermione asked Audrey.

"I started off under Percy. Then I was relocated to Muggle artefacts, which is much, much more fascinating," she said with a teasing glance at Percy that told Hermione this was a constant argument between the two.

He smiled back. "Everything's relative, I suppose."

"No, I mean it," she said, turning her attention back to Hermione. "There's nothing more interesting – or appalling – than how wizards can trick Muggles. It's usually pretty complex magic, and very ingenuous. I was interested in curse-breaking for a while – Percy tells me Bill works in that? – but law is so faceted that it never gets boring."

Ron, who was sitting on the armchair across from George and who had been, until then, silent, made a face. "Law is so faceted it's always boring."

"No it isn't," Hermione said enthusiastically. "I know what you mean, Audrey. There are hundreds of sides to it – some aspects are so subtle – and some things are really barbaric, I grant you. I intend to –" She stopped suddenly, noting Ron's smirk. "Oh be quiet, you," she said sullenly.

"I haven't said anything!"

Audrey laughed. "Ron, is it?" she said. "Pleased to meet you."

"That's Ron," Percy said, nodding. "Ginny's the one who broke the plate in the kitchen – she's channelling Tonks, I think. Ah, here she is." He nodded at his sister when she came in. "My brother Bill and his wife Fleur. The pain on the sofa is George –"

"Oi!" George said indignantly.

"– and this is my older brother Charlie. And that's Harry Potter."

Audrey nodded at each in turn, somewhat shyly. Percy dragged George off the sofa and sat down with his arm around Audrey, possessive.

"All right," he said, "I know you're all bursting with questions. Ask away."

"How old is she?" George asked from the carpet, where he'd remained sprawled after Percy pulled him off the sofa.

"Nineteen," Audrey replied, smiling.

"Merlin," George said. "I didn't have you pegged as a cradle-snatcher, Perce."

"Do you like Quidditch?" Ron asked, and everyone laughed. "Because you can't be my sister-in-law if you don't, sorry."

Percy made a face. "Unfortunately, she's a big fan. She's been trying to convert me since we met."

There was a lot of clapping on the back after this, and George said, "Oh, you're perfect for the prat, Audrey."

"When's your birthday?" Ginny asked.

"November 30th."

"You're really young," George said. "Has Percy told you his true age?"

Audrey laughed again. "Yes."

"Has he told you he was –" George puffed his chest out and adopted a pompous tone, complete with an Oxford accent – "A prefect and Bighead Boy at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"Has he told you about the time in his third year when –"

"All right, that's enough," Percy interrupted. "I don't want her to file for divorce!"

"What house were you in?" Ginny asked.

"Seems obvious," George said. "Bighead Boy would never settle for anything but a Ravenclaw."

"I was a Hufflepuff."

"Like I said."

Audrey smiled, and she had the same air of a Hufflepuff that Hermione had seen in Susan Bones, a sort of quietness about her that wasn't really shyness but something calmer, more peaceful.

"Would you like some tea?" Mrs Weasley said, emerging from the kitchen. "That was what Ginny was about before she dropped that plate – yes, darling, I know you didn't do it on purpose. I can heat it up quickly if anyone is interested."

"That would be lovely," Audrey said, and the others agreed.

The tea was served with chocolates of the kind that came in shiny wrapping paper and that melted in your mouth. Audrey took three, and George said, "Yes, you're absolutely perfect for him," and they all laughed. Percy disliked chocolate.

"All kidding aside, how in the blazes did he convince you to marry him?" George asked.

Audrey glanced at Percy, and there was so much affection and complicity in that glance that Hermione figured there was, here, something worth digging.

But Audrey simply said, "He deserved it."

Mrs Weasley seemed very put off. Hermione was certain she heard her mutter something about the war and people marrying left and right. And Audrey was so awfully young, just over a year older than her. Would she marry at that age? How could she be so sure of her feelings? Audrey had started working at eighteen, the year Hermione had been on the run. She had worked at the Ministry for a couple months, maybe, before having to run from the anti-Muggle regime. And she had married Percy, whom she could barely know... Then again, Percy had given up his career for her and risked his life by going on the run. He was a pure-blood, he wouldn't have been bothered if it hadn't been for Audrey. Could you get much surer than that?

Still, Mrs Weasley most absolutely disapproved. Hermione couldn't see herself married, settled down at nineteen. She couldn't see herself settling down, ever. Percy's arm around Audrey. The fawning looks she kept giving him. Hermione had witnessed this already with Bill and Fleur when it had been their turn, and when Bill had been attacked by Greyback. With her own parents, even, when – don't. They were all so sure of their love, so sure they wanted to spend the rest of eternity together. She didn't even know if she could survive a minute alone with Ron. Or if she wanted to, or if he did. It wasn't fair...

Audrey said, "So who here plays Quidditch?" and they started talking about that.

Hermione's head felt light all of a sudden. It reminded her of her fall that last time, her fall from over-exertion and under-nourishment. But she wasn't hungry, was she? Light-headed, faint, and slightly nauseous now. She was eating enough now, wasn't she? She had begged Harry not tell anyone about that incident (Mrs Weasley would have had a heart attack), so he was the only one who shot her disapproving glance whenever she picked at her food or skipped a meal altogether; in this house, he was the only one lucid enough to notice. But now, as she raised a shaking hand – shaking like a leaf – to her forehead, Molly caught the movement. And so did everyone else.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked worriedly. "You look so pale..."

She dropped her hand quickly, hoping no-one had noticed how thin her fingers were. "Just a dizzy spell," she said. "I'm fine. I hit my head on a shelf yesterday, is all. Nothing serious."

Audrey made a pained, compassionate sound. "Ow," she said, "that's really painful, isn't it? Maybe you should consult a Healer if the pain doesn't go away."

"It's temporary," Hermione insisted. "Just a dizzy spell..." Then, to turn the conversation away from her health: "Do you play Quidditch, then?"

"A little," Audrey said. "Not so much since I started school. But I still love the sport."

This led to a discussion about favoured Quidditch positions, worst matches ever, most obvious foul ever, and then best players.

"Daniel Stratovski," Audrey said. "Hands-down."

George tutted. "You don't mean it, do you? The guy has no experience."

"Who needs experience? He's got talent. He started off on the Tornadoes' main team, and they haven't lost a single match in two years. Dan was likely to play for England at the next World Cup."

"He isn't that good," Charlie said. "Mostly lucky, but his aim is only about average. Now take Krum, for example; that's a good player for you."

"You're only saying that because he's a Seeker, like you," Ginny said disparagingly. "But Dan is good. He can fly."

Ginny was a Harpies fan, but in her room she had a poster of a young man, rakishly handsome, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, with bright eyes and a cocky smile. The name Daniel Stratovski was written in bold across the top, and the Tornadoes' emblem appeared in the top-left corner. Hermione suspected the poster's presence in her friend's room had as much to do with his looks than with his actual flying.

"He's not even in the business anymore," George said. "Have you heard anything about him since September?"

"Not since the war," Ginny retorted.

There was a silence after that as everyone took in what that might mean and remembered other disappearances, other losses. Audrey leaned her head on Percy's shoulder and he held her closer still. Mrs Weasley, who had, like Hermione, only been listening distractedly, suddenly turned quite white.

Then Ron stood up and said, "Anyone up for a game of chess?"

"I love chess," Audrey said eagerly, and Harry laughed.

"Not when you're playing against Ron you don't. He wins every time."

"Is that so?" Audrey obviously wasn't sure whether he was making fun of her.

"All right, I'll play you," Ron said, placing the chessboard on the low table in front of her. "White or black?"

"White," Audrey said decisively."

"Lay your bets," Ron told the others, but they didn't need his encouragement.

"Twenty-five," George said.

"Twenty-one," Charlie said.

"Thirty-three," Ginny said.

"What are they doing?" Audrey asked.

"Betting on how many moves he'll need to beat you, sweetheart," Percy said casually. "Seventeen."

She smacked him on the arm. "Shouldn't you be on my side?"

"I'd much rather be on the winning side, love."

"Traitor," she said, but she was smiling.

They played three games, and Audrey lost each one. She was a fair player and didn't let her defeats get to her; she took every move Ron made with a smile and laughed at her own clumsiness. Their third game was interesting and lasted so long that Percy lost the five Galleons he'd won after the first two; Ginny, who had bet on forty-two moves, was closest and took the money. Audrey laughed when she saw this and said Serve you right. Percy smiled.

"You are not," Mrs Weasley said after the third game, "going to spend Christmas playing chess."

"We're having fun!" Ron protested.

"It's past seven," his mother said. "I can bring out the appetizers if anyone is starting to get thirsty."

An enthusiastic chorus of voices greeted this suggestion.

"But only if you put that chess set away," Mrs Weasley said. "Now is not the time. What will you all drink, now? There's Butterbeer, which I can heat up for those who want, pumpkin juice, Firewhiskey, hot chocolate, eggnog, coffee, elderflower wine, mead, tea... I believe we even have some of that red currant rum left over, don't we, Arthur? No, Ron, you are not having Firewhiskey."

"I'm of age!" Ron protested.

"I will not not have you drinking alcohol this early in the evening," Mrs Weasley said firmly. "Have a Butterbeer instead."

She jotted down the orders, frowned when Ginny demanded mead but served it anyway because it wasn't highly dosed in alcohol, and placed three big overflowing glasses of warm Butterbeer in front of Hermione, Ron and Audrey.

"This has been my favourite drink ever since Hogwarts," Audrey confessed. "We don't have anything like it in the Muggle world."

"What was your favourite before, then?" Mr Weasley asked with genuine interest.

"Pepsi," she said, and smiled at the looks on their faces. "It's a Muggle soda. Fizzy. Served cold. Very sugary. But at Christmas, I liked eggnog a lot. Now I drink pumpkin juice and Butterbeer all the time. I never tasted pumpkin juice before going to Hogwarts, but I love it."

Percy slung an arm around her shoulders. "My wide-eyed innocent Muggle-born," he said affectionately. "She still gets amazed at the most normal things."

"I hardly call a Howler normal," Audrey retorted. "I'd never seen one before."

"That must have been a funny scene," Bill commented.

"Think she screamed louder than the Howler," Percy said, grinning.

They all laughed again. Hermione thought this was going to be a Christmas unlike any other she'd had. First she was spending it without her family; she had begged her parents to be allowed to come here for Christmas and go back home for New Year's. Next, there was an underlying tension in the air, as though every laugh could at any moment turn into a sob. When she had been a child, Christmas had been such an innocent moment... She would give anything to go back to that time.

Percy hadn't been thinking much when he had brought Audrey as a surprise. Mrs Weasley was awkward around her, and it became even more awkward when everyone realised that, of course, they hadn't bought anything for Audrey. But Audrey was an easygoing woman, and she wanted to put her in-laws at ease, so she assured everyone that it didn't matter, that she couldn't possibly have expected anything of them. She was the one who ended up apologising, and the Weasleys all reassured her. Percy himself had three parcels from his parents and brothers, who had warmed up to him greatly over the summer. One was from George, whom Percy could make laugh. Hermione had given him something, too; a book, naturally.

"Oh, no," Audrey said when she saw it. She checked the cover. "That's a classic. It must be over four hundred pages long. He's going to spend all week reading it! Now you've done it, Hermione. He won't even look at me until New Year's."

"I've never heard of this author," Percy said.

"Of course not," Audrey said. "He's a Muggle. Known for having been paid by the page and for his long, repetitive prose."

"Beautiful prose," Hermione said defensively.

"For Merlin's sake, don't get her started on books," Ron warned. "Or we'll all still be here next week."

Ron she had given a Chudley Cannons t-shirt, which he had immediately slipped on over his new Molly-jumper. This made him look chubby and colour-uncoordinated, because the jumper was maroon and the t-shirt was orange.

"Ugh," he had said when he had unwrapped it. "Can you believe that Magical Sports ministers from all around the world have decided to cancel all official Quidditch matches for a year?"

"The teams are going to need time to reconstruct themselves, Ron," she had pointed out.

"Banning Quidditch," Ron had muttered, looking dark. "They're all out of their minds."

Ron had given her a box of chocolate, creamy, pink-wrapped Chocoballs on one side, chocolate wands on the other, and the worst in the middle, two rows of small chocolate hearts. She had looked at him, he had looked at her, and he had looked away first.

She practically ripped the box away from Ginny when her friend's hand strayed to pluck a chocolate out of it.

Ginny had disappeared for a while, and it was only when she returned that Hermione realised Harry had been gone as well. She came back with a distant look in her eyes and a fine silver chain clutched in her hand; when Hermione pried her fingers apart, she saw it was a necklace. On the chain hung a small golden snitch which seemed to hum beneath her fingers, its wings fluttering every so slightly.

It had been a long supper and an even longer evening. It was past two in the morning when Hermione finally reached Ginny's room and collapsed onto the springy mattress, sighing deeply.

"I'm exhausted," she said.

"I'm stuffed," Ginny said, falling into a chair. "Brush your teeth?"

"Too tired."

"Think I'm going to be sick if I stand up," Ginny agreed. "Feel kind of tipsy, too. The world is spinning."

Hermione tried to look disapproving but didn't quite manage it. "You'll feel better tomorrow when you wake up."

"Tomorrow," Ginny said, brightening. "Think Mum'll mind if I don't wake up until two a.m. tomorrow?"

"Yes."

Ginny laughed, then winced. "Probably. Are you sure I can't have a little chocolate?"

"Depends. Can I have that necklace of yours?"

Ginny's smile turned sour. "I'm not ever going to wear it," she declared. "Ever."

"Don't say that," Hermione said. "You know he didn't mean anything by it. It's not like he was proposing or anything."

"That's the problem," Ginny said, digging into her pocket and fishing out the necklace. She clenched her fist around it. "It does mean something. It means I'm sorry. I don't want a pity gift, Hermione."

"That's not a pity gift," she said. "For goodness' sake, have you looked at it? I'm sure that's real silver and real gold. He probably spent ages looking for the perfect one. He was hurt when you didn't put it on."

"Well, I won't put it on." She held her arm out. "Here, take it if you want it."

"Are you kidding me? It isn't mine." Hermione shook her head. "I couldn't take it. It's a Christmas present, Ginny. It's yours."

"I don't know," Ginny said, looking down at the silver chain. "It just seems so..."

"Beautiful? Expensive? Romantic?" Hermione suggested. "Tacky?"

"Stupid," Ginny finished. "As though maybe a piece of jewellery could mend our relationship. As though it would work out because he has a lot of money."

Hermione caught the glimmer of anger in her friend's eye and frowned. "I don't think he really meant it like that."

Ginny sighed and looked at the ceiling. "I know he didn't. Sorry, Hermione. I'm just... tense, I guess. My head hurts." She tossed the chain onto her desk. "Let's just go to bed, all right?"

"Yes, let's."

They dropped into bed, not even bothering to undress. Ginny muttered something, and the lights turned off. Hermione heard Ginny toss and turn around for hours, unable to find sleep. She didn't mind; she didn't want to sleep, either. But weariness won out in the end.

She awoke with a jolt, suddenly sitting upright in bed, sweating. She had had another nightmare; grey eyes and pain, as always. Something was tapping at the window; it was what had waken her up. An owl, at – she checked her watch – four in the morning. She got up, feeling strangely awake, and let the owl in – a small, black thing with fluffy feathers. It let out a small hoot as it flew into the room and held out its leg patiently.

"Shh," she said, looking at Ginny.

Her friend was deep asleep, her covers drawn over her head. Hermione untied a knot in black string, and the owl flew off again, leaving in her hands a small, black, velvet pouch, closed with a drawstring. She knew, instinctively, who it was from. Smiling, she loosened the drawstring and tipped the pouch over. Its contents spilled out onto her bed: a note and the gift itself.

It was a plain willow hoop, wrapped in bands of black leather, with a loop of leather at one end to hang it from. At the other end, large, white-tipped feathers hung from finer strips of leather. String was wound back and forth across the circle in an intricate pattern which reminded her of a spider's web.

A dreamcatcher.

The coloured beads threaded across the web spun on themselves endlessly, making the slightest whirring noise. They sparkled more than any ordinary gemstone; Hermione thought she could feel the magic in them.

For your nightmares, the note read. It works. Merry Christmas. - D.

Well, what? We didn't hear anything about an Audrey in the series, but then, we didn't hear much about Percy, either. He was getting along pretty nicely at the Ministry under Fudge (and not too badly under Scrimgeour from what I understood). He lived someplace we never knew of, he had a regular salary and he was largely of age. I imagined him being already married, and I liked it and stuck with it.

Next week is The Most Obvious Thing (Draco, Hermione, Theo) and then The Mess that Was Slytherin House (Theo, a little bit of Astoria).