CHAPTER THIRTY

Christmas is Coming

Harry glanced at the bust of Hermes as he passed it sitting morosely on its marble plinth. A pair of lifeless eyes gazed back at him, cold and empty.

"You look how I feel," he muttered, continuing down the narrow corridor towards the third door on the left. He was too tired to take in much about his surroundings, but he could tell straight away that these rooms were much further down than the Founders' Gallery. Although brightly lit by braziers on the wall, the hallway had clearly been coated in dust and cobwebs until fairly recently. Harry saw several defiant spiders clinging onto their webs in the darkest corners, and was grateful that Ron was elsewhere.

He paused outside the third door on the left and leaned his ear towards the wood. Apart from the clink of glass, the only other noise he could hear was Sirius' voice, raised in annoyance over everyone else's.

"I fail to see that this has any relevance whatever. Harry knew what he was doing when he took this on, and he'll see it through to the end no matter what."

"Oh, Sirius, I think you're being very narrow-minded!" came a very familiar voice. Harry blinked. Mrs Weasley? Here, at Hogwarts?

"Narrow-minded?"

"Yes! You always did have a blind spot when it came to Harry, and you seem to forget that he's just a boy."

"He's nearly eighteen!" exclaimed Truth, with one of her rich laughs tinged with sarcasm. "He may be young, but he's a man now, with a man's responsibilities and problems."

"I think it's you that's being narrow-minded, Molly," said Sirius, gruffly. "You will insist upon pandering to him as though he's still eleven years old."

"I remember him at eleven years old, Sirius, which you aren't able to!" sniffed Mrs Weasley.

"Now, Molly, don't get upset," came Mr Weasley's soft voice. "We are all very fond of the lad, but Truth is right. Have you forgotten how he brought Ginny out of the Chamber of Secrets when he was little more than twelve? How he fought a Hungarian Horntail using only his wits? He didn't even go to pieces when he appeared on the Quidditch Pitch clutching the corpse of a school friend and raving about how Voldemort had come back to power! He never has been an ordinary boy, Molly, and it isn't fair that you should treat him as though he is."

"Quite right," agreed Sirius, emphatically. "He grew up a long time ago when it comes to sense, and I admit that it took me a hell of a lot longer. It's been two months since he started training and he's already pretty lethal with a sword, not to mention a wand."

"So where do we go from here?" asked Truth. "Reckon he's ready to be set loose at night?"

"Definitely. But I want to do some scouting myself first. He's not going to like the you-know-what, and I don't want Snape making it worse."

Harry frowned suspiciously and pressed his ear closer to the door, wishing his head wasn't aching so badly.

"Snape is an arrogant, miserable bastard," spat Truth, venomously. "And I wish to kill him."

Sirius snorted with laughter. "Afterwards perhaps, and then I'll help you."

"You're digressing again," said Remus, in amusement. "You were saying about the next step - "

"Hang on a minute. Harry! I know you're out there. Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" The door was flung open and Sirius leaned against the frame, arms crossed, dark hair falling across his eyes. "You're becoming as bad as Moony for appearing out of nowhere."

Harry grinned and slapped him on the shoulder as he slipped past into the room. "It's the only way I can find things out. I wish you lot wouldn't talk about me behind my back so much. It's unnerving walking right into a conversation about yourself."

He flopped into an armchair and let out a long breath, allowing himself the luxury of gazing around at his surroundings for a moment or two.

It was a beautiful, classical drawing room, with a high ceiling and tall, lattice windows reaching from the roof to the flagstone floor. Something about the hot, crackling fire and the amber glow settling on the mahogany furniture reminded Harry faintly of the Gryffindor common room on Christmas Day. All that was missing to complete the ambience was the familiar parchmenty, coffee-bean smell, and a heap of ribbon and wrapping paper scattered across the floor.

This is how I'd want my drawing room to look, he thought, stretching out his legs luxuriously.

"How's Ginny?" asked Truth, sitting down opposite him on an elegant chaise longue. She had abandoned her customary black for a becoming shade of indigo, and her dark eyes were glittering intently in the firelight. Beside her, seated on a long, delicately embroidered sofa were Mr and Mrs Weasley, both viewing Harry with something that bordered on suspicion, though he couldn't think why.

"Asleep," he replied, rubbing his aching temple absently.

"And Ron?" asked Mrs Weasley, eagerly.

"He'll be fine," Harry assured her. "He's awake and criticizing me and gazing rapturously at Hermione, so he's back to his old self."

Cutting off Mrs Weasley's astonished exclamation before she could get going, Sirius gestured to the bottle of ruby wine on the coffee table.

"Give the man some alcohol, someone," he suggested, with a surreptitious wink at his godson.

"Sirius, really!" gasped Mrs Weasley, clutching at the armrest in horror.

"We were just arguing about how old you are, Harry, as you probably heard," continued Sirius, as Remus handed Harry a glass glowing with vivid crimson. Mrs Weasley fell silent.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Yes, we were going to tell you this after the Christmas Ball, Harry, but after today's news we've decided we'd better tell you now. It's important that we all stay together over the next few weeks, in case something happens. So, you and Ron and Ginny and Hermione are going to pack up your things and move over here permanently tomorrow."

Harry frowned. "Are we back on the 'we need to keep an eye on four reckless teenagers' thing again?"

"No! I'm offended that you think so badly of me, Harry," said Sirius, with affected distress. "I would trust you with my life. Not my broomstick, but definitely my life."

"Oi!" laughed Harry.

"Please, boys, be serious," pleaded Mrs Weasley. "This is a very critical moment. I don't know how you can be so flippant!"

"It's a matter of morale," replied Mr Weasley, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "Try not to worry, dear. For the moment all we can do is plan, and not fret."

"Exactly," nodded Truth. Harry observed that Remus had settled beside her on the chaise longue, and she had leaned back very close to him - so close that his breath stirred the loose tendrils of hair at her neck. What was going on there? He decided it was none of his business and turned back to his godfather.

"So what exactly are we, then? Ron, Hermione and I, I mean. Are we students, or trainees, or Order members, or what?"

"I'd say you were a bit of all three, which doesn't help much," replied Sirius, his blue eyes alive in the fireglow. "Act like a student, work like a trainee, and think like an Order member. Especially the latter. Your life might depend on it one day."

"I wish you'd let me stay here, Sirius," burst out Mrs Weasley, suddenly. "I would feel so much easier if I could - "

"Keep an eye on four reckless teenagers?" suggested Sirius, sweetly. "I understand your concern, Molly, but they will be as safe here as anywhere. Arthur needs you at home."

"Yes, congratulations on the promotion, sir," said Harry, belatedly remembering the news he had heard earlier that day.

"Thankyou, Harry," said Mr Weasley, proudly throwing out his chest. "Things are going reasonably smoothly, but I ought to get back to the Ministry as soon as possible, Sirius."

Sirius nodded, placing his glass on the table. "I'll call one of the carriages round to take you into Hogsmeade."

"Can I see Ron before we go?" asked Mrs Weasley, hopefully. "Just for a moment?"

Truth smiled. "I'll take you up to him." She disengaged herself from Remus (yes, his arm was around her), and walked towards the door.

"I'd knock first if I were you," suggested Harry, with a grin. Truth returned it, shepherding Mrs Weasley out before she could ask any embarrassing questions.

Harry fell to musing on a number of things while they were absent, only half listening to Mr Weasley's enthusiastic tales about his new position and how things were faring at the Ministry. The similarity of the scene to the Gryffindor common room on Christmas Day had reminded him that there were barely two weeks until that very festival, and less than four days until the much-talked of Yule Ball. He couldn't hold back a wince as he recalled the last time he had attended one, and the various disasters that had plagued the evening from first to last. At least he wasn't obliged to dance this time, which was something to be very grateful for.

At once his thoughts turned to Ginny, fast asleep down the corridor, her palm curled under her cheek and her hair blanketing the pillow in a cloud of fire. How was he going to survive living in such close quarters with her for the rest of the school year? It was going to be one hellish experience. Beautiful, but ultimately hellish.

He sighed, and laid his head on the back of the armchair.

The door creaked open as Truth and Mrs Weasley returned.

"How is he?" asked Remus.

"In perfect health, it seems," replied Mrs Weasley, pursing her lips. "Arthur, it's time to go. Give our love to Ginny, Harry, dear. I don't want to wake her up. Tell her that we're both very proud of her for what she did."

"I will," said Harry, wondering what was making Truth shake with silent laughter.

He found out five minutes later after the Weasleys' departure.

"Poor Molly!" laughed Truth, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Her little boy's all grown up."

"Yuck," said Harry, firmly, conveniently pushing aside the fact that Ron had woken up not so long ago to find his sister lying across Harry's lap being very definitely if very gently kissed.

"There's another couple for the Christmas Ball then," chuckled Remus, dropping onto the sofa with his ankles crossed on the armrest. Truth neatly pushed his feet onto the floor and sat down.

"Ah yes, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, mate," said Sirius, suddenly. He leaned forward and stared intently into Harry's face.

"Should I be afraid?" asked Harry, nervously.

"The Ball is on Friday," continued Sirius, ignoring him and the giggles on the sofa behind them. "At our fifth year Yule Ball we, um, began something that became a tradition. When we left, Truth's sister carried it on for us until she left, but after that it became lost in the dim shadows of the past. In a moment of madness following a particularly nasty trick we played on a certain pain-in-the-arse Slytherin, we decided that it might be an amusing thing to get slightly drunk and climb up to the top of Gryffindor Tower with a view to tying each person's underwear on the flagpole."

"You're joking?" said Harry, firmly believing it despite the sniggers from the sofa and Sirius' twitching lips.

"I fear not, lad. You're duty bound to carry on the custom!"

"I refuse."

"You can't. Your father would be ashamed of you."

"Please tell me it was not his idea."

"It was his idea to get drunk and climb up Gryffindor Tower. The underwear on the flagpole was my contribution." He grinned, proudly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I might have known."

"Come on, Harry, show him you're as good a man as he is!" laughed Truth, placing her feet firmly on the coffee table.

Harry returned his godfather's grin. "All right, you're on!"

"The minimum number is four, remember. The more pairs blowing in the wind on Saturday morning the better, all right?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Didn't you ever get caught?"

At precisely the same moment as Sirius' ears turned pink, Remus and Truth burst into laughter so hearty that two glasses of wine went flying.

"Once," admitted Sirius, running lean fingers through his dark hair. "But that wasn't my fault."

"It so totally was!" exclaimed Truth, reaching for her wand to clear up the mess on the rug. "We told you we should get out before anyone realised where we'd gone, but you didn't listen!"

Harry grinned. "What happened?"

Remus raised himself into a sitting position. "Professor McGonagall found out about our little escapade at our seventh year Ball, and she thought she would foil our plan by using a different doorway onto the tower. There's a passageway from the seventh year boys' dormitory up to the roof, which you have no doubt discovered. Of course we failed to realise that the staff hold keys to all the rooms, so we only kept guard at the main passage. James and Lily and Truth and I got out as soon as we could and made it back to the Great Hall, but Sirius and his girlfriend of the time decided it would be an interesting idea to stay up there for a while and, um, watch the sunrise, was it?"

Truth giggled, and fell back onto the cushions again. Sirius glared at his friend.

"How was I to know she would appear just as I'd decided to take advantage of the mistletoe?"

"Yes, whatever you do, Harry, don't get caught," laughed Remus. "Or at least watch both doors."

Harry groaned. "And again I say 'Yuck!' I don't want to know any more. I'm going to bed."

"That tower has seen a lot of illicit activity over the years," said Truth, rising to her feet and moving to the mantelpiece. "Granted, a large proportion was ours, but still."

"Keep up the good work, Harry," said Sirius, grinning reminiscently. "Make us proud."

***

When Harry awoke, it was to the white glare of sunlight pouring in through the window of the drawing room. Blinking, he stretched out his stiff limbs and groped around for his watch on the floor alongside the chaise longue he had fallen asleep on. The little fluorescent hands read half past three.

The prospect of walking all the way back to Gryffindor Tower in the freezing cold at four in the morning had not appealed much for some reason. Sirius had told him to stay in the drawing room until morning, and Harry remembered seeing him sitting on the windowseat with his knees drawn up to his chest, staring thoughtfully out into the darkness. His last waking thought had been of how worried he had looked, and how dangerous this game was that they were playing. Still, he knew that none of them would back out now, and Mr Weasley had been right when he said that morale must be kept up against all the odds.

As he rose awkwardly into a sitting position, Harry detected the faint odour of cinnamon and wine in the air, wafting towards him through the slightly open door. The room was freezing cold, the fire having died out hours ago, and a frosty film covered the window panes.

"Afternoon, lazy," said a low voice. Harry turned his head to see Hermione leaning against the doorframe, cheeks flushed, her hair tied back in a messy bun.

"What are you up to?" he asked, groggily.

"Sirius said we could decorate some of the rooms ready for Christmas," she replied. "Hagrid brought us a huge fir tree this morning, and Dobby has come to help."

Harry groaned. "Oh dear."

"He got a little over-excited with the tinsel a little while ago," she said, smiling. "The Gallery is now completely covered in glitter and bits of tree!"

"Do you need a hand?"

"No, it's fine. Ginny and Ron are helping. He's totally himself again, and I'm having a hell of a time trying to stop him poking at all the presents. We've brought all your things over and put them in one of the rooms upstairs. It's got a beautiful view over the lake! I'll show you, come on. And then we'll find the others and have something to eat."

Harry allowed himself to be dragged out into the hallway, back up the flight of stairs that led to the bedrooms.

"This one is Sirius'," she began, pointing to each door in turn. "That's Ron's. Remus' is just up those stairs and round the corner. Truth's is nextdoor to mine - just there. Ginny is in the one you put her in last night, and you're on the end, just the other side of that table. We've all got our own bathroom and everything! Remus' room has a balcony outside too!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

She waved her hand impatiently. "Oh, we've all been given the grand tour by Sirius. It's just like a conference centre or something. Luxury compared to Gryffindor Tower! We'll show you round the whole suite later, but right now you should have a shower. You look terrible."

"Thanks!" He grinned as she shoved him into his room.

"Come find us in the Gallery when you're done," she said, giving him an enthusiastic grin as she hurried back down the hall to the stairs.

***

As the hot water sprayed over him, refreshing and invigorating as one, Harry reflected that the next few months might prove to be very interesting after all. The idea of living together in an isolated little community was quite appealing, especially considering that all his favourite people were involved. Hermione had obviously already taken on the role of domestic manager, to which the others seemed to be complying tolerantly. Even Dobby had appeared to join the madness.

He laughed aloud as he envisioned the house-elf dancing excitably round the Christmas tree wearing a scarlet Father Christmas hat with a bell on the end, scattering wrapping paper and tinsel everywhere, while Truth sat at the piano playing carols, with Ron and Hermione giggling in the corner over some private joke, and Sirius telling hilarious stories of Marauder Christmasses long gone. Remus would be standing by the mantelpiece as usual, with the customary glass of wine, his vibrant eyes narrowed intently as he gazed at his beautiful partner. Somehow the word 'girlfriend' didn't seem to apply to Truth's passionate and stylish personality.

And among all of this, Ginny would be as a bright star, preferably standing as close to the mistletoe as possible. Harry could practically see her in his mind's eye, hair falling freely to her waist in a sheet of red-gold, smiling at him in that special way he sometimes observed.

The vision was so attractive that he sighed contentedly.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to have a proper family.