A/N: Written for the SQ's New Years Challenge the terms of which are as follows: Since there's already a holiday-themed thread on the Pensieve, how about a challenge that takes place around New Year's Eve/Day. Pick any character from the Harry Potter books and have them make at least one New Year's Resolution and how they might accomplish their resolution.
The challenge must include the following words: "goblin", "broom", "Butterbeer" and "slimy" and at least one character in the fic receiving a kiss.
It wasn't possible that a Weasley could be alone on New Year's Eve. It went against all the forces of nature. It was particularly unnatural that Charlie Weasley, handsome, interestingly scarred, dragon charming Charlie Weasley be alone in a cabin in Romania, partiless and totally snogless on New Year's Eve. But he was. It wasn't fair.
"Time to break out the firewhiskey, d'you think?" Charlie asked the hearthrug. Since the rug didn't seem too shocked by the suggestion Charlie poured himself a large one. It wasn't really too early. Four o'clock was a fine time to start drinking when it got dark at three. And anyway, alcohol was a fine remedy for a broken heart.
"To Norbert." Charlie tipped his glass to the dark shape of the supine dragon which he could just make out through the window against the dark blue sky. "The only friend I've got, it seems."
He should have gone home for New Years. Most of his friends had. But Bethany had asked him to stay and mind the encampment, and like a fool Charlie had thought staying around might impress her. Evidently it hadn't worked as Bethany had sloped off on her own very private New Year celebration with Clive Bramley. Slimy git. Charlie took another large gulp of his drink. He was beginning to feel pleasantly woozy.
"How about a singsong?" he asked the rug. "Gotta sing on New Year's Eve."
He was rather fond of that rug. It had been given to him by some old Romanian biddy when he came to remove the young Short Snout that had somehow or other found its way into his garden. It looked rather like the remains of some form of sheep, and smelt like it too, but it was wonderfully warming. Charlie wondered if he ought to give it a name, and then decided he probably wasn't drunk enough to name a dead sheep so poured himself another Firewhiskey. It helped.
"Boris. You look like a Boris." The rug seemed to accept this announcement with equanimity so Charlie went on. "Fancy a song? There's that thing you're always supposed to sing at midnight. Don't think I'm going to make it to midnight at this rate. I'm already so bored I'm talking to a carpet." He took another swig of the drink.
"How does it go? Should acquaintance be forgot la da dee da dada dum then something something la-aa" Charlie was a good singer and he felt rather carried away by the brilliance of his voice. He got to his feet, waving his glass around as he reached the crescendo.
"la la la la la la la la for all Auld Lang Syne." Charlie finished threw his arms wide and bowing to the fireplace. He could almost have sworn he heard clapping.
"Thank you, thank you, in town for one night only, the fabulous Charlie Weasley."
"Oh, are you Charlie?" The rug replied. "That is good. I've been looking for you. Ginny didn't tell me you could sing."
There was something very odd about that rug. For a Boris it sure sounded an awful lot like a girl. And how the hell did it know Ginny?
"I don't think you quite got all the words right though." The voice continued, and Charlie who had finally realised that hearthrugs couldn't talk anyway, and that there must be someone else in the room, promptly fell over.
"Ouch." A long tendril of pale hair swung dizzyingly above him and then a pale oval face appeared, two large grey eyes regarding him seriously.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm drunk." Charlie explained.
"Yes, I thought you might be." The girl smiled serenely. Charlie didn't think he'd ever watched anyone smile upside down before. It felt most odd.
"I'm Luna Lovegood." She said with the air of explaining something. "My father is just putting out the brooms. We flew rather close to one of your sleeping dragons on the way here."
"Oh." said Charlie. "Do you think you could help me get up?"
"All right." A hand extended and Charlie staggered to his feet. Now the world looked a bit more normal Charlie took a proper look at the girl (only one girl, thankfully. He wasn't that tipsy.) She was wearing what seemed to be half a bear on her back but her head was bare and her nose was pink with cold.
"You'd better sit down." He said, trying to remember what hosts did. The girl complied, placing herself in the his armchair and looked up at him speculatively.
"You really ought to have some nasturtium juice with powdered jarvey droppings. I've heard that's awfully good for clearing the head."
"Er, I think I'll just get myself some water."
Charlie went into the kitchen and splashed some water on his face. On returning he found a thin man with the same pale hair as his daughter sitting in his arm chair. The girl had moved to a stool at his feet. Both looked up as he entered, and fixed with two pairs of otherworldly grey eyes Charlie felt distinctly uncomfortable.
"Um, would either of you like something to drink? I think I have some butterbeer somewhere.."
"No, thank you." The man spoke in a brisk voice that contrasted oddly with his daughter's dreamy tones. "We wanted to speak to you regarding the recent discovery you mentioned in your letter of the twenty third of December regarding the cross breeding of dragons in this encampment."
"What?"
"Miss Weasley read a section of your letter to my daughter, and she thought we ought to investigate it."
"It sounded rather interesting." Luna said. "Just the sort of thing we'd like to have in our magazine."
"Oh." said Charlie, who was beginning to have an inkling of what they were talking about. His sister had written to him a while ago telling her she had a friend who was writing an article about Dragon breeding and might pop in to see him. Typical Ginny that they were the kind of people to turn up on New Years Eve and expect him to have a discussion about dragon breeding. Surely they could see he was drunk? Weren't most people drunk on New Years Eve? He looked at the girls earnest expectant face. Apparently not.
"Well," Charlie said at last, gathering his wits "you see it was sort of a false alarm. Our Fireball and the Hungarian Horntail were acting rather, um, interested in each other, and it would have been the first cross breed of those two species recorded since 1891 so we all got rather exited. But it seems that they were only trying to eat each other after all."
"Indeed." The man looked rather sceptical as he looked down at his note book. "And so rumours that the Ministry have been trying to purchase this creature are in your view unsubstantiated?"
Charlie blinked. "Well, I haven't heard anything about it. What would the Ministry want with a dragon?"
"What indeed." Mr Lovegood looked grave. "It is well known Gringotts is in possession of a number of Fireballs. Perhaps they are wishing to fight fire with fire."
He exchanged a significant look with his daughter.
"Fudge has always had it in for the bank." Luna explained. "And if the rumours are true Scrimgeour is following in his footsteps. We heard he tried to poison the Head Goblin's liverwurst the other day!"
"Really?" Charlie was sure that if any such thing was happening in the Bank his brother would have mentioned it in his letters.
"Oh yes."
There was a silence.
"Well, I really don't think there's anything else I can tell you." Charlie said uncomfortably.
The man looked at him patiently.
"You don't have to be frightened about telling us anything, you know. The Quibbler is all about speaking the truth."
"Well, that's great Mr Lovegood, but I really don't know anything else about it." Charlie said firmly.
The man gave him a rather patronising look and his daughter looked disappointed as she got up to go.
"Will we have enough for the article, Daddy?" Luna frowned.
"You could always come back tomorrow." Charlie found himself saying. "I'll show you around the dragon's enclosures and you can get a proper look."
The girl beamed.
"Oh, daddy, wouldn't that be wonderful!"
"It does sound agreeable." Mr Lovegood nodded.
"Good." They looked at each other for a moment smiling when suddenly the clock struck making Charlie jump.
"It's midnight." Luna smiled. "Happy new year." She stood on tip toe to give her father a kiss. "We'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Goodbye." Charlie wished they would just go so he could fall over in a drunken stupor and be done with it.
Mr Lovegood however had frozen and was staring at the floor.
"What is that?" He pointed to the rug at Charlie's feet.
"That? Oh that's Boris, I mean, my rug."
The girl gasped.
"Daddy! It is isn't it?"
The men bent over to examine the rug touching it almost reverently.
"And we thought they were only to be found in Sweden."
"What?" said Charlie "What are you doing to my carpet?"
The man straightened up his cheeks oddly flushed.
"And they said I was mad!"
"Er, did they?" Charlie said nervously. He was beginning to think that whoever they were might have a point. "Look, it's really late, and it was nice meeting you and all, but I really have to.."
"Yes daddy." Luna laid a hand on her father's arm. "We can com back for the Snorkack skin tomorrow. Let's go back to the hotel now."
Mr Lovegood nodded slowly, and then gripped Charlie's hand.
"It was an honour to meet you." He said fervently.
"Right." said Charlie. "Er, you too. Bye."
At last Charlie shut the door behind them. What a New Year's Eve, he mused. As he got ready for bed he remembered something his Great Aunt Muriel always said. The company you keep on New Years Eve will fashion the course of the whole next year. In which case, Charlie thought as he settled down and pulled the covers over his head, it was going to be a very odd year indeed.