The Gryffindors woke to the grounds covered in five feet of snow on Boxing Day. As the sunlight streamed in though the high windows of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron were enjoying an early breakfast.

"How can they sleep that long?" Ron asked, helping himself to thirds of bacon.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said, and grinned evilly. "Maybe they had a pillow fight last night and…"

Ron was horror struck. "Harry! My little sister was with them last night!"

"Sowwy," he replied through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He swallowed and then said, "But they might have. Just, maybe not the kind that you're thinking of."

Ron looked dumbfounded. Harry laughed, which seemed to jog the red head back into consciousness. "You thought it first," he replied rather lamely.

Harry motioned stabbing himself in the heart. "Ah, the truth hurts, yet one cannot deny it."

Ron laughed, and before long, both boys were rolling around in their seats.

"Looks like we missed something," a voice said.

"Yeah, too bad, I hate being the last one to know something," another replied.

"Same here," another chimed in.

As the laughter subsided, Harry looked up to find Kit, Nia, and Adrien dishing out breakfast.

"Good morning, ladies," Ron said, recovering and returning to his breakfast.

"Morning," they replied together.

"So, are you both ready for that wedding on the second?" Kit asked, pouring her some pumpkin juice.

"Nope," Harry said, helping himself to more eggs, "but we will be."

At that moment Neville entered the Great Hall, looking very flustered and annoyed. He came over to the table and practically threw himself into the chair next to Nia. He threw his head upon his hands, and said something that was completely unrecognizable as the English language.

"Come again?" Ron said, shifting his focus from his plate to his friend.

Neville mumbled something, which was still incoherent – at least to Harry and Ron, that is. As he finished his mumbling, Kit nodded understandingly.

"You'll have fun, though," she said, as Harry and Ron looked at her with identical looks of incredulity on their faces.

Neville mumbled something again.

"Don't worry," Kit replied kindly to his mumbling, "you'll find someone soon enough."

"But what if I don't?" he asked, head coming up off his arms and looking straight into Kit's golden eyes.

Kit gave a short laugh, almost like a bark. It made Harry's stomach twist uncomfortably.

"You'll find someone!" she exclaimed, returning to buttering her toast. "Just take your time."

Neville sighed, and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Kit turned to her plate and caught the look on the other boys' faces.

"What?"

"How did you know what he was saying?" Ron asked her, his expression not changing in the slightest.

She gave him an almost sympathetic look, one that Hermione had given him many times previously. His stomach clenched at the thought of her. "Ron, sometimes you can be so tactless," she said.

As the words came out of her mouth, the alarm went off in Harry's head. Before he could say anything, Ron got up from the table and rushed out of the Great Hall.

Kit looked at Harry with a look of shock plastered on her face. "What did I say?"

Harry just shook his head, afraid of opening his mouth to speak. This was the first Christmas since second year he and Ron had spent away from Hermione. Kit took the hint and returned to her breakfast without any more questions.

Later that evening after the girls had all retired to bed, Harry and Neville sat by the fire, waiting the return of Ron. He had been gone all day, and the Marauder's Map showed that he wasn't on the school grounds. This worried Harry slightly, but he quickly shrugged it off when Neville reminded him of Ron's past experiences.

"He knows what's in the forest," he told Harry, burning a marshmallow in the process, "and he knows he has to come back sometime. Maybe he just went to Honeydukes?"

"Maybe," Harry agreed sullenly, spearing a marshmallow on his own toasting fork.

It was nearly midnight before the portrait hole swung open and Ron entered, looking very cold.

"Hey," he said, looking around at the two boys sitting near the flames.

"Hey yourself," Harry said irritably. "Where have you been?"

"Out," Ron replied simply, throwing himself into the armchair next to the fire.

"Off the map," Neville said, giving Ron a concerned look.

"Yes, Longbottom, off the map. Thanks for spying on me."

"We weren't spying!" Neville burst out. "We were worried about you!"

"Bull –"

"We were," Harry said quietly, giving his friend the same look Ron had given him many times before. "Where did you go?"

"Hogsmeade," Ron said, now staring into the fire, unable to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry sighed. "Here, have a marshmallow," he said, going over to him. As he got within two feet of his best friend, he stopped, and looked at Ron with disgust. He wouldn't meet Harry's gaze. He didn't even look at him. Instead, Ron examined the ends of his frayed trainers.

"I'm sorry," Ron whispered.

"Why did you do it?" Harry asked, concerned for his friend's health.

"I can't stand knowing she's in danger. That she's spending Christmas without her family and friends."

"So?"

"So, I thought I could maybe drink my problems away," Ron said quickly, as Harry gave a sigh of disgust, "if only for one night."

Harry stepped back and eyed his drunken friend. "Look at me," he said, and Ron didn't move his gaze. "Please," Harry added desperately.

As Ron's glazed over brown eyes met Harry's blazing emerald ones, he gave an involuntary shudder. Drunk as he may be, there was no avoiding the look of disappointment his orphaned friend gave him at that moment.

"Hermione would eat you alive if she saw you like this," Harry said, his eyes brimming with tears. "Even I can't stand seeing you like this." Harry fled up the stairs to the 6th year dormitory, seeking refuge from his four-poster bed.

As Ron watched his best friend of six years flee, he turned to Neville.

"I really am sorry," he said, slurring his words worse than ever.

"I know," Neville said, spearing another marshmallow, "and so does Harry. But I agree with him that it wasn't the right thing to do."

"I know," Ron said, ashamed of his behaviour. "But how am I going to fix it?"

Neville gave him a wry smile. "Go down to the kitchen and ask for water and soda crackers. Then come back here, and I want to see you eat them all."

Ron nodded and followed the stout boy's advice. What was the worst that could happen anyway? He already screwed up everything else tonight. On the way down to the kitchen however, he came across a figure huddled on the floor.

"Damn," he heard her whisper, and she quickly got up, stashing away something in her pocket. She turned around, and Ron saw that it was Adrien.

"What're you doing down here?" he slurred, hoping she didn't know he was drunk.

"The same thing you are," she replied, and Ron was actually happy to hear the drink in her voice. But at the same time, he was disappointed a Gryffindor would do something so Slytherin worthy. His heart plummeted as he remembered the hurt in Harry's eyes.

"Oh," he replied lamely, vaguely aware that he felt like puking. "Erm, I was just getting some crackers –"

"So was I," Adrien said, leading him down the corridor. "I feel like I'm going to puke," she mumbled, unaware he could hear her.

"Same," he said, and they both looked at each other, at a loss for words.

Before long they reached the portrait of the fruit bowl. Adrien took the liberty of tickling the pear, as Ron was growing steadily greener in the face. He chose to stand by the door, waiting for her to collect the crackers. It didn't take her long to get what they needed, and without saying a word, they walked together back up to Gryffindor tower. Neville was still awake, but just barely. He told them to eat as many crackers as they could, because it would help with the hangover. Then, mumbling a goodnight, he headed back up to bed.

Several hours later, Ron woke up, and presumably rolled over on the couch to hurl in the bucket sitting on the floor next to him.

"That's attractive," Adrien said as she sluggishly vanished the sick with a flick of her wand.

"Thanks," Ron mumbled, rolling back onto his back. "I try."

"I can tell," she mumbled, still not quite sober. As if to prove the point, she bent down and was sick in her own bucket by her feet.

"That's attractive," Ron said, mocking her, and he shoved another couple crackers in his mouth.

"I try," she said, vanishing her own sick in the same way.

Ron looked at her, while they both munched away on crackers, not saying anything.

"What are you doing on the second?" he burst out suddenly. Surprised, she looked up at him.

"Nothing," she replied, "why?"

"Wanna go to the wedding with me?"

Speechless, all she could do was stare at him. As she eyed him, she tried to put together a witty remark to say to him. But being in the state she was, she settled for all she could get out of her mouth without hurling.

"Sure."

He smiled. And with that, he passed out again, vaguely aware that she had too.