Harry awoke on New Year's Day with the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the sixth year boys' dormitory. He put on his glasses and stretched – finally, a new year. Hopefully it would be better than the last. As he glanced over at Ron – sprawled on his bed, still clothed – there came a knock on the door. Harry pulled on his dressing gown and opened it.
There stood Kit, a smile plastered on her tired face.
"Happy New Year!" she whispered, taking his hand and leading him down the spiral steps to the common room.
"Same to you," he said, stopping her and pulling her close.
"And what, may I ask, is on your mind this early in the morning, Mr. Potter?" Kit asked, sounding strangely like Professor McGonagall.
"Umm," Harry pretended to think, moving his face closer to hers, "I still can't decide…"
"Really?" Kit asked, exhilarated like she was the night before.
"Yeah," Harry breathed, now moving towards her ear. "I think I want some –"
"Some what?" she asked, hardly daring to believe it.
"Breakfast," Harry moaned into her ear. He pulled back and saw the look of disappointment on her face.
"Is that all you're thinking about right now?" she asked, burning up with rage.
"No," he said, pushing open the portrait hole. "I'm also thinking about how lovely you look first thing in the morning."
"And?" she prompted him.
"And how good the food is on the first day of a new year," he said cheekily.
She hit him on the arm playfully, and, both laughing, they made their way down the corridor.
"Why did you buy me bunny slippers?" Harry asked suddenly as they made their way through a tapestry on the second floor.
"I hated the ones you had, and I knew you wanted new ones."
"But why bunnies?" he asked almost mournfully.
"Because they were cute!" she burst out angrily, stopping in the middle of the corridor. "And pink and fuzzy," she added quietly, turning back around.
"I knew the fuzzy part would get to you," Harry said sarcastically as they entered the Great Hall.
"Shut up, you prat," she said, sliding into the seat across from Harry. "So, what kinds of new things do the house elves put out?"
"A different thing each year," Harry said knowingly, glancing around the table for the new item.
After some searching they found it. There were many of them on the plate; semicircle packets of dough stuffed with an unknown substance – for now.
"Are you really going to eat it?" Kit gasped, as Harry took one of the things and cut it open.
"I'm going to see what's inside it, and then I'm going to eat it," Harry replied, slicing his knife through it like a surgeon.
"Alright, doctor," teased Kit, leaning forward, "what's the prognosis?"
"Well, it was fried," replied Harry. "I would say that was the cause of death."
Kit laughed. "What else can you tell me about the victim?"
"Its outer covering is a doughy sort, and –" he put a little in his mouth as Kit cringed, "it tastes alright."
"What else?" Kit asked, now genuinely interested.
"It's stuffed with something," Harry said, digging the filling out. "I think its potatoes."
"Really?" she asked, cutting open her own surprise treat. "But this one is yellow."
"Hmm, I think that one's cheese."
"Oh," said Kit, tasting a bit. Harry did the same. Together they chewed, many different expressions crossing their faces for such a short amount of time.
"Not too shabby," they both said together, and burst out laughing. For a while they couldn't stop.
Later that day, as the girls gossiped over Ginny's new fashion magazine and the boys played a tournament of wizard's chess, Professor McGonagall let herself into the common room.
"Bugger!" Harry shouted, as Ron pronounced checkmate.
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall exclaimed.
Harry and the others whipped around.
"P–Professor, I–I didn't see you there," Harry said.
"I know you didn't," McGonagall said, and Harry was relieved to see that she was actually smiling. "I see that Mr. Weasley hasn't lost his gift of chess."
"Nope," Ron grinned, "I'm still the champion."
"Well, let's just hope Miss Hughes thinks the same," McGonagall said, getting to the point of her visit. "She needs you all down in the Performance Hall to assist with the decorating."
"The Performance Hall?" Neville asked, curious. "I've never heard of it before."
"Well, you had all better follow me, then," McGonagall replied, motioning for the girls to stay where they were.
As the girls waved goodbye to the boys, McGonagall led the able-bodied teens to – what would shortly seem like – their doom.
Upon entering the Performance Hall, located through a door none of them had noticed before beside the Great Hall's doors, they found Sasha, very flustered and shouting orders at an equally looking frustrated Oliver.
"No! You can't put it there!" she shouted, as he levitated a large ice sculpture shaped like a lion with a snake wrapped gracefully around it near the banner proclaiming "Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Wood."
"Well, I can't do this all day!" Oliver shouted back at his fiancée. "I have a practice to get to yet today!"
"He can go!" shouted McGonagall over their scoffs. "I've brought replacements."
Sasha beamed at the group assembled there – all for her.
"Fantastic," she said, "have a good time at practice, honey," she added to Oliver, kissing him on the cheek. He grunted, but smiled lovingly at her as he left the hall.
As he reached Harry, he leant down. "Good luck with her," he whispered. "She's in a right state."
Harry nodded, and Oliver left with a wave.
"Alright," Sasha said eagerly at her young helpers, "get out your wands, and don't break anything." There was something of a threat in her voice, but the boys smiled anyways, pulling out their wands, ready for the worst.
At around eight o'clock that night the portrait hole swung open to reveal the four Gryffindor boys, sweating and exhausted.
"Did you guys have fun?" Kit asked as Harry flopped down on the couch.
Ron gave a hollow laugh, sprawling out in front of the fire.
"That woman's insane," Neville moaned, nursing his right elbow as he sat down next to Harry.
"Oh, come on," Adrien laughed, "she can't be –" she began, but stopped short as the boys shot her looks of fire. "She is?"
"Yes," Jonathon said, falling into an empty armchair. "I've never had to work that hard since we moved when I was eight."
"Really?" the girls asked in unison.
All the boys nodded. Ron added, "I've never used that many spells in one shot like that. Not even in exam practise."
"Too bad she didn't trust us enough to handle some of those decorations with magic," Neville commented. "That would have saved us from physical labour."
"Is she worse than Filch?" Ginny asked quietly.
"Way worse," Harry said, coming out of a reverie.
They all sat in silence, the girls in shock of how much work their friends put into the wedding preparation. As Harry's head fell onto Kit's shoulder, the other boys got up to go to bed. Ginny retreated shortly afterwards, as Kit got comfy with Harry.
Harry woke up near midnight, finding Kit still awake.
"Why didn't you go to bed?" Harry asked her, as he sat up.
"I was thinking," she replied, not moving her gaze from the dying flames.
"Feel like sharing?" Harry asked quietly.
Kit was silent for a moment. "Ginny hates me, doesn't she?" she finally asked.
"What makes you think that?"
Kit gave him a pitying look. "She hates seeing me with you," she clarified, looking Harry straight in the eye.
"No," Harry said slowly. "No, Hermione said she's over me."
Kit shook her head. "Ginny might be over being with you, she knows that you won't feel for her the way she feels about you, but she can't stand seeing you so happy in a relationship with somebody else."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, completely thrown.
"Alright, from the first moment she saw you, Ginny was in love with you," Kit explained. "You saved her in second year, but once you fell for Cho in your fourth year, she realized she was chasing a lost cause. Hermione knew this, and told you in fourth year. However, on the train this year when Ginny saw how you looked at me, she knew it was different with me than it was with Cho."
"Oh," Harry said, "so, she's still –"
"Head over heels in love with you," Kit finished, falling back on the cushions of the couch.
Harry was silent. That explained why Ginny wouldn't let Kit in our carriage, he thought, trying to keep his face averted.
"I'm going to bed," he said, getting up, not about to let Kit know how angry he really was.
"Alright," Kit said, "I'm going too. But I should let you know –"
"What?"
"She saw us in the library."
Harry paled. "See you in the morning," he said, hurrying up the dormitory stairs.