The following days leading up to Christmas were blissfully uneventful. Then came Christmas morning. Harry and Ron woke and went downstairs to open gifts with the rest of the family. Hermione arrived in the afternoon with gifts of homework planners for Harry and Ron. The crew had their breakfast and then headed to St. Mungo's to visit Mr. Weasley and were delighted to run into Bill and Charlie as well.
Harry and Hermione left to find the tea room to give the Weasley's some family time, greeting healers with a "Happy Christmas" along the way.
"So," Hermione said once they settled at a table with cups of steaming tea, "How are you? Any more strange dreams?"
"Nope," Harry said truthfully, "Been fine."
"Ginny told me you got drunk," Hermione told him sternly, "Harry…be careful. Alcohol might weaken your mind at night."
"Hermione it was one time," Harry said, exasperated, "Plus I felt terrible afterwards. So did Ron."
Hermione frowned and fiddled with her cup. Then she said, seeming to speak very carefully,
"Ginny said…she said Ron's done this before."
"Done what? Drink? We drink butterbeer all the time, so what?" Harry was confused.
"I mean," Hermione explained gently, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, "Getting drunk. At night. In secret. She said she's seem him. I guess last summer before we showed up for the world cup, and this summer before we went to Grimmauld Place."
Harry wasn't sure what to say. He felt hurt, Ron had acted like it'd been his first time drinking that much. Surely Ginny was mistaken. Where would Ron have gotten alcohol anyway? Ginny had to be wrong, Harry decided.
"So what," he said, "So what if he was? People drink. It was fun anyway, it felt good."
"Harry," Hermione said, almost whining, "There's a difference in having a couple butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks and drinking secretly in your bedroom and hiding the bottles. It's dangerous. And…it means there's something wrong."
The conversation came to an end when Ron walked in, he seemed to sense that he had interrupted something, a confused look on his face. But then he simply said that everyone was getting ready to leave and Mr. Weasley wanted to tell them goodbye. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look that said they'd discuss it later.
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Later that evening, Harry and Ron played a game of Wizards Chess while Hermione watched, flipping through Harry and Ron's homework planners and making them a schedule. Crookshsnks was curled in her lap, whiskers twitching as he watched the chess pieces move around the board.
Sirius walked in with the twins and sat down a tray of butterbeer and biscuits.
"No Firewhisky, unfortunately," he said gruffly, but his eyes were twinkling, "And I have those bottles marked, boys."
Harry and Ron laughed with the twins but Hermione frowned.
"Ah don't get your knickers in a bunch, Hermione," Fred said with a chuckle, "We've all done it. Plus the way these two looked afterwards, I doubt they've got it in them to do it again."
Ron smirked at Harry, taking a sip of his drink. Then he winked. Harry felt something flutter in his stomach and he focused his attention back on the game. Fred and George visited with them a while, Hermione went off to hers and Ginny's room for the night.
Once Fred and George went off to bed, Ron grinned at Harry.
"Come up to our room, I got something."
Curious, Harry followed him. Once in the room Ron peered up and down the hall before shutting the door and doing the lock. Harry felt the familiar flutter in his stomach again, then Ron bent down and reached under his mattress, then pulled out a shimmery blue bottle. He handed it to Harry saying,
"Dragon Barrel Brandy."
"Where on earth did you get this?" Harry asked with a laugh. Hermione's conversation came back to him for a moment, but then he thought about the night he and Ron drank the Firewhisky, how enjoyable the feeling was, how much they had laughed, and how he'd fallen asleep in Ron's bed, and…
Harry ripped the cork out of the bottle as Ron said,
"Took it from a Healer's Station. Heard em saying they weren't going to drink it anyway. I've heard Charlie say it's good stuff. Popular with his work mates."
Harry took a swig and was pleasantly surprised at the slightly sweet and spicy flavor.
"It's good," he said, passing the bottle to Ron, who locked eyes with him and did not avert his gaze as he took a drink. "What?"
"Nothing," Ron answered quietly with a shrug, "How've you been?"
"Fine I suppose," Harry said, taking the bottle back, "What about you?"
Rob shrugged again. A comfortable silence fell, only broken by their sounds of drinking. The pleasant buzzing feeling filled Harry's head and he smiled, saying,
"I can't wait to get back to the DA. Those books Surius and Lupin gave me are going to be great. Maybe try Patronuses."
Ron frowned. "I have to get back to quidditch. It's going to be awful." He took a particularly long swig. "Oh I'm rubbish."
"You're good," Harry said firmly, shoving his shoulder slightly, "You just have to work on your confidence. Just…imagine you're only playing with me. Don't worry about people watching. It will be fine." He paused. "It has to be."
"Confidence," Ron said, he was already slurring a bit, "Right. That. Well…" he groaned. "I wish you hadn't been banned. Do wish I'd seen that fight though. I bet Malfoy cried."
"Dunno," Harry laughed, "He was curled into a little ball."
They both laughed. They took turns taking digs at Malfoy, getting louder as the bottle of brandy disappeared. Soon Ron was laying back, grinning at Harry. Then his smile faltered. He reached out and touched Harry's hand. Harry suddenly stopped breathing, and thinking. It seemed like time stopped. He didn't pull his hand away, but didn't look at Ron either.
"Harry…" Ron murmured, then he pulled his hand away. He sat up. "I, um…I don't know…what…" He shook his head, like he was trying to reset his brain. Harry didn't say anything. All he knew was that he wanted Ron to put his hand back. He wanted that touch. He suddenly craved it.
"Go ahead." He said, his voice was gruff. He didn't know what he was telling Ron to do, or if Ron had even been asking permission. He waited. Ron swallowed deeply, then reached out again and put his hand back, this time his fingers curled around Harry's hand, his thumb pressing into his palm. Harry squeezed back gently. They didn't look at each other, only looking at their hands.
"Ron," Harry breathed, his voice barely a whisper.
"I…can't." Ron's voice sounded almost childish. He pulled his hand away, and laid back down, covering his face with his hands.
Harry suddenly felt frustrated. He stood up and turned away, then started pulling his jeans off. Then he heard Ron's voice again,
"Just…lay with me okay?"
