8.
Christmas Day, 2017
The cosy hubbub that sounded in the room lifted Ginny's mood enormously. She had been sitting on the armchair nearest the fireplace, mug of tea between her hands, and glanced at the people currently in the Burrow. James had joined her coming over here the evening before. Her mum and dad were about, as well as Hermione and Ron, with Hugo and Rose, and there were George and Angelina, with Roxanne skulking about in the kitchen, chatting with Lucy, who was there without her parents, while Fred and James were teaching Hugo how to play chess. Harry would be turning up soon, she was told, very keen to join the family for Christmas dinner, as he had some exciting news, apparently. The others would be dropping in afterwards, so at some point the house would be filled to its maximum capacity, and it would delight her mother accordingly, Ginny knew. The more the merrier…
She was glad that it didn't befall on her to organise Christmas dinner… As much as she enjoyed seeing everyone there, she hadn't inherited her mothers sense of bliss in catering for crowds. She wouldn't have minded having a bigger family herself, though, and James having been the easiest baby ever had added to that wish, but since she and Harry had stopped sleeping together, and wanted different things from life, it was just not something that came up in conversation anymore. And after officially breaking up from Harry, she hadn't found anybody who she loved in the same way as she had loved him.
There had been guys that she liked, quite a few actually. A fellow Quidditch reporter on the Prophet had been a contender to replace Harry for some time, but he was more interested in their editor-in-chief, a fierce and attractive woman in her early forties who had worked her way up from typist through sheer graft and talent. Or so she claimed. Ginny admired and despised her in equal measures. When James was first away at Hogwarts, she had a string of boyfriends for a while, but these days she enjoyed her own company most.
She saw her dad approaching her with his famed eggnog, and a cheeky smile on his face.
"Some noggin for y'r noggin, my sweet girl?" he asked, passing the small glass with a tiny spoon to his daughter, who accepted with a smile.
"Thanks, dad," she replied, smelling the brandy from quite a distance.
"That might cheer you up a little," Arthur carried on. "Looks like you could use it."
Ginny smiled lukewarm at her dad, and sat a bit more upright, ready to have a chat.
"Nice to be here," she said, taking a sip from the small glass. It was a strong brew, this year.
"Nice to have you all around again, your mother misses having heaps of people to cook and care for. Don't know how she copes with just having me to fuss over." Arthur grinned.
"I'm sure she likes the rest as well, nowadays," Ginny smiled, looking at her mother and Angelina working out what and how many trays to use for the goose and potatoes that were going to be roasted.
"Yes, she does. On the one hand…" her dad smiled, looking at his wife. Some envy tweaked inside Ginny as she watched this. "But how are you really doing, Ginevra? You look like you need a long old chat with your old dad…"
She smiled. He was right, she could do with a long chat, but this wasn't the time to do so. Maybe later, after dinner, or maybe the day after, when things had settled down again after the Christmas cheer.
"It's okay dad, really. Just coming to terms with a few things, that's all…" she tried to put his mind at ease. Not that he'd fall for it - she knew that her dad knew her better than anyone.
"Alright, but you know where to find me, yes?" he replied, and they settled into a pleasant quiet in the armchairs near the fireplace.
..o0o0o0o..
"I demand a rematch!" Hugo shouted, as James put the pieces back in the box, and he looked at Fred with an exasperation that matched his cousin's. They must have played - and destroyed - Hugo eight times by now, taking it in turns, as he kept instructing the chess pieces to resume their starting positions time after time.
"Maybe after dinner, yeah?" Fred said, as he directed the board onto the shelf in the cupboard that it lived in. "I want to have a chat with James for a bit."
"Nooo!" they heard their younger cousin shout. "Then I'll have to play with Rose again…"
"Maybe nanna Molly wants some help?" James tried. "Rose is with Rox and Lucy anyway…"
This seemed to be a good idea, as he hopped off the chair and ran towards his grandmother, who was peeling a bucket filled with sprouts.
"Merlin, I thought we'd never get rid of him…" James grinned as he watched his younger cousin leave.
"I was convinced he'd want us to go play Quidditch in the rain next!" Fred laughed. "I'm sure we were never that incessant…"
"Well, we didn't have older cousins to annoy," James sniggered, as he walked off to the door to go outside and sit on the large wooden bench on the newly constructed veranda (thanks to uncle Charlie), away from the chatter and his mum's watchful eye. He knew Fred had sneaked a bottle of fire whiskey from the drinks cabinet, and some questionable sweets from his uncle George's shop, and he made sure they were unnoticed. His mum was chatting with grandpa Arthur, and nanna Molly and auntie Angelina were busy stopping Hugo from destroying the potatoes, while the girls were too engrossed in whatever they were chatting and giggling about. And the other grown-ups seemed to be talking heatedly about politics, so he was very happy to be away.
"Here, get this down you," Fred whispered, as he passed a small glass to his cousin, having poured some of the contents of the bottle he had hidden under his coat into it.
"Ta," James mumbled back, and took a swig. Fuck, that was stronger than he assumed…
"So, is it true then? About you and Alex Gardner?" Fred said, a little louder now. He had his coat wrapped tightly around himself, his head almost disappeared. It was cold outside, not as cold as in Scotland, but chilly for Devon.
James looked sideways, to see Fred's demeanor, gauging how much of a piss-take this was. He plumbed for innocence for now.
"Why, what have you heard?"
"That you two are an item?" Fred now looked at him, with kind eyes. "Lucy said she saw you snogging him a few times."
James shrugged, then disappeared into his coat as well, feeling himself go red. Memories of kissing Alex were nice.
"We were…" James mumbled. He closed his eyes at hearing the words out in the world. James broke up two weeks before. Alex was left shattered. He'd never seen anybody so upset without crying.
"Oh? Novelty wore off?" Fred grinned. "Plenty of fish to try out, eh?"
"Yeah, maybe," he answered, more down in the mouth than he had wanted.
"Bit young to be tied down anyway, aren't you…"
"Yeah," James agreed. It was one of the reasons that he broke up with Alex. He really liked him, loved being with him, and snogging him was amazing, but Alex seemed reluctant to go further than that, when James was hoping they would - his hormones regularly overruled his head, and he had tried pressurising Alex a few more times than he had found amusing. Understandably, James was impatient, and annoyingly Alex was unwilling to budge. So, a few times he cold-shouldered him - as seemed his mum's way of dealing with conflict - and Alex pulled him up on it. They'd talk about it, Alex would explain that he just didn't feel ready, and James was left feeling like an unreasonably randy teenager. And two weeks ago, he'd had enough…
"I'm sure there's plenty of blokes who fancy you," Fred giggled. "Not that I know about that kind of thing… Only girls for me, thanks…"
James smiled. He had no idea… Up until Alex, he never really looked at guys in that way. Apart from Professor Malfoy. But that was just some stupid infatuation, and in no way responded to. Only in his very vivid imagination. Most nights…
"Anyone in particular?" James asked, glad to find a way to steer this conversation elsewhere.
"Nah, plenty of fish… Although that Milicent that's in your year is quite a dish. Is she with someone, you know?" Fred looked at him hopeful.
James had no idea.
"Bit young for you, though…" James smiled.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Lucy said that one of her friends liked me. Might try that one after we get back…"
Just then they heard the back door open, en Fred swiftly tucked the bottle of whiskey behind him, out of sight. Footsteps sounded on the wooden boards of the veranda, and a figure stopped near where they were sitting.
"Hey guys!" a voice said, and James knew who it was straightaway.
"Hey, uncle Harry!" Fred called out, sounding a bit more sozzled than he probably wanted to.
"Hey there Fred!" He heard his dad's voice, cheerful and relaxed. "You good? Happy Christmas, by the way."
"Happy Christmas, uncle Harry." Fred got up to hug his uncle, and forgot that the bottle of fire whiskey was behind him, until it fell over onto the bench. James stopped it from falling onto the floor with a sudden swift move.
"Hey dad," James said, as he hid the bottle behind himself now.
"Hi James, come here," his dad was now moving from Fred to where James was sitting, and he half-panicked over the bottle, but it was too late, and the thing clattered onto the wooden floor.
"Oh shit…" he heard Fred mumble next to him.
But his dad seemed none the wiser and hugged James anyway. "Happy Christmas, James."
"Happy Christmas, Dad," James replied, watching Fred nudge the bottle out of sight under the bench with his foot.
"You boys hiding from the crowds inside?"
"Yeah, we had been playing chess with Hugo for over an hour, and we needed some fresh air," Fred replied, grinning.
"Even if it is raining out there…" Harry smiled, his eye tracking to where the bottle was now slightly visible.
"Yeah, well, needs must…" Fred spoke confidently. He pointed towards the door. "I'll go and see if nanna wants any help."
"Yeah, okay, I'll catch up with James here for a minute," Harry smiled and gestured to James to sit down. "Something I wanted to talk about…"
.o0o0o0o.
The only room in the building warm enough to read a book was the one his father had chosen to do the same thing in. Lucius Malfoy sat at a small desk in a corner of the room, near enough the fire, and somewhat too close to Draco for his liking. The book he wanted to read was one he had opened that morning, as a Christmas gift brought along in his luggage.
His mother had hoped he would have joined them on Christmas Eve, but accepted that Draco had other plans, albeit reluctantly. She was already delighted that he was with them in Wiltshire again, as he had missed three such occasions before, and she had almost stopped asking him. So his suggestion to come over and join them for dinner, along with some old friends of the family, and stay until the next day, was met with great enthusiasm, on at least his mother's part. His father seemed just okay with it, unreadable as he always had been.
He had arrived from Scotland the day before, having made sure that the students from Hogwarts who were traveling to their families were dispatched at the station in Hogsmeade safely. He had joined Cassandra, as they were the only teachers to be leaving Hogwarts for the duration of the holidays, and McGonnegal had assigned them for this task.
"What time did you say the Greengrasses were going to be here?" Draco tried to break the uncomfortable silence that hung in the room, glancing at his father.
"Um, I think your mother said they would be here around three, so that leaves a few hours of peace," the tired voice of his father spoke, shocking Draco slightly. He knew his father wasn't in the best of health, as his mother informed him sometimes over the years he was in Germany. Draco nodded, then returned to his book. Only one more day...
His mother entered the room, with an elf in her wake, who was carrying tea on a tray, and some biscuits and mince pies.
"You can leave it on the small table here, I'll take it from there," Narcissa said, smiling at the house elf, who plonked the pretty wooden tray on the table near where Draco was sitting, miraculously not spilling any tea. Draco heard his mother sigh deeply, but refrained from remarking on it.
"There you go, darling, do you want your tea already? Or shall I let it brew for a bit longer?"
"I'll have it in a bit, thanks," Draco replied, smiling up at his mother.
"So, what are you reading then?" she asked, trying to glance inconspicuously at the cover of Draco's book.
He closed it with his thumb on the page he was at, and showed her the title, Could It Be Magick, A Muggle Approach To Witchcraft, and saw her look bewildered at the words, obviously stopping herself from saying something that showed her contempt at the notion of Muggles and magic.
"Was that a joke gift?" she said in the end. Draco laughed out loud at this and shook his head. "Strange friends you have…"
"It's kind of interesting, but mostly funny," Draco grinned.
"Well, as long as you're happy with it." she looked at him earnestly. "Who gave it to you, you said?"
Draco couldn't recall telling her, and he wasn't sure he wanted to have her query his life right now. She was never a fan of Markus, and he doubted very much she'd approve of his current lovelife, so he kept it general.
"Oh, someone I got to know in Scotland," he answered.
"Someone in Hogwarts?"
"Kind of…"
"A fellow teacher?"
"Not quite…"
"He'll tell us when he's ready," he heard the gruff voice of his father chime in. For once he was grateful.
"Yes, I know, Lucius dear. I just wanted… We never know anything about your life, Draco darling…"
"There isn't much to know, mother… All I do is teach and help out with extracurricular stuff, there isn't much time for anything else…"
"That's not what I heard," his father muttered behind him.
Draco sighed, preparing himself for a minor battle ahead. It was one of the reasons why he had mostly avoided his family home for years, to not have to deal with his father whenever he was in a mood to challenge his son.
"What have you heard, Lucius?" he heard his mother ask.
"That he's been hanging around with underage males…"
"What?!" his mother and Draco uttered simultaneously.
"You heard…"
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Draco asked, sounding more angry than he meant to. He had dealt with the gossip back in Hogwarts alright, knowing it was based on only that, but having to talk his dad out of accusations like this was another thing.
"Potter's son?"
"What about him?"
"Didn't he take quite a shine to you?"
Draco sighed again. "Yes, he did. But so did quite a few others…" He looked his father in the eyes. "They're teenagers, with hormones all over the place. It happens, father. I don't know if you recall being young…"
"Yes, I do. But I never had it off with one of the teachers…" Lucius looked at Draco with disgust.
"And I haven't led anyone on, if that's where you're going with this…"
"Lucius, what are you saying?" his mother sounded angry.
"I'm saying that there were rumours about Professor Malfoy here being rather pally with Potter's son James."
"Who said that?" Draco asked, sounding calmer than he had before.
"That's not important…"
"Who, father?"
"Your old pal, Gregory…" Lucius carried on looking into his son's eyes. "His son is in Year 3, in Slytherin, obviously…"
"Goyle… And you believe him, of course…"
"I have no reason not to."
"Apart from him hating my guts. There was indeed a rumour, after I had been talking to Potter's boy about how his father and I used to… not get on so well, and kids being kids put two and two together and got five. And yes, I think he took a shine to me, but believe me, since that chat I haven't given him any reason to think I've come on to him… Kids that age are a minefield, and I had a chat with Minerva McGonnegal about this already."
"Just be careful, darling," Narcissa tried to soothe the tension in the room, and started pouring tea into the cups in front of her. "You know what our reputation is like. It could take the slightest of errors for us to be back at square one…"
Draco nodded. "I'll do my best."
"I know," Narcissa smiled, and passed her son his cup and a mince pie. "Now, let's have a nice time."
.o0o0o0o.
Shit.
That went tits up.
Harry sighed deeply, waiting to get his temper back, sitting on the wooden bench on the veranda, hearing the rain pitter-patter on the roof.
He closed his eyes and tried to work out what bit of the conversation James had found so upsetting. He had sat them both down, didn't even mention the bottle of fire whiskey which he had definitely seen rolling under the bench, saving that for another occasion, and asked how school was going. James seemed okay with that. Volunteered grades even, which he had heard about from Professor McGonnegal already, and knew to be more than fine. He had even mentioned that he had been seeing someone, but that this had now finished. He wouldn't give a name, but Harry was sure this would probably come up in conversation at some point before he left the Burrow. Even Ginny might tell him about it. Harry wasn't too worried about this. He had a hunch it was Dolores, who he had met during the spring break, when she had stayed with James here, spending a week going on long walks together in the Dorset countryside, according to Molly.
"There's a few things I wanted to tell you, actually," Harry started. Happy things, for himself anyway. He had no idea how James was going to react.
"Right," his son said.
"Um, first off: I've decided to leave Grimmauld Place, and I've actually bought a house, a cottage…" he started, carefully. "In Hogsmeade…"
"Okay… Why?" James replied, looking at his dad questioningly.
"A few reasons - I'll keep no. 12, cos it's got no value to anyone else, although house prices in London appear to be ridiculous at the moment…" Harry found himself babbling. He had wanted to donate it to the Ministry or something, as a base for something or other, but he had no idea how to sort that out. He was going to talk to Hermione about this. "I can't settle in London. It's too busy, it's not my city. I tried…"
"After all the work you did to it?"
"Well, it needed doing anyway, cos it was falling apart, but it just never really felt… cosy…" Harry sighed. It hadn't. There just was no love there - Sirius had never loved it, and although the memories of living there while the stuff with the Order was going on warmed him slightly, and knowing Sirius had lived there with Lupin for a bit was nice, there was just something about the house that creeped him out too much. "Teddy said he'd look after it for a bit, but he's thinking of traveling to Eastern Europe for a few months… Anyway, I found a lovely place just outside the village, with three bedrooms and a beautiful garden, and I just loved it when I first saw it. It's the kind of house I always dreamed about when I was younger."
He remembered using the image of a house he knew in Little Whinging, in one of the more Victorian areas with some older houses, not too grand, and he kind of fell in love with it. It seemed to him a perfect place to live, and he imagined lots of pine furniture and a cosy fireplace and red woolen carpets and plants and a cat… It was one of the things that kept him from going mad in Privet Drive.
"Okay… You'll be close to the castle then…?" James said after some silence.
"Yeah, that's right - kind of. You can drop by on your Hogsmeade days," Harry tried.
James shrugged.
Then Harry had gone on to the thing he had wanted to tell James before he would hear it from anyone else.
"There's actually another reason why I'm moving up to Scotland. You may have heard rumours about this already," Harry had started, carefully. "There may even have been something in the Prophet about this, I don't know. Although auntie Hermione is normally up on this kind of thing, and I haven't heard her about it…"
He glanced sideways at his son, who was staring out into the garden which was slow becoming a waterlogged plain. Probably doesn't even care, Harry thought. Would he have, at fifteen?
"The thing is, James, I'm seeing someone. Someone I'm serious about."
James raised his eyebrows and nodded.
"What's her name this time?" he had asked, turning his head to stare at his dad.
"You know him already…"
"Adrian?" James smirked.
"No," Harry had replied.
"Who then?" James sounded almost exasperated.
"He's a teacher at your school…"
James' head whipped around to see his dad in the eyes, intensely. There was an anger that Harry had never seen before.
"No!" he shouted.
"What?!" Harry had asked.
"You're screwing Professor Malfoy?!" James had spit out at him.
"Language, James Potter!" Harry shouted back.
"Alright - you're fornicating - no you can't can you, whatever. You're doing it with my Potions Master… The one you almost killed."
"I'm in a relationship with him, yes. And yes, our history wasn't exactly rosy and glorious, but that's beside the point here…"
"He told me about your past, and how you two used to hex each other into oblivion," James went on, ignoring his father's words. "Talk about unhealthy… But then, that's what you do, isn't it dad? You're too special to be normal…"
"James, what the hell?!" Harry looked at his outraged son, and tried to work out where the anger was coming from.
He watched his son get up and glare at him in disgust, and stalk off back inside the house, leaving his dad flummoxed and none the wiser.
Harry wrapped his coat around himself a bit tighter and closed his eyes.
.o0o0o0o.
"Right, who wants some more trifle? Hugo? Send us your plate, there's a good lad," Molly smiled at her youngest grandson and directed some of the plentiful pudding onto the plate that arrived, hovering mid-air, and returned to its owner again.
Ron watched the proceeding from his end of the large table (extended to fit the extra people joining in) and smiled as his son tucked into another helping, while his brother waited for his serving, and his best friend sat next to him looking like he was chewing a bee. They had talked when he had gotten back inside, after his chat with James, and Harry had told Ron what he had told him, and although he knew (from Hermione) about his involvement with Malfoy, it felt strange hearing it from Harry himself. He was all but moving in with a. their old nemesis, and b. Rose's teacher at Hogwarts, and c. the guy who helped make their lives hell at school… It took all of his strength to not tell Harry he was going mental.
But then again, who was he to tell Harry what to do?! He had always kind of done what he had wanted, as he recalled. Ron had never fully understood what made Harry tick, not when they were at Hogwarts and he was dealing with Voldemort, not when he decided to split up with his sister, or when he wanted to become a writer, or screw that Adrian bloke… Harry Potter was a law unto himself, and the more Ron or anyone else wanted to steer him towards being sensible, the more headstrong he seemed to become.
Part of him was envious. He'd never lived alone, or been with anyone else but Hermione, and although these things were fine with him, mostly, there were days that he hated his life. Hated the predictability of it, the lack of adventure. He'd want to have wild, crazy sex with gorgeous blond witches, or live in a cottage in the woods and not do the washing up for a week on end… Leave his socks on the floor where they landed, drink a case of Elderflower wine and nobody would tell him he was becoming a slob…
He sent his plate towards his mother, and looked at the other faces, happily chatting, or eating the trifle. His life wasn't that bad, really. He had a wife who loved him, and two amazing kids, and a few mates he had beers with every now and then. He had a job that kept him from being bored, or in mortal danger, and his hobbies put a smile on people's faces. Ron knew he had it fine. Would he really want to chuck all that for the life Harry had?
As his plate settled back in front of him he glanced at Harry, who was now laughing at something George had said, and knew the answer was 'no'.
..o0o0o0o..
The fire crackled and gave the room a pleasant hue, and Harry watched it as he leaned against the counter of the kitchen, overseeing his new home. He had left Devon feeling excited, knowing he'd be spending the night here, in his cosy new place in Scotland. He had stayed the night with the Weasleys, and this afternoon he had been in London, gathering some bits he had wanted to bring with him, and he was now more than ready to have some time to relax and wind down. He was holding a mug of tea between his hands, and his eyes had glazed over, as he pondered on the things he might be doing in the next few weeks. James was going to come over, he had said, and so was Teddy, and Ron said he'd come and help him sort out the attic, which had a few nests with Doxies that needed sorting, and he had the feeling that Ron could do with some time away from his home life.
He looked out of the window briefly, and noticed it had started snowing. His new garden looked pretty, he knew, although in the dark it was hard to tell. He also knew that the lake was out there, somewhere, and Hogwarts Castle beyond that, and he was looking forward to getting to know this part of the world, going for long walks, once the weather made it more pleasant. For now he wanted to get cosy inside, and he drew the curtains by the downstairs windows.
Some furniture had been left by the previous owners: nice big wooden arts & crafts cabinets and a gorgeous leather sofa, which was facing the fireplace, as well as some velvet armchairs in the space between. All that was missing were his nicknacks and a cat, he thought, and had already been thinking of ways to get one. Siobhian had a cat, a big ginger beast, maybe she could point him towards someone with kittens. He smiled at the thought, as he wandered back to the kitchen to make himself another cup of tea, when he heard a soft plop sound. Slowly he closed his eyes, pointing his wand towards the stove, where a kettle filled with water was slowly coming to the boil.
Steps sounded behind him, and Harry smiled, looking at the kettle, which had steam coming out of the spout. How appropriate, Harry thought, and grinned.
"Hmmm… I could murder a cuppa…" he heard being mumbled near his ear. A body gently touched him, and arms enveloped him. He felt a kiss being planted into the crook of his neck, and he was wondering how to keep himself from falling into a swoon.
"You made it then," Harry spoke, leaning into the body behind him, enjoying the caress, then slowly turning around to face his assailant. He smiled, and moved his face up so he could kiss him. "Hello Draco…"
"Couldn't let you stay all alone in this scary, remote cottage, could I?"
"I've got Doxies in the attic, I'll be fine," Harry grinned.
Draco smiled back at him and kissed him again. "As long as they stay there…"
Harry moved his arms around Draco's neck and felt himself being held tight, and as they stood there, hugging each other, a strange sense of serenity came over Harry.
"You had a good Christmas then?" he asked, as he moved away from Draco slightly.
"It was okay," he said with a shrug. "My dad was on top form again… I'll tell you about it another time. I could do with that tea, actually."
"Really? You want tea now?" Harry smiled. He planted his lips on the skin in Draco's neck, kissing it slowly and eliciting a soft groan.
"Oh fuck it, Harry… Yeah, maybe it can wait…" he whimpered, and pulled Harry towards the door to go upstairs.
Harry had a feeling he was going to be quite happy here.
x~x