Chapter Fifteen

Christmas at the Burrow with the entire and ever-expanding Weasley family was a little overwhelming for Harry. Always had been. He hadn't grown up with a large, loud, loving family to visit on holidays, a fact that never ceased to make him feel intensely envious of anyone who did. Before he had the option to spend Christmas at Hogwarts, the holiday had always been sad for him. His youngest years were spent simply trying to not draw any unnecessary attention his way. After leaving Hogwarts and the war finally being over, there was never any question where he would spend the happy day.

Ron insisted Harry come to his parents' house every year, even after Harry and Ginny ended their doomed romantic relationship. It had been awkward in the beginning, but he was glad Ron made him attend. He didn't really have anywhere else he would rather be. Ginny was a good sport though it must've been terribly uncomfortable for her at times. When Harry learned she was spending that Christmas in Bulgaria with Viktor, he was able to relax.

From the moment he arrived everyone had been a little too curious about his mission. It appeared as if every Weasley, both by blood and by marriage, had half a dozen questions. In an effort to be both polite and thankful for the chance to spend what would have otherwise been a lonely holiday with a real family, he tried to answer them as best he could. He was glad when Molly finally insisted everyone leave him alone so enjoy his holiday in peace. Eventually, they all left him alone to sit in front of the fireplace with a glass of fire whiskey Arthur kept refilling.

Some time after the delicious evening feast was consumed and most of the adults retreated to their own quiet corners of the house to lament their decision to go back for a third helping, Ron collapsed on the sofa with a heavy sigh. Harry knew his best friend was about to be serious just by the familiar look in his blue eyes.

"You haven't fully returned from your mission, have you?"

Anyone who was foolish enough to assume Ron was an idiot clearly knew nothing about him or were a bit of an idiot themselves. Harry often thought others were too unfair to his friend. There were many different kinds of intelligence. Just because he didn't apply himself to the fullest when they were in school or he didn't have his nose stuck in a book at all times like Hermione didn't make him dumb. He saw far more than he was given credit for. But that didn't mean Harry didn't find his moments of insight frustrating. He sighed.

"You know that's almost exactly what Luna said about me."

Ron smirked.

"So you and Luna are still..?"

As far as Harry was aware, Ron was the only one who knew about his relationship with Luna. An unlocked door over a year earlier was responsible. Harry had been too preoccupied in more pleasurable pursuits to make certain his front door was locked one evening. Ron, never one to stand on ceremony at his oldest and best mate's house, walked right into the kitchen to find Luna's naked body sprawled on top of the table with Harry's face too distracted between her thighs to notice they were no longer alone. To her credit, Luna very calmly greeted Ron and asked him to wait upstairs in the drawing room for a few minutes.

"I'm not sure what we are, but I've spent a few nights with her since I got back."

"You should marry Luna. She's good for you."

In good conscience, Harry couldn't argue with his best friend about something he'd considered himself. Every part of him wished it was that simple, that he could just drop to one knee in front of the fascinating witch and beg her to be with him until they were both dead. He couldn't imagine caring about anyone like he did Luna. If he wasn't so concerned about how the rest of the world would treat her, he would selfishly like to make it more official.

"Remember what happened to your sister? I don't want Luna hurt like that."

Ron exhaled a heavy sigh. Of course he remembered all of the grief Ginny experienced. It had hurt him right along with his little sister. Feeling overprotective of the witch who absolutely did not require his protection hadn't been easy for anyone.

"You can't spend your life in hiding, mate. And I don't think you're giving Luna enough credit."

Again, Ron was probably right.

"You deserve to be happy. Luna makes you happy."

Harry struggled a little to accept the truth of his statement. Even after so many years since the war ended, he still could feel immeasurable guilt for the number of lives that were lost. No one could ever convince him it wasn't his fault in some way. Perhaps sensing Harry was on the verge of spiraling down into a dark place, Ron stood up and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Now, you're coming with me. There's a private room at the Leaky that Hannah is holding open for us. Some of our friends are meeting us there."

He wasn't certain he felt in the mood to socialize any more than he already had, but something about the determination he saw on his friend's face let him know he would have a fight on his hands if he tried. That seemed a poor way to end what had been a fairly lovely day. Instead of arguing or begging to be allowed to return to his quiet, empty house instead, he politely thanked Arthur and Molly for another memorable Christmas. Saying proper goodbyes to everyone in the large Weasley family always presented something of a challenge. When he could finally step away, he followed Ron out to the garden to Apparate to London.


As far as Christmases went in her experience, Hermione had definitely had worse. How could she forget during the war when she and Harry were alone and nearly killed by Voldemort? She had nightmares about the fucking snake inside the poor dead woman's body for years afterwards. Even just thinking about a snake of any size and temperament sent a disgusted chill up her spine.

Their wartime Christmas had been terribly lonely. Never in her life, one she had been surprised to discover had been fairly sheltered up until that point, had she experienced such a bleak, hopeless holiday. She remembered spending most of those days in near-constant tears. What they had been asked to endure as children had been inhumane. The older she became, the angrier she grew about how the adults just handed over a war to fight to children. It was wrong and part of her would never forgive Albus Dumbledore for as long as she lived. She hated how he was still hero-worshipped when he was a very manipulative man who cared more for the supposed Greater Good than he actually did for the individual people in his life. He might have claimed to love Harry almost like a son but she thought he was just a talented liar. If he'd really cared about Harry as he claimed, he wouldn't have raised him like a lamb for slaughter.

That had always been an argument she and Harry couldn't seem to get past. Harry still believed Dumbledore was a good man. He'd probably name a child after the Headmaster if given the chance, something that made her physically ill to think about. Let the other idiots out there who didn't really know the man name their children after a supposed hero of the right side. Harry should know better.

When the full truth of that awful horcrux hunt was made known, she had been asked a few times how she felt about Ron running off in the middle of winter when they were practically starving and unsure what their next moves should be. It was a ridiculous question designed to stir up hurt feelings and dormant anger that should've been left alone. How else was she supposed to feel other than abandoned and betrayed? Those were normal feelings. What she never admitted out loud was the fact that she'd been so intensely envious of Ron having an escape that she couldn't always see straight.

Maybe she wasn't ready to admit it, but she might have run too if she had anywhere safe to go. It was human nature. Harry likely would understand. No doubt he wanted to run away at some point too. The responsibility should've never fallen on his shoulders to begin with. What happened to him was cruel. Was it any wonder he looked for excuses as an adult to run away too? No one would ever convince her otherwise that that was why Harry was so damned determined to kill all of the dementors.

Several people who learned about Ron's escape during the war assumed that was the reason their relationship didn't last. They assumed she couldn't forgive him for abandoning them. She would be a liar herself if she ever denied feeling hurt by his actions. Of course she was, but she understood. And honestly, the fact that he chose to return even after knowing how awful and hopeless it was showed an impressive strength of character that far too few people gave him credit for. She wasn't sure she would've been able to come back if she had any sliver of a hope of escape.

No, there were a number of reasons her short-lived romance fizzled out rather spectacularly with Ron and it wasn't because of that perfectly understandable moment of human weakness. She could've listed them out on parchment if anyone was truly curious. Mostly, however, it was simply the fact that the vast majority of wartime romances don't always work out so well during peacetime. Nor do most school year relationships stand the test of time. Hermione would always care about Ron in her own way. They made far better friends than lovers.

Of course she hadn't been much of a friend to anyone in a very long time. It was easy to get wrapped up inside her own world and her own head at times. She'd lost count the number of times she'd allowed months at a time to go past without connecting with a friend just because she allowed herself to get too distracted. Eventually one lost friends that way. Apologizing and admitting she was wrong wasn't easy for her to do. She knew she struggled with that sort of humility, always had.

What was the point in dwelling on the past? It was nearly always a depressing endeavor that put her in a terrible mood. She'd made mistakes in her life. They all had. She couldn't change it. What was the point in beating herself up about it? Surely there was a far better use of her holiday than morose thoughts she didn't want to consider.

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed staring out the window. The sun had gone down at some point while she had been enjoying a long Christmas Day nap. There wasn't anything in particular she was looking at. Mostly she just stared out at the darkness outside. It was soothing. She'd learned how important it was to just sit and be calm from time to time. It was a lesson she wished Hogwarts-era Hermione could've learned, especially during her awful third year. Thinking about that year inevitably brought up justified anger that there were so many adults in her world that were willing to allow an actual child to use a time-turner just to attend extra lessons. She had a lot of problems with those in authority who thought it would be a good idea.

Knowing she would only work herself up into a terrible mood if she continued down that line of thinking, Hermione stood up and crossed her bedroom to the exit. It might have been a quiet day with very little excitement, but she still didn't want to ruin her Christmas by upsetting herself. Being alone with her thoughts wasn't the best way to spend what so many others considered to be the 'most wonderful time of year', a sentiment she had never shared.

Outside of her sanctuary she was immediately assaulted by the far too-loud sounds from the television. Silencing spells had to be employed on her bedroom to keep from being constantly frustrated with the noise. Barty still hadn't learned what an acceptable volume was for his personal escape. Instead of annoying her like it had in the beginning, she chose to find it amusing. Who was she to begrudge him a few moments of fleeting happiness just because she didn't find the same joy in it? She wasn't a monster after all. There was humor to be found in a thoroughly Pureblood wizard realizing he had a television addiction. It made her smile and even chuckle.

Especially considering the fact Barty discovered the saccharine sweetness of cheesy holiday movies with terrible acting and predictable storylines. When she teased him the week before about all of them ending the exact same way, he shrugged his shoulders and admitted to liking when a story had a happy ending even if he knew it was coming because reality wasn't like that.

"A person can make all of the right choices and decisions in real-life, do everything exactly how they were expected to do it and still end up bloody miserable. What's wrong with indulging in a little fantasy?"

She didn't tease him again. All of the points he made were sadly excellent and she had to stop turning up her nose at the stories she had been so quick to ridicule once she discovered she agreed with him.

Other than the loud volume of the most current reincarnation of the same film blaring from the speakers, there was no sign of Barty. She turned down the volume to a level she deemed suitable and immediately heard the sound of him moving around in the kitchen. Based on the sound of the microwave bell dinging, she knew exactly what he was doing. Her grumbling stomach thought he had the right idea.

The smell of leftovers being reheated when she entered the kitchen was a near painful reminder of how long it had been since lunch. There had been no grand plans for Christmas Day. Both residents of the house chose to sleep in late that morning. Hermione knew that Barty would sneak one of her sleeping potions on occasion so she wasn't surprised neither of them stirred very early. The kittens no longer had to be fed every couple of hours. Barty finally had a chance to rest. There was no way to tell how long they would've continued to sleep if they hadn't been woken up by an insistent knock on the front door just before midday.

Neither of them expected to have a visitor. When they opened the front door together, they'd been surprised to find Winky on the other side of the door with a basket levitating in front of her filled with a banquet that could easily feed ten or fifteen. After gorging themselves on the delicious food and forcing Winky to sit with them at the kitchen table, it didn't take long before a deep, lingering Christmas Day nap was required.

"I know I shouldn't be, but I'm hungry again."

Barty only smiled at Hermione's confession. His attention was too focused on removing his hot plate from inside the microwave. All around the room sitting wherever there was any space to spare were bowls and plates and platters filled with all of the most wonderful traditional Christmas foods. It didn't take her long to fill up her own plate far higher than she would normally on any other day. Holidays were for indulgence. Seeing Barty had the microwave still in use, she decided not to waste any time. The warming charm she cast on her own plate did not go unnoticed.

"No fair. I'd love to use magic too."

"Maybe you'll be allowed a wand soon."

Somehow he managed to keep his smile on his face despite it threatening to slip. Magic and its use could be a sore subject. Both of them knew it was possible he would never be allowed one again. If he was returned to Azkaban, there would be no question he would spend the rest of his life being unable to exercise what was so fundamental to him as a wizard. Even if he was granted some sort of parole, it wouldn't be out of the question that one of the conditions of his freedom would be loss of magic. His temporary parole kept him from utilizing his magic and there was no way to know that wouldn't become permanent. Perhaps that was why he'd become so interested in how Muggles lived. He knew he could be just as good as one.

A change in subject needed to be made. They could face the uncertainty of the future on another day. Hermione knew it wouldn't take much effort to drag herself back down into a morose, contemplative mood. Forcing Barty down with her just seemed mean.

"As grateful as I am to Winky for feeding us so frequently since you arrived, I'm also a little angry that because of how good it all is, I'm afraid I've gained nearly a stone."

Perhaps not expecting how she was going to steer the conversation, Barty chuckled. She'd started to get used to the sound, even finding it not obnoxious and sometimes a little pleasant if she was caught in the right mood.

"Not possible. You're exaggerating."

"Maybe a little, but I've definitely gained weight."

"Then you've gained it in all the right places."

Realizing at once what he was actually saying, Hermione felt her cheeks burn with a blush. Compliments directed her way were sadly few and far between. She wasn't sure the last time she heard one that made her feel quite so embarrassed. Barty's eyes lowered when the words exited his mouth. Before he spoke again, he cleared his throat.

"That was inappropriate. I apolo…"

If she allowed it, the simple slip of the tongue could make it unbearably uncomfortable between them. After so many weeks together, they were starting to get along, settle into a routine that certainly had its odd, but pleasant moments. Surprising herself with the speed with which she interrupted him, she discovered that she didn't regret it at all.

"Don't you dare take it back. I'm not opposed to hearing a compliment every now and again. Thank you."

The tension lessened between the unlikely housemates. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Barty's mouth as he did exactly as he was instructed. She couldn't help but notice when his eyes were lifted again, he made a deliberate effort to look away from her body. Another change of subject was needed.

"I'm afraid you missed the first kiss in your movie just now."

Barty looked visibly disappointed by her announcement. That was always an important moment in the horrible movies he consumed.

"Bugger. I thought I had a few more scenes before that happened." He sighed as he stirred the food on his plate. "It was bloody mistletoe, wasn't it?"

She had to laugh at the absolute absurdity of the conversation they were in the midst of. No one would believe it if she told them. Death Eaters, former and current, were expected to only wish to discuss violence and mayhem and how further to show their loyalty to their Dark Lord. Holiday romances likely weren't described in the Inner Circle meetings. Perhaps they would've been more interesting if they were.

"Of course it was." He sighed again, but it quickly became an amused chuckle. "Nothing like mistletoe to force something too early. I wish I could've stopped it for a few minutes and started it up again when my food was ready."

It was her turn to laugh. He'd learned a great deal about Muggles and how they survived since he rejoined the living, but he had a lot more to learn.

"Muggles have created a device that will allow you to pause a show in the middle and start it up again later. Or you can choose to record a show to watch it later. It lets you skip all of the commercials too."

Barty's eyes grew wide. She couldn't resist another chuckle. It was like watching a Muggle learn there was such a thing as flying cars or that dragons were real. Living with a foot in both worlds could make her forget what it was like to feel amazed by something she'd never heard of.

"That sounds brilliant. It would really change how one would watch the telly. Why do you not have one?"

Some days she was surprised that she owned a television at all. It had never figured very heavily into the Granger family home while she was growing up. Before she taught the wizard how to operate the device, she could go weeks without turning it on.

"I've never watched enough to justify having one."

"I don't know how Muggles get anything done."

She laughed again. It continued to get easier to be so relaxed around the man. Never would she have imagined that would be true when she was first ordered to allow him into her home.

"Some of them don't. It's easy to get addicted to watching too much."

His smile slipped to show a bit of sadness he may have been trying to hide.

"I can understand how. It makes for an effective escape from your own thoughts and worries."

Neither of them were laughing or even smiling after that statement. Hermione knew all about escaping or rather trying to escape from the unhappiness she felt too often in her unfulfilling life. It was frustrating and embarrassing at times. What did she really have to feel so down about? From the outside looking in, it must have seemed that she led a perfectly charmed life. Why did she struggle to feel the same?

Knowing that Barty used the television as a way to silence his own thoughts made sense. She thought she should have figured that out already without him saying so. What must have gone through his mind when he gave it the chance to wander aimlessly had to have been horrible. She didn't want to even imagine. Watching fantastical stories play out instead must have been a wonderful escape for him. It had never affected her the same way personally, but she could understand the appeal of mindless entertainment. Reality wasn't always fun.

"I can look into getting one if you'd like."

His bright smile transformed his face entirely, blocking out all of the lingering tension and sadness that had permeated the room. It was contagious. How could she see such an innocent joy and not be affected?

"But only if it's not too expensive."

Some of his earlier shame flitted back across his face no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"I would love to help pay my own way, but…"

Hermione gestured to their plates and to all of the many dishes around them before he could drag himself down into a place where he felt embarrassed that he wasn't exactly free to do as he pleased yet. His imprisonment, though conducted in a rather nice, comfortable home if she had to say so herself, was still a prison. Being unable to make his own choices or affect his own destiny had to have been maddening.

"I haven't had to go to the market in weeks. You're helping in your own way."

He offered her another small smile, unable to completely push away the rest of his negative feelings. Afraid that they were in danger of ruining Christmas entirely, Hermione knew she had to put them both in better moods.

"Now, let's hurry and we can still watch them realize they've reluctantly fallen madly in love with each other or they saved Christmas for the orphans, whichever this one is about."

Barty followed her out into the lounge with his dinner plate laughing. For the moment, it seemed, he would let her teasing about his choice of movie go.

The rest of the night passed in a surprisingly pleasant manner. Despite usually wanting to put as much distance between herself and her houseguest as possible, Hermione remained firmly on the opposite end of the sofa watching one ridiculous movie after another. He was a good sport when she could no longer resist the urge to tease him about a 'big, scary Death Eater' being entranced by unrealistic, sappy stories that one could nearly always predict from the very beginning. Eventually, he even joined in on the joking.

"If what I've learned about the Muggle world in these movies is correct, then you as an intelligent, attractive career woman who moved out of the city to her own country cottage should be able to easily go into the nearest village and find a large, burly man with a heart of gold who is also very good with his hands to fall madly in love with you at first sight."

She snorted out a laugh. Who knew that the wizard could actually be funny? She certainly never would've imagined. But, she supposed she still didn't know all that much about him. There was a great deal about himself that he continued to keep private. Assumptions weren't always truth.

"No, definitely not at first sight. We would have some horrible misunderstanding and hate each other in the beginning. It's only later, after I've no doubt driven him completely mad, that we would finally realize we loved each other."

"Ahh, well, yes, you're right. Lust at first sight, but it would take at least a day or two of driving him mad before he was completely besotted."

They both chuckled again at the absurdity of the very idea. A harsh knock on the front door startled them into silence. Hermione couldn't imagine who it would be. It was getting to be very late and technically it was still Christmas. Most people she knew would be celebrating with family or home in bed. She crossed the room to answer the door. Before she reached the entrance, Barty couldn't resist the opportunity to make another joke.

"Perhaps it's your Muggle carpenter come to sweep you off your feet in a Christmas miracle. Or would you prefer one of those who fixes automobiles?"

She had to admit that he was effective at cutting some of the tension. No longer as nervous to see who her unexpected visitor was, there was still a smile on her face when she opened the front door to find what appeared to be a very drunk Neville Longbottom struggling to remain on his feet.

"Neville, what are you doing here?"

"Where's the bastard? Where's Crouch?"