Disengaged


Only a stray wisp of bushy brown hair betrayed Hermione's presence behind a large mound of colourfully wrapped presents. She had put away her wand for this activity, instead using scotch tape, scissors, and rolls of Muggle paper. Ron thought she was being silly, spending an afternoon folding paper when she could have been done in a few minutes with a bit of spell-work. But present wrapping was an activity she had loved since childhood, and she wasn't interested in shortening the procedure. Hermione folded the last triangle on the last box so that the paper folded into a prefect Reindeer dotted quadrilateral.

"I swear those reindeer look stoned," Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's just how happy cartoon reindeer look." She began clearing away the extra paper shavings and ribbons. "While I clean up, start posting those packages. We really should have gotten these off sooner. I rented some extra owls and they're in the kitchen. Since I don't have Harry's new address yet, send his gift to your parent's house. He can pick it up at their little party."

Ron hesitated but started gathering boxes. Most newlyweds would have missed Ron's brief guilty twitch, but Hermione had known Ron for years before they tied the knot. And that twitch might as well have been a confession. "What did you do, Ron?"

"What?" Ron scooped up an armload of boxes and headed for the kitchen. "I didn't do anything. I'm sending boxes out like you asked."

Hermione followed him with streamers of paper still clutched in her hands. "Don't lie to me, Ron. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything...well anything wrong." Ron set the packages on the table and turned to face Hermione. "I told Harry not to come this Christmas."

"Ron, you didn't." Hermione let the papers and ribbons scatter to the floor, and she started massaging her temples. "He won't come now, if we sent an engraved invitation."

Ron's face reddened. "My sister comes first, and they just bloody well broke up. She doesn't need her ex-boyfriend intruding on Christmas."

"Your mother invited him." Hermione shook her head. "You had no right to tell him not to come."

"I had no right? I have every right to tell my best mate if he can't come to Christmas dinner this year. It's my family!" Ron crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Hermione to argue, but she just shook her head again.

"You need to grow up." Hermione gathered the trash off the floor, and dropped it in the bin. "Seems to me that if Ginny was okay with him being there, you could have handled it."

Red-faced, Ron watched Hermione walk out of the kitchen. He turned to one of the rented owls. "How does she do that, make me feel like a bloody ten year old? This is all Harry's fault. Mates should not date each other's sisters. It just makes things too complicated. I know he doesn't have a family to spend Christmas with, and I feel rotten about that, but he busted up with my sister. Blood is thicker!"

The owl hooted blandly and stuck its leg out.

---

Most wizards stood out in the Muggle world. They didn't dress, speak, or act appropriately. A wizard on a Muggle street corner was a blaring sign of abnormality. Maybe he thought a bathrobe was an acceptable overcoat, or that fuzzy slippers were excellent foot attire for a spring day. Or maybe it was that he just couldn't stop commenting on the lovely Quidditch weather. Either way, the Muggles could see the alien in their midst, even though they didn't really understand his abnormality.

Unlike most wizards, the young man walking down the street in trainers and jeans didn't stand out to the Muggles he passed. He understood the Muggle world and its mores. Here he could disappear with ease. But to wizards he was a spectacle, from his unruly black hair and his lightning bolt scar, to the tips of his famous, world-saving toes. It was Christmas Eve and Harry Potter could find a hearth and a party by just strolling down the right street. But he didn't want to play trick-pony for a gaggle of spectators. He would rather liked to have been at the Burrow discussing Quidditch or plugs or Fred and George's newest invention. But that was all fouled up thanks to his stellar romantic skills. This year he settled for Muggle-watching, spectating a thousand strangers' Christmas Eves, the alien amongst them that they couldn't see.

Some of them traveled in packs, ushering children, husbands, or friends. They all moved with such purpose, all anxious to get off the gray sludgy streets and make it home. That was the secret to fitting in on a London street. Wear something appropriate, and keep moving like you have somewhere to go.

As the evening grew later, the streets thinned out. The shops were closing for the holiday, forcing the Muggles to give up their last minute shopping crusades for eggnog and ham and warm hearths. Just as Harry began looking for a secluded spot to Apparate home from, a red neon open sign caught his eye.

One restaurant was still welcoming patrons late on Christmas Eve. Harry always carried a bit of Muggle money with him on his outings, just in case, and tonight he headed for The Golden Wok, a hole-in-the-wall Chinese buffet, envisioning a Christmas egg roll.

---

The Weasley family Christmas party would be a large affair with just the family and their spouses, but over the years they had adopted strays like Remus and Neville until Molly had to cast an enlargement spell on the living room just to get everyone inside. Even with the added space, the house seemed overfull and stifling this year to Ginny. So she escaped outside for some peace and quiet.

Sitting on the back stoop, she pulled her festive red sweater closer. The snow in the yard was ugly stuff, dirty and trampled, like so many things in her life seemed to be all of a sudden. The childhood dream of her first love was dying. She let herself really start planning that dream the day that Voldemort died, and she realised that they had survived. Harry and Ginny Potter's future lived in her head down to the monogrammed towels and the embossed stationary. But had it ever really lived in Harry's head?

"Hey, you're going to freeze out here," Neville said. He let the door bang shut behind him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ginny said. "I'll come in before I freeze. Don't worry."

Rather than take her at her word and go back inside, Neville took a seat next to her on the steps. "I wish it would just snow. The gray stuff is depressing, don't you think?"

The friends sat together in companionable silence for several minutes before Ginny spoke. "Harry didn't come tonight."

Neville nodded and looked concernedly at Ginny. "I figured he was on an assignment for the Ministry. Isn't he?"

"I don't think he is, Neville." The silence returned between them, but it wasn't awkward. A few fluffy white flakes drifted through the back yard. "He was supposed to come tonight and win me back," Ginny said. "I was all ready to accept his apology."

"Did you break up then?" Neville asked. "I'm sorry."

"This isn't how it ends, a break up after five years," Ginny said. She swatted at her eyes before any tears could fall. "After Voldemort he was quiet, so quiet. It was like he had forgotten how to talk to me. But I held him and talked to him, and he got better."

Neville nodded solemnly. "I remember."

"So why isn't he here? Why isn't he fighting for me? I fought for him." She didn't try to hide the tears that were flowing more freely now, streaming down her face. When Neville wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she let him hold her while she sobbed.

"It's okay," Neville whispered. He rocked Ginny, as her tears soaked through his shirt. He let his friend cry while the snow he had wished for fell in even heavier flurries.

---

Not surprisingly, the Chinese restaurant was all but deserted. A couple in a back booth, a despondent waitress who circled periodically to refill beverages, and a cook were Harry's holiday family tonight. He sipped his tea and stirred his noodles without really eating them. He had already had a pair of Christmas egg rolls. The noodles were cold though, cold and congealed. With a sigh, Harry wished the couple in the booth, the waitress, and the unseen cook a silent merry Christmas before dropping some money on the table and heading for the exit.

The couple from the booth had chosen that moment to leave as well. Harry had no intention of making eye contact or staring at the couple, but he couldn't help himself. The man was tall and meaty with a thick black moustache that reminded Harry of his Uncle Vernon. The man was slumped rather dramatically and being supported by a thin, insubstantial blond. Harry couldn't help staring, and recognition hit him. He knew that blond. What were the odds?

"Luna?" Harry said.

She turned her unmistakable, prominent blue eyes his way and lost her tenuous hold on her companion. They tumbled to the floor, the large semiconscious man striking hard like a crashing dirigible with Luna tumbling in a heap on top of him. "Well this is just not going well at all," Luna said.

"Could you use a hand?" Harry asked. Luna took his hand and let him pull her off her companion. Harry wasn't quite sure how to address the situation. Was Luna on a date, out with family? He nodded at her companion at last. "Dating?"

Luna chuckled loudly and shook her head at Harry. "Mr. Barnes is not a date. He is or was going to be my boss."

"Your boss?" Harry asked. "What are you doing at a Muggle Chinese buffet on Christmas Eve with your future boss?"

"I was interviewing," Luna said with a sigh. "But it turns out that my writing portfolio wasn't interesting enough to keep him...focused."

"It seems to have put him to sleep." Harry arched his brow skeptically.

"No silly, I put him to sleep when he stopped reading and started complimenting my breasts." Luna looked down at her chest with a frown on her face. "I really had no choice with the things he said he wanted to do to them. They're mine and they needed defending."

"I see." Harry realised that he was staring inappropriately at her green sweater when she looked up at him and smiled. From the heat flooding his face, he had just blushed crimson. "So, what are you going to do with him?"

"The Knight Bus," Luna said simply. "A couple of Sickles and they'll let him sleep my little potion off, no harm done. Except, I don't think I'll be getting the job."

He didn't laugh outright, but Harry couldn't contain an amused smile at Luna's exasperated, bewildered expression. "Would you like a hand getting him out of here before the waitress comes back?"

"Yes, let's get him out of here," Luna said. She latched onto a limp arm and cast it over her shoulder. Between the two of them, they were able to support Mr. Barnes on a quick trip to the nearest alley. They dropped him unceremoniously in a show drift, and Harry drew his wand out.

Unlike the first time he summoned it, Harry was ready for the shabby-looking, purple bus's abrupt arrival tonight. "Hello, welcome to the Knight Bus, may I take your baggage?" A young man announced. He looked from Harry to Luna, but turned quickly back to Harry. A stupid star-struck expression spread over his face, and he grinned broadly. "If it isn't...but it can't be. Harry Potter?"

Determined not to end up in a hugging, autograph-signing incident, Harry jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Barnes' snowed-upon form. "If you don't mind giving me a hand, our friend here needs a place to sleep for a few hours." He offered the conductor his hand for a quick shake without breaking a smile.

"Of course, I'm Roger Norris, just Roger." He hurried off the bus and immediately started tugging on Mr. Barnes. "Largish bloke, isn't he?"

Harry took up the other side. They wrestled him up the stairs and onto a bed. Sitting in the aisle gasping, Harry gave a quick thumbs-up to Luna who applauded their efforts. "Now how much for a bed for our friend for the night?" Luna asked, peering into her pink, sequin bedazzled purse.

"Gosh I don't know," Roger said. He was fishing around in his pocket, and came up with a small camera. "If I could maybe have a picture of you and your lady friend, what is your name dear?"

Catching Harry's emphatic head shake in the background Luna smiled brightly. "I'm Myrtle."

Roger was fiddling with his camera, getting it ready, when the driver snatched it out of his hand. "Would you leave my friend alone? This is Neville. We've know each other for years."

Roger frowned toward the driver. "Neville? But Stan this is Harry Potter." He tapped his own forehead where Harry's scar would have been and gestured emphatically over his shoulder. "The Harry Potter."

The driver turned a now pimple-free face toward Harry with a smile. "Roger, you need your eyes checked. That's Neville and Myrtle, and their sleepy friend will be riding free," Stan said.

"But Stan!" Roger pleaded. "The Prophet will pay for pictures."

Harry grabbed Luna by the hand and smiled at Stan. "Thanks," he called on his way down the stairs. People didn't usually forget it when you personally championed their release from a place like Azkaban, and Stan was no exception to that.

"Anybody who don't want to go to Bristol better get off now," Stan announced, ignoring Roger's plaintive begging for his camera.

The Knight Bus drove away with an abrupt pop that left the alley in complete silence. The snow was really coming down now in thick feathery flurries. Harry cast a look at Luna who was standing quietly with her eyes shut. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but when he opened his mouth to intrude on the silence he couldn't.

"I should go home. Dad is having a party," Luna said. She turned to Harry and smiled quizzically. "Not that I don't appreciate the help, but why are you here? Shouldn't you be at the Burrow?"

All the reasons he shouldn't be at the Burrow raced though his head in a long stream. He and Ginny were over. Ron told him to stay away. He wasn't really a Weasley. But the reasons to stay away didn't mean anything. Not when he and Ginny had left everything unspoken. He should be there to face her and settle things one way or another. They loved each other, and he owed her that much.

"I should be there, but I'm a coward," Harry said. "If I go tonight, we might break up forever."

Harry started walking and Luna followed. "Or you might get back together."

"It's a risk." Harry didn't add that both possibilities terrified him.

"Yeah." Luna nodded. "But if you stay away, things can only get worse."

Harry stopped walking, suddenly disgusted with his cowardly hiding. "You're right." He enveloped Luna in an abrupt, tight hug. "I have to go."

---

Hermione stacked appetizers onto a tray that Ron was holding without saying anything. Once she had his tray full she moved down the counter and started loading another tray. "You can't give me the silent treatment all night you know. My Mum thinks we're fighting," Ron hissed.

Hermione froze with a bacon roll in her hand and turned a livid stare at her husband. "She's right!"

Ron opened his mouth to say more, but he recognized the look in Hermione's eyes. This was the girl that once attacked him with a flock of origami birds. He had no desire to find out what a similar attack with finger foods might feel like. "Could you at least try to be pretend to be on speaking terms with me?" Ron asked, a twinge of desperation in his voice. He was fairly certain that his brothers never had problems like this and most of them were married.

Hermione smiled sweetly, and Ron felt his stomach drop. "Fine," she said, a polite smile sitting stiffly on her face.

Holding his tray, Ron let Hermione rejoin the party without him. He stuffed a couple of bacon puffs in his mouth and tried to figure how he was going to make things right at home now that he'd pushed Hermione past her explosion point.

---

Apparating into a furious flurry of snow, it took Harry several moments to get his bearings. Pointing himself toward the light of that familiar dwelling, the Burrow, Harry trudged into the storm. He reached the garden fence and fumbled with the latch. He'd just squeaked the door open when he spotted a familiar pair sitting close together, watching the snow.

Neville had an arm around Ginny, supporting her as she rested her head on his shoulder. There should have been a pang of jealously or possessiveness. Harry had had such pains for less provocation, but watching them, he just felt relieved. Ginny wasn't alone, and she wasn't crying. She was with a friend. Harry caught Neville's eye and smiled faintly.

The smile Neville returned was broad and encouraging. Gently he dislodged Ginny and rose. "Good to see you made it, Harry," Neville said. "Ginny, I'll see you inside." He shrugged out of his coat and dropped it around her partially exposed shoulders.

Rising, Ginny joined Harry in the frozen garden. She pulled Neville's suit coat close for warmth. "You came. I started to think you weren't going to."

"I almost didn't." Harry really looked at Ginny, her soft pale skin, her long straight red hair. She was beautiful; he loved everything about her, every blemish every quirk, her laugh and smile. He loved the way she burnt the toast in the morning and that she hated eggs. But his guts didn't ignite with jealousy watching Neville hold her, and they should have. Something was wrong with him, down deep in his heart, had been since the battle with Voldemort. He knew he loved Ginny, he knew it, but he couldn't connect with it. More like a memory of love than something real and living, his bond with Ginny was encased in a layer of glass, untouchable. "I thought you might hex me again if I showed up."

"I would have had to hex you again if you hadn't." A faint smile quivered over her lips. "It was juvenile of me to hex you in the first place. I mean, what did you do, except not answer my question?"

"Certain questions should at least be answered," Harry offered hoarsely. "I do love you."

"But you won't marry me." Ginny's smile was brittle. "Just say it." But Harry didn't say anything. It was like a repeat of his failure to respond in their flat when she proposed the first time. "I love you too. But at some point you have to move forward. Some questions can't be unasked. Harry Potter, will you marry me?"

Harry froze in his indecision. He should just say yes, just go for it. He was worse before, and Ginny had brought him this far back to himself. She just wanted a wedding and a ring and children. She wanted him to swear to love honor and protect her forever. He should do it. He should drop to one knee and give her what she wanted. He was lucky to have the option.

"No." Harry reached out to touch her face, to caress her soft skin, but she spun away from him a furious, hurt look on her face. For a moment he thought she was going to hex him again. "I just can't."

"You know, I really can't, either," Ginny said. "You know why? Because I don't believe you love me, Harry. You haven't loved me for years. You're grateful that I loved you and helped you find yourself after Voldemort chewed up your heart. But I don't need your gratitude. It's time we stopped wasting each other's time."

"I do love you," Harry whispered.

"You think you do." Ginny smiled sadly and jerked her head toward the house. "Why don't you come in and say hi. My mum's been worried about you."

---

Ron stood quietly at the window, watching Harry and Ginny together in the backyard. He'd known deep in the pit of his stomach that asking Harry to stay away wouldn't necessarily keep him from coming. But he wasn't angry to see them together. Staring sternly, he willed them to get over themselves, to kiss and make up. It wasn't fair for them to come so far and just break up. Silently cheering for them, Ron actually wished for them to kiss. But the moment ended without an embrace. They drifted a few steps apart and Harry walked away.

When Ginny returned, cheeks rosy from the cold, Ron made a beeline for her. He pulled her by the arm to the kitchen, determined to get to the bottom of the breakup that made no sense to him. "What happened? I saw you out there. He came even after I told him to stay away. He came for you."

Ginny didn't answer at first, seemingly overwhelmed by Ron's interest in her love life. "He came to say goodbye," Ginny said at last. "He loves me. But we're done. You don't have to understand it. We do." She crossed her arms, an angry expression on her face. "From the sound of things, you have been meddling. I'm not a teenager, and you don't have to protect me from the bad boys in the world. Please, mind your own business."

"I..." Ron sank into a kitchen chair and stared disconsolately at Ginny. He wanted to ask a dozen more prying questions. He wanted to know how two people could really love each other and not be together anymore. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to have a good Christmas with your family. And tomorrow you ought to call your best mate and be a friend to him," Ginny said. "And no more uninviting him to family gatherings on my account. He needs us, Ron. Nothing about that has changed."

"You're really okay seeing him like that?" Ron asked. "How can you be okay with that?"

Ginny hugged her brother suddenly. "I just can."

---

The Leaky Cauldron wasn't exactly the most ideal place to rent long term, but since Ginny had tossed him out, Harry had made his home there. Three weeks of hotel bills weren't exactly going to deplete his funds, and finding a new apartment would have meant that he and Ginny weren't getting back together. Until tonight, he hadn't admitted that that was the case.

Well, he could start browsing the classifieds for availability tomorrow. It was time to find something more permanent. Harry had nearly made his way through the bar and the few drinkers with nowhere better to be on Christmas Eve when he unexpectedly spotted Luna for the second time that night, sitting alone at a booth. She looked more depressed than he'd ever seen her. An empty Butterbeer and what looked like a dead plant were her only companions.

Harry tapped the bar and smiled at Ephram, the regular barkeep's brother. "Two Butterbeers please."

"On the house, Mr. Potter." Ephram smiled toothlessly. "Happy Holidays."

"Thanks." Normally Harry didn't let people give him things if he could help it. They were thankful for the vanquishing of Voldemort, but he hadn't faced Voldemort for them. That battle had been a personal one, and the continued adulation of the public was a constant hindrance to his attempts at a life. But it was Christmas Eve, and a free Butterbeer felt less like an offering to the Chosen One, and more like a present from a friend. Beverages in hand, Harry stopped beside Luna with a warm smile. "I thought you were going to your father's party? What brings you here?"

Luna looked up, almost instantly mastering her expression into a more normal (for her) mysterious half-smile. "And I thought you were going to talk to Ginny. Did you lose your courage again?"

"No, we talked." Harry arched his eyebrow and gestured toward the empty seat opposite her. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"You may," Luna said simply. With a sigh she accepted one of Harry's Butterbeers and took a long drink. "You may as well know that I lied to you. Dad is out of the country this Christmas, I was evicted from my apartment three days ago, and my plant Elsbeth, finally went ahead and died tonight."

Harry frowned and patted Luna's hand. "You were evicted? Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Of course, I have somewhere to stay." Luna pulled a palm-sized white box out of her pocket and set it in front of Harry. "My emergency tent for rough times. It's quite comfortable, and the area out by the Chudley Canons’ practice pitch always has a few fans camping to watch them work, so I've been staying there." Luna sighed again and stared at the pot of a black thing that might once have been a fern. "It's Elspbeth that has a me a bit down tonight, honestly. Neville gave her to me and taught me how to take care of her. I had to brew her special plant food everyday, and she wasn't thriving, no, but I kept her alive. Then tonight I upended her food in her pot and she gave up on me." Luna lifted a blackened leaf and sighed disconsolately. "Maybe Broket Ferns don't fare well in tent environments? Or maybe I'm just hopeless with Herbology."

"I'm sure Neville can get you another," Harry said. "One fern isn't such a large thing."

"I suppose," Luna said. "Would you like to see my tent? I should really go set it up before all the best camp sites are taken."

Even knowing how nice wizarding tents were, Harry hated the thought of Luna spending Christmas eve outside on a hill on such a cold snowy night. "I have a suite, two beds, a kitchen, and a huge bathtub. Why don't you stay with me tonight? We can have Christmas brunch tomorrow, and I need to start apartment hunting. Since you need to do the same, we can help each other out."

Luna stared thoughtfully off into space for a long moment. "I suppose Christmas with a friend is better than Christmas on a hill." She raised her bottle of Butterbeer and clinked the glass with Harry's. "Merry Christmas."

"And Merry Christmas to you." Harry finished his beverage in a long swig and rose to usher Luna upstairs.

"Just a moment, I should leave a tip." Luna pulled a handful of odd looking parcels and bottles out of her pockets, looking for her purse. "What did I--" She picked a half-empty bottle of bright blue potion up and stared at it with dawning comprehension. "I guess that explains what happened to my fern. I didn't give her plant food, I gave her sleeping potion." Luna shook her head and patted the potted plant once more. "Sorry about that Elsbeth. The lighting in the tent wasn't good."

Harry couldn't help smiling at her serious treatment of Elsbeth the plant. He fished a couple of gold pieces out of his pocket and tossed them on the table. "Shall we?"

Luna rose gracefully, dead plant cradled in the crook of her arm, and joined her free arm with Harry's to head upstairs. "It's bad luck to sleep at all on Christmas Eve, you know."

Harry arched an eyebrow quizzically, doubting that Luna intended the innuendo the statement hinted at. "Really? I thought sleep was encouraged on Christmas Eve."

"Only for children," Luna answered simply.

---

Relief and anxiety warred in Ron's chest as he stepped out of their fireplace grate and into the dimly lit living room of their new home. Finally the party was over, but now he had to face his angry wife one on one. Their first Christmas since moving in had not yet been a pleasant one, and Ron wasn't sure how to salvage it. Hermione left the party hours earlier, and he half expected to find her waiting in the center of the living room, arms crossed and ready for another battle. But Hermione wasn't waiting for him it seemed. What if she was angry enough to leave? People who loved each other could just fall apart for no apparent reason, as Ginny and Harry had proven.

Ron strode toward the exit, but before turning the corner, he caught sight of her, curled on the couch in her nightgown. Almost invisible in the multicolored Christmas light twilight of their living room, she was watching their overloaded tree. "Hermione," Ron said. "You didn't tell me you were leaving the party. Mum had to tell me what happened to you."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, still gazing at the sparkly tree. "I'm sorry about everything. It was really terrible of me to go to your parents angry and treat you like I did. You were just trying to protect Ginny."

An apology was the last thing in the world Ron expected from Hermione tonight. His heart swelled, and he replied quickly, "You don't have to apologise. You were just trying to protect Harry. Their break up is hard, and I haven't handled things exactly like I should have."

"Their break up is madness, but we can't take sides. Harry needs us." Hermione turned to Ron and patted the settee for him to join her. "Do you get it? I was the neutral non-Weasley friend, except I'm your wife now and who is safe and neutral? We're his family and we have to make sure he knows that leaving Ginny isn't a complete departure from us, this family."

Ron, who had never known life without enough siblings to field a Quidditch team, joined Hermione with a sinking worry in his chest. "I've never spent a Christmas alone in my life. I spent a holiday or two at school, yeah, but never alone. We should go see him tomorrow. Drag him back here and get him completely pissed."

Hermione nodded and smiled. "We really should. But I can't get pissed personally."

"Why not? You don't have work for days." Ron stopped short and turned to Hermione a questioning frown creasing his brow. "You don't mean you're? What do you mean?"

"For the record, I don't intend to have more than two children." Hermione folded her hands over her abdomen a nervous smile curving her lips. "Merry Christmas."

"Two? I guess that means one is on the way." Ron's grin broadened and he settled a hand over Hermione's gently. All thoughts about their terrible Christmas eve seemed unimportant and petty. They were going to be parents. Ron looked up and Hermione was crying. "Why are you crying?" He pulled her close and stroked her hair back out of her face. "This is happy."

"I'm happy." Hermione wept on, refusing to blame her hormones for the emotional roller coaster she seemed to be living. "Happy people can cry."

"Yes they can. Especially pregnant happy people." Ron leaned in for a salty kiss and Hermione responded urgently, irrational tears giving way to passion. She lay back on the settee and smiled up at him, her brown hair splayed out like a corola. The twinkling Christmas lights, painted her pale skin in red and green and blue. It all felt unreal, dreamlike. Ron moved forward gently, feeling clumsy and brutish. He didn't want to jostle her.

Hermione laughed and patted her still flat stomach. "Our baby is eighteen cells. We won't disturb them." She pulled Ron down a ferocious grin on her face. "Don't treat me like I'm made of glass."

"Yes ma'am."

---

Christmas dawned on a world blanketed in thick pristine snow. Harry awoke stiff and awkward. His glasses had slid down to the tip of his nose. For a moment he didn't know where he was. Then the night came back in a rush. He had fallen asleep on the settee watching the snow fall. Luna was snoring delicately and using his lap as a pillow. Harry pushed her hair back out of her face, and smiled as she slept on. It has been a crazy Christmas Eve, but at least he hadn't spent it alone. As much as he wanted to stretch, he let Luna continue to sleep.

A flash that had nothing to do with the rising sun blinded him, and Harry turned to the window where a paparazzi wizard hovered on a broom, with his camera out, preparing for another picture. Luna sat up abruptly and turned a tousled, slightly drooled upon visage toward the camera for the scoundrel's second photo.

Harry snatched his wand off the side table and threw the window open, but the blasted photographer had zoomed out of sight. Luna blinked toward him and frowned. "Did that man take our picture? It's an ungodly hour. Someone should explain manners to him." She straightened her top that had come mostly unbuttoned. "I'm completely disheveled, and you—" Luna grinned mischievously. "Well, you always did look handsome without much grooming."

Harry jerked the curtains closed and ran a tired hand over his stubbled jaw. The press couldn't leave him alone for five seconds, even at Christmas. Now Luna was going take a nice dirty trip to the tabloids thanks to him. It didn't matter that the evening had been innocent, that they had been stealing a bit of companionship on what was going to be a lonely holiday for both of them. "I'm sorry, Luna. That picture is going to throw you into the spotlight and not in a kind way."

"The spotlight is never kind," Luna said. "And it's okay. They're going to post a picture of me drooling and insinuate that we had a wild, passionate night of sex, alcohol, and fern abuse. I'll live, but I hope Ginny isn't angry."

"Ginny." Harry cringed and dropped onto the settee by Luna. "If there was any doubt that we were done, I guess this will finish things."

Patting Harry's arm consolingly, Luna smiled. "You need waffles. Wait here."

She snatched her cloak up and started scrounging for her wand. She paused when she found the half-empty bottle of plant food again, another moment from earlier in the evening springing to mind.

If she had given her fern, Elsbeth, the sleeping potion, what exactly had she slipped to Mr. Barnes, the octopus editor?

---

Across town on the Knight Bus, a meaty editor named Mr. Barnes stirred and yawned. He scratched his head sleepily and came away with some rather healthy green grass blades. Staring at the foliage scattered on his fingers, he staggered to his feet to get a look at himself in the driver's mirrors.

And he was green.

His bald head had sprouted a lawn, and his beard had bloomed out in daisies. "Merlin, what happened to me?"

The driver of the bus grinned at him and nodded. "Looking very spring-like their sir. Where would you like to get off? You were a bit incoherent when you got on last night. Think you must have had a very Merry Christmas Eve if you know what I mean."

"Merry..." Mr. Barnes tugged at one of the daisies in his beard and two sprouted in its place. "I don't remember."

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Author's Note:

Thanks for the fabulous beta job Steph. :)