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Mistlefinger
By Potter47

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Category: Post-HBP, December Engagement Challenge (2006-6)
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Comedy, Drama, Fluff, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 28
Summary: The world was bleak from the war. It was dangerous, it was treacherous, it was full of uncertainty... But it was Christmas. And so at Hogwarts, everything was all right again, if only for a little while.
Hitcount: Story Total: 17572; Chapter Total: 4408







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Mistlefinger
Potter47



I



The fire burnt bright in the Gryffindor common room on the evening before Harry's last winter break. Its light flickered out upon the four students in the room, so that every moment they all looked a little bit different than they had before. Harry and Ginny were in two of the armchairs, Ron was spread out on a couch, and Hermione was standing, yelling at Ron.





Crookshanks was curled in front of the fire, listening to the flames crackle with warmth, and the other flames crackle in a very different manner.





"What is it with you and Christmas, Ron...?" hissed Hermione.



"What do you mean?" said Ron.





"I mean, we always fight on Christmas, and I'm sick and tired of it."





Crookshanks was so dreadfully tired of the bickering between those two... and yet, so deliciously tired in general, which made the fire feel so very pleasant. He hadn't had a good catnap in hours. When would the humans shut up?





"Well, maybe it's not just me, did you ever think of that, huh, Hermione? Maybe you've got a problem with Christmas."





"I do not," said Hermione.





"Well neither do I."





"Then why are we always fighting--"





Suddenly, Ginny spoke up: "Because you're ALWAYS fighting, that's why," she said. "Why don't you just apologize, Ron?"





"Apologize? For what? I didn't do anything--"





"You've got to be kidding me--" said Hermione.





"What? I didn't..."





Crookshan ks squeezed all four of his eyelids tighter, hoping that perhaps he could block it all out and fall asleep. But something was keeping him awake, for some reason.





"Ron, you were the one who started this, you said--"





"I didn’t start anything--"





"Yes you--"





Ginny turned to Harry. "Why don’t we ever argue like that?" she asked.



Harry blinked. "What?" he asked. "You want to argue?"





"No, of course not, but I've just realized we haven't had an argument in ages."





"Well, I don't know," said Harry, and he stared at the fire.



Ginny made a face. "You seem odd, Harry," she said.





"Thanks?"





"C ome on, you know what I mean."





"I do?" said Harry, and then his eyes widened, as though he'd said something that surprised him, and he closed his mouth very tight.





"Yes, you do," said Ginny, shrewdly. "Do you have something on your mind? You can tell me, you know that..."





"No, there's nothing in my--on my mind," said Harry.





"You sure?"





"Yeah," he said. Once he and Ginny had stopped talking, Ron and Hermione's bickering seemed only to grow louder:





"You are so aggravating, Ron..."





"Oh thanks, you're not exactly easy to deal with yourself--"





"I don't know why I even bother--"





Crookshanks ears perked up. This didn't sound good.



"Well, me either. You obviously can't stand me..."





Crookshanks unfurled himself from his spot under the fire, and stretched.





"Sometimes that's really true, Ron, that's really true. Sometimes I honestly think that maybe we should--"





His paws padded as quickly as they could over to the couch where Ron was laying, and jumped up on him.





Ron started, nearly launching Crookshanks off, but before he knew it Crookshanks was rubbing his face against Ron's, nestling onto his chest. Ron smiled at him.



"Ugly little furball," he said affectionately.





Hermione's expression loosened, and she smiled a little smile as well. "Aw, Crook's got a new pillow."





Ginny grinned, and when she spoke, Harry suddenly remembered that he existed. He'd been absorbed in Ron and Hermione's row and forgotten that he was even there.





"I bet Crookshanks'd love to share his new pillow with you, Hermione," Ginny said.





"Yeah," said Ron, rubbing his chin on Crookshanks' forehead. "We've got plenty of room."



At first Hermione seemed to want to resist, but then Crookshanks upped the volume of his purring so that everyone in Gryffindor Tower could hear it, and she gave in.





"Oh, all right," she said. Ron sat up carefully to make room for Hermione on the couch, and Crookshanks didn't scratch him as he did so. Hermione put an arm round Ron and leaned her head against his shoulder.





"He's such a beautiful cat," she said.





Ron chuckled, although amazed at such an opportunity: "No he's not, but he's sure got a beautiful owner."





Crookshanks kneaded Ron's chest a bit--either in response to the insult or to the reference to an "owner."



Hermione smiled. "That was such a stupid line, Ron."





"Sorry," he said.



"It's OK," she said.





And Crookshanks knew that it was. The crisis had been averted, if only for a little while.





* * *




Harry was watching the canopy above his four-poster bed with great interest. Nighttime had fallen long ago, but he could not sleep. He felt none of the ease that usually came with the end of schoolwork, or classes, or teachers. He wasn't looking forward to the snowball fights, or the presents, or even the scrumptious food that the house-elves would be sending up in just a few days, for the Christmas feast.


No--this particular Christmas was very different from all the others he'd spent at Hogwarts. This year, Harry was in love... and as such, he was terrified.





What if she says no, what if she says no, what if she says no...?





The words had long-since evolved from a mere mantra to a mantra-ray, swimming stealthily around and around in Harry's mind as he began to drown in his own anxiety.




What if she says no, what if she says no...?




He thought about it and thought about it and tried to think of something else but only managed to think of it more. This was why he had failed at Occlumency--unwanted thoughts only gathered nearer to him.




What if she says--CLATTER.




Harry shot up in bed.


What on earth was that? he asked himself. It had sounded as though it had come from the roof. He stood, grabbed for his wand at his bedside table, and put on his dressing gown.




"Ron!" he said, shaking the boy in the next bed. "Ron, get up."




"Wha...?" Ron said, still very much asleep. Harry saw that Crookshanks was curled up on his chest again, and wondered why the cat had taken such an interest in him.




"There's someone on the roof."




Just as he said it, there arose another clatter: this one sounded very much more alive, almost like an animal.


Ron screwed up his sleepy eyes. "It's just the reindeer," he murmured. He made as though he were going to roll over in bed, but remembered Crookshanks and abandoned the attempt.


"Get up!" said Harry. He listened for a moment: "Come on, Ron, they're getting closer...!"




"Go back to bed," said Ron. "We can open the presents in the morning."




Harry gave up on him, and left the dorm, heading up the tower stairs further and realizing just now that he'd never been all the way up. Was there even a door to the roof...?




Up and up and up, he ran, and then, without warning, the stairway ended and Harry nearly ran face-first into the door--why, yes, there was a door--at the top.


He could hear the roof noises much better now: there was some sort of animal out there, and Harry could hardly imagine what it must have been.


He put his ear to the door, and heard muffled voices.

"You have the key, right?" said one, indicating that there must have been more than one person out there.




"I thought you had it."




"He gave it to you."




"But I gave it to YOU, before we left."




"Oh. Yes. Then I certainly hope I have it..." And a moment later: "Ah. Here it is. See, I told you I had it, no need to get all worked up."




"Just open the damn door, it's bleeding cold out here."




Another moment, and Harry heard the key in the lock. Before Harry had the time to realize he had ought to move out of the way, the door unlocked with a click and flung open, knocking Harry to the floor.



"Bloody hell, Harry!" said the shocked voice on the other side. "What do you think you're doing up here?"




Harry looked up, and saw a very peculiar sight, not at all what he had expected. Standing in the doorway at the top of Gryffindor Tower were none other than the Weasley twins, both dressed in full Santa Claus regalia. George was leading an out-of-place-looking reindeer by the reins.




"I heard something," said Harry. "I thought it was Death Eaters."



"Don't be silly, Harry," said Fred with a laugh. "No Death Eaters would be daft enough to ride a sleigh to Hogwarts. You've got to be a bit less paranoid."



Harry blinked.

"You rode a sleigh?"




"Oh, yeah," said George with a grin.

"One-horse-open, except with this poor guy instead!" said Fred, giving the reindeer a rough pat.




"You should try it--it's the only way to fly."




"But... why?"


"To deliver you lot your presents, of course!"




"Since you can't come to the Burrow for Christmas, we're bringing the Burrow to you."




"Don't worry, we don't got Mum in the back of the sleigh."




"Speaking of Mum, where is dear Ronniekins?"



"We wanted to surprise you all at the same time, you see..."




"He didn't want to wake up," Harry said.




"Well then I reckon we'd best go wake him, he wouldn't want to miss his dear big brothers, would he?" said Fred.




"Of course not," said George, with a grin.




* * *




Crookshanks was dreaming.

In the dream, there was a mouse in the Gryffindor common room. It was running and running and Crookshanks was chasing and chasing but no matter how fast he chased, the mouse was always gaining speed, getting farther and farther away. Finally, the mouse ran towards the portrait hole, and Crookshanks followed it into the corridor, where the Fat Lady's portrait snapped shut with a clatter behind them.


Suddenly, however, as Crookshanks' paws touched the cold stone of the corridor floor, the mouse was gone. Either it had gained enough speed to get around a corner, or else it had simply vanished, but all Crookshanks knew was that he had lost track of it.


He turned around to go back inside, to go back to bed, but the Fat Lady's portrait was sealed. He meowed helplessly, but even if the Lady had been awake, it seemed unlikely that the password would be "Meow."

And so Crookshanks was locked out.


If only he had caught the mouse before it was too late.



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