Christmas at Grimmauld Place

Harry hadn't wanted to come celebrate Christmas at Grimmauld Place. This was still, to him, Sirius's home, and he had feared that he was going to miss his godfather even more, being inside these walls again. Last year, he had had the first 'family holiday' of his life here, and just a few months later, Sirius had died. So, he hadn't wanted to come.

But then Mrs Weasley had insisted. "Your father should come too, dear, it would be a break from Hogwarts for both of you." And Ron had insisted. "Come on, mate, the whole family will be there." And Harry had given up, and accepted.

It hadn't been too awful, he thought. Yes, he missed Sirius, but not more than he usually did.

And tonight, Ron had provided entertainment for him.

Ron was drunk.

Harry was amused - a drunk Ron was even funnier than a sober one, he had discovered.

Hermione was looking at them, frowning. "Honestly, Harry, we should - "

"Herm, we're at the Order's headquarters, there are plenty of adults asleep upstairs. What could happen?" He paused, frowned, and added, "Except for one of them realizing that Ron is royally pissed?"

"Famous last words," Ron said, his words slurred. "You sure you don't want some, mate?"

"Certain."

"I thought nothing could happen," Hermione said, tartly. She too had refused to drink anything, and had made her disapproval clear. She didn't think it was a good idea to sneak a few bottles into the Order Headquarters - "Is that what you buy in Hogsmeade now?" - she didn't think it was a good idea for them to actually sit in the kitchen to drink them - or to watch Ron drink them - and she had expressed her feelings, extensively.

Harry shrugged. "I dislike loss of control." Which wasn't untrue, but what he really feared was getting drunk enough to forget to clear his mind and/or pass out, and wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

A flash of sympathy crossed Hermione's eyes, and she nodded. Then Ron began to giggle. "I still can't believe you wore that!"

Harry growled. Now that he was drunk, Ron found the whole "leather trousers" episode funny, and he couldn't stop talking about it. His friend seemed to have a single-track mind when he was under the influence of alcohol. "Are you ever going to get over it? It was just trousers, Ron."

"Leather trousers."

"Skin-tight, leather trousers," Hermione threw in.

"I thought you said I looked fine in them."

She nodded. "You looked hot in them." She smiled gently. "And I hope your father's reaction was everything you hoped for."

Harry smiled a little. He was trying to forget the second part of the night, Severus screaming, trashing on the bed, and what he must have looked like, shouting in Parseltongue. He was trying to keep in mind only McGonagall's smirk when she calmed Severus down. "It was, actually."

There was a small, companionable silence, then Ron spoke again. "People said you change. Changed, I mean."

Harry, thrown by the change of subject, could only say, "Huh?"

"And not just physically," Ron added, and suddenly, Harry didn't find the situation very funny anymore.

He shrugged. "I'm sixteen," he tried.

"They're right, you did." Ron looked saddened by that, and Harry felt a brief flash of anger.

"I hope so!"

"I liked you when you were trying to figure out what chocolate frogs were."

Harry snorted. "Things were simpler then. And I like to think that I'm not as big a prat as I was last year."

"You're not," Hermione said. "You're calmer, a lot. And you're more... confident, I guess. You like to take charge now. Sometimes, that is. "

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Sometimes," she went on, "it's... too much."

She didn't say anything about Dark Arts, but Harry didn't need her to. The 'incident' still weighed heavily on his mind. He sighed. "I know."

"But still, for what it's worth, as I said, you're a lot better, this year."

He smiled at her. "Thanks."

"I'm just saying," Ron continued, superbly ignoring them and getting back to the starting point, "You changed."

Harry sighed again. "Why shouldn't I have changed? Everything else certainly did."

"But we need some constancy in our lives."

"So, everyone else has the right to move on, but not me?"

"That's not what I mean." Ron frowned. "I'm pretty sure I had a point, but I lost the point." And he dissolved in a fit of giggles.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's too drunk, and you're too tired for a coherent discussion, Harry..."

"'M'not drunk!"

"But I am tired," Harry answered. "And Mrs Weasley will be up in a few hours. Let's help him upstairs."

"I can go up on my own," Ron proclaimed.

The other two stared at him defiantly. He got to his feet, swayed a little, got his balance, and moved, slowly but steadily, to the stairs.

"Well, colour me impressed," Harry whispered.

Hermione nodded. "I'll go with him, make sure he doesn't break anything."

"Yeah, go ahead, I'll clean up here."

They shared a smile, and said "Happy Christmas" at the same time. Then she was gone, and Harry began to pick up the bottles and the glasses. Bill's voice startled him. "He's not wrong, you know."

He turned and saw Bill coming out of the shadows. "How much of that did you hear?"

Bill smirked. "Enough."

Harry shrugged. "And I'll ask again, why shouldn't I have changed?"

Bill shrugged. "I don't know. And I don't think most of the changes have been a bad thing."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly.

"Sorry, I just mean...I'm not sure what I mean, aside from the fact that we all like you." Bill looked flustered, and Harry swore to himself, once more, that Ron would never, ever, know that he considered Bill the hottest of the Weasley brothers.

He hung his head a little to hide his blush. "Yeah."

"Harry..."

Bill seemed concerned, and Harry felt a brief flash of irritation.

"I'm just... I'm tired of people telling me that! Everyone seems to think that the only reason I changed is because of Dad, when... In two months, I lost Sirius, the Dursleys, and I had to make the idea of Snape-as-my-father fit into my view of the world. I'm a fairly adaptable guy, but even I needed time to adjust to that, you know!"

Bill looked worriedly at him. "Harry... Are you happy with the way things are?"

"Aside from being bloody terrified of him dying, yes, pretty much."

"Dumbledore protects him."

"And my parents were supposed to outlive him, and Sirius was safe here, and Privet Drive was safe for me. I don't have a brilliant track record as far as guardians go."

Bill smiled. "He has more reasons to live now than he did a year ago."

"I know."

"You'll both be fine."

Harry snorted. "Happily ever after, and all that?"

"You need to believe in it."

"I know."

Bill nodded, and grinned. "Leather trousers?"

Harry chocked back a laugh. "Just trying to prove a point."

Bill looked at him curiously. "I would have loved to see that."

Nope, Ron would never know. And was Bill flirting with him? "I think I'm not drunk enough for this discussion."

Bill snorted. "Possibly. Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Thanks. And you too."

Harry finished cleaning up the mess they had left, and left the kitchen. He was in the hall when a voice in his back said, "Interesting conversations you have."

"Are there more people lurking in the shadows?" he asked, rolling his eyes heavenwards.

"Not that I know of," his father said.

Harry turned back and looked at him. He smiled a little. "I take it you heard everything?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Severus nodded, not offering any comment. Harry turned again, and went up the stairs, feeling his father's eyes boring into his back. When he had reached the first landing, he said, "Happy Christmas, Dad."

He heard a quiet, "Happy Christmas, Harry."

He was still smiling when he closed the room's door.

Much later that night, as he was trying to fall asleep despite Ron's snores, Harry smiled, thinking that, against all odds, he and his father had survived a whole five months of werewolves, secrecy, Death Eater meetings and scrutiny from the Hogwarts population.

Perhaps, after all, things would be all right in the end.

After all, his father wasn't the only one who had more reasons to live now than he had just seven months ago.

He had loved Sirius very much, but he had never had the time to really get to know the man - their secret meetings, always looking over their shoulders in case someone was on Sirius's tracks, hadn't really been conductive to a happy godfather-godson, familial, relationship. And the Weasleys, accepting and welcoming as they were, just weren't his family. Molly was the closest thing he would ever have to a mother, and he was grateful that she had offered him the chance to know that, but she had so many children of her own that he was loathe to take much of her time.

Still, after sixteen years of longing for one, he finally had a family.

And he promised himself, once again, that he would fight with everything he had to keep it intact.

THE END