New Year's Eve

It was New Year's Eve and 12 Grimmauld Place had come alive again. The New Year's Party had been going on for a couple of hours and at almost any other time in history it could have been said to be in full swing. But nothing ever got so lively, or light-hearted these days.

Harry Potter had returned for the celebrations, so the house was unusually full with his accompaniment of Aurors. They had arrived two days ago and had spent most of the time locked in the cellars reviewing the war they had fought so far and planning strategy for the war they would fight in the new year. Since Dumbledore's death, Harry had been a natural rallying point for those who opposed Voldemort, despite his youth. Some people had been reluctant, yes the boy had stood up to Voldemort and lived more than most but they had been isolated incidents, could he really deal with a war, which would last longer and be more terrible than any before? Only Hermione, Ron and Ginny had really seen Harry's response to his newfound responsibility. He himself had known that he would have to fight Voldemort but the wizarding community's attitude to him had not always been friendly, he had never expected to see so many people looking to him for guidance.

But he had risen to the challenge. Gathering older, wiser heads around him, he had listened to them. Past experience had taught him the importance of unity. Challenging Professor Quirrell in his first year at Hogwarts had shown him that he would sometimes have to rely on others for qualities and abilities he lacked. But he had become skilled in recognising people's strengths and weaknesses and drawing on those he needed. The Boy who Lived had become a young man, leading his own supporters in a desperate battle against the Dark Forces.

And none of this could be forgotten tonight. Even though it was New Year's Eve. Nobody had celebrated Christmas, Arthur Weasley had dressed as Father Christmas to entertain the few young children staying in the house, and he had been almost as excited as them at the Muggle tradition. But for everyone else the day had passed in a blur. A small group of Aurors had clashed with Death Eaters who were trying to invade a village Christmas nativity in Kent. There were no real casualties, this time. But it had still prevented much celebration.

Even tonight there were people missing from the house, they would be there later, but others would have left to take their place. A small group of Aurors would be keeping an eye on the area all through the night, on the look out for trouble.

But inside Molly Weasley was trying desperately to make sure everybody had a good time. She had hastily thrown some Christmas decorations up at the last minute and had enlisted her anyone she could find to help with food. If somebody took a photo, it would look like any other party, any other year. Christmas tree in the corner, paper chains around the walls, a long table with plenty of food and drinks, and a sprig of mistletoe over the door.

But it wasn't any other year. The volume was definitely muted. People's smiles were a little too wide, showing slightly too many teeth.

Hermione Granger had run up to the bedroom she shared with Ginny, and Tonks when she was around. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down. She walked to the window and leaned her forehead against the cool glass, looking out across London. Yet again, she found herself wishing that the letter from Hogwarts had been the practical joke that she had initially thought it was, wishing that magic didn't exist. Since it had been confirmed that Voldemort really had returned, there had been a constant ache inside her. She knew her parents were safely in hiding but unlike Harry and the Weasleys, there were many other Muggles that she cared deeply about.

She looked at her watch, it was half-past 11, she needed to return to the party. Picking up her hairbrush, she smoothed her hair in swift, decisive strokes. There was no point in worrying about things, there was nothing she could do; there was not enough safe space for the whole Muggle world.

Taking a final breath she left the room and went back downstairs. She did not go straight back to join the others but went first to the kitchen to get a couple of bottles of pumpkin juice, hoping they would cover her absence; she didn't want Harry to know she was still worried. He had offered many times to try and get her to her old neighbourhood, to see it again. But she was worried it would do more harm than good, maybe if they ignored it, the Death Eaters would too.

She crossed the hallway to the large room, full of people. The hallway was in darkness apart from a square of light stretching out from the party. As Hermione stepped into this square there was a slight shift in the room in front of her and she hesitated. It looked as though more than one of the Weasley boys had made as if to move towards the door.

But only one was still moving.

Ron reached the doorway and smiled at her. His back was to the light so his face was in shadow but she could just see the edges of his eyes crinkling. He reached his arms towards her, with one hand he took a bottle of pumpkin juice from hers, the other reached around to the small of her back and drew her towards him.

"Ron -" she began, but he cut her off.

"Look up," he said softly.

Hermione obeyed.

Hanging from the door frame above them was a small sprig of mistletoe. Her lips parted in a soft "oh" and then Ron's lips met hers.