I Wish it Could Be Christmas Every Day - Adult - Neville/Lavender, George/Pansy, Zacharias/Luna
Title: I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday (1/2)
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters do not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: An encounter with a cursed object pulls three people into a never-ending Christmas Eve. Neville/Lavender, George/Pansy, Zacharias/Luna.
Word Count: ~16,000
A/N: Originally written for the nightfalltwen for the 2010 exchange. Thank you to csi_tokyo3 for the beta.
December 24th. Zacharias' House, Kensington.
Zacharias stirred slowly, drawn gently from sleep by coaxing fingers that slipped over his body in precise, teasing touches. He smiled to himself, eyes closed as the covers shifted, warm lips pressing to his chest in a tantalising trail that worked down his body. He lifted his hand, a little uncoordinated in his sleepy state, fingers meeting long, silky hair and earning him a soft laugh before those lips closed around the length of his morning erection.
He sighed, head pressing back into the pillow as he simply enjoyed the exquisite torment of of a talented tongue.
Those warm fingers didn't stay idle, and, as they began to join in, Zacharias pushed the covers back.
Lips still wrapped around his length, Luna looked up at him with wide luminous eyes, her blonde hair tousled in what Zacharias thought was an irresistibly sexy way. She drew back, tongue lapping at him like a lollipop.
"Morning," he groaned, shuddering at the sight of her.
"Good morning," she said blithely, her hand replacing her mouth. Luna sat up, hair tumbling around her bare shoulder. Sitting there deliciously nude, she started to crawl forward over him, so much pale skin simply begging to be touched.
Luna wasted no time in guiding him to her entrance, sinking down on him with a pleased sigh and an equally happy smile on her lips.
Zacharias bit his lip against the curse that was on the tip of his tongue, hands quickly coming to rest on her waist and guide her with every rise and fall of her body. Luna leant forward, kissing him firmly and moaning contentedly into his mouth. Her thighs gripped his sides, her movements unabashedly wanton as she worked herself to completion.
She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't last long at this time of the morning, the sounds of her pleasure only increasing as her slim fingers dipped between their joined bodies to stroke her clit in slow circles. She mewled in pleasure, hips rocking harder against him. Zacharias' fingers pressed harder into her as he tried to hold back his desire and let her finish first.
Luna came with a long, low groan, quivering from head to toe as she reached her release. She sighed contentedly, still moving in gentle rolls of her hips as she coaxed him to join her. Zacharias' hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair and drawing her down for another kiss. The tension in him in exploded in just a soft sigh, fingers tightening and holding Luna closer.
She purred, lying on his chest and slowly stroking his side. "Happy Christmas Eve."
He shifted beneath her, trying to get comfortable but failing when he realised that he would need the loo in a minute. "I don't really celebrate Christmas Eve. It's just another day." Encouraging her off him, Zacharias pressed a kiss to her cheek and rose from the bed with a yawn.
Apparently not bothered, Luna simply stretched out, filling the space that he had just vacated. Her fingers toyed with one of her nipples as she watched him; it would have been tempting to simply rejoin her, but Zacharias' bladder protested too much. He raked his hand through his dark blond hair. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Alright," she said with a smile. "I'll be here."
Though he hadn't doubted it in the slightest, Luna was true to her word and was still sprawled across the bed when Zacharias returned from the bathroom. Her body was flushed pink with arousal, legs spread. Her fingers had drifted down from her breast to between her thighs, moving expertly over the slick skin. Her head was tipped back, mouth open in an O of pleasure.
Zacharias knew he ought not to stare. Well, that was not strictly true. With Luna, he could stare all he wanted and he knew she wouldn't mind. In fact, she would probably find an audience arousing. Still, his sensibilities told him that he ought to avert his eyes.
He couldn't. The image of her lying there touching herself was mesmerising.
He cleared his throat gently and Luna opened her eyes, looking up at him with a self-satisfied smirk. "Everything all right?" she asked casually, fingers not stilling for even a second.
Zacharias swallowed thickly. "Yeah, fine." He paused for a long moment. "Do you have to do that?"
"Yes," she said airily. "I really would like another orgasm before breakfast." She licked her lips. "Do you want to help?"
"I'll... pass this time. Thanks." Zacharias could barely take his eyes away from the sight her touching herself intimately. Luna wasn't going to stop, but he was not going to watch. Not this morning, not if he actually wanted to do anything today. If he stayed staring at her, there was every chance that he would simply get back into bed and not leave until absolutely necessary. Christmas Eve or not, there were errands that needed to be run.
"Sometimes I don't know what you see in me," he said, shaking his head. Tugging his underwear drawer open, he rummaged in it and found a clean pair of boxers. Tugging them on, he cast a glance at her over his shoulder. Luna's chest heaved, a familiar expression on her face as she grew closer to climax.
"At first it was because we had similar needs for intercourse. But I've grown very fond of you, Zacharias."
Picking up his jar of moisturiser, Zacharias paused. A square wooden box sat at top of the chest of drawers, intricate carvings covering its surface. It looked old, older than he could identify. It looked familiar, but at the same time he knew he had never seen it before. He couldn't even place it in a century, let alone a country.
He turned to Luna, a questioning look on his face, just in time to see her reach that second orgasm. She lay there, basking in the afterglow, almost seemed to glow herself, an ethereal beauty stretched out on his bed. That was a sight even more mesmerising than what he had seen her doing before.
"Luna, what is this?"
She sat up, popping herself on her elbows. "That? Just something I found."
Zacharias picked it up, curiously turning it over. "Looks old."
"Yes, very. I'm not quite sure how old, though."
He tried to open it, certain there was a latch there.
"I think it's cursed," Luna added.
Zacharias nearly dropped it. Turning to face her fully, he stared in open-mouthed disbelief. "You couldn't have told me that before I started touching it?"
Luna sucked her lower lip into her mouth, thinking about it. "Yes," she agreed, "I probably should have." She rose from the bed, surprisingly elegant despite often looking like a newborn lamb teetering around. "I don't think it will hurt you, though. It hasn't harmed me so far."
"It's a potentially cursed box that we don't know the origin of," Zacharias pointed out to stubbornly. "I don't really think we should have it in the bedroom."
"Why? I don't think it has anything to do with sex. Or sleeping. Which are obviously the two activities that happen in here the most."
"No," he said, trying to remain patient. "You might be right. But I don't know where it came from and personally I'd rather not have cursed objects around me while I'm sleeping."
He eyed the box warily. "I should take it to Gringotts. My friend Megan can have a look at it. She's a curse breaker." Zacharias put the box down carefully, watching it to make sure it didn't explode.
Luna shook her head. "I was going to look at it myself."
"What if it's cursed? You could get hurt if you don't know what it was." Luna was a lot of things, but she was not a professional at this sort of thing.
She fixed her cool grey gaze on him, unblinking as she stood there naked in front of him. "If you insist. But it could wait until after Christmas."
"It won't take long."
"At least have breakfast before you go. I think I'm going to do a fry-up. But we haven't got any mushrooms because I had them for lunch yesterday."
As she started towards the bedroom door, Zacharias cleared his throat. "Luna? You might want to put some clothes on. You remember what happened the last time you fried bacon naked."
She pursed her lips. "Yes. That was most unpleasant."
December 24th. Tillie's Tea Shop, Diagon Alley.
With a chunky striped scarp tied artfully around her neck and her hair loose around her shoulders, the only hint of Lavender's scars were those that just managed to creep up past her jaw. Her breath curled up in a white puff and she rubbed her gloved hands together, expression solemn despite the cheery Christmas music that spilled from the tea shop behind her. Finally, a smile broke across her face. "Neville!"
Beaming, she hugged him tightly. "So glad you're here." His cheek was cold as she kissed it; she laughed softly, wiping off the smudge of her coppery cinnamon-scented lipgloss. "Let's go inside. I have news, but I can't stay for breakfast like I promised. I only have time to get a drink to take away. They called me into work today because someone's sick."
She gripped his sleeve, nearly dragging him inside. A blast of heat surrounded them once the door swung closed with a tinkle of Christmas bells and Neville immediately began to pull off his thick cloak and sturdy gloves. He stuffed the gloves into a concealed inner pocket of the cloak, sure that he would lose them otherwise. "But it's Christmas Eve, Lavender."
Lavender sighed. "The goblins don't really care. I'm sorry. I was really looking forward to this, too. Maybe we could get together for dinner later?"
With her eyes so wide and hopeful like that, Neville couldn't say no. "Of course. I'll book us a table somewhere. So, what sort of news?"
"Hang on," she teased, despite her brimming excitement. "Let me order first. I have been dreaming about the special hot chocolate since I dragged myself out of bed."
"The one with marshmallows on?" Neville shook his head. "Lavender, it's not even nine o'clock.
"It's Christmas, so they're green and shaped like Christmas trees," she agreed, eyes lit up.
As she unfastened her cloak to account for the warmth of the cafe, Neville couldn't help but smirk. He didn't know anyone else who could wear a knitted pink jumper with a snowman on the front like that and still be able to make it look sexy. The highly impractical miniskirt she had paired it with probably helped, but he still held the opinion that anyone else would look ridiculous.
Neville peered at the chalkboard above the counter where the drinks were listed. Fairy lights twinkled all around, shimmering in time with the music.
"You're going to order a pot of tea and you know it," Lavender said gently, her foot gently nudging his.
"I... might have wanted something different. For a change." Neville cleared his throat. "I might have the same as you." When Lavender raised her eyebrows, he sighed. "All right. So I'm going to have tea. But I'm going to have toast and jam, too."
"Nice choice." Lavender tugged down what little there was of her skirt, nails painted the same pink as her festive jumper. "Breakfast is important."
"Says the woman who'd consume her weight in marshmallows if she could. All that sugar's not good for you."
She pursed her lips. "I'm a big girl. I'll cope."
When a young waitress with tinsel started to fix their order, Lavender grinned and tugged him over a nearby table to sit down while they waited. She leant forward, eager to share her news with Neville. "So remember I applied for a job ages ago? The international thing with the Ministry?"
"Er, vaguely?"
"Well, they didn't have any positions then, but I got an owl on Monday and I went in for a meeting yesterday afternoon."
She bit her lip, barely constraining herself. So many emotions bubbled inside her that she couldn't keep her news to herself any longer.
"They offered me a position. It's not the same job that I interviewed for, but when the opportunity came up, they said I was the first person they thought of." Lavender clasped her hands together, grinning broadly. "I'd be part of a group going around to wizarding schools all over the world. The team is going to be from all over the world, too. We'll be setting up pen pal exchanges and teaching custom from different countries. I'm trying to decide whether to accept or not."
Neville slumped back against his wooden chair. "Right."
"Yeah." Lavender bit her lip. "Thing is, I've got to leave on Monday. We're starting in the New Year and there's all sorts of things that need to be prepared before then."
"But... Merlin. That's so soon."
Pursing her lips, Lavender nodded. "I know. But this whole year could be an amazing adventure, you know? Lots of new experiences."
"A year?"
She nodded; Neville looked down at his lap, trying to formulate a response to that.
A silence fell between them, filled with cheery Christmas music about hippogryffs gambolling in the snow. Lavender nibbled at her thumbnail, gaze trained on Neville. Eventually, she sighed, hands dropping to her lap. "This is the part where you're meant to congratulate me or tell me you're happy for me." Or tell me to stay.
If he asked, she would stay in a heartbeat. No one else would have that influence over her, only Neville. Whatever their friendship was at the moment, she'd been feeling for a while that perhaps it was just about to tip into something else. Neville didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, though, and she still couldn't quite tell what he was thinking or feeling.
"Sounds like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity."
Lavender licked her lips. "Yeah. I guess it is."
"Congratulations."
She sighed, sitting back into her seat. "Thank you." She searched for the right words to say, digging even deeper to try and find the bravery that she knew she had in her. The best she could come up with, though, was, "I'm going to miss you."
"No," Neville said dismissively, shaking his head. "You'll probably forget all about me. You know, all those adventures you're going to have."
Lavender had never imagined that Neville would ever be capable of breaking her heart. She had been so sure that it would be the other way around, if it were to ever happen. But right at that second it happened, as sharp and clean as snapping the head off a gingerbread man.
"I'm sure I won't," she said softly, the smile on her lips not even close to reaching her eyes.
December 24th. Pansy's Residence, Knockturn Alley.
"And take you on my sleigh to the North Pole..."
Pansy cringed as her alarm broke into festive music. She had been awake for a good five minutes, just waiting for it to go off so that she could have every minute beneath her warm covers that was possible before she had to get up and get ready for work.
She sighed and rolled over, fingers fumbling with the switch and cursing her alarm clock before she finally managed to get it to shut up.
Now that she was up, she easily slipped into her morning routine. A quiet cup of tea and a slice of wholemeal toast spread thinly with her favourite apricot jam. Next came brushing her teeth, then the ritual of cleansing, toning and moisturising, something which she found especially important in the stinging December cold.
At work, there was no guarantee of what might happen to her skin, either. Things tended to blow up or get thrown across the shop floor at the slightest provocation, the products as temperamental as some of the customers. The worst was what happened when people tried to shoplift. Depending on the item they were attempting to filch, it could get messy very, very quickly.
Pansy brushed her dark hair up into a neat chignon at the back her of head, then pulled on the lurid magenta robes that had become both the bane of her life and her salvation. Of all people, of all the job applications she had sent out, he was the only person who had deigned to employ her. It was humiliating - not even the Ministry of Magic would hire her and it often seemed as though they would take on anyone. It just wasn't fair and her pride could barely stand it.
If there was one thing she was good at, however, it was keeping her chin up and carrying on. It was something she'd had to pick up quickly after the war, finding hostility from many of her peers after her failed attempt to get Harry Potter handed over to the authorities. She'd always been the type to the biggest power and, at that moment, she'd felt that had been You-Know-Who. If he wanted Harry, he was going to get him. Right? Apparently not.
So, if she were going to hold her head high today, it was going to be held up with a sprig of faux holly artfully arranged in her ponytail and with Seraphina's Silver Sparkle eyeshadow highlighting the shape of her eyes. She walked tall in equally shiny silver shoes, having long since decided that if she were going to wear these gaudy robes she would embrace the gaudiness with everything she had.
George didn't look so impressed when she put his customary morning cup of tea down on the workbench beside him.
"Pansy," he said, quill pausing as he sketched out ideas for a new label design. "I said you didn't have to come in today. It's Christmas Eve."
She smiled serenely, though inwardly her stomach was tying itself in knots. "It's fine. I don't mind at all."
"It's Christmas Eve," he stressed.
George put the lid back on his bottle of red ink, standing up; Pansy took a step backwards, looking up at him. She swallowed. It wasn't fair for a man who annoyed her just by existing to have such blue eyes. "I'll go and open up. I think I need to do some dusting."
He kept his cool gaze fixed on her, silent for a long moment. George's shoulders shifted and she thought that he was going to fold his arms over his broad chest, but his arms stayed hanging by his sides. "All right. Don't forget to do behind the counter."
"Of course, Mr Weasley." As chirpy as she made it sound, those words still made her skin crawl.
Pansy had barely picked up her luridly chartreuse feather duster when the same Christmas music that she had been hearing solidly for the last month started piping into the shop. It wasn't your standard Christmas fare, but rather variations on familiar tunes that were jam packed with more double entendres than one could shake a stick at. She sighed, glad that it was Christmas Eve because that meant all this incessant Christmas cheer would soon be over for another year.
She flipped the shop's sign from closed to open with a flick of her wand then turned to the display behind the counter. Pansy pursed her lips. Slap bang in the middle of the display was a photograph enclosed in the most ostentatious and tawdry frame that Pansy had ever seen in her life. There was no denying what an eyesore the frame was, but it wasn't the decoration that made Pansy's stomach churn - though it certainly offended her sensibilities. Instead, it was the photograph it held.
It had been taken during the war, or maybe just before it had really started. George and his now-dead twin had their arms around Harry Potter himself, the three of them grinning at the camera in the middle of the busy shop. Pansy could just about make out the fuzzy shape of Hermione Granger's head in the background, but right at the edge of the picture was Ron Weasley, gawping at the camera as though he had never seen one before in his life.
If there was one person she didn't think she'd ever be able to look in the eyes, it was Harry Potter. Even though his photographic self was smiling and laughing, she had long since convinced herself that he was glaring at her every single time she looked at it.
As could be expected, the shop was quiet. Pansy only had herself for company, serving only one customer, a harried-looking last-minute shopper, before George emerged from his workroom. Blue ink streaked across his freckled cheek and he wiped his hands on the apron that was slung low on his hips before putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.
"I've decided it's pointless staying open. I'm closing early."
Pansy's heart started to race. "If you want to go, I can keep the shop open."
"Pansy," he said firmly, "it's Christmas." He tossed his hair back, moving it out of his eyes. "Go home, relax, enjoy yourself. I'm sure you can't wait to get out of those robes. I've heard you complain about how much you hate them."
There was something about hearing George Weasley tell her to get out of her robes that made her stomach knot up again. She sighed, pained. "Do I have to?" How thick did he have to be to not understand that she didn't want to be at home today? Or any day, really. She was always here early and stayed as late as she could and there was no way that it was because she liked the decor. Or the company. Definitely not the company.
He chuckled dryly. "Yes. Tell you what, I've got some money that needs to be taken to Gringotts. Could you drop it over? You don't have to come back afterwards."
Her shoulders drooped and she looked around. Maybe, just maybe, she did like the eccentricity of the decor a bit. Summoning her self-composure, she put on her best neutral expression as she looked up at her boss. "If you insist, Mr Weasley."
December 24th. Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley.
Goblins, it has to be said, had never been known for being the most friendly of creatures. The human employees at Gringotts were generally happy to be left alone by the goblins when it came to their appearance - and in some cases personal hygiene - but when it stopped customers from actually getting access to the services that they required at the bank, it left them less than impressed.
For the last six months, a trial had been in place at the bank based on the St Mungo's Welcome Witch. Lavender was one of the Gringotts Welcome Witches, tasked with standing in the lobby and direction wizards to the appropriate part of the bank.
It was not her job, she thought ruefully, to be ogled by wizards old enough to be her grandfather; Lavender didn't need eyes in the back of her head to know that the last wizard she had assisted was looking at her derrière as he walked past. Not that there was anything in particular to look at when she was wearing deep red robes that went all the way down to her ankles, but she didn't put anything past men with false eyes or other optical devices like the wizard's shiny silver monocle.
Despite being called in to work at the last minute, Lavender couldn't be too upset when it meant she'd had a few extra galleons for the trouble, nor when there was every chance that she would soon be leaving this job. Putting on her biggest and brightest smile to greet the few weary wizards and witches who ventured out to the bank on Christmas Eve simply made it all the more easier for her to squash down the disappointment of Neville's non-reaction to the news of her job offer.
She hoped he'd just been too shocked to say anything. Or maybe she'd simply been reading everything wrong.
Lavender sighed, immediately pulling herself together when the familiar scowling face of Pansy Parkinson came through the door. As much as Lavender had a general dislike of the witch after years of unpleasant behaviour at school, she couldn't help by admire the shoes she was wearing. Merlin, her feet would be aching like nobody's business if she wore them to work.
"Good morning," she said pleasantly, smiling. "How can I help you this morning?"
Pansy's scowl darkened. Did Brown have to smile at her like that? The last thing she felt like doing right now was smiling. Being sent home from work early mean that she had to go home and, frankly, that was far from ideal. Her charmed fireplace was nowhere near efficient enough to warm her draughty little bedsit and she couldn't even afford paper chains, left alone a tree. Festive cheer was the last thing on her mind.
"I need to deposit -"
"Which way to the curse breakers' offices?"
Cheeks flushed red from the cold, a yellow and black scarf tied haphazardly at his neck, Zacharias looked expectantly at Lavender. He had a potentially cursed object in his bag and whatever the other witch wanted could obviously until he had dealt with this. He recognised her from school. Parkhouse or Parkinson or something like that. Slytherin and not really work his time or the effort required to remember her these days.
"Well, excuse you," Pansy snapped, dark eyes narrowing dangerously. She was many things, but she was not invisible. Having attention taken away from her made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and she held her chin up.
Zacharias blinked at her. "Yes, excuse you." He turned back to Lavender. "Well?"
"Sir," Lavender said, mustering her most patient tone. "I was just helping this woman, so if you'll wait just a moment and -"
"No." He carefully held the bag he was carrying up to eye level so that neither witch could miss it. "This is a potentially dangerous item and I insist you help me first."
Lavender pursed her lips, all too tempted to point out that she probably could have helped Pansy and him in the time it had taken for him to complain, but that wasn't going to help matters. Any good Hogwarts student knew not to tickle a sleeping dragon and she wasn't about to aggravate Zacharias further.
Pansy, however, was not the patient sort. "No! I was here first." She swatted the bag away from her face, palm slapping the back firmly. "Wait your turn."
Making a strangled noise, Zacharias tried to steady it from swaying dangerously, only succeeding in making it swing further and catch Lavender on the temple.
"Ow!"
For a moment, bright yellow light encompassed the world.
Spots swimming in front of her eyes, Lavender rubbed the side of her head. "Sir," she said quietly, the knock to the head upsetting her already unsteady emotions, "please stand to the side for a moment. If you interrupt again, I'll have you escorted from the bank." Lavender blinked back tears, wondering why she had assumed that today would be easy.
Pansy blinked, too. She wasn't sure what to make of the odd flash of light, even going so far as to wonder whether she was seeing things after being part of one too many minor explosions at the joke shop. "Um. I need to deposit some money."
"If you'd like to see one of the goblins over there," Lavender said, managing to keep her tone even and not sob from her sudden headache, "they'll be able to help you."
"Thanks," Pansy said slowly, looking from Lavender to Zacharias and then simply deciding that she didn't want to know what had just happened.
Lavender gritted her teeth for a moment and couldn't bring herself to smile. "Now, sir, how can I help you?"
All colour drained from his face, Zacharias had the horrible feeling that the mystery box had been responsible for the explosion of light that was still making his vision swim. Nothing seemed to have happened, though. No one had dropped dead or sprouted tentacles or anything of that type, so maybe things were fine. For now.
His stomach churned with more nerves than before. "Curse breakers?" he asked weakly.
"Through that door over there. Turn left at the hat stand." When he simply stared at her, Lavender held in a sigh with great difficultly. "Anything else, sir?"
Zacharias licked his lips. "No. Thanks. That's everything."
"Merry Christmas, sir."
December 24th. Again. Zacharias' House, Kensington.
Coaxing fingers slipped over Zacharias' body in precise, teasing touches, drawing him gently from sleep. He stirred slowly, smiling to himself. The covers shifted, soft lips pressing warm kisses to his chest in a tantalising trail that worked down the length of his body.
A little uncoordinated in his sleepy state, he lifted his hand until his fingers met long hair, the strands silky to the touch. His fingers moved over Luna's head gently, earning him a soft laugh.
Her warm lips closed around the length of his morning erection and he let out a long, pleased sigh. The pillow embraced his head as her enjoyed the exquisite torment of of her talented tongue and fingers, no desire to stop her from doing whatever she wanted.
Zacharias pushed the covers back, Luna looking up at him with her lips still wrapped around his length. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in a tousled mess, irresistibly sexy. As she drew back, her tongue lapped at him like a lollipop.
He groaned, shuddering at the sight of her looking both so innocent and so debauched. "I could get used to this."
She pressed a strangely chaste kiss to the end of his erection, sitting up deliciously nude. "I shall have to remember that," she said, starting to crawl forward over him. "Good morning," she said blithely, her hand replacing her mouth. "Happy Christmas Eve."
Zacharias groaned, her words not sinking in immediately. Often, things that Luna said went straight over his head and he had developed a habit of half-listening, paying attention only when he was sure he needed to. "What?" he asked, gasping. Wasn't it a little early for her to be putting her finger there ?
Luna looked at him curiously with wide luminous eyes. "Pardon?" She straddled his thigh, arousal rubbing against him as she shifted back and forth.
Though there was so much pale skin in front of him simply begging to be touched, Zacharias was too confused to take advantage. "It's Christmas Day."
"No," she said, apparently unconcerned by his confusion, "that's tomorrow."
"But it was Christmas Eve yesterday."
"Yesterday was the twenty third," Luna corrected.
Disorientated, Zacharias sat up. Yesterday had definitely been Christmas Eve. Luna had woken him just like this. They'd had breakfast. They'd made it as far as the stairs before they'd given into desire again. He'd gone to Gringotts with...
His gaze landed on his dresser. A square wooden box sat atop the chest of drawers, intricate carvings covering its surface.
All arousal seemed to leave his body in a rush, despite the encouraging strokes of Luna's hand. "What's that?" he asked tightly, throat constricting.
Luna turned to look, tilting her head to the side. "Oh," she said, her free hand lifting to play with her breast as she sat there. "I found it. I think it's cursed."
Zacharias looked at her with wide eyes. "Yeah," he said finally, "I think you might be right."
December 24th. Again. Pansy's Residence, Knockturn Alley.
"And take you on my sleigh to the North Pole..."
Alarm clock off. Kettle on. Tea. Toast. Apricot jam. Cleanse, tone, moisturise. Hair. Robes. Holly. Shoes.
While Pansy quietly accepted that funds were tight, she now knew better than to drink half a bottle of cheap wine before bed. Her head didn't hurt, but apparently it had made her dream in excruciating detail, exhausting her at the same time. She hated mornings when she woke up feeling more tired than she had when she'd retired for the night, but that troubled her less than the dream she'd had.
If she were going to dream about anything, did she have to dream about work? It was equal measures boring and depressing. That sort of vivid dream ought to be reserved for dreams filled with exotic locales and shirtless men adoring her, not dusting and checking stock.
Setting down her duster, she stowed it beneath the counted. The place seemed clean enough for now, in her opinion. Pansy found a suitably shiny surface and adjusted the holly that she'd tucked into her ponytail. It wasn't real holly, but it was still a little prickly, one of the leaves scratching her head every time she turned her head.
The scant few customers that came in seemed to be impressed with the swift service that she provided them. Even Pansy was surprised with herself; though she considered herself quite good at her job, being nice to people and helping them didn't come as naturally to her as it did to other people. Deja vu prodded at her as she popped a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees into a bag. Had she really dreamt about this? Merlin, maybe she did need a couple of days off, even though all that she had to look forward to tomorrow was the seasonal marathon of Days In Diagon on the Wizarding Wireless Network and a tin of tomato soup for lunch.
She sighed. Time for a cup of tea to clear her head, she decided. There were very few things at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that Pansy would eat voluntarily, but the tea supply was almost sacred and there was no way that George would tamper with it.
Pansy glanced around to make sure that the shop was empty before ducking out to the workroom.
She paused in the doorway, cringing as a bottle of blue ink squirted at George as he made to dip his quill into it. He frowned and gave the bottle a disapproving flick with his finger.
"Mr Weasley?" she started tentatively. As George turned to look at her, Pansy's fingers gripped when doorframe when she spotted the streak of ink across his freckled cheek. "The shop's quiet so I was just going to make a cup of tea. Would you like some?"
"I was just about to come and see you," George admitted, rising from his chair. He quickly wiped his hands on his low-clung apron, giving Pansy a smile. "I've decided it's pointless staying open. I'm closing early."
Sure that wasn't the first time she had heard him say those words, Pansy's heart started to race. She licked her lips quickly, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "If you want to go, I can keep the shop open," she insisted.
"Don't be silly, Pansy," he said firmly. "It's Christmas." George pushed his his hair back from his eyes, succeeding in smudging bright red ink across his other cheek. "Go home, relax, enjoy yourself. I'm sure you can't wait to get out of those robes. I always hear you complaining about how much you hate them."
That was true, Pansy couldn't deny that.
Brilliant. Now even her boring, true-to-life dreams were telling her that George Weasley didn't want to have her around, just like in real life. At some point, something must have gone very wrong.
She sighed. "Do I have to? Really, if you want to be with your family, I'll lock up. I've done it before plenty of times."
The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before it twisted into something more wry. He gave a soft, mirthless chuckle. "It's fine Pansy. I'm the boss, I should do the boring stuff."
Pansy's shoulders drooped. "If you insist, Mr Weasley."
"I do." He paused. "Tell you what, I've got some money that needs to be taken to Gringotts. Could you do me a favour and drop it over? You don't have to come back afterwards."
The money bag that he presented her with seemed to weigh twice as much as she remembered. Although, obviously, she didn't remember it at all because to suggest that she had lived this before was utterly ridiculous. She'd simply had a dream about work last night and now she was just a bit stressed about Christmas and was attributing things to her dream that she hadn't even dreamt about.
Obviously.
It seemed to get heavier and heavier as she made her way down Diagon Alley. Pansy barely heard the carol singers that she passed or noticed any of the festive display. All she noticed was how the arches of her feet were starting to ache and that she really ought to buy a pair of gloves in the January sales if she had the money.
Just inside the entrance of Gringotts, a headache started to brew at the base of her skull. Lavender Brown stood just a short way away on the polished marble floor, complete with a perky smile and neatly curled hair. Pansy had never hated the sight of her more than she had in that moment.
Pansy's somewhat shaky steps over to her were interrupted when a hurrying wizard nearly knocked her over. As it was, he grabbed her and the bag he was went flying, skidding over the floor to rest a couple of feet from a horrified-looking Lavender Brown. Scowling, Pansy tried to right herself without his assistance, though several insults died in her throat when she found herself looking up at the annoyed face of Zacharias Smith.
He gave a strangled gasp, releasing her immediately; Pansy nearly lost her balance. "Careful," she hissed.
"Hey," called Lavender. "What is this?"
They both turned to stare. She had picked up the canvas bag and was peering into it with a deep curiosity written on her face. Zacharias legged it across the lobby so fast that Pansy had to hurry to keep up.
"That's mine," he insisted, grabbing it back from Lavender.
Surprised, Lavender put up no resistance. She frowned, gingerly touching her temple as she felt the ghost of a headache spread through her. "Sorry," she murmured, then straightened herself up, looking every inch the professional Welcome Witch that she could. "I had the strangest feeling I've done this before." Maybe it was a sign that she needed to pay attention to her tea leaves, she thought, or simply being yelled at by a goblin via the Floo for doubting that it was indeed the twenty-fourth of December had set her off-kilter for the whole day. She shrugged. "Must have dreamt it."
"You dream about work?" Pansy sneered. Although she felt very much the same way, mocking someone usually made her feel better.
Today, it didn't seem as effective.
Zacharias tugged the bag off the wooden box, laying the box flat on the palm of his hand. It was surprisingly light and looked as though it ought to have been heavier. "I think we have been here before."
"Well, that's just ridiculous." Pansy was vaguely happy believing that her deja vu was simply the result of a bad bottle of wine.
"No, I think this box did something."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "The only thing it's done is hit Brown in the head. Probably knock some sense into her."
"Hey!" Lavender protested. She pursed her lips together quickly, not wanting to draw attention from the goblins; she was already in their bad books today, it seemed. "But, wait. It didn't hit me in the head." Though it was certainly starting to feel like it had.
"No, she's right," Zacharias said carefully, eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Pansy. "It did. Yesterday. Today? The first time we were all here."
"This is the first time I've been to Gringotts for weeks," Pansy told him curtly. There was no point in depressing herself with the emptiness of her vault any more often than she absolutely needed to.
Lavender tucked her hair behind her ear, frowning. "I don't understand. What's happening?" She didn't mean to whine but, well, this was confusing. Everything felt like it had gone wrong from the moment she had got out of bed, as though she'd done everything better before somehow.
"It's this box," Zacharias said, angry tone directed at the wooden cube. "It's... made us relive today or something."
An uneasiness bubbled slowly in the pit of Pansy's stomach. A horrible, dawning feeling of agreement spread through her before her head took over and told her not to listen to something so stupid. "I think someone's been at the mulled wine a little early," she announced. "Now," Pansy continued, looking squarely at Lavender, "I have some money to pay in. It's over this way, isn't it?"
Gaze following Pansy's pointing finger, all Lavender could do was nod. More confused than ever before, she didn't have the presence of mind to argue. Nor could she: Pansy was correct.
Lavender sighed softly and gave Zacharias a watery smile as Pansy left them standing there with a sharp tap tap tap of her silver heels on the marble. "Um... The curse breakers are through that door over there. Turn left at the hat stand."
"I didn't ask you where they were yet."
Her eyes widened. "But you were going to."
"Yes. I was." He stared at the box. As empty as it felt, it was clear to him that it was holding a big secret.
"Oh, dear," Lavender said quietly.
"Mmm." Zacharias nodded, distracted by the intricate carvings on the box. "My thoughts exactly."
December 24th. Again. Lavender's Flat, London.
A steaming mug of hot cocoa sat on the coffee table, sadly devoid of any marshmallows, novelty or otherwise.
Lavender sighed. She'd lost her appetite for the cocoa almost as soon as she'd finished making it. Today had been beyond bizarre and somehow that had quenched even her desire for chocolate. If there was one thing that Lavender was sure to always want, it was chocolate. To feel slightly sick at just the thought of it was unthinkable.
A Christmas edition of Days In Diagon was playing on the wireless, Lavender listening as she curled up on the sofa. Though the clock had yet to even reach seven o'clock, Lavender was already in her favourite pyjamas, thick socks snug on her feet to keep her warm.
"Damon," proclaimed the breathy ingénue of the drama, "you should sit down. There's something I need to tell you."
Lavender leant closer to the wireless, watching it intently as she waited with baited breath to hear the big announcement. They had been teasing this for weeks, a dark secret that Miranda was keeping close to her chest and away from her beloved Damon. The characters were childhood sweethearts; Lavender had been listening to their trials and tribulations since she had been a teenager.
"Miranda, you're scaring me."
She closed her eyes. In her mind, Damon was incredibly handsome. Her first crush, albeit one on a fictional character that didn't even have a face she could swoon over.
A long pause passed between them, time enough for someone to knock on her door. Lavender gasped, the sudden interruption to her quiet time making her heart race. She glanced at the door, pained. The drama was just getting good and the volume was down low enough that maybe she could pretend she wasn't home...
"Lavender?"
Neville's voice made her heart race again, though for a different reason this time. She scrambled up from the sofa, shuffling across the carpet to pull open the door. "Neville. Hi." She blushed, her smile fading when she saw the worried cleft between his brows. "What's wrong?"
"You're all right?" he asked.
"Yes. Of course I am," Lavender said, gasping again as Neville pulled her into a tight, yet brief, hug.
"You had me so worried."
Lavender frowned. "Why?"
"Because you didn't show up for breakfast today. And then I couldn't get in touch with you all day - I even checked St Mungo's."
"You checked the hospital before you checked my flat?" Horrified that she'd forgotten about him in all the madness of the day, Lavender still laughed in response. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Come in." Lavender grabbed the front of his cloak and pulled him inside. "Let's shut the door. It's cold out there."
She shivered, gesturing for Neville to take a seat on the sofa. Lavender flipped the switch on the wireless, turning it off so that Neville didn't have to be subject to her shameful Days In Diagon habit. It seemed she'd missed the big revelation and now she was going to have to wait until Sunday to hear it in the omnibus or stay up until a ridiculous hour of the morning to hear the repeat.
"Today has been a complete disaster," she announced, flopping down onto the sofa and tugging the blanket from the back of it to arrange it over their knees. "I got confused over what day it was and then I got called into work to cover for someone who was off sick..." She sighed, leaning towards him. Neville's shoulder was cold, but she knew from experience that it didn't take long for him to warm up. "I'm so sorry. I was really looking forward to breakfast, too."
"Me, too." Neville smiled sheepishly, lifting a hand. It hovered over her covered knee for a moment, then he put it back down.
Lavender pursed her lips. Little things like that gave her hope that she wasn't simply reading too much into their relationship, but he never followed through and there was every chance that he would get scared away if she actually tried anything.
"How about we try again another day? You could come around here. Boxing Day breakfast? Brunch?" She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I like to sleep in." Tomorrow when she woke up it was actually going to be Christmas Day and this ridiculous incident would all be forgotten, she was sure of it."
Neville ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Yeah, alright."
Lavender smiled, trying to encourage him to make eye contact.
"We can... compare our bad Christmas presents."
"Exactly," Lavender said brightly. Her throat started to constrict, though, when she realised that she hadn't told him about her big job opportunity. The first time she'd tried, it had never happened. Just gone. Erased from history.
"I was going to tell you," she started, but the words seemed to stop when Neville looked at her expectantly. Merlin, but she loved it when he looked at her so intently. "I... Um..."
Leaning forwards, Lavender grabbed the mug of cocoa. It was cooler now and she still wasn't thirsty, but it gave her something to do with her hands and lips.
"What is it?" Frowning, Neville really did put his hand on her knee this time. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head. "No. I got offered a job. With the Ministry." Lavender sipped her cocoa, already regretting picking up the drink. She shifted it into one hand, covering Neville's hand with her own. "It's going to involve a lot of travelling for move of next year." She felt Neville's fingers twitch and cringed inwardly. "I haven't accepted yet," she added quickly.
"Sounds like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity."
Lavender licked her lips, a familiar sense of disappointment dawning in her. "Yeah. I guess it is." She cuddled into his side more. If even a repeat of the day couldn't make this conversation go any differently, she didn't know what she could do.
"Congratulations."
Once again, she ventured, "I'm going to miss you," heart nearly in her throat as she inwardly begged for him to say something substantial.
"You'll probably forget all about me. You know, all those adventures you're going to have."
Lavender bit her tongue, attempting not to grimace as she did so. "Of course I won't. Don't be silly." She wiggled away from him, pushing off the blanket. "I'm going to open my new tin of biscuits. Want any?"
Neville sank back into the cushions and gave her a one-shouldered shrug. "Yeah. Go on, then. It's Christmas, after all."
December 24th. Again. Gringotts, Diagon Alley.
"Oh, not you two again."
Lavender rolled her eyes and even Zacharias sighed.
"Parkinson," he said, "this is the fifth time that we've lived through Christmas Eve. You don't need to say that every single time."
Pansy pursed her lips. Putting her hands on her hips, the money bag she was carrying jingled with clinking coins. "This is getting ridiculous. I refuse to do this again."
Lavender gave a hollow laugh which she quickly turned into a cough. "And how do you propose we do that?"
"Well..." Pansy's mouth hung open as she searched for an answer. "I haven't figured that out yet."
"Well, I'm taking this to see what the curse breakers think of it." Zacharias pulled the wooden box from its canvas bag, raising his eyebrows when he saw Lavender wince. She did that every single time, though it had only hit her once.
It was Pansy's turn to sigh. "Again?"
"Yes, again," he said, losing patience with her surliness. Even by his standards she was getting to be too much. "As soon as the day starts over, everyone forgets everything."
"Yeah," Lavender agreed quietly. Her shoulders slumped for a moment before she straightened up and put on her best false smile. "Well, you both know where you need to go," she said, waving her hand.
"Thanks," Pansy muttered and didn't mean it, scurrying off towards the goblins as fast as her pointed silver heels would take her.
Zacharias dropped the box back into the bag without a single word of acknowledgement. Lavender reached for him, stopping him before he made it even two steps. "I hope you find a way to stop this."
He sniffed. "Of course I will."
***
Part Two...
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters do not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: An encounter with a cursed object pulls three people into a never-ending Christmas Eve. Neville/Lavender, George/Pansy, Zacharias/Luna.
Word Count: ~16,000
A/N: Originally written for the nightfalltwen for the 2010 exchange. Thank you to csi_tokyo3 for the beta.
December 24th. Zacharias' House, Kensington.
Zacharias stirred slowly, drawn gently from sleep by coaxing fingers that slipped over his body in precise, teasing touches. He smiled to himself, eyes closed as the covers shifted, warm lips pressing to his chest in a tantalising trail that worked down his body. He lifted his hand, a little uncoordinated in his sleepy state, fingers meeting long, silky hair and earning him a soft laugh before those lips closed around the length of his morning erection.
He sighed, head pressing back into the pillow as he simply enjoyed the exquisite torment of of a talented tongue.
Those warm fingers didn't stay idle, and, as they began to join in, Zacharias pushed the covers back.
Lips still wrapped around his length, Luna looked up at him with wide luminous eyes, her blonde hair tousled in what Zacharias thought was an irresistibly sexy way. She drew back, tongue lapping at him like a lollipop.
"Morning," he groaned, shuddering at the sight of her.
"Good morning," she said blithely, her hand replacing her mouth. Luna sat up, hair tumbling around her bare shoulder. Sitting there deliciously nude, she started to crawl forward over him, so much pale skin simply begging to be touched.
Luna wasted no time in guiding him to her entrance, sinking down on him with a pleased sigh and an equally happy smile on her lips.
Zacharias bit his lip against the curse that was on the tip of his tongue, hands quickly coming to rest on her waist and guide her with every rise and fall of her body. Luna leant forward, kissing him firmly and moaning contentedly into his mouth. Her thighs gripped his sides, her movements unabashedly wanton as she worked herself to completion.
She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't last long at this time of the morning, the sounds of her pleasure only increasing as her slim fingers dipped between their joined bodies to stroke her clit in slow circles. She mewled in pleasure, hips rocking harder against him. Zacharias' fingers pressed harder into her as he tried to hold back his desire and let her finish first.
Luna came with a long, low groan, quivering from head to toe as she reached her release. She sighed contentedly, still moving in gentle rolls of her hips as she coaxed him to join her. Zacharias' hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair and drawing her down for another kiss. The tension in him in exploded in just a soft sigh, fingers tightening and holding Luna closer.
She purred, lying on his chest and slowly stroking his side. "Happy Christmas Eve."
He shifted beneath her, trying to get comfortable but failing when he realised that he would need the loo in a minute. "I don't really celebrate Christmas Eve. It's just another day." Encouraging her off him, Zacharias pressed a kiss to her cheek and rose from the bed with a yawn.
Apparently not bothered, Luna simply stretched out, filling the space that he had just vacated. Her fingers toyed with one of her nipples as she watched him; it would have been tempting to simply rejoin her, but Zacharias' bladder protested too much. He raked his hand through his dark blond hair. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Alright," she said with a smile. "I'll be here."
Though he hadn't doubted it in the slightest, Luna was true to her word and was still sprawled across the bed when Zacharias returned from the bathroom. Her body was flushed pink with arousal, legs spread. Her fingers had drifted down from her breast to between her thighs, moving expertly over the slick skin. Her head was tipped back, mouth open in an O of pleasure.
Zacharias knew he ought not to stare. Well, that was not strictly true. With Luna, he could stare all he wanted and he knew she wouldn't mind. In fact, she would probably find an audience arousing. Still, his sensibilities told him that he ought to avert his eyes.
He couldn't. The image of her lying there touching herself was mesmerising.
He cleared his throat gently and Luna opened her eyes, looking up at him with a self-satisfied smirk. "Everything all right?" she asked casually, fingers not stilling for even a second.
Zacharias swallowed thickly. "Yeah, fine." He paused for a long moment. "Do you have to do that?"
"Yes," she said airily. "I really would like another orgasm before breakfast." She licked her lips. "Do you want to help?"
"I'll... pass this time. Thanks." Zacharias could barely take his eyes away from the sight her touching herself intimately. Luna wasn't going to stop, but he was not going to watch. Not this morning, not if he actually wanted to do anything today. If he stayed staring at her, there was every chance that he would simply get back into bed and not leave until absolutely necessary. Christmas Eve or not, there were errands that needed to be run.
"Sometimes I don't know what you see in me," he said, shaking his head. Tugging his underwear drawer open, he rummaged in it and found a clean pair of boxers. Tugging them on, he cast a glance at her over his shoulder. Luna's chest heaved, a familiar expression on her face as she grew closer to climax.
"At first it was because we had similar needs for intercourse. But I've grown very fond of you, Zacharias."
Picking up his jar of moisturiser, Zacharias paused. A square wooden box sat at top of the chest of drawers, intricate carvings covering its surface. It looked old, older than he could identify. It looked familiar, but at the same time he knew he had never seen it before. He couldn't even place it in a century, let alone a country.
He turned to Luna, a questioning look on his face, just in time to see her reach that second orgasm. She lay there, basking in the afterglow, almost seemed to glow herself, an ethereal beauty stretched out on his bed. That was a sight even more mesmerising than what he had seen her doing before.
"Luna, what is this?"
She sat up, popping herself on her elbows. "That? Just something I found."
Zacharias picked it up, curiously turning it over. "Looks old."
"Yes, very. I'm not quite sure how old, though."
He tried to open it, certain there was a latch there.
"I think it's cursed," Luna added.
Zacharias nearly dropped it. Turning to face her fully, he stared in open-mouthed disbelief. "You couldn't have told me that before I started touching it?"
Luna sucked her lower lip into her mouth, thinking about it. "Yes," she agreed, "I probably should have." She rose from the bed, surprisingly elegant despite often looking like a newborn lamb teetering around. "I don't think it will hurt you, though. It hasn't harmed me so far."
"It's a potentially cursed box that we don't know the origin of," Zacharias pointed out to stubbornly. "I don't really think we should have it in the bedroom."
"Why? I don't think it has anything to do with sex. Or sleeping. Which are obviously the two activities that happen in here the most."
"No," he said, trying to remain patient. "You might be right. But I don't know where it came from and personally I'd rather not have cursed objects around me while I'm sleeping."
He eyed the box warily. "I should take it to Gringotts. My friend Megan can have a look at it. She's a curse breaker." Zacharias put the box down carefully, watching it to make sure it didn't explode.
Luna shook her head. "I was going to look at it myself."
"What if it's cursed? You could get hurt if you don't know what it was." Luna was a lot of things, but she was not a professional at this sort of thing.
She fixed her cool grey gaze on him, unblinking as she stood there naked in front of him. "If you insist. But it could wait until after Christmas."
"It won't take long."
"At least have breakfast before you go. I think I'm going to do a fry-up. But we haven't got any mushrooms because I had them for lunch yesterday."
As she started towards the bedroom door, Zacharias cleared his throat. "Luna? You might want to put some clothes on. You remember what happened the last time you fried bacon naked."
She pursed her lips. "Yes. That was most unpleasant."
December 24th. Tillie's Tea Shop, Diagon Alley.
With a chunky striped scarp tied artfully around her neck and her hair loose around her shoulders, the only hint of Lavender's scars were those that just managed to creep up past her jaw. Her breath curled up in a white puff and she rubbed her gloved hands together, expression solemn despite the cheery Christmas music that spilled from the tea shop behind her. Finally, a smile broke across her face. "Neville!"
Beaming, she hugged him tightly. "So glad you're here." His cheek was cold as she kissed it; she laughed softly, wiping off the smudge of her coppery cinnamon-scented lipgloss. "Let's go inside. I have news, but I can't stay for breakfast like I promised. I only have time to get a drink to take away. They called me into work today because someone's sick."
She gripped his sleeve, nearly dragging him inside. A blast of heat surrounded them once the door swung closed with a tinkle of Christmas bells and Neville immediately began to pull off his thick cloak and sturdy gloves. He stuffed the gloves into a concealed inner pocket of the cloak, sure that he would lose them otherwise. "But it's Christmas Eve, Lavender."
Lavender sighed. "The goblins don't really care. I'm sorry. I was really looking forward to this, too. Maybe we could get together for dinner later?"
With her eyes so wide and hopeful like that, Neville couldn't say no. "Of course. I'll book us a table somewhere. So, what sort of news?"
"Hang on," she teased, despite her brimming excitement. "Let me order first. I have been dreaming about the special hot chocolate since I dragged myself out of bed."
"The one with marshmallows on?" Neville shook his head. "Lavender, it's not even nine o'clock.
"It's Christmas, so they're green and shaped like Christmas trees," she agreed, eyes lit up.
As she unfastened her cloak to account for the warmth of the cafe, Neville couldn't help but smirk. He didn't know anyone else who could wear a knitted pink jumper with a snowman on the front like that and still be able to make it look sexy. The highly impractical miniskirt she had paired it with probably helped, but he still held the opinion that anyone else would look ridiculous.
Neville peered at the chalkboard above the counter where the drinks were listed. Fairy lights twinkled all around, shimmering in time with the music.
"You're going to order a pot of tea and you know it," Lavender said gently, her foot gently nudging his.
"I... might have wanted something different. For a change." Neville cleared his throat. "I might have the same as you." When Lavender raised her eyebrows, he sighed. "All right. So I'm going to have tea. But I'm going to have toast and jam, too."
"Nice choice." Lavender tugged down what little there was of her skirt, nails painted the same pink as her festive jumper. "Breakfast is important."
"Says the woman who'd consume her weight in marshmallows if she could. All that sugar's not good for you."
She pursed her lips. "I'm a big girl. I'll cope."
When a young waitress with tinsel started to fix their order, Lavender grinned and tugged him over a nearby table to sit down while they waited. She leant forward, eager to share her news with Neville. "So remember I applied for a job ages ago? The international thing with the Ministry?"
"Er, vaguely?"
"Well, they didn't have any positions then, but I got an owl on Monday and I went in for a meeting yesterday afternoon."
She bit her lip, barely constraining herself. So many emotions bubbled inside her that she couldn't keep her news to herself any longer.
"They offered me a position. It's not the same job that I interviewed for, but when the opportunity came up, they said I was the first person they thought of." Lavender clasped her hands together, grinning broadly. "I'd be part of a group going around to wizarding schools all over the world. The team is going to be from all over the world, too. We'll be setting up pen pal exchanges and teaching custom from different countries. I'm trying to decide whether to accept or not."
Neville slumped back against his wooden chair. "Right."
"Yeah." Lavender bit her lip. "Thing is, I've got to leave on Monday. We're starting in the New Year and there's all sorts of things that need to be prepared before then."
"But... Merlin. That's so soon."
Pursing her lips, Lavender nodded. "I know. But this whole year could be an amazing adventure, you know? Lots of new experiences."
"A year?"
She nodded; Neville looked down at his lap, trying to formulate a response to that.
A silence fell between them, filled with cheery Christmas music about hippogryffs gambolling in the snow. Lavender nibbled at her thumbnail, gaze trained on Neville. Eventually, she sighed, hands dropping to her lap. "This is the part where you're meant to congratulate me or tell me you're happy for me." Or tell me to stay.
If he asked, she would stay in a heartbeat. No one else would have that influence over her, only Neville. Whatever their friendship was at the moment, she'd been feeling for a while that perhaps it was just about to tip into something else. Neville didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, though, and she still couldn't quite tell what he was thinking or feeling.
"Sounds like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity."
Lavender licked her lips. "Yeah. I guess it is."
"Congratulations."
She sighed, sitting back into her seat. "Thank you." She searched for the right words to say, digging even deeper to try and find the bravery that she knew she had in her. The best she could come up with, though, was, "I'm going to miss you."
"No," Neville said dismissively, shaking his head. "You'll probably forget all about me. You know, all those adventures you're going to have."
Lavender had never imagined that Neville would ever be capable of breaking her heart. She had been so sure that it would be the other way around, if it were to ever happen. But right at that second it happened, as sharp and clean as snapping the head off a gingerbread man.
"I'm sure I won't," she said softly, the smile on her lips not even close to reaching her eyes.
December 24th. Pansy's Residence, Knockturn Alley.
"And take you on my sleigh to the North Pole..."
Pansy cringed as her alarm broke into festive music. She had been awake for a good five minutes, just waiting for it to go off so that she could have every minute beneath her warm covers that was possible before she had to get up and get ready for work.
She sighed and rolled over, fingers fumbling with the switch and cursing her alarm clock before she finally managed to get it to shut up.
Now that she was up, she easily slipped into her morning routine. A quiet cup of tea and a slice of wholemeal toast spread thinly with her favourite apricot jam. Next came brushing her teeth, then the ritual of cleansing, toning and moisturising, something which she found especially important in the stinging December cold.
At work, there was no guarantee of what might happen to her skin, either. Things tended to blow up or get thrown across the shop floor at the slightest provocation, the products as temperamental as some of the customers. The worst was what happened when people tried to shoplift. Depending on the item they were attempting to filch, it could get messy very, very quickly.
Pansy brushed her dark hair up into a neat chignon at the back her of head, then pulled on the lurid magenta robes that had become both the bane of her life and her salvation. Of all people, of all the job applications she had sent out, he was the only person who had deigned to employ her. It was humiliating - not even the Ministry of Magic would hire her and it often seemed as though they would take on anyone. It just wasn't fair and her pride could barely stand it.
If there was one thing she was good at, however, it was keeping her chin up and carrying on. It was something she'd had to pick up quickly after the war, finding hostility from many of her peers after her failed attempt to get Harry Potter handed over to the authorities. She'd always been the type to the biggest power and, at that moment, she'd felt that had been You-Know-Who. If he wanted Harry, he was going to get him. Right? Apparently not.
So, if she were going to hold her head high today, it was going to be held up with a sprig of faux holly artfully arranged in her ponytail and with Seraphina's Silver Sparkle eyeshadow highlighting the shape of her eyes. She walked tall in equally shiny silver shoes, having long since decided that if she were going to wear these gaudy robes she would embrace the gaudiness with everything she had.
George didn't look so impressed when she put his customary morning cup of tea down on the workbench beside him.
"Pansy," he said, quill pausing as he sketched out ideas for a new label design. "I said you didn't have to come in today. It's Christmas Eve."
She smiled serenely, though inwardly her stomach was tying itself in knots. "It's fine. I don't mind at all."
"It's Christmas Eve," he stressed.
George put the lid back on his bottle of red ink, standing up; Pansy took a step backwards, looking up at him. She swallowed. It wasn't fair for a man who annoyed her just by existing to have such blue eyes. "I'll go and open up. I think I need to do some dusting."
He kept his cool gaze fixed on her, silent for a long moment. George's shoulders shifted and she thought that he was going to fold his arms over his broad chest, but his arms stayed hanging by his sides. "All right. Don't forget to do behind the counter."
"Of course, Mr Weasley." As chirpy as she made it sound, those words still made her skin crawl.
Pansy had barely picked up her luridly chartreuse feather duster when the same Christmas music that she had been hearing solidly for the last month started piping into the shop. It wasn't your standard Christmas fare, but rather variations on familiar tunes that were jam packed with more double entendres than one could shake a stick at. She sighed, glad that it was Christmas Eve because that meant all this incessant Christmas cheer would soon be over for another year.
She flipped the shop's sign from closed to open with a flick of her wand then turned to the display behind the counter. Pansy pursed her lips. Slap bang in the middle of the display was a photograph enclosed in the most ostentatious and tawdry frame that Pansy had ever seen in her life. There was no denying what an eyesore the frame was, but it wasn't the decoration that made Pansy's stomach churn - though it certainly offended her sensibilities. Instead, it was the photograph it held.
It had been taken during the war, or maybe just before it had really started. George and his now-dead twin had their arms around Harry Potter himself, the three of them grinning at the camera in the middle of the busy shop. Pansy could just about make out the fuzzy shape of Hermione Granger's head in the background, but right at the edge of the picture was Ron Weasley, gawping at the camera as though he had never seen one before in his life.
If there was one person she didn't think she'd ever be able to look in the eyes, it was Harry Potter. Even though his photographic self was smiling and laughing, she had long since convinced herself that he was glaring at her every single time she looked at it.
As could be expected, the shop was quiet. Pansy only had herself for company, serving only one customer, a harried-looking last-minute shopper, before George emerged from his workroom. Blue ink streaked across his freckled cheek and he wiped his hands on the apron that was slung low on his hips before putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.
"I've decided it's pointless staying open. I'm closing early."
Pansy's heart started to race. "If you want to go, I can keep the shop open."
"Pansy," he said firmly, "it's Christmas." He tossed his hair back, moving it out of his eyes. "Go home, relax, enjoy yourself. I'm sure you can't wait to get out of those robes. I've heard you complain about how much you hate them."
There was something about hearing George Weasley tell her to get out of her robes that made her stomach knot up again. She sighed, pained. "Do I have to?" How thick did he have to be to not understand that she didn't want to be at home today? Or any day, really. She was always here early and stayed as late as she could and there was no way that it was because she liked the decor. Or the company. Definitely not the company.
He chuckled dryly. "Yes. Tell you what, I've got some money that needs to be taken to Gringotts. Could you drop it over? You don't have to come back afterwards."
Her shoulders drooped and she looked around. Maybe, just maybe, she did like the eccentricity of the decor a bit. Summoning her self-composure, she put on her best neutral expression as she looked up at her boss. "If you insist, Mr Weasley."
December 24th. Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley.
Goblins, it has to be said, had never been known for being the most friendly of creatures. The human employees at Gringotts were generally happy to be left alone by the goblins when it came to their appearance - and in some cases personal hygiene - but when it stopped customers from actually getting access to the services that they required at the bank, it left them less than impressed.
For the last six months, a trial had been in place at the bank based on the St Mungo's Welcome Witch. Lavender was one of the Gringotts Welcome Witches, tasked with standing in the lobby and direction wizards to the appropriate part of the bank.
It was not her job, she thought ruefully, to be ogled by wizards old enough to be her grandfather; Lavender didn't need eyes in the back of her head to know that the last wizard she had assisted was looking at her derrière as he walked past. Not that there was anything in particular to look at when she was wearing deep red robes that went all the way down to her ankles, but she didn't put anything past men with false eyes or other optical devices like the wizard's shiny silver monocle.
Despite being called in to work at the last minute, Lavender couldn't be too upset when it meant she'd had a few extra galleons for the trouble, nor when there was every chance that she would soon be leaving this job. Putting on her biggest and brightest smile to greet the few weary wizards and witches who ventured out to the bank on Christmas Eve simply made it all the more easier for her to squash down the disappointment of Neville's non-reaction to the news of her job offer.
She hoped he'd just been too shocked to say anything. Or maybe she'd simply been reading everything wrong.
Lavender sighed, immediately pulling herself together when the familiar scowling face of Pansy Parkinson came through the door. As much as Lavender had a general dislike of the witch after years of unpleasant behaviour at school, she couldn't help by admire the shoes she was wearing. Merlin, her feet would be aching like nobody's business if she wore them to work.
"Good morning," she said pleasantly, smiling. "How can I help you this morning?"
Pansy's scowl darkened. Did Brown have to smile at her like that? The last thing she felt like doing right now was smiling. Being sent home from work early mean that she had to go home and, frankly, that was far from ideal. Her charmed fireplace was nowhere near efficient enough to warm her draughty little bedsit and she couldn't even afford paper chains, left alone a tree. Festive cheer was the last thing on her mind.
"I need to deposit -"
"Which way to the curse breakers' offices?"
Cheeks flushed red from the cold, a yellow and black scarf tied haphazardly at his neck, Zacharias looked expectantly at Lavender. He had a potentially cursed object in his bag and whatever the other witch wanted could obviously until he had dealt with this. He recognised her from school. Parkhouse or Parkinson or something like that. Slytherin and not really work his time or the effort required to remember her these days.
"Well, excuse you," Pansy snapped, dark eyes narrowing dangerously. She was many things, but she was not invisible. Having attention taken away from her made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and she held her chin up.
Zacharias blinked at her. "Yes, excuse you." He turned back to Lavender. "Well?"
"Sir," Lavender said, mustering her most patient tone. "I was just helping this woman, so if you'll wait just a moment and -"
"No." He carefully held the bag he was carrying up to eye level so that neither witch could miss it. "This is a potentially dangerous item and I insist you help me first."
Lavender pursed her lips, all too tempted to point out that she probably could have helped Pansy and him in the time it had taken for him to complain, but that wasn't going to help matters. Any good Hogwarts student knew not to tickle a sleeping dragon and she wasn't about to aggravate Zacharias further.
Pansy, however, was not the patient sort. "No! I was here first." She swatted the bag away from her face, palm slapping the back firmly. "Wait your turn."
Making a strangled noise, Zacharias tried to steady it from swaying dangerously, only succeeding in making it swing further and catch Lavender on the temple.
"Ow!"
For a moment, bright yellow light encompassed the world.
Spots swimming in front of her eyes, Lavender rubbed the side of her head. "Sir," she said quietly, the knock to the head upsetting her already unsteady emotions, "please stand to the side for a moment. If you interrupt again, I'll have you escorted from the bank." Lavender blinked back tears, wondering why she had assumed that today would be easy.
Pansy blinked, too. She wasn't sure what to make of the odd flash of light, even going so far as to wonder whether she was seeing things after being part of one too many minor explosions at the joke shop. "Um. I need to deposit some money."
"If you'd like to see one of the goblins over there," Lavender said, managing to keep her tone even and not sob from her sudden headache, "they'll be able to help you."
"Thanks," Pansy said slowly, looking from Lavender to Zacharias and then simply deciding that she didn't want to know what had just happened.
Lavender gritted her teeth for a moment and couldn't bring herself to smile. "Now, sir, how can I help you?"
All colour drained from his face, Zacharias had the horrible feeling that the mystery box had been responsible for the explosion of light that was still making his vision swim. Nothing seemed to have happened, though. No one had dropped dead or sprouted tentacles or anything of that type, so maybe things were fine. For now.
His stomach churned with more nerves than before. "Curse breakers?" he asked weakly.
"Through that door over there. Turn left at the hat stand." When he simply stared at her, Lavender held in a sigh with great difficultly. "Anything else, sir?"
Zacharias licked his lips. "No. Thanks. That's everything."
"Merry Christmas, sir."
December 24th. Again. Zacharias' House, Kensington.
Coaxing fingers slipped over Zacharias' body in precise, teasing touches, drawing him gently from sleep. He stirred slowly, smiling to himself. The covers shifted, soft lips pressing warm kisses to his chest in a tantalising trail that worked down the length of his body.
A little uncoordinated in his sleepy state, he lifted his hand until his fingers met long hair, the strands silky to the touch. His fingers moved over Luna's head gently, earning him a soft laugh.
Her warm lips closed around the length of his morning erection and he let out a long, pleased sigh. The pillow embraced his head as her enjoyed the exquisite torment of of her talented tongue and fingers, no desire to stop her from doing whatever she wanted.
Zacharias pushed the covers back, Luna looking up at him with her lips still wrapped around his length. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in a tousled mess, irresistibly sexy. As she drew back, her tongue lapped at him like a lollipop.
He groaned, shuddering at the sight of her looking both so innocent and so debauched. "I could get used to this."
She pressed a strangely chaste kiss to the end of his erection, sitting up deliciously nude. "I shall have to remember that," she said, starting to crawl forward over him. "Good morning," she said blithely, her hand replacing her mouth. "Happy Christmas Eve."
Zacharias groaned, her words not sinking in immediately. Often, things that Luna said went straight over his head and he had developed a habit of half-listening, paying attention only when he was sure he needed to. "What?" he asked, gasping. Wasn't it a little early for her to be putting her finger there ?
Luna looked at him curiously with wide luminous eyes. "Pardon?" She straddled his thigh, arousal rubbing against him as she shifted back and forth.
Though there was so much pale skin in front of him simply begging to be touched, Zacharias was too confused to take advantage. "It's Christmas Day."
"No," she said, apparently unconcerned by his confusion, "that's tomorrow."
"But it was Christmas Eve yesterday."
"Yesterday was the twenty third," Luna corrected.
Disorientated, Zacharias sat up. Yesterday had definitely been Christmas Eve. Luna had woken him just like this. They'd had breakfast. They'd made it as far as the stairs before they'd given into desire again. He'd gone to Gringotts with...
His gaze landed on his dresser. A square wooden box sat atop the chest of drawers, intricate carvings covering its surface.
All arousal seemed to leave his body in a rush, despite the encouraging strokes of Luna's hand. "What's that?" he asked tightly, throat constricting.
Luna turned to look, tilting her head to the side. "Oh," she said, her free hand lifting to play with her breast as she sat there. "I found it. I think it's cursed."
Zacharias looked at her with wide eyes. "Yeah," he said finally, "I think you might be right."
December 24th. Again. Pansy's Residence, Knockturn Alley.
"And take you on my sleigh to the North Pole..."
Alarm clock off. Kettle on. Tea. Toast. Apricot jam. Cleanse, tone, moisturise. Hair. Robes. Holly. Shoes.
While Pansy quietly accepted that funds were tight, she now knew better than to drink half a bottle of cheap wine before bed. Her head didn't hurt, but apparently it had made her dream in excruciating detail, exhausting her at the same time. She hated mornings when she woke up feeling more tired than she had when she'd retired for the night, but that troubled her less than the dream she'd had.
If she were going to dream about anything, did she have to dream about work? It was equal measures boring and depressing. That sort of vivid dream ought to be reserved for dreams filled with exotic locales and shirtless men adoring her, not dusting and checking stock.
Setting down her duster, she stowed it beneath the counted. The place seemed clean enough for now, in her opinion. Pansy found a suitably shiny surface and adjusted the holly that she'd tucked into her ponytail. It wasn't real holly, but it was still a little prickly, one of the leaves scratching her head every time she turned her head.
The scant few customers that came in seemed to be impressed with the swift service that she provided them. Even Pansy was surprised with herself; though she considered herself quite good at her job, being nice to people and helping them didn't come as naturally to her as it did to other people. Deja vu prodded at her as she popped a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees into a bag. Had she really dreamt about this? Merlin, maybe she did need a couple of days off, even though all that she had to look forward to tomorrow was the seasonal marathon of Days In Diagon on the Wizarding Wireless Network and a tin of tomato soup for lunch.
She sighed. Time for a cup of tea to clear her head, she decided. There were very few things at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that Pansy would eat voluntarily, but the tea supply was almost sacred and there was no way that George would tamper with it.
Pansy glanced around to make sure that the shop was empty before ducking out to the workroom.
She paused in the doorway, cringing as a bottle of blue ink squirted at George as he made to dip his quill into it. He frowned and gave the bottle a disapproving flick with his finger.
"Mr Weasley?" she started tentatively. As George turned to look at her, Pansy's fingers gripped when doorframe when she spotted the streak of ink across his freckled cheek. "The shop's quiet so I was just going to make a cup of tea. Would you like some?"
"I was just about to come and see you," George admitted, rising from his chair. He quickly wiped his hands on his low-clung apron, giving Pansy a smile. "I've decided it's pointless staying open. I'm closing early."
Sure that wasn't the first time she had heard him say those words, Pansy's heart started to race. She licked her lips quickly, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "If you want to go, I can keep the shop open," she insisted.
"Don't be silly, Pansy," he said firmly. "It's Christmas." George pushed his his hair back from his eyes, succeeding in smudging bright red ink across his other cheek. "Go home, relax, enjoy yourself. I'm sure you can't wait to get out of those robes. I always hear you complaining about how much you hate them."
That was true, Pansy couldn't deny that.
Brilliant. Now even her boring, true-to-life dreams were telling her that George Weasley didn't want to have her around, just like in real life. At some point, something must have gone very wrong.
She sighed. "Do I have to? Really, if you want to be with your family, I'll lock up. I've done it before plenty of times."
The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before it twisted into something more wry. He gave a soft, mirthless chuckle. "It's fine Pansy. I'm the boss, I should do the boring stuff."
Pansy's shoulders drooped. "If you insist, Mr Weasley."
"I do." He paused. "Tell you what, I've got some money that needs to be taken to Gringotts. Could you do me a favour and drop it over? You don't have to come back afterwards."
The money bag that he presented her with seemed to weigh twice as much as she remembered. Although, obviously, she didn't remember it at all because to suggest that she had lived this before was utterly ridiculous. She'd simply had a dream about work last night and now she was just a bit stressed about Christmas and was attributing things to her dream that she hadn't even dreamt about.
Obviously.
It seemed to get heavier and heavier as she made her way down Diagon Alley. Pansy barely heard the carol singers that she passed or noticed any of the festive display. All she noticed was how the arches of her feet were starting to ache and that she really ought to buy a pair of gloves in the January sales if she had the money.
Just inside the entrance of Gringotts, a headache started to brew at the base of her skull. Lavender Brown stood just a short way away on the polished marble floor, complete with a perky smile and neatly curled hair. Pansy had never hated the sight of her more than she had in that moment.
Pansy's somewhat shaky steps over to her were interrupted when a hurrying wizard nearly knocked her over. As it was, he grabbed her and the bag he was went flying, skidding over the floor to rest a couple of feet from a horrified-looking Lavender Brown. Scowling, Pansy tried to right herself without his assistance, though several insults died in her throat when she found herself looking up at the annoyed face of Zacharias Smith.
He gave a strangled gasp, releasing her immediately; Pansy nearly lost her balance. "Careful," she hissed.
"Hey," called Lavender. "What is this?"
They both turned to stare. She had picked up the canvas bag and was peering into it with a deep curiosity written on her face. Zacharias legged it across the lobby so fast that Pansy had to hurry to keep up.
"That's mine," he insisted, grabbing it back from Lavender.
Surprised, Lavender put up no resistance. She frowned, gingerly touching her temple as she felt the ghost of a headache spread through her. "Sorry," she murmured, then straightened herself up, looking every inch the professional Welcome Witch that she could. "I had the strangest feeling I've done this before." Maybe it was a sign that she needed to pay attention to her tea leaves, she thought, or simply being yelled at by a goblin via the Floo for doubting that it was indeed the twenty-fourth of December had set her off-kilter for the whole day. She shrugged. "Must have dreamt it."
"You dream about work?" Pansy sneered. Although she felt very much the same way, mocking someone usually made her feel better.
Today, it didn't seem as effective.
Zacharias tugged the bag off the wooden box, laying the box flat on the palm of his hand. It was surprisingly light and looked as though it ought to have been heavier. "I think we have been here before."
"Well, that's just ridiculous." Pansy was vaguely happy believing that her deja vu was simply the result of a bad bottle of wine.
"No, I think this box did something."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "The only thing it's done is hit Brown in the head. Probably knock some sense into her."
"Hey!" Lavender protested. She pursed her lips together quickly, not wanting to draw attention from the goblins; she was already in their bad books today, it seemed. "But, wait. It didn't hit me in the head." Though it was certainly starting to feel like it had.
"No, she's right," Zacharias said carefully, eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Pansy. "It did. Yesterday. Today? The first time we were all here."
"This is the first time I've been to Gringotts for weeks," Pansy told him curtly. There was no point in depressing herself with the emptiness of her vault any more often than she absolutely needed to.
Lavender tucked her hair behind her ear, frowning. "I don't understand. What's happening?" She didn't mean to whine but, well, this was confusing. Everything felt like it had gone wrong from the moment she had got out of bed, as though she'd done everything better before somehow.
"It's this box," Zacharias said, angry tone directed at the wooden cube. "It's... made us relive today or something."
An uneasiness bubbled slowly in the pit of Pansy's stomach. A horrible, dawning feeling of agreement spread through her before her head took over and told her not to listen to something so stupid. "I think someone's been at the mulled wine a little early," she announced. "Now," Pansy continued, looking squarely at Lavender, "I have some money to pay in. It's over this way, isn't it?"
Gaze following Pansy's pointing finger, all Lavender could do was nod. More confused than ever before, she didn't have the presence of mind to argue. Nor could she: Pansy was correct.
Lavender sighed softly and gave Zacharias a watery smile as Pansy left them standing there with a sharp tap tap tap of her silver heels on the marble. "Um... The curse breakers are through that door over there. Turn left at the hat stand."
"I didn't ask you where they were yet."
Her eyes widened. "But you were going to."
"Yes. I was." He stared at the box. As empty as it felt, it was clear to him that it was holding a big secret.
"Oh, dear," Lavender said quietly.
"Mmm." Zacharias nodded, distracted by the intricate carvings on the box. "My thoughts exactly."
December 24th. Again. Lavender's Flat, London.
A steaming mug of hot cocoa sat on the coffee table, sadly devoid of any marshmallows, novelty or otherwise.
Lavender sighed. She'd lost her appetite for the cocoa almost as soon as she'd finished making it. Today had been beyond bizarre and somehow that had quenched even her desire for chocolate. If there was one thing that Lavender was sure to always want, it was chocolate. To feel slightly sick at just the thought of it was unthinkable.
A Christmas edition of Days In Diagon was playing on the wireless, Lavender listening as she curled up on the sofa. Though the clock had yet to even reach seven o'clock, Lavender was already in her favourite pyjamas, thick socks snug on her feet to keep her warm.
"Damon," proclaimed the breathy ingénue of the drama, "you should sit down. There's something I need to tell you."
Lavender leant closer to the wireless, watching it intently as she waited with baited breath to hear the big announcement. They had been teasing this for weeks, a dark secret that Miranda was keeping close to her chest and away from her beloved Damon. The characters were childhood sweethearts; Lavender had been listening to their trials and tribulations since she had been a teenager.
"Miranda, you're scaring me."
She closed her eyes. In her mind, Damon was incredibly handsome. Her first crush, albeit one on a fictional character that didn't even have a face she could swoon over.
A long pause passed between them, time enough for someone to knock on her door. Lavender gasped, the sudden interruption to her quiet time making her heart race. She glanced at the door, pained. The drama was just getting good and the volume was down low enough that maybe she could pretend she wasn't home...
"Lavender?"
Neville's voice made her heart race again, though for a different reason this time. She scrambled up from the sofa, shuffling across the carpet to pull open the door. "Neville. Hi." She blushed, her smile fading when she saw the worried cleft between his brows. "What's wrong?"
"You're all right?" he asked.
"Yes. Of course I am," Lavender said, gasping again as Neville pulled her into a tight, yet brief, hug.
"You had me so worried."
Lavender frowned. "Why?"
"Because you didn't show up for breakfast today. And then I couldn't get in touch with you all day - I even checked St Mungo's."
"You checked the hospital before you checked my flat?" Horrified that she'd forgotten about him in all the madness of the day, Lavender still laughed in response. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Come in." Lavender grabbed the front of his cloak and pulled him inside. "Let's shut the door. It's cold out there."
She shivered, gesturing for Neville to take a seat on the sofa. Lavender flipped the switch on the wireless, turning it off so that Neville didn't have to be subject to her shameful Days In Diagon habit. It seemed she'd missed the big revelation and now she was going to have to wait until Sunday to hear it in the omnibus or stay up until a ridiculous hour of the morning to hear the repeat.
"Today has been a complete disaster," she announced, flopping down onto the sofa and tugging the blanket from the back of it to arrange it over their knees. "I got confused over what day it was and then I got called into work to cover for someone who was off sick..." She sighed, leaning towards him. Neville's shoulder was cold, but she knew from experience that it didn't take long for him to warm up. "I'm so sorry. I was really looking forward to breakfast, too."
"Me, too." Neville smiled sheepishly, lifting a hand. It hovered over her covered knee for a moment, then he put it back down.
Lavender pursed her lips. Little things like that gave her hope that she wasn't simply reading too much into their relationship, but he never followed through and there was every chance that he would get scared away if she actually tried anything.
"How about we try again another day? You could come around here. Boxing Day breakfast? Brunch?" She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I like to sleep in." Tomorrow when she woke up it was actually going to be Christmas Day and this ridiculous incident would all be forgotten, she was sure of it."
Neville ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Yeah, alright."
Lavender smiled, trying to encourage him to make eye contact.
"We can... compare our bad Christmas presents."
"Exactly," Lavender said brightly. Her throat started to constrict, though, when she realised that she hadn't told him about her big job opportunity. The first time she'd tried, it had never happened. Just gone. Erased from history.
"I was going to tell you," she started, but the words seemed to stop when Neville looked at her expectantly. Merlin, but she loved it when he looked at her so intently. "I... Um..."
Leaning forwards, Lavender grabbed the mug of cocoa. It was cooler now and she still wasn't thirsty, but it gave her something to do with her hands and lips.
"What is it?" Frowning, Neville really did put his hand on her knee this time. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head. "No. I got offered a job. With the Ministry." Lavender sipped her cocoa, already regretting picking up the drink. She shifted it into one hand, covering Neville's hand with her own. "It's going to involve a lot of travelling for move of next year." She felt Neville's fingers twitch and cringed inwardly. "I haven't accepted yet," she added quickly.
"Sounds like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity."
Lavender licked her lips, a familiar sense of disappointment dawning in her. "Yeah. I guess it is." She cuddled into his side more. If even a repeat of the day couldn't make this conversation go any differently, she didn't know what she could do.
"Congratulations."
Once again, she ventured, "I'm going to miss you," heart nearly in her throat as she inwardly begged for him to say something substantial.
"You'll probably forget all about me. You know, all those adventures you're going to have."
Lavender bit her tongue, attempting not to grimace as she did so. "Of course I won't. Don't be silly." She wiggled away from him, pushing off the blanket. "I'm going to open my new tin of biscuits. Want any?"
Neville sank back into the cushions and gave her a one-shouldered shrug. "Yeah. Go on, then. It's Christmas, after all."
December 24th. Again. Gringotts, Diagon Alley.
"Oh, not you two again."
Lavender rolled her eyes and even Zacharias sighed.
"Parkinson," he said, "this is the fifth time that we've lived through Christmas Eve. You don't need to say that every single time."
Pansy pursed her lips. Putting her hands on her hips, the money bag she was carrying jingled with clinking coins. "This is getting ridiculous. I refuse to do this again."
Lavender gave a hollow laugh which she quickly turned into a cough. "And how do you propose we do that?"
"Well..." Pansy's mouth hung open as she searched for an answer. "I haven't figured that out yet."
"Well, I'm taking this to see what the curse breakers think of it." Zacharias pulled the wooden box from its canvas bag, raising his eyebrows when he saw Lavender wince. She did that every single time, though it had only hit her once.
It was Pansy's turn to sigh. "Again?"
"Yes, again," he said, losing patience with her surliness. Even by his standards she was getting to be too much. "As soon as the day starts over, everyone forgets everything."
"Yeah," Lavender agreed quietly. Her shoulders slumped for a moment before she straightened up and put on her best false smile. "Well, you both know where you need to go," she said, waving her hand.
"Thanks," Pansy muttered and didn't mean it, scurrying off towards the goblins as fast as her pointed silver heels would take her.
Zacharias dropped the box back into the bag without a single word of acknowledgement. Lavender reached for him, stopping him before he made it even two steps. "I hope you find a way to stop this."
He sniffed. "Of course I will."
***
Part Two...