Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for:  ozma_katiebell
From:  rilla_licious

Title: Four Part Harmony
Characters/Pairings: George/Lee, Lavender/Parvati
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: First time with your best friend
Other Warnings/Content: Lavender and Parvati are 7th years for the smutty bits, so they may or may not be 18.
Word Count: ~6200
Summary/Description: When all wizarding travel is brought to a halt on Christmas Eve, Lee, George, Lavender and Parvati are stranded without their significant others.
Author's Notes: I really hope my recipient enjoys this! I saw this prompt and had to take it because it was filled with characters I adore. Special thanks to my betas who are the most wonderful and speedy betas ever, even when I'm last minute about things!




Lee Jordan and Lavender Brown, The Leaky Cauldron
24 December, 2005

"Thanks, love," Lee said, taking the pint Hannah offered him and raising it in her direction.

"Is there any news?" Lavender slipped up onto the bar stool beside him, worrying the tip of her fingernail between her teeth.

"None," said Hannah. "I'm sorry. Here." She reached beneath the counter and produced a pair of keys, handing one to each of them. "Why don't you stay here tonight? As soon as the travel restrictions are lifted, I'll let you know."

"To hell with that," said Lee. "If magical travel isn't available by the morning, I'll take the bloody Muggle bus to pick him up."

"Across the ocean?" said Lavender. "That would be something to see."

"Or a plane," grumbled Lee. "Whatever. You girls don't understand."

Lavender's smile fell, her scars a little more obvious now, and shrugged. "You'd be surprised," she said.

Hannah set a drink in front of her as well. "On the house tonight," she said, and she walked away to tend to other customers.

Lee took a long draught and set the pint down. "I'm sorry," he said, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tomorrow's kind of an important day. George planned on getting back with plenty of time to spare, and now it looks like he's going to miss it after all."

"It's an important day for everyone," said Lavender, a little haughtily. "It's Christmas."

"It's not just Christmas for us," said Lee.

Lavender reached up and idly traced her scars with her fingertips. It wasn't just Christmas for her, either.


George Weasley and Parvati Patil, Two Witches and a Black Cat Grill, Salem, Massachusetts
24 December, 2005

Parvati glanced down at her mobile again and sighed in frustration as she read the time.

"You thought the clock on the wall was lying, then?" said George.

"I just want time to slow down," said Parvati. "Just a bit. Just long enough for us to make it back to London in the next twenty-four hours."

It was five minutes till midnight in London. George knew that without looking at the clock again. Parvati had known it too.

"How long does it take them to clear up this kind of magical mishap anyway?" she said.

"To be fair, it's less of a 'magical mishap' and more of a 'random witches and wizards all over the world exploding during Apparition and Portkey travel' kind of deal," George said.

"I still don't see why they shut down the Floo Network, too," said Parvati.

"Because they're a bunch of alarmist bastards," he said. "Same reason they've suspended the owl post."

Parvati just frowned more deeply and examined her glass of white wine. "I want to go home," she said.

"Me too," said George. "Do you have big plans for Christmas, then?" He wanted to talk about her, and not think about himself anymore. Or about Lee.

She shook her head. "It was just going to be me and Lavender. It's... Christmas is... It's kind of our day."

"Really?" George grinned then, as if he thought she were putting him on. "How'd that come about?"

Parvati lowered her eyes and she could feel the red blush burning on her cheekbones.

"It was our... During the war... I never had..." She sighed and cleared her throat, then sipped her drink. When she set the glass aside again, she looked up at George. "It's an anniversary of sorts," she said finally.

"Ah, right, then," said George. "So I reckon we have more in common than we thought."


George and Lee, Newcastle upon Tyne
25 December, 1997

"Lee!" George races through the wreckage of the abandoned Muggle house that has been serving as Lee's studio for the past four days. The Dark Mark still glowers in the sky above them, and does nothing to quell George's flare of panic. Fred has taken the perimeter, keeping the coast clear. Once George finds Lee (he absolutely does not allow himself to think the word "if") there will be equipment to move and evidence to destroy.

"Lee!" he calls, and he kicks his way through debris in the front hallway. They've blasted through the entire place in their searching. "Dammit! Lee!"

There is only silence. Everywhere, silence. Even the noises George makes seem strangely silent. The echo of his footsteps in the rubble, the echo of his voice in the empty room, they are nothing. He feels like he is screaming soundlessly. In a dream.

Then there is another noise, one George doesn't make himself, and he swings around to see. From behind a pile of broken chairs and an upended table, a closet door is forced open. Lee stumbles out, coughing into his hand, his dark, close-cropped hair dusted with plaster powder.

"Lee!" George rushes him, flinging his arms around Lee's shoulders and holding on.

Lee holds him back, just as tightly. Sometimes George thinks they could measure the instability in their world by how hard they cling to one another in moments like this.

George still isn't used to the loss of Lee's signature dreadlocks (the ones he cut off when "River" became a wanted man) though he is glad they're gone now. Lee wasn't careful enough with his secret identity; he didn't need to be that recognizable.

"If you would've died on me... If you would've fuckin' died on me..." George swallows hard.

Lee strokes the back of his head. "Not gonna die on you, George. Already promised you that, remember?"

George cradles Lee's face in his hands, pushing back to look at him.

"Yeah," he says, half-smiling now. "But we all know you're a bloody liar."

Lee laughs. "Not about this."

It is the smile that does George in. It happens that way every time. From the first time the twins made Lee laugh, so many years ago on the Hogwarts Express, George saw that lop-sided, devious grin, and was lost to it. He watches it fade from Lee's face, watches the corners of his mouth soften and drop.

"Where's Fred?" says Lee.

"He's scouting, making sure they don't come back."

Lee nods.

"We should go back," says George, and he starts to turn but Lee's hand is on his sleeve, Lee's fingers curling around the fabric of his coat, bunching it up as Lee pulls him back.

"No," says Lee. "Not yet. Just... Just give it five minutes. George."

"Lee, Merlin." George stops Lee's wrist, Lee's fingers curling around his belt buckle. "Not here. We've got to get out of here."

"And go where?" says Lee. "By the time we set up shop again, find another safe place to hide... It could be days. They were faster this time. I barely made it to the safe room."

"So what, then?" says George. "You're just giving up?"

"No! Oh, hell, no," says Lee. "I'm just," he pulls his wrist away and grabs George's buckle again, "not going to die a virgin."

"Lee, you're--wait." George starts to laugh. "That's what you want? Sex? Now? With the Dark Mark up in the sky and Fred roaming around outside and--"

"And Death Eaters breathing down our necks and every witch and wizard in Britain hanging on our every word?" says Lee. "Yeah. That's what I want. I've waited long enough, don't you think? This weird thing between you and me? The thing where I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder, and you're touching me every time Fred turns his fucking head and the only thing that gets me through all the damn running is thinking that you're going to be there the next time we go on the air? I need this to be something palpable. I need to know it's real, because George," he takes a deep breath, "some days, this is what I'm living for."

George stares at Lee for a moment, then he licks his lips, looks back over his shoulders each way, and grabs for Lee's jeans, jerking open his fly and pulling him close.

"God, Lee."

Just like that, the smile is back and George's knees nearly buckle because Lee's hand is in his pants now, wrapping around his cock and pulling it free.

"Glad you see it my way," Lee says, just as George gives up and starts shoving Lee's jeans down over his hips.

"That was one hell of a speech," says George.

"Thanks, I have a gift."

"Oh yeah?" George looks at him, gives Lee's cock a squeeze. "Is there anything else that mouth can do well?"

The very slightest of tremors runs across Lee's lips. "Why don't we find out?" he says, and slowly he drops to his knees.

George thinks they've clearly lost their minds. Lee's cock slips out of reach and George rests his hand on the top of Lee's head, trousers down around his knees, standing in a house that Death Eaters wrecked only an hour ago. This is what war does to you. It makes you lose perspective, lose those instincts that lead to self-preservation, lose your sanity--

"Oh, fuck!" George shudders all over, anchoring both hands on Lee's head. Lee's lips are wrapped around his cock now, Lee's fingertips grazing his balls, and he doesn't know how he is going to stay on his feet.

"Lee," he hisses, "God, Lee. Move. Move your fucking mouth, all right?"

He can feel Lee's grin, feel the curling of Lee's lips around his prick, and now Lee's tongue is sliding down the underside of his shaft.

"Virgin, my arse," says George, but he instantly regrets it because Lee's mouth is suddenly gone.

"I never said this was my first time giving head," says Lee, and he squeezes the base of George's cock in his fist, then sucks it into his mouth again.

"You actually want me to fuck you?" George says, his eyes closed, head rocking back and forth as he pushes into Lee's mouth over and over again.

"Mmmhmm."

"Then... Lee... fuck." George's hand trembles as he presses his palm to Lee's forehead and pushes him away. "Don't make me come so soon, would you?"

Lee looks up at him, licking his lips, slightly swollen from sucking cock, and George bites down hard on his lower lip, trying to think about anything other than coming all over Lee's face. Lee stands slowly, running his hand up and down his own hard-on. George wants to look, wants to see Lee's hand sliding over his shaft slowly, but he can't, because Lee's gaze is riveted to his and George can't look away. He can't see anything else in the room but Lee's wide, dark eyes.

"George, we've only got a few minutes."

"It can be better," says George. "Better if we wait." But even in the midst of his argument, he's casting a spell that leaves a dollop of slippery-clear lubricant in the palm of his hand.

"We could be dead if we wait. One of us, both of us."

George grins with half his mouth. "Don't be silly." He pushes Lee back, up against the wall, rubble flanking them. "We're invincible."

Then he's kissing Lee, and Lee's kissing back, and clinging, pulling hair and clothes and wrestling himself around to face the wall.

And Lee is afraid. He's afraid of getting caught, afraid of dying, afraid of watching George and Fred die in front of him, afraid of getting fucked for the very first time. But deep in his chest, somewhere way far down behind his ribcage, maybe beneath his heart, is this little swell of intrepidity, and it's growing larger by the minute. Because George is right; they are invincible.

George's finger is inside him now, pressing and stretching, and then another, and Lee closes his eyes, gasps quietly, can't remember if either of them had enough sense to cast a do-not-notice charm in case Fred walks through the door. And then George is spreading his fingers, spreading Lee open, and he doesn't care anymore.

"Just... George... Please."

"I know." George presses up against him, moist lips on Lee's neck, hand still working over Lee's arse. "Want... Fuck. Not enough time."

And he slides inside, not gently, pushes into Lee's body with a groan. It hurts, oh fuck, it does, but it's George and it's good and that hurt isn't going to last for long. Not when the swell of courage in Lee's chest begins to crest, and George is panting and whimpering against the back of his neck, and trembling with the effort it's taking to slow-fuck Lee.

"Faster," Lee says. "This time... we have to... faster."

"Uh huh." George's mouth is on Lee's ear, clumsy and hot, one hand on Lee's hip, the other sliding up Lee's scalp, and he comes with a choked sound, his teeth clacking together as he tries to hold it in. He shudders as he finishes, his whole body wracked with a tremor, and clutches Lee like he wants to become part of him.

Lee doesn't come, not this time, he's not even fully hard anymore, but he doesn't care. George is pulling out too soon, and it was too fast too rough too frantic, but in every way that matters it was perfect. Lee hitches up his jeans and takes a breath, waiting to turn around and face George again, to see what George looks like freshly fucked and disheveled. Adrenaline has been thundering through his veins for hours now and he just wants to collapse onto a bed, somewhere close, and hold on to George, and become every silly, sappy romance film cliche that has ever been. If they live through this (and they will, because they're invincible, right?), he's going to make that happen.


Lee Jordan and Lavender Brown, The Leaky Cauldron
25 December, 2005, just past midnight

"Can I buy you another round?" said Lee, and he set a glass in front of Lavender before she even asked for it.

"Thanks," she said, the word somewhat unclear as she rested her cheek heavily against her hand.

"Sorry if I was insensitive before," he said. "I can be a massive arse when I'm cranky."

"Don't worry about it." She sighed and forced herself upright, pulling the drink closer. "So can I." She took a sip. "You know, this isn't just Christmas for us, either."

"Oh no?" said Lee. "What is it, then?"

"An anniversary," she said, and she looked up at the rows of colorful bottles stacked behind the bar. They sparkled with the reflection of fairy lights. "Is that what it is for you, too? You and George?"

"Of sorts," said Lee, and he drained his drink. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is."

"Huh," she said. "I feel like I should have known that."

"Why should you have known that?"

"Parvati and George have been working together for what? Three years now? You would think she would have known something like this, that we all share an anniversary date."

"S'not something we publicize," said Lee. "S'not that kind of anniversary."

"What do you mean? What kind of anniversary is it, then?"

Lee looked at his empty bottle, then smirked. "Dunno that I'm drunk enough to share that just yet," he said.

"Right." Lavender rolled her eyes. "Last round was on you. I'll get this one."

When the bartender had brought them two more, Lavender waited patiently until Lee's fresh bottle was half-empty  and his eyelids half-closed to bring it up again.

"So, you were saying? About your anniversary today?"

Lee sighed, the sound noisier than it would have been if he were sober.

"You're persistent, aren't you?" He formed the letters thickly and the words were slow to pass through his lips.

"More than you can imagine," she said.

"All right. Fine. S'my losing of the virginity anniversary," he said. "With George. Only bloke to ever shag me. Fuck, I love it when he shags me." He blinked twice and shook his head. "I probably could've stopped before that last bit."

Lavender giggled. "Don't worry," she said. "I don't think it's much of a secret. And I don't know why you were so uptight about sharing that. I think it's sweet."

"You would," said Lee.

Her smile quickly turned to an outraged scowl. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a girl," Lee said. "Sorry--woman. You lot love anniversaries and whatnots."

"Some of us do," said Lavender. "But not all of us. That was terribly sexist, you know."

"I've said worse," said Lee.

"I know," Lavender told him. "That doesn't make it any better."

"Sorry."

"You should be."

"I'm drunk and miserable."

"I'm miserable too," said Lavender, and she sighed. "And not drunk enough. Another round? To celebrate your deflowering?"

Lee snorted. "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

Lavender grinned. "Not on your life," she said.


George Weasley and Parvati Patil, A Touch of Poison Bar, Salem, Massachusetts
24 December, 2005, just before midnight

"It's almost midnight," said Parvati, looking every bit as defeated as she sounded.

"S'been midnight in London for hours," said George.

"Thank you. That makes me feel much better."

"How drunk do you reckon Lee is by now?"

That elicited a smile from Parvati. "I'm sure Lavender had him under the table hours ago."

"Unless he said something horribly offensive, and she hexed his balls off. I hope he didn't. I'm rather attached to those balls."

"Thank you for sharing," said Parvati, one slim eyebrow rising sharply. "I'll sleep better tonight knowing that about my boss."

"Technically I'm not so much your boss," said George, "as a business associate."

"Business associate," said Parvati. "That sounds like it merits a pay increase."

"Or boss," said George. "Boss is good, too."

Parvati leaned over to punch his arm. She checked the time again on her mobile.

"I know the rest of us thought you were a bit daft when you started carrying that thing around with you, but I'll be honest, I'm kicking myself right now," he said.

She flipped it shut and dropped it back into her purse. "I'm ready to kick all of you for it. Honestly. As soon as we're back in London I'm making Lav get one. She has no choice."

"Sounds fair," said George, still rubbing his upper arm. "Ow. You hit like a girl."

"Thank you," she said.

George winked. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to go home about now."

At that, she inhaled, the back of her jaw working as if she were trying to hold something in, and she nodded.

"Me too," she said, her voice cracking.

"Oh, don't be sad, pretty lady," said George. "We'll get home, you'll see. They can't keep us here forever. And even if they try, I'll find a way to get us deported. I'm sure they've got dozens of laws over here that I've already broken, and this conference only lasted three days!"

She gave him a watery smile. "Oh, I know they'll get us home," she said. "But not on Christmas."

"Who says you can't have Christmas any day of the week?" said George.

"But it's not just Christmas. It's our anniversary, mine and Lav's. I've never missed it. Ever."

George frowned sympathetically. "I know the feeling," he said under his breath. Then he spoke more loudly. "It's only, what? Five a.m. there? We've got loads of time to get home. Just you wait and see. In fact, we should probably head back to the hotel and rest up. Anniversaries require a lot of celebrating, after all. Besides, we've already established that I'm going to have to scrape Lee's arse off a bar stool. I'll need my wits about me for that."

"I suppose you have a point," Parvati said. "But... and I know this sounds ridiculous... I haven't gone to bed alone on Christmas Eve in years. Not since Lavender. I'm kind of... dreading it."

George held up one finger. "Say no more," he said, and he heaved his briefcase up onto his lap and began rifling through it. "Aha! Meet George Junior! Or, erm, if that's weird, you can imagine he's a she. Or just give him a different name or something. Anyway, now you don't have to go to bed alone."

"George Weasley, if this is something off that adult line you keep threatening to start--"

"No!" George said, laughing as he thrust the red and gold teddy bear into Parvati's arms. "No, it's just a stuffed toy! Harry's request. He wanted something for Teddy, who doesn't like to sleep alone. It snuggles. See?"

The little stuffed bear cuddled up against the curve of Parvati's neck. Parvati smiled and her eyes went a little bit glassy.

"Thank you," she said, "it's perfect." She wrapped one arm around the bear and pressed her cheek against it. "But you're still paying our tab."

George snapped his fingers demonstratively and grinned. "Foiled again!"


Lavender and Parvati, London
25 December, 1997

Lavender's room is dark, the air crisp and cold between the beds where Lavender and Parvati lie. Parvati is listening to Lavender breathe, knows her friend is still awake, even though the room is so devoid of light that she can't see Lavender an arm's reach away. She stretches her hand off the side of the bed, reaches out into that cold air, and somewhere in the darkness, Lavender's fingers entwine with hers.

"Lav," she says, "I'm scared." And she is. She wonders if coming to London to stay with Lavender's grandmother is safe, if Padma is safe back at home. She wonders if everyone else is braver than she. No one ever complains. It's all chin up and soldier on and let's do whatever heroic deeds we can. It's all in the name of Harry Potter. And it's not that Parvati doesn't care, because she does, but the fear has spread and crystallized around her heart like an icy crust, and it's always there, with every heartbeat.

"Me too," whispers Lavender. "And I'm cold."

The sound of bare feet on the wood floor, the tightening of Lavender's hand on hers, and then Lavender is slipping into her bed, crawling over Parvati and sliding down beneath the sheets and snuggling in close. Parvati rolls onto her back, fingers intertwined with Lavender's.

"Better?" Parvati whispers, and the sole of Lavender's foot slides against her ankle.

"Yes."

"Lav? If we die in this war, if we never see another Christmas... Are you okay with that?"

"Of course I'm not," says Lavender. "Why would you even think I would be?"

"Because everyone else seems to be. Harry and Ron and Hermione. Neville. Ginny. Fred and George and--"

"Stop." Lavender presses a finger against Parvati's lips, a cool, trembling finger. "You might think they're okay with it, but they're not. At least, not all of them. Harry, maybe, but he's different. He's not like the rest of us. He's a hero. Ron may be a cad, but I know he's dead terrified of getting killed in all this. I just know he is. Neville's brave because he has to be, because there's no one at Hogwarts to lead us now. And Ginny, well, being in love makes you do stupid things. Trust me."

And it is at this reminder that Parvati pulls away a little, flinches from Lavender's touch. They've both been in love, but Lavender doesn't know that. She only knows her own love, for boys, and the heartache it's held for her there. For Parvati, the idea of love is full of promises and future. If they have a future.

"What's wrong?" says Lavender.

"It's... nothing. I'm tired. That's all," says Parvati.

Lavender rests her cheek on Parvati's shoulder, and if Parvati turns her head just a little bit, Lavender's forehead is just at the touch of her lips.

"Me too," says Lavender, and she sighs, warm breath ruffling the lacy neckline of Parvati's night gown.

Parvati sighs too, but hers is a sigh of longing and discontent. She falls asleep in spite of her restlessness.

When Parvati wakes, Lavender's hand is on her stomach, fingers spread wide and pressing down lightly, as if Lavender doesn't believe she's really there.

"Lav?"

No answer in the darkness.

"Lavender." Louder now, but still no response. Parvati chews her lip. She holds her breath. She thinks of courage and love and Hogwarts. She thinks of Padma, who watched her pack for this weekend, their first ever Christmas apart, and wished her luck, even though she didn't specify why. They have no secrets, not really, and Padma knows how much Parvati wants Lavender.

Parvati closes her slender fingers around Lavender's wrist, tries to pull her hand away.

"Lav." This time her voice is louder, and gravelly with sleep.

"Mmm, what?"

"I can't sleep," says Parvati.

Lavender twists her arm, pries her wrist away then catches Parvati's palm, interlacing their fingers.

"I was sleeping just fine," Lavender says.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. What's wrong, Parvati?"

"Nothing." She wants to press her lips to Lavender's forehead. "I... nothing."

"What is it? You can tell me. We share everything, remember?"

"Not this." It's a moment before she realizes she's murmured it aloud, and no matter how soft her voice, Lavender has heard.

"Not what?" She sounds hurt, annoyed.

"I... Just drop it, all right? You were right, love makes you do stupid things."

"Love? You're in love?" And Lavender is suddenly wide awake, her body animated as she tries to sit up. "With who?"

"Whom."

"Who's that?"

Parvati laughs; nothing else has been funny tonight, but this is.

"With whom," says Parvati. "With someone who is never going to love me back so it doesn't really matter and I think we should both just really get some sleep and we can talk about this in the morning. "

"Ooh, it's someone we know!" Lavender sounds as if she hasn't been sleeping at all. "Should I start making guesses? It couldn't be Harry, definitely not Ron... Neville? He's really grown into himself these days. Dean? Seamus? Oh! Is it a younger boy? Or older?"

Parvati draws up her courage. "It's not a boy at all."

"A man, then! Professor Lupin was quite nice, though I think I heard he's married now, and I have no idea how you'd even be in contact with him anymore. Oh, please tell me it's not someone awful. It could be an older Weasley boy! Some of them are just lovely. Not the Ministry one, but the others. Fred, or George? Oh, don't let it be that awful Lee Jordan. He never stops talking. You wouldn't get a word in edgewise--"

"Shut. Up." Parvati has flipped them over, with Lavender thrown on her back, hair spiraling out around her in loose curls, barely visible in the hint of moonlight slipping through the curtains.

"Was it something I said?" says Lavender, and Parvati laughs again, because it's absurd to even ask the question.

"Yes, it's everything you said. Everything and all of it. First of all, I don't fancy boys, or men, or anyone else of the male persuasion. I... like girls. Women. I'm in love with a woman." There, now she's said it. She's put it out there and there's no taking it back.

"You are?" There is a pause, and then, "Who?"

The word is not accusatory, as Parvati might have expected, but curious instead.

"You," she whispers, and she's acutely aware of every juncture of their bodies, of the rise and fall of Lavender's chest against her.

She waits for a response, but nothing comes, just the sound of Lavender's breaths coming more and more quickly, and then Lavender's hands move away. There are fingers tangling in Parvati's hair now, fisting her nightgown and pulling it up, up her legs and over her thighs. No words, but touch, touch is her answer, and with only the slightest of hesitation, Parvati answers back.

Lavender is sprawled out beneath her, making soft noises and tangling Parvati's hair around her fingers, finding bare skin beneath Parvati's nightgown. Parvati flicks open each button on Lavender's pyjamas, trying to remember how long she's been thinking about this, trying not to think about what she should do next.

She's never done this before, not with another girl, and she knows that Lavender hasn't either. Lavender's skin is warm and soft and when her breasts press against Parvati's it sends an electric thrill down Parvati's spine. Lips on lips is the sweetest thing she's ever tasted.

It feels like a sin to leave Lavender's mouth, but she kisses her way down, over jaw and throat, up the rise of one breast to Lavender's perfect nipple. She tastes it, teases with her teeth and tongue, shivers as Lavender moans and rocks up against her. How did they get to here from where they were moments ago? Why is she wasting her time wondering about the answer?

She leaves Lavender's breast in the palm of her hand, continues kissing downward, forgetting her nerves, forgetting her fear. Lavender is pulling on Parvati's hair and squeezing her own breast and Parvati sneaks a hand between her legs. Lavender gasps and pushes against her.

Parvati explores her slowly, taking her time, mapping every taste and scent, every smooth and curvy and sensitive place on Lavender's body. She pushes her way down, shimmies between Lavender's legs, and looks up into the darkness, imagines she can see Lavender's face, lips swollen from earlier kisses, eyes glazed and wanting, needing. Lavender wants her, actually wants her, and it seems like an impossible thing, but isn't surviving this whole war, this whole dark cloud over the world, an impossible thing?

She slides her hands down Lavender's stomach, savoring every shiver, every soft gasp, kisses her way to the juncture of Lavender's hip. Parvati's fingers tangle in the soft nest of hair there, and she kisses her way over, tentatively at first, then fervently, burying her face in Lavender, the sudden realization that this Christmas could be all they have bearing down on her, the taste of Lavender sweet and salty and entirely lacking in bitterness; it's everything Parvati imagined, though she'd never been so bold as to imagine this.  

Lavender tugs at Parvati's hair, writhes beneath her and bucks up off the bed. Parvati loves that she is the one responsible, that her lips and tongue and fingertips are doing this to Lavender. A small coil of heat is building deep in her pelvis and she feels it flare as Lavender starts to tremble.

Outside of this bed, the world is a dark and menacing place, outside of Lavender, Parvati is uncertain and tremulous, but here it's all warm and thrilling and beautiful, and when Lavender stiffens, pulls hard on Parvati's hair, and cries out so loudly that Parvati is sure she's woken the whole house, it's hard to imagine that outside world exists.

Parvati can hardly breathe, she slides up Lavender's body, cuddles into the bed beside her, and Lavender's hands are everywhere at once. The first kiss is tentative, Parvati doesn't know if Lavender wants to taste herself on Parvati's lips, but she does, and they wind around each other in the dark of night. There are no words, no talking about this thing that has shifted the ground beneath them from friendship to something inextricable, and Parvati knows that can wait.

That kind of talk is for survivors, and when they can say they've survived, they'll have time enough for that.


Lee Jordan and Lavender Brown, The Leaky Cauldron
25 December, 2005, Three p.m.

"Did you 'ear me?" said the bartender. "Travel restrictions are off. Portkey an' Floo service back in a 'our. Oi! Are you listening?"

The bartender banged on the bar and Lee jumped, blinking himself awake in surprise as his back creaked out a protest as he straightened up.

"What? Why? Where're we going?" He looked around the room, now empty in the mid-afternoon. "Oh, hell." He grabbed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, the hangover catching up with him quickly.

"Home, you big idiot," said Lavender, and she hit him on the back of the head with her purse, though not hard. "We're going home, Lee, to wait for our significant others to get back." She looked at the bartender. "Marvin, tell Hannah we appreciate her hospitality."

"Hold up just a minute," said Lee. "Did they find out what the problem was? Why random folks were exploding during travel? Because... that seems like a pretty serious issue."

Marvin shrugged and shook his head, as if he had no idea why they would expect him to know that.

"Come on," said Lavender. "I'm sure we'll hear about it on the wireless. There have to be some reporters out there who are still doing their jobs."

"You're heartless, Lavender Brown," said Lee. "Insulting a man who has tiny elves hammering angrily inside his skull. Besides, I'm not a reporter. I'm a talk show host. And I'll have you know I'm on a well-deserved holiday."

"Of course it's well-deserved," said Lavender. "It's the anniversary of losing your virginity! There should be a national observance in your honor."

Lee tried to scowl, but even with a raging headache, he still managed to chuckle under his breath. "Consider yourself lucky I was never good with memory charms," he said. "Or you'd be walking out of here without that particular piece of knowledge."

Lavender smiled. "I'm just impressed that you're walking out of here at all," she said.

"A fine testament to my desire to see George," said Lee, and he offered her his arm. "Ready?"

Lavender took a deep breath, and slipped her hand around the crook of his elbow. "Let's get out of here."


Parvati Patil and George Weasley, Lobby of the Magical Standard Hotel, Salem
25 December, 2005, Ten a.m.

Parvati yawned and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

"That was not nearly enough time for proper beauty sleep," said George, stretching his arms up overhead with a yawn of his own.

"I don't care how tired I am, I just want to go home," said Parvati.

"Me too, love," said George. "At least now we can do it without the threat of implosion. Or explosion. Or any kind of unwanted plosion."

"I can't believe they traced it all back to a batch of tainted biscuits," she said.

"Makes me glad we never got into the food service business at Wheezes."

"As if I'd ever let you feed people," said Parvati, picking up her suitcase.

"And this is why we're business associates. You make all the wise decisions."

"Somebody has to," said Parvati. "I'm impressed that the Americans were so quick to set up emergency Floo connections this morning."

"They want us out of their country," said George. "My reputation precedes me."

"Of course. It's all about you." Parvati laughed. "At least Lee won't run out of things to talk about on his show any time soon."

"Haha! You say that as if Lee ever runs out of things to talk about. Hell, he doesn't even need a topic."

"Neither does Lav," said Parvati, and George followed her to the Floo Network queue in the lobby, satchel swung over his shoulder. "I do hope they haven't killed each other by now."

George grinned and winked. "Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll actually be getting on by the time we're home. It'll make the office New Year's party a bit more bearable."

"You're using the term office loosely," she said. "I think the word you're looking for is 'zoo'."

"True enough. Look at that, we're next."

Parvati offered him a hand. "George, thank you for the company. You made this Christmas a little less... awful."

"That's high praise, pretty lady," said George, and he bypassed her hand, pulling her into a quick, fierce hug. "Happy Christmas, Parvati."

"Happy Christmas, George."


[END]