Work Text:
“You know you shouldn’t drink that.”
Hermione paused, cup just shy of touching her lips. “Did the twins put something in it?”
Ginny shrugged. “I didn’t see them put anything in, but…” she lowered her voice, “they’ve been acting shiftier than usual.”
Across the room, Fred and George were huddled, whispering, eyes flitting around the gathering, seemingly trying to watch everyone at once. Fred caught her looking at them and winked.
In return she narrowed her eyes at him and very deliberately set her cider down, keeping aggressive eye contact the entire time. He smirked and whispered something to George.
George’s smile when he looked her way was feral.
Great. Now she had both twins’ full attention. Well, that was perfectly fine because they also had hers.
“What’s in the cider?” she mouthed at them from where she stood, not wanting to give up a prized spot near an open window and the cool breeze coming through it.
Grimmauld Place was crowded and loud, with Harry’s annual Mabon party in full swing. The tradition had started out as a small potluck with close friends, but had grown over the years.
“Apples,” George replied, lips easy to read.
Fred added, “Sugar and spice...”
“…and everything nice,” they said in unison.
“So funny,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m watching you two.”
George stood up straighter, smoothed down his shirt, and flicked some imaginary lint off a sleeve. Fred ran his hands through his hair, artfully mussing it. She knew they were mocking her, but she couldn’t help laughing. Next to her Ginny snorted.
“I’m going to get a bottle of butterbeer. Only thing that will be safe to drink is unopened,” Ginny said. “Want one?”
“Please. And maybe another of those miniature pumpkin pasties Luna brought?”
Ginny saluted her. She didn’t get far through the crowd before Angelina stopped her to talk. Hermione barely noticed though, because now George had produced a notebook and was busy scribbling something in it. Fred was rubbing his hands like a comical evil genius.
“You know they’re like chimpanzees?” Charlie startled her, so engrossed had she become with staring down Fred and George.
“What?”
“You can’t make eye contact. They consider it a challenge.”
Hermione laughed. It was absurd. But also? Probably accurate.
“So, how have you been since the last time I saw you? New Year’s Eve, wasn’t it?” Charlie asked, having to lean in close to be heard over the sudden laughter from the corner where Seamus and Dean were telling a story.
They both knew exactly the last time they'd seen each other, but Hermione decided to play along. “Same old, same old. You?”
Charlie grimaced, tipped back his nearly empty bottle of lager, and avoided eye contact as he finished drinking it. After setting it next to her untouched cider, he scanned the room. She’d almost decided to ask him what was wrong, when he leaned even closer.
“I quit my job at the reserve.”
“What?!”
A couple of people looked her way at her outburst. She smiled tightly at Neville.
Turning to Charlie she spoke quieter. “Sorry. What?”
“I dunno. I’m not a young guy anymore—”
“Shush!”
“—and I guess I’m just tired?”
More laughter rang out from across the room, louder than before. Hermione wanted to ask Charlie more questions, find out how long he'd be around, what his plans were—but the timing couldn’t be worse.
Because Ron had turned into a dog and was running in circles, trying to catch his tail. Lavender was attempting to grab him, to pick him up. She got close to capturing him. He’d stopped chasing his tail long enough to lick Theo’s hand. But he wiggled free of her grasp and fled behind a sofa.
Fred was smiling, but wasn’t really paying attention to Ron. In fact, he seemed to be counting something as he scanned the room, Hermione noticed. She wondered what he was doing. George was still taking notes.
Ginny appeared through the melee, giggling as she handed Hermione a bottle of butterbeer. “Guess who drank the cider?” She had one for Charlie too. They clinked their bottles together in a silent toast. The girls drank while Charlie contemplated the bottle.
There was a startled scream from Parvati when a dove landed on her shoulder.
“Is that…?”
“Lavender?” Ginny nodded. “Yeah, she turned into a bird just as I was walking up. You would have noticed if you weren’t busy staring down the twins.”
“And Ron’s a terrier?” Hermione mused. Her butterbeer was wonderfully cold. She took another long sip, savouring its sweetness.
Ginny had brought more pumpkin pasties over also, but when Luna turned into a hare and hopped up onto a table, Hermione thought she might not want one after all. Simultaneously, Hermione and Ginny both set their treats down next to the still undrunk cider.
“Have you eaten anything since you got here?” Hermione asked Ginny.
“A handful of apple slices…”
“I had a pasty, but it was right when Luna came out of the floo with them. Snagged one before she set them down on the table.”
They looked at Charlie.
“I’ve only been drinking the beer I brought with me. Wasn’t sure what the alcohol situation would be and I’ve grown to like beers from Romania.” He shrugged and finally tried a small sip of the butterbeer.
“Bloody hell!” Theo yelled when he landed on his backside, knocked over by Harry, who had suddenly turned into a stag. He wasn’t the only one who displaced when Harry grew to three times his size. But since Cho was now a swan, her complaining quickly drew more attention.
Lavender, who had been frantically darting around the room, staying close to the ceiling, landed on one of Harry’s antlers. She fluffed her feathers and cooed at Cho.
“People are turning into the form of their Patronus.” Hermione said, shocked as more people became animals. She looked to where Seamus and Dean had been. "Did you know Dean's Patronus was a boar?"
Ginny nodded distractedly, looking around the room. “Hermione, do you think—”
But Hermione was gone and an otter was now in her place.
“How in the world did that happen?” Ginny's eyes were wide with shock.
Otter-Hermione nosed the fallen butterbeer bottle, its contents seeping into the carpet next to her.
“Oh no, those sneaky bastards…” Ginny groaned, just before she started to morph, her hair going from red to brown.
Charlie threw his nearly full bottle of butterbeer across the room, hitting George’s notebook, barely missing his face.
George stumbled, dropping his notes. He sluiced sticky liquid off his arms and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Oy! What the hell, Charlie?”
“My Patronus is a dragon, you fucking idiots!” he yelled as he turned on the spot, apparating away.
Fred had his own problems to deal with as an irate otter sunk her claws into her shins and climbed his pant-leg.