This was originally written for the 2013 Mini-Fest on Livejournal, a holiday fest for the Happy Potter fandom.

ScottPress was kind enough to be my beta for this story – thank you so much for all your help, I really appreciate it!

S. Fawcett was the student who suddenly sprouted a beard when she tried to cheat the age line protecting the Goblet of Fire. I've given her a first name and assumed she was in the same year as Harry.

Chapter 1

Ring Out the Old, Ring In the New

-oOo-

Sarah Fawcett couldn't quite believe her own eyes. Here she was in Grimmauld Place, partying with Dumbledore's Army just like she was one of them!

Over in the corner, Ron Weasley was throwing back tequila shots with Lavender Brown and Lee Jordan like they were going out of fashion. A boom box enchanted by Hermione Granger, who had finally stopped hovering around it anxiously, was blaring out something about letting the dogs out. Just now, Harry Potter had passed through the throng of people, pausing to slap Seamus on the back, even throwing a quick smile in Sarah's direction. He obviously had no idea who she was, but it was flattering all the same.

The room was heaving with dancing, shouting, drinking people she recognised from Hogwarts, with a heavy Gryffindor bias. Sarah knew only a few people here. Cho Chang, Terry Boot and Luna Lovegood had been in Ravenclaw too, but she had never been particularly friendly with any of them. The war had created an insurmountable divide between those at the thick of it and the others, like Sarah, who had been watching from the sidelines.

A pure-blood from a family of clockmakers, Sarah had been able to slip under the radar at Hogwarts the first term with Snape as Headmaster. After hearing her stories at Christmas her parents had decided to keep her at home and quietly gone into hiding, so she had played no part in the later stages of the war.

Sarah remembered when Harry Potter had been a student like any other. Well, he never really had been a normal student, what with his scar and being the youngest player on the Gryffindor Quidditch team since 1885 and all that. Nevertheless, before the war he had walked down the same corridors as Sarah without looking any different to the rest of them.

Afterwards, when Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and the others had returned to take their NEWTs, it seemed like an invisible barrier had been erected between them and the other students. The others still called them Dumbledore's Army, even though it had been disbanded at the end of the war and its members stood out from the crowd in much the same way as the young Harry Potter had.

No one spoke much of those who had fought on the losing side; there was no need for a convenient shorthand describing them.

Sarah had been having a drink at the Leaky with her girlfriends, all giggles and round-faced astonishment that they could drink legally now. They had finally graduated and were old enough to be out on the town, and wasn't it exciting! When it had been Sarah's turn to get a round, she had shuffled up to the bar trying to look like buying drinks was an everyday occurrence to her, feeling very grateful that she had decided against wearing her new stiletto heels.

Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen a man standing next to her at the bar, also waiting to be served. She had been trying to figure out how to carry all the glasses back to her friends without spilling anything when he had turned around.

"You'll want a hand with that, now. Let me sort you out," he'd said in a lilting accent that made her go weak at the knees. As smooth as anything, he'd levitated her drinks all the way back to their table, just like that. Even though they all had recognised him, they had tried not to let it on and he'd introduced himself. He had rested his gaze on Sarah for a little bit longer than any of the others.

The man she'd met at the bar had been Seamus Finnegan, and he was the reason she was celebrating New Year's Eve at Harry Potter's house party.

"Fancy a drink?" Seamus shouted in Sarah's ear, and she nodded. Sure-footedly, he led her through the crowd and down the stairs, turning around all the time to check that she was following. She felt ever so special. Seamus made her feel all grown up, like she was far beyond snogging in the deserted nooks of Hogwarts and entered a new life, where war heroes with dangerous-looking scars down their cheek looked at her like she was something to eat. It was all marvellously exciting.

In the kitchen the Wizarding Wireless was blaring at a slightly lower volume. It was almost possible to talk without shouting. An impressive display of bottles had been arranged on a side table, threatening to topple over at any second. Several bottles hung in the air, filling up levitating glasses that were swiftly snatched and passed on. Seamus quickly laid his hands on two glasses of champagne and they toasted each other.

The sharp, dry taste took Sarah by surprise and she grimaced involuntarily. Somehow, it seemed appropriate that the most grown-up of drinks was an acquired taste. Sarah and Seamus were pressed tightly together by the bodies moving through the kitchen. They was so close that she could see every last freckle on Seamus' broad nose.

"Happy New Year, Sarah! May good luck be with you and trouble never find you," Seamus said, the lines in the corners of his eyes crinkling. She had never been able to decide whether they were green or blue; all she knew was that he took her breath away. Before she could croak out a response, there was a crash loud enough to wake the dead, and even the out-of-tune singing from Lee Jordan and George Weasley ceased.

"Buggering hell!" The whole front of Ginny Weasley's dress was stained with something red. A punch bowl big enough to fit a giant's head laid upturned on the floor in front of her, in the middle of a puddle of dark liquid which had obviously been punch just a moment ago.

"Hey, Ginny! You're meant to drink it, not pour it out!" Charlie Weasley shouted to her from his perch by the Wireless. Even though he was by no means sober, he was quick enough to dodge the hex she sent his way in response. After putting her brother in his place Ginny turned her attention to her formerly pristine white dress. Sarah winced in sympathy. There were some things even magic couldn't do; raising the dead and removing red wine stains as bad as these were among them.

When Seamus had invited her to the most exclusive party in wizarding Britain, the last thing Sarah had expected to see was the hostess running away, crying over a ruined dress. Nevertheless, that was exactly what happened. Ginny pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared up the stairs. Sarah was the only one standing right in Ginny's way as she left the kitchen, so probably no one else noticed, but there were definitely tears in her eyes.

It had nothing to do with Sarah, but she couldn't help feeling uneasy. Ginny Weasley was more likely to blast something to pieces than fall into tears, so what on earth could be the matter?

On the other side of the invisible barrier Hermione had erected to keep the party goers out of the rest of Grimmauld Place, Ginny was barricading herself into the bathroom she shared with Harry on the third floor.

She sat down on the toilet with her head in her hands. For the last week, what had been getting to her the most was how stupid she had been.

It seemed to be getting worse; now, she didn't even seem to be able to keep her act together any longer. She had fought Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake, and here she was: undone by dropping a bloody punch bowl.

Ginny knew she couldn't stay here all night, but it was definitely tempting. If only there hadn't been the bloody party to deal with, on top of everything else!

It had seemed like such a good idea when it had occurred to her to throw a big party for all their friends on New Year's Eve. She had been delighted at the prospect of putting the enormous house to use in the way it was meant to be, for once. When she had been planning the festivities, persuading Harry and sweet-talking Kreacher until he agreed to keep the guests supplied with food and booze, she had never counted on how unnerving it would be to have strangers all over their home.

She knew it had taken Hermione weeks to figure out how to modify the protection charms sufficiently to allow access to selected parts of the house for one night only, and Ginny had no reason to doubt their efficacy. It just rubbed her the wrong way to see Zacharias Smith, who had been a wanker in sixth year and still was a wanker now, sitting in Sirius' chair and knocking back shots of whiskey.

If only she could have a drink, it would at least have taken the edge off.

Well, she couldn't and that was that. She pushed the thought to the very back of her mind. Absentmindedly waving her wand at the stained dress, she vanished the dark blue patch and checked her reflection.

"That lipstick is a little loud, dear," the mirror simpered, and Ginny made a rude sign at it before sweeping out of the bathroom and heading back downstairs, shoulders squared and head held high.

She didn't expect to run into Hermione on the first floor landing. If it hadn't been for the strange expression on her face, Ginny would have assumed that Hermione was heading to her room to freshen up. They had known each other for a long time though, and something in Hermione's posture told Ginny this wasn't just about getting to the loo without having to queue up first.

"You wouldn't be sneaking off to sit in your room now, would you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not at all," Hermione said with a completely straight face

"You are, aren't you?"

"I'll be back."

"Hermione..."

"It's just- There's too many people, and they make my back itch," Hermione said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she wanted to get the confession over with.

Ginny gave her a sharp glance. She knew how much Hermione hated admitting to any weaknesses, and this openness seemed slightly uncharacteristic.

"I need some time on my own and then I'll come back. Besides, you know loud parties aren't really my sort of thing," Hermione offered with a crooked smile. Something about it looked off, but Ginny couldn't put her finger on it.

"Not mine either, I think," Ginny admitted. "Maybe it was more fun planning it than having it."

"See you in a bit, then."

Ginny walked down the stairs, passing through the invisible barrier, and was hit by a wall of noise.

"You should've seen it, size of a house!"

"-was always a twat anyway-"

"Here, gi'us that! No point letting it go to waste-"

"Fancied him since school, but he was too thick-"

"You and your two left feet, Thomas!"

"What's 'bootylicious' supposed to mean, anyway?"

"Sister dear!" The last voice belonged to George, and it was rather closer than the rest. Ginny looked up straight into her brother's eyes, not missing the large bottle of tequila he was proudly brandishing. "Not a bad spread at all!"

"I learnt something from Mum, you know, even if I'm not sure she'd approve of all the drink. How's tricks?"

"Not bad. You?"

"OK," Ginny said.

He raised his eyebrows, looking for her to elaborate, but she had already revealed too much. George would have seen through any attempt to maintain that everything was just spiffing, in any case.

"It's a bit busier than I expected it'd be, is all." George looked like he didn't believe her. 'Sod him anyway', Ginny thought. "Have you seen Seamus?" she asked in an attempt to divert his attention.

"Finnegan? I thought he was in Australia?"

"He's back. He came back for Christmas."

"Good old Seamus," George said vaguely before clutching her shoulder in an iron grip, turning her around to face the same way as he did. At first, Ginny was at a loss as to what she was supposed to be looking at. Then she saw it: a head of white-blond hair, its colour as unmistakable as the rich red of blood flowing from open wounds.

"Malfoy! What the hell is he doing here?" she asked angrily, forgetting that if anyone ought know, it was her.

"Don't worry, I'll get rid of him right away," George said happily, pulling his wand out of his back pocket. At the back of her mind, Ginny was thinking that Mad-Eye Moody would have been furious with them for their lack of vigilance if he had been alive. Never mind George's buttocks, this was infinitely more serious.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," someone shouted at George's elbow. It turned out to be Luna, and both Ginny and George reluctantly paused to hear her out. "He could sue you for damages. I heard him telling Susan Bones when they arrived."

"So that's how he got here, the little bollocks!" Ginny was fuming. Susan had been in Auror training with Harry and Ron, so she knew very well that Susan tended to hex first and ask questions later. Malfoy, the smarmy git, had managed to get into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement through the same trainee program Hermione had signed up on to join the Department of Mysteries. It was entirely plausible he'd managed to get hold of some incriminating information about Susan and blackmailed her into bringing him to the party.

Not for the first time, Ginny wished someone would take Susan aside and teach her not to be so bloody blue-eyed about the ways of the world. At least Ginny would do her bit after this by refusing to talk to Susan for the foreseeable future.

Despite knowing that Luna was right and that the bastard must have foreseen they would try to get rid of him, Ginny considered going after Malfoy anyway. Most of the people in the house would swear blind nothing had happened and back up her story. However, she reluctantly realised Malfoy never would walk into a house full of Gryffindors without a backup plan. No doubt he would make it exceedingly difficult to toss him out.

Which made it imperative she found Harry before he saw Malfoy.

"Find Harry. Now!" she barked at George and Luna. Neither of them was slow on the uptake and they dispersed in different directions. Ginny took the dining room, angrily clearing a path through the crowd, ignoring any protestations from her guests. Having a fearsome reputation helped. No one was going to cause a fuss over having their drink spilt all over them when Ginevra Weasley was on the warpath.

Usually, the room was dominated by a table big enough to seat twenty. To the best of Ginny's knowledge, the last meal actually eaten at it had been in back in Mrs Black's day. After that, it had only been used for Order meethings. Tonight, it had been shrunk to make way for a makeshift dance floor. Working from the assumption that Harry was unlikely to be dancing to Muggle music (or any music, for that matter), Ginny quickly scanned the fringes of the room first.

Malfoy was standing by the window, looking nonchalant and demonstrating for all the world that he had a neck like a jockey's bollocks. Fortunately for him, there was no sign of Harry yet, and it didn't look like Ron had hexed him either.

She decided that her brother could probably be trusted to keep the situation under control for the time being, and decided that it was most important to find Harry. Quickly.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded. She had been in the hall when he arrived with a shamefaced Susan Bones in tow, and she had latched on to him immediately. Draco Malfoy, pillock extraordinaire, in a house full of drunken former enemies was bad news and she wasn't going to let him wander loose, causing trouble at their party. Leisurely, he strolled through the drunken crowd, paying no heed to either Hermione or the occasional gasp when someone recognised him.

He didn't stop until he was in the dining room and she could finally corner him, wand at the ready.

"Celebrating the arrival of the new year, of course. Some of us don't keep our noses permanently glued to a book, Granger. You should try it some time," he drawled.

Hermione ignored his reply completely.

"If I were you, I'd get lost before Harry or Ginny see you. It's not like you to walk into the lion's den. Quite the opposite, in fact," she observed, trying to sound as contemptuous as he did.

"And miss out on the riveting drama occurring here? I think not. Why, only in the last few minutes I've learnt some very interesting facts about my fellow party-goers."

"Tell me, Malfoy, how does it feel to be so pathetic that you have to blackmail your way into parties?"

"I doubt you'd be here at all if you didn't live here, Granger. Available at short notice, are we? No boyfriend, no social life to speak of..."

That cut a little too close to the bone.

"You're missing a critical factor here, Malfoy. I, unlike you, actually have friends," she said through clenched teeth, making a supreme effort to sound dispassionate.

"He wouldn't know about that, you see," a mild voice said from about a foot above her. She twisted around and saw that Neville was standing next to her, helping her to form a far more efficient barrier between Malfoy and the rest of the room than she was capable of on her own. He also had his wand out, Hermione noticed, and she deliberately stepped on his foot while looking pointedly at his right hand.

"You'll need to be more direct than that, Granger. It's the Longbottom brain trust we're dealing with." Malfoy sounded amused.

Hermione had to exercise extreme control to prevent herself from hitting him with something nasty in the middle of that smug, pointed face.

"What's this?" another newcomer asked. "A ferret?" It was Alicia Spinnet, Hermione noticed with a groan. Alicia had a good heart but was somewhat prone to fly off the handle, especially where Malfoy was concerned. Someone cool and collected would be useful at this juncture, someone like...

"What the ruddy hell is that slimy little shit doing here?" Ron announced his arrival, his outstretched wand wobbling slightly. Hermione couldn't suppress her groan anymore.

"Ron, don't hex him. That's exactly what he wants," she quickly explained, hoping he didn't get around to trying the absinthe Lee Jordan had brought yet.

"Au contraire, Granger. I'm merely visiting the old ancestral home since the opportunity presented itself," Malfoy drawled, but her attention was focused on Ron and she paid him no mind.

Ron was staring fixedly at the smaller wizard, clutching his wand and seemingly weighing up his chances.

"Don't, Ron. He's not worth the hassle," Hermione added wearily, wondering how many times she'd said that over the years.

"You know I could make you walk straight out of here if I wanted, Malfoy," Ron said in a strangely calm voice.

"I'd like to see you try," Malfoy sneered in response, and Hermione tried to decide whether to focus her wand on him or Ron.

"I don't think so. Your little game won't pay off. You're not getting rid of the life debt you owe me so easily," Ron said, and Hermione could have kicked herself for not realising earlier what Malfoy's purpose was. Trust Ron to see through his strategy straight away, she thought wryly.

"Busted, Malfoy. Now make your way out like a good boy. Maybe there's even a party someplace where someone would actually be happy to see you. However unlikely that may seem," Hermione added spitefully. She hadn't forgotten his barb from earlier.

"Oh, but where would be the fun in that? This place is a regular human circus, full of entertainment. Anything from the inane," he nodded to Alicia Spinnet, "to the utmost human drama."

"You're inane, you prat!" Alicia retorted, having caught on to the idea that hexing Malfoy was a Bad Thing but not much else.

Hermione winced, and Malfoy didn't disappoint.

"You're not stupid, Granger, I'll give you that. Devoid of charm and so dry that only a bookshelf could love you, possibly, but at least you're not dim."

"If you think I care for your opinion, Malfoy, you're even less intelligent than I gave you credit for."

"There's no need - just look around you. Weasley clearly realised that if he wanted some sort of home life, he'd be better off with a Flobberworm than you. At least they don't nag."

"I can't help but noticing that you've even managed to lose Pansy, which brings your number of admirers to zero," Hermione retorted. She could feel her cheeks burning. It was a little more than a year ago that Ron and her had decided that it wasn't working, hadn't been working for quite some time, and very likely never would work between them again. Ron had started a string of short-lived romances and Hermione...

Well, Hermione rarely went out with anyone, and when she did it was extremely rare that the 'relationship' extended beyond the first date.

Most of the wizards she knew saw her as one of the guys: a walking, talking textbook who was great to have around but had no sex appeal whatsoever. The fact that she would actually use a word like 'sex appeal' just underlined the issue.

And now Draco Malfoy, damn him thrice to hell, was dragging up all her insecurities. In front of her ex-boyfriend and current crush, no less.

The chapter titles are from Tennyson's poem In Memoriam (Ring out, wild bells).