Christmas Cheer (R; Snape/Rosmerta, implied Harry/Luna; 860 words): Some wizards are more easily gruntled than others.
"Be of good cheer, Severus," Rosmerta said, sliding a pint towards him at the tap.
Without looking up from his book, Severus opened his palm and stopped the tankard with a grunt.
"Be of good cheer," Rosmerta repeated, returning to her industrious and noisy punch preparations, "and I'll let you ride my breasts before I open for the holiday shopping crowd."
Severus' mind blanked as the book slid from his hands.
"—into my skin so that every time I come 'round to where you won't be glowering, every time I brush up against you, you'll know that I'm yours."
In his haste to levitate over the tap, Severus spilt his pint. He didn't care. Rosie was his.
"Oi!" Charlie exclaimed, as he peered through the Three Broomsticks' window. "That's taking Christmas cheer too far! How long have they—"
"Not another word!" Harry interrupted.
Charlie grinned. "If you were having it like ol' Snape, you wouldn't be so—"
"Merlin, Charlie. It's Christmas." Ron protested. "No one wants to hear about Snape shag—"
"Right. Let's try the Hog's Head. Madam Rosmerta's apparently not going to open for—"
Ron and Charlie's sniggering stopped Harry, who glared at both of them.
Percy, appearing rather flushed, rolled his eyes. "You're ten, both of you."
Charlie left off laughing. "Nah, just thirsty. The Hog's Head'll do, I reckon."
"I'll let everyone know where to find us," Bill said, drawing his wand.
While Bill sent his Patronus and Ron grumbled about Rosmerta's taste in men to the amusement of Charlie and obvious mortification of Percy, Harry moved a little away from the group. He felt put out by everyone's happiness, and by the fact that the other blokes would have someone to join them at the pub once they girls had completed their holiday shopping. He didn't begrudge Ginny and Neville their happiness, of course, but it was hard, being alone for yet another Christmas.
Hell, even Fred's found someone, and he's been dead for five years!
"You coming, Harry?" Bill called.
Harry made to look into one of his bags, and pretended to rifle through it. "Er, forgot something to go with this," he called, holding up the invisibility hat he'd bought for Teddy. "Join you in a bit!"
Strictly speaking, it was George who was seeing Hermione, but Harry'd seen enough at Hogwarts the previous evening after the staff's holiday party to have gathered that the twins still shared everything. Harry wasn't surprised about Fred and George, not since Muriel had shared stories about Ron's uncles, Fabian and Gideon, and Kingsley of all people, but he was still shocked by Hermione's behaviour. If not for the fact that Ron wasn't yet aware of it, he would have Imperio'd his friend into Obliviating him.
Harry was so wrapped up in his own disgruntlement that he missed seeing Luna. As they collided, a shower of dandelions burst from one of the sacks that she was carrying and began to molest him.
"Stop . . . stop that!" Harry said through his laughter as the damned things began tickling him.
Giggling, herself, Luna gasped some half-heard command and the flowers flew back into their rightening pot. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't think they'd work until I told them to."
"'S'okay," he said, brushing the snow off himself and standing.
Luna repackaged the pot and gathered her things, Shrinking them and slipping them into her pocket before looking at Harry expectantly.
"Er, what?" asked Harry.
"Aren't you going to ask about the dandelions? Whom they're for, I mean?"
Harry blushed. "None of my business," he answered, banishing any thought of the rumours that Luna and Professor Flitwick were involved.
Sure, they worked together often, but then, master and apprentice were supposed to, weren't they?
"Oh," Luna said quietly. "Well, I suppose they would make a good gift for Madam Rosmerta to give to the Headmaster. She's been worried about his holiday mood."
"I don't think there's anything wrong with it now."
Luna beamed at him. "That's lovely! It must be because of sex."
Harry fell into a coughing fit; this sort of conversation was precisely what he'd been hoping to avoid by walking away from the others.
"What's wrong, Harry? I know that you like sex. Ginny told me as much."
"Luna, I don't want to talk about sex with Ginny!"
"Yes, I suppose you'd rather be having it with her, but she's very much in love with Neville, isn't she?"
Harry frowned. "You know, this isn't helping my holiday mood."
Luna sighed inexplicably. "And nothing will until you want it to. That's the way of things."
With that, she leant up to kiss Harry's cheek and left him. Harry felt as if, somehow, he'd let Luna down, but he couldn't quite think how. Kicking the snow at his feet, he noticed something glittering in the depression that Luna's packages had made and stooped to retrieve it.
It was a gift tag addressed to him in Luna's hand; there was something about the various and festive uses of flowers half-smudged off on it, as well.
Harry's mind blanked—but not for long. "Oi, Luna!" he called, running towards her. "Fancy a pint?"