the one | h. potter

54. when a house becomes a home

The house is stuffy and loud; someone's charmed a speaker, and I'll be surprised if I don't wake up partially deaf tomorrow morning.

As far as housewarming parties go, this is definitely the most intense and noisy one I've ever attended. I was expecting a calm event (or just one that won't announce our presence to the muggle neighbors), but Harry kept on adding to the guest list, and although it started off perfectly quiet, some people got drunk within the first 15 minutes. Last I saw Seamus and Ron, they were knocking back a line of firewhiskey shots and jumping up and down on our sofa. With shoes. Thank Merlin for cleaning charms.

Harry and I are currently in the kitchen, filling the punch bowl back up again (without alcohol this time, for everyone's sake) and organizing huge pizza boxes on the clean marble countertop, which we both agree won't be clean in a minute.

Harry and I exchange a look and sigh. I fill a plate with a few pizza slices and count down with my fingers. Three, two, one...

"PIZZA!" We shout simultaneously, and hear loud, happy shouts coming from the living room. The door swings open almost immediately and we slip out the other door and back out into the now quiet hallway. Harry's right hand finds the small of my back, and he leads me to the empty maroon loveseat that Ron and Hermione were sitting in mere moments before. I lay my head down on his shoulder and let out a long sigh, placing the paper plate on our laps.

"This wasn't a good idea," I say, closing my eyes. "Our friends are so loud."

Harry chuckles. "Did you really think they'd act like adults?"

"No," I admit, "But I hope they buy their gifts like proper adults." I look at the large pile of wrapped presents sitting in the corner longingly; I've always loved receiving gifts. I can't wait to open them.

"Hey!" Ron yells, walking back in, one hand holding a plate of pizza and the other one grasped in Hermione's. "We were sitting there!"

"Finders keepers," Harry scoffs. "There are other chairs, take your pick."

Ron glares at him, but the slight wobble in his step reminds us that he doesn't really care. Ron picks stupid fights when he's drunk.

I pick up one of the slices sitting on our laps and point it in the general direction of Harry's face. He takes a large bite out of the side and redirects it towards my mouth after.

I've just finished chewing when the loud commotion that is Ginny, Seamus, Katie, and Dean enter the room with their plates and refilled cups, their partners trailing slowly behind them. We hadn't sprung for a huge party, only a couple of friends, because we didn't want to attract attention to ourselves and create another media 'scandal.'

By the time we got everything settled and planned a party, I'd already been living in Grimmauld place for over a month. It's now early April, and although most of us have adapted to life after the War, the remembrance is hanging over our heads. In a month, all of us will be attending the event at Hogwarts, where they'll present awards to the brave and unveil a memorial to honor the dead. Harry's already received notice in the mail; he'll be getting the Order of Merlin, First Class. Ron and Hermione will receive the same award, and anyone who fought in the battle will receive at least an Order of Merlin, Third Class. I was called into Kingsley's office just last week so he could tell me that I was awarded a First Class award as well, but that I wouldn't receive it publicly.

Draco is finally talking to me again, and conceded that he did understand why I kept Harry and my relationship from him. He told me he met someone, someone who didn't know or care about his background, at a bar in Diagon Alley a couple of weeks ago. So far, it's going great; he even said he might bring the lucky lady (or lad) over sometime tonight.