24th december
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE, and Joey's so excited!
She really really really loves loves loves Christmas, but honestly she'd probably say she prefers Christmas Eve. Just because of all the anticipation, and everything's giggly and excitable - and Christmas Day always ends up being a bit poo anyway, because you always end up quarrelling with your favourite people and then everyone's just a bit cranky and all sitting down to play Exploding Snap like a right load of grumps.
Well, she doesn't know what Christmas is like for you, but for her...
It's brilliant - for the most part. She's spent it with the Weasleys, either at Hogwarts or the Burrow, since she was a first-year, practically a baby! If they're at the Burrow, normally it goes something like this: she, Fred and George pull some mega-awesome pranks, sometimes with the aid of Ginny (and a moaning Ron always gets roped in somehow, accidentally). Then Percy gets all whiney, saying he wishes he hadn't taken the day of work, and do they think Cornelius Fudge spends his Christmases like this. Blah blah blah, whatever. Molly's be on the brink of explosion in the kitchen and Arthur's probably hiding in his garage, playing with something Muggly, so Bill's usually the one who sorts it all out and saves the day. Yay for Bill!
This year, obviously, they're spending it at Grimmauld Place, and Joey doesn't mind that too much. Sure, she adores the Burrow, but here it's so fun too! It's nice because Sirius gets the company, and she can keep an eye on all the people who mean the universe to her, like Bill and Frances and Bill and Sirius and Remus and Bill.
Oh, and did she mention Bill?
Plus the twins, duh. The three of them are currently sat at the vast table in Sirius' creepy cavernous dining room, Fred and George messing around with parchment for their business, and Joey humming Christmas songs to herself as she makes everyone Christmas cards. (She knows it's for their business and not homework because George has his reading glasses on, which suggests they're actually working, shock horror.)
Making Christmas cards is cute and fun, so it's a win-win, really! Her hands are caked in glitter, tiny stars of the stuff illuminating the table; not to mention the fact that it's a very messy job, and even magical glitter gets everywhere, so Joey's not surprised if she's going to be washing it out of her hairline for forever. (For the record, she's not complaining!)
'You're not making many, Joe, I see,' George retorts sarcastically, surveying the massive pile of cards that are teetering precariously on the table. Yeah, ha ha, hilarious!
'I want everyone to have one,' she says in a pretend-sulk (but not a proper sulk, it's Christmas Eve, for Venus' sake!). Yes, everyone; she's even made one for Mad-Eye and Mundungus, and her whole Quidditch team. Except for Zacharias Smith, that is. She thought about sending him a photo of her and Cedric as a present, but decided that is simply too passive-aggressive for her!
'And how're you gonna get them to everyone, Santa Claus?'
'Lola's letting me borrow Aneurin,' Joey says, affectionately stroking the magnificent tawny owl seated besides her. He nips her fingers and she wonders if she tastes nice. Aneurin, my love, I appreciate the compliment but you can't eat me, I'm not a worm. Even if I am as small as one!
His mention of Santa Claus suddenly gives her a brilliant idea. 'Ooo, should we wait up for Santa this year? Or see if we can catch him? Please please please!'
Both twins stare at her with amusement. George, she kids you not, even takes off his reading glasses to laugh. Rude. 'Joeypoos,' Fred begins, 'y'know he's not actually real, right?'
She shoves both fingers in her ears. 'La la la, I'm not listening.'
'Don't worry, Annie, I wouldn't wanna listen to them either,' comes a voice from the door, and Joey squawks with excitement as she leaps from the table to him.
When Bill hugs her, it's dead cute, because he always lifts her up and spins her around a little. She knows it's silly, but in his hug, she feels safe. It's like, Joey has spent her whole life being an older sister - even though Matthew was her twin, and with Ced, they were kind of equal - but finally, it's like she has a big brother looking out for her. It's super-duper lovely.
'Will you wear a Santa hat, Billy? Fred won't.
'Of course I will,' Bill beams, shoving it on over his long hair as Fred opens his mouth to protest. 'Fred's just being horrible. As per usual.'
'Are you quite finished bullying us, William? Shame on you!' George gasps, acting as if he's physically hurt. Drama queen.
'Yep, for now. Mum just wanted me to let you know dinner's ready.'
'Best get rid of these then, Georgie,' Fred says cheerfully, gesturing at the parchments.
'Right you are, Freddie,' and with a wave of their wands it's like their business stuff was never there. As if by magic, who'd have thought!
The dining room does look brilliant, actually, as they all settle down to dinner. Sirius has been decorating - with Joey's help, of course! - and so the whole house looks incredible, all joyful. There's magical snow everywhere, which is so exciting for when they'll inevitably have an indoor snowball fight (and it means she can make snow angels at any time), and a Christmas tree decorated with live fairies. She'll say that again, so you can properly catch her excitement: live flipping fairies!
Sirius comes wandering in carrying the dinner, looking hilarious in a 'Kiss the cook' apron and loudly warbling the same verse of 'God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriff' over and over again. Joey carefully places all her cards to one side and sits straight back down in her usual seat, with the twins on either side and Bill and Frances, who winks at her from across the table, opposite.
It's weird without Arthur interrogating her about why Muggles use different sized spoons for different foods, almost unnaturally quiet, somehow. She's almost grateful when the twins spark up an argument about the fact that they're not allowed to drink Frances' Firewhisky at the table - which Joey also finds outrageous, but you don't hear her grumbling about it, do you? (OK, yes, you do. What can she say, she does love a bit of Firewhisky! But she wouldn't have the nerve to ask for it at the dinner table, that's for sure.)
'Alcohol is for adults only,' Molly says firmly, in the type of tone that is all, Boys-don't-mess-with-me-I-swear! Joey recognises because usually you hear it just before the three of them get into huge trouble... Whoopsie-daisies!
'But we are adults now!' Fred cries. Hmm, debatable.
Sirius chuckles. 'Oh, come on, Molly-'
'No! Oh, if your father was here to see this...'
He'd probably encourage them, asking me what Muggles like to drink, Joey thinks, but she's too much of a scaredy-cat to say it out loud. Obviously!
(Side note, that's kind of a cute expression, don't you think? Cats are sweet! So what if she's scared of even a breath of confrontation, at least according to this she's a cute little cat, right?)
'Molly, could you pass me the salt?' Frances asks sweetly. Sirius' eyes narrow in amusement. 'Oh no! I think I left it in the kitchen.'
'No worries, dear,' Molly sing-songs, bustling into the kitchen - as, at record speed, Frances pours Firewhisky into Fred, George and Joey's waiting cups.
Joey desperately hopes she marries Bill and they end up having cats and lots of kids (but only if they want, of course!), and a happy happy happy life together, in some sweet little cottage somewhere! Because wouldn't it be cool if Frances officially was like, their vodka aunt? Yes, she certainly thinks so!
Bill looks at Frances in a way that makes Joey melt all over like a gooey Caramel Cobweb, and she can't help wondering if maybe - even though she knows it's silly, because she doesn't deserve it - just maybe, somebody will ever look at her like that too.
'LET'S GET fucking smashed,' Fred declares, as the three of them collapse onto the twins' beds in the room where they dreamt away the summer.
'Whoever said that you don't have great ideas, brother of mine?' George says, outstretching his hand to Joey. 'If you may, Johannah?'
'Why of course I shall, Georgie,' she says, half-cartwheeling over the bed to retrieve their hidden stash of Firewhisky - in a move that results in her splayed against the pillows, giggling like a giggly child.
OK, fine, she may or may not be a lightweight, and yes, OK, fine, because they've already been drinking (shhh, don't tell anyone!) she may or may not already be slightly tipsy. But she's not complaining! See, this is why she loves Firewhisky: it makes her just feel all warm and snuggly, not to mention the gentle fire wriggling in her belly and tugging at her throat, that makes her feel like she's just growing a massive flower inside of her.
You've heard of Jack and the Beanstalk, now get ready for Joey and... No, that joke was really, really bad, even for her. Ignore her! What on Venus is she on about?
So, as she's already established, she's a massive, humongous lightweight (despite only being four-foot-ten, sadly). That's why about after an hour of drinking gleefully she's effortlessly moved from tipsy, skipped drunk, and gone straight to absolutely-wasted!
It always goes something like this: the three of them start out with shots, but eventually, it just descends into fighting about who's actually holding the bottle and attacking the others, jokingly obviously, just trying to get a sip... Which, as you can imagine, is like being at the circus. It's pure, pure chaos!
And after about two hours, well. Her cheeks warm and red as enflamed roses, her head throbbing just a teeny-weeny bit, she's currently sprawled against someone's bed, her hair fanned out in Fred's lap and her feet tapping against George's to the rhythm of 'God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs'.
They had been playing reusable hangman, but Fred had accidentally (yeah, whatever, sure Freddie, sure), drowned the little figure in Firewhisky when it became obvious that George was going to win every single game, simply because he's the cleverest, and Joey's brain cell takes a happy trip out of the window when she's drunk. So now they're just sat, mumbling incoherent rubbish, until Fred suggests, mischievously, that they should go 'fuck shit up' in the hallways.
'Ooo, I'll come, I want a tup of - a cup of tea,' Joey sighs, heaving herself off the bed with enormous difficulty, and the twins exchange amused looks as they watch her skip down the stairs - which results in her tripping and ending up a giggling pile on the floor.
'Shush, don't want you setting off that bloody portrait, do we?' Fred laughs, and he pulls her up, sprinting off down the corridor towards the kitchen... until he reaches the door with a demonic look on his face and gestures they should be silent.
'Ooo, what is it, Freddie-weddie?' Joey mumbles, as Fred bursts into the kitchen and yells...
'OH, I KNEW IT!'
There's a flash of long ginger hair flying past as Ginny appears out of nowhere, screaming at her brother, 'FRED, GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN, THEY'RE BUSY!'
Intrigued, Joey pokes her head into the kitchen and sees Bill and Frances' faces inches away from each other... oh my Venus! If she hadn't already lost her mind, she would be losing it right here and now! Merlin's mismatched socks, they're so cute, she doesn't even care if Fred (blooming Fred, ugh, what's he like!) actually interrupted them kissing. Golly gosh. Frill. Well, they certainly give her thrills!
'C'mon, let's get out of here before I bloody throw up,' George says, wrinkling his nose, and Joey skips delightedly back up the stairs, fizzing all over - and the Firewhisky has nothing to do with it!
She's even more excited for tomorrow. It's gonna be so cute, she can just see it now: everyone who's basically her family, everyone who she'd give away bits of her soul for, especially if those two are all smoochy-smoochy, and she's sandwiched between the twins. Ugh, it's so fun it's unfair. Forget what she said about Christmas being stressful earlier, she's gonna have the best day, ever!
And in joyous celebration of this, they're just drinking more and more and more! It's so great, because Joey is dangerously drunk and this is always when she does stuff she'll regret, like snuggling up against her best friend even though he'll always be just her best friend, which is a bummer... But hey, the great thing about Firewhisky is now she's so drunk, she isn't even thinking about that. (Well she is, like, right this second, but apart from that!) It's like the drink was just invented for pining witches and wizards the world over. Thank you, whoever invented Firewhisky! Probably someone called Mr or Miss Firewhisky, she imagines. That would make sense, wouldn't it?
Well, whatever. She owes them a flipping lot.
''Cause I'm just so fucking sexy, I'm going for a smoke,' George declares grandly, hunting for his glasses and shoving them on, albeit a little lop-sidedly. He kicks his brother's foot. 'Coming?'
'Nah mate,' Fred shakes his head, 'I can't be fucked moving.'
'Fair dos,' and he ruffles Joey's hair affectionately before slamming the door behind him, just leaving Joey and Fred. Alone, and drunk. A recipe for disaster, if she ever saw one!
Because here's the thing: when Joey is tipsy, she always nags Fred to tell him he loves her, and she doesn't even know why. It's kinda stupid, but she just really likes hearing it, even though it's not like it'll ever mean anything. But now she's so dizzily drunk, and it's Christmas, and she has kissing on the brain because of Bill and Frances' almost-kiss...
'Ew, imagine kissing Bill,' Fred says with a grimace, as if he's reading her mind. 'Would you dare, yuck.'
With great effort Joey manages to roll onto her front so she's facing him, instead of counting the stars with her face in his lap. 'Freddie, that's - hic - that's so rude to poor Bill! Imagine kissing you.'
Sober Joey would literally keel over with shock if she ever said that. Actually, sober Joey would just never, ever say that at all! But drunk Joey, however, is clearly a whole different breed, and Joey can't decide whether to be impressed or intimidated by her. Or perhaps, a little bit of both.
'Don't kid yourself, Joeypoos, you imagine kissing me all the time. Don't lie,' Fred says as the smirk spreads like sunrise all over his face, illuminating every freckle, glowing in the candlelight and his grin like fallen shrapnel.
'Um, no! No, why on Venus would I-'
And this is when he kisses her.
It takes a moment to sink in, to go from, I'm kissing Fred, to, Holy flipping pancakes I'm kissing Fred! His mouth is exactly like she'd expect: his lips chapped and rough but gentle, so gentle, and they taste like Firewhisky and cinnamon and something else, which she realises is laughter. His laughter.
There must be nothing better in the whole universe, she's convinced, than feeling his smile pressed against hers. Seriously. Her lip bashes against her favourite snaggletooth of hers and she pulls back a little, worried she's hurt him, but he merely chuckles against her lips, closing the gap that she never intended to create, promise!
She's never even been kissed before, so to be kissing him, like this, like she's hungry, is everything. He is everything, and he always has been, she realises that now. She can't believe she hasn't spent every single moment of her life kissing him; now she's started, how is she ever meant to stop?
(Joey knows she's being all silly and cliche but please, let her have this moment!)
Her fingers slide clumsily into the downy hair that hugs the nape of his neck, her other hand finding his cheek, and she winces as his own hand does the same, as it brushes her acne. Because she knows she shouldn't be, but she is embarrassingly insecure of it - and like he knows this, his fingers caress, his lips moving carefully from bloom to bloom across her cheeks, before returning to her own mouth, where she can practically feel his pulse, his beating heart, soft against his tongue...
'You won't believe what Kreacher just did!'
And George bursts into the room with the phantom scent of smoke clinging sweetly to him, takes one look at his brother and Joey on the bed, takes another look, blinks, takes another look and then says, finally, with a groan, 'Fuck, I owe Lee ten Galleons!'
He storms from the room, cursing in defeat, and Joey and Fred just laugh at each other, unable to believe any of it. Just laughing, her hands still on his neck and in his hair, his left hand curved around her waist, his right thumbing her cheek. 'Well,' he says, eventually. 'Well. Think we just fucked up our friendship, don't you?'
She giggles harder, realising the glitter on her hands from the Christmas cards now shines in his hair and against the slight sheen of sweat on his neck, making him look like a funny little discoball, or the angel on top of the tree.
Fred Weasley, angelic? Hmm, give her a blooming break!
'Hey, what's so funny?'
'Y- you!' she manages, wheezing.
He scowls but Joey knows he's stifling his smile. 'Wow, whatever. I kiss you, and this is the treatment I get?'
'Heeeeeey, Freddie?'
'Yeah, Joeypoos?'
'Merry Kiss-mas!'
It takes him a moment to comprehend the joke, then he's groaning and slamming his forehead into his hands. 'Go to fucking sleep,' he grumbles, and then the grumble turns into a mischievous grin. 'Just kiss me again first, will you?'
So she laughs and does so, moving her head from where it's nestled in his lap, tipping her chin up to the stars. And his mouth greets hers halfway, halfway to heaven.
a/n
enjoy it whilst it lasts hehe🙈🙈🙈
i hope u enjoyed this chapter it was so much fun to write !!! and i'm really happy i got it up on christmas eve ??? (technically it's midnight on christmas morning rn but we won't talk abt that xoxo)
i love u all, happy holidays from me and joey if ur celebrating anything !!!
xxxxxxxx, ho-ho-nolan<333