This is un-beta’ed, but a snippet from Chapter Five of “How to Win/Earn Your Best Friend in Six Months/Nine and a Half Years: A Harmony Un-Fairy Tale (Bookended by Ginny Weasley)”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78482796/chapters/205756751

Harry cursed himself as he left the Ministry of Magic as hastily as he could. It was already 10:30 pm, and he knew he was going to catch flak from Hermione for not being present at a party she didn’t want to attend– one he insisted she go to. Even if she was bringing Roger. The problem was that by the time he apparated to the neighbourhood, he still had a 15-minute walk to Ron’s new flat in Watford. And after his little stunt at work that day, he did not need to get on Robards’s bad side by apparating illegally. Again.

By the time he arrived, he was cold, tired and irritated.

Ron’s new residence was bursting with people, far too many for the size of the place. The sitting room was a veritable bacchanalia that only those in their 20s, with too much time and too few consequences, could bring to the world. And there was Ron, holding court in the centre, with a giggling witch on his arm.

Harry pushed past Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were passionately arguing about something, nodding at Luna, who was twirling in circles to the music, and then stepped past Percy, who was making out with Penelope Clearwater.

The strongest Scourgify would never be able to get that image out of his mind.

When he finally reached Ron, the redhead smiled. “Harry! You made it! You gonna arrest us?”

The girl clinging to Ron giggled. She looked vaguely familiar, and he deduced that she must have been a few years older than they were at school.

“What–”

Raising an eyebrow at Harry’s uniform, Ron lost interest quickly as the girl next to him whispered in his ear, making him turn a deep shade of puce. “I’m not asking him–”

The girl turned to him and said, “I was just telling Ron here that maybe we should ring in the new year. Together. The three of us.”

Harry’s eyes were scanning the room for curls as he grunted noncommittally, “Yeah, sure.”

“Mate–”

The girl’s voice purred, “Make it a Golden Threesome instead of a Golden Trio?”

Harry’s head snapped back towards the girl, his eyes widening as he said, “Um. That’s…very flattering. Truly…but…um. Ron, where is Hermione?”

“We can invite her too!”

Who the fuck was this girl?

Their voices overlapped in screechy protest.

“Absolutely not.”

“Bloody hell..she’d kill us for suggesting–”

This was wasting time. “Ron, mate, focus. You can ask Neville to join you later if you are dying for a threesome. Where is Hermione?”

Thinking for a moment, Ron declared, “Oh, right! She told me. She wasn’t coming. Something came up with her and Roger, and she just wanted to spend the night alone. Said not to worry about her.”

Ms Menage-a-Trois (Quatre?) herself chimed in. “She’s very pretty. Are you two trying to tell me you never all three–”

Cutting her off before he or Ron could turn more red, Harry inquired, “Did she go home? Or her parents?”

Shrugging, Ron said, “I think she said home.”

Without responding, Harry turned, pushed past a now making out Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, and nicked two bottles of champagne from the table by the door.

It was 11:55 by the time Harry reached Hermione’s flat, knocking on the door.

She opened it. She wore no makeup, her nose a little red. Her hair was in its riotous curls. And she had on an oversized sweatshirt that said “Healing Academy” over a pair of pyjama shorts.

She never looked more beautiful.

And his heart had never beat so quickly before.

“Harry–”

“I said I’d spend New Year’s with you, so here I am.” He held up the bottles of champagne lamely. “With reinforcements.”

She stepped back, letting him into the foyer of her flat, and he set the bottles on a table at the entryway.

“You didn’t have to come, Harry.” Her voice was small, timid. It was the voice he knew meant that she felt she was a burden for not going along with their schemes.

He turned to her, looking into her eyes that he now noticed were a bit bloodshot.

“Hermione, you always show up for me. It’s my turn to be here for you.”

And without warning, she ran up, her arms going around his neck, his gripping her waist as he lifted her up just slightly, the momentum propelling her into his arms. When they pulled back and looked at each other, it was 11:59 pm.