Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling and are used without permission but with no intent to defraud.
Author's Notes: Another addendum written for lightblue-Nymphadora, modestroad, and everyone else that wanted to read more. The final one. I should reiterate that these are extra bits added on to what was only ever intended to be a one-shot, and I'm very, very sorry if I've confused anyone – One Green Bauble is not a multi-chaptered fic. Many thanks to my fantastic beta amightypenguin.
What happens when Sirius confronts his Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione.
This story contains SLASH so if you do not like it - or don't know what it is - then DO NOT READ. Thanks :o)
One Green Bauble (Years Later)
"Can I stay up, Dad?" Sirius asked plaintively.
Harry shook his head, setting the wine bottle back down on the sideboard. "No."
"No, Sirius. It's after eleven." Harry tried to ignore Ron's mouthed, 'Spoilsport', hiding the smile as he saw his best friend being elbowed hard in the side by his wife.
"But it's the holidays, Dad."
"I don't care." Harry walked around him and over to the couch to hand Hermione the glass of wine he'd just poured for her.
"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the proffered glass.
"Beer, Weasley?" Draco asked from the doorway, walking in with a couple of bottles in his hand.
Ron nodded vigorously. "Thanks, mate," he said.
"You won't be requiring a glass, will you?" Draco asked as he passed him a bottle.
"Nah, I'm fine."
Draco handed the other bottle to Harry, not even bothering to offer a glass. Harry's fingers brushed Draco's as he took it, and they shared a small smile.
"Father," Sirius said loudly, and Draco turned his head, raising an eyebrow. He let go of the bottle as he focused on his dark-haired son.
"Can I stay up?"
Harry frowned, looking around Draco to glare at Sirius. "I already told you, 'no'."
"Yeah, but I just-"
"Silence," Draco said sharply, and Sirius's mouth snapped shut into a thin line. Dark eyebrows furrowed as he scowled at his parents.
Draco ignored the look and turned to Harry, speaking softly. "Where's the harm in letting him stay up a little later?" he asked. "He's almost thirteen, and it's nearly Christmas."
"I already said no," Harry argued, aware that Sirius was listening intently to their hushed words. Hermione rose from the couch and walked over to Sirius, diverting his attention by asking for a refill for her hastily drunk wine.
"Harry," Draco said, leaning closer. "I was well-versed in social etiquette by the time I was his age. It will do him no harm to spend more time in adult company; he spends far too much time mixing with the Weasley children as it is."
Over Draco's shoulder, Harry saw Ron's expression darken, and he tried to forestall an argument by agreeing quickly. "Fine," he said. "Fine. But just for an hour."
The smile on Draco's face was angelic. "Excellent." Swivelling on his heel, he addressed their son. "Sirius, you may stay up a little later, but I expect you to be on your best behaviour."
"Yes, Father," Sirius replied, his smile matching Draco's.
Inwardly, Harry groaned.
"'S weird, is all I'm saying." Ron's finger waggled vaguely between Harry and Draco.
"It's not weird, Weasley, it's practical," Draco replied, sipping from his wine. He looked sober, but there was a slight tremor in his hand as he lowered the glass.
"He calls you Father, and 'arry, Dad. 'S weird," Ron repeated. "Innit, 'Mione?" He swivelled around to stare at his wife, nearly overbalancing as he slid to the edge of the couch.
Hermione blinked at him sleepily. "Sorry? I didn't quite catch what-" She let out a little burp, and giggled, waggling fingers against her mouth. "Pardon me," she said. "It's the bubbles, you see. This is fizzy." She held up the glass in her hand too quickly and wine slopped onto the floor.
Harry, sitting on the floor beside Sirius, hand poised over a whisky tumbler that was currently doubling as the Cannons' Beater as he tried to explain the team's tactics to his son, looked up. "Hermione, you're drunk." He poked a finger in Sirius's side and pointed it at the other three adults. "They're drunk, Si."
The mixture of Muggle whisky and beer on Harry's breath had his son flinching back. "Dad," he said. "You're all drunk."
Harry leaned closer, peering into Sirius's face. "Are you drunk?"
"Good." Satisfied, Harry leaned back, momentary panic on his features as he thought there was nothing behind him, and letting out a breath of relief when he felt the armchair meet his back.
Sirius looked from Harry to Draco and grinned. "Uncle Ron?" he said, looking over at the couch. Ron tried to focus on the boy.
"What's up, mate?" he asked.
"You're Dad's best friend, aren't you?"
"Harry's, yeah. Tha's right, mate."
"So you know everything about him?"
Hermione giggled and muttered something disparaging under her breath. Ron ignored her, puffing his chest out. "Yeah, we've been through loads together. Loads and loads, and loads and loads…" his words died off as his head started to tip back, and he jerked awake with a jolt, his head tipping forwards. "LOADS," he repeated loudly, making Draco flinch. "Long before 'e," a finger pointed at the blond, "turned up."
Sirius sat straighter. "They used to fight, right?"
"Yeah." Ron nodded fondly. "All the time."
"No, we did not," Draco argued.
A soft snore came from Harry, and Sirius glanced around to see his dad was asleep, head resting on the seat of the chair pushing his glasses askew.
Sirius's attention flicked back to the bickering adults. "Uncle Ron," he said loudly.
The argument abruptly ceased, and two drunken faces focused on him. Hermione was staring into her wine glass, a finger chasing the bubbles around as she giggled softly.
"How did the green bauble get dented?"
Ron stared at him, his face a mask of inebriated confusion. "Wha'?"
Draco's eyes had widened, emptying the wine glass in his hand in one gulp.
"The green bauble on the tree." Sirius pointed over to the ornament, dangling from its position of prominence on the branches. "They said it got dented while they were fighting, and I thought that you would know about it."
Ron looked over at the bauble. "Tha' thing," he said. "Always did wonder about it. Though tha' it was maybe Harry's mum and dad's or somethin'. Bit knackered, innit?"
Sirius was puzzled. "So, you don't know about it?"
Ron shook his head, then clasped a hand to his mouth, looking suddenly ill. He stumbled to his feet, staggering to the door with a muttered, "'Scuse me, feeling a bit… back in a…"
Sirius's grey eyed snapped around to his father. Draco gave him a watery smile and said weakly, "You know, Sirius, I think it really is well past your bed-time."
"How come Uncle Ron doesn't know anything about the bauble?" Sirius asked, ignoring the comment.
Draco tilted his head. "Your Uncle Ron doesn't know about a lot of things," he said. "I wouldn't hold it against him."
"But why wouldn't he know about the bauble? You and Dad act like it's really important."
Hermione voice was bright as she butted in. "It's very important, isn't it, Draco?" she said. "Very significant."
"I believe you are inebriated, Hermione," Draco said stiffly. "Perhaps you would like to retire to your room."
She flapped a hand at him. "Pfft. I'm shine…sine…fine. Jus' a little tipsy."
"The bauble, Auntie Hermione?" Sirius said quickly. "How'd it get dented?"
"They did it," she said. "Harry tol' me aaaall about it."
"Hermione," Draco's voice barked, and Harry jerked awake.
"Wha-?" he sputtered.
"The bauble, Harry," Hermione said. "He's asking about the bauble."
"Oh, yeah." Harry rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and smiled. "Me and Draco dented that really good, didn't we? Left bruises like you wouldn't believe." He rested a hand over his groin. "Tha' was a great Christmas, wasn't it, Draco?" His gaze slid drunkenly across to his husband, who was looking at him, pale-faced and horrified.
Sirius's eyes were wide, staring at both his parents in disbelief. They couldn't mean…
Ron stumbled into the room, collapsed onto the couch, and asked loudly, "Wha' did I miss?"
"Draco and I denting tha' bauble when we had sex," Harry explained. "'Ow it was dangling on my co-" Draco dived across the room, clasped a hand over Harry's mouth, smothering the words, as he turned to their wide-eyed son.
"Sirius. Bed. Now," he snapped.
Sirius nodded quickly, scrabbling to his feet, and racing out of the door. They heard his footsteps thundering up the stairs and the sound of a door slam.
Ron's bleary eyes slid from the doorway back to the Malfoy-Potters, Draco still frozen, half-sprawled across Harry's lap with a hand clamped over his husband's mouth. "You ha' sex with a bauble?" he said, frowning, and his wife laughed.
"No, silly," she said." They had sex around the bauble. It was very sexy." She hiccupped. "Very sexy."
Draco looked at Ron, and Ron looked back at Draco.
"You had to be there," Draco said and then paled even more. "Not there, exactly. If you had seen…no, er…"
"'S'okay, mate," Ron interrupted, equally unsettled. "I'm pissed. Won't remember a word of this in the morning."
But Draco, as drunk as he was, knew that he couldn't be that lucky.
On the tree, the bauble twinkled merrily, the dents catching the light from the room.
Upstairs, Sirius stared at the ceiling, swearing to himself the next time his parents told him not to ask about something, he'd listen to them. And next year, he'd show Lily how to decorate the Christmas tree, 'cause there was no way he was EVER touching that green bauble again. Ever.