“Gendry.”

“Gendry wake up.”

“Gendry.” Nothing. Arya had been at it for almost the past half an hour, but her boyfriend wouldn't wake up. In his defence it was four in the morning, in her defence, it was snowing.  They had lived so far south that Arya would almost never see it and she wanted to share it with someone.  Preferably with her boyfriend. The boyfriend that was sleeping beside her. The boyfriend that had decided to stay in her place after they had had a row. Well, not really. She made a joke at something about Eurovision and he had answered with a speech too full of facts for someone that knew nothing about it.

It would have been something to tease him about forever had he not defended it in the tone of voice he usually used when praising herself and Shireen. She was curious.

“Gendry” Silence.

“Gendry” His soft snores had stopped. He was awake. She knew it, and he knew that she knew.

“Gendry!!” She said as she shook him.

“For Christ's sake! What?! Why do you have to wake me at … Four in the morning!”

“It's snowing.”

“Arya, we've been living in Wintertown for a month. It's December. It snows every day.”

“I know, but look at it!” She said grinning like a child.

“I'm going back to sleep.”

“No! Wait!”

“What?” He said covering his eyes with his left arm.

“I want to watch the Eurovision.”

“What?” He asked moving his arm slightly to look at her with his right eye.

“I want to watch the Eurovision.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Arya ...”

“Because you like it and I want to like it.”

“I watch it with the guys, we play the drinking game.”

“Sure, love.”

“We do! You know, if there are pyrotechnics, if Graham Norton insults someone, if a country gives 12 points to its neighbour, when Australia comes on ...” He said turning on his side and kneading the pillow with his head like a cat.

“Australia is on? Why is Australia in Eurovision? They aren't in Europe!”

“Arya … I won't explain it now, I want to sleep.”

“Well, I want to do that. I want to play the game watching Eurovision.”

“What? Now?”

“No, not now. Maybe tomorrow night.”

“It's December Arya.”

“So?”

“So, Eurovision is in May. You don't play the game till May. None of the acts have even been selected.”

“Gendry, come on!”

“We'll play in May. On the first semifinal, we'll need the booze if it's a bloodbath like this year ...”

“Gendry you make no sense.”

“You don't make sense.”

Hermione sat on the sofa closest to the hearth. Her spot in the girls’ room had been given to another girl when she had decided to follow Harry on his wild journey through Britain, and so had her bed. Hermione never thought she would miss a piece of furniture as much as she has missed her Hogwarts bed, but having it taken away by another witch had made her realize how much she actually loved it. That, and the mattress on her new bed had been too soft on her back and horribly noisy.

As exhausted as Hermione felt, both body and soul, she had been unable to fall asleep. It wouldn't help that her mind kept hitting her with the gut wrenching images of the day before. The battle of Hogwarts was done. Voldemort was dead. The horrocruxes destroyed. Harry slept on his bed upstairs (Seamus and Dean had kicked out the poor first year that had been occupying it). She repeated in her head the list of wins and losses of the previous day, and still couldn't find what was keeping her up that night.

She had hugged Ron in the middle of it all, and he had kissed her thinking that it was what she had wanted. It had been wet. Too wet. Had that been what Harry had meant when he explained how he felt kissing Cho? Was that kiss what kept her up? Was it the fact that Ron might want more, and she just didn't know how to tell him how she felt without hurting him more? She tried to convince herself of the impossibility of the situation. She couldn't, in good conscience, hurt him more now that one of his brothers had just passed away. She couldn't, in good conscience, lie to him for weeks or months just to hurt him when the truth inevitably came out.

She had started a little fire on the fireplace. Not because she had been cold, but because it reminded her of their time on the tent. The fateful tent. She used to cuddle in it with some book or the other on her hands, absenmindedly looking into the flames now and then. At the beginning of it all they had left her alone. They had accepted that was her moment to be by herself. Then, her peace and quiet had been disturbed by the agonizing screeches of the radio Ron kept trying catch any station on. When the radio had left with Ron the silence had been too much for either of them. Harry had taken the habit of doing whatever he would do in the same space she was in, seldom away of her peripheral vision, and never where she couldn't hear him. He would always make her a hot cup of tea, with a spot of milk if they had any, and a little honey drizzled over it once the teaspoon had been in. Little by little, as the weather had turned colder, and they had slowly accepted their trio had become a duo, Harry started to sear with her as she read, sometimes reading from the same book at the same time.

One night, Harry had decided he hadn't wanted to read and had spent one of their very few lazy afternoons planning a convoluted and ridiculous game for them to play. It had been a mixture of Twister, and Truth or Dare, and Snakes and Ladders that Harry had been very proud of even if it made no sense, and none of them would be able to play again if their lives depended on it. She was sure her laugh would have been heard in all the forest had it not been for the stewards that night. At some point the game had dared her to kiss someone else who was playing, but at the same time she had fallen down the board on Snakes and Ladders, and her left foot had slipped on one of the leafs they had been using for green. She had fallen on top of Harry laughing like a child on a swing.

She chuckled softly before turning her head towards the stone stairs of the boy's dormitories. Harry was walking down, or rather, jumping down like a five-year-old. He raised his hands to the sky when he got down the last step, like a gymnast at the Olympics. She dropped her book and applauded, he had stuck his landing. Harry very poorly danced until he stood behind her sofa.

“Hermione, Mione, Mione, what do you do awake this nighty. It is very late even if that books really great. And if you're found by McGonagall... uh... umm...”

“Run out of rhymes, have you?”

“Mimimimimi" he said before bursting into a loud cackle.

“How strong was that thing Madame Pomfrey gave you?

“Not strong enough" he answered leaning his head against the top of hers. “It's been a very long day, and I'd stay here with you but I really really want to eat a lot of chocolate. So I'm heading to the kitchens" He finished kissing her hair.

“Harry!” She shouted when he was almost gone. “Don't scare me like that ever again".

“Hermione, you had to know I'd never leave, not when I have a debt to be paid.”

“What debt?”

“You owe me a kiss.”

“Pardon?”

“You owe me a kiss.

“You are not serious.”

“Whatever Hermione, you owe me a kiss. And I've already started adding the interest, so the more you wait the more you'll have to kiss me...” He said as he crossed the portrait hole.

He was joking. Right? Or he was high. Very high. There was no way. Wait. What? But. Harry. He was joking. Was he? He was. Wait. What?

“HARRY JAMES POTTER!”

So... I’ve done this. This is probably a bad idea. I thought anyone who wanted could join in using the hashtags #multifandomdecember and #formebyme and write as many prompts, drabbles and one-shots as we wanted, share them and share the love. I’m aware it’s really late to suggest this (I’m also aware I may be the only one to do it, but what the hell!), but better late than never.