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coffeedrgn87 · 7 months

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On Gender And All Things Non-Binary

Note: Indirect mention of gender dysphoria and the struggle of living in a binary world.

During my recent (and still ongoing) recovery from gender-affirming surgery, that’s given me so much joy, and the feeling of wholeness, I’ve lived in this perfect bubble of blissful ignorance. Sorely lacking energy, I spent most of the time at home, making only small trips into the outside world. These were carefully planned trips; a coffee from the coffee place next door, Kombucha from the corner store, a few rolls of toilet paper, a sweet. None of these required much human interaction. So, for the most part my bubble of non-binary bliss stayed intact.

I devoted my recovery time to a carefully curated queer-AF TikTok feed, queer literature, art, queer movies and series, and queer fanfiction. Some five weeks into my recovery, I met a friend here and there for coffee, for brunch, for a chat. But all these friends had something very important in common. They saw me, the real me. They used my pronouns, supported my choice to have gender-affirming surgery, and were genuinely excited about all the progress I made with having my gender marker and legal name changed (by the way, that’s all done! 🥳)

So, over the past month and a half I didn’t have my normal experience. I lived in this utopia-like world where nobody misgendered me, used the wrong pronouns, or had any negative impact on my non-binary experience. Sure, I kept up-to-date on developments within the LGBTQIA+ community, especially surrounding rights, trans rights, and more. And yes, some of my favourite TikTok creators reacted to transphobic/homophobic comments, but they did so calmly and with the intention to educate. But my world still consisted of respect, for my person, for my pronouns, for me. A few weeks have passed since a friend sent me a voice message to tell me about a dream, yet I remember it as vividly as though it happened five minutes ago. Why, you wonder? Because throughout the message my friend used my pronouns, and it gave me so much joy that I’m still riding high now, several weeks later.

However, my recovery is at the stage where I am able to return to work, and this means venturing out of the house for several hours at a time. It means frequent and longer interactions with other humans, more exposure to this blasted world that still insists gender is binary, and thus too many opportunities for all those little moments where I am (unfortunately) reminded that I could have my pronouns along with the sentence: ‘I’m not a woman’ tattooed on my head, and some folx would still get it wrong.

For instance, where I live pet names for strangers are common. This means I regularly get subjected to the following: pet, babes, darling, honey, hun, love etc. While these are all cute in their own right and have a time and a place, they aren’t for strangers. They are for people you are familiar with, people who want you to use these names. I don’t want a cashier to refer to me as ‘love’ or ‘darling’. Especially, because in this world that still stupidly sees gender as a binary thing when it’s nothing more but a social construct, these types of nicknames are usually given to those people this world presumes identify as female. If I go to my local corner store to get a breakfast roll, the person behind the deli counter chooses to direct those words at me. Why? Because my features are more feminine, which I, personally, I am fine with but having a more feminine appearance doesn’t mean I identify as female. The construction worker in the queue behind me, in muddied work clothes and with a masculine appearance doesn’t get any of those nicknames. They don’t even get called ‘handsome’.

And the above is not the only example, it’s just one of many. In my personal experience, it’s generally cis men who are exceptionally thoughtless when it comes to these absolutely stupid and outdated notions that a feminine-presenting individual should be given priority swiping their public transport card, or should enter a building or a room first. And the list goes on and on. Personally, I utterly dislike it when someone opens a door for me. Mind you, if I am carrying a bunch of things, I am all for it, but otherwise, no, thank you.

I know that these gestures don’t generally come from a malicious place. They are reactions that have become innate, that folx perform without thinking too much about what they are doing. Yet, that’s exactly the problem. This outdated and not at all inclusive social construct of gender being binary has let so many people to walk through the world with blinders on. While I’m almost always happy to answer questions and to educate people (often unprompted), living in a world where I have to fight to be seen (not just once but on multiple occasions throughout a single day) is emotionally and mentally draining. It zaps my energy, forcing me to withdraw for longer periods of time just to recharge my batteries. And I shouldn’t have to do that. I shouldn’t have to come home in the evening and require a solid hour of some mindless activity or other before I am able to function on some semi-normal level.

I am lucky. People who know me through my writing and friends I’ve made online and offline respect me and my pronouns. My video blurbs on TikTok don’t get bombarded with hate. I work in a company that tries very hard to respect me and works to better itself, to improve and change. I have some family that accept me for who I am and very dear friends who support me fiercely. I have a therapist I regularly yell at (not literally!), and while I desperately want a cat in my life, I have friends who share their purring fluffballs with me. I have so many things I feared I’d never have, and I am beyond grateful, but those daily reminders that too many people are so very blind when it comes to seeing that gender is most definitely not binary hurt. I still brave this world, day in and day out, but often, it’s with a heavy sigh and with a desperate wish that things were different.

I have most definitely reached the toughest part of my recovery.

#non binary #nonbinary #gender stuff #gender identity #gender is a social construct #gender dysphoria #gender diversity #gender affirming care #gender affirming surgery #recovery #mental health #real life #this world is not binary #gender is not binary #the struggles of not being seen #coffeedragon muses #coffeedragon thoughts #nonfiction

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coffeedrgn87 · 3 months

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Watching all these nature documentaries makes me think that if only people agreed to eat less meat, there would be less need for vast areas of farmland. This would mean we could give endangered animals their habitats back.

My diet is vegan, by choice and because I can’t digest meat though I will occasionally eat a bit of fish. I’ve never cared whether people eat meat or not, and I still don’t. But it also truly pains me to see all this farmland being used just to graze cattle or feed chicken and other animals just so meat can be a staple.

I don’t know, something needs to change. Somehow. But there will always be pushback. And discourse is healthy, but I do think that compromises need to be made. Especially because eating more of the grain and whatnot we grow to feed to animals would also ensure that people in poorer countries would have more food. That’s at least what I think.

Maybe my thoughts are naive and maybe I’ll get hate for it (which by the way I will delete without reading), but I do believe I am sharing my thoughts in a neutral way.

#coffeedragon thoughts #late night thoughts #late night thinking #food for thought #quite literally

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coffeedrgn87 · 3 months

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Watched a nature documentary about eagles the other day and apparently there are some people who think eagles have a mean look about them.

I just don’t see it. There’s nothing mean here. I see curiosity and feel the desire to be friends for life. I mean sure, I wouldn’t want to mess with that beak or the talons, but there’s something precious about the way an eagle looks at you.

#coffeedragon thoughts #eagles #pretty predator #animals #not mean #fierce #I want an eagle best friend #q

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coffeedrgn87 · 7 months

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So, Harry ends up Minister for Magic, not necessarily because he wants to but because it seems like the natural progression: Auror…Head Auror…Department Deputy…Department Head…Minister for Magic…

It’s not a career Harry would have ever chosen for himself, to be honest he still doesn’t know what he wants, but here he is: 45, unmarried, dotting father to Teddy, whom he loves like the child he never had and with an adopted family that loves him unconditionally and friends who would quite literally walk through fire for him.

But instead of doing the sensible, grown-up thing which would be to talk about his growing unhappiness with those closest to him, Harry does the exact opposite: HE RUNS. After all, he did it once before. That it was for an entirely different reason seems irrelevant in the grander scheme of things.

Naturally, things don’t go as planned and while Harry does get to live the hermit life for a few months (and no, the Wixen World hasn’t fallen apart though that’s mostly because Ron’s Quidditch team wins the nationals and Hermione is excellent at doing the job Harry never wanted), it all ends when Draco Malfoy waltzes into Harry’s life, Fixer Extraordinaire, tasked with bringing him back to civilisation and convincing him that he does want to be Minister for Magic.

Except, what the world and Harry’s closest friends don’t know, is that Draco carries with him a letter from Teddy that makes him wonder whether he’s actually doing the right thing. Yes, Draco bloody Malfoy has a conscience, even when it’s Harry Potter he’s meant to fix.

And so it begins… Draco starts fixing, mending Harry one conversation at a time, one heated argument a night, and one grumpy grumble at a time. There may also be some thirst traps involved which mainly consist of Harry fucking Potter chopping firewood TOPLESS and skinny-dipping in a lake. This does lead to Draco questioning his own life choices…except he’s too stubborn to write Harry off…

And they lived happily ever after?

#enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #drarry #draco x harry #coffeedragon writes #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #my thoughts are unwritten #I want to include animals #loads and loads of animals #now please DISCUSS #dream up art in your mind #describe me scenes #dream with me

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coffeedrgn87 · 6 months

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After some very intense research (read: my own personal conviction) I have come to the conclusion that what this world really needs is a washing machine that also folds clothes, although perhaps that should be the dryer’s job, and a sink that automatically cleans, dries and puts away the dishes.

What do we need ChatGPT for when the fundamentals are still missing???

#necessary inventions #how to make everyone’s lives easier #I need this for my sanity #if ChatGPT can invent this #I’m all for it #if not then we need to find someone who can get the job done #coffeedragon muses #late night pillow thoughts #weirdness #but for real #the improvement to everyone’s mental health…#epic

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coffeedrgn87 · 5 months

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Well, I’m not entirely sure about any of these. Somehow, I feel too exhausted to be creative—be that with actual paper and visually pleasing images or with virtual pen and paper—which is thoroughly odd. The only thing I’m sure about with the below paper art is that I spent time on it… As for the rest, well, I don’t know.

This was meant to be part of a bigger cosy feel piece of art, but I eventually decided on something small and tiny.

This I do like because I got to play around with a new type of texturing which was quite messy but fun and then I’ve got dragons and a cosy fireplace and well, I’m having a hard time tossing it onto the big discard pile…

Lastly, well, I don’t know, I’ll just leave it here. I don’t know what I was after…

The words are my own though. Below is a bigger photo for easy reading…

#coffeedragon87 #coffeedragon art #chaos potato 🥔#scrap pages #scrapbooking #scrapbook #writing thoughts #notes on writing #love dragons #read books #drink coffee

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coffeedrgn87 · 9 months

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A Gentle Reminder

Dear AO3 Readers,

Writers can see the comments you leave with your public bookmarks, so unless you intend on making a passive-aggressive ‘comment’, please be mindful of what you add to your notes or even how you phrase it. If you want the note to be for yourself, I humbly suggest making your bookmark of a particular work private. That way, writers are able to see the total number of bookmarks their work has but they won’t be able to read your note.

While I find that the majority of notes readers leave alongside their bookmarks are kind (and actually quite sweet), occasionally one stands out. Personally, I always question why someone would bookmark a work they obviously didn’t enjoy (and I base this observation solely on the note accompanying the bookmark), but I also give the reader the benefit of the doubt as I lack an enormous amount of detail. Still, it’s not a nice thing to come across. Quite the opposite, actually. Please don’t tell me writers shouldn’t go look at the bookmarks of their work, it’s a response that makes absolutely no sense. Not when readers have the option to private their bookmarks, which leaves them free to say whatever they want about a piece of writing. Not that I consider leaving private disparaging remarks any better than public ones. I firmly believe in simply walking away and finding something else to get lost in.

Just a thought.

Yours,

A Writer

#coffeedragon writes #coffeedragon muses #AO3 #ao3 bookmarks #life of a writer #curious oddities #writing #thoughts of a writer #kindness

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coffeedrgn87 · 4 months

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The first draft had a little more than 1400 words.

The second draft, which I started today, has just under 700 words.

I hate both versions.

Tomorrow it’s time for the third draft.

Minus editing work, I pray that version three will be one I can see myself publishing. Also, ChatGPT does not understand “simple grammar correction”. It rewrote the whole damn thing. Useless. Good ol’ Grammarly and my trusted-not-so-trusted Eagle’s eye it is.

#writing thoughts #writing is hard #life of a writer #writer’s life #coffeedragon writes #third time’s the charm #yes? no?

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coffeedrgn87 · 1 year

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I’ve come to the conclusion that starting to make your bed at quarter to ten at night still counts…even if nothing matches.

I now have a fresh white fitted sheet, two pillows with grey covers and two pillows with blue paradise covers. The duvet cover is green (side facing upwards) and a bunch of flowers (facing downwards). It’s meant to be the other way around but I thought grey, colourful blue paradise and green clashed slightly less…

Regardless of the clashing madness, I’ve crisp new sheets I’m excited to crawl into and I drank a little over two litres of water. Not bad for someone juggling five work projects that all need to be finished preferably yesterday (I jest, I have until the day before yesterday to finish them), who is running extremely low on energy and thoroughly peopled out.

It’s the little things, people. The little things. This dragon is satisfied.

And dare I say it? There’s even a tiny small idea for a story with a deadline forming in my head. Let’s see if I can turn it into something. Merlin knows I’ve had the worst bought of writer’s block yet. I swear this pesky malaise is like food poisoning. Each time you get it it’s ten times worse than the last.

#coffeedragon muses #coffeedragon rambles #it’s the little things #like crisp sheets #and having had enough water #and therapy #life of a writer #writer’s problems #writer’s ramble #late night thoughts of a writer

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coffeedrgn87 · 5 months

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2023: Notes On Writing

It’s the 1st of December today, which means that 2023 is officially on its way out. 30 days left before 2024 takes over.

This post is me choosing to reflect on the writing I did throughout 2023, and it saddens me to realise that I didn’t do much writing at all. I had a quick glance at my AO3 stats and they tell me that my word count for the year stands at 96,633, spread out over six stories. One of those is an ongoing multi-chapter sequel to a series I’ve been writing on for a while.

While some may say that just under 97K is quite the achievement for 11 months, to me it feels like peanuts. Especially when I compare it to the nearly 518K words I wrote in 2022. This made me curious and interestingly, in 2021 I only wrote a little under 100K while I finished 2020 with 325K under my belt. 2019 was apparently my most prolific year with record-breaking 863K words. Even 2018, which marks the year I returned to writing (after an almost 7-year-long hiatus), beats 2023 by a whooping 50K (according to AO3 I published just under 149K in 2018).

Now, I know that numbers shouldn’t matter and that it should always be quality over quantity, but for someone who enjoys writing immensely, 97K feels like nothing. Granted, 2023 wasn’t the easiest year. A lot of big things happened for me this year and a lot of those things took a lot of time, required focus, and drained me mentally and physically.

Having said that, throughout the year there have been plenty of moments where I desperately wanted to write but didn’t have the energy to actually follow through. Those moments still hang about. I don’t really want them to, mainly because I do have a couple of good ideas, but also because the longer I feel this way, the harder it gets to give myself a good kick up the arse. I seem to be floating in a world between inspiration and writer’s block, and while I’m all for breaking the binary, I’d much rather stick around with my pals Inspiration and Muse.

If I’m being bluntly honest, when it comes to writing fanfiction the spark isn’t quite there any more. I wrote a lot of stories for the Harry Potter fandom, and I love the characters to bits (but also fuck you, JKR you absolute TERF!), but these days, I find it hard to write them. I’ve never felt part of the fandom, never even felt welcome, but I always carried on writing while simultaneously trying my hardest not to think too much about it. Not the easiest thing to do when you battle anxiety, are a complete hermit, get easily overwhelmed in group chats, and don’t have the best track record when it comes to confidence. Add to that that I’m far more likely to receive hate for my Harry Potter works, and what you’ve got is a slowly fraying rope.

Luckily, I was able to find solace in the Captive Prince fandom. Although, I did go into a tailspin just after finishing the trilogy. I questioned all my writing, was seconds away from deleting all my published works, and seriously considered never again using a keyboard for the express purpose of creating a fictional piece of writing.

That tailspin was short-lived though, and instead of following through on this mad idea of giving up writing altogether, I channelled all my fear, frustration, confusion, and anxiety into propelling my writing forward. I created a couple of works that gave me immense joy and propelled me forward, boosting my confidence. It wasn’t as though I was getting a ton of hits and a flood of comments, but there was something about those creations that drew me in in a way my older works never did and still don’t.

Personally, I feel like my writing has improved vastly over the last two years, and although it won’t ever be perfect (there’s no such thing!), I finally reached a stage where I am a different kind of proud. I want to nurture that pride, encourage it to grow, but I am seriously wondering whether writing fanfiction is going to give me that opportunity. I still enjoy penning the one or other short story, but the more I think about it, the fonder I become of the idea of devoting 2024 to the creation of a book. I want to write a queer, kinky, wholesome love story. I want to write something that represents the various parts that make me who I am. I’m still sceptical about the whole thing and my skills, but I feel like I’ve got to at least try. I mean, I don’t necessarily have to write the book with the intention of getting it published or self-publishing it, but I sense that this is the direction into which I’ve got to stretch my wings.

I’m not going to make it a resolution for the new year, that would be an idiotic idea, but I reckon it’s high tide for me to finally tick off an item that’s been sitting on my bucket list, catching dust, since I was an impressionable teen.

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coffeedrgn87 · 1 year

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Writer’s High

When you are ready for bed and sit down at your desk to turn off your laptop, but casually drop 500 words to the chapter / story you’re currently working on. Feeling f***ing fantastic.

What’s your definition?

#coffeedragon writes #my writing #writing stuff #fic writing #writing work #writing #with the writer #im a writer #being a writer #writer’s life #writer’s high #giving me your thoughts #what gives you that writing euphoria

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coffeedrgn87 · 2 years

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It truly does astonish me how little thought people put into forms of address and gender neutral language. Even when someone to whom such things are important stands right next to them, even makes it obvious that it is important.

How have we become a society where laziness and thoughtlessness are things that govern our daily lives? It really doesn’t take that much. It truly doesn’t. And if someone’s unsure, well, asking is always an option, no?

#coffeedragon muses #a long shower and then bed seems like a wonderful thing #yes #to clarify I’m not upset or mad or disappointed (well maybe a little)#I’m mostly really just letting my thoughts flow out into the world

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coffeedrgn87 · 1 year

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December 19th Drarry Drabble: "Christmas Wreath"

Parts 1, 2, and 3 are available here.

Tags: Ron makes wreaths while Harry drinks tea and complains, Ron thinks Draco is cool, Harry has yet to learn that lesson, let's hope the mistletoe teaches him, this is getting out of hand, help a coffeedragon who doesn't know what they are doing, how did this drabble business turn into a multi-chapter, where did I go wrong, also this is still fluff, Harry's got confused feelings, Ron's a really good mate

If there was one constant thing about Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, it was the messiness of the backroom with its long wooden table that held a wide array of George’s latest projects. A stack of lumber piled on the floor next to the crackling fireplace, and unevenly high shelves practically overflowed with various tools.

Ron’s obsession with repurposing old coffee tins meant that most items were stored in non-described containers. As far as safety measures went, George (as the primary owner of the store) wasn’t entirely compliant, but because he kept volatile magical ingredients locked in a safe, Harry generally turned a blind eye. That and he trusted Ron to keep an eye on his older brother. As a former Auror, Ron saw it as his duty to ensure things at the back of the shop did not descend into complete chaos.

These days, and with Christmas only days away, the workroom was messier than usual, with magical and Muggle tools lying everywhere. An old milk crate filled with Muggle spray paint had claimed an entire chair, and the floor was covered in a fine sheen of gritty sawdust, blobs of colour, and twists of metal shavings. The fireplace kept the room nice and toasty, and the smell of sweet, spicy cinnamon clung to the air. Molly had dropped off a large tray of freshly decorated baked sugar cookies, and Harry was particularly obsessed with the Christmas tree ones; they tasted heavenly.

As he munched on his fourth cookie, Harry watched Ron expertly bend a cedar tree clipping until the tip overlapped the cut end and wind a floral wire tipped with red berries around the two ends to secure it. He wrapped the wire around the wreath until all the little leaves were neatly tucked in and then reached for his wand to use severing charms to trim the edges and create a nice round form.

As the last step, Ron used permanent sticky charms to decorate the miniature Christmas wreath with seed heads and tiny pinecones. Harry had made several attempts to help, but after seventeen failed attempts, he’d concluded that his fingers weren’t nimble enough for the task. As a result, Ron did all the work while Harry warmed his hands on a large mug of piping hot Earl Grey.

“Tell me again why you’re making all these?” he asked, lips brushing against the rim of his mug as he spoke.

“Decorations for December owl orders. Thought it would be a nice touch, something special just in time for Christmas.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded, admiring the wreath Ron had just finished. It had a woodsy smell, a bit prickly, herbal and spicy, and somewhat earthy. It complimented the sharp, sweet smell of the tiny pines. It intermingled with wafts of treacly floral and zesty orange tartness from Harry’s Earl Grey and promptly reminded him of his consultation with Malfoy. It had gone reasonably well because neither of them had raised their voice, and Harry hadn’t felt the need to hex Malfoy into another century.

“Ron.”

“Hmm.”

“Malfoy asked me for a memory of myself. Something private, a bit intimate, personal.”

Ron looked up from his work. His blue eyes twinkled with a smile. It instantly reminded Harry of Malfoy and the easy way he’d smiled and laughed throughout their session. His stomach swooped, and he felt his heart skip a beat. How could his best mate and Malfoy possibly have such similar mannerisms? And how had he never realised this before? Merlin knew, back at Hogwarts, he’d paid more than enough attention to Malfoy.

Or was it that he’d been so obsessed with Malfoy that he’d never really paid attention to Ron? And what about the last decade? He and Ron saw each other on a near-daily basis, and while Harry had long since come to the conclusion that gender did not matter to him when it came to his choice of partner, he knew for a fact that Ron’s goofy smile and his soft, sweet blue eyes did not warrant stomach swoops, butterflies, and a skipping heartbeat.

He and Ron were close; over the years, they’d done a lot of stupid shit, but Harry had never felt attracted to Ron before. In fact, he was one hundred per cent sure he wasn’t attracted to Ron. Surely, this damned cursed mistletoe didn’t have the power to trick him into believing that he had feelings for his best friend? Then again, Malfoy’s precursory examination of the mistletoe’s magic did suggest it was somehow linked to emotions, though he’d also clearly stated that he needed more data to make a definite decision.

“So give it to him,” he said with an easy shrug, then continued to make yet another wreath.

“Just like that?” Harry asked, a deep frown etched on his forehead.

Ron put the cedar tree clipping down and straightening up; he stretched a little to relax his shoulder muscles.

“I doubt Draco’s got anything nefarious in mind, Harry.”

Harry swallowed a sigh.

“Draco, is it now?”

Ron grinned.

“I can revert to ferret if it makes you more comfortable?”

The question made Harry laugh, but when a tiny piece of cookie lodged itself in his windpipe, he promptly started coughing. With watering eyes, he reached for his tea, took several careful sips, and cleared his throat.

“OK there, mate?”

Harry nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, sounding a little hoarse.

Ron smiled at him. He picked up the cedar wood clipping again. Within two minutes, he’d fashioned another wreath, and as he attached a tiny pine cone to the bottom centre, Harry forced himself to swallow a sigh.

“I— Look, I know I’m being silly, but—”

Ron chuckled softly.

“Do you want to get rid of that blasted mistletoe?”

This time, Harry didn’t swallow the sigh. As he let it out, he picked on the hem of his shirtsleeve, toying with a loose thread he’d found.

“More than anything, it’s just not funny anymore.”

“Then I suggest you get over your aversion to working with Draco and let him help you. He’s the best in the field. A bit of trust in him would go a long way, Harry.”

Harry, feeling like a child who had just been reprimanded, ground his teeth together.

“It’s not that I don’t trust him; I just— I don’t know what to make of him. Perhaps it’s the mistletoe starting to affect me, but— I’m out of my depth.”

“Fastest way to solve that problem is letting Draco fix you.”

“You’re not even going to give me an inch?”

Ron laughed.

“Mate, not when you’re being ridiculous. Besides, you showed me the memory of your consultation. He was nothing but polite and professional. In fact, if you ask me, I think he went out of his way to try and make you feel comfortable.”

Harry looked at Ron with a pinched expression.

“He’s up to something,” he grumbled.

Ron burst into laughter.

“Oh, come on, mate, I knew it. I was waiting for that line. Get over it; Draco isn’t up to anything. Let him help you. Bill tried his best, but he doesn’t have a solution for you. Hermione’s had her nose stuck in tomes about ancient magic for the past fortnight, and while I find her thirst for knowledge delectable, I’d like my wife back if it’s all the same to you.”

Harry pulled a face.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my best mate?” he asked, feeling the tender beginnings of an annoying tension headache making itself known. He cast his gaze up at the mistletoe and scowled at it.

“Fine, I’m an idiot,” he admitted grudgingly.

“While you can be a bit of a dork sometimes, I wouldn’t quite go that far. Just work with him; let him fix you up. I get that giving him access to your private memory is weird, but that’s why he asked for a pensieve memory. He’s got no interest in rummaging around your mind. If you ask me, that’s mighty respectful of him. He just wants what he needs to do his job and is considering your boundaries while doing so. Besides, sure he’s asked for something personal, but it’s not like he wants to watch you rub one out. If I understood him correctly, a meaningful conversation with someone you care about would do the trick.”

Harry grumbled under his breath but nodded in silent agreement. Ron had an undeniable point, and the last Harry wanted was to pick a fight with his best friend.

“If only I could give him this conversation,” he said with a soft sigh.

Ron chuckled.

“Pre-mistletoe, mate, pre-mistletoe.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Don’t remind me. Also, you deserve a bludger to the head for that wanking comment.”

Ron grinned. His eyes sparkled with pure mischief.

“You know, Harry, I’ll do you one better. Go home and have a wank; you’re far too cranky to be good company for anyone.”

Glaring at Ron, Harry waved his hand and hurled a stinging hex in his friend’s general direction. Ron, who had his wand in his hand, swished it to redirect the spell. It flew directly into the fireplace, and the flames hissed, sputtered and temporarily burnt bright red.

“You seem to forget that we both went through the same Auror training, mate,” Ron laughed. “Just because I work with George now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten all I learnt.”

“Pest.”

“Ah, I love you, too, mate.”

Harry shot Ron a dirty look, then picked up his mug and finished his tea.

“I’ll leave you to your wreaths.”

Ron poked his tongue out at him.

“Take one with you as a reminder of this conversation.”

“Don’t make me try and hex you again.”

“You just failed; I doubt you’ll succeed on your second try.”

“Like I said, pest.”

“Ah, go home, darling. Your right hand misses ya.”

“I honestly can’t decide who’s worse, you or Malfoy.”

“Likely neither of us, but as always, you’ll have to come to that conclusion yourself. Grab one of the saucy dream potions on the way out; it’s on the house.”

Rolling his eyes at Ron, Harry got up and stretched his limbs.

“Menace,” he grumbled, then stalked over to the fireplace and disappeared in a flourish of green dust.

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