Of the Growth of Game Night
Friday night was game night. It was traditional.
Harry looked at the text from his landlord, wondering how he was going to get out of the scheduled visit. Oliver only had to give him twenty-four hours’ notice, and this was four days - perfectly reasonable. And Harry had nothing to hide; Oliver knew about his only pet, and had met Hedwig the last time he’d inspected the flat. It was tidy, and clean, and undamaged. There was no reason for him to delay the inspection -
Except that Friday night was game night.
He bit his lip and called George.
“So now I don’t know what to do,” Harry finished in a rush.
“Darling, you’re overthinking it,” George said impatiently. “Just answer the door and tell the guy to help himself while we play. He won’t mind you having guests.”
“Darling?”
“You’re acting like a drama queen so I’m treating you like one.” George waited a beat, and then gasped. “Wait, wait, is this - this is the football guy, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Hermione coming to game night this week?”
A slow smile spread over Harry’s face. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Oliver is really nice. Nicer than Krum. Maybe I could just… invite him to join us.”
“That’s my boy,” George said affectionately. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Harry said, grinning widely. He hung up and began texting furiously.
That Friday, the whole group were half-way through a rowdy game of exploding snap - Fred and George’s invention, involving party poppers - by the time a careful knock came at the door.
Harry handed his cards off to George and hopped up to answer it, grinning broadly. Oliver had a bottle of some sort in one hand and his other thrust deeply into his coat pocket.
“Come in, come in,” Harry said, beckoning and leading the way towards the group. “Sorry, it’s a bit less tidy than usual - this lot bring chaos with them, and no one seems capable of putting glasses in the sink. Also, every game is amended to include as much mess as possible. Isn’t it, George?” He asked sweetly, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek. “Anyway - everyone, this is Oliver. Oliver, this is… well, this is my family.”
Oliver glanced around at the motley collection, and raised a hand in awkward greeting. Harry introduced them all by name.
“This is George, and his twin brother Fred is over there, with Angelina, his girlfriend. She plays football too, actually. Then there’s Ron, and Neville, and Luna and Ginny, and here are Seamus and Dean.”
The introductions were fast, and Oliver was left with an impression of red hair and freckles, and their partners. Whose names were whose remained somewhat of a mystery.
But Oliver forgot all about that when he turned to the final person at the table.
“And this,” Harry said, “is Hermione. My sister and my best friend.”
“Hi,” Oliver said, mesmerised. Hermione smiled bashfully, and made room for him to sit.
“So,” Harry said, hours later. “Do I pass?”
“Sorry?”
“The inspection. Is the flat okay?”
“Oh yes, yes. Absolutely.” Oliver’s eyes were on the door, through which Hermione had just left. They’d hardly taken their eyes off one another all evening.
“Want to make the inspections a weekly thing?”
“I - weekly?”
“You passed, too. Welcome to the family.”