He takes his cocoa and settles into his spot on the couch, one hand around the warm mug, the other pressed flat to the empty seat cushion on his right. He watches a marathon of Doctor Who Christmas specials, regenerating hands and runaway brides, and luxury space cruisers and Cybermen. There are whole stretches where he doesn’t look at the TV at all, but counts the red lights, the blue lights, the yellow lights in the strands hanging along the ceiling. He counts lights and listens to Time Lords and misses Penny.  It’s been a month since she left. She hasn’t been back, but he hung the lights for her anyway.

“That happened,” she observed, a safe two feet away from him.   This statement seemed to have brought him back to his senses. “Well of course it happened.”

"Christmas carols! Malfoy! Small children!" Potter, holding aloft a huge plate of mince pies, beamed drunkenly at the crowd on the lawn. "Bloody fantastic. Do you guys know We Three Kings?"