Cocoa with a Dash of Firewhiskey

A HariPo oneshot

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. Hooray for trying new things! :3 Read, review, and enjoy! *Written for HedwigBlack for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013 forum with the pairing Kingsley/Rosmerta.

- ^-^3

All at once, it seemed as though only minutes and yet years (or at least months) had passed at the same time. In reality, it had only been about twelve hours.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was still in Scotland, surveying the remains of Hogwarts Castle in the aftermath of the war. He felt lucky; there was barely a scratch on him, compared to what many of the others had seen.

He walked past the Great Hall, unable to go inside again. Despite all of those who had survived, it still bothered him to see the bodies that had not been on Voldemort's side. He didn't like to think of the young students who had fought. It wasn't that he chastised them for fighting; he simply didn't want to think of all of the unlived dreams… It rattled him.

"Has there been word yet, from the Ministry?" Harry asked him, joining the tall black wizard in the Entrance Hall on their way out of the castle.

"Yes," Kingsley replied. "I was contacted by Dawlish. It took a while, but with Voldemort's allies having vacated the Ministry for the battle here, it was a little easier to take back control. Those few still loyal to…our side"—good Merlin, it was strange saying such a thing—"have secured the place."

Harry nodded. "Good, good." He let an odd beat pass, and then: "We have no Minister for Magic right now, you know."

The older man chuckled. "I know where you're going with this, Harry. I've already heard the other adults talking amongst themselves."

"You could at least be interim Minister."

"I haven't said I wouldn't."

"You'd be good at it."

Kingsley stared down at the younger man and smiled. Funny how innocent Harry could still look, even though he had just accomplished the most amazing thing in Wizarding history. It actually made Kingsley feel his age. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Harry."

"No problem." Harry looked off to the side, and Hermione and Ron were coming towards them.

They were still a way's off, but Kingsley thought it best to leave the trio to their own thoughts. He'd like to get the full story of what should've been their seventh year someday…but that day wouldn't be today. It couldn't. "See you, Harry."

"See you, Kingsley."

The older man walked away from the castle then, far away. As he made his way through the courtyard and down the hillside, heading for Hogsmeade, Kingsley took note of how far the rubble stretched. Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised, since giants had participated…

He changed his train of thoughts as he walked down High Street. Several of the shops would need to be repaired, as well, but Hogsmeade generally had remained all right. Even Puddifoot's, he saw when he glimpsed up the side street, was in decent enough shape. But, at the moment, he could care less about Puddifoot's or the other stores in the village. No, because Kingsley was heading for the venue at the end of High Street: The Three Broomsticks.

When he reached the door and saw that the building looked somewhat filthy but rather intact, he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Then he stepped inside.

It was as if nothing had changed. The establishment looked the same, sure, but Kingsley meant that it was just as busy as ever. The tables were crowded and the counter was full. He couldn't be sure how many of them were patrons from the village alone and how many had come down after the battle, but it actually warmed his heart to see that people couldn't be put down. At least, not for long.

Kingsley managed to snag a seat at the end of the counter, the corner seat closest to the door. He didn't see Madam Rosmerta in the crowd, but he got a good look at those nearest. Two young men—at least one was Wood, who had led an aerial assault in the fight—sat in a booth, the blonde's head resting on Wood's shoulder; they looked tired and relieved. On the other hand, a young woman and a man who looked like a Weasley were standing up at their table in the middle of the floor, arguing. The witch was yelling at the redhead for not coming to fight sooner, and the wizard was struggling to get a word in edge-wise. Kingsley thought he looked an awful lot like Bill…then it hit him that the man must be the elusive Charlie Weasley, dragon tamer-extraordinaire.

A shot of firewhiskey was pushed his way. "Well?"

The black wizard broke away from his observations and turned. He saw green eyes and frizzy blonde hair. "Hello, Madam Rosmerta."

She was holding her own shot, looking tired and aggravated. "Well?" she repeated. "Are you going to drink or not? I won't accept anyone in here right now who's not going to pay."

Her sharp tone made him chuckle. He pointed over his shoulder. "What about them?" he asked, as Charlie and his mystery witch were now engaged in a passionate embrace/lip-lock.

Rosmerta glanced at them and scowled. "They already bought some butterbeer, so I'll tolerate it."

Kingsley's eyes were drawn to the hand holding her glass, and he frowned. "All right, then." He grasped his own shot and downed it at the same time she did.

Rosmerta placed her glass on the counter with a refreshing hiss. "Hmm. Almost. One more?"

He shrugged.

They shared one more drink. But this time, when she put her glass down, Kingsley reached out and covered her hand with his. At his touch, she finally stopped shaking.

"Are you all right?"

Rosmerta stared at him for half a minute. She appeared to have a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she withheld it for whatever reason. However, her eyes were glassy.

"Rosmerta," he pushed gently.

She drummed her fingers on the counter. Her eyes darted across the room—landing everywhere except on him—and she finally released a tiny sigh of relief. "I'm just so glad it's over," she babbled.

He shrugged.

"I mean, having those monsters prowl the neighborhood… Not sure if I'm going to be Imperiused again, for the love of Merlin…" She shook her head. "It's all too much, Kingsley," Rosmerta stated at last. "When will it all really end?"

Kingsley made a face at the counter. "Not sure. Probably when Harry gives his two pence and everyone declares me Minister or something."

Rosmerta flashed a hint of her usual smirk at him. "Oh?"

"But I don't want to be Minister. Well, not yet." As he spoke, it finally hit him, that he was tired and drained from fighting for so many hours nonstop.

"Well…" She paused. "If you were Minister, I'd probably feel much better."

Kingsley smiled. One thing he liked about Rosmerta was the tiny truths he could elicit from her sometimes. "Then count on being safe," he confirmed, loud enough only for her to hear.

The color returned to Rosmerta's face. She sent him a playful glare. "Sweet-talking me won't get you free drinks, Shacklebolt," she murmured, and—for the first time in a very long while—Kingsley genuinely laughed.

"No, I wasn't counting on that… But it would be nice to rest for a little while. At somewhere I've always been welcome. Know any inns like that?"

- ^-^3

I like the kind of fluffiness in this piece. It's very easy to write King, for me, and even more so fluff with him, though Rosmerta fights me, argh… T-T Still, I like it, and what a lovely thought to end on, him resting safely with her. :') (And yes, that was a hint of Charlie/Katie and the M&MWP Oliver/Terence Higgs, fyi. ;P)

Hope you liked this, Heddy. I'm just sorry that it's sooo late. -.- Gah. But maybe my fangirling over Kingsley with you can make up for that? :3

Thanks for reading, everyone, and please review!

-mew! :]