Author's Note: Welcome to my collection of Christmas oneshots. These have been written both as presents of some of my lovely friends -waves wildly- and for a challenge set by TheOriginalHufflepuff to write twelve different Christmas fics. They will span all different times, characters and genres, but, knowing me, at least half of them will be angst-ridden, full of unrequited love or something else depressing. Please enjoy, and if you adore my work, or have some sort of constructive criticism, please feel free to leave a review.
Chapter 1
-Release-
HarryxGinny
Merry Christmas to xRosePetalx
The smell of steaming roast turkey and plum pudding filtered through the house, burning Harry's nostrils with the richness of it all; the Christmas tree was lavishly decorated with ornaments that shimmered under the harsh living room lights as though they were dancing, and yet Harry took in none of it. All eyes were focussed upon George, who looked as much a ghost now, six months on; as he had that very exact moment he had discovered Fred sleeping peacefully under the stars in the Great Hall. For someone who had spent the majority of his school days as the centre of attention, Harry though he seemed pretty unnerved by it all now.
Everyone else looked as numb as George; Ginny was curled up, cat like, in an arm chair, not even a trace of her usual grin on her face, and Ron and Hermione lay beside her, both too captivated by George's eerie, miserable presence to demonstrate closeness. Harry doubted they had even discussed what had happened in the Room of Requirement, the aftermath of that last night at Hogwarts had thoroughly eclipsed everything they once held dear. Silence hung thickly in the air like a cloud; it seemed to be suffocating everyone in the vicinity, and Harry wondered how they could stand feeling so dead.
Harry had experienced many dismal Christmases, for sure the Dursleys' had never been big on fostering the holiday spirit, and most of his Christmases at Hogwarts had been marred by war and fighting and delving further into wicked mysteries., but this had to be the most depressing yet.
"Who wants to open presents?" Harry asked, as though his voice alone could puncture the invisible weight that hung above his head. No-one answered, but all heads swivelled towards him. He could see fragile tears clinging to Hermione face like raindrops to a leaf, it shocked him, because he thought that the floodgates would have shut and the river dried up by now. In six months, this family had not moved on one little bit, and as much as Harry pitied their loss, he felt as though he should shove them in the right direction. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind, not smother the dreadful things with false happiness, the way Molly had with her Christmas decorations and cooking.
"Maybe Harry's right," Ginny said finally, "maybe we should open presents." It was the first time she had spoken all day, and she seemed self-conscious and delicate, as though words alone could snap her small body in half. Hermione nodded eagerly, although Harry could still see traces of doubt streaked across her face. Ron inclined his head slightly as well, although he was a little more hesitant. Bill, Charlie, Fleur and George didn't even acknowledge them, but just continued to drown in their own sorrows.
"Come on," Harry said, his voice had a hint of eagerness in it, he was just so glad to be getting off the couch and doing something, even that was as mundane and simple as handing out Christmas presents. Ginny scurried after him as he began his walk across the room, to where oodles of presents sat neatly under the Christmas tree. It was now midday, and they were untouched except by human eyes. Digging rapidly through the presents, Harry began to chuck them into haphazard piles by name.
"Harry."
He looked up at the sound of his name, it seemed odd to have it embodied in such deep quiet. He could feel eyes boring into his back, Bill and Fleur had shifted slightly, they now lay in an intangible fray, curled up together on the carpet. George was still as dull as ever, and Harry really didn't want to ponder exactly how deep his emotions ran, but at least he was looking away from the window now. Ginny was leaning over him, cocking her finger in a way that Harry could only describe as sexy.
"Come upstairs for a minute, I need to give you your present in peace."
Harry nodded, although his tongue seemed to be lodged in the roof of his mouth; he vaguely wondered exactly what sort of present Ginny could give him away from his family. He hurried up the stairs after her, ignoring Ron's wink and the chastising look Hermione gave him as he began to neaten the presents that Harry had so chaotically stacked. Harry grinned slightly despite his utter confusion at Ginny's behaviour; maybe those two would sort themselves out after all.
"Coming Harry?" Ginny called from the topmost stair, looking nervously down at him. For someone who had just spent what felt like an eternity staring at her brother, she sure appeared full of energy and spirit now.
"Look Harry," she said, pushing him into her room, where he was greeted by an affectionate wave from one of the Weird Sisters, "I feel weird about this, but are we … are we ever going to discuss us? Or are you just going to be a typical boy and bottle everything up and forget what we had?"
Harry sighed; this was really the last thing he felt like doing on Christmas Day, which was supposed to be a day of celebration and joy, of singing Christmas carols and pulling crackers.
Instead he just mumbled, "It's your brother who's clueless around girls. Look at him and Hermione."
"You never learn do you?"
"What?" Harry was genuinely surprised by the question, and he gave Ginny a confused stare.
"Look, you don't think about how hard it's been for me, do you?" Harry thought she was being irrational, but thinking of her bat bogey hex, he doubted now was a good time to voice such ideas. "You went off with Ron and Hermione and then came back and ignored and I've had to go back to school all by myself, and you've been ignoring me, it's like you never wanted me in the first place and going off to kill him was the easiest way to ditch me."
Harry sighed, his brain whirring as quickly as possible to think of something that might make Ginny a little more reasonable.
"Look Ginny," he started, bracing himself for the fireworks that were likely to occur, for the harsh explosions and loss of control, "do you really think I wanted all that?"
Her mouth fell open like a goldfish,
not in shock but in preparation for retaliation, and he quickly cut her
off. "It's been hard on all of us, I had to do that for everyone, and
do you really think I wanted to?"
"You got to be the hero, you're the one who killed him, and yet what I
did was just as important, Neville and Luna and I were left to fight
against the Carrows and we did." Ginny was becoming hysterical, her
voice was rising in pitch so much that it almost reminded Harry of the
Fat Lady's singing, which was disturbing at its best.
"I'm sorry, ok. We both did what we thought was right."
Harry had never held much stock in apologies; to him they were frivolous and useless, it didn't matter how much you said you regretted something, while man could change the past, it didn't automatically mean that you should. Saying sorry never righted wrongs, it smothered them and hid them from the world, left them to be forgotten. And all this particular apology had done was create an air that mirrored the one they had left downstairs. Ginny's face was a mask; Harry could not seem to contemplate her emotions at all, and resorted to asking questions as a way of breaking the tension that surrounded them like a bubble, trapping them in.
"So, that Christmas present?"
"Oh, yeah." Ginny suddenly blushed bright red, Harry was vividly
reminded of the way her brother acted around Hermione. "That. Don't
worry, it's stupid, you're going to laugh."
"Why?"
"Oh … oh sod it."
And with that she was stepping forward and the world was spinning and her lips were colliding with a shocked Harry's and it was rough and yet perfect and he could taste her and her scent was ensnaring. Just as Harry's brain was actually beginning to process what was happening, she pulled suddenly away.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking Harry's flushed face to be sign of something other than elation. "I shouldn't have done it, but I … I remembered your birthday present from last year."
Harry couldn't help it; he let out a slight laugh, one which was much harsher than necessary, as though his throat was staging a slight rebellion for its neglect during recent months. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd giggled at all, and it was the most liberating feeling. Ginny began to laugh with him, not because anything was particularly funny, but because the tension and despair had suddenly been released, it was like letting go of a spring that had been wound up in their hearts.
"So," said Harry, once the laughter had stopped, "Would you like your Christmas present from me."
Ginny nodded, unable to stop a few stray giggles from escaping. "Of course."
"Well, you'll have to come downstairs."
He offered his hand to her, after all they'd gone through together, and in light of all he hoped they would go through, it only seemed right.
"You might want to tiptoe downstairs quietly though, the last thing we want is for Ron to accuse us of snogging each other's faces off or something else entirely crude." As she spoke, she began to entwine his fingers with her own. "This'll give them something to talk about though," she said, jerking her head slightly.
Together, they wandered down the stairs; Harry quickly ran his hand down his sides, attempting to slightly flatten his dishevelled clothing, but it proved about as useful on his shirt as upon his hair. Ron was the first to meet their eyes as they scampered out into the hallway, but then, the most shocking sound came from the corner, where George was sitting, that eternal hunch in his back gone for the first time in days.
He was wolf-whistling, and, for the Weasley family, Harry and Hermione, it had to be one of the most glorious sounds they'd ever heard.
Glancing slightly at Ginny, who was obviously making a lame attempt at hiding her still crimson face from Ron, Harry asked cheerfully, "Who wants their presents?"
