A/N: Merry Christmas, one and all. This is one of my favorite Christmas carols, so enjoy

Mrs. Weasley placed a golden star carefully atop the Christmas tree before stepping back to admire her handiwork. She brushed her hands off on her apron and moved into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, glancing at the Brother's Keeper Clock she had dragged all the way from the Burrow.

She paused for a moment to heave a shuddering sigh. Every single arrow pointed directly at 'mortal peril'.

It wasn't that Molly was surprised--they were always like that these days--but she wished that, for just a moment, one of the arrows would point to something else. Here she was, standing in an empty house, about to cook a batch of Christmas cookies, and her own arrow still rested, quiet and foreboding, on 'mortal peril'. No one was safe.

As she wandered into the kitchen and pulled a cookie sheet out of the cupboard, she took a moment to wonder where everyone was. Arthur, she knew, was out on patrol with Charlie, Bill, Fred and George. They had split up, of course, to cover more ground.

They must be lonely, she thought briefly.

Ron and Ginny were probably with Harry and Hermione. God only knew where exactly the four of them were. They'd been darting all around the country ever since September. None of the Weasley children were dead--the clock told her that much--but that didn't keep her from worrying.

Heaving a sigh, she began rolling out the cookie dough she hadn't even noticed mixing.

"Smells good," said Arthur from the door of the kitchen.

"Arthur!" she cried, rushing to greet him. She pulled him into a floury hug.

He laughed. "Merry Christmas, Molly."

I'll be home for Christmas,

You can count on me.

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents under the tree.

Hermione trudged inside, knocking snow from her boots and shaking it from her hair. She clutched a small parcel in her mitten-clad hands, and set it on the table to remove her thick winter coat.

She and Ron were staying in a tiny muggle hotel in the middle of nowhere. They had been separated from Harry and Ginny while traveling by broomstick in a recent blizzard, and when they had finally managed to contact them by way of owl the two were miles ahead. With no distinct destination to apparate to and time constantly running short, Harry had told them to wait this one out.

Ron was sprawled upside-down on the couch, staring in a perplexed manner at the television. His legs were akimbo over the back of the garishly red sofa, his arms stretched out on the cushions to his sides. An adorable picture, to be sure, and Hermione smiled at the thought.

"Ron?" she said, a laugh in her voice.

He blinked up at her and grinned. "Hello, 'Mione."

"It's called a television."

"What?" Now he looked a bit confounded.

Hermione chuckled. "The black box that seems to have you so fascinated. It's called a television. Muggles watch movies on them."

"Oh."

There was an awkward sort of silence.

"What's a movie?"

"Maybe I can show you one another night," she said, after a short burst of giggles.

Ron cocked his head at her, quite a feat considering it was hanging upside-down off of the couch. "Why not tonight?"

Kneeling on the floor in front of his flushed face, Hermione smiled softly. "Because it's Christmas."

She tilted her head just so, her lips brushing against his in a short, sweet kiss. Pulling back, she handed him the parcel she had been carrying earlier.

He blushed even harder and unwrapped it. Inside was a pair of finely woven chumtri-hair gloves, black and smooth. "To replace those ratty old things you're always wearing," she said.

"I love them, 'Mione," he said, admiring the soft articles. "I... I got something for you, too." He crawled clumsily off of the couch so that both of them were on the ground. Then he blinked. This wasn't right. He pulled her to her feet and kneeled again in front of her.

For a moment she looked confused, then her eyes widened in realization. "Ron--"

He shook his head. "Quiet a minute, Hermione, I've been going over this moment in my head for years--let me at least give you the speech."

She nodded, tears already streaming down her face.

Ron cleared his throat. "I've known you for seven years now, and I'll admit that for a good while I thought you were a complete know-it-all,"

Hermione smiled.

"However, we both know how fast I got over that. You're smart, beautiful, sweet--you've saved my arse loads of times. I know for sure I wouldn't be alive today without you." He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the final leap. "And it's become clear to me, over the time we've known each other, that I am truly, deeply, fiercely and hopelessly in love with you. Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

Out of his pocket he pulled a velvet box, and he opened it to reveal a slim golden ring adorned by a glittering crescent of diamonds.

Without so much as pausing to rid herself of the tears, Hermione flew into his arms.

"Of course I will, of course I will, of course I will!" She punctuated each 'of course I will' with a kiss, her hands clutching his ginger hair.

Laughing for pure joy, Ron kissed her back. Pulling away for a moment, he slid the ring gently onto her finger. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."

Christmas Eve will find me,

Where the love light gleams.

I'll be home for Christmas,

If only in my dreams.

Harry shook Ginny slightly. "Wake up, Gin'. It's over."

Rubbing her beautiful, shimmering eyes, Ginny Weasley sat up with a yawn. "What happened?"

He shrugged. "The vapor from the tunnel must have had a residual effect. We both fainted after we got out of that hellhole."

Ginny held an onyx bracelet triumphantly aloft. "We got what we came for, though."

"Yeah," murmured Harry, grinning up at her. "The horcrux. We're getting closer and closer to ending this." Taking the offending object from her, he drew his wand.

While Harry went about destroying the horcrux, Ginny's mind wandered. She played a bit with the snow on the ground, packing it into a hard orb.

"Done," Harry said, dusting off his hands.

"Good," Ginny replied, before hurling the snowball directly at his forehead.

The Boy Who Lived yelped in alarm, stumbling backwards. "What did you--?"

But Ginny was giggling hysterically and had already begun shaping a second snowball. Harry grinned just before scooping up a hand full of powder and stuffing it down her shirtfront.

For some time they stayed there in front of the now-harmless tunnel, wrestling and kissing in the snow. Finally they collapsed side-by-side, panting big, vaporous breaths.

"I could've... beaten you... you know," Harry said, by far the more snow-soaked of the pair.

"Dream... on," Ginny puffed, before rolling onto his chest and kissing him senseless.

Pulling back, she grinned impishly down at him. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

Christmas Eve will find me,

Where the love light gleams.

I'll be home for Christmas,

If only in my dreams.

A/N: Again, Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays, or Good Season. Whatever the greeting may be, I wish it to you. I don't care how you pray or who you pray to or if you pray at all--Be well, and be at peace.