"For goodness' sake, Ron, couldn't you just carry it in?"

"Why should I?"

"This is dangerous, it's not going to end well…"

"Hey, you said yourself that Wingardium Leviosa was one of the most practical spells."

"Yes, but not in this context, with such a heavy subject!"

"Oh bloody hell, it's fine. I didn't see you complaining when I levitated that troll's club. Honestly, I swear it's okay, I have everythi- ow!" Ron cursed again as the bottom of the Christmas tree dealt him a solid blow to the back of the head.

Hermione shot him a reproving, what-did-I-tell-you look, trying to hold in a laugh at the sight of her husband under the revolving, floating tree that was now tipping forward dangerously. Grabbing her wand, she said it as she flicked upwards. "What did I tell you? What did I just say…" The tree stabilized immediately, and she sighed and guided it safely to the corner of the living room where it landed with a muffled thump, scattering pine needles across the newly-swept floor.

Ron straightened up, slightly pink around the ears. "Thanks. I mean – I had everything under control…if you just…" He trailed off, looking sheepishly at the tree that sat innocuously gazing back at him. "Right then. I s'pose we should get to decorating, yeah?"

Hermione held her stern expression in place for a few more seconds, then relaxed her face into a smile, one of Ron's favorites. "Yes, let's," she replied, stepping forward to give him a quick kiss. Ron's displeasure evaporated in an instant and he grinned as she turned around and began to search for the ornament box within the pile of cardboard boxes still waiting to be unpacked.

"Here they are! All right, you can get the lights –" she handed him a long string of luminous orbs – "and I'll put the carols on."

Ron, still grinning, turned his attention to the untangling of the lights. He had always been fond of the cheery Muggle Christmas carols of Hermione's upbringing, much preferring them over the ear-stabbing ballads by one Celestina Warbeck of which his mother so inexplicably fancied. He recited the Levitation Charm once more – a favorite spell of his as well, for reasons other than the practicality – and guided the lights onto the tree, where they drifted down gently and nestled deep into the thick boughs. Stepping back, he admired his work. They were all right, and Hermione wasn't likely to object even though a few hadn't made it completely into the tree and were hovering like lost sheep a couple inches away from the branches. Personally, he thought that this just added to the charm; they looked perfect. Unless…He had a sudden inspiration, and quickly racked his brains for a way that it might be able to work.

Moments later, "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" began to emanate from the kitchen, and Hermione emerged looking pleased. "There we go. Let's start – oh, these lights are beautiful, Ron."

She walked over to him, grasped his hand, and they stood there for a moment just gazing at the lights. Ron had enchanted them so that they were no longer warm yellow bulbs but bright, whitish blue orbs, a symbol they both recognized immediately and that sent the memory of a similar dark night, seemingly an entire lifetime away, immediately to the forefront of their thoughts.

"Did you use the Deluminator?" Hermione asked after a few minutes.

"Nah. Just a Color-Change Enchantment. Should last for a while. Do you want to keep it?"

"Oh yes." She beamed. "It's perfect."

"I agree." Ron squeezed her hand, then dropped it gently and leaned over the box of ornaments. "Okay, let's get this Christmas going, and a damn good one it's going to be too!"

"Ron!" Hermione was laughing. "Oh, all right," she said, reaching into the box as well. "Let's do it. Look – I nearly forgot about this ornament. And this one! Do you remember – "

"Of course I do."

As the sky deepened above the hill, darkness falling much faster than expected, the little house glowed with light, sounds of laughter and Christmas carols and good-natured teasing emanating from the cracks in the walls. The interior was transformed from a small, tidy living space into a collage of garlands and haphazard stacks of boxes and warm, comfortable chaos. After the decorating was deemed finished by Hermione and Ron nodded his quick assent – too busy looking at his glowing wife to pay attention to the décor at the moment – he fixed a fire in the stone fireplace and they sat together on the couch with dangerously full mugs, Hermione's containing tea and Ron's with butterbeer.

"Look at the tree, Ron."

"I am."

She hit his shoulder with a pillow. "No, you're not. You're staring at me again."

Ron was quick to return the gentle abuse. "Well, can you blame me? How could I not?"

Hermione giggled, a sound that sounded strange coming from the seemingly perpetually adult witch but at the same time sounded exactly right, in Ron's opinion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious. You're beautiful, and you're mine. Any fool would take that opportunity to stare as much has possible.
"Oh, don't start that again. Besides," she whispered, leaning in closer, "it's incorrect."

"Really. And what evidence do you have to support that?"

She grinned. "Because you're mine."

"Yeah, all right. You've got me there." He put his mug carefully on the coffeetable and reached out to take hers, putting it next to his. He then turned his head so that he was facing her directly and leaned in one more inch, closing the gap between them as he kissed her swiftly but softly, enthusiastically but gently. She responded with an equal level of enthusiasm if not more, pressing Ron against the back of the couch. Their limbs became entwined, and they only broke apart when it was apparent that they couldn't go on without air. Breathless, they looked at each other, smiling both shyly and ecstatically.

Hermione broke the silence. "So, our first Christmas in this house. It looks like it's been pretty damn good so far."

Ron tousled her hair. "I couldn't agree more. And I have a feeling it's only going to improve from here." Grinning, he reached for his mug again and took a large gulp. "What were you saying about the tree again?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh yes, completely."

"Really, though. It's already been a month and this already feels like home."

"Yeah."

"And Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Me too. So much."

"You love you too?"

"Of course. It's my exceedingly good looks." She laughed, reaching for the

pillow, and Ron swiftly threw it out of her sight. She let out a cry of protest and lunged for it, but he pulled out his wand and Banished the offending object upstairs.

"You know I could just Accio it right back here and smack you upside the head."

"Yeah, you could. What's stopping you?" He smirked.

"Only your exceedingly good looks." She surrendered her aggression, leaning back to rest against his sturdy, warm chest, their heartbeats almost aligned.

"Okay, okay, I love you." He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled closer with an adorable little sigh. "More than anything, because I'm yours."

"Good."

"Really, I do."

"I know."

"Merry Christmas, 'Mione."

"Merry Christmas, Ron."