"You can have my coat," she says, shedding it. The wind is a bit nippy, but they can't see their breath.

"Thanks, Hermione. You're the best."

Ron shivers and reaches to take it from her, but she gestures for him to hold on and pulls out her wand.

"Give me a sec, this is much too small for you."

She mutters something and prods at the fabric until it resembles something that might fit over his shoulders. He shrugs it on.

"Much better."

They join hands again and continue on through the park.


Wreaths of holly adorn every doorway they pass, and some lawns house elaborate light displays. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny can't help but feel infected with the holiday spirit. The Weasleys-by-birth sport their Christmas jumpers, but Harry and Hermione are actually dressed for the weather.

"You know, Ron, you really sort of grew into maroon. I think it's your color now," Hermione says, not joking at all. The sweater compliments his cheeks, flushed pink with cold, and the freckles that dot them.

"I sacrifice a lot for fashion. I'm bloody freezing!"

Before he can protest, Hermione's sliding out of her jacket. This time she doesn't have to enlarge it by magic; she'd never gotten around to changing it back, having decided an extra-roomy jacket was kind of nice.

"Thanks," Ron says, wrapping a coat-clad arm around her shoulder.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so cold," Ginny says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I have such a gallant husband."

"No way. My hero days are over." They laugh. "I was chosen to defeat the Dark Lord, not to freeze to death because my wife was too stubborn to bring a coat." But he does dig a scarf out of his pocket and wrap it snugly around her neck.


"Rose, you need a coat!" Ron calls to her one February morning before she can rush out the door. There's still frost on the ground outside, and Hermione's waiting in the car with Hugo. They're going to be late to ice skating with Granddad Weasley, but it's worth it.

"Daddy, I don't want to wear it. I won't be cold."

"Just in case." He's had this argument with himself many times.

She concedes with an adorable little huff, and he guides her arms through the sleeves. Ron scoops her up and walks out the door, clad only in a long-sleeve shirt himself.

He straps his daughter into the car seat and opens the passenger door. There's something on the seat.

"I thought you might forget that," Hermione says, waiting for him to buckle up and shifting into reverse. "There's no point in teaching the kids to do something if you don't do it yourself," she adds in an undertone.

Ron sets the coat in his lap and grins sheepishly. He puts it on when they get out, and Arthur almost does a double take when he sees it.

"Kids learn by example, Dad. You were always messing about with muggle stuff when I was young, and look who I married!"

The two of them stand there for a while, father and son, watching Hermione skate around the rink with Rose and Hugo in tow. She has to bend down to hold their hands, and their little faces light up whenever they speed around a curve. He would do almost anything for his family. Wearing a coat included.