Title: Much Mistletoeing

Author: Sneezy Mouse

Rating: PG/PG-13 due to overwhelming Christmas fluff, slight inebriation, children out-of-wedlock (GASP!), naughty language, naughty situations (as well as some nice ones; it is Christmas after all), snogging, mistletoe and heavy sexual tension (as always...)

Summary: Best-selling author Hermione Granger has spent the past six years touring the world to showcase her novels. Now, she receives an out-of-the-blue letter asking her to join the Weasleys for Christmas at the Burrow. A fluffy, Christmas-y Fred/Hermione fic.

Author's Note: I do hope you enjoy this little story. I'm not sure how long it will be. Maybe seven, eight chapters. I'll work on it whenever I can to ensure it is finished by Christmas. Also, thanks to the HP Lexicon for letting me figure out what street Diagon Alley is supposed to be on.


Much Mistletoeing
A Christmas Fic

By Sneezy Mouse

● Chapter One ●

"It's the most wonderful time of the year.
With the kids jingle belling,
And everyone telling you,
"Be of good cheer,"
It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, Eddie Pola and George Wyle

December 19th

Part One

Hermione had almost forgotten how lovely London was during the holidays. Granted, she was only in a Terminal 2 at Heathrow Airport but she had high expectations for the rest of the city.

"Miss Granger, your luggage," a security officer said gruffly, handing over Hermione's large grey suitcase after deeming it not a security risk. Apparently, Hermione appeared to be the type of person to stash large bombs or cocaine in her luggage.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione replied politely before walking quickly away from the customs channel. Going through airport security was always a frustrating matter, especially when they tried to confiscate her wand as a weapon. It was always the same story Hermione told, though: it's a gift for her niece who is undergoing a current obsession with witches or wizards. Of course, Hermione didn't have any brothers or sisters let alone any nieces or nephews, but customs agents didn't need to know that, did they?

"Bugger," she muttered quietly under her breath when she stepped outside so she could hail a taxi. The sidewalk was full to the brim with holiday travelers trying to get to their destinations. All Hermione needed to do was get to London where she could find an Apparation point to get to hers. The blasted Ministry deemed the Heathrow Apparation point too much of a liability due to the heavy Muggle traffic it experienced during the winter hols.

Hermione delicately pushed her way through the crowd, realizing entirely at how rude this was, and waited patiently for a car to stop for her. Of course, she may as well have turned invisible because no cars were stopping for her. Noticing a cab pull over for a svelte blond girl, Hermione removed her heavy coat to reveal a lower-cut-than-she-normally-wears top and bent over to retrieve something from her suitcase, thus revealing a bit more cleavage. Her uncomfortable slut moment lasted only a few seconds, thankfully, as a car pulled over and the driver popped out to help Hermione with her bag. She pulled back on her coat just as the driver asked, "Where to, miss?"

"London, please. Charing Cross Road."

"No problem, miss, no problem at all," he said, starting the car and pulling into traffic.

Hermione blessed her driver for not trying to make small talk with her. Having been gone from her home country for almost six years, Hermione just wanted to observe and appreciate the things she had long since forgotten. The traffic, of course, being the most obvious one at the moment; but as they got closer into the heart of London with pedestrians and shoppers, more began to awaken. Like the way everyone is entirely undaunted by the slight drizzle that had begun, continuing their shopping as chattering as if it were a bright summers day. Or the delightfully confused tourists as they counted their money and tried to calculate how many pounds they had left and trying to decipher the difference between a pence and a quid.

"Sir, right here is fine," Hermione said abruptly as they were caught in a sudden dead-stop in traffic. The driver pushed the meter and Hermione handed him her payment and slipped out the car, her suitcase rolling behind her.

Sidewalk stores had their holiday decorations up and Hermione was entranced by all of them. The fluffy pillow stuffing used to simulate snow, the Insta-Sno from a can the created snowflake designs that were adorned on the windows. And then you put in the shiny bows and colorful wrapping on gift boxes that would sadly be shredded to bits come Christmas morning. Everything was sparkly, simulating that freshly-fallen snow that Londoners so rarely got to experience.

"Hermione?" someone called as Hermione was watching animatronics puppies gambol around inside a toy store. She turned and saw a handsome sandy-haired man crossing the busy street. "I thought that was you," the man said in a strikingly familiar Irish accent.

A smile lit up on Hermione's face as she realized who he was. "Seamus! Oh, it's lovely to see you!" she said, embracing her old school mate. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good. I teach now, can you believe it? Just got my license!"

"Wizard or Muggle?" Hermione asked, remembering Seamus' half-blood heritage.

"Muggle. Young kids too," Seamus added. "Got to be prepared, you know, for when my own tot comes along."

"You're having a child?" Hermione asked.

"Well, not me obviously," Seamus said, grinning. "But me wife, yeah. Found out a few months ago. Going to be having a little girl; which I will spoil rotten of course."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, smiling. "Who's the mum?"

"Don't quite know if you remember her but Lisa, Lisa Turpin?" Seamus asked and upon seeing Hermione's quizzical look added, "She was a Ravenclaw in our year. I met up with her a few years ago on accident and we had lunch. We were married about a year and a half ago; small ceremony in Ireland, of course. Now we're going to have a kid! It's great. I'm babbling I'm so happy. No need to ask what you're up to though, I'm sure. Promoting another book, eh?" Seamus asked good-naturedly.

"Actually," Hermione said, pausing. "I'm here for the hols. My parents are visiting some friends in Finland so I am here to visit the Weasleys."

"Ah," Seamus said, obviously reminiscing of the red-haired brood. "How're they doing?"

Hermione frowned slightly and said, "I'm not quite sure. I haven't remained steady in contact with them since I began my book tour. I've only had brief conversations through a fireplace with Ginny and Ron. I haven't even seen Harry in a good two years. I don't even know if he's going to be here or not."

Seamus looked genuinely shocked by this news and replied, "I would've never expected that. Always pictured you three staying close in touch forever. Thought you would have ended up marrying one or the other."

Hermione couldn't help but snort at this comment, causing Seamus to smile. She always got this comment, though marrying either of her best friends was never really a thought Hermione entertained for too long in her mind. Of course, while she briefly dated Ron the summer preceding and during her sixth year of school, they argued and got annoyed with each other far too much for Hermione to actually believe a marriage would work out. And with Harry, he was Harry Potter. Of course Hermione toyed with the idea of being the wife of the Boy Who Lived but her experience with Rita Skeeter in her fourth year knocked Hermione back to her senses and showed her the dangers of the press.

"Well," Hermione finally said. "Marrying either of them was never a good option. Besides - I am quite content - though busy, with the life I am currently leading."

"The books, that's right. I heard that you were a big shot writer now," Seamus said.

"Well, in the Muggle World, yes," Hermione corrected. "Everyone that is a witch or wizard already knows the stories I am writing about. The Muggles think it to be a fantasy world."

"I can't believe you profited off the tribulations we all experienced during Hogwarts," Seamus said in a tone that made Hermione realize that Seamus had not meant those words to be an insult. Just an observation.

"Well, I had Harry's permission of course," Hermione answered. "He had mentioned something about wanting to tell the world what he experienced, and I just put that plan into action. He, Ron and I had a very detailed conversation about name changes, information to be omitted for safety reasons and other such things."

"How many are out now? Four?" Seamus asked of Hermione's publications.

"Three. Harry Potter and the Mirror of Erised, Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin, and Harry Potter and the Escape from Azkaban. All based on true events, unknown to the Muggles of course. They just think the characters are based off of old school mates and the stories just flights of fancy."

"It is quite exciting that I am in your best-selling novels, though," Seamus joked. "I also enjoy how I am sandy-haired and that my good looks are mentioned every so often as well."

"Just wait until I get to seventh year when I mention how you are dating Ginny, much to the disappointment of the rest of the girls at school," Hermione jested. "You'll be a literary sex symbol."

The pair laughed at this before Seamus realized he had to meet Lisa for a quick bite to eat.

"It was really great seeing you, Hermione," Seamus said. "Please, if you have any time, drop Lisa and I a postcard; just so we know what you're up to."

"Thank you, Seamus. It was lovely seeing you as well," Hermione responded warmly. "I'll be in the States again in the New Year. Keep an eye out."

"I will. Give my best to the Weasleys and good luck with Draco," Seamus said, waving as he walked away.

Hermione simply waved to Seamus one last time and was halfway down the block when she realized Seamus had mentioned Malfoy. Why would Hermione have to deal with Draco Malfoy, of all people? Surely he was holed up in his bloody manor, stewing over the fact Lord Voldemort had lost the war.

Pushing the unpleasant thought of Draco Malfoy out of her mind, Hermione continued her walk to her destination: The Leaky Cauldron. Hermione wondered if Tom still ran the inn and pub or if it had new ownership. She hoped it was the former, as she had too many memories for the location to be changed. Thankfully, when the dingy windows came into view, Hermione knew that everything was still the same. Opening the door slowly, the familiar scent of slightly moldy wood along with the sharp scent of alcohol, the rush of warm air from the fires and the sound of people talking welcomed Hermione into the pub. Hermione immediately recognized a few faces and gave them a friendly wave. She had a brief conversation with Tom but decided not to linger too long in the Leaky Cauldron and instead headed out the back to enter Diagon Alley.

Having received Molly Weasley's letter only two weeks ago, Hermione knew she had some shopping to do. Well aware that she wasn't entirely sure of who all would be attending this Christmas gathering, Hermione simply window shopped until her toes were almost frozen in her fur-lined boots. She was about to turn around to back into the Leaky Cauldron for a coffee or cocoa when she found herself standing right outside number ninety-three: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Hermione thought about going inside to see if Fred or George were working but the combination of the large 'CLOSED' sign on the window and the realization that there was more than one Wheezes in the world, the chances of either of the twins still working at this one was doubtful. However, a light turned on in the back of the store and Hermione caught a glimpse of the tell-tale red hair.

She hurried to the front door and began pounding loudly. She heard a muffled, "We're closed!" but did not desist in her pounding. Finally, the man walked to the front of the store and yanked open the door.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But we're closed for the day. We'll be open again tomo-"

"George?" Hermione ventured. She hoped she had guessed the right twin.

"Yes, I'm George Weasley. Can I help you?" he asked, looking at Hermione whom he obviously didn't recognize.

"George," Hermione said, smiling widely. "It's me, Hermione Granger. Do you remember-"

"Of course I remember you, are you daft?" George answered, taking Hermione by surprise by swooping her into a big hug. When he put her down (she was literally lifted off the ground), Hermione said, "I don't think you have ever hugged me before."

"Well it's been six years since I last saw you. What did you want," George asked, "a handshake?"

"Actually, it'd be nice to get out of the cold," Hermione said. Taking her cue, George opened the door and motioned for her to go in.

It had been ages since she had been in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but she still remembered almost all of the products. She burst out laughing when she passed the display of Canary Creams, fondly remembering all the times she would be walking innocently down the hallway when a person would just turn into a giant canary.

"I remember when Crookshanks ate a canary cream," George said, noticing the display.

"The summer after fifth year," Hermione added. "I was so mad at the two of you. Feeding my cat a joke product. You should be glad he didn't die."

George smiled and Hermione noticed the small beard he had on his face. He looked so mature now compared to the last time she had seen him. When he noticed her looking at his beard, he self-consciously ran his left hand over it, letting Hermione notice a very important ring on a very important finger. Uncharacteristically, Hermione snatched his hand and gazed at the solid gold wedding band.

"George!" she said loudly. "When did you get married?"

He laughed at her reaction before saying, "About two years ago. To Lavender Brown... now Weasley, of course."

"Lavender?" Hermione asked, shocked. "I didn't know you two were even seeing each other."

"We tried to get you an invite, but the only address we were able to get was your parents' home and the publishing company," George said, making Hermione feel awful and wonder sadly what else she missed.

"Ron hasn't gotten married yet, if you're interested," George said. "He and Luna are still together but they wanted to wait until they would be sure you'd be there."

"Oh, I've been a horrid friend, haven't I?" Hermione asked. "I tried to stay in touch, really I did. But it just got so busy when the second book came out. Suddenly everyone wanted to interview me and I just... have no excuse."

"We don't hold it against you, Hermione," George said kindly. "We knew you were busy. You got a life, nothing to apologize for."

"How is Harry?" Hermione asked. The news of Ron and Luna immediately made her think of her other best friend.

George thought for a moment before answering. "He's doing much better. Obviously, the holidays are a bit hard for him; why wouldn't they be? But Jonathan is almost two now, so Harry is encompassing his life around him."

"Jonathan?" Hermione asked, confused. George's look of shock and embarrassment only helped to add to Hermione's confusion.

"You don't know?" he asked.

"Know what?"

"Well, Harry -"

"Harry what?" a familiar voice said. It took all of Hermione's energy not to burst into tears of happiness at hearing Harry Potter's voice.

"I saw the light on," Harry continued, coming closer to the pair. "Decided I'd pop in. You know an Alohamora opens that door, right?"

"It wasn't locked, actually," George responded. "I forgot to lock it when Hermione and I -"

"Hermione?" Harry said, shocked. His footsteps got faster until he reached the beginning of the aisle George and Hermione were in. Hermione's tears once again almost began when she noticed a small boy with familiar green eyes and curly light brown hair in Harry's arms.

"Harry!" Hermione said, running to her old friend and crushing him in a hug. "Oh, I have missed you!"

"I've missed you too, Hermione," Harry said, smiling at Hermione. "Hermione," he added when they parted. "I'd like you to meet Jonathan. My son."

Hermione gave a sharp intake of breath, but was able to recover surprisingly quickly.

"Hello, Jonathan," Hermione said, waggling her fingers at the young boy who responded by burying his face in his father's chest.

"He's usually not this shy," Harry reassured. "Jonathan, this is Hermione. She's my best friend."

"Mum?" Jonathan asked quietly.

A distinct look of emotional pain settled briefly on Harry's face before he said, "No, not Mum. Hermione. A friend."

"Potter!" Jonathan said sharply, biting his father's hand. Harry placed the boy on the ground, warning him not to touch anything.

"Potter?" Hermione asked, quirking her eyebrows inquisitively.

"It's that damn Malfoy," Harry responded, watching his son peruse the aisle. "He insists on calling me 'Potter' whenever Jonathan is around. He won't call me 'Dad' anymore."

"Malfoy?"

George snorted.

"No. Jonathan," Harry answered, giving Hermione a look. "I've missed you, Hermione."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, almost too dramatically, as she wrapped her arms around Harry again. "I've missed you too. I missed so much!"

And then she burst into tears.

It was quite obvious that neither George nor Harry were fully prepared for this, nor were they any more comfortable with a woman crying than they had been during their school days. George was awkwardly rubbing her shoulder, Harry her back, both muttering soothing words.

"Oh, dear," Hermione said, sniffling and pulling away. "I daresay I am a bit too emotional at the moment. But, George, you're married! Harry, you have a child. How did I not know this?"

"You were so busy, Hermione," Harry said in a tone that let Hermione know that it was okay that she was busy. "I was dating this girl, this amazing girl, named Samantha and one thing led to another and we had Jonathan."

"So you weren't married?" Hermione inquired.

"No. We had plans to, but..." Harry trailed off, searching the store for little Jonathan. After deeming him far enough away to tell the story, Harry continued. "We were, thankfully, able to keep the news quiet for a good while. But somehow a member of the press found out and leaked the story to that new gossip rag that Pansy Parkinson runs."

"Oh, dear," Hermione said softly. Harry hesitated again, gathering his strength, and said, "Yeah. Pansy Parkinson. So the public found out and the press was hounding us, literally hounding us. We were driving home from dinner at a friends' house one night when a press van pulled up beside us and began snapping pictures. Obviously, I can't see when there are things flashing in my eyes and I wrapped my car around a telephone pole."

George hung his head, obviously having heard this story before but still feeling pain from it. Harry took a gulp of breath.

"Harry, you don't have to continue," Hermione said soothingly, now comforting him. "It was just like Princess Diana, wasn't it?"

"Pretty much, yes," Harry said quietly. "As we waited for help to arrive, she begged me not to let our baby die. Do whatever I could. She could die, but the Jonathan couldn't. Jon was about fourteen months old."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered. "I am so sorry I wasn't here for you. If I would've -"

"No, Hermione, please don't apologize," Harry replied firmly. "After Sam died, I went to stay with her parents; Muggles, you know. I wanted them to experience Jonathan with me since we had all lost someone whom we really loved. I also wanted to get away from the pity the press. I only just moved into a flat in London away from Sam's mum and step-dad in Manchester."

"Will you be spending Christmas with the Weasleys, then?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Wouldn't miss it," Harry answered, grinning.

"Yeah," George added. "Bill and Fleur have a little one, too. She's about the same age as Jonathan. A little firecracker too. Looks just like her mum, but red-headed, and has the Weasley spunk. I think her name is Oriel."

"Where are you staying, Harry? Maybe I could get a room there as well," Hermione said.

Harry and George looked at Hermione strangely before George said, "I think there is still some room left. There's always room for one more."

Hermione opened her mouth, agape. "The Burrow?" she asked. "But surely there can't be enough room for everyone? I mean, there is Bill, Fleur, you and Lavender, you and Jonathan, Ron, Luna, Fred... if I'm not mistaken, Molly said Charlie and Tonks would be there as well and Ginny. And now me? That's -" Hermione quickly calculated. "Twelve! Plus your mum and dad, George."

"Actually," George responded. "It's quite a bit more. Percy and Katie will be there as well. Bill and Fleur have a six year old named Henry that will be there. And I'm sure Ginny is going to insist on bringing Draco to another family function."

"Draco?" Hermione asked, realization dawning on her. "Seamus mentioned something about Malfoy as well... and Harry, you said that Malfoy was always calling you 'Potter.' Don't tell me that Ginny is dating him..."

"Don't worry about that," Harry said. "She's not dating him."

Hermione visibly unclenched.

"They're engaged," George added.

Even though she was neither drinking nor eating, Hermione made a strangled, choking-like noise before moving into a slight coughing fit.

"I think this is a bit too much information to be dealing with right now," Hermione said wearily. "Children, fiancés, marriages... what else has happened?"

George laughed and replied, "Don't worry. I was about to head home. You and Harry can come and will get you all set up at the Burrow. Everyone is arriving this evening and tomorrow morning, so there will be plenty of time for you to reacquaint yourself with the goings-on of our lives."

Hermione just nodded, mulling over this information. Harry walked down to the end of the aisle where Jonathan was playing with some of the trick quills Fred and George sold. When the pair got back, Jonathan waved his tiny fingers at Hermione before once again nuzzling into Harry's chest.

"You look a bit like Sam, I suppose," Harry finally said, kissing Jonathan on the top of his head. "The hair, I think. Curly and brown. Jonathan pulled hers constantly and it drove Sam mad. He'll warm up to you, once he gets to know you."

"Does he do this a lot?" Hermione asked.

"Do what?"

"Confuse other women with his mum?" Hermione explained, hoping she hadn't overstepped her boundaries.

"Every once in awhile," Harry answered. "It used to be that he'd just ask where she was, why Mum wasn't home yet. It broke my heart that he couldn't understand. Still does, as a matter of fact."

"But the holidays will be fun, especially if Bill's daughter and him become mates," Hermione offered.

"Oh, definitely," Harry agreed. "I can't wait for everyone to meet him. Well, Ron and Ginny have, of course. So have Molly and Arthur. But the rest of the family hasn't."

"You better keep that boy away from Lavender," George warned in a good-natured tone. "If she gets a hold of him she'll start wanting one of her own. You know Lavender, Hermione, always jealous of what other people have."

Harry laughed and said, "I'll do my best. But Jonathan has already proved himself a bit of a woman magnet. I'll take him to the market and the ladies coo and fawn over him likes he's made of gold."

"Another good reason for me to not have a child," George responded. "I'd have the child, but I wouldn't be able to reap the benefits."

"Well, technically you could," Hermione pointed out. "But Lavender would most definitely beat you senseless if you did."

"She always was the jealous type," George mused.

The three exchanged a bit more small talk as George finished up organizing the paperwork he needed. Besides his beard, George had filled out his once-lanky form a bit, Hermione noticed. Of course, he was wearing an overcoat and jeans so she really couldn't be sure. And Harry had obviously aged, though he still had his skinny, too-long arms and legs for his shorter torso. Hermione was still taller than him by a good inch. Unlike George who's aging was an all-over evident occurrence, Harry only seemed aged in his face: there were small lines around his eyes and mouth and a few developing ones on his forehead; most likely, Hermione assumed, the aftereffect of losing your girlfriend and raising a child almost by himself for two years.

The appearance of these two men made Hermione wonder more than she had recently about how much everyone else must have changed.

"Okay," George said, shutting off the back light. "I've got what I came to get. You two ready to go?"

"Yes. No, Jonathan, we are not buying that," Harry said to his son whom was holding up a small stuffed snail that secreted goo when touched. Harry lifted the slug out of his son's hands and whispered to George, "Put this in my Christmas Holds box."

George nodded, placed the slug behind the counter with a small note and looked to Hermione, who hesitated in her answer.

"Yes," she finally said, resolutely. "Take me to the Burrow."

-


Author's Note: There have been some rather annoying uploading problems. If there are random characters/symbols in place of other ones (like quotes turning into i and - turning into 'C ' things), please don't get angry. I went through and tried to edit them all out. If you find one, please let me know. As for the story, I know it seems a little Pumpkin Pie-ish, but there won't be any real Harry/Hermione romance. This is Fred/Hermione all the way! I hope to have chapter two up soon, when we'll get some wonderful F/Hr interaction as well as G/D, my new ship that I'm working on. Please review, if you can. I really would appreciate it.