A little Christmas gift from me to you! I decided a couple of weeks ago that I really wanted to write a cute, yet amusing, Romione festive fanfic...and this is what I came up with – written pretty quickly for me (less than 2 weeks!)
I wanted to share it with you to say thanks for the support you gave me in my first Romione fanfic I posted online earlier this year. I do have more coming for you in the New Year – there's a series of rather long one shots I have written – about 7 so far – that feature missed moments, memories and things that fit in with both my personal head cannon and my longer story. I shall start posting them soon – if I can ever leave the things alone (I'm a terrible nit picker and always editing!)
Anyway, hope you enjoy this festive fun for now...there's a scene in here where Rose is singing a Christmas carol and getting all the words wrong – I read something similar in another Romione story and found it so hilariously adorable – I wanted to include it in mine. Hope they writer doesn't mind my borrowing her idea for those few lines :)
Have a great Christmas everyone – or Happy Holidays if you don't celebrate.
All I want for Christmas is…
Ron gave the pan another stir before returning the lid and then bent to check on the sausages in the oven. Everything was ready, just keeping warm with a simple charm, in the hopes that his wife would be home from work soon and they could eat – he was hungry. Wiping his hands on a towel, he headed back towards the lounge to check up on the children.
The pair of them had gone quiet and when a just turned six year old and a not quite yet four year had gone quiet, that could only spell disaster! He breathed a soft sigh of relief to find them both still sprawled on the floor before the fireplace. It would seem that Hugo had nodded off, the warmth of the fire having lulled him to sleep, still clutching his toy dragons in each hand. Ron smiled and sat down on the floor beside him, running a hand gently through his son's baby soft red hair.
His older sister on the other hand was busy, scribbling away with crayons that flew across the roll of parchment with a look of determination on her little face.
"What'cha doing Rosie?" Ron asked, watching her work fondly.
"Daddy?" she raised her head, looking rather serious. "Where does Father Christmas live?" She wanted to know, shielding the parchment from her father's eyes with her hand
"Oh, erm…a long way a way I think," he replied.
She cocked her head to the side. "Like...in Scotland, near Hogwarts?" her eyes lit up. "Mummy says that's a long way a way!"
"It is," he agreed. "But I think Father Christmas lives even further Rosie Posie. Probably in another country, somewhere very cold." He took a piece of the parchment littering the floor and choosing a crayon for himself, he sat doodling beside his daughter.
"Oh," she cast her eyes back down to her parchment, looking very thoughtful. "Beau probably won't be able to find him then," she sighed, disheartened.
"Why do you need our owl to find Father Christmas?" Ron asked curiously before his little girl rolled up the parchment and crawled onto her Dad's lap.
"Because..." she sighed, as though the answer was obvious. "I am writing my letter to him, telling him what I would really like for Christmas. But...if I can't owl it to him," her bottom lip began to tremble.
"Well, perhaps Grandma would take you to the Muggle post office and you can send it that way? Though, Beau has delivered letters outside the country before. I'm sure he could find anyone."
"But, Daddy," she began, exasperatedly, "what if he didn't? What if Father Christmas never got my letter and then he wouldn't know what I want him to bring me."
"I'm sure he will, he's pretty clever bloke you know," Ron pulled a silly face at her as he sat on the floor in the lounge, cuddling his daughter. "So, what is it you're asking him for?"
He and Hermione already had a stack of presents for the children, hidden away in the loft with a concealment charm on them for added measure. Rose and Hugo had been rather resourceful in the past when tracking down presents. But, with this new revelation of her writing to man himself, he was wondering if they had got her what she really wanted. The last thing he wanted in the early hours of Christmas morning, after the children woke them at some ungodly hour was to see his daughter's disappointed little face.
"Oh Daddy!" she laughed, throwing herself back in his arms. "I can't tell you" she giggled.
"Why in Merlin's beard not?" Ron frowned.
"Because," she gave that some impatient sigh, the one her Mum used when Dad was being difficult or behaving childishly. "It's a secret Daddy, just between me and him. And if I tell anyone else, he won't bring me what I really want."
"He won't what? What kind of rub...I mean, where did you hear that from?" He was most confused – this was a new one on him.
"Victoire told me," she replied matter of factly as she climbed from Ron's lap and went to find another crayon.
"Oh, right," he nodded. Well, that explained it. Rose idolised her eldest cousin and as such, everything the older girl told her was law as far as Rose was concerned. "I need to go check up on dinner again. Mummy should be home soon, then we can eat." He got to his feet. "Keep an eye on your brother," he added, leaving the room, racking his brain for anything that Rose may have mentioned or seen lately.
Ron had just finished setting the table and checking on dinner again when he heard the excited squeals of his children, signalling that their Mum was home. He closed the oven door and stood with a smile – Merlin it had been a long day without her. He understood why she was working late every night this week, so she could get ahead with her work and then be able to take the entire Christmas week off to spend with her family. Thankfully George always closed the shop up for the week, so Ron would be off too and they'd all have decent family time together. But, even knowing he'd have her home for a week didn't make this time of barely seeing one another any easier.
Ron knew he was behaving like a school boy with some silly crush, missing his wife so much when she was at work. And he knew he probably should be bothered that he was still this soppy over his wife after all these years. But, he honestly didn't care! He loved her and fancied her just as much today as he had when he'd been just 16 years old and he hoped that would never change.
"Hey love," Ron grinned when she found him in the kitchen. "Busy day?" he asked, bending to kiss her cheek.
"Yes," she sighed, returning his kiss. "I'm glad to be home," she gave him a one armed hug. "Has he been asleep long?" she nodded towards her sleepy son now snuggling against her as she balanced him on her hip.
"Oh...was he asleep?" Ron feigned ignorance, knowing she'd only chastise him for letting their son nap so close to bedtime. "He was awake when I was in there a few minutes ago," he fibbed. "Anyway, take a seat and I'll serve up dinner." He guided her to the table where she tried unsuccessfully to prise Hugo from her arms and set him down in his own chair.
"I do appreciate you taking care of everything here this week," she told him once they all sat down together. "Thank you." she added.
Ron shrugged. "It's no problem." he stabbed a piece of carrot.
"Well, I'll pick up the slack soon and do my share again," Hermione promised him with a smile. "So, how was your day? What did you all get up to?" she asked the three most important people in the world to her – her family. She hated missing out on spending time with them, especially in the run up to Christmas.
The children excitedly talked over one another – Rose telling her Mum what they had been doing at school (She had started attending a Muggle primary school this past September, which she loved – even if it had caused some tension between Hermione and Ron. He hadn't understood the need for her to go at first, but now he saw the benefit as she blossomed.) Whilst Hugo filled her in on what he had been doing over at the Potter's this morning before Ron picked him up after his shift at the Wizard Wheezes shop.
"Daddy says Father Christmas lives in another country," Rose suddenly added to the conversation.
"Oh. Well, yes, he does." she looked quizzically at her husband, wondering where this was going. "I'm not sure where exactly, some say he's in Lapland and some say the North Pole."
"You don't know?" Rose looked horrified and then her eyes began to pool with tears again.
"Rose, sweetheart. What's wrong?" Hermione set down her fork and clasped her daughter's hand.
"If...if you don't even know Mummy, then we'll never, ever find him!" she wailed, bursting into full blown tears now.
"I don't think we're supposed to find him sweetheart. He comes to visit you." She stroked her daughter's hair comfortingly.
"But…but…" she sobbed.
"Rose has been busy writing a letter to him." Ron helpfully supplied. "Asking him for a special present." he added, cocking one eyebrow.
"Oh, I see." Hermione sat up, sharing the same look of concern with her husband. "Rosie…you don't need to know his address for him to get your letter. Don't you know there's a special way we can send letters to Father Christmas?" Rose shook her head and looked up at her Mum hopefully. "Magic," she whispered, managing to earn a little smile from her daughter.
"Magic!" Hugo piped up, waving his fork in the air as though it was a wand. "We is all magic!" he exclaimed, pretending to cast a spell on his Dad and instead flinging some mashed potato off of his fork.
"Watch it!" Ron lowered his son's hand. "You'll have someone's eye out!" he laughed.
"HOW do you send him a letter then Mummy?" Rose asked, eagerly.
Hermione smiled. "When I was a little girl, we always put my letters in the fire, then..."
"But it will burn!" Rose shrieked.
"Yes, the parchment will burn," Hermione nodded. "But magic takes your wishes right to Father Christmas. And he will know what your letter said and what you asked him for."
"He will?" she asked, wide eyed.
"Faber Chwistmas like burned fings?" Hugo looked puzzled, pulling the most amusing expression with his face all scrunched up, as he rolled his peas around his plate.
"The letter isn't actually burnt when Father Christmas gets it, darling. Remember, it's magic! That's how I always sent mine, and it always worked for me." She finished a little smugly.
"It did?" Rose breathed. "You always got the present you asked for?" She was almost bouncing in her seat with excitement by now.
Hermione began to nod. "Well, mostly. There was that one time," she sighed.
"What happened the one time?" Ron asked, loving to hear stories of when Hermione was a little girl, a time before he knew her. Not that he could ever remember a time when she wasn't in his life.
"I was about your age Rosie," she smiled at the memory. "And I desperately wanted a Cabbage Patch doll."
"A what?" Rose and Hugo shared a look across the table.
"They were a very popular doll at the time and everyone wanted one. I suppose they were a little strange looking, but all the girls in my school were talking about them and hoping to get one. I wanted to fit in, so I asked for one too."
"Cabbage Patch..." Ron said, thoughtfully. "Is that that really ugly rag doll with the pigtails and the frilly dress on the shelf in your old bedroom?" Ron asked, a look of disgust on his face.
"She is not ugly." Hermione protested. "just a little...different looking. Anyway, Christmas morning, Santa didn't bring me one. I got a chemistry set instead and I cried."
"Was you naughty?" Rose wondered.
"Mummy naughty!" Hugo giggled, finding that idea amusing.
"No. I just think Santa, or Father Christmas got a little confused. Anyway, my parents took me to the shops after Christmas and allowed me to exchange the set for the doll I really wanted. And then, it just sat on my shelf, I never played with it and I never fit in with those other girls either."
"Oh," Rose was quiet, mashing up her carrots on her plate. "But, what if, what if Father Christmas gets confused again and brings me the wrong present?" she asked, a little pout on her face.
"Well, what did you ask him for?" Hermione asked.
"I want a bwoom!" Hugo yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Yes, young man. Everyone knows what you want!" Hermione smiled. The junior broom was already wrapped up and hidden away.
Rose shook her head and looked at Ron.
"Already tried that one, love." Ron informed his wife. "Apparently our dear niece, Victoire, told our daughter that if you tell anyone, but Father Christmas, what you want, you won't get it." He raised one eyebrow, a silent communication with his wife that he knew this was going to cause problems.
"Oh, I don't think that's right sweetheart. He won't mind if you tell Mummy and Daddy."
She shook her head resolutely. "Nope...Vicky says it's true. Can we put my letter on the fire after dinner?" she asked, excitedly. "Oh...but what about the picture I drew for him? That will burn up too." She added, sadly.
"Well, we can certainly send your letter that way if you want to. And, your picture, maybe we could put it on the mantelpiece? I'm sure it will look lovely there and Father Christmas can see it when he comes down the chimney." Hermione suggested. Rose nodded, happy with that solution and hurriedly finished her dinner.
"I think we may have a problem," Ron began, accepting the mug of tea that Hermione handed him before she sat down beside him on the sofa with her own cup and curled into his side.
"What do you mean?" she asked, blowing over the hot beverage.
"Rosie," he mumbled, sipping his own drink.
"What's wrong with Rosie?" she frowned, gazing into the flames of the fire, thinking back to earlier in the evening when Rose had put her letter on the fire before bath time. Her big blue eyes, so like her father's, had been full of hope and expectation.
"You know," he nudged her gently with his elbow. "This whole letter to Father Christmas thing and not telling us what it is she wants."
"Oh, that," Hermione waved her hand in the air, flapping the so-called problem away. "I wouldn't worry about that Ron," she sighed. Laying her head on his shoulder – her long day was catching up with her.
"You're not even a bit worried? What if this thing she's asking him for, which she obviously really wants, isn't what we've already got for her? I don't want her upset on Christmas morning if she doesn't have what she was wishing for and I'm not ready to shatter her innocence just yet!"
Hermione smiled indulgently at her husband, touched with his concern over their little girl's dreams. "You are an amazing father," she kissed his cheek. "You care about them so much and it's absolutely adorable the way you are with them. But...maybe it's time Rose starts learning she cant always have what she wants? Maybe we do spoil them a little." She suggested, drinking more of her tea.
Ron sat up, rather abruptly, causing Hermione to slosh her drink down her front. "What? How can you…it's Christmas Hermione! She's six years old...why in Merlin's name would you want to upset her at Christmas?"
"I don't want to upset her," she muttered, using her wand to clean the mess of the drink spilled down her front. "But, she is six now. Besides, I'm sure she'll love what we have for her anyway...she's going to have dozens of presents from us and our parents and the rest of the family. She probably won't even notice."
Ron made a snort of disagreement in the back of his throat. "Oh really? So, when you were her age, that one year Father Christmas didn't bring you the one thing you asked for, did you notice? Were you not upset at all? Weren't you disappointed?"
Hermione paused in placing her now empty mug on the coffee table, her expression stricken as she turned to her husband. "You're right!" she gasped. "We do have a problem. Oh Ron, how could I even think that? I was devastated that Christmas! Why would I want to put our baby through that? It would ruin her Christmas and shatter her illusions."
"Right," Ron nodded, glad she was finally on the same page as him. "So, what are we going to do about it? She's burnt the letter now so we can't even peak at it and she seems resolute in not telling us, so..."
"Maybe she told Hugo? Or one of her cousins? She's very close with Lily and you know she adores Victoire? We could ask them?"
"Great, we'll interrogate the four year olds!" Ron rolled his eyes.
"Well, we have to do something!" Hermione wailed. "I don't want our daughter in floods of tears beneath the Christmas tree!"
"I know, we'll think of something...we'll find out somehow," Ron promised, pulling Hermione back into his arms and laying his head atop of hers. "And, in the meantime we ask around and keep watching her for any clues." He decided.
They sat together, enjoying the silence and the warm glow from the fire and the live fairies lighting up the Christmas tree for a little while longer. It wasn't often these days, as busy, working parents, that they got any quiet time alone. "Come on," Hermione patted her husbands thigh, "Let's go up to bed?"
"Oh yeah?" he jumped up eagerly, his eyes lighting up as a lazy smirk graced his face.
"To sleep," Hermione rolled her eyes "I am shattered and I have to be up for work again in six hours!" she grumbled, already trudging up the stairs at the same time as the fairies on the tree began settling down for the night.
Over the next few days the pair of them acted like spies, asking her friends and cousins if Rose had mentioned anything she'd really like for Christmas. They'd all shaken their head, but had no trouble in listing a dozen things they'd like themselves! The little girl was giving nothing away in her behaviour – perhaps a little more excited and giddy than usual – counting down the days until Christmas, especially once they broke up for the school holidays. She still argued just the same with her younger brother at times, she was still as stubborn as ever to get up in the morning – something else she had inherited from her father. And she still refused to tell anyone what it was, just giggling when they asked or sighing over dramatically when she got bored of them asking.
The closest they came to any kind of an answer was when they managed to corner their young son alone. "If you know sweetheart, it would really help Mummy and Daddy." They'd coaxed him as he watched his parents cautiously, wondering why they were both here, putting him to bed and peering down at him with serious expressions. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? He'd apologised for breaking that bauble on the tree – it had been an accident.
"You're not in any trouble darling." Hermione smoothed his hair down as she perched on the side of his bed where she'd just been reading to him. "But, we just want to know so we can help Father Christmas."
Hugo grinned wide then, squirming with excitement by the mention of Father Christmas. This year he knew exactly how it would work – in just a few days he'd wake up one morning to find this mystical man had left him the new toys he'd most wanted. And if he was lucky and was a good boy, he'd get that new broom he so desired.
"So, has Rosie said anything to you about what she really wants?" Ron tried again, tucking him in.
"A wuff!" He giggled as he nodded. "I fink she weally wants a wuff."
Hermione and Ron shared an expression, eyebrows raised as they said goodnight to their son and left his room with lots of 'I love you's' and 'sweet dreams'. "Merlin's pants!" Hermione gasped, tugging Ron into their own room and closing the door. "A wuff? You don't think she's hoping for a puppy, is she?" She asked, slightly worried.
Ron's eyes lit up. "Wouldn't be such a bad thing," he shrugged. It was no secret to his wife that Ron would love a pet dog – after all, his patronus was a little terrier.
"Ron! You know a dog is a lot of work and we both decided it wasn't fair to have one when we're so busy and out most of the day working."
His face fell. "Yeah, I know. Well, let's hope it's something else then. Something we can get her."
They puzzled over it for the next couple of days, but couldn't come up with anything else that a 'wuff' could be and they were slowly coming to terms with the fact they might not be able to grant Rose's wishes. Because a dog right now wasn't a possibility, even if Hermione promised Ron that one day they would get one.
The Saturday before Christmas, Hermione's parents arrived bright and early to take the children out for the day. One of the selling points for the house they now lived in was the fact it was only a half an hour drive away from her parents. Living close to The Burrow or work wasn't an issue when they could floo or apparate between the locations in seconds.
Rose and Hugo were running around with excitement as Hermione tried to wrestle them into coats whilst Ron cleared up from breakfast. The children knew their Grandparents were taking them to a huge Muggle shopping centre today, both for a visit to see Father Christmas himself and to see the new Disney release at the cinema. For most magical children of similar age, this concept would be completely alien to them, but for Rose and Hugo, who had grown up embracing their Muggle heritage as well, thanks to their Mum, it was simply a special treat they were looking forward to.
"We'll bring them home after tea," Her Mum said, helping her daughter hold an excitable Hugo still long enough to get his shoes on.
"Okay, that sounds good."
"That way, you and Ron can enjoy the whole day together," she winked, causing her only daughter to blush.
"Mum!" she hissed, getting to her feet again. "Right, you two have lots of fun," she kissed her children's heads. "But be on your best behaviour, okay?" she warned the pair once they were finally ready. "I want you both to listen to your Grandparents...and remember, Father Christmas is still watching!" She added, using the same threat parents up and down the country were wearily using right now.
They pair of them nodded and then ran to the kitchen to say goodbye to their Dad, Rose singing at the top of her lungs. Hermione sat down on the stairs. She was exhausted already and she'd not even had time to get dressed herself yet this morning.
"Is that Rosie singing?" Hermione's Dad asked.
They all listened to the little girl as Hugo interspersed with giggles and excited chatter with his Dad. "Siiiileent nightttt…..holiday nightttt…all is came…."
"She's been singing that for weeks," Hermione groaned. "Ever since they began rehearsals for the her school play." She rolled her eyes – over five weeks of being forced to listen to the same song was grating on them all.
"Alllll is bite. Round blonde German, mother and child..."
"Blonde German?" Grandpa Granger chuckled.
Hermione groaned inwardly, Rose was still getting the words wrong – singing what she thought she heard rather than the actual words. She had just been glad other children had drowned her out during the play last week because she couldn't get her to sing the correct words, despite hours of coaching.
"Hollllding...pantss. So trendy of mould."
Both Grandparents were chuckling now as the singing became louder, obviously returning from the kitchen with their Dad in tow. They had all attended the Primary school nativity last week to watch Rose in her first play – her parents, Grandparents and even her godparents had been there, all with lumps in their throat as she came onto the makeshift stage in her home made Angel costume. Even if Arthur had been slightly more excited to be in a Muggle school than seeing his Grand daughter on stage.
"Pants? Did she sing pants?" They asked one another.
"Sleeep in heavily peas!" She sang louder, before throwing herself at her Grandma again.
"Lovely singing darling," she beamed at her. Ron and I just exchanged a weary look – it was not lovely when you'd had it at the crack of dawn each day for the last five weeks!
"Right, we should get going. Father Christmas is waiting!" Grandpa declared, causing the children to squeal as he opened the door for them and they rushed out to the car. They were probably as comfortable in travelling in cars as they were on brooms or through the floo.
"Hold on," Ron called before Hermione's mother followed them out. "Can you do us a favour," he asked, in a loud whisper, as he watched the children clamber into the car and Hermione's Dad strapping them in. "When they see Father Christmas, try and listen to what Rose asks him for, please?"
"Oh, yes. I can do that," Grandma picked up her handbag.
"There is apparently something she really wants for Christmas, but will only share what it is with Father Christmas. So..if you can find out what, it would really help us out." Hermione explained.
"I'll do my best," she hugged her daughter and then Ron. "We'll see you later. You two have a nice, restful day," she added with a smirk. Hermione rolled her eyes as her Mum walked to the car, chuckling to herself.
Ron and Hermione waved to the children as the car backed out of the driveway, their faces lit up in the back seat, before they closed the door with a relieved sigh.
"Listen to that?" Ron murmured.
"What?" Hermione frowned, thinking something was wrong.
"Peace...silence," he grinned. "So, Mrs Weasley-Granger," he took his wife into his arms, the pair of them still in pyjamas and robes. "Do my ears deceive me, or are we, for the first time in weeks, actually home together on a weekend and -" he faked a gasp, "- child free?"
Hermione smiled against his chest where he held her. "I believe you are right Mr Granger-Weasley," she looked up at him, her chin resting on his chest.
"Reckon we'd best make the most of it then?" he flashed his eyebrows at her and then ground his hips into her.
"I believe we should," she agreed, more than willing as Ron took her hand and hurried upstairs and into their room.
Robes were dropped onto the floor, pyjamas cast aside and knickers tossed across the room as they hurried under the sheets together. It had been so long since they'd had time for more than a quick fumble in bed or a hurried shag in the shower. Right now they had the luxury to take their time and enjoy one another. But sexual urges and desires begging to be quashed outweighed the hope of a long, lazy morning full of sex.
Instead they bypassed most of foreplay, giving each other enough so they were physically ready, before Ron was between her thighs and pounding against her. The pair of them making love with a hurried need as their bodies clashed together, quickly working to a crescendo that came with loud groans and squeals – pleasurable, nice, but not what they had planned.
Calming down from the frenzied session, they cuddled and nodded off together – relishing in the fact they could sleep in without little hands knocking on the door telling on each other after a sibling falling out or complaining they were hungry or needing help in the bathroom. They could be selfish for nearly an entire day.
"We are bloody pathetic!" Ron groaned, some hours later. "One quick shag and we passed out for four hours? We're wasting valuable time here!" he grumbled, thumping his pillow into a better position as he turned to face his wife.
"Well, the nap was nice," she yawned and then gave him a smile.
"Eurgh!" he groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "It's a bloody sad state of affairs when the prospect of a nap is more enticing than having loads of sex!"
Hermione chuckled, but actually agreed with him. Like it or not, their lives had changed. They weren't as young as they once were and they led busy lives now. Gone had the days when they'd make love all over the house at any given time of day or night. Children came along to change all that.
"Well, another seven years and the pair of them will be at Hogwarts. We'll be home alone for weeks on end then," she added, rather gloomily.
"Yeah," Ron mumbled, feeling equally gloomy at that realisation, knowing already that he would miss the kids. Merlin...he didn't think he'd see the day when sex took the back seat to their kids or a nap or food.
"Hungry?" he asked her as his own stomach rumbled.
"I am," she decided.
"Come on, we'll go make a sandwich. Then maybe we can relive old times and do it on the kitchen table?" he joked, flinging the sheets back and looking for his robe.
By the time the Grandparents dropped the kids off again, there was an unusual serene air surrounding Ron and Hermione – something that hadn't been seen in awhile. As well as the huge smirk that couldn't be wiped off of Ron's face! Not only had they managed another, much slower and therefore more pleasurable and satisfying romp in bed. But they'd had a saucy bath together and enjoyed a leisurely dinner for two without needing to bribe anyone to eat their vegetables or remind them not to talk with their mouth full or clear up spilled drinks.
"Someone certainly seems to have enjoyed their day!" Her Mum winked and nudged Hermione, nodding in Ron's direction where he was helping the children off with their coats and did an expert job of listening to both children's excited babble at the same time.
"Mum, stop," Hermione whined. "Really, it's totally unnecessary. But yes, we had a lovely day remembering what it's like to be a couple." she smiled and caught Ron's eye over the top of Rose's head.
They went to put the kettle on then and sat down to a cup of tea together whilst everyone filled them in on their children's exciting day – the pair of them had been overcome with everything and were in a hurry to share it all with their parents as well as showing off the photos they'd had taken with the man in red himself. Both kids were still rather excitable – no doubt the Grandparents had indulged them all day.
"Faber Chwistmas say I is a good boy!" Hugo announced, wide cheeky grin on his sweet little face.
"Doesn't know you very well then, does he?" Ron muttered under his breath, making Hermione's dad chuckle. They all knew how easy that boy found mischief, though he claimed it was never his fault.
"No! He said you have to be a good boy!" Rose corrected him.
"He did not!" Hugo stuck his tongue out at her.
"Did too! I heard him!"
"You is a stinky fibber!"
"Hugo! I don't think calling your sister names is being a good boy, is it?" Hermione raised both eyebrows warningly at her son.
He looked down and pouted. "Sowwy," he mumbled.
"Come on," Ron clapped his hands together. "How about you say good night to Grandma and Granddad and we'll go upstairs for a bath?"
Both children groaned, Hugo the loudest – bath times bored him.
"If you go up now, I'll do the magic bubbles!" Ron enticed – promising the charm he often used to entertain them in the bathtub – bubbles that popped and fizzed with different smells and colours – they were still as entranced with them now as they had been when their were babies.
"Oh, okay," they agreed reluctantly and trudged after their Dad, after saying goodnight to their Grandparents and thanking them for their fun day out when Hermione reminded them to.
"So, did you manage to find out anything from Rose? About what this secret thing is she wants?" Hermione asked once they were safely upstairs.
Her mum shook her head. "We tried. We asked her if there was anything she would like, she just mentioned another Disney Princess book, but I doubt that was what she's asking Santa for."
"No," Hermione sighed – her parents usually got her Muggle books anyway. And unlike a lot of children her age – she loved to receive books, just as Hermione herself had done. "But, what about when she spoke to Santa?"
Her Dad groaned. "Erm, actually, she got a little upset at first." he admitted, filling her in on something they had omitted to mention before.
"What? Why?"
"When he asked Rose what she would like him to bring her, she got sad and said he should already know, that she sent him a letter. And her Mummy had promised him he would get it. I had to step in before we had tears. I told her that perhaps the elves hadn't given it to Santa to read yet, that he could only read so many a day."
"Did she buy that?"
"Seemed to, she was smiling again anyway. But, then she whispered what she would like and we couldn't hear anything. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Hermione sighed. "It's not your fault. I just don't want to disappoint her, you know?"
"Not easy being a parent, is it?" Her Mum asked knowingly.
"No, it's not" Hermione gave another deep sigh and finished her tea.
Ron and Hermione did their best acts at sleuthing over the next few days, trying desperately to find out what this secret present was. Lily had looked utterly confused when they'd asked her and none of her older cousins knew anything either. Hugo still just giggled about a 'wuff' when they asked him again.
Briefly, they discussed writing a letter to Rose from Father Christmas saying that he needed her parents help in securing this present and that it was okay for her to tell them. But the idea of blatantly lying to their daughter put them off – it seemed like stooping too low.
On the last Sunday brunch at The Burrow before Christmas Day, Hermione had a little chat with Victoire. She tried to convince her it was fine for parents to know what was in the letter to Father Christmas and that she should tell Rose that. Victoire gave Hermione a run for her money in the stubborn stakes though and she refused resolutely to believe such a thing and remained firm that it had to be a secret between the letter writer and Father Christmas.
Meanwhile, Ron was having a quiet word with his eldest brother as the pair of them brought in more wood for the fire. They could have done it in seconds by magic, but they both fancied the walk and breath of fresh air.
"So, who told Vicky this nonsense about the parents not being allowed to know what's in their kids' letters to Father Christmas? Do you know the nightmare this is giving Hermione and I?" He grumbled, summoning logs into his arms.
Bill snorted, finding the whole thing amusing. "Vic told Rosie huh?" he asked, a grin still on his face. Ron had an urge to toss one of the logs at him – he didn't think this was funny! Bill sighed then, relenting under his brother's murderous expression. "It's one of Fleur's traditions. Something her parents did for her and her sister growing up in France. She thought it was sweet and that it added to the spirit of the season. I mean, imagine a child that knows their parents knew nothing about their secret wish and then they actually get it, so they truly believe in the fat guy in red?"
"Yeah, I get all that," Ron kicked a rock in the snow. "But now our Rose has this Christmas wish she's hoping for and we have no idea what it is. We're both getting stressed over the probability of disappointing her. Believe me, if we have tears on Christmas morning, I'm blaming you and your wife!" Ron snapped.
Bill laughed. "You didn't do the little trick, did you?" he asked.
"What damn trick?" Ron frowned.
"Before they send the letters to him, you have to sneakily make a copy. There's a quick undetectable charm that does it in seconds. A copy of each letter appears right in your pocket – out of sight of any child. Then, you just read it later when alone. And...problem solved." Bill shrugged, bending to pick up another log.
Ron stared open mouthed at his brother, the logs he'd already collected threatening to fall from his arms. "But..." he began. "Rose put hers on the bloody fire, sending it the way Hermione had always done it. How were we to know we needed to make a copy before burning the blasted thing?"
Bill checked the logs in his arms and deciding he had enough, he turned to head back into the house. "Sorry little bro', if I'd known, I'd have filled you in on the secret!" He patted his brothers shoulder in passing.
"I'm still bloody blaming you and Fleur!" Ron called after him.
The day before Christmas Eve, the family were in Diagon Alley last minute shopping. Ron, as usual, had left buying his wife's present to the last minute and was running here and there, looking increasingly lost and confused – as most men did this time of year. Hermione, who had now begun her Christmas break and didn't need to be back in the office until after New Year, was busy keeping an eye on the children. She was especially keeping a close watch on anything Rose admired or picked up. Though, she had a fight on her hands when they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hugo refused to move from gazing at the latest broom hovering in the window. His little nose pressed against the glass as he quivered in excitement over it.
"Mummy! Look!" he grinned back at her, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Isn't it beautiful?" he sighed, turning back to admire it some more.
Hermione rolled her eyes, why did boys always enjoy the strangest things? Yes, brooms were perfectly good modes of transport and everything, but a thing of beauty? Really? His reaction reminded her of a few years back when her Dad had bought a new car – he polished it every day and would stand gazing out the front window at the flipping thing parked on the driveway!
"Yes, it's lovely sweetheart. But, we have lots to do and need to get going. Did you see anything you liked Rosie?" she turned her head, asking the somewhat petulant six year old behind her.
Rose turned her nose up. She was at that stereotypical little girl stage – where everything was about princess', fairies and various shades of pink. A boring, smelly old broom wasn't her idea of beauty at all! "No," she wrinkled her nose as she cast a glance at her brother, finding him both ridiculous and embarrassing. "Can we go now?" She checked her Mum's watch on her wrist. "I'm sure it's about the time Uncle George feeds the Pygmy Puffs and he always lets me help!" Her face lit up at that prospect.
"In a minute sweetheart. I just need to pick up some potion ingredients and owl treats, then we'll head over to the shop. Your Dad is supposed to meet us there," she added, glancing up and down the street in the hopes she might find him and he could drag his son away from the flaming brooms. "Come along Hugo, you've looked long enough now." She took his hand and pulled the reluctant little boy away amidst his shouts of protest.
Half an hour later, Rose virtually dragged her stressed out Mother into the Wizard Wheezes shop. The Wizarding shopping district was incredibly busy today, every shop packed to bursting with customers and she'd just had to wait almost 15 minutes just to pay for her goods at the apothecary. Thankfully, Ron was waiting at the till, talking to his brother. He looked a little calmer than when she'd sent him off alone and he was clutching a parcel under his arm – his shopping expedition apparently a success.
"Uncle George!" Rose darted over, interrupting their conversation. Ron stroked his daughter's hair but her focus was on her Uncle. "Did you feed the Pygmy's yet?" she looked up at him with hopeful eyes.
He smiled and checked his watch. "Actually, we're a bit behind today. So, if you hurry on back, Verity just left to feed them."
"Thank you!" Her face broke into a grin and after giving her parents a brief glance, she scurried into the back storage room she knew well. Ever since she was old enough to toddle, George had allowed her to help look after any litter of the purple and pink balls of fluff they had in the shop – it was expected now that every time they visited, and since her Dad worked here they visited often, that she'd go to see them.
Hugo ran off to look at a display of new items, spying his cousin Fred admiring them too. Hermione, one eye on their son, was greeted by Ron with a kiss. "Got everything done?" he asked.
"Just about," she nodded, accepting his one armed hug. "I need to visit Madame Primpernelle's to pick up your Mother's present. And then I wanted to get erm...er...something else," she stammered, realising she had about to let a surprise slip.
Ron grinned, knowing she'd almost given his present away. "Any luck with Rosie?" he asked. "Did anything seem to stand out?" he wondered – the pair of them having devised this plan before the shopping trip.
Hermione shook her head. "Nothing. But then your son had us gazing at brooms for at least ten whole minutes," she grumbled.
Ron and George shared an appreciative glance – they understood. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Listen, once we're done in here, how about I take the kids and we can go get Mum's present. Then you can go off and get...whatever you need to and we can meet again at The Leaky for a drink before we go home?"
Hermione nodded. "That sounds good," she replied, feeling weary now. She had been looking forward to her Christmas break for weeks, but right now was in the mindset that being in her office, up to her eyes in paperwork, was actually favourable to battling with the crowds today.
Finally, with the Pygmy Puffs all taken care of and Hugo distracted from the new items on display – some of which were already at home, all wrapped up for him – Ron sorted out his working hours for the next day and the family headed off again. They completed their missions quickly and enjoyed a drink before going home – still none the wiser as to what Rose's secret Christmas wish was.
"I just feel as though we've let her down," Hermione bemoaned from her position on the floor in front of the fire. She sat wrapping the last couple of presents, using her wand to speed up the process – especially with the adding of bows - before nestling them amongst those already under the tree.
"She still has loads of other presents," Ron cast his eyes over the mountain almost burying the tree. Maybe they did spoil their kids a bit – but now he actually had money available to do so, why the hell not? "She's going to love them too and maybe she'll forget about whatever it was?" He was being rather hopeful.
It was Christmas Eve and they had eventually gotten the excitable children to bed – it had taken three stories, two mugs of hot chocolate, four trips to the toilet, one claim of having a nightmare – even though they'd been in bed less than 30 seconds, a request for a glass of water and finally a threat that if they didn't settle down right now Christmas would be cancelled.
"Really? If you had your heart set on something and didn't get it, would you just forget?" she asked, banishing the wrapping paper and spellotape back into the cupboard under the stairs before hauling herself off the floor and joining him on the couch.
"No," he agreed reluctantly, sliding an arm around her shoulder. "But, I'm sure I'd be pleased with everything else. So, hopefully she'll be distracted by them and not be too upset? We'll just have to keep her busy."
Hermione sighed, snuggling into her husband's side. "I usually can't wait for Christmas morning – watching the children open their presents and seeing the looks on their faces. But this year I'm actually dreading the morning. I could kill your bloody sister-in-law and her stupid ideas!"
Ron laughed once and kissed the top of her head. "It's going to be fine...you'll see," Ron promised her, though not truly believing it himself. "And, if it turns out it is a dog she was hoping for, maybe, you know, in the New Year...we could look into it?" he suggested, trying to be impassive about it, but she saw the look in his eyes and she wondered who the gift would really be for – his daughter or himself.
"We'll see," Hermione yawned and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Right, if we get to bed now, we might actually enjoy a few hours sleep before the little monsters come crashing into our room!" She gathered up their mugs and went to dump them in the kitchen, before following Ron wearily up the stairs.
Ron's eyes snapped open again, startled by the shriek coming from his son who was gleefully tearing into another present. "Yes!" The child exclaimed, throwing the paper carelessly aside.
The rather sleepy parents sat side by side, watching their children excitedly open their presents – grinning up at them with faces of delight from amongst a wasteland of torn paper and bows. They had been at it for about half an hour now and the parents were still trying to wake up, nursing cups of tea and blinking blearily in the light. It was still rather dark outside and yet more snowflakes were adding to the winter wonderland already surrounding their home.
Hermione and Ron had managed almost five hours sleep this year – which was an improvement on the three they barely got last year. The children had still come charging into their room in the early hours, giggling and whispering loudly before climbing into their bed until they woke them up.
After a brief family cuddle, the children were impatient and allowed no one to return to sleep, dragging their parents out of bed and thundering down the stairs, Ron and Hermione slowly trudging after them. Even the fairies on the tree had been rudely awoken and still only half of them were now up, vainly showing off as they lit up the tree.
But, so far so good. Rose hadn't been reduced to tears - yet. She had been thrilled with the Cinderella dress Hermione's parents had bought for her and already glanced through her new books. The 'dancing feet' ballerina doll had gone down well as had the flying hippogriff plushie and the self sharpening, never ending crayons and moving pictures colouring books for both of them. For now she seemed happy with what she already had – but if you watched closely, you noticed that one eye did keep glancing expectantly towards her other presents still waiting to be opened.
Hermione lay her head on Ron's shoulder, happy to be watching her children enjoying themselves and so excited, but nervously waiting for Rose to get to the last one and realise Father Christmas hadn't delivered the one she'd asked for. Ron, between nodding off and then waking himself with a loud snore, was snapping photos of the children.
"Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes!" Hugo began to chant, hastily tearing into a gift, his excitement growing as each bit was revealed. "It's...it's…oh it's my bwoom!" he practically groaned with contentment, hugging the new toy to his chest, his eyes wide and sparkling as he ran his hand over the wood. It was only a junior broom – one that went a little higher than the younger models - three feet into the air and after it sensed you had mastered the basics, it would allow you to learn turns and dives and other technical terms Hermione didn't understand at all.
"Thank you! Thank you!" He threw himself at his parents, giving them huge hugs, but not letting go of his new prized possession. "It 'xactly what I wanted..." The rest of his unopened presents lay forgotten as he climbed onto it and unsteadily zoomed around the lounge.
"Hey! Watch out!" Ron called, when he almost flew straight at his parents. Hugo merely laughed – far too excited to care.
Rose huffed, rolled her eyes at him and delved into her presents again, going over them a little more carefully, checking each one before deciding which to open. Whilst Ron chased after Hugo, suggesting to him that it was perhaps an outdoor toy instead, Hermione braced herself for what she knew was coming...Rose was about to realise she hadn't been granted her one big wish this year. And just as she was about to try to explain, to come up with some excuse and a promise to buy her whatever she wanted after the festivities, the floo swooshed into action and George was climbing out of the fireplace.
"Morning!" he grinned. "Merry Christmas everyone!"
"Uncle George! Look at me!" Hugo yelled, zooming straight for him.
"Whoa there buddy!" He cast a quick cushioning charm as Ron ran after him. "That looks awesome kiddo, but get your Dad, or more likely your Mum, to read the instructions, yeah?" He ruffled his nephews mop of ginger hair who nodded and got off his broom to turn it around – not knowing how to make turns yet.
"Erm, Merry Christmas George, but early for you, isn't it?" Hermione asked, warily. She hoped he hadn't made the effort to come over here this morning just to carry out some kind of prank. There was no way any of them were going to eat or drink anything he offered – otherwise they could finish up spending the rest of the day vomiting goldfish or sprouting reindeer antlers, or like last Christmas when Ron's nose had turned into a perfect, round, green Brussel sprout for four hours!
"Early? Pfft! We've been up for hours! Freddie was up about three!" he laughed, though he looked exhausted. "Actually, I just popped over to see young Rosie," he smiled at the little girl who was still going through her presents and now carefully checking discarded paper.
"Me?" she asked, pointing to herself as curiosity got the better of her brother and he actually clambered off his broom to see what was going on. Ron sat down with a grateful groan after chasing him around the house and retrieved his mug of tea.
"Yes. You see, I think Father Christmas got a bit mixed up, I mean, there's so many of us Weasley's, must be a job for him!" He joked. "Anyway, he seems to have left one of your presents at our house. So I thought I had best bring her over so she meet her real owner." he smiled.
Rose's eyes lit up with hungry hope and desire. "What did he leave?" she whispered.
"This," George grinned pulling a tiny, wriggling ball of pink fluff from his pocket.
"Elsa!" Rose squealed and jumped up and down, clapping her hands and doing a little dance all at the same time. "It's Elsa!" she giggled and George carefully placed the little creature in her cupped hands.
Ron and Hermione shared a confused look – they had no clue who or what an 'Elsa' was!
"Yep, last one from the litter. She was waiting just for you," he grinned.
"It's a wuff!" Hugo told his parents, pointing to his sister's hands before moving over to pet the little animal – who's tiny dark, nervous eyes were peering up at all of them.
"A Pygmy Puff!" Ron and Hermione gasped at the same time. "The wuff!" they laughed, finally understanding what Hugo had been trying to tell them – not a dog at all.
"Hope you don't mind?" George whispered whilst the kids were huddled around the creature. "Just...she's become so attached to the little thing...and I thought..." He shrugged.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She looked up at us all in utter amazement – all of her Christmas dreams had come true. "Mummy, you were right! Father Christmas did get my letter…you were right to put it on the fire and Victoire was right, because he knew what my wish was. How much I wanted Elsa to be mine." Still holding the little Pygmy Puff carefully in her palm, she threw one arm around her Mum and then her Dad, squeezing them both. "Thank you," she whispered, giving them both a kiss before sitting on the floor to play with the little animal. "And thank you for bringing her here Uncle George!" she beamed up at him.
"I reckon you just saved hers and our Christmas!" Ron muttered, sounding a bit choked up. "Thanks brother." He patted him on the back.
George looked surprised, not quite understanding what was going on. "Yeah, erm, don't mention it. Just glad you're not pissed off with me over it. Angelina thought I should check first, but..."
Hermione waved away his explanations. "Thank you George. Ron is right, you saved Christmas for us all this morning. As well as a little girls childhood. Look how ecstatic she is. Thank you so much." She went to hug him.
"Erm, yeah...right." George was becoming a bit uncomfortable – maybe he had hoped to wind the parents up, to laugh as they became furious with him over this.
"We'll explain later," Ron promised. "You'll be at Mum's, right?"
"Of course. Has Mum ever let us miss one? Anyway, I'd best be getting back – no doubt my kids are running Angelina ragged already. See you later, and Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas George." they both muttered, watching their children play with the new pet as their Uncle disappeared in a cloud of green smoke in the fireplace.
"So, a Pygmy Puff?" Ron asked.
Hermione shrugged. "Far less responsibility than a dog. And, look how happy she is? Oh, I am so glad. I was all ready for tears and tantrums." She melted back into her husband's arms.
"Yeah, told you everything would be okay, didn't I?" he replied, sounding rather smug as he kissed the top of her head.
Hermione snorted. "Yeah, as if you knew this was going to happen!" she rolled her eyes. "So, is that what you wanted Father Christmas to bring you sweetheart?" Hermione asked their daughter, bending over and running a finger over the animals powder puff soft fur.
Rose nodded, looking up at her Mum and Dad, the smile hadn't left her face and she giggled as the little fluff ball climbed wobbly up her arm to nestle on her shoulder. "Yes. I asked and asked him to please let me take Elsa home. She was my favourite," she cooed, stroking it with one finger. "I can keep her?" she suddenly looked a bit concerned.
"Of course you can Rosie Posie. Father Christmas brought her for you." Ron agreed. "But, you have to be the one to look after her. Remember to feed her and find her someone nice to sleep and everything."
"I will," she nodded eagerly. "She's going to be my best friend. Aren't you Elsa?" she whispered to the little bundle of fluff and began showing her all the presents she'd received. The animal seemed more interested in burrowing under wrapping paper.
Hugo, having lost interest in the new member of the family, hopped back on his broom as Ron called a warning to him to be careful with it. "So, how about we open some of our presents now?" he suggested to Hermione – he was still a big kid at heart.
"I know the one you're most looking forward to already." Hermione smirked.
"You do?" he asked. "Oh..." he realised. "Yeah, the one from Ginny and Harry." he nodded, a lazy smile growing on his face. "Yeah, can't wait for that one," he waggled his eyebrows and pulled her back into his arms as Hermione blushed.
Rather than buying presents for one another this year, the couples had each vowed to have the others kids for at least a 24 hour sleep over at some point during the festive period – giving each couple a precious night off from parental duties to indulge in...whatever they wished. Personally, even after marriage and three children, Ron did not want to consider what his sister and Harry could possibly indulge in!
"You'll get your special present from me that night too," Hermione whispered and placed a kiss over his ear, a saucy little grin on her face that made the tips of his ear turn a shade of red.
Ron's eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip in anticipation. "Big tease," he groaned, jabbing her ribs with his finger.
"You know you love it," she laughed as she squirmed away from him.
"I know I love you," he met her eyes.
Hermione gave him a rather soppy smile, touched as always whenever he told her he loved her – even after all these years. "Just so happens, I love you too." she replied in a soft whisper.
Something bounced off the top of Ron's head then. "Well, would you look at that!" Ron looked up to find a sprig of mistletoe that he knew hadn't been there before. "Where did that..."
"George," they both said at the same time.
"Well, so long as it's not full of nargles. Or worse. Do we risk it?" Hermione wondered, peering at the plant suspiciously.
"Looks harmless enough," Ron shrugged. "Besides, I just really want to kiss you now."
His hand slid to the back of her head, burying his fingers amongst her frizzy brown curls and gently tugged her closer with the hand that was resting on her hip. She smiled softly, one arm curling around his neck, the other holding onto his bicep as their lips met in a kiss that started out soft and gentle. She sighed contently against him when Ron opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, clinging her body to him as she kissed him back, sliding her tongue beside his, tasting the morning tea on each other.
"Eurgh!" Hugo stuck his tongue out. "Gross!" he giggled.
"Oh Mum, Dad!" Rose whined, covering her own and little Elsa's eyes.
Ron and Hermione parted, giggling at one another and sticking their tongues out at their children. "One day, you'll understand,"Ron promised them. "Though that day will be a long, long time into the future!" he added firmly, mostly in Rose's direction – he was dreading the day she became interested in boys.
"Merry Christmas, Ron," Hermione smiled, eyes full of love and happiness, the stress of the last few days dissolving away as she kissed her husband again.
"Merry Christmas, love." he whispered before taking her in his arms again. "I reckon this year is going to be out best one yet!" he sighed, pulling her back to rest on him as they happily watched their children playing contently with their new presents – a happy, peaceful Christmas morning in the Weasley-Granger household.
At least until their was a big crash from the kitchen that made them all jump up.
"Sorry!" Hugo's plaintive, guilty sounding voice called through to them.
The parents looked at one another, shook their heads and laughed. Some things didn't change.
See you in 2016!