The Christmas tree sparkled with a dance of red, blue, purple, and white. It was a show that Hermione had soon come to associate only with the Weasley house during the holidays. The lights sparkled with a luminescence that could only be brought to life by magic, like a swarm of fireflies chasing each other around the Christmas tree. She smiled as she sat with her book by the skirt of the tree, and put the tome she was reading away to finger an ornament. It was a miniature knitted star that Molly had crafted after the War. It was a golden yarn that shown like a marquee, spelling out the name "Weasley's" over and over again across the star in dark burgundy, swirling knit letters.
It was their first Christmas after the War at Hogwarts. Hermione had not the heart to return to her parents' home. After great research in the library of the Ministry, which she, Harry, and Ron had been granted immediate access to after the battle, she learned that there was speculation from some magical theory wizard scholars that powerful memory charm she had cast on her parents could be lifted – but not without great physical pain and confusion on their parts. It would take them months or maybe years to fully backtrack in time with the realization that they did have a daughter again. They had already lived nearly two years with all knowledge of Hermione erased. While it was simply to eradicate such a memory, it would take time and effort, not to mention a very difficult therapy of charms, to bring it back into their lives. Not to mention, the theory had not even been proven yet. Although the temptation to perform this set of charms was nearly overwhelming to Hermione, who desperately wanted her parents back again, it was simply too much for her wellbeing at the place she was in her life currently to risk experimental magic.
She, Harry, and Ron had been settling into the uncanny peace that existed after the war. All three of them had been clinging to the comfort of the Burrow and the Weasley family that resided there. To she and Harry, it was the only family that they were able to hold onto. And after the grief-ridden war, a family was the one thing that they really needed in their lives – especially during Christmas.
The Weasley family had not been without their own post-war bereavements. The loss of Fred was like extinguishing a light and a source of pure laughter that once bounced off the walls of the family's household. The feeling of losing something irreplaceable was thick in the air of the Burrow, never to subside. George seemed to only be half of a person without his twin. While putting forth great effort during the holiday to decorate the tree and assist his mother in baking, he did so with a half-smile. His spirit was so empty that it was like staring at a stranger for anyone who once knew the jovial and mischievous Weasley twins. The injury inflicted upon his ear during the war left him bedridden many a day. Despite the most talented healers' efforts at St. Mungo's, the dark magic that existed in his body that was executed during the war's blow left George suffering dreams of the battle every night, not to mention his own deep depression after the loss of his brother, as well as the death of family friends like Remus and Tonks.
Hermione sighed. She did not like to think about the War and its casualties, although it seemed that every thought she had led her right back to that. She wished she could be as strong as the Weasley family. Molly and Arthur had to be the two strongest people she knew. They carried on with their lives with great spirit and love, openly lamenting the loss of their son, while still being the two strong pillars of the Weasley family and not denying their living children of love and attention amidst their grief. Hermione was in awe of their incredible strength of mind, and it made her feel unworthy of being in a home with a family with such an ability to love, no matter how they had suffered.
"That's my favorite," said a light female voice, startling Hermione from her thoughts.
She turned to see Ginny, sitting on the sofa behind her, her bright blue eyes sparkling with the reflection of the colorful tree-lights. Her coral lips were twisted into a shy smile, and her bright red hair was done up in soft curls that framed her heart-shaped freckled face. Hermione always fancied Ginny a little young-looking, like a girl who could never quite grow into herself, albeit very pretty. However, after the War, she thought the Weasley girl had grown up, although not in the most painless way. The youth that had previously accompanied the girl's face had been stolen by the pains of the wizarding world, and she appeared a full-fledged woman at only 17 years old. There were lines around her eyes that could only be brought upon by seeing such evils that the girl had seen before her time.
"It's very beautiful," Hermione replied, placing her hand on Ginny's knee. Ginny covered Hermione's with her own and gave a squeeze before standing and walking into the kitchen.
"Hermione, are you busy?" called Harry from upstairs.
"Be right there, Harry!"
Hermione sighed and stood up, dusting off her skirt. No, she was never too busy for her best friend. She smiled a little, happy to know that Harry still needed her in his life, even if it wasn't to help discover Horcruxes.
"What do you think of this?" the green-eyed wizard asked when she arrived in the room he and Ron shared. The three of them had practically moved completely back into the Burrow after the War.
He held out a shining silver necklace, the long strands glimmering with a light so radiant that it could only be magic. This could never be found in a Muggle jewelry shop, Hermione thought amusedly. At the end of the necklace was charm. Hermione leaned in to inspect it closer. It was a rune shaped in an elegant curled X.
"Ah, the Gebo Rune! It represents Unity in the ancient world, and it cannot be reversed, according to lore. Whoever gifts this to another creates an unbreakable bond, that is hypothetically, and lovers were written to never lose attraction after wearing this sign. You know, Harry, it's said this particular rune - "
"Hermione," Harry interrupted quickly. "I know you know a plethora of information on this, but trust me," he smiled. "I did a lot of research on what it meant, as well." "Now," he searched her eyes seriously. "Do you think Ginny will like it?"
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. "She'll adore it! I'm so happy for you both."
Harry held his friend tightly. "Thank you, Hermione. I – I just want to do something special for her, you know? I mean, after everything, I just…" he trailed off. She could hear the pain in his voice.
"Oh, Harry, you are," she assured, still holding him. "I promise."
"Thank you, Hermione," he pulled away and looked her in the eyes. "For everything."
She smiled at him warmly. "Now, you better wrap that up before Ginny sees it!"
He laughed and levitated the necklace with a flick of his wand to a small gift box that was setting on his bed. Hermione pulled out her own wand and whispered a charm, and suddenly the box was adorned with an elegant silver bow. Harry grinned.
"It's exquisite!"
"I should have you wrap all my gifts," said Ron from the doorway, making Harry and Hermione swirl around in surprise.
Hermione bit her lip. Her heart fluttered for a moment every time she saw the redhead, and no matter her immense knowledge of love potions and disillusionment charms, no magic could dispel this particular sensation.
He smiled at her, catching her eye as she stared at him. She returned the grin and then quickly looked away.
"Well, Ron, we all know you need all the help you can get in that department," said Harry. "My gifts from you always look like a two year old wrapped them." He laughed.
"Actually, I think a two year old might be able to execute better wrapping skills," countered Hermione, chuckling.
"You're both prats," said Ron, relatively unbothered. "So, mate," he turned to Harry. "What'd you get my little sis for Christmas?"
"Something absolutely fitting," replied Hermione quickly, sensing the awkwardness Harry felt in replying to Ginny's big brother. He gave her an appreciative smile.
"Well," said Ron, scratching his chest, which was adorned with a traditional maroon Weasley sweater. "I'll be the judge of that, I reckon." He futilely tried to sound threatening, simply resulting in a chuckle from his friends.
"Did you finish your Christmas shopping, Ron?" inquired Harry, leaning back on his bed rail.
"Sure. Yes. I mean, uh - " he shot an awkward glance at Hermione. "All except for one small thing."
"One small thing?"
"Yes, well, I'm going to go get a mince pie." And he was out the door.
Harry started laughing uncontrollably.
"What?" Hermione said, annoyed.
"I – I – just - " Harry choked out between laughs. "Oh, how some things will never change."
Hermione was not pleased with his answer.
Draco Malfoy had never enjoyed Christmas. Not when he was a little boy and not when he was a young man. He always found Dickens' character of Scrooge rather relatable, and thought it a pity that he gave in to the holiday spirit by the end of the story.
Each sappy Christmas tree the house elves had purchased, every gawdy Christmas light that hung over the stone exterior of the Malfoy manor, and all of those miserable sprigs of mistletoe that adorned the archways for his mother's holiday parties he absolutely wanted to cast fire to.
However, this year his mother would not be hosting her annual Christmas party, nor would the lights on the stone walls of the manor be hung. In fact, the house elf staff was reduced to one, prior to the ten that used to be employed by the Malfoy family. The tree selected by this meager staff member was humble, to put it mildly.
"Despicable," Draco spat at it, shoving its tiny branches aside as he walked into the parlor.
"Draco," drawled Narcissa. "Darling, it is Christmas. We must have a tree." She walked into the parlor in her green silken robe.
"Why? We don't want a bloody Christmas! I don't know why we're even going along with the stupid holiday. It's not like you and father want to celebrate!"
"Draco," his mother said in a low and warning tone, giving him a cold stare. "Our lives are not over. And it is Christmas."
She marched swiftly out of the room.
Draco sighed angrily, and kicked the small pine tree before stomping up the staircase to his room.
It had been a difficult year for the Malfoy family. Not only had they been out of a steady income, but Lucius had just been released from Azkaban. He never left his room. Draco had seen his thin, almost unrecognizable father very little since his release. The man wished to stay alone in his office, insisting that he was doing research and writing his former colleagues in Bulgaria as to how to wiggle his way back into the Ministry. Draco knew it was an excuse for his father to drink Firewhiskey to drown out his thoughts and horrors from prison, as well as those memories of the Dark Lord.
Draco himself was not free from the War's repercussions. He hardly slept, and whenever he looked in the mirror he no longer recognized himself. His formerly perfect and smooth skin was thinly drawn over his high cheekbones, and his handsome grey eyes were now sunken. He thought he looked like a ghost, and it angered him that even his appearance had been lost in the War.
And he had no friends, having lost contact with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, and lost Crabbe and Goyle during the War. He did not miss any one of them. They were all dense followers, desperately waiting to latch onto a leader. Draco did not want to be their leader. He did not want to be anything to anyone.
After serving the Dark Lord and witnessing horror after horror, he knew his life was basically futureless. He no longer had the Malfoy fortune, having shelled it out for the repair of Hogwarts by demand of the Ministry. He no longer had a reputation, or even a completed education, having dropped out his sixth year of Hogwarts to follow You-Know-Who as a death-eater. Hell, he did not even have his sanity anymore, averaging four hours' sleep on a good night. When Draco looked into the future, he saw nothing for himself.
So why in Merlin's name would he want to celebrate Christmas?
"Uh, Hermione," Ron said shakily, standing at the entrance to the kitchen of the Burrow.
"Ronald," Hermione acknowledged, rolling out dough for Christmas cookies across the kitchen table.
It was Christmas Eve morning, and Molly and Ginny had rushed out to Diagon Alley to pick up a few missing Christmas gifts. Hermione suspected that Ginny had been so indecisive about what to buy Harry that she had put it off until the last moment possible.
Hermione had been put in charge of crafting Christmas cookies. She had a feeling that she was making it more complicated than it should realistically be. She did not know very many kitchen charms, so she decided to go about baking the Muggle way. She knew Mrs. Weasley would not be able to comprehend this when she returned and saw Hermione was actually manually employing a rolling pin.
She looked up at Ron curiously. He was standing at the door in yet another Weasley knitted sweater. He was holding a small golden package within his hand. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"I, well, you know…" Ron choked out. "I sort of wanted to give this to you today, you know, on Christmas Eve. I wasn't sure…I didn't want to, you know, embarrass you tomorrow morning, or, uh, you know…" he trailed off and looked at the floor.
"Ron, you didn't have to give me anything this year," Hermione put down the rolling pin. "I'm just so happy we're all here together and that your family has opened their home to me."
"Oh, Hermione, you know you're part of the family," he said, suddenly firm. "And I – I don't know what we would do without you now, you know, after it all…"
"Ron," Hermione crossed to him, trying to wipe the flour from her hands on her apron. She placed a hand on his arm. "Thank you for saying that to me."
He looked down at her, searching her face. "I mean it, you know."
"I know," she smiled. There was an awkward pause as she looked up into his eyes. They were very blue, like Ginny's and Mrs. Weasley's. She thought they were exquisite.
"Here," he shoved the gift nervously at her, interrupting her reverie.
"Oh, um, thanks," Hermione said, awkwardly accepting it. She stared at it for a moment, not sure what to do. "Are you sure you want me to open it now?"
"Y-yes," he said seriously. "Open it. Open it now."
"All right," she laughed. "I'm opening it!"
She gently edged the golden wrapping paper open. It was clear that Ron had not sought out anyone's help wrapping, but it seemed that he had made a definite effort to improve, although that seemed to mean using more Scotch tape than needed. She struggled for a moment nervously, and finally plied it open.
She slid out a white jewelry box. She felt both uncomfortable and filled with joy with the idea of receiving jewelry. Jewelry was serious in a relationship, if indeed that was what she and Ron had. She honestly had no clue.
But what if he gave Ginny jewelry as well? What if every attraction she had experienced with him and the kiss during the war was simply something she mistook for passion, when it was truly stress and a bundle of emotions simply being applied without meaning? Was she a sister to him?
Hoping that he did not sense her hesitation at receiving the gift, she opened the small box quickly. Inside was a string of pure-white pearls, simple and small. It looked as if there was no magical connection with them, but they were so beautiful to Hermione that she thought they were better without one.
"Oh, Ron," she said, taking them gently out of the box. "They're gorgeous."
"Really?" he asked hopefully. "I wasn't sure if you would like them. I spent a long time, you see, uh, picking them out. I went to the jewelry store in Diagon Alley, but I wasn't sure if you would like anything there, and, I – I wanted to give you something that might remind you of home, so I went to Muggle London one day with Mum, and well, she thought you would like them, too, so I - "
"Ron," she interrupted, shaking her head. "Please. They're the perfect present."
"Here, um, let me put them on for you."
Ron took the pearls from her hands and gently drew them around her neck as she held up her hair.
"There," he said, nodding awkwardly. "They, uh, look great on you."
Hermione smiled warmly, turning to face him. "I love them, Ron."
She awkwardly reached out to give him a hug, tiptoeing to reach his chest and throwing her arms around him.
He immediately wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tight.
"Happy Christmas," she said into his chest.
"You too," he said. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck.
She drew away and looked up at him, not sure what to expect. He stared down at her, and as quick as she could have dreamed it, he pecked a kiss on her forehead and drew away from her.
"I have to go help Bill. Be, um, back later, all right?" He said quickly, walking out of the kitchen.
"Oh, um, sure," she answered to no one. She could not help but be disappointed. Kiss on the head or not, it could still be a completely platonic relationship. Jewelry could be platonic, as well.
She sighed and pulled out the rolling pin, ready to let some of her frustration out on the cookie dough.