A/N: Thank you all for your great reviews! I appreciate every single one of them! Just letting you all know, I will be continuing this story because so many people requested it. Because of this, this chapter's going to be a little different than the previous ones. Before, I'd been just outlining Rose's and Scorpius's relationship, but as it's going to be a more lengthy story, I decided that I needed to set a baseline for the families. There is plot development, don't worry, but there's more character development in this one. Please enjoy!
~Maya
Time Bomb
Chapter 7
Rose's stomach was filled with an odd mixture of dread and excitement when she awoke that morning. Not a hint of drowsiness in her, she turned to look at the new twin bed that occupied the other side of her room, temporarily, her mother had assured her. Though they had been forced to grudgingly allow Holly to stay in their home, Hermione had refused, point-blank, to allow her son and his girlfriend to sleep in the same room. Instead, she was to stay with Rose. On another occasion, Rose might have protested with a spectacular tantrum, but because her parents were at least trying to make an effort with her new relationship, she felt she had better stay on their good sides.
Upon seeing that the extra bed was empty and made up perfectly as though it hadn't been slept in at all, Rose rolled her eyes. Holly had made it a habit of sneaking into Hugo's room after everyone had gone to sleep. Frankly, Rose was surprised her mother hadn't discovered it yet. A few times, the idea of telling on them seemed tempting, but her parents were already on edge because of her and Scorpius. They didn't need another row in the family. Besides, it was only a matter of time before Hugo would realize that she was horrible, and dump her. There was no need to create a fuss over a relationship that was doomed to the degree that theirs was.
Sighing, she threw her covers off and wrapped a heavy dressing gown around her, blessing the warming charms that her mother had cared to place on the house. Nerves tingling at the thought of tonight, Rose headed down the stairs to open her Christmas presents.
Having barely slept two winks, Hermione was still fidgeting in bed. To her dismay, Ron had fallen asleep as she clutched his hand, and he had not moved since then. When sunlight started peering through their bedroom window at last, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and began prodding her husband mercilessly.
"Wha…ow—ouch, Hermione, what are you doing?" Ron mumbled groggily.
"It's morning, Ron. Wake up," she said briskly, kissing him on the cheek.
Grumbling, Ron replied, "Why are you waking me? You know I like to get up on my own time…"
"Yes, well, it's Christmas morning," she reminded him. "That's an exception."
Her words had just the effect she had wanted: Ron's eyes flew wide open and he practically fell out of bed before jumping onto his feet and pumping a fist in the air.
"Christmas!" he shouted jubilantly.
Hermione chuckled, gazing at him fondly. He was still the boy she'd fallen in love with. Suddenly, his expression grew fearful and anxious, and he looked at his wife in a panic.
"Christmas," he repeated, though this time in a tiny, terrified voice.
"Yes, I know," said Hermione quietly. "Christmas dinner."
A moment of silence passed between them, and finally Ron said bracingly, "Well, it's not like we have to face it alone. We have the whole family with us, don't we? And it's not like the worst of the Malfoys is coming."
At this, Hermione nodded, feeling the smallest bit of relief. Lucius Malfoy was long dead from a life sentence in Azkaban prison.
"Listen, Hermione," said Ron seriously, sitting back on the bed and taking both her hands in his. "We can definitely get through this. Harry and Ginny will be here, and they'll definitely make sure we—I—don't get out of control. All right?"
Slowly letting out a breath she'd been unaware she was holding, Hermione smiled at him. "Yeah. We'll get through this together," she said confidently.
But as they began their morning routine, both of them felt that confidence waver so very slightly.
Moaning softly, Hugo opened his eyes blearily as the morning sunlight pierced them. Almost out of habit, he turned to his night side table to see the clock perched on it—and panicked. It was ten o'clock. Everyone else must be wide awake by now. And it was Christmas morning. Surely his parents would have come to wake him up earlier than this? And if they had…
With a feeling of intense dread, Hugo looked down at the blonde girl sleeping in his arms. If they had seen her with him, he was—there was no other way to put it—screwed.
Hurriedly, he jumped out of bed and shook Holly awake as gently as he could. There was not an ounce of sleep left in him, as it had been replaced entirely by anxiety.
"Holly?" he whispered fretfully. "Holly, come on, get up. It's late now."
"Mm. No," she protested, swatting at his hand.
"Please, Holly," he said patiently. "You need to get up. Come on. We'll be in boatloads of trouble if they find out—"
"Why are you so bloody scared of your parents anyway?" she mumbled before rolling over and tucking the blankets more firmly around her.
Hugo sighed, frustrated, and ran a hand through his red hair, wondering frantically what to do. Luckily, he was saved from coming up with an idea, because Holly now shoved the covers off her body and sat up in bed, scowling at him.
"Thanks," she grumbled. "You totally woke me up. I was having such a good sleep."
He was so relieved by her compliance that he could only say, "Thank you…thank you…"
"Whatever," she muttered, stepping around him to head to the bathroom.
The bubble of anxiety that had lodged itself between Hugo's ribs had shrunk slightly, but was still there nonetheless. If he was honest with himself, he'd know it had been there ever since he'd first asked Holly out. But he was not going to admit that. Holly was a blessing, and he cared for her deeply. If she came with a little bit of stress, well, then she was worth the trouble.
Breathing heavily, he sat on his bed and sank his head into his hands. He remained there for several minutes, until he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Rose, I appreciate your concern for your brother, but it's now half-past-ten and I can't let him sleep in any longer," Hermione was saying.
"But Mum," Rose replied a little too loudly. "We were all up pretty late last night, remember? Then, after that…er…Holly and Hugo and I stayed up a little while longer, just chatting!"
Hugo raised his head from his hands, cocking an eyebrow at Rose's lie. Why would she make something like that up?
The footsteps stopped. Evidently, this was what Rose had been hoping for, as her voice adopted a tone of relief. "Yeah," she added. "It-it was great. I, er, I got to know Holly a little better."
"You did?" said Hermione in disbelief. Hugo could just picture her eyebrows raised high, mouth in a thin, I-know-you're-lying-to-me kind of line, hands on her hips.
"Yes, we did," said Rose. "I think that's why he and Holly are both still asleep. She was fast asleep when I woke up, and still asleep when I went and checked an hour ago."
What? Hugo mouthed to himself, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The only reason Rose would to lie like this would be to cover up for him, but she would never do that. Would she?
"What's going on?" Holly's voice had joined them.
"Oh, hello, Holly," said Hermione coolly. Hugo cringed; he knew his mother was extremely displeased with their new living arrangement.
"Yeah, hi," said Holly. "What's up?"
"Morning, Holly," said Rose, raising her voice again. "I was just telling my mum that you've been asleep in my room for so long because the three of us stayed up really late last night talking. It was really nice getting to know you better."
It took several moments of still silence before Holly got the message and said, "Oh yeah. Yeah we did."
"Well, that's great, but I really need to wake up Hugo," said Hermione impatiently. "It's late, and it's Christmas morning. This is ridiculous."
Before she could approach his room, Hugo strode to his door and opened it, pulling the best surprised expression he could manage.
"Oh, hi, Mum!" he said cheerfully. "Happy Christmas!"
"Happy Christmas, Hugo," Hermione replied, smiling warmly, all traces of frustration gone. She hugged him tightly.
"Sorry I slept in," he said sheepishly. "We were up late last night talking, you see—"
"Yes, yes, I've heard the story," she said, though she was still smiling. "Now let's go downstairs, shall we? Your father's made a special breakfast, and he's been absolutely dying to open his presents."
The trio allowed her to get out of earshot before Rose hissed, "What the hell, Hugo? You put me in a right state all morning!"
"Sorry, sorry," said Hugo hastily. "I'm really sorry, Rose. What-what did you do?"
"More than you will ever be able to repay me for," she whispered furiously. "Mum and Dad were getting really annoyed, and I couldn't let them go upstairs! So when Mum finally got fed up and went to check what you were doing, I did it instead."
"Wait a moment," Holly interjected, earning a cold glare from Rose, which she apparently missed completely. "How did you know I was with Hugo?"
Hugo's girlfriend's daftness amazed her. "You're supposed to be sleeping in my room, Holly," Rose snarled. "You think I wouldn't know after I saw the bed empty, like, every morning?"
Before Holly could retort, Hugo said, "Why did you do that, Rose?"
For a moment, Rose was silent. Then, she said, "I guess…because I don't want them to freak out. They're already freaking out because of me. And it's probably because…I know what it's like to have a hard time because of who you're dating."
She and her brother shared the most meaningful moment they ever had in their lives, and then it was broken.
"Well, great. Can we go downstairs now? Mum and Dad have probably sent me a thousand presents," Holly smirked.
Christmas morning was always wildly exciting for Albus, and today was no exception. He was aware of what was going to happen that night, but he had full confidence in his family that they would work everything out wonderfully.
In a festive fervor, he scrambled out of bed and washed up hurriedly before rushing into his sister's room. To his surprise, Lily was already awake and brushing her hair in front of a vanity mirror.
"Hi, Lily!" said Albus happily. "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas, Al," she said, her voice lacking the usual Christmas cheer.
His smile faded. "What's up? Worried you're not going to get any good presents?" he teased.
Lily, however, did not find this amusing. "I don't know what you're talking about," she sniffed. "I'll meet you downstairs."
Their older brother James would have probably bought her lie and carried on nonchalantly, but Albus was always more in touch with his emotional side than his jokester brother. He pulled up Lily's desk chair and sat next to her in front of the vanity table.
"What's up, Lily?" he asked, seriously this time.
For a moment, Lily looked as though she was going to pass it off as nothing again, but then she turned to face Albus and simply could no longer hold it in.
"Oh Al," she cried softly, her bottom lip quivering.
"What happened?" Al demanded, alarmed, as she practically fell onto him tearfully. "Was it some guy? I'll kill him, I swear. We all will."
"No, no," she blubbered, pulling away and wiping her eyes. "It's-it's just the opposite, actually."
"What?" said Al, now thoroughly confused. Most of the boys in his family thought he was the emotional one, but his feelings paled in comparison to his sister's.
She turned back to look at her reflection. "You know. I-I just wish guys would notice me. But then, why would they?" she said bitterly.
"What?" Al said again, but with a surprised laugh this time. "Are you serious, Lily?"
"Well, yeah!" she said desperately. "I mean—look at me." Gesturing at the mirror hopelessly, she looked down, as though unwilling to look at herself for another second.
"Lily, listen to me," said Al gently, touching her shoulder. "Boys notice you."
"No, they don't," she muttered. "You're just saying that to be nice."
"Well, okay, partially," Al admitted. "But it's true. Boys definitely notice you."
Hopefully, Lily looked up at him. "Yeah? Really?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "But that's not the point. The point is that you don't need boys to notice you right now, anyway."
All traces of hope fled from her face and were replaced by anger. "What the hell, Al? Why'd you have to go and say that?"
"Shut up and let me finish," he insisted. "Look, right now, you should be focusing on being the best person you can be. That way, when you do like a boy and start dating, you'll be the best Lily you can be and you won't have to go and try to change yourself for him."
She still looked unconvinced.
Sighing, Albus added, "It gets better, Lily. Girls didn't like me when I was fourteen either."
"They still don't," she teased him. Albus swatted her shoulder, laughing.
"I'm being serious!" he exclaimed.
"I know," she said apologetically. "But, I mean, Hugo's fourteen, too. He's got a girlfriend!"
Albus raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really? Personally, I'd rather be alone forever than be with Holly."
At this, Lily chuckled. "True that."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and then Albus offered, "Let's go wake up James and then get Mum and Dad all together."
This thought cheered Lily up slightly. Of course, one talk with her brother had not banished her insecurities forever, but for the time being, she could keep from resenting herself and everyone around her. It was, after all, Christmas.
Upon Lily's request that he wake James without her, Albus found himself in his brother's huge room. Their parents didn't know it, but they had wrestled for this room many years ago, when they'd been old enough to move out of the nursery. Albus had fought valiantly, but his brother, one year his senior and twice as broad as him, had inevitably won. Thus, the room was now James's, and as Albus looked around it, he had to admit grudgingly that no one could have done a better job with it.
Red curtains with gold tassels framed the huge windows, and countless posters and photographs adorned the walls. The sheets on his bed were Quidditch-themed—white with Snitches embroidered delicately into the fabric. In one of the corners, there was a comfortable hollow in which James had set up two bean bags (red and gold, of course) and a short, multipurpose table. He and Albus would often sit in this area and play Exploding Snap or Wizard's Chess on the table, or else James would use it as a place to do his summer homework lazily.
Again, Albus was met with a surprise: His brother was up and dressed in an old Christmas sweater, looking more excited than ever.
"What's up, little bro?" he said enthusiastically. "Ready to go?"
"Merry Christmas." Albus grinned. "Waiting for Lily."
"Oh, we're not gonna wake her up?" James looked thoroughly disappointed. "I was looking forward to scaring the hell out of her."
Laughing, Albus shook his head. "No, she's already awake. She told me to go ahead."
"Well, I guess we should wait for her before we go and wake Mum and Dad, then," said James glumly sitting down on his bed.
Albus hesitated for a moment, and then decided to take advantage of Lily's absence. "Listen," he said in a low voice. "I want to talk to you about Lily."
"What about her?" James asked casually, feeling the sheets for his wand.
"She thinks she's not pretty enough for boys to like her."
Abandoning his search completely, James sat bolt upright and stared at his younger brother. Lily, their baby sister, worrying about being pretty? For boys? No. No, this had to be put right.
"What?" he demanded, standing immediately. "Why? Who did this? Was it some bastard boyfriend? I'll show him—"
"No, no!" cried Al hastily, throwing his arms forward to stop James from storming out of the room right there. "It's not like that—it's nothing like that."
"Then what is it?" said James impatiently. "I don't need you to be all cryptic and, like, all Albus, not when my baby sister—"
"James, shut up. She's just having image and self-esteem issues," said Al, irritated. "Stop overreacting. I don't think she's dating anyone. She's upset about not dating someone."
"Lily doesn't need to date right now," said James instantly. "She's too young."
"Shut up, James," Albus repeated. "Just—I just wanted to tell you not to make any jokes about her being, I dunno, spotty. All right?"
Though James was clearly unhappy with the arrangement of keeping quiet, he nodded. "All right. For Lily, I guess."
"Thanks," said Albus, relieved.
"But if she's dating anyone, I want to know right away."
Albus rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go scare the hell out of Mum and Dad."
Harry and Ginny awoke quite comfortably, tangled in each other's arms, legs wrapped around each other's bodies. As always, Harry felt enormously lucky to wake up like this; if the war had taught him anything, it had been to count his blessings every second of every day, and the woman in his arms was one of the biggest.
"Hey, Ginny," he murmured, brushing a lock of red hair behind her ear. "Good morning."
"Mmm," she replied sleepily, without opening her eyes. "Hey."
He leaned in for a kiss, ignoring the inevitable morning breath, when—
"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"
"Holy—"
"Bloody—"
Both of them jumped out bed and thrust their wands into the air, directly in their children's faces. Breathing heavily, they lowered their wands simultaneously when they realized who was, in fact, standing in front of them. The three siblings burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs as they howled.
"That is NOT okay!" Ginny cried, putting a hand to her chest.
"Just for that, you lose your Christmas presents from me," said Harry firmly.
Instantly, they stopped laughing and stared at their father in shock. His expression was firm, resolute. As far as he was concerned, they were not getting Christmas presents.
"Dad…we're sorry," said Lily weakly. "We thought it'd be a laugh, that's all…" She turned hopelessly to her brothers.
"Yeah, Dad. We didn't realize it'd shock you that much," Albus apologized.
"Yeah, come on, Dad," James pleaded. "We didn't mean to scare you—well, we did—but only a little! I guess we forgot that you're paranoid—" He shut up when Lily jabbed her elbow into his rib.
Harry gazed at them reproachfully, and promptly burst out laughing. "You should see your faces," he roared, slapping his knees. "I got you this time!"
Aghast, they turned to face their mother, only to see that she was also giggling. "He did. He really did," she said, trying to stifle her laughter. "That's what you get for pranking us every Christmas morning for the last, oh, I don't know, ten years? Fifteen?"
"I've lost count," said Harry, still laughing. "But that, that there, was worth all of them."
The three siblings were scowling and muttering under their breaths. Pranking and scaring their parents on Christmas morning was something they loved doing every single year.
"Oh, come on," said Harry. "Get over it. It's not like you've never been pranked before."
"Yeah, but not by our own parents!" Lily cried indignantly.
"I've gotta agree there," said Al glumly. "That was disappointing."
To everyone's surprise, a grin was slowly creeping on James's face.
"What's up, James?" said Harry curiously.
"We saw you and Mum," he said slowly, his grin broadening. "We saw how you and Mum were sleeping."
"What's your point, James?" Ginny demanded impatiently, though she had turned slightly pink.
"Well…the whole family's coming for dinner tonight…" He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud at their expressions.
"Look—James—I'm sorry—" Harry tried.
"JAMES SIRIUS POTTER, IF YOU SO MUCH AS BREATHE A WORD TO MY BROTHERS, I SWEAR I WILL…"
But her screams faded as the siblings ran out of their parents' bedroom and down the stairs, laughing and congratulating the eldest on his idea.
An angry swarm of butterflies seemed to have replaced Molly's entire gut when she awoke, as they did every morning. Every single day, she dreaded the conversations she would have to have with her parents. The girl definitely had some Slytherin traits in her, for she put up such an excellent show of cheery calm, when in reality she was a nervous wreck. In the entire family, Molly was perhaps the only person who was thoroughly relieved about Rose's news: It meant she did not have to come out with her own. With a heavy, tremulous sigh, she rose from her bed and embarked on her usual morning routine.
Lucy's birthday was coming up, so Percy and Audrey were immensely relieved to not be hosting the Christmas dinner this year. She was one of the few cousins who had yet to go to Hogwarts (her favorite cousin was Dominque, who would leave next September), and to make it up to her, they were throwing her a marvelous party for her seventh birthday. Unfortunately, it seemed that they could not get past tiny disagreements.
The couple had risen early on Christmas morning, and descended the staircase to the kitchen while arguing.
"Percy, you know we can't do all that," Audrey snapped. "Stop being unrealistic."
"Well, is it my fault that I want to give my daughter the perfect party?" he demanded. "I'm trying to be a good parent, Audrey."
"Oh, and I'm not?" she said angrily. "Well, then, excuse me for being the responsible one, as usual—"
"Oh, right," Percy snorted. "You. Responsible. There's a laugh."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, Audrey," he said, turning to the stove and heating it magically, topping it with a frying pan.
"No, Percy, you tell me what you meant by that," she repeated.
"I didn't mean anything," he insisted coolly. "Yeah. You're responsible. You're the most responsible parent."
With a feral snarl, Audrey opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by the sound of a throat clearing.
"Mum? Dad?"
Molly was standing in front of the kitchen door with her arms crossed over her chest and a worried expression.
"Hi, Molly," said Audrey wearily. "Good morning. Merry Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, sweetheart," said Percy, hugging her.
She hugged her father half-heartedly and asked, "What's going on?"
"Nothing, nothing, dear," said Audrey, forcing a smile. "Just…trying to plan Lucy's birthday."
"Oh." Her heart was pounding. They had been fighting like this for weeks; whenever they were alone and thought their daughters weren't listening, they immediately started going off on each other. None of the rest of the family knew about it; as far as they were concerned, Percy and Audrey were a happy, slightly pompous couple. Molly never knew what to do, and her parents would never let her in.
Giving them one last look of uncertainty, she said, "Should I go get Lucy, then? We can open presents."
Sighing, Audrey nodded and moved to the stove to start on breakfast. Without another word, Molly hurried up the stairs to her sister's bedroom. Gently, she opened the door so as not to wake Lucy up, but it was in vain.
"Hey, Lucy," said Molly, smiling. "You're awake. Happy Christmas."
"They were fighting again," she said at once. The tiny, six-year-old blonde girl had pulled her covers up to her chin and was clutching them desperately.
Molly felt a pang of sadness at her sister's words. No child should have fears like this.
"It's all right," said Molly soothingly, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking her sister's hand. "They've stopped."
Though she still looked unsure, Lucy nodded nevertheless.
"You should come downstairs for Christmas presents," Molly encouraged. "Or, well, for you it's like round one of presents. Round two comes, like, next month."
At this, Lucy giggled and said teasingly, "Oh, it's okay, Molly. Don't feel too badly. I'll give you some of my presents."
"Thanks, Lucy," said Molly skeptically.
She was not surprised when she heard Lucy chuckle under her breath, "Not."
Bill woke up with a shuddering yawn on Christmas morning and found that he was sweating buckets. Damn heating charms. We need to turn them down tonight, he thought, irritated. Then, he remembered that it was Christmas, and therefore there would be a colossal Christmas dinner, after which most family members slept over at the host family's home. This was Bill's favorite part of Christmas—he often felt he didn't spend enough time with his distant family.
"Good morning, Bill," said Fleur, his dazzling wife, as she sauntered into the room, carrying a cup of tea in each hand. "Wish you a Happy Christmas." Over the years, her French accent had gotten considerably better, almost unnoticeable.
"Thanks, babe," he said, taking a cup out of her hand and pulling her gently onto the bed with him. "You too."
"Shall we wake up the children now?" she asked. Taking a dainty sip of her tea, she looked up at him with her big blue eyes.
He smiled, as he always did when he looked at his wife, and kissed her forehead. "Nah," he said. "Let them sleep."
"All right, but remember—you promised Ron and Hermione that we would help them get ready for tonight," she said, a note of warning in her voice.
"Ah, yes," said Bill happily. He knew that George would also be there, and so would Harry and his family. "That'll be fun."
"Yes, yes," said Fleur impatiently. "But we need to go soon if we are to do that, darling."
"No problem, love," he said with another kiss.
"Bill," Fleur began wearily. "You have forgotten."
"Forgotten what?" said Bill absently, now moving to get dressed for the Christmas presents.
"Teddy is here."
Immediately, Bill froze, his hand on the ribbon he was about to fasten his dressing gown with. He cursed under his breath as he remembered: His oldest daughter's boyfriend—fiancé—was in their home, in her bedroom, in her bed.
"Aw, hell," he moaned. For years, he'd known that the relationship between Teddy Lupin and their Victoire was a serious one, and he'd been expecting the proposal soon enough. But Victoire, even at twenty-two, still seemed like a baby to him.
"Bill, you know that you would have never considered her too young for anything until this," said Fleur, reading his mind.
"I know, I know," he grumbled, angry at himself. "I just can't-can't let her go."
Smiling at him sympathetically, Fleur walked around the bed to her husband and wrapped her arms around his broad chest. Almost unconsciously, his arms fell around her slim shoulders.
"I know, Bill," she whispered. "But she's a grown woman. She doesn't even live here anymore. It's time to let her go."
Although Bill knew the truth in his wife's words, he couldn't bring himself to completely heed them. Every time he saw the sparkling ring on Victoire's finger, images of him and his daughter as a child, laughing and playing, chattering animatedly, spending warm nights by the fire, swam before his eyes. When they faded, the reality of another person taking care of his baby was thrust in front of him.
"Let's go downstairs," he said, putting on a wide smile. It was Christmastime, and he would not pout.
Teddy was awake and dressed by the time Bill and Fleur traipsed down the stairs, and he greeted them jovially.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs…er, I mean, Mum and Dad?" he said tentatively. As a child, he'd always called them by their names, sometimes as 'Uncle Bill' and 'Auntie Fleur,' but after he'd started dating Victoire, he'd promptly changed to the more formal 'Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.' Now, however...
Bill inconspicuously let out a shallow breath before smiling at his future son-in-law. "Yeah, Teddy. Where's Victoire?"
"Sleeping," he answered promptly. "I didn't want to wake her. We had a long night—I-I-I mean, she didn't, er, sleep much—oh…no…" His hair was now turning tomato red as he glared at the floor, clearly muttering admonishment for his own behavior.
"It is all right, Teddy," said Fleur kindly, without a hint of amusement at his bashfulness.
Bill, on the other hand, was not so graceful. "Long night, yeah? Didn't sleep much?" he repeated lightly, grabbing a piece of toast from a huge stack on the table.
"Er, that's-that's not what I meant," he stammered, but was saved from coming up with a story as to what he and this intimidating man's daughter might have been doing that would cause them to stay up late by Victoire's appearance.
"Hi, Teddy!" she exclaimed. "There you are!" Flouncing up to him girlishly, she planted a big kiss on his cheek.
"Hey, er, Happy Christmas, Victoire," he mumbled, trying to look happy rather than mortified.
"Oh yes! Happy Christmas, everyone!" she cried, beaming around the table. "Where's Louis and Dominique?"
"Dominique is in the shower. As for Louis, I was hoping you might know the answer to that," Fleur answered, her brow furrowing in concern.
"He's probably hiding," Bill reassured her. "Probably didn't finish someone's Christmas present. The Weasley in him, you know."
Though Fleur laughed at this statement, she couldn't completely shake the worry in her stomach. Her son had been acting oddly all vacation: He rarely spoke during meals, he spent much of his time out of the house or shut in his room, and sometimes she could hear forlorn music beating softly from behind his closed door. Louis never listened to sad music.
As she pondered this, the front door squeaked open and tentative footsteps were heard coming into the hall.
"Louis?" called Fleur hopefully. "Is that you?"
After this, he seemed to realize that the effort of coming in without alerting anyone's attention was futile, so he shut the door quickly and hurried into the kitchen, clutching two wrapped presents.
"See? I told you!" cried Bill triumphantly. "He was out getting presents."
A shaky, relieved laugh went through Louis and he said, "Yeah. Yeah, Dad, you got me. Well, I-I'll just go put these under the tree, then…"
Fleur watched him leave the room with a frown on her face. Something was very odd indeed. Just then, the kitchen door crashed open and in came little Dominique, a proud grin on her face.
"Is it time to open presents yet?" she demanded eagerly. "You're all going to absolutely LOVE mine…"
It was with a heavy heart that George Weasley dragged himself out of bed and put a smile on his face. Christmas was always difficult for him. Any day was always difficult for him. Christmas, however, was especially hard, because he could easily track every Christmas he'd spent with his best friend and brother, every prank he'd pulled with him, every present he'd exchanged. Though he refused, on principle, to cry, George simply could not deny the painful twinges that went through him every year around this time. But the thought of going downstairs to see his wonderful wife and children, with their bright and excited faces, eased the sharp torture to a dull ache.
In a way, he was lucky that it had been Fred, for his relationship with him was so special, so irreplaceable, that he knew without a doubt that he had to smile for him. To honor his brother forever. He owed it to him.
With this thought driving him, George washed his face and bounded downstairs cheerfully, ready to see what his kids had planned for Christmas morning.
"Hey babe," said Angelina quietly, kissing him. "Merry Christmas."
"And you," he replied, kissing her back and smiling widely. Then, in a hushed voice, he said, "What have the kids thought up for this year?"
Pulling away, she gave him an amused look. "You know I'm not supposed to tell you that, George."
George pouted. "Come on, you're my wife! I'm your husband. We're supposed to be united against them!"
"Sorry, no can do," she said, shaking her head seriously. "I gave them my word, you know." Despite her solemn demeanor, George could tell she found the whole situation perfectly hilarious.
"Fine," he grumbled, and made his way apprehensively to the sitting room. Their tree was beautiful, as always, with bright purple and yellow baubles and ornaments fluttering around it magically. Beneath it was a small but still impressive mound of gifts, some beautifully wrapped and some from Ron Weasley.
Along with the presents, George's two children were also kneeling beneath the Christmas tree, grabbing present by present and chattering excitedly about what they hoped to receive. Only when George cleared his throat expectantly did Fred and Roxanne look up.
"Morning, Dad," said Fred brightly. "Happy Christmas."
"Yes, Daddy," said Roxanne, smiling like an angel. "Happy Christmas."
Eyeing them suspiciously, he replied, "Yeah. Happy Christmas. Are you ready to open your presents?"
"Yes, we all are," said Angelina from behind them, wiping her flour-covered hands on a towel.
"You first, Dad," said Fred encouragingly.
"Yeah, Dad, you first," Roxanne urged, pushing a small package wrapped in bright pink paper into his lap.
"Er…no, it's okay," he replied. "Why don't you go first?"
Fred and Roxanne groaned in unison.
"But DAD!"
"You have to open this one," said Roxanne earnestly. "It'll be awesome."
At this point, George was sure that the box contained their Christmas prank. Frankly, he was slightly disappointed that they were being so obvious about it; he'd taught them better than that.
"No, I think you'll like the present I gave you more," George insisted.
"Oh for Merlin's sake!" cried Angelina, throwing her towel onto the floor and stomping up to the tree. She seized a large present that had her name on it and tore off the wrapping paper.
"Blimey, Angelina," said George, amused. "It's not going anywhere. You can take your time."
She raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. "As if you ever wait to open a present."
"Yeah, Dad," Fred whined. "You never wait to open your presents. Why won't you open ours?"
"Please?" Roxanne implored, giving him the most innocent, puppy-dog eyes he'd ever seen.
Just then, Angelina squealed with excitement. The gift had been from Ron and Hermione—a very professional-looking shadow box filled with photos, medals, and article clippings all referencing her Quidditch career.
"Wow," said George, awed. It was very artistically done, no doubt the idea had been Ron's and the effort had been Hermione's.
"Wow is right!" Angelina exclaimed. "Oh hell, I hope my gift to them was good enough…"
"Okay, okay, it's great, now, Dad, can you please open your present?" Roxanne demanded.
George sighed; clearly, he wasn't going to get around opening their prank. He would just have to look as unsurprised as he possibly could when whatever it was jumped out at him.
His children shared exhilarated glances as he slowly unwrapped the tiny box. When he opened it, he was overwhelmingly surprised to see, sitting on a plushy, velvet cushion, a small, purple badge reading Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Come and get a laugh—we promise we're contagious.
"We designed it!" said Fred proudly. "It's a new product for the shop!"
"I really wanted it to be a 'W,'" Roxanne added. "But this was a good idea, too. I think we should sell 'Ws,' too, though!"
"Wow," said Angelina, almost breathless. "I had no idea about this! You two did it on your own?"
"Yeah, it took months of magic!" Fred said, evidently extremely proud of himself.
"It was pretty hard," Roxanne admitted. "But it was worth it!"
For this whole conversation, George had been staring at the badge, speechless. Memory after memory was crashing down upon him like hurricane waves on a shore—he and Fred dropping their prized Ton-Tongue Toffee in the Dursley home—he and Fred vomiting and fainting and growing pus-filled boils—he and Fred soaring into the Hogwarts sky, a horrible, toad-faced woman watching them in fury—he and Fred finally setting foot for the first time in their beloved Diagon Alley premises—he and Fred…
"George," Angelina said finally, with concern ringing through her voice. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said softly, his voice breaking. "Yeah, I am."
He could see out of the corner of his eye Fred and Roxanne exchanging looks again, but this time they were confused and slightly disappointed.
Taking a deep breath, George plastered a grin on his face, gazing at his children with enormous affection.
"Thank you so much," he said expressively. "It's-it's seriously amazing."
They were gaping at him.
"Why don't we get along with opening presents?" Angelina suggested after a slight pause.
They all agreed heartily and dove into the pile of presents, ooh-ing and aah-ing about their new gifts and boasting about them to each other.
Suddenly, George recalled that the gift hadn't been a prank. His eyes narrowed as he thought, What could they be planning? There was absolutely no way they'd simply forgotten to do a prank, he decided. It was Christmas, after all.
A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed that, and that it wasn't too different. I really liked writing it. Because I wanted to set up all the families like this, I decided to save the Christmas dinner for the next chapter. I have a lot planned for the characters, so I hope you stick with it. Please let me know how it was, and what you would like to see!
~Maya
