Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. All rights go to JK Rowling/Warner Bros. I do not profit in any way.

Chapter 21

It was the morning of the 25th December, 1999 in the Weasley household, and all was quiet.

That is, all was quiet but the squeaking of the old floorboards as the youngest Weasley crept up the stairs to Harry's floor.

Ginny reached his room, and checked around quickly for any impending brothers or parents. Upon seeing all was clear, she grinned to herself, and opened Harry's bedroom door.

She stepped inside the room, looking at her sleeping lump of a boyfriend, and shut the door quietly behind her.

She bit her lip, and leaped onto the bed, right on top of a very startled Harry Potter.

"Arghh!" Harry yelped, as he jerked awake. He opened his eyes, only to find the blurry outline of Ginny's face five inches from his.

"Merry Christmas!" she grinned, and brushed the hair off his face, her fingers brushing lightly across his scar.

"What time is it?" Harry groaned, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table.

"Time to wake up!" Ginny replied, grabbing one of his hands, and tugging him out of bed against his will.

He shivered in only his T-Shirt and boxers in the cold December air. "Oh, man up," Ginny said, throwing some clothes at him.

"Ginny, it's 5am!" Harry complained, finally thinking to look at his battered watch.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "It's Christmas," she stated, before walking out of the room, "Hurry up," she said, as she shut the door behind her.

"Mental," Harry muttered, grinning despite himself.

"I heard that!" Ginny said, and Harry hastily grabbed the clothes she'd left for him, and pulled on his jeans.

"Now, care to tell me why you have me up at this ungodly hour?" Harry asked, throwing an arm around Ginny's shoulders as they walked downstairs.

"Present-time!"

"Oh," he said. "In that case... Accio Ginny's Present!"

She laughed. "You didn't put it under the tree?"

"Nope," Harry replied, as a small box zoomed towards them. He grabbed it out of the air, and pocketed it. "I know what you're like. Last Christmas you guessed what my present was before I even gave it to you! Don't deny it," he added, seeing Ginny's mouth open in protest. "You spent the whole of Christmas Eve trying to figure out what the present from your loving boyfriend was... shaking it around, tapping it, listening to it..."

"Hey," Ginny's defence began, smirk firmly in place, "It wasn't that difficult to guess. A book – which was easy to tell from the shape and weight, and how many books do I read?" Ginny shrugged. "It had to be something to do with Quidditch, and naturally, my favourite Quidditch team."

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, thinking of the Holyhead Harpies book he'd bought last year, and comparing it to this year's present. He smiled as they sat down on the armchair by the tree, Ginny on his lap. She looked at him expectantly.

"What?" he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Presents!"

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" he asked, glancing at his watch just as the floorboard creaked overhead.

"Let's see who that is," Harry said to his impatient girlfriend, grinning.

"If we must," she said, leaning back on his chest as he attempted (and failed) to plait her hair.

Sure enough, Ron and Hermione entered the room a few minutes later. Ginny and Harry hardly noticed them walk in, hand-in-hand, as Ginny was laughing so much at Harry's poor attempt at braiding.

Hermione's giggle brought them to their senses, and they looked up to see the couple already settled on the sofa, Hermione's head resting on Ron's chest.

"Morning," Ron said happily.

Harry and Hermione shared a glance. Since when was Ron so happy this morning?

He was sure they'd find out soon enough.

"Presents, now?" Ginny asked.

"No-one would ever know you're going to be nineteen on your next birthday," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"You're going to be twenty!" Ginny retorted, "Old man!"

"Oi," said Ron, "Twenty's not that old."

"Watch it," said Hermione, "Twenty isn't old in the slightest!"

Harry laughed as Ginny said, "no offense, Hermione."

"Oh, the joys of having a September birthday," she replied, smiling.

"Let's open the presents," Ron interrupted.

Ginny stared at him. "For once, dear brother, I agree with you."

"Why don't we hand out our presents one at a time?" Hermione suggested.

"Who's going first?" Harry asked.

The four Gryffindors looked at each other.

"I will," said Ron heroically, as if he were lifting a burden from the group.

Twenty minutes later, Harry had acquired a new book on Quidditch Manoeuvres from Hermione, a thin golden bracelet from Ginny, and a book titled 'Harry Potter and Friends' from Ron.

He groaned as he opened the package, and the other three burst into laughter.

"I thought you'd appreciate it," Ron said, receiving a pillow to the face from Harry. "Hey, it was bound to happen sooner or later, mate."

"A book about me?" Harry sighed, looking down at his own grinning face on the book cover.

"Actually," Hermione inputted, biting her lip to restrain her infectious smile, "It's likely there was a book about you before this..."

"But this is the first that we feature in too," Ginny finished, not bothering to contain her smirk.

"You were in on this too?" Harry asked, betrayed.

"Of course," she grinned. "I was in the kitchen when Ron and Hermione came back from Flourish and Blotts..."

"I tried to stop him..." Hermione interrupted.

"And you know that Ron can't keep his mouth shut for thirty seconds flat."

Ron's mouth opened in indignation.

"You know it's true," Hermione smirked at him.

He scowled. "Anyway," he said, grabbing the book off Harry, and flicking through it. "Me and 'Mione have four chapters each, Ginny has three..."

"Not to mention that we appear elsewhere too," Hermione said. "The Dumbledore's Army chapter, for instance."

"There's one each on Luna, Neville, My Family, Hagrid, Cho..."

Ginny made a face.

"They found out that you'd had umm... romantic ties with Cho," Hermione said, with an apologetic look to Ginny. Harry groaned again.

"... Seamus and Dean, The Gryffindor Quidditch Team..." Ron continued.

"I think he gets the idea," Hermione said, seemingly tied halfway between amusement and pity for her other best friend.

Ron grinned, and handed the book back to Harry.

"Merry Christmas," he said jollily.

"Git," Harry said back in a similar tone, but flashed a grin to his best mate nevertheless.

"Okay then," Harry said, shoving the book behind him, face down (it was unnerving seeing himself wink at Ginny), "My turn."

"Accio Ron and Hermione's presents!" he said, flicking his wand towards the tree.

"Lazy arse," Ginny commented.

He smirked, "You love me anyway," he said, as the presents zoomed towards them, and Harry caught them, his seeker reflexes coming into use.

She rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine why," she teased, brushing a few tendrils of red hair out of her eyes.

Harry was about to make a witty reply, but was interrupted with: "This is sweet and all, but I'd really like my present, Harry mate." Harry turned away from the culprit's sister, and chucked the sizable box at his best mate's head.

"Git," he repeated, as Ron fumbled the catch.

"You love me anyway, right?" Ron asked, smirking.

"Just shut up and open it," Harry replied, grinning despite himself.

Ron returned the grin and obliged, ripping the silver paper off the package carelessly.

"Woah, Harry... thanks!" he said, wrapping the vividly orange Chudley Cannons scarf around his neck.

"Don't mention it," Harry said, "Here, Hermione." He chucked the second silvery present at the frizzy-haired witch.

She caught it, seemed faintly surprised at her own hand-eye co-ordination, and slid her finger under the spellotape, so the package fell apart neatly.

"Ooh, thank you, Harry!" Hermione gushed, fingering the three hardbacks in admiration. "Elfin rebellions of the twentieth century, oh these are brilliant!"

Harry smiled as she rose from her chair to hug him.

"You're welcome."

Hermione returned to her seat, still grinning widely, and Harry retrieved the smallest box from his pocket and turned to Ginny.

"Merry Christmas," he said softly, and placed the box in her hands.

A flicker of a few different emotions crossed Ginny's face as she looked at the small box in her hands, and she began to unwrap it, tearing off the spellotape until the paper was gone, and only the small jewellery box was visible.

Harry recognised the excitement and uncertainty in Ginny's face as she opened the box. She hadn't guessed this one, he thought, satisfied.

"Oh, they're beautiful, Harry!" Ginny said; beaming at the small ruby earrings encased in gold. She immediately took them out of the box and put them on, where they sparkled in the early morning light.

Harry beamed, "I'm glad you like them."

"I do," Ginny said somewhat unnecessarily, "I really do."

"Good," Harry said, still smiling.

"Good," Ginny repeated, and leant down to kiss him, both of them forgetting about Ron and Hermione temporarily, until Ron cleared his throat, and Harry hastily pulled away.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were now standing in the doorway.

Mrs Weasley smiled indulgently at the pair entwined on the armchair.

"Merry Christmas, my dears," she greeted jollily.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs Weasley," Harry and Hermione responded at the same time as Ron and Ginny's: "Merry Christmas, Mum."

Mr Weasley smiled kindly at the four teenagers.

"Bill and Fleur, Percy, George should be over in half an hour," Arthur informed them. "So we'll open the rest of the presents then, okay?"

They nodded in assent.

"Charlie will be over this afternoon – he's flooing to the Ministry, and apparating here," Mrs Weasley added, "Oh, and Hermione, your parents said they'd be around at about two." Hermione smiled, and the two older Weasleys made their way to the kitchen, to make breakfast, no doubt.

Harry had never known such a hectic, but happy Christmas.

Even George, who had been understandably subdued at family gatherings as of late, was almost back to his old self. Harry didn't know whether it was time that had remedied his deep wounds, or perhaps the unexpected plus-one he'd brought round that morning.

Bill and a four-month pregnant Fleur had arrived shortly after breakfast, both beaming. Fleur could carry off pregnancy well; not that anyone had assumed she wouldn't. It may seem cliché, but the only word that Harry could find to describe the couple was 'glowing'. Not just Fleur, but Bill too.

Sometimes it was all too easy to miss the deep scars that decorated the man's flesh.

George arrived at the Burrow ten minutes later, accompanied by none other than Angelina Johnson.

"Angelina!" Harry had greeted.

"Hi, Harry," she smiled, looking at the ex-Quidditch Captain. "How've you been?"

"Good, good," he said, noting her and George's entwined hands. "You?"

She looked down at them too, and smiled, leaning into George's side seemingly subconsciously, "Great," she replied happily.

Harry didn't know when they had gotten together, and he didn't know how, but one thing was for sure: She was very good for him.

George spent the meal laughing and joking, just like his old self, and everyone was glad to see it.

Molly was glad to see her son almost back to normal, although Harry could see her leniency wavering when George nearly blew up the Christmas Pudding with his 'Incendo'.

"Honest mistake Mum," George had said, wide eyed but grinning. Molly glared in a way that Harry recognised from her daughter, and nodded at him warningly.

Needless to say, although George was getting back his streak for pranks, the unspoken warning from his mother was enough to keep him subdued for the rest of dinner, at least.

Just as Harry was finishing his pudding (and very good it was too – peach meringue), Ron slid from his seat beside him, and gestured for Harry to follow.

With a last mournful glance at the bowl he had to leave behind, he followed his best mate out of the door.

Ron was being very secretive, not uttering a word as he led Harry up to the landing on the second floor. There he stopped, looking a little frantic.

"What's up, mate?" Harry asked; a little concerned at Ron's intense expression.

"I... uh... the thing is, Harry..."

"You... uh... what?" Harry asked, amused. The last time he'd seen Ron this flustered was when Great Aunt Muriel had insulted the Chudley Cannons. That had been an interesting half hour.

Harry noticed the tips of Ron's ears had gone red, and took pity on his friend.

"What is it, Ron?" he asked patiently.

Ron suddenly stopped fidgeting, and his eyes took on an intense expression that he'd only ever seen once before; at Malfoy Manor, so long ago. "I want to marry her," Ron said, ignoring the way Harry's jaw dropped; "...I want to marry Hermione."