A/N: I'm so glad you guys are still reading this & liking it. I was totally afraid I had "jumped the shark" with the Snape/Vampire thing, but I'm so happy you actually thought it was funny! Haha. It was fun to write. Anyway, this chapter's a bit of a filler to get to the next one, but the next few will be chalked full of random awesome plot bunnies, I promise! And so the main point of this Author's Note…I know in the 5th book the Weasleys spend Christmas at St. Mungo's & not at the Burrow, but I'm going to just adopt the Christmas from Harry's 6th Year and use it for the purposes of this story. SO…hope that's okay. With that said, read & review! Hope you enjoy. Cheers!

21 December

5:30 P.M.

The Burrow

Me and Angelina's Room

Okay, thoughts book, I am definitely not feeling traditional Yuletide Bliss here. I know you're probably thinking, "Why should you? You're genetically programmed to find fault with everything!" Because that's what my Great-Aunt Elsa says. But she's a moron. And I entered the Burrow feeling positive. It's not my fault that Alicia practically lost her virginity on Platform 9 ¾ and Fred is forcing me to spend the night with George and Fleur freaking Delacour has made a sudden random reappearance in my life and that I basically assaulted Mrs. Weasley and…well, let me start at the beginning. It will be a laundry list of things that pissed me off today, leading to why you should feel bad for me instead of speculating about my mental health.

Okay. So it all started back on the train.

After I got done writing in you, George and I sort of reconciled because—well, it is the holidays after all—and with him being such a freakish cuddler, I could easily swap fifteen minutes of cuddling as part of an agreement for fifteen minutes of him letting up on the "Snape is a vampire" thing. Seriously, thoughts book, it was not that funny, but George was looking like Christmas had come early. Maybe it did—then I could keep the new Beater's Bible I bought him for myself. Heh heh heh…

But I digress. Alicia and Lee have fallen asleep on each other by this point, and Lee is drooling on Alicia's vintage pink scarf (funny how none of us thought it appropriate to wake her) and Fred and Ange have stopped sucking face long enough to enter into decent conversation, and Fred and George are telling us what to expect when we get to the Burrow. (As if Ange needs to know, she has their entire lineage memorized by now. Psh.) Then Fred comes up with what he deems a humble proposal.

He says: "So basically Mum is going to want to keep you and me in our room and will probably put Ange and Kates in Percy's old room across the hall. But me and Ange want to share a room so we can—ah, well you know—so how's about you and Kates bunking up, eh George-pie?"

I screech, "Absolutely not!" at the same time George says all nonchalantly, "Sure, whatever."

"George!" I yell so loud that Alicia and Lee snap awake. Alicia discovers the drool and leaves to the bathroom horrified while Lee immediately falls back asleep.

"Sorry," I mumble. "But really, George—really?? You promised not to do anything I didn't want to do if I agreed to come to your house over Holiday!"

George rolls his eyes. "That was before you went all Van Helsing and got yourself thrown out of the castle. You didn't have any choice but to come with me, did you? Your mum threw you out in the place of old Neville Longbottom."

I gasp. "Uncalled for!" I shriek.

"I agree," Fred says diplomatically. "George, apologize to your lovely young lady. It's not her fault her family is crap."

"Fred!"

"Sorry, Kates," George says without meaning it.

"I'll share a room with you. But I'm still not shagging you!" I declare.

George makes a face of disgust. "As if I'd shag you!" he says. "That's disgusting!"

Fred and Ange exchange looks and roll their eyes.

"What?" me and George say simultaneously in somewhat of a defensive manner.

"Nothing," Fred says, glossing it over. "So it's decided then? Half an hour after we all go to bed we make the switch, and no one in the house is any wiser."

"Fine," I say.

"Fine," George says. "As long as Katie agrees to brush her teeth."

I punch him.

A couple of hours later, we reach the platform and the most RANDOM thing in the world happens. The twins and Angelina and Lee and I are all dragging our trunks out of the luggage compartment when we hear Alicia shriek in this obnoxiously happy manner and so we all turn around to see what's going on, and who should be there but Oliver Wood. And they're, like, squeezing the hell out of one another like they're empty toothpaste tubes.

And then they start making out. Seriously.

Lee is like, "WHAT???" and then rubs his eyes like he's not sure it's really happening, but oh—it is. And it's disgusting.

We're all staring wide-eyed and then they take a pause to breathe. Alicia sees us and starts waving madly and is like, "See?! I told you guys it would happen! And you never believed me!"

Wood is just grinning like mad. And then they turn back to each other and do that sickening "look into each other's eyes" thing and Alicia's all, "I can't believe you're actually here!"

And Wood says, "How could I not be?? After all of those letters you sent! Did you get my postcard!?"

"Yes!" Alicia shouts. "And those guys didn't think it was actually from you! They told me it was mass-produced mail."

Wood looks over at us and just laughs. "You're a strange lot," he says.

We're just all gaping. No one says anything. I don't think anyone can.

"Of course it was for you, my little Spinny-poo," Wood says, tickling Alicia under the chin. She giggles and they start snogging again. She takes a five second break to wish us a happy holiday and then resumes.

We all look at each other. "Well, I'll see you lot later then," Lee says finally, breaking the silence. And then he rushes off to his family who is standing in a random part of the platform.

Great, Lee. Way to avoid the game of awkward turtle.

But it doesn't matter because all of a sudden Angelina decides to have a panic attack and is freaking out about meeting Mrs. Weasley. Fred is trying to console her.

"Ange, she doesn't have fangs," he says. "She's not Snape!"

"No one is ever going to let that go, are you?" I drawl, not amused.

Fred grins and apologizes and goes back to comforting Ange, leading her through the barrier to King's Cross.

"Come on Kates," George says cheerily. "You don't have to listen to that git…we can race luggage carts!"

"You're on!" I shout, and we rush to throw our things in the closest trolley.

George and I have been racing the trolley carts since we were First Years. I always win.

I bewitch my trunk to be as light as a feather, and tossed it into a trolley I swiped from Neville Longbottom. Little sucker.

I get a running start and then leap into the cart, heading straight for the divider between the platform and the rest of King's Cross. George is close behind me, but he'll never make it. Ange and Fred have already disappeared beyond the barrier. I lean out of the cart as I rush toward the brick wall, yelling at Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger who are having some kind of row outside the divider.

"Bugger off!" I yell, nearly crashing into them as I go hurtling straight through the brick wall. George flies after me, causing little Ron to yell obscenities after us. Tosser.

Usually, I stop in time to avoid hitting anyone. This time, I didn't.

As soon as I sailed through the brick divider, I crashed straight into this round red-headed woman Angelina was just shaking hands with. She screamed and went flying backward as I smacked into her and my trolley cart toppled over, and I went rolling out. George soon appeared behind me, crashing into me and causing both of our carts to land on top of the woman. Fred is laughing so hard I don't think he can breathe, Angelina looks absolutely horrified, and somewhere, Colin Creepy yet again snaps a photo.

"Oh go on fucking Holiday already, you wanker!" I shout at him as I stand up and rub my arse.

George gets up and goes over to offer a hand to the woman I knocked over, whose skirt has blown up over her face. He pulls her up and as soon as her face is uncovered, I instantly know that she is Mrs. Weasley.

"Er, Mum," George says uncertainly. "This is Katie. Katie, this is my mum."

"Oh fucking hell," I say horrified, my mouth dropping open. George and what looks like the rest of the Weasley family are absolutely silent. From over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, I see Angelina's eyes practically busting out of her head at me. Fred only laughs harder. Git.

Mrs. Weasley raises her eyebrows, obviously trying to restrain herself, and finally says, "Well, George did say you were quite spirited."

"Mrs. Weasley, I am so sorry," Angelina bursts out with, sliding in between me and the woman I nearly killed. "Katie—er—can't control her mouth. It's a disease, and she lets George talk her into stupid things a lot."

Here, she gives George a look and George cowers beneath it. I scowl. I do not appreciate being labeled as having a medical condition pertaining to controlling my mouth. My temper, maybe, but I am always in control of my tongue. I open my mouth to protest, but Fred recovers himself enough to cover it for me.

Mrs. Weasley seems to accept this and offers me her hand. "I'm Molly," she says. "George has told me so much about you."

"Really?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow. I look over at George who blushes and suddenly looks intensely interested in a far off train. It's kind of endearing, in a way.

"Of course!" she answers. "But I won't embarrass him—he did tell me about your interest in vampire hunting, though! Are you interested in being an Auror, then?"

I glare at George, but say nothing.

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "And your Patronus! Did you know my husband's Aunt Muriel produces a bunny as a Patronus as well??"

I look even more incredulously as George who disappears in between Fred and what appears to be another of his brothers.

"Muriel!" Angelina cries suddenly. "She was the daughter of Octavius Weasley, wasn't she? The inventor of the Foot-Tickling Charm?"

"That's right," Mrs. Weasley answers, seeming remarkably pleased. She and Ange start to prattle away, and I roll my eyes and go off in search of George as all of us proceed to a Ministry Car Mr. Weasley is supposed to be parked in.

"I can't believe you told your family about my Patronus!" I screech as soon as I reach him.

"Er, sorry, Kates," George says guiltily.

"Hey," says the older looking red-head next to him. He has a few scorch marks on his face and a scar on his left arm. "You're the girl that hung Draco Malfoy from the goal hoops by his shoelaces, aren't you?"

"Do you say anything flattering about me?" I explode. George shrinks from my anger.

"It's okay," the brother goes on. "I thought that was pretty bloody fantastic."

I grin broadly. "I like you," I state. "Who are you?"

"Katie, this is my brother Charlie," George mumbles. "Charlie, Katie."

"George writes home a lot of good stories about you," Charlie informs me. "He never shuts up about you."

Again, George blushes. I just grin.

Miraculously, all of us manage to fit into one tiny Ministry Car. Granted, it does expand a bit once you get inside it, but still—there were ten of us. Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Fred, George, Ange, me, Ron, Ginny, and Harry Potter. Predictably, Harry and Ron speak to no one but themselves. They're such loners. If Harry hadn't somehow survived You-Know-Who's Killing Curse, there is no way he'd be half as popular as he is now. He and Ron are so dull. Like I would rather watch flobberworms while listening to Binns lecture than hang out with either of them.

But I digress.

Mr. Weasley seems a nice enough bloke, just totally run over by his wife. When George introduces me, though, he says, "Oh! You're the girl who set that nice Ravenclaw's skirt on fire, aren't you?"

I put my hand on George's knee while smiling obsequiously, and then dig my nails into his knee. He whimpers.

OKAY. So now we're at the Burrow. It's this tiny little house in the middle of Nowhere, St. Catchpole and it has like five million stories that disappear into the sky and it looks like if I touch it, it will all come crashing down. I wonder how it's managed to survive with Fred and George living here all their lives.

We all rush into the house because it's snowing like mad, and just as the twins predicted, Mrs. Weasley shows us into Percy Weasley's old room.

"It looks like Percy," Ange says, disgusted, once she left us to—quote, "freshen up."

It does. Everything is in immaculate order, and there's like five million little trophies and plaques around the room. His bookshelf is full of really boring old textbooks and Ministry directories. I'm positive if we look inside any of them, we'll find some porno magazines. It's Percy Weasley.

The only pictures in the room are framed ones of he and Dumbledore, he and Fudge, and he and Barty Crouch. The bedspread is tucked in on all four corners, and there is a pull-out trundle bed that is just as neat.

"Wonder how many wanks he's had in that," I say casually.

"Katie!" Ange groans. I shrug.

We change out of our snowy clothes into sweaters and go down into the living room. When we get down there, we meet (how the hell did he end up here?) Professor Lupin and yet another red-headed bloke. The twins are sitting on a long couch and beckon us over.

"Angelina, Katie," Fred says, "This is our brother Bill."

Bill is taller than Charlie, but still shorter than the twins. (Of course. No one is as freakishly tall as Fred and George are.) He looks normal, though, thank Godric—I was kind of expecting another Percy with the way that Fred and George have talked about him before. He says hi to Ange and then looks as me curiously.

"Are you the girl that vanished Roger Davies's trousers in Transfiguration?" he asks.

"Oh sweet Godric!" I shout, collapsing into the couch.

"Miss Johnson, Miss Bell," Professor Lupin says politely as Mrs. Weasley comes out of what looks like the kitchen with tea. (What a classic female mother figure, right?!? God.)

"Oh!" she says. "I forgot, you would know these girls, wouldn't you, Remus? Professor Lupin is staying with us for the Holiday, too," She adds, looking at us.

Of course he is. If there was a Professor who seemed like he could be more of a wash-out than Snape, it was Lupin. He would be an adopted Weasley.

"Yes," he says. "Miss Johnson was one of our top students. And Miss Bell—you were the student whose Boggart turned into a moth, were you not?"

The entire living room bursts into laughter and I scowl. Ange gets to be the top student, and I'm remembered as the one who has an irrational aversion to moths. Great.

Just while I'm feeling that there is no chance in hell that I'm staying here another second, that half-veela princess Fleur Delacour bursts out of the kitchen. I scream.

No really, I screamed.

"What is SHE doing here?" I gasp.

Fleur stares at me. "You are ze girl 'oo tried to cut off my hair during ze Potions class, are you not?"

I escaped up to me and Ange's room before dinner. This is going to be one long Holiday from Hell.

XxX