CHAPTER ONE
Christmas at the Burrow
December 25, 1988
Upon gazing at the Burrow, one would assume that it was a rather plain residence; to put it bluntly, not much to look at. And though it was filled with the bustling feet of children and not the most elaborate in taste, it was cozy and warm and radiated a pleasantness of knowing that you were welcome and would be welcomed wholeheartedly.
Anita Martin and her parents William and Marianne knew this to be true, for this would be their fifth Christmas at the Burrow. They were always well received the moment they stepped over the hearth of the Weasley's fireplace. Molly Weasley would hug them tightly and peck little Anita on the cheek. Her husband Arthur would clap his old friend on the shoulder and ask him about his health. Their coats would be shed and placed on hooks in a quick and neat fashion and the adults would retire to the living room with glasses of warm wassail while the children would run about, sneaking treats from platters and laughing as they dashed about.
This Christmas was no different and all happened with complete serendipity from both parties. Anita was immediately met with the sweet smells of cranberry sauce and turkey and Mrs. Weasley's Christmas pudding and gingerbread. Her own mum had brought her famous fruitcake; famous for it was actually quite tasty and one that wouldn't be tossed out by those who were gifted it.
As Mrs. Weasley took her coat, Arthur came over and handed a glass of wassail, steam ebbing into the air still, to her father.
"How are you, William? Well, I hope?"
"About as well as I can be." William took the glass and sipped at it, grinning. "Ah, that hits the spot. Molly, I don't know how you do it, but I swear this gets better and better every year."
"Oh, you. Help yourself; there's plenty. Fred, George! Ron, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley leaned over and called up the stairs. "Anita is here!"
One by one, her children came scrambling down, save for the youngest, Ginny who popped over the banister only to declare that she wasn't ready, her red hair half up and half down in what was supposed to be an attempt at pigtails.
Ron appeared first, his red hair stuck up. He made a beeline for Anita, but his mother stopped him and began patting down his hair and dabbing at his cheek with a handkerchief she'd pulled from her cardigan. "Ronald, how does your face get so dirty? I thought you said you washed?"
"Ow, Mum, that hurts!" Ron wriggled away from Molly, rubbing at one of his cheeks that were now as crimson as his hair.
"Now, don't you look handsome." Marianne Martin kneeled down in front of Ron as she brushed a loose strand of her ebony hair behind her ear. "Have you gotten taller?"
Ron bashfully looked away as he spoke. "Dad says I have. A whole two inches."
"Well, my goodness! Soon you'll be as tall as him, won't you?"
Ron nodded.
"You know, a little birdie told me that you had something very special for Anita."
A faint blush crept up Ron's neck. In a sheepish manner he held out a small unwrapped box to his friend.
After opening the lid, Anita found a deck of cards. "Exploding Snap?"
"Do you like 'em? Charlie has been teaching me and Fred how to play."
"They're wicked cool!" Anita replied, smiling broadly. "Maybe Charlie can play a game with us." She then turned quickly and reached into the beaded reticule she had brought with her. "I got something for you too."
Anita handed Ron a bag. "It's a new set. I hope you like them."
Ron's eyes widened and he exclaimed rather gleefully: "Mum, Mum, look! Anita got me a new gobstone set!" He held the bag up at her then, rather abruptly, spun around back to Anita. "You're the best!"
"I thought I was the best?"
Bill came up behind his little brother and tousled his hair, much to the chagrin of their mother. He smiled at Anita. "Hello there, Anita. How are you?"
She shrugged. "I'm alright."
"Bill, she got me new gobstones! Look, look!" Ron excitedly shown the bag to Bill, who took it and examined the gobstones, picking one out and turning it around between his thumb and forefinger.
"That is a rather nice set," he replied with a grin. "Perhaps you can see if Fred or George will play a few matches with you, eh?"
Bill caught the eyes of the twins as they tried sneaking up the stairs, cheeks full of pastries and more stuffed in their pockets. Their eyes darted to one another.
"Of course, yeah," Fred said, trying to chew as he spoke.
"We would be delighted to." George chimed in.
Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed. "Fred, George. Are those-"
"Mum, these are excellent cookies-"
"Exemplary-"
"And we couldn't be happier to sample them and announce that they are, in fact, better than ever."
"Well done, Mum."
Then, with a quick wave of hello to Anita, they scurried up the stairs taking the appendages off of the gingerbread men they had fished from their pockets.
Immediately, Ron took off to the stairs after them almost tripping as he ran up. "Fred, George wait up! You won't believe what Anita got me!"
Her parents and the Weasleys shook their heads and laughed.
"That reminds me," Mrs. Weasley said. "Anita, dear, did you like your gift? I hope it fit."
Anita remembered the package she had opened earlier that day. It had been a sweater, fuzzy and soft with a white "A" emblazoned upon an robin egg blue background. Her mother and father had received theirs as well, cyan and crimson red respectively.
"It did Mrs. Weasley. It was perfectly splendid. Thank you."
Mrs. Weasley beamed at the comment and Mr. Weasley suggested they all retire into the dining area. Anita then went upstairs herself, where she found Percy in his room reading a rather thick, boring looking book (he had been reading a lot of those lately since he had started going to Hogwarts; Anita thought it best to leave his gift, which was a new case for his glasses, just outside his door so as not to disturb him) and Ron was already deep in a match of gobstones in the twins' room with Fred while George judged both of their moves from the sidelines.
Anita watched and laughed with them as Ron was sprayed twice, Fred once. They stopped long enough for Anita to give Fred his gift: Shampoo that would turn the user's hair a plethora of rainbow colors with the side effect of feeling like they had lice.
"You think Dad or Mum would like it?" He wondered out loud.
"How about you Ronnykins?" George asked, grinning at his little brother. "I think you'd look rather fetching with a head of rainbow hair."
"Me? If anyone needs a 'fetching head of rainbow hair' it's you," came the reply as he pointed at Fred. "In fact, I bet you all of my allowance you won't do it. Either of you."
"Is that a challenge, Ronnykins?" Fred examined the bottle, stroking his chin as he did so. He then held it up to George. "What do you think George? Will it be worth our brother's measly sum of allowance?"
George began to stroke his chin as well as he read the label. "I could do with a couple of days of rainbow hair. Says here the side effects are only temporary for the first two hours, anyways."
"Brilliant!"
The two of them high-fived as Ron groaned.
Ginny suddenly came prancing into the room, a big grin on her face. "Anita, I found you!" She looked at the spectacle before her. "What's the matter with Ron?"
"We, dear sister," replied Fred rather giddy himself, "have just inherited wittle Ronnykins' immense fortune of knuts-"
"And one sickle," Ron muttered begrudgingly.
"And one sickle!"
Ginny shook her head. "Ron, you should know better than to make a bet with them. Honestly." She then grabbed Anita's arm. "Anyways, I just came here to fetch Anita. Play nice, you three."
The twins feigned a look of shock. "Us? But we're always nice, aren't we Fred?"
"That we are George."
Ginny rolled her eyes as she led Anita through the door and down a small set of stairs to her room. With a flourish, the youngest Weasley presented Anita with a drawing of two girl stick figures throwing snowballs at one another and smiling. Written in large, blocky letters were the words "Anita" and "Ginny" and "The Best of Friends"; Anita kindly returned the gesture with a red and gold jumper, which was received with a squeal of delight.
It wasn't long until the two of them were enraptured, rather suddenly on the discussion of the future, particularly on the subject of the houses they could be sorted into when they went to Hogwarts.
"I'm going to be in Gryffindor," Ginny said rather proudly as she plopped down on her bed. "Just like Mum and Dad." She pulled a hidden licorice wand from under her pillow and tore it in half, handing a piece to Anita as she sat down next to her. "What about you?" she asked.
Anita shrugged as she bit of a piece of the candy. "I don't know. I know Dad wants me to be in Gryffindor, but Mum hasn't really said much about it."
"What house was she in again?"
"Hufflepuff." Anita said.
"Isn't that the one with the badger?" Ginny asked as she chewed at the licorice.
"Yep."
"Hm." The young Weasley pursed her lips for a moment. Then: "I don't think you'll get into Hufflepuff."
"Oh?" Anita turned to Ginny in surprise. "Why's that?"
"Don't know. Just a hunch."
Anita smirked and threw an arm over Ginny's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. "You know, I think you'll make a pretty great Gryffindor."
Ginny smiled. "Thanks, Anita."
Just then, Mrs. Weasley's voice came up the stairs, announcing it to be dinner time. It didn't take long for the trampling of feet to sound and soon everyone was gathered around the Weasley table. A plump turkey, golden and crisp, sat amongst buttery mashed and roasted potatoes, gravy, Yorkshire puddings, Brussels sprouts with bacon, stuffing, pigs in blankets, sweet peas, and cranberry sauce. The Christmas puddings remained in the kitchen, the creamy spiced custard sauce warming on the stove.
After thanks was given and Mr. Weasley carved the turkey, food was passed to and fro along the table as everyone filled their plates. Laughter and conversation permeated the house rather instantaneously; Mr. Weasley and Mr. Martin talked of the Ministry (business talk, as Anita's mother put it), and their wives talked about the children and gossip from the latest issue of "Witch Weekly", and Anita was sure she heard the two of them trading recipes for treacle tart.
By the time the Christmas puddings had been devoured and the plates had been licked clean (Ron had waited until his mother looked away to do so), the clock was nearing ten and a sound yawn was emitted from Ginny.
"Right. Off to bed with you two," Mr. Weasley said, motioning to Ron and his sister. "Charlie, Bill, would you mind helping your mother clear the table?" He leaned over to his wife and pecked her on the cheek. "It was a lovely meal, Molly."
A faint color bloomed in her face. "Oh, Arthur. You say that every year."
"And every year I mean it. Percy," he said, catching his son as he was handing off his plate to Bill, "make sure your brother and sister brush their teeth before bed. Don't think I didn't see you two plucking at your mother's gingerbread earlier."
"Aw, Dad…" Ron groaned as Percy trailed behind him. "I only had three."
Arthur laughed and shook his head. "All the more reason to make sure you brush your teeth tonight. Don't forget to say goodbye to the Martins, you two."
Farewells were exchanged between the parties, Ginny's more of a mumble as a full belly was making her more tired than she thought, and she and Ron disappeared along with Percy up to their rooms.
The Martins chatted amongst one another as the eldest Weasleys and Anita helped Mrs. Weasley with the dishes and the leftovers were promptly put away. Mrs. Weasley set a charm on her dishes as soon as they were gathered and they began to clean themselves as the two families gathered in the living room.
They were saying their goodbyes and having their last minute conversations when Anita felt a tug on her sleeve. When she turned, she found George motioning to her to follow him as he began walking towards the staircase. Giving a quick glance to her parents and everyone else (who seemed to be wholly engaged with one another), she darted up the stairs after George.
When they reached the landing of the first floor, George told her to stay put and she watched as he raced up the next flight of stairs. He was gone only for a moment before he came flying down, almost crashing into her from excitement.
He thrust a teddy bear, complete with a bright red bow around its neck, into her arms. "Merry Christmas, Anita."
Anita lifted up the teddy, examining it. Its downy was a color that reminded her of a perfectly roasted marshmallow- warm and golden. Its small eyes stared up at her and, though it had no mouth, it radiated happiness and affection.
"Oh, George!" She exclaimed, breaking into a huge grin. "This is wonderful."
"It gets even better," George said. "Go on. Give it a sniff."
Anita stared at him then for a moment before bringing the toy to her nose and inhaling. She was immediately greeted with the pleasant aroma of lavender and honey.
George chuckled at her expression. "I knew you'd like it. Plus," he went on, "the chap I bought it from said it was enchanted to help keep away nightmares." He put his hands in his pockets rather casually and rocked back on his heels. "I just figured, you know, since you haven't been sleeping well-"
Before he could finish, Anita flung her arms around his waist, nearly toppling him over in her excitement. "George, I love it!"
At first, George didn't quite know what to do. He was still in that tender age where one treaded the fine line of thinking girls were still cootie-infested and thinking they were cute to look at. And though Anita had hugged him plenty of times before this (they had, after all, been good friends since she knew how to walk), he had always responded the same way with a hasty wise-crack, never really reciprocating her affections.
Should he do that now? He felt torn for a moment, but decided that choosing both was better than nothing.
So he gently put his arms around her as best as he could and said quite lightheartedly: "Is this my Christmas gift, then?"
Anita pulled away, rolling her eyes. "Do you actually want it or not?"
"You mean the hug wasn't my gift? Anita, you're spoiling me."
Anita shook her head as she shoved her arm deep within her reticule. After a moment of moving a few things around, she promptly retrieved a rectangular shaped parcel adorned in shiny silver wrapping paper.
"Merry Christmas, George."
George took the gift and began tearing back the wrapping. He didn't really know what to expect with Anita, but the last thing he did expect was-
"A book?"
The cover was emblazoned with blocky gold letters on a solid black cover while ornate vines lined the four corners in perfect angles. Two bats sat below the words, forming a sort of 'x' shape. When George read the title, he looked up at Anita, back at the book, and then back at her.
"The Beater's Bible?"
"I…I know you won't be able to play your first year, but I thought this could help with tryouts." Her violet eyes widened. "Not that you aren't a good flyer," she said rather quickly. "It's just-"
"Anita, this is bloody awesome. You're bloody awesome." Then, without much thought, he hugged her. "Thank you." He said.
"You-You're welcome."
For a moment, the two of them stood like that, George hugging her while her arms trapped by her sides. He was warm, Anita noticed, and smelled of the Burrow, of wood smoke and spicy cloves.
"Anita!"
Her ears perked at her mother's voice.
"Anita, darling, come along! It's time to go!"
George stepped away, then. His cheeks had turned slightly pink. He cleared his throat as he held up the book. "Um, thanks again. I'll uh…I'll see you soon?"
"Yeah," Anita replied, nodding slightly. "Yeah, of course. Right." With a quick wave, Anita then made her way down the stairs to her parents who were saying their final goodbyes to Molly and Arthur. Mrs. Weasley gave her another little peck on the cheek and she, Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie, waved as the green flames engulfed Anita and her parents.
Another Christmas at the Burrow had come and gone for the Weasleys and the Martins. And as Anita settled into bed, tucked in and full from dinner and the small glass of warm milk and honey and cinnamon from her mother, she smiled to herself and looked up at the painted stars dancing on her ceiling overhead.
A shooting star passed in front of her. Quietly, Anita whispered a wish into the dark and wrapped her arms around the bear George had given her. Lavender washed over her in sweet, gentle waves. While the sounds of tranquil snowfall and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace lulled her further into sleep, she hoped with all her heart that things would remain this way always.