Christmas with the Weasleys

It was 9 in the morning when the familiar *pop* of Apparition broke the silence of the small flat. Hermione peeke an eye open against the sunlight that filtered through the gauzy blue curtains. She listened as George moved about his room, likely changing into clothes suitable for greeting a new day.

"Hey, lovebirds," George's voice came wafting through from the room on the other side of the wall, "We told mum that we would go in early to help clean a bit. So get your lazy bones up."

Fred groaned and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. His hair tickled her neck and she moved to get up. Fred looked up at her with puppy dog eyes, urging her not to get up. When she continued to move out of his reach, his features became etched with betrayal at her eagerness to leave the warm comfort of the bed's embrace.

"Time to wake up and face the music," she told him. He groaned again and pulled the covers over his face. She shook her head and reached absently for her wand on the bedside table. Twisting her unruly curls into a knot on top of her head, she used the wand to hold her hair up and out of her way until she was ready to deal with it.

Hermione pulled open her trunk and hummed "Yuletide Wishes" while she decided on what to wear. The chill in the air lead her to choose a warm, soft red sweater and a heavy corduroy skirt. Brown and red argyle knee socks would complete her warm and cheerful outfit, along with a scarf her mother had bought her for Christmas which featured red and white stars on a shiny gold fabric. By the time she was pulling on the scarf, she was softly singing the chorus of the song.

"You don't sing nearly enough," Fred told her. She turned to see him sitting up and watching her. His eyes were still puffy with want of sleep, and his orange-red hair stuck up at all odd angles.

"For good reason, I promise," she replied.

"I don't think so. You sound nice," he told her pointedly, dragging himself out of bed. Stumbling over to her, he planted a kiss on her forehead before walking off with a mumble about showering. A subtle adjustment of his boxers helped her to the logical conclusion, and she found herself thinking guiltily of the previous night. She hadn't returned his attentions in equal measure the previous night. With a smile, she thought how she'd have to make it up to him next time.

She sighed deeply, her smile retreating as her thoughts turned back to getting ready. Finally, it was time to take care of the rat's nest that was her hair. She took it down from the quick, messy knot. The thought of tearing through her hair with a comb made her eyes water. Just this once, she reasoned, a bit of magic could be alright. She waved her wand and said the incantation she had heard girls like Lavender and Parvati use regularly to tame their morning bed head. Running her fingers through her hair, she could feel that all the tangles were gone. Her hair had a slight wave to it, rather than being absurdly curly.

"Uh, Hermione…?" Fred's voice came soft and unsure from behind her. She turned to see him standing stock still, his towel still wrapped firmly around his waist. He had obviously returned to grab his clothes, but something had stopped him.

"What's wrong, Fred?"

Fred pointed at her, and he couldn't keep his lips from curling upward into a cat-like grin. When she quirked her head like a confused puppy, he tugged at a strand of his own still-wet hair.

"Oh, I just straightened it. Is it bad?" She could feel regret growing in the pit of her stomach.

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. "Hermione, where is your wand?" His grin grew even wider.

She held up her right hand, and for the first time she really looked at the wand she was holding. It was the same color as her wand, but the length and design were all wrong. As she contemplated it, she realized it wasn't weighty enough, and it looked painted and false. Hermione squeaked and dropped the trick wand as though it had burned her. She turned toward Fred's mirror and gasped in horror. Her dark chestnut hair was an unrecognizable pale golden blonde. It reminded her of Fleur's sister, Gabrielle. Or worse, of Malfoy. She looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Fix it! Fix it right now, Fred Weasley!" She demanded, whirling on her laughing boyfriend.

Fred, much to his own discredit, could not stop laughing even to tell her it was out of his control.

"Out of your control?" Her voice was level, almost quiet, "What do you mean? You invented them, didn't you?"

"Yes...but, the joke can't be undone. It will reverse after six hours...but no sooner," Fred had to catch his breath between bouts of laughter as he finally managed to explain, "Unless you go to St. Mungo's, but it's hardly worth all that."

"Six hours? What if someone did something painful?" she cried, sitting on the bed with a defeated huff.

"They really can't. Those wands only do cosmetic tricks precisely because they're long-lasting," he explained. He grabbed some boxers from the drawer below his mirror as he spoke and began to dress himself as she sputtered.

"Why did you leave it in here?" she asked, her eye dark with keen suspicion.

"We tested a batch before Christmas, in time for holiday orders. I must've forgotten it was in here," he told her, though he pointedly did not make eye contact with her.

"No way to reverse it?"

"Not a thing to be done, I'm afraid."

"Great. Really, just wonderful…"

"It's not so bad. Just takes getting used to."

She shot him a look that made him glad he had already put his pants on. Smartly, he continued to get ready in relative silence. Hermione pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, torn between thoughts of revenge against Fred and how much this mishap was going to add to an already stressful day.

"Let's go, guys. We don't want mm to be mad at us," George's voice called from the hall.

Hermione's face was set in grim determination when she and Fred came down to the kitchen. George took in the sight of her, but he chose not to comment. As Fred took hold of her hand and they all spun into apparition, she could have sworn she heard them both laughing.

Ginny could not catch her breath she was laughing so much. She had been lucky enough to be in the living room when the twins and Hermione had arrived. So, she had witnessed the comedy gold first hand.

Molly Weasley had looked like a cat who bit a lemon, sour and disdainful. She had tried so hard to compliment Hermione on the change. The relief in her face when Hermione told her it was the unfortunate result of a joke had sent Ginny into such peals of laughter that she'd had to run upstairs. Hermione, red faced with embarrassment, followed after her.

"Ginny, please…" Hermione said after some time, and the girl tried to reign in hr mirth. She managed to quiet herself to the occasional giggle.

"At least mum was so distracted by your hair that she didn't make a fuss about you guys dating," Ginny pointed out.

"There will be plenty of time for that, I'm sure," Hermione told her, sitting at the window seat. She could see George and Harry bringing chairs up from the shed, trudging through the snow that had built up on the garden path. Fred was dragging something up from the garden that looked small but heavy. Charlie was walking up the path to the kitchen door, carrying several parcels wrapped in brown paper. Mrs. Weasley ran out to meet him, engulfing him in a loving hug. The scene had a calming effect on Hermione for a moment, before her brain interjected her worry.

"Where's Ron?"

"Peeling potatoes, I think. He was being sulky earlier, and mum got a bit mad at him, so she set him up in the kitchen. Harry was with him for a bit, but they've been a bit snippy with each other," Ginny explained. Hermione didn't have to ask about the source of their tempers.

Snippets of conversation floated up from below, then suddenly she could hear Ron's voice as clear as day.

"Why is she here? I didn't bring Lavender. George didn't bring Angelina. Ginny didn't bring her flavor of the month," he spat harshly. Hermione could hear Ginny make a small growl from where the girl sat on her bed. They both drew closer to the door so they could hear how this conversation would shake out.

"Ronald Weasley, I do not appreciate your tone or your temper. Hermione has spent Christmas with us before, anyway. She is not here as a girlfriend anymore than Harry is here as somebody's boyfriend. They are friends. They are practically family," Mrs Weasley huffed in reply. They heard another low voice make a comment. Hermione figured it was probably Charlie.

"I don't know. They kept it a secret," came Ron's reply.

"Well off course you deed," Fleur said lightly, startling the two girls. "Eef this ees 'ow 'e reacts," she stepped into the room, leaving the door ajar to listen. Hermione felt a strange rush of affection for the French woman, and found herself wondering if this wa how she felt about the talk over her and Bill. Did Fleur often lurk at stairwells to hear if people were talking about her? Did she often feel the black hole of guilt and sickness that now settled heavily in Hermione's stomach?

Charlie's low rumble didn't quite make it to the room once more, but Hermione could guess what was said by Ron's response.

"I'm not! I have Lavender. I just think my own brother should have the decency to be honest with me! And her, supposed to be one of my best friends."

It was George's voice that wafted up the stairs next,"That is funny, considering how often you talk about her like she's already your girlfriend. Except you never bothered to ask her."

"What are you talking about? I don't do anything. I didn't do anything! And what, are you gal pals now? Chatting and doing each others' nails?" Ron's voice rose, and Hermione could picture his face growing cherry red.

"Don't do this, Ron. Don't play the victim. You know damn well why they -"

"George, language!" Mrs Weasley interjected.

"- why they didn't tell you! Because you act like you've been robbed. Betrayed, even. She can still be your friend, but you've no right to claim her as anything more. You missed your chance. Sorry." There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Ron!" and something hit the table. Ron yelped, then silence fell on them once more.

"I told you before, brother, that if your hands couldn't remain polite we'd fix 'em for you," Fred's was devoid of its normal cheer.

"Guess we'll peel the rest of the potatoes for you mum," George said, his voice now barely audible, as though he were moving toward the kitchen.

Footsteps fell heavily on the stairs, and Ron paused in the doorway. His right arm was held tightly to his chest, his hand balled in a fist he could not relax.

"Happy, are you? I'm not jealous or any crap like that, by the way. Just tell me the truth. Act like a friend, Hermione," Ron snapped.

"Sod off! Are you really going to tell me how to be a good friend?" Hermione felt her control slipping from her as she stepped toward the door. "You were being a toad when you thought someone was just flirting with me. Someone who wasn't your brother."

"You're ridiculous," he sputtered unconvincingly.

"Right. I'm always ridiculous and you are never wrong. Which is why it always comes to this. I am sick of it Ronald. Just sick of it…" She tried to steady her voice. Her face was heating up, and she suspected if she wiped her eyes, she would find them damp.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, then he paused and really looked at her The wind no longer in his sails, she saw his lips twitch, almost smiling.

"Trying a new look, Hermione? Trying to be more feminine?" Ron asked.

"Oh yeah, I hear it's the latest fashion. And you know I'm always chasing what's popular," she spat back acidly.

"You look stupid," he told her, his face returning to a dark scowl.

"You look stupid!" she pointed towards his arm.

Turning on his heel, he stormed up the stairs to his room in the attic. Hermione stood, stunned, in the doorway of the room she shared with Ginny and Fleur. She could feel tears running down her face.

"Ron will calm down, Hermione. He just takes longer than most," Ginny told her reassuringly. She and Fleur hugged Hermione, allowing her to cry out her frustrations.

Dinner was an exercise is careful avoidance. Hermione stayed near Ginny, trying not to give Ron more reasons to glare at her. Though her hair was finally back to normal, Ron gave a fake hair flip and laughed, talking to Harry. Harry shook his head and shot her an apologetic look. For a moment, Hermione felt like she was a vulnerable first year again, with those two boys as her bullies instead of her friends. She quickly cleared away the cloud that was trying to settle in her chest.

Fred and George sat by their father, on the other side of Ginny, catching up with the Weasley patriarch and Remus who had joined them for dinner. She could hear them talking about the recent troubles near Diagon Alley.

"At least it wasn't Greyback. He's been up with the Northern pack, causing trouble with them," Remus said quietly.

"Dead isn't better than anything, Remus," Mr. Weasley argued. Fred nodded, and George played with his napkin nervously.

"Arthur, you can't possibly understand how foolish that sounds," Remus told him, his face one of ageless wisdom.

"What about your friends? What about T-" Arthur was cut off mid-word as Remus held up a weary hand.

"We aren't talking about me, Arthur. I am just saying a spell is a lot less painful than what Greyback does. Whether someone is left dead or alive," Remus told him pointedly. Several others had started to pay attention to their conversation, and Arthur took the hint to steer talk in a new direction. He turned to ask the boys how the business was doing.

Hermione turned her attention to Mrs. Weasley, who was talking to Bill and Charlie. It was a transparent attempt to keep Bill distracted from Fleur, but the French girl sat with a quiet patience, and Bill held her pale hand the entire time. Ron was talking to her non-stop, and Fleur conveyed polite disinterest. Harry focused on eating, and it looked as though his thoughts were in a world as far from this one as they could be.

"You both have been so busy at work. I was sure you wouldn't even make it, Charlie! I am so glad you're here. How do you boys find the time for anything these days?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice overcoming Hermione's contemplation of her best friend.

"Same as Dad, I guess," Bill confessed, and glanced at Fleur with a smile, "We must make the most of the time we have."

Charlie nodded as he chimed in, "And I like my job. My co-workers are like family, so it never feels like work." Their conversation continued on like this for some time, and Hermione's thoughts drifted off under the influence of the warm and heavy food.

Ginny and Hermione were playing a game of Exploding Snap with Fred and George, when a knock at the door interrupted the relatively serene evening setting. Mrs. Weasley left her cozy spot near her husband, her singing turned to humming, and went to answer the door.

"Percy!" She gasped, stepping back to let her son enter the house. He was followed by a tall, imposing, lion-like figure.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Percy said after a painfully awkward silence. He stood stiffly as Molly threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

Scrimgeour stood in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling at the reunion of mother and son.

"Please forgive the intrusion," The Minister said when Molly turned to look at him. She tried to preen herself, to look more put together. "Percy and I were in the vicinity - working, you know- and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

Percy looked like this was quite the farthest thing from what he wanted. He made no movement to greet anyone, and in fact was going to great lengths to avoid everyone's gaze. Fred and George set down their cards and stared at Percy. Mr. Weasley's face was tight, and the muscle in his temple stood out as he clenched his jaw.

"Please join us Minister, Percy. We were just enjoying some dessert and family time. Or, if you want, I can put together plates-"

"No, no, my dear Molly," Scrimgeour said. "We are only staying for a few moments. I'll just take a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. This young man can show me around your lovely garden."

"Hermione shared a look with Harry. This was the truth in the visit. Percy was merely a smoke screen for a chat with Harry.

"Yeah, all right," Harry said after a moment. Lupin and Mr. Weasley both moved to say something, but Harry reassured them with a gentle word. He grabbed his jacket and walked into the garden with Scrimgeour close behind.

"Without the minister's cheerful assurances, it quickly became clear that Percy didn't want to be here. Hermione put her hand on Fred's clenched fist, in an attempt at comfort. He shook his head, fire burning in his eyes. This was not an emotion easily calmed.

"How are you, Percy?" Molly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Busy, mum. We're constantly making appearances, doing interviews, meeting with-"

"Important people," Fred said.

"Ah yes, looking like peacocks," George chimed in.

"Trying to look effective, as though the ministry was actually doing something," Fred added.

"Keeping up the act, right?" Ginny tacked on.

Percy's face nearly purpled with rage as Charlie, Bill, and Fleur covered sly smiles. He took a deep breath before responding with a restrained calm, "Better than playing jokes, or chasing after the tales of every cursed object that runs across my desk." He paused for a moment and looked around pointedly at the male members of his family. He smiled slightly, though there was no happiness when he spoke again, " Scrimgeour will end this, mark me. Not Dumbledore. Not some teenage boy."

Arthur stood and pounded his fist on the table in frustration. "How dare you come back into this house and speak to any of us like that. I work to protect people. Your brothers bring joy in this dark time. And Harry? Hasn't the boy been through enough without the Ministry pulling and pushing him in every direction? What does the Minister want from him? Why are you really here?"

"That's official ministry business, and none of yours."

Whatever Arthur planned to say when he opened his mouth was lost as a bowl launched violently across the room and struck Percy in the face, hard enough to knock him to the ground. Mrs. Weasley screamed and stooped to check on him, but he pushed her away her helping hands and picked himself up. Fred, George, and Ginny all had their wands drawn, looking furious and threatening. With a curt nod Percy turned and stormed from the house, pride and glasses shattered.