Author's Notes: No time for clever author's notes! Must go soon! Sorry if this chapter isn't quite exciting as the last! Ahh…must post this now before I go to bed! Damn you daylight savings and ff.net not working for the past three days and now working at 10:00 at night when I have to wake up early for a student council meeting tomorrow morning!!!

***

Christmas Day at the Burrow was always a grand occasion – the seven grown up Weasley children were rarely all at home at the same time, so Christmas offered a chance for them and their respective wives/fiancées/girlfriends/friends to gather, exchange presents, and consume unhealthy amounts of Molly's fine cooking. It was also a time of reminiscing and laughter, of remembering the feeling of waking up on Christmas morning when they were small, to the scent of cinnamon and evergreen. But as he looked around at his grown-up brothers and sister on Christmas Day, Ron never failed to realize that their childhoods with all of their adventures, good and bad, were truly over.

"Mum! George jinxed me!" Percy said furiously, stomping into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley, Penelope, and Charlie's fiancée Sarah were setting the table. Ron and Hermione both exchanged looks and burst into laughter, having just stepped out of the fireplace.

"Shut up, Percy!" George hissed, hiding his wand behind his back as he followed his older brother in. Percy's right arm had turned a nasty shade of purple and was beginning to sprout little green hairs.

Well, they weren't too grown-up.

Ron had tried to put aside all of his worries and anxieties for just one day, and had succeeded in fooling Hermione and his family thus far. He would at least allow himself to have a happy Christmas before worrying about sinister, more pressing things. He'd even managed to hold off on questioning Hermione about her supposed "visions", even though the questions were on the tip of his tongue even now, as she tried to make her hair look presentable. It had gone extremely frizzy in the fireplace on the way there.

Ron shook the ashes out of his own hair and set down the large stack of presents he'd been carrying to bend down and kiss his mum hello. She absently gave him a smile and then pointed the large, wooden spoon in her hand at George.

"You'll set your brother right this instant, George Weasley!" Molly snapped.

George sighed loudly; the famous Beater was used to bending the rules to his will, but his celebrity status wouldn't get him different treatment from his mother. "Yes, Mum."

"And grow up, will you, George?" Sarah added bossily. George stuck his tongue out at her in an overly-childish gesture. Sarah returned the favour when Molly's back was turned and grinned. George skulked back into the living room while Percy sat down and allowed his wife to fuss over his purple arm.

"Happy Christmas, everyone," Hermione smiled, taking off her coat, even though Ron had reminded her several times over that they were going by Floo and it was useless to bring a coat. She still hadn't let go of some of her Muggle traditions – at Christmas, you wore a fancy coat, and it was simple as that.

"It's about time you showed up, Hermione, now we girls aren't so outnumbered," Ginny said, going over to hug her friend. "We have to keep these boys in line, of course," she said wryly, hands on her hips.

Hermione laughed. "I'll do my best. Do you need any help, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Oh no, dear, we're almost done here," Molly said brightly, smiling fondly at her. She hadn't been too impressed with Hermione's behaviour when she had been ignoring Ron and Harry a few years ago, but the generous Mrs. Weasley had been quick to forgive her. Ron had a feeling this had something to do with Hermione bursting into tears and apologizing to the Weasley's last summer. Then she had become "that poor dear" to Molly, and had been like a daughter to her ever since.

"How are your parents?" Ron's mother asked as she began heaping food onto platters and then sending them flying over to the table.

"Just fine," Hermione answered, starting to help set the table anyway. "We visited them last night for Christmas Eve. It was lovely."

Hermione thought it had been lovely. Ron thought it had been hell on earth. The Grangers had seemed to be at a loss for conversation topics around a full-blooded wizard, and had resorted to talking about current news in the Muggle world, which had, of course, included the supposed "flu" going around. Ron had squirmed in his seat all night, fists clenched, not touching a morsel of food as Hermione's parents went on about the flu scare, and the health precautions many people had started taking. The Grangers were very nice people, of course. They had no idea why Ron had been so silent all night, or that their good-natured attempts at conversation had tortured him. They were totally oblivious as to the true nature of the flu, or that they or their daughter could be the next to get it.

Ron shook his head and came back to reality. "Happy Christmas, Dad," he greeted his father as he walked into the kitchen.

An Auror's greatest asset was the power of observation. Ron took in everything about his father as he walked into the kitchen – the long-suffering, weary look on his face, the slight stoop of his shoulders, the way he was shuffling his feet, and the small sigh that escaped him – and immediately started making horrible assumptions. His father worked at the Ministry, of course. Perhaps he'd just been told about the scrolls. Or maybe he'd known about them all along and had just found out that the other four scrolls had been found. Or perhaps Harry or someone was in trouble. Or worse, someone was –

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Molly demanded before Ron could truly panic.

"Bill just knocked over one of my antique Muggle teapots," Arthur explained, sighing again. "I've had that since before he was even born."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny looked at him strangely.

"Make him buy you a new one," Sarah suggested.

"Oh, don't be silly, dear. Bill can't even afford a decent haircut," Molly said dryly. "Boys!" she suddenly called loudly, floating the last of the steaming platters of food over to the table. "Dinner's ready!"

"Really, Mum, you should make him at least find Dad a new – " But Ginny was cut off before she could even finish, as the rest of the Weasley boys burst into the kitchen, pushing and jostling each other. George and Bill wrestled for the seat at the head of the table, while Fred, Charlie, and Ron all stretched out their greedy hands to take the lids off the steaming platters of food.

Ginny sighed loudly and put her hands on her hips. "Boys will be boys," the youngest Weasley said wisely, walking to the table with as much dignity as she could muster, possibly to show her older brothers up. At age twenty-four, she was still often thought of as the baby of the family, and took every opportunity to prove her maturity to her older brothers. But none of them took any care to notice the grace and maturity of their little sister, as they were all busy greedily heaping food onto their awaiting plates.

Molly had already snapped into her mothering mode, as she slapped a few freckled hands and busied herself bringing more food to the table. Percy and Penelope finally seated themselves side-by-side as Molly scolded the rest of the family. "Honestly, you're grown men! Can't you even wait for your own mother to get to the table before you start stuffing your faces?"

Fred and George muttered something muffled through mouthfuls of food.

"You too, Arthur," Molly snapped as Mr. Weasley reached for a bun. Like a guilty child, he pulled his hand away and stared at his plate, the shadow of a smile on his fatherly face. Mrs. Weasley slowly sat down into her chair, and everyone re-commenced eating.

Ron felt a foot nudge him under the table, and turned to Hermione, who had just watched him gobble down a drumstick in three seconds flat.

"Quite an appetite you have now, hmm?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She touched his arm. "You've been miserable and moping and haven't touched a morsel all week, but now…"

Ron nearly winced as again, his thoughts were brought back to the darker things that had been plaguing him since his return from London. He was just as quickly snapped out of it by the sound of his older brother's patronizing voice.

"Aw, ickle Ronniekins…haven't touched a morsel all week!" Fred exclaimed in his best mocking, baby voice.

"Good thing you have Hermy to take good care of you, isn't that right snookums?" George added, making a disgusting kissy face over his chicken and mashed potatoes.

Hermione quickly dropped her hand into her lap, blushing furiously. Once the Weasley family had become used to the fact that Ron and Hermione were together romantically now, they took every opportunity to tease the pair. Ron, after years of such teasing and torture from his older brothers, thought nothing of it; but as an only child, Hermione wasn't used to being the butt of sibling jokes.

Full and content for the moment, Ron ignored the twins and took the opportunity to glance around the table.

Next to the newly married couple, who were still in deep conversation with Molly and Arthur, sat Ginny, her copper-coloured hair pulled back into a neat bun. But the look didn't fool Ron; her eyes were still eager and child-like, and there were still freckles scattered all over her face. It was true that Ginny was now an adult in every sense of the word – she had long ago moved out of the Burrow and had bought a little flat of her very own, and she now worked as a nurse at St. Mungo's – but she would always be Ron's kid sister, no matter how grown up she became.

The twins were, for once, unaccompanied. Ron blinked, surprised that he hadn't noticed this fact before – usually the flashy, vapid blondes on each of their arms stuck out like sore thumbs in the Weasley household. But there were no supermodels to be seen today. In fact, Fred and George had been acting slightly more humble of late. Humble for the infamous Weasley twins, at least. Even the attention-craving English Beaters seemed to be getting fed up with the celebrity life. Ron had even heard them talk, casually at first, but now more seriously, about opening up a joke shop like they had always wanted to. The twins seemed to have realized, probably to their horror, that they had become the thing they hated most – Bighead Boys.

Bill was unaccompanied as well; the Weasley's had long suspected that he had a girlfriend, but he preferred to keep her a secret and infuriate them all by innocently declaring that he was just a lonely bachelor. However, the fact that he showed up to Arthur's last birthday party with lipstick on his cheek didn't lend much to this claim. To Molly's distress, Bill's hair was still long, his occupation was still far from home, an earring still dangled from his ear, and he remained unmarried and unengaged. They knew Bill wouldn't have it any other way.

Charlie, on the other hand, was very much engaged, though one wouldn't know that the feisty blonde sitting next to him at the table was his fiancée. Charlie and Sarah kidded around and teased each other as if they were old friends, which in fact they were. When Sarah had joined Charlie's team in Romania, they'd taken an instant liking to each other and had been best mates ever since. The Weasley's had never really figured out when Sarah had stopped being Charlie's best friend and had started being his romantic interest. Bill always joked that it was when Charlie asked her to marry him.

Finally, Ron's parents; there were a lot more grays in Molly Weasley's hair, and a lot less hair on Arthur Weasley's head, but the two of them never seemed to really change. His dad, despite the rough times he had endured eight years ago as an honorary member of the Order of the Phoenix, was still a little boy at heart. Arthur still collected spark plugs and was still fascinated by anything Muggle; in fact, he had recently been promoted to Head of the newly-formed Department of Muggle Security. Molly's eyes, which had been somewhat bleak and lacking their usual fire lately as she watched all of her children grow older and leave her, were suddenly alive again, surrounded by her family.

"…really shocking," Arthur was now telling Bill and Charlie, who were listening with interest. "The department still is, of course, very new, but we're starting to get all these reports of anti-Muggle violence that we have to break up…it's horrible."

Ron's stomach clenched as he was brought back to reality, and he once again was enshrouded in worries and thoughts of the problems at the Ministry. I can't even get through a meal anymore, Ron thought dejectedly, putting down his fork.

"I told you, Arthur!" Molly interrupted shrilly, spearing a few pieces of asparagus with such force that it shook the plate. "It's all that…that man's fault!" she spat. She dumped the asparagus on Ginny's plate and then sat there, seething. Ginny and Ron exchanged looks.

"Let's not talk about that jerk," Sarah said, making a face. "It's Christmas."

"Who, Mr. Stark?" Percy asked.

"No, Perce, the Easter Bunny," Fred said sarcastically.

"Well, I understand his views could create some conflicts," Percy continued diplomatically, "but physical, violent ones? I mean, I definitely don't agree with his opinions and future plans for the Ministry, but you can't really hold a politician at fault for causing that."

"You can hold politicians at fault for causing a lot of things, Percy," Arthur said grimly. Everyone was quiet for a moment. They knew he was talking about Fudge.

"I'll be so glad once these elections are over," Hermione spoke up. "Then Crump will be Minister, and Stark will be out of the media and out of our lives. Then all of this will die down, you watch."

Ron felt a glow of pride at her optimistic view. He only wished that he could think of things the same way. He anxiously searched Hermione's face; she had barely touched her food, and her face was so white. He impulsively reached over and squeezed Hermione's hand under the table. She glanced at him, surprised, then smiled and squeezed back, clueless as to what had caused the sudden gesture of affection.

"The election banquet is coming up soon, you know," Arthur suddenly said. "Percy and I will be attending…and I know you're not part of the Ministry any longer, Ron…but you're welcome to come. Harry will be there, of course, and you can catch up with the rest of your old friends," Arthur finished. His blue eyes met Ron's, and Ron wondered just how much his father knew, if he knew anything at all.

***

The gathered family roared with laughter as the wand Ginny had pulled out from within the wrapping paper jumped out of her hand, hit her on the head, and then fell to the floor and began to dance on the carpet. She made a face and turned to the twins, who were clutching their stomachs and cackling.

Perched on an armchair, Ginny rolled her eyes. "Unfair!" she exclaimed. "One of them gets me every single year!"

"We wouldn't have it any other way, Gin," Fred said sentimentally, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"We wouldn't have it any other way," George agreed.

With such a large family, and such limited funds, when they were younger the Weasley children had always done a sort of "Secret Santa" tradition when it came to Christmas gift-giving. Each Weasley child would put their name into a hat, and then draw another name. You would have to buy a small Christmas present for whomever you picked. For the past twenty years, Fred or George had always gotten Ginny. Ron was beginning to suspect that, perhaps, this was rigged.

The Weasley siblings all received a present from their parents, as well. Ron smiled wryly as he opened a brand new set of quills and other stationary from his mum and dad, "For doing paperwork," Molly stressed, giving him a sharp look. "Paperwork, just like a teacher should be doing." She had, of course, received Hermione's Howler when he'd disappeared from Hogwarts, and had been most displeased. Ron caught Hermione's eye and she looked away sheepishly.

Ron turned over his quills in his hand while Percy opened his gift, still darkly brooding on the chaos at hand. Perhaps he would go to the election banquet. He had gone to one before, and it had been a rather boring and stuffy affair; the candidates made their final speeches, socialized with members of the Ministry and other important people, and then everyone ate. The voting usually took place sometime in the next week. However, this year's controversial campaigns promised that this banquet would be a bit more interesting. Plus, there was the prospect of seeing the Aurors there; perhaps then Ron could get some answers, and convince them to let him help them somehow.

Seeking to get away from the noisy room, Ron stood up from the couch. Hermione immediately followed suit, still laughing over the dancing wand, which had become exhausted and had fainted on the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" Hermione asked, putting a hand on his arm. Her cheeks were flushed with laughter and her eyes were sparkling. Ron smiled a little; it was good to see some colour in her face.

"To get some air," Ron replied lightly, his smile becoming strained. "Coming?"

"It's freezing outside!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron shook his head and drew out his wand. "That's what these are for," he said, rolling his eyes and tugging on her hand.

Hermione began to protest, but suddenly fell quiet as the twins proceeded to make kissing noises from the corner of the living room, where they were trying to resurrect their joke wand. Glowering at them and lowering her eyes to the ground, she followed Ron outside.

"They're just being idiots as usual," Ron told her as they stepped out into the frigid air. His teeth were already beginning to chatter. "They're only teasing us because they know you can't stand it."

"Well it's embarrassing," Hermione said huffily. "Don't they have any manners? Honestly." She folded her arms and shivered, now in a bitter mood. "Well? Are you going to use that or not?" she asked, nodding at his wand.

"Abra kadabra," Ron joked half-heartedly, wrapping his arms around her instead. She snorted at the corny joke, then gave in and snuggled up to his cloak, resting her head on his shoulder with a small sigh. Ron just held her for awhile, pressing his cheek against her forehead, which was strangely warm despite the icy temperature. He would not have minded just standing there like that forever, never releasing her and allowing her to go into the world, where she could get sick, or hurt, or -

"Ron." Hermione's voice was muffled; she was speaking into his cloak. "I don't mean to, er…ruin the moment, but…I'm cold," she said awkwardly. Ron reluctantly released her, and they started to head back to the house in silence.

He felt her eyes on his face even before she said anything. Ron sighed and stopped walking, sure of what was coming next.

Hermione sighed as well, staring at the snowy ground. "Ron, listen…I don't mean to pry, I really don't."

"I know," Ron muttered.

"I'm worried about you," Hermione said, and her voice genuinely did sound sick with worry. If only she knew just how much he was worried about her. She reached up and touched his cold cheek, frowning. "You barely eat, you hardly talk, I know you're not sleeping, and you just sit around all the time moping and brooding. Now…" she hesitated. "I know I'm not supposed to ask questions about what went on in London, or why Harry was 'too busy' to come today," she said quietly. "But you're scaring me, Ron. I had to ask."

He was going to tell her, right then and there. The hurt look on her face, the concern in her voice – he knew it was taking great willpower for Hermione not to just bossily demand some answers. He admired that. Ron opened his mouth to tell her, to let it all pour out.

"You are the fattest owl I have ever seen," a voice behind them said strictly, making both Ron and Hermione spin around. Charlie had to choose that exact moment to walk outside, Pigwidgeon perched on his shoulder. "And for an owl your size, that's quite an accomplishment."

The minute owl gave a guilty hoot.

"Mum feeds you way too much," Charlie scolded him. "You're getting outside and getting some exercise…oh," he said awkwardly as he noticed the couple. He glanced from Ron to Hermione. "Am I…er…interrupting?"

"No," Ron said in relief, semi-glad Charlie had stopped him. The consequences might haven been dangerous. He had to learn better self-control. "We were just going inside." He chanced a look at Hermione; she had folded her arms, looking resigned.

"Oh, all right," Charlie answered. "Uh, by the way, I wasn't just having a conversation with an owl, all right?"

"Right," Ron replied, forcing a smile. He followed Hermione inside, leaving Charlie in the yard, and shook the snow out of his hair.

Hermione took a deep breath; he could see that curiosity was killing her. "I won't pester you about this any more," she promised with effort.

"Thanks," Ron said gratefully, bending down to kiss her forehead. Hermione pushed onto her tiptoes at the last second and met his lips with hers.

Both of them jumped as they heard a whistling sound behind them. There stood the twins, mischievous grins plastered on their faces.

"Oh, shut up you two," Ron snapped, seeing Hermione's face go red once again. "Don't be pricks for once, all right?"

"Oh, sure thing, snookums," Fred snickered.

"Sweetie pie."

"Honey bear."

"Sugar quill."

Ron watched as Hermione suddenly went pale, and her hands dropped to her sides. She clenched her fists. Ron raised his eyebrows, and then suddenly it hit him: Charles.

"Love bug," George continued gleefully.

"Baby – "

"Shut up!" Ron said with such ferocity that both of them promptly shut their mouths and exchanged looks. Hermione looked up again; she looked a bit shaken, but she just smiled at Ron.

"Don't worry about it," she insisted quietly.

"Uh…" George said awkwardly.

"Hey, Hermione, it was just a joke," Fred tried, looking puzzled.

Hermione put on her bossy, annoyed face for them. "Ha, ha," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. This Hermione behaviour was familiar for the twins, who looked a bit more comfortable now.

"Ron, I'm a bit tired," Hermione announced. "Do you think we could go back to Hogwarts?"

Ron nodded, glaring at his brothers. Hermione smiled and left to say goodbye and get her coat. The twins looked to Ron.

"What's with her?" George asked.

Ron shook his head furiously. "You two are the biggest prats I know," he spat, and then turned to follow Hermione. The look on her face…all because of Donovan Owens, masquerading as her boyfriend last year, using and manipulating her. It was sick people like that who had used the Scroll of Malady. He couldn't stand to see Hermione hurt again – emotionally or physically.

He was tired of doing nothing.

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Ta da! No time for witty songs! Don't worry, because the next chapter's a bit more exciting! I'll try to get it up A.S.A.P. to make up for the uneventfulness of this chap! Review!