Disclaimer: You all know this stuff belongs to JKR. I'm just borrowing it.

Chapter Two: Christmas At the Burrow

"FRED! DO NOT LIGHT YOUR NIECE ON FIRE!"

"Mum, I would never do that. And besides, I'm not Fred, I'm George."

"Percy, Lizzy's climbing the Christmas tree!"

"Don't worry, Penny, I'll get her down. Lizzy! LIZZY! NO, DON'T EAT THAT!"

"LOOK OUT! THE TREE! Arthur, help, it's falling over!"

"ACCIO TREE! No, no, I meant Accio Lizzy! OW! STUPID TREE!"

"CHARLIE, THAT DIDN'T HELP!"

"Beel, thees tree, eet es caught een my 'air!"

"Yeah, Bill, help your pregnant wife! Wouldn't want her to be under to much stress, now, would you?"

"SHUT UP, FRED!"

It was a chaotic scene that greeted Harry Potter and the Weasly-Granger family as they opened the front door to the Burrow. The giant Christmas tree in the corner of the living room had come crashing down, thanks in large part to Percy's daughter Lizzy, who often seemed to be more like her uncles Fred and George than her father. Ron chucked their Portkey into a box in the front hall.

"Ron, be gentle with that, I don't want it to break," admonished Hermione gently.

"Sorry, 'Mione." Ron gave his flushed wife a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, Hermione! You look pale, are you feeling quite all right? You really shouldn't be out traveling so soon after…and is Nicholas warm enough? Let me get you something to eat." Mrs. Weasly had noticed her son and daughter-in-law. She hurried Hermione and the bundle that was Nicholas into the kitchen. Ron waved half-heartedly after them.

"Merry Christmas, Mum," he called, grinning. "A raving lunatic she is, Harry. Pale, she says. Hermione's as red as a beet! I should have known it would be like this. After watching her insist on being the personal caregiver of Lizzy, I should have seen it coming." He scratched his head. "I reckon she'll start noticing me again soon." Grinning amiably, he wandered into the living room.

"I'm just going to go put my bag in your old room, Ron," Harry called after his best friend.

Ron reemerged from the living room suddenly.

"Um, Harry," he began gravely, "You know that Mum and Dad keep talking about adding another bedroom…well, they haven't exactly gotten around to it yet. And, well," Ron rubbed his nose nervously, "Hermione and I are…well, married. With children."

"I hadn't noticed," said Harry dryly.

Ron half grinned. "And well, we need to have a room to ourselves, mate."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I completely forgot about that, Ron. It's weird, you know. Even after four years, I'm still not used to it, you two being married-with children." He grinned. "So...uh, where am I sleeping?"

"This is why I'm not thrilled about telling you all this, Harry," said Ron looking slightly pale now. "The only free room…is Ginny's."

Harry opened the door to Ginny's room slowly, as though he was half expecting a ghost to leap out at him. And in a way, one did.

A book still lay open on desk. Harry gently lifted it to read the title. Quidditch Through the Ages. He swallowed. He and Ron had given her that book the day she made the House team his sixth year.

As he turned, a faint smell found it's way to his nose. Ginny's signature perfume still lingered in the room.

"How the hell do I remember what her perfume smells like?" he asked himself aloud.

His eyes wandered over to the mirror. Pictures had been taped all around the frame. There was one of Ginny by herself in the Gryffindor common room laughing. There was one of her and Hermione whispering in the corridors. The photo Hermione muttered something that made the photo Ginny shriek with peals of silent laughter. Another photo was of Ginny and Colin, making silly faces. It appeared Colin was holding the camera at arm's length, sticking his tongue out as he snapped the picture.

Harry sat down softly on Ginny's bed, tracing the delicate flower pattern with his finger. Slowly, a tear made it's way to his eye. He furiously rubbed it away. He could still see her, laughing, smiling, studying in a corner of the common room, Ron's too- large socks on her tiny feet.

She was Ron's little sister, Hermione's only female friend. A daughter, sister, a friend. She hadn't deserved to die at the hands of Voldemort. Harry had never hated anyone as much as he hated Voldemort at that moment.

"Damn you, Riddle."

Christmas morning dawned bright, clear and cold. The Weasly clan- and they were becoming a clan, Harry thought to himself- bubbled with excitement and joy.

George threw a large present at Harry who was sitting cross-legged underneath the giant tree, little Lizzy in his lap. Harry, Quidditch reflexes still as strong as ever, caught it deftly.

"It's not going to explode, is it?" he asked cautiously, holding it out in front of him.

"No, eet ees from Beel and I," said Fleur, with a yawn.

"From you? I- well, thanks," said Harry, a little surprised that Bill and Fleur had gotten him a gift. "I didn't get you anything. Sorry…"

"Eet ees okay, 'Arry. Eet ees a sentimental geeft."

Harry tore the paper off the huge book, and let out a breath. It was a perfect replica of a Hungarian Horntail, mounted on a playing field. It was surrounded by stands, and if Harry looked closely, he could pick out the faces of Ron, Hermione, and his other classmates. On the ground, a miniature Harry raised his wand, and Summoned a miniature Firebolt broom. Mounting it, the miniature Harry began to swoop around the head of the Horntail, which reared and breathed a huge jet of fire at the Harry on the Firebolt, who dodged. Scanning the stands again, Harry snorted as he saw the miniature Hermione clutching her face with her hands.

"Charlie helped us put it together," said Bill leaning over to look. "Heh, it is pretty cool, isn't it?"

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried again. "It's brilliant," he managed to croak.

"We looked at some pictures that Rita Skeeter took from pretty high up. They helped us. All the details are there right down to that." Bill pointed. A ridiculously buff Charlie strutted around behind the stands, next to the dragon's compound. Harry laughed.

"Hey!" yelled Charlie, in mock indignation. "That wasn't how it was at all!"

Everyone laughed.

Later that night, a tired but happy Harry wearily Apparated into his small house on the outskirts of Hogsmead. He gently placed his many packages on his kitchen table. Then he carried Bill and Fleur's present to his living room. He set it on the coffee table. He tapped it twice with his wand. The figures sprang to life. Searching the stands he finally found the face he was looking for. Thirteen years old, although looking decidedly pale, a tiny Ginny Weasly watched Harry soar around the dragon. As he scooped up the Golden Egg, her shoulders slumped with relief. Harry stared at her. He watched as she turned to talk to Hermione, who was taking deep breaths. Figurine Hermione nodded, and miniature Ginny smiled a tiny smile. It was a beautiful smile, thought Harry.

"I'm glad you were happy, Ginny," whispered Harry. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Harry tapped the model again, and watched as the lights around the stands slowly dimmed. Then he got up, turned off the lights in the living room, and went to bed.

A/N: Ok, I'm rereading this, and it seems a little redundant. Yes? No? Review and tell me. Next time: Harry gets a big surprise.