"Congratulations, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, bursting into the room. A very pregnant Hermione spun around, a broad smile on her face.
"HARRY!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. Harry swept her into a hug.
"Where's Charlie?" Harry laughed.
"How's it going, Harry?" Charlie Weasley, muscular and stocky, stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishrag. He held out one callused hand to shake Harry's.
"I'm great! Congratulations!" He grinned, but before he could say anything, the door flew open.
"Brilliant, Charlie! You should get a medal! First person to get Hermione in bed: Harry?"
Everyone spun around. Ron Weasley, Charlie's youngest brother, and Hermione's best friend, was standing in the kitchen doorway. Unfortunately, Ron and Harry were in the middle of a massive argument, so long-standing that no one was quite sure what it was over (though Fred swore it had something to do with socks).
"Oh, hello, Ronald," Harry said, coldly.
"Harry," he said with a curt nod. Then he turned to Hermione. "Thanks for inviting me, Hermione," he said with a genuine smile. Hermione smiled back, looking nervously between the former best friends.
"Christmas is for family! You're welcome any time! Your parents should be here soon…"
"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"
They turned to see Fred and George bursting into the living room, both dressed as Santa Claus, and carrying a large red sack between them full of what everyone could only hope were presents.
"Fred…George…" Hermione said, suspiciously eyeing the bag. They grinned, innocently.
"Don't worry, 'Mione, dearest. They're just presents." Hermione sighed in relief.
"So, when are Fred and George the Seconds due?" Fred asked, cheerfully. Hermione and Charlie exchanged knowing glances.
"Well, actually…the twins are…girls." Their smiles did not falter at this news.
"Fredrica and Georgina! What do you think, George?"
"Hmmm…I like it, Fred. Come, Robin—To the Batcave!" George shouted, and they headed for the backyard. Lord knows what they were doing there. Charlie, Ron, and Harry all turned to stare at Hermione. She smiled, guiltily.
"I gave them some of my brother's muggle comics, and they seem to enjoy them."
"HERMIONE!" another two voices squealed. Hermione spun, and there was Mrs. Weasley and Ginny bursting into the kitchen. "CONGRATULATIONS!"
The three girls were soon chattering excitedly about everything girly, while the guys helped themselves to food and drink.
About a half hour later, Fred and George pulled the new mother aside, whispering to her. "Hermione, we have a plan, but we need your help. The fate of the Weasley/Potter world rests on your shoulder," George whispered, dramatically.
"What's going on?" Hermione said with an eye roll.
"Well…"
"Come one, let's open presents, people!" Mrs. Weasley said, when night had fallen. A thick snow had started an hour ago, and the boys had been enjoying a rowdy snowball fight, which ended when the twins ended up in the pond Hermione had failed to mention, earlier.
Mrs. Weasley had dried the twins' clothes with her wand, but the twins were still wrapped up in blankets.. Hermione and Charlie were on the couch, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in the loveseat, and Harry and Ginny were on the floor. Ron was playing Santa this year.
He grabbed a few boxes and tossed them to their rightful owners. The room was cheerful, as everyone opened their gifts. Wrapping paper was strewn all over the place, and no one was paying attention to notice Fred magic a bunch of mistletoe over the table laden with drinks.
Hermione stood up to get a drink, and Harry assisted her, because she refused to let someone bring her drinks. They were chatting by the table when Ron came out of the kitchen.
"Hermione, where's your—" He cut off, noticing Harry. There was an awkward pause, and George spoke up.
"Ron! Harry! Kiss the new mummy, will you!" George called, pointing over their heads, where the mistletoe hung. Harry and Ron laughed, appreciatively, having not noticed it before. They didn't lock eyes as the both leaned down at the exact same time to plant a kiss on each of Hermione's cheeks.
But lips came in contact with lips as Hermione stepped backward. Ron's and Harry's eyes flew open in shock, and the stood, frozen, in a light lip-lock. There was complete silence in the room.
"Well…That's quite a cliché," Fred commented, airily, as George snickered, heartily, into his hot chocolate.
Ron jerked away at his words and dashed out the front door, while Harry headed for the back door.
Fred and George sighed and stood up. "I'll take Ron," George said, and he exited through the front door. Fred went into the backyard, where he found Harry staring, shell-shocked, at the pond, the ice over it shattered thanks to the twins.
"Well, that was quite a surprise," Fred said, casually, as if commenting on the weather.
"Yeah," Harry croaked. His cheeks were bright red, and Fred scrutinized him, trying to decide if he was blushing, or if it was just the cold.
"So…Did you like it?" Fred asked, after a pause, never being the one to beat around the bush. Probably why George took Ron. Had Fred confronted him, there might've been an explosion.
Harry said nothing for a few moments, then answered. "I felt like…like fire was burning through me, and yet I was shivering, tingles going down my spine, and I saw fireworks and…" He sighed and propped on arm on Fred's shoulder, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.
"So…You liked it," Fred confirmed. Harry gave a low growl. "Well, Harry my boy, you're just going to have to face Ron, put aside your differences, and go into an all-out songfest." Harry chuckled, softly.
"What happens if he hates me?" Harry asked, quietly. Fred shrugged the shoulder Harry wasn't resting on.
"Beats me. But he won't hate you. Trust me."
Fred left, and Harry sat down in the snow, huddling in his cloak. He was sobbing, tears frozen to his cheeks. He didn't want Ron to hate him. Harry hated the fight they were in, and over something so stupid as socks, for Merlin's sake. And now with this entirely new range of feelings, Harry felt like a teenage girl on PMS.
Ron came around to the backyard, avoiding going through the house. He spotted Harry huddled in the snow, and noted that his back was heaving, as if he were crying.
Feeling guilty, Ron walked quietly toward him, and wrapped his arms around Harry. Without looking up, Harry leaned into Ron's embrace, sobbing into his shoulder.
"Fred, what am I going to do? If Ron hates me, I think I might just die! It's bad enough we've been in this fight. But now…Fred, I think I…I think I love him," Harry stammered. Ron gasped, slightly, and Harry looked up.
When he realized what he had just done, Harry jerked back, falling back in the snow. "Omigod," he gasped, his face white with shock. "Ron, I didn't—I thought you were—"
"Did you mean that?" Ron asked, roughly, interrupting him. Harry said nothing, then gave a small nod.
"Yes. I suppose I might as well fess up, since I already unwittingly confessed it," Harry said, blushing. "Ron, that k-kiss was the…the best thing I've ever felt. Even more than flying. I swear, even if you hate me for the rest of eternity, I'll still come back to that kiss whenever I have to conjure a Patronus. Please, please don't hate me, because it wasn't my fault, you know, and I—"
"I don't hate you," Ron said, hurriedly. He crawled closer to Harry. "In fact, I…I like you a lot. Actually, I love you. You know, that whole thing with the socks…I wasn't mad at you for the socks. I was mad 'cause you didn't love me. I figured it would hurt less if you hated me, rather than if you just liked me as a friend." He laughed, softly. "I was wrong. The pain was ten times worse, and—"
He was interrupted, quite suddenly, but he didn't mind. Harry lunged at him and threw his arms around Ron's neck, pressing his lips against Ron's.
"Thus begins the snogfest," Fred said, as he and the rest of the family watched from the window. "I told you Harry would listen."
The family stepped out onto the backyard, for the sake of further embarrassment, and began applauding when Harry's and Ron's lips finally parted.
They both shot up in surprise, and everyone burst out laughing, because Ron was quite a bit mussed up. His hair was messy, and his sweater was pulled up, exposing his stomach.
"Harry, I didn't really mean an all-out songfest!" Fred shouted, laughing. Harry blushed, then laughed, too.
"Fred, George," Hermione said, "I've got to hand it to you. I didn't think this would work. Good job." Fred and George smiled, identically.
"Never doubt the Weasleys. We always come through."