Sending You A Little Christmas
By Dragon's Daughter 1980
A photograph, a blanket,
Some mistletoe, confetti snow,
An angel to put on a tree,
Santa Claus in crayon,
To make you smile today;
While you're so far away.
Snow piled up outside the comfortable, discreet home in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood. It was a few days before schools let out for the Christmas holidays and holiday cheer was already in the air, up and down the street — except, that is, at the Weasley residence. Yes, there was a wreath on the front door, but the festive spirit was missing. No Christmas lights hung from the rooftops, no Christmas carols sung, no snowmen (or women) in the front yard, no snowball fights. It had been missing ever since the husband had left for a business trip several weeks ago.
The neighbors shook their heads and murmured remarks about employers being so demanding these days that people were forced to work even during holidays. There was a general outpouring of sympathy for the mother and her two young children. Whenever the father worked overseas, which was an occasional occurrence, he tended to be gone for long stretches of time. Neighbors took care to be kind to the family, inviting them to social gatherings or offering to shovel out the driveway.
Normally, the neighbors left the Weasley family to their own devices; they were a nice, but rather unusual household. When she was around, the wife was normal enough and friendly too, who wouldn't mind chatting for a few brief moments while trying to manage two young children and work at the same time. The husband, when he was around, was judged as a bit odd; he tended to avoid talking with his neighbors and sometimes acted as if he had grown up in a different world where daily necessities were a rarity. He was a very loving father and husband, despite the occasional rows the couple had over petty things. To the people living on the block, the general consensus was that the Weasleys were kind people and good neighbors who never gave any reason for compliant, unless it was the bizarre behavior of the in-laws.
Inside the house, Hermione Weasley looked at the half-folded letter that lay on the formal mahogany dinner table and sighed quietly to herself as she put down her knitting, wishing that her worries would just leave her be. The letter had arrived in her inbox at work just before she left for the Christmas holidays. Once she had seen the handwriting, she'd hurried home, not wishing to be distracted from the letter's contents by her coworkers. She wanted to avoid any awkward moments if one of them walked into her office to find her blushing like a schoolgirl. (Hermione had been pleasantly surprised in her six years of marriage to find that her husband was a closet poet.)
But instead of lifting her spirits with good tidings, the news was disappointing. Ron would not be home for Christmas, neither would Harry. The current mission they were on was too volatile to allow two of the commanding Aurors to return home for the holidays. Christmas, a time for family, and they could not be present. How would she explain it to her daughters? How would she explain the complex situation in Assyria to toddlers? Maria was just learning to talk and, while Lily was her mother's daughter, she couldn't possibly comprehend something that even had Hermione's head spinning in circles.
Lily and Maria Weasley, nearly ages two and one respectively, were sleeping in their playpen about two meters away from where Hermione was sitting. Penelope Weasley, one of Hermione's many sisters-in-law, had just left with her children after baby-sitting Hermione's children so she could work a short three hour shift at the Ministry's office. Penelope empathized with Hermione over the fact that two of the Weasley family would not be home for Christmas. At least her Percy was now amiable to any excuse for him to spend more time with his growing family, though he was still a devoted worker of the Ministry.
Hermione sighed again. The Ministry had sent a letter to her a few days before, offering her free mailing service for a Christmas care package to Ron. She had ignored it, believing that he would make it home for Christmas. Now that it was not to be, she would begin to prepare the box for Ron and Harry. If they couldn't come home, home would come to them. She briefly smiled at the visions conjured up by the thought of the sudden appearance of the Weasley clan at the British embassy in Assyria.
It was never easy being the wife of an Auror: unknown risks, long hours, no word for weeks, even months at a time. Who knew how long this mission in Assyria would last? Sometimes, Hermione would lay awake at night, missing Ron's presence by her side, praying that he and Harry and everyone else on their team would come back home safe with no injuries.
In the back of her mind, she was always afraid of a day when the doorbell would ring and she would open it to find Kingsley standing on the doorstep with a chaplain behind him. Or she'd be in the office and hear a knock on her door and see Arthur standing there in shock to deliver the bad news. Hermione worked hard to ignore her fears, trying to label them as irrational — but they weren't. Most, but not all, of the Death Eaters had been caught in the six or so years of peace the world had had. But there were surely a few diehard supporters who had evaded the Ministry who wouldn't mind the distinction of killing Harry Potter or his best friend and brother-in-law, Ron Weasley. She rarely contemplated the idea that she was an even more vulnerable target for retaliation.
Hermione looked at the objects she had gathered to send as a Christmas box. She smiled as she picked up a photograph of Lily, Maria, and herself playing in the winter snow in front of their home. Ron had taken it the day before he was suddenly called to his office.
As in accordance with tradition, Molly had knitted another Weasley sweater — except this one had the look of a fuzzy T-shirt. (Hermione was fairly sure that Ron wasn't going to be wearing it, sleeves or no sleeves. It was too hot in Assyria. In fact, in his letter, Ron had…) Hermione blushed slightly as she completed the thought before she turned her attention to the next present to be wrapped. Arthur had discovered the joys of electric fans and was now sharing that joy with his youngest son. Bill ('Must be in a morbid fit of humor', Hermione thought as she packed his gift, carefully labeled 'Warning: open with caution, love') had given Ron a realistic model of a mummified spider, Fleur was giving Ron a book on translating cuneiform (which was rather puzzling to Hermione until she recalled Ron's boredom with guard duty — she hoped that it would stay that way).
There was a small hill of treats from Fred and George while Angelina and Katie had taken it upon themselves to write down all the prospects for the World Cup with detailed analysis for the outlook of each team (Hermione had no idea where her sisters-in-law had found the time to do so). Hermione trusted Ron enough to know that he would treat Fred and George's treats with caution, though maybe not around his colleagues. She hoped he wouldn't leave them where some unsuspecting politician would eat them. It would certainly cause a political uproar if some Minister or diplomat or pompous, important idiot turned into a Canary, even for five seconds.
Charlie had bought a miniature model of a Norwegian Ridgeback who looked very similar to Nobert; his wife Nora sent him a few ancient Assyrian coins that she had unearthed while working on the reservation. Percy's children had created several handmade angels with crooked wings while Percy and Penelope had thoughtfully thrown in medical kit for scrapes and insect bites as well as heatstroke, and Ginny would be packing her gift in Harry's box.
Hermione added a package of homemade cookies, sealed in a freshness-charmed package. Then she recorded a tape of greetings from Lily and Maria, who gurgled happily and chanted "Daddy, love Daddy," over and over. Hermione put in a crayon-marked picture that both daughters had worked without bickering. A few non-magical photos for both men to share of their families were tucked into protective sheets. Then on top, she placed two creamy white envelopes: one held a personal message for her spouse; the other was addressed to Harry. With a smile, Hermione first scattered a generous layer of confetti snow in the box and then charmed it to drift down harmlessly in the air when the box was opened.
Hermione gently kissed the sprig of mistletoe before she laid it in the box on top of the letter and closed its lid. She hoped that enough of her perfume would remain, so that when Ron opened the package, he would be surrounded by the smell of the home the two of them had worked so hard to buy. It would let him come home to them, even if it was for only a few seconds. She wrapped up the box and set it aside. She would send it tomorrow.
So I'm sending you a little Christmas,
Wrapped up with love.
A little peace, a little light,
To remind you of
How I'm waiting for you, praying for you
I wanted you to see.
So I'm sending you a little Christmas,
Till you come home to me.
Dear Ron,
In our six years of marriage, we've never been apart for Christmas holidays. Unless you count the time you pulled the Christmas shift and got called out to deal with a few troublemakers and then cracked your head on a doorway and ended up in St. Mungo's for a few hours and I told you to be more careful. Even when you had to go to Manchester stop those Death Eaters on Christmas Eve a few years ago and I was worried half to death along with everyone else, you weren't that far away. It is truly our first Christmas apart and I miss you so much. I hope that things are safe there.
I'm off of work for the rest of the month (I'm thinking that my boss believes that I spend too much time at the office and is forcing me to take this vacation. I can't say that I resent the prospect of spending more time at home with Lily and Maria, though I am certain I'll suffer cabin fever) and your mother has invited us over to the Borrow for the holidays. I'm wondering how she's going to fit everyone in the house, but she'll manage. Or get someone to expand the house temporarily. Or move the gathering.
Things are peaceful here. Don't worry about us here at home. Your brothers and father spent one whole day setting wards on the house. Fred and George enjoyed it a little too much, I fear. I am a little worried that one day, one of the neighbors will do something and they'll end up with bright pink hair or something that will require the Ministry to sent Obliviators out here. The good news is that we do have a permit for private protection wards and I've tinkered with them. Penelope baby-sits for me when Erica has to finish up her degree at Fairwood or help Vivien out with business. All of us wear our emergency charms twenty-four/seven and it isn't like I haven't noticed that the Lennoxs down the street work for the Ministry in the Auror division. You knew about them when I asked you, didn't you?
The neighbors have been unusually nice these days and they bemoan the cruel work ethics imposed by the Ministry. They all think you work for some nice private company though, not as an Auror. Lily and Maria are fine; they just miss their daddy. I am too. Maria is, as you will hear, becoming quite vocal. It still amazes me how quickly she is learning new words. Lily is beginning to talk in complete sentences now. I am holding up fairly well; however, I will wait fervently for the day I'll be able to hold you again. I pray that you'll be safe and that you and Harry come home soon to us. Be careful. I love you.
Happy Christmas, love, with lots of kisses,
Hermione
Author's Note: This story was acutallywritten about a year ago, which makes this story pre-HBP. I hope this will clear up any confusion that might arise.