Sending You A Little Christmas
By Dragon's Daughter
Some gingerbread, a candy cane,
A stocking I made with your name.
I filled it with your favorite things.
A way to say I love you,
Like kisses in the air,
Hoping you'll feel me there.
In a spacious, yet cozy, kitchen, two women were busy making holiday cookies for the annual family Christmas party while their children napped nearby. A third woman had gone out into the light snowfall to the local grocery store to buy extra baking ingredients, leaving her youngest children under her friends' watchful eyes. The house was quiet, except for the tinkling sounds of glassware and metal being shifted or the rumpling of paper as the women reached for more flour. While they engaged in peaceful domestic activity and cooked without magic, it was not an idle coincidence that their wands rested on the countertop within reach.
"Ginny?" Her friend's concerned voice drew Ginevra Potter from her thoughts.
"What?" Ginny looked down at the batter mix she was stirring absent-mindedly, checking for any lumps or spills.
"Nothing," Hermione replied as she rolled out the cookie dough, "other than that you've been very distracted this whole time."
"I'm sorry. I just keep thinking about Harry —"
"I understand," Hermione said quietly.
Ginny sighed.
"How do you do it Hermione? I thought it was bad when Harry was on that mission before we got married, and then worse when he was caught up in those investigations when I was pregnant, but now…" She glanced over at the cradle that held Julianne Potter, the first of the new Potter bloodline. Hermione followed her sister-in-law's look and nodded.
"I know. You're afraid that you'll be left to raise Julianne."
"I know I shouldn't worry like this and that Harry will come home, but…"
"I've stopped watching the news," admitted Hermione, "even the Muggle news. There is just so much violence, and to even think about Ron or Harry getting caught in the middle…" She shook her head.
"It's just so hard sometimes. How do you do it, Hermione? Facing the idea that you might have to raise Lily and Maria alone? Have you got used to Ron going away on missions?"
Her friend smiled sadly, "No, it still hurts every time and I don't think I'll ever get use to it. As for coping, I just work and don't think about it. I work until I'm so tired that I go straight to sleep at night. And… what is it that Samantha says?"
"'You've got to believe he'll come home safe to you,'" Ginny quoted, then laughed without mirth, "She's certainly right. I would go crazy otherwise."
The two heard the front door close and footsteps in the front hall. Both women's floured hands reached for their wands, but they relaxed when they saw who it was. Their friend smiled slightly in approval at them, knowing what their instinctive reactions had been.
"It isn't as bad as it seems, or could be." Samantha Black walked into the room. She set down the bags of groceries she carried. "They're only guards for the embassy. Nothing more." She smiled sadly, anticipating their question, "And no, girls, I don't know when they'll be back. The moment I know, you'll know."
Samantha opened the refrigerator to put the milk and eggs in. Hermione opened the new bag of flour and added a few handfuls to her dough.
"Could you hand me some milk?" asked Ginny, just as Samantha handed her a half-liter. She stirred it in smoothly and set the glass measuring cup down on the counter. "It just seems so —"
"Heartless?" Samantha finished for her godson's wife. She shut the fridge door and walked over to where her children were napping. "Yes," she replied, gently stroking her son's hair and then tucking in the blanket more securely around her daughter's sleeping form, "but politics is heartless and whoever is threatening the peace talks is heartless."
"Do you know who it is?" asked Hermione, briefly shifting into work mode.
"It isn't my field and I doubt I know anyone who is in charge of handling that sort of information who would talk to me or have the time to. They'd either be busy with the diplomats here or in the States or in Assyria or Israel or Palestine or any of the Arab states trying to broker a peace deal that will make the majority happy. If it is serious enough, then there are probably people handling it right now." She sighed, "though Muggle channels are sometimes no swifter than wizarding ones."
"Bad?" Ginny poured the batter into the baking pan as the timer chirped and Hermione opened the oven to remove a fresh batch of cookies. Samantha took a glass bowl out of the cabinet and began to prepare a batch of frosting for Ginny's cake.
"Things are settling down, but you know how things are," Samantha smiled wryly as she added cream into her bowl. "If it isn't one thing, then it's another. That's the way the world is and that's how politics are."
The other two agreed. Samantha had grown up in a family involved in politics, had been dragged into more messes than she wanted to remember, and entered into a then politically acceptable marriage; she usually knew what was going on. Ginny had seen her share of politics as Harry Potter's wife as well as with her father's position at the Ministry. Hermione, with her job as an Unspeakable, dealt with politics on a daily basis, though she was 'given quite a bit of free rein regarding paperwork,' as she put it.
Ginny went into the master bedroom and sat on her side of the bed, reaching down to pick up her knitting basket that she kept by the bedside. She put it firmly in her lap and began to sort through the assorted stockings she had made in her spare time when she couldn't sleep. She smiled as she pulled out a fire-orange one that had a crowned Quaffle bouncing around. A few more moments of fishing and she had a furry red stocking with a golden snitch flittering all over the fabric in her hands. Putting the other stockings back in the basket and the basket on the ground, she rose from the bed and went into the kitchen where Harry's Christmas presents were scattered on the dining table.
As she had done for years, Molly had knitted a Weasley sweater for Harry, an exact duplicate of Ron's — except this one was green instead of orange. Ginny had no idea where her mother had gotten the impression that Assyria was anything but a desert in which temperatures frequently hit thirty-nine degrees Celsius and above. Her father had written a long letter to Harry, which made Ginny suspicious, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't break the security spells on it. It was rather frustrating.
Bill and Fleur's presents were several books, one of which was a hieroglyph translation book and another about ancient French wizarding culture. Ginny had raised an eyebrow at some of the more explicit sketches in the history book, but trusted Harry enough to know he wouldn't get any ideas. Charlie had somehow gotten his hands on a miniature model of a Chinese Fireball, probably still teasing Harry about his first reaction to his godmother's furious family guardian; Nora's accompanying gift was a book on dragon handling. Ginny had checked to make sure that there were no native dragons in Harry's proximity. Percy's children had created the annual Christmas card while being supervised by their parents. Percy and Penelope had thoughtfully thrown in medical kit for scrapes and insect bites as well as heatstroke. Ginny shook her head; sometimes she wished her brother would lighten up a little.
Hermione had bought a book for Harry, one that gave a detailed analysis of the conflicts, both magical and non-magical, that plagued Assyria. Angelina and Katie had managed to organize a complete scrapbook of Christmas greetings from the members of the first D.A. meeting all the way back in Ginny's fourth year, when everything was coming apart. Ginny tucked a tiny golden toy Snitch into the stocking, as well as a few of Fred and George's inventions mixed in with some chocolate. Harry would never know what hit him. And if he shared the socking with Ron, as he most assuredly would… A small smile worked its way onto Ginny's face as she put a Cooling Charm on the box of Sugar Quills, not sure whether or not the sweets would melt in the heat of the Middle Eastern sun. She knew she was a little devious, but she had to be with her six older brothers.
She put in a little tape she had made, wishing Harry a Happy and safe Christmas, reading a letter she had written to him. Ginny had been a little nervous speaking into the black little box, but with a little practice and a lot of advice and help from Hermione, she was able to record what she wanted to say. Finally, the letter, addressed to him in her flowing handwriting, went on top. With that done, Ginny put the gift on the foyer table so she wouldn't forget to take it to the Ministry the next day.
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 Harry,
Happy Christmas. Yes, I know, it's our first Christmas apart after we got married, and I miss you too. Everything at home is under control, which is quite unusual for me. Fred and George try to cheer me up each time they think I'm moping. Don't they understand I don't mope? I can pine for you, but I don't mope. At least, not in front of them. Don't worry, nothing is going to happen. I'm not going to burn the house down when I forget to turn off the stove (Samantha, Hermione, Penelope, Fleur, Nora, Angelina, Katie, and Mum helped me fireproof the kitchen the other day) and no one is going to kidnap me or Julianne. (I'd like to see them get past the wards Dad, Bill, Charlie, and Percy set — even Fred and George sacrificed one Sunday afternoon to bait traps for the journalists. So far, only one reporter has dared to test the wards. She ended up with bright green freckles and hair — quite a sight I'll tell you. Plus, Samantha and her friends came by. I suspect they did something with the wards, even though they deny it.) When I have to go to the office, Samantha or Sirius will take Julianne to Fairwood with them. Both of us always wear the emergency charms you gave us.
Julianne is beginning to teeth and she's babbling every day. She's added "An Er-my-o-e" and "An Pe-el-no-pe" to "Daddy," "Mummy," "Grandda," "Granny," and "'ncle Ron." But everything is certainly quite calm over here. I hope everything is safe over there. The Daily Prophet hasn't reported any massive event going on, so I'm assuming you're safe with Ron. I hope my brother doesn't become too much of a git over there; it's understandable, but try to keep him busy.
Samantha has been a big comfort in supporting the both of us while you're away. We're all waiting for the little bird to sing. Mum's invited the clan for Christmas at the Burrow. I'm not quite sure what she's thinking — it was crowded enough with seven children, and now we all have spouses and kids… I really don't know how we're all going to fit. It's more likely than not that I'll be hosting the party here in Godric's Hallow or Samantha will lend us her house for two weeks. We all miss you Harry and I wish that you could be with us this year. We'll be thinking about you often. Be safe and be careful and try not to find trouble — yes, I know, it usually finds you, but do try to avoid it when you can. I love you always.
Lots of hugs and kisses,
Ginny
P.S. When you do come home, Samantha and Sirius have volunteered to take Julianne for a few days. So we can get some alone time. Are you interested Mr. Potter?
Home - into these arms of mine.
Home where you belong.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Anything that seems familiar here is not mine. The song is indeed called 'Sending You a Little Christmas' by Jim Brickman (who is a fabulous piano performer) and sung by Kristy Starling. I highly recommend it. I hope to continue my work on 'There's A Place' over the holiday season. I've been doing NaNo for the past month and school seems to be finally calming down for winter break. So thank you for your patience. Thanks to Beth for all her help and advice for this story.
Season's Greetings and a Happy, Prosperous New Year to everyone!