Chapter re-vamped 2/3/2015

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Disclaimer: None of the characters or the world created by JK Rowling belongs to me nor do I make any money off this story.

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Christmas Eve at the Weasley home was mass chaos, decorations galore both magical and muggle and redheads running everywhere for last minute touch ups, errands and gift hiding. There was a quiet pain caused by the absence of one loveable prankster though they tried not to show it. Hermione was sure once the silence of the night crept upon them they would all mourn in their own ways, remembering the one they had all lost.

Molly decided at last minute that a magical tree just would not do this year and had sent the men out into the surrounding woods looking for the best one they could find. They were told not to return with any old tree but a 'magnificent tree fit for Merlin himself.' When they trudged out the door with false smiles George jokingly asked if Merlin was coming to visit. Inside the home; Hermione, Ginny, Molly and a very pregnant Fleur sorted through all manner of indoor decorations in the kitchen.

Lights, garland, stockings and stocking holders in the shape of house elves, owls, lions and in the case of Percy a stack of books. Though the family's relationship with the third eldest was strained and he would not be joining them this year things were on the road to mending.

Hermione kept sneaking glances at the French woman as she tried to stamp down her own jealousy; as ridiculous as it was. Fleur had everything Hermione had never envisioned for herself but in the moment it didn't seem to register. A loving husband, a large family and genuine happiness was evidenced by the glow the French woman gave off. Shaking her head Hermione tried to focus back on her box of garland.

With a quick Wingardium Leviosa the red and gold strands were floating in the air and she began pulling at the knots with nimble fingers.

Commotion outside the kitchen door had Molly bustling over and pulling it open. There was a whole lot of cursing as Arthur, Harry, Ron, and Bill shuffled the tree though the door. Charlie had hold of the massive trunk stump and was stumbling backwards as they went. Moments later George swaggered through the door, whistling a Weird Sisters Christmas tune and rolling the axe between his hands. Molly raised an eyebrow in question and George shrugged. "I did my part ma, I swear. Someone had to protect us from the axe."

Suddenly it sounded like a nest of snakes had invaded the living room from all the hissing and booing the other Weasley males were doing. George grinned and shrugged once more. "They just don't appreciate my sacrifice. I'll go put this away shall I?"

Molly shook her head before coming back to the boxes. "Shall we?"

Between the four of them they grabbed up boxes and carried them to the living room, Hermione and Ginny coming back for a second trip. The boys had really outdone themselves, the eight and a half foot Douglas Fir was a beautiful tree and sat perfectly in the corner between the fireplace and the window. Harry and Ron plopped on the couch while Bill and Charlie went for drinks. Arthur sidled up behind his wife and hugged her around the middle. "Is it everything you wanted?"

Molly smiled and turned in his arms, kissing him sweetly. "More than I could have asked for."

Charlie and Bill came back with glasses of butterbeer and settled themselves down to observe as the girls began with the tree. Soon it was a game, who could point out the empty spots. Tinsel was flying as they threw it back and forth, people ducking and hollering. Hermione just shook her head ruefully as Ron and Harry fell all over each other for the now knotted ball of tinsel. Reaching into one of the boxes Hermione grabbed an ornament and froze looking at it. It was an old, ornate rattle; most likely made of sterling silver and hanging on a still bright red ribbon, engraved with the name of William and the year 1970. She shook it lightly and it tinkled prettily, barely discernable above all the ruckus.

Arthur came up behind her and lifted it from her fingers, smiling as he cradled it in his hands.

"You know, we weren't always so poor around here. If you ask Molly she'll say we're frugal but you and I know better don't we Hermione? The Weasley's were never a rich family but we've always had a bit of money to cushion our lives. Molly wobbles was a Prewitt and came to our marriage with a bit of money herself but when war broke out we thought the money we had was best served attempting to save lives and making homes for the children who were left alone."

Arthur paused and got a faraway look on his face and for a moment Hermione wanted to be there, see what he saw. She wanted to know, not understand but really know. Arthur shook the rattle lightly and the tinkling rang out again, sharper this time.

"No matter how poor we ever got, whenever another babe came into our lives we had one of these commissioned. An old, outdated pureblood tradition but something that means more to us than many could understand. There's ten more in these boxes somewhere, the rest of the kids, Molly's, mine and two belonging to Molly's brothers. They're special and one day maybe you'll know just how special."

Hermione accepted the ornament back and her smile wavered at the sorrow that had overcome Arthur's face. He nodded to her before heading out the back door and into the snow. She turned back toward the tree and spotted Molly looking at the ornament in her hand before the matriarch picked up her skirts and followed her husband, barely stopping to grab their coats from the rack.

Sure enough as they dug through the ornaments they found the others, Molly's and Ginny's hanging on white ribbons while the rest dangled from red. The room had quieted when the elder Weasley's left, the boys getting up one by one to place their rattle on the tree. George hesitated with Fred's in his hand, the man gripping the rattle so tight Hermione was sure it would collapse beneath his calloused palms. He placed the ornament on the very front of the tree and turned away with a grimace. He headed upstairs in long strides. Ginny moved to go after him but Bill grabbed her by the arm.

"No Gin, leave him be."

Ginny frowned but said nothing before grabbing the empty butterbeer glasses and heading into the kitchen. Hermione and Fleur strung up the last of the still serviceable Gryffindor garland before banishing the boxes back to the attic closet. Charlie moved from the couch to the floor so Fleur could snuggle next to her husband. One delicate hand rested on the girth of her stomach and a sad smile tugged at her lips. Bill rested his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers lightly.

"We'll have a rattle next year, dangling from that tree."

Fleur nodded placidly. " 'es darling, ve will on't ve?"

Molly and Arthur came back into the living room, arm in arm. Molly looked around as she did a quick count. "Where is George?"

Charlie shook his head. "Upstairs mum, he's alright."

Molly frowned and opened her mouth before Arthur patted her arm lovingly.

"He'll be fine dear, right as rain come morning."

She nodded but didn't look convinced.

Hermione cleared her throat and raised her wand. "Shall I?"

Arthur nodded and Hermione flicked her wand once. "Nox."

The lights instantly blinked out and the tree illuminated the blackness with a warm glow. Small enchanted pixies floated around it, giggling and twittering. The rattles gave off an unearthly shine in the light and Hermione couldn't swallow back the lump in her throat. She did her best to smile and stretched her arms above her head.

"Well, I'm tired and need to get to bed. Been working long hours and I need all the sleep I can get. Besides, Christmas won't come if we don't sleep."

Molly kissed her cheek and she raised a hand in a goodnight gesture to the others. She bounded upstairs and shut the bedroom door when she heard Ron and Harry making excuses too. Minutes later they were in the bedroom with her and Ron pulled her into his arms as she cried quietly. Petting her hair he led her to the bed where the three crawled in and cuddled close until the tears stopped.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I just saw the rattles and your dad told me about them; George is upset, Ginny is being belligerent and Fleur has everything I thought I never wanted."

Ron choked a laugh and raised an eyebrow. "You mean you wanted Bill?"

Hermione laughed and punched him in the chest.

"You know very well what I meant Ronald Weasley."

Harry shook his head, brushing the hair from her blotchy face.

"We know. Right now there's bigger fish to fry I'm afraid. When you stretched your concealment spell wavered, nearly broke I think. It won't last much longer, you've gotten a mite too big round the middle."

Hermione sighed, hands resting on what appeared to be a flat stomach. Letting the concealment charm drop she gazed at her own swollen stomach under her burgundy sweater. She was nearly seven months along herself and the baby girl inside was growing at an alarming rate. Before school started Hermione had researched a couple concealment spells in the Black library specifically for pregnancy that had been used by pureblood women for centuries. Stuck in the middle ages as most pureblood families were, it was okay to know a woman was pregnant but improper to see evidence of it. Though these spells did a beautiful job, there was a point where they just couldn't stretch any farther.

'Sort of like my uniform skirts' she thought idly.

"I'll have to tell won't I?"

Ron nodded slowly.

"We'll be with you all the way you know."

"I know."

Hermione nodded and snuggled into the blanket. It was long past time to tell her family and friends, and if she hadn't been so scared of others opinions she might not be stuck at the crossroads she was now. Hermione hadn't been concerned about opinions since her first year, having found friends who accepted her for who she was but the conundrum didn't stop there. What was she to say about the father? That certainly wasn't an easy answer and was out of her hands. Severus had to make that choice, she couldn't in good conscience out him. There was no real easy way to go about this.

When Hermione finally drifted off a little while later Harry and Ron extricated themselves from the blankets and headed to Ron's old bedroom. Looking at the two twin beds stuffed into the bedroom Harry laughed. "Are we even going to fit one those?"

Ron shook his head and pulled his shirt off, grabbing some gaudy orange Chudley Cannons sleep pants, threadbare in places and actual holes in others.

"We can always sleep with Hermione when mum's not looking. That bed's big enough."

Harry laughed as he finished pulling on his sweatpants and settled onto his bed.

"She'd know if we even thought it."

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Hermione groaned as she rolled over, not wanting to get out of bed but knowing if she didn't go to the bathroom soon she'd be in trouble. The little girl inside her was kicking sporadically in the direction of her bladder making the need all the more urgent. Kicking off the blankets it took a couple tries before Hermione was able to sit up and grab her robe from the end of the bed. She was glad she'd brought it though it barely fit around her extended stomach; Percy's old room was high up in the house and could get drafty. Touching the floor with her feet Hermione shivered, the wood cool to the touch. Padding out the door and down the hall she closed the bathroom door quietly and sighed in relief. After washing her hands Hermione went back out into the hall and turned down the steps, wanting to grab a drink from the kitchen. Halfway down the steps however the witch stopped cold at the sight below. George sat curled in front of the glowing Christmas tree with his head bowed over what looked like an old Weasley sweater. His hands were grasping at the material and his knuckles were white. She backed up a step and almost turned around until the muted cry of pain hit her ears.

Gripping the edges of her robe Hermione descended the stairs and crossed the small living room until she stood just behind George. Reaching out a hand she tentatively set it on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen under her touch.

"You shouldn't be alone George."

George brushed his eyes quickly before looking up at her, his face a mask of sorrow and anger. Just as quickly the look disappeared and a trademark Weasley Twin smirk replaced it. Hermione took a step back and tried not to fidget at the sudden change.

"I'm not alone now Hermione."

Hermione nodded.

"No, you're not alone."

George's smirk fell slightly and he reached out a hand.

"Stay with me for a while?"

Hermione nodded and gripped his outstretched hand, maneuvering herself to the ground. George didn't say anything as she settled slowly and tried her best not to fall over. So far her robe had done some good in hiding her stomach but all at once Hermione knew how she was going to tell everyone about her pregnancy, and who was going to find out first. Hermione reached out for the sweater in George's hand and held up the faded green material to the light. It was small and by the looks of the wear several years old. Tracing her fingers over the F on the front she looked to George as he spoke quietly."

"Mum started making the sweaters like clockwork for each of us right after Bill first went to Hogwarts. Every year we got one under the tree at home but they were so much more special during our first year at Hogwarts. Fred was always the braver of us both you see, never said a word when he found me crying of homesickness just before Christmas break. He just went to the wardrobe and pulled out my sweater from the previous year and told me we'd be home soon. Told me mum would never let us leave the house again if she caught me crying and said he'd blame me forever if she started carrying us around on her hip again. Then he made some funny gestures and everything was okay. This last year I haven't cried once, swore I wouldn't but I'm suffering from twin sickness. I miss my brother and no sweater is gonna fix it this time."

George's hands were trembling and his face was twisted in grief. Hermione laid the sweater on the floor before scooting closer to the ginger. Gripping his face in her hands she smiled sadly at him, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"It's okay to miss him and I think you're way too big for your mother to carry around on her hip. She'll just have to get over it."

George gave a wet chuckle and swiped at his eyes once more.

"I go to the joke shop day after day for my brother because he was the one who wanted it more than anything. Since we were kids he'd been the leader and I was the follower. When we practically set Umbridge on fire and broke out of Hogwarts Fred had made the call, I was happy to do whatever it took to be with my brother. Now I'm making the choices and it's just not the same."

Reaching up George stretched until his fingers brushed the silver rattle with Fred's name on it. Glancing at Hermione his eyes were fearful for a split second.

"I could be in a room full of people but I still feel alone."

Hermione's heart broke at the last statement, hating how hollow the once famed jokester sounded. Gripping his hands in hers she kissed his knuckles briefly.

"You are never alone George Weasley, you couldn't hide from us all even if you gave it your hardest try. Fred hasn't left you or any of us, not really. He lives on in our memories and our hearts, I hope you know that."

George's gaze drifted back to the rattle once more and though he was not smiling as he had years before, his expression cleared a bit.

"I know that Hermione, I guess I just needed to hear it from somebody else. Just needed to know nobody else had forgotten either."

Before she could stop him George leaned over and enveloped her into a hug. The hug was nice Hermione had to admit and George smelled familiarly of the gunpowder he used in a lot of his jokes but the niceness ended there when he stiffened up again. Slowly he leaned back until his hands gripped her shoulders and his eyes stared into hers.

"Uhm Hermione, have you gained some weight?"

Hermione's hand slapped him on the chest and knocked him backward.

"Are you calling me fat George Weasley?"

George held up his hands in defense.

"I'm just asking, your belly is sticking out a bit more than usual."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do you feel or ogle my belly?"

George shrugged, still wary.

Hermione smiled and grabbed his hands out of the air, pulling them toward her.

"Yeah I've grown, maybe more than a bit. See, I didn't know how to tell anyone and as you can tell when you hugged me it's not all that hideable anymore."

George grinned and chuckled.

"So you gained some weight, just don't eat so much candy and you'll be okay."

Hermione laughed.

"Not quite."

Gripping one of George's hands tightly Hermione pulled the tie on her robe, letting it fall open. George balked quickly and tried to pull back but Hermione gave a tug and he leaned forward, hand coming to rest on her enlarged stomach. George's mouth fell open in shock and when Hermione let go of his hand he didn't remove it but added the other.

"Are you….pregnant?"

Hermione bit her lip, suddenly shy and apprehensive.

"Yes."

George was stunned into silence, not something that happened often. His next words stumbled and fell from his mouth in a jumbled mess.

"How did this happen?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile a bit at his reaction.

"Well, when a witch has a bit much to drink and comes across an attractive man she forgets everything and jumps into the settee as it were."

George glared momentarily.

"I know how that works Ms. Granger, been on a settee or two myself. Who? Do Harry and Ron know? Was it my idiotic brother in the first place?"

Hermione's finger settled over his lips shushing him.

"Who doesn't really matter. Yes Harry and Ron know and no it wasn't your mostly idiotic brother. Any of them for that matter. Now the question is, do you think badly of me? Will your family think badly of me?"

George was staring at her stomach, the old t-shirt she wore stretched as far as it would go. Before she knew what happened George had her leaned back against the couch and her shift lifted up just beneath her bra. The redhead was crouched over her on his hands and knees, eyes still on her stomach.

"What the hell George?!"

Hermione was struggling to cross her legs in some fashion, not wearing any bottoms and preferring to keep her panties to herself.

George lifted his face to look at her and put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh, you'll wake the rest of the house."

Hermione balked once more but stopped when George returned his attention to her stomach. Slowly he traced his fingers across it and laugh when the imprint of a foot strained against her skin for a moment.

"How much longer?"

Hermione rested her own hand where the foot had been.

"I'm almost seven moths along so if I go to term, just over three months. It's a girl."

George traced her belly once more, a wistful look on his face.

"A girl. How are you going to tell the family? Gonna just show them your belly?"

Hermione laughed, tilting her face up at him.

"Not if I want to give your mother a heart attack. Honestly I don't know, I didn't know I would tell you until I sat here."

George smiled indulgently.

"I'd be happy to help you tell them you know, stand behind you with the boys."

Hermione covered his hand that still rested on her stomach.

"I'd like that."

They stayed in silence a moment longer, George still leaned over her and Hermione leaned against the couch. Her shirt was still pulled up around her bra while she had managed to cross her legs somewhat effectively though George didn't appear to care. Her stomach held his attention. The family clock on the wall went off, announcing it to be five in the morning.

Hermione frowned.

"Have you slept tonight?"

George was suddenly evasive as he shrugged a shoulder.

"A bit."

Hermione opened her mouth but stopped at the groggy voice on the stairs.

"George, is everything okay down there?"

Hermione froze and looked at George. George smiled slowly, his grin promising trouble. Suddenly Hermione realized the position they were in and before she could stop him George sentenced them both to death by Molly Weasley.

"Hey mum, come see what I found!"

Hermione shoved at George but he wouldn't move, nor could the witch get her shirt pulled down or out from under the redhead; and she knew it was too late when small slipper covered feet came into her view. Needless to say the house was awoken by the banshee like scream that erupted from the Weasley matriarch.

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