Merry Christmas

"No-o-o!" Hermione whined in a high pitched tone. "That's not any good. That present says that I didn't even bother. It has to be a really good present. One Mary will not only like but love. And one which her parents will like as well. We can't just buy any modestly expensive present."

With a sigh, Emma set the bear down. She was sure this was a good enough present for an eleven-year-old girl. And it was even on the pricey side. It had this stupid button in its ear.

Dan made a careful step towards Hermione and asked her in a soothing voice, "Are you not a little bit too serious about this? Maybe, you're just overthinking?"

Hermione's head turned so sharply around that her bushy hair whipped over the shelf behind her. "It's the first present I'm giving to Mary. She'll remember it for the rest of her life. It has to be perfect!"

Emma doubted that very much but thinking and voicing something were two different things.

"There is no perfect present," Dan announced calmly.

Hermione objected sharply, "There is! I told you about the enchanted kitty cat."

Emma thought that her husband's patience was impressive. If it was not for his example she would have already lost it. She was not used to this kind of trouble with their daughter. Hermione was by far no easy child. But so far she had never been this melodramatic or... childish. "Can't you tell us something about her that might help us find something fitting for her?"

Hermione almost exploded, "I've told you so much about Mary!"

Which was true. Hermione had written way more letters than they had expected. And there had never been a single one which had not mentioned her new best friend.

Emma suppressed a sigh. "We've been looking all day."

"And we've got no idea what we're looking for," Dan added in a low voice.

Hermione claimed stubbornly, "I'll recognize it when I see it."

The two elder Grangers exchanged a helpless look. Usually, her daughter knew exactly what she wanted.

"Okay, I'm going to buy this teddy bear," Emma told her daughter and husband. She plucked the one from the shelf she had been eyeing for the past ten minutes. She saw Hermione open her mouth but before she could protest, Emma added, "Not for Mary but for me. I've always wanted one of these."

Hermione frowned. Her mouth snapped shut. She could hardly tell her mother off for getting one for herself.

Dan insisted on paying for the stuffed animal which Emma found kind of sweet. Even if the money came from their shared account anyway. "Let's call it a day. I think we need to sleep another night over this. We won't get anywhere if we try to force it."

"We need to go to a better place tomorrow," Hermione demanded as they drove home for dinner.

On the 28th of December, the small family going by the name of Granger gathered in their living room. They had put their best clothes on. Dan wore a dark blue suit with a vest underneath. Emma had put her new black dress on.

Hermione thought that her parents looked really good in the clothes. She wore a red cuddle jacket with white faux-fur trim and a matching red skirt. Her mom had been very surprised when she had asked for a skirt instead of a pair of jeans. She looked very much like she had escaped from a Christmas movie. Everyone they had come across over the holidays had complimented her on it.

"So this is a portkey." Dan turned a half-burned down candle in his hands. He looked at it from all angles. A snowy white owl had delivered it that very morning. "I wonder what the Potters use instead of candles."

"Witches and wizards use candles way more often than normal people!" Hermione blurted out, "This candle is a portkey because the Portus Charm has been put onto it. It's a tradition to use broken or useless items for portkeys. It's meant to keep muggles from accidentally picking them up. Look at it! The wick is completely burnt down."

Emma giggled softly. "That was a joke."

"Mom, dad!" Hermione stomped her foot angrily. "Mary is my very best friend. Don't mock her family or their traditions!"

"We'll be good," Dan said in a tone one would expect from a lying, naughty boy.

Hermione did not get it. She beamed at her father while Emma tried hard to not burst out laughing behind her back.

Luckily, Emma managed to compose herself before Hermione turned around. Not trusting herself to keep a straight face, Emma hurriedly asked, "Can you repeat one more time what we'll have to do?"

"Oh, it's really simple. We just need to touch the candle precisely at ten o'clock." Hermione turned her head towards the antique grandfather clock in a corner of the room. "So in fifteen minutes."

"Okay, let's make sure we got everything then." Dan looked both of his girls over. "Where is your gift?"

"Here!" Hermione stood right next to a huge box.

Dan pulled it closer.

"Overnight bag?"

"There." Hermione pointed at the couch.

Emma took it.

"Go and get your coat." Emma told her daughter, "We don't know if you might need it."

Hermione hurried to fetch it.

"I really hope she'll be her old self once she comes back," Dan whispered.

Emma was wary. "Maybe this is already puberty?"

Dan shook his head in denial. "She's only twelve."

Before they could delve deeper into the matter, Hermione returned. She had brought two jackets and her coat. "Which one?"

"The coat looks best," Emma informed her daughter.

"How precise is that thing?" Dan lifted the candle. He was checking the VCR which showed a different time than the grandfather clock.

"Not very!" Hermione squeaked. "Whoever makes the portkey has to imagine the right time. If she or he has a bad sense of time it could go off at any moment. Which is also the very reason to create them on short notice."

"So, should we just touch it then?" Emma grabbed the other end of the candle. There was hardly enough place between her and Dan's hand for Hermione's much smaller one.

Hermione only put the tip of her finger onto the candle and huffed, "We don't need to physically hold onto it. It's impossible to let go of a portkey while it is active. In fact, we couldn't let go if we wanted to."

They stood around for five minutes in utter silence.

Dan checked all the clocks in the near vicinity. The grandfather clock, the VCR, his new mechanical wristwatch, and the clock in the hallway he could barely see if he leaned left. He even turned the TV on. "It's at least two minutes past ten now. How sure are we about that thing?"

"Very," Hermione answered coolly.

"Did you turn off the stove?" Emma asked.

"Yes, I-"

And that was the moment the portkey went off.

Hermione had been right. Their fingers got instantly fused to the candle. Letting go of it was no option at all. There was also a weird feeling behind their belly buttons. But that was only an afterthought in comparison to the entire world turning around them at a neck-breaking speed while they flew up into the sky without ever coming in contact with the roof of their house.

For a moment, they saw the turning landscape of southern England several miles under them. Then they entered the clouds. Dan looked at his wife and daughter. Both had their eyes closed. But he did look. He had to. This was so crazy. It was even more magical than having a witch turn their kitchen table into a pig.

They left the clouds and he got to see the twisting landscape once more. It was way more terrifying to fall down onto the roof of another house than rising from their own but he kept his eyes open. They made no contact with the roof of the house and fell right into its entrance hall. They crash-landed on a thick carpet.

"Oh, no, Hermione!" A bright voice squeaked.

A second and deeper female voice answered calmly, "Don't worry, they're alright."

Belly first Hermione bounced on a thick carpet. In the second before the impact, she had caught a glimpse at the two-story entrance hall of the Potters. Opposite a high double portal was a wide staircase that split halfway up and led to a gallery on the upper floor. "You don't need to worry Mary. They're all fine," a soft and almost melodious female voice reassured the young witch.

"This is what happens to everyone who uses a Portkey for the first time," added a male voice.

When the three Grangers were back on their feet, they found themselves facing a family of six. Like Hermione and her parents, the Potters wore clothes to impress. The father and the three boys wore black suits – which were surprisingly similar to the muggle version Hermione's father wore. The biggest difference was really the coat of arms on their left chests.

Hermione had seen this one before – not on their school uniforms but on Mary's nightgown. It was the Potters' family crest. On a bronze shield was a silver pair of balances that stood on an upside-down mug.

Mary and her mother were wearing bottle green dresses. Mary's hair was in little black ringlets and green ribbons had been woven into it.

"Mary," said the red-haired woman. Thanks to her emerald green eyes and facial features, she was easily identifiable as Mary's mother.

"Of course," replied the witch. She made a step forward and performed a perfect curtsy. Her hands lifted her long dark green skirt just so far that its hem remained at all times exactly the same distance from the floor. "My name is Mary Potter. May I introduce my family? My father, James Potter." Her head tilted slightly to her right while she remained in her curtsey.

The wizard stepped forward and bowed his head. It was covered with raven black hair. "Welcome to our humble home."

"My mother, Lily Potter." Mary turned her head to her right again.

The red-haired woman in the same colored dress stepped forward and curtsied as well. "Nice to meet you." Hermione couldn't help but stare at the bright green eyes that were so familiar from Mary's face.

"My eldest brother, Harry Potter," Mary explained with a hint of a movement to the left.

"Hello." The young wizard bowed similarly to his father before him. He was only slightly smaller than Neville and already taller than his older sister. Once again Hermione noticed Mary's bright green eyes in his face.

When her brother had stepped back in line, Mary continued, "My godbrother. Neville Longbottom."

"Delighted." The boy with sand-blond hair bowed a bit more snappily than the Potters.

Only now that Neville had stepped forward, she noticed that the crest on his chest was not the Potter's. His embroidery showed a tower and two stars.

"My brother, Charles Potter," Mary ended her performance.

A probably five-year-old boy bowed in a grumpy manner. Like his two siblings, he had inherited James' black hair and Lily's green eyes.

The family looked expectantly at Hermione. She tried to curtsy as well. But compared to Mary, she felt that her attempt was wooden and choppy. "My name is Hermione Granger. My father, Daniel Granger."

Hermione looked to her left. Following James Potter's example, her father bowed. "How do you do?"

Hermione then introduced her mother, who did a better curtsy than she but was still far less elegant than Mary or her mother before her.

"May I invite you to the Red Room for a little refreshment?" Mr. Potter asked and looked at Hermione's father almost as if he was the only one present.

"It would be a pleasure."

"Excellent," replied James. In a fluid motion, Lily stepped next to him and hooked her arm with her husband's. Mary did the same with Neville. Albeit, it was Neville who stepped next to her while she remained unmoving.

To Hermione's surprise, the elder of Mary's brothers came over to her. Harry offered her his arm to hook up with. "Hello," he repeated his previous greeting with an infectious grin.

To Hermione's renewed surprise, she and Harry took over the leadership of the group of five children. For some reason, she would have expected Mary and Neville to go first. They kept a certain distance from the adults while walking.

They had barely made a few steps along the corridor when James and Lily stopped in front of a painting. They had positioned themselves in such a way that it became obvious that only Hermione's parents should stand with them.

Harry stopped their group in front of another portrait. "It's actually not too far to the Red Room. Just down this hall and then the last door on the left," he explained as Neville, Mary and Charles joined them.

Hermione looked curiously down the hallway. Their destination was three doors away.

"However," Harry said in a suffering way, "It will take us a while to get there." There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Harry," Neville said warningly.

"Yes, all right. I know my duties as a host." The boy at Hermione's side shrugged his shoulders. "This is my grandmother, Euphemia Potter." A list of interesting but quite innocuous information followed and finally they had a chat with the portrait.

A very similar conversation took place between the group of adults and another portrait. They repeated this interaction with all of the portraits on the floor. Harry had a fine sense of humor. Hermione found herself giggling repeatedly.

Finally, James Potter welcomed his guests to the Red Room. It was a large, bright room, painted white and decorated with golden ornaments and objects such as bowls and amphorae. The wall opposite the door was dominated by three large windows. The only red thing in the room was a single plant with red leaves.

Exactly in line with the middle window on the other side of the room and the door, they entered through was a long table with chairs. The wall on the right was mostly made up of windows that reached down to the floor and were probably designed to give access to a terrace in the summer.

James led his wife to the right, while Hermione was led to the left, she would have a solid wall with even more portraits in her back. "Emma sits left of Hermione," hissed Harry at her insecure parents.

Conscientiously, Harry pulled back the chair for Hermione. When she wanted to sit down, he hissed, "Not yet." Then he whispered at her father standing next to him

"My mom then Mrs. Granger then Mary and then Hermione."

They sat down in the order Harry had told them. Before Harry went to the other side of the table, he whispered one more instruction to Hermione's father, "After Neville."

In the end, James Potter had found his place at the head of the table. On his right was Dan sitting next to Emma and next to Emma was Hermione. To the girl's surprise, Neville sat next to her.

Opposite of the three guests sat Harry, left of his father, next to him sat his mother, next to which sat Mary. Next to Mary sat her youngest brother.

Magic made fine porcelain cups with tea, sugar and milk appear. Twenty minutes of remarkably meaningless small talk followed. Only the adults were talking and all children only spoke when they were directly addressed by them. They were usually just required to answer negative or positive. Hermione was a bit surprised that both Mary and Charles were ignored completely but neither of them seemed to be surprised by this.

Hermione had expected this chitchat to go on until lunch and thus was very surprised when James requested Harry and Neville to escort her and Mary upstairs.

Whether it was intended that Charles slipped out of the room with them was not clear to Hermione. He did. And he was barely out of the door when he started running down the hallway. He reached the entrance hall so fast that Hermione realized once more how long they had needed to get to the red room.

"No running on stairs," Mary shouted after him. Charles looked over his shoulder and climbed the stairs in a hurry and not a sprint.

While her brother was already trampling down the upper floor, Mary said, "We'll manage from here on."

"Mary. Hermione." Neville bowed formally to each of them. Behind his back, Harry rolled his eyes impressively. He almost made Hermione smile, but somehow she managed to keep a straight face.

When Neville looked meaningfully at Harry, Hermione saw his eyebrows rise. "Yeah, no. Mary and Hermione made this somehow a formal get together. But I won't go the extra mile unless mom and dad watch." With a smirk, he added, "Besides none of you can snitch on me. That would be an even worse faux pas than me not bowing."

Neville huffed. But that was the end of that discussion.

No sooner had the two boys turned their backs on them than Hermione felt her friend's hand in hers. It was a quite normal feeling. But unlike usual, she felt a gentle pull on her arm. "Follow me," Mary said half-loud. For the first time, she took the lead.

Mary led Hermione upstairs. She occasionally touched a wall or the handrail of the staircase but it was clear that she could walk this house without looking.

"My room is right over here." Mary's hand fleetingly touched her door for orientation, and then purposefully grabbed the handle to open it for both of them.

This was the first room in the house without even one picture. Instead, there were shelves. Countless shelves. So many shelves that the walls could only be seen above the highest boards of the shelves.

Hermione was instantly enthralled by the myriad of objects.

"Here," said Mary, grabbed one of the objects and put it into the hand she had been holding so far.

"A giraffe," Hermione whispered in awe.

She examined the miniature in her palm. A small giraffe stood on her hand. It was chewing on a branch. Its tail moved as if it wanted to scare away some invisible flies. It made a long step to the left and looked down then turned its long neck to peer curiously up to Hermione.

Hermione looked at the former place of the giraffe on the shelf. Apparently, the giraffe had been placed alphabetically correct between gibbon and gnu.

On closer inspection, this shelf turned out to be a comprehensive collection of animal replicas. Mary had an elephant with large ears and one with small ears, each animal that Hermione could think of was placed on the shelf. Various kinds of cattle even formed something similar to a herd.

On another shelf were famous monuments. Elsewhere, objects like trees and pincers were lined up. Close to the window, Hermione saw a collection of flowers.

A question from Mary interrupted Hermione's thoughts, "The giraffe is a strange animal, don't you think?"

Hermione looked down at her hand, where the giraffe strutted around disinterestedly. "It is different," confirmed Hermione and watched the rows of animals along in search of a platypus. She found one.

"Giraffes are supposed to be very large," Mary said.

"Yes, they are," Hermione confirmed absent-mindedly.

There was a moment of silence. "How do you know?"

Hermione replied a bit reluctantly, "I've seen one before in the zoo."

"Oh." For a moment, Mary was silent As she stretched out her left hand, Hermione held hers against it and the giraffe took a long step over to the more familiar palm.

Mary moved the fingers of her other hand over the giraffe's body to recall its shape, just as Hermione would have looked at a painting. "I think she's beautiful. She has these little horns which are not pokey."

"She is," Hermione agreed.

A moment later, Mary sat the giraffe back down onto the shelf. It made only one step before it was back to the place Mary had taken it from. Hermione watched the giraffe look around lazily before she became as immobile as all the other animals.

Gently, Hermione pulled her friend over to the monuments. "Do you know all of these buildings as well? I don't recognize some of them."

"Really?" Mary asked in surprise. "Which one?"

Hermione carefully picked up one of the miniature buildings. The cross on the tower identified it as a church. But the building looked strange. In addition to the actual roof, two more protruding roofs ran once around it.

Mary palpated the object. "This is the stave church of Borgund. It is built entirely of wood and without a single iron nail. Stave churches were once built in Norway."

Once they had worked their way around Mary's room, there was a hasty knock on the door and Charles rushed in.

"Charles, it's very good manners for you to knock, but you'll have to wait for me to ask you to come in before you actually enter," Mary told her brother before he could say a single word.

"I know!" moaned Charles in the tone of someone who feared to hear a very familiar sermon again.

Mary hesitated. "All right, but please remember it next time."

"Okay," Charles said like he had just dodged a bullet.

"Is there something particular?"

Charles' childish face scrunched up in thought. Hermione could see it on his features when he remembered why he had come to them. "Mom says, dinner is ready and that I should- bring you down."

"Those were her words?" Mary asked with a meaningful undertone. "Bring us?" asked Mary curiously. "Like when you bring someone a cup of tea?"

Charles shuffled his feet. "No."

"What were mom's words?" Mary asked patiently.

Charles sighed heavily, "I'm to escort you downstairs."

"Now, that sounds like something mom could have asked you to do." Mary held her hand out.

Her little brother grabbed it and wanted to pull her away.

But Mary dug her heels in. "Aren't you forgetting someone?"

"I don't want to hold her hand!" Charles snapped defiantly. "She's a girl!"

"I'm a girl, too."

"But you're my sister," Charles replied as if that explained everything.

"It's all right..." Hermione wanted to intervene in a conciliatory manner.

"That's very rude, Charles," Mary told her little brother.

In silent capitulation, Charles extended his free hand to Hermione. She took it, even though it was clear from the way her fingers were held with as little contact as possible that this was done very reluctantly.

Lunch was less dull and forced. Their parents had apparently given up on being formal and were talking casually among each other. Lily had also moved up one place and was now sitting right next to her husband.

This left the five children to talk with each other. Interestingly, it was Mary who struggled the most. She was very different from her brothers. And while Hermione could talk all day long with Mary and could also converse easily with Harry, Neville, and Charles, it turned out to be nigh impossible to find anything all of them could talk about.

Hermione was not overly surprised when the five of them separated by gender once they were allowed to leave the table.

Mary led her into the library. And unlike the Red Room, the library deserved to be called as such. It was a very big room and housed even more shelves than Mary's room. And all of them were full of books. And if there had ever been a question about this, it was solved on that afternoon. A library was definitely something Hermione wanted once she was an adult and had her own home.

When Harry came to fetch them for the afternoon tea, Hermione left the library only because she knew it was time for unwrapping their presents.

They had tea in a room decorated for Christmas. There were garlands, stockings on the mantelpiece, a gorgeous tree, and a small Santa was flying his reindeer sled under the ceiling.

Change of PoV

When Emma looked at the small package Mary put into Hermione's hands, she had a very bad feeling. Hermione had obviously gotten the importance of this gift exchange very wrong. The present she had received was the size of a box of chocolates.

Hermione unwrapped the gift with such hopeful eyes that Emma's heart hurt. Her daughter had offered to forgo as many presents as necessary so her parents would buy for Mary what she had chosen.

And as far as Hermione knew, they had taken her up on it.

When Hermione pulled a comb out of the box, Emma saw her impression confirmed. It was actually a very mean present and Emma had half a mind to just leave. But something about Hermione's gleeful expression was very off.

She looked closer and after staring for a while she finally asked, "Is this real gold?"

"The gold doesn't matter," Hermione explained in excitement. "This is a real magic artifact!"

"An artifact?" Emma asked, a bit confused.

Instead of answering, Hermione easily pulled the comb through her hair. Emma felt her jaw drop. She had spent an hour taming her daughter's hair that morning and now she got to see what magic could do. Hermione's hair looked like it had been freshly styled.

"Mom made it," Mary supplied helpfully.

"Usually, I would say something humble. But these are really hard to make," Lily said with a smile.

Mr. Potter took this as a cue and toasted, "On marrying the cleverest witch."

Then it was Mary's turn. Her present was way bigger. It was also too heavy for the girl to lift it. She unwrapped it. But out came basically a box.

After a bit of handiwork from Hermione's dad, Mary could try to figure out what she had gotten.

Her fingers explored her gift very thoroughly. There were buttons, some kind of plate, a funnel, and an arm with a needle. So far, Hermione had prevented her friend four times from touching the needle's point.

"What is this?" asked Mary once more and finally, Hermione decided that it was time to explain her present. "This is a mechanical record player. And because it has no electrical components it will even work in a magical house."

And then she put Mary through the process of winding it up, putting a record on it, and pressing the button that got the music started.

After a minute of rapt listening, Mary threw her arms around Hermione for a hug that would last until the record ended.

And then Mary made the record play a second time.

A/N: Merry Christmas to everyone and merry thanks to xfireandpowderx for beta-reading!