December 1999
That year, the Weasleys had the largest Christmas tree that any of them had ever seen. Charlie had brought back the enormous fir from Romania, although how he managed to travel with it remained a mystery. Despite the extension charm Hermione had added to the living room, the bristly tree still seemed to take up most of the space.
Mrs. Weasley had clucked when she saw it. "How are we ever going to decorate the entire thing?"
The tree was easily as tall as Hagrid and twice as thick. It was a dark green, and the sharp smell of pine cut through the air.
"We'll have to be sure to keep hydration and flame retardant charms on it," Hermione said, performing the charms with a couple of flicks of her wand. "If one of these branches gets too close to the fireplace, this whole room will go up in flames."
"Festive," Ron commented, stoking said fire.
He glanced back towards the kitchen where Lavender and Mrs. Weasley were baking. Lavender had appeared to be in good spirits when they left Hogwarts that morning, but within moments of arriving at the Burrow, she had reverted to the silent and sour Professor Brown that Hermione was accustomed to seeing in the hallways. Mrs. Weasley, sensing Lavender's discomfort, had commandeered the newcomer's help. Now, Hermione could hear Mrs. Weasley chattering about cinnamon cookies.
Keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, Ron said, "I'm glad she decided to come along."
"Me too. I think it will do her some good to be around people who can look at her for who she is," Hermione said. "Most of the students are too young to understand what happened, and those who aren't don't like being reminded of the war."
"Well, we're all used to seeing Bill, so it's not much of a shock for us," Ron said, brushing his hands off as he stood. "I'm sure she misses her family, but hopefully we can offer the next best thing."
"And what's that, Ronald?" Hermione asked, casting a cleaning charm on her soot covered friend.
"Friends," he said simply.
Hermione agreed, fondly tossling Ron's hair. In this aspect, she could understand Lavender. The holidays brought out the longing for her parents that she squashed most of the time. It was difficult, though. Her parents had been her best friends until she had gone to Hogwarts, but they hadn't even seen her in two and a half years. They didn't even remember she existed, a fact that seemed to cut a little sharper during times that were meant for family.
That evening, the Weasleys, Hermione, and Lavender decorated the tree. The tree was so much larger than any tree that they had ever had before, and their entire ornament collection only covered a small portion of the branches, so they were all transfiguring Arthur's muggle artefacts in the name of Christmas.
Arthur selflessly sacrificed his collection to the cause, although he did pull Hermione aside to assure him that she would help return them all to their former glory. Some of the items were quite odd indeed. Among them was a weedeater, a ceiling fan, and most remarkably, something called a "potty putter."
Charlie had turned a collection of VHS tapes into a small dragon, which he placed in the branches so that it could roam around. Bill was creating a set of snowflakes from a travel pack of tissues, and Fleur had a small collection of beautiful glass ornaments beside her. Victoire was barely visible behind the thick lower branches as she looked for the dragons Charlie had hid.
George had just come over and he was putting on some of his less nefarious products, including several reusable hangmen that looked rather macabre among the glittery baubles. Hermione was transfiguring the muggle toys in front of her into traditional christmas ornaments. A small figurine became a serene angel. A stuffed dog became a reindeer. She added them to the tree, taking a step back to admire her handiwork.
Ron was cracking everyone up by simply miniaturizing whatever he got his hands on before hanging it on the tree. A small toilet seat, big enough to fit in the palm of a hand, was hanging right at eye-level.
Molly snapped at his head with a dish towel before telling him to get it off of her tree. Grinning, Ron took it down only to replace it with a toilet plunger. Before Molly, or anyone else, could react, there was a laugh. A pure, bell like sound that Hermione had not heard in a very long time. Lavender's face turned red as they turned towards her.
"Well, at least there's someone who appreciates your humor," Bill joked. Everyone laughed, but Lavender's face remained red, and Ron's was not much better.
There was a sound from across the house. "That must be Ginny and Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Oh, it's about time. I was starting to worry."
Sure enough, Harry and Ginny entered the room, both flushed from the cold outside. Harry and Ginny exchanged hugs with Hermione as well as the rest of Weasleys, giving polite hellos to Lavender.
"Where have you two been? I was about to send Ron out to look for you," Molly scolded halfheartedly, brushing snow from their hair. "Did you eat yet? You look hungry. I'm going to go warm some soup up. Oh! I'll bake another pie."
Ginny caught her mother's arm before she could bustle off to the kitchen. "Actually, Mum, there's something we would like to say."
Mrs. Weasley reluctantly turned away from her kitchen, eyes narrowed. "What is it? Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," Ginny looked at Harry and took a deep breath. "We're moving in together."
There was a pause; the only sound in the room was the crackling in the fireplace and the small snaps coming from George's popping poinsettias.
"What?" Mrs. Weasley drew herself up, her pleasant frame suddenly more intimidating.
Ginny stood her ground. "I'm moving in with Harry."
"Ginny, dear, perhaps we should discuss-" Arthur began.
"Harry," Mrs. Weasley cut her husband off and turned to Harry, who took a small step back. Everyone except for Ginny followed his example. "I've known you since you were a boy. You are like another son to me. I consider you a part of my family- you know that I do, but do you mean to tell me that you are going to take my daughter away from home when she is only nineteen? She's hardly out of school, hardly an adult! Her life has barely begun." Mrs. Weasley took what appeared to be an attempt at a calming breath, although it seemed to do little to console her. "What is the rush? There's no engagement, no baby-" She cut off abruptly. "Is there a baby?"
"No, Mum," Ginny said exasperatedly.
"Then why?"
Ginny held up her left hand where a shiny gold ring rested. "Because there is an engagement."
After the initial shock, and Mrs. Weasley's tears, the young couple was congratulated. While he tried to be more discreet that his wife, Mr. Weasley also had tears in his eyes as he embraced Harry and Ginny.
Hermione was the first one to reach Harry and Ginny after Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and she wrapped both of them in a fierce hug.
"Oh, Hermione," Ginny complained. "Not you too."
"I can't help it," Hermione sniffled. "I'm so happy for both of you." Harry kissed her cheek but he didn't say anything. Hermione assumed that it was because he was also choked up. His bright green eyes were suspiciously watery as he turned towards Ron, who shook Harry's hand and hugged Ginny. To balance things out, George made sure to hug Harry and shake Ginny's hand as he congratulated them.
"Harry's officially going to be a part of the family!" Bill said.
"He already is. Hermione too," Mrs. Weasley said.
Hermione's heart twisted slightly. She and Harry had been honorary Weasleys for years, but with the union of Ginny and Harry, she would be only one who was not truly bound to them.
You could have been if you had made it work with Ron, a traitorous thought suggested in her brain.
She looked at handsome, goofy, lovable Ron, who was half jokingly giving Harry a what-for. For the first time, Hermione wondered if she had made a mistake ending things with Ron. Really, it had been a mutual decision, but she had certainly been the one to initiate the conversation.
"A heads up would have been nice. Might have told your best friend that you'd be proposing to his sister," Ron pulled Harry in for a hug, his lanky frame dwarfing Harry's smaller build.
Hermione's heart melted at the sight of her two best friends together. No, definitely not a mistake. This is how it was meant to be. Harry and Ron were like brothers to her. Nothing more, nothing less. None of them had been meant for each other in a romantic sense. She only hoped that both Ron and herself would be able to find the sort of happiness that Harry had found with Ginny.
Ron moved out of the way to let the rest of the family have a chance at grilling Ginny and Harry. He jerked his thumb in his parents' direction, both of whom were still misty eyed, "Dodged that jinx, didn't we?"
Hermione laughed. "I did. You're not out of the woods yet. I'm sure it won't be too long before you'll have an announcement of your own."
Ron scoffed. "Unlikely."
Late on Christmas Eve, Hermione and Harry took a trip together, just the two of them. When Harry had knocked on her door that morning, wreath in hand, she had known immediately where they were going. She was somewhat surprised that he was not taking Ginny instead, but she thought she understood why.
Out of all the traditions she had formed with her friends over the years, visiting the grave of her best friend's parents certainly had been the least expected. And yet, they walked through the snowy paths of Godric's Hollow for the third year in a row. It was eerily reminiscent of the first time that they had made the trek to the graveyard. No one was about, though Hermione could see lights on in the church just beyond.
On this occasion, they did not stop at the house that Harry had been raised in for the first year of his life. Nor did they pause to examine the statue of the Potters. Harry was quiet, but he didn't carry the wounded expression that he had on their previous visits. Instead, he looked serious. Adult-like.
Hermione quietly paid her respects, crouching beside the grave to place the wreath. A thin layer of frost coated the white marble. She rubbed her thumb over JAMES POTTER & LILY POTTER so that their names were visible once more. Harry stood beside her, hands stuffed into his oversized pockets to ward off the cold. His breath, trapped against his face by the scarf wrapped around his neck, created foggy spots on his glasses. Hermione stood up and reached for Harry's arm, which he placed around her without comment.
Harry rarely said much about his parents, and the times he did it was usually in short, restless bursts. In that moment, Hermione was reminded of the eleven year old Harry she had met on the train. Quite a lot had changed over the past nine years, but some things were nearly identical. He had the same unruly hair, though its wild waves reached his shoulders now. Same bright green eyes and famous lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Less skinny, though not by much. In that moment, standing in front of the spot where his parents were buried, he carried the same small, lost look that he had as a child.
Hermione's heart ached for eleven-year old Harry, as well as the friend in front of her now. He pulled his right hand from his pocket and tugged off its glove with his teeth. He placed his bare hand on the headstone briefly. Hermione, still surrounded by Harry's left arm, awkwardly leaned forward with him. Right when she thought that he was about to say something, Harry abruptly turned to leave, releasing his grip on her.
Hermione trotted after him, and as they walked back through the cemetery, she caught his glances that repeatedly landed in her direction.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing," Harry said. "I'm just thinking."
"Anything you'd like to share?"
"Not yet." He took out his wand and Disapparated. Hermione sighed and followed.
Christmas day was picturesque, both outside where there were mounds of fresh snow, and inside the Burrow, which was packed with Weasleys and family friends. There had not been this number of guests since Bill and Fleur's wedding a couple of years before. Luckily, since then there had been some adjustments made to the Burrow to make it a bit more spacious, though it was starting to resemble Hogwarts. The haphazard additions to the house seemed to hang on through magic alone.
Mrs. Weasley had insisted on a large breakfast of pancakes before they tore into their presents. Hermione was fine with just a hot chocolate, but the men certainly seemed to appreciate them, going through stack after stack. Ginny, not one to be outdone by her brothers, was keeping up fairly well.
Lavender did not eat anything, and she looked slightly out of place, as if she were afraid to remind anyone that she was there. Apparently sensing this, Mrs. Weasley once again commandeered her help in the kitchen.
As had happened last year, Percy and Penelope stopped by for a short while, mostly to exchange presents.
"Stay, Percy. We'll have a few leftover pancakes if the boys stop eating soon. I can't send you off without something to eat," Mrs. Weasley fussed.
"No, Mum, it's alright. We were heading on to Penelope's parents' house." He gave his mother a gentle kiss on the cheek before heading off. Penelope did not say anything to them, not even hello.
"Git," George muttered, biting into another pancake.
Ron offered his agreement around a bite of bacon.
Mrs. Weasley sighed as they left. "Oh, stop that. He's your brother. I don't want him to feel like he's imposing by being with his family- especially on Christmas of all days!"
This statement caused all of the Weasley children to voice their opinions at once.
"Why don't we head into the living room?" Hermione suggested loudly over the raised voices. Harry shot her a grateful look, and everyone trooped into the living room.
Mrs. Weasley's Celestina Warbeck holiday record was playing, and the candles on the giant tree burned brightly. It was covered in strings cranberries, garlands, and the transfigured ornaments. Besides the traditional ones, Ron's miniature toilet seat still gleamed in the light.
While they were passing all of the presents out to their correct recipients, owls fluttered by the windows, dropping off presents from their friends. Minerva had bought her a subscription for Transfiguration Today. Neville and Hannah sent an engagement gift for Harry and Ginny, as well as a small food basket for the others. Luna sent gifts from Russia, which were aptly addressed in Russian. Unsure of exactly which gift was meant for who, they each took one at random. Hermione unwrapped a beard grooming kit, which she traded for the latest edition of the Quibbler.
There were certainly more presents under the Weasleys' tree than Hermione had ever seen before. After the war, Arthur had finally been promoted and given a raise, easing the financial strain on the family. This in addition to a large sum of gold miraculously turning up in their Gringotts vault, resulted in the Weasleys being wealthy for the first time in centuries. Despite their new found wealth, Mrs. Weasley retained a sense of modesty, most obviously exemplified in her traditional Christmas gift.
Everyone that year, including Lavender, although Hermione had no idea how Mrs. Weasley had found the time, received the famous Weasley sweaters. The boys complained good naturedly, as they always did about them, sliding them on at their mother's insistence. Harry, who had always seemed to cherish his Weasley sweaters, was already wearing his, his unruly hair further mused in the process. Lavender hesitantly slid her own dark pink sweater on, fingering the cuff, which was more elaborate than on the boys'.
Hermione's was a dark green that year. It was oversized and looked like the comfiest sweater that she had ever seen. From Bill, Fleur, Ron, Ginny, and Harry, she received a stack of books, much to her delight.
Hermione distributed gifts, keeping an eye on everyone's reactions. For Harry and Ron, who were nearing the end of their first year of Auror training, she got them both sturdy knapsacks, which Tonks had assured her would come in handy in the next year of training. Ginny received a set of new Quidditch gloves, which she tried on immediately. The rest of the Weasleys seemed equally pleased with their gifts.
She felt slightly bad, not getting anything for Charlie, but he seemed rather unbothered that he received the fewest gifts. He was the Weasley that she knew the least, having never spent much time with him and never attending Hogwarts at the same time. She did have a crush on him when she was younger, twelve or thirteen. He looked so daring, with his long hair and outdoorsy appearance, and he worked with dragons, which is one of the most dangerous professions in the wizarding world.
He had not changed much from the first time she had met him. His hair was about the same length, recovered from the painfully short haircut Mrs. Weasley had given him before the wedding. On top of the presents he received from his family, he received several owls as the day wore on with presents and letters from his friends and former clients and employers, who clearly held a high opinion of him. In all the time she had known him, he had never brought anyone home, or even expressed interest in anyone romantically, but he seemed perfectly content.
Since Harry and Ginny had announced their engagement, Hermione found her own mind turning to the idea of relationships. It was a thought that hadn't come up recently, what with her recent employment at Hogwarts. Godric knows that the students kept her too busy to pursue much of a personal life. Not to mention she hated dating.
She had found this out shortly after she broke up with Ron. She went on several dates with men who had asked her out upon hearing that she and Ron were done, but they all went horribly. They all were too handsome and smooth and uninteresting. They had never known pain, or fear, or drive, and were happy to let life come to them. Well, that was not how Hermione Granger lived her life, nor was it an admirable quality in others. Everything that she had in her life, she intended to work for, and she would accept nothing less from a partner.
It had left her feeling disheartened, and she had taken an indefinite hiatus from the dating world, thinking that she might meet someone when she took up a job at the Ministry in a few years. Yes, a lot of people worked at the Ministry. It was bound to happen then.
It was not the only thing that seemed bound to happen. It had not gone unnoticed to her that Lavender and Ron seemed to be getting along extremely well, much better than when they had dated at sixteen. It was almost unreal to believe that that had been almost four years ago and that so much had changed since then.
A cheer broke her out of her pondering. Victoire was clapping her chubby hands excitedly, singing in a mix of French and English. She was going to be spoiled beyond repair. At that moment, she was wearing a fluttery, ribbony dress and sitting in the middle of a stack of presents at least twice her size. Not only was she Arthur and Molly's first grandchild, she also had two doting parents and a slew of uncles and aunts between Bill and Fleur's family. To add to effect, she had inherited her mother's looks, and could convince anyone to get her anything she wanted with a bat of her eyelashes.
They laughed as the toddler tore into her presents. Bill took pictures of his daughter, which she posed for before grabbing another box to open.
Later that afternoon, Viktor visited to wish Bill and Fleur a merry Christmas. He seemed delighted to see Hermione as well, and they spent several hours catching up, sharing details that had failed to make it into their letters. It was wonderful to be around so many people, but
when Mr. Weasley's cousins dropped by afterwards, Hermione was not at all reluctant to slip off to Grimmauld Place with Harry and Ginny. Lavender stayed at the Burrow, promising Hermione that she was fine and she would see her at the Millennium Ball on New Year's Eve, if not before then.
At Grimmauld Place, Harry drifted off to visit with Kreacher before heading up to his room. Hermione took up her usual room, and Ginny sprawled across her bed as she watched Hermione sort through her recently acquired presents. Crookshanks was curled up beside Ginny and purring loudly. He had stayed with Ginny during the year that Hermione had left, and he was always uncharacteristically cuddly when the two reunited.
"We're going to start redecorating tomorrow," Ginny told Hermione. "Ron and Lavender will be coming over to help, and we could probably use your input as well."
"Of course! I'm sure you're ready to get this place fixed up" Hermione said. "Gin, you're getting married! I can't believe it."
Ginny blushed in truly Weasley fashion. "I can't either. But," she continued, "You know I have you to thank. You were the one who told me all those years ago that I didn't need a boy and I should just focus on myself instead. And you were right. I had so much I had to find out about myself, and I don't know if I could have done that if I was chasing after Harry for years."
"Well, it definitely worked out fine for you," Hermione said.
"What about you? Are you seeing anyone?" Ginny raised her eyebrow conspiratorially.
Hermione shook her head. "I'm trying to take my own advice right now, and just focus on myself."
"Well, from personal experience, I have to say that fourteen-year-old Hermione had some smart advice."
"I always thought so," Hermione agreed. "Although you have always been much more appreciative of it than Harry or Ron ever were."
"I appreciate you just fine," Harry called from his bedroom.
"Now," Hermione yelled back. His laughter resonated down the hallway.
Severus had never particularly enjoyed Christmas. The holidays were never a festive time at home, and he found his mood towards them carried over while at Hogwarts. He had some spectacularly awful Christmases in his day, including the one where his father had locked him outside in the cold and the one after Voldemort's return, but this one was shaping up to be one of the worst. Perhaps less dire circumstances, but certainly more boring.
His holiday this year was beginning with a check up at St. Mungo's. The bite wounds on his neck were barely visible and well healed. How he had survived at all was unknown to him and everyone else. Every healer that had been sent his way told him that he should have died. For a long time after he had woken up in that hospital bed, he agreed with them. He should have.
The damage caused by repeated Cruciatus curses, as well as the psychological impact had been another matter entirely, and it were these things that had caused his extended stay at the hospital after the Battle of Hogwarts and the subsequent care since.
The healer went through the typically questions and brief examination, concluding with the same under the breath comments of miracles and not natural, words not commonly uttered in a magical hospital. Well, there was something to be said for an uneventful appointment.
Christmas was a quiet affair at Hogwarts with only Minerva, Severus, Aurora, and five students staying at the school over the holiday.
The day had started with an unusually large pile of gifts waiting for Severus in his sitting room. Most were to be expected: catnip from both Minerva and Granger, a bottle of Ogdens (also from Minerva), a new long-lasting candle from Flitwick, a detailed horoscope from Aurora and Lavender. Lupin and Tonks had bought him a garish pair of socks. He was sure Tonks had convinced Lupin of their stylishness. Lupin certainly would have been dim enough to believe her. Various trinkets from other faculty. A second gift from Granger sat at the bottom of the pile.
In case another wayward colleague makes use of your only blanket. -Hermione
He stared at the note far longer than he did the quilt. The message was somewhat more … provocative than she had to have been going for, though perhaps he was reading too much into it. All the same, he slid the note into a book that he chose at random before putting the rest of the gifts away and heading down for breakfast.
As expected, Severus was free from interacting with his numerous colleagues, plenty of whom he'd rather avoid anyways. Aurora, easily bored by others, opted to spend most of the day walking through the Forbidden Forest. Doubtless that she would also pay respects to the centaurs as well. Severus and Minerva contented themselves to games of chess in her office for most of the day. They sat in silence for the most part with the exception of sounds of disapproval when one of their pieces was smashed.
They used to commonly pass their free time like this. In fact, Severus, Minerva, Albus, and Filius had often played in rotation, especially over holidays. Most of the games had ended in a stalemate.
"Do you remember," Severus said, moving his knight forward, "When the Weasley twins wrecked Umbridge's office?"
Minerva clucked her tongue. "Which time? Not that the old toad didn't deserve each and every one."
"They smashed her plates, if I recall. And-"
"Filled her office with toads wearing pink hats and slippers. Yes, I remember that," Minerva smiled fondly at the memory. "It was a wonderful day. Well," her face darkened. "Until she suggested that we share an office while hers was repaired." Minerva moved her rook forward, capturing Severus' knight.
Severus remembered that part well. It had been a rather horrific day. For Minerva, anyways.
"Why, Severus. Is that a smile?"
"Check."
Minerva calmly moved out of danger's way without comment.
"You're rusty," Severus said.
"As are you," Minerva pointed out.
They both were silent again, studying the board. Severus had played against Minerva enough to know her weaknesses, most obviously her reluctance to end the game at first opportunity. Like a cat, she preferred to toy with her opponent, moving her pieces as far across the board as possible. She felt a deep satisfaction in taking piece by piece, until her opponent's king stood alone.
Severus steepled his fingers and continued to examine the board. Recognizing someone's weakness was one thing. Knowing how to exploit it was another.
Luckily, bringing up Umbridge had apparently made Minerva somewhat nostalgic.
"I remember the first time I played against Albus. He was a strategist through and through."
One of pieces on the board tapped twice in impatience. Severus narrowed his eyes, considering his next move.
"I too remember my first game with him. He was quick to sacrifice his pieces," Severus murmured before finally making his decision. Minerva's queen sat defenseless, almost taunting. A trap that would work on only the most amateur of players. He glanced up at Minerva and was met with her flint-like gaze.
His rook marched forward.
"Sacrifice is a necessary part of chess," Minerva said. Severus raised his eyebrows at her words before looking at the board again.
"I see," he said.
"Indeed," Minerva said, repositioning her queen. "Check."
Severus made the only move that he could, a desperate effort as his king took the only escape route offered.
It was only a few minutes before Minerva declared, "Mate."
This was his first loss to Minerva in years. While she was undeniably the stronger player, he had an ability to squeeze out of tight situations that usually resulted in a draw. He studied the board again, examining the wreckage left when his pieces were smashed, committing the game to memory. He hated to make the same mistake more than once.
Thanks as always to CMDRHill (JaneGlen) for beta reading. This was just a fluffy, Christmasy chapter to give us all a break from the angst. Hope you all enjoyed. Thanks for reading!
