The Burrow was still a pleasing place, even with the deaths of so many; Harry and Ginny's two boys were darling, and Ron had matured into the spitting image of his father: his wife was pregnant with their third child (she'd born him twins a year before), and Ron seemed more proud and happier than he could contain. She was simply, deeply, happy for her friends.

Her thoughts took a darker turn as she looked at the man whose arm had wrapped around her protectively just before they Side-Along Apparated to this, her friend's home.

"Stop fretting," he said succinctly, lifting an eyebrow to her guilty start. "These people are your family, and if they love you at all, they will see that you" – and here, his smile deepened and his eyes shone in still-amazed wonderment – "are happy, and will in turn be happy for you. Besides, I will thoroughly enjoy this… and meeting our future students."

Hermione look at him askance, wondering if he was seriously looking forward to a night of nappies and Gryffindors, or if he was being facetious. But Christmas Eve dinner at the Burrow was always a happy occasion, even when the reminiscing got the better of Molly and she started to hug and cry on everyone. The fabulous egg nog she provided only encouraged everyone to oblige her.

"You're going to like meeting these future students? They'll get under your skin before you can say 'Quidditch'" she replied, her eyes dancing.

His swift kiss was her only answer, a kiss that was brought up short when the kitchen door was flung open, and a mutli-person gasp was heard.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for not having already figured out who she was bringing to dinner," he said, his lips still millimeters from hers.

"Let me free, you daft man. They're liable to catch their deaths of cold, gaping in the snow like fish." She shook her head good-naturedly as she dragged the two men of the gaping group back into the warmth.

"Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Weasley," he nodded as they gestured him inside. The silence spread through the kitchen until everyone was starting at the former spy who was holding hands with their Hermione. She was smiling. At him. And he… he was smiling back?

"Erm,… 'Mione, you do know this isn't April, right?" asked Ron uncertainly. His wife, Gabrielle, softly smiled at him over her pregnant belly and shook her head.

"Ronald, do you not see that they are mad for each other?" Her soft French-accented voice carried so well in the silence.

Her kiss softened the blow for him, but others in the room still stared in shock.

"'Mione, I know you like doing things in your own way but… wow." Ginny Potter patted her husband's arm and grinned at her friend of so many years, who was standing in the sheltering embrace of her former instructor. "You certainly know how to make an entrance. All right!" she shouted as she channeled her mother. "Everybody into the sitting room: we'll have egg nog and nibbles before presents!"

They sat on the porch, swinging in the dimness as the ruckus continued inside. The Golden Trio the papers had dubbed them, and though family life and time had drawn them apart, they were still very close.

"I still can't believe it," said Ron, downing the last of his drink. "Who could possibly handle that - that - I don't even know what I'm allowed to call him without you hexing my bits off. And my wife seems to be very fond of those!"

He'd had a bit to drink tonight… in fact, they were all a little squiffy.

"C'mon, Ron," Harry said in his best-shut-up-before-she-hexes-you voice, "Snape isn't all bad. Look at how many times he saved us… even if he was a right git as an instructor."

"Harry," Hermoine began.

"No use straightening him out, love, he'll only forget it the morning," Severus Snape's deep voice cut through the night. He swooped forward and lifted Hermione from between the two boys. "Say goodnight to your friends: you have a pressing appointment."

Her answering blush and his predatory grin were the last thing they saw as the couple Apparated away, and Ron rubbed his eyes frantically to erase the image.

"At least we know she can handle him," Harry said softly, as Ginny came outside to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

"She's probably the only person in the world who could… and he's good for her. Did you see how her eyes light up when he's in the room?"

"Reminds me of someone else's eyes, actually…" Harry murmured as he dragged his wife into his lap.

"Well, I think Gabrielle and I should head home. Lots of presents to set up for the kids. 'Bye, sis. 'Bye, mate. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas!"