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"Children sleeping
Snow is softly falling.
Dreams are calling
like bells in the distance."

Josh Groban "Believe"

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"Harry are you alright?" Lupin was seated on the red and white plaid sofa watching Teddy run around the sitting room with Jeanette and Elise in vigorous game of tag. In the corner of the room, next to the wooden staircase that led up the bedrooms, was a six foot tall spruce pine lit with over three dozen candles that had been bewitched with silver and gold flame light making them glow strikingly beautiful against the backdrop of dark evergreen. Brightly wrapped parcels tied off with colorful ribbons were stacked against the tree's base and a tiny Father Christmas flew around the tree dusting white flecks of artificial snow onto the branches.

"Harry?" Lupin stated again when Harry didn't answer.

Harry was standing behind the sofa watching the children run around the room, hearing their giggles. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't sad, he was just watching. "Sorry professor did you say something?"

"I asked if you were alright," Lupin repeated. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm fine, I was just-"

"Lost in your thoughts?" Lupin finished for him.

Harry shrugged into a smile and shook his head. "Yeah."

"There's nothing wrong with that Harry, you've had a lot to think about these last few years." Lupin absent mindedly rubbed his hand across his neck where a long curved raised scar was evident. It had been the mark a Death Eater had left behind during the final war with Voldemort. Lupin had nearly been killed in the battle along with Tonks. They were both gravely injured when Mrs. Weasely brought them back to the Burrow. Tonks had almost died that first night; Teddy had been only a month old then and Lupin was grief stricken with the thought of her loss and was almost completely unable to care for their son, but Molly had forced him to pull himself together for his child and his wife.

Fred Weasely had been injured so badly that he had slipped into a coma. Lupin left after four days at the Burrow because he didn't want to burden Molly and Author, but Mrs. Weasely would check on him regularly and made sure he came up to visit Tonks. It had taken three weeks for Fred and Tonks to recover enough to leave the Burrow, and they both bore monstrous scars from their ordeal, but Molly and Remus were just thankful that they were alive. When Fred awoke from his coma Angelina had thrown herself on him and Fred –true to his nature – tried to French her right there. Mrs. Weasely knew then that her son would make it.

"But a lot of good has happened too," Remus said, smiling as he watched his son race around with the two girls. His eyes were so much like his mother's and Remus was grateful beyond words that they were both around to see him grow up. Harry was Teddy's godfather, but it was a position Remus hoped that he never had to act on outside of dotting on him. "You are the inescapable result of your past, but you can't let that alone define you. You must remember the past, but live where you are."

Teddy ran around the sofa at his father's feet, and Reus grabbed his legs and flipped him over and onto his lap. Teddy squealed.

Harry smiled at the scene.

Remus kissed the top of Teddy's head. "He reminds me so much of you at this age Harry, James and I would spend hours chasing you. Once you took his wand and managed to zap all the hair off his head, it took him two weeks to grow it back," Remus laughed at the memory. "You'll be a father soon enough Harry, I only wish James was around to see it. He would have been very proud of you."

Harry's smile fizzled off his face, but Remus was now turning his attention to Teddy, playing a hide-and-seek game with a ball of light Lupin had created from his wand.

The sound of soft footfalls echoed behind Harry as Hermione entered the room, she walked across the wooden floor to the sofa. She spotted Harry watching Lupin with Teddy silently. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I must have melancholy eyes or something."

"Your eyes aren't melancholy Harry, they're very expressive." Hermione said, watching Teddy clawing at Remus hands in search of the ball of light hidden in there. "Are you ready for something like that?"

"It's a little late to change our minds Hermione," Harry responded.

Hermione smiled quietly at his joke.

Ron came into the living room taking sips from the mug of dark silk chocolate cocoa that Fleur's mother had sent as a Christmas gift from Paris. He caught sight of the look that Hermione was giving Harry. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Hermione answered, her smile still in place. She turned to Ron, taking in his appearance: "That's a nice sweater Ron."

"You don't have to be polite Hermione," Ron insisted staring down at his dark maroon sweater with the large monogrammed golden 'R' across the chest. Mrs. Weasely knitted sweaters for her children every holiday. "I asked for just natural wool this year but mum is still partial to Gryffindor colors."

"It looks fine on you Ron," Hermione reassured. "I would've have said it otherwise." Her words contained a spark of the argumentative flair that had fueled many of their childhood conversations.

"I'm glad you think so, because mum wanted you to have this," Ron held out a baby-sized knitted maroon sweater with a monogrammed 'P' across the chest.

Hermione gave a small gasping laugh and took the sweater from him. "This is adorable!" She held it up "Don't you think so Harry?"

"Lovely," Harry agreed, although not with as much over excitement as Hermione.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasely came into the room carrying a tray full of the same cocoa Ron was drinking. "That was supposed to be wrapped and put under the tree!"

"We get to open one gift on Christmas Eve mum," Ron reminded her.

"It's beautiful Mrs. Weasely," Hermione informed, seeing Mrs. Weasely's scolding expression turn into a smile at her words. She turned it around several times to admire the knitted stitch work. She had learned how to knit in her Third Year at Hogwarts, but she was nowhere near as good as Mrs. Weasely was.

Fred – who was beside the fireplace – leaned in close to George who was standing next to him. "Mum made that right?"

George nodded.

"It's bloody brilliant that's what it is!" Fred exclaimed after George gave him an answer. Mrs. Weasely took great pride in her Christmas knitting and got highly offensive if her presents weren't met with the same enthusiasm.

"The colors are perfect," Seamus agreed from where he was standing beside Ginny by a frosted over window in the sitting room. He was trying to get back in Molly's good graces. "It's never too early to cultivate a love of Gryffindor in the wee babe. After all, both granddad and dad were in the Gryffindor class."

"What about mum?" Hermione reminded.

"Mum was in a class by herself," Ron quipped.

"Ron!" Hermione glared at him with reproach in her voice, her hands on her hips. Had she not been so obviously pregnant she would've looked exactly the way she had when was 11 years old.

"Sorry Hermione you know I can't help myself," Ron apologized playfully.

Hermione turned to Harry. "And why are you so quiet during all of this?"

"He's my best mate," Harry returned, going along with the joke.

Hermione sighed and shook her head at them. "God help me if this child grows up like either of you!"

"Harry's a star Quiddich player remember Hermione?" Angelina reminded. "So it wouldn't be such a bad thing."

"Plus he's devastatingly handsome," Fred added with overdone sighing stage dramatics.

"And Ron's so –tall," George added right after his brother.

"I can't believe this is actually offending me," Ron stated in disbelief.

"Would it help if I called you beautiful Ron?" Seamus deadpanned.

"You all are a bunch of nutters!" Angelina admonished.

Fred draped an arm across her shoulders. "See what you have to look forward to love?" He leaned in to kiss her passionately but barely got two seconds into it before Mrs. Weasely's voice broke them off.

"There will be none of that in this house!"

"Hermione was snogging Harry all through dinner!" Fred argued.

"Yes and they're married!"

"Well I'm engaged!"

"Fred Weasely if you really want to lose an argument you can keep going, otherwise I suggest you quit while you're ahead."

Fred was about to start in again but his father shook his head from an overstuffed plaid chair that sat next to the sofa.

Fred sighed. "Fine mom, I promise, no more snogging."

Angelina mouthed 'mummy's boy' at him and Fred mouthed back: 'who me?'

"Good," Mrs. Weasely was satisfied with Fred's surrender to her rules. "I still have no ideas where everyone is going to sleep tonight." She grasped at the ends of her skirt as if expecting the solution to fall out her dress pockets. Finally she gave into the fact that she was going to have to piece things together by herself. "Bill, Fleur and the girls are already in his and Charlie's old room- Harry, you and Hermione can take Ginny's bed. I'll fix her a palate on the floor."

"The floor?" Ginny repeated, dumfounded.

"Yes dear, it's better for Hermione to sleep in a bed." Mrs. Weasely paid no attention to Ginny's disapproval, considering it a minor sacrifice for her to make. "Angelina, you can take Fred and George's old room, Tonks and Remus can take the other extra bed, Seamus can bunk with Ron." Ron's room was a half level below Ginny's and to reach it from there required passing by Mr. and Mrs. Weasely's bedroom – a deterrent for any 'ideas' of Seamus in Mrs. Weasely's mind.

"And you two-" Molly pointed at her twin sons. "Can sleep in the attic."

"Slumbering with all the rats and moxies on this fine Christmas Eve night; you are a saint Mum," George told her.

Molly chose to ignore him and sighed at the effort of reorganization she had just completed. "I think that's everyone."

"Too bad it's early yet mum or you could see your plans set in motion," Ron teased.

"Actually it's not too early for me," Hermione said around a yawn. She stretched her arms above her head. "I believe I'm going to turn in." Ever since she had become pregnant she tired out early.

"We understand," Fleur said holding Jeanette who was asleep in her arms. "You need ze rest Hermione."

"Good night dear," Mrs. Weasely offered Hermione a hug. "I'm so glad you liked the sweater."

Hermione smiled her appreciation around another huge yawn.

"Are you going to make it up the stairs?" Harry teased her.

"I'll levitate myself if I have too," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Good night."

"Good night," Harry repeated, offering her a light, but lengthy kiss. "I'll try not to wake you when I come up."

She broke away from him with a tired, but satisfied grin and climbed up the stairs to the Burrow's second level.

"You are whipped Harry Potter," Fred stated.

"But it's darling to see-"

"How after over seven years-" Fred finished where George began.

"Hermione Granger-"

"Has finally hooked her man." Fred finished off the twins' combined statement.

"Sod off you two!" Harry ordered. "Hermione isn't like that. We have a perfectly level relationship."

"So says Mr. Granger," George returned, moving away from Harry who looked ready to punch the smile off of his face.

"That's enough of that boys," Mrs. Weasely warned them in the same tone she used when she caught them burying garden gnomes under her flowerbeds. She handed them two of the mugs of cocoa. "Here, occupy your mouths with these."

"Harry dear," she handed him one of the mugs as well.

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully, sipping the hot concoction. The cocoa was just hot enough that it warmed his throat without burning it, and the dark chocolate was at the perfect level of bitterness to compliment the temperature.

Mr. Weasely also took a satisfying hit from his mug. "This is always a treat Fleur."

"Thank you," Fleur said with her golden smile that had brought millions of men to their knees. "Mama will be pleased you think so." She softly stroked Jeanette's silky hair with one hand. "I think it's time ze girls went to sleep," she looked over at Bill who was holding a sleeping Elise against his shoulder.

"I don't think they need any help with that darling," Bill said. He pulled Elise up more securely in his arms.

"Hold on," Mr. Weasely stood up from his chair. "You can't let them leave without letting granddad say goodnight." He leaned down and kissed the girl's cheek; she sighed sleepily but didn't wake up. "Happy Christmas my love," he repeated this gesture with Jeanette.

"Happy Christmas everyone," Bill said softly waving with his free hand. He followed Fleur up the stairs with their sleeping children tucked in their arms.

Harry sat down on the sofa with the mug of cocoa balanced on his knees. Ron sat beside him, eyeing Father Christmas continuing on his rounds around the tree. "Some night ay?"

"Some night," Harry agreed.

"I can't believe mum got through it all without having a breakdown."

Harry laughed quietly at this. "I can't believe you did either, I thought you'd have an arranged marriage planned before dinner was over."

"Mum's always talking Harry," Ron said. "All that cutesy stuff you and Hermione were pulling just made her more adamant about it."

"Sorry," Harry felt the need to apologize for this.

"Don't apologize Mate." Ron said. "You two were destined for each other."

A long time ago Ron had developed a crush on Hermione. They had gone out for all of four months during their Fourth Year; sparking jealously in Ron for her closeness with Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, it had caused them to break up, and Hermione had started seeing Viktor Krum and he Lavender. In their Sixth Year Hermione had broken it off with Viktor and Ginny had taken up with Harry. But after the death of Dumbledore Harry and Ginny's relationship had ended. Through all the hell that had happened in their Seventh Year Hermione had drawn closer to Harry and he to her. Ron had watched them all during their months on the run at Grimmand Place, in the tent on the outskirts of London – and it was then that he realized that Harry and Hermione had loved each other all along.

When Harry had been carried into Hogwarts by Hagrid – presumed dead – Hermione had screamed and leapt out to attack Voldemort. It had taken all of the energy Ron had to hold her back. After Voldemort had been defeated Harry and Hermione had clung to each other so tightly it had taken both Molly and Lupin to pry them apart to see to the wounded in the castle. Dean Thomas had been killed that night, along with the Patel Twins and a dozen other Griffandyor's and students from all the other houses, Fred was injured into a coma, Tonks had had her back broken by a Cruciatius Curse and Harry was in St. Mungo's for a week due to acid burns from a Death Eater's spell that had hit him seconds after Voldemort's demise. It had been a war won, but not without terrible tragedy.

Hermione had stayed with Harry the entire time he was in the hospital, forgoing the rules for once in her life. They had begun officially dating after that and last February – on Valentine's Day Harry had proposed to her, on the steps in front of her parent's dentistry practice in London. Mrs. Granger had cried, Mr. Granger had shook Harry's hand heartedly and Hermione had turned so red she matched the color of the rose he had strung her engagement ring on.

"You really believe in destiny?" Harry asked Ron. "I thought we both slept through Divinations."

This time it was Ron's turn to laugh. "That old coot was right about a few things, you're on your way to having those five children." In their Fifth Year Professor Trelawney had redone her prophecy on Harry's tragic death, and had proclaimed that he lived to be Minister of Magic and have five children.

"I don't think Hermione's up for four more children at the moment; she hasn't even had this one yet."

"I still can't believe that you're going to be a dad," Ron said. "It's bloody insane."

"Barking mad," Harry agreed with a laugh that ended in a grin, but it wasn't as humor filled as he intended it to be.

"You'll be fine Mate," Ron slapped him on the shoulder. "Just do whatever Hermione says."

"Well-" Fred stretched his arms over his head, giving a fake yawn. "I supposed I should retire as well, it's been a very long trip and I need—'sleep'" he cast a sly, suggestive glance over at Angelina who returned with her own Cheshire cat grin.

"Sleep," Mrs. Weasely didn't believe her son's words for one minute. " I'm your mother, you can fool me!"

"Why mum, I'm offended that you don't trust me, your own grown up engaged son!" Fred placed a hand to his chest as if he'd been gravely wounded.

"Fredrick Phillipson Weasely, get yourself up those stairs or I'll hex you into next week!" Mrs. Weasely chased Fred up the stairs waving her wand at his head. "And the only thing lying underneath you had better be your sheets and pillows!"

"And you heard him exclaim as he dashed out of sight-" George recited the beginning of: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.'

Fred stopped halfway up the stairs and waved at the others dramatically: "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good shagging tonight!" Fred ran the rest of the way up the stairs before Molly could raise her wand.