Chapter Three
Author's note: As always, thanks for reading. Also as always, not mine. 10 points to Gryffindor for anyone who picks up the Anne of Green Gables references in this chapter…PS I apologize in advance that the next few chapters are going to be odd lengths. It made sense to break up the story in certain spots that didn't really allow for all the chapters to be similar in length.
The following week was one filled with drudgery for Hermione. The editing she was supposed to do on the Amendment to the Act for the Proper use of "Electronic" Muggle Artifacts was tedious and tiring. Not only was the proposed legislation filled with grammatical and spelling errors, but the drafter had clearly used such Muggle phrases as internet, cell phone, and computer without a sound understanding as to what the words meant or to what sort of items they referred. Consequently, Hermione was forced to be in constant correspondence with the relevant department members in order to figure out to what exactly the legislation pertained.
For three consecutive nights, she didn't make it back to her flat until after dark had already settled. On those nights she was exhausted when she arrived at home, sometimes to the point where she couldn't even finish a chapter of the book she was in the midst of before collapsing into sleep. The prospect of Christmas at the Burrow kept her sustained throughout the week. Knowing that Mrs. Weasley would be preparing a mouthwatering feast and that all her closest friends would be gathered together kept Hermione going through the late evenings that she spent slumped at her desk, hunched over the demanding parchment.
-o-O-o-
Several days after her encounter with George at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione had awoken to her owl, Gilbert, tapping at her bedroom window. Letting the tiny, pure white bird into her room, Hermione quickly snatched a folded piece of parchment off its leg. Instinctively, she smiled when she recognized Ginny's familiar printing.
"Mione" – Ginny had written – "I can't believe that I haven't mentioned this yet, but would you be able to spend Christmas at the Burrow with us? Sorry for such short notice. Hope to see you there, Gin,"
Hermione dug a quill out of a desk drawer and flipped over the parchment to jot down a brief acceptance on the back of Ginny's note: "That sounds great, Gin. Can't wait to see you," She didn't mention that she had already been invited by Ginny's older brother, deciding that such a detail was unimportant. She tied the note to Gilbert's foot and encouraged the small bird out of the window. Gilbert shuddered slightly and ruffled his feathers before hopping out into the snowy morning. As she watched the small owl strain against the breezy weather, Hermione smiled. It wasn't until she received the conclusiveness of Ginny's invitation that she realized just how excited she was to have the chance to spend the holiday with the Weasleys. She knew that, even if the remainder of the week before her Christmas break felt unending and exhausting, at least she had the company of friends over Christmas on the horizon.
-o-O-o-
Hermione woke on Christmas morning filled with anticipation. It wasn't the same naïve enthusiasm that she used to feel as a child on the same day, when she would jump out of bed well before her parents were awake, to go explore her stocking and survey what awaited her under the family's Christmas tree, but it was close. She kicked off her heavy, lavender duvet and sprung out of bed. Glancing out of her window onto Diagon Alley, the street her flat overlooked, she gleefully noted that the weather had been busy the previous night; the road was covered by a soft, fresh offering of brand new snow. Hermione grinned and squealed slightly to herself. There was something about a white Christmas that always appealed to her.
After her morning shower, Hermione secured the buckle on her snuggest pair of jeans: a pair with a dark wash and a narrow leg. She wasn't entirely sure about the slender style when she had bought them in a trendy, Muggle boutique during a marathon shopping spree with Holly, but the other woman had gushed so energetically about how well they suited her that Hermione had been persuaded. Rummaging through a stack of sweaters that lay folded in a cupboard in her closet, Hermione eventually picked out a deep, woodsy green jumper, figuring that the colour was appropriate for the occasion. Also, she knew the green complimented her golden brown hair and eyes, that the colour was dark enough that it didn't wash out her pale complexion, and that the soft, cable knit clung to her slender waist favourably. Brushing her hair as straight as possible and with a couple finishing touches of magic, her hair finally lay smoothly over her shoulders. After a few squirts of a vanilla-scented perfume Ginny had given her on her birthday, Hermione deemed her appearance acceptable and left her room to throw something together quickly for her breakfast.
Hermione had lived in her snug flat in a popular residence on Diagon Alley for over three years and it was starting to finally feel like home. She had slowly and deliberated added personal touches to make the one-bedroom apartment feel more cozy and familiar. Some brightly coloured art that Hermione had found at a muggle thrift market decorated the walls, and a matching set of mahogany, end-tables and sturdy coffee table bordered the plushy, beige sofas of which Hermione was particularly fond. After almost a year of staring at the sterile, white walls of the flat, she had eventually caved and spent an otherwise free weekend panting the walls a soft mauve. Once she had framed some of her old pictures – still ones of her and her parents from when she was a child and ones of her and her Hogwarts chums waving at the camera – and arranged them on her mantle and end-tables, the place became much more livable. The ever present flowers Hermione would keep on her coffee table ensured that her flat always smelt fresh and fragrant. The flat was by no means perfect: there was hardly space in her bedroom for both her bed and her desk, the entire building had a tendency to be unnecessarily cold during the winter months, and the low ceiling could, at times, be suffocating. While not perfect, the flat was adequate, and Hermione knew that the hassle of moving was not worth the minor improvements a new place might offer.
After toasting a couple pieces of wheat bread and spreading them with fine layer of marmalade, Hermione quickly ate her breakfast, impatient about getting to the Burrow soon. Once finished, she lazily dropped her dishes in the sink, knowing that there would be time later to clean them and put them away. Locating an old 'Holidays Greetings' card in a kitchen drawer of miscellaneous items, Hermione contemplated briefly before writing down an appropriately grateful, thank-you message to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for having her at their home. Sealing the card inside an envelope, she propped it up in the potted, Christmas cactus she had picked out as a gift for Mrs. Weasley. Not long ago, she had been shopping with Ginny when her friend had pointed out a similar plant, mentioning that her mum liked them. At the time Hermione had jotted down a quick reminder in her notepad, hoping that it would be a present Mrs. Weasley would appreciate.
Hermione made her way to her front door where she pulled on her checked wellingtons over the legs of her jeans and bundled up in her plaid-lined trench coat, favourite, old, Gryffindor scarf, matching grey, knitted mittens and tuque. Even though she knew that travelling by floo powder would be easiest – as her fireplace was connected to Weasley's via the floo network – she was excited about going outside into the snow.
Diagon Alley was still and empty and the fallen snow lay smoothly over the road, still unblemished by footprints. Hermione assumed that the local children were more excited about their unopened presents than about roughhousing in the snow. She was glad that she had taken the opportunity to walk in the fresh snow before it was ruined by the tracks of walkers, haphazard snowmen and the rough outlines of snow angels. Whoever was responsible for maintaining the wizard neighborhood had ensured that every detail on the street reflected the holiday season. Twinkling lanterns were levitating above the street, giving off a soft, white light. All the store fronts were decorated with evergreen floral embellishments. Any trees along the street were covered with lights and seasonal ornaments. Occasional snowflakes still fell, sticking to Hermione's knitted hat.
Hermione carefully and contentedly trudged through the snow with her cactus tucked under her arm. The calve-deep snow was not the most conducive to walking and so it took Hermione longer than normal to reach the designated apparating spot at the end of Diagon Alley. Nevertheless, she was happy with her decision to travel by foot; the clear air lifted up her spirits that had been dampened by her difficult week. The prickling on her exposed cheeks and nose from the cold felt appropriately Christmassy and she slyly remembered that she always looked significantly prettier when her face boasted a rosy glow.
-o-O-o-
Once in the Ministry approved apparating area, Hermione instinctively braced herself before commencing the necessary process for apparating. The sensations hit her with a startling suddenness: her stomach felt as if it was falling to the ground, her head spun wildly, and the Diagon Alley environment rapidly disappeared into a blur of swirling colours. The mode of transportation always left Hermione feeling woozy. As soon as she was aware of rematerializing on the Burrow's front walk, she attempted to balance herself while, mentally, she continued to spin. When her world finally steadied, Hermione started her way up the snow-covered walk to the Burrow's main entrance. The absence of footprints on the walk made Hermione wonder if she was the first to arrive. Although, she reminded herself, others might have been spending the previous night at the Burrow or may have travelled there by Floo powder. Her arrival time was likely unnecessarily early, but as it was Christmas and as nothing was formal at the Weasley's house, she felt she could get away with being early.
A striking and elaborate, evergreen wreath stuck full of holly, red berries, sparkly bows, and miniature, moving figurines of whistling songbirds adorned the Weasley's front gate. The wreath took up most of the door. Hermione hesitated, looking for a free spot upon which to knock before settling on taping an available surface of the door right in the centre of the ornament. The holidays were always Mrs. Weasley's time to shine and she generally took to them with an undeniable vigour. Hermione was sure that the inside of the Burrow would offer similar, if not more, seasonal fineries. She knocked again, a bit louder, when no one came to the door. This time, she heard movement inside the house and knew that someone was on their way to greet her.
The door flew open and Ginny flung herself at Hermione with such force that, despite her petite size, she nearly knocking the cactus out of the crook of Hermione's arm.
"Mione! You made it! I'm so happy!" The feisty red-head exclaimed in excited staccatos.
"Er…good to see you too, Gin," Hermione replied, catching her bearings and wrapping Ginny up in a one-armed hug. "I, ah, got this for your mum" – She said, gesturing at the cactus under her arm – "Where is she?"
"Oh, mum…she's in the kitchen. Come with me," Ginny smiled and grabbed Hermione by her free hand to drag her into the house. Ginny's silky straight, bright red hair hung in two long braids. Some strands of hair had escaped the braids and fell over her ears, floating across her face whenever she moved suddenly, which, given the younger girl's lively temperament, was frequently. Unlike Hermione, Ginny hadn't bothered to dress up at all for the occasion; she was wearing worn jeans and a bright blue, Weasley jumper that was so oversized that Hermione had to assume that it had once belonged to one of Ginny's older brothers.
The Burrow already smelt delicious. Hermione's stomach rumpled appreciatively in anticipation of the feast Mrs. Weasley was preparing. Any meal at the Burrow was a legitimate cause for overeating. The sight of the inside of the Weasley's foyer caused Hermione to smile impulsively. That the family had gone to great lengths to ensure that their house looked suited to the season didn't surprise Hermione, but that didn't cause her to appreciate it any less. Every available spot was covered with either holly, poinsettias, or some sort of evergreen detail. A series of twinkling white lights were wound around the railing of the small staircase leading up from the front door and into the rest of the house. A small choir of red and green pigmy puffs was situated on a table at the top of the stairs. The tiny birds and been either trained or enchanted to squawk in tune and they were gleefully hooting familiar seasonal ditties.
"What is that all about?" Hermione asked incredulously at the sight of the chorus of birds, unsure how to fathom how the miniature owls were able to perform the carols so expertly.
"Oh, that's something new that Fred created for Christmas. Yuletide Pygmies…something like that…" Ginny replied merrily. "Sounds as if they're pretty popular at the shop this year."
"They're brilliant," Hermione whistled, with a silly grin covering her face. The tiny birds were irrefutably adorable. Hermione could have stood and watched them rhythmically bouncing around on the table's surface, hooting her favourite carols for the rest of the morning, but Ginny continued marching towards the Weasley's kitchen, dragging Hermione along behind her as she walked.
"Mum! Mum!" Ginny hollered as she led Hermione into the kitchen.
"Oh sweetie, it's so lovely that you were able to make it," Mrs. Weasley looked up from the sink and wiped her hands on her green and red plaid apron. Much like her home, Mrs. Weasley looked fully festive. Her curly, red hair was held back behind her ear by a spring of holly, tiny, blinking earrings swayed from her ears, and a wee snowman broach sat on the bosom of her apron. "It's so nice to see you, dear," Mrs. Weasley continued, smothering Hermione in a tight embrace.
"Yah, it's so great to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied, her voice muffled by Mrs. Weasley's tight hold. "I'm sorry I'm here so early…" She was glad that Mrs. Weasley had welcomed her so warmly; it indicated to Hermione that he chilly period which she and Molly had experienced following her breakup with Ron was likely completely in the past.
"Oh, not a problem at all, dear," Mrs. Weasley quickly brushed off Hermione's apology. "We're so glad you're here. And you're not early. Besides, you're welcomed here whenever,"
"Erm thanks…would you care for some help?" Hermione always offered her assistance to Mrs. Weasley even though it was always declined; Mrs. Weasley was fiercely independent regarding what happened in her kitchen.
"Oh, no dear," Mrs. Weasley predictably responded. "I have everything here under control," She said, grinning and motioning at the kitchen counters. Multiple knives were furiously working on the countertops: cutting up vegetables, slicing ham, mincing onions, and chopping potatoes. Eggs, flour, and milk flew around the kitchen as they measured and mixed themselves into a large bowl, while a vat of raspberry cordial was being vigorously stirred by a free-floating ladle. The large, stone oven in the corner of the Weasley's kitchen was humming contently, filled, Hermione was sure, with a massive turkey; the typical main course of a Weasley Christmas dinner. Even though Hermione completely trusted the older woman's magical skills, she had no desire to put herself in the path of an enchanted knife and was glad that Mrs. Weasley wasn't eager to keep her in the kitchen. Taking the Christmas cactus from Hermione and placing it on a free spot of countertop, Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at Hermione and Ginny: "Why don't you two go upstairs. Dinner won't be ready for awhile."
"Ok Mum," Ginny grinned and turned to Hermione: "Come on! Let's go," Hermione muttered another thank-you to Mrs. Weasley and eagerly followed the scampering Ginny out of the kitchen.