Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its related characters.
A/N: Gosh, it's been a while, dear readers... sorry! This school year has been very tough and I haven't had much time to start this chapter. What, did you think I'd abandoned it? Oh, what little faith :-D Thank you to all my reviewers: moogoesthedog, Crazy Physco, shannyauburn, Cowabunga, TwilightsCalling, Bronze Wolf, blackruby873, theninja, jbf, Haunted, kittyrunner, heartproof, and iLoVeMoOnYnPaDfOoT.
It Ends Now
Part 26: "Yuletide: Part 2"
Harry tried to muster up a pugnacious expression at their lack of loquaciousness, trying not to be similarly laconic as he demanded again,
"But why?"
His answer, however, came in the form of the returning Mrs. Weasley. He quickly scrutinized the tattered box tucked in her arms, looking as if it had seen its expiration date come and go many years prior. But that didn't stop the loving, reverent hold Mrs. Weasley bore it with, nor the glistening eyes as she stopped in front of the tree. She cleared her throat gruffly.
"Well, Ginny, why don't you go first?"
"Do I have to?" the red head whined, grimacing. The glare Mrs. Weasley bestowed on her daughter was response enough. Letting out a barely audible groan, Ginny slumped foward and reached into the box. Her hand came out clutching a tiny red bauble. It was a Christmas ornament, but upon closer inspection Harry realized there was more to it than that. Imprinted onto the tiny sphere was a little baby Ginny, wriggling her fingers out at the elder. The infant had a silly little grin on her face that mirrored Mrs. Weasley's. The matriarch of the family sniffed.
"Oh Ginny, you were such a lively, happy baby..." she reminisced, eyes distant and remembering another time. Ginny just rolled her eyes after turning away from her mother and hung up the ornament gently.
"Ron?"
Ron shot Harry an exasperated look and the seeker tried not to laugh as his friend took the next, maroon bauble. A baby miniature of Ron sucked his thumb on the glass. The twins let out a raucous,
"Oh, Ickle Ronnikins! Baby Ronnie-pooh! Sucking his thumb, bless his soul-"
"Remember when he did that all the time? And didn't go anywhere without his blankie?"
"And wet his bed?"
"And used a diaper?"
"And-"
"That's enough, Fred, George... you're next, you know," Mrs. Weasley frowned at them, ignoring Ron's fire engine face and grumbled expletive. He hurriedly hung the bauble and scuffled back over to Harry and Hermione.
"Well I think you were very cute," Hermione told him, and Ron seemed speechless for a moment. He blinked at her owlishly, as if flabbergasted that she could even think that.
"Er... thanks, Hermione..." If possible, his ears grew darker.
The twins followed, then Mrs. Weasley paused. She visibly swallowed and cleared her throat a few times, and a tense silence followed.
"C-Charlie?"
Harry suddenly realized that she'd skipped over Percy. He frowned at his trainers, wishing he didn't have to see Mrs. Weasley break down. Dammit, why did Percy have to be such an arrogant and ambitious git! Didn't he know the pain it caused poor Mrs. Weasley? But the plump woman gathered her wits about her and seemed to quelm the emotions for her audience. With a shaking hand, she smiled a bit too wildly at her dragon-tamer son and passed off his ornament. Bill followed, then everyone seemed to gravitate toward the presents.
"Wait, everybody! We aren't done yet!"
"Eh, what?" Ron interrogated of his mother, clearly nonplussed.
"Mum, senility is nothing to be ashamed of," George soothed gravely, a hint of humor lurking behind the serious tone.
"I can assure you that you have only seven children; we aren't cloning anybody or anything- yet," Fred grinned. Mrs. Weasley pinned him with an irritable glance. She reached back into the box and pulled out an emerald green ball.
"Harry?"
Harry could feel his mouth drop open as he drifted foward dreamily, looking into his own face on the glass. The almost-reflection winked.
"You- you didn't have to- I mean, not for me... I'm not..." Harry stuttered hoarsely, feeling a lump overwhelm his throat. He reached up with trembling fingers to take the ornament from Mrs. Weasley, gazing down at it in wonder.
He'd never- not in all his life...
"Nonsense, Harry. You are just as much a member of this family as my children are. And Hermione as well. Come here, dear," she beckoned the pedantic, and Hermione came to Harry's left.
"Me?" she squeaked, going pale. Mrs. Weasley plopped a similar bauble into Hermione's slack grip. The bookworm turned it over and over in her hand, with a countenance Harry rather thought mirrored his own. But there was something hiding behind her features; some undecipherable emotion.
"Thank you," she whispered, and Harry repeated the gratitude. Mrs. Weasley let out a little sob and threw her arms around them both.
"Oh, I love you two so much! You're like part of the family," she choked shrilly, crying into their shoulders. Harry patted her on the back awkwardly. He felt Hermione stiffen beside him.
"I'm... I'm sorry, I have to go to the bathroom," his female friend murmured, untangling herself from Mrs. Weasley's embrace and rushing from the room. Harry caught Ginny observing Hermione's abrupt departure with a stealthy, knowing eye.
"Me too," she said, following in Hermione's wake. Harry suddenly realized that something was up, but didn't say anything. Mrs. Weasley continued sniffling, ushering Harry over to the tree.
"Right there, dear... next to Ron's- yes, that's it..."
"Erm, Mrs. Weasley, I... need to go the bathroom as well." Harry swirled around and wordlessly gestured to Ron that he should follow.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked after they exitted.
"No idea, but I think something's up with Hermione," Harry replied, peeking up the stairway. He could hear muffled sobbing from up above, and Ginny's voice murmuring something in an even lower tone. Ron looked pole-axed.
"What do you think-?"
"Let's go," Harry said, grabbing Ron's arm and dragging them up the stairs. He hesitated at Hermione's door where within issued the distressed sounds, then pushed it open. A disconcerting sight greeted his eyes.
Hermione was face down on the bed, face hiding in a pillow as her body rose and fell in time to her belabored crying. Ginny was perched next to her, rubbing the teen's back consolingly and muttering words of comfort. She looked up as the boys entered.
"Hermione?" Harry prompted gently. Hermione shot up, swiping at her puffy, wet eyes.
"H-Harry? R-Ron?"
"What's wrong?"
She gulped, screwing up her features as another crying session threatened to envelop her. "I'm s-s-sorry, it's stupid, really... it's just... my p-parents and I had a s-similar tradition, and this is the f-first Christmas that- that..."
"Understandable," Harry answered softly as Hermione started crying again, and Ron moved foward to hug her. "We'll leave you two alone now."
After they left the room, Ron turned to Harry. His eyes whispered of unspoken sorrow that Harry shared similar feelings of. "Poor 'Mione. Her first Christmas after her parents' death. It must be hard."
"I know how she must feel," Harry sighed, descending down the stairs. It was time to start opening presents. He hoped Ginny and Hermione would join soon.
oOo
The Weasley kitchen was not very big, but at the present moment it was crowded to the point of extreme. Pandemonium reigned, and it was hard to imagine that even more guests were expected for Christmas dinner. Already, half the Order was around the magically elongated table, and many others were out in the living room conversing. Harry recognized most of them, including Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Mundungus, McGonagall, and more.
Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were seated near the end together. All had varying expressions of disgust, amusement, and in Harry's case, embarassment on their faces.
"And then I says, I says -hic- 'Harry, you can't get a girl that way, you've got to ask her on a date!' And then Harry... -hic- Harry -hic-... Harr...y..." Ron giggled (yes, giggled), glazed wide eyes staring around at them all with a inebriated air. He took another swig of butterbeer and laughed again, completely forgetting the track his sentence had been taking.
Harry, blushing terribly, tried to take the mug out of his already loose grip. "Ron... um, I think you've had enough butterbeer tonight," he reasoned.
"No," Ron slurred, then giggled. "No, no, I want a little more, Harry; just a little."
"He's been having 'a little' the past, what, six mugs now? Or was it seven?" Ginny wondered aloud dispassionately. Hermione scoffed, looking much better from earlier that morning. Only her slighly flushed cheeks gave any indication that she had spent almost half an hour crying.
"I lost count. Harry's right, Ron. You don't see us nursing our sixth or seventh butterbeer."
"But Herm-ninny," he whined, the arguement turned bland by his mispronunciation of the blonde's name. Hermione growled and snatched the mug right out of his hands. She went over to the sink and dumped the contents tastelessly down.
"Your dad didn't buy all that butterbeer just so you could hog it all," the girl sniffed. Ron hiccupped in protest.
Harry's attention was soon drawn past the throngs of people chatting around the table and into the hall. Professor Dumbledore was shrugging out of his winter cloak to reveal midnight-blue robes underneath, half moons dancing across the fabric. It was elaborately festive, and suited the occasion perfectly. Mr. Weasley was there receiving the cloak and greeting the headmaster cordially. Harry could just barely hear a snippet of their conversation because his professor's deep, rumbling voice carried.
"Thank you, Arthur. It was absolutely and delightfully dreadful out; a true Christmas storm. Why, even Severus," and to Harry's horror, Dumbledore whisked Snape out of the shadows cast by the contrasting darkness from the windows and light from the open rooms, "thought the weather was reason enough to suspend his arrival, but I insisted..."
And insist he must have, for Snape looked as if he had just smelled something particularly nasty. The usual sneer was even uglier than usual as the Potions Master cast a swift eye-sweep over all the giddy people. He radiated the distinct air of wanting to be anywhere but here.
Harry groaned, looking down into the plate of mince pie before him, half-eaten. Great, what a way to ruin a party. Invite Snape and it all goes to hell.
"Oh, Albus, welcome! We're already serving dinner; people have been arriving for the last few hours," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed amicably, appearing in the entrance hallway with a cheery visage.
"Not a problem, Molly. In fact, I would love a spot of brandy and some of your delicious mince pie, if you please," Dumbledore said, inclining his head. Mrs. Weasley beamed proudly.
"Severus?"
"Nothing," the dark-haired man sneered, eyes still roming. They caught on Harry's and the sixteen year old averted his vision again. He wondered what the potions brewer was thinking. The usually loathing look was... diminished, and the expression seemed more unreadable than hate-filled. Harry wondered if their latest escapade together had changed the latter's feelings. He knew he still disliked Snape, but couldn't help the gratitude that subsisted deep down. The man had saved his life, after all.
"I'll get right on it," Mrs. Weasley said to Dumbledore. "Make yourself at home."
Dumbledore drifted into the kitchen while Snape disappeared somewhere into the living room, or so Harry presumed. Probably to skulk in some corner and pretend he was elsewhere, the boy decided. Oh, and one couldn't forget that he'd wear that 'I hate you with all my being' face as well. That was classic.
Dumbledore locked eyes with Harry and smiled. He came down to the end of the table. "Having a good holiday, Harry?"
"Yes, sir."
"Any visions? Nightmares?" he prodded gently.
"Not at all. I've been Occluding," Harry responded, trying to hide the satisfaction in his voice and be modest. It was hard; he couldn't help feeling smug at his progress that Snape had once said was unattainable.
"Well then, you must be doing very well. I'm proud," the old sage praised, blue orbs twinkling idiosyncratically. He patted Harry on the shoulder then went off into the living room.
Feeling full, Harry watched his friends socialize before deciding he'd help lone Mrs. Weasley prepare dinner as she shuffled around the tight space. Her wand was constantly moving as she directed the stew to broil and onions to slice themselves. Her other hand was slicing potatoes nimbly. He halted her frenzied chopping to inquire,
"Mrs. Weasley? Need any help?"
"No, dear, I- ouch!" She dropped the knife with a cry, spots of blood leaking from her cut. She grabbed a dishtowel and wrapped it around her finger to staunch the flow. Harry asked if he could do something for it.
"Thank you, Harry, you're very kind... but I can handle it." She unwrapped the towel and tossed it to the side, brandishing her wand. With a muttered incantation, the wound healed instantly, leaving her finger as unblemished as before. The motherly woman smiled at Harry. "One of the useful charms to know being a mother of seven- especially, of boys." Harry laughed, seeing her point.
"Are you sure you can't put me to work with something?"
Mrs. Weasley gave him an appraising look. "You really want to help that badly?"
Harry nodded.
"Alright. You can help chop the rest of the potatoes; I need to get Albus' mince pie and brandy to him."
oOo
Hours later, Harry tiredly climbed the staircase with Ron following sleepily behind. Guests were beginning to leave now, and it was very late. The heart-throb could just envision his warm bed beckoning to him, and was excited to wrap up in the blankets before falling into slumber. He opened the bedroom door and fully intended to just slide into bed, pajamas be damned, but something stopped him.
Literally.
It was sitting on his bed so innocently, but Harry couldn't for the life of him ever remember putting it there. He picked it up.
It was a very large book, black with silver lining and letters emblazoned across it. It had the feel of being newly bought. The title read: Shielding the Mind: A Practical Guide to Occlumency.
"What's that, 'Arry?" Ron murmured, yawning and still suffering the aftereffects of excessive butterbeer. Harry was greatly relieved that the side effects seemed to be wearing off slowly.
"I... dunno. It was just here. Sitting on my pillow."
Ron came around to stand beside Harry. He looked at the book pensively for a moment, then exclaimed,
"I think I know who it's from! Probably Dumbledore; maybe it's his Christmas gift to you!"
"But why wouldn't he just give it to me in person?" Harry countered, fingering the leather binding. It was stiff, another sign that this was an unopened and therefore new book. Ron shrugged.
"This is Dumbledore we're talking about, mate. Man's got his reasons, however mental they are."
"S'pose you're right. I'm going to go back down and thank him if he hasn't left yet," Harry informed, stumbling back downstairs. He peeked into the living room and saw his white bearded professor in the process of buttoning up his traveling cloak. The boy headed over to deter him from leaving before expressing his gratitude.
"Professor?"
"Harry?"
Said ebony-head grinned. "Thanks for the book, sir. It's going to be really useful-" He stopped as Dumbledore held up a hand, let his sentence trail away in confusion.
"While I thank you for your kindness, Harry, I am afraid you are bestowing your gratitude on the wrong peron."
"What?"
"It was not I that gave you that book."
"But then, who did?"
Dumbledore's eyes took on a mad twinkle.
"Professor Snape."
Harry could feel his mouth fall open in disbelief. The words didn't seem to be registering into his befuddled brain; Dumbledore couldn't have just said Professor Snape of all people got him a present; he might as well have just proclaimed the world was flat for all the truth it contained!
"You're joking, sir."
Dumbledore gave a booming laugh. "I assure you, Harry- I would not jest about something like this. Now, if I am not mistaken, Professor Snape is just about to leave and is in the entrance hall. You may be able to catch him in time if you hurry, though."
The headmaster winked and Harry sprinted off.
Great, the second time he had to grovel to Snape in only a few short weeks... was the man doing this just to spite him? Did he glory in Harry's discomfort, knowing the Gryffindor couldn't help but be so noble?
Harry skidded into the small hall just before the door and caught Snape with his hand on the doorknob.
"Professor!"
Snape turned at his name, scowling as Harry marched up to him. He looked down at the sixteen year old with something akin to a grimace.
"What is it, Potter? I'm on a tight schedule, you know," he snapped, and Harry internally rolled his eyes. Right. What a load of bull; the man just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. The impatiently ornery countenance was evidence enough of that.
"Professor Dumbledore said you gave this present to me," Harry stated, holding up the Occlumency book. By subtly placing Dumbledore in there, Snape couldn't possibly deny it. And deny he could not. The scowl grew even worse as Snape spluttered for words, finally settling on,
"Don't be ridiculous, boy. It's not a present," he spat the word out like it was a revolting swear. "It is to help you with your Occlumency, seeing as you were so abysmally useless at it last year."
Ouch. He couldn't ever admit to something kind without inserting an insult, could he? But Harry bit back the retort he'd love to fire in response, instead saying sincerely,
"Thank you, sir. I know it will help."
"It better," the Potions teacher growled, swishing around and swooping bat-like out into the snow without another word. Harry stood there for a moment, letting it all sink in, before slowly going up to bed.
It had been a Christmas worthy of remembrance. Harry wondered, remarkably without any sorrow, what Sirius would have thought about Snape giving him a present (there was no other way to put it; Snape could rebuff away all he wanted).
The Boy-Who-Lived laughed. Sirius would think he was off his rocker. That, or Snape. It was one or the other.
Harry wagered a bet that it was Snape.
A/N: Whew, that was a longer chapter than those previous! But I think everyone needed a little extra for the wait. Next chapter we dive into action! In the words of Snape, "Prepare yourself!"
The more who review, the faster I update!
AngelMoon Girl