Here is the new chap! It's longer than usual, it took a while to write, but I hope you like it ;) Enjoy, Read and Review!
Chapter 10: Of Hot Chocolate and Snowball Fights, Grumpy Cats and Christmas Lights
Time passed incredibly fast, and before I could realize that, December was coming to an end.
It was the last day of school before the start of Christmas holidays, and there wasn't a single student who could stop thinking about that, all but ignoring the professors' lectures. The teachers themselves didn't actually seem to care, though, and they went in talking like everything was silent as usual, while instead the low buzz of our chats was a constant in each and every class.
"God, we really need two whole weeks of relax," Ron sighed, stretching his arms above his head, as we entered the Great Hall and sat down at our usual places among our large group.
"Yep, totally," I said, pushing the sleeves of my red jumper further on my hands. Thanks to Aunt Elspeth's cooking in the last month I had gained a little weight, and now it fit me perfectly, not hanging loosely from my shoulders and ribs anymore -a thing I was glad of-.
"I agree," Harry said, grinning, slumping down in the seat to my right. "I am so sick of tests and homework I might actually blow up something -Snape's classroom is the priority target, by the way-. Anyone joining me?"
A few hands shot up among a chorus of giggles, scoffs and cheers, and I elbowed him lightly, shaking my head and pointing at Snape, who was walking by in that moment.
"Lower your voice, you genius, if you don't want life-long detention," I playfully warned him, picking up my sandwich and taking a bite from it.
Our conversation stayed on the 'blowing up' topic for the whole break, as each of us suggested something we could have blown up before leaving for the holiday -the most interesting idea was, of course, the Twins', who mentioned more than once their firm intention of blowing up Mrs Norris, the keeper's hateful cat, with a firework, just for the fun of watching old Filch running around panicking and looking for the responsible.
Even Chemistry class couldn't ruin our happy mood that day, with great disbelief of Snape, who looked the whole time at us Gryffindors' smiling faces with a look of disgust and reproach in his eyes.
When the bell finally rang we gathered our things and shot out, wanting to put as much distance as we could between us and the dungeons, so we didn't notice the change right out when we got into the main corridor.
We were chatting and checking the books in our bags before splitting up for the different classes, when I looked down and saw the tiny shadows dancing in the square of pale grey light coming from the windows. I felt a smile turn up my lips as I raised my head and looked outside, where hundreds of small, white fluffy flakes were twirling in the air, spiralling around before falling to the ground.
"It's snowing!" Parvati squealed running to the window, a huge smile on her face.
"First snow of the year!" Seamus exclaimed, grinning and pointing to the snowflakes. "It brings luck! Make a wish, guys!"
We all laughed and shook our heads at him, no one made wishes to the first snow at our age, we were way too old to believe those fairy tales anymore.
"Just suggesting," he said, smiling and raising his hands like he was surrendering. Just then the bell recalled us that we had classes to attend, and we all split up and headed in different directions, hurrying up to catch up with the delay we were in.
The last two hours passed quickly, and when the last bell rang it was as though the whole school had sighed in relief.
"Goodbye, Professor, have a nice holiday!" Ron and Harry called to Professor Trelawney, running out and dragging me with them, grinning.
I had to admit, I was pretty happy of the two weeks-long break ahead of us: I really needed some rest after the huge amount of work we had had in the previous month.
Ginny and Luna caught up with us, and soon we were heading out together, following the stream of students hurrying to the doors.
The wind outside was chilly, but the cold was quickly forgotten as we saw the landscape around us: in two hours the snow had fallen heavily, and now there was a smooth, five-inches-thick white blanket covering everything -the castle, the hills, the roofs of the town below us-.
It looked almost like the scene had just jumped out of a painting, except that it was as real as the ground under my feet.
Not engaging a snowball fight on the spot seemed almost an offence, but the clouds above us were getting darker and darker by the minute, and the snow was still falling heavily, quickly covering our clothes in white ice flakes and making us shiver.
"Looks like a blizzard is coming," Ron muttered, shoving his hands further in the pockets of his jacket. "We'd better go home before it hits."
"I agree," Ginny said, looking up at the dark grey sky. "Anyway, it's too freaking cold to stay here longer," she added with a smile, rubbing her hands together.
We called our goodbyes and wishes, and then we left with the promise of phoning each other the next day to meet somewhere warm and chat.
When Mr Lovegood stopped in front of my house, the snow was falling so heavily everything was a blur of white twirls, and it was almost dark. The lights in the house were on, so Emma and Aunt Elspeth must have been there yet –no surprise, we had stopped for quite a while outside the school before heading home-.
"I'll call you tomorrow!" Luna called, waving, as I stumbled across the courtyard to the door and stepped in, closing it heavily behind me with a sigh of relief.
It was wonderfully warm inside, a blessing after the freezing wind, and I smiled, taking off my coat and hanging it to the hook by the door.
Aunt Elspeth appeared in the kitchen doorway, smiling at me.
"I have some hot chocolate ready in here. Want a cup?"
I nodded, shivering, and I slowly walked to the kitchen without my crutches, keeping a hand on the wall for balance. My legs were healing faster than anyone thought possible, and I now could move around the house almost without using them -for most of the time, anyway-.
The kitchen was filled with the wonderful scent of chocolate, apples and cinnamon, and I smiled, wrapping my hands around the warm cup Aunt Elspeth was handing me and leaning against the counter.
"Apple pie?" I asked, inhaling the sweet scent coming from the baking tin onto the table.
"With custard," was Aunt's amused reply. She knew I loved that cake -how could I do otherwise?-, so she had caked it often in the last months, every time slightly varying the recipe in a way or the other.
I peeked in the tin, curiosity overwhelming me, and I raised an eyebrow when I saw that half the cake was already missing.
"You won't tell me that Emma alone could eat all of this alone, right?" I said, only half-joking: I knew that when it came to food, Emma's stomach had the incredible skill of stretching endlessly.
Aunt Elspeth laughed, shaking her head and sitting down in one of the chairs.
"No, she didn't, not alone at least. I have to admit, though, that those three cute little kids she invited for the afternoon are pretty voracious themselves. Not as much as her, but still."
I smiled, shaking my head, and only then I heard the low chatting and laughing coming from the living room, muffled by the howling of the wind outside the old house.
I had to admit, I was curious about Emma's friends. I had met Meredith's mother the previous month, when the kid had invited my sister to her pyjama party, but I had never seen the girls Emma always told me about.
So I silently walked to the living room, a hand holding my mug and the other resting firmly against the wall -just in case-, leaning against the doorframe and looking at the four girls sprawled on the carpet in front of the fireplace, playing some board game with their chocolate mugs and slices of cake by their sides.
Emma was laughing and chatting happily with the girl beside her; she was olive-skinned, with large brown eyes and a cloud of charcoal black wavy hair falling on her shoulders -Meredith for sure, since her mother was her exact photocopy, only thirty years older-.
The girl on the other side of Emma was small and thin, with short black spiky hair and green eyes -from what Emma had said, she had to be Alice, the one she described as elf-like, a head shorter than the others-; the last one was a little girl with a pale, round face, blue eyes and fiery red pigtails which fell straight down to her elbows -Alexis, that was her name; Emma had once told me her hair was 'orange' as Ron's-.
They seemed to have fun together, and I didn't want to interrupt them, so I went back to the kitchen and sank in one of the chairs, cutting a slice of cake and taking the book I was reading those days from my schoolbag, which I had left by the counter. It was 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', one of my favourites Shakespeare's books ever. I had already read it at least ten times, but I didn't care: I just loved it too much, and I cyclically reread it every now and then just for fun.
I spent a couple of hours like that, reading and relaxing in front of the kitchen fireplace -it seemed as though that house had fireplaces everywhere, except for the bathroom and the bedrooms-, until someone came to get the three kids home and Emma came bouncing in the kitchen, probably looking for something else to eat.
I hadn't noticed, but while I was lost in the book the wind outside had stopped and the snow had evened down; it didn't look like there was an incoming blizzard anymore, a relief for all of us.
We had dinner not much later, and it was just a little past nine when Emma and I went to bed, incredibly sleepy for the early hour.
I don't know if it was because of the food, or the cold, or the awareness that I was on holiday and that I could have slept late the next day, but I drifted off to sleep at record speed, feeling safe and warm under the thick duvet.
Ron's POV:
When I woke up, my first thought was that I had slept in and that I was late for school, but it took me only a few seconds to realize that I was on holiday -finally-.
I stretched and yawned, relishing in the warmth of my blankets for a few more seconds before eventually sitting up and running a hand through my hair, glancing out of the window.
The sky was still grey, but it wasn't snowing anymore, and everything outside was covered in white. There were five good inches of snow on the window sill, and by the look of the courtyard below, there must have been at least three times that on the ground.
Perfect day for a snowball fight, that was for sure.
I grabbed my clothes and all but ran down the stairs to the bathroom -it was still early, and no one was awake yet in the house-, washing and dressing up quickly before heading down to the kitchen.
A cup of coffee, and I was out in the courtyard, wrapped up in my coat and woollen hat, a shovel in my hands. The snow was up to my knees, and I knew it would have been a problem for Mum and Dad walking around in that freezing mess; I wanted to do something for them, even a stupid thing like shovelling a passage through the snow. And doing that at that time of the day, when no one of my brothers were up yet and no one would have seen me, seemed perfect.
It didn't took much time -I just worked a way from the kitchen to the shed where dad kept his things and from the main door to the barn we used as garage and to the road-, but when I finished and went back in, Ginny, Fred and George were sitting at the kitchen table, while Mum cooked breakfast. Dad was probably still in bed -he liked to sleep late on Saturdays and Sundays, and holidays were no exception-.
When I stepped in, my face and hands red from the cold and my clothes wet with melted snow, everyone looked up in surprise.
"We thought you were still sleeping," Ginny said, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
I shrugged, sitting down; I hadn't eaten anything from the night before, and adding to that the work in the snow, I was pretty well starving.
"Woke up early, went out for a while," I just said, while Mum put two eggs and some bacon in my plate.
"Aww, made a snowman, Ickle Ronniekins?"
God, how I hated Fred and George when they mocked me like that.
I shrugged again, feeling my ears warm up -I knew they were probably bright pink by that time-.
There was no way they could know what I had been up to during the last hour, since none of the kitchen windows gave onto the front yard.
"So what were you doing out there in the cold?" Mum asked, her eyes softening a little as she spoke. I scratched my neck, attempting a half-smile and shrugging -I was doing that a lot that morning-.
"Nothing, just-" She cut me off with a gesture of her hand and walked to the door, sticking her head out to see, and I heard her laughing softly.
When she came back to the kitchen, a few seconds later, she was smiling.
"You cleaned up those passages for us," she said, placing four pancakes on top of my breakfast food, practically beaming.
Ginny grinned at me, but the twins exchanged an incredulous look before rushing to the door to see what I had done.
"You should learn from your brother, you two. You had never done anything like that to help me, never!" she said, half joking, half reproaching them.
I felt like my face was on fire, but I smiled: being the younger of six brothers, I never did anything special, because someone had always already done that; so times like that, when Mum pointed at me as a good example for any of my siblings, were rare and precious.
"Hey, I have an idea," Ginny said after a while, looking at us with a smile.
"No offense, Gin, but those words, coming from you, never lead to anything good," George said around a mouthful of eggs.
"Yes, remember that accident with the hen? That was a consequence of your idea," Fred said, shivering.
"And when we accidentally set the barn on fire with a firework? Also a consequence of your idea," George added, a worried look on his face. Ginny dismissed them with a vague gesture of her hand.
"Oh, come on, that was years ago! And what I have in mind is totally harmless!" she complained.
"You said that in those occasions, too," I reminded her under my breath, earning a glare from her.
"Anyway," she said, almost defying us to interrupt her again, "I was thinking about a good snowball fight, nothing possibly dangerous in any way."
Fred and George nodded, and I agreed too; that would have been fun.
"So, my idea was: we eat our breakfast and get dressed at top speed, then we go get Harry and we all go to the Grangers' house. Hermione can come down too this way, without having to move too much -I mean, it's her courtyard, after all-; I know she would love the idea, so don't complain. Just say yes or no."
"And you have to ask? Yes!" George exclaimed, grinning, exchanging a high five with Fred.
"Of course it's a yes!" I said, wolfing down the rest of my food and standing up. "Come on, what are we waiting for?"
Tlack. Tlack.
The foreign sound pulled me out of my dream, and I cracked my eyelids open just the tiniest bit. The alarm clock said it was a little past eight fifteen -it was still relatively early- and a pale, grey sliver of light was filtering through the curtains.
Tlack.
That sound again, sharp and insistent, and close. What the heck was that?
I sat up and stretched, earning a jolt of protest from my sore muscles, and then stood up, padding barefoot to the bow-window, carefully measuring every step to keep my balance.
Tlack.
It was coming from my window, I was sure, but what-
I climbed on the flowered cushion and opened the window, sticking my head out in the freezing morning wind.
The first thing I saw was the utter whiteness around me: the hills, the town, the roof, the courtyard…everything was covered in a thick white blanket.
The second was the small, colourful crowd of bundles of coats, gloves, scarves and hats waiting just below my window.
One of them, an unmistakeable lanky figure a head taller than the others, looked like he was getting ready to throw another pebble against the glass -that explained the noise that woke me up in the first place-.
When he saw me she smiled, waving, and took off his hat, revealing a tousled head of red hair.
"Hey, stranger!" Ron called, grinning and looking up at me. "There's a war about to be fought down there, but one of the teams misses a soldier, an unforgivable lack. Wanna save us and join our military enforcement?"
I couldn't help but laugh at his words, and I nodded: of course I would have joined them! "Give me two minutes and I'm down, Captain!" I called in mocking cheerfulness, closing the window and scrambling on my feet.
I put on a pair of comfortable jeans, a pair of warm socks, my boots and my favourite jumper, deep red with a turtleneck; I grabbed my crutches and almost ran down the stairs, the happy smile still on my face.
"Aunt, I am out in the yard!" I called at Aunt Elspeth, who was, as always at that time of the morning, in the kitchen.
I didn't wait for a reply; I just threw on my coat and woollen hat, wrapped a scarf around my neck and shot out of the door, leaving my crutches at the bottom of the stone stairs -I wouldn't have needed them, and, anyway, even if I fell the snow was soft-.
"Pick teams!" Ginny called, raising her head above her heads.
"Ginny and Ron captains!" Harry said, pointing at the two of them and grinning.
"I take Harry!" Ginny said immediately; for the ten thousandth time when I saw how I they acted around one another, I wondered if there wasn't more than their we-are-just-good-friends façade.
"I take Hermione!" Ron replied, gesturing for me to stand by him.
"Fred," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes at him.
"George," Ron responded, as his brother stood to the other side of him.
"Ok, let's build the forts. Only rule, the team whose fort is destroyed first loses!" Ginny called, a glint of amusement in her eyes.
"Get accustomed to the idea of losing, little sister!" Ron mocked her, as he and George started to pile snow, pressing it to form a wall.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, big brother!" she retorted, as her team started to build the fort.
"You know you are disadvantaged with me on team, right?" I asked as he and George quickly raised the thick snow wall until it was four feet tall, strengthening it with handfuls of pressed ice. "I mean, I can barely stand, let alone run, are you sure I shouldn't just watch and-"
He cut me off with a gesture of his hand, smiling.
"Can you make snowballs?" he simply asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
I nodded, grinning.
"Back when I was eight, I was the best snowball-maker of my school," I said proudly, remembering the times when I was in primary school and Lavender and I engaged major snowballs fights with the rest of the kids in school.
"And how is your aim?" he asked again, pressing a handful of snow in his hands.
"I could hit a fly on a ten feet distance," I said with a smirk, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain as I started to make snowballs with bare hands.
"See? You are perfect," he said, a light pink tinge darkening his ears.
I looked down and concentrated on my work, making munitions while they worked on the fort. I was crouched on the ground, and I knew it wouldn't have been easy to stand up later, but it would have been worth it. I had always loved playing with snow, and I wouldn't have given up the fun for anything in the world; sore muscles were a great deal if that meant I would have been able to take part in the fight.
A few more minutes, and the first hit came from Ginny's hands, directly on top of George's head. It immediately became an open war, and snowballs flew everywhere indistinctly; the only thing that mattered was to hit the 'enemy'.
The funny thing was, no one ever directed the hits towards me, as though they were afraid I could break or something like that.
Wrong move.
I obviously took advantage of that fact, sending hit after hit on Harry and Ginny -I didn't aim at any of the twins, since I couldn't tell who was George and who was Fred-.
After a while, though, the teams split up, and it became an all-against-all fight, without any distinction. Ginny and Harry seemed to have engaged their little personal snowball fight, as did the Twins. So I only had one obvious target.
"Can't catch me!" Ron called, starting to run.
Jeez, he was fast, and my legs were weak enough with the effort of standing and walking without support; I really couldn't keep up with him.
He disappeared behind the fort, so I followed him there, a snowball ready in my hands, but he wasn't there; I didn't expect him to be behind me, so when he grabbed me by the shoulders I jumped, startled, and lost my already unstable balance.
Trying to get it back, I instinctively grabbed the first solid thing I found -which, in that case, was Ron's sleeve-, but it only made him lost his balance too, and we both fell, rolling for a few feet down the gentle slope of the hill.
When we finally stopped, we were both covered in snow and laughing like crazy, laying side by side on the frozen ground.
"Sorry," I said as soon as I could suppress laughter, sitting up and brushing some snow off my coat. Ron smiled, shaking his head.
"No harm done, no apologizes needed," he said, shrugging. Then he laughed again, pointing at me.
"You look like a snowgirl, your hair is completely white! Wait, I'll help you with that…"
He gently brushed the ice flakes from my hair, his ears turning pink as he did so, and I felt a warm blush spread across my cheeks.
"Hey, you two, you alive?" Harry called, waving from the top of the hill.
"We are fine! Coming!" Ron replied, standing up and holding out his hand at me.
I smiled gratefully and took it -there was no way I could ever get on my feet by myself, even if I was healing fast-, as he easily lifted me.
"Hey, you weigh nothing," he commented when I stood, struggling to keep my balance on the curve ground.
I shrugged, brushing more snow off my clothes.
"Never ate much back in Seattle. Didn't have much of an appetite there; now, instead, I would eat the table too," I joked, taking a few careful steps up the slope.
"It's good. You were so thin when you first came here, you almost disappeared into the desk at school. Now it's getting better, you look…healthier." Was that a compliment? I smiled at him, and we joined the others, resuming the fight.
It didn't last long, though, partly because of the cold, and partly because we were all breathless from the battle, so eventually we went in the house, chilled to the bone and with wet clothes, but happy and satisfied. There hadn't been winners or win, and we all had agreed that it had ended in a draw.
We settled down in the living room by the fireplace and spent the rest of the morning there, chatting and drinking tea to warm up after the long time spent in the freezing air.
At about lunchtime, when they all were heading out, Ginny stopped dead with a squeal, turning on her heels to face me.
"Oh, how dumb I am, I almost forgot!" she exclaimed, shaking her head and clasping her hands together.
"You see, every year we organize this dinner on Christmas Eve; it's no big deal, just a bunch of friends plus our family…It's usually just us and the Potters, but Mum wanted to know if you would like to join us too, you, your aunt and little Emma. My older brothers will be there too, and their kids are more or less her age, so she could have fun…"
"We would love to," said Aunt Elspeth, passing by with a basket of freshly folded laundry in her arms.
"Thank Molly for thinking of us, dear. What time shall we be there?"
Ginny grinned, wrapping her red scarf around her neck.
"At about seven, I think, but don't worry, none of my brothers is anywhere near punctual, so people will be coming much later than that. Oh, and Hermione," she added with a smirk, pointing at my jeans.
"No complaints, dress is required for us girls."
Ron's POV :
I slumped on my bed, feeling exhausted: it was a little past four on Christmas Eve afternoon, and I had just finished helping my mother getting everything ready for dinner -work which included shovelling a passage through the snow in the courtyard, bringing chairs and such back and forth and hanging decorations in highly dangerous places (e.g., placing Christmas lights on the roof)-.
I lay there for a while; then I got up with a sigh and grabbed my jacket, needing some air.
The cold wind pricked the bare skin of my face and hands, sharp, but not painful, and I inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of chimney smoke and fresh snow.
It was still hours till the dinner, so I had plenty of time for a walk.
I didn't tell my parents I was going out -they wouldn't have noticed, anyway, busy as they were getting everything set-; I just walked away, towards the hills behind the house.
I lost awareness of time as I walked around in no hurry, lost in several thoughts, all of which rotated around the 'big problem' of those last few days: Hermione's present.
I didn't have a heck of an idea what to give her, but shops always stayed open until six thirty on Christmas Eve, so I would have had time to run downtown and get her something anyway; a book seemed too obvious, though, since Harry had already bought one for her, and I was swimming in the worst kind of lack of originality.
I sighed; then turned on my heels and ran back home -I hadn't noticed, but I had gone pretty far-, stopping by the shed a few minutes later to get my breath back. That was when I heard an annoyed sound, almost a grumble, coming from somewhere to my left, where we had stacked the chopped wood for the fire.
I frowned, wondering what that was, and carefully dug through the logs, searching.
It didn't take much to find the source of the grumpy noises, and I laughed as I saw it: a ball of thick, fluffy ginger fur with quite bowed legs and a squashed face.
A cat.
A pretty ugly cat, but still a cat, and probably just a little more than a kitten, despite its incredibly large size. I held out a hand to it, trying to be reassuring.
"Hey, kitty, come here. Come on, I don't want to hurt you. Aren't you hungry? I can give you a bowl of milk. Come on, kitty, come here…It's cold here…"
It glared -yes, actually glared- at me, and before I could pull my hand back, one of its large paws shot forward, slashing my skin and leaving behind four long, bleeding cuts.
"Bloody hell, that hurts! You little-" I almost shooed him away, but then I stopped. There was something I remembered about a cat, something I had seen not long before…Oh, that was it.
Hermione had a cat-shaped charm tied around her neck. And I remembered something she had said once, when we had found a stray cat wandering around the school gardens while we were having lunch there on a sunny day at the end of October. Someone -Parvati, I think- had tried to catch it, but it had obviously ran away before she could even get close.
Leave it be, cats don't like people going near them that way. They won't come to you unless they want to. They are fascinating, so independent and proud…I had always wanted a cat, but my mom was allergic to their fur, so I never could.
That was it: she loved cats. She had always wanted one. And even if that orange ball of fur and claws resembled more a tiger than a cat, I was sure she would have loved it, and it would have loved her.
I smiled and ran into the house, grabbing a paper napkin from the kitchen counter and pressing it to my hand, while calling: "Gin! Gin, come down, I need you!"
Her ginger head appeared to the top of the stairs, and she gave me a questioning look.
"No questions, just come down! And bring with you one of those cardboard boxes we keep in the broom closet!"
She looked confused, but she did as I asked her to, skipping down the stairs with the large box in her arms.
"What now?" she asked, her eyes travelling from me to my bleeding hand to the open door.
I grinned, showing her the way to the tiger's hiding place, and when she saw the little monster she smiled.
"Found the perfect gift, huh, big brother?" she asked with a smirk, making me blush. She could read me like an open book sometimes, but, at least, that was one of the times it got useful.
"Yep, but it doesn't seem to like the idea. I tried to get close, and it almost ripped my hand off, the little tiger. You are good with animals, they like you, so maybe if you are careful-"
Before I could finish the sentence, anyway, she had already bent over the stack of firewood and gently grabbed the cat.
The incredible thing was, it didn't complain or react like it had done with me. It only stayed still like a ragdoll and let her put it into the cardboard box. Well, hell.
"Tiger, this teddy bear? Ron, what have you done to it to make it that angry at you?"
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Come on now, let's see if we can smooth it up a bit. A bowl of milk, a good brush and a red ribbon will make it perfect."
I didn't say anything, just followed her back inside, still confused about the cats' strange behaviour.
"What are you going to wear?"
I turned and saw Emma padding to my bed, wearing her red velvet dress, grey stockings and black ballet flats. She was ready to go, while I was still wrapped up in my towel after the shower, staring blankly at the contents of my closet.
"Don't know," I admitted with a sigh, making a face. It was six fifteen, we had to leave in half an hour and I still didn't have a clue about what to wear. The thing was, I wanted to be pretty, but everything seemed awful on me. Maybe it was me who was awful, after all.
Emma walked to my side and started rummaging through my clothes, searching, her forehead pulled into a frown.
After a minute or so, she pulled out a black woollen skirt I had worn maybe two times, a pair of black stockings and a tight-fitting deep red sweater with a round neckline which showed a bit of my cleavage.
I blinked twice at her satisfied expression, wordless.
"I have stayed here a whole hour, trying to figure out what to wear, and now you come and in two minutes you find the perfect things. How-I mean, you are five! You shouldn't even be supposed to pick the clothes for yourself, how did you manage to-Oh, never mind, honey. You are a genius!"
She smiled and jumped on my bed as I quickly dressed up, clutching to the closet to keep my balance as I did so.
"You could wear those black ballet flats you have. The ones matching mine," she chirped, laying on her belly on the foot of my bed.
"No, thank you. First, it's freezing cold, and I don't want my feet to become blocks of ice, and second, I am the one on crutches, so I have the right to wear comfortable shoes. Therefore, if you don't mind, I have my beloved boots waiting for me."
She scoffed, shaking her head, while I sat on the bed and quickly tied up my favourite shoes, a pair of black, battered Doc Martens' boots my Mom bought me when I was fifteen -my feet hadn't grown of an inch in the last two years, so they still fit, to my great joy-. There was no way I would have renounced to them, even if it was Christmas.
"Tell me you will wear makeup, at least," Emma pleaded, rolling on her back and looking at me upside-down. "That lip gloss Lavender got you for your birthday, and that black stuff you put on your eyes, the one Mum always said suited you that well…"
I laughed, tugging lightly at one of her curls. "You mean, the eyeliner? Come on, Emma, you know I don't wear those things…"
She pouted, looking at me with puppy eyes.
"Please, Mione! If you wear makeup, I'll wear that hairband with the velvet red bow you wanted me to! Pretty please?"
I sighed, rolling my eyes, but then nodded.
"Okay, you win. Come on, I'll smooth up your hair a bit, bet you haven't even brushed today…"
Ten minutes later we were downstairs, putting on our coats and scarves and checking the bags we were taking with us, filled to the top with presents for the Potters and Weasleys. The previous day, we had spent the whole afternoon shopping for gifts, coming back home with our arms full of packages wrapped in brightly coloured paper.
I buttoned up my coat and ran a hand through my hair: I had decided not to pull it up in a ponytail as I usually did, and it was tumbling freely down my back, fiery and tangled as ever, only in a slightly studied way, not too bushy or ruffled; I was not used to it, it was strange.
Aunt Elspeth looked at me with pride in her eyes, nodding as she collected a bag in her hands.
"Beautiful," she said, smiling. "So beautiful."
I smiled and looked down, biting my lip, as a warm blush spread on my cheeks, and I took a bag, reaching for the door.
"Shall we go?"
We arrived to the Burrow just a few minutes after seven; it was snowing again, so we quickly took the bags out of the car and hurried to the brightly lit house, where Mrs Weasley was waiting for us on the doorway.
The view of the large house under the snowfall was incredible: it seemed as though every light in the Burrow was on, and a warm yellow glow shone behind every window; there were twirls of smoke coming out of the chimneys, and thousands of small, colourful Christmas lights decorating the edges of the roofs and every windowsill, bringing to everyone's mind that it was a joyful day that needed to be celebrated the best way possible.
If I thought the inside couldn't be better, I was wrong: the fire was lit in every room, and everywhere it was a triumph of red candles and deep green garlands; red and gold ribbons were twirled around the handrail of the stairs, and a large Christmas tree sat in the brightest corner of the small, crowded living room, its branches covered in tiny lights, red Christmas balls and golden festoons.
Those colours reminded me of Gryffindor, and it only made me feel even more at ease than I already was.
A chorus of 'Merry Christmas' followed our arrival, and we then went to hug everyone -Mr and Mrs Weasley, the Twins, Ron and Ginny, and the Potters-, leaving our presents in the already dangerously high stack under the Christmas tree.
Not long after that the missing Weasley brothers arrived: Percy with his fiancée, Penelope, Charlie, the one who worked in Romania, and then Bill, the oldest of them, bringing along his blonde, gorgeous French wife, Fleur, and his two daughters, who looked more or less Emma's age.
Victoire was six, and with her pin-straight pale blond hair and icy blue eyes she looked like a little porcelain doll; her four-years-old sister Dominique, on the other hand, was her exact contrary, with fiery red hair -Weasley's hair- pulled back in twin braids, hazel eyes and freckles all over her nose.
It took less than nothing to see that my sister seemed to get along quite nicely with them, and they quickly disappeared behind the couch, giggling and peeking at the huge amount of presents gathered under the tree.
The small, cosy living room was incredibly crowded -even more than it was after the football match the previous month-, with sixteen people squeezed in the two couches and several chairs, plus the three kids running around playing, but I soon found myself laughing and talking in my small group of friends, surrounded by Harry, Ginny, Ron and the Twins.
At eight we moved to the kitchen, taking our seats around the long, irregular table -which looked like it had been made out of every single desk and flat surface of the house-, and simply enjoyed the delicious food and company, warm and content.
At eleven thirty we moved back to the living room, taking with us the three little girls, who had fallen asleep hours before, worn out by the generous dinner and the late hours; we left them curled up against one another on one of the couches, and then we settled down around the room, us kids on the carpet by the Christmas tree, the others sitting randomly in every corner.
Gifts passed around from hand to hand, each of us squinting at the names on the cards to understand which was destined to who, among the rumpling sound of shaken boxes.
When finally every package had been delivered to the right person, we started to open them, curious; I felt like a little kid myself, ripping the colourful paper and uncovering the content of the gifts.
There was a homemade cd from Ginny, with all of the songs from Taylor Swift -whom we both loved- in it, a delicate silver bracelet from Aunt Elspeth, a large box of Honeydukes sweets from the Twins, and a collection of the books from The Lord of the Rings -which I had never read- from Harry.
Last, there was a soft, shapeless package wrapped in maroon paper with my name written neatly on it.
I opened it, curious, and when I saw the content I almost burst into tears in front of everyone.
It was a hand-knitted jumper -a Weasley jumper, like those Molly had made for Harry and each of her children-, made out of soft, periwinkle blue wool, with a white H on the front.
She had made one for me too, like she considered me part of the family.
I looked up at Mrs Weasley, almost at loss of words, and she smiled at me, her hazel eyes sparkling.
"Thank you," I just said, my hands clutching the jumper tightly.
"You are welcome, dear. You know, when I saw that colour among the balls of wool at the shop, I knew it was perfect for you. I hope you like it."
I nodded, smiling.
"It's perfect."
Not long after Bill and Fleur left with their small family, and the same did Percy, who lived in London and had a two-hours-long drive ahead of him to go home; Charlie said goodbye not much later as well, excusing himself because he had to visit friends the next morning before going back to Romania in the late evening.
The rest of us stayed, though, the adults drinking coffee in the kitchen, while us kids laid lazily in front of the fire, playing games and talking quietly.
After a while, Ron tapped my shoulder lightly, gesturing towards the narrow hall and holding out his hand to me. I nodded, and accepted his help, getting up and following him. He was smiling, his eyes lit by a curious expression I couldn't decipher.
When he saw my confusion, he shook his head.
"Do you really think I didn't get you a present?" he asked, taking his coat.
"I couldn't keep it in the house, so I left it in the shed. Mom doesn't know anything about it -she would kill me if she did-, so Ginny and I snuck it outside before she could notice. Come on, this way."
I took my coat and followed him outside, in the chilly air of the late night.
It was still snowing, the small ice flakes dancing gracefully in the dark before landing on the frozen ground; everything was silent apart from the gentle whistle of the wind, making the yard and the hills look almost magical.
Ron led me to the shed behind the house and carefully pushed the battered door, which opened with a loud creak.
"Come on, it won't bite you…I think," he joked, pointing at a square shape in the dim light. It was a large cardboard box, like the ones I used to pack my books in Seattle, but there was something on the sides-holes?
I gave him a funny look, but he kept his smirk on his face, looking both amused and impatient. I chewed on my lip for a moment before slowly opening the box, carefully peeking inside.
There was something orange and furry curled up in the farthest corner, something with a long, bushy tail, pointed ears and bright yellow eyes.
A smile slowly found its way on my face as I bent and gently pulled it up in my arms.
A cat. A cat with a red bow around its neck.
I looked at Ron, speechless, while the ball of fur started to purr in my arms.
"I found it near here, and I thought you would have liked it. I remember you once said you loved cats, so it seemed, I don't know, a good idea. I hope it was."
Even in the dim light coming from the house I could see his ears were turning of an impressive shade of dark pink, and I nodded, biting my lip to fight back tears. That was the most wonderful, prefect gift anyone ever gave me, in my whole life.
I scratched the cat's head, and it closed its eyes, nestling in my arms and starting to purr even louder than before.
"How are you going to name him?" he then asked, pointing at the cat.
I smiled, finding my voice again.
"So, it's a him?" I asked back, quirking an eyebrow.
Ron nodded, smiling.
"Apparently."
I looked down for a moment, running a hand through the pet's soft, thick fur, thinking; the perfect name came to my mind almost immediately, and I laughed to myself, shaking my head. It was ridiculous, but it fit perfectly.
"How about Crookshanks?" I asked, pointing at the cat's bowed legs.
Ron grinned, burying his hands in his pockets.
"It's funny, and it suits him; I think that's good."
"Yeah, I think it is too," I said, putting Crookshanks back in the box and gathering it into my arms.
"Thank you, Ron," I then said, blushing under his gaze. "It's-a wonderful gift."
He smiled, shrugging.
"I am glad you like it." I nodded, holding the box tighter to my chest. Then, almost without knowing what I was doing, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek quickly before joining Aunt Elspeth and Emma, who were -luckily- coming out of the house in that exact moment.
I said bye to Harry and the others, who were standing at the door, and waved at them as I climbed into the car, my legs for once wobbly for something else than my still weak muscles.
What had I done? I didn't even have the courage to look at him again, so I kept my eyes low, fixed onto Crookshanks laying in the box.
"What's it?" Emma asked sleepily, peeking inside.
"A cat," I said, trying to focus on what she was saying. "It's a present-Ron gave it to me."
"Good idea he had" Aunt Elspeth said softly from the front seat.
"Oh, yes, it really was," I said absentmindedly, looking out of the car window as we backed away from the Burrow. My cheeks were still burning, and my skin tingled all over, like I had a fever; my head was swaying slightly, and I felt oddly light, like a balloon.
What the heck was happening to me?
Ron's POV:
Thanks God, she had liked the cat. I had to admit, the little tiger was being adorable with her, all purring and cuddling; it was obvious it liked her. How could it do otherwise?
She put it back into the carton and then took the whole box in her arms, holding it tightly against her chest, looking affectionately at the orange, furry ball inside. She had snow in her hair, and her cheeks were flushed with the cold air; seeing her like that, a single word flashed for a moment in my mind: beautiful. There was no way to deny that.
I quickly chased that thought away from my mind: what was I thinking? She was one of my best friends, for Heaven's sake!
I heard people moving inside, someone was probably leaving, we had to go-
Then she was close, closer than she had ever been before, and for a moment all I could smell was the sweet scent of her hair, all I could feel was the light pressure of her lips on my cheek.
It lasted only a second, and before I could even realize it she was already gone, half-walking, half-stumbling to the door, where her aunt and little sister were waiting for her.
She waved goodbye and got into the car, not once looking back at me, but I knew she was blushing furiously, I could see her flaming red cheeks glowing in the dim light.
I watched the car disappearing in the dark, and I smiled, lightly touching with the tips of my fingers the still burning spot on my cheek.
Maybe it had been an hallucination, or maybe I had gone crazy all of a sudden, but I didn't care.
I had never felt so light before.
Ok, here's the good news: I am leaving for England! I will spend the next two weeks visiting Cambridge and London and gathering information for college -and of course breathing a bit of the humid, wonderful British air, yay!-, so, since I will spend the days walking around, I will have time to write only in the evenings, when my feet will be sore from walking a marathon and I will be knocked out by hours of running around.
The thing is, I am sure I won't be able to publish regularly, so I will probably update only once between tomorrow, 6/15 and 7/2, the day I will finally be back in Rome. Sorry, guys.
Anyway, how was the chapter? Loved? Hated it? Let me know, I love your reviews!
Jez xoxo