Tidings: news, information, or intelligence.

December 25, 1968

There was a beat of frozen silence, and then at once they both tumbled into an apology.

"Arthur – I've acted like a child, I'm sorry, I am –"

"I've been an idiot, Molly. I shouldn't have –"

They stopped and there was another beat of silence before they both smiled.

"We're a pair, aren't we?" Molly laughed. "Come in out of the snow and we'll begin this making up business properly."

She stood back, but Arthur shook his head. "I mean, yes, I want that," he said hastily as her eyes widened, "but Molly – there's something I have to tell you before I can come in, something I realized. It's very important." He took a great breath and let it go. "I love you, Molly Prewett. I think that I have for a very long time, and I think that I will for a very long time. I know it because even when you drive me mad and you're the last person I want to see, you're still the fire person I want to see. There's very little you can do about it, and I thought you just ought to know that that's where I stand before you let me in."

"Oh, Arthur," she sighed, shaking her head. And then she flung her arms around him.

December 25, 1976

"Sirius is pregnant."

Grace and Harold Potter, herded onto the sofa by their agitated son, exchanged raised eyebrows.

"It's James's and I'm keeping it," Sirius told them from his perch on the end of the banister, placing a hand over his stomach.

"Alright," Harold Potter said slowly, exchanging another look with his wife.

"Now, there's good news and bad news," James went on, clasping his hands behind his back and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Is there?" Grace Potter inquired, raising a sharp eyebrow at her son.

"The bad news is that we won't be able to have Christmas dinner today. The good news is that Sirius isn't actually pregnant. We made it up to keep everything in perspective."

"You didn't really!' Harold exclaimed with mock outrage.

"James," Grace asked dangerously. "Why is it we can't have Christmas dinner?"

"Sirius and I might have… accidentally… charred the kitchen a little. A lot. Nearly burned it down. You'll be able to set it right, I'm sure, but all the food's gone."

His parents both shot to their feet pushing past him for the kitchen doors.

"But the important thing to remember here is that you're not going to be grandparents. Think about that heart-stopping moment and how much dumber we could have been!" James called after them.

December 25, 1985

"Hermione?" Megan Granger knelt beside her daughter. "What's happened to the china angel Mummy asked you not to touch?"

"Nothing," Hermione told her, guilt painted all across her face.

Megan held out her hand and Hermione slowly pulled her fist from the folds of her dress, angels' wings poking between her fingers. But when she deposited the porcelain figure in her mother's hands, it was smooth and whole, completely unharmed. Both of their eyes widened.

"Nothing!" Hermione cried gleefully and scampered away to enjoy her narrow miss.

Megan stared at the perfectly pristine ornament in her palm. "I saw it shatter," she said dumbly, looking up at her husband.

Paul Granger pulled off his glasses to clean them on his sleeve. "Our daughter's special, isn't she? And not just in that she's beautiful and ours."

"Yes, I think she is," Megan murmured and slipped the angel into her pocket.

December 25, 1997

Tears glistened on Molly's cheeks as she pressed her hands over her mouth. "But how do you know? How do you know he's alright?"

"I've seen him, Mum," Bill told her, rounding the table to put his arms around his mother's shaking shoulders. "He was at Shell Cottage."

"He's –?"

"He's gone now; it was only for a minute. But we saw him and he's fine. Just fine."

"But why didn't he come to me?" Molly demanded, gulping down a sob. "I'm his mother."

Bill closed his eyes. Perhaps this hadn't been a good idea. "He knew you lot were being watched, that's all. But he wanted me to tell you he's alright and that you shouldn't worry."

"I'll always worry." More tears dripped off the edge of her chin. "But right now he's alright." Her eyes closed and her shoulders relaxed as if she were wrapping herself in the news. "He's alright."

December 25, 1999

"You're what?" Neville asked, freezing with his drink halfway to his lips.

"They're getting married," Luna repeated for him as she got up to enfold Ginny in a tight hug. "Oh, that's so wonderful!"

"Blimey," Neville muttered, sounding breathless. He set his drink down with a thud. "You're not joking, are you?"

"Nope," Harry laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I already told him he was barking," Ron assured them, leaning back in his chair and slipping an arm around Hermione's shoulders. He gulped down a swig of butterbeer. "But he was dead-set on asking her Christmas Eve."

"Well… Well! Congratulations!" Neville beamed, getting up to hug them both as well. "When are you planning for?"

"No idea," Harry told him cheerfully.

"Where will you have it done?" Luna asked.

"Haven't even thought about it," Ginny grinned.

"All we know is that it's happening," Harry said happily.

"Blimey," Neville repeated, shaking his head a little. He raised his glass to them. "Happy Christmas."

December 25, 2002

Draco Malfoy unfolded the note and read it again. Wait for me beside the bookcase to get your gift – your secret Santa. The party unfolded around him with its usual swaying elegance, the scratchy spinning of classical Christmas music and the rustle of rich dress robes filling the air, all the high-society children he'd grown up with pairing off in slightly newer combinations. It was all familiar and routine. Except for the note.

"Happy Christmas, handsome."

Draco spun around. Astoria Greengrass was inches away from him, smiling that perfect, pearly smile of hers. He took a step back.

"Happy Christmas. Did you… write this?" he asked, holding out the note.

Astoria nodded. "Actually," she said, inching closer. "I have a confession. I asked Tracy especially for your name this year."

Draco's mouth had gone rather dry. "Why?"

"Because," she slid her hands onto his shoulders, "I already had a present for you."

"Oh – really?"

She nodded. "Mm-hm. Your gift this year is a secret. Can you keep a secret, Draco Malfoy?"

"I was never very good at it, no," he murmured.

She rose up on her toes so that their noses nearly touched. "Well, I suppose once I give it to you, it will be yours to do as you like with. The secret is that I. Fancy. You. I hope you like it."

Her lips were against his before he quite knew what was happening, then she'd pulled back, flashed her perfect smile at him, and was gone into the crowd.

December 25, 2006

Ginny's hand was in his as they waited beneath the harshly bright lights. The corridor was drafty and smelled too much like disinfectant. They could hear wailing from somewhere. It seemed like he could always hear wailing here. He shifted restlessly in the uncomfortable chair and Ginny squeezed his fingers.

"It's passed midnight," he told her, looking at his watch. "It's Christmas Day."

"Good day for miracles, then," she said.

"Do you think he needs a miracle?" he asked, suddenly jumpy.

She put a soothing hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright. It's always alright."

He slumped back and let his head clunk against the wall. "I know. It's just –"

The door they'd been staring at for the past twenty minutes swung open suddenly and a healer swept toward them. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter?"

They both shot to their feet at once.

"Your son is going to be fine," he assured them calmly, albeit wearily. "Just a standard infection. They're common in preemies, at least for the first year. He'll be home to unwrap his Christmas gifts in the morning."

Harry sagged visibly. "Thank you."

December 25, 2029

"I'm back," Lily told him, dropping her snow-covered bags on the kitchen floor.

"For good?" Hugo asked skeptically, closing the door behind her.

"For good," Lily confirmed.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Hugo leaned forward to hug her hard. "Good."

December 25, 2054

"It's a boy," John announced exuberantly as he toppled out of the fireplace, and the packed sitting room, already expanded to twice its normal size and still spilling over to the kitchen and up the stairs, erupted in cheers. Ginny reached up to hug him and a couple of Louis's sons had started whooping and whistling.

Arthur lifted Molly's hand to his lips. She looked over at him. "Well, Arthur Weasley," she said as loudly as she could over the clamor. "It's been a long time. Do you still love me?"

He chuckled. "Always, dear. Happy Christmas."

A/N: Ah… so this sort of grew. I tried to cut it off, but it just kept going. It runs along the same vein as last year, but I hope it's different enough. A bit late, but I hope all of you had wonderful, wonderful holidays and thank you SO much for your lovely comments! Love you all! Good tidings to you and a happy new year!