Chapter 13 Christmas at the Burrow
Molly awoke on Christmas Eve with the excitement of a child. Today her family would arrive to help her celebrate Christmas, her favorite holiday. As she did every morning, Molly rolled over to feel the empty bed beside her where her husband, Arthur, should have been. And as it did every morning, the sadness that engulfed her diminished just a little. Unlike some who suffered the loss of a loved one, Molly didn't want her pain to go away. The pain reminded her that she was still alive. The thought of what she had lost, a husband and two sons, reminded her of the family she still had that loved and needed her.
In fact, it was other peoples' needs that had helped her survive the last six years. Ahead of anything else, Molly was a mother. She could not remember herself as anything else. She would see pictures of Arthur and her from school and the first thought that came to her mind (after "look how skinny I was!") was "where did that laughing, fun-loving girl go?" A slightly dumpy, middle-aged mother with a penchant for mollycoddling had replaced the pretty, petite Gryffindor who had quite a knack for pulling pranks.
This morning, however, those thoughts were absent from her mind as she rose and readied herself for the houseful of people that would soon be descending upon her. She padded into the loo and gazed into the mirror, inspecting the image reflected back at her.
It is going to be a good day, she thought. No new wrinkles!
She ran a brush through her shoulder-length hair, pulling it back into a clip at the nape of her neck, and made a mental note to get the name of Hermione's witch stylist and make an appointment.
Bathed and dressed, Molly descended the stairs to the kitchen humming "Jingle Bells," her favorite holiday tune. She glanced up at her clock to see where each member of her family was at the moment. Charlie, who lived in Romania and was not going to be home for Christmas, was at work. Bill and Fleur, his wife of six years, were home. Fred's and George's images on the enchanted clock pointed toward "mischief." The clock had said the same thing about the twins for ten years and wouldn't likely ever change. Ginny's image was moving from "home" to "traveling," meaning she was on her way.
With a pop, Ginny and Neville apparated into the kitchen of the Burrow. Molly looked at Ginny's left hand straight away and let out a squeal, opening her arms wide and giving Ginny a huge hug.
"I can't believe you knew!" Ginny said laughing. "I would have never thought you could pull something over on me."
"Where do you think Fred and George got it from? Your father was hopeless at pulling pranks…although I would hardly call a marriage proposal a prank!"
Neville was grinning from ear to ear, still flush with his dual success of surprising Ginny and her acceptance of his proposal.
Ginny saw his look and said, "Go on then, gloat. Enjoy this while you can, it will be the last time you will keep such a big secret from me."
"I don't know, dear. I think Neville may have some hidden talents. I have a few tricks I can show him that even Fred and George don't know about," Molly said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Neville's eyes lit up in anticipation. "You will help me pull a prank on Fred and George?" he asked eagerly.
"Let's not put the cart before the horse," Molly laughed. "We'll start small."
Neville took their bags up to their room and Molly turned to Ginny excitedly. "Tell me all about it!"
While Ginny divulged the details of Neville's proposal the night before, they began working in the kitchen, making breakfast. With a swish of Molly's wand, oranges flew out of the fruit bowl, lining themselves up to be sliced and squeezed. Ginny flicked her wrist and a frying pan settled itself on the stovewhile a dozen eggs began cracking themselves into a bowl. Neville returned to pitch in and soon they were seated around the kitchen table, eating and talking about the wedding.
"Neville and I agree that we want a small wedding, simple and elegant. I heard Parvati's wedding looked like cotton candy exploded in the sanctuary, there was so much pink."
"Where do you want to have it?"
Neville spoke up for the first time. "We would like to have it outside, in a garden. We've set the date as July 17th, just after term ends."
"Oh, my!" Molly exclaimed. "July!"
"Which should be plenty of time for a small, simple wedding," Ginny said, with a note of warning in her voice.
Molly paused and looked at Ginny. Her face relaxed and she smiled, "You're right, of course. We'll have plenty of time. I'm not going to go mad with planning, don't you worry."
Molly rose and flicked her wand to begin cleaning the table. "Do you have a specific garden in mind?"
"I was hoping we could have the ceremony here, in your garden," Neville said.
Ginny gasped and looked at Neville, "You didn't tell me you wanted to have it here! You just said a garden!"
"I don't know if my garden is quite up to snuff. Surely you can find one that is better suited."
"Mum's right, Neville. Her garden is lovely, but not quite what you would call ideal for a wedding," Ginny said as tactfully as possible.
"Well, actually, I was going to surprise both of you with this." Neville, looking somewhat sheepish, continued. "As a wedding gift from me to you, Molly, I am going to re-landscape your garden."
Ginny and Molly looked at Neville, both of their mouths open in surprise. "A wedding gift for me? I don't think it's customary for the groom to give his future mother-in-law a gift, Neville. Usually, he's wishing ill will on thewoman by the time the wedding rolls around."
"Don't be daft, Molly. I would never wish you ill will. I know it isn't customary, but I want to do this for you, as a thank you for bringing Ginny into the world and into my life. And to thank you for being somewhat of a surrogate mother to me."
Molly, touched beyond belief, hugged Neville tightly. "Thank you, Neville. You are such a good man." She released him and sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with the tea towel in her hand.
Ginny, who had been sitting there in stunned silence, threw her arms around his neck. "That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. A little sappy, but sweet nonetheless. I love you."
Neville smiled at Ginny. "I love you, too."
The rest of the morning was spent with Neville showing Ginny and Molly his preliminary plans for the new and improved garden. A few minor changes were made here and there, but all in all, Molly loved Neville's ideas and gave her blessing for the renovation.
"Hello!" a voice called from the other room.
"In the kitchen, Hermione!" Ginny called back.
Hermione walked in, loaded down with bags of Christmas pressies, her cheeks and nose flushed red from the cold. "It was quite a walk from the castle to Hogsmeade loaded down with all of this! I need to sit down!"
"Where is your bag? I'll take it up to your room," Neville offered.
"I left it at the Three Broomsticks. I didn't have enough hands to hold onto it as I apparated. I'll go back and get it in a moment."
"I'll go."
With a pop, Neville was gone. Hermione, sitting at the table, took off her gloves and removed her scarf from around her neck. "So, Molly, what do you think about the ring?"
"Oooh, I love it! We have been sitting around talking all morning about the wedding. Neville is going to re-landscape my garden as a wedding present for me! Imagine! And they are going to have the wedding here. I'm so excited I can hardly sit still!" Ginny gave her a warning look. "But I'm not stressing, no sir. I'm going to be calm and organized about the whole thing." She turned and started the kettle to make Hermione a cup of tea. Ginny rolled her eyes and grinned at Hermione. "I saw that, Ginny!" Molly said.
"How do you do that? Is it some sort of secret spell witches have to watch their sprogs?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"There is no magic involved, I assure you. I'm sure that Muggle mothers have the same skill."
"Yes, they do. I reckon my mother could see through walls, too," Hermione said laughing.
Molly turned and saw Hermione staring into space, the remnants of a smile on her face.
Thinking of her parents, I'm sure.
"So, where is Harry?" Ginny asked. "I thought you would come together."
"He mentioned something about popping to London this morning. I think he left all of his shopping to the last minute." Hermione looked at Ginny and in unison they said, "Men."
The remainder of the day was punctuated with the arrivals of the others. Bill and Fleur arrived just after lunch. Fred, George and Harry arrived together in the late afternoon.
"Look who we found wandering around aimlessly in Diagon Alley!" Fred said cheerfully, slapping Harry on the back.
"I wasn't 'wandering aimlessly,' I was 'walking purposefully.'"
"Harry! It's so good to see you!" Molly exclaimed as she gave him a long, motherly hug. "Let me look at you. My goodness, you have changed! It's going to take a while to get used to seeing you without glasses!" She held him at arms length, smiling. "I'm so glad you're home. We have missed you so much."
"I've missed you, too," Harry said.
"Sniff, sniff, boo-hoo, woman," George said sarcastically. "He's been back for months."
"Oh, you hush and take your things upstairs," she said, ushering Harry into the kitchen. "Would you like a spot of tea, dear?"
"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. We stopped as Seamus' before we apparated."
"I think you're old enough to call me Molly, dear. How are Seamus and Fiona?"
"They're good. They said to tell everyone 'Happy Christmas.'" He glimpsed into the parlor and asked, "Where's Hermione?"
"She's out in the garden with Neville and Ginny, dear. Neville is showing them the plans for my new garden."
Harry walked over to the back door, peering through the window. "Neville told me his plan. What do you think?"
"I love it! He is such a sweet boy. I couldn't ask for a better son-in-law."
They were sitting at the table, drinking tea and talking about the garden and the wedding when the back door opened and Neville, Ginny and Hermione walked in, stamping the snow off of their feet.
"Hey, Harry!" Neville said. "When did you get here?"
"About ten minutes ago."
Molly looked on as the three entered the kitchen and noticed Hermione's face light up with a radiant smile at the sound of Harry's name. Molly glanced at Harry and saw that he was completely focused on Hermione and was sporting an equally bright smile.
Interesting, she thought, hiding her smile with a sip of her tea.
"Get all of your shopping done, Harry?" Hermione asked as she hung her cloak on a hook by the door.
"I guess we'll see. I haven't had to buy so many presents in a while! I'm afraid I've forgotten someone."
"As long as you don't forget me," Ginny said, patting Harry's shoulder as she walked out of the kitchen.
Harry slapped his hand on his forehead, "Damn! I knew there was another redhead in the bunch!"
"Come on Harry, Neville. It's time to do our manly duty and cut down the finest tree our neighbor has to offer," George announced as he, Fred, and Bill entered the kitchen.
"Don't you dare cut down a tree from that muggle's garden again this year. I've had to give him a memory charm each Christmas. He wasn't all there to begin with. I reckon one more memory charm will send him round the bend," Molly said.
"Yes, mum," the three brothers intoned obediently, winking to Harry and Neville when Molly turned away.
"I saw that."
From the doorway of the kitchen, Molly surveyed the scene in front of her. The tree, which was the best they had found in years (I don't want to know where they got it, Molly said to herself), was standing in the corner of the room being decorated by each person in turn. It had been decided that each person would use one spell to decorate the tree, starting from oldest to youngest. Bill started and enchanted little white lights to sparkle and twinkle merrily. Fleur waved her wand and a band of beautiful gold ribbon wound itself stylishly around the tree. Fred and George were next and, with forced looks of innocence on their faces, produced a large box of antique wooden ornaments. With a wave of their wand, the ornaments flew out of the box and onto the tree. At first glance, the ornaments seemed to be beautiful hand-painted Father Christmas figures from around the world. Fred and George looked at each other, flicked their wands and said in unison, "animae ornamentia." The Father Christmas ornaments came to life, climbing and swinging on the tree branches.
"Good God," Bill said. "This is a disaster waiting to happen."
Harry and Neville were next, since they shared the same birthday. Harry deferred to Neville, who chose to hang mistletoe over the doorway instead of decorating the tree.
"Like you need an excuse to kiss Ginny," Fred said under his breath.
Harry was facing the tree with his finger on his chin, brows furrowed in concentration. With a flourish of his wand he conjured a beautiful, deep red crushed velvet tree skirt, trimmed in gold ribbon which matched the ribbon on the tree. With a flourish, he waved his wand at the gifts that were scattered around the room and they flew underneath the tree, arranging themselves in piles according to the name of the recipient.
"Why is my pile always the smallest?" George asked in disgust.
Hermione stepped forward, waved her wand and transfigured the pinecones hanging on the tree into bells. The air was filled with the cacophonous ringing of the bells, followed by "oohs" and "aaahs" of appreciation from the multi-cultural Father Christmas figures swinging from the boughs of the tree. With another flick of her wrist, the bells lost their discordant sound and began playing Handel's Messiah.
"Show-off," Harry said with a grin.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "What do you expect from a Transfiguration professor?"
Finally, it was Ginny's turn, and with nothing left to do, she resignedly conjured a star to top the tree. "Next year, we draw straws. I always have to conjure the star. I'm sick of being the youngest."
Molly, content to be the observer tonight, brought a tray of sandwiches in for everyone and retreated to a wing chair by the fire with her glass of wine. She watched with joy as her family and their friends laughed and joked with each other. She took special interest in watching Harry and Hermione. There was nothing overt in their actions to cause anyone to suspect that they were more than just old friends. in fact, they seemed to be trying, possibly too hard, to act casual around each other.
That was the giveaway.
Molly sighed as a wave of sadness enveloped her - sadness for the life and love that Ron would never have. She wondered what would have happened between Hermione and him had he lived. Somehow, she doubted that it would have ended "happily ever after." She knew that they loved each other; that was obvious from the beginning. But she had always suspected that it was an adolescent love, a first crush rather than the all-consuming love that she had found with her Arthur.
How would Ron react to Harry and Hermione if he were alive?
"Molly, would you like more wine?" Fleur asked, holding out the half-empty bottle of Merlot.
"No, thank you dear. I believe I should be off to bed," Molly said and rose from her chair.
A chorus of "good nights" followed her up the stairs and into her room. She changed into her nightgown and curled up in bed with the "Magical Bride" magazine she had bought when Neville asked for Ginny's hand in marriage almost three months ago. Simple and elegant. I can do that, she thought.
"Whatever Ginny wants" is what Arthur would say if he were here, and by Merlin, that is what she is going to get.
And the first of many lists began to form in Molly's head as she finally drifted off to sleep.
Molly jolted awake and looked around the room, disoriented. The magazine she had been reading was lying across her chest and her reading lamp was still burning. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was 1:17 a.m.
Great. I've slept too long to go back to sleep, but not long enough to be well rested.
She resignedly arose from her comfortable bed, donned her robe and padded down the stairs to the kitchen, hoping not to wake anyone. As she did on other nights such as this, she began the preparations for a soothing mug of hot cocoa. She had pulled a mug out of the cabinet and turned around to see Hermione, wrapped in a blanket, sitting crossways in a club chair by the fire. She was staring at a picture on the side table of Harry, Ron and herself taken their last night at Hogwarts.
"Hermione?"
Startled, she sat up straighter. "Molly! What are you doing up?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"Couldn't sleep. You, too?"
"No, I slept. But once I wake up it is almost impossible for me to go back to sleep."
"What woke you?"
"The dream where you're falling and you wake before you hit bottom."
"I hate that dream."
"At least I didn't hit bottom," Molly smiled. "Would you like a cup of cocoa?"
"Sounds lovely. Thank you." Hermione rose from her chair, pulling her blanket around her and then, following Molly back into the kitchen, she settled herself at the kitchen table.
Molly began preparing the cocoa, her body moving instinctively about the kitchen she had practically lived in for the past 35 years. "What's on your mind, Hermione?" she asked, with her back to her.
She heard Hermione take in a breath as if she were about to speak. She paused a beat longer before saying, "Ron."
Molly nodded her head in response, still facing the stove. "I have a love-hate relationship with the holidays."
"Which is winning this year, love or hate?"
Molly stopped pouring the cocoa for a moment and lifted her head in thought. "It's a dead heat right now. It all hinges on the presents," she said, giggling.
She turned with two steaming mugs of chocolate in her hands and sat down at the table opposite Hermione. They sat together in companionable silence sipping their drinks. Molly debated with herself before deciding to say what was on her mind.
"You're wondering what would've happened if Ron had lived, aren't you."
Hermione looked up sharply, while Molly stirred her cocoa and continued. "It's completely natural. I do it all the time, too. It's more poignant during the holidays, I guess. Everyone is together, but something is missing and always will be. I don't know if that emptiness will ever go away."
A few minutes passed in silence. "It doesn't matter, you know."
"What doesn't matter?" Hermione asked.
"'What if.' We could spend our lives saying 'what if' this and 'what if' that and it isn't going to change the past. Ron will still be gone. Arthur will still be gone. Percy will still be gone. We can't change it, but we can move on."
"A little easier said than done. I would think you of all people would understand that."
"I do. But, I'm at a different point in my life than you are, Hermione. I've had a great life, a great family, and a great love affair. The only thing left that I would want is grandchildren, and who knows when that is going to happen?" She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "My point is that the emptiness I feel is from losing my loved ones, not from losing my life. I still have that."
Molly reached across the table and took Hermione's hand, looking her directly in the eyes. "I know you feel guilty because Ron died for you. You don't know if you deserved that sacrifice. You can't let that guilt keep you from moving on with your life."
Molly smiled at the stunned expression on Hermione's face. "Come on, Hermione. I'm not daft. You pride yourself on masking your feelings, but honestly, you aren't quite as good at it as you might think." She patted Hermione's hand and rose from the table, rinsing out their mugs.
"I don't believe he would mind, you know," Molly said conversationally, as she turned the now clean mugs upside down on a tea towel. She turned around and leaned against the sink, watching Hermione sit at the table looking bewildered by the entire conversation.
"Who would mind what?" Hermione asked, warily.
"I don't think Ron would mind about you and Harry."
"What?!"
Molly, amused by the expression on Hermione's face, said, "Don't look so shocked, Hermione. What is more surprising? That I sense something between you and Harry or that I'm not upset about it?"
With apparent effort, Hermione swallowed and said quietly, "Take your pick."
"You were afraid that I would be upset?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," Hermione said in a small voice.
"It isn't like you're betraying Ron, or me for that matter. What I think or feel shouldn't matter in the least. But in case it does, I want you to know that I think you and Harry will make a lovely couple."
Molly walked over to Hermione and patted her on the shoulder. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't stay up too late, dear."
Hermione reached for Molly's hand as she began walking away. "How did you know?"
Molly turned and smiled at Hermione. "I've been in love before, too."
Harry stumbled down the last two stairs into the kitchen, catching himself on the doorway before falling on his face.
"That was graceful," Hermione teased.
Harry looked up at her with a glare, throwing the baseball cap he was holding onto the kitchen table. He walked over to the sink where she was standing and poured himself a glass of water. "I can't believe you talked me into running with you at 6 am on Christmas morning." Leaning against the sink beside Hermione, he drank the entire glass in almost one gulp.
"I didn't talk you into it. I asked and you agreed. I didn't make you get out of bed; you did that on your own, too. Are you always this cheerful in the morning?"
Harry turned and put his glass in the sink and moved closer to Hermione. "I was in a much better mood yesterday morning."
"Really? Why was that?"
Harry slipped his arms around her waist. "I don't remember," he whispered, before gently kissing her on the lips. "Hang on, it's slowly coming back to me," he said as he planted a row of kisses down her neck. He heard her sigh in what he hoped was pleasure as he lifted his head to look at her. "I've missed you."
Harry could tell a playful quip was on her tongue by the smile she gave him. The teasing smile was replaced by the loving look he had dreamt of seeing on her face for years. "I've missed you, too."
As Harry's lips captured Hermione's again, he marveled at the simple fact that he was kissing her at all. Years of dreaming about this, obsessing about this, did not change the fact that a part of Harry never expected it to happen. Now that it had and his long held belief that they were perfect for each other was confirmed, Harry was terrified of it ending.
He pushed his fears from his mind and focused on Hermione. Everything around them dissolved into a fine white mist, cocooning them from the world. His senses heightened, each one exploring, filing away memories to be relived and savored when, reluctantly, he would be apart from her. The smell of her hair, combined with the clean scent of soap on her skin. The taste of mint in her mouth, masking the taste he remembered and longed for from their first kiss. The curve of her back tapering down to her waist and rising again into her arse - the feel of it as he ran his hand over her bum, pulling her toward him. The sound of her breathing, mixed with his, labored from desire. And finally, the look on her face, relaxed with longing, just before she opened her eyes.
She caressed his face with her hand, a gesture so simple yet full of meaning that it made his heart hammer in his chest. He heard the slight scraping sound of her fingers grazing his unshaven cheek. He grabbed her hand, turning his head to kiss her palm. "Sorry I didn't shave," he murmured, distracted by the silky softness of her palm.
"I don't care," she whispered.
He cupped her face in his hands, pulling her to him, showering her lips with soft, sensual kisses. "Your lips will be the death of me," he whispered hoarsely, a recognizable energy radiating through his body.
"Harry?" Hermione asked breathlessly, pulling away. "As much as I am enjoying this," she paused and pushed an imaginary strand of hair from her face, "it isn't something I particularly want to do in Molly's kitchen with seven people sleeping upstairs."
Harry looked up at the ceiling and back at Hermione, the warm white mist evaporating. "You have a point." Try as he might, though, he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers or release her from his embrace.
Hermione cocked her head slightly to one side. "No one has ever looked at me the way you do."
Harry's eyes roamed over her face, marveling at how that was possible. "Their loss." He watched Hermione's eyes travel from his eyes to his hair, the corners of her mouth being tugged reluctantly into a smile.
Harry narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, making a poor attempt to straighten her face, betraying the object of her mirth with her roving eyes.
"You're laughing at my hair, aren't you?" His hair had grown considerably longer since he had returned and was sticking up in the back and on one side. The other side was flat and stuck to his head.
"I'm not laughing at all."
"Yes, you are."
Hermione avoided looking at Harry. "No, I'm not."
He turned her face toward him and she burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, but you have an enormous case of bed head!"
Harry grinned, running his hand through his hair, making it look even worse. He stepped over to the table and picked up his discarded hat. "I know, isn't it awful? Thank God for the Cubbies," he said as he pulled on his blue and red baseball hat.
"The who?"
"Chicago Cubs. It's a muggle baseball team in the States. Are we doing this or what?"
"Let's go. Try to keep up."
"Please. You will be begging me to slow down in about five minutes."
"Don't count on it, Potter."
They walked out the back door into the early morning light, a delicate dusting of snow crunching beneath their feet. They ran in silence for the first ten minutes, their feet and their breathing keeping a steady rhythm.
"Am I going too slow for you?" Harry said sarcastically.
"I was going to ask you the same thing. Let's pick it up," and Hermione extended her stride. After a few minutes, Harry glanced at Hermione, expecting to see her struggling to maintain their quick pace. He was more than a little surprised to notice that she didn't seem to be straining at all, and he said as much to her.
"Just because I'm a so-called bookworm doesn't mean I am completely lacking in athletic ability."
"Obviously," Harry said, just a little winded.
Hermione looked at him and smiled. "I've been running every other morning since the summer. I thought this would be easy for a former professional athlete."
"Who said it wasn't?" Harry asked, attempting to keep his breathing steady.
They continued on in silence, looping through the quiet and still town of Ottery St. Catchpole and retraced their steps back to the Burrow. A bit before the turnoff for the Burrow, Hermione said, "Follow me," and turned onto what Harry could only assume was a walking path through the woods. Thankfully for Harry, Hermione had to slow her pace, if only a little, due to the tree limbs and underbrush. After a kilometer or so, the path opened up onto a cemetery and Harry stopped, bent over, rested his hands on his knees and began to take deep, gulping breaths.
"This confirms it. You are trying to kill me!" he said, between gasps.
Hermione stopped and turned, laughing. "I knew it! I knew you were struggling! Yes!" she said triumphantly, punching her fist in the air.
"Don't gloat too much, if you know what's good for you," Harry said threateningly.
Ignoring him, she raised both hands in the air, jumping up and down, "I am the champion! I am the champion!"
"And here I thought this run was a ruse to get me alone and seduce me."
"I did want to get you alone," she said, walking towards Ron's grave. The smiles faded from both their faces.
Harry straightened up and followed her. "Do you come here often?"
Hermione walked up to the marker, knelt down and brushed off a few errant leaves. She stood up and dusted her hands off. "Usually, whenever I visit Molly I'll come by."
They stood at the foot of the grave, looking at the marker, not saying anything for a long time.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked softly.
She sighed. "No, not particularly."
She turned away from the grave and started walking down the path they had followed five years before, on the way to bury Ron. Harry jogged to catch up with her and fell in step beside her. With a sigh that said Let's get this over with, Hermione began the story about the last night of Ron's life.
"On the count of three, everyone smile and say 'Quidditch!'"
"Come on, Colin, just take the picture already! It's a wizarding picture, we don't have to be smiling for it to show that we are happy," Ron said. "And this guy wants to be a professional photographer?" he asked rhetorically under his breath to Hermione, who was standing between Ron and Harry.
Hermione smiled and playfully jabbed Ron in the ribs. They were sitting on their favorite sofa by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was the night before they were to leave Hogwarts for the final time. Classmates were milling around, hugging each other with promises to keep in touch. Ron and Harry draped their arms across the back of the sofa and the three of them dutifully smiled for Colin's camera. As if by prior agreement, just before the camera clicked, Ron and Harry turned to Hermione and kissed her on the cheek. Completely surprised, she started laughing and blushing at the same time.
"Perfect, guys! That's going to be a smashing picture," Colin praised. "I'll have one for each of you tomorrow."
"Thanks, Colin," Harry said and shook his hand.
"Anything for you, Harry," Colin said, beaming then turning to take pictures of other Gryffindors.
"If he didn't have a girlfriend I would seriously wonder about his feelings for you, mate," Ron said.
"What can I say? I'm irresistible," Harry said mockingly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing that Harry had never given a moment's thought to his appeal to other people.
"Are you two packed and ready?" she asked, knowing full well that they would have put everything off until the last minute.
"Haven't even started. What about you, Harry?"
"Nope, haven't done a thing. 'Don't leave it for later…'"
"'…you big second rater,'" Ron finished, perfectly mimicking the homework planners Hermione had given the two of them their fifth year to help them prepare for their O.W.L.s.
Hermione attempted to glare at them before they all started laughing. "Well, come on then, I'll help you" she said.
"I need to clean out my locker at the Quidditch Pitch. Harry, you coming?"
"No, even I did that already."
"I do believe that was a subtle jab at my habit of procrastinating."
"Was I being subtle? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be."
"Hermione, come with me. It's dark out there and I'm sc-sc-scared," Ron said, biting his fingernails in mock fear.
She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Okay," taking the hand Ron had offered. "We'll be back to help you pack soon, Harry!"
"Don't count on it!" Ron said as he pulled Hermione after him. She turned to see Harry standing by the fire, waving with a small smile and an inscrutable look on his face.
They walked together hand in hand across the lawn to the Quidditch Pitch, as they had so many times in the last year. Since becoming Ron's girlfriend, Hermione had watched enough Quidditch practices and games to last a lifetime. In the beginning, it had been fun watching Ron develop into a top-notch keeper and make miraculous save after save. After a while, even the thrill of watching Ron succeed had lost its appeal and it all seemed to become something of a chore. She, for one, was not going to miss the Quidditch Pitch at all.
When they arrived at the Gryffindor changing rooms, Hermione pulled out her wand, waved it at the door and said "Alohomora." Once inside, Ron turned her to face him and gave her a long, passionate kiss.
"What was that for?" she asked, breathless.
"I'm congratulating you properly for finishing first in your class."
"Well, thank you," she said, returning his kiss.
"And what was that for?" he said teasingly.
"For finishing," she said seriously.
"Hey!" he said, tickling her. "I wasn't the last person in the class. I beat Crabbe, Goyle, that cow Millicent Bulstrode, and a whole bunch of Hufflepuffs."
Hermione laughed, trying to squirm away from being tickled, squealing "Mercy! Mercy!"
Ron stopped tickling Hermione, putting his arms around her waist. He looked down into her eyes and gave her a soft, slow kiss. "I love you, Hermione."
"I love you, too." She smiled up at him. "Shouldn't we get your things together?" she asked looking over his shoulder at his locker.
"Later," he whispered, kissing her neck just below her ear, pulling her body closer to his.
Hermione closed her eyes, physically enjoying the sensation and mentally wanting it to end. "Ron, I really don't think this is the time…" he silenced her protest with a long kiss. He slowly walked her backwards until they were pressed against the wall, placing his hands on either side of her head and deepening the kiss.
Slowly, the snogging changed back to soft, sweet kisses. He ran his hand through her hair and looked down into her eyes, a very serious expression on his face. "Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Will you marry me?"
Hermione's eyes opened wide in shock. For a split second, she thought he was serious, then her eyes danced in laughter and she said, "Go on, Ron! You're joking!"
The moment she said it she knew that he had not been joking. The expression on his face, which before had been serious, immediately became apprehensive and hurt. He dropped his arms to his side and moved back a step, looking down at the ground.
"Ron? You were joking, right?" she said softly.
He looked up at her with his head still bent toward the ground and gave his shoulders a slight shrug. Hermione's hands went up to her mouth, which was open in an expression of horror for what she had said and how she had made him feel. "Oh, Ron!" she said, taking a step towards him.
He took another step back, still looking at the ground. "I guess that is a 'no.'"
Tears brimming in her eyes, Hermione reached out to Ron who again moved out of her grasp, turning to walk to his locker. Hermione stood, rooted to the spot completely at a loss for something to say. Ron began loading his gear into a gym bag, slowly at first, then with more force. He suddenly threw the gym bag to the bottom of his locker and whirled around, anger etched on his face.
"Why not?!" he yelled. "Why don't you want to marry me?'
Hermione flinched at his tone of voice. "Ron…" she began.
"Am I not good enough for you?"
"No! Why would you thi…"
"Maybe it's because I'm not smart enough. You don't want to be married to someone you can't discuss Hogwarts, A History with?"
"That's just…"
"I know. I'm not good looking enough for you, am I?"
"Ron…"
"Or maybe i's because I'm poor…"
"Ron! You are being ridiculous!" Hermione shouted at him, getting angrier by the second. "If any of that mattered, do you think I would have dated you?"
"Oh, so you're saying that I'm not good looking or smart or rich enough and you just dated me out of pity?"
"What? That isn't what I said at all! You are being totally unreasonable! Would you just let me explain before you start ticking off your insecurities as my excuses?"
He stood there, anger emanating from every pore, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I didn't say 'no,' Ron. You caught me off guard, is all. You have to admit it was a little unexpected. I would never imagine in my wildest dreams being proposed to in the Quidditchchanging rooms."
"So, that's not good enough for you either."
"Would you SHUT UP," Hermione yelled, "and let me finish?!"
Hermione took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. "I always assumed that we would talk about it before…we have never even mentioned marriage. It just seems too soon."
"We have known each other for years, Hermione. We have been dating a year."
"But we are only 17! That is so young."
"My parents were 17 when they got engaged! They got married at 18 and had Bill at 20," he said, as if this were all the proof anyone needed that teenage marriage was completely normal.
Hermione, who had been looking at Ron, shifted her gaze to the floor. "I'm not ready," she said softly.
Ron looked at her and his face softened a little. He moved closer to her and rested his hands lightly on her hips. "That's okay. We can just get engaged. We don't have to get married right away. How does that sound?"
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and shook her head slowly, "I'm not ready. For any of it."
He dropped his hands and his face fell. He sat down on the bench in front of his locker, a look of shock on his face. "Don't you love me?"
Hermione choked back a sob and sat down beside him, putting her arm around his shoulder. "Of course I love you. I just think we need to wait. If it is meant to be then it will happen eventually - maybe next year, or the next. There's no need to rush."
Ron stood up abruptly and resumed putting his gear in his bag. "Is there someone else?"
"I know that is a joke. You would not be stupid enough to ask me that question!" she exclaimed.
He aggressively zipped his bag closed and rounded on her. "No joke. Who is he?"
"You are mental, Ron Weasley! There's no one else. What kind of person do you think I am?"
He nodded his head with the expression of someone that thinks they have the answer. He threw his bag over his shoulder and said, "I'm not surprised."
"Not surprised at what?" she asked, standing up and grabbing his arm, turning him around to face her.
"It's Harry, isn't it?"
"Harry? What about Har…" She stopped as realization of what Ron was implying hit her like a ton of bricks. "Come on, you can't be serious!"
"You come on!" he shouted at her. "Everyone loves Harry! He can do no wrong. He can have any girl he wants."
"That is a bit of an overstatement."
"Please! If Harry wanted you, you would drop me in a second."
"You are being completely ridiculous."
"I've seen how he looks at you!"
"What do you mean 'how he looks at me'? Harry has never acted the least bit interested in me. Have you forgotten that it was he that worked to get us together in the first place?"
"Right. How long have you two been sneaking around behind my back, eh?" he said angrily. "Having a ruddy good laugh at me, are you?"
"Just when I think you can't say anything more absurd, you say that! What are you on? I don't fancy Harry! I've never thought of Harry as anything but my best friend! How can you even suggest that? How can you think that I would do that, that Harry would do that?"
Ron snorted, "Here's a news flash for you, Hermione. Harry isn't perfect! Trust me, I know. I've lived with him for the last seven years."
Hermione looked Ron squarely in the eyes, fury now etched on her face. "So, here it is once again - Ron using his biggest insecurity, his best friend, as a crutch. You are pathetic," she spat. "Instead of trying to make yourself feel better by bad-mouthing your best friend, why don't you do a little self-reflection, huh?" she said punching him in the chest with her finger. "Are you in love with me, Ron?"
"Of course I am. I just asked you to marry me, didn't I?"
"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me because you love me and can't imagine life without me? Or is it because your self-esteem is so low that you think I might be the best you can get?"
He stood in front of Hermione, his furious expression slowly replaced by one of shock. When he looked down at the floor and didn't say anything, Hermione smirked and said, "That's what I thought. It's time to grow up, Ron." Then she turned and walked out the door.
"That was the last time I talked to him. You probably didn't notice, given your situation with Voldemort, but he and I completely ignored each other for the rest of the night."
At some point during the story, they had stopped in the area of the garden the Weasleys used for pick-up Quidditch games. Harry was lost in thought, trying to comprehend what Hermione had told him about her last conversation with Ron. Although he had always assumed that Ron would have eventually asked Hermione to marry him if he had lived, he had no idea that Ron had done it that night. Thinking back on it, his lack of knowledge was really no surprise. The more involved Ron and Hermione became, the less Ron confided in Harry about their relationship. At the time, that didn't bother Harry at all.
"I don't know what to say. I had no idea," Harry said with amazement.
"How could you? I haven't talked to anyone about it in five years. I couldn't bear to say aloud again the awful things I said to him that night." She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "I can't forgive myself for hurting him like that."
"He said some awful things, too, Hermione. How were you to know that you wouldn't get a chance to talk it out with him? You can't feel guilty about that for the rest of your life."
"Tell that to my conscience. Tell that to my heart."
Harry walked in front of Hermione and lifted her chin so he was looking her in the eyes. "Ron didn't die for you because he asked you to marry him. He jumped in front of that curse because it was instinct. It was the same instinct that you would have had to save him or me. Or that I would have had to save you or him. And what if he was making the ultimate sacrifice because he was in love with you? Do you really think that he would want you to still feel guilty, like you didn't deserve it?"
"I didn't deserve it."
"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione."
"He deserved better than to die for someone that wasn't in love with him."
Harry went completely still, his perceptions of the past seven years shattered with that one sentence. "What?" he whispered.
Hermione crossed her arms and looked down at the ground. "I wasn't in love with Ron. That was the real reason I refused his proposal. I couldn't bring myself to tell him."
"How…" Harry stopped and cleared his throat which had suddenly constricted. "When did you know you weren't in love with him?"
Hermione shrugged one shoulder slightly, still looking at the ground. "I was so confused, Harry. I had never been in love and had never felt for anyone what I felt for Ron. I thought I was in love. But it didn't seem right somehow. I couldn't explain the difference between loving and being in love, but I knew there was a difference. Something was missing. I think Ron knew it, too."
"Then why did he ask you to marry him?"
Hermione looked up at Harry. "I think he thought we were supposed to be in love, almost like it was the next step in our relationship, something that would happen automatically if we got married."
Harry stood there in silence, letting the pieces of the puzzle that was Hermione fall into place.
"So the reason you have been so reluctant for us," he said, motioning between the two of them with his hand, "is because of what happened with Ron."
Hermione nodded her head. "I didn't want to be in a relationship with you because it just seemed like the natural progression of our friendship. I wanted to be sure it was more than curiosity on both our parts."
Harry inched closer to Hermione, grasping her hands and placing her arms around his waist, pulling her close to him. "Should I be worried that you are merely settling a curiosity with me?" he asked teasingly as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"No."
He leaned his head down until his lips were lightly grazing hers. "How can you be so sure?"
He felt Hermione's hands travel up and down his back as she softly kissed him. "Trust me, I'm sure."
Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and pulled him down into a passionate kiss, tracing her tongue across his lips and plunging it into his mouth. He felt her remove his cap and begin running her hands through his hair, pulling him to her closer still. Harry's hands were searching frantically through her layers of running clothes trying to locate access to her skin, desperate in his need to feel her warmth. He growled in aggravation as he pulled away from her, allowing his eyes to aid in his endeavor.
"Are you a bit frustrated?" Hermione asked, laughing.
"You don't know the half of it," Harry mumbled, still searching. "Bloddy hell, Hermione! This is like trying to break into Gringotts!" Harry exclaimed.
"Ow! George, watch your broom, mate," they heard Fred say in the distance.
"You have got to be kidding me." Harry whispered, his hands stopping abruptly.
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "I hate Quidditch." She stepped away from Harry and picked up his cap, handing it to him.
"Right now, I do, too," he replied, pulling his hat low over his eyes.
Just then, Fred, George and Bill emerged from the path carrying their brooms, surprised to see Harry and Hermione standing there.
"Oops. It looks like we have interrupted a romantic interlude," Fred said, covering his eyes dramatically.
Walking away from Harry toward the path George, Fred and Bill emerged from, Hermione said, "Don't be silly. We just returned from an early morning run."
"Right. Whatever you say," George sing-songed playfully. He tossed an extra broom he was carrying to Harry, "We brought an extra in case we ran into you. Want to play?"
Hermione waved and called over her shoulder. "I'm going to see if I can help Molly with anything. You lot have fun."
Harry watched her go and turned to face three grinning Weasleys. "What?" he said surly.
"It's about time you made a move," said Bill as he mounted his broom. "You can cut the tension between you two with a knife."
"Thanks to your inopportune arrival, nothing happened."
"Buck up, mate. There's always the mistletoe," George said optimistically.
After a large Christmas dinner with all the trimmings, presents were opened in the parlor in front of the fire before pudding. Amid the flurry of ripping paper came a chorus of "thank you" and "I love it," and a squeal from Fleur when she opened a beautiful necklace from Bill. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry watched Hermione open her gifts, waiting anxiously for the moment she opened his. He was nervous about what he had gotten her, afraid that it wasn't enough, that it was too impersonal. He had another gift back at his house, in his bedside table. But it was much too personal to give her here, in front of the entire Weasley family.
You should have gotten her a book, mate. That's always a sure winner, Ron's voice said in his head.
Shut up. I'm not talking to you.
Hermione picked up a slim oblong box wrapped beautifully in shimmering opalescent paper, trimmed in gold. She glanced up at him as she began opening the present and caught his eye. He gave her a small smile and she opened the box. She stared for a moment at the gift in front of her.
She hates it. I know she hates it. What was I thinking?
Hermione reached into the box and removed the present, letting the deep red velvety material run through her fingers. She put it up to her cheek, looking at Harry.
He cleared his throat and said nervously, "It's called a pashmina. It's like a sca…"
"I know what it is," Hermione said softly, rubbing the cashmere against her cheek. "It is absolutely beautiful. Thank you."
"You like it?"
"I love it."
"Hermione! Thank you so much!" Ginny squealed from across the room, waving a piece of paper in her hand. Jumping up, she barreled across the open boxes and discarded paper to give Hermione a crushing hug.
"You're welcome," Hermione said laughing.
"What did she give you?" Harry asked.
"A full day at a spa in London! Oh dear Merlin! I've always wanted to do this but I've never made the time." Ginny was now jumping up and down in excitement.
At that moment, everyone heard Molly gasp and turned to see her holding an identical piece of paper. She looked up and said in a shocked whisper, "Hermione! This is too much!"
Hermione waved her hand. "Don't be silly. You deserve it. There is one condition, though," Hermione said seriously.
Molly and Ginny both paused, and Molly said apprehensively, "What?"
"I have to come with you," Hermione said with a huge smile on her face.
Molly and Ginny started laughing. "That's not a condition, that's a bonus!" Ginny said, jumping up and down again. "When do you want to go? I can't wait. I'm so excited!"
"What about the next Hogsmeade weekend? That way I can leave school without any problem."
"It's a date!"
Hermione looked over at Fleur, who had been watching with a curious look on her face. "You have one, too, Fleur. It's in a red envelope. Did you miss it?"
Relief flooded Fleur's face as she looked among the discarded paper and presents for her envelope. Once she found and opened it, she looked at Hermione and said, "Thank you, Hermione. It is a really great present."
"You're welcome. I'll let you all know the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend so we can make plans."
Harry and the other men watched this exchange with perplexed looks on their faces that said "that must be some spa." Harry turned his attention to the last present he had to open, the one from Hermione. It was a square ebony box with elaborate carvings on each side and a beautiful silver ribbon around it. As the others began picking up the discarded wrapping paper, gathering their presents and moving into the kitchen for Christmas pudding, he untied the ribbon. The ribbon fell and the box opened to reveal a silver cup that reminded Harry of the Goblet of Fire. Upon closer inspection, he saw etched in the side of the goblet runes, and within the goblet a silvery gas swirled and shimmered. Comprehension dawned on his face and he looked up to see Hermione's expectant expression on her face.
"It's a…" Hermione started.
"…pensieve," he finished for her. He looked back down at the beautiful goblet.
She has always given the best presents.
"There's a memory in here. Is it yours?"
"Yes, there is a memory in there. But no, it's not mine." Harry looked at her quizzically.
She cleared her throat, "The memory is actually the gift. The pensieve is just a bonus, I guess." She smiled a little timidly.
"So, whose memory is it, then?"
"It's Oliver's coach's memory of the game he told you about. The one he played against your father."
Harry stared at her in stunned silence. Hermione mistook his silence and began to explain. "I know how excited you were to hear that story about your dad and thought wouldn't it be great if you could see it? It just gave me the idea and I called Oliver's coach who was more than happy to do it and…"
While Hermione had been rambling on, Harry got up and walked over to her. Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear. "It's perfect, the best present I've ever received. Thank you."
Keeping his cheek next to hers he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of her hair. "Hermione," he whispered, "I've just remembered a few things I left undone at home. I think I may need to leave a little early." As he said the last, he pulled back to look in her eyes.
Her confused expression cleared when his eyes met hers and she replied, "What a coincidence. I have some loose ends I need to tie up, as well."