The Eighteenth Year of Christmas

The Eighteenth Year of Christmas
Cassie Valentine
***
The first Christmas, there were few presents. He remembered Ron being surprised at his exclamation that he even had presents under the tree. His father's cloak was there, along with a sweater, sweets and pies from Mrs. Weasley, a card from the Dursleys and a small package of sugar-free sweets from Hermione.

Harry had never been happier. The two stuffed themselves silly with the sweets before heading down to the great hall for a feast. They filled themselves with the turkey and ham and everything else that covered the table before they began pulling at the crackers, laughing at each other's silly hats before hauling themselves up to bed.

Harry sighed in contentment as he drifted off, decided that this was the best Christmas ever.
***
The second Christmas, Hermione stayed at school with them. Again, there were few presents; another sweater along with sweets and pies from Ron's mum, a book from Hermione, some stone cakes from Hagrid and another card from the Dursleys.

This Christmas was tainted from the threat of a monster in a chamber no one could find.

The school was almost deserted; the three of them were the only Gryffindors left. After the feast, they sat around the fireplace in the common room, trying to come up with ideas to explain what was in the chamber.

They laughed and filled themselves on Mrs. Weasley's pies and sweets before falling asleep in front of the fire. Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was curled up in her favorite chair and Ron who was asleep on the couch before watching the snow falling peacefully outside the window.

He settled more comfortably on his cushions, pulled his blanket closer
around himself and decided this Christmas was better than last, simply
because the three of them were together.
***
The third Christmas was certainly an experience. Harry had no permission
slip to go to Hogsmeade, so he resorted to slipping up there with the help of his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map.

He felt the guilt well up in him when he saw Hermione's face full of fear and disapproval of what he was doing. He was able, somehow, to push it out of the way when Ron began to show him around.

He did understand why she was worried for him, with Black out on the loose and all. He questioned her reasons for staying at Hogwarts this year and she shrugged, saying her parents had gone skiing and she didn't want to this year.

Harry let himself believe that but his heart knew she was there to keep him out of trouble, to keep him safe from the maniacal murder who was trying to kill him.

Either way, he decided, this Christmas was just as good as the last two,
simply because they were all together.
***
The fourth Christmas was fantastic.

Harry had family, a Godfather now. He couldn't believe it, he actually had honest to God, reach out and touch them family. He had shrugged off Sirius' apologies for the lack of gifts. He had already received a Firebolt from him and didn't need anything more.

When Christmas day rolled around, Harry was disappointed he couldn't spend it with Sirius, but Mrs. Weasley's gifts were a pleasant surprise. Hermione pulled out a pink sweater for herself and Ron congratulated her on becoming a Weasley finally.

"It's pink," she commented as she looked at it.

"Mum only has you and Gin and Gin won't wear pink," Ron said.

Harry laughed as Hermione shrugged and pulled the sweater on. He was certain now; this Christmas was the Christmas to top all others.
***
The fifth Christmas was horrible.

Harry's world was falling apart around him.

Umbridge was on the warpath, half the school thought he was mad and a liar and Sirius was stuck "you know where" for his own protection.

He was thankful to be able to spend this Christmas with Sirius, but he found it hard to look any of the Weasley's in the eye after what had happened to Arthur.

He knew that if it weren¹t for him, Arthur would be dead. But if they had never met him, maybe it wouldn't have happened at all.

Harry celebrated with everyone, and put on a brave face for Sirius. But on the inside, he whished he was still locked in the little cupboard under stairs, completely naive as to what he meant to the wizarding world.

This Christmas wasn't so great.
***
There was no Christmas the sixth year.

War had come and it had come hard. Pain and fear had replaced mirth and joy. Besides, Sirius was dead. Dumbledore had advised all muggle born students to go home and all but a small number had.

Many of the pure blood and half blood students had gone home too, to spend what may be their last Christmas with their families.

Hermione had stayed that year. No one questioned her after Dumbledore's
suggestion to the other muggle borns. He felt they'd all be safer in the
school. Hermione knew why she was really staying. Her parents were missing.

She'd ask Harry about them every once and a while, had something slipped
through the occlumency lessons he was taking. He always told her he didn't know anything and she'd nod and turn away. He felt horrible in side, knowing how they were doing and knowing it wasn't good at all.

Voldemort had toyed with them for a long time, hoping to lure him out. And then the dreams had stopped, and he knew why. Voldemort already had thrown the muggle world into chaos by killing large portions of the fire and police services and setting government officials under the impervious curse, what were two more lives to him?

"I'm sorry," he said to Hermione a few days later. "I'm sorry you can't go home for Christmas." The two looked at each other for a long moment.

"Good," she told him as she stormed off. Harry hoped she hadn't really meant what she had said, but he wouldn't blame her if she had.

Harry decided he didn't much care for Christmas anymore.
***
The eleventh Christmas was strained.

There had been no time for Christmases during the war. He and Hermione were still talking, but not very much. He found her in the Gryffindor common roomon Christmas Eve.

The two had taken positions as teachers during the war. He had stayed to
keep learning and she had stayed to make sure he was safe. Part of her had meant what she told him those many years ago, but most of her didn't.

He walked over to the couch quietly, sitting down on the far edge to give her space. The two sat quietly for a long time, just watching the fire, letting it warm them and finally she moved a little closer to him.

They sat in silence again and she took his hand in hers and held on. He
eventually gave a little squeeze and he knew then that things were going to be okay.
***
The twelfth Christmas was better.

Molly was having all her kids at the burrow this year, Harry and Hermione included. All seven of the Weasley children were there with their spouses and children in tow.

The burrow was bursting with happy people and Harry was a little
overwhelmed. He grabbed his cloak and sneaked quietly out the back door. He stared out at the fast field, smiling at the snow that had been packed down by all the little feet.

His smile grew when he saw the snowman he Ron and Hermione had built that day. Harry finally glanced at the sky, marveling at the stars that stood out in the inky darkness.

He didn't move when he felt a pair of arms move around his waist. They
didn't move until he pulled Hermione in front of him and wrapped his cloak around her to warm her up.

"I love you," he told her. It had taken him weeks to put a name to this
feeling he had. He had never really experienced it before and it had taken him a while to decide that it was love.

"I love you too," she answered after a moment and Harry knew she meant it, that this wasn't just the "I love you" you throw around.

Harry decided that maybe, just maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.
***
The thirteenth Christmas was nerve wracking.

This ring had been bouncing around his pocket for months and he just
couldn't work up the courage to ask her.

He knew he was being silly; they were all grown up now, hell Ron was married with two kids. He figured he'd propose tonight, at least that had been his plan before Hermione had decided to host the annual Christmas party.

The house was now packed and he hadn't seen her all night. He fingered the little box as he walked down stairs and spotted her talking to Molly. He knew now was right.

"Hermione!" he called. A few people turned to look at him, but no one said anything. He called for her again, a little louder and more people turned but not her. "HERMIONE!" he yelled and the room stopped for a moment as everyone looked at him. They quickly turned back to their conversations, but she looked at him.

"What?"

"Marry me," he said.

She looked at him, either from disbelief or that she hadn't heard him, he wasn't sure. He pulled the little blue box out of his pocket and threw it to her. She caught it and opened it and he watched as she disappeared.

He jumped as she reappeared next to him.

"Yes," she said as she kissed him. Harry was sure that Christmas was all
right. He also was pretty sure this was the best one yet.
***
The fourteenth and fifteenth Christmases passed in a blur.

They were married on the fourteenth and on the fifteenth; he became a father to a beautiful little girl with thick red hair and green eyes.

He had stopped thinking of hair as being bushy a long time ago, although he wasn't really sure when. He only knew that it was right about the time he fell in love with the bushy haired girl who always had her nose in a book.

Harry stopped ranking his Christmases that year.
***
The eighteenth Christmas, he changed his mind.

He watched Maddie's eyes light up when she saw the tree and the presents
that were just for her.

Three was a big number to hit when you were a Weasley because you were old enough to help gramma in this kitchen with the cookies and Maddie knew this.

Harry decided this was the best Christmas ever, and most likely the best
he'd ever had. This Christmas, Harry understood.
***