I'll Be Home For Christmas

Disclaimer: Of course I don’t own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. If I did, I’d be off writing the seventh book. So naturally, all of this belongs to J.K. Rowling. And now that I’ve given her credit, please don’t sue me!

Author’s Note: Hello and Happy Holidays everyone! I’ve decided to attempt to spread some holiday cheer by writing a little Christmas fic. Like my last one, there’s a little bit of angst in it, but it becomes pretty fluffy at the end. A big thank you to Nitya, whom I dedicate this fic too. What would I do without you? So, I hope everyone enjoys this and I hope the holidays are everything you’re hoping for and more!

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

It was Christmas Eve and the snow outside was horrendous. It was the worst snowfall England had received in several years. Muggles were canceling all sorts of functions, from school choir performances to evening church services. The roads were awful. It was advised to all to stay indoors that evening. Everyone who had prayed for a White Christmas was certainly getting it.

Hermione found the snow absolutely depressing. Usually she didn’t – she actually liked the snow, but this time it was different.

Harry was out there. Her husband was in another country chasing after dark wizards who hadn’t renounced their ways after he had finally vanquished Lord Voldemort. He was out doing his job, being an unstoppable Auror, and Hermione felt a pang of sorrow when she thought about how she was supposed to be out there with him.

But there was a good reason why she wasn’t with him, she thought as she rubbed her enlarged stomach. A very good reason.

Hermione was eight months into her pregnancy. Up until two weeks ago, the Auror Division had her doing nothing but tedious desk work. It drove her insane, doing nothing but filing, when she should have been out there with Harry, catching the last of the Death Eaters. But of course, the moment she discovered she was pregnant, she agreed that it was too dangerous for her to be out there. One mission gone wrong could hurt – or kill – her unborn child. It was something neither she nor Harry were willing to risk.

So there she was, looking out the window in the house that she and Harry had bought in Godric’s Hollow. It was very close to the location where Harry’s parents had lived when that fateful night occurred for her husband some twenty-four years ago. When they first arrived in the town, Hermione accompanied him to the cemetery so that he could visit his parents’ graves. The thought of it only made Hermione feel worse as she listened to the WWN’s news.

“We advise that all witches and wizards do not ride brooms this evening. The harsh winds will likely knock you off course. Also, the Ministry asks that no one attempts to Apparate even to locations only meters away. There is a possibility that you could splice yourself with some of the heavy amounts of hail we have been hearing about for some regions throughout England. Floo channels have been frozen. Basically folks, don’t attempt to travel. It may only end in disaster,” the newsreader announced.

She sighed as she continued to stare out her window. The snow was very thick as it fluttered down from the heavens. She could barely see the house across the street. Suddenly, with a loud plopping noise, a huge pile of it slid off of her roof and landed in the front yard, like an avalanche.

She felt one lone tear slide down her cheek. She had so hoped that Harry would return home in time for Christmas. Now it looked to be impossible.

She turned away from the window and crossed over to the couch that sat in front of their large fireplace. She admired the marble mantel for a moment before sitting down and staring into the warm hearth with its cheery flame that flickered brightly. How she wished that those flames would turn a bright green and her husband would come stepping out of them.

Still, even with the warmth of the fire, she felt a chill as she wrapped her arms around herself. Glancing over next to an end table, she caught sight of the blanket she had been knitting for her baby. Taking out her wand, she murmured, “Accio,” and the blanket, yarn, and two knitting needles glided gently over to her. With another flick of her wand, the knitting needles began to work, continuing on with the baby blanket. She watched the needles idly for a moment before something in her pocket began to heat up.

She jumped and immediately began digging through her pocket. Then she pulled out a glowing mirror and flipped it over to reveal the face of her beloved husband, black hair, glasses, and scar in all. “Harry,” she breathed.

“Hello sweetheart,” Harry said in the mirror, grinning. “How are you and the Kicker?”

She chuckled. Kicker was the nickname Harry had given their baby seeing as the tiny fetus quite enjoyed kicking Mummy. “We’re okay. There hasn’t been much kicking today – just a few times in the bladder.”

He laughed. “My poor Hermione.”

She sighed. “I’ve been worried about you. I hadn’t even thought to use the mirrors.”

At the beginning of their quest to find Voldemort’s Horcruxes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been trying to figure out a way to communicate should they lose track of each other. It was Harry who had suggested using mirrors, showing both Ron and Hermione the broken mirror Sirius had given Harry during their fifth year. Hermione recalled telling him that he was “brilliant” before setting to the task of charming three mirrors to work for them. Ron had stopped using his since the defeat of Voldemort, but Harry and Hermione used them while working on the same case in the Auror Department and out on the field.

“Really?”

“No. Where are you?”

He frowned. “Berlin.”

“Berlin!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing there?”

“Tracking Mulciber still. He’s led us to a multitude of cities: Lyon, Geneva, Brussels…even to Helsinki.”

“Helsinki? Why would he go there?” she asked.

“We think there’s a new cell forming there. We’ve left a reconnaissance team there to keep an eye out,” he told her.

“I see. So,” she began, trying not to let her despair show on her face, “I take it you won’t be home for Christmas?”

“Well that’s why I had to get in contact with you,” he said, frowning. “We were supposed to receive temporary orders to return home, but the owl hasn’t arrived yet.”

She groaned. “It won’t. Harry, the weather is horrible here. No owl could make it.”

“Are you getting a blizzard or something?” he asked.

“I suppose you could call it that – heavy snow, hail in some places.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, “well, if the owl won’t be arriving, then I’m just going to have to go against my orders.”

“What?”

“I’m coming home.”

She had to stifle a sob. “Oh, Harry – you can’t!”

“What d’you mean? I’ll Apparate right now,” he said.

“You can’t, Harry. The Ministry has put up an advisory. It’s too dangerous to Apparate anywhere right now. You could splice yourself with a snowflake or something,” she said, biting her lip.

Harry stared at her incredulously. “Like a snowflake could kill me.”

“No, Harry, please,” she begged. “Don’t Apparate. As much as I want you home I don’t want you to even have the remotest possibility of getting hurt.”

He sighed. “I’ll get a channel through the Floo network then.”

Again, she groaned. “It’s frozen. You can’t Floo in England right now.”

He let out a frustrated growl. “Bloody hell, I might as well brave the weather and fly!”

“Don’t say that, Harry. It’s bad enough I have to worry about you over your mission. I don’t want the added stress of thinking about what could happen if you tried to fly home,” she said, feeling despair and hopelessness fill her. “I guess you’ll just have to spend Christmas in Berlin this year. I’m sure it’s very nice.”

He gave her a hard look through the mirror. “No Christmas is nice unless I have you by my side.” His features softened and a small smile played on his lips. “Don’t worry, Hermione, I’ll be home for Christmas, I promise.” With that, he was gone.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and rested her head on her fist as she placed the mirror back in her pocket. What are you going to do now, Harry? What on earth are you going to do?

Her mind began to work overtime, thinking of all the things Harry would do to come home. He was daring enough to hop on his Firebolt and fly for hours on end back to Godric’s Hollow. She didn’t even want to think about the state he would be in when he arrived. Maybe he would Floo to a closer city first and then fly. Or, by God, what if he did try to Apparate? What if it went wrong? He would have to immediately be taken to St. Mungo’s and she was positive that neither of them wanted to spend their Christmas there.

Please don’t Apparate. Please don’t Apparate, she begged silently.

She got up and walked back over to the window. What if he took Muggle transportation? He could attempt to take a train to France and then go through the Chunnel to get back into England. Then he could hail the Knight Bus…oh, was the Knight Bus still making runs? She doubted, with the roads in the shape they were, that the Ministry would allow it.

And it wasn’t like the horrible weather was just affecting England. It could be hitting France, Belgium, and the Netherlands as well. She gave a long, despondent sigh as she stared out at the heavy snow continuing to fall. He may have promised, but there was no way that Harry would be home for Christmas.

Suddenly, she heard a loud POP and a thud behind her. Whirling around, she found herself staring at what had to be a hallucination: her husband, Harry Potter, holding an old German beer mug.

She gasped. “Harry?”

He shook his head to clear it and then grinned at her before holding up the beer mug. “German beer isn’t bad, but their mugs make pretty nice illegal portkeys.”

“Portkeys?” Suddenly she laughed. He was no hallucination, he was real. How could she have been so stupid as to not think about a portkey? “I can’t believe you, setting up an illegal portkey!”

And then she ran to him. If she weren’t pregnant, she would have leapt into his arms. But instead she just settled for his tight embrace.

He kissed her nose as the large grandfather clock in the back of the room chimed midnight. “See, Hermione, I told you that I would be home for Christmas.”

She laughed and felt tears form in her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmured as he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

They stood there in each other’s embrace until the clock stopped chiming. When Harry pulled back, he grinned with a mischievous look in his eye as he took her hand in his. “Now come on, let me give you a Christmas present.”

Laughing, Hermione let him lead her out of the room and up the stairs.