Christmas Past

Hermione smiled fondly as she reached for the last box of decorations. It contained all of her favourite and most precious Christmas baubles, each one reminding her of her most important Christmas'. Carefully she lifted out the oldest one, an exquisite glass decoration in the shape of a trumpet. It had been her grandmother's and it was through this that she had done her first piece of magic.

She'd been about six at the time and she'd been helping her parents putting up the decorations on Christmas Eve. Like now there had been only one box of `special' baubles left to put on the tree, and most of them were the glass ones that had belonged to her grandmother. She had been forbidden from touching these by her mother who was fiercely protective of her Christmas `pride and joy's.' However -as was typically Hermione- she had thought she knew better and had attempted to put a certain trumpet shaped decoration on the tree as high up as she could reach. Just as she was about to slip it on the branch her mother had come into the room giving her such a fright that she had slipped, lost her grip on it and it had shattered. Her frightened gave had traveled from the fragments on the carpet to her mothers appalled expression and back to the broken decoration. In tears she had fallen to her knees and scrambled to pick up the pieces repeating over and over, “I'm so sorry Mummy, so sorry.” At that moment she wished more than she'd ever wished in her life that she could fix the glass trinket. And right then, that was the moment when it had happened. To Hermione's utter amazement and her mother's joy the bauble, slowly at first then with more speed, began to piece itself back together. As it finally lay still in her hand no one would have been able to tell that minutes before it had been utterly beyond repair.

That had been the moment when her life had changed forever, discovering her magic had led her to Hogwarts, led her to Harry. Those years had been some of the best of her life, despite all the heartache and danger that had come with it. For the first time in her life she had had friends, and even slightly more than friends. Her last Christmas at Hogwarts had been one she would never forget. Picking up the next bauble she laughed as she placed it on one of the lower branches of the tree and remembered the day she had first seen it.

After kicking the evilest-bad-guy-who-had-ever-lived's ass, the trio had returned to Hogwarts. To no one's surprise Hermione had been offered the position of Head Girl, and it was the privileges that came with this position that allowed her to be roaming the corridors one Christmas Eve looking for any miscreants (i.e. Harry) that were breaking the bed time curfew. She had had a fair idea where he might have be (the WWN music floating down the corridor from what she was fairly sure was the Room of Requirement was a big giveaway!) “Harry” she had hissed as she walked along, “is that you?” She had been fairly certain it was, but it didn't hurt to check. Suddenly a cluster of holly a shot out of the door rearranged itself into the shape of a crude hand (only three fingers - Harry never was good at charms) and began beckoning to her. When she thought about she should have realized something was up straight away, Harry never usually went in for anything flamboyant, he just wasn't that sort of person. She had a vague memory of much of what had been in the room, but one thing that had stood out had been the roof, it had been covered in Christmas baubles. Each little bauble - red or gold alternately - had a moving scene on it from some part of her life at Hogwarts. Squinting she had just been able to make out a miniature hippogriff flying what looked like two third years up to a darkened window on the third floor of the castle. Sitting on a large comfy sofa in the middle of the room was Harry himself. “Hey, cool isn't it? It was here when I arrived, I think Dobby did most of it.” Thinking back she wondered why she hadn't launched into a tirade about S.P.E.W or some such nonsense, but then again it was just as well she hadn't seeing as… well if she'd opened her big mouth then she wouldn't have been able to use it for other things - like the perfect first kiss that had followed.

Hermione reddened as she remembered what had come afterwards. That had been one of the most perfect Christmas' of her life. Although that wasn't when she had taken the bauble, no she hadn't gotten her hands on that until exactly two years later.

When asked as to what he wanted to do for their two-year anniversary, Harry's answer had been, “it's sorted, don't panic. I want it to be a surprise.” So on Christmas Eve she had been blindfolded, apparated somewhere, and then to her horror they had been on a broom for a short while. But Harry had enjoyed himself. When they had finally stopped she felt Harry opening a door, guiding her across a room, and sitting her in a chair. For a few seconds there had been silence then, “ok, you can take it off now.” Opening her eyes she had been greeted with a sight that had taken her breath away, she was back in the Room of Requirement - had Harry actually flown them through the corridors of Hogwarts? - the baubles were back on the roof again - with some new additions - but best of all was Harry himself. Down on one knee in front of her, holding out a small box. He hadn't said anything, just opened it to reveal the most exquisite ruby engagement ring, set in gold, and looked at her with those big expressive eyes of his. She laughed now when she thought of the high pitched squeak she had emitted, and then they were hugging and laughing and kissing and she was saying yes over and over again. When they had finally controlled themselves and were about to leave and spread the good news, she had remembered the bauble and looking up found it in exactly the same place. “Accio.”

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She was just about to remove the newest bauble from the box when it's subject began to cry loudly from her cot that had been carefully set up in the corner of the room. In a flash she was scooping her daughter up and cuddling her close.

“Hush sweetie, mummy's here. Don't cry baby.”

She rocked and cooed and shushed until her daughter's cries subsided into adorable hiccups. For a while Hermione just stood there and gazed at her beautiful baby and told herself for the ninth time that day how lucky she was. Huge green eyes gazed back at her from under a fuzzy brown fringe as tiny fingers searched for hers. For countless minutes Hermione watched her tiny bundle of joy as she tried to catch her hair in her baby fingers and then proceeded to stuff it in her mouth.

“Ugh! Hope! Don't put mummy's hair in your mouth it's not nice, not nice, not nice.”

A snort from behind her caused her to turn and glare at the offending husband,

“What are you laughing at?”

“Just my ultra efficient wife trying to instil discipline in her four month old daughter who's eating her hair.”

“Stop laughing at me you big lump and help me finish the tree, do something useful for a change.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at her, every inch the teenager at heart, and reached for the box. With gentle hands he scooped the last bauble from its tissue wrappings and placed it on the tree. Hermione noticed a misty expression in his eyes and smiled tenderly, remembering with him.

They'd only been married three months, and she had been so busy with work at the time, it was the last thing that either of them had expected. But after a week of throwing up copiously every morning, Hermione had seen a Healer who confirmed it. She was pregnant. She had spent all of that evening and half the night trying to think of the perfect way to tell Harry. Eventually just as the grandfather clock in the hall struck twelve, and started singing the Hogwarts School song - she would have to find a charm to turn it off - an idea began to form.

The next morning once Harry had left for Quidditch practice and she had finished being sick, she left the house and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Striding purposefully down Diagon Alley she had nearly bumped into Mrs Weasley, but had noticed her at the last minute and hidden behind a conveniently large pile of cauldrons, it wouldn't do for Molly to find out what she was up to then the news would reach Harry in minutes and the surprise would have been ruined. Once Molly was safely passed Hermione had snuck into Maternal Magic the only baby store on the street and made her purchase.

Hermione smiled again as she remembered the look on Harry's face when she had cooked the next evening - which happened to be Christmas Eve. Hermione never cooked if she could help it. She had even opened a bottle of wine, although she herself stuck to grape juice, to celebrate the as-yet unnamed occasion. After the meal she had sat him down on the couch and informed her husband that she had an early Christmas present for him.

“ I thought that you might like it. I would have waited for tomorrow, but I wanted to give it to you without the Weasley's being there.”

That had confused him. Handing him the tiny package wrapped in gold tissue she had crossed her fingers and silently hoped he would like it, she was fairly certain he would, Harry had always wanted a family of his own after - well, everyone knew what - but was it too soon, they had intended to wait a few years. He had seemed to take an age to unwrap it and when he did he had just stared for a few moments. Nestling in his palm was a tiny wooden crib on a piece of white ribbon; within the crib was the tiny figure of an enchanted baby that at the moment lay perfectly still.

“I… what? D-does this mean what I think it means?” He had eventually whispered looking up at her with those big, lost eyes. Without a word she had squeezed his hand and nodded.

“We're going to have a baby?”

She had never been sure who had started to cry first, but suddenly there had been tears on both of there cheeks and they were hugging and kissing and laughing and telling each other that they were going to be parents.

Hermione drew her mind back to the present and looked fondly at the little decoration now swinging gently from the tree. With baby Hope's birth the charm on it had taken effect and now the figure not only looked like her, but also moved around when she was awake - which was all day and most of the night - Hermione thought with a wry grin.

Looking down at her tiny daughter her face lit up, “Harry come and look.”

In a flash her doting husband was gazing down at his beloved baby girl. Hope was fast asleep in Hermione's embrace with her thumb stuck in her mouth and her other fist curled around her mother's hair.

Harry turned and kissed his wife on the cheek as the big clock upstairs began to sing again, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

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