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Friday, December 18th – 8:00 pm
An exhausted Harry Apparated into his family room and fell into his recliner, allowing the shrunken packages he’d been carrying to tumble to the floor. His equally tired wife Apparated in a second behind him, but took the time to place her own packages down carefully before restoring them to their original size. She then collapsed onto the sofa across from him.
Harry squinted blearily in her direction. “Are we done? Please tell me we’re done?”
Hermione nodded without actually opening her eyes. “With the actual purchasing, yes. I think that’s the end of it. Of course, we still have wrapping, and decorating, and baking, and ….”
She felt the impact of a flying throw pillow, which caused her brown eyes to open and then narrow. Her husband grinned unrepentantly at her, and said softly, “The shopping is done.”
Hermione stood up and stretched. “The shopping is DONE!” They’d purchased their gifts for friends and extended family over the prior two weekends, but the past five hours had been spent shopping together for their four children.
Smiling slowly, she flicked her wand at the fireplace to start the pre-laid fire, then dimmed the overhead lights. Crossing the room, she lit a few scented candles, then sank onto her husband’s lap.
“No work for the rest of the year.” Harry’s school had closed that afternoon for the holiday season and Hermione had started her annual vacation at the same time so that they could finish the shopping.
“And Colin and Susie are spending the night with Ron and Luna, who will bring them to the station tomorrow.” She twined her arms around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him closer.
Sliding his own arms around his wife’s waist, Harry leaned in to nibble on her neck as he inhaled her spicy scent. “I can’t recall what we got Ron and Luna for Christmas, but we probably need to double it.”
“OH!” Hermione pulled back to look at him. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! Luna had the best idea!” Her face shone with excitement.
“She said we shouldn’t get the two of them anything – we’ll all buy for the kids as usual, but then contribute the money we normally would spend on each other toward sending Molly and Arthur away for a few days in the spring as a combination Christmas/anniversary gift.”
Her grin widened. “Luna’s already discussed it with Molly, and she and Arthur will watch the younger kids one weekend in January after the older ones are back at Hogwarts – and that will be their Christmas gift to the four of us.
“So we get to have a pub night as a foursome with whoever else can get away, and then still have another night for date night! It sorts our gifts to four people, plus we get to go out and have fun during the bleakest part of the year. I thought it was brilliant!”
“That is brilliant!” Harry’s excited grin matched her own – he could count on one hand the number of times they had been kid-free for two consecutive nights in the fifteen years since Jamie had been born. Then his brow furrowed as he thought about it.
“But you don’t think that having four kids between five and ten for a weekend would be a bit much for Molly and Arthur?” Molly had turned 70 two months before.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’d love to be there when you suggest that to her.”
He paled at the thought, and she ran her hands through his hair. “But I said the same thing to Luna, and she had a quiet word with George and Angelina. They’ll swing by one of the two days and haul the lot off for some type of outing to give the grandparents a break.”
It had taken George nearly a decade to recover from Fred’s death, during which time he had dated only sporadically. Angelina Johnson, who’d had an off and on romance with Fred, had kept in touch with George after the war. She had been one of many to encourage him to see a mind healer, something he had refused to do until persuaded by Cassandra Malfoy, but Angelina had never judged him or tried to talk him out of his grief. She’d taken many a drunken Floo call from George late at night over the years, always listening patiently.
Angelina had married Oliver Wood during their pro Quidditch careers, only to divorce a decade later, a year after Angelina’s career had ended due to injury. Her depression over losing the job she loved had added to the stress already on their marriage from their competitive schedules - all too soon the quarrels between them were frequent and fierce.
Ultimately Oliver told her he had fallen for someone else, another player on his team. After the divorce, George had tried to be there for her as she had for him. Gradually their friendship had caught fire.
They’d started dating seriously three years prior, but took it slowly, finally marrying the previous August. Both were very firm about the fact that they had no interest in having children of their own. However, they took their roles as aunt and uncle, “and general bad influences” as George liked to say, very seriously. All the children of their acquaintance, of whom there were many, adored them both.
Harry kissed his wife lingeringly. “We should make this kind of present exchange an annual event, for as long as the grandparents will fall for it. Although….” He stared suspiciously at her as his voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Hermione’s expression was one of angelic innocence.
“We cut the shopping list in half, and those four were on your half last weekend, were they not, Mrs. Potter?”
Hermione’s resulting smile could not have more clearly resembled a cat who had eaten a canary even with a mouthful of feathers. “Luna is not the only brilliant witch of your acquaintance, Mr. Potter.”
He pinned her with a mock-outraged stare. In response, she dropped her eyes, then looked up at him under her lashes. Toying with a button on his shirt, she murmured huskily, “But I am willing to admit that I’ve been a naughty witch. Perhaps I deserve some type of punishment?”
Green eyes darkening, her husband drew her closer and kissed her passionately. “Oh, there’ll be punishment, witch! In fact, I’m going to - ”
He was interrupted by his ringing mobile, and sighed. “Fucking Malfoy,” Harry muttered.
Draco and George had introduced wireless phones to Wizarding society some years back. This of course meant Ron and Harry never lost an opportunity to curse Draco – now a good friend – whenever a call presented an untimely interruption.
“Don’t answer it,” Hermione whispered, as she unbuttoned his shirt.
“It’s Colin’s ringtone.” Accepting defeat, Hermione stood long enough for her husband to retrieve the phone from his pocket, then perched herself on the arm of his chair.
“Dad! Can I come home?” His ten year old sounded annoyed.
Harry frowned. “Are you bleeding? Are you in danger? Is your sister all right?”
Colin’s dramatic sigh had both of his doting parents exchanging amused looks. “No, but all Emma wants to do is read, and Susie and Natasha just want to play dolls or dress up the dog.” Ron’s dog Botts was extremely tolerant with the little girls. “Are you two playing video games?”
“No, I’m snogging your mother, son,” Harry answered, as Hermione gave a horrified giggle.
“Ewwww!”
“And I am afraid if you were to come home, it would interrupt my plans for the evening.” Hermione buried her face in his neck, giggling helplessly. “Unless you were to promise to come home and go straight to bed, in which case I could carry on with the snogging.”
Colin sighed again. “Uncle Ron said you’d be snogging.”
“He knows me pretty well, my lad. Where is your uncle?”
“Standing here waiting to talk to you. Hold on.”
After a muffled exchange, Ron’s voice came on the line. “He’s fine. He just got it into his head that you bought that new gaming system for Christmas and might be testing it without him. I bet him that you’d be snogging instead, so now I get to pick the movie. Which he’ll fall asleep in the middle of.”
Harry snorted at the dimly heard “Will not!” in the background. “We’re just in from shopping – we’ve barely started on any snogging at all, really. Thanks for keeping him there. Hey, Hermione was telling me about Luna’s idea for Christmas gifts – it was brilliant, that.”
Ron’s voice softened. “Yeah, that’s my wife. Mum and Dad are over the moon about it too. Total win-win. We need to do this every year.”
“We totally agree, mate. Okay, put the rug rat back on.”
“H’lo,” Colin said.
“Are you sorted there, son? Or do you want me to have Uncle Ron bring you home?”
“Nah, I’m okay. I think we’re going to watch Elf. Or A Christmas Story. Are you sure you’re not going to play video games tonight?”
“Completely certain. Here, let me put you on speaker so you can say good night to your mum.”
“Colin? Are you all right, sweetheart? Do you want to come home?”
“I’m okay, Mum. I’m gonna watch a movie with Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna. Dad?”
“Yes, Colin?”
“Why do girls think it’s okay to dress up a poor helpless dog?”
Harry was crimson with suppressed laughter. “No one knows the answer to that, son. Females are a complete mystery to mankind. I can’t even figure out why your mother wants to waste an evening snogging when we have video games right here.” He ducked as Hermione swatted at him.
“You guys are gross.”
His mother replied, “But we love you. Does Susie want to talk to us?”
“I think she already went to bed. It’s really quiet up there now and I just saw Botts go into the kitchen. It looks like he got out of his skirt.”
Hermione bit her lip to keep the giggle from escaping. “That’s good then. We’ll see you at the station tomorrow after lunch. We love you, sweetpea.”
“Love you too. G’night.”
“Night, son.” Harry disconnected the call and they laughed until the tears ran. “Only Colin.”
“I can’t believe you told him we were snogging!”
“Well,” said Harry, as he hauled Hermione back onto his lap, “we are snogging.” And leaned in to prove his point.
Saturday, December 19th
It was going to be a busy day. Harry used this information to convince his wife to save time by sharing a shower, not that she required much persuading. She pointed out afterward even though they had not really saved any time in the actual showering process, they probably had gained a bit of time back by toweling off and getting dressed at the same time.
By mid-morning, Hermione had finished making the gingerbread dough and placed it in the refrigerator while Harry had laid logs and kindling for the fire they’d have that evening, and prepared a cheesecloth packet of orange slices, crushed allspice berries, cinnamon and cloves. He added the packet to a pot of cider that he then put on the stove hob to mull.
As the wondrous spiced cider smell began to permeate the air, they looked at each other and grimaced. They couldn't put it off any longer - it was time to face the gift wrapping.
o o o
“Thank Merlin for magic!” Hermione said with a sigh over an hour later, looking around at the small mountain of presents they’d wrapped. A lot of their holiday traditions were Muggle in origin, but they both drew the line at gift-wrapping. With the number of gifts they typically purchased, Muggle wrapping would have taken DAYS.
“Quite right,” her husband replied, casting an Evanesco to vanish the discarded bits of wrapping paper. “Where shall we put these?”
“Let’s put them on the floor in the corner, so the table will be clear for dinner. They still need to do the bows, and we’ll do those in here tomorrow, so no point in moving them to the family room.”
His wife liked to create spectacular gift bows the Muggle way, a skill she had learned from her mother and her grandmother. She and her mum were trying their best to pass the tradition down to the children, but so far only Susie had shown an interest. Harry had been sacked from the task years ago. Even his mother-in-law, whom Hermione accused of taking Harry’s side in most things, was on board with his dismissal.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Helen Granger had said firmly, “but even the Chosen One can’t be chosen to do everything. You’re pants at this.” He’d had to admit that he was. His bows tended to look as if he’d fought Voldemort while standing on them.
“At least now the nosy buggers won’t be able to ruin their Christmas surprises,” Hermione said smugly, while levitating the wrapped boxes to the floor.
“Language, Hermione!” Harry chided in a teasing tone, although he wholeheartedly agreed with the general sentiment.
Jamie had been a fairly easygoing and biddable child. He’d been known to shake a wrapped gift occasionally, but had never made any serious effort to find out what he was getting before Christmas morning, even after he’d stopped believing in Father Christmas. However, once Minnie was old enough to understand that Mum and Dad were doing the buying, the game had changed.
Their oldest girl had organized more than one search for unwrapped gifts and had an eager disciple in her brother Colin. Gifts for the children were now only purchased when said children were safely out of the house, and all were wrapped before their return.
“Let me turn the heat off of the cider and we can go get a bite to eat before we collect the kids. Grab my coat and gloves, love?”
“Will do.” He took a moment to inhale deeply. “Doesn’t the cider make the whole house smell bloody fantastic?”
“Language, Harry!” Hermione said, laughing.
Lunch out as a couple was a rare treat. Hand in hand, the Potters headed out to enjoy it.
o o o
Waiting for the Hogwarts train to arrive was always like a mini-class reunion. Parents tended to arrive at least 30 minutes early just for the chance to catch up.
Some had married and settled down right after leaving school, but a surprising number had bucked Wizarding tradition by delaying children or even marriage for several years. Oh, they’d talked about enjoying themselves for a while first, or getting established in careers before becoming parents. However, Harry suspected that most just wanted to be sure that the peace was going to hold before adding to the populace. That had certainly been a primary consideration in setting up his own household.
Precisely on time as always, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station and a tidal wave of excited students disembarked.
“Do you see them?” Hermione asked anxiously, standing on her tiptoes, and keeping her hands on Colin’s and Susie’s shoulders so that they could not run off.
Harry’s eyes remained fixed on the train’s door, looking for Jamie’s tall, lean frame and head of black hair. His daughter knew to remain in her compartment until her brother came for her. The children had longstanding instructions from both parents to exit the train together, with Jamie in front. The war had been over for a long time, but constant vigilance was a way of life for the Potter parents, and their kids had learned long ago that argument was a waste of breath. Both Jamie and Minerva had learned several defensive spells before going away to school.
Because of the scars left by that long ago war, even though Harry knew of no reason to worry, he still felt a wave of relief when he spotted his eldest, with Minnie alongside him. “There they are,” he said to his wife, waving at the children.
Susie, age 7, broke from her mother’s grasp, and ran toward her older siblings. “Jamie! Minnie!”
“SUSIE!” yelled both of her irate parents, while Colin rolled his eyes.
Jamie grinned, and scooped up his youngest sister. “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ve got her.”
After hugs and “Missed you’s” were exchanged all around, trunks were collected and goodbyes said to the other families. Hermione’s lips quirked in amusement at watching thirteen year old Minnie hug her girlfriends goodbye as if she might not see them for years.
“Like they don’t know perfectly well they’ll see one another again tomorrow night at the Longbottoms’ holiday party,” she murmured to Harry. The annual event hosted by Neville and Susan was attended by what seemed like most of the Wizarding world.
He chuckled. “I confess I don’t remember Ron and I taking quite so long to say goodbye to you when we came home for break,” he responded.
“It’s because she was unfortunate enough to have two blokes for best mates. We were probably thinking about tea,” Ron said from behind them.
Hermione smirked at him. “I know you were. Merlin knows you never fancied me as much as you fancied your food.”
Ron slung a long arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss the top of her head. “And that’s right lucky for the both of us, isn’t it?” he said. “But don’t go rewriting history, witch. You properly broke my heart at the time.”
He flicked her nose, blue eyes twinkling. “Though it was all for the best in the end, because a more ill-matched pair I can scarcely imagine. You’d have hexed me six ways to Sunday long before now.”
They all laughed, though Hermione still winced with reflexive guilt at the truth of it. Seeing this, Ron dropped another kiss on her curls, then jerked his head to where his eldest, Geoffrey, was chattering with Colin. The boys hadn’t seen one another since Geoff had started at Hogwarts in the fall, and it looked like they were going to be tough to separate.
“We can’t stay – Luna’s at home with the girls working on some secret Christmas project while I collect the heir, but I know she wants to see him. Maybe Colin can come round the shop tomorrow to hang out with Geoff? We can bring him to Neville’s after if he wants to stay the day.”
“Ta, mate. He may want to stay home tomorrow since we’ll be making the Christmas biscuits and putting up the outside lights, but I know he’s missed Geoff. Either way, how about we have your lot over after the party to spend the night?”, Harry asked.
“That sounds grand. Luna and I might even get some snogging in on our own.” Ron waggled his ginger eyebrows madly, as the three grinned at each other in perfect understanding. They loved their children, but …
“Oi, Colin!” Harry bellowed in his best Dad voice. “You’ll see Geoff tomorrow! We’ve a tree to buy!”
Kids successfully corralled, Harry and Hermione bade Ron goodbye and headed toward the car park where they’d left their Škoda. Hermione had insisted they sit for their driver’s licenses after portkeying with a colicky infant Jamie just one time, and they’d purchased a car not long afterward. The Kodiaq they now owned was much more practical for Christmas tree shopping with four children than any type of Wizarding transportation. The tree could easily be shrunk, but they’d learned the hard way it could not be resized without great cost to its needles.
“Mummy,’ Susie said excitedly, “once we pick the tree, can we get some of the hot chocolate that they sell at the tree lot?”
“We’ll have to see,” said Hermione, who then laughed at the chorus of “PLEASE??” that arose from all of them, including her husband. “Well, all right.”
“YAY!!!!!”
She exchanged smiles with Harry as they all climbed into the car, and could tell he was thinking the same thing - their family was together again, and while Christmas Day was still a week away, it felt like it had already arrived.
o o o
Cheeks reddened from the brisk air, they’d hauled a huge Norway spruce into their warm home which still smelled faintly of mulled cider. After much, much discussion, and nearly endless minute adjustments, there was finally unanimous agreement that the tree was straight in its stand.
A wand-wave at the stereo set Christmas music playing in the background as Harry and Hermione got busy draping the tree lights, with the children alternating between singing along and providing unsolicited commentary on lighting gaps as they watched their parents.
“One day you’re going to let me use magic for this bit, and it is going to go so much faster,” Hermione muttered, as she did most years.
“Maybe when we’re old and decrepit.” Harry gave the usual reply, grinning at her while he passed the light strand to drape round her side of the tree. “Hey, I let you use the featherlight charm on the thing to get it in the door, didn’t I?”
Hermione snorted with laughter. THAT tradition had started shortly after they’d left school. She’d easily sold him on the joys of shopping for a live tree and decorating it the Muggle way as she’d always done with her parents. However, they’d lived in a third floor walk-up flat at the time, and had quickly learned that real trees were HEAVY and especially awkward to carry if you were overcome with giggles.
“I don’t know why you won’t just let me transfigure us a decorated tree,” Minnie grumbled. Transfiguration was her favorite class and she was proud of her talent in it.
Harry chuckled. “When you have your own home, my darling daughter, you may transfigure anything you like. But we’ve always shopped for a tree as a family. It’s tradition.”
“Besides,” Susie added reasonably, “it took everybody over an hour to agree on this tree. Can you imagine how tired you’d be of transfiguring trees before we all agreed one was perfect?”
Minnie sighed, but had to admit her sister had a point. She loved her family but it had no shortage of opinions. Besides, her dad was right – shopping together for their Christmas tree was tradition.
The children knew Christmas traditions were important to their parents. They’d grown up hearing the story of how after Mum found out she was expecting Jamie, she’d sat Dad down to discuss what they wanted Christmas to look like for their children. Up until that point, they’d always had a tree, but had spent the actual holidays with the Grangers or the Weasleys.
Hermione treasured some of her own childhood customs and wanted to pass them down, but she also wanted the two of them to have some of their own. Harry, who’d had no holiday traditions growing up, loved the idea.
They both wanted Christmas to be based around their home and the children. Hermione had enjoyed all the traveling she’d done over the school breaks with her parents as a child, but they both liked the idea of spending the holiday at home. ‘Probably a wise decision,’ Minnie reflected. With four kids, staying home was probably just bloody well easier.
“No, there’s no place like home for the holidays, because no matter how far away you roam…” she sang softly along with the CD as she watched her parents loop the lights over the next branch.
The Potters had to revise some of their carefully established holiday traditions after their eldest had started Hogwarts. Jamie hadn’t wanted to miss the tree selection or house decoration, so all of that now waited until the Hogwarts break. The family used to put up the exterior lights before getting their tree, but that first year that they’d picked him up for Christmas break, he’d insisted on going straight from the station to the tree lot. The younger kids, who were used to having their tree up no later than mid-December and who had not been particularly pleased at being told they needed to wait on their older brother, fervently endorsed this suggestion. So they'd gone to get the tree, and put the lights up the following day, and then stuck with that pattern.
Once home, Christmas music had to be played or sung while Harry and Hermione got the lights on the tree "to help get us into the Christmas spirit," as Hermione always said. When the children were smaller, they’d often serenaded their parents with an impromptu Christmas concert while the lights were going on. She and Harry had both loved that, but since Minerva and Jamie now thought this prospect was too embarrassing for words and since none of them wanted to tell Susie she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, CDs had been deemed an acceptable compromise.
Once the tree was lit, dinner had to be eaten before any ornaments could be added. It was hard to wait, but THAT tradition also dated back to an incident in Jamie’s first Hogwarts year, when a then-three year old Susie was so hungry she’d had a meltdown in the middle of tree decorating and was a bit of a nightmare the rest of the evening. These days dinner came first.
After dinner and tree decoration came the part of the evening the family most looked forward to: all other lights in the room would be extinguished, a fire lit, and they would sit in the darkened room to admire their Christmas tree while eating gingerbread and drinking warm cider.
The following day, Harry would fashion a wreath from the tree trimmings as he’d been taught by his father-in-law and, after the wreath was decorated and on the door, they’d hang the exterior lights on the house. It was all a lot of work, but Harry and Hermione loved every second of it.
Some of their Pureblood friends snickered a bit at what they felt was a good bit of unnecessary manual labor, but the Potters preferred the Muggle way of holiday decorating. Stories of house elves transfiguring Christmas trees and ornaments for the holiday season just sounded a bit sad to them, but they kept those opinions to themselves. The PPA had given most Purebloods enough respect for the Muggle world that their customs were not condemned, even if not completely understood.
Now, lights done at last, they left the Christmas music playing as Hermione put water on to boil for pasta. Harry chopped veg for the salad that would accompany it, and Jamie rolled out the gingerbread dough that Hermione had put in the fridge earlier. The younger children stood by with the biscuit cutters and currants while Minnie whipped up icing to use later in decorating the gingerbread, which would not actually go into the oven until after dinner.
When the food was ready, the dinner table buzzed with conversation as the dishes were passed and the family caught up. Fifth year student Jamie distracted his mother from her gentle inquiries into his love life by announcing he’d already started revising for his end of year O.W.L.S.
“A swot just like his mother,” Harry murmured, and then proved he still had his Seeker quickness as he caught the croutons hurled at him from two different directions.
“Your dad has ninja-like reflexes,” he said nonchalantly to Susie, who looked impressed. Jamie and his mother both rolled their eyes.
Not quite as secretive as Jamie, Minnie openly confessed to a crush on an unnamed wizard in her Transfiguration class. However, she did kick her older brother soundly under the table when he muttered that half the school could name that wizard. Her parents made a mental note to keep an eye on Min at the Longbottoms’ party to find out who she was fancying, and Harry privately wondered if his old Auror friends could be persuaded to run a decent background check on the lad. Hermione’s amused look at the opposite end of the table said she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Constant vigilance,” he mouthed at her with a cheeky grin, and her chocolate eyes sparkled with mirth even as she nodded in agreement.
Colin, who would be heading to Hogwarts himself the following year, wanted to hear all about the Quidditch and to share the few facts he’d gleaned from Geoff earlier about what he’d found most impressive at the school. Susie, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to fill in her older siblings on all the latest PPA news, including the recent excursion to see a Christmas pantomime.
As the children talked to and over each other, their parents listened with fond smiles - it was evident that they were not the only two who had missed this. It might be a source of perpetual surprise to Harry and Hermione both that two misfit only children had somehow managed to cobble together a close-knit large family, but it was perhaps their proudest accomplishment.
Despite all the conversation, Harry saw all four children stealing periodic peeks at the wrapped packages stacked neatly in the corner, and subtly clued in his wife with a slight jerk of his head. Seeing that he had cast concealment charms on the gift labels, Hermione sent him a sly private smile. They'd have to keep renewing those charms to keep them in place until Christmas Eve, but the expression on the kids' faces when they realized they could not tell which packages were theirs made the effort worth it. The Potter parents knew this defensive move would not stop speculation, however, and that packages would be picked up and shaken to assess weight and noise level when parental backs were turned. After all, the children had a few traditions of their own.
o o o
After dinner, Hermione turned on the oven to preheat, and Colin and Susie decorated the gingerbread. Minnie cast a warming charm on the cider and pulled mugs out of the cabinet, while Jamie and Harry went to haul boxes of decorations from the attic.
“So Grandpa Richard and Grandma Helen really aren’t going to be here for Christmas?” Minnie asked.
“No, their cruise doesn’t return until the 27th, but you’ll see them before you go back to school,” her mother replied. “Perhaps you’ll help me with the bows tomorrow?”
Minnie made a face and started to decline, then saw Susie’s hopeful expression, which made her hesitate. She’d missed spending time with her mum and her little sister, and she knew the dreaded bow thing meant a lot to both of them.
‘I guess it won't kill me to show a little Christmas charity,’ she thought philosophically. ‘And if I’m still as bad at it as Dad is, maybe Mum will let me transfigure the corrections.”
In the end, she nodded, and was thanked immediately by her mother’s expression of pleased surprise.
Jamie stuck his head into the warm kitchen. “We’re all set up out here.”
Hermione set the timer on the oven and slid the gingerbread in.
“We’re ready.”
Ushering the youngest children ahead of them, Hermione left the kitchen with her arm around her eldest daughter's waist.
o o o
The gingerbread was cooling and the last ornament had been hung on the tree. The smells of spruce and ginger had combined with the smell of the spiced cider to create an intoxicating aroma that the Potter children forever after would associate with the Christmas season.
“You ready, Susie?” her father asked. She nodded solemnly, staring at the top of the tree far above her head and clutching the star that would adorn it with both hands.
Colin said, “If you don’t want to – “, while Jamie and Minerva exchanged wry glances. That had once been the two of them.
Susie scowled at Colin. “I do want to.” Looking up at her father, she said “Ready, Daddy.”
Wand in hand, Harry very carefully levitated his youngest. Even more carefully, Susie reached out and placed the star on the top of the tree. Hermione silently cast a spell to straighten and illuminate it as her husband lowered their daughter back to the floor.
“It looks beautiful, darling.” Harry hugged her.
“Good job, Susie,” Minnie beamed.
Still staring at the top of the tree, Susie sank to the floor. “It’s the most beautiful tree ever.”
Jamie shook his head as he dropped onto his father’s recliner. “You say that every year.”
“And every year, it’s perfectly true,” his father said as he ruffled his eldest’s hair on his way to the sofa.
“I brought the gingerbread!” Colin yelled excitedly a few minutes later as he carried out the platter, his mother following behind floating a tray of steaming mugs.
Once everyone was settled, Harry flicked his wand at the room lights to extinguish them. Another flick set the fire roaring. A final one had carols once again softly playing through the speakers behind him.
For a few minutes, they all gazed in awed silence at the beauty of their tree, inhaling the fantastic holiday aromas that now included wood smoke, as familiar words of hope and love were sung in the background. Even after the warm gingerbread demanded attention, the quiet continued.
“It is a nice tree,” Jamie murmured finally, breaking the group’s silence. Like his father, he loved looking at it, but at fifteen it only seemed cool to do so when others were doing it too. He inhaled subtly. 'And it smells so fantastic,' he thought. 'I don't get why people would want an artificial tree. I'm never having one,' he privately vowed.
“It’s so good to be HOME,” Minnie said, stretching as she drained the last of her cider. She smiled at her younger siblings. “And even to see you lot!” She giggled as Colin tossed a pillow at her and Susie stuck out her tongue.
Seated on the sofa, arm around his wife, Harry half-listened to the renewed chatter while still gazing at the Christmas tree. It really did appear to be especially beautiful this year, although he knew he thought the same thing every year. He especially loved that each ornament brought back a memory of another happy Christmas. There were ornaments he and Hermione had carefully picked together in the early days of their marriage, but also those they’d made over the years with the children, and even a few from Hermione’s own childhood.
One of the highlights of the season for him was watching his family unpacking the decorations and recalling or sharing the memories behind each one. Every exclamation of “Oh, I love this one!” or “I’d forgotten about this one!” or “Do you remember…?” made him smile. Picking a favorite ornament would be like picking a favorite child – he just couldn’t do it. Those ornaments were testimony to the fact that at 40 he'd had far more happy Christmases than bad ones. He tightened his arm around his wife. 'And it's all because of her.'
He knew already it was unlikely that each child would keep all the same family customs when they had families of their own. He just hoped they would always treasure these memories as much as he’d treasured being involved in the making of them.
They’d have reminders - one of the traditions he liked the best was one from Hermione’s maternal grandmother. Every year, the children each would receive one gift with an ornament tied to the ribbon – either a homemade ornament the family had made the year before or a new one that their mother felt best reflected interests or personality at that stage of life. There were boxes in the attic with each child’s name, carefully spelled against moths and breakage, where the gifted ornaments would be carefully tucked away when the holiday was over. When each child moved out, his or her box of ornaments would accompany them.
This custom would not only give their offspring a box of family Christmas memories, but would provide starter ornaments for future Christmas trees of their own. Opening the box would bring back recollections of Christmases past, and perhaps prompt stories they would want to share with their own children.
Who knew - maybe those stories would keep some of their Christmas traditions going with future generations. It was a grand thought, but in the end it didn’t matter. As long as the love behind it all was obvious, that was really the only important part.
Harry realized that at some point since the train arrived the last of the tension from the last few harried days had slipped away. It happened this way every year – his own private Christmas miracle. He gazed around at his family now, seeing the drowsy contentment on the children’s faces and feeling the warmth of his wife along his side. Minnie was right – it was good to be home. And he was so proud of the home he and Hermione had created.
‘This, this right here, is the spirit of Christmas for me,’ he thought, not for the first time.
He’d never thought he’d even have a family, much less holiday traditions. He’d never had a chance to really participate in Christmas much when he was living with the Dursleys, despite his longing. He’d usually been sent to his room when they watched holiday specials or Christmas pantos on the telly, with his aunt explaining that sometimes they just needed family time alone. Early on, he’d fantasized about being accepted as part of that family, but it had never happened.
Petunia and Vernon had put up an artificial tree every year, and he had a vague memory of having his hand slapped as a small child when he’d reached out to help hang a shiny ornament. Dudley hadn’t been allowed to hang ornaments either, though he never got a smack. Petunia would just say, “No, no, Diddykins must wait!”, often following it with a kiss.
Despite every precaution, clumsy Dudley inevitably broke something nearly every year. Yet instead of punishing him, every year until Dudley got too heavy, Vernon would lift him up after the tree was decorated to place the star on the top. Harry, who would have been so careful, never got the chance even after Vernon could no longer hoist Dudley.
Harry had wanted to place that star so badly his throat had ached with it, but even as a toddler, he knew better than to ask. Once the star was in place, the gaily wrapped presents were carried in to be piled under the tree. Harry always helped with that, even though none of them bore his name.
He hadn’t really minded so much - helping with the presents gave him more time to sneak glances at the pretty tree, which somehow seemed to represent his hope for a future with family who would love him and who would want him to decorate the Christmas tree with him. Until he’d gone away to Hogwarts and experienced Christmas there, he’d always thought the Dursley tree was the most beautiful thing in the world. He’d been convinced that tree was was the source of the Christmas magic that Petunia always talked to Dudley about – and that maybe if he could just spend time with it alone and talk to it, it could help him.
He’d tried once when he was a couple of years younger than Susie, sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night and plugging in the tree lights. The tall illuminated tree in the darkened quiet room was magnificent, and he felt awestruck in its presence, yet also filled with a rare private peace. He sank to the floor in silence, staring, as he tried to work out just want to wish for and how to ask for it. It seemed obvious that something so beautiful had to be approached in just the right way, and that he might not get another chance with it. Before he decide how to best proceed, Vernon came downstairs to get a snack and saw him. He'd gotten such a scolding about wasting electricity that he’d never dared to do it again.
He smiled a bit now, remembering that ironically he had decided Uncle Vernon's untimely interruption meant that magic was not for the likes of him, yet just a few years later, he'd gone off to Hogwarts knowing he was a wizard. He could still recall his surprise on that first Christmas morning at school, waking up and seeing presents for him at the foot of his bed.
The first one he’d opened had been Hagrid’s flute. He hadn’t seen that thing in years, but had vague recollections of Colin gnawing on it during his teething and then annoying his mother with it once he’d figured out how to get it to make noise. Hermione had probably binned it when he wasn’t looking, he thought with an inward smile. He didn’t think Hagrid would mind.
Somewhere, he still had Molly Weasley’s green jumper. It hadn’t fit for years now, and she’d given him many jumpers since to replace it, but it would always be something he cherished. That jumper, along with her famous fudge, had been Molly’s first signal that this motherless child would be accepted as family. He hadn’t even met her at that point, and having a brood of his own now made him appreciate the more her expansive gesture to a lonely child.
A part of him had been terrified he would lose Molly’s affection when he broke up with her daughter and claimed the girlfriend of her son, and he had worried about it to the point that Hermione had finally convinced Minerva McGonagall to let them Floo to the Burrow after classes one afternoon to talk Molly about it. She'd scoffed at the very notion that she loved them any less, and told Hermione with frankness that she'd never thought that she and Ron were suited. He could tell she was probably a little disappointed about his break-up with Ginny, but she'd never said so, and let them know that they would always be welcome at the Burrow, even though Ron was not actually speaking to them at the time. His own children had grown up thinking of Molly and Arthur as their paternal grandparents, and he could never count his blessings without counting the two of them.
Harry still had another gift that he’d received at that first Hogwarts Christmas - his father’s invisibility cloak, though he wouldn’t have it for much longer. It was to be one of Jamie’s Christmas presents this year, and Harry couldn’t wait to see the look on his son’s face when he opened that particular package.
Hermione rubbed his thigh, bringing him back to the present. She nodded at Susie, now asleep on the floor in front of the tree, and at Colin, eyes half closed as he slumped against her other side. Casting a quick Tempus, he started when he saw the time. What was it about Christmas trees that was so mesmerizing?
“Ready for bed?” his wife murmured softly. “It’s going to be another busy day tomorrow.”
It was. There was the traditional big breakfast to make in the morning to celebrate the launch of holiday break, there’d be Christmas biscuits to bake, and he’d promised to show Jamie how to fashion the wreath for the door out of the spruce clippings while the girls were making their bows.
In the afternoon, they’d put up the exterior lights and then they’d tackle this year’s ornament project, which he understood involved making an angel out of yarn, tinsel and ribbon. He was a bit skeptical about it, to be honest. However, he remembered he’d felt dubious over last year’s project too, which had involved fashioning mini Christmas trees out of safety pins, beads and pipe cleaners, and which had turned out rather well. Tomorrow night, there’d be Neville and Susan’s party, and then Ron’s three over for a sleepover after that.
He kissed his wife’s temple. “You know we’ll have seven kids here tomorrow night. What were we thinking?”
She chuckled. “That if Molly and Arthur could handle it for a dozen years, we could manage for a single evening?”
“Min and I aren’t really in the same group as Natasha and Susie, Mum,” Jamie said dryly. “We can help corral the little ones if needed.”
A sleepy Minnie nodded as she stood, her frizzy brown hair like a halo around her head by tree light. “Right. We absolutely can. I’m heading to bed now though, okay? G’night, mum. G’night, dad.” She kissed each on the cheek as they said good night to her. “C’mon, Colin. You’re falling asleep.”
“Am not,” Colin scowled, then staggered a bit as he stood. “Okay, maybe.” Maybe he should have allowed himself to fall asleep during the movie the night before. 'It's not like I haven't seen Elf a million times,' he thought. Still, he loved watching Uncle Ron laugh, and his uncle loved Will Ferrell. Colin leaned over for his mother’s kiss, hugged his father, then followed his sister.
“Goodnight, son.”
“Want me to carry Susie to bed?” Jamie asked as he stood as well. "I'm going to go text a couple of friends."
“No thanks, son. I’ll get her when we go up.” After bending for hugs and exchanging goodnights, Jamie too headed for the stairs.
“He hugged us! Without prompting or even an eye roll!” Hermione leaned her head again against Harry’s shoulder. “How did we get so lucky?”
“He's a teenager, my love. They're mercurial creatures. Tomorrow he will be back to ignoring us, though probably not until after he's cribbed a few of the Christmas biscuits."
Hermione rolled her own eyes, but nodded. It was probably true. Teenagers were HARD. 'Still,' she thought, 'Minnie said she'd help with the bows tomorrow, so clearly Christmas miracles can happen.' She really was ridiculously pleased about that, and couldn't wait to tell her mother.
"Anyway," her husband continued, "The luck, my love, was me winning you. Which followed after I finally realized I needed you for my happiness, which is the smartest thing I ever did.” Harry squeezed her hand. “I've said it before, but it bears repeating. Best. Decision. Ever.”
Despite the dim light, he could see her blush and shake her head.
“You always say that but,” she looked up at him seriously, “I wonder sometimes how my life would have turned out if you hadn’t pulled me out of that library chair and kissed me.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I know the answer to that. You’d have dumped Ron at some point and probably gotten into politics, running for office after a few years. I suspect you probably would have ended up Minister of Magic. Or Prime Minister. Or Queen. I’ve held you back, really.”
She gave him what he always thought of as The Look. “And I’d have missed out on being wife and mum completely, or become the type who had so many rules and schedules her own husband and children thought she was a nightmare.”
He realized suddenly that her brown eyes were a bit teary. “You made my life something incredible, Harry. I love you so much,” she whispered.
His throat tightened. “I love you more. Happy Christmas, Hermione. I mean, I know it’s not for a week, but – “
She nodded, understanding him as she always did. “It seems like Christmas already with everyone together, doesn’t it? We couldn’t want a better present.”
She hugged him, then stood suddenly and pulled him to his feet. A brisk movement with her wand sent the dishes off to the kitchen. "Happy Christmas, Harry," she murmured. "Now grab your daughter and get her into bed, and then maybe there’ll be something you can unwrap before we go to sleep.” She waggled her eyebrows at him in imitation of Ron’s earlier antics.
He kissed her before bending to lift Susie. “She’ll probably wake up and want a story when I put her down, but I’ll make it quick. If you’ll turn off the music and the tree, I’ll meet you in our room.” He cast a wandless spell to extinguish the fire.
Smiling seductively, she stood on tiptoe to flick his ear lightly with her tongue then whisper, “Don’t be long. I think I might need your help in making sure the fire gets put completely out.”
She sauntered toward the kitchen with her hips swinging. Gods, he was a lucky man.
Climbing the stairs with Susie, he could hear his wife singing softly along with Shakin’ Stevens after casting the dish washing spell.
It's the season
Love and understanding
Merry Christmas everyone
Merry Christmas everyone
The End
