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Christmas Through the Years
The first Christmas after the war ended was full of many emotions. It was the first big event after everything - and with this group, there was no way of knowing what the tone of the evening would be. Experts say the first year after a loss is the hardest , was the comment Hermione bit back as her eyes glanced around at the somber faces that surrounded her. That wouldn’t help the situation, she didn’t think. She could admit, this year they had suffered so much that the thought of celebrating seemed daunting, as they were all too painfully aware of who was missing in attendance. Surprisingly enough, it was Ron who kept the high spirits.
Rising up out of his seat next to Hermione, he clutched his glass of mead he had been nursing, to start the dinner off with a toast.
“I know it’s easy to feel sad on days like today- but this toast is not only for those who aren’t here with us to celebrate, but also those who are. We won, and I think it’s time we started acting like it, yeah?” He demanded from the family. “Fred would have already set off at least three filibuster fireworks if he could see the faces on you lot.” Hermione could tell he was nervous to speak so harshly, but the Weasleys all nodded in agreement.
The silence that followed his speech was interrupted by George, who stood to let his glass clink against Ron’s “to them, and to us,” he said.
“To them, and to us,” the room chanted back, accompanied by the sound of tapping glasses and laughter that began to fill the space. It was with these words, gathered in the cramped but loving kitchen of The Burrow, that they all really started to heal.
Ron plopped back down into his seat, a true grin across his face. He leaned over towards Hermione, brushing her curls behind her shoulder as he whispered into her ear. “Happy Christmas, Hermione.”
Moving forward, things were going to be better.
~*~
By the time three years had passed - things had turned into the new normal. Of course, this version of normal had a new hope, a hope in the form of a blonde little girl.
Hermione sat in the living area of The Burrow, enjoying a pleasant fire on Christmas Eve. She had the blanket Mrs. Weasley had taught her to knit on her lap, and a thick leather-bound book in her hand. The living area was especially immaculate this year. Mrs. Weasley insisted it was Fleur who had made all the fuss about this year being extra special, but everyone knew better.
Hermione had never cared too much for a traditional Christmas, since for most of her early childhood her parents preferred to go on holiday. She even remembered some years they didn’t even bother to decorate. However, the more Christmases she spent at the Burrow, the more she warmed up to it.
Hermione stopped the storybook she was reading aloud, and watched as baby Victoire crawled from her spot on the floor of the living area to the sofa she was seated on. The little toddler began reaching and grabbing onto the side of the sofa using all of her strength to pull herself up and inch her way over to where Hermione was seated. ‘ A lady on a mission,’ Hermione thought as she laughed fondly at the little girl. She was clearly no longer listening to the story, if she ever had been. Maybe eight and a half months was a little young for Hogwarts, A History, after all.
It was bittersweet, how fast she was growing up. In a way, she served as a living indicator of how far from the war they all were. The entire family’s mood had lightened so much this past year - and Hermione was no exception.
Hermione had never really been sure how to act around children. The thought of starting a family of her own seemed so close to her, yet still so far. She herself was an only child, and her parents tended to think of her as an adult from a very early age. Too early, maybe. But when she first saw the little bundle in Fleur’s arms at St. Mungos that early morning in May - everything changed.
Hermione reached down to pick the little one up as she had finally reached her legs.
“Ah yes - agent Weasley! We have been awaiting your arrival!” Hermione exclaimed as she began to tickle Victoire, causing her to erupt into a fit of giggles.
She’d agreed to watch the smallest Weasley while her parents had gone out for the evening to the Gringotts’ annual Christmas Eve party. They had all been staying at the Burrow, as was typical around this time of year, but everyone else had found a way to go out and celebrate the night. This was all the celebration Hermione needed.
Letting the laughter fade, Hermione got caught up in Victoire’s gummy smile.
“You know, you are going to be the reason for the season this year, little love.” The child cooed fondly up at her. She was still not able to say much more than ‘mum’ or ‘dad’,but she certainly loved Hermione and everyone knew it. Victoire would giggle and reach for her every Sunday they all had dinner together, and every night as everyone settled down, the pair would have their routine of a story in the living room, and tonight was no different. The baby was blonde, like her mother, but her face was littered with freckles and bright blue eyes like her father.
“You are such a natural at that,” she heard a voice say from behind her as she slowly rocked Victoire, whose eyelids were getting heavier with each sway. Hermione smiled to herself as Ron came into the room.
“Am I?” she responded, teasing him slightly. He'd said this before, but every single time she heard it she felt the flicker of butterfly wings in her stomach at the thought of little ginger curls running around this same living room. Moments like this felt so right, and she couldn’t wait until it was their turn.
Ron came up behind the chair the pair were seated in and leaned down to wrap them both in his arms, adding more warmth to their coziness. He pressed his face against Hermione’s hair and muttered “Happy Christmas, Hermione.”
“Happy Christmas Ron - and I think you're forgetting someone,” Hermione said as Victoire looked up at her uncle, her lids still threatening to close.
“Ah yes. Happy Christmas to you too, Victoire.” This made Ron think of their future too, and of the small box wrapped box he knew was waiting for Hermione under the tree.
The unpredictability of the future may be scary, but the pair knew better than ever before that they were ready to face it, babies and all, together.
~*~
Their first Christmas season as husband and wife had been wonderful. They spent Christmas Eve giggling together in the kitchen of their two-bedroom flat in London, while Hermione put the finishing touches on the ham she was going to bring the next day. Usually, Molly didn’t allow for any of her guests to lift a finger, but this time Hermione had insisted. After years of sitting on the sidelines, she was really starting to get the hang of this whole big family Christmas thing. She had always felt like family to the Weasleys, but this year she finally was one. Just the thought of it filled her with happiness.
“I still can’t believe your mother is letting me do this,” Hermione said as she placed a cover and a warming charm on the dish so it would keep until the morning.
“One galleon says she has one made for backup - just in case,” he replied, making the pair burst into a fit of laughter. Having a laugh in the kitchen was the perfect way to sum up their relationship. She didn’t know how he managed it - but he always knew how to make her smile and laugh harder than anyone she had ever met.
They loved to cook together, well, Ron loved to watch Hermione cook from the kitchen island.
A particularly upbeat Christmas tune came flooding into the space from their kitchen radio, and Ron jumped up to turn up the volume. It was a muggle tune, Sleigh Ride, and he slid across the room to where Hermione was standing. He took the wand out of her hand to place it on the counter. Before she could even think to protest, he had taken her hand and led her out into an open space of the home.Slightly changing his grip and placing this other hand on her waist - he began to guide them, never missing a beat as they glided around the living room and through the kitchen once more. His dancing had improved over the years, and now it was one of his favorite ways to charm her. Which was great for him, because it worked every time.
After their laughter faded and the song turned to a much slower tune, they took a moment to look into each other's eyes. There was so much love pouring from him. More than enough to fill her up, and more love than Hermione could have ever imagined. If you had told her on that first train ride to Hogwarts she would be meeting the love of her life and that he was the annoying little ginger boy with dirt on his nose, she would have told you that you were beyond wrong. Maybe she didn’t know everything .
“I was going to wait until tomorrow…” Hermione said, never losing his gaze, “but I don’t think I can wait any longer.” The smile on her face should have made it obvious that this was good news - but she still caught the flash of concern in Ron’s eyes.
“I went up to St. Mungos today during my lunch break just to be sure… and every book I’ve read seems to say the same thing… I also bought about a dozen tests from the muggle shop down the street...” Hermione was rambling now, and she could tell it was not doing anything to calm Ron’s growing concern.
“Out with it, Hermione! What's going on?” He asked, unable to take it any longer.
“I’m pregnant!” Hermione attempted to exclaim, but before she could get the entire word out Ron had thrown his arms around her, lifting her feet slightly off the ground in the process.
“I - I can’t believe this! This is the best present I’ve ever gotten!.” The grin that was plastered on his face surely matched her own. They were going to be parents! They were going to be their own complete family.
“Happy Christmas, Hermione… and,” he said, placing his hands on her still small belly, “Happy Christmas to you.”
She was glad she had decided to have this private moment instead of a show. Tomorrow they would tell the family, but tonight it was just for them as they held each other, swaying along to the soft Christmas music.
~*~
Now that their family had grown in size, the couple had moved into a home not too far from the muggle village of Ottery St Catchpole where Ron’s parents lived. They had fallen in love with the place, and knew that there was no better home to raise a family in. It was, however, incredibly under-decorated for this time of year.
“I don’t want a fuss-” Hermione stated as she gathered items for the diaper bag as the couple prepared to leave for the yearly family event at the Burrow. Rose was hardly able to hold her head up, and Hermione insisted over and over that she really didn’t want them to have to lug nearly as many presents back to their home as she remembered Fleur and Ginny having to do in years past for their small babies. But Ron knew better. Hermione may not want an abundance of toys for their new addition, but she most certainly did want a fuss. Not that she’d ever admit it.
She wanted the sparkling lights, the tinsel on the tree, and the smell of gingerbread filling the air. She had slowly warmed up to Christmas over the years, but the stress of balancing a full time job and a new baby was beginning to take its toll on her.
After the war, the Wealseys had come into more money than they’d ever had. Though it definitely helped that by this point all of their children were out of the house and no longer required books and robes every year. So, they loved nothing more than to spoil their grandchildren.
“-last year they sent baby James home with a broom - a BROOM! ” She said as she zipped up the diaper bag and flung it over her shoulder.
“He’ll grow into it eventually,” Ron said with a smirk. He already knew it was bait, but Hermione was not biting.
“Ha-Ha,” she said sarcastically. “Harry almost gave Ginny a heart attack putting him on that thing!” Finally, she stopped resisting the grin that was forming, and began to laugh at the memory of Ginny chasing Harry around the garden screaming a series of hexes behind him.
He could see the bags under his wife’s eyes, very reminiscent of their third year of Hogwarts. But he was sure he matched. Parenthood was taking its toll on the couple, and Rose was definitely a feisty one, even as a baby. Signs of her magic appeared earlier than with most children, and her favorite pastime was poofing her nubby out of the crib just so her cries would make someone come in there to entertain her when she was supposed to be sleeping.
However, later that evening as the trio returned home, Rose was fast asleep. It was incredible how she slept through the jerk of the floo, but she was seemingly used to it. Ron couldn’t help but feel bad that their home didn’t match up to the allure of the Burrow Christmas. Tomorrow would be Christmas morning, but it didn’t look much like it. There was a simple tree placed in the corner with a box of ornaments from when they insisted they were going to put them up the muggle way.
Maybe next year , he thought as he climbed up the stairs to put Rose to bed, Hermione following close behind, blowing them a kiss as she retreated to their room.
By the time he climbed into bed, she was already asleep.
~*~
Hermione had never been great at sleeping through the night. When she was in school, she used to sit in the window of her dorm, looking out at the grounds of the castle and taking in the way the breeze came through the trees, blowing the leaves around like a dance.
These days, it had only gotten worse, and she spent most of her days exhausted and most of her nights tossing and turning.
Finally giving up, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and went to begin her nightly ritual of shuffling by Rose’s room to peek in, and then shuffling the rest of the way to the small office library they had. However, she noticed something different - a lack of the usual snores that came from her partner. She glanced over to Ron’s side of the bed only to find him missing. She tried her best to ignore the concern she felt, but no matter how far distant they became from the war, things like this would always be unnerving. She reached over to her bedside table to grab her wand and muttered a quick lumos as she quietly made her way out of the room.
As she stepped out into the hall, she was immediately greeted by the soft scent of gingerbread making its way up the stairs. Now she was really confused. Wand still out, she continued on her way.
As she made her way down the stairs she could hear the low hum of Ron’s voice while he sang along with what sounded like Celestina Warbeck’s You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me. She couldn’t help but laugh a little to herself. If he knew she could hear him singing along right now she was sure his ears would immediately turn red.
Thankfully there was nothing to worry about, so she lowered her wand and decided instead to see what her husband was doing without him seeing. She peeked her head out from behind the wall leading to their living area, and was immediately taken aback by the decorations covering every square inch of what she could see. Dozens of twinkling lights, deep red and gold bows that fondly reminded her of their school house. There were strings of popcorn wrapped around a now lively tree, and three stockings hung on their mantle.
Her eyes then drifted to the redhead making himself busy at the foot of the tree. He was trying so hard, and she could tell he was wanting to make everything perfect.
Chancing getting closer for a better look at what he was working on, she observed that from the looks of it he was charming random objects around the home into pieces of what looked like a nativity set. This confused her. Do wizards even believe in Jesus? She was certain she had never seen anything like that at any Weasley Christmas.
She wanted to find the best way to announce her presence without frightening him - but before she could get the chance, the wizard looked up from what he was doing and gazed over his shoulder with a smile.
“I was wondering when you would be joining me.” The whole bottom floor looked even more immaculate now that it was coming into full view. He had spread the decorations to the kitchen as well, where pots and pans were already cleaning themselves as a tray of fresh gingerbread cookies and milk set on the counter.
“This is beautiful Ron, but I have to ask, what's all this?” as she gestured to the nativity set.
“Well… it's baby Jesus of course, Hermione. You know that.” He said like it was just about the most obvious thing in the world, but the same grin was still on his face.
“Well yes, I know that. But why are you up at four in the morning making baby Jesus, Ronald?” Hermione asked, bringing her hands to her hips, a laugh forming.
“Well, I was in bed thinking about the morning, and how we only had a simple tree,” he said, getting excited as he spoke. “And I was thinking about how Rosie deserves to know both sides of who she is - and so I used the cell phone to look up Muggle Christmas traditions and well… I got a bit carried away I suppose.” He looked at Hermione expectantly as he rose to his feet.
It was truly the sweetest Christmas display she had ever seen. There was something about seeing Ron’s passion for his daughter and wanting to include all parts of who she was, that won Hermione's heart. Even if she was positive she had never given him the hint that Jesus was a part of her home tradition.
“Oh, Ron,” was all she could say as she crossed the room and wrapped him up in an embrace. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, and then she began to laugh. She was so exhausted that the laugh became uncontrollable, and she threw her head back as she clutched at her sides.
Ron held her at arms length as she continued, a look of concern and amusement on his face.
“What is it? Have I done something wrong? Do you hate it? I thought maybe there were two wise men, but everywhere I looked said it was three...” he said, staring at his mostly finished project.
“No, no Ron it’s not that! It's just - sometimes you are so perfect I don’t know what to say,” as the giggles began to overcome her once more.
“Mental, you are.” He grinned as he leaned down to give her a soft kiss while the fire crackled beside them. Explaining the intricacies of muggle religion to Ron seemed like a conversation for a different day.
“Happy Christmas, Ron,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.
Every time she thought she had seen the best of him, he continued to show her just how much more there was.