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The ladder wobbled as Teddy leaned and reached, reached, and… missed once again, the hook on the ceiling.
“Why don’t you just magic it up there, love?” Victoire asked. “All this business with the ladder… you’re going to wind up with injuries that even I can’t heal.”
“Because, darling,” Teddy said, turning around to face his girlfriend with a grin, “This tradition comes from the muggle part of my family, and so I will hang it up the muggle way.” His gran had begun this tradition with him, making a parol every christmas. Apparently his grandfather had done the same with his parents when he was young. Teddy always found the tradition relaxing, tying the sticks together to form the star, trimming the paper to fit the curves, creating extravagant tails, gluing it all together to form the festive lantern. The one place his granddad had apparently diverged from the muggle technique was the lighting, choosing to use a simple charm instead. Teddy had followed these traditions to a T every Christmas since he could remember. It helped him feel closer to his mum, who had also apparently been very dedicated to the art of parol-making. He wasn’t about to change his traditions now, when it came to hanging the thing, even if the stepladder was frustratingly an inch too short. He held the glowing lantern in his hand, reaching once again in vain, trying to hang up.
“Well, if you won’t magic the parol to the hook, what about the ladder?”
“What?” Teddy turned around to see Victoire twirling her wand in her fingers with an amused smile.
“Well, I know following tradition is important to you, even though we live on our own now,” Victoire circled the ladder, sizing it and Teddy up. “But there’s absolutely no way you’re going to reach that hook without the aid of magic. So… would it be too much of a break in tradition for me to make the ladder a teeny bit taller?”
Teddy stared at her for a moment. He looked down at the obnoxiously short stepladder, and back up to the hook in the ceiling, tantalizingly out of reach. He’d never used magic to hang a parol. His gran told him that his grandad always insisted it be done the old fashioned way, and she concurred. But the ladder…
“I think… that that doesn’t violate the spirit of tradition.”
Victoire grinned even wider, twirling her wand and muttering a quick incantation. Teddy felt the ladder jolt upward, just a few inches, so quickly that he nearly fell backward. After regaining his balance, he reached, reached, and… easily hung the parol from the hook in the ceiling. Teddy descended the ladder, coming to stand next to Victoire. She leaned on his shoulder, as they admired the gentle glow of the lantern together.
“That was a good idea, love.” Their first Christmas living on their own was going to be alright after all.