Break Down These Walls

The heavens delivered snowfall on Christmas Day; the fluffy flakes dancing this way and that as the winter breeze shifted.  Hermione peered up into the crisp air as she walked along the stone platform of the Hogwarts train station.  She joined the group of students that gathered around the luggage car; a group of about thirty students had collected so far, all waiting to hand their suitcases over to the luggage attendants.  As they waited, the talk transitioned amongst them from Christmas plans and hopes for the new year to how the Yule Ball had been for each individual student.  Hermione was grateful for one thing, at least.  No one who had witnessed her being ill last night had seemingly shared it with anyone else, for it wasn’t amongst the gossip of the day.  It was a small mercy.  However, Fred and Angelina getting caught snogging had been all over the school and it was discussed abundantly on the platform now.  The story had morphed into quite the monster with Hermione having overheard multiple versions: the original snogging version, getting caught having sex version, or having been caught with two girls at the same time…  She wasn’t sure if Fred was loving the attention or absolutely hating it.

When it was finally her turn, she handed her leather suitcase over to the luggage attendant.  He was older, perhaps mid-to-late thirties, with some crow’s feet and salt-and-pepper in his brown mustache. His cheeks were rosy from the cold air of the Scottish winter. He smiled at her kindly as he took her luggage and his eyes twinkled, clearly a very happy fellow.

“Well now, if you don’t mind me saying so, it looks like you’re going to get some nice sleep on the train ride in,” he said after he loaded her suitcase into the luggage car.   When Hermione looked confused, he chuckled softly.  “My dear, you look positively exhausted.”

Hermione grimaced. “I didn’t sleep well,” she explained.  The luggage attendant nodded knowingly.

“I can imagine,” he said.  “With you lot all having that big dance last night.”  He took luggage from someone else and loaded it before returning his attention back to Hermione.  “I feel for you.  My youngest, she’s three, kept me up crying over something all night.  A night without sleep is hard to overcome for sure.”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair.  “She and I definitely had that in common, I’m afraid.”  She sighed and tucked her hands into the pockets of her woolen coat.  More students pressed forward, eager to have their suitcases taken next and she was jostled a bit.  Realizing her little window to chat was ending, Hermione figured she would say goodbye. 

“Well, I wish you luck with your little girl.  Hopefully, tonight won’t be as upsetting for her.  Have a good day, Mr. – ?”

“O’Riley,” the luggage attendant answered.  He tipped his cap to her.  “Thank you for your wishes, Miss. - ?”

“Granger, sir,” Hermione replied.  Mr. O’Riley smiled. 

“I hope you get some rest on the trip back, Miss Granger,” he said.  “You are far too young to have troubles that keep you up at night.  You need to enjoy your life as best you can - make the most of it.  Oh, and have a Happy Christmas.”

With that, Mr. O’Riley turned away from her and proceeded to give the other students his full attention.  Hermione made her way out of the small swarm of students and mounted the steps of the nearest train car.  She looked up as she entered to see that a large gold number 3 was ornamented above the entrance to the corridor.  She, Harry and Ron typically found a compartment in the fifth car, meaning that she would have to hop from car to car in order to find her best friends.  Hermione steeled herself.  Normally, the brightest witch did very well in group settings, although no one would say that she was an extrovert.  But since last night, Hermione hadn’t wanted much to do with anyone and the idea of being forced to push through students as she passed through each train car made her stomach churn.  In all honesty, she didn’t know if she even wanted to be around Harry and Ron, not because of the two boys specifically, but rather that her heart and head were hurting and perhaps Hermione needed a moment away to process all of that. 

She took a deep breath and entered the corridor of the third train car.  The smell of cookies, pinched from the Great Hall breakfast tables that morning, wafted under Hermione’s nose.  She smelled something else – perhaps tea?  But that couldn’t be it.  Either way, the smell comforted her, if only for a little while.  She started to pass along the corridor. Each compartment was full of young witches and wizards, all excited to go home for Christmas.  At a glance, Hermione surmised that these students were mostly first-and-second years.  Some stared at her as she passed.  Perhaps they recognized her from the Daily Prophet and reading Skeeter’s articles.  One, a slight blonde with rectangular glasses, stepped out of her compartment as if she was going to say something, but thought better of it when Hermione looked her way harshly.  The younger closed the door and Hermione pressed onward.

When she entered the fourth car, Miss Granger bumped into Malfoy and his two mates, Crabbe and Goyle.  They had been getting into a compartment and blocked the width of the entire corridor.  She hadn’t expected anyone to be just on the other side of the door and rebounded off of Malfoy’s back.  The platinum head of the other fourth-year had whipped around he smirked at her unsettled expression.

“Watch where you’re going, Granger.  I don’t want to get any of your Mudblood filth on my clothes.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Maybe I wouldn’t have bumped into you if you weren’t taking up the entire path!” she snapped.  “Now get on with it and move!”

In response, Malfoy leaned on the nearest wall, towering over her slightly.  “What if I don’t want to move?” he challenged.  Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle flexed, as if they thought themselves to be intimidating.  Hermione didn’t have time for this.  She hardened her gaze and raised herself to her full height.  Then she smiled at Draco Malfoy, sweet as can be.  However, her words were not so kind.

“Remember that punch I gave you last year?” she asked, her tone just as innocent as her smile.  “I would be happy to do it again – care to go home for Christmas with a black eye?  What would your precious father think about that?”

She watched as Malfoy’s lip twitched with anger and he relented.  “Fine,” he said as his eyes moved from her face to those of Crabbe and Goyle.  “She’s not worth it, let’s go.”  The three Slytherins entered their compartment and closed the door.  Hermione continued on again.

At long last, she found Harry and Ron in a fifth train car compartment, accompanied by Ginny, who sat across from them.  Harry stood up when she entered and his brows furrowed with worry and he took in her appearance.  All Ginny had forewarned the boys that Hermione wasn’t well when they had pressed about why Hermione hadn’t joined her on the walk down to the train station.  Hermione knew she looked rough.  The bags under her eyes and her soft posture said everything.  She was heartbroken and tired.  Ron also stood up and in two steps, he had moved to stand by her side.  He helped her out of her coat and encouraged her to sit down beside Ginny.  He bundled her coat onto his lap.  She looked between her three friends and huffed.  She didn’t like being fawned over, especially not after last night.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Harry asked.  “Only, Ginny told us about you being sick.”

Hermione shot a look at the redheaded witch beside her, who shrugged apologetically.  She had thought Ginny would have kept her word to not tell anyone.

“I was worried!” Ginny defended.

“I swear, how much can you lot hurt my feelings in one day – first, Ron yells at me at the Yule Ball and then Ginny tells you that I vomited and then – ”  She couldn’t say anything about Fred for fear of giving him away.  “Well – Harry, you agreed with Ron.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Harry said quickly.   “I did not agree with anything Ron said last night.”

“Oi!” Ron exclaimed, holding his arms apart in surprise.  “Harry, we’re best mates!”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair.  “It’s fine, we’ll put it to bed.  Yes, Harry, I was sick at the Yule Ball last night.  No, there was no alcohol in the punch.   Snape thinks I just ate some bad food.”

“That’s rotten luck,” said Ron after a moment.  “Sorry you went through that.”  He leaned forward and took her coat from her lap.  His mouth was drawn into a line.  “Ginny also said that Parvati told her you were crying in your sleep all night.”

Hermione glared at Ginny this time.  “Will you please keep your knowledge to yourself?” she snapped.  Ginny winced.

“I’m sorry, alright? I reckoned I didn’t know the truth but now that I see how tired you are, I can see that it’s true!” Ginny replied.  She held her hands up in self-defence.  “You’re practically asleep while walking.”

Harry’s took his turn to offer his opinion now.  “Hermione, why don’t you lie down?” he suggested.  “You can use your coat as a blanket.  You need to rest.” 

Hermione tried to protest.  “No, I’m alright.  Ginny was here first anyway, so I’ll go lie down somewhere else.”

“No, you won’t,” Ginny replied.  She stood up from her seat and all but pushed Hermione over to get her to lie down on the cushioned bench seat of the train compartment.  “Down you get.”  She took Hermione’s coat from Ron’s hands and draped it over her friend.  Hermione betrayed herself by yawning.  She really was tired.

Harry chuckled softly when she yawned.  “Hermione, I am saying this as your friend - you look a right mess.” The brunette didn’t have energy to retort and between the three other Gryffindors in the compartment, all as stubborn as she was, she knew she was outnumbered.  She sighed and allowed her cheek to rest against the soft upholstered fabric of the seat.  She lay on her right side with her right arm tucked beneath her ear as a pillow.  Her left hand hung lightly down the side of the bench.  From outside the window, Hermione could still make out the tiniest of snowflakes falling.  How peaceful.  If she had to admit it, her makeshift little bed was quite comfortable.

When all three were sure that Hermione wouldn’t get up, Ginny waved goodbye to Harry and Ron and said she would see them in a few hours.  She then left the compartment. Through eyes that fogged due to drowsiness, Hermione watched as Harry and Ron chatted quietly amongst themselves about what they were looking forward to once they got to the Burrow.   Harry didn’t doubt that he would be getting another knitted something or other from Mrs. Weasley.  He always enjoyed her gifts and they were always so warm.  Ron thought that they might play a game of Quidditch in the snow tomorrow morning.  He enjoyed trying to be a Keeper.  They wondered if Bill, Charlie and Percy would be around for the holidays this year but Mrs. Weasley hadn’t been detailed enough in her letters to give them any indication.

Hermione felt her eyes become heavy.  Her vision blurred even more and she allowed herself to drift into a slumber.  While her mind was probably grateful for the rest, she dreamed of Fred kissing Angelina over and over again.  She wished she could have a dreamless sleep. 

When they reached King’s Cross Station, Ron leaned over from his seat and lightly shook her left shoulder.  His voice sounded far away as Hermione slowly came out of her sleep state. 

“Hermione, wake up,” he murmured.  “We’re here, it’s time to go.”

He supported her with sitting up, placing his left hand on her elbow to hold her steady.  Hermione yawned and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands.  When she spoke, her voice was husky from sleep.

“I slept the whole trip?” she asked.  Harry, who had risen from his seat by now, nodded at his friend’s question.  He helped her get into her coat by holding it up for her.  After she had slipped her arms in and done up the buttons, he handed her a Chocolate Frog that they must have bought from the trolley witch while she slept.  She opened the Chocolate Frog packaging and popped the entire confection into her mouth before it could do a single charmed hop!  She followed Harry and Ron out of the compartment and into the packed corridor of the fifth train car.  As she stood in line, pressed against her friends, she removed the collector’s card from the Chocolate Frog packaging and smiled softly at the famous wizard depicted onto it.  Viktor Krum, in his Bulgarian Seeker Quidditch robes, smiled smugly for the camera and crossed his arms over his chest. On the back, his signature signed itself over and over.  She tucked the Chocolate Frog card into the pocket of her coat. 

The Golden Trio finally made it out of the packed train car and were swept into the crowd of students and families along Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross Station.  They pushed their way through the many bodies, headed towards the luggage car.  When Hermione saw Mr. O’Riley again, he tipped his cap as he had done earlier in the day.  He had seen her amongst the crowd and had called for her suitcase before they had reached him.   He handed it over proudly.

“Here you are, Miss Granger.  You have a Happy Christmas,” he said with a soft smile.  Hermione gave the luggage attendant a little wave in thanks.  She turned to Harry and Ron, as both looked quite confused since she had received her luggage so quickly, and explained that she had chatted with him back at the Hogwarts station.  She said she would wait for them to get their luggage and looked around the platform to see if she could spot Mrs. Weasley.  The sea of students and families, rushing this way and that, pulled her away from the crowd huddled near the luggage car and she found that she was quite helpless to move in any direction on her own and was forced to move along with the ebb and flow of people.  She ended up finding a vacant bench as she was moving along and swung her suitcase up onto it, using it as an anchor to pull herself up out of the crowd.  She clambered up onto the bench and could see that Harry and Ron were still waiting at the luggage car, spotting Ron’s head seemingly towering above everyone else’s.  In an attempt to see Mrs. Weasley or Ginny, Hermione raised herself up onto her tiptoes.  She daren’t let go of her suitcase in the fear that it would be lost amongst the fray.  She held her suitcase firmly in her right hand and swayed this way and that to try and continue her search.  In all honesty, in thanks to the people that bustled around her, she had quite a hard time staying balanced on her perch.

Sure enough, when two second-years pushed past her, they knocked the edge of her suitcase which threw Hermione off-balance.  With a shriek, the fourth-year Gryffindor pitched forward and fell off the bench and into the crowd, sure that she was taking down people with her.  Imagine her surprise when an arm wrapped around her waist to stop her from falling any further and helped her to her feet safely.  No sooner had her boots touched the flat pavement of the platform again did the arm shift from around her middle to have its hand grab the left sleeve of her coat lightly.  She felt herself get pulled from amongst the wild throng and together, she and her saviour tucked out of the way beside one of the immense red-brick columns that supported King’s Cross Station. 

When she looked up to thank whoever had saved her from her little blunder, her appreciative smile faltered.  Fred.  She dropped her suitcase in shock.

He wore the green long-sleeve shirt she loved so much, the one that was tight to his muscles.  He had his knitted Gryffindor scarf draped around his neck and wore his older Quidditch corduroys, the ones that hugged his thighs.   Damn him.  It was the outfit he knew she liked best – and the long-sleeve made her think of that night in the classroom after Hogsmeade, the night they had pushed things a little farther.  He must have been wearing it as an apology, a way to make a connection with her and tug at her heart strings.  He smirked down at her, looking playful.

“I had to catch you again, did I?” he teased.  “First, the slip in the snow last month and now this?”  His little joke would have made her giggle yesterday – but not today.  He still held her left arm.  She pulled it from his grasp and took a step back, which pressed her spine against the brick column.  Steeling herself for the second time that day, Hermione took a shaky breath and then spoke.  Her eyes were determined and she tried to appear cold and reserved.  She crossed her arms in front of her chest for emphasis.

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said.  “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, Fred Weasley, but I am not going to be your pawn.  You can play games with Angelina or Katie or whomever else you’d like – but not me.”

Fred’s smirk slipped from his face and he ran his hand through his hair.  “Listen, ‘Mione, about last night – ”

Hermione pointed her finger into his chest.  “Don’t,” she warned, venom in her tone.  “Do not call me ’Mione.  Not after what you’ve done.”

Fred looked quite shameful now.  It’s amazing how many expressions a man can make when he’s in the wrong, Hermione thought.  Quite the shapeshifter.  She watched him take a deep breath of his own.

“Hermione, then,” he amended.  She said nothing.  He continued.  “Hermione, I can explain about last night.”

Her eyes flashed.  “Oh, you could, could you?” she asked icily.  “You could explain why, at midnight, when you and I were going to be a couple, when you and I were finally going to be together properly, you chose to snog someone else?”  She didn’t give him room to reply.  “And not only snog someone else, Fred, but to allow her to wrap her leg around your bloody waist?   I would love to hear this explanation, Fred, really I would!” 

Fred looked stunned.  She had never lost her temper on him like that before.  “Alright,” he said softly.  “Listen, it started with – ”

“Fred!  Hermione, dear, this way!”  Both Gryffindors turned and looked to see Mr. Weasley waving them over from a few columns down the way.  George, Harry, Ron and Ginny all stood alongside him with their things, as did Mrs. Weasley.  “Do come on!”

Hermione sighed and picked up her suitcase.  The crowd had petered out now, making it easy to walk over to the gathered group.  However, she turned her head slightly to hiss over her shoulder at the Weasley twin who had stolen her heart.

“If you so much as lay a finger on me to guide me along, I will use my wand to turn the bones in your hand to jelly, Fred Weasley.  Do you hear me?”

A blush came to his freckled cheeks, embarrassed, but the Weasley twin nodded and swallowed slowly.  Oh, he really was in trouble.  He was in deep trouble, indeed.

When they Apparated back to the Burrow, Hermione was told that instead of sharing with Ginny, as she usually did when she visited, she was able to use Bill and Charlie’s room for herself.  It was located on the first floor up.  Ginny wasn’t too put out, as the room that Bill and Charlie shared was adjacent to hers anyway.  She made Hermione promise that the two would have a sleepover one night during the week as they walked up the staircase together.  Ginny put her suitcase in her room and led Hermione down the little corridor to her room for the next few days.  She opened the door for her and allowed her to have some time to herself.  The fourth-year Gryffindor entered the room and closed the door behind her. 

Hermione looked around the room shared by Bill and Charlie.  She had never seen the inside before, though she had never had reason to.  It had a deep red wine paint on the walls with brown curtains that matched the ones in the living room.  The bedding looked worn but soft; it was the same deep red wine colour and the duvet was topped with a light beige wool blanket.  Directly across from the foot of the bed, there was a tall wooden dresser, dark in colour, with a clock on the top and a mirror hung above it with one crack right at the bottom.  Hermione’s reflection was clear in the mirror and she stopped to look at her face.  The eyebags that O’Riley and Harry had seemed to notice earlier were gone – her nap on the train had left her much more refreshed.  She turned her gaze away from the mirror and shifted to the left.  Her eyes settled upon an upholstered Victorian chair with a forest green fabric and gold stitching.  It was out of place amongst the red and brown tones that matched the rest of Bill and Charlie’s room but it was homely all the same.

Hermione set her suitcase at the foot of the bed and opened its metal latch.   Her fingers traced over the worn leather, its texture smooth to the touch after time had worn its raised bumps away.  She slipped her fingers just under the lip of her suitcase and flipped the lid open.  Her clothing items were taken out and put away accordingly – the jumpers, jeans and a skirt or two were hung in the closet and her underwear, socks, pyjamas and shirts were folded and placed in the dresser.  Her toiletries, kept in a plain canvas bag, were set on top of the same piece of furniture.  Lastly, she removed the presents from her suitcase.  She had charmed them to be smaller to fit inside her trunk and had one for each Weasley family member as well as Harry.  All of her gifts were wrapped in thick white parcel paper, tied with twine and a few sprigs of pine and fir nettles.  She stacked them upon the floor in a small pile under her window and tapped them once with her wand.  They grew to their original size.  She inspected all of the labels on the presents, making sure there was one for everyone.  When she got to Fred’s gift, she paused and twirled the tag around in her fingers.  She felt a twinge upon her heart as her eyes went to his name. 

She hadn’t written Fred on his name tag… She’d written Freddie. 

Of all the stupid things she could have done.

She groaned and left the presents, crossing the room back over to the bed.  She lowered her suitcase to the floor and then fell forward onto the bed so that her head was buried into the bedding.  Eager to get out her frustration, she whisper-shouted into the bedding and beat her fists against the beige woolen blanket.  It was better than the alternative, which was hitting Fred.  The ticking of the little wooden clock on the dresser, with its enamel clock face, counted out each second of her anger and sadness.  Tick tick tick tick.

Well, this definitely wasn’t helping. 

With a groan, Hermione forced herself to sit up.  It was time to change out of her travel clothes and into something more appropriate for Christmas.  The clock struck half five which means if anyone knew Mrs. Weasley, dinner would be ready soon.  She changed into black tights that were almost fully opaque and slipped on a white long sleeve shirt.  She then put on a pencil skirt that ran the length of her thighs and stopped an inch or so above her knees.  It bore a red and black plaid pattern and had been a gift from an aunt last Christmas.   This year, as she had developed some hips, the skirt fit just right.  She was pleased.  Her long-sleeve shirt was tucked into the skirt and she allowed her honey-brown curls to fall loosely down her back.  She had also picked out a ribbon that was same colour as the red in her skirt and pulled some of her hair back from the crown of her head and tied the ribbon into a bow to secure it in place, in a half-down half-up style.  Before Hermione went down to see the others, she took out her hairbrush and lightly combed through her curls so that they loosened a little.  Now, she was ready.

Twenty minutes to six now.  She still had time.  Hermione leaned down to open her suitcase again from its position on the floor.  She took out her Muggle novel that she started earlier in the week and closed her suitcase again, standing in her full upright position.  She walked over to the green Victorian chair and settled in, tucking her legs beneath her.

The time chimed six o’clock faster than Hermione would have liked.  She had just immersed herself fully into her reading.  She closed her book and placed it on top of the bed.  She stood up and smoothed out her skirt with the palms of her hands.  Hermione walked over to the mirror again and ran her fingers through her hair lightly.  She took a deep breath and left her temporary room.

As she crossed down the corridor and passed Ginny’s room, she could hear Fred and George walking along the corridor of the landing above her.  Their footfalls were muffled as the hardwood corridors had carpeting, but she could hear it all the same.  And she could also faintly make out the sound of their voices, with Fred’s voice being a touch lower than George’s, though she couldn’t tell what they were saying.  Just hearing the sound of Fred’s voice made her both angry and hopeful at the same time.  Damn you, Fred Weasley.

“Well, don’t you look lovely!” Mrs. Weasley greeted as Hermione reached the staircase landing of the ground floor.  Molly Weasley wore a patchwork apron over top of her bright red Christmas dress to keep it clean and had done up her hair in a pinned bun at the crown of her head.  While she looked beautiful, the Weasley matriarch hadn’t escaped fully unscathed from her mess in the kitchen and had some flour dusted on her cheek.  Hermione watched as Mr. Weasley affectionately wiped it off his wife’s cheek with his right thumb.  Molly Weasley blushed and swatted her husband’s hand away.  “Really, Arthur, never you mind with me!  Look at Hermione,” she attempted to redirect.  “Doesn’t she look nice?”

Mr. Weasley turned and gave Hermione a warm smile.  “You do,” he told the young witch.  Mr. Weasley had changed into a maroon button-down and some black trousers for the festive occasion.  He strode through the main floor of his home and gave Hermione a little side-hug.  “Thank you and Harry both for coming to our home for the holidays,” he said when he pulled away.  “We love that you see us like family.”

Hermione smiled.  “Of course, Mr. Weasley.  Harry and I always love being here, for as long as you’ll have us.  You know that.”

Mr. Weasley patted Hermione’s left cheek with a fatherly touch and returned to his wife’s side in the kitchen, where he happily started basting the roasted turkey in a sauce.  The turkey laid on a bed of roasted russet potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots and asparagus.  They were going to feast like royalty tonight. 

She turned around and looked around the Burrow and its decorations, having not appreciated their beauty when they arrived earlier in the evening.  The fireplace crackled happily in the hearth.  Mrs. Weasley had soft golden fairy lights along most of the mantles and shelving the Burrow had on the ground floor.  An owl hooted from somewhere near the top floor of the house.  There were presents underneath the Christmas tree and a garden cat slept at the backdoor to the house, the one that went out by the kitchen. 

She spotted Ginny, who had dressed in a cream knitted jumper, jeans, festive socks and a Father Christmas hat.  The youngest Weasley sat upon the family’s deep sage green couch with a plate of freshly iced gingerbread cookies upon her lap.  Hermione chose to sit down beside her friend and reached over to take a cookie from the plate.  Ginny giggled and mirrored her friend’s actions.  They tapped their cookies together, as if toasting each other, and each took a bite.  

“Love your skirt,” Ginny complimented with her mouth full.  Hermione laughed softly.

“I love your hat,” she complimented back, taking another bite of her gingerbread.  Mrs. Weasley always baked some sweet spice into her gingerbread cookies and they truly were delicious. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed that Harry had chosen to make himself useful by setting the dining room table for Christmas dinner with several different plates, utensils and cloth napkins.  He caught her staring and gave her a little wave.  She noticed he had chosen one of his many knitted letter “H” jumpers from Mrs. Weasley as his Christmas outfit.  He looked nice!  Hermione started to look away when her eyes caught sight of a bowl full of freshly-baked Yorkshire puddings upon the table.  They made Hermione’s mouth water.  Those Yorkshires were one of her favourite holiday foods. 

She finished her cookie, although the sight of the Yorkshires had caused her hunger grow and rose up from the couch, headed for Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen.

“Right, where do you need me?” she asked Mrs. Weasley.  “I’m happy to help, really.  It looks like you’re almost done!”

Mr. Weasley started to answer for his wife but was interrupted by Fred and George reaching the ground floor of the house.  She turned her head round over her right shoulder to watch them.  George sat in Hermione’s vacated spot on the couch and took a cookie from Ginny’s plate while Fred crossed through the living room, added a log to the roaring fire and then reached into the box of baubles to start to help Ron with his task of decorating the Christmas tree.  The youngest Weasley boy had busied himself by wrapping a few garlands of popcorn around the pine nettles.  He was actually doing quite well, to Hermione’s surprise.  

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and Hermione turned her attention back to him.

“We do need help serving everyone their drinks if you don’t mind,” he instructed.  Hermione nodded and walked over to the dining room table.  For Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, she poured generously from a bottle of red wine that had been left out to breathe for the proper aromatic effect.  As for the children of the family, they had a choice of three hot drinks on Christmas Day, all made from old family recipes:  a spiced cinnamon hot chocolate, apple cider or a hot toddy, sans whiskey, of course.  When she went around the table, she asked Harry, followed by each of the Weasleys in turn about what they wanted. Ron and George wanted the apple cider, Ginny wanted the hot toddy.  She saved Fred for last and tried not to let her eyes rove over him too much.  He had changed into a dark navy cable knit jumper that, like everything else since they had started seeing each other, seemed to be getting a little tight for his growing muscles.  His trousers were the colour of cream, like his sister’s jumper and to be festive, he had a sprig of holly tucked behind the crook of his left ear like a pencil.  He was too busy decorating the tree to notice that everyone waited for him.

When it was clear that he wasn’t going to snap to it, Hermione cleared her throat.  “Right, Fred, what would you like?” she asked.  “We don’t want to be waiting on you until the new year.”

When Fred looked over his left shoulder at her, his expression could only be described as dazed.  He hadn’t seen her like this before.  The skirt was just short enough to be tasteful but, well… it still clung to her growing curves.  The curves he longed to touch again. And her long curls flowing down... Hermione watched Fred gulp.  She could tell by the way his eyes darkened slightly that he was imagining his hand in her hair. To toy with him a little, she ran a hand through the loose ends of her tresses.

“Oi!” Ron interrupted, the moment having been lost on him.  He had elbowed his older brother in the ribs from his position beside him at the Christmas tree.  “She asked you a question.   You’re just going to stand there?”

If looks could kill, the glare that Fred gave Ron would have dropped him dead. “Shut it,” he warned his little brother.  He let out a sigh and then recomposed his features, bringing his gaze back up to Hermione’s face.  Brown eyes met and sparks struck.  But Hermione forced herself to ignore them.  Fred looked hopeful as he left his spot at the tree and walked a little closer.  He still held a plastic bauble in his hand.

“Well, what are you having?” he offered in conversation. “I’ll have some of that.”

Hermione kept her face controlled.  “You seem to like a bit of spice in your life after last night,” she replied carefully.  A sneak of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.  “So, I would recommend the cinnamon hot chocolate.”

“What does she mean, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she brought the turkey round to the table from the kitchen.  Mr. Weasley followed her with a tray of cut bread with grapes and cheese.  The father of the family sat down at the head of the table as his wife continued. “A bit of spice? What does that mean?”

As Hermione had observed earlier, the whole school knew about Fred and Angelina snogging the night before.  It had spread like wildfire.  George snickered from his place on the couch beside Ginny. 

“So, you haven’t received McGonagall’s letter yet?” the other twin asked of his parents, apparent humour in his voice.  In response, Fred tossed the plastic bauble he held at his twin’s head.

“Will you shove off?” he snapped, his cheeks and ears red.  All the Weasley siblings giggled now. 

Mr. Weasley looked at each of his children’s faces, confused.  “Well, yes, we received a letter from her but we thought to open it after Christmas dinner.  Nothing is more important than the ones you love on Christmas.”  He sat down at the head of the table. “She can wait.”

“I quite agree, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said as her smirk grew more visible.  She poured Fred some of the spiced hot chocolate into a waiting mug placed on the table.  “Nothing is more important than the ones you love.”  Her double-meaning was lost on everyone but Fred.  The colour had drained from his face.  Good.

She poured herself a hot toddy. Clearly, she thought, he had said the word ‘love’ without meaning it. She was supposed to be his most prized thing and he had thrown it all away in one moment.

Mrs. Weasley sat down at the other end of the long table.  She seemed to have noticed the change in Fred’s face and decided to press a little further after taking a few sips of her red wine.

“No, really, Fred, what’s this all about?  If you tell us now, we won’t open the letter,” she promised.  “We’d rather hear anything McGonagall has to say from you anyway, dear.”  She reached out to her son and placed a hand on his arm to soothe him.  “Whatever it is, it can’t be all that bad.”

Fred groaned and ran a hand through his shaggy red hair.  He looked to Hermione, pleading.

Don’t make me tell them, his eyes seemed to say.

Drop dead, Hermione’s gaze said in return.  Fred sighed and shuffled his feet.  He supposed he didn’t have a choice.

“I was caught kissing a girl at the Yule Ball,” he said in a rush.

“Not just kissing –” George chimed in.  “Snogging!”

“Bloody hell, Gin, will you just drop it!” Fred hissed, glaring daggers at his twin.  He then looked to his parents who had yet to respond and forced himself to calm down before saying anything further.   “Before you say anything, we were snogging, yes, but we were fully clothed and it was just a bit of an ... awkward situation.”

“An awkward situation?” Ginny blurted with a laugh.  “That’s one way to put it – you weren’t just snogging Angelina, Fred! Neville and I both saw her leg around your waist, clear as day!  Honestly, my first thought was that it was gross but then my second thought was ‘Well done, Fred!’”

Her last comment caused Harry, who had remained impartial up until this point, to snort with laughter from his seated place at the right of Mr. Weasley.  Ron’s shoulders could also be seen bouncing up and down from laughter, peeking around the spot behind the tree where he was decorating.

“You did what?!” Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shouted at the same time.  Fred looked as though he would melt into the floor and die. 

Mrs. Weasley whipped off her apron and placed it on the dining room table.  “You – you were snogging at the Yule Ball?  Out in the open?”

Fred nodded slowly and the Weasley matriarch scoffed in response.  She sat back down, speechless.  Mr. Weasley also seemed to be at a loss for words.

Hermione sat down to the right of Harry and brought her hot toddy to her lips.  Was this justice?  Oh, probably.   Was it petty? Definitely.  Did she care that he was getting yelled at for what he had done?  Not one bit.

Ron came away from the tree to sit at Hermione’s other side, making up one side of the table, while George and Ginny sat on the opposite side.  They sat a seat apart, leaving a space in between them for Fred.  This meant that Fred had no choice but to sit directly across from Hermione.  He did so reluctantly and slowly looked from the table’s surface up to her face.

“Are you happy now that they know?” he asked.  He brought his elbows onto the table and raised his hands, clasped together, to his chin.  Hermione set her hot toddy down and took a Yorkshire pudding from the bowl, placing it on her plate.

“Quite happy,” she replied.  “Chin up, Fred. It’s not like they know something the whole school already doesn’t. And wouldn’t you rather that they find out from you?” 

Fred raised his left eyebrow at her.  “I’ve never lied to my parents and they know that, or at least, not when it's been about something important."  He looked around the table, his eyes taking in each one of his family members and their guests.  “So, yes, I was caught snogging and McGonagall took 100 points from Gryffindor from each of us.”  He lowered his eyebrow and sighed.  “What’s my punishment going to be?”

Mr. Weasley rubbed his forehead in frustration.  “We can sort that out later.”  He shook his head once and then seemed to put the thought away.  He reached for a serving spoon and started to add the roasted vegetables from beneath the turkey to his plate.  “First, we eat up and have a proper Christmas with no more foolery, deceit or jokes of any kind.  Do we understand?”  All the children around the table nodded.   Mrs. Weasley glared at Fred for one more second and then decided against saying anything more.

The dinner was full of talk about school, setting up that mini-Quidditch match for the next day like Ron had wanted and anticipation of gifts later on in the evening.  To everyone’s surprise, Mrs. Weasley had also made some berry pie for dessert and they each had a slice of that.  Then it was time to rest for a little and let food digest before presents were opened.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley roped George and Ginny into washing up the dishes and Harry and Ron had stayed downstairs to finish up the tree decorations.  Fred had gone outside to chop more wood for the fire.

As she hadn’t been assigned to anything specific, Hermione put away the opened wine bottle and cleaned up the mugs and glassware for Ginny and George.  She then went upstairs to retrieve the gifts she had bought, leaving the door to her bedroom open as she sorted through the boxes.  The small little things she had bought for Bill, Charlie, and Percy in case they had been at the Burrow were placed to the side.  She was just putting the rest into order when she heard a small knock on her door. She turned around and saw that Fred stood in the doorway.  He looked a little winded, having just come in after completing his task of cutting the wood, and a small gleam of sweat was on his nose and cheeks.  She supposed that after he had come inside and removed his jacket, he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt since he stood before her now with his forearms exposed.  He seemed more relaxed than he had at dinner and held up his hands in surrender as her eyes dressed him down.

“Am I going to get another lecture?” he asked.  “Am I going to burn if I step foot in this bedroom?”

Hermione sighed and allowed the tension to leave her body.  “No,” she replied.  She waved her hand to beckon him forward.  “You can come in if you want.”

Fred took a few steps into the room.  He lowered his hands and slipped them into the pockets of his cream trousers.  “You really threw me to the wolves down there.”

Hermione shrugged and turned around to face him head-on.  Her right arm stayed down at her side while her left arm crossed her body and her left hand held her right elbow.  It was a comfortable position, a way to guard herself and keep herself safe. 

“Well, I meant what I said.  I think they would have rather heard the truth from you than have you hide it until they read the letter.  It’s out in the open now.  And really, they can’t punish you much anyway.  We go back to school in a week.  The most they could do is probably not let you play Quidditch tomorrow.”

This comment earned a chuckle from Fred and his lips upturned at the corners with a smirk. 

“Oh, you and I both know you’d be sad about that,” he said, flirting with her a little.  “It would steal your chance away from checking me out.”

Hermione warred with herself.  She didn’t want to give in to his flirting but she also missed him.  She had to remember she hadn’t kissed him in a week, hadn’t touched him in a week.  It was hard to pretend he meant nothing to her. 

“Please, Fred, don’t flirt with me,” she asked. “I’m not in the right headspace to make any decisions about us – especially not after last night.”

The Weasley twin exhaled with a shakey breath and his smirk disappeared.  It was replaced with a grimace as he thought about what he had done the night before. 

“Can I please explain about last night?” he asked.  He sat on the foot of her bed.  “My explanation isn’t an excuse for what I did.  But I want you to understand.”

Hermione moved to sit in the green Victorian chair in the corner, not wanting to be any closer to him than that. 

“Fine,” she allowed. “But I’m hearing you out for my sake and helping me heal, not for yours.” 

Fred turned around in his place so that he could face her properly.

“George obviously didn’t know about you and me,” he began.  “Neither did Lee or Angelina.  No one did.  As far as everyone besides us knew, I was single and I had decided to ask out Angelina to the Yule Ball.  So, last night during the dance, we started playing Truth or Dare which was fine enough.  Lee got dared to streak outside in the courtyard amongst the carriages.  George was dared to steal a kiss from one of the Beauxbatons girls.  Katie and Alicia joined in later in the game and they had been dared to steal trophies from the trophy room, by Lee.  Alicia got caught by Karkaroff, who had been walking around, and that’s why we didn’t see her the rest of the night since she got marched up to wait in Dumbledore’s office.  And then it was my turn and I got dared to kiss Angelina.  I told them I wouldn’t.  George even tried bribing me with Galleons.” 

Hermione stayed quiet.  Fred sighed and pressed on.

“George pulled me to the side and asked me why I wouldn’t kiss her.  ‘She’s fit,’ he had said.  ‘And you’ve been wanting a girlfriend.  So why not her?’  I started to tell him that I met someone when Angelina brought over a glass of punch.  She said it would calm my nerves about the dare.  So, I drank it.”

Hermione was still silent.  Fred bit his lower lip.  His ears had started to redden again, a sign that he was anxious.  He took out his wand from his back pocket and tapped it against his knee as he stayed in thought.  Small sparks flew out of the end.

“The best way I can describe what happened next is that my vision in front of me shifted,” Fred said.  “Angelina looked like Angelina and then she didn’t.  She had morphed and changed form – in my head, from my eyes – she looked like you.  Sounded like you, smelled like you.  She was you.  We went into the Great Hall and you - sorry, I mean Angelina, pulled me into a darkened corner of the room.  And then we were snogging.  And I was smelling you and hearing you and feeling you.  All I knew was you.  Whatever Angelina had brewed, some sort of modified Love Potion, I expect… it only worked for a few minutes.  I came to when I heard McGonagall clear her throat.  And then when I turned around and saw you, the real you, and how hurt and angry you were… Merlin, I didn’t know I could feel so faint so quickly.  All the blood seemed to leave my face.  I was confused as to how there could be two of you at once and I wiped the lipstick off my mouth – it didn’t taste like your lips anymore.  Then when I looked back over and saw that it was Angelina beside me, looking very sheepish I might add, I realized what I did.  That I hadn’t been snogging you.  That I had actually snogged her.  And I understood in that second what that meant for you – and for us.”

Hermione’s hands rested on her lap.  She drummed her fingers against her knees.  She didn’t know what to say if she could say anything at all.  It all sounded very convincing but she couldn’t be sure. 

“Hermione, I felt stick to my stomach,” Fred added, breaking her train of thought.  His voice was heavy with emotion.  She watched him set his wand on her bed, stand up and walk around the edge of the large mattress.  The floorboards creaked under his feet as he traveled.  He then knelt at her feet on the floor and looked up at her with visible tears in his eyes. 

“I just kept watching you, seeing your face change – I realized that you had been sick and all I wanted to do was come over and hold you.  To apologize, to explain.  After you left the Great Hall, I told Angelina to sod off and took my cup of punch over to Snape.  I begged him to test it or to test me to see what Angelina made.  I’ll have the results by the time I get back from break.”

He looked down at where her fingers tapped her knees anxiously upon her lap and placed his hands over hers, holding them lightly.  Hermione didn’t pull away and forced herself to meet his eyes.  Whatever he needed to say, she wanted to hear it, no matter how difficult it was for her.

“Of course, Angelina now understands why I was so pissed.  She took advantage of me and that makes me feel,” He searched for the right word.  “Dirty?  Used?  Anyway,  I don’t think she and I will be hanging out again for a very long time.  Or at least, we won't hang out alone.”  Fred took a deep breath. “And I also found George and Lee after and explained why I was so mad.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.  “You told them?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.  Her heartbeat quickened in her chest.  Fred nodded.

“I told them that I had fucked up and that I was starting to fall for you and that I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t come to the Burrow today,” he replied.  “For the record, I’m happy you came.”

“So, Angelina, George, and Lee know about us?” Hermione asked.  “But no one else?”

Fred shrugged.  “I mean, I reckon my family figured something out by the way you just left me to die down there and suffer at their mercy,” he teased.  “But I don’t think they understand how connected we are – or were, I should say.  I understand if you don’t want to continue this.” 

He hesitantly brought his left hand up to her right cheek and cupped her face.  Hermione squirmed in her seat but didn’t move away from his touch on her cheek.  It was comforting and confusing at the same time.

“I know that essentially being drugged with some kind of potion doesn’t excuse the fact that I kissed someone else.  But I did think Angelina was you.  Bloody hell, if I had some Veritaserum on me from Snape’s cupboard, you would know how much I thought Angelina was you.”  His thumb brushed across her cheek.  “I smelled your shampoo, my lips were on your skin, on your lips.  I saw that secret birthmark on your neck.  All the things I wanted to do with you – that I still want to do with you, the real you, if you’ll have me.”

“Fred, I don’t know –”

The Weasley twin lowered his hand from her face and squeezed both of her hands in his once again. 

“I’m comfortable with waiting until Snape has results to prove to you that it wasn’t really me – well, it was me but that I wasn’t in the proper headspace,” Fred said.  “I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

When she said nothing further, he decided to say something more.  It seemed as if his thoughts were processing faster than he could speak.  

“Look, Hermione, I know that I fucked up,” he told her. His lips trembled and he spoke with emotion. “I meant what I said the other day – I am starting to fall in love with you.  I didn’t expect to suddenly wake up one day and be driven mad by my little brother’s best friend.  I didn’t expect to be addicted to kissing you or pressing you up against a wall or a door and our sneaking off.  I couldn’t predict that whenever I flirt with you when no one else is looking, the way you blush drives me mental.  When I’m not with you, I feel – I feel like a part of me is missing.”

He took another deep breath.

“My point is, I don’t reckon that I know exactly when you attached yourself to a part of my heart and decided to stay there but you have.  I’m a boy obsessed, Granger.”

Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes.  This was all she had wanted to hear and yet it had come at what cost?  Her voice was weak when she finally spoke up again.  “I don’t know if I can trust you,” she said. 

“And I completely understand,” Fred replied.  His brown eyes flickered back and forth as his eyes searched her face.  “Honestly, I wouldn’t know how to trust me either, if I were in your shoes.  But what I do know is that Snape will have the answers from the potion-spiked punch and when we get those answers, that could maybe be our first step to fixing this.  And I want to fix this.”

Hermione pulled her hands out from Fred’s gentle hold.  “I think – I think we should keep our distance from each other,” she said at last.  “Until Snape can prove that what you’re saying is true.”

“We can go downstairs and ask George,” Fred offered.  “He saw how upset I was last night.  I couldn’t have made up that level of anger and embarrassment if I tried.”

Hermione shook her head.  “He’s your brother, he’s biased when it comes to your happiness.”

“Well, you’re like a sister to him, so I reckon he’s not as biased as you’d think,” Fred replied.  “In fact, he’d probably choose to defend you over me.” He slowly stood up from his kneeling position on the floor and held his left hand down towards her.  “Can I help you carry your presents downstairs?” he offered. 

Hermione looked from the face of the freckled wizard down to his offered hand.  She put her right hand in his and allowed him to help her up.  They were standing so close, they were practically chest-to-chest.  His eyes were on her lips.  Her eyes searched his face.

“Freddie,” she began.  She watched his eyelids flutter closed at the sound of his nickname and he let out a sigh. 

“You saying that – it’s like a prayer, Hermione, you have no idea.”

Hermione continued.  “Freddie, I – I want you to know that watching you dance with Angelina last night was hard for me.  Yes, I did have fun with Krum – but I wished that we had gone together.  Honestly, I wish we hadn’t let Rita Skeeter get to us.  She didn’t even know that there was an us.  And besides, she didn't end up coming to the Yule Ball last night, or publishing the article in the first place!”

Fred smirked.  “She’s a bitch that likes to stir the pot,” he agreed.  His left hand broke out lightly from the grasp of her right and he ran his fingers down her right forearm instead.  When they reached her elbow, he lowered his hand from her arm to her waist.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked with a surprised giggle.  “Fred, we just said we’d stay away from each other… keep our distance.”

Fred’s smirk grew a little.  “I’m having one dance with you,” he told her as his right hand picked up her left and held it in the air.  “The dance we should have had together last night.” 

He pulled her a little closer so that her chest was pressed against his.  The redheaded wizard then dropped his head down so that his lips were beside her left ear.  And, so softly that Hermione could barely hear him, Fred Weasley started to sing.  It only took a second for Hermione to recognize the song.  It was Mrs. Weasley’s favourite, sung by Celestina Warbeck: A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.  But he had slowed it down so that it sounded like a love ballad.  They started to waltz slowly around Hermione’s bedroom, the floorboards creaking every once in a while, beneath their weight.

“I’ve got a cauldron full of hot, strong love / And it’s bubbling for you!  Say “Incendio” but that spell’s not as hot as my special witch’s brew! / Don’t you be afraid, come and take a sip of this steamy, tasty treat! / What’s in my cauldron full of hot, strong love will make your life complete!"

Fred stopped singing the words and satisfied himself by humming instead.  In a fluid motion, he stepped backward and lifted Hermione’s left hand over her head.  She twirled around, her cascade of curls flying out from her head in a slow fan, as she spun, and then Fred had led her into their original waltz position.  They continued dancing until Fred had hummed the final note.  Brown eyes met, more sparks ignited. 

“If I have to wait months for your forgiveness, I will,” he told her as he physically let her go.  “I will do whatever it takes to prove that I don’t want to date or snog anyone else.  I just want you.”

Hermione laughed bitterly and looked down at her feet. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said at last.  Fred groaned.

“If you decide to give me a second chance, Hermione, you will never doubt my love for you ever again.”

His words made her prick up and she snapped her head upward to look at him. “Freddie, do you really mean it?”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “What, that I love you?”

Hermione nodded. 

“Yes, I suppose I do!  Though again, I don’t really know when exactly you decided to steal your way into my heart and mind and stay there.  It’s a bit annoying, really. You’re in almost every single one of my waking thoughts, do you know how distracting that is?”  That last part was a joke and it won him a small smile from her lips. 

The younger witch looked down and straightened out her Christmas outfit.  She then looked up at Fred.

“Distance,” she reminded him.  “We are only friends for this entire week – nothing more.”

“Distance,” Fred answered with a small grin.  It was the first step and it was enough for him.  “So, um – do you need any help with carrying your presents downstairs?  I know I already asked you, but I figured I’d ask again.”

Hermione nodded and passed him on her way to the presents.  As she bent over to pick through which ones she wanted him to carry, she heard an odd noise come out of Fred’s mouth.  She stood up and turned her head over her left shoulder to look at him.

“What was that?” she asked with a smirk.  “I haven’t heard you make that sound before.”

Fred blushed but the corners of his mouth were upturned, almost smiling.  “If we are to be only friends for the rest of this week and I’m not allowed to touch you – you shouldn’t be allowed to wear skirts.  Or tights.”

Hermione smirked and cast a brief look over to the closet. It was closed, meaning he had no idea that she had packed alternate jeans for the trip.  She decided to make him suffer, just a little.

“Oh, what a shame that you feel that way, Freddie,” she teased.  “I only seemed to pack skirts for this trip.  I mean, I had to take the opportunity.  Some are just a little too short for the Hogwarts’ dress code.”

Fred’s mouth dropped open.  Before she could say anything else, she picked up a handful of gifts and shoved them into his chest so that he had no choice but to carry them.  “There you are,” she told him.  “And remember, Fred, keep a friendly distance.  And your hands to yourself.”

Fred swallowed hard and composed himself, giving her a nod.  She gathered the rest of the gifts into her arms and he followed after her out of her room.

While she wasn’t even sure she had fully forgiven him, Hermione couldn’t deny – making Fred Weasley sweat a little was going to be fun.  Fred followed her along the corridor and together, they descended the stairs.

“Well, don’t you two look jolly!” Mr. Weasley commented when he laid eyes on the pair of them.  “All those presents are for us?”

“Yes, and they’re all from Hermione,” Fred said, animated.  “She has a heart of gold, this one.”

“Well, how helpful of you to help her bring them down, Fred,” Mrs. Weasley added. 

Fred and Hermione crossed from the bottom of the stairs and placed her gifts around the bottom of the Christmas tree amongst the family’s and Harry’s gifts.  Hermione then moved to sit between Ron and Harry on the couch, with Ron on her left and Harry on her right.  Fred sat on one arm of the couch to the left of Ron, and George sat on the right arm of the couch, on Harry’s other side.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in two patched armchairs.  Lastly, Ginny sat on the floor right by the tree.  She took on the role of reading the name tags on each of the presents and handed them out accordingly, placing them at the feet of their intended.  A small stack grew in front of each person and Hermione’s heart warmed.  She was excited to see what people had received, as she was more about giving than receiving at Christmas time.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley opened their gifts first.  From Harry, Mr. Weasley had received a Muggle book about how mechanical objects evolved throughout history, from the catapult to the tank.  The Weasley patriarch looked as though he was going to cry.   He always loved learning more about Muggle items and this was the greatest gift he could have thought of.  He leaned over in his armchair and patted the Chosen One on his back.

“Thank you, my boy.  This is very thoughtful of you.”

Mrs. Weasley received a framed picture of the Weasley family with the addition of Harry and Hermione taken on the train platform at the end of third year.  Colin Creevey, a second-year student, had taken it on his camera and sent it to Harry for a keepsake.  The mother ran her fingers over the glass of the frame, touching each face lightly. 

“Oh, Harry, you’re an absolute dear,” she murmured.  “This has to be placed somewhere special, where everyone visiting can see it.”  She set it on the kitchen counter for now, determined to find a better spot for it later.

From Harry, Fred and George received chocolates while Ginny received a new set of quills, since she had complained about hers not being as sharp anymore.  Ron received an official Chudley Canons hooded jumper, which he put on right away.

Now it was everyone’s turn to open the presents from the Weasleys.

From Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione received a new pair of woolen knitted mittens in a soft lavender colour that had a fleece lining sewn inside.  Mr. Weasley had charmed them to stay warm once they were on her hands.  Hermione smiled gratefully and made a mental note to pack them in her suitcase the moment she went back upstairs.  She set them to the side.

From Ginny, Hermione received a voucher for complimentary tea service at Madame Puddifoot’s in Hogsmeade – a best friend date.  They would be served tea and cakes, all covered for free, for a day of Hermione’s choosing.  Hermione looked over to the youngest Weasley and reached out her arms, inviting Ginny to come over for a hug.  As the youngest Weasley got up and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around her, Hermione grinned.

“This is so sweet, Ginny!  You’re right, we do need a proper girl’s day! I want to try Madame Puddifoot’s new lemon bars.  They sound delicious.”  When Ginny had sat back down at the foot of the tree, Hermione opened her present from Ron.  He had picked up a new notebook for her.  It had a soft leather-bound cover with an embossed image of some baby’s breath and lavender.

“Oh, Ron, this is beautiful!” she exclaimed as she ran her thumb over the pages.  “Where did you find this?”

“He asked me to pick it up from Flourish and Blotts for him,” Mrs. Weasley replied from her chair. The matriarch looked quite proud of her son. “He said he had seen it back in the summer and wanted to make sure that you got it.  He did chores throughout the summer to earn the money to buy it for you.”

Ron was blushing.  “It’s nothing, Hermione, really.  I just thought you’d – “

Hermione wrapped her arm around Ron’s waist and leaned in to give him a little side hug, as best she could anyway with them both being on the couch.  As Ron returned her hug, he blushed further. 

“Hermione, really, it’s nothing,” he insisted.

“I’m sorry that we fought last night,” Hermione said as they ended the hug.  “I know you were just looking out for me.  You didn’t word it the best but I understand.”

Ron laughed a little.  “Yeah… sorry about that.”

The other Weasleys looked confused.  George, who was perched on the right arm of the couch beside Harry, pointed a finger between the two fourth-years.  “You two fought last night?” he asked.

Fred, who sat on the left arm of the couch beside Ron, stiffened in place and glared down at his younger brother.  “What did you do?” he demanded, his eyes flashing with imminent anger.

Ron visibly cowered under his brother’s gaze.  When he spoke, his words came out in a squeak.

“I just said to her that I didn’t think Krum was the right choice of a date for the ball!” he said quickly.

“And who would have been the better choice, Ron?” Ginny retorted from her place at the tree.  “You?” She giggled at her own joke as did George.  But Fred and Ron weren’t laughing.  The older Weasley looked like he would murder his brother where he sat.

“Well, at least she knows me,” Ron snapped in response to Ginny.  “All we know about Krum is –”

“That’s quite enough of that,” Mrs. Weasley interjected.  “We don’t want our Christmas spoiled.  Keep the bickering away.  And Fred, mind your attitude.”  As Fred visibly deflated from his mother’s threat, Mrs. Weasley turned her attention back to Hermione.  “What gift are you opening next, dear?”

Hermione decided on opening Harry’s present next.  It was a little device made of wood, shaped like an odd triangle with two curved sides and one straight. It also had a larger hole at the uppermost point of the circle.  Hermione looked to Harry, confused.

“It’s for when you’re reading,” Harry said, excited.  “You slip your thumb through the hole like this.”  He placed the device upon her thumb like a ring.  “Then, when you’re holding your book in your hand, you place the pointed part downward into the crease of the binding so that the curved sides are flush to the pages – and it holds your book open.  No more slips or accidentally losing a page.”  He took the notebook from Ron off of Hermione’s lap and opened it.  “Try it!”

Hermione adjusted the point of the triangle so that it faced downward and pressed it into the centre of the binding.  The two curves sides held the pages open at the perfect angle where she could read.  It was an innovative little thing – a bit gimmicky to be sure – but so practical for her.  She loved it.

Her last gift was from Fred.  It was a small box made of black cardboard with a red ribbon wrapped around it.  There was a little note underneath the ribbon’s bow.   Hermione pulled the folded piece of parchment out and opened it, revealing what was scrawled inside. 

Welcome home.

Perplexed, Hermione pulled at one end of the ribbon so that the bow unfurled, and opened the black box.  Inside was a key.

“It’s symbolic,” Fred explained before Hermione could ask.  “But the other day when I ran into you in Hogsmeade, you had said that it was hard for you to be fully yourself at home.  And so, I had Dad make you up a key.  You don’t need a key for our house, of course, since we use the Floo Network or Side-Apparate with Mum and Dad, and obviously, you’re welcome at any time anyway, but after talking with them, my gift to you is having this be a second home, where you feel comfortable.  I hope that’s okay.”

There was silence in the living room except for the crackle of the fireplace.  Hermione didn’t know what to say.  She looked from Fred’s face to the faces of the rest of the Weasleys.

“Thank you,” she said in a rush of air.  She felt tears spring up in her eyes and she blinked rapidly to hold them at bay.  “You – Fred, you have no idea how much these means.  This is beyond sweet, you’re a darling.”

She got up from her spot on the couch and passed where Ron sat to wrap her arms around Fred in a friendly embrace.  Fred took the chance to pull her just a little closer and he smiled as her cheek brushed hers.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he said.

“Happy Christmas, Fred,” Hermione replied before she pulled back from the hug and returned to her seat on the couch.

“Yes, Happy Christmas, dear,” Mrs. Weasley chimed in from her seat on the armchair.  “We do so love having you and Harry here, whenever you’re able to visit.”

As the Weasleys and Harry continued to open gifts, Hermione took a gingerbread cookie from the same plate as before.  It had been placed on the coffee table in front of the couch.  She ate two and was onto a third when she heard voices thanking her.  She looked around the room.

For Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione had made little love vouchers. They were all sweet in nature: Free voucher for a trip to the Muggle cinema, Free voucher for a romantic dinner cooked by Mr. Weasley, and so on and so forth.  Hermione knew that with looking after so many children and with the hours that Mr. Weasley sometimes worked, Ron’s parents didn’t have much quality time together.  Both of the Weasleys looked at her, stunned at her gift.

“Putting me to work, eh?” Mr. Weasley teased as he read the dinner voucher over his wife’s shoulder.  “It’s well worth it, I’ve been meaning to do something more for Molly.  Thank you, Hermione.”  He kissed his wife’s shoulder and then her cheek.  “How about it, Mollywobbles?”

Molly blushed and shooed her husband away for the second time that night.  “Arthur, really?”  But she was giggling like a schoolgirl.  “Thank you, Hermione,” she managed to say as she tried to regain her composure.

Harry had opened a little ceramic statue of a Hippogriff.  He often wrote to Sirius and knew Buckbeak was with his godfather.  It was also to remind him of how much their adventure last year had meant to her.  “Wow, Hermione, it looks just like him,” Harry said, referring to Buckbeak, as the ceramic statue bowed to Harry.  He bowed his head back.

Ron opened his present to find a new copy of the Exploding Snap game as well as an enlarged package of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans.

Ginny had received some perfume that she had mentioned she liked in passing to Hermione one day.  It was only a small roll-on sample but it smelled of honeysuckle and mint, quite fresh.  Ginny loved it and opened it straight away, rolling some perfume onto her throat and wrists.

 George received a box of Muggle Bang Party Snaps, the little white snaps wrapped in the thin white paper.  When a person squeezed them, pinched them, or threw them, they would snap and pop loudly.  “I figured you could use these for some pranks,” Hermione explained.  “But do not use them on me.” 

George grinned cheekily.  “Hermione, these are brilliant,” he replied as he pocketed the little box.  “Maybe I’ll even use some this week, who knows?”  This earned a giggle from Hermione and Ginny and groans from Harry and Ron. 

Lastly, Fred’s present was picked up from the floor at his feet and the Weasley twin held it in his hand.  It was small in width, though a few inches deep, and Hermione watched in anticipation as he removed the twine and sprigs of nettles and unwrapped the box from its paper prison.  When it was free, he slowly opened it and his mouth dropped open.

Inside, there was a collectible playing card representing the Irish Quidditch team.  Knowing that the team was Fred’s favourite, Hermione had bought the card while at the Quidditch World Cup.  It was encased in clear plastic and charmed so that none could open it.  But there was something else inside as well.  Fred lifted out the card and handed it across the width of the couch for George to see it too before his hand went back into the box.  He pulled out a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet.

It was an advertisement from when the Daily Prophet had listed shop vacancies in both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley a few weeks back.

“Listen,” Hermione began.  “I know that you have said that you might want to do something bigger and better after school is done, something to do with your inventions that you’re starting up.”  She pointed to the paper.  “I want you and George to keep this – to realize your dream may be closer than you think.”  She then pointed inside the box as well.  “There’s also a few salt water taffies that might be hiding in there amongst the newspaper, I know they’re your favourite sweets.”

Fred didn’t know what to say.  He looked from the card, which was now in his father’s hands having been passed on from George to the newspaper clipping and the sweets still inside the box.

“Do you like it?” Hermione asked, tucking her curls behind her right ear with her fingers.

Fred gulped and then nodded.  “I love it, Hermione. George and I, we both do.  Thank you for believing in us.”  He placed the newspaper clipping back in the box and crossed the room to collect his card back from his father.  On his way back to his seat, he stopped in front of Hermione to lean down and give her another hug.  “Small gestures go a long way.  This means a lot.”

Hermione smiled up at him when he pulled away.  “Small gestures can certainly mean more than words,” she said.  Fred caught her double meaning and nodded, returning to his spot on the left arm of the couch. 

The rest of the evening panned out with carols and singing, eating more sweets, and with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley having a bit too much wine.  When Hermione went to bed and changed into her pyjamas, her smile was wide.  She hadn’t thought that when she had woken up this morning that her Christmas would be a happy one.  And while she hadn’t forgiven Fred yet, or was even sure she truly believed him until Snape showed them the proof, it was a start.  Her heart wasn’t as angry as it had been that morning.

As she got into bed and turned off her light, Hermione could hear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley continue to carol from downstairs, the wine making it hard for them to stop.

Sleep in heavenly peace…

And that’s exactly what Hermione did!.

A/N: I hope you all like this version of the chapter better!  No spice to be had, but a lot of fluff!  Again, I appreciate those of you who stuck by me for the previous version of this chapter and I thank you for supporting my writing!  It’s a great outlet for me and I love doing what makes me happy!

Remember to leave Kudos if you haven’t already and as always, drop your thoughts in the comments! 

Cheers, everyone!  New update coming soon!