'Twas the night before Christmas...


Three heavily cloaked figures appeared, stark against the whiteness of the snow scattered landscape. Each burdened with a heavy bag, they crunched through the fresh snow to the door of a tall, lopsided house. The tallest figure rapped on the door, and after a muffled exchange, yellow light flooded onto the white snow, and the three figures vanished inside.

Into a far warmer, welcoming world.

“Ron!�

Harry Potter smiled as his best friend, Ronald Weasley, was buried in his mother’s embrace. Then Hermione Granger joined the hug, and Harry found himself being swept in. He glanced up to see Arthur Weasley’s face smiling over his wife’s, and his arm on his shoulder.

“Welcome home, son.�

“Oh, it’s going to be so nice to have all of my children home again.� Molly Weasley’s muffled voice came from the midst of the arms and legs and damp traveling cloaks–damp not only from melting snow. As everyone reluctantly separated, Harry realized that his face was flushed with pleasure.

“Now, all of you hang up those wet cloaks," Molly gestured towards the coat tree next to the door, “And go put your things away. We’ll be eating at eight o’clock. Hermione, you’ll be rooming with Ginny, if you don’t mind, dear, and Harry, you’ll be in Percy’s room. I expect that he’ll be busy at the Ministry tonight.�

Harry glanced at Arthur Weasley, who avoided his eyes. Harry couldn’t help but notice that his ears were bright red, and Molly had turned her face away.

Talking merrily, Ron and Hermione raced up the stairs, but Harry lingered in the kitchen as Molly and Arthur resumed their place at the table, supervising various vegetables which were busily peeling themselves.

“Erm, I have something that I should give you while no one else is about.�

Harry set his bag at his feet and knelt over it. The two Weasleys exchanged glances.

“Here Mrs. Weasley,� Harry rummaged for a moment, then pulled out a flat, square, velvet covered case. “This is for you.�

“Harry,� Molly Weasley replied, suddenly self-conscious, and not reaching out to accept the proffered package, “We don’t exchange gifts until tomorrow morning.�

“Oh, this isn’t a gift. I’m just returning something,� Harry said, grinning.

“Returning…?� Molly eyed him curiously, then finally took the box from his hands. “Arthur, help me with this.�

She set the package on the kitchen table, and the two of them puzzled over the Goblin-crafted clasp for a moment before finally deciphering the appropriate sequence. With a click the catch released, and the lid slowly lifted upwards. Cold fire swept the room as the ambient light was captured and refracted by an incredible assortment of diamonds and sapphires encrusting a narrow silver circlet. Molly Weasley’s gasp cut through the silence.

“Oh, Harry.�

Her face lit with dawning comprehension and joy, Molly couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of the glittering band.

‘Where ever did you find it, son?� Arthur Weasley was a bit more composed, but Harry could see a tear trickling down his cheek.

“Well, it was in … bad shape when we found it,� Harry thought it best to skirt over certain of the details of what had happened after they found the Prewett family heirloom, “So I took it to a Goblin craftsman. I, er, hope that he made it as good as new.�

Arthur Weasley shot Harry a look, but didn’t press his original question.

“Oh Harry, Great Auntie Muriel will be so pleased.� Molly finally managed to tear her eyes away from the tiara, which seemed to glow in it’s own light, then regretfully closed the lid again. “Oh, Harry!�

Suddenly Harry Potter found himself engulfed in a Molly Weasley hug. He could feel the wet through his robes where her tears soaked through, but he really didn’t care.�

“All of our family, and now this.� Harry looked over Molly’s head at Arthur Weasley, who cleared his throat gruffly, taking off his glasses to rub them with his handkerchief. “What can we ever do to repay you, m’boy?�

“I think that this will do just fine, sir.� Harry let his arms encircled the happily weeping woman, who squeezed him even more tightly. “Just fine.�


And all through the house...


Slowly Harry made his way toward Ron’s attic bedroom. All that they had been through to retrieve that artifact had been worth it, just to see the look on the Weasley’s faces. Harry found that his face was wreathed in a smile. Though it most certainly hadn’t been easy.

Suddenly his footsteps paused on a landing, outside a door through which he could hear the excited voices of two young women. Ginny’s room. Well, some things are easier than others. I think that I’ll save that one for later. He grinned wryly. Chicken.

Finding the door with the sign ‘Ronald’s Room’ closed, he tapped lightly. At a muffled “C’mon�, Harry pushed open the door. And paused, startled. It took him a moment to realize what was different. Somehow Ron’s room seemed smaller, more subdued, far less garish without all of the Chudley Cannons posters on the walls. The violently orange Cannons bedspread had been replaced with one scarlet trimmed in gold. There was no sign of the bullfrog on the window sill. In fact, the only decoration, the only picture visible at all was a silver framed photograph of a waving Hermione Granger on Ron’s nightstand. Harry knew that it had been taken at Bill and Fleur’s wedding the previous summer, for it’s twin graced Ron’s nightstand both at Grimmauld Place and in Gryffindor Tower.

“Hey mate, now that we’re alone for a mo’, I wanted to show you what I got Hermione for Christmas.� Ron’s voice was eager, and suddenly Harry desperately hoped that it wasn’t a necklace that read “’Mi-‘Mi�.

Harry sat on the edge of Ron's bed as his best friend crossed the room and rummaged in his bags. Much to Harry’s surprise, Ron turned back with a large, heavy book in his hands.

“A book?� Somehow, Harry couldn’t believe that his friend was quite this dense. “Ron, I know that she likes books, but–�

“Not just any book, Harry,� Ron replied excitedly. He sat down on the bed next to Harry, and thumped the book down on Harry’s lap. Then, almost as an afterthought, he pulled out his wand, and silently waved it towards the door. “Constant vigilance! Can’t have Hermione hearing about this one!�

Harry shook his head in disbelief, and looked down at the tome resting on his legs. His green eyes narrowed as he read the title. “Hogwarts, A History? Ron, she already has this one!�

“Not like this one, mate. It’s the newest edition. It has loads more stuff in it about you. Even has something in it about me and her.� Ron was grinning broadly now.

And Harry couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why.

“But Ron–“

“Seriously, Harry, it’s got something special in it.� Suddenly Ronald Weasley’s grin vanished. “Open it and see.�

“Ron, I don’t care what it says about me.� Harry was getting just a bit frustrated with his best friend. He’d been around Ron and Hermione’s relationship too long, and he wondered why Ron just didn’t get it after all this time. “I don’t care what it says about me, or you, or–“

“Harry. Open the book.� Ron’s words were dead serious, but now there was a mischievous light in his eyes.

Harry sighed, and acquiesced, lifting the heavy cover. How was he going to get it through Ron’s head–

Harry’s eyes widened.

Inside the book was a small niche, about two inches on a side, cut into the pages. No, enchanted into the pages, for Harry saw how each sentence continued on the other side of the gap. Thank goodness Ron knew better than to cut up a perfectly good book. Hermione would have murdered him. And nestled into the small crevice was a tiny leather covered box.

Harry’s eyes jerked to his friend–who was beaming back at him.

“Wha--?�

“If you didn’t figure it out, neither will Hermione.� Ron laughed happily. “Go ahead. Take it out, open it. It won’t bite. Fred and George have been nowhere near it, I promise.�

Harry eyed the box nestled closely into it’s hidey-hole, then pulled out his wand.

“Accio.� The small box slipped free of the book. In his hand, Harry could see embossed upon it the same mark of the Goblin who had repaired Aunt Muriel’s tiara.

“You didn’t.� Harry didn’t even bother glancing at Ron.

“I did. Open it.�

Harry lifted the hinged lid, and gasped. Ron had managed to do it … right.

On the silk in the center of the box glowed a graceful golden ring. A circle of rich rubies glowed with fire about a large, brilliantly sparkling diamond.

Harry knew that Ron had been delighted to realize that all of the Death Eaters that they had captured had had a price on their heads. Not to mention the generous reward from Zacharias Smith’s astonished father for returning Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup–from whom the trio had originally learned of the Goblin craftsman. Harry even was aware that both Ron and Hermione had been carefully salting away their substantial shares–and now it was perfectly clear what Ron had done with his. Suddenly he wondered just what Hermione had planned.

“Ron, she’ll love it.�

“You think?� Ron suddenly sounded uncertain.

“I think.� Harry knew quite well that Hermione Granger would have been ecstatic with a diamond chip on gold plate, but this was incredible.

“Seven rubies?� Harry looked closer. “For the most powerfully magical number?�

Harry found himself whapped with a pillow. Hastily he closed the lid on the glittering ring. Ron was laughing again.

“What?�

“Mate, you’ve been chasing Voldemort too long,� Ron chortled.

Harry turned toward his friend. Ron let the pillow drop into his lap. Suddenly Harry realized that Ron’s ears were bright red. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, and held a note that Harry had never heard before.

“Well, it’s rubies for obvious reasons, same with the gold.� Ron cleared his throat. If anything, his voice was now even quieter. “But there’re seven of them because we’ve known each other for seven years. And a diamond because … because I want her to be with me forever.�

Harry stared at his friend in amazement.

“All right. I’ve been in here almost an hour, and you’re not drinking anything from any hip flask until I see just who you really are.�

Harry’s only answer was a pillow in the face. The two of them laughed uproariously as Harry slipped the box back into it’s slot, then closed the cover over it.

“I can only think of one thing to make it better, mate.�

“Oh, what’s that?� Ron looked at him quizzically.

Harry tapped the book with his wand. The lettering writhed, then read Hermione, A History.

Not a Kreacher was stirring...


Harry Potter trotted down the stairs, a square box gripped carefully in his hands. He could still recall the words on the invitation that had arrived via Lorrel, the now retired Errol’s successor.

“And Harry, dear, since we’re having a blended Christmas with so many visiting, we’re asking that everyone bring an ornament for the tree. That way we’ll have a little bit of home for all of us. Now, mind that you don’t forget! Molly�

And Harry had the perfect item. He hadn’t expected much from Godric’s Hollow, other than a chance to be close to his parents again, but he’d found a few things in their magically rebuilt home.

Hermione had gasped when she had run across it. An ornament from Harry’s very first Christmas, obviously carefully packed away awaiting his second. A sparkling glass globe–complete with a Wizarding picture of a beaming James and Lily Potter holding their infant son.

Harry.

He reached the bottom of the steps, and spared a hand to wave at the jolly crowd surrounding the kitchen table sipping eggnog who had all called “Harry!� Quickly, however, he ducked toward the living room.

Where he stopped, startled, at the sight that greeted him. He barely registered Ron and Hermione in the room.

Fleur Weasley was draped languorously across her husband Bill’s lap at one end of the couch.

But that wasn’t what had caught Harry off guard.

For at the other end of the couch, Nymphadora Tonks was draped languorously across Remus Lupin’s legs, in obvious and blatant mimicry of the woman next to her. And as Harry’s eyes swept to her, Tonks met his eye, grimaced–and suddenly her short bubblegum pink hair was long and silvery. With a deliberate wink Tonks sighed … and rested her head on a smirking Lupin’s chest.

Fleur seemed completely oblivious–until she slowly rested her head on Bill’s chest. Complete with an identical sigh.

Choking down a chuckle, Harry turned to share the laugh with his two best friends … only to find Hermione leaning against an upholstered armchair. Eyeing Ron ... speculatively. For his part, Ronald Weasley seemed to be completely unaware of absolutely anything going on in the room–but his ears were crimson as he stared at his feet.

It struck Harry how amazingly similar that armchair was to those by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Suddenly Harry decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and headed like an arrow for the tree in the corner. Very fortunately placed so that no one in the room could see his face, for he thought that his cheeks were about to split with mirth. Fighting back a sputter, Harry buried his face in the fragrant pine boughs, barely registering the ornaments that drifted past his eyes.

Until he saw something that swept every thought from his mind.

There, in a crevice between two branches, hidden deep in the shadows, his own face stared back at him from a golden bauble. Harry didn’t even have to read the words.

“Have A Very Harry Christmas!�

In the stunned recesses of his mind, Harry offered Dobby a heartfelt apology.

Sliding the lid from the wooden box in his hands, Harry slipped his ornament onto the branch next to Ginny’s.

**


Ron and Harry sat with Tonks and Remus Lupin, as well as Molly and Arthur Weasley in the kitchen. The men had decided that it was their responsibility to clean up–which, Harry reflected, was a far different matter than in a Muggle household, for the brush merrily scrubbed away at the pots as they chatted over hot cocoa.

Harry was pleased at the change in Remus Lupin. The full moon might be some time away, but evidently his time with Tonks had been good for him, for not only was he dressed in crisp and obviously new robes (Harry could only assume that risking your life as a highly skilled Auror paid very well–especially in time of war), but many of the creases on his face had relaxed.

“That’ll be Fred and George this time,� Ron said, laughing, and he and Harry left the table to open the door.

They were startled to find two cloaked figures, one leaning heavily against the other. Harry’s eyes were drawn to the ragged blond hair…

Through no conscious volition of his own, Harry found his wand leaping into his hand.

Very slowly Severus Snape raised his right hand. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Potter. Sir.� There was no sarcasm in his weary voice. Harry tore his eyes from that gray, lined face to see two wands, held by the tip, proffered to him.

‘Arthur. Arthur! Help me with this poor boy!�

Harry felt Molly Weasley jostle past him, but found himself rooted to the spot. He could feel a crescendo of emotions crashing through him, and couldn’t make any sense of them. Even as his eyes rose to the tired, black ones of Severus Snape.

The man who had killed Albus Dumbledore.

“No time for a stretcher,� Arthur Weasley was lifting Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be unnaturally light for a seventeen year old Wizard.

“Arthur, take him to Ronald’s room. It’ll be quieter up there. I’ve got to get some extra blankets, and some hot soup…�

Indeed, as Harry tore his eyes away from Severus Snape, he could see that his old enemy was shivering, and there appeared to be blood smeared across his cheek. Even stranger, he wasn’t even protesting entering a house that he had more than once referred to as a hovel.

Molly’s anxious voice quickly vanished into the depths of the house.

Harry found himself staring into Severus Snape’s hated face again. And…why had he said ‘Merry Christmas’? Harry knew that Ron Weasley’s wand had dropped, and he found his own shaking. Merry Christmas? It’s all about…Christmas?

Harry felt a presence at his shoulder, then a body squeezed past him.

“Hot cocoa, Severus?� Remus Lupin silently offered a steaming mug.

Harry was struck by the dichotomy. Remus Lupin, standing in the snow in his new robes, offering warmth. Severus Snape, worn and tattered, in faded robes patched and mended, even with a large rent at one side, face worn and wan. His once greasy hair was streaked with gray and raggedly cut. Harry was forcibly reminded of a train trip four years previously. And just who that man had become.

“I believe that depends on Mr. Potter, Remus.�

Suddenly Harry realized that Severus Snape had not yet moved, except when he was relieved of the burden of Draco Malfoy. He still held two wands extended in his hand. Extended to Harry. Wand tips pointing back toward himself.

Christmas. Forgiveness.

Slowly Harry’s left hand reached out, and grasped the two wands. After a long moment, he deliberately drew them back from Snape’s grasp, and let his wand hand fall. Beside him he heard a sigh of relief from Ron–echoed by several others unseen behind Harry.

With two small pops, Harry saw Fred and George Apparate just beyond Snape and Lupin, arms full of packages. Their faces were suddenly dumbstruck.

Good grief, I’ve got an audience.

“Merry Christmas." Harry paused. "Severus.�


Not even a mouse.


With the hot cocoa now inside the exhausted one-time Professor, Remus Lupin had hustled a weakly protesting Severus Snape up the stairs to where Draco was being tended, bearing enough hot chicken soup for both men. Harry felt strange seeing Severus Snape, not only in the confines of The Burrow, but so utterly surrendered, if not defeated.

Most of the older residents of the House that night were either tending to Draco, had retreated to bed, or had found other pursuits before the fireplace in the living room, (Charlie Weasley had finally arrived, and was playing Wizard Chess against Bill and Fleur), but the younger set was huddled around the kitchen table.

Harry was more than aware of Ginny Weasley sitting in the chair next to him, and he had been surprised when she had marched from the living room – and promptly ejected Ron from that particular seat. To Fred and George’s shouted laughter. He had a strange suspicion that Ginny had just been somewhere in the immediate vicinity of the Christmas tree.

The mugs on the table had progressed from hot cocoa, to mulled butterbeer, to eggnog spiced by something from a bottle that Fred and George had slipped from their robes, and Ron, amazingly enough, was talking about Rosmerta’s finest mead.

Suddenly there was a pounding on the heavy wooden door.

“I wonder who that could be.� Ron murmured, then looked sharply around. Without a word, everyone at the table rose, drawing their wands.

The group arranged themselves carefully, Harry and Ron flanking Ginny, with Fred and George over her shoulders. Hermione slipped behind the overloaded cloak rack, out of sight of the doorway, eyes wide but wand extended.

Harry nodded at the others, and with a wave of his wand, the door flew open. A solitary figure was revealed, silhouetted against the snowy backdrop, and Harry heard Ginny gasp.

“Merry Christmas, everyone.� Percy Weasley, his arms loaded with packages, stood hesitantly in the doorway.

The silence stretched, then Ginny’s wand fell. Harry allowed his to fall as well. Ron dropped his wand as Hermione stepped from behind the hall tree to join him. George and Fred’s, however, remained pointed straight at Percy. After a long moment, a harsh voice rasped in Harry’s ear.

“Well, all that I know is that there had better be something awfully good there–“

“--with my name on.� George finished as their wands dropped. "Now get in here, you prat."

December 7, 1941. Pearl Harbor Day

Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men.

Harry Potter woke with a start, right hand absently groping for his wand, before he recognized his surrounding, and that he was actually clad in pajamas for a change. No wand at the ready, he was unaccustomedly safe from attack, nestled in the heart of the Burrow. No battles to fight today, no Horcruxes to discover, find and destroy, just warmth and love amongst all of the people that Harry cared most for in all the world.

A loud snore, a long familiar snore, punctuated that thought, and Harry sighed and opened his eyes. In the predawn hours of the morning, it was still dark, but moonlight flooded Fred and George’s room. On the cot next to his was Ron Weasley, face turned toward the ceiling, mouth wide open. With all of the guests present, plus Snape and Draco ensconced in Ron’s room at the top of the stairs, he, Ron and Percy had been shoe-horned in with Fred and George.

At another long snort from Ron, Harry gave up all hope—of ever returning to sleep, at least—and quietly got to his feet. Grabbing his glasses, he stepped to the window, and peered out over the bright, snowy landscape. The full moon cast every shadow into stark relief, but Harry didn’t see the gnarled trunks and limbs of the trees in the orchard, or the snow muffled outline of the Weasley’s garden. No, his mind was on the strange tale that Severus Snape had told the night before, of the months that he and Draco had spent hiding, fleeing for their lives—and the battle that had left both men tattered, battered and torn.

In a way, Harry wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t hard to tie certain of his own encounters with Death Eaters with certain of Snape and Draco’s narrow escapes. Reinforcements had to be drawn from somewhere, after all. The two had been very fortunate. Of course, Harry had largely been on the offensive, rather than running, so that was a huge advantage. And as a companion, Harry knew that he’d never trade Ron and Hermione for Draco—or Snape.

Harry turned away from the window, and as he did, Fred and George’s bed caught his eye, and a sudden grin crossed his face. With only two cots able to fit in the room, Percy had been forced to sleep with Fred and George. As the lights had gone out, late the night before, Harry had heard the twins insisting that Percy have the pillows. Now he could see why.

Fred and George were both sleeping with their heads at the foot of the bed. Harry watched as Percy, between them, groaned softly in his sleep, turning his head—from Fred’s feet to George’s. And quickly back again. Harry suddenly had a suspicion that Fred and George didn’t offer a line of foot powders at their joke shop—yet. As Harry passed the foot of the bed, he saw that both Fred and George had clothespins fastened securely over their noses. Shaking with silent laughter, Harry slipped on his dressing gown, opened the door and quietly made his way downstairs.

As he had suspected, the house was was deserted. A warm glow gleamed from the stove in the kitchen, and Harry could see the fixings for the day’s dinner awaiting Molly’s attention. Indeed, the Christmas turkey was sitting on the drainboard, drumsticks crossed and humming a merry carol. Somewhat off-key, Harry thought, but he didn’t want to be critical on Christmas.

Instead, he hastened down the hallway to the living room. With a sweep of his wand, Harry lit the wall sconces, glancing hastily at the couch to make sure that someone hadn’t bedded down there. Confident of his privacy, he stepped over to the Christmas tree in the corner, and pulled back a couple of boughs to find the hidden crevice there.

Harry was immediately startled to find not two, but three ornaments hanging together. His first thought was to wonder just what Fred and George might have packed into a Christmas ornament, but when he leaned cautiously forward found two familiar ornaments with a third. On the outside, his own face beamed back at him over Have a Very Harry Christmas, the ornament that Ginny had hung in the Room of Requirement. Opposite that tiny sphere hung the image of James, Lily and baby Harry. Yet he couldn’t quite make out what was on the third glass globe. It seemed to be a running figure…

Reaching into his pocket, a murmured Lumos brought a flare of light to his wandtip. Stretching his wand between the branches, his breath caught as he recognized the figure portrayed. Ginny Weasley. Hardly unexpected, but more specifically, a slight, ten year-old Ginny, tears in her eyes and laughing as she ran, calling out to her brothers on the Hogwarts Express.

Only in this case, on this branch, the ornament was positioned so that Ginny was crying and laughing, calling out, running after Harry. His heart seemed to seize in his chest. Either Molly Weasley had a camera with her that day, or this was a fragment of a memory. Harry certainly didn’t recall Molly taking any photographs that day.

Harry didn’t know how long he stood there, staring in wonder.

At a rustle behind him, Harry spun, awkwardly trying to conceal the spot that he’d been gaping at. His heart rushed into motion, but only pounded harder in his chest when he recognized Ginny standing next to the couch. Suddenly it was beating so hard that he thought the windows would soon start rattling.

“I couldn’t sleep,� Ginny said quietly, tilting her head to regard him in a manner that reminded Harry oddly of Luna Lovegood.

Whatever nonsensical comment Harry was about to offer in reply died in his throat, for at that moment the rising sun chose to flood the room, the dawn rays sweeping over Ginny igniting her red hair with fire, defining her features in fine relief.

“Sweet Merlin, you are beautiful.� Harry heard the words fall from his lips of their own volition, but frankly he could find no argument with them anywhere in his heart.

Ginny’s eyes widened slightly, and she took a step towards him before she responded.

“Have you been taking lessons from Bill, Harry? On what to say to a girl? “ Ginny glanced down at her teal dressing gown, and smiled. “Not that I’m complaining of course.�

She stopped about an arm’s length away. Harry couldn’t think of anything to say, but that was okay, all that he wanted to do was to drink her in. From this angle, the sun caught her eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, such a rich and velvety brown. The more you looked into them, the more enchanting those brown eyes became, and Harry thought that he was sinking, falling forever into them, deeper and deeper into Ginny as the two limpid pools grew larger and larger—

“Hem-hem.�

With a start, Harry broke free of the depths of those beautiful eyes, and stared around, gasping for breath as his hand automatically raised his wand. But it was Molly Weasley, wrapped in a floral apron, standing in the doorway. And suddenly Harry realized just how close Ginny was, her face upturned, her lips inches from his. Hastily he stepped back—into the needles of the Christmas tree as Ginny spun in place.

“Dolores Umbridge was in my year at Hogwarts. Dreadful little witch,� Molly paused. “But it’s so sweet of you two to get up early to help me with breakfast and Christmas dinner.�

Molly’s words were casual, but Harry could see a steely glint in her eye, and even more ominously, she was tapping her wand in her hand.

“But don’t you think that you should get dressed before putting on an apron?

“Er—yes ma’am, yes,� Harry and Ginny chimed in unison, both suddenly a bright red that had nothing to do with the sunrise.

Hastily, both Harry and Ginny made a break for the door, Ginny in the lead. Harry might have been mistaken, but he almost thought he had seen a hint of a smile quirk Molly’s cheek as he brushed past.

The two ran up the stairs, making as little noise as possible. At the first landing, Ginny paused at her door, and turned to him.

“Here’s your Christmas present, Harry.� Her hand dove into the pocket of her robe, and he had an instant to register a flicker of incredible softness sweeping across Ginny’s face, before her expression suddenly turned fierce. “While you’re out there saving the world, Harry Potter, don’t you dare forget me!�

In a flash Ginny was in his arms, her lips pressed to his, and the world—and his heart—stopped for a few incredible moments. Then, just as quickly, she was gone, her bedroom door clicking shut in a swirl of crimson hair as he stared blankly at the mute wooden surface, a small package the only thing left in his grasp.

“As if that's likely to happen,� he finally managed to whisper, as slippered footsteps towards the base of the stairs stirred him into motion. Skipping lightly up to the landing outside Fred and George’s room, he stepped to the window and examined the brightly beribboned and bowed object in his hand. It felt oddly familiar, and he felt his hands shaking as he carefully unwrapped the foiled paper, then shook the object out into his hands.

A gold locket. How could she know? Oh, certainly this small, gracefully embossed, delicately engraved locket wasn’t Salazar Slytherin’s locket, which Harry, Ron and Hermione still sought, but the coincidence was too incredible.

Now trembling all over, as he hadn’t when he had faced Bellatrix Lestrange and her ilk, Harry thumbed open the catch. Obediently, the locket opened in his hand as if it were meant to. In a swirl of light and color, a figure emerged to stand in the palm of his hand. A familiar figure. And not clad in school robes, Muggle clothing, or even her Quidditch robes.

Ginny. Radiant and beautiful, her long hair swirling free about her face. Ginny, a grown up Ginny, rather than the girl chasing the train, a grown up Ginny clad in the beautiful gold gown, as she had been at Bill and Fleur’s wedding the previous summer. The very dress that Auntie Muriel had complained about.

Harry stared, mesmerized, his heart in his throat.

A click behind him, perhaps several sunlit years later, brought him to his sensed. Quickly he closed the locket, and slipped it into the pocket of his dressing gown.

“Oy, don’t go downstairs yet, Mum’ll put you to work,� was the urgent whisper from Fred and George’s doorway.

Turning, Harry saw Ron beckoning to him. “Besides, there’s presents!�

Heart racing, Harry followed Ron back into Fred and George’s room. What an hour before had been silence and snoring was now bedlam, as the sound of paper being ripped and shouts of surprise and satisfaction rent the air—no one seemed to notice what Harry was sure was his furiously burning face.

Harry worked his way through his own pile of presents as everyone was preoccupied with their own. Fred and George were shouting and pounding Percy on the back over their presents—and heartily promising him that he’d never have to sleep on the pillows ever again. Indeed, they were quite considering telling him what city they lived in. As Harry opened a Self Grooming Hairbrush from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, he suddenly realized that the twins' attention being so focused on Percy was fortunate for Ron--for his best friend was hunched over something, standing in the corner of the cramped room.

Moments later, as Harry set a Thief-Proof Bottomless Money Bag from Bill and Fleur atop the Official Quidditch Set that he had profusely thanked Fred and George for, Ron sat down on the cot next to him, gripping something tightly in his hand. Harry noticed that Ron’s ears were bright red—so was his whole neck. Indeed, Ron looked as though he’d been standing under a bright sun for hours. Under cover of Fred and George now helping Percy open his gifts, Harry heard Ron mumble something. Harry thought he saw Ron’s lips move, but he couldn’t make out what he had said.

“Er, what’s that?�

Ron leaned closer.

“Uh, mate, I asked you what a French bakeeny is.�

“A what? A French bikini?�

“Hush!� If anything, Ron’s ear’s were even redder as he glanced at Fred and George, who were now spattered in bright red ink and howling happily as they pummeled a grinning Percy on the back. “Yeah mate, a bakeeny, What is it?� This times Ron’s whisper was so low as to be almost inaudible.

“Well,� Harry puzzled over how to best describe the phenomenon. “It’s…a kind of swimming suit that Muggle girls wear to the beach. It’s got two pieces, and they’re usually really—“

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,� Ron interrupted, looking especially furtive.

Staring at his friend, at the sweat now beginning to bead on Ron’s brow, Harry felt a dawning comprehension.

“Ron, mate, what did Hermione give you for Christmas?�

“What?� Ron started guiltily, then shook his head, clearly relenting. “Oh, just this.�

Raising his hand, Ron proffered a finely wrought, heavy golden locket. When Harry reached out to touch it, the locket felt strangely warm in Ron’s hand. He noticed that it was studded with rubies, and he had a sudden suspicion there were seven of them. Ron touched the locket, and it sprang open in the palm of his hand.

“It’s a True Memory Locket, they’re rare.� Ron’s voice was hushed, but now in awe, and Fred, George and Percy were now watching curiously. Ron touched somewhere inside the locket, and a picture of Hermione sprang forth and spun in place, a fifteen year–old Hermione with her teeth straight and her hair sleek, in her dress robes at the Yule Ball. Harry was thankful that there was no sign of Viktor Krum present. A second touch, and a bushy-haired, almost-fourteen Hermione, clutching a purring Crookshanks, appeared. Another touch, and a shrieking, twelve year-old Hermione, covered in fragments of lavatory recently created by a twelve-foot Mountain Troll, materialized. Next was a furious Hermione, open hand swinging forward in an obvious slap. Yet another touch and an older, more mature Hermione, a Hermione in the beautiful dress and high heels of Bill and Fleur’s wedding revolved above Ron’s hand, dancing with a tall, red headed young man.

Fred and George, leaning on the end of the bed, were strangely silent, let alone a startled Percy buried beneath them.

“It’s got about a hundred images right now, but it holds around a thousand.� Ron’s eyes were shiny, and Harry was starting to wonder why. “And it says this. Go on, mate, read it.�

He closed the locket, and handed it to Harry, turning it over. Engraved on the back was fine, flowing script, Harry read it aloud.

“Forever my heart is in the palm of your hand.�

Harry couldn’t help but touch the locket hanging warmly inside his own shirt, next to his heart.

“Little bro, if you don’t ask that woman to marry you, George and I will have to introduce you to some of the finer Weasley’s Wizarding Wheeze’s products.� Fred’s voice was simply conversational, as if discussing the weather. “And you really don’t want to know what we’ve done with itching powder. Seriously.�

At that moment, a huge shriek rose up through the floorboards, echoed through and beneath the door from the stairwell. At first, Harry thought of an angry, forgotten Molly Weasley, and guiltily he started. But then he recognized the familiar contralto tones, and the sheer joy and exuberance beneath them. Answering Ron’s blossoming grin with his own, Harry turned back to Fred, George and Percy, now standing by the bed, wands drawn towards the footsteps now thundering up the stairs.

“I think he just did.�

***

Late that night, all of the guests having departed, even Snape and an abashed Draco off to a secure location, a half elated, half frustrated Ginny Weasley began taking down decorations. Harry, Ron and Hermione had left on their mysterious mission—though no one could seem to separate the latter pair. Fred’s twentieth murmured “Get a room� had drawn a Stinging Hex from a furious Molly Weasley.

Yet Harry had departed without giving Ginny a Christmas present. Of course, his presence was more than enough. They had sat together at breakfast and dinner, surreptitiously holding hands beneath the table. In between, they had managed a solitary walk in the snow frosted garden. They had sat together on the couch, legs touching, singing hymns and carols. She really didn’t need anything, as long as she had those moments to treasure.

Finally, whistling happily, Ginny finished packing away the tinsel and fairy lights, and most of the ornaments, especially the precious few brought by guests, had been replaced carefully in their accompanying boxes. All except for three, the three hidden in a secluded portion of the tree. Smiling, but tears now misting her eyes, carefully Ginny took down the sole remaining Have a Very Harry Christmas ornament that she had made dozens of several years before. Then, tenderly, she stowed away the crystal sphere with the three Potters. Finally, Ginny reached up and unhooked her own glass bauble, the one that she had moved from the far side of the tree after seeing Harry’s.

And something rattled and rung against the fragile glass.

Ginny froze, then hesitantly, almost fearfully wiped the tears from her eyes, cupping the glass ornament in the palm of her hand.

Dangling from the plain wire hook, resting atop the clear glass, was a shining golden band. Bright stones glittered around a huge, sparkling diamond, fiery rubies and dazzling emeralds—the color of his eyes—but Ginny only had eyes for the engraving she glimpsed on the interior of the glowing band. With a shaking hand, she slipped the ring from the hook, very carefully placing the suddenly heirloom globe that she would now never, ever misplace, carefully into it’s padded box with growing reverence before turning to examine the tiny, elaborate inscription.

That forever Sought was Chased to my Heart

Just like a Seeker, Ginny thought dazedly, before she realized that the voice screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!� was her own.

Arthur and Molly, dashing down the stairs, wands drawn, found their seventh child, their feisty, independent, powerful witch of a daughter, fainted dead awy on the living room floor—a radiant smile wreathing her face. <

And May All Your Dreams Come True.

Merry Christmas!