It’s funny how I am still a hopeless romantic. Me, who has been run into the ground by love, who has been stomped on, who is immune to its insidious charms, who has sworn never to go through it again. And me, who is all these things, yet always seems to keep an eye out for it. I guess some things never die. The kiss at the end of the book still makes me melt. Even now, church bells are ringing through the dry December air and I am picturing a smiling couple. She is in a traditional white dress with a long veil, he is wearing a top hat, and they are running through a shower of rice, brimming with innocence. I can even smell the jasmine of her perfume.

“You okay?� I blink back to my life, far away from whom the church bells are ringing.

“I’m fine.�

“No, you’re not.� She knows me too well. “But it’s Christmas Eve!"

I nod, eyes still drifting out of the window in front of the sink. I feel, more than see, a look of worry cross over my daughter’s face. So I feign a smile, making my face feel like plastic. I turn toward her. “I’m fine. I really am. Are you?�

She smiles easily. “Of course.� This time, it’s me who doesn’t believe her.

I put an arm around her. She had always been close to both her father and me, but now we hold a special bond. I love Hugo, but there is something about a mother and a daughter. And now that she is older, I lean on her as much as she leans on me.

“I’m worried about you, Mum.�

I run a hand through my hair. It’s a mess and I know I’ll have to shower before tonight.

“Don’t be. I’m fine. It’s Christmas. Honestly, Rose.�

She hesitates for a moment, choosing her words. “I know. I just hate that you’re alone. In the house, I mean.�

I look at her. “Well, I hate that you’re living in London alone.� She rolls her eyes at me and I smile.

Rose is beautiful. Neither her father or I are bad looking, but she just blossomed. She went from being the sweetest, smartest kid to the smartest, most lovely young lady. Maybe it’s because she is my daughter and I know how wonderful she is, but she shines.

Rose got some of both Ron’s and my attributes – but she only got the good ones. She has my brown hair, but it’s a few shades lighter and not as frizzy; it’s fine like Ron’s. She has a few of his freckles sprinkled on her skin and his blue eyes. I love her eyes; they’re kind. She cares about everyone, which is why she’ll make an excellent Healer. She isn’t afraid to tell the truth, but she’ll never intentionally hurt another. I can go on for hours about her. Oh, how I love her.

“Well, I’m not alone right now,� I say. “Come on, let’s go hang the stockings.�

I walk with her into the next room where the fire is merrily crackling. That lifts my spirits. There is nothing like the smell of burning wood in the wintertime to bring me back to the Gryffindor common room, back to all the Christmases we’ve shared together.

“We have to wait for Hugo. He’s always late.�

I open my mouth to answer as my son walks through the door. No, it can’t be. He’s much too tall to be my son…

“Can’t keep from talking about me?� His face is spread into an easy, boyish smile.

“You sure know how to make an appearance,� Rose mutters, pulling the stockings out of a cardboard box.

Hugo grins at his sister. “Nice to see you too.�

I watch my son for another minute before I fling my arms around him. I have to stretch in a way I don’t remember. I’m not short and he’s a little less than a foot taller than me.

He lifts me up, spinning me around as I shriek.

“Put me down,� I screech and he obliges, grinning like a child.

“I missed you, Mum!� I missed you more.

I see how happy he is to be home, to see Rose and me, and that makes my heart swell.

Hugo hugs Rose and I know that she’d never admit it, but she missed him. And as he asks about her training and the hospital, hand in his pockets, I know he’d never admit to the pride in his eyes.

Rose and Hugo are typical brother and sister. Growing up, they fought like crazy. I’d always find myself having to peel them off of each other when one of their arguments turned into a wrestling match. But when they got older, they became closer. I guess it had something to do with being away at school. We weren’t there, but they had each other. They’d come home for breaks and I’d find them sitting at the kitchen table with Al and Lily, laughing until they were all crying. I never bothered them, but was always happy, since I am an only child and always wanted a close family.

Ron and I both wanted four children, but after Hugo, we found out that we couldn’t have any more children. So we had the next best thing – James, Al and Lily.

I watch Rose and Hugo hang their stockings up and plop down in front of the fire, gesturing for me to sit down. I smile and take a seat.

“So, where’s your new girlfriend? Brianna, is it?� Rose teases.

Hugo shrugs. “We broke up.�

“What happened with that? She was a nice girl?� I interject, sounding very motherly.

Hugo smiles mischievously and I wonder if I even want to know what happened.

“She wanted to get married. We’re twenty-one. No, thank you. Plus, I met someone new.�

“Did you now? That’s rare,� she answers sarcastically. I laugh. With Hugo, there is always a new prospect.

I study his face as he talks about this girl. He went to Hogwarts with her. He might actually like her, I decide, hoping so. I don’t want him to get married, but like any mother, I wouldn’t mind seeing my son stop running.

Rose starts talking about the hospital, telling crazy stories of patients. Hugo is roaring with laughter, and while I laugh, I feel as though I am watching the scene, as though I am looking through a window. Maybe I am.

Rose jumps at the doorbell’s ring. “Maybe it’s Al and Lil!� she says brightly, springing to the door. Al has been one of her closest friends since they were born, but she and Lily became remarkably close later, just as Hugo and Al did.

Hugo leans in a little, face aglow from the fire. “Is she all right?� he asks, voice low, watching the door for Rose’s return.

“She’s Rose, so she’s fine,� I answer, touched by Hugo’s concern for his sister.

“Okay then, are you all right?�

I am saved from answering as the front door slams.

I hear banging and someone yelling, “Please, Rosie.� I freeze, my insides going cold. I know that voice.

After a second of delay, both Hugo and I jump up, running to the door.

Rose is sitting at the kitchen table – the kitchen table we’ve been eating at for the last twenty-two years. Her eyes are brimming with tears, head dipped down.

“Take care of your father,� I mutter to Hugo, going to put my arms around Rose.

“I never want to see him again,� she says firmly, but sounding more miserable.

“He’s your father,� I gently remind.

“I hate him.�

“No, you don’t.’

“Yes, I do. I hate him for what he did to me. For what he did to you.�

“I don’t want you to.�

“I’ll forgive him when you do.� Well, maybe Rose did get a few of our bad traits, one of them being stubbornness.

I take a breath. She has me there, but I don’t have to forgive him. He’s no longer in my life because he’s the same prat he’s always been. But Rose. She doesn’t have a choice. He will always be in her life. He’s her father and she needs to remember that.

As much as he disapproved, she didn’t have to call off the wedding. Just like he didn’t have to leave, as much as we fought.

“Okay,� I say slowly. “I’ll do it right now.�

Rose’s head shot up. “What?�

“I’ll talk to him right now.� The promise of those words hurt my chest. And as I open the door to find Hugo and Ron, I curse myself for saying that to Rose. But I love her. I love her enough to want her to reconcile with her father – the father she’s spent her life adoring.

I find them in the garden, Ron looking miserable as Hugo protects his sister, firmly telling him that he is no longer welcome here. Welcome in the house that he helped build, in the garden that we all planted and degnomed together for twenty years, in the home of the family that he left.

“I’d like to speak to you, Ron.� My voice is calm, much calmer than I feel. Both my son and his father look shocked. I know how they feel.

Ron silently follows me into the house and I like that he is following me. I hold the cards. He walked out on me, but I still have power. Good.

I hear the front door close and I know that Rose went to talk to Hugo. I am glad they aren’t here to hear this, especially since I don’t know what I’m going to say.

We sit down in front of the fire; this automatically comforts me. I feel relaxed, and a certain comfort that he is sitting on the couch he hates while I am in his armchair.

“How are you?� I have to force the words from the iron gates that have become my lips, and he knows it. How can he not? He knows me.

“Been better.�

Have you now? Good. You deserve it. You brought it upon yourself.

“I miss you – and the kids,� he adds quickly, turning a little pink. “That’s why I stopped by. Christmas Eve and everything.� He mumbles the end. He’s nervous. I know him, too.

“I’m not stopping you from seeing either of them. Rose is in London and Hugo is all over, you know that.� My voice is cold and I almost feel guilty. Almost.

“They don’t want to see me much.� I shrug, knowing this, of course.

He looks around the room, from the fireplace with a fire too friendly for the situation, to the pictures on the mantle – Rose, Hugo, James, Lily, Al, Teddy. The list goes on, even Teddy and Victoire’s infant is there. The only person missing is him. He is a stranger in his home and I wonder what he is thinking. This is the room we were in when I went into labor with Hugo, where Rose took her first step and said her first word, where she opened her acceptance letter from Hogwarts, where she announced her engagement, happiness exploding on her face. This is the room our children grew up in, the room we grew up in, the room we grew together in.

“What happened to Rose?� Ron asks, his eyes paused on a picture of her.

“What do you mean?�

“She’s – she’s not married. She’s still Rose Weasley, right?� For a moment, there is terror on his face. It isn’t the chance that her last name might be changed, but that he may not have been there for it.

“Yes.� Doesn’t he know that I would never have let that happen? I would have never let Rose walk down the aisle without her father walking right next to her. She has always been her father’s world and I know that will never change.

“I guess she didn’t love him as much as she said she did.� Ron’s face is smug and I feel a familiar rush of anger. That is the feeling Ron always tends to evoke in me, ever since we were eleven.

I do understand what he feels. I understand that he never got along with the boy’s father. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with the man and certainly never imagined my little girl to become a Malfoy either. But she is Rose. Rose is the smartest girl I know – she’s my girl. And when my brilliant daughter, my daughter who told me she’d never marry unless the boy was just like her father because she hated the stereotype of wives, came home telling me how in love she was, I loved the boy immediately. I loved him for making her so happy, no matter his last name.

Thinking of the look on her face, the glow in her eyes as she described Scor, I want to shake Ron. He ruined her; he ruined her idea of love.

“Why are you here, Ron? Really, why are you here? Rose loved that boy. But you had to judge. You didn’t even meet him and you hated him. She wanted what we had, but that idea is gone now. That’s why they didn’t get married.�

He runs a hand through his hair.

“I know,� he whispers, staring into the deep embers of the fire. “That’s why I came, because I was alone. Rose and Hugo – Hermione, they’re everything to me. And it took me a long time to realize that I don’t care what my last name my grandchildren have. I don’t care if she’s Rose Malfoy. I care about Rosie. And Hugo. And you. You’re my family, and I want to come home.� There is a passion in his voice, passion that he’s always had for his family.

I think back looking at him. Back to our first Christmas married. I had to work, so he came to my office with a box fill of Christmas cookies and mistletoe. We ate Christmas dinner in my dim lit, cramped office surround by stacks of paperwork. And when I came home that night, I told him that I was pregnant. I can still see the little tree he brought and the look on his face. I can still smell the freshly fallen snow.

“It’s been five months, you can’t just come back after that. It’s too late,� I say, unsure of what to think.

“We’ve been together for thirty years, it can’t be too late after five months.�

Merlin, I still love him. I don’t want to, but I do. Thirty years. Has it really been that long?

I look to the table next to me, wondering if he notices that the Christmas card he sent is standing there. No, I guess he can’t, since it’s missing. Rose must have taken it down.

“I don’t have to forgive you, Ron. But Rose does, because I want my daughter to be happy, with or without Scor.�

“I know,� he replies softly. “But you can’t not forgive me. It’s been you and me forever. I don’t want to start over with someone else, and neither do you. You have to forgive me, Hermione. Please. Please, let me come home.�

I close my eyes for a second, thinking about Christmas, about Ron, how his family became mine, how I haven’t had a Christmas without him since I was a teenager, how nice the fire feels on my face. Mechanically, I nod. I can’t be mad at him for the way he acted. That is simply Ron, the Ron I’ve always known. He gets carried away and makes mistakes, but he always comes around. And I love him for that.

“But only because it’s Christmas,� I warn quickly, pointing a finger. And because it’s you.

Before I know it, he is next to me. He is kissing me. Have I been kissed like this before? Maybe the day we were married, or the day Rose was born. The fire is suddenly incredibly warm and my knees are weak. It’s a good think I am sitting down. Merlin, I’m too old to be weak in the knees. And I’ve been with Ron too long for him to be able to make me like this.

It’s our first kiss all over again. I am a teenager. I must be. I feel too much. My heart is swelling, beating like a hummingbird’s wings. I am flying. My grown children, my life, it must have been a dream, for I feel seventeen again.

And it’s over. Ron’s blue eyes are staring at me, at my flustered face.

“Marry me,� he says. It’s neither a command nor a question.

He’s ridiculous. He’s insane. “We’re still married,� I answer wryly, still dazed from my husband’s kiss.

“We can renew our vows.�

We kiss again and there is no way I can say no.

“Is everything okay?� Rose peeks her head in and we quickly break apart. “I thought you killed each other or something, but obviously not.� Her voice is dry and I wonder if she expected this. She doesn’t seem at all surprised.

“Rose – I’m sorry,� Ron says before she can cut him off.

“That’s not enough.�

“I know.� He sighs glancing at his watch. “About fifteen minutes,� he mutters, but I am close enough to hear it. Close enough to fall into the rhythm of his heart…

Rose walks away. She will forgive her father. After all, all she has against him is unjustly disliking her ex-fiancé. I move into my husband. I don’t know what will happen or why I am so weak. I never intended to be back with him. I figured we were over for good, or maybe I never really did. I don’t know. I guess he’s simply a part of me. A vital part of me.

I try to talk. I try to tell him this is too fast, but he just kisses me. I guess it’s not too fast, not after all these years.

So we lazily sit there, watching the flames lick up the wood.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride – � Ron begins singing. I laugh a little. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Ron start singing a song.

“In a one-horse-open sleigh,� we both finish, remembering how we’d sing it every Christmas Eve, Victoire playing the piano.

“I missed you so much,� he whispers. I nod serenely.

As he says this to me, we hear a shriek from the kitchen. It’s Rose and without a second thought, I jump up, dashing into the kitchen. I don’t find Rose fatally injured or being robbed though. I find Rose staring at Scor Malfoy.

I think she is angry, so I pull her into the family room and sit her in a chair near the fire. It should help, I think. The fire certainly helped me.

Ron watches the scene unfold and after one look at him, I know he did it. He told Scor to come. I send him a scolding glance; Rose obviously doesn’t want to see the boy.

But Scor stands in the doorway, looking very like his father. Well, almost like his father. He is a little bit darker, but is almost identical to Draco. He is tall and lean with blonde hair and grey eyes, the only difference is the love painted on his face. Anyone could see the affection he has for her as he stares at Rose.

She sees him there and quickly stands, walking toward him. The air is sucked from the room as she ascends closer. I have no idea what she is going to do, but she looks fierce. I pray that she doesn’t slap him; after all, he didn’t do anything wrong except show up at her father’s request.

But she doesn’t slap him. Instead, she throws her arms around him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,� Rose repeats, having been denied the words too long.

They melt together and, within a few minutes, the ring is back on her smooth finger.

***


Ron has added more wood to the fire, and it had begun to snow – the perfect Christmas Eve.

My lips are in a constant smile at how everything worked out. Ron’s plan actually worked – a very rare occurrence. He got me back, and reunited Rose and Scor, quite an accomplishment for Ronald Weasley.

Ron is roasting chestnuts on the flames when Rose walks into the room. She had been taking a walk with Scor.

She comes up to her father and kisses his cheek.

“You’re a jerk, Daddy. But thank you, for everything. I love you.�

And just like that, she is her father’s girl again. It’s funny because when she was little, she followed him everywhere. She was his biggest admirer, always rooting for her father before anyone else. But somewhere along the ride, the roles had changed. She has her own life now and it is Ron who is her biggest fan. Well, Ron and me.