On the 14th Day of Christmas...

[jives]

Let's see what your true love has for you today, shall we?



And in icon format!



lysa1's Pimp Cane Icon #14!


And a Ron/Hermione Christmas Ficlet from aliasagent!

**
This Christmas

The snow lay untouched on the ground. The dark night made the otherwise sparkling, white snow seem grey. The snowflakes slowly drifted down from the sky to gently touch the snow with its gentle caress. The gripping cold and cool calm that lay in the air made the perfect Christmas feeling and inside a warm, messy house called the Burrow two teenagers lay sleeping on a couch.

The day had been a haze of Christmas plans, cleaning and getting the house ready for Christmas which was only a few days away. Ron had spent the day putting up Christmas lights while Hermione helped Mrs Weasley with baking various cookies and breads, a skill that Ron didn't master quite as well as the brown haired girl.

Hermione's head lay on Ron's broad shoulder, moving very little in her sleep. Ron's head had been dropped over Hermione's at some point during the night and if it wasn't for the sparks of warmth from the open fireplace, they probably would've woken up within minutes because of the cold.

Small whispers of Christmas music sounded from the kitchen as Mrs Weasley happily cleaned the counters, she hummed along to the cheerful tunes. The smell of buns, cinnamon cookies and saffron bread filled the house and one would almost feel hungry from just smelling it, even if one had just eaten a large meal.

When Hermione slowly awoke, she knew that she was sleeping somewhere, but she couldn't quite identify the location until a few moments later when she heard the slowly fading Christmas music and saw a brief flash of red hair.

"Good morning, Ron," Hermione said with a yawn, taking the opportunity to stretch her limbs from the very comfortable and well-earned sleep. "I can't believe we fell asleep. Can you honestly be so tired after just putting up Christmas lights the whole day?"

She felt Ron tense up beside her. "Sleep?" he said, still not quite awoke yet, "I was just resting my eyes." However, the yawn gave him away.

Hermione noted that Ron seemed very anxious to get away from the couch once he had and had all his senses intact. Hermione laid her head back on the couch and sighed in frustration. Ron didn't say anything; he just blushed slightly and brushed his fingers through his hair.

"So, it's back to slave duty now?" he whispered softly, so that his mother wouldn't hear.

Unfortunately, after years of raising a huge group of kids, Mrs Weasley had developed excellent hearing.

"Not at all, Ron!" she yelled from the kitchen and the new scent of food came to their nostrils. "Now it's time for lunch. I can't believe we forgot to eat breakfast!" she chuckled warmly "It must've been forgotten sometime after the buns and before the toffee."

Hermione smiled at Ron, who looked mostly bothered since his face twisted into an expression of dislike because that his mother treated him like some toddler, at least he felt that way. But even all the dislike in the world couldn't make Ron walk away from the offer of a good meal. He slowly moved his feet to the kitchen and Hermione could swear she heard Ron's stomach demanding the food that was smelled in the air. It was quite unbelievable that it was only mid-day.

Then the expression on Ron's face, when he saw that what was served was not a baked cake with strawberry filling and chocolate sauce on top of it was priceless. Hermione had to hold herself from laughing out loud so she led Mrs Weasley to believe that she had a bad cold. The food that was served was a stew with meat and rice.

"What were you expecting, Ronald Weasley?" Mrs Weasley commented, annoyed at her son's groans over what she was serving. "Chocolate or cherry pie? That wouldn't be a healthy lunch for you."

Ron rolled his eyes. "But something other than stew, you could've mustered, couldn't you? I hate stew."

Mrs Weasley snorted. "I never heard you complain before." With that she reached for the spoon to give some of the stew to Hermione.

"So Fred and George will come in two days, Bill and Fleur will come tomorrow. Who else is coming?" Mrs Weasley continued, her voice cheerful because she loved Christmas parties. "Ginny is coming back from Luna's tomorrow, Charlie will come over with that new girlfriend of his, Perc-"

Mrs Weasley stopped herself in mid sentence and a gloomy feeling came over her as she remembered that her pride and joy was no longer talking to his family. Mothers never really got over the loss of their son, even though it had been years since it had happened.

Hermione sent a glare across the table to Ron, which said that he should say something to make his mother feel better. Ron sent back a glare that told Hermione that she should do it herself. Hermione would have gladly done it but Mrs Weasley wasn't her mother so it wasn't Hermione's place to comfort her.

"It's your brother she's upset about," Hermione whispered.

"What do you think I should say? I'm sorry that your arsehole of a son doesn't speak to us, but hey, look on the bright side - you have five other sons to make up for his absence?" Ron whispered back.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not, you git! Just say something; she's your mother after all."

Just then, Mrs Weasley looked up with teary eyes, gave them both a shiny fake smile and passed Hermione the bread. "You two are such good kids," she said with a weak and sad voice and stroked Ron's hair gently - her eyes shining with pride.

When Mrs Weasley had composed herself and returned to her strew, Ron whispered to Hermione: "See how scary she gets?" Hermione said nothing. Ron just didn't get some things so there was no use to try and explain things to him.

When lunch was finished and Hermione had helped with the dishes, she was about to slip out that it was time to go to bed, because she hadn't quite got used to the darkness. She saw Mrs Weasley collecting the dishes and Hermione could feel her eyes tear up for a second. It was silly of course, but ever since the death of Dumbledore, she had found herself much more sensitive and emotional. Mrs Weasley had spent most of her life raising her children, invested so much time, energy and love in to each of them that Hermione figured that it must be like loosing a part of yourself when one went away.

Just then she felt someone poking her shoulder. Hermione blinked to get the tears away from her eyes. She sighed as she turned and saw Ron standing there with a small smile on his face. She was so lucky to have a friend like Ron. Sometimes he could be a total moron, but at least he was her moron.

"Want to go out and make snow angels?" Ron whispered suggestively.

Hermione laughed full-heartedly, her sad thoughts washed away like sand from the shores at summer. "Snow angels? Where did you get an idea like that?"

Ron bit his lip and the typical faint blush that made him look like a little candy bar with a carrot looking flavour on the top. "Eh, I just thought that girls liked to do that sort of stuff."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. Ron had to be one of the silliest people she knew, in a cute way. "Some, I suppose," she grabbed his arms and walked with him happily to the door, "It's just your luck that you happened to ask someone who actually loves to make snow angels. Come on."

The two teenagers had a race to see who could put their outdoor clothes on first. Ron started with his jacket, but he accidentally buttoned it wrong so he had to start all over again. Hermione started with her shoes but found it hard to beat Ron and tie her shoelaces at the same time. She had to start over three times. When Ron reached for his shoes, Hermione bent over him to grab her jacket. She tripped over Ron who had grabbed his shoes and had gotten up quicker than she did. The sound of things falling to the ground and the laughter from Ron and Hermione didn't go unnoticed by Mrs Weasley:

"Are you two starting some sort of war out there? I can't believe how much noise you two can make when you are at the mood."

"Sorry Mum!" Ron yelled back as he and Hermione rushed through the door. "We'll pick it up later. Promise!"

The moment Hermione got outside, she forgot about the darkness that surrounded them on both sides. She simply dove into the snow like a swimmer to open water. She lay on her back, and sighed, letting the wonderful realization that it was almost Christmas wash over her. Life had its moments, she decided, and this was definitely one of them.

Hermione started to move her arms over the cold snow, feeling the million of snowflakes moving beneath her. She moved slowly at first, as if she was afraid she would wake up and realize that the wonderful snow had just been a dream. Hermione had always held winter and Christmas in a special place in her heart.

Ron flopped down beside her, lying on his back as well, staring up at the pitch-black, starless sky. He sighed contently for a moment he sighed contentedly, as they lay side by side, enjoying the peacefulness surrounding them.

"We don't get a lot of snow you know," Ron whispered after a while. He spoke quietly as though he didn't want to break the peaceful silence with loud talking, "This year is the exception of course," he added with a smirk and there was another pause between them.

"Didn't your parents want to spend Christmas with them this year?" Ron asked a while later.

Hermione stopped moving her arms and legs. "Yes, they did, but I wanted to spend Christmas with you and your family. With Harry not... you know. I just figured it would be lonely for you and- I miss him too. Being with you just makes everything a little bit easier."

They smiled at each other and then turned their eyes to at the sky again. "Thanks."

After a while, Hermione felt herself growing cold, but she just ignored the feeling. She liked laying there in the snow, making snow angels and looking up at the stars that actually weren't there.

"How come we can't see the stars?" Ron asked a while later.

Hermione stared at the darkness with intensity as if she looked hard enough she'd find an answer. "I don't know. Maybe they all died out? Or maybe their light isn't strong enough."

Ron shifted uncomfortably as if he didn't like the idea that the starlight wasn't strong enough to penetrate the darkness. Hermione was sure she heard him mutter: "Muggle science," But she couldn't be sure.

Twenty minutes and eight snow angels later, Hermione felt a snowball hit her neck, when she got up from making the eighth snow angel. The cold snow slowly melted and the water trickled down her spine, causing her to shiver. She turned around and saw Ron standing by the shed, with three snowballs in his hand and a wicked smile on his face.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked through her laughter. She launched herself at her best friend.

Since Ron had the snow balls in his hand and was quick at remaking them, Hermione did not have time to make one herself. So she did what any girl in her situation would do... after attacking Ron, she ran for her life.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" she shrieked as Ron tried to tackle her. At the last second she managed to out run him, causing Ron to fall flat on his stomach.

The snow started to fall more thickly and it seemed as if the two were surrounded by a curtain of snow that slowly coloured their clothes with white. Hermione's cheeks were blossoming red, making her look alive and radiant. Ron's nose had turned as red as his hair, giving him a clownish appearance.

The two teenagers stopped their play for a moment and stared each other, happiness filling their eyes. Hermione smiled warmly and Ron grinned mischievously. It was as if time stood still for a second and both caught their breaths.

"You are never going to get me, you know." Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?" Ron shot back.

Hermione's heart was pounding inside her chest. She continued to stand still, waiting to see if he dared to move. The snow continued to fall and the darkness closed around them and soon they could barely see each other's faces. The only light came from the kitchen window a few feet away.

Still, Ron didn't move, and Hermione felt the exhilarating feeling in her body slowly fade away. Wasn't he going to move?

Just as she was convinced as he was going to do nothing, she felt herself falling to the ground. Then she realized that Ron was on top of her with a huge smug grin on his face.

"Got you."

Hermione's heartbeat increased again and her face was so close to Ron's she could feel his warm breath on her skin. For a moment she could swear the air had become much more intense. Ron stared into her brown, eyes, smiling.

Suddenly, Hermione felt panic grip her tightly. What the hell they doing? She had wanted something to happen between herself and Ron for years now, and finally, when things seemed to progress - she panicked.

"Eh, do you want to get some hot chocolate?" Hermione choked out, attempting a smile. "I don't know about you, but I'm cold."

Ron's face froze for a second and then his expression became unreadable. He wasn't angry, he had just... disappeared somewhere behind those blue eyes.

"Sure," his voice was normal.

For some reason, it upset Hermione. Why was he so stupid? Why didn't he notice anything? Why couldn't he... Hermione stopped herself. Ron's ability for ignoring important moments had just prevented a huge disaster. She couldn't like Ron that way, it was just impossible. It made her uncomfortable just to think about it. You weren't supposed to think about your friends like that, since it could lead to many forms of uncomfortable situations.

Ron got up and Hermione felt the cold attacking her. The cold that Ron's body had protected her from. It annoyed her that Ron didn't get up fast enough; it annoyed her that he offered to help her up. If he was sweet to her she had to try harder to not think about him like that. "What time is it?"

Ron looked around and shrugged. "Normally, I'd say eleven by the looks of it, but I reckon it's about seven, or perhaps earlier."

"Your dad will be home soon, then."

"Yeah."

The short walk back to the Burrow in the deep snow was made in silence. Hermione kept her eyes firmly on the white covered ground. Their steps made deep impacts on the nearly untouched snow and Hermione couldn't help but feel like they had ruined something as beautiful as the smooth snow. It always looked so distant and untouchable that she sometimes felt guilty for even walking on it.

When they came in, they were faced with another new smell. This time it was the smell of freshly baked bread that hung in the air with the Christmas music sounding softly. Hermione whispered to Ron that her own mother was quite impossible with baking. Once she started she never quit

"What's with the silence?" Mrs Weasley yelled from the kitchen. "Compared to how you left, one would think someone accidentally mashed an arm out there."

As Hermione gently placed her coat on a hanger and yelled back to Mrs Weasley. "We're fine! Being outside in the cold can really strip you of your energy."

When Hermione and Ron entered the kitchen, Mrs Weasley was taking a baking plate out of the oven. There were a mountain of Ron's favourite breads placed on the table along with two knives and some butter.

Then Hermione noticed something dark on the kitchen table besides the lemonade.

"When did Viktor's owl get here?" Hermione walked up to the familiar bird that dropped a letter into her hand.

As they sat down at the table, Hermione could clearly see that Ron's face was twisted. He looked as if he had eaten a million bad lemons, and the bird in front of her was the cause of all his problems. Hermione chose to ignore him. She gave Viktor's owl a piece of her bread and opened the letter carefully.

Dearest Hermione,

I just ended a tournament in Quidditch. How are you? Good, I hope. I hope your Christmas is going to be good. I am spending mine with family and we may go to the coast, since my father likes the frozen sea. I don't like it much.

- Viktor.

"What does Vicky have to say then?" Ron snorted. "Sending more tokens of love is he?"

Mrs Weasley stopped doing the dishes and turned to her son, horrified. "Ronald Weasley! Stop being so rude! Where are you manners?" Ron immediately looked apologetic. Once his mum's back was turned he returned to his sulking.

"I'm sorry," Ron commented dryly, not sorry at all. "I can't help it if he's a git."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. She hated when Ron spoke ill about Viktor. They were both her friends and she hated that the two never seemed to get along. "Will you ever grow out of that?" She surprised herself at how harsh her voice sounded.

Ron froze for a second, like he had done out in the snow. Hermione told herself that she was just imaging things, because in the next moment his face was as rigid as stone.

"What's there to grow out? He's an idiot and you..." Ron sent Hermione the most vicious glare he could muster, causing the air to grow tense. Just what Hermione was, she never got to hear because at that moment Mrs Weasley interfered by asking them if they had a good day out in the snow, trying to change the subject. Mrs Weasley's attempt was however unnoticed.

"Me, what? Can't you ever grow up?! Do you always have to be such a child, Ron?!" The day had been so confusing and mind turning for Hermione that she finally just snapped. She couldn't believe that she had thought... Well, it didn't matter anymore.

"I'm not a child!" Ron yelled back and continued to glare at Hermione as he got up from his chair. "You... Oh! Stop being such a girl, Hermione!"

The comment hit Hermione like a punch in the face. She stopped and sort of swayed as if she needed to recapture her balance. Her brief feeling of hurt in her own heart and the stone cold look that Ron gave her made her feel horrible inside. She had no problem with being called a girl, but Ron had said it as an insult - and it hurt her.

"You are just such an idiot!" Her voice appeared calm, but the hot anger slowly boiled inside her. "Viktor's just my friend!"

"Have you told him that lately?" Ron responded with and continued to stare at Hermione with the same look of stone. Hermione noted that Ron's hand was almost cramping itself around a spoon; his fingers pressed so hard against the metal that his knuckles were white.

"Just do me a favour and stop acting like you're the boss of me! I decide who I become friends with, not you!" Hermione yelled. She gave Ron the same vicious glares that he had sent her, grabbed the letter from the table and stormed out of the room. She could hear the bang, from the door that she slammed shut, echoing throughout the house and she was pretty sure she heard Mrs Weasley jump by the loud sound. Not that she cared.

Hermione spent the rest of the night up in Ginny's room - where she stayed when she was there and also when Ginny was home - and only opened the door to Mrs Weasley, when she brought cinnamon cookies and more saffron bread for Hermione, along with lemonade. These brief interactions were tense and always full of excuses. Either Mrs Weasley excused her son, or Hermione excused herself.

Later that night, when Hermione had cooled down, and when Ron's curses from downstairs had also decreased notably, Mrs Weasley took the opportunity to speak for her son again.

"He really is sorry, you know," Mrs Weasley said, frowning. "I have no idea where he got those manners from though. Must have been from Fred, or George. God knows what those two learned at Hogwarts. It certainly wasn't how to take OWLs-"

"I don't want to hear on anymore excuses, Mrs Weasley. Let Ron come up here and apologize for himself." Hermione stated and gave Mrs Weasley a look that showed that she was serious.

But Ron never came up. Figures, Hermione thought sarcastically, it wasn't as if I EXPECTED him too. Only because he has upset me, doesn't mean that HE has to apologize.

The night was terribly lonely. Hermione actually stayed up to past midnight waiting for Ron to apologize, but when she saw the lights go out outside her room, she knew that he wasn't coming. She eventually fell asleep with a hole in her heart, feeling as if she was entirely alone. Did she really mean that little to Ron?

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she still felt tired, but because of the Christmas music and sound of more dishes clanking together, she couldn't get back to sleep. The cold white-blue light from outside invaded her room, making it look room of stone. Adding to the image were the candles by her door that someone had lit during the night.

Hermione felt the Christmas spirit fill her again. When she looked back at her argument with Ron, everything about it seemed silly. They had both been quite tired last night, and had been mostly just their exhaustion talking.

As she slowly walked downstairs, she noticed that the last step creaked and within a second Mrs Weasley poked her head around the door of the kitchen.

"Hermione, wonderful!" She greeted." I was just about to make breakfast for Ron here. Come in and sit down." Even though Mrs Weasley's voice was friendly and happy the last sentence felt like a command Hermione didn't dare to disobey.

She walked in slowly, dressed only in a light blue, silk nightgown that she had gotten as an early Christmas present from her parents. On her feet, she wore a pair of white slippers that looked like giant paws with too much white hair on them. She saw Ron, who was sitting at the table cutting out some Christmas decoration - from the holiday edition of Witch Weekly magazine - which he was going to put in the Christmas tree later. At first he didn't notice her, but when he lifted his head up; his eyes became wide with horror.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed closing his eyes and pointing at the nightgown she wore.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his gesture; it was so typical of Ron to be embarrassed about a girl walking around in a nightgown. She really should ask Fred if Ron hadn't accidentally traded his soul with a 16th century ghost as a child.

"Ron, it's not embarrassing, you've seen me in my pyjamas loads of times." Hermione pointed out as she bit her lip to stop herself from bursting out in loud giggles.

Ron looked at her again, still scandalized. "Oh yeah? But, but- then it was covering a whole lot more!"

Later, when Ron had accepted the fact that Hermione was dressed in a nightgown, the room started to sound like only the Weasley kitchen could. Mrs Weasley hummed to the cheerful tune of Celestina Warbeck and Hermione was once again reminded that the annual forced listening of the Singing Sorceress was yet to come. When she pointed it out to Ron he said:

"She's just waiting on the rest of the lot, so she can torture as many as possible." His look was so serious that Hermione had to suppress a giggle - normally she hated when Ron said things like that about his mother, but it was nice that Ron didn't push the subject of their fight yesterday.

"So Hermione, what do you say about going to do some Christmas shopping?" Mrs Weasley somehow managed to be heard over the slams of dishes and the almost hideous and cheesy song playing on the radio. Hermione opened her mouth to reply but before a word slipped out Mrs Weasley took it as a sign of 'yes' and said that it was fantastic and that they would leave as soon as possible.

An hour later, Hermione was dressed in her long coat, a white goofy hat she had made herself, black mittens and a scarf wrapped around her face, ending just below the eyes. Despite the fact that it was snowing heavily outside, Mrs Weasley decided that she wanted to get Mr Weasley's present from a Muggle Village a few kilometres away.

"Nonsense," Mrs Weasley said heartily. "We'll manage, you'll see. Oh! I can't wait to see the look on Arthur's face when we give him something really extraordinary! Even though I don't understand his fascination with Muggles, I want to give him something really special. And you," she said looking at Hermione, "You are a Muggleborn so you'll be the perfect person to help me. Thank you so much, Hermione."

Ron leaned close and whispered softly in Hermione's ear, "I'm sorry about last night."

As he walked away, Hermione tried to figure out what seemed different about him. There was something in his voice that sounded so sincere. She smiled at him and then followed his mother out into the cold snow. Hermione looked back at the candles glittering in the window, casting a warm, gentle glow over the snow, before turning to catch up with Mrs Weasley.

It was almost noon when Ginny returned to the Burrow. The warm fuzzy feeling of being home hit her the moment she arrived through the fireplace. Ginny was once again reminded why the Burrow was her favourite place in the whole wide world. She could smell the faint scent of various cookies, bread and toffees and there wasn't a perfume in the world that could beat it. She loved when her mother baked; she always baked such wonderful things.

"I'm home!" Ginny yelled, wondering where everyone was. Part of her had almost thought that everyone would be in the sitting room waiting for her. She heard curses from one of her brothers from the direction of the kitchen.

Ginny brushed some ashes from her robe and hung it in the cloak closet in the hallway. She brushed her fingers through her hair and tried to lessen the not so flattering blush on her face. Spending an entire weekend with Luna outside in winter house in Sweden did not have the most flattering effect on her skin. She looked like a mashed tomato with white-pink spots and she hated it.

When she walked into the kitchen she saw Ron reading a cook book. At first Ginny thought her mum had taken a Polyjuice potion, but by the unhappy frown of deep concentration on his face, Ginny realized that it actually was her brother, reading something that wasn't about Quidditch. She jumped up and sat on the clean countertop.

"What?" muttered Ron, as he glared at his sister's smug look.

"Are you actually reading a cook book, Ronald Weasley?" Ginny laughed. "I'd call Witch Weekly to share the news but I doubt they'd believe me."

Ron snorted and gently hit his sister in the head. "Git," he snorted and both of them laughed.

"I'm trying to make dinner for mom, you know - as a Christmas present. I thought it would be nice for her not to cook for once."

Ginny raised her eyebrows and Ron thought for a moment that she looked impressed. "Are you trying to land our mother in St Mungo's, so you can take a look at the presents before Christmas? I know you tried a few years ag-"

"I was five," Ron interrupted. He glared at the cook book then said, "Now make yourself useful and help me find something that I can actually cook."

Ginny bit her lip and looked at her brother mischievously. "Did you look in the children's section?" That comment earned Ginny another smack in the head.

It seemed like Hermione and Mrs Weasley had walked for an eternity and a half when they finally came to the first house in the Muggle Village. During the walk Hermione had started to curse at everything concerning snow and now, the otherwise gentle, cool and calm snow appeared to be mocking her. After another two hours they arrived at the muggle shop Mrs Weasley had spoken of.

It was huge and noisy, with a completely different atmosphere than the one that Hermione had grown accustomed to at the Burrow. People ran around like crazy looking for the perfect present, and Mrs Weasley appeared quite proud of herself.

"We managed to get here, didn't we?" She commented heartily and stepped right into the chaos. "Hermione, what do you think Arthur would like for Christmas?"

If Hermione had known that searching for a Christmas present for Arthur was going to take three hours, she would've run towards the nearest exist before anyone could say 'Santa Claus'. But being as friendly and helpful as she was, she showered Mrs Weasley with suggestions.

Somehow they ended up in the construction section of the store.

Suddenly Mrs Weasley's eyes lit up and Hermione was almost expecting there to be a podium somewhere that said, 'The perfect present for Arthur Weasley'. All she saw was... a screwdriver.

"Oh!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed and held up the item. "Arthur would love this!" She then turned to Hermione with glowing eyes, "What is it?"

Hermione wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. Mrs Weasley was a brilliant witch, but when it came to all things Muggle, she was clueless. The supervisor of the store gave them odd looks when they went to the register with the screwdriver and asked to have it wrapped.

"Inside joke," she said, winking at the cashier.

When Mrs Weasley and Hermione walked back home in the darkening night, Hermione began to grow colder even though she was wearing probably eight layers of clothing. The wind soughed in her ears and the snow gently touched her black coat, to then slowly melt into small pools of water.

Hermione slightly shivered and Mrs Weasley poured up a cup of hot chocolate as they were walking. Saving something about it was time for them to have some refreshments.

When the two women trudged their way to the Burrow, they saw the faint light from the window, and smoke rising from the chimney. Hermione shivered in envy with the thought of Ron being inside in the warmth and doing God knows what.

"What did you want for dinner, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, shivering. "I'm thinking some hot soup would be nice."

Hermione's eyes never left the house on the horizon. "You read my mind."

When they walked into the Burrow, they brushed the snow of their coats and watched it melt into puddles on the floor. The sound of laughter and the smell of something burning made her interest grow. Suddenly she felt Mrs Weasley poke her on the shoulder.

"I forgot to ask, did you want to buy anything for Ronald?"

Hermione looked up at Mrs Weasley eyes. "It's alright," she said. "I already bought Ron's Christmas present."

Mrs Weasley nodded in understanding.

Suddenly, a pretty girl with long red hair popped out of the kitchen. "Hey you," Ginny happily greeted them. "Hurry! In here's the best thing you'll see in this lifetime!"

The cheerful tone of Ginny's must've un-nerved Mrs Weasley because she hurried off to the kitchen. Hermione was close behind.

The sight that lay before them made Mrs Weasley scream. The whole kitchen was a mess. There were about eight hundred cook books on the table, all jumbled together with cacao, flour and everything else imaginable. There was a huge pile of dirty dishes in the sink and the kitchen was a complete mess.

"Oh my God!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. Hermione couldn't quite understand why, but she sensed a small amount of pride in the woman's voice.

Then she saw... Ronald Weasley, the laziest boy in the world, standing in the middle of the chaos, stirring a cauldron of soup, wearing a green apron with strawberry print.

Mrs Weasley, forgetting about the mess that her son had caused, rushed forward pushing away chairs. She gave her son a huge hug. "I'm so proud of you!" she shrieked her eyes filled with tears. "You cooked!"

Ron looked like a deer caught in red light, his face redder than Hermione had ever seen. He tried desperately to get out of his mother's hold. "I was bored," he choked out. As his mother was clinging to him for dear life.

"You cooked!" Mrs Weasley said again, her tears spilled over, running down her cheeks. "You cooked! I'm so proud of you, Ron!"

Just as Hermione thought Ron would going to die of embarrassment, his eyes connected with hers and he gave her a small smile. In that moment, Hermione could feel her heart skip a beat and the scene that played out before her eyes, was so sweet, gentle and so very much like the Weasley family that Hermione felt like she had never been more home than here at the Burrow.

Suddenly she noticed that Ginny stood right beside her, looking as if she had just eaten a candle. "Oh, welcome home, Ginny," Hermione couldn't help but blush slightly and the fact that Ginny had this funny look, as if she was burst of happiness any second, made her smile.

"How was Sweden?"

"Just great! I had a blast!" Ginny sounded like a cat that had just been stepped on, but much happier. And then she pinched Hermione's arm.

"Ouch! That good, huh? Or is the family excitement just contagious?" Hermione rubbed her arm.

"It's not that," Ginny said and gave Hermione a 'matter of a fact' look. "He really likes you, you know."

"You're a nut." Hermione smiled.

Surprisingly, the mood didn't lessen when Ron actually showed his soup; it was a strange misty mint-green colour with spots of brown and red. Ginny tried to come to her brother's aid by explaining that it was cinnamon and chilly, something that she had thrown in.

"Call it a flash of insight," she joked. When her joke was lost to Hermione, Ginny turned to her mother. "When will dad get home from work?"

"Late," Mrs Weasley replied, taking a sip of the strange looking soup, without any hesitation. "He has to do a few more searches on potential Death Eaters. And what with trying to locate Snape and Harry ... it's just a lot for him."

The silence lay around the table like a silk sheet as everyone realized that outside the safety of the Burrow people fought for their lives, trying to escape the evil that Lord Voldemort had invoked. And there they were - celebrating Christmas like nothing was wrong.

"It's a really good soup," Mrs Weasley said after a while, attempting to be cheerful. "Fantastic job. Maybe I should let you cook from now on?" She grinned. "I'd get a well-earned vacation."

Ron blushed and Ginny nodded in agreement. "She's right, Ron. It looks like a big load of rubbish but it actually tastes pretty decent. We did a good job." Ron responded by throwing a piece of bread at his sister, who shrieked with laughter.

Then all of the members of the Weasley family, besides Ron who was busily eating his soup, turned to look at Hermione, who felt as exposed as a new-born baby. She swallowed hard, and picked up her spoon. She saw the pieces of apple floating on the surface of the soup, and she prayed that it was as tasty as Ginny and Mrs Weasley said.

Now or never, Hermione thought and in a flash the spoon was in her mouth and she swallowed a bit of the hot liquid and chewed on a piece of apple. The first thing she felt was the cinnamon, filling her mouth with rich taste. The chilly added a strong almost draining taste that made her reach for her glass of water. There were some herbs in the soup that were probably suppose to be there to give it all a fresh taste, but it was numbed away by the strong spice. It wasn't a bad soup, but it wouldn't get any cooking awards either.

Hermione's brown eyes met Ron's blue, and she could feel her heart racing. He looked at her with such hope and anticipation, that in that moment, all she wanted to do was to hug him but instead, all she said was, "Good work, Ron."

Ginny's grin was obvious, but Hermione pretended not to notice. Ron turned red as a tomato again as Hermione had complimented him. "Thanks."

An hour later, Ron and Ginny took care of the dishes in the kitchen, while Hermione sat and read King Lear by William Shakespeare and Mrs Weasley read a new book on how to grow the most fantastic plants. Every so often, Mrs Weasley would pull Hermione from her capturing story to show her pictures of different plants and how to grow them.

As Hermione read the second last chapter, she heard Ginny giggling beside her but couldn't for the world understand what the girl found so funny.

Suddenly something cold and wet went down Hermione's back and she yelled in surprise. "Ginny, you are so dead!" she screamed. Then Ginny's giggles became uncontrollable laughter.

"Who said it was Ginny?" Ron's voice was filled with amusement which made Hermione worry. She whirled around quickly and saw Ron standing behind her with a pitcher in his hand; water was still dripping from the opening.

The mood in the house had turned to joy. The warm glow of the candles and the fireplace, made the Burrow feel loving and comfortable. Hermione found herself laughing right along with Ginny as the two of them attacked Ron, tickling him out of a need for revenge. It was hard for her to stay angry with him when he looked so damn innocent, even though she knew he was guilty as sin.

Around nine, Ginny had gone to her room to send an owl to Luna and Mrs Weasley had called it an early night. Ron and Hermione sat in the sitting room, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione started to read a new book and Ron played chess by himself.

Hermione sigh in frustration as the words on the pages made no sense to her. "Oh, I'm never reading a book again!" she growled, rubbing her neck. "I'm not getting a word of this."

Ron raised an eyebrow and he opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione pointed a finger at him. "Not a word, Ronald Weasley. Not one word."

Hermione leaned her head on the arm rest and closed her eyes. She was so tired, (;) she let the soothing darkness surround her. she felt something rough and cotton-like being laid over her and she realized that it was a blanket. She pulled it up to her neck and curled into a little ball. She heard Ron move away but she didn't have the energy to see where he was going. She felt every limb in her body slowly relaxing and gave into the warmth covering her.

"Surprise," she heard him say a few moments later. Something started poking at her nose, "And Merry Christmas."

She tried to reach whatever it was that was poking her, but it kept slipping away from her hands, like a mouse that avoided a blind cat's desperate attempts to get it Hermione's eyelids slowly adjusted itself to the dim light, and saw a white package hovering in the air. She took the package in her hand and looked at it.

"Christmas isn't until tomorrow."

"I just thought- I'd give it to you now. You know, as," Ron said. "An apology."

Hermione smiled and viewed the package from every direction, and then she looked back to Ron with a smile on her face. "You know, you don't have to give me anything to say you're sorry," She tried handing it back but Ron refused to take it, "I can wait till tomorrow."

"I want you to have it now," he persisted. The look of pure determination in Ron's face made Hermione wonder if she shouldn't do as he said. After all, she'd love to open it.

Hermione gave Ron a last uncertain look, and then gently opened up the package, careful so that nothing would break or explode...just in case. As Hermione was opening it, Ron explained simply:

"It took me ages to find a decent packing charm, even though my mum has probably zillion books on the subject." He chuckled lightly and Hermione froze. "What?" The insecurity in Ron's voice was evident.

"Hang on," she said with a smile. She got up from the couch, laying the present where she had been sitting, "I want to get you yours, too. We can open them together."

Hermione quickly snuck up the stairs, and opened the drawer and searched for Ron's present. Soon she found a neat little package with a red and a white bow over. A smile kept over her face. She tucked the package in her pocket, and went back downstairs. Ron was still sitting in on the couch, leaning his head back on the cushion. Hermione could see he was tired, even though he hadn't said a word.

"Here it is!" she said, being careful not to wake Mrs Weasley, and wave the package gently in the air. Ron cupped his hands to show that he'd catch it if she threw it. Hermione looked uncertainly at the package and then at Ron, and then tossed it gently to him. It was the best she could do since she had never been good with sports or anything that involved throwing things.

Ron caught it in a unique, almost stylish way; at least it looked stylish in Hermione's opinion. She had never understood why boys were such jocks, but she supposed that it was simply because they were boys.

As Hermione sat down, Ron was enthusiastically opening his present, removing the bow and ripping off the paper. Hermione hoped that Ron would like his present, although it was not something that she would normally think about getting him in the first place. Hermione waited to see Ron's expression before she opened her present. The minutes seemed like hours but finally the last piece of tape was removed and the last piece of paper was ripped.

A frown came across Ron's face and he looked contemplative for quite some time. Then he turned to Hermione. "Why did you give me this?" he asked and held a copy of 'Beginner's Edition of Magical Arts' in his hands. He wasn't being rude or anything; he was just totally and utterly surprised.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably and blushed. "I thought about giving you something related to," she said, "But then I realized that it might be exactly what your mother would get you. I wanted to give you something special," she added in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "So I thought, you draw some really awesome comics, when you feel like it so," she paused. "I wanted to give you that."

"A famous artist has charmed the papers so that it remembers everything you draw. And then on another piece of parchment it tells you how you can improve your drawings." Hermione gave him a wary smile. "It's a lot less complicated when you actually start."

"Thanks Hermione," Ron looked at the present curiosity, and Hermione could see that he was impressed. "Now open yours," he told her.

Hermione took her own, half-opened package in her hands. She couldn't take the suspense anymore so she quickly ripped away the paper and tape. There was a white little box, about two inches wide which Hermione opened carefully. She gasped when she saw what was inside: a small necklace with a little heart on it.

"I put the sparkling charm over it myself," Ron told her proudly. "I gave it to you because you being a girl you-"

Hermione looked at him, a smile on her face. She didn't need to know why he had given it; she just knew that she loved it. She hugged Ron tightly and she could immediately feel Ron tense up.

"Might like jewellery," he finished.

"Thank you," Hermione said and let go of him. "It's a fantastic present."

Ron turned red again.

The next morning everyone in the house was awake by. Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen, cooking all sorts of last minute dishes and desserts, while Ginny happily helped. Ron and Hermione, who had started Christmas a little bit early, were just starting to get out of their rooms.

"You know," Ginny said as she rolled out the pie crust. "I think this is going to be a wonderful Christmas, Mum."

Just then, on the upper floor, Hermione entered the corridor, closing the bedroom door behind her. She rubbed her eyes, wearing a pink bathrobe, and adjusted the slippers on her feet as the door opposite her own slowly opened up.

Ron came out of his room, looking like the split image of someone who had just awoken. He saw Hermione and he gave her a gentle smile. Hermione could feel her insides warming up as she returned the smile. Brown eyes met blue and time just seemed to fade away...

"Merry Christmas."

**

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