PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: MyGinevra

Story: The Hog's Head

Part: 33: Christmas

Rating: Teens

Setting: Post-DH

Status: WIP

Warning: None

Reviews: 4

Words: 7,385

Updated: August 11, 2008, 11:56pm

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33: Christmas

That evening it started to snow, and by the time everyone went to bed it was coming down heavily. Harry had Ron’s attic room to himself, but since Ginny had reinstated the “house rule” — no sex inside the Burrow until they were married — he didn’t sleep all that well because there was no rule against very heavy snogging before bedtime.

But the next day brought a different kind of pleasure, and it more than compensated Harry for not being able to sleep with Ginny. He had spent plenty of Christmases at the Burrow and with Ron at Hogwarts, but this holiday was different. It was his first Christmas with Ginny, and it was his first Christmas without the shadow of Voldemort looming over the world. Harry discovered that celebrating the holiday with Ginny and her family under these new circumstances brought him a joyfulness that he had never known.

He sat at the kitchen table with Ginny while she helped her mother prepare food, and Molly told stories about her own childhood Christmases with Ginny’s grandmother. Harry loved hearing about a family with cheerful memories of holiday gatherings and the often humorous stories that went with them. He looked at Ginny as she peeled carrots — without magic because she occasionally liked to take a bite from the end of one — and she smiled at him. He knew exactly what she was thinking: someday his own stories would mingle with those of her family, and someday other people — Weasleys and Potters — would be telling stories about him.

He sat with Arthur in front of a blazing fire in the parlor, after Molly had chased him from the kitchen when his inept attempt at a mixing spell resulted in a huge mess of cake batter all over the wall. Ginny thought it was hilarious, and Arthur also laughed when he heard what had happened. He recounted to Harry several tales of his own mishaps in Molly Prewett’s and then Molly Weasley’s kitchens.

They also talked about Harry’s decision to join the Auror training program, and Arthur told Harry how pleased he was, not only for Harry’s sake but for the sake of Kingsley Shacklebolt’s regime. “We all knew that it would be hard to make changes, but I don’t think anyone dreamed it would be this hard.” Arthur shook his head. “No one looks on you as a savior, Harry, so don’t fret about that. And don’t be surprised if you encounter envy, either. There are plenty of small and jealous minds in this world. Kingsley knows that, and I think it’s something you know very well yourself. But if you want to keep on making a difference, then no one can stop you. I’m sorry if saying this makes you uncomfortable, but people do look to you as a leader.”

“I know that,” Harry replied. “I don’t really like it, but after what happened last month with... with Ginny, I also know that I can’t sit back and think that everything will be fine if I just ignore it. I’ll never make that mistake again.”

Arthur looked at him, and Harry thought he saw a tear in his eye. “You know, there are some parents who, I suppose, might be concerned if their daughter was going to marry you. But, Harry, Molly and I talk almost every day about how happy we are, and not just because Ginny is so happy. We are so proud of what you did and how you did it.”

Harry was embarrassed, but there were other feelings also, and suddenly he recognized that they were akin to something he had felt many years ago. He remembered sitting for hours at a time in front of the Mirror of Erised, longing for exactly what was happening now.

For some reason he couldn’t speak. He nodded, then looked into the fireplace, afraid that his own tears would show.

The door opened and Ginny came in. “Are you okay, sweetie?” she came over and bent down, peering at him with a smile. “Mum cleaned off the wall, but I think you should wait until lunchtime before you go back in there.”

Arthur laughed. “I was telling Harry about the time I Scourgified a pot that had about twenty Galleons worth of meat and vegetables in it, that she had spent five hours preparing. Fortunately it was after we were married, otherwise I think she might have cancelled the wedding.”

“Daddy, when did you ever have twenty Galleons to spend on food?”

“Well,” Arthur chuckled, “maybe it was twenty Knuts.”

Harry wiped his eyes and stood up. “Let’s go for a walk before lunch,” he said. “It stopped snowing and it looks beautiful out.”

Ginny glanced out the window; it was still partly cloudy, but it looked to be clearing up. “Good idea,” she said. “I’ve been cooped up in the kitchen all morning.”

They bundled up in boots, sweaters, scarves, wool caps, and cloaks; Ginny’s scarf, cap, and mittens were bright red; Harry wore his old Gryffindor scarf, and they headed down to Fred’s grave. It had snowed about six inches; a biting breeze picked up crystals of snow and blew them into their faces. Ginny took off her mittens and brushed the snow from the headstone, then stood next to Harry and they held hands. Ginny looked around at the nearby woods and back to the house; everything was draped with a mantle of snow.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she said. “I was worried about having Christmas without Fred, but it’s so peaceful to be home. And it’s so special to be here with you.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing,” he said. “But then I expect you knew that.” Ginny smiled and put her mittens back on; Harry took her hand again and they started walking into the woods.

The world was muffled in a brilliant blanket of white; they could hear birds chirping, but nothing else except the crunch of their boots as they walked. The sky had cleared and the sun shone brightly. Their breaths came out in white puffs.

Ginny took off the mitten on the hand that was holding Harry’s, then put it back on over both of their hands. Their fingers entwined, and as they walked their minds seemed to entwine also. When a bird called, neither one was certain whose ears they were hearing it with; a clump of snow blew from a branch and Ginny’s hand went to her own face as if to wipe it off, but it had hit Harry’s eyeglasses, and they both laughed at her reaction.

They wandered down to the river and came on a scene as pretty as anything they had ever seen in a painting or a photograph. The snow lay on small rocks and islets in the middle of the stream; sunlight sparkled on eddies and ripples in the water. Harry put his arm around Ginny and a sense of peace engulfed them. They stood there for a long time, then they turned to each other. Ginny lifted her face and closed her eyes; Harry kissed her, but not deeply; there was no need or desire to be physically passionate. Their lips pressed together and they felt a closeness as deep as any they had experienced when making love; they both felt as if they were floating in the air and that they were the only people in the world, that the sun, the snow, the river, the woods, all existed for themselves alone.

Harry finally broke off the kiss; Ginny looked up and straightened his glasses, then peered into them and wrinkled her brow and her nose as she looked at her reflection in them. She adjusted her cap, took Harry’s hand inside her mitten, and they began walking back. Neither one had spoken since leaving Fred’s grave, yet it seemed that they had said more to each other than in all their conversations of the past week. They were silent all the way to the house; no words could add to what they felt.

The delicious aroma of freshly baked bread, and a piping hot and hearty vegetable soup awaited them in the kitchen. Molly was taking a cake out of the oven, and Harry reckoned that the disaster caused by his earlier attempt at cake–making had been overcome. While they were eating, Ron and Hermione arrived, and it was only Molly’s threat of indescribably painful punishment that kept Ron away from the cake. He finished the loaf of bread instead, and then tried to charm the last slice of it from Harry’s plate, but Ginny noticed and grabbed it in mid–air.

“You’re disgusting, Ron,” she said as she handed it back to Harry, then licked the butter from her fingers. “Don’t you feed him?” she asked Hermione.

“You should know that it’s hopeless,” Hermione replied. “It’s like having a dog. They’ll eat anything, and constantly.”

“I’ll bake another loaf, dear,” Molly said to Ron. “Actually, I’ll make two, and everyone else can share the second one.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Ron mumbled through a mouth full of bread and soup. “I love Christmas.”

After lunch they went up to Ron’s room, and Harry and Ginny filled them in about last weekend’s incident in the field behind the inn.

“You didn’t get a look at the second person?” Ron said. “That’s a shame; it would have been our first real break.”

“It does absolutely prove one thing,” Hermione said. “Turquoise is involved with what happened to the inn, not just with the Turntongue.”

“And I’ll bet it also means that the Death Eaters are holed up with her, or at least some of them are,” Ron added.

Harry looked puzzled. “One thing that I don’t understand is, why was she just standing there looking at the inn.”

“Because,” said Hermione, “she was Imperiused. Didn’t the Auror say they detected two spells, one of them an Imperio? The other one was your Body Binder.”

“But she was never Imperiused when I saw her,” Harry said flatly. “If you’re saying that she was acting against her will, then I never saw it. All those times when she was in the inn, using Crescerio on the Turntongue, she was not Imperiused.”

“Well,” Hermione frowned, “I believe you, but I don’t understand it.”

“I think she wasn’t Imperiused when she was looking at the inn,” said Ginny. “She reacted pretty quickly when she saw us and ran. I don’t think the Curse happened until she was over the fence and in the lane.”

“And I don’t understand that, either,” Hermione said.

“Do you know how long she was standing there?” Ron asked.

“Only a minute or two,” said Harry. “When we saw her, we had just gone upstairs, and I think she would have heard us going up the steps and that would have scared her off.”

“So,” Ron said, “we know a few more things, but we have more questions. That, mate, is an indication that we are on the right track. Lesson Sixteen in the training manual.”

“By the way,” Harry grinned at him, “they knew you had nicked those parchments. Sagittaria told me the next day.”

Ron grimaced. “Yeah, I got reamed out by Stoney and then, even worse, by Percy.”

“Stoney? Who’s that?” Harry said.

“Mercander Stone. He’s my mentor. Everyone gets a mentor. He works with you, and you get to go out on cases with him. Stoney’s pretty cool. He knows how to chew you out, though.”

“I’ll bet Percy enjoyed it,” Ginny smirked.

“Sometimes he’s still a foul little prat,” Ron glowered, then he shrugged. “I guess I deserved it. I did point out that it demonstrated some holes in their security, but they claimed that there was no security on that stuff in the first place.”

“You were trying to help me,” Harry reached over and patted his shoulder.

Ron looked around. “So, I guess we’re sleeping up here. And the girls are sleeping where?”

“In my room,” Ginny said, “by ourselves.”

Ron gazed at her sadly. “It’s asking a lot from a bloke, you know.”

“Suck it up and tough it out,” Ginny grinned maliciously. “Take a run around the house in your skivvies every evening. Or without them. That ought to cool your ardor.”

Ron gave her a sour look, then started unpacking his bags. They all went downstairs when they heard cries of greeting, leaving a pile of Ron’s clothing on the bed that never made it into a dresser drawer for the entire holiday.

George and Percy had just arrived. Percy pumped Harry’s hand and said he had brought along all the official parchments Harry needed to sign up for the Auror program; it wouldn’t take more than half a day, Percy assured him. Harry said he still had a few questions, but Percy brushed them aside; he had even set up a meeting with the Chief Mentor — Saliyah Ushujaa — on Monday so that Harry could be assigned a mentor as soon as possible. So many Aurors had clamored to be assigned to Harry that Minister Shacklebolt himself might have to make the choice.

“Chief Mentor?” Harry said as he walked with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione down to Fred’s grave. “He doesn’t waste any time, does he?”

“Nope, not ol’ Perce,” Ron declared. “You can be sure that he’s been planning this for months, probably ever since you had that lunch with Shacklebolt last fall. Percy picks up on things like that, it’s called having your finger to the wind. He saw that Kingsley wanted you in the program, so he set up all the parchments and forms ahead of time, just in case you decided to sign up. That way it looks like Percy is the model of efficiency, which he is, and can read the Minister’s mind to boot.”

“Yeah, but how did he know that I would sign up? Hell, I didn’t know.”

Hermione and Ginny giggled and Ron grinned. “It wasn’t hard to predict, mate. We all knew that you weren’t happy adding up columns in that ledger book of yours.”

“Hey,” Harry laughed, “I paid a lot of gold for that ledger, and your own brother George spent a lot of time showing me how to do it right.”

“Did you hear?” Ron said as they neared the grave, “George and Lee are buying up the old Zonkos.”

Ginny clapped her mittens in glee. “Really? That’s brilliant! I hope George will be running it. I’ll get to see him all the time! Will he?”

“Dunno. You can ask him now. Here he comes.”

They were standing at the grave, and turned to see George, Percy, Bill, and Fleur walking toward them. Fleur was carrying a large bouquet of enchanted flowers that would stay fresh for several days. She placed it on the grave and held Bill’s arm as they stood in silence. Harry and Ginny glanced at each other; they had both noticed that George and Percy were visibly upset. Apparently they did not share Ginny’s tranquility when it came to Fred. Ginny decided not to ask George yet about Zonkos.

They all went back to the house; it was time to start decorating. Harry, Ron, and Bill went out to find a tree, but when they got back they found everyone in the kitchen except George. “He’s up in his room,” said Ginny, who was sitting next to her mother with her arm around her shoulders. “He was looking out the back door toward Fred’s grave and he started crying. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, he just went upstairs and locked his door.”

Molly dabbed at her eyes; Arthur was sitting on her other side, looking glum. Hermione and Fleur sat with sad expressions. Only Percy was standing, with his back to the room, staring out a window.

Bill beckoned to Fleur, and they went upstairs. Those in the kitchen heard a knock on a door, then low voices. After a moment the door opened, then shut again, and the house was quiet. Molly stared at the staircase.

“Why did Bill take her up? Does he think George will talk to her, but not to me?”

Arthur took her hand. “My guess is that Fleur won’t say a word. Bill knows how to talk to him. It’s hard to be gloomy when she’s in the room, though.”

She was not mollified, but she got up and went to Percy. “How are you, dear?” she reached up and turned his face; there were wet streaks on it.

Percy cleared his throat and stood straight. “I’ll be fine, Mum. Don’t worry about me.” He looked around. “Let’s not be like this. It’s Christmas, we’re all here. We do have something to be sad about, but we also have things to be happy about. The world is a much better place than it was a year ago.”

Molly smiled through teary eyes, and touched Percy’s face again. “Yes, darling, that’s true. Ginny,” she turned, “you said you would take charge of the decorations.”

Ginny jumped up, and in ten minutes the house was humming with activity. Harry and Ron brought the tree in and set it up; decorations started going up all over; and the whole house started to fill with the smells of biscuits and bread. After a while Bill and Fleur came down. “He’s okay,” Bill said to Molly, “but he wants to be alone for now. He said he’ll be down for dinner.”

By late afternoon the house was bright and festive. The tree decorating would wait until after dinner, but there was a debate about Stupefying a garden gnome again to put on top. Ron and Ginny were in favor, Percy was strictly opposed, and Bill was neutral. They decided to wait for George’s vote, but Ron and Ginny went outside to scare one up, just in case.

Fleur somehow managed to persuade Molly to let her fix up a batch of Christmas punch. She and Bill had brought two bottles of champagne, one of which was intended for Christmas dinner, and the other for this bowl of punch. Just before dinner she brought it into the parlor in a beautiful crystal bowl that sparkled in the sunlight streaming through a window; she wouldn’t say how the bowl had arrived at the Burrow, only that it had belonged to her non–Veela but very magical grandmother. And she also refused to give out the recipe. But even the skeptical Molly smiled in delight when she tasted it.

“It tastes like... apricots and peaches. And there’s honey in it, too, isn’t there?”

Fleur gave her most radiant smile. “Ah, Maman, if I tell you ze recipe, zere will be no mystery. It is a mystery punch.” She laughed, and everyone smiled.

George had joined them, looking rather solemn at first, but the taste of the punch and then Fleur’s laughter brought a smile to his face. He gradually became more animated, even cheerful. When Molly and Arthur went out of the room for a few minutes right before dinner, Ron asked for his vote on the garden gnome.

“How can there be any question?” George asked in mock astonishment. “It will be the Fred Weasley memorial Christmas angel.”

Ron was a little startled by George’s comment, but he clapped his hands. “Brilliant! We stashed one in the broom cupboard just in case, and I found the tutu you used two years ago. All we have to do is paint it.” They stopped talking when Molly put her head in the door and announced dinner.

Harry sat next to Ginny; they hadn’t talked much during the afternoon, yet Harry always had the feeling that he knew exactly where she was. He didn’t know what she was doing, but there was always an air of happiness like a stream of sunshine coming from her direction, as if she was constantly humming a favorite tune. He put his hand on her leg under the table, but then withdrew it almost guiltily, remembering the house rule. Ginny glanced at his apologetic expression and he could see her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. She put down her glass of juice , put her arms around him, and kissed him. After a moment, the silence that fell around the table was broken by applause and laughter.

“Can’t it wait till you’re finished eating?” chortled George.

“No,” said Ginny. “That’s what I felt like doing. We’re engaged, so what’s your problem?” She made a face at him.

“Blimey, I can’t wait to see what they’re like after they’re married,” George said to Fleur, who was sitting next to him. “They’re likely to starve to death with all the snogging.”

“Zey will live on love,” Fleur said, and raised her glass to Ginny. “It is much more satisfying zan food.”

Harry’s hopes were now raised, and he pressed his leg against Ginny’s. But when he returned his hand to her thigh, she reached under the table and moved it away. Harry sighed and started eating his shepherd’s pie.

After dinner the whole family helped decorate the tree, and Ron and George were able to sneak the Stupefied gnome on top when Molly started fiddling with the wireless and Arthur was in conversation with Percy about some Ministry business. The hapless gnome spent the rest of the holiday perched atop the tree, but Ron rewarded it with a slice of mince pie when they took the tree down a week later, and the gnome went back to the garden a happy camper.

Molly finished tuning the wireless, and the aging voice of Celestina Warbeck came crackling through the speaker. Fleur rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but this year she said nothing, at least not in English. Molly got up to bring in dessert and hot cider, but Ginny insisted on doing it, then asked Harry to come and help her. They left the room with everyone watching them, but their snog in the kitchen was brief, at Ginny’s insistence. “I really did want you to help me,” she giggled and pushed Harry’s hands away. “Careful, you may have to run around the house in your knickers with Ron.”

“If I agree to do that, will you give me five minutes — no, ten minutes alone in your room?”

“Sure, if by ‘alone’ you mean by yourself.”

“Well, then, let’s get married now. Then we won’t be breaking the rule.”

“Can’t. Aunt Muriel’s not here.”

Harry was about to make a rejoinder, when there were two loud cracks, and Kreacher and Winky stood before them. The elves bowed; Winky looked curiously around the kitchen as Kreacher spoke. “We has come to the Burrow as you requested, Master Harry. The inn is secure. The Auror Goldberg seems to know what he is doing. May we be of service?”

“Ah! Just in time!” Harry spoke quickly. “Take that cake, those mugs, and that cauldron of cider into the parlor. We’ll be right along.”

Kreacher bowed again, then he and Winky began putting mugs, plates, serving utensils, the cauldron, and the large cake that Molly had rescued from Ron on trays, then took them out of the kitchen. Ginny, who had not said a thing while all this was happening, grinned at him.

“Okay, lover, you earned a snog,” she said. It was interrupted a second later by Molly’s shriek from the parlor.

“Uh, oh,” said Harry, “I forgot to tell your mum about the house–elves.”

But nothing else happened; they resumed their embrace, and when they stopped, Ginny leaned her head on his chest.

“I’ve dreamt about days like this,” she said, and looked up at him. “I’m in my home with my family and with you and everything’s perfect.”

“I felt like I was with you today even when I wasn’t,” said Harry; he started running his fingers through her hair and she put her head back on his chest as Harry continued. “Somehow, nothing seems to separate us. When I first started living in the inn, I felt lonely whenever you weren’t there. Now, you are there, always. I’m never alone anymore.”

“No, neither am I.” She lifted her head, and Harry kissed her the same way he had kissed her that morning on the snowy bank of the river. The kitchen vanished, the universe itself seemed to vanish. All that they knew were each other’s lips, each other's arms...

A bullfrog voice spoke. “Where might Kreacher find more dessert plates?” Harry and Ginny both looked around, momentarily disoriented.

“Um, uh, what?” Ginny stammered. “Uh, lips — plates! Yes, they’re over there.” She pointed to a cabinet, then giggled as Kreacher bowed and retrieved a stack of dishes and took them away. She looked back at Harry, who was staring glassy–eyed after the elf. “I guess we should go back in.”

“I guess.” He blinked several times, but didn’t move; he seemed thoughtful. “Did anyone ever tell you that love would be like this?” he asked. “I mean, like being inside the other person’s life?”

She shook her head. “I see my mum and dad do things where one knows what the other one is thinking, but that’s not what I’m feeling. Is that what you’re feeling?”

Harry leaned against the table. “No, it’s way more than that. I know what it’s like to be you. Not actual thoughts, but feelings and... and...” He hesitated and sighed, “I can’t describe it. It’s just... you.”

“Yes, that’s what it is. And like you said, love, I’m never alone anymore.” She came and they kissed again until Kreacher came back, this time with Winky, looking for a bowl of cut–up fruit from the pantry. Ginny showed them where it was, then she and Harry followed the elves back into the parlor.

The fire was burning lower, and most of the light was coming from candles. The scents of pine tree and cinnamon filled the room; Celestina crooned softly on the wireless. Harry and Ginny sat on the hearth next to Ron and Hermione. Ginny curled up with her head in Harry’s lap and he stroked her hair and her forehead. She took his hand and kissed it, then closed her eyes and held it. Molly, who was sitting in an easy chair next to the fire knitting a pink sleeper for Fleur’s baby, gazed at them and smiled to herself.

The next morning, Christmas day, Harry was awakened by the sound of ripping paper. Ron was sitting up in his bed going through his loot; wrapping paper and ribbons were flying everywhere; it looked like he had already opened all of his presents. “A sweater from Mum, as usual; an autographed Cannons’ Quaffle from Bill and Fleur; a photo of me and Hermione from Ginny — I think that’s for both of us; a dragon–hide wallet with three magically hidden compartments from Charlie; a grooming kit from Aunt Muriel, I guess that’s a hint of some kind; a necktie and cufflinks from Percy, I guess that’s a hint, too; a Foe–Glass from George... hmm, I wonder if that’s a hint; and a year’s gift certificate from Hermione to an all–you–can–eat restaurant in Chelsea. God, I love that woman.”

Harry grinned, and was about to make a few comments, when the door burst open and Ginny came flying in, followed by Hermione; both girls were wearing robes over their nightgowns. Ginny flung herself at Harry, knocking him back onto his pillow and began smothering him with kisses. “They’re beautiful!” she cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She sat straddling Harry in the bed and held up a red velvet jewelry case trimmed in gold. She opened it and took out a smaller hinged box, also made of red velvet; inside were two ruby earrings. She took them out, tossed her hair back, and put them in her ears. “How do they look? They go perfectly with my ring.”

“They and you look beautiful,” Harry pulled her down and kissed her.

“Yoo–hoo, there’s two other people in the room,” Ron called out. “This is exactly why these sleeping arrangements suck.”

Ginny sat up and straightened her robe but didn’t get off Harry. She handed him a wrapped box. “Happy Christmas. I wanted to deliver it in person.”

Harry ripped the paper off and opened it. Hermione and Ron came and peered over Harry’s shoulder. Inside was a photograph in an ornate silver frame of himself and Ginny; Harry was grinning at the camera, and Ginny had her arms around his neck and was planting a kiss on his cheek. Then Harry turned and kissed Ginny, and the snog continued, and continued, and continued...

“Where is this from?” Harry said. “I don’t remember it. Of course, I wouldn’t have remembered anything while you were doing that.”

“Opening night at the inn,” Ginny replied. “Dennis had a camera, probably Colin’s old one. Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Harry grinned at her. “I’ll put it on my night stand so I can fall asleep looking at it. Thanks, love.” He pulled her down again, as Ron and Hermione went back to Ron’s bed and sat down. After a few minutes Ron started whistling “God Save The Queen” and Ginny sat up.

“So, what else did you get?” Ginny finally asked. Harry sat up, too, but first he handed presents to Ron and Hermione. Ron got a genuine English–Irish League Golden Snitch mounted inside a display case, along with a certificate stating that it had been caught by the Cannons Seeker, Forrester Salinger, in a league match against Puddlemere United on June 28, 1996.

“This might be the last one he’s caught,” Ron observed. “This is so cool. Thanks, mate.” He put the Snitch back inside its case, and it beat its wings for a few seconds, then settled on the little pedestal inside.

Hermione got an elegant, dark blue silk blouse that Harry had bought in an expensive Muggle clothing store. She kissed Harry’s cheek and handed Harry his present. It was a book, a talking history of the Auror profession; each of the famous Aurors in it spoke about his or her most notorious cases and the techniques they used to solve them. It also described their favorite spells and charms, with charts and diagrams showing how to use them. “This is brilliant, Hermione!” Harry said, and he returned her kiss.

Harry opened the rest of his presents. He got the identical items that Ron had, except that he didn’t get anything from Aunt Muriel. Ginny peered into his Foe–Glass. “Someone is there,” she muttered, “but they’re not very distinct.” Harry looked at it briefly, then grunted and put it face down on the bed. “Later for that,” he said. “Today is Christmas.”

The girls left and Harry and Ron dressed. At breakfast everyone was dutifully wearing their new sweaters. Harry brought down the rest of his presents, and gave Bill and Fleur a prettily wrapped box of candles from Dervish and Banges. For George he had a book of sonnets by the Muggle playwright William Shakespeare; Percy got a fancy quill and ink set from Scrivenshaft’s; and for Molly and Arthur he had a small, handcrafted clock, since the only one he had seen in the house was the Weasley family clock that used to show everyone in Mortal Peril.

“I sent Charlie’s to him,” he told everyone. “It’s a gold chain necklace. Ginny said he likes that kind of thing, didn’t you?” he looked at her hopefully.

“You can blame me if he doesn’t, but he’ll like it,” Ginny patted his hand.

Molly was admiring the clock. “Harry, you have the best ideas. This is adorable. I’ll put it up in the parlor, it will go very nicely there.”

Everyone was pleased with their presents, although Ron grumbled a little over the grooming kit he got from Muriel, but she had given the same gift to everyone, including Arthur. After breakfast, some people went back upstairs to nap, and some went into the parlor to nap. Molly warned everyone that Christmas dinner would be served promptly at three in the afternoon, since there would be guests and they would want to get home before it was too late.

Harry, however, had two more gifts to give. He found Kreacher and Winky in the pantry behind the kitchen, preparing some of the vegetable dishes and pastry mixes for the big meal; Ginny, Ron, and Hermione crowded into the tiny room with him.

“Happy Christmas!” Harry said, and handed wrapped packages to each elf.

They had very different reactions. Winky squealed in delight when she saw hers, a nested set of copper ladles. “Oh, Harry Potter,” she smiled gratefully and peered up with eyes as big as saucers, “how does he know what Winky wants most for Christmas?”

“You’re welcome,” Harry laughed. “The inn is now safe from attack.” Winky giggled and started examining her present.

Meanwhile, Kreacher was staring at his gift, and there were tears in his eyes. He was holding a knitted cap in his trembling hand. He stared up at Harry. “Harry Potter has given Kreacher clothes.” Hermione had her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were as wide as Winky’s; Kreacher’s, though, were sad. “Why does Harry Potter give Kreacher clothes?”

“I don’t want you to leave, Kreacher,” Harry said solemnly, “I want you to be my house–elf at the inn and at Grimmauld Place. But you have done very brave and very dangerous things for me and also for the Black family. It’s your reward. It means that you can do whatever you want, and if you want to stay with me then I will be very happy.”

Kreacher bowed, then turned away and stood in a corner; they could hear his sobs and see his shoulders shake. Hermione took Harry’s arm and led him and the others from the pantry. They went upstairs to the attic room and she gave Harry a hug.

“That was beautiful!” she said; her own eyes were wet. “He deserves to be free, the poor creature has gone through so much.”

Harry sat on his camp bed and gave her a guilty look. “My motives weren’t totally altruistic.”

They all stared at him. “What do you mean?” Hermione said suspiciously. “You’re not going to ask him to do something, are you?”

“I am, and now he can say no if he doesn’t want to do it.”

“Harry, he’s old and tired. You can’t do that! It will kill him. We had no choice then, and... and everything was at stake. This is completely different!”

Ron slowly nodded, but Ginny looked puzzled. “What are you two talking about?”

Hermione turned to her. “When we were hiding in Grimmauld Place last year, we needed to find Mundungus Fletcher. He had stolen the locket, the one Sirius’s brother Regulus took from the cave. Dung didn’t know it was a Horcrux. Kreacher told us that he could find him. He brought him back to Grimmauld Place, and that’s how we traced it to Umbridge. Now Harry wants to use Kreacher to find Turquoise Southeby, right?” she said to Harry in an accusatory voice.

“He has a choice now,” Harry said defensively. “That’s why I gave him clothes. I mean, I wanted to free him, anyway, but he doesn’t have to go find her if he doesn’t want to.”

“He won’t say no, Harry, you know that!” Hermione was now angry; she stood directly in front of him with one hand on her hip and the other waggling a finger in his face. “He’ll do whatever you want, even if it isn’t good for him. If she’s hiding with Death Eaters, they won’t hesitate to kill him.” She turned away and glared at Ron and Ginny, then spun back to Harry. “How could you do that?” She was crying.

“It — it seemed like a good idea. We have to find her. The Fidelius... This is the only way we’ll find out who tried to kill me.” He stood up and his voice rose. “And Ginny! I could have hurt her worse than I did, or even... even worse!”

He looked at Ginny; they stared at each other and suddenly Harry’s face fell; he sat on the camp bedt again. “Oh, I —”

Ginny came and took his hands. “Harry, Hermione is right. You shouldn’t ask Kreacher to do that. It could be really dangerous. And he’s getting so old. You’ve mentioned it yourself.”

Harry bit his lip and looked directly at Ginny. Her grip tightened; they were still for a long moment. Finally Ron asked in a quiet voice, “Is something going on between you two?”

Harry let out a breath. “Yeah,” he said without looking at Ron, “something’s going on.”

Ginny sat next to him. “Could you two leave us alone for a bit?” Hermione turned on her heel and stalked out. Ginny sprang up and caught her on the landing outside the door. “Hermione, he’ll be fine, he’s already changed his mind. He knows it wasn’t right.”

She looked at Ginny dubiously. “I hope so.”

Ron had come out and eyed Ginny curiously. “How do you know he changed his mind? He didn’t say anything.”

“I’ll tell you later.” Ginny went back into the room and closed the door. Harry was sitting on his camp bed with his back against the pillows; he was looking toward the window at the end of the room, but turned when Ginny sat next to him. He spoke before Ginny could.

“Do you remember that night after Fred’s funeral when we walked down to the grave, and the moon came up?”

Ginny rested her chin on his drawn up knees. “I do. You were very quiet.”

“It was a bad night. All I could think of were the people who had died. Hedwig and Dobby, too. I was lying right here in this bed, and it didn’t seem like there was any place in the world for me. I had no home, no family. I never had a room like this with neat stuff from my childhood. I had nothing.” He paused and reached to touch Ginny’s face; she was watching him and kissed his hand when it brushed her lips.

“Then you came and got me and we went to the grave. You cried, but you told me it was because you were crazy for me. Those were the words. Crazy.” He gave a short laugh and looked at the window again, then back at her. “I knew at that moment that my life would be with you. And now I think that I always knew it. Maybe we were never alone but we didn’t know it.”

Ginny smiled. “Maybe. It’s nice, whenever it started.”

They were silent; Harry tapped his hand on his thigh. “I really thought it was a good idea.”

“It was a good idea. Kreacher should be free. Not Winky, though. She would probably start drinking again. She needs structure in her life.” Ginny giggled and Harry smiled.

“I thought I was doing something to protect both of us, not just you.”

“I know.” There was another silence.

“We do need to find them. We won’t be safe until we do.”

“That’s right.”

“Will you stop agreeing with me?” Harry laughed. He let his knees drop and collected Ginny in his arms. “I did something stupid, and you’re agreeing with me. That’s no help.”

Ginny moved so that she was comfortably on top of him. “You didn’t do anything stupid. You might have, but your friends kept you from actually doing it. Freeing Kreacher was beautiful, just like Hermione said. And Kreacher knew it, too.”

Harry wasn’t really listening. His mouth was moving all over her face, and his hands were moving all over the rest of her. Ginny gave a little whimper. “I guess one violation won’t be so bad.”

When they got downstairs Ron gave them a suspicious look. “Want to go for a walk?” Ginny asked, preempting his interrogation.

The four went outside into a day that was more beautiful than yesterday; it was warmer and there was no breeze. They cleared snow from four chairs near the garden and sat, basking in the sun. Harry was the first to broach the subject of Kreacher.

“I won’t ask him to go look for Southeby. He’s free, he can do whatever he wants.”

Hermione opened her eyes; she had been leaning back in her chair with them shut. “That’s good, Harry. I’m glad you changed your mind.” She smiled, then closed her eyes again.

“Say,” Ron sat up and looked at Ginny, “while you were upstairs talking —” he gave her a meaningful look “— Dad told me that Hogwarts has a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but McGonagall’s not saying who it is.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Ginny said. “Luna overhead Slughorn telling Sprout. Why is she keeping it a secret?”

“Dunno. She was down at the Ministry yesterday afternoon to sign papers or something, and she told Dad it would be a big surprise. You know,” he poked Harry’s arm and laughed when Harry startled. “Wake up, mate. I sure as hell won’t be leaving you two alone in my room again.”

Harry looked around. “Was I asleep? What time is it?”

They all laughed. “We were talking about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Ginny said. “Dad heard something from McGonagall.”

Harry blinked and sat up. “They hired someone? Do you know who?”

“No,” Ron answered, “but I was about to say, a couple of people thought it might be you.”

“Me?” Harry looked at Ron in surprise, then at Ginny. “That’s ridiculous. How would I teach that?”

“The same way you taught Dumbledore’s Army,” said Ron. “I learned more from you than from any of those other clowns, that’s for sure.”

“I know some spells, sure, but I don’t know anything about the history or the theory. And what would I do in front of a class of giggling first–years? I don’t know how to change nappies.”

“I wouldn’t mind being your student,” Ginny said in a low, seductive voice.

“See?” said Harry. “I couldn’t possibly teach that class, not with Ginny in it.”

They decided that Harry was right, and also that they had no idea who the new teacher would be. Soon the temperature started to drop, and Hermione cast a warming spell and they sat and talked until they heard a loud whistle; Fleur was beckoning to them from the back door.

“Dinner time,” Ron heaved himself up. “I wonder who else is coming.” They walked back to the house and found that Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Saliyah Ushujaa had joined the company. Harry steeled himself for the onslaught of questions from Kingsley and Saliyah, but as he sat at the table he could also feel the comforting presence of Ginny; she was on his right and he gave her arm an appreciative squeeze.

They all sat, but then Arthur Weasley rose and everyone looked at him. He raised a glass of Fleur’s champagne. “Before we start in on this marvelous feast, I want to say a few brief words. This is a special Christmas, in one bad way but in many very good ways. Our dearest Fred is gone, he will never be replaced and he will always be missed. But as Percy said only yesterday, the world is a much better place than it was a year ago. Every one of us here helped to make that happen. In a few months there will be another Weasley, and a very beautiful one if she has only half the looks of her mother. And a little later, we will have a wedding, and our family will grow again. I raise my glass to us, and to the world we are making, in which all these wonderful things are coming to pass.”

He drained his glass, and the others followed. Soon serving dishes were moving around the table, conversation and laughter filled the air, and the comfort and joy of the season filled the spirits of the Weasley family and their guests.

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