Welcome to Gaia! ::

Basically write or FIND a short HP Winter/Holiday themed story, any length from one paragraph to about 10 ish pages.

(Hint: if you think you're not a writer, head over to the main Forum and check out the Index sticky for links to top-notch Fan Fiction sites).

If you're submitting a story you didn't write, be sure to give full credit: author's name, where you found it, and a link to the site.

Please post the stories here in this thread, not just a link to where you found them.

Include a link to where you found them, if they do not originate with you and/or if they are posted elsewhere.

Spelling and grammar will count, so please spell-check and/or have someone beta read your stories. Even if you didn't write it --please fix/correct spelling and grammar if the story needs it. Be sure to note that you edited the story.

Copy and paste your edited story here, but include a link to the original.

Merry Christmas Minister
By:SlyRedding

www.harrypotterfanfiction.com

Percy Weasley let out a loud sigh as he signed yet another decree that day. The life of a Minister caused him to be in his office for hours on end. But, he was satisfied. He had fulfilled his dream. At twenty-seven he was sworn into office and one year later here he was. He liked to feel that he was making a difference. And to the Wizarding World, he was.

But to the Weasley family, he assumed the title of work-a-holic. He was always at the Ministry working twenty-four hours a day, even during holidays and vacations. It was nice to see him and dedicated, but sometimes, too much is too much.

After signing his hundredth paper, he decided to take a quick 'power nap'. However, the second his head hit the desk it jolted back up again as he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, quickly rubbing his eyes.

The door opened and Percy stared at a woman with dark brown hair and the eyes to match. He felt his stomach lurched slightly, passing it off as a hunger pain.

"Good afternoon Minister," she said, smiling.

"Hello Ms. Billings," Percy said, not bothering to conceal the large smile on his face.

Marisol Billings was head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was pretty twenty-seven year old woman and a graduate of Percy's class from Ravenclaw. She was named Valedictorian of the class, receiving an O.W.L. and an N.E.W.T. in each subject. However, she was just as modest and humble as she had always been.

"What's up?" Percy asked.

"We had little bit of a quarrel with a wizard and a Goblin who both worked at Gringotts. However, it was settled, and injuries were minor."

"Injuries?" Percy questioned.

"Humans and Magical creatures are known to blow a mental fuse to two," she replied. "The wizard and the Goblin involved lost their temper. No magic was involved –" she added quickly seeing the look on Percy's face. "Just fists. Both suffered scratches and bruises on their face."

Percy sighed in relief.

'That's good," he said, signing yet another piece of paper in front of him. "Is there anything else?"

"As a matter of fact Percy, there is," she said.

Percy looked up at her, fighting back a shiver at the way his name left her lips. It was a mark of how different the new situation was: she had addressed him informally.

"What is it Mari?" he asked.

She took a deep breath.

"Look, I know being Minister keeps you busy but, it would mean so much to Mrs. Weasley if you came to Christmas dinner tomorrow."

Percy froze.

"That's tomorrow?!" he exclaimed.

Marisol laughed.

"You see?" she said. "You need a break Perce! No one will be here tomorrow; the Ministry is closed on Christmas. I think you'll live if you take one day of the year off from work."

He sighed.

"I know," he said. "I know. Tell mum I'll be there."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Marisol smiled.

"Alright," she said. "Good bye Minister."

"Goodbye, Ms. Billings," he said, smiling as she left.



~*~



Christmas dawned bright and early and at 10:00am, Marisol was at the Burrow with Hermione helping her fix dinner.

"Any news on Percy dearie?" Mrs. Weasley asked her.

Marisol smiled.

"He'll be here," she said. "He promised me."

Mrs. Weasley's face lit up.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "So now there are sixteen of us!"

Marisol smiled.

"So how are things going between you and Percy?" Hermione asked nonchalantly, though Marisol could tell that her eyes were giving her a knowing look.

"Me and Percy?" she said, attempting to stay calm as she continued to cut up potatoes for the potato salad. "What are you talking about Hermione?"

"Oh cut the clueless routine," she replied, smiling. "A dolt can see you're into Percy."

"Though I can't imagine why," said a voice from the living room.

"Hush Ron!" Hermione and Marisol hissed.

"What?" he replied, looking up from his book. "It's true. You need someone more – what's the word I want . . . oh yeah I know – fun."

Marisol laughed.

"I know Percy isn't the most fun person in the world," she said. "He's never been. But that's what I like about him."

"So you admit your feelings for him!" Hermione said, happily.

"Hermione I didn't – okay fine. I do have feelings for Percy."

"I knew it!" Hermione said, if she were a teenager hearing the latest gossip. "You two would look so cute!"

"You really think so?"

"I know so," Hermione replied, staring off into some far of world. "I can see you on your honeymoon now."

Marisol gave her a look.

"Sorry," Hermione said, her face slightly pink. "I got a little carried away."

"A little?" Ron muttered. "Hermione you might as well design their wedding invitations."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione muttered.

Marisol laughed and continued making Potato salad.



For the next several hours, Mrs. Weasley, Marisol, and Hermione prepared the Christmas dinner of turkey, ham, macaroni and cheese, greens, and sweet potatoes. For dessert, they made sweet potato, apple, mince, peach, and steak and kidney pies and one chocolate and one pound cake.

It was now 6:45pm, and Marisol and Hermione fell on the couch – and on Ron – in a heap.

"Get off," he wheezed.

"Oh I don't think so," Marisol said. "It's much too comfortable here, isn't it Hermione?"

She blushed.

"That's that I thought," Marisol said, smiling and getting up. "Later lovebirds, I've got to go and change."



At 7:45pm, Marisol came downstairs wearing a red sweater black pants, and black boots. Her make up was a simple, light shade of red eye shadow and lip gloss and she was lightly scented with a cherry perfume.

"And who are you trying to impress?" Hermione asked, grinning.

"Shaddap," Marisol muttered, going into the living room.

"What'cha doin?" Ron asked.

"I've got a little while until the guests get here," Marisol began, pulling out a bag, some wrapping paper and tape from the back of the Christmas tree. "I gotta finish my gift-wrapping."

"What did you get Percy?" Ron asked.

"You two are going to continue to bother me about this, aren't you?"

"All night."

"If you don't hush I'm going to shove the turkey marinator where the sun don't shine Ron," she muttered.

"You're so violent," Ron replied, grinning. "Let's hope you and Percy's kids don't get that awful trait."

Marisol rolled her eyes and put a silver bow on the present she wrapped with blue paper. Just as she put the present under the tree, the doorbell rang, and Harry, Ginny, their son James, and Teddy stepped into the house. Soon after, George and Verity, Bill, Fleur, and Victoire, and Charlie arrived.

But no Percy.

"Where is he?" Marisol muttered.

"Calm down, Mari," George said, looking at her facial expression. "Your lover boy will be here soon."

"Shut up, George," Marisol said, pinching him.

"Ouch! But seriously, it's only 8:00pm. He's still got time to get here."

Marisol sighed.

"You're right," she said, smiling. "I should stop worrying about it. Now, let's eat!"



With the end of dinner and dessert came 8:45pm. And with the end of cards and board games came 9:15pm. And still no Percy.

"Where is he?" Marisol wondered.



~*~



Percy Weasley headed up the ice-covered street of Muggle London and sighed as he looked at his Christmas list. He had covered his mother, his father, and all of his relatives including Hermione and Teddy.

All that was left was Marisol.

He shivered, knowing it had nothing to do with the cold. He realized that Marisol gave him involuntary shivers every time he thought of her. He found himself resisting the urge to call her to his office for no apparent reason frequently and dreaming of her during his 'power naps'.

And now, when he had the opportunity to give her a gift expressing his feelings for her, he was completely clueless. He had been to several stores, studying each gift he had picked out for her for minutes only to put it back on the shelf: nothing seemed good enough for her.

He kicked a pile of ice in his frustration and winced slightly as it impacted his big toe. He looked at his watch. It was eight thirty. He hated keeping Marisol and his family waiting. He needed the perfect gift, and he needed it fast.

He quickened his pace down the street until a gleaming object in a display window caught his eye.

"That's it," he thought, staring at it. Without another thought, he rushed inside the store.



~*~



Marisol had hardly touched her plate and gave Teddy the rest of her chocolate cake. He looked up at her, concerned.

"What's wrong Aunt Marisol?" he asked.

She looked at him and smiled, not wanting the child to worry about her.

"Nothing Oso," she said, ruffling his now red and green mixed hair. "I'm fine."

Teddy seemed to be reassured by her smile and, with a quick hug, went back over to George who was currently showing him a few of the new prototypes from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

But inside she was far from fine. She had begun to worry about Percy: his tardiness had led her to assume the worst. In the past hour she had had scenarios of his shelf full of books falling on top of him, his office door being locked from the outside and his room being zero degrees Fahrenheit, and his car getting stuck in a large ice block. She immediately laughed at herself, reasoning that Percy had enough common sense to move out of the way of a falling shelf, his office door didn't lock on the outside and he never kept the temperature in his room lower than sixty degrees, and the street wasn't covered in giant blocks of ice. The only reasonable excuse was that he let his paperwork consume him.

Just when she was about to cut loose all strings of hope she had left, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" she exclaimed, running towards the door. No one objected. She opened it and grinned as if she just received a puppy.

"Percy," she said, grinning and throwing her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're here!"

Percy, who was completely surprised at this display of affection at first, wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm glad I'm here too," he said as he released her.

She smiled as she surveyed him, marveling at the fact that he could look so handsome in something so simple as a black turtleneck sweater and dark jeans. She snapped out of her trance as Mrs. Weasley began to fuss over him, claiming he looked thin and malnourished. Five seconds later – or so it seemed to Marisol – she came out of the kitchen with a huge plate of food.

"Mum, there's no way I can eat all of this," Percy protested.

Mrs. Weasley grinned.

"Share it with Mari," she said. "She barely ate she was so worried about you."

"Mrs. Weasley!" Marisol hissed.

But Molly had already left to go back in the kitchen, a large smile on her face.

"Well . . ." Percy began.

"Hey Aunt Mari, Uncle Percy come on!" Teddy exclaimed. "We're about to open presents!"

Marisol and Percy sat next to George on the floor while Teddy helped Ron pass out gifts. And the second the last one was handed to Mrs. Weasley, a whirlwind of wrapping paper hit the floor. Out of the corner of her eyes Marisol saw Hermione tackle Ron, a new set of earrings on her lobes, Harry hug Teddy as he looked at his new set of cufflinks, and Fleur cover Bill's face in lipstick after seeing a diamond necklace. She smiled at how happy they all looked. Seconds later, her smile vanished.

"Perce," she began, taking a forkful of macaroni and cheese. "I'm going outside. I need some fresh air."

"I'll come with you," Percy said, quickly stuffing the last of the food on his plate in his mouth. The two stood up and left outside, Percy leading the way, his fingers loosely connected with hers. They didn't separate until they were sitting on the porch steps.

It was around fifty degrees out and Marisol hugged herself slightly, staring up at the sky.

"It looks beautiful, doesn't it?" she asked, Percy, not tearing her eyes away from the sky. She rubbed her arms slightly as if trying to create friction. Percy wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled.

"Yeah," he replied.

He wasn't staring at the sky at all.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, digging into her left pocket. "This is for you."

She pulled out a small black box from her pocket.

"That reminds me," Percy said, taking out a long slender red wrapped box from behind his back. "This is what took me so long to get here. Merry Christmas Mari."

The two switched gifts.

"You first," Marisol instructed.

Percy opened his gift and gasped.

"Marisol this is really nice," Percy whispered.

It was a gold pocket watch.

"I thought someone as aristocratic as yourself would like it," she said.

"I do," Percy said, grinning. "Thank you. Now, it's your turn."

Marisol nodded and unwrapped and opened her box, and noticed immediately that she her stomach was fluttering with anticipation as she removed the white wrapping paper. She looked up at him.

"Oh Percy," she whispered, gently picking up the context up the box with her fingers. In her hand now was a silver chained necklace, and the gem hanging from it was a heat shaped ruby.

"Open it," Percy told her softly.

Marisol gently opened the ruby heart. The left side contained a picture of her and Percy on graduation day. The other side was empty.

"Maybe we can put a more recent picture on the other side," Percy told her quietly.

She looked up and smiled at him.

"I think that's a great idea," she said, hugging him. "Thanks, Percy."

She kissed his cheek and he flushed bright red.

"Mari you completely missed the target!" a voice from the door yelled.

Marisol and Percy whipped their heads towards the sound and saw the entire family there watching them from the doorway. George, the owner of the voice they heard before, smiled and took out his wand, conjuring up something in the air. Marisol and Percy looked up, both reddening like ripe apples: there was a branching of mistletoe hanging in midair directly above their heads.

"Now Percy you try this time," George told him.

"Well, obviously not with you lot watching!" Percy exclaimed, a tinge of pink still on his face.

Marisol laughed to cover up her embarrassment.

"You heard the man, George," she said. "No peeking."

George pretended to be upset.

"Alright," he said, pouting. "Everyone inside."

Marisol laughed softly as he closed the door.

"That George," she said. "He's so silly."

"As true as that may be, he's right," Percy replied, softly. "I should've done what I'm about to do a long time ago."

"Percy what –"

And at that moment – as if taken over by an uncontrollable impulse – Percy pressed his lips against Marisol's. She sighed slightly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Percy pulled her closer to him and suddenly the cold that Marisol felt from being outside was eliminated immediately.

Due to a need for oxygen, Percy and Marisol ended their kiss. Marisol took a deep breath.
"Wow," she said.

Percy chuckled.

"Was I really that good of a kisser?" he asked, trying not to sound surprised.

Marisol laughed as she replied 'yes'.

Percy smiled.

"Listen, I took the day off tomorrow as well. If you're not busy tomorrow, I was wondering if you wanted to join me for lunch."

She smiled.

"Sounds great," she said.

"Finally!" came a voice from the door. Ron and Hermione stood there, Ron holding a Polaroid picture in his hand. "Took you long enough."

"Ron you've got five seconds to give me that picture or Hermione will be getting married to a box of ashes," Marisol told him, her accent very pronounced. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

"Okay!" Ron exclaimed, throwing the picture down and hurrying back into the house. Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him.

Marisol giggled and took the picture. She tapped the picture and it shrank down to a locket-sized version. She slid it into the right side of the locket.

"There," she said. Percy smiled.

"It looks nice," he said, wrapping his arms around her. She laughed and leaned against his chest.

"Happy Christmas, Minister," she said, kissing his cheek.

He chuckled.

"Happy Christmas, my dear," he replied softly, hugging her tightly.





~*~

website I got it from
This story has everything, a magical story about Santa, and a cute Christmas kiss between Ron and Hermione! It's fairly long, but I just read through it very fast, compulsively readable!!!

A Fairy Tale by Fairy-Light
by Mudblood428

__________

"O, Tannenbaum, O, Tannenbaum... How verdant are thy branches..."

Hermione sat cross-legged in front of the fire at the Burrow looking over an old Christmas caroler she had found by the foot of the Weasley family Christmas tree and hummed the tunes quietly to herself. It was Christmas Eve once again; as usual, Ron's parents had extended a warm invitation for both Harry and Hermione to come stay for the holiday. In an attempt to spend as much time with her friends as with her family, Hermione had compromised by agreeing to join the Weasleys for the week approaching Christmas and leave on Christmas Day to rejoin her family until the New Year, but after all the cooking, decorating, games, and stories, she hardly had time to notice how quickly seven days at the Burrow flew by. A part of her felt sorely jealous of Harry for having no where else to be for Christmas.

The house had grown incomprehensively quiet considering how noisy and overrun with family and friends it had been only hours before. Surely by now the Burrow's occupants were all safely tucked in their respective rooms, she thought, surveying the moonlit winter scene outside. A chilly draft was seeping through a crack in the emerald-stained window, occasionally making the curtains shift and sway, and Hermione curled up a little deeper into the knitted robe that Mrs. Weasley had given her as an early Christmas gift. Drawn up against her face, it smelled a little like honey and pine needles and pastry dough... and perhaps not a little bit like Ron as well.

Smiling, she turned the page and continued softly, "...not only green when summer's here, but also when it's cold and drear..."

"I didn't know you could sing."

Hermione jumped and looked behind her. Standing bashfully by the settee in his candy-striped pajamas and a matching knitted robe, was Ron. She hastily got to her feet and hoped her reddening cheeks were camouflaged in the firelight. "I was just... I mean," she said with a flustered laugh, "I don't really sing."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me," he remarked, smiling sideways at her.

Suddenly and inexplicably uncomfortable, Hermione was surprised to realize that she couldn't find a witty reply to his statement. Instead, she shrugged lamely at him and tried to smile.

"Right, well... I'll leave you to it then, shall I?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned back towards the crooked staircase.

"Well, you don't have to leave," she blurted. Ron looked back over his shoulder; noting something like uncertainty in his face, Hermione turned her gaze to the throw rug under her feet and quickly added, "unless, of course, you're tired, in which case, yes, you should leave. I suppose."

He cleared his throat and turned around. "Well, I guess... I guess, I'm not really tired."

"Good. I mean, okay..." Then again, maybe he should leave, she thought miserably to herself. You're clearly not batting on a full wicket tonight, Hermione.

"So..." said Ron quietly, stepping around the sofa to sit down, "when do you think you'll go home?"

"I'll take the portkey out sometime mid-morning. I wouldn't want to go before you, Harry, and Ginny open the gifts I got you," she said, smoothing the fringe on the rug with the toe of her slipper.

"I see. Well, that's good..."

She grinned and sat at the opposite end of the sofa.

"It's a right shame you have to go tomorrow," Ron asserted quietly, pulling a cushion onto his lap. "Me and Harry'll miss you."

"Harry and I."

"What?"

"Nothing," she laughed. Staring at the fire as it danced in the hearth, she added lightly, "I'll miss you, too."

This is bizarre, thought Hermione. Since Bill and Fleur's wedding, everything between her and Ron had become utterly indefinable - they hadn't even had a proper row in months - and now here they were, alone for the first time in goodness knows how long, without a single clue how to behave around one another without Harry in the room to mediate. And to add insult to injury... Goodness, am I... am I twirling my hair?

All at once, she became acutely aware that Ron was watching her and shivered as it sent a prickly chill up her spine.

"Cold?" he asked.

"A little," she replied honestly.

At the look on Ron's race, Hermione forgot to breathe in. His eyes suddenly brightening, he put the cushion down and leaned towards her as though he were either going to tell her a secret or - could it be possible - kiss her?

"I've got just the thing for that," he murmured softly, smiling.

"Y-you do?" she inquired, her eyelids already at half-mast.

"Mm-hmm," he replied.

At that moment, he sprung up off the couch and left.

Surprised, Hermione's eyes fluttered back open. "Erm... Ron?" she whispered loudly over her shoulder, trying not to wake anyone. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen!" came his raspy reply.

But, of course, she thought, falling back against the sofa, deflated. Oh, Hermione, sometimes you can be such a girl!

Ron returned from the kitchen sooner than she anticipated and flopped down on the floor next to her slippers with a bowl and something that resembled a gigantic red Christmas bauble rolling around in it.

"A... a pomegranate?" she inquired confusedly.

"Granada, Chinese Apple, whatever you want to call it," he replied, beaming. Hermione tried not to gape at him as he tossed a towel over the floor and began to peel it apart with his hands. Ron seemed to sense her bewilderment, and he looked up at her shyly. "Best not to eat one on the settee - Mum would kill me if I got it dirty. You know these seeds stain worse than Bubotuber pus left out overnight."

"Well, I've never actually had one," she admitted plaintively and shimmied off of the sofa onto the floor.

Ron paused to look at her. "You're winding me up," he exclaimed in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Quite, actually," she replied sincerely, settling herself comfortably on the ground. "They’re supposed be pretty acidic and bad for your teeth, aren’t they? My parents never had them around the house."

"Then this should be an experience," he said sarcastically. "Pomegranates are-"

"The world's most labor-intensive fruit," she finished, smiling. "I might never have had one, but I have read about them."

Rolling his eyes, Ron chuckled at her. "Figures."

She watched in fascination as he separated the fruit into asymmetrical quarters, the tiny ruby-colored seeds sparkling in the fire's flickering glow. "They look like little fairy-lights," Hermione observed, pulling off one of the seeds and examining it in the palm of her hand. "Can you just eat them this way?"

"Some people do but I'd rather just chew them up and spit out the pits."

Hermione resisted the compulsion to make a face. "Erm... Right. I'll follow your lead then," she said.

He took a few seeds off of the rind, popped them into his mouth, and non-chalantly masticated them in an almost chipmunk-like manner, to which Hermione instantly burst into a fit of giggles. "What?" asked Ron indignantly between chews.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," she sniggered and pulled a few off for herself to do a carbon-copy impersonation of Ron's eating style, rapidly chomping up the seeds like a rabbit.

"Ha, ha, very funny," said Ron sorely, passing her the bowl once he had spit out the pits. “Honestly, who’s the novice here?”

“Sorry,” she said, plucking a few more seeds. They were delicious - sweet and tart, they reminded her of fresh berries, and the juice burst into her mouth as she bit down on each little jewel-shaped pod. Of course, they were so small, she didn't think anything of popping a few more into her mouth, and more yet, until she realized she looked more like a chipmunk with her cheeks puffed out than Ron did with his nibbling. Hermione suddenly blanched. "Loo’ tha’ way," she said with a full mouth, pointing towards the opposite wall.

"Huh?" Ron turned around. "I don't see anything..."

Hermione quickly emptied her mouth of the seeds. "Sorry, I just didn't want you to watch me spitting out pomegranate pits," she said, shyly wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and replacing the bowl between them.

"Always a lady," muttered Ron jokingly, but as soon as the words slipped from his lips, all humor seemed to drop from them. Hermione paused and glanced at him, trying to discern whether he was being funny or complimentary. By the startled look on his face, she figured he probably couldn't tell either.

When she could no longer bear his uncomfortable gaze, she stared down at her red stained fingers and began to chuckle softly to herself. "What is it now?" asked Ron, watching her interestedly out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione averted her eyes, and popped another batch of seeds into her mouth. "Nothing. It's stupid," she answered dismissively, but try as she might, she couldn't make herself stop smiling.

"Come on," he coaxed. "What is it?"

"Well," she began slowly, staring at the fireplace, "you know, Hades seduced Persephone with a pomegranate."

At this statement, Ron promptly choked on a seed.

"Goodness, Ron, are you all right?" cried Hermione, jumping up and patting him on the back.

"Fine... I'm fine," he answered between coughs.

Barefoot, she ran into the kitchen and fetched a glass of water to bring back to Ron who, by that time, had garnered a small mustache of sweat on his upper lip. "You okay?"

He nodded, apparently shaken. "Uh, sure. Thanks," he replied nervously, taking the glass and knocking it back into his throat as though it were a shot of Firewhiskey.

She pushed her bushy hair behind one ear and sat back down. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Ron, it’s just a-“

"You know... I had something of a different story in mind when I brought over the pomegranate, Hermione," he interrupted quietly, his hand returning to the fruit to pluck another handful for Hermione.

Catching the seeds in the palm of her hand, she paused. "What? You have a pomegranate story?"

A smile returning to his lips, Ron nodded. "A Christmas pomegranate story," he declared proudly, tossing a couple of seeds into his mouth and chewing. "Charlie told it to me when I was little. We grew up eating them around Christmas time so it sort of stuck with me, you know?"

This time Hermione didn't mind spitting the seed into the bowl in front of him. "Do tell."

Ron moved over so that he was facing her, happy to finally tell her something she didn't already know. He grabbed another quarter of fruit.

"Well, Hermione," he said, plucking a seed off of the rind and holding it up as an exhibit, "have you ever wondered how it is Santa Claus stays warm in the North Pole?"

"Why, I certainly have," she replied in a playful voice. "How is it that Santa stays warm in the North Pole?"

Ron, suddenly a veritable storyteller, held out several seeds in the palm of his hand in front of her face. "Well, turns out there's a Magical Pomegranate Tree way up North, and it's guarded by this dragon who didn't want to share it-"

"I can see why you heard this story from Charlie."

“Tut-tut, no interruptions,” Ron chided and continued. "Anyway, the reason why it's magic is because one seed from one of the pomegranates on the tree could keep you warm in the coldest weather for fifty whole years," he said mysteriously. "So one day, Saint Nicholas hears about this magical fruit and decides he's going to go off, trick the dragon, and take one of the pomegranates so he can stay warm all year round and never be cold again."

"Santa, steal?" she said pretending to be scandalized as she spit out another pit. "Never!"

"How do you know? When was the last time you were so cold, you froze right through your seven layers of jumpers and trousers and socks and knickers and everything?" he countered, trying hard not to laugh at Hermione's act. "Well, Santa found out that the Magic Pomegranate Tree was in this beautiful flowery green valley at the top of the world, which incidentally is why the Northern Lights are so many colors, I might add…”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Obviously.”

“And that’s where he found the dragon guarding the tree,” he explained, spitting out and popping in more seeds as he continued with the fairy tale. “Wouldn’t you know it - Santa went right up to the dragon and tricked him, telling him that there was some other treasure he was looking for that only the dragon could carry. Since that particular dragon was pretty greedy and really gullible, he went off looking for it, leaving the Magical Pomegranate Tree unprotected.”

“Ooh. And what happened next?”

“Well, that's when Santa ran down as fast as he could," he said, mimicking Santa's frantic flight by pumping his arms back and forth, to which Hermione promptly doubled over in laughter, "stole the fruit and ran as fast as he could away from the tree! Of course, the dragon was furious when he came back and caught Santa trying to run away, but when the poor thing tried to blow fire and roast good ol’ Saint Nick, he found that he couldn't because all of the fire power was in the magical pomegranate, and Santa had taken it from him!"

Still laughing, Hermione gasped exaggeratedly, "Oh no! What about the poor dragon?"

"Well," said Ron, throwing back another few seeds to munch on, "Santa's a fair bloke, so he cut a deal with him. He said he would give back the pomegranate for the dragon to protect only if he could have one seed every fifty years to keep him warm. That way, everyone wins. Every fifty years, Santa Claus can get warm, and the dragon gets to live the very fulfilling life of guarding his Magic Pomegranate for the rest of eternity. The end."

Hermione clapped happily at Ron's theatrical representation of Charlie's story, to which Ron gave a short stiff bow. "Good story!" she said, beaming at him.

Suddenly a loud voice came from the top of the stairs. "RONALD WEASLEY! EITHER YOU TWO PIPE DOWN OR WE'LL MAKE A CHRISTMAS PUDDING OUT OF YOU TOMORROW MORNING!"

"Sorry, Mum!" he called back up, snorting as he tried to contain his laughter.

“Sorry Mrs. Weasley!”

Giggles subsiding, Hermione sighed contentedly and looked down at the bowl, which was now full of pits. They had somehow finished the pomegranate throughout the course of their time together, and for a moment, Hermione was sad to see the rind empty of the brilliant ruby-colored seeds.

Their eyes met briefly before Ron glanced down at his fingertips, which were sticky and bright red from the pomegranate juice. “Bloody hell,” he said in surprise, and commenced to lick his fingers clean.

Looking down at her own fingers, Hermione winced. “I guess that’s what I get for being a novice,” she remarked, holding out her hand for him to see. “Mine are stained worse than yours.”

“Yeah, and your lips are all red, too…” he remarked absently, before his voice came to an abrupt stop.

Hermione touched two fingers to her mouth and blushed at the realization that he had not been looking at her hand.

"Not that red is bad, of course... though I imagine it might be sticky... Not that I'm wondering," he rambled. Retracting from her as though he had just inadvertently waltzed into Aragog's lair, Ron did not venture to comment further on Hermione’s lips and, to her discontent, turned away from her and faced the Christmas tree, palpably mortified.

Hermione knew she'd better stop him before he completely capsized in the whirlpool of his embarrassment. She crawled over and sat beside him to gaze at the smoldering fire while Ron looked pointedly in another direction, mindlessly fiddling with a gingerbread ornament.

“That was a nice fairy tale,” she offered. “Thank you.”

In the faint glow, she saw Ron turn and look hopefully at her, overtly relieved that he had not irreparably overstepped his bounds. “You liked it?” he said softly. “I’m glad.”

She smiled. “Me too. It worked.”

“What worked?”

“I’m not cold anymore,” she said.

“Oh, the pomegranate.” Bashfully, Ron ran a hand along the back of his neck and chuckled. “I thought it might do the trick.”

She was twirling her hair again. “Well, yes, that was very good too, but… I wasn’t talking about the pomegranate.”

Ron blinked at her and once again Hermione found herself painfully at odds with her vocabulary. Desperate for anything to occupy her, she returned to distractedly licking her fingers before she caught Ron gazing uncertainly at her out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes he can be so daft, she thought in frustration and, feeling nervous heat prickling at her ears, she realized it was time for desperate measures. Of course, the question was whether or not she had the gall to follow them through.

"There's just one problem," she began.

"What's that?" asked Ron, looking adorably concerned.

Just say it, Hermione...

“Well... how will I keep warm when I leave?” she whispered, rubbing her hands together.

Hermione couldn't tell if it was a side effect of the dying fire, but all color seemed to disappear from Ron's cheeks. She heard a faint *pop* and had to stop herself from giggling; he had accidentally snapped the gingerbread ornament in half.

There. The line had been crossed and it all rested on him now. Though she was no longer watching his face, she could sense him growing flushed beside her.

Quickly sweeping the broken ornament under the rug, Ron tried awkwardly to straighten himself before he spoke. "Her-Hermione...?" he stuttered despite a failed attempt to sound collected.

"Hmm?"

“Would you mind terribly if... I gave you a... if I gave you the first part of your Christmas gift?” he implored tentatively.

She bit her lip and tried to quiet her fluttering stomach. “Not at all,” she replied.

“I mean, you could say 'no' if you want-,” he added quickly before cutting himself off. “Sorry, was that a ‘yes’?”

Heat rising behind her cheeks, she nodded.

Ron gulped. As one might approach touching a hot iron, Ron timidly reached over and took both her hands in his, and Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. “Right then... Okay...” he stammered, smiling nervously. “Well, ...Happy Christmas, Hermione...”

There beneath the Christmas tree, as he had done only moments before, Ron leaned in to share his special secret - only this time, Hermione was sure he wouldn't run off. Their eyes slipped shut when, light as a feather, he touched his berry-flavored lips to hers, letting them gently linger there for a moment before finally mustering his remaining Gryffindor courage to kiss her rightly. Her mind buzzing with the knowledge of what was finally happening, Hermione's lips tingled with a delicious warmth that spread right down into her fuzzy slippers, and she found his hand with hers and squeezed it as if to reassure them both that it wasn't a mistake. That - whatever he felt - she felt it too, and that tomorrow, they would still be Ron and Hermione, best friends... and perhaps something more.

Amazing how one kiss can leave two people intact at the same time as it changes everything, she mused amidst the myriad thoughts and emotions spinning through her mind.

After a duration of time measurable only in held breaths and racing heartbeats, Ron finally pulled himself away and brought their first kiss to an end.

"So..." he said in a far-off voice.

Hermione opened her eyes and found Ron looking distinctly anxious and waiting expectantly for her reaction. Unfortunately, she had yet to regain her mastery over words. "So," she replied, casting him a dazed smile.

He cleared his throat. "Well, erm, you should get some sleep," he said quietly, unconsciously tightening his grip on her hands. "I hope you have a good Christmas with your family tomorrow." Suddenly recalling Hermione's imminent departure from the Burrow, Ron's face fell.

She bowed her head sheepishly, a mess of curls falling into her face. "I really do wish I could stay longer," she remarked, once she had finally remembered to breathe normally again.

As the fire finally extinguished, Ron gazed at her intently under the fairy-light glow. "Me too."

Hermione smiled bittersweetly at his heavy expression, and still holding both of her gummy hands, Ron stood up and helped her to her feet. Now standing face to face, he dropped her hands, hastily shoved his own back into his pockets, and swayed on the spot - his eyes focused apprehensively on a random spot just behind Hermione's shoulder.

I don't believe it. He's just as undone as I am. The very idea of it was wild and exciting to her, and it stirred one last bit of bravery within her.

“Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Erm... before I go, I should probably remind you...” she began, boldly lacing her fingers between his. She felt him jump at her touch.

“What?” he asked shakily.

“Kisses aren't Magic Pomegranate Seeds, you know," she asserted, grinning knowingly. "Let’s not wait fifty years for the next one.”

Their mutual tension lifted as a relieved smile spread across his face. “Don’t worry," Ron chuckled, gently pulling her towards him, "I won’t.”

Hermione forgot the chilly draft from the window as she wrapped her arms around him, warm and snug in his embrace. Closing her eyes as he leaned in once more, she murmured softly, "Happy Christmas indeed."

~*~
The End.


the image that accompanies it. How coincidental is that that we already posted this picture in the guild!

Dementors drifted past the bars. All was quiet, no one spoke; all trapped inside their own heads, except for one. He sat there, an innocent man who’s life had been destroyed. Sirius Black’s innocence kept him sane and calmed his mind. He’d been doing his best to keep track of the days since he entered Azkaban Prison. If he was correct, it was Christmas Eve. His thoughts were centered around his friends, James and Lily Potter, their son, his godchild, Harry, and Remus Lupin. They’d spent the previous Christmas together, but now, two of them were dead and Sirius was in Azkaban. If only they’d lived, he would be sitting in their warm little house in Godric’s Hollow, chatting with his old friends, playing with baby Harry.

The thoughts of what could have been were becoming too painful. At times like this, it was easier if he used his power as an animagi and transformed. If anyone had looked inside the cell at this point, they’d have seen nothing but a large, black dog. Sirius curled up on the stone floor and fell asleep…

They’d just finished dinner and were sitting down. Lily flicked her wand and a fire started blazing in the fireplace. Lily and James were sitting next to each other on the couch. Another chair sat next to the couch. Remus sat there, a soft smile on his face. Sirius was sitting on the floor, playing with baby Harry. A large Christmas Tree stood in the corner of the room, covered in red and gold baubles, the Gryffindor colors.

Sirius was trying to interest Harry with the toy broomstick he’d gotten for him. Carefully, he picked up the small boy and set him on the broom, ready to catch him if he fell. The broom moved a bit, making Harry laugh as he nearly fell off.

“Sirius! Please! Be careful!” Lily exclaimed.

“Oh, he enjoyed it. Besides, you don’t honestly think I’d ever let anything happen to him, do you?” Sirius laughed. Lily sighed.

“I guess not, but I’d still like you to be a bit more careful.”

“Right, sorry Lily.” Sirius said as he put Harry back on the broom.
This time, Harry held on. The broom moved a few inches, but Harry managed to stay on.

“Well, look at that!” James said, grinning. “Only a year old and he’s already learning to fly. You think he’ll be a Quidditch player?”

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll be the best on the team.” Sirius replied.

“Well, he might be interested in doing something else.” Remus said. “He might not want to play Quidditch.”

“Right.” James said, nodding.

“Right.” Sirius copied, grinning slyly. “He might like playing jokes and sneaking around out of bounds.” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “That’s much better than flying.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Remus said.

“I know, I’m just messing with you a little.” Sirius said, chuckling.

“Speaking of which, do you still have the map Remus?” James asked. “I was thinking Harry could take it to school in a few years.”

“Of course I still have it. I can’t get rid of it.” Remus sighed. “Do you really think it would be a good idea to let Harry take it?”

“We made it to aid “Magical Mischief Makers” didn’t we?” James asked.

“Well, yes, we did but-“ Remus was cut off mid-sentence.

“Exactly!” Sirius exclaimed. “He’s the son of Prongs! There’s no way he won’t be a mischief maker!”

“I just don’t think it’s a trait we should encourage. It was wrong of us to break the rules.”

“Sure it was. That’s what made it fun!”

“Why are you even concerned with this?” Lily said, jumping in. “He won’t be going to Hogwarts for 10 years!”

“Well, I guess you’re right.” Sirius said to Lily. Turning to Remus he said “I guess we’ll just have to resume this conversation in a few years.”

“Mmhmm…” Remus replied, preoccupied with catching Harry who was slipping off the broom. He picked him up and held the sleepy little boy. Remus looked fondly down at him as he said “I bet he’s exhausted. Harry’s not used to so much excitement.” Lily stood up and made her way over to where Remus was.

“I think I’ll take him up to bed. Do you mind if I take him Remus?”

“No, not at all.” he said, giving Harry to her. She headed up the stairs to Harry’s room. James sighed.

“This has been a wonderful Christmas. I’m so glad you both could come share it with us.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Sirius said.

“I know it’s a little early, but Lily and I would love it if you both could come again next year.” James said.

“Of course I’ll be here. You’re the closest family I have.” Remus replied.

“Sirius? Will you come too?” James asked. Sirius was about to say yes, but he couldn’t. He wanted to tell James and Remus how much he wanted to be there every year, but for some reason, he couldn’t speak. The dream, this wonderful Christmas was coming to an end.

“I wish I could.” he whispered as the perfect scene began to disappear…

His eyes opened. He could tell the sun was coming up.
“Christmas Day…” he thought to himself. “It was such a wonderful dream...why’d it have to end so fast?”
Christmas had come, but he’d never be able to spend it with his friends. Two of them were dead and one thought he was a murderer. The beautiful Christmas he’s dreamt about was nothing more than a memory that had never really happened.

RESERVED