It's Christmas

"It's Christmas"

Chapter 4 - December 15

     "Three days until the big day," Blaise said in a chipper tone, as he kissed the top of Hermione's head.

       Hermione turned around in her chair to smile at him. "My dear Blaise, I dare say, you are as daft as a brush!"

       "Nah." he replied, shaking his head as he threw himself onto the couch. "I’m just excited."

       "So that's why you firtled about all evening in the kitchen without preparing either of us dinner?" Hermione asked, leaving her work for the first time that evening to join her husband on the couch.

       "That's exactly why," Blaise replied, grinning at her like a kid in a candy store.

       "Well," she sighed as she leaned into his chest, "I can't blame you, I'm almost just as excited about Christmas."

       "Draco says he's coming for dinner on my birthday, says he is quite obliged to see me become a bit older before he does," Blaise said as he propped his feet up on the coffee table, normally this would have drove Hermione crazy but her mind was elsewhere.

       "Really?" she whispered, the vision of his cold eyes haunting her, she just couldn't understand why he seemed to hate her so.

       Blaise nodded an answer looking down at the scar that made a perfect letter "s" on his left forearm. "I was rather enthused by his blatant insults today, shows his mood is improving. Lately his mind has been on the war, with his father returning home and all."

       Hermione swallowed loudly, Lucius Malfoy had been returned to the confines of Malfoy Manor a broken man. It was common knowledge that he'd finally been Kissed and was devoid of any happiness, he rarely -- if ever -- spoke, he was like a patient, he barely ate, he never left his room, and he rarely had visitors. It had come as somewhat of a shock to Draco, who could vividly remember the imposing, virile, and graceful man he had grown up admiring.

       "He hasn't been himself," she said quietly, before adding, "well, yes he has been himself, just not the one I'm fond of."

       Blaise draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, smelling the scent of the perfume he bought straight from Milan just for her. "Can I tell you a secret?"

       "Of course," Hermione giggled, as his proximity threw her out of her reverie, "I'm your wife you are supposed to tell me secrets."

       "Sure I am," he chuckled, rolling his eyes as she reached up to grasp the hand that rested on her chest.

       "Come on, stop teasing, Blaise," she whined, the playfulness in her voice being something she only showed her husband. She loved Blaise more than she thought she could ever love anyone and it made it so much easier to let her guard down and be the girl she was outside of the prim and proper Granger everyone knew.

       "All right," he chuckled as he kissed her cheek quickly, "all right, I'll tell you what I know."

       "Come on, come on," Hermione prodded, reminding herself of Lavender Brown when someone had some delectable piece of gossip.

       "I think my best mate has found the scariest thing in the world," Blaise whispered into her ear as if someone else could hear them.

       "Who? Draco or Theodore?" she whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers.

       "Certainly not Theo, he's way too wrapped up in that job of his," he replied with a shake of his head, sending his raven curls into a graceful sway.

       "So," Hermione began slowly, turning her head to look into his eyes, "Draco's found what again?"

       "Love," Blaise exclaimed as he kissed the tip of her nose, "the greatest, scariest, most confusing thing in the world!"

       "Draco?" she whispered, confused, what she had seen last week did not seem like a man in love. "He's in love? Are you sure?"

       "Yes, yes, yes, woman," he laughed, searching her confused expression, "I'm sure, he's showing all the signs: short tempered, completely too thoughtful to be a Malfoy, restless, and showing signs of self-inflicted isolation."

       Hermione balked at his words, her eyebrow raised. "Those are Slytherin signs right?"

       "Shut it, Zabini," he chuckled, "you just have to know Draco like I know him to see it."

~*~

       "So where are you spending Christmas this year?" Ginny asked as they browsed an enchanted appliance shop called, Madam Blooms Boom Shop.

       Harry stopped at a whistling broom and looked back at her. "I enjoyed my Christmas in Sri Lanka last year."

       "Harry," she began as she sat down a pair of knives that seemed to be sharpening themselves, "we missed you these last couple of Christmas's, mum is always going on about how you need a proper time and such. Do you think Luna would like the congested day-planner?"

       "They sell those here?" Harry asked looking over at the small, sniffling, planner in Ginny's hand. "It sounds like the flu more than a cold to me."

       "Mmm," Ginny hummed as she sat it down, "I'd rather not give her the flu for Christmas."

       "I'm sure she'd love that," Harry chuckled thinking of the rather eccentric young woman, "but her suggestion of spending Christmas in the mountains of Siberia was pretty good."

       "You didn't?" she almost yelled, sounding more like Molly Weasley than she would like to admit. "You went to Siberia instead of coming to the Burrow? How could you?"

       Harry chuckled softly at her anger. "I needed to see myself and my family for who we really are without Voldemort, the scar, and the big-time Auror position."

       Ginny placed her hand on her hip and pursed her lips. "So you run on the day where you are supposed to be with your family and for five years in a row no less? We, the Weasley's, have always been your family! From the moment we met you we loved you and we will always be your family! You couldn't believe the worry that consumed mum, I thought we'd lost you!"

       He grinned at her slip, she didn't even realize that she'd said it. His green eyes lingered on her wayward wavy locks and the completely emotional look in her eye and he realized his real reason for running on Christmas. He knew who he was, there was no denying who he was after seven years of discovering it, and there was no question who his parents were, it wasn't even a real question anymore, it all left one reason and it was her.

       Harry had been running from Christmas because of her, it started five years ago when she was so hopelessly devoted to that Baddock fellow and he wasn't prepared to watch them snuggle on Christmas so he did what he thought was best -- and what Hermione thought was so unlike him -- he ran. First there was Argentina, he loved plains and the beach; then there was the Bahamas, with the white Beaches and constant sun; then Siberia, with the beautiful snow and clear blue skies; then Jordan, he fell in love with the people and their ways; and finally there was Sri Lanka, something about the isolated island felt right, every Christmas was more different and lonelier than the last, until this one.

       "But this year," Harry began as he crossed the space between them in seconds and placed his hands on each side of her face, "I'm spending Christmas with you."

       She sighed, a content, yet apologetic, smile appearing from her emotional outburst. "Oh, Harry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, my temper has run off without me thinking again."

       "It's your strange temperament that has kept me hypnotized," he joked as he leaned in to kiss her.

~*~

       "Ron," Pansy sighed as she continued to cut up onions for the salad she was preparing, wondering why she didn't just let the utensils do it themselves, Ron had been driving her crazy all afternoon and she didn't .

       "It's supposed to be a huge get together, everyone -- who is anyone -- will be there! I'm sure even your mother will insist on being there," Ron said as he sat on the island in the middle of the Kitchen. He had been trying his best to make her agree to accompany him to the Ministry's Christmas Ball on the evening of the 25th.

       "I'm sure she will, Ronald," she agreed, as she wiped her hands on the apron Mrs. Weasley had given her as a house warming gift when she had bought her own flat, "but I don't know about --"

       "Going with me," he interrupted with a snarl, this was starting to cut him deeper than he'd thought. "Pansy, am I still too poor and my family too ill reputed for you?"

       "Ron, it's not about that," she sighed, this argument was sounding familiar to her.

       "Pansy can I ask you one favor?" Ron asked as he jumped off the island with a red face.

       Pansy sat the knife down as she breathed deeply and answered, "Yea, anything."

       "Just this once," he growled as he glared at her, the pain obvious in his tone, "prove you love me."

       "I do love you," she whispered, as he walked out of the kitchen.

       "Prove it," Ron demanded as he picked up his coat and did exactly as she did a few days ago.

       Pansy squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing became ragged as she turned and placed her hands on the sink and hung her head, the tears fell at a rapid rate. For the first time in months she cried, the wails escaping her lips were the truest testament to what she was going through. A ragged whisper slipped off her tongue, "I do love you, Ron, I do."

~*~

       Estelle Montague sat on the sofa with her back straight and her hand holding a wine glass in the most graceful way. Her long black hair was swept up in the neatest bun and her lips were set in such a thin line that they reminded Angelina of Professor McGonagall. She had been back in London for less than four days and the tension in the Montague Manor was close to suffocating her.

       "So he," Estelle began, her words clear and yet she was having trouble speaking, "has been intimate with that horrid Greengrass child?"

       "Yes but Julius has done all but confessed!" Angelina exclaimed as she halted her nervous pacing in front of the fire place.

       Estelle glared at her with motherly disdain. "Do not be silly, Angelina. A woman can tell when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else, never distrust your instincts."

       "Oh, Estelle, we were happy for so long," Angelina cried as she turned to her mother-in-law with a thoroughly pained expression, one that was a prelude to a bout of tears.

       Estelle sat her glass on the cherry-wood table beside her as she spoke. "Cortland and I were just as happy when he made the same mistake. Cortland, for all his virtues, was a selfish man. He liked everything to go his way, to be exactly as he liked it, and for no one around him to disagree with him on anything he said. He was like that his entire life and I'm sorry to say all of my boys have inherited this horrible trait. And with that knowledge I realized that selfishness must always be forgiven because there is no hope for a cure."

       "That is a tall order to fill, Estelle," Angelina replied softly as she sat on the couch opposite the older witch.

       "I know it is, Angelina," said Estelle with more softness than Angelina had ever heard from her. "Just as my mother-in-law, Helene Montague, told me years and years ago: if this family is to survive, it is going to have to be through you."

       "Estelle," Angelina politely argued, "you are this family's foundation."

       "But one day you will be the pillar holding this great name up, you, not my other daughters-in-law, it will be you," Estelle retorted, her painfully straight posture giving the comment a definite tone.

       Angelina had always known she was Estelle's favorite but she never realized that would mean she would inherit all of her mother-in-law's charities and foundations.

       She was speechless as Estelle spoke again. "Dear, you have to remember that love is not perfect -- even when you've been hurt and humiliated -- love is just love."

       Angelina could not meet her eyes as she whispered, "My mother used to say that."

       "She was a wise woman," Estelle replied softly, knowing it was a touchy subject. "I bet she used to tell you that the best people in your life always deserved a second chance."

       Angelina's eyes snapped toward her mother-in-law and her tone was reminiscent of Estelle's. "The best person in my life is Miles and I only want to do what is best for my son."

       "So did I," her mother-in-law replied with the loveliest smile on her face, "I loved my four boys with such fervor it dulled the pain. With my boys around Cortland could never destroy me and do not think my husband didn't try. With Ivan, Carlton, Bernard, and Julius by my side I fought tooth and nail for the man I loved and let me tell you, as you must know by now, I do not lose."

       "But Cortland died by His side," Angelina retorted, confused, thinking of the well publicized story of the Montague patriarch dying valiantly defending his master.

       "There are some decisions in your life that you have to face the repercussions for but don't let that technicality fool you, Angelina, he was the most devoted husband after everything. After we got through the storms, Angelina, you could not have found a better husband or father." Estelle spoke with a dreamy look on her face as memories began to flood her mind.

       "Oh," Angelina sighed loudly, the situation giving her a gigantic headache.

       "He loves you, Angelina, he really does. If any man ever loved a woman forever, so my son would do for you," said Estelle sincerely.

       "I love him, too," Angelina replied with a determined face, "and there's no way I'm gonna give him up to some socialite, purebred, whore!"

       "That's what I like to hear, you are a Montague woman, just as she should be," she smirked, knowingly, "and remember that which does not kill us always makes us stronger."

~*~

       Gwendolyn sighed loudly, placing her hands on her hips and doing an excellent imitation of her mother. "Dean, it'll do you good to go to this! You'll get out of the house, see some old friends, and open your mind to the suggestion of a new bond."

       Dean glared openly at his sister. "Careful, I don't think she's warm enough!"

       Ernie winced at the venom in Dean's voice. He had been the reason for the argument, he had invited Gwendolyn to the Ministry's Christmas Ball and she, in turn, thought it would be a good idea for Dean to go. "Dean, she didn't mean it like that."

       "Oh, bloody hell, give her time to settle in the damn ground before you push me into another relationship!" he yelled. His eyes were a shocking shade of red and his lips were trembling worse than Gwen ever remembered them doing.

       "Dean," she spoke softly, moving to squat beside her older brother's chair, "if you go, if you socialize, and meet a woman even, it doesn't mean you loved Marietta Edwards any less. She was the love of your life, your soul-mate and your wife and no one, or anything, can change that."

       "Gwen, I just cannot do it right now." Dean spoke slowly as if he were struggling to keep retain his control over his emotions.

       "It'll be good for you! There will be plenty of Gryffindors there to keep you catching up for ages," said Ernie, with a goodhearted smile.

       "How do you know what would be good for me?" Dean growled, throwing at glare at the former Hufflepuff.

       "Now don't go being cross with Earnest, he's just trying to be supportive," she scolded, the smooth, mahogany, skin on her forehead creasing into a frown.

       Ernie shook his head politely. "It's all right, I don't mind."

       "Please," Gwen begged, placing a hand on Dean's knee, "just consider going. I know that Marietta would have wanted you to move on, make masterpieces again, and yes, Dean, yes to love again. She loved you too much to want you alone for the rest of your life."

       Dean looked down at his hands that hadn't painted a single thing since his wife had died. "Fine, Gwen, I'll think about it."

~*~

       "What?" Adrian asked as they strolled in his Manor's gardens, it seemed that it was the hundredth time that week yet he never tired of walking beside her. They had been strolling for all of two hours and to Adrian it felt like little more than ten minutes. But today was different, she hadn't spoken much, when she did it was scarcely up to par with her previous conversations, and she hadn't been able to look anything other than him.

       "I think I'm in love with you!" Susan blurted with a horrified expression. "Oh good Merlin, now I've probably gone and scared the daylights out of you. Oh, just don't say anything."

       "If I didn't say anything how do you expect to discover my feelings?" Adrian asked with an amused expression.

       "I didn't think you had any feelings to confess, I see you aren't blurting them everywhere," said Susan blushing a red that rivaled that of Ron Weasley's hair.

       Adrian smirked, something he did quite often, but this time it was meant for her. "I may have lost my heart but I have yet to lose my self-control."

       She glared at him, her mind not yet registering the entire sentence. "What are you insinuating?"

       "Nothing," he replied, his smirk not yet gone. "Only you, Susan Amelia Bones, can miss the most important part of a sentence."

       "What are you talking about?" Susan asked, clearly confused.

       Adrian stopped in his tracks and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him until they were mere inches from each other. "Susan, you have created sensations which my heart has never known before."

       She shook her head, her hair swaying slightly as it tickled his hands. "Please, don't feel obligated to say such things."

       "I don't feel obligated, it's a not thing a Pucey would do to a lady," he replied, his voice in a whisper and his eyes sitting intently upon her countenance.

       "Please, stop, Adrian. You are so charming and old worldly that I'm afraid you may actually end in convincing yourself," Susan remarked as he gazed upon her and wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

       Adrian chuckled. "Susan, you're killing me! What do I have to do to make you believe me?"

       "Kiss me," she whispered, running her fingers through his blond locks, "because kissing is the most intimate thing you can do."

       Adrian pulled her closer to him, touching her lips to his for the first time, electricity seemed to run between then, she kissed him back with such urgency that Adrian had an urge to take her right where they stood. But after he regained his sensible mind Adrian traced her bottom lip with his tongue before pulling away, completely breathless.

       Susan placed her fingers on her swollen, red, lips. "I believe you."

       He stared into her brown eyes, his blue piercing her brown until neither could let go. Adrian broke the comfortable silence as he said, "I think I shall marry you one day."

       "Why?" she asked with a small frown as his fingers became entangled in her hair.

       "So I can kiss you whenever I want," he said with a smirk.