It's Christmas

"It's Christmas"
Chapter 6 - December 25

Hermione tried her best to seem as though she was not searching the red and silver decked hall for some unforseen entity, but she was. The Ministry's Annual Christmas ball was in full swing and you could barely separate the decorations from the guests as silver and red dress robes fluttered all about, somehow making the Wizards in their customary black dress robes seem little more than background fixtures. Hermione was wearing a fitting red robe, lined in silver, with a small red pocketbook and her hair curled tight and piled on her head. She couldn't contain her nervous searching because the conversation she had with Draco continued to fly through her head.

 "Here you are, darling," Blaise announced as he returned with a glass of wine and the blond that been the source of Hermione's distraction.

 Hermione took the drink before Draco reached for her hand, kissed it softly and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Hermione."

 "Merry Christmas, Draco," she replied, softly searching his eyes for something she had seen the night before but she could find nothing of the sort.

 "It seems," Blaise said, jovially, "that Mister Malfoy, here, has lost his date."

 "Date?" Hermione questioned aloud, more toward Draco than Blaise and couldn't help feeling relieved that he wasn't alone.

 "Yes," Draco replied as he turned from her watchful gaze and looking out into the well dressed crowd, "Parvati Patil, she's wearing a silver dress, damn it."

 Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the frustration present on his face but all laughter, on her part, was cut short when Blaise said, "Draco, here, has always had a thing for those Gryffindor women."

 "Well," Hermione sputtered, obviously uncomfortable, "Parvati was always the prettiest Gryffindor of our year."

 "I beg to differ, my dear," Blaise whispered as he softly kissed her temple, completely missing the smirk that Draco threw her, at which she couldn't help but giggle.

 "You know," Draco announced, while he continued to squint over at a table across the room, "I think I've found her."

 "Good luck getting to her, mate," Blaise laughed, patting him good-naturedly on the back as Draco took leave of them.

 Something about the absolute disregard Draco seemed to have for their conversation the night before settled Hermione’s chaotic emotions. She knew he wasn't over her. However, the process was beginning and possibly by next Christmas he'd be as happy as she was. She watched his retreating form with a small smile, her heart hopeful that the spoiled prat -- that grew into an amazing man -- would love another woman with the same intensity that he had loved her with.

Her heart threw a final goodbye to him as she turned to her husband. "Let's dance."

 Blaise took her hand and led her to the floor, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close, lacing their fingers together, while he rested his cheek against her head. "Happy Christmas, darling."

 "Happy Christmas," Hermione whispered, laying her head upon his shoulder.

 "I know you love him," Blaise whispered suddenly, feeling her body stiffen yet he continued to move, "but I know he loved you differently than you ever loved him."

 "Blaise," she began, holding on to her tall, strong, husband, "there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time and I didn't know he loved me until it was much too late and I loved you more than I could ever love him."

 "I know," he replied, guiding her smoothly around the floor to the soft sounds of the band.

 "You don't know," Hermione argued gently, "I can feel it in the way you hold me. But let me assure you, my love, that I'm not in love with him."

 "How can you be so sure?" Blaise asked, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling that appeared to be sending down snow upon their heads.

 "How could I be in love with Draco when I'm totally heartbrokenly smitten with his best friend?" she asked as Blaise kissed her hair.

 "I love you, Mrs. Zabini." he beamed, looking down at her.

 "I love you more, Mr. Zabini," Hermione replied looking up into his perfect, dark, blue eyes.

~*~

 

Ginny laughed heartily as Harry pulled her up from a dip and held her closer than he had before. Ginny looked stunning in her designer silver robes -- she refused to wear red for fear it would clash with her hair -- with her long wavy locks hanging down her back. She had been smiling the entire night and couldn't keep her hands off the virile man that was having a dizzying effect on her.

"You know," she began, looking up into Harry's green eyes, "mum was all wrong, you don't look anything like your father."

 Molly Weasley had spent at least five minutes, after they had arrived, babbling on about how much Harry looked like James. Harry smirked at her, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Now that's a first."

 "In my opinion, at this very moment," Ginny whispered, admiring the messy black locks and emerald green eyes that he donned daily, "you look nothing like your father. At this very moment, a moment I wouldn't change for all the Galleons in Gringotts, you look like Harry Potter, the man I love."

 "I'm glad to hear that, Ginerva, it'd be rather morbid if you were in love with my father," Harry chuckled, as their bodies molded into one and glided around the floor.

 "Gross, Potter, gross," Ginny remarked as she began to glance around the packed Hall, "it's so nice to see people you used to see everyday school together again, years later."

 "Yea," he remarked, looking around at familiar and unfamiliar faces, "it brings back memories."

 "Hermione looks beautiful," she said as her eyes noticed the brunette witch dancing with her husband.

 "She reminds me of how she looked at the Yule Ball." Harry smiled as Blaise leaned down to kiss the shorter witch.

 "Ron told me she was a knock out," Ginny said as she continued to glance around the room, "oh, look, there's Dean Thomas."

 "I didn't imagine that he'd venture out tonight since Marietta died a little over a month ago," said Harry while he watched Dean talk to a woman who looked a little like him and another wizard, Ernie Macmillian.

 "I'm glad he's getting out of the house," remarked Ginny as Harry began to twirl her around the floor.

 "Marry me, Ginny," he whispered suddenly, as he slowed and peered into her blue eyes.

 "Are you proposing just because it's Christmas and the atmosphere couldn't get any better, Mr. Potter, or are you proposing out of the complete sincerity of your heart?" she asked, seriously, her eyes searching his countenance for any semblance of laughter.

 "I'm proposing because I've loved you since I was eleven and it just won't go away," Harry replied, bending his head slightly to kiss her softly.

 "So," Ginny began, glancing up into his emerald eyes, "how about I answer your question?"

 "Now, that would be a Christmas present above all others," he retorted, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

 "My present to you, Harry J. Potter, is yes. Yes, I will marry you," she answered as they stopped dancing suddenly and Harry pulled her into his arms with a gleeful chuckle.

~*~

 

Ronald Weasley stood next to the table that Harry and Ginny had just vacated, nursing a glass of wine and broken heart. For the first time in his life he looked like those Purebred wizards that had graced the Society pages of the Daily Prophet after every ball and for the first time he felt like he was an equal in his brand-new, tailored to fit only him, dress robes. He watched all the faces that he had grown-up with, at times feeling completely beneath them, and for the first time in his life he felt as though he could compete. Yet his moment of personal victory was dampened by the absence of the one and only, Pansy Parkinson.

 He looked around the hall, picking out every woman who seemed similar to Pansy and wished for a miracle, after all it was Christmas. Out of nowhere came a soft-tap on his shoulder, which caused him to turn suddenly to find the object of his affection standing before him, in a perfect silver robe with her hair in a bun with a few pieces hanging down her face, looking to him as if she was a guardian angel.

Pansy stared at him a moment, her blue eyes questioning him silently, as she asked, "Am I too late to prove it?"

 "You're stunning," he whispered, throwing her a lopsided smile as she took his hand.

 "I guess I'm not too late." she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Pans," Ron whispered, looking down for a moment, his level-headed state of mind coming a lot easier than normal, "I spent yesterday with Dad and he made me realize I was wrong for asking you to prove what I already knew to be true. So, I apologize for how juvenile I made our relationship seem the other day."

 Pansy was stunned at the mature man that stood before her, never had she heard her hotheaded boyfriend sound so levelheaded. "No, don't apologize to me. I was the one in the wrong. I've been with you for almost a decade and I couldn't stop being scared long enough to declare to the world that you are the only man for me."

 Ron blushed at her words and caught the eye of an imposing man watching their every move. "You do know Xavier Parkinson is watching us, don't you?"

 "You ask me to prove something to you," she said, determined, placing her dainty hands on her hips, "and ballocks to everyone else because I'm going to show you that I love you, Ronald, if I have to die trying."

 "Are you sure?" he asked as he pulled her into a tender embrace, her perfume invading his senses.

 "I refuse to lose you, Ron, I refuse to," Pansy whispered into his chest as his big, strong, hands roamed her back.

 "Pans," Ron whispered, pulling away from her alittle, so he could look into her eyes, "I know you love me, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

 "No, Ronald, you don't understand," she exclaimed, her eyes more clear than he'd ever seen them, "you are my air and I don't want to screw up the best thing in my life because I'm alittle frightened of the nonsense that was my life for so long!"

 Ron was left speechless even as Pansy's parent's, along with his parents on the other side of the hall, continued to watch them, he had never heard Pansy speak so plainly about him. "I don't know what to say, Pansy."

 "Don't say anything," she replied, kissing him quickly, "just listen to me, Ronald. I found out last night that true love, the kind that I think we have, lasts a lifetime and I can't live with the regret if I turn my back on it. I won't let her down, I won't, and I refuse to let myself down either."

 "I love you, Pansy Priscilla Parkinson," he whispered as he leaned in to give her a slow, sensual, kiss, "even when you babble on about things I know nothing about."

 "You asked for a favor, Ronald," Pansy smiled, as she played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "and like a true friend, I came through."

~*~

 

Angelina Montague instantly locked eyes with her mother-in-law as she patiently followed her husband -- arms linked -- as he mingled with fellow bigwigs of the industry. She fought to suppress the lingering embarrassment and doubt that struggled to destroy her brave facade. Even as she laughed at her husband's colleagues awful jokes and endless compliments she couldn't help but wonder why she would endure this public humiliation.

Even Estelle couldn't deny the whispers and constant staring that followed the well-known couple, more people seem to know about her predicament than she could have ever imagined; however, she realized that her husband had slept with one of the biggest publicity whores in the entire world, there wasn't much Daphne Greengrass wouldn't do to get attention.

 As Julius bid his colleagues goodbye, she whispered through gritted teeth the only prayer she could remember her grandmother saying when she was a little girl, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

 Angelina wasn't even quite sure it was a prayer but it always served her grandmother as adequate and it would do for her. Her litany continued softly as Julius looked down at her with concern. "Are you feeling all right, darling?"

 "I'm fine, life couldn't get any better at this very moment," she mumbled, sarcastically, as they made their way through the crowd.

 Suddenly Julius stopped cold and pulled her into his arms and began moving them with the music. Her thick, wavy, hair swayed softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist and she laid a hand on his chest, peering up into his green eyes. "I offered you the world and at the first test of honor I betrayed your trust. For that betrayal I will never forgive myself, darling, it's horrifying how much you can hate yourself for being low and weak."

 "The question is what happens after you do forgive yourself," Angelina whispered, not yet noticing the blond, who wore a tight red robes, who had been watching them since they had arrived.

 Julius watched her intently as he guided their movements with the music that surrounded him. Then, out of nowhere, he spoke excitedly, "How about we go somewhere and sort all of this out? We could let Miles go with mother to France and we could find some secluded place to work out our problems."

 She frowned at him and scoffed, "How are we going to sort things out, Julius? Are you going to make up excuses and I'm going to debate over whether I should believe them or not?"

 "No," he countered sincerely, as their movements halted suddenly, "I'll tell you everything and can you tell me exactly whatever the hell you want to tell me and maybe, just maybe, we can get through all the lies that kill other marriages."

 "Are you really going to be honest with me?" Angelina asked softly, for the first time noticing the figure that continued to watch them.

 "Angelina," Julius began, his back to the blond who was now glaring jealously at them, "I've loved you for years, the last thing I want to do is ruin this any more than I already have."

 She gave him a small smile, nodding her head in agreement. "Well, fine, it sounds like a plan."

 Julius was whispering his thanks as Angelina noticed the blond making her way toward them, a malicious look in her eye. The blond watched the couple intently as she sashayed through the crowd, her red dress robes revealing the creamy, white, skin of her shoulders and thighs, the dress bordering on inappropriate. Slowly she reached out to touch Julius' arm as she finally reached the couple, her voice husky as she whispered, "Happy Christmas, Julius."

 Julius sneered, as he threw her hand off of his arm, "I have no merry wishes to convey to you, Ms. Greengrass, the only words I have to say to you are words that I do not wish to say in front of my wife but you will hear them at your very on release meeting, bright and early Monday morning."

 "Good day, Ms. Greengrass." Angelina smirked as Julius began to walk away from the two women, leaving Daphne stunned at his cold demeanor and his harsh reactions.

 "Mrs. Montague," Daphne called, grabbing Angelina's arm before she walked away with her husband.

 "This best be good," she growled, looking down at the slim fingers that were holding onto her hands, "because I'm rather tempted to break your fingers or better yet, let my husband do it."

 Daphne let go of her arm as she spoke, "It's not always about love, sometimes you just need to have sex with power!"

 Angelina fought the urge to slap the woman as Julius grabbed her arm, only leaving her time to whisper, "I knew that, Ms. Greengrass, my husband would never love a whore like you."

 "Yes," said Daphne, smirking before she turned and walked away, "but he would sleep with a whore like me."

 "No," Julius commanded sternly, as he stopped Angelina from advancing on the retreating blond, "no one has the noticed the exchange and let us keep it that way."

 "Ah," she growled under her breath just as Julius pulled her to his chest, "I could just strangle her."

 "Yes, well, so could I but strangle her after we have left such a densely populated area," he replied as Daphne began flirting with an unsuspecting man who favored the Daily Prophetphotographer, Colin Creevy.

 Angelina chuckled at his awful sense of humor, her brown eyes connecting with his green and she felt it, she felt their love surround them like it had the night before. Julius ran his fingers through her hair, whispering, "You are so beautiful, Angie."

 "How can you do that?" she asked, her mahogany skin taking on a red tinge, as she heated up under his gaze.

 "Do what?" retorted Julius as he leaned in to peck her softly on the cheek.

 "Look at me, now, after everything, like you haven't seen me every day for ten years," replied Angelina, sending him a smile that reminded her of her days at Hogwarts, days with a long lost love whom she lost to the war.

 "Because even when I've hurt you," he whispered, leaning in so his lips brushed her ear, "you look at me in such ways that I know haven't earned, you deserve more than what I've given."

 Her eyelids fluttered, her lashes tickled his cheek, as his lips seemed to caress the sensitive skin on her ear, her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest. Angelina whispered, weakly, "So earn it."

 "I plan on it," Julius replied suavely, kissing her neck gently. He was sure his mother was watching with a face full of disapproval but this was his wife and he had missed feeling so strongly about anyone.

"I want to end this mess right now," she whispered as she clung to her husband, "just let it go and just walk away."

 "Well," he replied, pulling so he could look at her, "let's do it, let's just walk away from it today, on Christmas."

 "Let's do it." Angelina sighed, her eyes drifting toward the blond who was now clinging to the man who resembled Colin Creevy.

 "I love you," Julius replied, kissing her supple lips, "and everything that I count as important in this forsaken world is in my arms right now."

 Angelina looked back at her husband, a smile gracing her lips, she knew, deep down, no matter what he may say or do her heart would always struggle to forgive him. Julius was her husband and she loved him deeply but it would always hurt. She realized that like Cortland Montague, before him, Julius would become the epitome of a good husband after this ordeal and she would just ignore the dull ache of her heart and forgive him because, like her mother-in-law pointed out, there was no cure for selfishness.

~*~

 

Dean watched his sister, wonderment filling her eyes as she interacted with wizards and witches as they spoke of things that she might never see. She was filled with childlike curiosity as the robes Ernie bought for her fell subtly off her shoulders creating a flash of skin that had Ernie practically salivating. Dean smirked, he hoped that she would stay in this world, a world that had become his when he just a boy; he hoped that she would share all that was magic with Ernie and never leave either of them lonely. It saddened Dean to think that her departure from this world would leave him completely lost, if not more lost, than his loss of Marietta.

"Dean," Seamus called as he approached the young man, "how are you tonight?"

 "Okay," Dean replied, truthfully, for the first time in a month he was okay, "I'm honestly okay. Have you spoken to Lavender?"

 "No," Seamus replied, turning to look at the redhead who was struggling to look interested in whatever Terry Boot and another man was saying, "she made it clear she's ready for commitment and it doesn't include me."

 "I think she meant that she's ready for commitment with you but she's not against finding another man; which, may I add, doesn't look as if it's going so well," Dean said raising his glass to the beauty, who had chosen silver robes with red stilettos and a matching purse and was beginning to glance over at the two men.

 "Marietta taught you how to read women didn't she?" Seamus commented with a smirk, as Lavender took leave of the two men and began making her way over.

 "Not all, I still don't get them," Dean began with a chuckle before he took a sip of his wine, "she taught me to recognize – not comprehend -- their damn complex emotions."

 "Good enough for me," Seamus said just as Lavender made her way to them with a smile.

 "Dean," she beamed as Dean gave a slight hug and a small peck on the cheek, "how are you doing?"

 "I'm okay," Dean replied, almost tired of the question, "and yourself? You look quite stunning, Miss Brown."

 "Thanks, Terry bought it as an early Christmas present," she replied, not noticing how Seamus became rigid and stiff at the mention of the obviously expensive gift, "and I'm doing all right, getting ready to start my first term as a Professor at Hogwarts next September."

 "Congratulations," he said, glancing over at Seamus to at least say hello, "I'm sure you must be excited."

 "Anxious is more like it," Lavender retorted with a laugh.

 "Lav," Seamus began softly as she turned her attention to the six foot, Irish, man before her, "you look amazing."

 "Thanks," she blushed, unlike when Dean had said the same thing.

 Dean looked around the hall quickly looking for a way to leave the pair alone together. He found it in an unassuming blond that he had known from his days at Hogwarts. He gave her a small smile as their eyes connected and his tapped Seamus' arm, "All right mate, I'm going to go chat Hannah Abbott up."

 Seamus nodded at his statement and Dean said goodbye to Lavender and made his way over to the table that Hannah Abbott occupied. He felt sheepish as he approached her, she wore her blond hair in tight curls and her robes were a fashionable mix of silver and red. She smiled as Dean asked, "Might I sit?"

 "Yea," Hannah answered quickly, "sit down."

 "So what have you been up to Miss Abbott?" Dean asked, watching her rosy cheeks breakout into a wining smile as she began to explain her occupation.

 Dean thought her to be pretty, well spoken, and almost too good to be true. He thought of Marietta momentarily as their conversation deepened and he revealed his lost. She offered her sincerest condolences and for the first time in weeks another woman -- aside from his sister -- held his attention. Hannah wanted to know more about Marietta and revealed her own loss, of sorts, an American Healer that she had met on the battle field two years after leaving school stood her up at the altar. She spoke of her pain, which Dean was sympathetic to, but she also mentioned the fact that she was opened to love and Dean, though it surprised him, mentioned that he was too.

 Gwendolyn watched their exchange from across the room as Ernie wrapped his arm around her waist. She smiled, whispering to the air, it seemed, "Oh, Marietta, we did it, he is going to be okay."

 "With you around he has no choice but to be okay," Ernie whispered, caressing her cheek softly.

 "Thanks, Earnest," she replied softly, looking up into his eyes.

 "What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Ernie asked, pulling her body closer to his, her face only mere inches from his.

 "Do you want to kiss me right now?" Gwendolyn retorted, her breath becoming ragged as her heart began racing.

 "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't," said Ernie gently, slowly cutting the inches between them before his lips met her softly. He probed her mouth gently with his tongue before pulling away and missing the heat from her body within an instant.

 "Happy Christmas to us," she whispered as her head hit his broad shoulder with a schoolgirl grin.

 He kissed her hair, whispering, "Happy New Year to us."

~*~

 

Susan giggled as Adrian twirled her around expertly, making her silver robes flare and sway around as if they were dancing also. It seemed that they had been dancing from the moment they had arrived, Adrian had been a doting companion, never once taking his eyes off of the brunette who, in his eyes, was the belle of the ball.

"I hate that this has to end," she whispered, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes with sadness.

"To end?" Adrian asked, shocked, he was not prepared for her to say something like that.

 "I'm going back to Sweden on Monday," Susan explained, looking away from the man who had romanced his way into her heart, "the Minister told me Thursday that they needed me there, so, I'm going back."

 "Why did you wait until tonight to tell me that this is all we have?" he asked, feeling his heartbreak, a month with her wasn't enough.

 Susan looked up at the man who had charmed her, seemingly, for the greatest nights of her life and whispered, "I wanted to remember you at your best not when you are like you are now, sad and cold."

 Adrian's jaw bone jumped as he looked down into her brown eyes and closed all the space between them. "Laugh when I tell you that I love you."

 "No," she whispered, her brown eyes lined with tears, "don't say that, Adrian."

 "Why not?" he asked, kissing her forehead as their movements become slower and more natural. "I do love you, so why not exclaim it?"

 "You can't say that to me and expect my leaving to be any easier," Susan replied and laid her head on his shoulder, allowing her eyelids to fall.

 "I love you, Susan Bones," Adrian whispered from his heart, letting his head rest atop hers, "and don't you ever change."

 "You know," she began, her eyes never opening, as she tried to indent on her memory exactly how his arms felt around her, "I never really understood why you wanted to date me. It seemed so strange to me."

 "Why?" he asked, almost not listening to her words, as he pushed every other thought from his mind.

 "Because," Susan whispered, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, "you are this rich, handsome, man who has every luxury at his beck and call and I'm just . . . Susan."

 "That's why," Adrian replied, giving a content sigh, "because you are just Susan."

 "I don't want to leave you, Adrian, I don't," she mumbled as the first tear rolled down her cheek, "sometimes I want to be with you so much it hurts."

 "If it has to end here, I'm glad it ends now," he whispered, his embrace becoming a little tighter, "you showed me what it was really like to love another person and I'll never forget it. Maybe, just maybe, one day -- if the fates will it so -- maybe we can pick up where we left off."

 Suddenly, Susan stopped moving and looked up into his eyes. He slow reached up to wipe away a lonely tear that was making its way down her cheek. She sighed loudly and whispered, "I still want my fairy tale, Adrian."

 "You will have it," Adrian replied with a sad smile, taking her hand, "stay with me tonight."

 Susan nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off of him, as she replied, "I just have this feeling that it won't be that easy forgetting about you and me."

 Adrian said nothing as he guided her toward the exit of the hall, passing by those who were smiling and enjoying the most magical night of the year not noticing the anguish in the eyes of the couple walking past them, as they reached the doors he stopped to look at her. The house-elf brought her, her shawl and he whispered softly, "I don't want you to forget."

 Susan linked her arm with his as they exited the hall, whispering to herself, "This might be the happiest Christmas of my life."

Finis