The First Day

'I love you...'

Harry didn't say anything, much to Ginny's initial chagrin. Instead, the corner of his mouth tipped up a little and he calmly reached around her, grasped the handle of the broom, and proceeded to direct it toward the ground. He stopped near the abandoned farmhouse and clambered off the broom, Ginny's hand still twined with his. Harry's other hand seemed to float of its own accord to tuck several wayward strands of hair behind her ear, while a shy smile spread over his features. His head lowered until his forehead just barely touched hers. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. This is a lot harder than I thought... Swallowing hard, he brushed his lips over hers, so lightly; it might have been one of the snowflakes that drifted down from the inky sky. 'I love you,' he murmured against Ginny's mouth, before he deepened the kiss.

*****

'I never liked Christmas, really. Not until I went to school.' Harry tucked the edge of the blanket he'd conjured over Ginny's hands.

'Why not?'

Harry hesitated, torn over wanting to tell Ginny about how cheerless his Christmases had been before he'd been taken in by Molly and Arthur and his desire to forget the ten years he lived year-round with the Dursleys. He supposed Ginny probably had an inkling, if she was as precocious as he thought she was, and had managed to overhear her parents or brothers when she was younger, or if Ron had ever told her about the miserable excuses for gifts the Dursleys had sent him, but Harry thought he hadn't. 'It was just like every other day for me,' he said neutrally. 'Nothing special.'

'That's awful,' Ginny breathed.

'Were yours always like the one my sixth year?' Harry asked curiously.

'No,' Ginny admitted. 'Dad was making quite a bit more money by then,' she told him. 'And they were only having to pay for Ron and me in school that year. But we always had plenty of food and Mum usually cooked far more food than we could eat. And we all got something new, even if it was only the jumper Mum made. Especially for Ron, George, and Fred.'

'Was it happy?' Harry asked.

'Yeah. It's just been the last few years that it hasn't been really. Between Dad getting hurt three years ago, or Percy not speaking to the rest of us, the war last year, and now this year...' Ginny shook herself a little and leaned her head against Harry's shoulder. 'But this is nice,' she said softly. 'Ranks up there with the year Bill sent me a toy broom from Egypt,' she added lightly.

Harry nuzzled the top of Ginny's head, breathing in the scent of her hair. 'This one,' he murmured. 'This one's the best one...'

Ginny stiffened a little. 'Even with everything?'

Harry tightened his arm around Ginny's shoulders. 'What is it you told me over the summer?' he asked mildly. 'We're alive and the best thing we can do is remember them?'

'Won't make tomorrow any easier,' Ginny replied.

'No, it won't,' Harry sighed. 'But we have this...'

Neither of the spoke for a long time, until Ginny broke the silence. 'Do you think we ought to go back home?'

Harry laughed shakily. 'I don't even know what time it is...'

'Me, either,' Ginny said sheepishly. 'But if Mum's going round putting presents at the foot of our beds, she's bound to notice we're not there.' She grinned. 'We ought to have heard her if she's up and about.'

'Too right,' Harry muttered. He loved Molly like a mother, but his ears were still ringing from the hue and cry she'd raised last August the morning after Ginny's birthday. He stretched and regretfully slipped from under the blanket and bent to fetch the broom from the snowy ground. He held the broom out to Ginny and let her mount it first, then slid on behind her. 'It's all yours,' he said, indicating for her to take control of the broom.

'You spoil me,' Ginny snickered, not unkindly. Harry's Nimbus was much faster and more responsive than her Cleansweep.

'I do,' Harry replied smugly. 'Ron hasn't even had a go on it yet.' He wrapped the blanket snugly around Ginny, as the temperature had noticeably dropped while they had huddled on the garden bench. As Ginny kicked off and began their leisurely trip back across the valley to the Burrow, Harry wrapped his arms around her waist.

It had surprised him at how difficult it had been to tell Ginny he loved her. Not that he doubted his feelings for her, but actually saying it was something else altogether. He had never been comfortable with words. Language was something that was far too easily manipulated into empty platitudes or outright lies. He didn't need Ginny to say it, and he was fairly certain she didn't really need to hear it from him.

The words, in of themselves, were not necessary. But they were a long-anticipated acknowledgement that had been said hundreds of different ways for years. If Ginny hadn't been Ron's sister, Harry reckoned he would still have gone into the Chamber to find her. As much as he hadn't wanted anyone to accompany him to London and the Department of Mysteries, he welcomed Ginny's calm presence in the face of certain death. And unlike Ron and Hermione, she hadn't judged him for his inability to keep Voldemort out of his mind. She knew what a powerful draw it could be, and the sick fascination it held to be inside his mind. More than anything it was her composed demeanor, even when everything had been turned upside down and violently shaken to bits that drew him to her. If she'd been upset when he broke things off with her, she never displayed it to him. On the contrary, she'd quietly, but oh, so subtly, told him she would wait for him, given him the faith and hope he needed to trudge through the next several months when it seemed as if they would fail.

'How do you want to get back inside?' Ginny asked, interrupting his musings.

'Eh?'

Ginny pried one hand off the handle and pointed at the towering, lopsided house looming in front of them. 'How do you want to go back inside the house?' she repeated patiently.

'I didn't really think that far ahead,' Harry admitted, running a hand through his hair. 'I only got as far as begging you to come out with me.'

'And yet, you're an Auror...' Ginny said in mock-pity.

'Sod it,' Harry grumbled. 'Let's just walk through the bloody door. We're both of age, and it's not like we've done anything wrong.'

Ginny tilted the broom toward the broom shed, swinging to the ground gently. 'Ah, there's a plan. Bold. Decisive. I like it.' She clambered off and Harry hung the broom on its hooks inside the shed. 'Oh, damn...' Ginny whispered. 'Is that...?'

Harry's head whipped around. 'Molly,' he finished. They could see Molly moving to and fro in the kitchen. Harry squared his shoulders and grabbed Ginny's hand. 'Right. No sneaking around.'

They marched through the back door, each of them holding their breath against Molly's inevitable onslaught of verbiage. She merely smiled at them. 'Nice fly?'

'Erm... Yeah. Brilliant,' Harry stammered.

Ginny's eyes narrowed calculatingly. 'How did you know we were gone? She glanced at the small teapot-shaped clock on the shelf over the stove. 'We haven't even been gone two hours.'

'The stairs on the second landing are quite a bit louder than the others,' Molly said placidly. 'Saw the two of you fly off.' She put the final touches on a package and tied a large bow around it. 'Although why you felt the need to sneak out of the window...' she sighed.

'Because you technically haven't lifted that bloody curfew from the summer,' Ginny retorted in disbelief.

Molly flapped a hand dismissively. 'Different times,' she huffed. 'And I'm the mum. I get to make up or change the rules. Now, then. Go on up to bed, both of you. The sooner you're asleep, the sooner I can leave your gifts.'

'Don't you think we're a little old for all that?' Ginny asked skeptically.

'Probably,' Molly allowed. 'But it'll be fun, won't it?'

Harry winced a little at the hint of desperation in her voice. 'Yeah,' he said quickly. 'It'll be loads of fun.' He saw Ginny open her mouth, and squeezed her hand in warning. Ginny pressed her lips together and stayed quiet. Harry tugged on her hand and towed her upstairs.

Molly waited in the darkened kitchen, listening to the minutes tick by. At length, she rose from the table and went into the scullery. She flicked her wand at each of the squashy packages lined up neatly on the table where she folded laundry. They disappeared with soft pops. All but one. Molly's brows drew together in a frown, as she fingered open the label. It was George's. She wondered when he had charmed the bedroom. With a sigh, she picked up George's neatly wrapped jumper and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. She tapped the doorknob with her wand and it opened a mere crack.

She slipped through the door and bent to leave the package on the chair at the foot of George's bed. 'I don't want it,' George mumbled.

Molly's fingers convulsed around the paper, making it crinkle loudly in the quiet house. 'That's fine,' she replied. 'I'll just leave it. In case you change your mind.'

George sat up, flinging the bedding aside. 'I don't want it!' he hissed. 'Bloody hell, Mum, can't everyone just leave me alone? I don't want to celebrate Christmas, I don't want to open what I'm sure is a lovely jumper, Mum, as always, but not when it's the only one that looks just like it. Every other day, I can do everything else, Mum, I can open the shop, I can get up in the morning, and act like everything is normal, but today, I can't pretend like it's all beer and skittles. Not today.'

'But everyone's coming round for lunch,' Molly said beseechingly. 'It will be the first time we've all been together since before Bill finished school -'

'We won't all be together!' George snarled. 'Fred won't be here, or have you forgotten?'

Molly clutched the squishy package to her chest. 'No, I haven't,' she said quietly. 'But it won't bring Freddie back.' She blinked rapidly, biting her lip. 'I know it hurts, George,' she began. 'I lost my child. But I can't just crawl into bed and pretend it's not one of his favorite holidays. I don't have that luxury.' She laid George's Christmas jumper on the chair and spun on one heel, all but stalking out of the bedroom.

*****

Ginny burst into the attic and pounced on the camp bed. 'Are you mad?' she demanded, holding a small box under Harry's confused nose.

He blinked bemusedly, shoving his glasses on his nose. 'Oh,' he mumbled sleepily as the box came into focus. 'I thought you liked earrings.'

'I do, but this is too much,' Ginny breathed.

Harry touched one of the pearl earrings with a finger. 'Gin, nothing is ever too much for you.' He nudged the box. 'Put them on...'

Ginny hesitated for a moment, then carefully put the earrings on, pulling her loose hair back. 'How do they look?'

'You should always wear pearls,' Harry yawned, reaching for the gaily wrapped package at the foot of the camp bed.

'And what would you know about it?' Ron snorted from under his pillow. 'You've never bought jewelry for a woman before in your life before that.'

'I thought you were asleep,' Ginny huffed.

'I was,' Ron told her. 'But someone, who shall remain nameless, but her name starts with a G, came barging in here at the bloody crack of dawn to tell her boyfriend that her bloody gift is too much for her, even though he spent weeks dithering over whether you'd like them or not.' Ron stretched languidly, peering at Ginny. 'You'd better like them,' he told her sternly. 'Otherwise, he'll be drooping round like some wilted flower, and I'll have to listen to him whinge about it for ages...'

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron, earning a smothered, 'Oh, that's mature,' from Harry. She planted a loud, smacking kiss on his mouth, eliciting repulsed gags from Ron.

'I do like them,' she said softly.

'Brilliant!' Ron exclaimed sardonically. He held up his package from Molly. 'How much do you want to bet this is maroon?'

'I wouldn't even wager a Knut on that,' Ginny giggled. 'I can't actually remember you ever getting one that wasn't maroon.'

'Here goes nothing,' Ron sighed, ripping a strip off the package. 'Yep! It's maroon!' he cried in patently false cheer, waving the jumper over his head.

Ginny snatched it out of his hands. 'It's not entirely maroon,' she objected. 'It's got a lovely navy trim on the cuffs and neck.'

Ron grabbed it back. 'It's still maroon... How's yours, mate?' he asked Harry.

'Red.' Harry peeled back the paper from a long slim box from Ron. 'What's this?'

'Wand holster. It's charmed to make a small slit in your clothes right over where you wear it. When you remove whatever you're wearing over the holster, it'll repair itself. At least that's what the bloke at the shop told me. That way you don't always have to go about putting it in your pockets. Don't want to hex off a buttock, do you?' he asked in all seriousness. 'Remember what Mad-Eye said about people hexing off a buttock, because they put their wands in their back pockets.'

'I'll bet that was Mad-Eye who lost a buttock,' Harry chuckled. 'He wouldn't even tell Tonks...'

Ron's mouth dropped open. 'Harry... How...? Where...?' A small orange book rested in Ron's trembling hands.

'George said the owner of the Canons was a right nice sort of bloke, so I wrote to him, telling him you were their biggest supporter, and asked if he'd send an autographed photo of the team or something. I have to admit, a copy of Flying with the Canons autographed by every living player was a bit beyond my expectations.'

'It's even got Barney Batting's signature,' Ron breathed fervently. 'He's their highest-scoring Chaser of all time...' Ron's trembling finger pointed at the name. 'Look! It's even got a message! "Best wishes, Ron. Yours, Barney Batting..." Bloody hell...'

'We'll have to go down soon, won't we?' Ginny asked suddenly.

Ron glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed. 'Yeah...'

'Do you think George will come out of his room today?' she asked.

Harry mutely shook his head. 'I don't think so. I heard George and Molly, erm - -discussing - whether or not he'd do Christmas with the rest of us.'

'Perfect,' Ginny sighed, a pall coming over the three of them in the attic. 'Should we...?'

Ron swung his feet to the floor, blindly searching for his slippers with his feet. 'No. It's not like we haven't tried before today. Leave him be.'

*****

Andromeda lifted Teddy from his cot. 'You're not going to remember much about today,' she murmured, slipping a tiny jumper over his head. 'But you're going to spend the day with Harry and the others. It's not that I don't want to see your first real Christmas, but I'm not quite equipped to make it particularly jolly.' She slid a pair of trousers over Teddy's chubby legs, fastening the poppers up the insides of the legs. 'But this will be nice for you.' Teddy gurgled and loosed a stream of babble that Andromeda took to mean something good. 'Right. I know you don't really like Apparition anymore. Grandmum knows it hurts your ears. But it's the only way I can juggle you and your wriggly little self and your bag. If we Floo, your bag might end up in Edinburgh.'

She hoisted Teddy to her hip, in spite of his grunted protestations. Teddy wanted to scoot everywhere he could these days, not to mention feed himself. Both were rather messy undertakings, as Teddy got into anything Andromeda hadn't attached to the furniture with a Sticking charm, or ended up getting more food on his clothes than in his mouth. Andromeda walked down the stairs, grabbing Teddy's coat from the bottom of the banister and draping it over him, as she picked up his bag, waiting by the front door with her free hand. Before Teddy could begin to truly yowl about not being allowed to wander about the snowy yard, she Apparated to Devon and laid a hand on the gatepost for the back garden gate. It swung open and she walked through the sparkling garden to the back door. It flew open before she could so much as knock. 'Andromeda!' Molly said with a hint of forced cheeriness. 'Won't you stay for lunch, at least?'

'No. But thank you.'

Andromeda set Teddy on the floor and he sped off on his hands and knees, shouting, 'Haaaeeeeeeeeee!'

Molly wiped her hands on a towel and peered at Andromeda. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes. I'll come back about six for Teddy, if that's all right?'

'It's fine. I can -'

Charlie came slouching through the back door and stopped short at the sight of Andromeda standing in his mother's kitchen. He dug through his bag and pulled out a flat parcel, wrapped in brown paper. 'I... Here...' He handed the parcel to Andromeda, a dull flush staining his neck and cheeks. Curiously, Andromeda untied the string holding the paper closed and it fell away from a framed drawing. Her hands gripped the frame so tightly; Charlie feared it would crack from the pressure. 'I used the photographs from the paper in June...' he began awkwardly. 'And some from Harry's birthday...'

Andromeda's fingers traced over the likenesses of what her family would - should - look like. Her face, with its serene smile stared back at her. Ted's round, laughing face was behind her, and Dora's heart-shaped, mischievous smiling face was in front. Teddy was cradled in Dora's arms, and Remus was on Dora's left, his arm around her shoulders. Somehow, Charlie had managed to leave off the near-constant sorrow on Remus' face, while maintaining his customary grave demeanor. 'It's lovely,' she said in a choked voice.

'You don't have to keep it out or anything,' Charlie muttered to his shoes. 'But I couldn't sleep one night and...' He gestured to the framed drawing.

Andromeda nodded with a tremulous attempt to smile. She lifted a shaking hand and passed it over her face inhaling deeply. 'Well, then... I'll just be going...' She left the kitchen, and in mere moments, Charlie heard the near-inaudible pop of her Apparition. He ducked his head in Molly's direction and shuffled into the sitting room, where he was promptly greeted by Teddy's unholy screech of terror.

Harry scooped the baby into his arms and spent several minutes murmuring nonsense into Teddy's ear, rubbing the small back soothingly. Teddy's tuft of hair gradually faded from bright orange back into turquoise. Harry glanced at Charlie apologetically. 'Sorry... He doesn't know you very well... He's not too fond of someone he hasn't seen in a while. Took an hour for him to not look at Hermione with suspicion, and he just saw her at the beginning of November...'

'You ought to come round for lunch on Sundays more often,' Molly told him. 'We've hardly seen you in weeks.'

'Yeah, Mum. Use a baby to guilt me into coming to lunch every week,' Charlie sighed.

'You'll have a more regular schedule at the Holyhead reservation, won't you?' Molly persisted.

'Yes, Mum,' Charlie sighed. 'Every other weekend off...'

Arthur laid a hand on Molly's arm. 'Let the boy at least put his bag down before you start managing his social life, eh?'

'Hello!' Percy called through the front door. 'Where is everyone?'

'And who is everyone?' Ginny snorted. 'By my count, the only ones we're missing are Bill, Fleur, and...' she trailed off, glancing at the ceiling. 'Well, Bill and Fleur, at any rate.'

Ron gazed longingly into the kitchen. 'We can eat when they come, yeah?'

Molly pursed her lips and glared at the clock over the mantle. Bill's hand was firmly at "Home", even though he wasn't in the Burrow. 'Yes, Ron...' she replied tiredly.

'I wonder what's keeping them,' Arthur mused.

Ron choked on the cider he was drinking and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. 'He has to ask?' he muttered sotto voce to Harry. Ginny giggled, clapping a hand over her mouth, before she could blurt out a snide comment about Ron's rather well-kept secret about his and Hermione's activities. 'You all right, Gin?' Ron asked.

'Brilliant,' she gasped, biting the knuckles of her hand.

'Hiya!' Bill said from the front garden. 'Sorry we're late,' he continued, as he strolled through the front door, smoothing his rather disordered hair.

'Oh, this is just too easy,' Ginny gurgled. 'It's like Stunning Crabbe or Goyle...'

'Joyeux Noël,' Fleur trilled, as she swept into the room, kissing each of Arthur's cheeks, then Molly's, leaving them both somewhat flustered, as they were still unused to their daughter-in-law's French customs. '-Merci for the lovely zhumper, Molly.'

'Oh, I didn't make it. Ginny did.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. I believe it was July, wasn't it, Gin?'

Ginny flushed, and nodded. 'Yeah...'

Fleur face momentarily showed surprise, but she quickly recovered. 'Eet is very nice.' She pulled off her thick traveling cloak to reveal the dusky rose-hued jumper Ginny had knit the past summer.

'It was my pleasure,' Ginny mumbled, ducking her head bashfully.

'Really?' Harry asked skeptically.

Ginny thoughtfully watched Fleur move about the room, greeting the rest of the family. 'Really.'

*****

Percy sat on the landing outside George's bedroom, his back braced against the door. 'I don't know what to tell you, George,' he said quietly. 'Everyone's trying to have a good time, but it feels so forced. Sort of like at Ginny's birthday, but worse. Mum hid all the wine,' he added ruefully. 'It's like we're all so desperate to try and make it like all the other Christmases, but we know that's not going to happen... And you and I both know it's not going to ever be like that again. You told me I could wallow in my own guilt or whatever, but not to drag Mum and Dad into it. I could say the same to you, George. You're here, George. It's true that Fred is gone, but George...' Percy's shoulders moved against the door in a shrug. 'You're still here.' He rose to his feet, his back sliding against the door. 'I don't know what else to tell you. It wasn't the same without you downstairs with us. We need you. The rest of us - we're not the same without you.' Percy laid a hand on the door. 'Don't stay away too long, all right?'

The door opened under Percy's hand and he took a step back. George was bundled in his new jumper, tearstains clearly visible on the dim landing. He swiped the sleeve over his face. 'Will it get better?' he asked. 'Like when you weren't talking to us? Did it get easier?'

Percy ran a hand through his hair and straightened his glasses. 'No.' George's shoulders slumped and Percy exhaled noisily. 'But that's a different situation,' he added quickly. He leaned against the wall next to the door. 'But yeah... the first year was the worst. It didn't get better after that because I had the ability to do something about it, but I was too damn stubborn to do it. You can do something about this, George. You don't get to bury yourself, just because Fred's gone.'