A Surreal Christmas

A Surreal Christmas

Harry was standing in a room of all white. He rubbed his eyes to rid them of sleep and scanned his surroundings.

"What's going on?" Ron asked. "I'd just gone back to sleep."

"Harry, Ron," Hermione appeared across the room from them. "Why'd she wake us up again? It can't be time already. Granted, I'd rather not sleep as long as we did between fourth and fifth years, but this is ridiculous."

"It isn't her," Harry replied, still looking around. "Feels different. Whoever it is forgot to set the scene before he or she started."

They stood in the Gryffindor common room. The usual scarlet and gold colorings were accented by the festive Christmas tree in its place by the fire. Holly sprigs and red and green candles added to the décor.

"That's better," Hermione walked over and slumped into a couch. "So who woke us up, if it wasn't Jo?"

"Some amateur," Ron groused, "based on the lack of action so far. Besides, who starts a story at Christmas? Especially one about us? Harry, you're always the first up. She doesn't come get us for at least a chapter or two."

"I guess we'll just have to see what the writer does." Harry sat next to Hermione on the couch and took her hand. "Whoa! What'd I do that for?" Harry asked, dropping her hand like it was electrified.

"Well, whoever's writing this has got to be a girl," Hermione surmised.

"What makes you think so?" Ron sat across from them in the leather chair.

"Only a girl would have you holding my hand. Guys just don't think that way."

"Why me, though?" Harry asked, brow furrowing almost to the point of obscuring his scar.

"Dunno," Hermione shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and see."

"Where's everyone else?" Ron asked, looking around the room.

The common room was devoid of the other students who had left a few days prior for the winter holidays.

"Ah. That explains it. Hey, is it just me or do you feel older, too?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," Harry said.

Ron and Hermione had decided to stay at Hogwarts for this their final Christmas together before they graduated. They didn't want Harry spending it alone. He'd put up a token protest, but was really glad they'd stayed.

Just then, their presents magically appeared under the tree.

"Hey! It's Christmas morning. She could've mentioned that before," Ron said, but dove for the brightly wrapped parcels. There was a flurry of ripped wrappings as the three Gryffindors opened their gifts.

"Harry," Ron said puzzled, "what'd you get me a quill for?"

"Wasn't my idea," Harry said. "I'd've gotten you a Chudley Cannons thing like usual. Maybe she needs to read the books more carefully."

Harry opened a garishly wrapped box and sighed deeply.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione laughed. "More socks from Dobby?"

"Yeah," he groaned. "You know, I wish Jo hadn't done that in fourth year. Now it seems I'm getting them all the time. How many socks am I supposed to need?" But he put them on anyway. They were red and green this time, with little trees all over them.

"Anyone else getting hungry?" Ron asked, rubbing a hand to his growling stomach.

Just then, the aroma of sausages and freshly baked bread reached the common room. Ron commented that the smell from the Great Hall couldn't possibly reach Gryffindor Tower, but Hermione silenced him with a look. As they headed through the portrait hole bound for the Great Hall, they chattered about their gifts.

"I don't chatter," Ron muttered.

"Quiet," Hermione hissed.

The long house tables had been pushed aside to make room for one solitary table, same as it had been their third year. Food was already on the tables, steam rising from the dishes piled high with sausages, toast, eggs and other breakfast treats.

"Where is everybody else?" Harry asked.

Professor Dumbledore sat at the head of the table looking befuddled. Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Vector were also there. Hagrid was walking up behind them from the entrance hall.

"A bit slow, isn't she?" Harry said out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sure she's trying her best," Hermione said quietly.

"Happy Christmas, you three," Hagrid boomed as he reached them. He was carrying a tray of Bath buns he'd obviously baked before coming over.

They all sat and began eating. Everyone took one of Hagrid's Bath buns, but Harry noticed that they all hid them under napkins. The quiet of the meal was broken when Professor Snape turned to Professor McGonagall on his right and said "You're looking quite nice this morning, Minerva. Either that or someone spiked the egg nog."

Ron nearly sprayed his pumpkin juice across the table. "What'd she have Snape say that for," Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione, "sounds more like Dumbledore's line to me. And who has egg nog this early in the morning?"

"Too late now," Hermione shrugged. "Quit whining, Ron."

The assorted faculty and students had an enjoyable breakfast. There was a little laughter, and a lot of fellowship. But a touch of sadness as well.

"You realize this is the last Christmas breakfast we'll have here," Harry said, a small frown on his face.

"Well," said Ron, "not really. Jo still has two more books to write. But for this story, I guess it is."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione tutted. "For someone who can't write a simple essay on Vampire counterattacks you sure are critical of the poor author. Let her alone, I think she's doing fine."

Ron glared at her, but kept his mouth silent just the same. He opened his mouth a few times, but as nothing came out, he stopped.

"Let's go have a snowball fight," Hermione said suddenly, pushing her empty plate away.

"Why?" asked Ron.

"How should I know? She's calling the shots. Besides, if this is our last Christmas before we graduate, we ought to make the best of it."

"Sounds good to me," Harry stood. They all stood and bid their teachers goodbye. In short order, they'd returned to Gryffindor Tower for their heavy cloaks and gloves. The sun was just peeking through steel gray clouds as they made their way outside. Stray beams of sunlight highlighted the fresh snow still clinging to the trees of the Forbidden Forest. The air still carried the bite of a winter's morning, turning their breath to mist as they spoke.

"Couldn't she have made it a bit warmer?" Ron grumbled.

"Hush, Ron. She did a good job. It looks beautiful out here," Hermione stated plainly, then scooped up a handful of snow and whipped around to throw it in Harry's face.

But he was ready. He ducked under Hermione's snowball, then tossed one of his own. It hit her straight between the eyes.

"You die, Potter," she grinned. And the fight was on.

They hurled snow at each other for a good ten minutes until, exhausted, they sat on the steps brushing snow off their cloaks and out of their hair.

"That was fun," Harry said, his breath making clouds of mist in the cold morning air. "How come we've never done that before?"

"Dunno," said Ron. "Hey, what's that?"

Harry and Hermione looked to where Ron had pointed, straight above their heads. Floating above them was a sprig of mistletoe.

"It's mistletoe," Hermione said quietly.

"But why's it over you two," Ron said sullenly. "Why not you and me, Hermione?"

"Probably because you've been giving the writer such a hard time, Ron," Harry guessed correctly. "Well, Hermione? You game?"

"I guess," she licked her lips in anticipation. "I mean, I kinda saw this coming when she had you hold my hand."

"Me, too." Harry admitted.

They leaned in towards each other hesitantly. When their lips touched, Harry felt like an explosion had gone off in his chest, spreading collateral damage to his nerve endings. Suddenly, a mere meeting of lips wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted to taste. Tentatively, he ran his tongue over the seam of her lips, groaning when she opened her mouth to allow him in. Angling his head for better access, Harry explored the recesses of her mouth, groaning again when Hermione did a little exploring of her own.

"You two about done?" Ron interrupted.

They broke the kiss reluctantly, pulling back only far enough to meet each other's eyes. Breathing in pants, their gazes spoke volumes. Hermione threaded her fingers through the soft, black hair at the nape of his neck and pull his mouth back to hers.

"Guess not," said Ron. As they began round two, Ron stood and walked away from them. It was weird watching your best friends kissing. He wanted to think he was jealous, but he wasn't. He felt the same thing he'd experienced when he caught Ginny and her boyfriend in the Astronomy Tower.

"Hey, writer," Ron addressed the ceiling.

<>

"How about someone for me, eh?"

<>

"That'll do, I guess," Ron grinned. "Do I get to pick what she looks like?"

Ron guessed that her silence was his answer. But he was content to know that she would send someone his way.

"Ron?" Hermione said tentatively from behind him. Ron turned to find Harry and Hermione approaching, hand in hand.

"Sorry about that," Harry blushed a little, unsure of his friend's reaction to the turn in their friendship. At the same time, though, he was thrilled by it.

"No problem, mate. You just take good care of my other sister, okay?" Ron shot him a lopsided grin.

Harry grinned back and squeezed Hermione's hand. "Feliz Navidad."

"Huh?" said Ron. "What're you saying Happy Christmas in Spanish for?"

"Dunno," Harry looked puzzled. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Anyone else getting sleepy?" Hermione yawned.

"Yeah," Ron yawned as well. "She must be about done. Hey," he looked at the ceiling again. "Don't forget, okay?"

<>

Ron, Harry and Hermione headed back up to Gryffindor Tower. It had been an unusual Christmas, but an enjoyable one just the same.

And as the writer finished her story, they headed back into sleep until she needed them again. She hoped they didn't mind sleeping for a while, it would take some time to create someone worthy of Ron.

"Take your time," Ron whispered before tumbling into sleep.