Christmas

24: Christmas





The next day, Mrs. Weasley pulled out all the Christmas decorations and put everyone to work decorating the old mansion. It was a hard job to make Grimmauld Place seem cheery, despite all the renovations that had been done. Harry suspected Mrs. Weasley was trying to make it look different from it had last year for him specifically, and he appreciated her efforts, even if it wasn’t helping.

He couldn’t avoid the rush of memories that the Christmas preparations stirred in him, from the immense tree in the drawing room Remus had brought in, to the pines and holly berries strung over the entranceways. Missing this year were the Father Christmas hats adorning the heads of Kreacher’s dead relatives. He supposed Mrs. Weasley had thought them in poor taste, but something about them were so innately Sirius that it made the pang of his absence all the more sharp.

Harry tried to keep the melancholy at bay and not let the others know how he felt. He wasn’t certain how successful his attempts were, however, as Mrs. Weasley had taken to checking on him every fifteen minutes or so. He was beginning to really wish she’d just leave him alone. It didn’t help that his scar had been flaring painfully since his arrival; the irritation of the constant pain didn’t improve his mood.

He tried not to pull away from all of them; he knew they hated it when he did. It was how he dealt with things, though; when it all became too much, he needed to retreat and gain his bearings again. It had always been this way. When he was a little kid and locked in his cupboard, it had become sort of a refuge, his own place away from all the hate the Dursleys always handed him. Even when he no longer was shut in that broom cupboard, he sometimes missed the solitude of it, particularly when he needed to think.

He wasn’t certain what was wrong with him; his thoughts about Sirius and the pain of losing him had actually gotten much better. He thought he’d come to terms with it. Somehow, just the fact that it was Christmas brought back the hollow feelings of that loss again, and he didn’t know why. He was happy to be here with the Weasleys; he was enjoying himself, mostly…but still, he couldn’t help but feel that something…or someone…was missing.

The Floo connection was open to Hermione’s house, but she was spending the weekend visiting relatives she hadn’t seen recently, so they hadn’t even been able to talk to her. As a result, Ron was in a foul mood, and the teasing from Ginny and the twins didn’t help.

Harry still wasn’t certain how he felt about spending Christmas at the Burrow. He hoped he’d be able to pull himself out of this funk before it was time to go. He didn’t want to spoil Christmas for his friends and their families. He certainly didn’t want to endure their sympathetic looks, and the idea of being trapped with all of them left him feeling lonely and out of sorts.

He entered the drawing room and stood, staring up at the tree and watching the Fairy lights twinkle. Mrs. Weasley had invited everyone to meet in there for dinner that evening. He reckoned she was planning some kind of Christmas Eve feast for everyone who was able to be there.

Harry had never really celebrated Christmas before coming to Hogwarts. The Dursleys hadn’t included him in any of their traditions, not that they had many proper ones. Aunt Petunia said there was entirely too much chaos involved with decorations, but that didn’t include the outside of the house, which she decorated heavily with lights and wreaths for the neighbors’ benefit. She didn’t like the mess of a Christmas tree, so she kept a small artificial one to place in the window for the neighbors to see.

The Dursleys always went out visiting on Christmas Eve, leaving Harry behind. On Christmas morning, the little tree in the window would be dwarfed with packages for Dudley. Father Christmas didn’t bring gifts to freaks, only good little boys, so Harry had been endlessly told.

Standing there, lost in his childhood, he’d missed hearing Ginny as she’d sneaked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Happy Christmas,” she breathed into his neck, forcing all thoughts of the Dursleys from his mind.

He pulled her into his arms and stared down at her fondly. “Happy Christmas to you, too.” He still felt slightly unsure that he was allowed to just touch her whenever he wanted. He was also surprised by how much he wanted to do just that.

A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes. “So, have you just been standing here waiting for the next person to come along, or did you have someone special in mind?”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well, rumor has it this is your old stand-by. I suppose you always fall back on what works.”

Harry was thoroughly lost. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So, this isn’t a set-up? Aren’t you trying to relive your glory days with Cho?”

“Cho? What? Where did that come from?”

Ginny seemed ready to burst, and she pointed upwards with exasperation. Harry followed her finger to the mistletoe that was hung above the doorway, and his face colored. Ginny burst into giggles. “Harry, either you’re truly innocent, or else you’re an accomplished actor.”

He smiled sheepishly and murmured, “I didn’t notice it there.”

“I bet that’s what you say to all the girls. Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Harry’s confusion and melancholy evaporated instantly, as he took her in his arms and began to snog her senseless. Who cared about decorations and traditions when there were much more pleasant ways to occupy oneself? He was beginning to feel very appreciative to whomever it was who came up with the idea of kissing under the mistletoe. A brilliant concept, really…

“Get your hands off my baby sister. I see you there,” an angry voice sounded from the hallway.

The two broke apart, and Harry spun around to face an amused-looking Bill. “Happy Christmas, you two. I am going to have to remove all the mistletoe from this house if you can’t control yourselves.”

Harry blushed a deeper red than the berries on the plant, but Ginny wound her arms around her brother’s waist and hugged. “Happy Christmas, Bill. Is Fleur coming?”

Bill’s face clouded for a moment before he quickly said, “No, she went home for Christmas.”

The other members of the family slowly drifted in, along with Remus, Tonks, and Alastor Moody. Molly had put out a huge spread of food, and everyone filled his or her plate, buffet-style. Arthur charmed an old Muggle-style Victrola to play Christmas carols, and the sounds of laughter filled the halls of the usually gloomy Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Black remained conspicuously quiet, no doubt annoyed by the joy within her home.

When they were finished eating, Molly asked Harry and Ginny to help her bring the plates back to the kitchen. She charmed the sink to begin washing the dishes, and they just stacked the plates on the side. Harry thought that Aunt Petunia might be a little keener on magic if she could see how easy it made housework.

Outside the door to the kitchen hung another sprig of mistletoe. He grabbed Ginny by the hand and held her back.

“What?” she asked, looking at him blankly.

Harry just looked up expectantly at the mistletoe. “You know, my stand-by?”

She grinned and moved back within his grasp. “Um, couldn’t break with tradition, now, could we?”

“Wouldn’t be right,” he breathed heavily before claiming her lips once again. Her hair smelled like wildflowers and sent waves of memories of summer at the Burrow washing over him despite the chill.

“Oi, Potter, get your tongue back in your own mouth. That’s my sister,” the disgruntled voice of one of the twins yelled down the stairs. Harry could hear laughter coming from the drawing room, and he colored instantly. Ginny was unfazed and dragged him by the hand back into the room.

“You’re just jealous because you’re here alone, again,” she told George, sticking her tongue out.

Smiling, Molly walked over to the corner of the room and pulled out a dusty box that had seen better days.

“Oh, my word,” Ginny gasped. “Is that - How did you get it?”

Molly beamed at her. “Your father brought it back from the Burrow. We went without it last year due to circumstances beyond our control, but this year we’ll continue the tradition here.” Mrs. Weasley opened the box to reveal a set of various colored glass ornaments. Each one bore the name of a different Weasley.

Molly and Arthur hung their ornaments on the tree first. Each bore a number of blue ribbons and one pink. Harry could make out the magically charmed images of some Muggle items and a wedding band on Mr. Weasley’s.

Bill and Charlie each put up their own ornament. He could see a dragon on Charlie's as well as a Snitch. It had a blue ribbon with the letter “C” in the center. Bill hung his on the opposite side so Harry couldn’t see it, but he imagined it would contain some Egyptian mummies or something like it.

The twins bounced joyously over to the box, and each pulled out their own brightly colored ornament. While everyone else had their own color, the twins’ were each decorated rainbow-style. Harry could see a Bludger on Fred’s and a Beater’s bat on George’s; otherwise, they were remarkably similar.

Ron and Ginny were last, and Harry could see Remus and Tonks watching with as much interest as Harry. Ron’s ornament was maroon, and Harry couldn’t hide his smile over that . He could make out some chess pieces and a broom, along with a Chudley Cannons logo.

Ginny’s had a large pink ribbon with a “G” encrusted on it. He could see her scowling at it as she hung it up. He could make out what looked like a storybook and a swing. For an instant he thought he saw a lightening bolt, but knew he must be mistaken as she quickly hung her ornament on the tree. He’d have to take a closer look at all of them later.

There was one ornament left in the box, and Mrs. Weasley lifted it with trembling hands. She glanced mournfully at Mr. Weasley, as he took her hand in his and they both hung Percy’s ornament on the tree. None of the others said a word, although Harry could see Ron’s ears reddening while the others merely scowled.

Mrs. Weasley had tears in her eyes when she turned around and looked into the faces of her children. “He will always be your brother, and his ornament will remain on our tree.”

She lifted up a second box. “Now, I have some new ones to add.” She opened the lid and handed Remus, Tonks, Alastor, and finally Harry their own ornaments. Harry was stunned and felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at the green orb in his hand. It was charmed with painted pictures of a Snitch, his Firebolt, and a pair of round glasses. He was most stunned by the blue ribbon with the letter “H” in the center, just like the other Weasley children’s. Looking closely at Molly and Arthur’s ornaments hung on the tree, he could see each had the pink ribbon for Ginny and seven, not six, blue ribbons. Harry’s initialed bow had been added to their ornaments as well.

He looked up in wonder at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as they each put a hand on his shoulders while he hung his ornament on the tree. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and Mr. Weasley squeezed his shoulder.

As he was staring at his new gift, he realized it was ticking slightly, and he listened closely.

“That’s your wake-up call,” George said in amusement.

“Yeah,” added Fred, “for finally noticing our sister. From what I witnessed a few minutes ago, you’ve definitely noticed her, all right.”

Harry colored brightly, as Mrs. Weasley frowned at Fred. “That’s enough, you.”

He looked over the glimmering tree; it really was beautiful and much nicer than the one Aunt Petunia had used. He was amused to note that Tonks’s new ornament changed color every few minutes.

As they headed up the stairs to go to bed, Harry thought this had turned into a really good Christmas, after all.

**********

Harry awoke with a gasp. He sat up quickly, grasping the covers, and violently shook his head as he looked about the room. Ron was asleep, snoring heavily; the portrait of Phineas Nigellus remained empty. It was just a dream . He’d dreamt about Voldemort smashing glass ornaments and killing the Weasleys, but the details were beginning to fade. His scar wasn’t burning, so he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. In truth, his scar had been flaring up rather painfully off and on since he'd arrived at Grimmauld Place, so he was surprised it was calm now.

Getting up and padding across the room, he opened the door as silently as possible. He was going to head down to the kitchen and get a glass of water. As he started to pass Ginny’s door, however, he stopped. He thought he’d heard a whimper. He pressed his ear to the cold wood of the door and heard it again.

Hesitating as he opened the door, he could just make out Ginny in the pale moonlight. She was wrapped tightly in her bed linen as she tossed and turned, crying out in her sleep. Quickly moving to the edge of her bed, Harry sat down and began stroking the hair to the side of her face.

“Shh, wake up, Ginny. Everything is okay,” he whispered.

Ginny continued to toss, moaning, “Nooo. Please, don’t make me.”

He was unsure what to do for her and felt slightly panicky; he was rubbish when it came to giving comfort. Still, she had done it often enough for him, and he couldn’t leave her this way. What does she always do for me? He grabbed her shoulder and began to shake her gently. “Wake up, Ginny.”

When she continued to thrash, he shook her more forcibly. “Come on, Gin, it’s okay. You’re dreaming.”

Ginny opened her eyes with a start and looked around wildly. “It’s okay, just a dream,” Harry whispered as he continued to stroke her silky hair. He could feel her body trembling as he gathered her in his arms.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded and grasped him tightly. “Just a dream.”

Harry nodded in understanding, remembering that she had told him that she still had nightmares on occasion. “Me, too,” he said, trying to make her feel better.

Ginny scooted over and made room for him next to her on the bed. He lay back and pulled her into his embrace. She was warm from sleep and seemed to fit against him perfectly. Ginny snuggled in closely and pressed her nose to his cheek. “This is the nicest way that I’ve ever been woken up from a nightmare.”

Harry grinned, pulling her tight and closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and inhaled the flowery smell of her hair. “This isn’t so bad, after all.”

Ginny began trailing kisses against his cheek and down his jaw line. He groaned as she reached his neck and felt his own passion stirring. Ginny continued moving her mouth across his exposed chest then back up to meet his eager lips.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he moaned as he hungrily returned her kisses. He wasn’t exactly certain what to make of the feeling washing over him, and he really didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think at all, just keep kissing her and never stop. It seemed that the rest of the world had faded away, and he was no longer in control of his own thoughts. The only thing he was aware of was Ginny and the way her kisses felt. He wasn’t certain how long they lay there together, lost in each other and immune from the world around them.

Ginny finally pushed him back, panting slightly. “You make it so I can’t think straight anymore.”

Harry nodded mutely, catching his breath. He knew what she meant; he felt the same way. It was similar to the out-of-control feeling the FireWhiskey had left him with -- but without the unpleasant side effects. Now that they had stopped, and he regained his sense of reality, he knew that he wasn’t quite ready for any more, and neither was she. He kissed the top of her head and snuggled close, willing his body to settle down.

Ginny happily wrapped her arms around his waist. “Happy Christmas, luv.”

Harry’s eyes flew open wide, luv ? Aside from Mrs. Weasley’s ‘dears’, no one had ever used a term of endearment when speaking with him before. Not unless you could count ‘freak’ from the Dursleys. A warm feeling filled him; it was rather nice.

“Happy Christmas, Ginny.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it back; it was a little too close to telling her he loved her. He wasn’t even certain what that meant. How did one know what love felt like? He knew he couldn’t bear to lose Ron or Hermione. Thinking this way, he could add Ginny to that list. Losing her would be something he wouldn’t be able to handle. Still, normal people didn’t go around expecting the people they cared about to be killed every day. That couldn’t be the way to know if you loved someone.

He didn’t mind Ginny calling him ‘luv’. He thought he’d like having something like that just between them. He’d need to come up with a suitable term for her -- one that wouldn’t make him uncomfortable to use. Exactly when she had become so important to him, he didn’t know; somewhere along the line it had happened, that was for certain. It was different from how he felt about Ron and Hermione, as well. The thing he loved the most about them was that they didn’t make him feel special at all; he was just one of them. Ginny made him feel special, just for being him. It was almost like the way he felt when he was flying. When he was with her, he was happy just to be ; the rest of it went away for a while.

There was the crux of it. Ginny didn’t know about the prophecy, and he was going to have to tell her. It wasn’t fair to let her get involved with him without knowing the full truth of how dangerous that was going to be. Ron and Hermione, too, deserved some answers. He should have known that day in Diagon Alley, when none of them Portkeyed away to safety because they wouldn’t leave him. They needed to know, and fully understand, what they were getting themselves into by being close to him. He had to tell them what his future must hold; it should be their decision whether or not to stick around.

The idea of losing any of them filled him with such despair, but he owed them all that choice. He had to tell them, even if telling them meant losing them. For now, for this Christmas break, he was going to enjoy himself and spend time enjoying their company. Hopefully, that would include getting to snog Ginny some more, because he really liked that. Then, he would tell them all the truth. With that thought, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Ginny listened as Harry’s breathing took on a deep, even rhythm. She knew she couldn’t let him stay in here with her - her family would have a fit - but it was pleasant for now. She stared fondly at his sleeping face, dimly lit by the moonlight seeping in through the window.

She sat for a while, just watching him sleep. She felt oddly touched that he trusted her enough to fall asleep with her. He was an amazingly silent sleeper when he wasn’t dreaming. Ginny was used to a house full of brothers, who all snored loudly enough to raise the ceiling. Harry didn’t make a sound; she had to lean closely to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest even to be certain he was breathing.

He looked pale, and his long, dark lashes stood out drastically from the white of his skin. Ginny studied his eyelashes intently. Most witches, herself included, would kill for eyelashes like that. Why were they wasted on a boy? She smiled appreciatively; they weren’t wasted, really. He had such exquisite features, from his long lashes, to his vibrant eyes, to his impossibly messy, raven hair that she could spot across a crowded Quidditch pitch. Most appealing of all was the fact that he had absolutely no idea how attractive he was -- attractive to her, anyway.

She knew that she’d startled him when she’d called him luv; it had just slipped out. He hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t run, either. Looking at him now, she could see the faint trace of a smile on his handsome face. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, after all. She did love him, but she wasn’t foolish enough to admit that to him yet. She’d finally just gotten his attention. When she said it, it truly was just out of fondness, but maybe it was an unconscious slip. Ginny decided she’d worry about it later and snuggled up close, dozing a little but mostly just enjoying his presence.

She woke around dawn and smiled lazily as she felt him pressed against her back in a classic spoon position. She rolled over and gently nuzzled his face.

“Wake up, Harry,” she whispered. “You have to go back to your own room before Ron wakes up.”

He didn’t move but, instead, pulled a face as if irritated. Ginny smiled with affection and gently kissed his nose. “Okay, then, we’ll just wait for all six of my brothers to find you here.”

He lay still for a moment before a reluctant smile grew across his face. “I’m going, I’m going.” His voice was cracked and dry. “Happy Christmas.”

Ginny stretched languidly and pulled the covers back around her, “Happy Christmas, Harry. I’ll see you in a little while.”

He smiled, kissed her once more, and quietly crept back into the room he shared with Ron. He stepped around the stack of presents at the foot of his bed and climbed in. As he lay there staring at the brightly wrapped packages, he couldn’t help but think that he’d already received the gift he’d always wanted most of all.

He woke a few hours later as he heard Ron begin to stir. He fumbled for his glasses and sat up in bed. Ron blearily looked over at him and then perked up almost instantaneously. “Presents!”

Harry smiled at Ron’s enthusiasm; some things hadn’t changed since first year, at all. He watched as Ron opened the dragon hide Quidditch pads that he’d bought for him.

“Wow, Harry, these are wicked.”

Harry looked around at the sizeable stack of presents this year and thought other things had changed drastically. He opened his Weasley jumper; it was Gryffindor red with a golden snitch on the front. He put it right on over his pajamas.

He noticed a present from Ginny and opened it eagerly. It was a small, handmade photo album colored green with the picture of the four of them at the Yule Ball already inside. She had written a small note on the inside cover:

Harry,

A new album for some new memories.

Love, Ginny

He smiled and put the album on top of his nightstand. He’d given Ginny a small silver bracelet with a butterfly charm hanging from it. They’d seen it that day in Hogsmeade, and Ginny had been very taken with it. He had quietly purchased it while she was trying on robes. He was anxious to see if she liked it.

Remus gave him his own Golden Snitch, and as he played with it, he remembered his father doing the same thing. Somehow, the memory didn’t bother him much anymore. There were chocolates from Ron, a book called Teaching Defensive Spells from Hermione, and a scary box that rumbled, which was full of joke shop test items from the twins. Harry put that to the side carefully. Bill gave both him and Ron a small replica of an Egyptian mummy that would walk across the table when the proper spell was cast. Ron and Harry quickly discovered that the two mummies would fight if placed near each other and spent some time cheering on their own figures. From Charlie was a pair of dragon hide gloves that Harry liked very much, and from Tonks, a new watch. Harry strapped it on his wrist immediately.

He was setting the time on his new watch when he noticed Ron staring at him intently. “What?” he asked his friend.

“How did you sleep?”

Uh, oh. Did Ron notice I was gone part of the night? “Okay. You?”

Ron seemed hesitant, but determined to get something out. “Over the summer, I know Ginny came in here a lot when you had nightmares.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened, but he fought to school his features. “Yeah.”

“Well, she just can’t do that anymore.”

“My dreams really haven’t been so bad lately.”

“No!” He could see Ron’s frustration. “I’m glad she helped, it’s just…you weren’t dating her then. Now, she can’t be in your bed.”

Harry couldn’t help the amused grin that spread across his face. “You mean, it’s okay if she’s in my bed as long as we’re not dating?”

“Right,” Ron answered quickly, and then seemed to realize what he’d just said. “No! Bloody hell, that’s not what I meant. Sod off, Harry. It’s just different now.”

Harry laughed outright. “You’re such a hypocrite.”

“Bollocks! I don’t mind you dating my sister; it’s something I always hoped for, anyway. But I don’t want you sleeping with her. If you hurt her, I’m going to have to hurt you, and I don’t want to have to do that.”

Harry knew Ron was being serious in his own way, and felt he deserved some respect. “I won’t ever hurt her intentionally, Ron; you have my word on that. And since Hermione is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister, I’d like to make you the same promise.”

Ron grinned. “I think she’d like that. Fair enough. I promise I won’t hurt her.”

“Anything else?” Harry asked.

“Well, I really don’t want to watch you snogging her, either.”

Harry laughed. “Then don’t look. I’ve spent the past several months averting my eyes from the two of you; it can be your turn for a while.”

******

As they gathered in the kitchen preparing to Floo to the Burrow, they all put on their cloaks so they could spend some time outside. Mrs. Weasley wrapped a pretty silk scarf over her head that Harry had given her. He’d seen Aunt Petunia fuss and fawn over one and thought Mrs. Weasley might like it. He’d given Mr. Weasley a set of Muggle hand tools that he had to be forcibly dragged away from him so that they could leave. Harry didn’t know for whom he should buy presents, so he’d just bought something for everyone. Mrs. Weasley scolded him for the money he’d spent, but it truly meant nothing to Harry, and he enjoyed seeing all of their expressions.

Remus and Tonks would be joining them later, planning on first spending some time with the Tonks family. Harry was happy to see things seemed to be working out for Remus. The Grangers would be meeting them at the Burrow.

One by one, they entered the green flames and called out ‘the Burrow’. Harry still hated the spinning nausea he felt when travelling by Floo, and he stumbled as he exited into the kitchen of the only true home he’d ever known. Fortunately, Ron was well aware of Harry’s trouble with Floo travel and was there to catch him before he fell, grinning widely.

“I still can’t believe you can take on a Hungarian Horntail but can’t stay on your feet during a bit of Floo travel.”

Harry shrugged. “I’d much prefer coming here by broom.”

“You’d freeze out there today.” Ginny smiled, finding Harry’s clumsiness endearing. He was pleased to notice she was wearing her bracelet, and it glittered in the candlelight.

He took a look around the kitchen as a warm feeling washed over him. He’d always loved it here, and it had been too long since he had been able to visit. All the Weasleys seemed to be lost in their own fond memories as they looked around their home. Aside from a layer of dust, nothing much had changed; it appeared exactly as Harry remembered it.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley must have spent a considerable amount of time planning this dinner, for the house was completely decorated. Harry had never spent Christmas at the Burrow and was amused to find all the hand-made decorations that all the Weasleys had made as children. Briefly, he felt a familiar stab of jealousy for the childhood that they’d shared. His eyes came to rest on his favorite part of the Weasley house, the family clock. It still fascinated Harry to see the hands with all the faces of the household members on them. They were now all pointed to HOME, except for one. Percy’s hand remained on IN EXILE.

Suddenly, Harry noticed something that hadn’t been there before, and he walked closer to get a better look. He became aware of all the others standing stock-still and staring at him. His mouth dropped open in astonishment as he realized another hand had been added to the clock, one with his own face upon it. He wheeled around to face Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; both had tears in their eyes.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said gently. “I told you already that you’ll always be a Weasley.”

Harry suddenly found it hard to see through his blurred vision. He heard a cheer go up among the Weasley siblings, but he felt like he had a Bludger lodged in his throat and swallowed painfully. Mrs. Weasley wrapped him in one of her tight bear hugs, and he buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply.

He allowed himself to stay that way for a few minutes, until he could get his voice under control. He whispered to her, “How could you possibly have accused me of going overboard this Christmas?”

“This isn’t overboard, Harry; this is what feels right,” Mr. Weasley said, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I hope it feels right for you, too.”

Harry didn’t think he could trust his voice again and silently thanked whomever it was who watched over orphaned wizard boys for bringing these people into his life. Gradually, Ginny and her brothers made their way over to them, hugging him in turn, or slapping him on the back.

Ginny slipped her hand in his and quietly asked him, “All right, Harry?”

He didn’t answer but pulled her into a hug, too. She seemed to understand his need for contact and just held him until he pulled back.

They were interrupted by the sound of a car in the drive. “That’s Hermione,” Ron yelled, racing out the door. Harry followed him outside to greet Hermione and meet her parents. Ron yanked open the car door and nearly pulled Hermione off her feet in his exuberance.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger got out slowly, eyeing Ron warily. Mrs. Weasley walked right over and began speaking with Hermione’s parents, while Mr. Weasley began to look at their car. Firmly grasping Arthur’s arm within her own, Molly brought all the adults inside to get the dinner going. The rest of them stayed outside, partaking in a huge snowball fight.

It was an all out battle that continued until Harry felt his scar burst with excruciating pain. He clenched his teeth to avoid yelling out as he dropped to the ground, panting. There was no vision to accompany the pain, but Harry was certain that, somewhere, Voldemort was punishing someone.

“Are you all right?” Ginny asked, as she and Ron helped him to his feet. Harry nodded shakily.

“Stop!” Ron screamed at the twins, who were still launching snowballs at them. By this time, Bill and Charlie had realized something was wrong and came running over. Harry leaned on Ron, as they began making their way toward the house.

Once inside, they were immediately aware that something obviously wasn’t right; the house was so full of tension you could almost cut it with a knife. Mrs. Weasley insisted they were going to have a nice holiday dinner before they talked about whatever was happening. Harry tried to calm his nerves, but his senses were in overdrive, and sitting still was quite painful.

He was stunned a moment later by the arrival of a small group, who had obviously used a Portkey. He sat in his seat, slack-jawed, staring at Remus Lupin, who was standing in the Weasley kitchen with all three of the Dursleys. Harry’s two worlds had just violently collided.

******

A/N: Thanks as always go to my betas, Mistral and ChaoticK for picking through this thing and making sure I get all my tenses right. I’m really so pleased with the way you two have sharpened this up. Thank you!

I know it’s been done many times before, but the hand on the Weasley clock just feels right to me. So, apologies for the cliché, but…that’s just the way I think it should be.

Ok, last chapter I made James a Chaser and I got several reviews saying that he was a Seeker. Although he was definitely a Seeker in the movie, canon has never said which position he played. In the Scholastic interview done 10/16/2000 JKR said he was a Chaser, and I took it from there.

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