The farmhouse was not overly large, but it was big enough for them. It was nestled deep in the quiet New England woods. The silence of the country, for the most part, was pleasantly peaceful. The holidays were proving difficult, though, with only the four of them to celebrate.
Ron wasn’t exactly looking forward to the holidays. Hermione had wanted to go back to Britain, or at least to have some of their friends and family come to stay, for the holidays. She had discussed it with them at length, but Ginny eventually shot the idea down. She had said that as much as she missed her family and friends, Harry wasn’t ready to go back. Reluctantly, Ron agreed and so the suggestion was tabled. He had invited his mother to come to them, but she decided to go to London instead and spend a quiet Christmas day with Fred, Bill and Fleur. Percy might even go to the dinner. So he, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry planned on celebrating Christmas, Boxing Day, and New Year’s in their little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.
With his father and brother George now gone, Christmas was bringing a raw new sadness for Ron. He preferred to not discuss this, however, and kept his brooding to a minimum so Hermione wouldn’t ask him what was wrong. Secretly he knew that if it was up to him and Harry, they probably wouldn’t be having a Christmas at all. But, it was already Christmas morning and it wasn’t his decision.
Hermione threw herself on top of him at 8 o’clock, interrupting his thoughts and knocking the wind out of him. “Come on, Ron! We have to do presents and cook!”
She dragged him from bed and wrapped him in his dressing gown. She propelled him toward the bathroom across the hall to get him moving. Ron got downstairs to discover Harry had started a fire in the hearth and Ginny was divvying out presents into piles. Hermione awaited him with a mug of tea and a Christmas kiss under the mistletoe hanging at the bottom of the stairs.
“Happy Christmas, Ron,” she said. “I’m sorry I shouted at you, but I was afraid you would sleep all morning.”
Ron sighed, “That’s OK, but the next time you want to wake me up you don’t have to nearly kill me. A nice ‘Ron, wake up’ would do.” He threw his arm around Hermione and turned to Harry and Ginny. “Now let’s skip the pleasantries and just get to the gifts, shall we?”
Ginny whooped and threw him a package. Seated in front of the tree, they tore into their gifts. Everyone got lumpy scarves and hats that Hermione knitted. They matched the jumpers his mum had sent. Hermione had also knitted Ron a blanket that was knobby and a bit crooked. He stifled a laugh and kissed her instead. Harry gave him a subscription to the World Quidditch Times and gave Hermione a personalized quill set. Harry also surprised Ginny with a new Pygmy Puff. His sister had squealed with delight and thrown herself at his best friend in a blur of pink fuzz and red hair. Ron had enrolled Hermione in an owl-order lending library. She was thrilled. It was hard for her to get new books out in the woods.
Ginny gave the gifts of the day, though. She gave everyone photo albums that must have taken her ages to put together. The albums chronicled their lives together. There were photos from Hogwarts, from the Burrow, and from Grimmauld Place. Everyone they had known and been friends with was included in each album and each person’s album was different. Ginny had thought of everything and everyone. Special pages of tribute were reserved for the fallen: his father and brother waved from the doorway of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, Harry’s parents smiled into each others eyes in an endless embrace, Sirius and Lupin laughed in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled while he swished his wand, and Neville smiled shyly from behind a potted plant.
Ron raised his mug of tea in a toast to all of their friends and family, here and gone. They clinked mugs and all sat back with satisfied smiles. He was extraordinarily proud of his younger sister. She had helped them to face the hardest part of the holiday and all get through it together.
Now the house was filled with the smells of pine needles and dinner preparations. The girls were in the kitchen and Ron was poking around in a platter of cookies. As though the dish was rigged with an alarm, Hermione came bustling into the dining room. She gave Ron’s hand a sharp slap.
“Don’t touch those now! Why don’t you go outside and see where Harry is? We’re going to be ready to eat soon.”
Feeling distinctly like a small child being sent away so he wouldn’t cause trouble, Ron sulked and cast Hermione a scathing look. Peevishly, he pulled on his coat and boots. He could see Harry in the front yard standing next to a large pile of snow. He went out the door to check on his best friend.
Hermione absently tugged the table cloth once more to smooth out the wrinkles. She sat down in one of the chairs and surveyed the dining room and parlor. The rather too-large tree sat off to the front corner of the parlor. Ron and Ginny had decorated it with paper chains and fairy lights. Their presents were scattered about on the floor. The fireplace mantle had been decorated with evergreen branches and large red bows. Hermione had charmed candles to float overhead, casting a warm glow. Ginny had created a centerpiece, of sorts, for the table out of extra evergreens interspersed with more red bows and candles. It all looked extremely festive. Everything was in a state of preparedness, hopeful that the coming dinner would bring more Christmas cheer than the decorations alone could muster.
The air about the house was still thick with sadness and longing. It was a very difficult Christmas and there was nothing Hermione could do. The childish delight she usually felt during the holidays seemed to have been taken away. Ron was having a rough time dealing with the loss of his father and brother and all of their friends. He was keeping most of it to himself. Watching him hurt was not easy on Hermione, but death and loss were two things that books could not really teach her about. She knew everyone would have their own grieving process and she just didn’t know what to do to help.
Ginny seemed to have coped by making their presents. The task of collecting pictures had helped her to acknowledge that those who were gone were not forgotten. If it was only that easy for Ron, she wouldn’t have to worry. When she wasn’t worrying about Ron, she was worried about Harry. He was even worse off.
Ginny entered the dining room from the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had smudges of various foods on her face and shirt. She was carrying a large casserole dish. “I’m running out of counter space in there. Can I put this on the table here for a little while? Will it be in your way?”
“No, go ahead,” Hermione said absently.
Ginny placed the plate down and looked into the parlor as well. “What’s the matter, Hermione?”
Hermione sighed and rested her chin in her hand. Harry hadn’t wanted to join in any of the Christmas preparations. He said he was glad to be spending the holidays with his three best friends in the world, but then he would just wander out the door into the snow to putter around in the yard. He nailed shutters back onto the house and cleared snow from the walkways. He went for long walks in the woods when there was nothing to fix. It wasn’t like him and it made her anxious.
“Aren’t you concerned about Harry, Ginny?” Hermione asked. “He’s so lost since we moved here. This is what he wanted. He was the one who wanted to come to America, to be far away. He picked this house and was so excited when we were moving in, but then he just shut down. I don’t know what to make of him anymore.”
Ginny shook her head. “Hermione, we’ve talked about this before so many times. He’s having a rough time adjusting. He’s working everything out in his head right now, but he’s coming around. He talks to me more than he did a few months ago, about what he’s thinking. It’s a shock to go from saving the world to total solitude.”
“That’s what I mean,” Hermione interjected. “It’s so much and he won’t let anyone in to help.”
“That’s because he doesn’t need help right now. When he needs help, he’ll come to find us. Right now, he needs to tune out and just survive. He’ll join the rest of us when he’s ready.”
There had been so much difficulty and so much suffering over the past few years. Harry had been so directly connected with the two wars. When he had finally succeeded in killing Voldemort, she had thought he would be happy to live a normal life. Instead, he had retreated into himself and become sullen. Somehow Ginny expected him to recover from this unscathed with no assistance.
Hermione eyed her friend, still uncertain that this theory was correct. She just wasn’t sure there was a way to save someone who was hurting so much. Besides, if Ginny was right, then it meant that she should be leaving Ron alone too and that was a thought she just couldn’t bear.
Ginny felt bad that Hermione was so anxious about Harry, but she knew in her heart of hearts that he would be fine. It was going to make for a difficult holiday, but he was bound to see that life needs to go on now that the war is over. She knew better than to expect the complete turn-around that Hermione was looking for. No, it would take time for Harry to adjust to his new life. Now, he had no responsibilities. The weight of the Wizarding world no longer rested on his 18-year-old shoulders. It was hard for him to understand, what he should do now that his life was finally his own. He’d figure it out, though, eventually.
Ginny also half suspected that some of the worry Hermione didn’t voice was about Ron. She had been watching her brother though and was proud him. He didn’t wallow or retreat gloomily to parts unknown. He got up everyday and Apparated to his job in the city. If only Hermione understood how much it did help that he came home every night to his loving girlfriend, best friend, and sister.
“Oy, girls,” Ron yelled from the front door. “You have to come and see this!”
Ginny moved toward the front door eagerly with Hermione in tow. The sun was bright, bouncing off the snow, and reflecting through the large windows at the front of the parlor. They had gotten more snow last night and Ron was now knee deep as he made his way across their front yard. Ginny stepped out on the front porch into the crisp breeze. The wind felt luxuriously cold and cleansing. She held her hand up to shield the sun and followed Ron’s path with her eyes. Her mouth immediately split into a wide smile.
“What is it now?” Hermione grumbled behind Ginny. She walked out onto the porch wrapped in one of Ron’s large coats.
“Look,” was all Ginny said and then she laughed loudly.
In their front yard there was one, lone snowman. He was large and rotund. The snowman was wearing one of the hats that Hermione knitted and an old Gryffindor house scarf. His face appeared to be made of rocks “ eyes, a nose and a smile. The arms were sticks with mittens for hands. One was crooked upward to look like he was waving at the house. Harry was standing proudly next to his snowman laughing. Even from the porch, Ginny could tell that his eyes were sparking merrily beneath his hat. Ron clapped him on the shoulder and they both made their way toward the porch to the girls.
“See, I told you, Hermione,” Ginny happily. “He’ll be fine once he gets himself together. Christmas is going to help, you’ll see.”
Hermione said nothing but smiled at her friend. Ron came up to the porch and stamped his feet to clear the snow from his boots. Hermione brushed the snow off his jacket and accepted his kiss on the cheek.
Harry moved next to Ginny. He leaned on the porch railing and tipped his head in the direction of the snowman. The vague smile playing on his lips made his face look so much more open than it had in months. “So what do you think?”
“He’s wonderful, Harry!” Ginny cried and smiled broadly at the snowman. “What’s his name?”
“Mr. Christmas, of course,” Ron said with mock gravity. “He’s a friend of Father Christmas’ and he comes to wave at people on Christmas day.”
“That’s his whole job?” Hermione asked incredulously.
Harry laughed. “It’s a rough job, waving all the time. His arm gets tired.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned, “Can we go inside and watch Mr. Christmas through the window, then? It’s cold out here and there’s still food in the oven.” With a pat on the back from Ron, she rushed into the house.
“You coming?” Ron asked over his shoulder as he struggled to remove his boots so Hermione wouldn’t yell at him. Ginny laughed at her brother and quickly studied Harry as he gazed out over the yard.
“No, I think we’ll just stay out here for a bit,” she said. With this, Harry put his hand on the small of her back. Ginny smiled knowing that she had guessed right and they needed to be alone.
“Suit yourselves,” Ron said. He shuffled away in his socks shouting, “Hermione, where did you hide the cookies?”
Ginny turned her eyes to the yard and just stood in silence with Harry for a moment. The birds chirped in the trees around the house. The snow sparkled under the glare of the sun creating a paradise of winter around them while they were tucked up in their little house. She could think of nothing more perfect. The breeze blew playfully and lifted Ginny’s hair. Harry took his jacket off and put it around her shoulders.
“So,” she finally asked, “how come Mr. Christmas?”
Harry laughed at the question. It felt good to laugh for a change. He hadn’t properly laughed in weeks. The holidays had been so difficult; he had mostly just retreated from the house whenever possible. Ginny could always make him laugh, though. He turned his gaze from the snowman to the girl at his side. Her hair was billowing over the collar of his coat and her cheeks had turned a becoming bright pink.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just wanted to do something nice for everybody - something to make us all happy for the day. It sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea.”
“Harry, it is a good idea,” Ginny said. “It’s the best Christmas present.”
“No,” Harry said seriously. “Your presents were the best of all. How did you do it? Where did you get all of the pictures from?”
Ginny smiled, “Mostly from Mum and Hermione. I sent Mum a plea for photos and she sent me packets that Ron and I had left at the Burrow. She also talked to Tonks to get the pictures of your parents and Sirius and Remus. Hermione didn’t know, but I started nicking pictures from her collections right after we moved in here. I’ve had this idea for months but it took a long time to put together. It was worth it, though, I think.”
“Are you kidding? It was amazing. I’m so glad you did it. Thank you,” Harry said sincerely.
Ginny threaded her arm through his and leaned into his side. His stomach swooped with pleasure. Even though they had been living under the same roof for months, her effect on him had not faded. He still felt like he was in his sixth year of school each time she graced him with a smile or a touch.
And yet they still hadn’t gotten back together. She had put up with his vain attempt to keep her safe by refusing to be her boyfriend for over a year. She stubbornly had stayed with him anyway and helped him every step of the way through the war. Now with the war over, his excuses were running out, even in his own head. Her feelings were still very clear and he knew that if he asked she’d wait forever. She was just that stubborn. Harry didn’t want to do that to her, though.
He just didn’t know if he was ready to jump back into the world of the living with two feet. Harry had been both relieved and angry to see the war end. Now that they had finally won, he could barely fathom exactly how it had happened or why he was so lucky. All of his family and so many of his friends were gone. Each day when he woke up, he had to remind himself that the world was a different place now. But here was Ginny by his side throughout, helping him in ways he could barely grasp. She was a constant reminder that he did have a life beyond the war. With her Christmas presents, she once again was telling him that it was time to live that life.
“Ginny,” he said quietly, “I don’t know if I can ever do what you’ve done and move through this all. I just don’t understand how to do it.”
She sighed and slipped her arms around his waist. “There’s no science to it, Harry. You’ll figure out a way to move on. You just have to try.”
Her face was pressed into his chest. She did not look at him, but rather at Mr. Christmas and the woods beyond. He knew she was trying to keep from pressuring him. He appreciated that more than anything.
“Will you try, Harry?” she asked gently.
He put his arm around her shoulders while she hugged him. No more needed to be said. They looked out over the yard and Harry felt extremely grateful for Ginny. She was such a remarkable girl.
Behind them he heard a cough and then Hermione say, “I’m sorry, but dinner is ready. Ron was just going to cut the roast. You should come inside.”
Sighing he said to Ginny, “It’s time, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” she said plainly.
Hermione disappeared back into the kitchen while Harry and Ginny came in from the porch. The table had been set, the various serving dishes laid out and steaming. Ron was already at the table.
“Alright then,” he said, “now that you’re here, I can cut this roast.” He pointed his wand at the roast and it was sliced immediately.
Hermione brought a large dish of potatoes with her and joined Ron at the table. They murmured over the dinner layout. She removed her apron and added serving spoons to some of the dishes. She smiled triumphantly at the table, clearly pleased with the outcome. Ron kissed her cheek and congratulated her on a job well done.
Ginny smiled and whispered to Harry, “Soon we’re going to have to ask them to just hurry up and get married and move out!” He snorted back laughter and they both took their seats at the table.
They passed dishes and complimented one another on a well-made dinner. The conversation opened up from there. Before long they were laughing about dinners at the Burrow and in the Great Hall. Slowly, the magic of the day took away the worry and strife of the past several years, if just for a few hours. The volume rose to an acceptable din. As it grew darker outside, the day came to a close and the four friends sat around their table with not a care in the world. It had turned out to be a nice, simple Christmas after all.