Dedicated to the lovely mugglemathdork . . . Merry Christmas!
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat in the Gryffindor common room at a table near the fire. It was a Friday night, two days before Christmas, and the common room was mostly empty except for the few Gryffindors who had nowhere else to go for the holidays. Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom were sitting across the room, playing Gobstones. Snowflakes danced past the windows. It was the third snowstorm Hogwarts had experienced in the last two weeks. The grounds were frozen to the point where outside classes had been canceled after Lavender Brown had slipped on the ice and done a face plant right into the pumpkin patch ” which was frozen solid, of course. Lavender had a broken nose and two black eyes.
“At least she’s stopped hanging all over you every second between classes,” Hermione Granger had pointed out cheerily to Ron one day. Lavender, upon seeing Ron approaching, had squeaked, pulled the arm of her robes over her heavily bandaged face, and scurried into the nearest classroom. Ron, however, seemed to be missing the attention.
He now sat back in his chair, staring wistfully into the fire. “I’m just so madly in love with her, Harry,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”
Harry scribbled a last note at the end of his parchment and blew on it. “What was that?” he asked absent-mindedly.
Ron glared at him. “You been listening to anything I’ve said at all?” he demanded.
Harry tried to look apologetic. “Sorry. I’m done with Snape’s essay, in any case.” He glanced toward the window, as if waiting for something to show up there.
Ron groaned. “Don’t say those words. I haven’t even started mine yet. Do you think I could copy yours? Harry? Hello?” Ron waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. Harry was staring into space. “Hello, anybody home?”
Just then there was a tap on the window. It was Hedwig. Harry jumped up and ran to the window. Throwing it open, he let Hedwig rest on his arm as he shut glass quickly. Ron shivered as a draft of chilly air reached him. Harry carried Hedwig back to the table and eagerly untied the letter that was attached to her leg. Hedwig was looking frosted, ruffled, and very unhappy. Harry scanned the letter hungrily, a silly smile on his face.
“Who’s that from?” Ron asked curiously. He caught sight of the swirly writing and rolled his eyes. “You’re not sending owls back and forth to Pansy again, are you?”
Harry didn’t answer. Instead, he whipped out a fresh piece of parchment and began to write feverishly.
“He’s obsessed,” Ron remarked to the air. There was a laugh from behind him, and in a flurry of snowflakes and bushy brown hair, Hermione took a seat beside him. She resembled a Christmas tree, with her hair and cloak dusted with snow. Ron noticed there were snowflakes on her eyelashes.
“How are you doing?” she inquired of Ron, beginning to dry off her clothes with her wand.
“I’m just peachy,” said Ron, a bit subdued. “No one’s listening to a word I’m saying.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that, Ron,” said Hermione, shaking her head. A small pile of snow drifted down to the ground and began to melt in the heat from the fire.
“Where were you?” Ron asked her.
“I told you earlier, I was paying a visit to Hagrid.”
“But it’s dangerous, the grounds are really icy.”
Hermione made an irritated sound. “Just because that nitwit” ” she spat this out, obviously referencing Lavender ” “slipped and fell on her face doesn’t mean I will.”
Ron had no answer for this. Suddenly, he straightened up, eyes bright. “Say, Hermione,” he began. “Imagine you were a bloke, and you were in love with the perfect girl, and she didn’t notice you at all. What would you do?”
Hermione finished drying herself with one last flourish of her wand, and then turned a quizzical eye on Ron. “Why must I pretend that I’m a bloke?”
“Because I’m asking you to. Just imagine it, alright?”
“Fine,” said Hermione, making a face. “If I were a bloke . . . well, I’d just assume that I have no chance, give up, and find someone else. Someone more in my league. How’s that?”
Ron’s face fell. “That doesn’t help at all though!” he protested.
“Why do you need to know?” asked Hermione. “Are you passionately in love with the perfect girl?”
“Yes,” Ron answered emphatically.
“Oh, really?” Hermione’s interest was peaked. “And who might she be?”
“It’s personal,” Ron replied, his ears going red.
Hermione looked annoyed. “Very well then. You can fend for yourself.”
“But, no!” Ron pleaded, going even redder. “Please, just help me. Tell me what I should do!”
Hermione shook her head obstinately. “Not until you tell me who this girl is.”
Ron opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. “Fine.” Across the table, Harry tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg, still smiling stupidly, and threw her out the window, ignoring her squawk of protest.
There was a squeal of pain from across the room where Neville and Seamus were sitting; Neville had just been squirted in the eye by a Gobstone. The room filled with Neville’s cries and Seamus’ hysterical voice.
Ron sighed and leaned his head moodily on his arm. “I hate sixth year,” he muttered.
The next day was Christmas Eve. Ron, Harry and Hermione entered the Great Hall and were struck once again by the amazing decorations. There were the twelve giant Christmas trees that Hagrid had hauled in from deep in the Forbidden Forest, strung with fairy lights and glowing baubles. Everlasting icicles hung from the ceiling, not melting even though there were hundreds of candles floating in midair beneath them. The walls were frosted, and the House tables were covered in gigantic tablecloths in red and green.
The trio took a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom (whose left eye was looking very swollen), and a seventh year they didn’t know. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables sported a close number of students. Hannah Abbot waved frantically at Ron as he sat down, but he hardly noticed. Thankfully, Draco Malfoy and his cronies had returned home for the holidays, but sitting at the Slytherin table, eagerly awaiting them, was Pansy Parkinson. As soon as she saw Harry she ran over to the Gryffindor table and positioned herself with her back to the staff table, and then began to kiss Harry.
Hermione rolled her eyes and glanced toward the staff table. Dumbledore was pretending to study the ceiling, as were a few other teachers, while McGonagall had pursed her lips and looked like she was trying to decide whether to stop it or not.
Ron grimaced. “Harry, Pansy, could you two take that outside, please?”
Pansy broke away from Harry ” with a sound that Ron affiliated with a jar of pickles opening ” and gave him a death glare.
“Sorry,” said Ron, looking away.
“Honestly,” said Hermione. “Don’t you two notice that we’re going to be eating soon? Take pity on our stomachs, if nothing else.”
Now Harry glared at Hermione. But he and Pansy got up and left, obviously trying not to walk too fast. McGonagall’s lips were white, but Dumbledore . . .
“Is he laughing?” asked Hermione. Ron snickered.
Breakfast passed without any extraordinary events. As Ron and Hermione exited the Great Hall, Hermione stopped and looked at the oak front doors.
“Do you want to take a walk?” she asked Ron.
“On that ice?” Ron asked incredulously. “No, thank you, I’d best just throw water on these tiles and then run across them. My face will look the same.”
“Ron, just because some people have no coordination whatsoever does not mean that you or I will fall too.”
Ron, watching Hermione’s flaring nostrils, decided to go with the flow. “Fine,” he sighed. They walked out into the snow, Ron tucking his scarf around his neck a little tighter. “What do you have against Lavender, anyway?”
Hermione scowled. “She’s so . . . “ Hermione struggled to find a word. “So . . . insipid.”
“And that means . . . ?”
“Lacking in interesting qualities,” replied Hermione, for once not reprimanding Ron on his “sad vocabulary,” as she saw it.
“She’s just fine,” Ron argued.
Hermione’s eyes widened as she stopped walking. Around them the snow was falling lightly. Already their heads were covered with a thin layer of white dust. Ron was walking carefully across the grass, trying to avoid the ice that lay under the snow. It took him a moment to notice that Hermione had stopped and was a few feet behind him.
He walked back to her as she said in a low voice, “Is Lavender Brown the girl you’re in love with?”
Ron sputtered. “No! What are you ” what? No! Lavender?” He sputtered some more.
Hermione looked relieved. “Then who is it?”
“I’m not going to tell you until you agree to help me get her to fall in love with me,” replied Ron stubbornly.
“Fine,” snapped Hermione. She began to stalk back to the castle, then slipped on the ice and furiously backpedaled with her arms trying to right herself. Luckily, just before she went down, Ron caught her by the elbows and set her back on her feet.
“Thanks,” she said roughly, cheeks flaming.
“No problem. Might want to work on that coordination, though.”
Hermione’s glare melted a hole right through Ron’s frozen nose.
On Christmas Day, Harry and Ron woke up to find a mountain of presents on each of their beds. They said Merry Christmas to Seamus and Neville, who were eyeing their own presents happily.
“Wicked,” muttered Ron, still half asleep. He ripped into the closest one, producing a knitted maroon sweater embroidered with a purple R and a Yorkshire pudding, presumably from Mrs. Weasley. “Oh, Mum,” Ron groaned.
“Maroon again?” Harry asked sympathetically. He was holding a similar sweater, but this one was emerald and had a large gold H knitted into it. It was accompanied by a package of treacle tarts, which he eyed hungrily before returning to his presents. The next yielded a framed photograph of him and Pansy. “Look,” Harry said, holding it up. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”
Ron nodded, trying not to say anything. “Hey, who’s this from?” he asked a few moments later. He held up a card that was dripping confetti comprised of hearts in green and red.
“I dunno,” Harry shrugged. “I didn’t give it to you. And I don’t think Hermione did either. What does it say?”
Ron’s ears turned red as he scanned the card. “You read it,” he said quickly, tossing it to Harry and busying himself with some wrapping paper. Harry picked it up and read:
My dearest Ron,
I see you walking the halls all the time, going to your classes. You are so effortlessly handsome. It makes my heart melt. I just wanted to tell you something, because if you can’t say it at Christmas then when can you?
I am deeply in love with you.
Signed,
Your Secret Admirer
“Um.” Harry cleared his throat, trying to keep his face straight. “You have no idea who sent this?”
Ron’s ears were as red as his sweater. “No, no, I don’t,” he said too quickly.
“Can I see it, Ron?” asked Seamus. Neville sat down next to Seamus and read it over his shoulder. They both tried hard not to laugh.
Harry stifled a snicker. “Oh, well then. I guess it’s whoever tackles you under the mistletoe, eh?”
Ron cleared his throat and held up a QuikWiz Card from Honeydukes. “Thanks, Harry,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat again. “This is really cool.”
“No problem,” said Harry. “Thanks for the book on Viktor Krum.”
Ron nodded. Then he froze. Harry, who was eating a treacle tart, swallowed. “What’s wrong?”
Ron looked at him with wide eyes. “It’s another one,” he said squeakily. He tossed a card to Harry, this time decorated with angels singing “Silent Night” in an extremely high key. Harry grimaced at the noise as Neville and Seamus crowded behind him.
Ronald,
I must confess to you that I love you more than life itself. Your brown eyes, your flaming hair, your noble stature. I cannot help myself. I can barely breathe in your presence. I hope one day, to call your wonderful parents “Mum” and “Dad,” and to bear your beautiful children.
Love, for all time,
Your Secret Admirer
Seamus burst out laughing. Harry had nothing to say to this. Ron looked like he was about to faint. He gulped for air a few times. “Who’s that from?” he whispered in horror.
Harry was equally stymied. “I have no idea, mate. But whoever it is, I’m very sorry.”
Ron, ignoring the rest of his presents, stared at his bedpost with a stricken look, and Seamus continued to laugh, rolling around on the floor.
“What’s going on?” a bossy voice demanded. Hermione had just entered the room, balancing a package in each hand. She surveyed the scene with a raised eyebrow: Neville was trying not to laugh, Seamus was whooping on the floor, Harry was shaking with silent laughter, and Ron was staring at his bedpost looking pale.
Harry tossed the two cards to Hermione, who read them twice as fast as he had. “Who sent these to you?” she asked loudly, her eyebrows snapping together. Ron just shook his head. Hermione made a disgusted noise. “It was probably Hannah Abbot, or that puffle-brained idiot Lavender Brown,” she spat contemptuously. She threw her presents at Ron and Harry.
Ron looked up only when the box smacked him across the face. “Ow! What was that for?”
“Just open it,” said Hermione. She sat moodily next to Harry, who had caught his present and produced a large book out of the sparkly wrapping paper.
“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said. It was a copy of Hogwarts, A History.
“Yes,” Hermione snapped. “Maybe now when strange things happen around the school, we can actually find things out without having to wait for the library to get its five copies back.”
“Thanks,” said Ron, who held up an enormous box of Chocolate Frogs.
“No problem,” replied Hermione with a glare. She turned back to Harry to talk with him, but he was staring blissfully at the photograph of him and Pansy.
Heaving an audible sigh, Hermione got up and slammed the door behind her.
The rest of the Hogwarts students returned a few days after Christmas. Ron welcomed the noise and attention; Harry was immersed in Pansy, and Hermione was now ignoring Ron. She was also being very short with Lavender Brown and Hannah Abbot, using any chance to throw nasty glares at their backs. Or even their faces ” to Hermione it didn’t matter very much.
A week after Christmas, the day that classes began again, Lavender Brown approached Hermione apprehensively. “Hello, Hermione?” she said tentatively, talking through her nose splint. “Could I talk with you?”
Hermione sighed exaggeratedly. “If you must,” she said. She led the way to an empty classroom, and perched on a desk, fixing Lavender with an expectant look.
“Um, I just wanted to talk to you about ” about Ron,” said Lavender in a muffled voice.
“What about him?”
“I was just wondering ” well, I wondered if ” I mean ” does he talk about me much?” stuttered Lavender.
“No,” was the decisive reply.
Lavender’s eyes fell. “Oh. Okay. Well, could you ””
She broke off as the door opened and Hannah Abbot entered. Hannah looked surprised to see the two of them. “Oh, hello,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“What were you expecting?” snapped Hermione. “An elf dancing to ‘Silent Night’?”
Hannah blinked. “What are you talking about?” When Hermione didn’t answer, Hannah looked blankly at Lavender. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
To both Hermione and Hannah’s surprise, Lavender turned red from head to foot. Clearing her throat, she said gruffly, “I have no idea what she’s talking about. Why? Do you think I do?”
Hannah shook her head, eyes wide. “Listen, I’ve got to go to . . . a class. Bye.” She left.
Lavender avoided Hermione’s eyes. “Yeah, I have to go too.” She hurried out of the classroom, still a lovely crimson color.
Hermione stalked out and up to the Gryffindor common room. She dropped her bag in her dorm, and leaving through the portrait hole, she ran into Katie Bell.
“Hi,” said Katie. “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
“I did,” said Hermione. “Thanks.”
“Wanna walk with me to lunch?” asked Katie.
“I would.”
“So I heard Ron got some crazy cards from fans this year,” Katie laughed after a short silence.
Hermione’s face soured. “Yes, he did,” she said tensely. “One with hearts and one that sang ‘Silent Night.’”
“Oh yes,” Katie giggled. “I heard that one was from Lavender Brown, and the one with hearts was from Hannah Abbot, you know that one girl in Hufflepuff?”
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “What?”
“You know, she has blonde hair, wears it in pigtails ””
“No, I know who you’re talking about! Hannah Abbot and Lavender Brown sent those cards to Ron?!”
“Yeah,” said Katie. “Why, is there something wrong?”
Hermione took a deep breath. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just ” I think I forgot something. You go on, I’ll catch up.”
“Okay.” Katie looked confused, but continued to lunch, disappearing around a curve. Hermione stayed in place for a moment, then followed Katie, deciding to confront Ron about this once and for all.
As she descended the marble staircase, she looked up and froze. Emerging from the Great Hall was Lavender Brown, and closing the door to the dungeons was Hannah Abbot. The three girls stared at each other for a moment. Then Hermione whipped out her wand and pointed it at Lavender.
“Wh ” what?” sputtered Lavender, pulling out her own wand. She aimed it at Hermione.
“Hey!” Hannah yelled. She flourished her own wand, also aiming it at Hermione. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t believe you sent that card to Ronald!” shouted Hermione at Lavender. “Of all the stupid songs, ‘Silent Night’!”
Hannah gasped. “You sent that to him!” She turned her wand on Lavender, who glared.
“And what do you care?” she asked loudly.
“I care because he’s mine,” Hannah shouted.
“No he’s not!” Hermione and Lavender shouted together.
“Well, I agree with Hermione, that song was stupid!” Hannah shouted back. Lavender aimed her wand at Hannah’s forehead.
“You both are deranged!” screamed Hermione, aiming her wand first at Lavender, then Hannah. “You don’t even know him! If anything, he’s mine!”
“NO HE’S NOT!”
“PROVE IT!”
“I WILL!”
“DO IT!”
The three girls continued to scream at each other, and then suddenly, there were spells flying everywhere. Hermione, crazed, was shooting spells all over the place; Hannah was screaming as she fired charm after charm; and Lavender was alternately holding her bandaged nose and bewitching things to fly at Hermione and Hannah.
At that moment, Ron walked out of the Great Hall with Luna Lovegood. They both blinked in surprise at the flashes of light that suddenly blinded them.
“Whoa!” Ron yelled, ducking a spell.
Next to him, Luna said, “Wow, what pretty ”” She was cut off as a red beam struck her in the face, and the last thing she saw was Ron’s blurry face before she blacked out.
A few days later, in the hospital wing, Hermione sat up and winced. During the fight, she had been hit by a spell that caused her to grow donkey ears. It was a beautiful set of ears, to be sure, but the rapid removal of them, courtesy of Madam Pomfrey’s wand, was very painful.
Lavender’s already broken nose had been hit with a Fungus Charm, possibly fired by Hannah, and long green tendrils had proceeded to grow out from under her nose splint. Her face was newly bandaged; the only things showing were her still bruised eyes.
Luna Lovegood had been hit with a simple Stunner, but she was still recuperating. “To the face,” clucked Madam Pomfrey. “The things these children do these days . . .” Luna was lying unconscious in a bed at the far end of the room.
Hannah had fared worst of all. “She’s been hit with a mixed charm of Rearrangement and Growth spells,” Madam Pomfrey had shrilled to Professor Dumbledore. “Usually it’s only the wizards at Plasti-Wich that use those. She should recover though . . .” Every feature of Hannah’s face had traded places with another, and they had all grown to five times their normal size before the teachers who were in the Great Hall had put an end to the duel. Looking over at her bed, Hermione saw that her nose was back in place, but an eye was where her mouth should be, and her lips were on the side of her head, while an ear was in place of her eyeball. Hermione’s stomach churned, and she looked away.
“Could you put the curtain back up around her bed?” Hermione inquired of Madam Pomfrey as she passed by with a potion bottle in her hand.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head emphatically. “No, you should see what you’ve done to the poor girl,” she chided, lifting some bandages off Lavender’s face. She poured a spoonful of something down Lavender’s throat, who gagged.
Hermione sighed and took to glaring alternately at Lavender, then at the unrecognizable Hannah. A few moments passed, then Hermione’s reverie of revenge was broken as Hannah slowly stirred, the eye by her mouth opening first, then the one on the side of her head.
“Ugh,” she moaned. “Why can’t I see?” She lifted up her hands to feel her face, and screamed, which was weird for Hermione and Lavender, because the scream came from the vicinity of her ear. “What did you do to me?!”
Hermione laughed cynically. “It’s okay, you look the same to me.”
Hannah glared as best she could with eyes on opposite sides of her face. “So we’re just going to continue this?”
Lavender nodded firmly. “You two have no chance. He’s in love with me.”
“Right, of course he is,” scoffed Hannah.
“Prove it,” snarled Hermione.
“You’re just jealous!” yelled Lavender.
“Why would I be jealous of you?!” Hermione shouted back. “You can’t even walk across ice without falling on your face!”
“And you can’t aim well!” Hannah taunted her.
“Watch me!”
“Do it, I dare you!”
“This is stupid!” Lavender yelled over them.
“But I’m in love with him!” Hannah whined. “I just want to have it out in the open that he loves me too.”
Hermione snorted. “He’s never even noticed you.”
“Well, he sees you as his sister!” retorted Hannah, not daunted.
“You two don’t love him like I do!” said Lavender loudly.
“You two don’t deserve him!” shrieked Hermione, a crazed look coming into her eyes. But before she could continue, the three girls broke off as someone entered the hospital wing.
It was Ron.
Lavender sat up quickly, trying to pull off her bandages. Hannah turned her head sideways so she could see him. Hermione held her breath.
He slowly walked towards them . . . closer, closer . . . and then passed. The girls watched in shock as he walked calmly past all three of their beds, and right to Luna’s. Hermione’s jaw dropped. Hannah’s eyes widened, and Lavender gagged again.
Hermione labored to breathe for a moment, then said tightly to Ron, “So she’s the one, then?”
Ron looked up, surprised. “What? Oh yeah, I like Luna. Why?”
“No reason,” Hermione said nonchalantly, blanching inside. “When did this happen?”
“Well, we were outside a couple days ago, before you three hexed her, and I slipped on the ice and fell on top of Luna, and well . . . things just fell into place.”
“Literally,” muttered Hannah angrily. Ron stared at her face for a moment, then turned his attention back to Luna. After a while, he exited the infirmary, leaving behind a rose on Luna’s pillow.
Hermione slammed her hands down on the bed. “I hate ice!” she shouted. “This whole Christmas has just fallen apart! It’s like I slipped and fell flat on my face.”
“Yeah,” Lavender said gloomily. “Literally.”
Hermione sighed deeply. “At least there’s still Draco Malfoy,” she said quietly. She looked up with wide eyes as Hannah and Lavender traded looks. “Oh, no, no, no, NO. He is MINE.”
Hermione, Lavender and Hannah grabbed their wands from the tables next to their beds.
“So this is how it’s going to be?” said Hannah, breathing heavily.
“I just loved my donkey ears,” Hermione said sarcastically. “I think you should try some too. They’d match your face.”
“I dare you,” Lavender said darkly.
“If this is the way it has to be . . .” Hermione smiled angelically. “Okay.”