Chapter 23: Surprise: It's a Weasley Christmas
POV: Third Person
In the months Hogwarts school was in session, the house located at the furthest corner of the historic and prestigious village of Godric's Hallow was just as quaint and quiet as the other surrounding homes. There resided Harry Potter, an eternal celebrity and the finest (and youngest) Head Auror the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had seen in decades, with his wife Ginny Potter, a former (outstanding) international Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies who now served as a cutting journalist and editor for the incomparable Daily Prophet.
In the months Hogwarts school was not in session, the house located at the furthest corner of the historic and prestigious village of Godric's Hallow was considered one of the nine circles of hell surrounding the other unfortunate homes. There, alongside their well-known parents, resided James Sirius Potter, a boy known even in faraway villages as a bloody menace with an affinity for crude, dangerous, painful pranks, Albus Sirius Potter, a boy known even in faraway villages as a gullible little lad with an affinity for poorly-executed retaliation that often resulted in injuries for himself and others near him, Lily Luna Potter, a girl known even in faraway villages as a raging wildfire with an affinity to use her fists and impressive hexes to win over any situation she might catch herself in, and, occasionally when visiting his adoptive family, Teddy Remus Lupin was an adult known even in faraway villages as an immature twat with an affinity to cause havoc depending on his mood.
Unfortunately for all the families of Godric's Hallow whom wished for a perfect, snowy celebration with their loved ones, it was Christmastime at the Potter household.
"Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, or Pumpkin Juice, Draco? Astoria?" Leading her guests out towards her prized garden, Ginny turned to look behind her shoulder to offer a kind smile. "Blaise, Loretta?"
Leaving a trail of hesitation and tension, Draco failed to return a smile at the Weaslette—Ginny. Catching this, Astoria nudged him with her elbow as she pretended to smooth out the tiniest wrinkle on her dress. He forced his lips upward, but caught Hermione grinning at the effort it was taking him to be civil.
"Firwhiskey," Draco said a little too desperately, looking away from the brown eyes of Hermione Granger (she'd never be a Weasley to him). "And lots of it."
He thought he muttered the last bit, but those around him caught it and laughed.
"You outdid yourself, Ginny," said Astoria, finding her manners for herself and her husband. "The garden looks spectacular. You must tell me the enchantments you used."
A smooth pavement road marked a division across the plush garden; alongside the panels of that road, colorful jars with tiny, individual spheres illuminated their pathway. Woven between the leaves of the tall, willowy trees were also twinkling lights, adding the allure of a starry night. Cushioned chairs formed a half-circle around Ginny's prized rose and lily bushes.
At the center of the festive garden were three large tables. The furthest held all the beverages being provided that night. Pitchers, bottles, and self-brewing cauldrons sat at the ready for whatever the guests fancied to sip on. The next table was stacked with presents. Bright, shiny, and colorful wrappings gleamed under the lights and moon like gems collected by wayfaring pirates. Lastly, the larger table of the three hosted forty embroidered (but comfortable) chairs, eighteen on each side and one person at both ends. On this table awaited an even more impressive feast that provided plates of meats, seafood, greens, and sweets.
"Thank you, Astoria," said Ginny with a grin. "Gardening has been a hobby of mine ever since James started walking. It's not exactly Quidditch, but I'm still good at it."
While guests laughed at Ginny's comment, Harry cleared his throat, narrowing green eyes at his wife.
Ginny rolled hers at him before letting out a scoff. "While I am good at it, it's actually Harry that deserves the praise. He sorted the garden out for this evening while I dealt with a Prophet meltdown."
"It looks like the parties in those films you showed me, 'Retti," whispered Blaise to his wife, his focus lost at the decorations that were never present when he was a child. He was used to cold festivities, the sort that barely had a fleck of color, the sort that never seemed to warm the air with the smell of cinnamon or merry words, the sort were silence danced and circled the ballroom rather than music.
This was far from his memories. This was very much a Weasley/Potter Christmas.
Harry was trained to catch every muttering, as such, he heard Blaise Zabini's comment and immediately felt a burst of guilt settle in his chest. His family, Malfoy's too, were supposed to be here to celebrate a holiday with Harry's large family, to further help and cement the bond of love, friendship, and affection their children had with one another—that should have been the reason for the presence (it partially was because Ginny so demanded), but Harry had Auror matters to keep an eye on Blaise and Draco.
"I do hope your mother is doing well, Draco," said Hermione with a pleasant tone, like she had extended the well wishes to their old classmate a hundred times before. It was exactly why Harry furrowed his brows in confusion at her. "Ginny mentioned she invited her, but she had to decline."
Draco took a moment before saying, "She's well, thanks, Gran—Hermione. She was unable to attend not due to health issues, but business in Ireland."
"Business? On Christmas?"
At the outrage in Hermione's tone, Astoria subdued her laughter as Draco blinked wildly at the reaction. "Draco and I insisted she put off the meeting, but apparently this company has been under duress for a few months and just started threatening to sell their shares if there was not a board meeting as soon as possible. With the crash of the wizard economy last year, Narcissa did not want to take the chance of losing the inheritance she is leaving Scorpius."
"Every member was called in," Blaise added, tearing his attention from the blue, shimmering snowflakes bursting out of a fountain. "I was supposed to attend, too, but my mother decided she would take my place."
"I think she mostly did not want the other partners to see Blaise's muggle wife in the vicinity," said Loretta Zabini with a grin, "but I'm not judging her prejudice at the moment because my family is together."
Ginny let out a loud scoff. "Good thing international Floo Networks close for the holidays, then. Your horrid mother-in-law is stuck in Ireland until they reopen."
"Your brother Alec was called in, too, then?" Harry asked Astoria Malfoy. "Ginny also invited him, but Liam showed up only with Nia."
"Unfortunately so," said Astoria. "The business in association with this company belongs to the Greengrasses, so Alec had to attend as the patriarch of the family. It's an ancient, sexist, pureblood company, but it feeds Daphne and her children, so Alec needed to attend."
"I do hope Liam isn't staying with Daphne's family while his father is in Ireland," said Hermione. "Rose has mentioned how horrible your nephews are to him."
Astoria frowned at the reminder. "Alec left Liam with us. I was not about to let the poor boy spend the holidays with Daphne, either."
"—I was not scared!" Ringing loud and interjecting into the night, Ron Weasley's voice roared. "And I didn't hide in the tree-house! I was just verifying Al had those games I bought him when he was seven!"
Harry started to grin when Ron exited the house alongside more of their relatives, but he caught Hermione frowning already. He cleared his throat, looking behind his shoulder to hide it.
"Honestly, George," Hermione started, none of the adults missing her aggravated tone, "you know he has a phobia. He's sensitive about, for goodness sake."
"Sensitive, are you, Ronniekens?" George ignored her, giving Ron a hard shove. "Why didn't you say so, then?"
Lovely and magical as ever, Angelina reached over to smack her husband beside the head. "Leave him," she ordered George. "You do this every year, and every year Ron ends up breaking your nose. Be an example for our children, for Merlin's sake."
"Well said, Angie," said Mrs. Weasley as she waddled past the group carrying a tray of homemade pies.
"First of all," George began with a tone of incredulity, "Ron has never broken my nose. He'd have to keep up with me for that to happen, but, sadly, those extra twenty pounds slow him down."
"Enough," said Bill to his brothers with a growl. Silence fell on his siblings instantly. "Harry and Ginny have worked endlessly to host us tonight. If you ruin that, Ginny will break all of your limbs. And we all know she is capable of such."
Ginny smirked, motioning the group to their seats. As they followed obediently, Hermione found herself reaching over to Draco. Her fingers wrapped around his elbow. He had yanked out of the touch as a reflex, but once his silver eyes fell on her, a glimmer of fear softened his defenses.
"I don't think I wished you a proper Happy Christmas," Hermione said to him with a small smile.
Draco paled under the moonlight before schooling his expression. "Have you ever, Granger?"
"It's Weasley," she reminded.
"You know I'm never calling you that," he said.
"Hermione, then."
"Have you ever, Hermione?" Draco amended.
She laughed—the kind of laugh that made everyone in a room lose themselves in it, the kind of laugh that could make everyone in a room disappear to get lost in her.
"'Mione," called Ron from a short distance, a frown shadowing over his gaze. "You coming?"
"Sure," Hermione said to her husband before turning to Draco again. "Are you coming?"
She offered him her arm. Draco looked at the gesture like he had just been offered a horcrux. He was clearly afraid to touch her, but even if he was, his grudge against Ron Weasley was enough for him to lace his arm with Hermione's and lead her to the table.
"Did you put Aunt Hermione up to this?" Teddy asked his father as Ron stalked over, grumbling under his breath as Hermione and Draco followed him. The other adults were too busy choosing their first (alcoholic) beverage from the open bar to find something amiss. "Spying on the Malfoys—Draco Malfoy specifically?"
"No, I didn't. This is all her doing, I assure you," Harry said as he took a sip of his firewhiskey. "But would you be upset if I had? Even despite your honor as an Auror?"
"He's my family," said Teddy, swishing the drink he swore to his mother did not have a stream of bourbon mixed in. "It does interfere with my duties as an Auror. You understand, don't you, Dad?"
"I do," Harry said solemnly before smiling at his eldest son, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder in solidarity. "And I really hope we are wrong about Draco Malfoy this time."
X
Although he had been told he was too old to enjoy Christmas as a toddler does (expecting only wicked gifts and delicious food to fill his belly with), Ron had a sappy side that allowed him to admit he loved the holiday for the family gathering. It was not to say his family did not get together often for dinners, Quidditch matches (Ginny's or the children's), and birthdays, but more often than not some relatives missed the gatherings because of work, distance, or other commitments. Christmastime was mandatory for his family. They showed up or they would regret ever crossing his mother or Ginny.
On this particular night, however, Ron could not dwell in the harmony, food, or presents because he was too intent on surveying every bloody move Draco Malfoy made. He had counted how many times Malfoy chewed his food before he swallowed it down, how he was on his fourth refill of liquor, how he glanced over to his son Scorpius, nephew Liam, and at Hermione, and how his back continued to stay rigid even through his conversations with others were neutral. That's what made Ron suspicious.
Malfoy was in the middle of a chat with Charlie and his girlfriend Stella West—a widowed dragon trainer he met in a trip to South Africa—about her seventeen year-old son Kai and his decision to follow a career in Curse Breaking rather than a dragon training one (which somehow sounded disappointing rather than a relief for her).
"I understand that," said Malfoy to Charlie and Stella. "I don't think Scorpius wants to be in the family business, either. He seems more interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts these days. He might become an Auror for all I know."
"I'm telling you, mate," said Charlie with a laugh, throwing an arm around Stella's shoulders, "our children will choose a road that will take them faraway from becoming us."
Ron frowned at the ease with which his brother spoke to Malfoy.
"Rosie," he called for his daughter, his tone a lot louder than he thought it would come out, "have you told your Uncle Charlie about your marks in Care for Magical Creatures?"
Rose stopped her conversation with Nia to raise a brow at her father. "My marks are good—"
"Good is an understatement. She's got an O," Ron interrupted, grinning proudly at the others now tuning in to their conversation.
"—but I don't really care for it," continued Rose, not without scowling at her father.
"Same here," said Kai with a chuckle, lifting his drink up to his step-cousin.
"I don't blame you for that, sweetheart," said Charlie with a chuckle of his own. "You're just like your mother. You're all about numbers and facts. Have you dropped Divination yet?"
Hermione frowned at her brother-in-law. "Divination is a pointless subject," she defended. "It is based strictly on speculation—Don't laugh, Draco," she then said when Malfoy snorted into his drink, alike many others who had gone to school with her. "Honestly, I don't know why Minerva continues to employ Trelawney. The poor woman is too blind now—from her bloody third-eye, too, to even teach prophetic nonsense."
"Do write an angry letter to McGonagall, Aunt 'Mione," chimed in Al with a grin. "I'm sick of Divination, too. Trelawney insists all my tea leaves have Grims."
"No complaining from you, Albus," said Ginny with a sharp tone that made her youngest son erase that smirk from his face. "Even if Divination is pointless, you better pass it with an O. You better pass all your classes with an O. Especially Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Al had the nerve to looked outraged. "I am passing Defense Against the Dark Arts. Who was the bloody rat that said otherwise?"
"All right, then tell us what you're learning in class, Al."
"Stuff," Al replied instantly to his mother. When she did not look impressed, he glanced over to Scorpius.
"Boggarts," mumbled Scorpius before drinking from his goblet.
"Boggarts," Al said. "We are learning about Boggarts and all...the Boggart-y things Boggarts do."
While her friends laughed at Al, Nia (who had spent the entire night glaring at him because he was intent on ignoring her) said with a little too much resentment, "That's odd. In our class Boggarts stayed as a Third Year subject. Professor Alan is currently teaching us everything about Defensive Spells—especially their old and modern formats. Maybe you've just been too distracted to retain the information."
Al was definitely not ignoring Nia now. While it was impossible for him to be furious with her, it was easy for him to be outraged. He had not planned on telling his family about Evanna Nott anytime soon (on account that he had yet to figure out what it was).
"He's fine," said Lucas, coming in with immediate assistance for Al. "Not distracted at all. Maybe you've been distracted, Nia. I mean, with you dating James and all, you maybe missed the revision on Boggarts we had to prepare for our upcoming exam."
James started choking on his ham. Louis had to reach over and bang on his back for him to catch his breath again.
"You're dating Nia?" Ginny asked her son, confusion in her eyes as she glanced over to Emily then back at him.
"No! Of course not!" James sounded too appalled for Nia's liking. "If I had a girlfriend, I'd choose one that wouldn't be most likely to kill me."
"Then? Who are you dating?" Ginny asked before looking over at Emily once more.
"James is as single as he's always been, Mrs. Potter," said Nia. "It's actually Al that has a girlfriend. Evanna Nott."
"Evanna?" said Blaise with a laugh. "Good luck, boy. Theo's a possessive git."
"Nott?" said Harry, his mouth in a tight line as he thought back to the list of people his Aurors were monitoring. That family was on the list, too.
Taking his father's apprehension as disappointment, Al looked down to his food. He picked up his fork, nudging his slices of turkey as he muttered, "She's actually lovely."
"I'm not saying she isn't, Al—"
"Nott is a tamed little Ravenclaw," said James, cutting across his father. "Unlike Emily's boyfriend. What's his name? Oh, right. Greyback."
The silence that was settling over the table was now concrete. Slowly, all eyes found Emily Taylor.
Emily wanted to be upset with James for his angry outburst, but she knew it was an impending explosion. She was not too caught up with her own despair not to know that her friends would never want her to be with Lance Greyback.
Ginny was well aware that she was not Emily's mother, but she did have a strong sense of affection for the sweet, hurting girl. She wanted nothing more than express such concern, but instead found herself saying, "We do not get to judge other people based on their lineage. As long as he treats you well, Emily, that's all—"
"Is he a werewolf?" James inquired harshly. "Has he even told you that much?"
"James!" called Ginny and Hermione at once.
Emily looked bewildered and blindsided. "Werewolf? What do you—?"
A loud groan of frustration cut through the night. It came from Scorpius. "For Salazar's sake, Emily. You know nothing about this bloke, yet you blindly trust him? Has he told you about his father? About Fernier Greyback? Yeah, okay, I should be the last person to judge anyone based on their family's mistakes," he said angrily, loudly, "but the Greybacks are what turned the wizardying world against werewolves in the first place. They are the foulest pack to exist. Fernier and them abandoned their human side and became coldblooded murderers—cannibals, actually. He joined the Dark Lord, but escaped when he fell. It took the Ministry decades to find him, but he's spending that and much more in Azkaban as we speak."
"There's nothing wrong with having a werewolf as a father," Teddy defended, his blue eyes slowly changing red as he glared at James and Scorpius. "My father was one."
"He was," no one was more surprised to hear the words leave Draco's mouth than Ron was. It made him frown with more suspicion as Draco added, "There are cases where werewolves, alike Remus Lupin, were contributing members to society. They have jobs, families, and a good conscience about human life. They transform away from populated areas to preserve—"
"No one is accusing your father of being a monster," James said to Teddy. "We are simply stating that truth about Fernier Greyback and his pack. The man murdered for pleasure and purposely infected others. All his other children have gone the same way. Lance will, too."
"He'll kill you, Em," said Scorpius before James had the chance. "If he's exactly like his father is, Lance will kill you."
The merriment that had previously wrapped around the gathering was now gone. Lily could see it washing away with the cold breeze and the silver snowflakes melting into the ground. Her family was known for loving profusely and worrying twice more. She was sure Al's friends counted themselves lucky (on occasion) for being accepted to her clan, but unfortunately, the same weight of affection and concern was placed on them. Lily can see it pushing Emily down, suffocating her.
Emily was a second away from getting up from her seat, finding the Floo, and disappearing into another version of this bitter night, but Lily cleared her through loud enough to break through the tension.
"Well, if we are all oversharing tonight," she said, "I mind as well let you lot know that Liam and I just started dating."
They blinked at her.
With a sigh, she then said, "You may proceed to freak out now."
"—I'm sorry, what?" Harry asked in bewilderment.
"—You're dating my sister?" Al bellowed.
"—I knew it," Scorpius snorted, giving Liam a thumbs-up.
"—She's fourteen!" James and Louis exclaimed together.
"—More like six," Nia grumbled from her seat, frowning at her best friend and the little redhead girl that was taking him from her.
"—A Potter?" Draco tried not to grimace at his nephew.
"—Best Christmas ever, actually," said Blaise to his wife.
Rolling her eyes at them, Lily turned to her mother. "Care to assist, Mum?"
"Don't drag Mum into it," James grunted at his sister. "You're a kid, Lily."
"I thought you liked me?" Liam chimed in, frowning at James.
"Yeah, before, when you weren't dating my sister!"
At the disruption that was ruining what was supposed to be a perfect dinner, Mrs. Weasley stood from her seat and scowled at her lot. "That's enough!"
"—I want my presents!" Artie shouted. He was the youngest and cared not for the drama surrounding him.
Ignoring Percy's son, Mrs. Weasley kept her frown. "Lily's opening up to all of you because you're her family. And as your mother and grandmother, I've taught you all the value of family unity and the importance to respect each other's choices. Lily did the correct thing here by letting you all know about her relationship, and now as her family, you respect that. You let her be and watch over her as she descends into the beautiful young lady she is; just like you'd do with the other girls."
Mrs. Weasley then turned to her only son-in-law, her eyes firm. "Now, Harry dear, I know it's difficult for you, but be proud that she informed you rather than hiding it. You're her father, support her. And as for you, George—" She looked threateningly at her most childish son, "you shall not encourage James, Freddie, and Louis in wounding the boy or I'll personally curse you, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," George and all three cousins repeated together, looking down at the plates with scowls.
Draco reached for the bottle of whiskey, filling up his goblet more than was appropriate. He then drank it back like he was trying to sound out the people around him. When he caught Hermione's smirk in the distance, he refilled it again to blur them out, too.
This was the last time he ever visited Godric's Hallow.