Merry Christmas, everybody! This is actually the Christmas fic I posted last year; I'm currently working on this year's one and will post it next week. If you have my writing LJ comm. splashes_of_ink friended, then chances are you've already read this. Whether it's your first read or your second, hope you enjoy it. Thanks to Clio for the awesome beta and the title.

~*~

Four weeks before Christmas

“How about here?”

Hermione tilted her head slightly to the side and then squinted at the twinkling star that sparkled from the top of the large, green Christmas tree. “A little to the right, I think.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry waved his wand to the right and the star moved. “How about now?”

Hermione beamed at him. “Perfect.”

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath as he stood back. He'd been trying to put the star on top of the Christmas tree for the last ten minutes, but his perfectionist wife had been adamant it was crooked. The star did look wonderful, Harry admitted. Every couple of minutes it would shoot out tiny, multi-coloured streams of light that covered the tree like a blanket, lighting the entire room.

He went over to stand behind Hermione, placing his arms around her swollen stomach. “What a pity she's not here to see this,” he murmured in her ear.

Hermione smiled and placed her hand on top of her husband's. “We can do it again for her next year.” Moving her head, she kissed Harry's lips tenderly as his hands rubbed her belly. The baby responded by giving her mother a swift kick, which took Hermione by surprise and had her grabbing Harry's arm. “That's enough out of you, young lady,” she chastised gently, patting her stomach. “We know you're there.” She turned to Harry, who was trying not to laugh. “I think she's also a bit disappointed she's not here to see it,” Hermione said wryly.

“She'll be here soon enough,” he whispered against her lips, kissing them again.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured. “Three months to go.”

They kissed for a few moments more, and then Harry picked up a rather long piece of parchment off the table. “Christmas tree done,” he proclaimed, marking it off. “What's next?”

Hermione glanced over at the clock that sat on the mantelpiece. “Christmas shopping,” she exclaimed. To her amusement, Harry's face suddenly paled.

“What time shall I pick you up?” he ventured hopefully.

“Nice try, Harry,” she answered. “I need help carrying everything.”

“No, you don't. You can shrink everything into your handbag!”

“Of course I can, darling, but don't you want to help me pick everything out? The gifts are from both of us, after all.”

“You're much better at selecting gifts than I am.”

Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully, leaned in and whispered something into Harry's ear, and then pulled back to see his eyes were wide.

“Really? Promise?”

“Promise.”

Harry broke into the grin that always made Hermione melt into a puddle. “You're on. Let's go!”

~*~

Three weeks before Christmas

“Hermione, must we really do all this now?” Harry was up to his ears in wrapping paper, bows and ribbons, and for some odd reason the spellotape he was using refused to work.

“Yes, Harry, we really must. It's only three weeks until Christmas!”

Harry sighed the long-suffering sigh murmured by all husbands around the world at some stage of their marriage. “Three weeks is plenty of time to get this done, you know.”

“I know,” Hermione said absently as she marked off her parchment with her quill, “but if we get it all done now then we don't have to worry about it. Our Christmas shopping is done, why not get it all out of the way?” She waved her wand over the small gift sitting next to her and Harry watched as a pair of scissors danced in the air, cutting the Christmas paper and then wrapping the gift. Ribbons of silver and blue and a small silver bow completed the task, and the gift flew across the room to settle under the Christmas tree, joining the mounting pile of gifts already there.

“Hey, how come your spellotape is working and mine isn't?”

“What did you do to it?”

“I didn't do anything!” he said indignantly. “I'm just sitting here, minding my own business and--”

“Harry,” Hermione cut in, afraid she was about to be subjected to another long grumble about Christmas. “Would you please make me a mug of hot chocolate? I have a craving for some.” Harry stopped mid-sentence and rose silently, padding into the kitchen.

It wasn't that Harry didn't enjoy Christmas -- he did, but he preferred a quiet, stress-free holiday that didn't include endless days of Christmas shopping (“That's what owls are for, Hermione! To deliver parcels!”) and long lists of everything that had to be done (“We could just stay at home, you know. Less hassle that way.”) However, Hermione really wanted Harry to enjoy every Christmas they spent together; in her heart, she knew she was trying to make up for the ones he'd never had as a child, to use the opportunity of the season to show Harry just how much she loved him. And this Christmas was more special than most; it was their last Christmas together, just the two of them.

She heard the whistling of the kettle and a few minutes later Harry reappeared, a red mug in one hand and a green one in the other. “I added marshmallows.”

“You do spoil me,” she said with a warm smile as he handed her the red mug.

“There's nobody else I'd rather spoil than you.” Harry eased himself onto the couch next to her and they sat together quietly, sipping their hot chocolate. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and Harry turned every so often to kiss her forehead gently.

~*~

Two weeks before Christmas

With a simple wave of her wand, a trail of light pink sparkles shot out of the tip. Hermione stood back and watched as the walls of the nursery went from their current cream to a soft pastel pink. Strips of white wallpaper with dancing pink teddy bears, broomsticks that zoomed around and snitches that fluttered to and fro sat on the floor, waiting to be applied to the top of the walls. While they were doing the walls pink, Hermione didn't want everything to be the same colour so she had bought some blues and greens and yellows and purples to even things out a little.

A mahogany cot sat in one corner for when the baby got a little bigger, but for the first few months she would sleep in a bassinette in her parents' room so her mother could feed her.

Hermione rested on the stool she'd transfigured as the magic she'd cast did its work, and once the walls were painted and the wallpaper trim in place, she called out to Harry, who'd insisted on taking a time out to watch a Quidditch match.

“Wow,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “It looks fantastic!”

“You like it?” Hermione absently ran a hand over her bulging stomach.

“I love it.” Harry came into the room and crossed over to where she sat perched on the stool, then leaned over and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless. “Excellent job, Mrs. Potter,” he murmured against her lips. “Our daughter is one lucky little girl.”

“I can't wait to meet her, Harry,” Hermione confessed.

“Neither can I. I already have one gorgeous girl who is the love of my life, and soon I'll have two.” He trailed a finger down her cheek and over her lips, and when she kissed his finger and looked into his eyes, she saw them darken with desire. Desire for her, even now with her belly round and full. “I love you,” he said as he dipped his head, brushing his lips so softly against hers that Hermione had to wonder if he'd really kissed her. “Let me show you how much.”

Hermione was unable to resist taking his hand.

~*~

One week before Christmas

“I CANNOT BELIEVE IT! I CANNOT--” here, Ron said a word that would have earned him a smack across the ear from his mother, even though he was twenty-eight, “BELIEVE IT! IT'S A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS AND SHE PULLS THIS ON US NOW! I'M GOING TO DISOWN HER!”

The subject of Ron's fury was his sister, who had apparently lobbed to the Burrow mere hours ago and declared that her long standing on again-off again romance with none other than Draco Malfoy was, to the utter dismay of the entire Weasley clan, on again. Not only that, but she was bringing him to the Burrow to join the family for Christmas Day and had declared that if he wasn't welcome, then neither was she. Arthur had, rather wisely in Hermione's opinion, merely nodded and told her that of course he was welcome.

“You could tell that Dad would rather have dug a hole to the centre of the earth with his tongue than say it,” Ron spat, waving his arms about.

“Careful, Ron, you might take off soon,” Harry commented, sipping his tea calmly.

“IT'S OUTRAGEOUS, THAT'S WHAT IT IS!”

“Ron, please stop shouting,” Hermione said. “You'll upset the baby!”

“What?” Ron stopped ranting long enough to glance down at Hermione's belly and give it an apologetic pat. “Sorry, baby,” he muttered. “But your Aunty Ginny has gone completely mental. We should have her committed to St. Mungo's.”

“That's certainly an option,” Hermione said dryly.

Ron rounded on his best friends, who sat together opposite him. “How can you two be so calm about this? You're going to be there, too! He's going to ruin everyone's day!”

“Ron, neither of us are thrilled about the prospect of having Malfoy spending Christmas Day with us, but what can we do? Ginny is your sister and as much as we may not like her choice of--” Harry stopped here, finding the next word distasteful, “boyfriend, there's not much we can do about it. I'd rather have her there and have to put up with him than her not be there at all. Don't you want Ginny to be with her family at Christmas?”

“Maybe I could turn him into a ferret and lock him in a cage for the day,” Ron was now pacing as he talked. “Or if you don't think I can get away with that, perhaps I can just knock him out cold and let him sleep it off.” He made a fist with his hand and smacked the palm of his other.

“That's a fine idea, Ron,” Hermione said crisply. “Make a huge deal about it all, upset your sister and mother, and prove that you really have matured and can handle things like an adult.”

Ron's blue eyes narrowed at Hermione. “It's easy for you to say! She's not your sister and you're actually married to a decent bloke.”

“Thank God for that,” Harry said, bemused. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Ron rounded on him. “How would you feel if Hermione had married Malfoy?”

Both Harry and Hermione scrunched up their faces. “Nobody's said anything about marriage, Ron,” Hermione pointed out sensibly.

“How long have they been playing this game now?” Ron asked.

“About six years.” Hermione paused thoughtfully. “All right, you do have a point. It's a possibility they might end up married after all these years.” Ron snorted, but said nothing. “Yes, it's disappointing to know he's going to be there, but what can we do about it? There's nothing you can do or say that will change it and if you insist on behaving like a four year old, you're only going to upset Ginny and your mother.” Ron's lips narrowed into a thin line. He hated it when Hermione was right. “Do you really want to do that, Ron? We can still have a good Christmas. Forget Malfoy.”

Ron took a few, deep breaths. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I'll behave. But if he says ONE thing, just one, I'll flatten him.”

~*~

Christmas Morning

Hermione pulled her maternity robes on, smoothing them out as they fell to the floor. They were pale lavender in colour; the saleswitch had told her they flattered her complexion, and Hermione couldn't help but agree. She'd already charmed her bushy hair into ringlets and pinned it up so it wasn't all over her face, secured with silver clips the shape of candy canes that twinkled in her hair. She sat on the bed and slipped her flat shoes on, but as she tried to bend over to do them up, she found she was unable to reach. Now seven months pregnant, her belly was simply too big.

Fighting back tears of frustration she reached for her wand, only to find it wasn't sitting on her bedside table where she thought she'd left it. She got up and went into the bathroom, but it wasn't there either. “Accio wand!” She held her hand up to catch it, but there was no telltale whistling of air.

Taking deep, calming breaths, Hermione picked up her wedding and engagement rings and sat back down on the edge of the bed. But when she tried to slip them back on her third finger, they would only go as far as her knuckle.

“Harry!” she called out tearfully.

He appeared at the doorway seconds later. “Hey, what's the matter?”

“What's the matter?” Hermione smacked the bed with the palm of her hand. “I'll tell you what's the matter. I can't do my shoes up because I'm too fat, I can't find my wand because it's suddenly disappeared and my wandless magic apparently isn't working anymore, and I can't get my rings back on because my fingers are too swollen!” The last word came out more as a sob, and Hermione lifted her eyes to Harry's, wiping her own furiously.

“Oh, Hermione,” he said gently. Coming over to where she sat, he got down on his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his and lifting each one to his lips so he could kiss them. He then picked up her shoes and slipped each one on her foot, placing the strap over it securely; holding out his hand, he summoned Hermione's wand and it soon came whizzing through the door. Placing it on the bed next to her, he said, “Your magic is always a little haywire when you're pregnant, the healer told us that. And you are not fat, my Hermione. You're pregnant with our little girl.” He kissed her slowly, lovingly, and then pulled back. Picking up her left hand and kissing each finger in turn, he tapped the rings that were still in the palm on her right hand to enlarge them and then slid them onto her left ring finger easily. Tears still shimmered in her eyes, but Hermione had managed to put on a smile for him. “I'll do whatever you need me to do, sweetheart. All you have to do is ask, okay?”

Hermione nodded, brushing her tears away. “Okay,” she answered. “It's just so frustrating.”

Harry helped her to her feet. “I know it is, but it's not for much longer.” He rubbed her belly and dipped his head to kiss her, the kind of kiss that made all of her insides turn to butter. Hermione cupped his cheeks in her hands, kissing him back with everything she had, reluctant to let him go. But she did, eventually.

“I love you so much, Harry.”

He kissed her once more in response, then stepped back and took her hands in his, holding them out in front of her so he could look her up and down properly. “I don't think I've ever seen you look more beautiful that you do at this moment.” Hermione smiled properly, and Harry pulled her into his arms, hugging her as close as he could. “That's a great colour on you, you know. You should wear it more often.”

“I will.” She nuzzled his neck affectionately. “I guess we should make a move, then. If we don't beat Ron there, all the food will be gone.”

~*~

Christmas Afternoon

Molly Weasley had really outdone herself this year. Fairies flittered back and forth, sprinkling fairy dust in the air. The enormous Christmas tree, which Hermione was sure had to be at least ten feet tall, was glowing with lights and decorated with glass baubles and bows of holly. Each family member had their own Christmas ball, their name written elegantly on it, and once they'd arrived safely at the Burrow the letters began to shimmer and blink, so it was easy to see who was in attendance and who wasn't. Dozens of gaily wrapped presents were piled underneath the tree and the mantelpiece was laden with ornaments of snowmen and reindeer. A huge snow globe sat in the middle, with children skating on a small, frozen lake in the centre. Hermione watched them go round and round for a few moments before Molly interrupted her.

“Can I get you anything, dear?”

“Oh no, thank you. Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted any help in the kitchen?”

“Heavens, no, thank you! You should be off your feet and making sure you eat and drink enough. Just look after yourself and the little one.”

“We're both doing fine, Molly.” Hermione smiled at the mothering that Molly Weasley was so accustomed to doing that she rarely realised she was doing it these days. With most of her children, her daughters-in-law and her fifteen grandchildren under foot, Molly was in her element. The women were in the kitchen, helping prepare the enormous Christmas feast, while the men were outside, sitting in what appeared on the outside to be a two-man tent but was, in fact, large enough on the inside to fit everyone comfortably twice over. The scores of Weasley grandchildren were running about, shrieking and falling over and laughing as they played tag.

Hermione joined the men and children outside in the tent and ambled over to where Harry sat, still upset enough after that morning to want to stay close to him. Just sitting next to him comforted her immensely. She placed a hand on his thigh as he leaned over to kiss her. “You okay?” he whispered. She smiled briefly and nodded. “Do you want anything? A drink?”

“I'm fine, love.” Leaning against him, she rested her head on his shoulder and joined in the conversation when the topic interested her enough to do so.

“There had better be some food left!” A new voice interrupted about half an hour later and everyone stopped to look at the new arrival. They all cheered as Ron stepped into the tent and was immediately assaulted by at least half a dozen of his nieces and nephews. He made his way around the table, greeting everyone in turn.

Harry rose as Ron shuffled over to embrace him. “About time you got here. Merry Christmas, Ron.” The best friends embraced, and Ron turned to Hermione.

“Merry Christmas, fat girl!” he said cheerfully. Harry gaped at him and he saw Hermione's eyes narrow and her lips thin for just a moment. He pleaded with every deity he could think of for her not to burst into tears again, but to his surprise, she smiled warmly instead.

“Merry Christmas, Ron. Give me a kiss.” She crooked her finger into the collar of his robes and pulled him down, kissing his lips. Ron didn't appear to notice, but Harry definitely saw her wand poke out of her sleeve, the tip pointed at Ron's stomach. It glowed a pale blue for a few seconds and then faded. Hermione tucked it back away and released him.

“Wow,” Ron said, licking his lips comically. “Merry Christmas to me!” He kissed her cheek and sat down next to his best friends, grabbing a butterbeer and joining in the festivities.

The last Weasley to arrive at the Burrow was Ginny, and by the time she and Malfoy made their entrance the food was almost ready to be served. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the newest arrivals.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Ginny said brightly, hoping that nobody would make a scene. She squeezed Malfoy's hand and held her breath.

“Merry Christmas Ginny, Draco.” It was Hermione who broke the silence and slowly rose out of her chair to come over to them. She embraced Ginny as tightly as she could in her current condition and put on the warmest smile she could manage for Malfoy. “It's good to see you both.”

Malfoy nodded at her, not comfortable enough to actually touch her in any manner. “How are you doing, Gra—Hermione?”

“I'm doing well, thank you. Will be glad when I'm not quite so big in a few months, though.”

“Must be uncomfortable, being so huge.” Malfoy thought he was merely making conversation, but the angry hiss from Ginny and the shimmer of tears in Hermione's eyes told him he'd said the wrong thing. “Listen, Hermione, I didn't mean--”

“It's fine. I know you didn't mean it badly. I'm just a little sensitive about how much weight I've put on. Most pregnant women experience some misgivings about their weight increase.”

Malfoy vowed then and there never to knock Ginny up because he was quite sure he couldn't handle her in such a state.

The three of them stood together for a few awkward moments and Malfoy could see each of Ginny's brothers eyeing him malevolently. Weren't any of them at least going to greet their sister?

Hermione turned around and glared at Harry and Ron, and continued to do so until Harry got to his feet with a sigh. He came over and kissed Ginny in greeting, then to Malfoy's surprise held out his hand to him. “Merry Christmas, Malfoy,” he said.

Malfoy eyed him suspiciously, wondering if this was a ploy of some sort, but after a not-so-subtle nudge from Ginny, he accepted Harry's hand and shook it briefly. “Potter,” he said civilly.

“Upset my wife again and I'll kill you,” Harry said in the same pleasant tone with which he'd greeted him.

“Harry!” Hermione smacked his arm hard, making him yelp. “What's the matter with you?”

Ron started to laugh loudly, and everyone turned to stare to him. “What a Christmas Day this is going to be, eh?” His blue eyes danced from relative to relative. “He's not going anywhere so we may as well be nice to him.” Ron got up and hugged his sister, then turned to Malfoy and nodded but didn't offer his hand. Ron's laughter seemed to relieve the tension in the place, and eventually all of Ginny's relatives ambled over to greet her and Malfoy.

~*~

Christmas Night

Hermione was lying on her bed, flat on her back with several pillows under her head and her hips. Her back and feet ached and she was exhausted, but she would be the first to admit that she'd had a lovely Christmas Day with the Weasleys, after enjoying an equally wonderful Christmas Eve dinner with her parents. “I thought for a moment that Malfoy was going to turn around and leave as soon as he got there. He certainly looked as though he wanted to escape.”

“He should have turned into a ferret, that would have made his escape easier,” Harry said, coming out of the bathroom. Dressed for bed in Christmas-themed red and green boxers and a white t-shirt, he climbed up onto the bed with Hermione, laying on his side next to her and placing his arm over her tummy. “I'm so full I could burst.”

Hermione smirked. “I'm not surprised, given the amount of food and drink you and Ron consumed.”

“HERMIONE JANE POTTER, YOU HAVE EXACTLY THREE SECONDS TO WADDLE OUT HERE!”

Harry bolted upright, looking around the room frantically. “What the hell was that?”

Hermione sighed. “It's just Ron. Help me up, would you? He must be at the fireplace.”

Harry helped her off the bed and held her hand as they went into the lounge room. “Ron? What's going on?” Ron's head was floating in the fireplace, and even in the flames Harry could tell he was livid.

“Oh, don't ask me what's going on, Harry,” Ron said, seething. “Ask the witch standing beside you.”

Harry turned, not sure whether to laugh or be alarmed. “Hermione?”

“For heaven's sake, Ron,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “You're carrying on like the world is about to end.”

“What the hell did you do to me?” Ron asked furiously. “Why do I suddenly look like I'm pregnant? My stomach is all swollen and--” he paused, as though each word was painful to form.

“Next time perhaps you'll be a bit more sensitive,” Hermione sniffed. “Be thankful your stomach will only be big until the morning.”

“UNTIL THE MORNING? YOU MEAN I'M STUCK WITH THIS ALL NIGHT? DON'T YOU DARE, HERMIONE POTTER! YOU'D BETTER--”

“Sleep well, fat boy,” Hermione said smugly before closing the connection and placing a charm to block it so Ron couldn't call again.

“Oh, Hermione, you didn't,” Harry said, fighting an insane urge to laugh until he cried. He itched to Apparate over to Ron's house to actually see it with his own eyes, but he didn't fancy being on the receiving end of Ron's temper.

“Men.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “It'll only last for an hour, long enough to let him stew.”

Harry couldn't help it, he couldn't hold back any longer. He burst into loud fits of laughter. “Oh God, I wish I could see him right now.”

“Probably not wise, he's likely to hex you.”

“Probably.”

He took her hand, still laughing, and led her back to the bedroom. Hermione carefully climbed under the covers and Harry went to do the same when a sobering thought hit him.

“How is it that you know of such a spell?”

Hermione glanced over at him. “I looked it up months ago, why?”

“Were you planning on using it on me at some stage?”

“Only if you annoyed me enough.” She smiled sweetly and patted his side of the bed. “But luckily for you, you've never annoyed me enough... yet.”

Harry eyed her warily and turned down the quilt, ready to slide in next to her, when he remembered something.

“I forgot, I have one more Christmas gift for you.”

Hermione straightened up against the pillows that supported her back and clapped her hands excitedly. “Really? What is it?”

He went over to the wardrobe and opened the doors, then pulled a small package from one of the drawers. Placing it in her hands, he sat next to her as she opened it. The present was beautifully wrapped, ribbons and bows all in place, and Hermione pulled on the ribbon to release it. Taking off the lid, she pushed the tissue paper aside to reveal a delicate gold bracelet. In the centre were three hearts, joined together. The heart on the left had Harry's name engraved on it and the one on the right Hermione's, but the one in the middle, the one that was joined to the others, was blank.

“I thought we might get our daughter's name engraved on it when we decide what it will be,” Harry said softly, suddenly feeling a little choked up at the mention of their daughter.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, her voice all wobbly. “It's just beautiful. Thank you so much!” She threw her arms around him awkwardly and hugged him, then held her wrist out. Harry put the bracelet on, making sure to latch it carefully, and Hermione ran her fingers over it lovingly. “I'll never take it off,” she whispered as the lights were extinguished and they settled down into bed. Hermione turned onto her side towards Harry, no small feat these days, and smiled as he did the same and took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry. I love you, too.” After sharing a sweet kiss, they let the day's activities wash over them and soon they were pulled into slumber, unaware of the tiny fairies that danced above their heads, spreading a little bit of Christmas magic.