What’d You Wish For?

Recovering his balance, Harry stepped out of the fireplace and allowed the smell of Molly Weasley’s cooking consume him.  The brilliant aroma of kidney pies, roast beef, and her all too famous treacle tarts wallowed about the air.  Peering around the room, Harry spied his best mate, Ron, trying to steal a quick bite out of a buttered scone, while his other best friend, Hermione, sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, reading a book that was far too small for him to decipher the text at such a distance.  Deciding to surprise his surrogate mother, who was hastily chopping up vegetables for the Christmas Eve dinner, Harry tip-toed his way into the kitchen.  Ron, known for not being the most observant person, hadn’t particularly noticed Harry’s antics about surprising his mother and with a scone-filled mouth, called out to him.


“Harrvy!”  


Hermione’s eyes popped out over her book and looked straight at him.  “Harry!” she cried, ignoring her usual attempts at scolding Ron for talking with food in his mouth.  Placing her book neatly on the table, she ran towards her friend and hugged him fiercely.  She had, after all, not been told that Harry would be coming to The Burrow for Christmas Eve dinner.  


“Hermione, what’re you doing here?  I thought you were going back to your place to spend Christmas with your parents,” asked Harry, who was now somewhat upset at Ron for ruining his plans to surprise Mrs. Weasley.  Nobody had known that he was coming to The Burrow for Christmas, which was the plan.  If only he had known about his plans, then nobody else would be at risk.  Or at least, that’s what Dumbledore thought would be for the best.


Mrs. Weasley watched the three friends reunite and enjoyed the emotions splayed across their faces.  Surprise, happiness, jealousy, and even anger.  She’d had enough kids to know what most were thinking.  The three of them were all happy to be here on Christmas Eve together, but surprised that they were all there, as different stories had been spread around for safety measures.  She could smile at the look on her son’s face, though.  It was obvious he was feeling jealous of Harry because Hermione had greeted him with a hug and since Hermione came with Ron to The Burrow, had not been able to get a hug of his own.  It was a Weasley trait that many of her sons had acquired.  She just hoped that Harry would bite back his anger at Ron for ruining the surprise.  It was Christmas Eve and there were an abundance of other opportunities that awaited them all. 


“No, I’m staying here at The Burrow for Christmas.  Dumbledore met with each of us separately and gave us all a unique cover story.  His plan was for everyone to think something different in case any of us were caught and questioned.  As far as we knew, you were supposed to stay at Hogwarts,” Hermione responded to Harry.  


“Oh.  Makes sense,” said Harry, slightly amazed that the old man could pull something like this off.  He had been dreading Christmas, thinking that it would be a small get-together with Ron, Ginny, and their parents.  But now, his hopes for a big Christmas had finally come true.  Maybe the rest of his hopes for Christmas would come true as well.  He’d spent most of the last few months dreaming about a certain red-headed girl and a mistletoe, but for the life of him, he could not get the picture out of his mind.  It bothered him that felt so deeply about his mate’s sister, but he couldn’t seem to help it.  


Pulling himself out of his reverie, Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley and enveloped her into perhaps the biggest hug he’d ever been apart of.  She was squeezing the life out of him, he knew it, but for all the things she’d done for him, he didn’t have the heart to break the hug.  


“Harry, dear, it’s great to see you.  Albus had told us you were coming, but we weren’t allowed to tell anyone until you arrived.  Why don’t you take a seat and grab a treacle tart while we wait for the others.  Fred and George will be arriving with Arthur and Remus soon, and then we’ll be decorating the tree until dinner is ready.”


“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said while accepting the treacle tart she handed him.  Harry carried his tray to the table and sat opposite Ron, who was busy munching on a treacle tart of his own.  


“Hey, Ron, what have you been up to since you left?” Harry asked while Hermione took the seat to his right and began reading her book again.  This time, however, Harry could read the title, “The-Boy-Who-Lived”, by Rita Skeeter.  Harry narrowed his eyes at the book vehemently, but Hermione hadn’t noticed and continued on reading.


“Err…about the book, mate.  Ginny and Hermione went to Diagon Alley to pick up some food for the dinner and Ginny noticed the book at Flourish and Blotts, so they picked it up for a laugh,” said Ron hoping to ease Harry’s temper before it went out-of-control.


“Its alright, I’m sure it’s just a load of…,” but Hermione cut him off.


“Oh, it is,” Hermione scoffed.  “Under a section titled, “Potter Facts”, she says…hang on let me find it…,” said Hermione while perusing a bright green page, embroidered with lightning bolts along the edges.  “Got it! “It is a known fact that Harry Potter once dated his best friend, Hermione Granger, but she blew him off for the famous professional quidditch player, Victor Krum.”  She even claims to have sources that prove it.”  


Harry laughed aloud and stated, “I find it kind of funny that she always says she has sources that prove everything, but she never actually names…”  his voice trailed off as the silhouette of Ginny Weasley’s shadow appeared around the corner.  He could never figure out how one person could be so pretty.  She now had long red hair that went about a quarter of the way down her back and it appeared to glisten in the light.  She was not very tall, ranging around 5’1 to 5’3 and still pretty slim.  She had a light dab of freckles that worked in a line from under one eye, across her nose, to the next.  She had somewhat long, slender legs for her height, and made it a habit of wearing skirts.  In his eyes, she was breathtaking.


Hermione felt it prudent to jab at his side and awaken him from his day-dreaming before her brother noticed what had caught his attention.  “Harry!” she hissed in his ear, “Your staring.”  


“Huh?” he replied, forcing his eyes off of the sight before him and looking back at his friends.  “Oh!” He silently cursed to himself, making a mental note not to stare at said brothers’ sister, when said brother was in the room.  Thankfully, Ron was a bit preoccupied with his food to notice anything.  Remembering his food as well, Harry took a bite out of his treacle tart.  Big mistake; his heart skipped a beat at the taste of the pastry in front of him.  It was too good to be true.  


“Wow, Mrs. Weasley, this treacle tart is beyond amazing.  It tastes delicious,” exclaimed Harry.  


Mrs. Weasley, who had been busily helping her daughter carry the box of Christmas ornaments to the tree, turned around and smiled, “Well, thank you, Harry, but I’m afraid its not I you should be thanking.  Ginny made them,” Mrs. Weasley spoke proudly.  “You know what, Ginny.  Why don’t you go and take a break for a bit and I’ll get everything situated.”


With that, Ginny gracefully walked over and smiled at Harry before taking the other seat next to him.  If she smiled like that again, he would likely either pass out or just kiss her right then and there.  That or he would drown staring into her chocolate brown eyes.  Either one he’d be fine with.  


“Why does everyone sit by, Harry?” asked Ron.  “Am I not special enough or something?  Wait, Ginny don’t answer that,” Ron quickly added noticing the mischievous grin on her face.  


Ginny seemed put out by this and put on a hurt look with pleading eyes and pouting lips.  Harry had to laugh at this.  She always seemed to be able to make him laugh.  He was sure that if Lord Voldemort had his wand at his throat, she’d still be able to make him laugh.  He liked that.  He wasn’t really sure when he started to feel this way about Ginny, but was just desperately hoping that she still felt the same way about him.  It was all just wishful thinking though.  


“Awe, Ron, I’m sorry,” Hermione stated.  “Come with me and I’ll show you how special you are.”  Ron’s face lit up to match that of his hair and let Hermione drag him out of the room.  His feet weren’t working well after he heard that anyway.  


Harry couldn’t believe his ears.  Had Hermione really said that?  He was always under the impression that Ron would be the first one to make the move and Hermione was trying to wait for him.  But in the midst of the war going on, he supposed that whatever happiness they could find, they should have as much of it as possible if the worst were to happen.  


Turning his attention back to Ginny, the room suddenly felt a couple hundred degrees hotter and Harry wondered if this had been Hermione’s plan all along.  Harry noticed Ginny giggling at the previous display and Harry felt it would be alright to bring that up.  


“I didn’t really see that coming,” Harry confessed.  


“I thought Ron was going to pass out,” Ginny said, still laughing.  


Harry smiled inwardly, he loved that laugh.  


“So…did you really make those treacle tarts,” Harry asked, but quickly regretted.  That sounded really stupid, Potter.  Way to go.  


Ginny merely nodded.  She loved the affect she was having on him.  She was definitely a lot more observant than her brother and noticed Harry watching her over the past few months.  She liked that.  


“Mum showed me the recipe and I just kind threw my own twist into it,” Ginny said.  


“Well,” Harry whispered, “Don’t tell your mum, but yours are a lot better,” he said.  


Ginny looked up at him, lost in his piercing emerald green eyes.  “Well that’s a relief,” Ginny started, “Because I kind of made them because I was thinking about you, knowing they are your favorites.  And now, since I know they aren’t too horrible, I’ll have to eat them all on you,” finished Ginny with that all too familiar devious glint in her eyes. 


Harry was taken aback.  No one had ever made anything for him, except for Mrs. Weasley when she gave him the jumpers she knitted and for that he was incredibly thankful, but knowing he was probably ruining Ginny’s attempts at a joke with his deprived childhood, Harry quickly regained his posture and smiled back at her.  It took all his willpower to not kiss her right there on the spot and he was afraid that he would falter, but the aide of Mrs. Weasley’s voice came from the den.  


“Ginny, Harry, come in here.  We’re about ready to put up the ornaments!”  


Harry stood, and walked with Ginny into the den.  The sight amazed him.  The tree was placed off in a corner, just in view through the window and was neatly adorned with lights, different colored strings and all sorts of odd looking ornaments.  And perched at the top of the tree was a pixie.  The only thing that appeared to be missing was a few rounded ornaments placed inside a dusty box that was sitting on the floor near the tree.  


“Mum, you found them!” cried Ginny.  


“Actually, dear, Remus here found them.  He just reminded us that we are wizards and summoned them to us.  A bit silly now that I think about it,” smiled Mrs. Weasley.  


Harry hadn’t noticed Remus or the other arrivals.  He was too busy wondering what could possibly be inside the old box that would make Ginny so happy.  


“What exactly did you find,” Harry asked tentatively.  


“Oh, Harry, you don’t know?” asked Ginny.  “We’ll have to make you one then.”


“That’s an excellent idea, Ginny.  I was just suggesting to Remus that he should make one as well,” said Mr. Weasley.  


Harry cautiously glanced at Remus who returned the look and slightly shrugged his shoulders before walking over to Harry.  


“Well, Ginny dear, I’ll go get the supplies used to make them while the rest of you hang your ornaments on the trees, alright?” asked Mrs. Weasley


“What about Hermione, mum?” asked Ginny.  “She’ll need to make one, too.”


“Hermione and Ron went for a walk,” smiled Mrs. Weasley.  “I have a distinct feeling that they won’t be back for a while, so I’m sure she won’t mind missing out on this.” 


Ginny nodded and carefully picked up an ornament from the box.  It was a bright red miniature quaffle, with the letter ‘G’ on the front.  She silently spoke to the ornament and it began to sing all sorts of Christmas carols.  


Harry and Remus looked on with curiosity, though still slightly confused.  


“What do you suppose it is?” Harry asked Remus, still not taking his eyes off of Ginny.  It made his heart swell that she took so much pride in something such as this.  The smile on her face seemed to light up the room for Harry.  


“I haven’t the slightest idea.”


“Oh, it’s all good fun,” said George, who, along with Fred, walked over to Harry and Remus.  


“But I suggest,” began Fred.


“That you quit starting at,” continued George.


“Our sister,” finished Fred.


Harry had to blush at that comment.  He couldn’t begin to fathom how the two of them were able to talk in complete sentences like that and still make any bit of sense.  But how they were able to tell that he was attracted to their sister, something none of her other brothers had accomplished, flabbergasted him.  


“So,” Remus started, “Is our little Harry falling for the youngest Weasley,” Remus asked pointedly staring at Harry’s red cheeks.  


“That he is, Remus,” said George.  


“You should have seen him at that party Fleur had here,” said Fred.


“The house was full of Veela,” George added.


“And all Harry could do was stare at our sister,” finished Fred.


“Sickening really,” Fred and George said in unison.


“I was not!” Harry protested.  How on earth did they know that? Harry wondered.


“Right Harry,” said Remus.  “Even if I did believe you, you’d still wind up falling for her anyways.  She’s a red head.”


“Whatever,” Harry muttered.  


Ginny ran straight over to Harry after her mother had told her that they could use the kitchen table to make Harry’s ornament and that Arthur and Remus could take his upstairs and make it in his room.  


“Harry, come on!  Mum says we can make your ornament in the kitchen,” Ginny said, flashing him a smile that could easily make him faint if she tried hard enough.  Ginny then grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen.  He couldn’t help but think about the fact that she was holding his hand.  In fact, that’s all he could think about until she let go.  


Back in the den by the tree, the twins looked at Remus and said, “He’s a goner.”


Remus merely laughed and followed Mr. Weasley upstairs to his room.  


In the kitchen, however, Ginny had Harry going through different types of lace, colors, fabrics, and all sorts of things for his little ornament.  He loved that she was here helping him with it, but felt that she was going a little overboard on design.


“Slow down for a second, Gin.  Why don’t I make mine like yours, except a golden snitch,” Harry suggested.  


“Really!” Ginny exclaimed.  “That would be really cool, Harry.”


So after about an hour or so of diligent working on Harry’s ornament the two had finally come to a finish.  


“Just about set, Harry,” said Ginny.


Harry sighed, “You mean we aren’t done yet?”


Ginny laughed, “Nope, not yet.  We need to charm it so it can sing.”


“Okay, how exactly do we do that,” Harry asked.  


“You need to think about something you really want to come true, like a wish.  Actually you just need to make a wish and then whenever you want it to sing, you make that same wish again, and it’ll sing for you,” Ginny explained.


“Alright,” Harry said, examining her lips.  How he – again, wanted to just walk up to her and kiss them.  Several moments passed before Harry realized he was staring.  


“You need to make a wish, Harry.”


“Oh! Right, got distracted,” Harry said.  “How do I go about doing that?”


“Just hold your ornament, make a wish, and tap it with your wand.”


Harry grabbed hold of his ornament and thought about what he really wanted.  Nothing came to mind.  Thoughts of Sirius, his parents, and many others surfaced, but none lasted too long.  That was, until an image of Ginny appeared in his mind.  He smiled.  He knew exactly what to wish for.  Concentrating really hard on a specific dream, Harry tapped his ornament with his wand.  A bright light shone out of the ornament and then went dim.  


“Did I do it right,” Harry asked.


“I don’t know, I’ve never seen it do that before,” Ginny confessed.  “What’d you wish for,” she asked.  


“Now if I tell you, it won’t come true, you know that,” said Harry, smiling.  


“Fine,” Ginny said thinking real hard.  “Well, try to make it sing.  Think about your wish.”


Thinking hard about his wish, Harry tried to get his ornament to sing.  Nothing happened.  Harry tried again.  Nothing happened.  He looked down at Ginny.  She wasn’t looking at him.  She was looking up, so Harry did the same and saw mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.


“What’d you wish for, Harry,” Ginny said tentatively.  


“That,” Harry said, pointing up at the mistletoe.  


“Good,” she said.  


Harry smiled down at her and looked deeply into her chocolate brown eyes and with that, he leaned down, and kissed her.