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SIYE Time:6:08 on 29th March 2024
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Christmas Gifts
By DukeBrymin

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 24
Summary: What do you get the love of your life when they already have almost everything they ever wanted?
Hitcount: Story Total: 14599; Chapter Total: 3538





Author's Notes:
Written for the "Gift of the Magi, Harry Potter-style" challenge in LiveJournal's chest_monsters community. I didn't win anything, but I had fun writing it.
I'd love to have some constructive criticism on this if you have the time. If not, then at least let me know if you like it.




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Harry stepped back and surveyed his work. It looked pretty good, even if he did say so himself. After all, it was pretty easy to make sure everything was in its correct place when you had magic to help levitate the garlands, and sticking charms for the lights, and pretty decent Conjuration skills, in spite of Hermione's snide comments to the contrary.

And after five years of decorating for Christmas, he figured that he had a pretty good handle on how things went. Of course, there was always that special spark that Ginny added that was missing tonight, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

He had been hoping all day that tonight they'd finally be able to do the Christmas decorations. They had never had to leave it so long before–three days before Christmas almost didn't seem worth it. But he couldn't imagine Christmas now without a tree, and tinsel, and holly, and all the other trappings, so he had decided that, no matter what, he'd see it done tonight.

By himself, as it turned out. Ginny's note was, unfortunately, not too unexpected. It seemed that more and more of their conversations were by note, or Floo call, or in person, sleepily, as they rested after making love in the rare moments they were together.

My most precious Harry,

I'm so sorry that I won't be home when you get there. Gwenog needed to meet with me tonight, and it's not something I can get out of. I'm desperately hoping for a short, happy meeting, but you know how they've been lately, so it might be really late before I can leave.

I know we need to decorate for Christmas–I hope to be home in time for that. If not, then I suppose you can start and I'll finish when I get there. Hmmm, decorating for Christmas–now my mind is filled with pictures of you, under the tree, wrapped in a red ribbon, with strategically-placed tinsel. Perhaps some mistletoe placed in some obvious (and less-obvious) locations. . . Is it getting hot in here? Or is it just me?

Anyway, I promise, promise, promise, that, no matter what happens, we'll have Christmas Eve and all of Christmas Day together. If Gwenog tries to call a practice, or a meeting, or anything, then I guarantee that there will be fourteen Harpies demonstrating why the Harpy is such a feared creature.

Remember that I love you, and you're the most important thing in my world.

Always and forever your Christmas angel,

Ginny Potter (and proud of it)


Harry couldn't deny that he'd rather have her here helping, but the suggestions she'd given him were enough to keep him warm, and keep his head filled with thoughts of Mrs. Claus outfits, and candycanes, and opening gift-wrapped items while he did his best to fill their home with holiday cheer.

The last year had been hard, he knew. Being Head of the Aurors had been something like the realization of a dream, but it had certainly come at a price. He missed his Ginny–he missed her laughter and bright eyes, and he missed talking with her for more than just minutes stolen between appointments and games and other engagements. Hopefully this Christmas could mark a change in their lives; maybe they could do more than just snatch happiness from their hectic schedules. He certainly hadn't planned on a married life that consisted of leaving notes (as exciting as they were) for each other.

But Ginny's note had promised Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together, and that was definitely something he was thrilled about. He had thought long and hard about what he wanted to give Ginny, and had come up with what he thought was the perfect gift.

While price was really no object, and he knew Ginny wouldn't care how much he spent, this was definitely the highest-priced present he'd ever chosen for her. He just hoped she'd like it, and accept it in the spirit in which he was giving it to her.

Drawn out of his reverie by the sound of the Floo activating, he turned excitedly towards the fireplace. After all, there weren't that many people who could Floo into their house, and he hoped that it was Ginny, coming home early from the Gwenog-meeting.

To his mixed disappointment and delight, it was Molly Weasley.

“Mum! What brings you over tonight? Don't you have holiday things to be doing?” Harry couldn't picture the Burrow in the week before Christmas without Molly perpetually in the kitchen, baking holiday treats and presiding over the grandchildren making paper chains and snowflakes and messes.

“What? I can't come visit my favorite black-haired son?” Molly's stern tone was belied by the twinkle in her eyes.

“Of course you can, Mum. It's just that you're usually so busy. . . Please, sit down! I'm happy to have you, you just surprised me.” Harry was flustered by the visit, but undeniably pleased to see his second-favorite female.

“Thanks, Harry, I didn't think you'd mind too much. But, I don't have time to sit down–I came to get you. Ginny left me a note saying that she probably wasn't going to be home until late, so I came to drag you back with me. You shouldn't be home alone tonight, and we have quite the party happening at the Burrow. So, get what you need, and let's go. Angelina dragged George over, and Percy and Audrey came over with little Molly.  Dominique and Hugo are starting to play together--it's so adorable!  And of course Vicky and Rose are just dying to see their Uncle Harry.”

Harry shot Molly a disbelieving look, and Molly started giggling. “Oh, Harry. You should see Ronald every time someone calls her Vicky! He just turns white and grimaces, like he's eaten a bad kipper. And unfortunately for him, Victoire has decided that she likes Vicky much more than Tory, so that's what Bill and Fleur are calling her now. Oh, Harry, thank you–that's the most fun we've had with names since we had to magic Fred's and George's names onto the bottoms of their feet so they could tell themselves apart!”

Harry smiled at the thought of Fred, happy that his family was able to remember the happy moments the missing twin had brought into their lives. Then he chuckled, envisioning the look on Ron's face at hearing Vicky all the time.

“Okay, Mum, just let me grab a jumper and my scarf, and we can head on over. I certainly don't want to disappoint my nieces and nephew.”

He ran off to the bedroom, and returned almost before Molly had had time to inspect the decorations.

“You've done a good job with the decorating this year, you two. But, and don't get mad at me for saying this, it kind of. . . lacks something.”

Harry's smiled faded a bit. “Yeah, I had to do it all myself–Ginny's the one that can make it really sparkle, but she had that meeting tonight, and it couldn't wait any longer. I hope that maybe tomorrow she can add her special touch. It just wouldn't be the same without her input. I remember last year. . . Last year she replaced all the white lights with little glowing ferrets–I don't know where she got them, maybe she made them. But every time we looked at the tree, I could just see Malfoy bouncing up and down in the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts. Made it kind of hard to be serious about the Christmas Story, let me tell you. Of course, it kind of put a dampener on our Christmas Eve. . .” Harry trailed off as he realized exactly what he was saying, and whom he was saying it to.

“Why's that, Harry?” Molly asked, with a glint in her eye that indicated that perhaps she knew where this story was going.

“Um, well. . .” Harry blushed, scratched the back of his neck, and coughed. “You see, Gin and I like to celebrate Christmas Eve by, um, spending some time together by the tree. And the idea of Malfoy watching kind of, um, inhibited our abilities. . .”

Molly chuckled to herself as she wondered whether she'd ever seen Harry so red. “Ah, I see.  Well, I can certainly imagine that–No! I mean, imagine that the idea of Draco Malfoy there would be a downer. So,” she said, changing the subject emphatically, “go ahead and leave a note for your sweetheart, and we'll be on our way.”

Harry was glad to be able to turn his red face away from his mother-in-law, and grabbed for a sheet of parchment and a quill.

My Darling Christmas Angel,

As you can see, I did most of the decorating, with the exception of your special touches, and your requested gift-wrapped present under the tree.

Your mum came over and is dragging me back to the Burrow, so if you get home and I'm not here, that's where I'll be–probably having to listen to Ron complain about Vicky for hours on end. Maybe we shouldn't have started that. . . Nah–it's good for him.

I hope your meeting went well, and I'm very much looking forward to Christmas Eve (and our special celebration) and Christmas Day. I have found the perfect gift for you, and look forward to your unwrapping it.

Gin, you are the most important thing in the world for me, too. Never forget that I love you, and I plan on being with you forever.

I'm thinking of you, in red velvet and black lace. . . and it's not just you that's getting hot in here.

Yours, always, forever, and twice as long as that,

Harry, your husband (which I'm very proud to be able to say)


oooooooooo


Ginny finally made it home from her meeting, hoping to find Harry under the tree as she'd hinted at. The house wasn't cold, nor dark, but it definitely had that air of being uninhabited. Ginny didn't know when she'd first realized it, but she could tell very quickly whether her Harry was there or not. She supposed it came from having spent the past how-many-years? watching him. Looking around, she saw the many decorations he'd been able to put up, and thanked him in her mind for taking the initiative. She knew she could have started it herself any number of times during the past month. But there was just something about starting to decorate that was uniquely Harry. He had such an appreciation for something so normal, and she never really felt herself get in the mood for Christmas until he had taken those first steps. Now that he'd done the lion's share of it, she could really enjoy it, and add those whimsical touches that Harry seemed to love so much.

She found the note he'd left her on the coffee table, read it (smiling at the velvet and lace description–little did he know that he'd guessed her choice for this year), and blessed her mother for dragging Harry over to the Burrow.

Checking the clock quickly, she decided that it was early enough to make some plans. She hurried into the bedroom, packed a quick overnight bag for herself and her husband, and ran back to the fireplace. Thankfully it had just been a meeting, rather than a practice, so she was still dressed nicely. Even so, she stopped, turned around, and ran back to the bedroom. Changing her workaday shirt for a dark green, and slightly-too-small, cashmere turtleneck, she admired herself in the mirror, knowing that Harry would appreciate what the clothing did for her figure. Swapping out her normal pearl earrings for Christmas ones that jingled when she shook her head, she decided that she was appropriately clad for spending the evening with her husband and their family.

oooooooooo

“Auntie Ginny! Auntie Ginny!” came the cries from both Rose and Victoire as she appeared from the Floo.  The other children noticed her arrival too, but were otherwise occupied.

“Rosie! How are you? And Vicky!” Ginny called, as both girls rushed her and jumped into her arms. She managed to catch a glimpse of Ron's face as she said this, and smirked at him for the sour expression that appeared like magic.

“Happy, Auntie Ginny! Uncle Harry's here too!” Rose answered. It was a rather rare event for both of them to be at the Burrow together, and both their nieces were excited. They loved their Aunt and Uncle, and were old enough to notice that Harry and Ginny were much more fun to be around when they were together.

The next thing she knew, two strong arms were being wrapped around her waist, and warms lips were caressing her ear, causing some rather strong shivers to go down her back, and other not-so-obvious reactions.

“I'm so glad you came, Gin. But I don't know if I'm going to be able to control myself with you looking so darned sexy in that top.”

Ginny leaned back into Harry's arms, feeling at home for the first time that day. Rose and Victoire climbed down and ran back to snitch biscuit dough from the bowl that Molly was mixing.

Ron's face turned even more sour. “Okay, I'll just finish this discussion by myself, shall I?”

Ginny looked at her brother quizzically. “What's your problem now, Ron?”

“Nothing,” he said, petulantly. “It's just that I haven't had time to talk to Harry in forever, so we were catching up. I was just telling him how the Cannons were doing this year, but now you're here, and he's going to be all over you all night. Thanks for stealing my best friend!”

Ginny's temper instantly shot up, and she went for her wand, barely noticing when Harry intercepted her hand. “Yeah? Well, I haven't seen my husband for more than a quick shag in over three months, Ronald. So you can just take your little pity-party and go tell it to someone who might sympathize! He might be your best friend, but he's the love of my life!”

The silence was broken by applause–George had heard the whole thing, and felt that such a masterful performance needed recognition. Ginny turned, slightly taken aback by the ferocity of her reaction, to see him standing there in the doorway, smiling widely. Then she looked past him, and noticed what had to be every resident and guest of the Burrow present, staring at her in awe. She blushed, and turned to Harry and buried her face in his chest.

Ron stood, shocked, for a moment, then came over and put his hand on his sister's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't really mean it like that. I know you and Harry don't have a lot of time together, and I don't really begrudge you this time–I just sometimes get a little envious of his time too. He really is my best mate, and I do miss him. But that's no reason for me to take it out on you.”

Ginny turned and threw her arms around her brother. Sensing that this was a rather more personal moment than the previous one, Molly chivvied everyone back into the kitchen. Harry stood there and watched as the two siblings embraced. As he did so, Hermione came over to stand beside him, and he put his arm around her.

“Much more than a teaspoon by now, I'd say,” he whispered to her.

She smiled up at Harry and nodded. “Yes, he's really growing up, isn't he? I think being a father has done more than anything else to speed up the process.”

“Well, whatever it is, I'm glad to see it.”

Hermione took the opportunity to ask Harry, “Are you two really okay? That seemed like rather a strong reaction to Ronald's normal prattishness.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “Yeah, we're okay. We have been rather too busy over the past long while, and that's been stressful. But I love her more each day, and someday, hopefully soon, we'll be able to make some changes to our hectic lives.”

Anyone else would have taken that statement at face value, but Hermione had almost as many years of Harry-watching under her belt as Ginny did, and she detected a hidden glee in Harry's voice.

“Just what do you have planned, Harry?” she asked, giving him a gimlet stare.

“Nothing, Hermione,” he said in a would-be casual tone. She wasn't fooled, but the look on his face meant that no further information would be forthcoming. She resolved to keep an eye on the Potters, and see if she could detect any changes in the upcoming year.

Ginny and Ron had finished their whispered conversation by this time, and the two couples withdrew to the kitchen, where they were besieged by the children and cajoled into helping to decorate Christmas biscuits. The evening passed in a very merry fashion, and when it was time to go to bed, and Harry was preparing to say his goodbyes, Ginny drew him aside and whispered in his ear.

“Harry, dear, I have a small Christmas request tonight.” After she said this, she gently licked his earlobe.

Harry's brain immediately shut down, and his mouth fell open. “Um. . . uh. . . yes,” he finally stammered out.

Ginny giggled. “Don't you even want to know what it is?”

“No, anything that gets you to do that to me is yours for the asking.”

“Okay, then. Come upstairs to my old bedroom in about ten minutes, and you'll be able to fulfill a schoolgirl fantasy for me.” She kissed him then, but when he went to pull her closer and turn the kiss into something more passionate, she pulled away. “Remember, ten minutes. . .” And saying this, she slipped out of his arms, and skipped up the stairs, taking the small bag she'd packed with her.

Harry instantly looked at his wristwatch, determined to not be even one minute late. If it was really one of her schoolgirl fantasies, and it involved him and her in her old bedroom, it was exceedingly likely that it was one of his schoolboy fantasies too, and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

Ron saw Harry sitting on the couch. . . well, more like poised on the edge of the couch, coiled like a spring set to go off in 7 minutes, 37 seconds.

“Um, Harry? I thought you were going home. . .”

“What? Oh, Ron. Um, no, it looks like we'll be spending the night tonight. Ginny's up in her old room and I'm supposed to join her in 6 minutes and 53 seconds.”

Ron started to ask what was going on, then happened to remember the time when Hermione and he had been visiting her parents, and he had innocently walked into Hermione's old room, only to see his wife dressed in what must have been her uniform from fifth year, and lying on her bed, licking her lips and staring seductively at him. His brain automatically tried to envision Harry and Ginny in the same type of situation, but fortunately he was able to drag it onto a complete different track. “That's nice, I have to go check on Rose and Hugo bye!” The last word was somewhat indistinguishable, as Ron was already three stairs up and accelerating. Harry didn't really notice.

When Harry's watch told him he had twenty seconds left, he stood up–well, really he leaped to his feet and sprinted to the stairs. By the time the second hand indicated it had been exactly ten minutes, he had his hand on the doorknob, already turning.

Entering the room, he blinked to adjust to the lowered lighting, and looked for his wife. She was sitting at her desk, innocently looking at a book. But she must have found her third-year uniform, and he could tell, quite definitely, that certain parts of it hadn't been able to be buttoned all the way. And, from the looks of things, in third year she hadn't yet succumbed to the necessity of wearing certain important undergarments. She artfully noticed him then, and leaned over to put her book away, showing him that certain other articles of clothing, which were normally the rule rather than the exception, were missing too.

Harry waved his hand behind him, casting locking and silencing charms, took two steps towards his wife, and spent the next three hours fulfilling at least three different school-time fantasies, and one that they hadn't even thought of ahead-of-time.
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