The Bright Side of Christmas
Chapter Two
The Galleon, reminds Hermione urgently. Does he have the Galleon on him? He patiently replies in the affirmative and shows it to her for the third time that night. It is Christmas Eve, and the two are standing outside a modest brick house in Melbourne. Curiously, it is warm, rendering their jackets quite unnecessary; George carries both their jackets, marvelling at how it feels like June. Hermione is visibly nervous – her hands tremble and her breathing is quicker than normal. George puts a hand on her shoulder; she jumps a foot, and he removes it at once. She shoots him a look that is half-accusing, half-embarrassed. He apologises quickly, trying his best to stifle the thought that he would really rather just hold her until she stopped shaking.
George wanted to set off on their mission once they’d left the school grounds and were in Hogsmeade, but Hermione refused. They waited till they were at the Burrow to inform his parents about their plan; they gave them their blessing, and a tearful Mrs. Weasley wished them the best of luck. They then apparated to Melbourne, Hermione concentrating on the brick house as hard as she could, and George locking arms with her and trusting her explicitly. George had heard that cross-country apparation was no easy task, but they arrived without a hitch, albeit about a hundred metres off target. Throughout the walk, Hermione kept her arm locked with George’s, possibly for support; he spoke encouraging words to her in a low voice, trying to prepare her for her big task ahead.
Now, Hermione stands at the window, dithering. He murmurs something and taps on his Galleon with his wand, and watches as she frowns and pulls her own Galleon out. The frown fades just a little as she reads his message (‘Calm down’), she she looks at him, desperation written all over her face. Just have a look, Hermione, he encourages. See if it’s them. She’s shaking harder than ever now. What if it isn’t? she cries. Or what if…what if it is them, and they’re happy without her? Then, he says firmly, they have no idea what they’re missing, and it’s up to her to remind them.
He puts a hand on her shoulder again – she doesn’t jump this time – and gently steers her to the window. Go on, he says, have a look. The voice coming from him is soft and barely there, and sounds nothing like his own. He eggs her on again and feels her take a deep, calming breath. And then, slowly, slowly, she looks.
It seems like an eternity before she turns back to him, tears in her eyes. It’s them, she confirms. It’s them, and she is going to restore their memories. George grins, and the knots in his stomach that he didn’t notice before untangle. Confident now, the two make their way to the front door and ring the doorbell.
A slender woman with hair just like Hermione’s opens the door, and Hermione gives a little squeak of recognision. Can she help them, asks the woman, and George gives Hermione a nudge. Now. She gives her head a little shake and surrupticiously points her wand at her mother, muttering the much-practised spell. A stream of silvery-grey, part-smoke and part-light, leaves her wand and enters the woman’s head; her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth opens, ready to scream. But just in time, the memories seem to take, and she is left dazed and blinking. George and Hermione watch her with bated breath, as moment after agonising moment passes. At last, her gaze settles on the girl before her, and she lets out the loudest cry.
Hermione!
Hermione bursts into tears and throws herself at her mother. They embrace for a long time, both crying, Hermione mumbling unintelligible things through her tears. Glad as he is, George feels rather awkward – it feels wrong to be witnessing this, the intimacy between the Grangers. He is about to quietly take his leave when a man’s voice makes him jump. Mr. Granger! He turns to look at Hermione, but she is two steps ahead of him, shooting the spell at her father just as he enters the room; the same silvery-grey stuff rushes at him to enter his head, and he is unable to fight it off, stunned. In a minute, the three of them are locked in an embrace, Mr. Granger joining his family in tears.
George places Hermione’s jacket on a nearby chair and leaves the house then, his chest heavy with conflicting emotions. He’s incredibly happy for Hermione, glad that she’ll be spending Christmas with her family…but what he wouldn’t give to be able to do the same with Fred. To have Fred back with only a flick of his wand and some silvery stuff would be a dream come true for him and his family. He looks back at the Grangers through the window. They are talking and laughing now, their faces still shining wih tears. A profound loneliness freezes his insides; he sinks down with his back against the wall of the happy home, crying bitterly.
It is a while before he gets up again and brushes himself off, swiping furiously at his eyes. Crying alone outside a house in Australia – what has become of him? He mentally gives himself a good shake and picks up his jacket. Home, he thinks hollowly; if there’s ever a place no one could ever feel lonely, it’s home. Concentrating hard on the Burrow, George disappears with a crack, leaving Hermione and her family to sit down to the Christmas Eve dinner her parents could never come close to finishing on their own.
George wanted to set off on their mission once they’d left the school grounds and were in Hogsmeade, but Hermione refused. They waited till they were at the Burrow to inform his parents about their plan; they gave them their blessing, and a tearful Mrs. Weasley wished them the best of luck. They then apparated to Melbourne, Hermione concentrating on the brick house as hard as she could, and George locking arms with her and trusting her explicitly. George had heard that cross-country apparation was no easy task, but they arrived without a hitch, albeit about a hundred metres off target. Throughout the walk, Hermione kept her arm locked with George’s, possibly for support; he spoke encouraging words to her in a low voice, trying to prepare her for her big task ahead.
Now, Hermione stands at the window, dithering. He murmurs something and taps on his Galleon with his wand, and watches as she frowns and pulls her own Galleon out. The frown fades just a little as she reads his message (‘Calm down’), she she looks at him, desperation written all over her face. Just have a look, Hermione, he encourages. See if it’s them. She’s shaking harder than ever now. What if it isn’t? she cries. Or what if…what if it is them, and they’re happy without her? Then, he says firmly, they have no idea what they’re missing, and it’s up to her to remind them.
He puts a hand on her shoulder again – she doesn’t jump this time – and gently steers her to the window. Go on, he says, have a look. The voice coming from him is soft and barely there, and sounds nothing like his own. He eggs her on again and feels her take a deep, calming breath. And then, slowly, slowly, she looks.
It seems like an eternity before she turns back to him, tears in her eyes. It’s them, she confirms. It’s them, and she is going to restore their memories. George grins, and the knots in his stomach that he didn’t notice before untangle. Confident now, the two make their way to the front door and ring the doorbell.
A slender woman with hair just like Hermione’s opens the door, and Hermione gives a little squeak of recognision. Can she help them, asks the woman, and George gives Hermione a nudge. Now. She gives her head a little shake and surrupticiously points her wand at her mother, muttering the much-practised spell. A stream of silvery-grey, part-smoke and part-light, leaves her wand and enters the woman’s head; her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth opens, ready to scream. But just in time, the memories seem to take, and she is left dazed and blinking. George and Hermione watch her with bated breath, as moment after agonising moment passes. At last, her gaze settles on the girl before her, and she lets out the loudest cry.
Hermione!
Hermione bursts into tears and throws herself at her mother. They embrace for a long time, both crying, Hermione mumbling unintelligible things through her tears. Glad as he is, George feels rather awkward – it feels wrong to be witnessing this, the intimacy between the Grangers. He is about to quietly take his leave when a man’s voice makes him jump. Mr. Granger! He turns to look at Hermione, but she is two steps ahead of him, shooting the spell at her father just as he enters the room; the same silvery-grey stuff rushes at him to enter his head, and he is unable to fight it off, stunned. In a minute, the three of them are locked in an embrace, Mr. Granger joining his family in tears.
George places Hermione’s jacket on a nearby chair and leaves the house then, his chest heavy with conflicting emotions. He’s incredibly happy for Hermione, glad that she’ll be spending Christmas with her family…but what he wouldn’t give to be able to do the same with Fred. To have Fred back with only a flick of his wand and some silvery stuff would be a dream come true for him and his family. He looks back at the Grangers through the window. They are talking and laughing now, their faces still shining wih tears. A profound loneliness freezes his insides; he sinks down with his back against the wall of the happy home, crying bitterly.
It is a while before he gets up again and brushes himself off, swiping furiously at his eyes. Crying alone outside a house in Australia – what has become of him? He mentally gives himself a good shake and picks up his jacket. Home, he thinks hollowly; if there’s ever a place no one could ever feel lonely, it’s home. Concentrating hard on the Burrow, George disappears with a crack, leaving Hermione and her family to sit down to the Christmas Eve dinner her parents could never come close to finishing on their own.