The Perfect Gift by Megan Rose Title: The Perfect Gift Author: Megan Rose/ramie_k Rating: PG Warning: Minor, minor references to Deathly Hallows. Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Notes: This story is a standalone story from the universe of two of my other stories that I haven’t finished yet. Huge thanks must go to Liss, both for being a fabulous beta and for coming up with the idea in the first place!
Four weeks before Christmas
The strains of Bing Crosby’s warbling about a white Christmas echoed through the flat, drowning out the sound of rain pounding against the windows. Hermione Granger glanced out at the gray, sighing. White Christmas, don’t I wish.
Turning her attention back to her task, she reached into the box on the kitchen table, pulling out yet another item. She unrolled the cloth in her hands to reveal a stocking. It displayed a cozy scene; a little girl on a staircase peeking at Father Christmas putting presents under a tree. All created out of felt, beads and sequins. And along the top, the name Hermione in bright red. Her Christmas stocking.
Laying it flat on the table, she looked in the box again and pulled out another rolled up cloth. This one brought a smile to her face. It was another stocking, this time with an angel on it, and Siri emblazoned in green.
Hermione turned toward the living area. “Siri? Come here, baby.”
In the middle of the living room, amusing herself with her dolls and babbling to herself in the language that only babies understand, sat the Siri in question. She looked up at the sound of her name before getting to her feet and running over. When she reached Hermione, she held her arms up. “Wan’ up, Mummy,” she demanded.
Obliging her, Hermione lifted her daughter onto her lap, brushing a curl off her face. “Look at all the stuff Nana sent.” She pointed out the items cluttering the table.
Siri’s eyes scanned over everything before they settled on a stuffed snowman. Small hands immediately snatched it. She held it up to her mother. “Pretty, Mummy!”
“It is pretty, isn’t it? What’s his name? Who’s that?” Hermione prompted.
The toddler stared at the snowman for a minute before beaming a huge smile. “Fros-sy!”
“That’s right, Fros-ty,” Hermione corrected as she smiled back, hugging her daughter. “You’re my smart little angel. Look what Nana made for you.” She held up Siri’s stocking.
The snowman was immediately forgotten as Siri made a grab for the stocking. She let out a whine of protest as Hermione held it out of her reach. “No grabbing. Have to be gentle with it,” Hermione cautioned. Letting Siri have it, the little girl studied it intently, small, pudgy fingers poking at the sequins and beads. “Gentle,” Hermione reminded her.
The sound of a key in the door caught their attention. Mother and daughter looked at each other, matching brown eyes widening. “Daddy’s home!” Siri squirmed off her mother’s lap and took off running toward the door.
Harry Potter had barely managed to get inside and close the door behind him when the small, black haired missile plowed into his legs, little arms clutched around his calves. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”
“Siri, Siri, Siri, Siri!” he echoed, picking her up and perching her on his hip as he wandered over toward the table. He planted noisy kisses on her baby-soft cheek, making her beam at him in adoration. “How’s my big girl? Have you been good for Mummy? Hello, Mummy.”
Hermione tilted her head up, accepting his kiss. “Hello, Daddy. We just had spaghetti for dinner. I saved you some.”
“Thanks, love. Okay if I have it later?”
She nodded, reaching out to run her hand down his arm before clasping her hand in his. “How was your day?”
“Brutal. Got my arse kicked in physical training. Oops, sorry,” he winced at the disapproving frown on Hermione’s face. Sighing tiredly, Harry set his wriggling daughter on the floor and slumped down in the chair next to Hermione. He then noticed the objects scattered over the table. “What’s all this?”
“Oh, Mum sent it. It’s all my old Christmas stuff, decorations and whatnot.”
“Really?” His interest piqued, Harry pulled the box closer to him and started pawing through it.
“Some of this stuff goes all the way back to my first Christmas,” Hermione explained, watching him sift through the items.
“I can tell.” Harry pulled out a clay bell, covered in colourful paint with a bright red piece of yarn threaded through the top. He held it up with a smirk. “Cute.”
She snatched it back and tossed it back in the box, sticking her tongue out at him. “Give me a break! I was five when I made that!”
Harry chuckled as he continued to study the trove of Christmas treasures. Seeing the fond, almost nostalgic, expression grace his features made Hermione extremely pleased. She picked up hers and Siri’s stockings, holding them up. “What do you think?”
Harry looked up and grinned at them. “Who made those?”
“Mum.”
“They’re great.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she told him, reaching in the box. She pulled out something and handed it to him. Frowning in confusion, he unfolded it. His eyes widened in surprise at the stocking in his hand, decorated just as festively as the others. It had a Wise Man sitting on a camel and his name spelled out along the top in gold. “Your mum made this for me?”
Hermione nodded. “She said everyone in the family needed one.”
“Family,” he repeated, at a loss to say anything else.
She reached over and covered his hand with her own. “You are part of the family, Harry.”
He nodded. “I never had a stocking,” he murmured quietly.
I know, she thought sadly.
After a few moments staring at his stocking, he cleared his throat and stood up. “Well, let’s get these hung up, eh?”
~*~
Three weeks before Christmas
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
Hermione looked up from her crouched position beside the pram, tying Siri’s shoe and straightening the red bow in her black curls. “Because it’s Christmas, and pictures with Santa are traditional at Christmas,” she reminded him.
Harry glanced around the crowded Muggle shopping centre. “So we picked today, along with every other kid in London,” he muttered, leaning on the pram handle, his chin propped in his hand.
Hermione elbowed him. “Don’t be such a Grinch.” She regarded him for a moment. “You never had your picture taken with Father Christmas, did you?”
“I’ve never seen Father Christmas,” he corrected her, lowering his gaze. “Every Christmas, they’d take Dudley out and leave me with Mrs. Figg.”
Don‘t say things like that, Harry, I don’t want to start crying in the middle of a store, Hermione thought as a pang of sorrow went through her, watching Harry continue to stare at the floor.
Their musings were interrupted by a tap on Harry’s shoulder. He turned to see the woman behind them smiling the smile of someone who was well on her way to getting annoyed, yet too polite to show it. She nodded over his shoulder. “Line’s moving.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing Siri’s pram forward.
When they reached the front of the line, Harry picked their daughter up out of her pram. The photographer’s assistant, dressed as an elf, turned to them. “Is it just going to be her?”
He was about to answer in the affirmative when Hermione chimed in, “No, all three of us.”
Harry turned to her, eyebrows raised. She returned the look, taking Siri from him. “What, you want her to go apoplectic? Besides, I want a family picture.” He gave her an uncertain look, but acquiesced.
Father Christmas waved and spoke gently to Siri. The toddler, secure in her mother’s arms, sized up the jolly old elf in front of her. She didn’t cry, didn’t smile, just stared. The elf directed Harry to one side of Santa, the girls on the other. Hermione managed to surreptitiously slide the little girl over so she was half sitting on Father Christmas’s knee. Seeing the window of opportunity, the assistant hurried to stand beside the camera, jingling some bells. The photographer set his camera and smiled at the young family. “On three. One, two, three…”
Click.
~*~
Two weeks before Christmas
“Well, what do you think?”
Harry stood back, scrutinizing the three foot high tree that was perched on a table in their living room window. Hermione had laden the spindly branches with decorations, lights and tinsel. “Kind of pathetic looking, isn’t it?”
She finished hanging a toy soldier and spun to face him, glaring. “It is not!”
“Hermione, it looks like Charlie Brown’s tree!”
“Yes, and you remember how beautiful Charlie Brown’s tree turned out in the end?” she sniffed imperiously.
Harry decided to try another tactic. “Couldn’t we have gotten a tree that was a little…bigger?”
“But this fits so nicely in the window. And at the very least, it’s out of Siri’s reach.”
As if on cue, a small voice came from the back bedroom. “Mummy, wan’ out!”
“I’ll get her,” Harry volunteered and headed into their daughter’s room.
Hermione shrugged and shook her head, watching him go. Harry’s reluctance to immerse himself in all of the Christmas traditions she’d enjoyed growing up was really starting to frustrate her. First the picture, now the tree. She knew Christmas held no special meaning for him, and that was precisely why she was doing this. Her heart ached for that little boy who spent his holidays being shoved aside and ignored, never being able to appreciate the peace and sense of family tranquility that was associated with the season. She was determined that she was going to change all that. Even if it killed her. Or him. Or both.
Harry returned some minutes later, Siri in his arms. Her little cheeks still tinged pink with sleep, her eyes widened when she caught sight of the tree. Seemingly spellbound by the scene in front of her, her little hands clasped together and her only other movement was the rhythmic pulsing of the pacifier in her mouth.
“What do you think, baby?” Harry whispered to her. Siri gave no other reaction, still mesmerized by the lights and tinsel.
Hermione stepped over to them, frowning. “Harry, get that thing out of her mouth! I thought I got rid of all these.” Plucking her daughter out of his arms, she pulled the pacifier out and immediately deposited it in the rubbish bin.
“Hermione, that’s her binky!”
“I told you, she’s too old for them!”
Harry shook his head. “Slave driver,” he chided gently.
“Doormat,” she shot back, a grin starting despite herself. She carried Siri over to the tree. “Well, Siri, do you like it? Isn’t it pretty?”
“Pretty!”
“See? Told you,” Hermione smirked in triumph.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I know better than to try and argue with two of you.”
Hermione took a step back as Siri made a lunge for the tree and distracted her by handing her a plastic ball. Harry came up behind her, wrapping his arms around both of them. She tilted her head, her eyes meeting his. And in that moment, she found a spark of the peace and family tranquility she’d been trying to achieve.
~*~
Christmas Eve
Harry walked into their bedroom to find Hermione already dressed in her pajamas, royal blue flannels with snowflakes all over them. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, looking pensive.
“Hey.”
She looked up and gave him a small smile. “Is she out?”
“Like a light.” He sat down beside her. “You’re not going to bed already, are you? It’s only seven thirty!”
“No.” She looked at him. “I know we’re not exchanging presents until tomorrow at Mum and Dad’s, but there’s something I wanted to give to you while we’re alone.”
“What is it?”
She rose and walked over their closet. Reaching up, she pulled a rather non-descript box off the shelf. She carried it back over to him, sitting back down beside him. Looking at the box, she took a deep breath before facing him again. “Remember about a month ago, Siri and I went to go and visit Andromeda and Teddy?” At his nod, she went on. “While I was there, Andromeda told me that she’d finally been able to bring herself to start sorting through Tonks’ and Remus’ things; figure out what to give away, what to save for Teddy, you know. Anyway, she was going through Remus’ vault at Gringotts and found this. She had no idea what the stuff in here was, so she showed it to me. When I saw what was in it, I knew it was something you should have. So…here,” she finished, nervously placing the box on his lap gently.
Brow furrowed in puzzlement, Harry opened the box. Inside was an absolute hodgepodge of items, appearing to have no rhyme or reason. But Harry surmised that they must have had great meaning to Remus for him to have kept them in his vault. He just didn’t understand why Hermione would think they would have any significance for him.
As he scrutinized the contents, it became clearer. His fingers closed around a small stack of pictures. In several of the pictures were a very handsome couple; a tall, dark, messy haired wizard and a stunning redheaded witch.
His parents.
Harry felt his heart rate and breathing speed up as he flipped through the pictures. There were several of his parents at various locations and times, some with his mother obviously pregnant, some with his parents holding a pudgy, dark haired baby. There were also several of his parents with a young Sirius and Remus, some of just his infant self with his parents’ friends. One picture in particular caught his attention. In it, Lily was holding her young son, James behind her, standing in front of a Christmas tree. Holding the pictures in one hand, he spotted something round in the box and held it up. It was a Christmas ball; a gorgeous scene of a sleeping baby boy in front of fireplace, a beautifully decorated Christmas tree beside him, painted on it. And in gold lettering was Baby’s First Christmas.
Placing the photos and decoration back in the box with shaking hands, Harry continued to weed through it. He rifled through letters, notebooks, Hogwarts memorabilia, and other objects that he had no idea where they came from or why they were important. It didn’t matter though. These things were important to his parents and that was enough for him.
Emotion welled up inside him. “All this time…he had all these things all this time?”
A hand gently landed on his shoulder. “I’m guessing he saved all this after…well, you know. I’m sure he meant to give it to you someday, just never got the chance.”
Placing the lid back on the box and setting it on the floor, he swallowed convulsively against the boulder-sized lump in his throat for several minutes. Finally, he felt himself composed enough to glance at Hermione. She was watching him fondly, unshed tears, a modicum of sympathy and, most of all, love shining in her brown eyes.
“Hermione, I-I…thank you. Thank you so much,” his voice barely above a whisper.
She drew him into her arms. He wrapped his own arms around her, clutching her tightly. “You’re welcome, love.” Pulling back slightly, she smiled lovingly at him before lightly pressing her lips to his. When she went to pull away again, he grasped her tighter, deepening the kiss. He allowed himself to drown in her until the need to breathe came to the forefront. They broke off the kiss with quiet gasps, but didn’t release each other.
After a few moments, Harry ran his hands around Hermione’s back and down her arms before clasping her hands in his. “You know, since I got one of my presents early, I think it’s only fair you get one, too. I also have one for you I wanted to give to you while it’s just the two of us.”
She smiled gently at him. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“Well, if you insist... hand it over!”
Chuckling, he released her hands and leaned over to the bedside table. Opening the drawer, he drew out a box of his own. A very small box.
Settling back beside her, he glanced at her, seeming to mirror her earlier nervousness. “I’ve been wracking my brain for weeks trying to figure out the best time and place to do this. I guess this is it.” He placed the box in her hand. At her wary look, he prodded, “Go on, open it.”
Trembling fingers slowly opened the box to reveal a purple velvet case. A purple velvet jewelry case. She opened it to reveal the most exquisite diamond solitaire ring she’d ever seen. “Oh, Harry…” she breathed, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over.
Taking the ring, Harry took her left hand in his. “Hermione, you of all people know what the last few years have been like for me. But I can honestly say the best part about them was you. You’ve been my best friend, my champion, my constant inspiration for eight years now. You always made me want to be better, and from that day we saved you from a troll and you lied to take the rap for it, I knew I could never not have you in my life. You gave me Siri, gave me the family I never thought I’d have. I love you more than I ever thought I knew how to love someone. Will you marry me?”
Hermione’s hand was pressed against her mouth, sobs bubbling up from her chest. “Oh, Harry, yes! Yes, yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you!”
He slipped the ring on her finger, then raised her hand to his lips. Gazing at each, unable to wipe the smiles from their faces, happiness washed like a tidal wade over them. Again, mouths moved to press against each other, gently at first then with growing intensity. Leaning back against the bed, he on top of her, hands started to wander in exploration as the familiar tendrils of passion flowed through them.
Breaking the kiss, Harry brushed his fingers across Hermione’s cheek. “Thank you, my love. For everything.”