Bells Will Be Ringing by Scribooty Title: Bells Will Be Ringing Author:scribooty Rating: PG-13 Summary: Sometimes, it's more fun taking them off than putting them on. 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.
"Well, you look happy."
Harry grinned and hummed contentedly as he bit into his fourth slice of pizza. "I am happy," he replied, laughing when Hermione grimaced at his talking around a mouthful of sauce and cheese. He gulped down some pumpkin juice and leaned across the tiny table to give his girlfriend a loud, smacking kiss, laughing again at her disgusted expression. "And why wouldn't I be happy? After all, I've got the best girlfriend in the world, a new home for us to share, and Christmas is just around the corner. What else could I want?"
Hermione couldn't help but smile indulgently as he stuffed the rest of the gooey slice into his mouth. "Oh, I don't know," she drawled with a raised brow. "But for the sake of your pants, it better not be another piece of pizza."
Harry flashed her a grin. "There'd just be more of me to love," he declared, patting his belly and pointedly ignoring her rolling eyes.
"You keep that up," she countered with a smirk as she took their plates into the kitchen, "and you'll be able to fit into that Father Christmas costume without the need for any additional padding."
Harry laughed as he got up from the table and thought about the red velvet suit currently hanging in his wardrobe. Hermione's father had traditionally donned it every year at the community center that he and Mrs. Granger volunteered at. But this year, the couple had been asked at the last minute to participate in a volunteer program bringing basic dental care to villagers in Cambodia, so Harry had been asked to fill in.
"And what about you?" he asked her as he wiped his mouth and hopped up onto the kitchen counter, watching her tidy up the tiny but well-organized kitchen. "How's your costume?"
Hermione frowned absently as she rearranged one of the drawers for what Harry was sure was the eleventh time since they had moved in the previous weekend. Her fussiness might have driven other people a bit batty, but Harry loved that she cared so much about the first home that they were sharing that she wanted every little gadget and towel to be in exactly the right place. "I don't know," she murmured, as she moved the vegetable peeler from one compartment to another. "It just got delivered this morning and I haven't even opened the parcel yet. I left it in the bedroom."
"What?" Harry exclaimed in mock outrage. "Are you telling me that there's a sexy Santa's Helper costume just sitting there in a box?" He jumped off the counter and grabbed Hermione by the arm, hustling her down the hallway and practically shoving her into their bedroom.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, the laughter in her voice spoiling her show of indignation. "What in the world has gotten into you?"
"Nothing compared to what I want you to get into," he countered with a theatrical leer. "And hopefully, if you're on Santa's naughty list, I'll get to take it off you at a later date," he finished with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows that Hermione couldn't help but giggle at.
"Oh, fine!" she exclaimed with an impish grin. "Get out of here and let me change," she commanded as she tried to hustle him out the door.
With a final, playful swat to her bum, he left the room and closed the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. "I love surprises, you know," he called through the door. "Especially ones that involve you in a tiny red dress with white fur trim." His eyes lost focus as he began to get more and more wrapped up in his daydream. "Maybe a cute little hat? And some boots? Yes, definitely some boots. Black ones. With heels. And how about some red fishn—"
"IS THIS A JOKE? THERE'S NO BLOODY WAY I'M WEARING THIS!"
Harry was so startled by what could only be described as Hermione's shrieking, that it took him a moment to respond. "Hermione? What's wrong? I was just kidding about the stockings, You don't have to wear them, you know. I mean, unless you want to, of course, that is I wouldn't say no if you—"
"Harry, would you please shut up about your stocking fixation?" Hermione snapped, her intense irritation coming through loud and clear, even through the closed door.
"Come on, sweetheart, it can't be all that bad," Harry responded, attempting to calm her down as he tried to open the suddenly locked door.
"Oh no, Harry James Potter, you're not coming in here while I look like this!"
"Don't be silly, Hermione. You know I don't care what you're wearing, I'll love you no matter what. Now let me in there before I open this door myself."
Harry held his breath, hoping that his firm tone had done the trick and convinced her to let him in, rather than goading the most powerful witch he knew into trying some new and unusual jinxes on him.
"Fine," she finally muttered. "But not one word, do you hear me? If I see so much as a twitch of your lips, you'll be getting a hexing your bollocks won't soon forget!"
When the door opened at last, Harry stepped gingerly in, mentally preparing himself for the worst. But as he finally saw Hermione, standing in front of the mirror, he knew that nothing could have prepared him for that sight.
Fighting to hold in his initial reaction, he just stared at her for a few moments before finally offering what consolation he could. "Um, it's not that bad, you know."
"Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD?" Hermione turned towards him with incredulous anger. "And how, pray tell, could this possibly be any worse?" she demanded, hands on her hips.
Harry gulped. She had a point. For there she was, dressed as what could only be described as a refugee from the Willy Wonka factory. That is, if the Willy Wonka factory was based in the North Pole. Red, green, and white striped tights encased her legs that peeped out from under what appeared to be a pair or short, sparkly green lederhosen that looked about three sizes too small. Her head was covered in some sort of red and green Peter Pan style hat with white feathers sticking out of it, and with some giant, plastic, pointed ears attached to it that covered her own normal-sized ears quite completely. Of course, her feet would be stuffed into a pair of green, curled-toe boots. And then, to top the whole thing off, there were the bells. So, so, so many bells. On the tips of her boots, on the suspenders of her shorts, on the edging of her hat. She jingled with every little movement.
He thought long and hard about what to say. He had to reassure her, prove that he was the best boyfriend in the world. This was there first Christmas together, after all, and he wanted it to be perfect. "I think you look very… cute?" He winced as soon as it was out of his mouth. He hadn't meant it to sound like a question.
"Cute? CUTE?" She looked back at the mirror and her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm ridiculous," she moaned before sitting on the bed, her legs dangling over the side, a sad little jingle-jingle accompanying each movement of her feet.
She looked so tiny and forlorn in her insane outfit, that Harry couldn't help the sympathetic smile that graced his lips as he shook his head. He carefully sat down next to her and put an arm about her shoulders. "Hermione, you could never be ridiculous," he murmured to her as he rubbed her arm. She opened her mouth to protest, but Harry quickly shushed her with a kiss. "Even when you might look a little ridiculous, you could never be ridiculous."
"It is rather horrible, isn't it?" she asked, looking up at him with furrowed brows and her lips fixed into a pout that he actually found rather adorable.
"Yeah, it is," he chuckled, tightening his arm about her to keep her at his side. "But it's for the kids at the community center, and they'll love it, you know they will."
"You're right," she sighed in defeat as she melted into his embrace. "And it's just for one night. And then I'll never have to see this horrid thing again."
Harry grinned, dropping a few kisses on her forehead. "You'll see, the kids will love you." He tightened his grip around her shoulders and pulled one of her hands into his lap, threading his fingers through hers. "I can only imagine how much it would have meant to me, at that age, to have had someone like you, with your smiles and kindness, giving me a gift at Christmas," he told her, his voice soft as he kept his eyes locked on their entwined hands. "I would have thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world, it wouldn't have mattered what you were wearing."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, and he looked into her face to see tears glistening in her eyes, and a smile of love on her lips. "You're right, it's all worth it. This will be the best Christmas ever. Because I can share it with you. And I can have a lifetime to make up for every bad Christmas you ever had."
Harry felt his heart jump in his chest at her words. "You already have," he whispered as he leaned his face down to hers to give her a sweet kiss.
A sweet kiss accompanied by a very loud jingle-jingle-jingle. They broke apart, laughing at the sound. "I take it back," Hermione said with a merry smile. "This costume is horrible and nothing can make it better."
Harry grinned back at her. "Oh, I don't know. It has a certain flair. And you could even put a couple of old S.P.E.W. buttons on it, if you want."
At that, Hermione finally let out a genuine laugh. "If these were the clothes that I was trying to offer the house-elves back in the day… Well, even I would have understood them not wanting to go anywhere near them."
"Imagine how happy you'll be to take it off."
Hermione twisted out from under his arm, surprising him by straddling his lap. "I can also imagine how happy I'd be if you took it off for me," she replied with a saucy smile.
He smiled, more than pleased with this turn of events. "Maybe we should have a practice run?" he asked, gripping her hips and fighting back his laughter as she jingle-jingled at each movement.
"An excellent idea," she agreed, ripping off her hat and throwing it to the side before wrapping her arms about his neck. "And maybe later," she whispered as she nibbled a bit on his ear, "I might even find an outfit more to your taste? One with, what was it? Red fishn—"
Hermione didn't get a chance to finish her sentence. Not that Harry would have heard it over the rather intense jing-jingle-jingling that filled the room.