"Happy Christmas," Harry told them both, eagerly eying the bottle and glasses Hermione held. Wine. Nothing holiday-related couldn't be fixed with wine.
"Yes, it's Christmas." Harry smiled, and set a hand down on his jumper in a way that might have appeared possessive. And, he supposed, it was. It was his jumper, for all that he sometimes wished Molly would stop knitting him one. He didn't really want it, but he didn't want it taken away, either.
Ron's elbow was pointy when it stabbed him in the arm, and Harry's face screwed up a bit before he went to rub it. "A book, really?" Harry asked, trying to keep from smiling too broadly at the educated guess. It did really look very much like a book. Though, he thought, if Hermione wanted to keep the gifts a secret, she should really stop buying him books. "By all means, let's open them!"
With a grin, Harry threw the jumper over the back of the sofa and made himself comfortable on the floor next to the tree. "Hermione, do you want to give Ron your gift first?" he asked, picking the gift up and handing it over to her.