THIRTY-NINE

I'VE JUST ONE WISH ON THIS CHRISTMAS EVE
I WISH I WERE WITH YOU
THE CARPENTERS

ASPEN AWOKE with an excited jolt on Christmas morning. Verity stood at the side of the bed, shaking her furiously even as she sat up, swiping the sleep from her blurry eyes.

"What is it?" Aspen asked, squinting through the morning light at the ecstatic blonde. "What time even is it?"

Verity leapt up onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed as Aspen sat back against the pillows.

"Quarter past seven! We're late!" Verity said as Aspen began to feel the terrible telltale signs of a hangover brewing.

"Late for what?" Aspen said, rubbing her throbbing temples in hopes of taming the headache that was approaching.

"It's Christmas!" she squealed, more excited than the average child.

Verity sprung up from the bed then, and Aspen watched as she darted across the room, her bare legs as long as history as she let her socked feet stumble across the threadbare rug. In the corner sat a pile of presents wrapped in shimmering golden paper, and Verity ducked to retrieve one of the bigger ones.

"C'mon! I've already heard someone going downstairs," she said keenly, and feeling obliged to keep spirits high, Aspen fumbled with the duvet, pushing it back and forcing herself out of the bed.

As Verity sat herself comfortably on the floor, Aspen had a wondrous flashback to the previous year, where she had bonded with Fleur for the first time. It was curious how fast friendships formed so easily in bizarre situations, such as Aspen's first Christmas at the Weasley household.

"This is for you!" Verity called, thrusting a parcel into Aspen's arms as she stooped beside the pile of presents to sit with the exuberant blonde.

"Oh! Thank you," Aspen said, and as she took Verity's present, she gathered her own gift for her friend to open at the same time.

For the next twenty minutes or so, the two girls ripped past paper and chatted until Aspen's headache was a mere twinge behind her temples. They'd received almost all their gifts — unlike Fleur the previous year, Verity had somehow managed to procure a jumper of her own in a bright lavender purple. Still, even with their respective piles of edible treats and miscellaneous gifts, neither had yet received a present from Fred or George.

"Breakfast?" Aspen asked brightly, pushing herself off her knees to get dressed in a simple pair of jeans and her new honey-coloured jumper.

"I think I'll go meet Georgie first, give him his present and stuff," Verity said, blushing softly as she dressed. Aspen knew very well what stuff meant, although she almost hoped she'd misunderstood the sentiment.

Aspen descended the stairs alone, surprised by how very quiet it was this year compared to the last. It seemed she was one of the first down, other than Molly, who was preparing breakfast, and Arthur, who was fiddling with a radio in the corner.

"Morning!" she called cheerily, bypassing Arthur in the living room to assist in the kitchen instead. "Merry Christmas, actually!"

"Oh, Merry Christmas, dearie," Molly replied fondly, rushing away from the stovetop where she was frying eggs to envelope Aspen in her usual motherly hugs.

When the older woman retracted, Aspen noticed the faint signs of red-rimmed eyes and dark circles covered vaguely with old makeup. Undoubtedly, Molly Weasley had been crying, and Aspen hesitated as she bustled back towards her eggs, wondering if she was in the place to interject.

"D'you need any help?" she asked instead, wondering if her presence was even intrusive itself.

"Oh, if you don't mind," Molly replied from the stove, motioning over her shoulder at the line up of mismatched mug along the countertop. "Teas and coffees, Aspen, please."

Aspen busied herself, boiling the kettle with the trusty help of her wand as she strained to remember everyone's usual morning beverage orders. By the time she was done, the faint sound of bedroom doors opening was ringing throughout the house, and festive greetings were shared as the remainder of the group tumbled down the stairs.

The Weasley twins entered the kitchen, bleary-eyed but beaming as Molly and Aspen served breakfast out across the dining table. It was a sight to behold, and the table legs could've given way beneath the weight of the feast. From end to end, little of the wooden surface could be seen beneath the copious dishes of sausages, eggs and beans. There were even smaller servings of black pudding and tattie scones, which Aspen wasn't sure she'd ever seen before, never-mind tried. It seemed that Molly had forgotten that for once, the household would not be bursting at the seams with guests ready to demolish every morsel of what she'd prepared.

"Morning, sweetheart," Fred said, voice raspy as he recovered from his evening of minimal sleep. "Merry Christmas."

Fred swept Aspen closer to his side, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple before grabbing a seat in the centre of the table, the prime spot for reaching every dish possible with ease. Aspen fell into place beside him, and as Alessia arrived from upstairs, clad in pyjamas and hair scraped up into a frizzy ponytail, she took the seat beside her sister.

"Morning everyone," she said, although cut herself off swiftly with a yawn which she blocked hastily behind an open palm. "Ooh! Poached eggs!"

The table descended into miscellaneous chatter after that, eating away their slumber-induced haze with multiple servings of Molly's outstanding breakfast buffet. Aspen mostly stuck to coffee, finding that food did not settle too well with her morning hangover. As long as she recovered by dinnertime, she wasn't fussed, sticking to a measly portion of toast and beans.

At quarter past ten, when Ginny suggested a snowball fight outside, the younger section of the household dispersed from the table, darting upstairs in search of their woollen battle armour. Verity had tried to help with the clean up, but George had lifted her around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her away without much choice in the matter.

"I'll help," Aspen said instead, scraping the final remnants of beans from her plate into her mouth before carrying her plate to the sink. "You go ahead, love."

Fred hesitated, torn between a morning spent with his girlfriend and the thrilling elation of pelting snowballs off of his siblings' heads. In the end, after a little coaxing from Aspen, he departed, although not until she had promised she'd join them as soon as she was finished in the kitchen.

And so, silently, Molly and Aspen got to work, piling dishes up in the sink and setting the washboard to work with their wands. Arthur had rushed off to the living room to tinker with the new radio he'd acquired, hoping to get it working albeit without any luck as of yet.

"Are you okay?" Aspen asked into the quiet after a short while. The hurt in Molly's eyes had been eating away at her, and with no further distractions, she had little option but to indulge in her curiosity. "You seemed a little... upset about something earlier."

Molly's jaw clenched, and Aspen could see the muscles working there as she tried to resist the temptation of tears. She knew it was always had to avoid emotion after such a jarring question, although the Weasley matriarch was doing a particularly impressive job at doing so, blinking back the tears that simmered against glassy eyes.

"I'm alright," she said, although there was a tension to her words. "It's just... Perhaps we should sit. More tea," she said disjointedly, and then after a second of thought, changed her mind. "Something stronger might be better suited, actually."

Aspen said nothing about the fact it wasn't even noon yet as Molly crossed the room and collected a bottle of Muggle brandy from the cupboard. With her wand, she summoned two spotless glasses, decanting the smooth honey liquid into the containers as they sat opposite one another at the table.

"Arthur and I were going to tell you all, but with Verity here..." she paused, twirling the glass absentmindedly between her fingers as she spoke. "Nothing against the girl, of course, she's lovely. It's just... it's a family matter, isn't it?"

Aspen nodded solemnly to ease Molly's nerves despite knowing nothing of what the family matter she was pondering even was. Still, she found the time to be moved at the mention of herself and Alessia as family — she'd always known it, felt it in the throb of her gentle heart, but to hear it from Molly Weasley herself felt particularly soul-stirring.

"Bill sent a message to Arthur late last night," Molly said, her voice beginning to wobble every so slightly. "Ron's at Shell Cottage."

Aspen nearly spat her mouthful of brandy onto the freshly cleaned tabletop. She hadn't been sure what to expect, but that was certainly not it. For months they'd wondered of the whereabouts of the trio, but never had Aspen considered they would actually find out, at least not until their mysterious mission had reached a crescendo.

"Merlin," Aspen murmured, eyes bulging. "Are Hermione and Harry with him?"

Molly shook her head, mouth twisted into a thin, perturbed line.

"No," she confirmed, taking a generous sip of her drink before continuing. "Bill didn't explain much, I'm afraid, but he left them a while ago. They're all alright by the sounds of things, but..."

Molly trailed off with a quiet sob, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow as the dam broke and tears trickled down her pale cheeks. Aspen leapt forward, pulling Molly into a tight hug as she let the news wash over her like a cold shower. Three of them out there together had been scary, but with Ron gone, the prospect of only two barely legal wizards going it alone was even more terrifying.

"It's alright," Aspen said, patting Molly's back as she attempted to recover from her burst of tears. "They're all clever, aren't they? Dumbledore wouldn't have told them to go if he hadn't trusted them."

"Oh, I know," Molly said glumly, recoiling from Aspen's embrace to tug a handkerchief from her sleeve and swipe at her wet eyes. "But I just wish they were all here. Bill and Fleur, too. Oh, and Charlie and... Percy. I just wish I could keep them all safe forever."

Aspen glanced out of the window into the snow-brushed garden. Alessia was there, squealing with gleeful laughter after a successful spray of snow had smacked against the thick wool of Ginny's hat. If she could, Aspen would have wrapped her baby sister up in cotton wool, keeping her as wondrously happy as she was in that moment forever.

"I know," Aspen said softly, sighing as she lifted the glass to her lips again. "Tell me about it."

Together, the two woman downed the remains of their glasses, letting the smooth warmth burn down their throats. Then, swallowing down the fear of it all, they returned to their work, listening only to the tinkering of Arthur Weasley's radio in the background.

THE REST of the day passed by without a hitch, and even Molly seemed to perk up, focusing her attention on the task of a successful Christmas dinner instead. By the time evening rolled around, the group of eight were satisfied and full, lounging back in the living room nursing drams and recounting old stories around the fire. For a moment, Aspen almost felt like normal again, remembering the previous year's joyful celebrations with everyone in tow.

The radio was blaring Celestina Warbeck again, although Molly was the only one intrigued, and each time the singer warbled a particularly high note, Alessia and Ginny flinched with disdain. Arthur was itching to put the new radio — which had only recently belonged to a Muggle family from Leeds, apparently — to better use, and Verity took the opportunity to save the day for them all.

"D'you mind if I have a look, Arthur? My mum absolutely loves Heart radio," Verity said, lifting George's arm from it's position on her shoulder as she crossed the room towards the crackly machine.

Arthur was delighted by her input, and although Molly grumbled slightly at the interruption of her favourite singer, the rest of the room were delighted with the interjection. Verity bent over the windowsill, her pink tongue resting atop her bottom lip as she focused on twiddling with the radio dials. Finally, after several snippets of newscasts and crackling, she stood back triumphantly, grinning.

"Heart FM!" she called triumphantly, and within seconds, loud Christmas music flooded the room.

"Oh I know this one!" Alessia called, jumping up to her feet excitedly much to Ginny's amusement.

"Well done, love," George said with a grin, planting a joyful kiss to his girlfriend's lips as she sat.

Aspen found herself giving in to the joy, too. It was hard not to at the sight of Alessia and Ginny hand in hand as they shuffled exuberantly around the coffee table, Arthur's face alight at the taste of nostalgic Muggle culture. This felt like a Christmas from her youth, and she was reminded fondly of the year Wham! had released Last Christmas, which promptly became her mother's favourite song and accordingly, the house's anthem for the season.

"Oh, wow! Are you hearing this, Molly?" Arthur asked, eyes planted to the machine as if any second now, the musicians would leap from the speakers and start playing in the room itself.

The song faded out slowly, and with it came a whole new one, which seemed riveting to Arthur despite the fact he often made use of the Wizarding radio stations that operated very similarly. This time, however, Aspen found herself compelled to join in, as Baby It's Cold Outside sprung from the speakers, one of her favourite festive tunes.

"Pen! Our song!" Alessia called, and subsequently flung herself down onto Aspen's lap, only narrowly avoiding a swift kick to Fred's crotch in the flurry.

"Oi! Watch it, Andrews!" Fred called, hands cradling his 'sacred jewels' — his words — as the rest of the room burst into jovial laughter.

The sisters sang along to the music, and Verity joined in at each chorus, blaring out the titular lyrics like an ill-practiced choir. The Weasleys took great enjoyment in the Muggle entertainment, a humorous distraction from their raging life outside the comforting walls of the Burrow.

When it came to an end, following a particularly poor high note from Alessia, it was replaced quickly by the soothing voice of Karen Carpenter, singing Merry Christmas, Darling.

"Oh, this one's lovely," Molly cooed, and tugged Arthur up out of his seat to sway around the room.

"Mum," Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes, but she quickly dismissed her disgust when Fred leapt up and pulled his sister into his arms, waltzing her around the table mockingly.

The rest of the room paired off, and Aspen took the role of the gentleman as she and Alessia twirled around the room giggling softly as they slid in their socks against the wood. George was being particularly romantic, resting his forehead against Verity's as they swayed together. Fred and Ginny were quick to make fun of them, but Molly watched them with adoration, eyes bubbling with bittersweet tears.

"D'you want to dance with Fred?" Alessia asked, leaning up to her sister's ear.

"Nah," Aspen retorted, smiling brightly at her little sister. "It's about time I got to spend some time with you."

Hilarity died down quickly, although perhaps not in the case of Fred and Ginny, who was dipping her older brother dramatically near the fire. Still, with everyone quietly dancing in their respective pairs, the words rang out overhead, puncturing the air with every syllable.

Merry Christmas, darling
We're apart, that's true
But I can dream and in my dreams
I'm Christmasing with you

Alessia's face fell ever so slightly, and across the room, Ginny was equally as crestfallen, her head drooping to rest limply against her older brother's shoulder. Aspen couldn't help but feel the familiar pang of uncertain pain stab through her chest too, remembering regretfully all of those they were celebrating the holiday without that year. Bill, Fleur, Ron, Hermione and Harry were only the beginning, and for a second, the faces of lost Order members and family friends on the run circled through her brain.

"Beautiful," Molly said as the song reached its end, replaced with something upbeat that failed to reach a similar sentiment. "Just beautiful."

"It was," Aspen agreed, slipping back into her seat. Fred was already there, and he wrapped his arm around her tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead comfortingly.

The rest of the night continued in much the same fashion, and they all drank and sang and laughed until they were so fatigued they were falling asleep where they sat. Something deep inside of her, fluttering around beside her heart, was telling her to make this Christmas count, no matter if it was tainted by the vaguest inkling of pain. And as the hours ticked away, turning Christmas into Boxing Day, she did just that, sharing kisses and memories with the ones that mattered.

But still, Aspen found herself weighed down by the weight of missing friends and family, and as she sipped at her glass of Malbec, she knew deep down that Christmas would never quite feel the same as it had the year before. As nineteen-ninety-seven drifted to its close, a terrifying feeling of a finality came in tow, and undeniably, it was one Aspen was certain she wanted to ignore.