Five Rose Weasley orientated Drabbles --- "Like snowflakes, my Christmas memories gather and dance - each beautiful, unique and too soon gone."
A Whole New World
Bells could be heard chiming and a distant laughter ran throughout the streets. Smiles wrinkled the faces of everyone who could be seen. Bags crowded every possible space, clutched tightly to the sides of their owners. Red and green blinded the sky with tinsel and streamers, sparkling lights dancing around the windows, crackling with joy. The giants all looked so blissful, so unaware of anything but their delight for the seasonal holiday. She kept her grip on her father's hand strong, she would undoubtedly get lost if she was to let go. No one would notice the tiny girl in the crowd of such activity if she was to stray.
Looking up at her father, she saw him grinning in his own show of enjoyment. His eyes flying from one window to the next, all of them filled with signs screaming of discounts and sales. She felt him tugging her through the crowd; she drew body against his leg as she followed him tiresomely.
As time drew on, she was thrown into one store after another, always coming out with their own bags filled with trinkets and bobbles. Her eyes trailed the shelves, the rows upon rows of ornaments that cluttered each store. Each one seeming to display something different than the one beside it, to her young eyes it was a streaming parade of flashing lights and endless confusion.
Everything was a blur with the rush and excitement that seemed to flow through every person they met. They never stopped, never stood in the one spot for long. It was a constant barrage of people and noise. Her world seemed to be spinning around and around, she was on a merry-go-round and the world outside was fuzzy at the edges, the colours fazing into one. As it continued, she grew more and more dizzy. All she wanted was to get off, to feel the stiff cool ground beneath her feet, to feel the earth keep her from falling.
As though her wish had been heard by some far-away deity, her father led them towards a nearby bench. Placing all his twinkling bags at their feet, he gazed out into the crowd and grinned once more. A distant light shone in his eyes, they sparkled with things to come. They held a knowledge of something she knew nothing of. Slowly he turned that smile onto her, beaming he gestured out into the chaos they had finally escaped.
"Don't you just love Christmas, Rose?"
Looking up at her father, she frowned, "Christmas? Daddy, what is Christmas?"
A Mystical Wonderland
The night had crept on her, for it had only been morning a moment before. She was neither disappointed nor distressed at the loss of the day. For when night came, Christmas came after. Excitement flowed through her veins, tomorrow would be Christmas. She had watched as the days passed by her house transform. A once familiar home had become a wonderland of treasures. A forest had been erected inside her lounge, a glorious tree that reached for the heavens; a single shiny star sat on top a guiding light from the sky. It was a gift for someone truly special, she had thought, watching her mother spend hours delicately wrapping the green brushes in a stream of colours. Red. Gold. Blue. Silver. It was a living rainbow, right there in her house. Every surface was covered in glittering tinsel, reflective little balls hanging randomly from its leaves.
At night, the whole tree would light up, illuminating the room in dazzling spots of red and green. She had sat there for hours, simply staring at this masterpiece. She was transfixed by its beauty. But while the tree was mesmerizing, her interest was always drawn to the ever growing pile of finely wrapped gifts that sat at its roots. It had started as a handful one day and then with every passing day it grew, names scrawled neatly on little cards attached to their sides. She had waited day after day until there it sat, a box wrapped in silver. Strips lining the metallic paper ran down in rivers, shimmering in the light. A red ribbon hugged the box nicely, coming together at the top in a perfect bow. But it was the card that lay just beneath it, that caused her to fill with anticipation, there in her mother's tidy script was her name, singular and alone, but it was her name. Rose. This flawlessly wrapped gift was hers.
As she lay in bed, with only one more night to wait, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to consume her. But it would not come; her thoughts were filled with silver wrapping paper and red ribbon. Of what lay beyond its thin veil, hiding its contents from her eyes. She could hear her father snore loudly down the hall, the slight wheeze of her brother in the room beside her, the pitter patter of the cat's feet on the stairs. Every creak of the house filled her ears, every branch rustling in the wind outside her room. She tossed and turned, her blankets bunching and trapping her to her bed. Throwing her arms out, she pushed and she pulled until finally she was free. And ever so slowly she made her way out to the hall, down the stairs, making not a sound.
At the foot of the very last step, she stopped, crouching in front the mystical tree was her mother. She was arranging the gifts beneath the tree yet again. But why, she did not know. Holding her breath, she waited for her mother to leave the room. Finally after what felt like eternity, her mother got to her feet and headed for the kitchen. As quiet as a mouse, she crept her way closer to the tree and there sitting right in front was a new present. It was wrapped in red paper, little snowflakes falling down the sides. As she stepped closer, her eyes found the card and there it was again in her mother's neat script, her name once more. Her eyes grew wide; this one was hers as well. Before she could get a closer look, she heard a noise from the kitchen. Turning back to the stairs to bolted back up to her room and under her covers. Two presents and they were both for her and her alone.
As she dreamed of what treasures they could hold, she didn't even notice when her eyes grew heavy and she feel silently to sleep.
Every year, since as long as she could remember, this night had always be one filled with excitement and trepidation. Excitement over all the gifts and holidays joys there would be the next day, and trepidation over the fact that one year she was certain she would wake up to find Father Christmas irrevocably stuck in her families chimney.
But not this night, this night she knew better. She knew that, since as long as she could remember, she had been lied to. The mythical being that was Santa Claus had been revealed to her as a hoax and the foundation on which she had built her Christmas on had come crumbling down in a moment of seconds. And for the last two days she had decided to be unsociable and withdrawn, but she knew in her heart that it was not because Mr. Claus was not real; she already had hundreds of magical creatures in her world. In her heart she knew, the fact that she had spent the last two days sulking was because her family, her mother, her father and countless other relatives had lied to her.
She was a smart and reasonable child, and her grandparents would always comment on how like her mother she truly was. It's like talking to your mother. God, I swore you were your mother for a moment then. You, Rose, are just a mini Granger aren't you? She prided herself in the knowledge that she was following in her mother's footsteps. So why then, she wondered, did they feel she was not mature enough to be told the truth. She could understand when she was only a baby, but she was only a few years short of attending Hogwarts, and they still believed that she was not capable of a little honesty.
When Christmas day arrived, she sat squished amongst the millions upon millions of pillows scattered along the Burrow's worn couch, she watched with glaring eyes her family. They laughed and smiled, wrapping paper covering ever surface of the floor, as though nothing was different, as though the world had not been completely shifted. And to them it hadn't. She had not told them of her discovery, why should she be honest if they could not.
A shadow fell over her, her eyes drew upwards to her father's glowing face. He said nothing, just placed a shinny package in her lap and simply walked away. She contemplated not opening the present, but it got the better of her. Very slowly, almost delicately she pulled the paper away from its contents. Only to reveal more paper, with a note attached on top.
Merry Christmas Rose,
It was a simple note and it tore at her insides, for know she knew there was no Santa she could see what she had never noticed before. The scrawl belonged to her father, and as she traced it back she could see every card Santa had ever written and the script was always different. Her mothers, her grandmothers, her aunties. But never her fathers, or her grandfathers, or her uncle's. But this present, she knew with any doubt that the handwriting was her father's, it was messy and almost unreadable.
Again she pulled the paper back, to discover a brand new issue of Hogwarts, A History. She couldn't help herself she smiled. She had spent hours bent over her mother's old school book draining in all its knowledge and now she had her own. But it was not this that made her smile. She smiled for she now knew that this gift was not from Santa it was from her father. Looking up she met his questioning gaze and she beamed at him, mouthing a thank you into the air. He frowned at her, because to him it was a gift from Santa but to her it was from someone even better. Her father.
The Gift of Christmas
Her back ached as she leant against the only visible surface that wasn't covered in gaudy Christmas decorations. She watched unbeknown to her husband as he tried to wrap an unusual shaped present. There were countless pieces of scrunched up paper scattered around his feet. She smiled warmly; he had shut himself away in the study for nearly an hour, telling her not to disturb him. For half of that she had gazed around what had used to be their house, and what not had been turned into a green and red circus. It was their first Christmas together, and it was his first Christmas to go wild and he had. As she looked around she wondered if there had been anything left in the store once he had left. She thought not.
There were streamers hanging from every shelf, happy reindeer pouncing along the walls, fairy lights sparkling in mid air. The tree took up an entire corner of their lounge, covered in every color she could think of. It was not what she would have done, but she loved it all the same, because he had done it. He had beamed so proudly when she had stepped through the door, so she had smiled back and said it was lovely. Though next year she knew she would be going to the decoration store with him, just in case.
A mumbled grunt drew her into the room, his hair was slung forward and he appeared defeated. Closing her eyes, she placed one hand over them and another up to guide her way across the wall.
"I'm not looking, but do you need some help," She couldn't help but laugh, when she heard his feet scatter across the ground as he raced to hide the present.
"I told you not to come in here," He barked, somewhere behind the desk she guessed.
"I know but you've been in here while," she smiled, "Is it safe?"
"Yes," his voice was soft.
Pulling her hand away, she saw her husband slumped in his chair, the present nowhere in sight, he looked exhausted. Finally seeing her for the first time, he shot out of the chair and offered it to her.
"You shouldn't be straining yourself so much," he growled, while affectionately rubbing her bulging belly.
She just laughed, kicking the forgotten paper around with her feet. He was trying so hard to make this Christmas special, but for her it already was. Just by being there and spending it together for the first time would make it special. As she too rubbed her tummy, she realized it was even more special, because deep inside of her was her new family, and after this Christmas it would never just be her alone again.
This Christmas was more special then he could know, because now people would come to her house, visit her family, wishing them Merry Christmas, she would have food to cook, tables to set. And not too far away she would have a child to spoil, to help decorate the tree, to lay out cookies for Santa with.
Yes, this Christmas was more special then he could know, because this year he was giving her the gift of Christmas.
Merry Christmas, Darling
Twinkling lights filled the room, as she sat alone. The house was so quite, after all the noise that had been coming for the house that day it seemed eerie to not heard a sound. But she was content, the day had been ongoing and she was at ease to rest, her feet hurt from standing on them all day and her stomach bloated from all the food she had ate. Everyone was tired, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep just yet, it was still Christmas and apart of her could feel the spirit of it still hovering in the air.
A warm coffee in her hand, she looked over all the mess she would have to clean up the next day, it would take only seconds, swish of her wand but she didn't want to do it right now. It was remnants of the day, and to sweep them away so quickly just didn't seem right to her. She would do it tomorrow, not today.
She continued to sit there just thinking until she broke from her reverie when the old clock in the corner chimed midnight, she watched as the seconds had slowly made its way around the clock face, ticking ever so slowly until finally it was twelve o'one. It was no longer Christmas; she would have to wait a whole new year to have another day like yesterday. Gathering to her feet she made her way to the kitchen, rinsing out her mug. She turned, gave one more look around and flicked her wand and it was all gone. Sighing she went back to the lounge, turned off the twinkling lights and headed down the hall.
She was hall way down, when she heard a restless noise coming from her daughter's room, opening the door a crack she was greeted with big brown eyes. She smiled warmly, walking over to the tired girl and sat beside her. This would be the first Christmas that her little four year old would remember. She had been wide eyed and curious about everything, unwrapping gifts with excitement and glee. But she had seemed unsure about something.
"Did you have fun today, honey?" she asked, the girl nodded.
Brushing back a stray piece of hair, she lightly rubbed the side of her daughter's face. She watched as the girl's eyes fought to say open. She leant down and kissed her forehead.
"Merry Christmas, darling," she whispered.
She was about was about to get up when a little hand caught hers, "Mummy, what is Christmas?"
She couldn't help but laugh.