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Hermione Granger was sat on her sofa, in the middle of her comfortable yet modest home, surrounded by the sight and smells of Christmas, and she was very cross with her husband. It was Christmas Eve, he’d promised he would be home an hour ago yet here she was, stuck alone and beached on the sofa whilst their two children ran riot around her. How Molly had done this so many times she’d never know because this third pregnancy was killing her. Trying to entertain two young children on Christmas Eve without the help of their father whilst feeling as big as a house was not her idea of a good time.
Just then she heard the front door open and sighed in relief, finally he was home. However her smile dropped quickly when the familiar face of a Weasley twin entered the room. Only it wasn’t her Weasley twin.
“Never fear, Uncle Freddie is here!” he called out loudly.
The sound of scurrying feet came quickly as both children came running from whatever mischief they were getting up to and launched themselves at Fred. One clinging to each arm as he swung them around like a helicopter to squeals of delight.
Hermione called out, “Be careful,” but knew that none of them would listen.
“What’re you doing here, Uncle Freddie?” six-year-old Fred II asked breathlessly when his feet were finally back on the floor. The boy looked almost the spitting image of the twins at his age. Four-year-old Rose was still on his hip with her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Well, Sir Frederick the Second,” he bowed low, tipping Rose over with him causing her to scream with delight again, “I’ve been sent on a very important mission to keep you two,” he tickled Rose dramatically, “from driving your mum completely crazy.” He sent a wink in her direction then and Hermione could only roll her eyes.
“But when’s dad gonna be home?” little Fred, as he’d affectionately been nicknamed, whined. “He’s supposed to make the biscuits for Father Christmas with us! And take us for a walk to look at all the Christmas lights before bed.”
“And fireworks!” Rose added excitedly.
“Yeah! And he said we’d test the new fireworks out in the garden,” he agreed with his sister.
“Well, it sounds like you two have quite the busy Christmas Eve ahead of you. But,” he placed Rose back on the floor and crouched low so he was eye level with the pair, dropping his voice to an exaggerated whisper Hermione could definitely still hear, “your dad needed to do something very special for your mum. She’s doing a lot of work growing the twins, you know?”
“We know,” they said together before little Fred continued in a whisper as easy to hear as his uncle's had been, “but we don’t wanna do anymore colouring or puzzles.”
Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at her son’s words. She hadn’t been able to do many of their usual Christmas Eve activities properly, at seven months pregnant with twins the thought of getting down on the floor was laughable. And George had banned her from attempting to make the Father Christmas biscuits years ago. Suddenly she was extremely grateful for Fred’s presence. Her eyes misting over in a flurry of hormones.
“Puzzles you say!” Fred leapt to his feet with a flourish, looking like a mad Willy Wonka as he pulled a wooden box from somewhere within his coat. “I love puzzles! Think you two are smart enough to solve this one?” he gave the children a wink as he held what appeared to be a puzzle box out temptingly.
“I’m smart!” Rose announced proudly, her ginger curls bouncing wildly.
“Of course you are, little love,” Fred smiled as he handed her the box, “run along and see how long it takes you to open it. I’m timing you!” he called out as they took his instructions literally and raced away to one of their bedrooms.
Once they were both gone Fred slipped off his coat and slumped onto the sofa beside her, an arm wrapping around her shoulders as he pressed a kiss of greeting to her hair. Hermione leant into his shoulder, basking in the easy friendship that had come from years of being married to his twin. “How long until they figure that out?” she asked, wondering just what he’d given her children.
“It’s timed to go off in twenty minutes if they haven’t got it open, there’s a charm inside,” he grinned mischievously.
Hermione shook her head but didn’t ask any more. After ten years of being with George, she knew it was easier to just wait and see. “And where exactly is my husband?” she asked instead, some of her annoyance returning.
“Sworn to secrecy I’m afraid, love. But rest assured he’ll be home soon.”
“The shop closed hours ago, Fred. We always do the same things on Christmas Eve, and he promised the kids he’d be home. He knows how hard I’m finding it to get around now,” her eyes filled with unwanted tears, bloody hormones. “I just don’t know how I’m expected to do it alone. And what about next year?! When there’s four of them! I’ll be completely outnumbered,” the familiar pregnancy induced panic began to creep in. “I can’t believe we’re having twins. I blame you for this you know!” she poked him hard in the side.
“Excuse me!” he pulled away in mock indignation, “I have absolutely nothing to do with what’s going on in there!” he pointed in the general direction of her stomach.
“You wished we’d have twins!” she snapped back, her mind drifting to the moment in question. It was when she’d been pregnant with Fred II, at that point unnamed baby boy. Fred had been adamant she would have twins all the way up until the scans showed otherwise. It was part of the reason little Freddie had the name he did. Perpetually single Fred had championed so hard for the twins he was convinced she was having to be called Fred II and George II, going on and on about how it was the only way to carry on their legacy. They hadn’t told him their chosen name until he came to see them at the hospital, where George handed him little Freddie, telling him his name and asking him to be godfather. It was one of the only times Hermione had seen Fred cry. Ever since he had doted on little Fred, spoilt him something rotten, and when Rose had come along, he’d loved her just as much. Of course he was her godfather too, there was no one else Hermione and George would trust more with their children. Not that the rest of the Weasleys weren’t just as involved, but there was something special about the children’s bond with their Uncle Freddie.
“That was years ago!” he protested, dragging her mind back to the present.
“Still counts,” she huffed moodily.
“Oh, Mummy is moody today, isn’t she?” Fred raised an eyebrow to ask permission before placing a hand on her swollen stomach, where she was currently being kicked quite hard as the twins vied for space. “Florence and Georgina?”
“Nice try,” she rolled her eyes at his constant attempts at guessing their twin girls’ names. At first, she’d been delighted to be having twin girls, hoping they wouldn’t be quite as much trouble as their uncle and father, until George told her to imagine two Ginnys. Now she didn’t know which was more terrifying. The truth was her and George hadn’t actually settled on names yet and she was secretly noting down all of Fred’s suggestions. She actually really quite liked Florence and Georgina, she’d have to ask George whenever he finally got home. “Anyway, you’d be grumpy too if you were me. I’m tired, and huge, and everything aches and I’ve still got months to go,” she moaned, “I’ve got presents still to wrap and things to prepare and I just want George to come home.” The stupid pregnancy tears struck again, prickling at her eyes.
Fred stroked soothingly over where the girls were trying to stretch her stomach to capacity. It had taken years for Hermione, as an only child, to get used to the casual tactile nature of the Weasley siblings but it was second nature by now. “You can wrap the presents with magic, and I know you like doing it the muggle way but one year off won’t kill you. Anything else you need to get done tell me and I’ll help and Georgie will be home as soon as he can, I promise.”
“Thanks Freddie,” she sighed.
“What would you do without me eh?” he grinned as the sound of an explosion came from somewhere in the house, accompanied by two screams.
“Fred?!” she exclaimed, attempting to get to her feet quickly.
“Relax,” he pushed her back gently, standing himself as the children came running back into the room.
“Mummy, I’m a Princess!” Rose squealed, running straight over and climbing up next to her, wrapping her arms around her stomach and laying her head down. Her pale pink dress with wide frilly tutu looked suspiciously familiar.
Little Freddie appeared next in an outfit that made the entire thing clear, and also made emotion overwhelm her, a hand stroking gently through her daughter’s hair. “I’m a Nutcracker,” he declared. “Dad always takes Mum to see this at Christmas.”
“That he does,” Fred smiled before turning to Hermione, “dress up charm. George will go over how it works later,” he explained. Hermione laughed at how George had known she’d be desperate to know the magic behind it. “Now, sadly, your mum and dad haven’t been able to go and see The Nutcracker this year,” he declared in a sad voice. It had been her choice even though it had made Hermione sad to skip out on one of her favourite traditions. She just hadn’t been able to stand the thought of being crammed into a theatre in her condition. Both children let out an ‘oh’ of sadness at Fred’s theatrics prompting him to continue. “But! Not to worry because we,” he pointed between them, “the Nutcracker, the Sugarplum Fairy, and I, Godfather Drosselmeyer,” he waved his wand and his outfit changed to a very accurate version of Drosselmeyer’s costume making Hermione stifle a laugh at the tights, “will perform a one night only special performance right here!”
Both children were delighted and happily threw themselves around in a terrible approximation of ballet whilst Fred narrated the entire story, adding in a few leaps that made it clear he’d actually practiced which made the whole thing infinitely funnier but also sweeter. The fact that he and George had set this whole thing up filled her with love and a fair amount of Christmas spirit.
By the time they got to the entrance of the Mouse King, Hermione had almost forgotten about missing her husband, so caught up in how adorable her children were and how much fun they were having. Her head was thrown back in laughter as there was a dramatic crack of apparition directly into the living room. She gasped and reached out protectively as the children screamed and hid behind Fred who held his wand out. Before she could begin to rain all kinds of hell down upon the intruder, she noticed a tell-tale lack of ear and ginger hair, and when he turned and gave her a quick apologetic look his face had a little heart-shaped nose and whiskers drawn on in what looked like makeup.
“The Mouse King!” Fred declared dramatically swishing his wand sending harmless colourful sparks across the room. “Take your weapons quickly!” he passed each child a fake wand that sparked the same as his as they all charged towards George who ducked and dived around the room. Pulling out his own wand and pretending to duel all three as he pranced around in his own Mouse King outfit that was just as accurate as Fred’s, barring the comical mouse makeup.
Eventually he allowed little Fred to catch him and deliver the final blow, falling onto the sofa beside her in a dramatic death motion. Moaning as Fred and the children cheered, forgetting the story completely for a moment as they raced around in celebration.
“Nice whiskers,” Hermione tapped George lightly on the cheek as he shuffled close enough to press a kiss to her stomach.
“Sorry I'm late. It turns out partial animal transfiguration into a mouse is horrifying and pretty hard to undo,” he rest his head gently against her stomach as her hand went to his hair.
“You really planned all this?” her voice filled with emotion again and George quickly sat up and gathered her in his arms.
“I know how much you love going to The Nutcracker every year. And I understand why you didn’t want to go this year but I didn’t want you to miss out on the tradition,” he kissed her forehead as Fred wrangled the children back into place to carry on with their show.
“You’re amazing you know?” she pulled him down for a kiss that earned them cries of ‘eww’ from the apparently three children in the room.
“I know it’s not the same, but I tried,” he smiled, settling in beside her to watch.
“You know, if I get to watch you and Fred prance around in tights every year, maybe this could be a new tradition?” she smirked, curling into his side the best she could.
“Hmm we will have a couple more characters next year,” his hand returned to her stomach, where the twins seemed to squirm towards his touch.
The children’s interest waned shortly after the fight scene and Fred rushed through the narration of the rest. Rose enjoying her moment in the spotlight as the Sugarplum Fairy, twirling until she got dizzy before giving up and crawling onto George’s lap, a sleepy thumb stuck in her mouth as she giggled watching her Uncle Fred take over the role. Hermione, as the daughter of dentists, cringed internally at the thumb sucking. Minutes later the two Freds were taking a bow to rapturous applause.
Little Fred, who had a constant need to be busy, immediately pounced on George after. “Can we make the biscuits for Father Christmas now, Dad? Pleeeeese.” Rose perked up at the idea of sugar, giving George puppy dog eyes that Hermione knew he could never refuse. Not that he ever refused their children much anyway.
“Yeah, course we can,” he grinned at the children, “you two say goodbye to Uncle Fred then go wash your hands.”
They bounded back over to Fred who had just waved his wand, ending the spell and returning his clothes to normal. “See you later,” his little namesake said quickly, pausing for a brief high five before running off to wash up ready to bake. Rose reached her arms up in the air in the universal symbol for pick me up. Fred obliged and she wrapped her little arms around his neck, “Love you Uncle Freddie,” she mumbled into his chest.
“Love you too, Sugarplum,” he squeezed her softly before placing her back down, where she wandered off after her brother.
George had stood up and removed the spell from his own clothes, although the mouse makeup still remained, and was bending to help Hermione to her feet. It was definitely a two-person job nowadays. Once she was up, he made his way over to Fred and slapped his shoulder, “Cheers for today.”
“Anytime,” Fred smiled, “anything you need help with Hermione?”
“No, thank you Fred. I think I’m going to get the last of the wrapping done while they bake. And yes, I’ll use magic,” she said before either twin could respond.
“Good,” George grinned, “I’ll come and check on you in a bit, make sure you’re not stuck in a chair,” he winked before heading off to the kitchen leaving Hermione to see Fred out.
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, something happens one time and you get teased forever. “You know you’re welcome to stay,” she told Fred as they reached the door.
“I know. But an uncle’s duty never ends. Plenty of other nieces and nephews to entertain,” he wrapped his arms around her the best he could, “I’ll see you all at the Burrow tomorrow.”
Hermione clung to him a little tighter preventing him from ending the hug. “Thank you, Freddie,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion, “you’re the best godfather they could ever wish for. All four of them.”
They hadn’t asked him officially yet but to them there was no other option.
“Yeah?” he pulled back slightly to grin down at her.
“If you’ll have them,” she gave him a watery smile back.
“I can’t wait. I’ll take all four and you and Georgie can have a nice weekend away.”
Hermione laughed, “This is what happened the last time you took them so we could have a nice weekend away,” she looked down pointedly at her stomach.
“Hey,” he finally stepped back from their embrace, “it’s not my fault if you two are sloppy with your contraception!”
“Fred!” she slapped his arm to shush him but he only laughed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he leaned in to brush a parting kiss to her cheek, “and remember, George invented that spell, so he can prance around in those tights for you anytime you like,” he gave her an exaggerated wink before leaving.
Their Christmas Eve carried on in much the traditional way after Fred left. George brought Hermione a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream whilst she finished wrapping the presents to take over to the Burrow the next day. Him and the children made biscuits to leave out for Father Christmas, eating most of them before putting the two remaining ones on a plate with a carrot and a glass of milk. It probably seemed silly to most for her to carry on the muggle tradition but George had always supported her wholeheartedly. It was important to her that their children grew up with a mix of muggle and magical traditions.
Once it was dark they all bundled up in their warmest coats, complete with hats, gloves and scarves and took a slow stroll around the village to look at all the Christmas lights. Then when they returned home Hermione and the children snuggled up on the outdoor bench in the back garden, with a blanket and some heating charms, whilst George showcased that year’s holiday fireworks. Little Freddie loved them as much as his dad, his eyes shining in excitement, enjoying every explosion. Rose lasted through most of the display before falling asleep curled into Hermione’s side. George carried her inside once the fireworks were over, casting a few quick charms to brush her teeth and change her into pyjamas before laying her down to sleep. Hermione stroked her red curls gently, marvelling, even after all these years, at how she’d ever thought George was anything less than brilliant. His grasp and ability over magic impressing her even now. As always little Fred was trickier to put to bed, a boundless ball of energy, but Hermione sat in his bed beside him reading story after story until his body finally gave in.
She stopped off to change into her own Christmas pyjamas before making her way tiredly back downstairs. Everything ached: her back, her feet, her stomach. She felt like she could sleep for a week, not that she could ever get comfortable enough to do so, but as she rounded the corner she smiled contentedly. The kitchen and living room were spotless, thanks to George and his handy cleaning charms. The fire was lit, the Christmas tree lights were shining, and there was her husband, sat on the sofa with a thick blanket and two cups of tea.
“I love you,” she sighed as she lowered herself down beside him. He handed her one of the cups and spread the blanket over her legs before wrapping one arm around her shoulders.
“I love you too,” he kissed the top of her head.
“Can you believe this time next year there’ll be four of them?” she echoed her earlier sentiment, only this time there wasn’t the underlying panic. Now there was only love.
“It’s gonna be crazy,” he admitted with a grin, the excitement clear on his face.
Hermione knew how much George had longed for twins of their own. And as much as the idea was daunting, she couldn't help but share his excitement. “Good thing I like crazy,” she smiled, lifting her free hand to touch his nose, where there was still a little black heart drawn.
His face shifted quickly through confusion, embarrassment and amusement before saying in a deadpan voice, “I still have whiskers, don’t I?”
“Yep,” she laughed quietly.
“And you let me walk around the entire village like this?” his mouth twitched as he held back a smile.
“Yep.”
“You’re a devious woman,” he finally allowed himself to grin.
“That I am,” she smirked before settling further into his side. “So, tell me all about this new charm.”
George chuckled lowly, not at all surprised by her question, taking a sip of his tea before launching into the magical theory. Hermione finished her tea and placed the empty cup on the coffee table in front of them, before laying down further until her head was on George’s lap. He adjusted the blanket to cover her fully and ran his hand gently through her hair as he continued his tale of partial animal transfiguration, and how it would have given the children nightmares. She chuckled along but the soothing sound of his voice soon began to lull her into sleep. Her eyes growing heavy and her body relaxing. The last thing she faintly remembered was George telling her it was time for bed, before somehow scooping her up as easily as he did the children, and a whispered, “Merry Christmas, love,” in her ear.