Christmas Socks All Year Round.

Chapter 1- Hermione's P.O.V

So this has been knocking around the back of my head for a while and today is the day I finally got the first chapter to upload; also I will be co-writing this with my two buddies not only on here but in real life, BloodLoveMagicXx and VampireKissForever thanks guys.   Please read their stories they impeccably good…

Hermione’s P.O.V.

I sat in the burrow surrounded by miss-matched fabrics and an assortment of muggle artefacts but the over crowdedness gave the impression of homeliness.

Placing my feet on the Weasleys wooden coffee table my bright blue and white polar bear Christmas socks caught my attention. Tomorrow they'd be Santa ones, the day after penguins in bobble hats, the day after an assortment of Muggle Christmas delicacies then after that Christmas baubles, then snowmen and of course my favourite Eeyore ones. And when I'd wore them all I'd start again, a different pair for each day of the year. 365 days- 365 pairs.

The memories of that night flashed behind my eyes again. It had been 3 years to the day since that night. The night I'd spent in his arms. And the socks were a reminder that I hadn't just dreamt it.

For a week after that night I'd hidden in the Muggle world, then gone out in the treacherous sales and brought a year’s supply of Christmas socks just to remind me. And I'd probably do the same this year either hiding out in my apartment or Grimald place with Harry. As for the socks I'd replace the worn out holey ones or the threadbare ones.

I looked up as a George and Ang's little boy ran in the shock of red hair showing that of course he was a weasley. "Hey, Fred." He giggled as I picked him up. He resembled so much like his father and Fred that it was hard not to weep about it, but then he would surprise you and act just like Fred would in the situation, so comical that before you could weep you’d laugh stopping the tears in their tracks. George had already promised Fred that one day he’d be better than him in the pranks department.

 He was wearing the traditional Weasley Christmas present a jumper with a large 'F' on the front.

He wiggled as raised voices sounded near. He jumped from my arms and ran the opposite direction of the voices. Dodging a rather dodgy looking muggle toilet and a tooth brush dancing with a H.B. pencil.

"I can't understand why you won't wear the jumper Ronald." Mrs Weasley's voiced echoed.

In barged Ron, trying desperately to get rid of his mother. After 10 minutes of arguing he finally shoved his head through it. "So handsome..." She murmured as she contently walked out.

"She's gone to town this year." I stated pulling at my jumper. Which this year had a large 'H' which stacks of books in the background and, oh a ball of Christmas socks. Ron’s on the other hand had little 'R's and the occasional quidditch emblem on his, all lined up in rows and rows one after the other. Mrs Weasley obviously decided he didn't like the previous pattern.

OOO

Standing up 10 minutes later I decided to leave Ron and his mutterings alone and walked up the rickety staircase to the bedroom me and Ginny were sharing for the holidays. I fell face first onto the comforting bed and cried. Cried for all the things that could've been and cried for the things that happened and wondered if he still thought about that night 3 years ago...

OOO

The next morning, boxing day, I woke up with arms around me, and not the arms I wanted. These arms weren’t as muscly and were covered in a dusting of freckles.  But still it felt nice to be held. He’d probably gotten to drunk last night, and stumbled into my bed. Not that I minded that much, after all he was my boyfriend.